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attapullman · 13 days

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Robert's Laundry Service | Neighbor!Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: A broken washing machine and a clogged bathroom sink lead you and Robert to explore the next part of your secret relationship.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Bob Floyd x afab!reader, no use of pronouns, no y/n, a little angsty, very smutty, 18+ ONLY as always, unprotected PinV, use of sex toys, language, a lot of cum mentions, neighbor!Bob being perfect as usual

A Note From Mo: Did anyone else miss neighbor!Bob? He needed some love, and that's what he's getting today! Thank you to @roosterforme for inspiring this idea that I took entirely too far. If anyone needs me, I'm going to be hoping that he moves into the empty apartment next to mine 🙏 p.s. this takes place before Stupid White Car

It’s hard to pay attention to the bad diagnosis he’s giving when your visual is just those threadbare grey sweats. Painted to his strong thighs, poking out from behind the washer like a personal serving of eye candy. You’re meant to be shining the flash light, but you long abandoned that task in favor of the view.

“…you can borrow mine in the meantime. I’ll call a guy Monday.”

Reluctantly, you draw your eyes from his lower half. Just as his words sink in.

“It’s broken?!”

Robert gives you a kindly amused grin. “Sweetheart, did you hear anything I’ve been saying?”

You grace him with a sheepish smile, caught red-handed.

“The tube disconnected from the wall and needs to be properly - professionally - connected before you use it again. I know it’s not the same, but you can do laundry at mine until someone comes out. I can make you tea and we can watch that undercover dating show you like?” His soft smile is as sweet as his offer.

You narrow your eyes at him playfully. “Hey now, you like that show too.”

Those cornflower blues shine, glad you’re not objecting. “I do, but only because it’s funny when you yell at the drama.”

He wraps his arm around your waist and guides you away from the laundry, back to where the two of you had been trying to decide on takeout over a game of checkers. Allowing him to drag you down to the couch, hips colliding into the soft fabric, you resume a lovely afternoon with Robert.

Robert, your helpful Mr. Fix It neighbor. And maybe, one day, your boyfriend.

Robert lending you his laundry room for the weekend is so generous. It feels a bit silly carrying your delicates through his back yard (especially when you know a few pairs are crusty from your…sleepovers) but you’ll take his selfless offer if it means clean laundry and a lovely afternoon spent with him.

As you work your way past the kitchen, you’re caught off-guard once again by how charming his home is. The little bits of personality, the framed photographs and handmade trinkets. While you know he can’t get any more perfect, his home makes a compelling argument.

The laundry room is fairly unremarkable - washer, dryer, large farmhouse sink for the unsavory jobs too nasty for the kitchen - but you do like his view of the neighborhood from the window. You’re almost curious if anyone will walk by and notice you standing in the wrong house, lacy balconette bra in hand.

Already regretting the amount of folded laundry you’re going to have to haul back through the gate after this, you begin prepping a load of lace and satin. Brainstorming ways to expedite the process, you overshoot pouring detergent into the water-filled drum and spill the cobalt goo all over your hand. Shit.

You rush over to the sink, subjecting yourself to freezing water to wash the detergent off your fingers. Once sufficiently clean, you reach for a cloth to dry off. And that’s when you see it.

Oh. You’ve never seen one in real life before, just in porn and the odd naughty ad while scrolling. It almost feels as if you’re being punk’d. Like if you sliced through it, it would actually be cake.

A cock ring, soft silicone and all. Casually sitting on the sideboard, freshly cleaned.

Every muscle in your body freezes as the implications of seeing something so private wash over you. Something meant between lovers that you had never seen in the weeks since that fateful night you let him in for a cup of tea.

It’s been a few days since you had last slept over. A scary sinking feeling fills your gut…was there someone else?

You had been so focused on the neighborhood not knowing. Staying in your homes, using the back gate. It wasn’t like you had ever verbalized your intentions with him. You couldn’t blame him for thinking the two of you as casual, as much as it twisted your insides.

As your thoughts spiral, there’s motion in the doorway and Robert is suddenly there, big shoulders and a soft smile on his face at seeing you in his space. Exactly where he wants you.

“You get it going in here? Find the detergent okay?”

Those kind cobalt eyes follow your gaze to the sink, where you can’t break your focus on the dark silicone device. The one he meant to put away before you came over. His cheeks flush as he steps into the room to attempt to explain why he has something so private sitting out - in his laundry room of all places.

But as he goes to open his mouth, you cut him off. “You don’t have to explain. I don’t need to know everything in your….sex life. You’re obviously welcome to do whatever you like in the privacy of your home.”

His eyebrows raise, unsure why you seem so upset when the only issue is a clogged sink in the ensuite last night.

You edge around him, desperate to get out of this space - his space - away from everything that reminds you of him as he figuratively slips through your fingers. “We never discussed being exclusive, so I get it.”

“What are you-?”

Tears threaten to spill over as he follows you toward his back door. “But if I’m being honest, I’m not sure I’m comfortable with us seeing other people, so-”

Robert’s eyes bug out of his head. Seeing other people? His blood pressure rises as the dots connect behind those pretty eyes, and suddenly he’s racing to cut you off. You’re faster than you look, but before you can turn the handle of the back door he’s plastered his body against the wood, effectively blocking you from leaving.

The pain behind your eyes begs him to move, to let you run back to the safety of your own home so you can cry and despair over not locking him down sooner. Of course there’s someone else. Of course you’re not the only one who can see how great Robert Floyd is.

“Robert, I need to leave. I need a moment alone. Please.”

But he holds his ground. The second you walk through that door he knows he’s lost you. His eyes are cautious behind those thick lenses, wanting to obey your wishes but the risk of losing you making every nerve stand on end. Whatever is wrong, he can fix this. He will fix it.

“Sweetheart.” His fingers reach into the space between you, hand clenching into a fist when he’s unsure whether he’s allowed to touch you right now. “There isn’t anyone else. I promise, you’re…you’re the only one.”

You eye him hesitantly, wanting to believe his words. But that cock ring has never made an appearance in your sleepovers. Never once brought up when he’s standing between your parted thighs, lips slotted against yours.

“I really want to believe you, I do. But why else would you be cleaning your, erm, toy?” You can’t bring yourself to say cock ring without bursting into frustrated tears.

It’s now that the fight within him drops, and immediately his shoulders release. Embarrassment floods his features and he drops his gaze, no longer able to look you in the eye. This is not how he anticipated bringing this dynamic into your relationship.

“That…it’s…I-I use it when I’m alone. I like to, uh, edge myself.”

His cheeks are flaming and the burning despair inside you dissipates into intrigue. A flame traipses through your abdomen, curious and hungry.

“You use it…alone?”

He desperately nods, tentatively reaching out to grasp your hands, needing to feel you. Those thick, strong fingers rub against your knuckles soothingly. Despite the whiplash of emotions conflicting inside you, his presence immediately soothes and you lean into his touch.

“The nights you can’t come over…I prefer to save my orgasms for you. Only you.”

His blush reflects yours as you look into those ocean-deep eyes, the desperation clear across his features. He’s being honest, laying out every last secret he’s got to keep you here.

“So, there’s no one else?” Your voice feels so small, barely a whisper in the kitchen.

He shakes his head definitively, using his grip on your hands to bring you closer as he stares deep into your eyes. “There’s no one else. And the fact you would even think that means I’m not doing a good enough job proving how much I care for you. Because I like you so much, sweetheart, so, so much.”

The tension in your body breaks, and you allow yourself to lean into his strong body. His panic dissipates as he holds you to him, one arm flush against your waist as his hand holds your face to his chest. He’s never letting you go, of that he knows for sure.

He can’t believe there would be any doubt in your mind of his intentions. The sleepovers, the dinners in, the way he’s made a home between your thighs…that makes you official, doesn’t it? He’s never been one for the right words, but he was pretty sure his actions proved he was in this for the long haul.

You’re too important to mess up. To allow any seed of doubt to spread.

His nose traces along your temple, warm breath kissing the delicate skin. “Can I take you to bed, sweetheart?”

Your face lifts from his chest to take in his honest face. The loose tendril of sun-lightened brunette that’s escaped his neat hairstyle. The thin lopsided smile you trust in. Eyes behind corrected lenses that are serious and playful in the same breath.

In lieu of an answer, you mold your lips to his, drinking in his taste you’ve deprived yourself of for days. His kindness and sincerity sink into you, surrounding you the pleasantly overwhelming way his body does as he wraps around you. Holding your hips as he swallows your tongue, shifting himself to feel every dip and curve of your body.

As his lips find your neck, the laundry room comes back into view. A delicious thought swirls in your mind and the words burst from your mouth.

“Can I see?”

He nuzzles against your jaw, grinding his erection against your thigh.

“See what?” He’s distracted by how good you smell, how soft your skin feels beneath his fingers.

“I want to see you with the cock ring. Show me, please?”

Arousal floods his mind, images of you naked beneath him while his balls throb with cum just for you. No words needed before he’s pushing you in front of him to his bedroom. He’s ready to show you just how devoted he is to you.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, it feels like the first time with him all over again. Anticipation of the unknown, drowned in heavy lust.

His eyes rake over you as he enters the room, lust darkening those soft blue eyes. You’re exactly how he wants you always - in his bed, eager for his touch. Right now, he’s yours.

Taking the spot between your legs, strong fingers stroking along jean-clad thighs, his broad frame bends toward you to rest his forehead against yours. That button nose knocking into yours.

“There’s been no one else since the day you moved next door. I’m yours, only yours.”

The build up of emotions behind your eyes threatens to spill over as he presses his lips to yours. Cups the back of your head as he leans into you, applying the softest pressure. Pouring every ounce of his devotion into his kiss.

Your legs wrap around his slim hips, needing to feel his security and care. He’s the most helpful man to exist, and you know he’ll guide you through this dynamic.

Kisses turn sweet to frantic to passionate as Robert holds your face. Your lips are chapped when he finally pulls away, strong chest rising and deflating. You know you mirror his disheveled aroused appearance. His hand reaches behind to his back pocket.

He holds the black cock ring between you, freshly washed, gleaming in the afternoon sunlight peeking through the curtains. “Are you sure about this?”

Your apprehensive eyes meet his, although a slight smile plays along your lips. “Play dirty with me. Please.”

Condensation beads on the lower rims of his glasses as he dips his face to kiss you, his skin flaming hot. The kiss is sinful yet curt, not wanting to lose himself before practicing restraint. You run your tongue along the seam of his lips, savoring his flavor. He hums against your mouth as your hands find his waist, heart picking up speed as your fingers find the button of his jeans.

Robert clenches the cock ring in his fist, already struggling to hold his load as the softness of your skin wraps tightly around his hardening cock.

His eyes are lidded, thin mouth already agape from the pleasure of your fist stroking firmly up and down his shaft. Can barely keep focus between the way you squeeze his deep pink tip and the spectacular view down your top, his mind running wild at the all the skin he needs to touch. He’s practically forgotten the reason for his view until you lick your lips sweetly and ask.

“Can I put it on?”

Fingers unfurl and present the silicone ring to you, warm from his clenched fist. You press the ring between your fingers, taking in the smooth design and thick circumference. Glide your thumb along the little button that makes it vibrate.

He’s panting above you, already wrecked at the vision. The only two things he deems worthy of his cock, right in front of him.

Bringing the ring up to your lips, he watches as you run your tongue along it, gathering your saliva to glisten along the silicone for a smoother glide. Your fingers effortlessly slipping along the edge before you touch it to the sensitive tip of his cock.

His fingers curl around the nape on your neck, holding the hair there, grounding himself. Between your ministrations and the pressure of the ring slipping down his length, he’s dizzy with stimulation. His cock immediately swelling in response. Lip between his teeth to contain the gruff moans you’re desperate to hear.

Your eyes are focused on the firm grip the ring has on the length of him, sliding down until your thumb is brushing his heavy ballsack, pulsing with need.

“Sweetheart, I’m not going to last.” He’s panting against your forehead, trying so hard to be patient, but wanting nothing more than to thrust into your fist and chase his orgasm.

You tilt his chin to press a chaste kiss to his lips. A promise to take care of him, because you and you alone are responsible for his pleasure. Always.

Sliding back onto the soft coverlet, you raise your hips to remove your jeans. Skin growing warm at the wanton look of need in Robert’s eyes as you unbutton your top. His voice but a whine when you sit in front of him in nothing but the delicate chain around your neck.

“So beautiful.”

It’s impossible to tell whose whimpers are more desperate as you run the shiny-slick swollen head of him against your core. Moaning as it catches on your entrance, ready to sink deep into those velvet depths. Voices becoming one as you impale yourself on the thick shaft that’s all yours.

He can’t believe anything could be better. This is Nirvana. Until you reach between to where your bodies meet and hit that tiny little button.

“Fuck!” He never swears, and yet that filthy word streaks through the room with a bite. Yelped loudly as he buries his face into your neck. The combination of vibrations and warm, tight pussy sending him into a spiral. Groaning out praises into your neck like it’s his last day alive.

You can’t help the grin on your face as you experience him come undone. How had you been denied the pleasure of watching him like this? The salt of his neck, the wayward curl stuck to his forehead? It’s a toss up if you’re getting off on being stuffed with his engorged cock or by watching the way his chest heaves for breath as he fights off his orgasm.

“Are you going to cum for me?” You’re drunk on power watching him like this, rutting his hips into you over and over for a pleasure that won’t come until you decide. His nod so desperate it goes right to your clit. His swollen cock stretching you beyond what you thought possible. The frisson of skin on skin, those tiny yet powerful vibrations, and his affection for you is overwhelming.

The ring fully still in place, your orgasm wracks your body, convulsing over the sheets. Barely able to notice his soft lips brushing the arch of your breasts as he consumes your satisfaction. Drinking in the sounds of your moans as they mix with his wet thrusts.

Your sleepy eyes are all he focuses on as he chases his orgasm, fighting past his usual routine of stopping here when he only has his hand. Right now he gets to have it all - the constricted blood flow, the vibration, and you. Perfect, wonderful you. His hands fist in the bedding, rooting himself, as sinks his hips deeper with precise strokes.

He can do this. He will show you you’re the only one for him.

Body quivering, his face is bright red as he thrusts, exertion bringing the vein in his forehead out with a matching bead of sweat. Robert feels his body take on a new consciousness as you ask for his cum once more.

His grunts are filthy - animalistic and deep. The first stream of cum he’s ever experienced with the ring on filling your stretched pussy, claiming you as his. Head fuzzy, he takes a moment to pull himself from your soft embrace and jerk his engorged cock, shot after shot of cum pumping out across your body. A painting only he gets to witness.

His tank now empty, you feel the soft thump of his body fall beside yours. Hear him catch his breath in the quiet afternoon air.

Exhausted, his face knocks into yours - glasses already lost to the coverlet - as he comes to reality once again. Strong arms reaching to pull you to him. Lackadaisical kisses to your cheek before risking a glance down and laughing abashedly.

“T-there’s so much cum. It’s everywhere.” Another kiss. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

The carefree yet sheepish grin he gives you melts your heart. You kiss him back, not needing to look as you feel his seed dry on your skin in the golden hour light. He very truly marked you as his, just as he is yours.

Smoothing your fingers through his hair, memorizing every little detail of his face - what a handsome face - you ease his embarrassment. “It’s not a big deal. We’ll just throw the sheets in the washer and enjoy dinner. It’s fine, really.”

His washer currently filled with your delicates complicates things, but your big, sweet smile soothes his self-consciousness. He returns the grin back, holding you closer.

That night is spent eating Robert’s lasagna and playing cards until every light on the street went out. It’s far too late when the sheets are finally clean and dried, and even later when they’re successfully on the bed. But it’s worth it to him when you crawl under the duvet and beckon him closer, needing one last kiss from your boyfriend before sleep.

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wrongplacerighttime · 5 months

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agent!harry x agent!fmc

the one where grace and harry are agents on a case, and they have to go undercover to get closer to their suspect. however, tensions come to light when they’re undercover in a sex club, and harry just can’t take it anymore.

little bit of plot, mostly smut slcksxkskc but i LOVE IT ANYWAY. don’t come for me. 😤

wc: ~5k.

tw: MDNI 18+!!!, talks of murder, drinking, sex club, dom!harry, stubborn!oc

part two here // little bunny masterlist

little bunny

The club Grace stood in front of was designed to be discreet to any unassuming passerby. Her coat was pulled tightly around her, hiding the expensive lingerie set she had bought specifically for the occasion. She had never been somewhere like this, and she felt out of place. The building sat flush with the rest on the block, the architecture of history’s past was accentuated with up to date brick and mortar, black metal accents adorning the doors and tinted windows. She was nervous, and walking into a somewhat dangerous situation. She stepped into the darkened club after showing her ID to the security guard in the foyer. She almost refuses to take away her only barrier between her dignity and indecency, reluctantly handing her coat over to the man standing by the coat closet, but she does, acknowledging to herself that she needed to play the part of a cheating wife here to find a man to satisfy her in a way her husband can’t.

She moves on light footsteps further into the building, the stench of sex diluted by cigarette smoke filtered into her lungs. She puts on a face of false confidence, taking all her strength to not hug her arms tightly around her body to hide her figure from the prying eyes in the room. There are men surrounding the bar, some of them sporting tan lines where wedding rings are missing, a detail often overlooked by most. They’re only here to get an easy, quick fuck while their wives are home not suspecting a thing. She wrinkles her nose before correcting her expression and runs a hand through her hair, looking around the area as she inhales and tries to shake the nerves away while pulling on the dreaded collar that her female coworker insisted she should wear to “help get into character”. “It’s just part of the costume,” she reminds herself while making her way to a bar stool.

“Weston, are you alright so far? We’re about to send Styles in.” She hears Aaron, her boss, in her earpiece, static interfering with their signal. She discreetly adjusts the position of it in her ear before answering.

“Yep. Just peachy.” She sarcastically answered under her breath, silently wishing she were anywhere else. She feels exposed and the fake wedding band is uncomfortable and feels tight, like it's holding her finger in a vice. She moves further into the club, making sure the ring is visible to any patrons that may be watching her.

She didn’t want to be here, but realistically, she knew she was the only chance they had to catch the suspect they’d been hunting for just over a week now. They have concluded that the suspect is a recently divorced man who is using surrogates for his murders, dumping them on the streets of Seattle and somehow hasn’t been caught yet. All of the victims were last seen at this club. They haven’t had any reason to arrest him yet, because otherwise he’s a perfect law abiding citizen, and unless they have proof beyond a reasonable doubt, they can’t get a search warrant issued. The only thing they’re going on is that the women he’s kidnapped from this club look eerily similar to his ex wife, and he takes a souvenir from them every time. Their wedding rings.

Grace lifts her gaze from her glass to look around the room, and her eyes briefly catch as the man beside her looks her up and down before turning back to his drink. She feels her cheeks redden slightly, thankful that she was wearing a decent amount of makeup to hide the stain of embarrassment. She would never be seen in something like this, even with her sexual partners. And she never wanted to admit but her sex life was pretty vanilla compared to this. She was dreading that Harry, of all people, was going to be seeing her like this. She only saw one of her coworkers before she had to go inside, and if she had a choice she wouldn’t have seen any of them. There was a knock on her hotel door that interrupted her just as she was putting on her coat to cover up. When she answered the door she expected it to be one of the other women she worked with checking on her, so she didn’t button up. To her dismay it was Sean, their tech guy. She needed to be hooked to an earpiece so she had to suffer through the breath catching in his throat and his endless stutters as he helped her hook with the new technology she was unfamiliar with. And of course, because it was Sean, it was more awkward than it needed to be.

“I’m inside.” She hears Harry’s voice through the speaker hidden in her ear behind her hair as she swallows down the martini she ordered, thankful that they were making an exception to the no alcohol on the job rule. She had a feeling she’d need a little bit of a buzz to deal with Harry tonight, and there was no telling how much time would pass before they got what they needed. Her boss told her to only accept drinks that she had watched be made, as if she didn’t already possess the common knowledge and she wasn’t a federal agent. Her eyes flitted around the room and she caught sight of Harry as he passed the bar and made his way to a location that wasn’t in her line of sight from where she was sitting.

The plan that she and Harry would be the ones undercover wasn’t her own. Harry had suggested it, and because it was his idea, it was the best one and it needed to be executed. Grace would be playing the part of the married woman here to cheat on her husband while he was at home not suspecting a thing. Harry just had to be the one she seduced and left with. They had no way of knowing for sure if the suspect would be there tonight, they were just betting on his timeline being the same as it has been for the past three murders. If he was there, there was no way to know if he would actually set his sights on her. As fucked up as it sounds, Grace hoped he would so she didn’t have to do this again, and she really wanted to be the one to cuff this scumbag. She glanced around the bar, hoping to see his face in the sea of sleazy men. She studies every single patron sitting within her line of sight, and finally, her eyes land on him. Jesse Baker. His dirty blonde hair was greasy on top of his head, and he was sipping on a glass of beer. She stares at him for a moment, willing him to look her way as if he could read her thoughts. After a beat, his eyes meet hers and she feels a shiver up her spine. She doesn’t react, she just makes sure her left hand is in view so he sees the gold ring adorning her finger. She knows he’s seen it when he scowls at her, and if looks could kill she’d already be dead.

“He’s spotted me.” Grace says quietly under her breath, looking away so he doesn’t see her mouth moving. “I’m on the move.”

“Did he see the wedding ring?” Aaron asks. Grace stands taking her glass with her and walking away from the bar.

“Yeah. He saw. Where are you, Styles?”

“Back corner.” His voice is low in her ear and she shivers again, this time for a different reason. There's always been some kind of tension between them, and Grace is no stranger to the way he looks at her when he thinks she doesn’t notice. But he’s never approached her that way, and all they do is bicker back and forth about the correct plan of action on every single case they work together. To him she’s always wrong and he’s always right, and when she is right he doesn’t even acknowledge it, just grumbles something about a ‘lucky guess’ and walks away. She saunters around the bar walking right past their suspect, spotting Harry in the far back of the club. A woman seems to be eyeing him from her table so Grace quickly makes her way to him before he’s stuck in a situation that would be counterintuitive to the reason they were here in the first place.

His eyes meet hers before trailing down to the black lace that covers her from her chest to the tops of her thighs, leaving little to imagination. And he has imagined it. Every time she juts her lip out in concentration, or everytime she gives him her endless attitude he so desperately wanted to put in its place. He shifts in his seat, biting the inside of his cheek before leaning forward and setting his glass down on the small table in front of him. She smiles nervously at him as she moves closer and when she’s within arms reach, he grabs her wrist and pulls her onto his lap.

“H-hey.” Grace stutters and catches herself on the back of the booth, caging his head between her arms. She tilts her head slightly and she wraps one arm around the back of his shoulders after she steadies herself. He lightly drags the tip of his nose up her neck before bumping it against her ear and she swallows a breath that she didn’t realize she was holding.

“Just playing the part, don’t want him to get suspicious.” He mutters and she nods, making herself comfortable, and while he was the one to pull her into his lap, he doesn’t touch her any further than that. Movement catches the corner of her eye and she notices Jesse moving closer to them. She watches him from her peripheral as he takes a seat at the booth behind them, facing them with his legs spread out and resting his drink on his knee while he holds the glass by the rim. She buries her nose in Harry’s hair, breathing in the delicious scent of whatever product he had in it and placing a kiss against his temple, her lips barely brushing over his skin.

“He’s behind us.” She mumbles, moving to straddle over his hips without thinking, just wanting to be able to keep her eye on Jesse. She hears him clear his throat, keeping his hands beside him on the seat and she’s sure they’re about to give away their guise because Harry is way too tense for someone who would’ve been expecting this. She brings her lips to his neck, taking his skin between her teeth before kissing over the spot. She hears him curse under his breath, clenching his hands into fists on the booth. “Do something with your hands, you need to make yourself a little more convincing.” She breathes against his ear and he nods once before placing his hands on her hips and squeezing lightly. Just as she was about to say something else, they’re interrupted by a woman dressed all too similarly to Grace. She’s tall, at least 6’ in her heels and she has long fiery-red hair cascading down her back, her neck adorned with a black leather collar.

“Look at you two getting all cozy.” Her eyes flick between Grace and Harry before narrowing. “There’s private rooms down that hallway over there,” she gestures with her hand, Harry’s gaze follows and he nods at her, flashing a wide smile her way.

“Thank you.” He croons and snakes his hand down from Grace’s hip to the swell of her ass, palming and gripping onto her as the woman’s eyes follow his touch.

“I’m not sure if we’ll need one tonight, I’m trying to teach her how to control and behave herself, she’s a bratty little bunny, aren’t you?” He turns his head and mutters the last few words against the skin between her breasts, his hot breath billowing outwards as he licks a stripe upwards to her collarbone. She whimpers and grinds against him purely out of habit from the pleasure building, and when she does she’s surprised to feel him hard under her. She nods shyly and his finger hooks under her collar, pulling lightly and tilting his head.

“Words, baby. Be polite.” He purrs at her, and it takes all of her mental strength to not widen her eyes at him.

“Y-yes sir.” Is all she can answer, her cheeks reddening slightly and she buries her face in his neck. He brings a hand up, trailing it down her spine with featherlight fingertips. He pushes her to stand, spinning her around before pulling her back down onto his lap, except she’s facing away from him now and he brings his hands over the expanse of her thighs before squeezing there, dimpling the skin. The nameless woman still standing and watching the interaction, clicks her tongue once and her eyes look back to where Jesse still sits. Grace watches her, noticing the way her eyes are narrowing at him and the way she shakes her head, like they’re communicating with each other telepathically. She turns her head back to Harry and Grace, plastering a fake smile on her face.

“Well. If you need anything, just let me know.” She eyes Grace up and down before turning and walking away. Grace waits until she’s out of hearing range before craning her neck to look at Harry over her shoulder. His eyes meet hers briefly before he looks away.

“Little warning would have been nice.” She grumbles as he scoffs.

“Yeah, how exactly did you expect me to do that?” He whispers with annoyance lacing his tone, bringing his mouth to her shoulder blade and kissing lightly. A burst of pleasure runs down her spine and she grinds against him, causing a hiss to fall from between his gritted teeth and he grips her hips tightly, moving her so the pressure isn’t against his cock straining in his pants. She chooses to ignore it for the time being.

“Did you notice her looking at him?” She mutters and he nods, keeping his hands tight on her hips. She doesn’t know how much longer she can do this, and she hates to admit that Harry looks extremely delectable tonight, his hair styled to perfection on top of his head, dressed in black dress pants with a white button up loosely fitting his torso…unbuttoned enough to give her just a hint of the butterfly tattooed on his abs. She catches herself thinking about how it would feel to trail her tongue over it before she forces the image away from her mind and focuses on the task at hand.

About a half an hour passes of them bantering back and forth, Jesse watching them the entire time while they exchange just enough physical contact to make it believable. Grace has been drinking and it’s coming to a head, feeling tipsy now and a little more brave. She tangles her hands in Harry’s hair, the fake ring is visible to their suspect as she does so, watching as he narrows his eyes at her and Harry. She feels her arousal pooling on the material of the lingerie as she pushes her center against him and he leans his head back and lets out a soft groan. She watches his eyes flutter closed as he moves her hips over his erection. When he opens them back up to see her smirking down at him, she notices something primal in his expression. He stands abruptly, pushing her off of him in the process and grabbing her hand, leading her down the hallway of private rooms.

“Harry, what are you doing?” She whisper-yells at him, her words running together from slight intoxication but he doesn’t answer. He finds a door cracked open, poking his head inside and making sure it's unoccupied. He pulls her inside, closing the door and locking it behind them before he spins her around and pushes her against it. Grace jumps when a voice speaks in her ear.

“What's going on?” Aaron asks both of them and Harry curses under his breath and drops his head to her shoulder, both of them forgetting about the earpieces up until that moment.

“Give us a minute, new information. Need to come up with a plan.” He lies as he stares directly into Grace’s eyes with dark, blown out pupils, licking his lower lip before pulling it between his teeth

“Styles, we need to know your location in the club at all times.” Aaron scolds him and he shakes his head.

“Do you trust us?” He asks and Aaron responds with a hesitant yes. “Okay. Then give us a minute.” He says before ripping out his earpiece. He does the same with Grace’s, and then his lips crash to hers. She moans into the kiss, opening her mouth and giving him access to her. His tongue darts in and he’s running his hands up to the hair at the nape of her neck, pulling hard enough for her to yelp and he attaches his lips to her pulse point.

“You play dirty.” He mutters against her skin before pulling back and she gives him a devilish grin.

“Didn’t know I needed to play fair.” She remarks, feigning innocence and he pulls her hair again as she hisses through her teeth.

“Think I don’t know what you’re doing?” He seethes and she smiles again. “Think you can just prance over to me in this slutty little outfit and not expect me to want to shove my cock inside you?” He asks, tilting his head slightly and her eyes flutter closed at his words, a switch inside him flipping almost instantaneously. He thinks he has her right where he wants her, but she’s not going to give him what he wants that easily.

While still fisting her hair, he pulls her away from the door and shoves her down onto the sofa in the middle of the room. He flips her over, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her ass up in the air. She squirms underneath him, and he runs his hand softly up the back of her exposed thigh. She shivers, goosebumps forming at his gentle touch. He gives no warning before he pushes the material keeping her wet center covered to the side. He drags a finger through her arousal before shoving it into her and she cries out. He hums with satisfaction, feeling the way she clenches on his fingers at the intrusion.

“You’re dripping. All for me, sweet girl?” He coos at her but she doesn’t answer, instead her jaw falling slack as he pumps his finger in and out of her. His eyes flare with lust, but he stops all together causing her to whimper. “Need you to use your words or I’ll stop.” He demands, the change in his tone giving her whiplash.

“Y-you wish.” She stutters, trying to sound confident, and he knows she’s trying to put up a front, and he doesn’t like her answer. He smacks her ass, hard. He clicks his tongue, gently rubbing the area quickly turning red with his handprint.

“Want to rethink that?” His voice is low. She tries to push her hips back against him, searching for any friction but he doesn’t let her.

“Look at you, such a needy little bunny. You knew what you were doing getting me all riled up.” He croons, bending over her body and nipping at her ear. The pet name he used earlier brings a heat swirling into her belly, a feeling that she craved.

“Wasn’t doing anything. Just playing the part like you told me to.” She lies through her teeth in a breathy tone.

“Hmm. S’that why you’re all wet, then?” He pushes two fingers into her and her eyes flutter closed as she bites her bottom lip. He pumps and curls, stretching her so deliciously it makes her toes curl. He goes deeper, all the way too the knuckle and she feels the tightening of the coil inside her belly. She’s close, so close. He pulls his fingers away from her and her chest heaves at the empty feeling, tearing her away from the edge just as she was about to tumble over. He sits on the couch beside her, pulling her onto his lap and she straddles his hips. He pulls the top of her outfit down, exposing her breasts to him. In the same second, he attaches his mouth to one of her nipples while pinching the other between his thumb and finger. She throws her head back and grinds her hips down over his cock still confined behind the zipper.

“I hate you.” She moans as he lightly bites and sucks on her nipple. She’s breathless as she says it, and he bucks his hips to meet hers.

“You have a funny way of showing it.” He mumbles against her skin, reaching a hand between their bodies and rubbing over her clit. She falls forward, her head falling against his shoulder as he rubs circles at a slow, torturous pace.

“You think you’re so great? You think every woman who looks your way wants you? Like you’re God’s gift to them?” She huffs, not realizing the irony of her words and the position she’s in due to the insatiable want clouding her mind.

“And yet here you are.” He mutters, the corner of his mouth pulling into a half smile and she rolls her eyes. He grabs her face, forcing her to look at him. His pupils are blown out and he tilts his head, studying her like he’s a predator hunting his prey, knowing she’s about to say something smart again and nipping it in the bud before it has the chance to escape her lips.

“Attitude.” He says pointedly, squeezing her cheeks and she can’t help the whine that builds in her throat and betrays her. “Be a good little bunny or I won’t let you cum.” He threatens and she swallows her words down without so much as a sigh.

Her hands fall from his chest and to his pants, fumbling with the button and unzipping them. He lifts his hips and pulls them down just enough and his cock springs free from where it was confined behind his zipper. Her eyes widen and her mouth waters, wanting nothing more than to drop to her knees and take him down her throat at the sight of him. He watches her for a beat before pulling her face back to him and kissing her, shoving his tongue into her mouth aggressively.

In an instant, he’s gripping the backs of her thighs and lifting her as he stands from the sofa without detaching his mouth from hers. Her hands grip his hair, pulling at the root and he groans into the kiss, her back meeting the cool surface of the wall across the room. She feels the head of his cock at her entrance, and she wiggles her hips against him in an attempt to push him into her, begging for more contact. He holds her steady, and she’s unsuccessful in her efforts as she whimpers into his mouth. He pulls away far enough to meet her eyes, her chest heaving and her eyes pleading for him.

“Beg me for it.” He demands, breathless. The look in her eyes shifts, and she narrows them at him.

“Fuck you.” She seethes, her usual personality fighting to stay dominant over the one she wants to slip into. He holds her up with one hand, bringing the other up to grab the collar still strapped around her throat. He pulls, bringing her forehead to his, the tips of their noses touching and she feels her air supply dwindling.

“Beg. Or I’ll leave you in here, your pretty little pussy all weepy and empty.” He grits through his teeth and she can’t deny she wants him like this always. He lets go and she sucks in a breath that she desperately needed. She’s stunned for a moment, this side of him still new to her. She’s itching to provoke him further, just to see how far he’ll go. But she also just really wants him to fuck her,

“Please.” She whispers and he laughs, shaking his head slightly

“You can do better than that, bunny.” His voice is low and gravely, and she can tell he’s holding himself back. She sighs, throwing her head back against the wall. He waits, and when she lifts her head to look at him again, she gives him a look that reads mischief.

“Please, oh please, give me your cock, sir, I need it, need it so bad. Plea—” Her fake, whiny voice is cut off by him slamming his cock into her and she feels the breath whoosh from her lungs. Tears prick the corner of her eyes at the sting of him stretching her, and it’s all she knows. All she feels. Her head falls forward against his shoulder and she cries out from pleasure sparking down her spine.

“God, you look so much better when you just shut up.” He grits with annoyance, breath heavy in his lungs as she squeezes him perfectly. He tosses his head back as he sets a slow, torturous pace. Her hands find his hair again, holding the back of his head and fisting his hair for something to grip as he pulls out to the tip before driving back into her. She’s a mess of moans and whines and she lifts her head from his shoulder and arches her back against the wall. His mouth finds her throat, lapping and sucking on her skin. She knows she won’t last, and he can sense it too, the way she’s clenching him and bucking into him. He brings one hand up between her thighs, pressing lightly on her clit with his thumb, rubbing small circles with light pressure and his name falls from her lips in breathy moans.

“That’s it…cum for me. Know you want to.” He encourages her, and the sparks dancing down her spine travel right to her center and turn to flames of pleasure…desire. He presses her clit once, and that’s it, all she needs. She comes completely undone, tipping over the edge and dropping her head to his shoulder once more, her pussy squeezing him and willing him to come inside her. He groans, a single bead of sweat dripping down his temple as he slams into her.

“Feel so fucking good cumming all over my cock, bunny. So good. Like you were made for me.” He’s breathless, his hips meeting hers one final time before he’s spilling into her, bringing his lips to hers in a sloppy kiss as he rides through it, moaning into her mouth, filling her until he slides out and he drips down her thighs.

Gently, he lowers her until her feet meet the floor. She stumbles, humming as he brings his hands to her face and wipes the mascara running down her cheeks with the back of his fingers. His eyebrows pull together as her eyes meet his. He makes sure she’s steady, pulling her lingerie back into place and tucking himself back into his pants and zipping them before walking away and finding their earpieces that he threw across the room.

“Now, you’re gonna leave this room with my cum dripping from that pretty little pussy. Let it run down your thighs. Gonna be a good little bunny and let them all see who you belong to, right?” Her head is fuzzy, and she nods without thinking. She can’t think straight, forgetting for a moment why they were even here in the first place. He checks his watch, and all of twenty minutes have passed feeling like hours. He situates the technology in her ear, then moves to his, clearing his throat before he speaks.

“Aaron. We have reason to believe he’s working with a partner. There’s a woman in here that he’s been communicating with, and I think she plays a part in luring the women to him.” He speaks clearly, as if he didn’t just have his cock buried inside Grace, wishing he had a little more time, and he realized he was going to be insatiable for her, already thinking about when he could have her next.

“We didn’t profile a partner?” Aaron sounds confused, and Harry’s eyes travel to Grace still leaning against the wall, trying to catch her breath without making it obvious to anyone listening.

“Grace and I went to a private room, Baker is going to assume he knows what we did in this room. He’s going to make a move, or his partner will. Need another body inside. Need more eyes on him.” Harry says, calm and collected. “It’s going to have to be a man, because I’m sure there’s no other women on our team dressed like Grace.” He mutters.

“Weston, are you there?” Aaron asks and his voice speaking directly to her snaps her back to reality quickly.

“Uh, yeah. Here. I’m here.” She makes her presence known.

“Alright. I’m coming in.” He says, and they both look at each other once before nodding. Grace feels the ache in her thighs as she walks towards the door, Harry behind her. He leans into her just as her hand reaches for the handle.

“Still hate me?” He whispers in her ear

“Always.” She mutters.

“Good. It’d be boring if you didn’t.” He smirks, his hand on her back as they exit the room. She knew she was ruined, already wanting more of him, more time with him.

But it’ll have to wait.

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thevillainswhore · 11 months

Text

Perverse Desires

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Summary: Assigned an undercover mission, you’re partnered up with the bane of your existence, Bucky, to pay a visit to a s-ex club. What could go wrong?

Warnings: Smut (s-ex club, oral f receiving, f-ingering, nipple play, voyeruism, exhibitionism, degradation)

A/N: unbeta’d, dividers by saradika

Um, idk where this came from tbh, enjoy tho x

“Are you sure I’m the right person for this, Cap?”

The mission brief Steve handed over to you had stunned you in all honesty. You had been on numerous undercover missions for the team in the past, so there was no doubt in your mind or anyone else’s that you were capable for the job. It was your speciality - having a knack for being precise with discrete sufficiency and perfect timing to be able to get in and get out without making a fuss. But, this was totally new, even for you.

“Agent, I have no concern whether you’re fit for this job. I know it’s… different.” Steve clears his throat and you know this is as awkward for him as it is for you. “But, you were highly recommended and you have a- um, how d-do I say this? You, er-“

Tony interrupts Steve’s rambling from his seat in the corner of the office you were all situated in, decidingly having enough of watching his co-worker stumble from embarrassment.

“What Captain prude is trying to say, sweetheart, is that you have the right look for the job - great features, killer body - y’know? You’ll draw the target out no problem.” He finishes his explanation by throwing a wink paired with a smug smirk at Steve’s flushed cheeks.

“Yes. Thank you, Tony.” The grimace on Steve’s face has you desperate to laugh at his unease, but you manage to keep it in, eager to get out of this office soon as possible. “Your skills and experience are also compatible with the nature of this mission, Agent - it’s imperative we don’t mess this up.”

Skimming over the mission brief once more, you take in the role you have to play. An exclusive member of a popular underground sex club that’s been flagged up by Fury for suspicion of covering up a huge drug ring. Target ‘Antonio Maxwell’ - the leader the Avengers were looking to take down. While it wasn’t a world-ending level threat, the new drug allegedly supplied by Maxwell had already implemented significant damage and a high number of mysterious death cases to those in contact with him, concerning enough for higher ups to ask for help with this.

That’s where you came in.

You had enough background knowledge of ring leaders and crime bosses to call point on this - having worked undercover multiple times in this specific area over your years as an agent. Knowing how men like this worked and their strategies to cover their tracks was your forte. This would be a piece of cake for you. Yeah, the sex club element was a new challenge for you, but you were up for it.

“Okay boys. I’m in.”

Pleased hums and mumbled chatter from Steve and Tony as they finished up the paperwork with your agreement faded to the distance as you read till the bottom of the page of the brief - a new detail you must have missed before catching your eye and making you frown in confusion. Lifting your gaze to the men, you question the two of them one more time.

“Um- guys, it says here I’ll be working with a partner? Can I ask who it is?”

And just as Steve and Tony throw each other a worried look that has your eyes growing wide with realisation, you hear the door click open, a tall, beefy figure joining the room to announce his presence.

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.

“Sorry I’m late Punk, what did’ya need?”

Bucky Barnes.

“Y’know you don’t have to look so happy to see me dollface, I know how much you love spending time with me.”

Hell didn’t have shit on this.

Barnes is the literal bane of your existence. Constantly a pain in your ass since he had nothing better to do with his days than annoy you. Avenger you may not be, but the amount of time you still have to spend around him is ridiculous. Training, gym, drills. He just seems to be in your presence 24/7 and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was doing it on purpose. His teasing and childish remarks at your capability to do your job always has you biting your tongue around him. Frustration leading you to walk away from what you were previously doing, or causing you to snap in anger and scream at him in front of the other recruits - smug smile plastered over the bastard’s face knowing he’d won, yet again.

Bucky was unbearable.

You are also possibly the only one in the entire Shield initiative, who hadn’t fallen for his charm or swooned over him - women and men actually falling over their feet just at the sight of him - never mind what they did to actually have a scrap of his attention.

Sickening.

And so you believe it’s because of this reason, Barnes has made it his business to make sure every day is torture for you. His fragile masculinity unable to comprehend that you’re just not into him. Not desperate enough to whittle your entire being to admiring him.

Even if he did have them ocean blue eyes you occasionally got lost in.

Where the hell did that come from?

“Just because we’re paired together Barnes, doesn’t mean we have to speak - let’s just get this mission done with and go back home. Sooner this is over the better.”

Bucky’s mock gasp at your scolding only boils your blood hotter.

“Okay, first of all, ouch, I thought we were friends, baby.” His low chuckle and his pet names have you fighting the war going on between your cunt and your head.

“And second of all, we kinda have to talk. It’s part of the mission - the whole sex crazed relationship we got going on to be exclusive members of the club, remember? Silly bunny, I know your head gets a little fuzzy sometimes, but catch up dollface, you’re slacking.”

Okay, that shouldn’t be making my panties wet.

Huffing a frustrated sigh and ignoring his efforts to rile you up, you snatch the mission brief out of the compartment of the car and place it over your legs to read it over one more time before reaching your destination. Not giving Bucky the satisfaction of seeing your thighs rub together to stop the ache in your pussy and the butterflies in your stomach.

“There’s a good girl.”

Fuck.

The tacky neon signs and the disco lights of the bar you arrive at almost give you a headache worse than Barnes did on a bad day - you know this is a front to their downstairs adult party.

Stepping out of the car in your knee high leather boots is a task, but you make it look effortless as you smoothly swing your legs round and stand up, shuffling your tight, mini black dress down to cover as much of your ass as possible. Your outfit had to match the vibe of the character you were playing and you didn’t sell her short.

Bucky, however, got the better end of the stick in his full black suit. Top three buttons of his shirt undone to reveal his broad chest with a smattering of hair.

Stupid fucking Barnes and his stupid, slutty chest.

Closing your eyes and inhaling a deep breath to calm your headspace for the mission, you fail to notice the silent ex-assassin creep up beside you and whisper in your ear, “Last minute nerves, dollface?”.

Your eyes open wide in shock at the feel of his breath against your neck, goosebumps running down your arms and you push down the urge to shiver. “Oh Jesus fucking Christ, do you mind? A bit of personal space would be nice please”, turning your head towards Bucky, you realise too late how close he is to you, noses almost bumping together as his intense gaze pins you to your spot.

“Can’t start getting all jumpy on me now, baby bunny. Thought you were good at your job.”

You can nearly feel the motion of his lips moving as he speaks. How easy it would be to just move that tiny bit closer to finally know if they’re as soft and plump as they look.

You’re better than this, he’s making you look weak - that’s his plan.

Your leather heels click as you walk away from him, tearing your body out of danger and berating yourself for acting just like those back at the compound, the lovesick recruits who put Bucky Barnes on a pedestal. You would not be like them. Not in a million years.

You don’t see Bucky cock his head as he watches your hips sway side to side, but you definitely hear his low whistle in reference to your ass - his grunt of laughter following soon after when you stick your middle finger up over your shoulder at him.

Security protocol of the club doesn’t take as long as you thought it would, the tech department handling your fake identity documents with the utmost care to ensure there would be no issues.

Now, you stood at the ominous red door at the end of the hallway, about to be let into the most prestigious sex club known. You couldn’t say you were totally ready, the natural fear of the unknown rattling your psyche. Yet, you didn’t let it show. Face stoic with a subtle sultry undertone to enhance your allure.

Bucky’s coded knocks on the door echoes through the hallway, his cold metal hand snaking over your waist and squeezing the meat of your hip. If the door hadn't opened as quick you would have stomped on his foot.

Would of served the fucker right.

And soon enough, with a private spoken password, only sent to the invited elite, you were in.

Holy. Fuck.

Had Bucky not kept his arm around your waist you would have fell flat on your ass.

Everywhere you looked had your heart beat erratically speeding up. Cocks. Tits. Pussys. All of it was on show without a care in the world. Threesomes, gangbangs, doms and subs. Any sexual position or kink your mind could conjure up was playing out in front of you - the glow of the red strobe lights highlighting the sweat, spit and cum covering numerous naked bodies.

The music blasting over the speakers had no chance of silencing the high pitched moans and needy whimpers of pleasure. Whips smacking against skin and leather cuffs clinking against railings - you didn’t know how to process your senses going haywire.

“What’s a matter, dollface? Don’t tell me you haven’t seen a cock before.”

You don’t think you could have suppressed the tingles shooting through your nerves at Bucky’s use of the word ‘cock’, the image already engraved in your mind of you squirming in his hold as he tells you his filthy thoughts.

Bitch, now is not the time.

Right, you had a mission to complete and you couldn’t fuck this up.

“Shut the fuck up Barnes. We didn’t come here to fuck around and argue, so you scour the left side of the room and I’ll take the right - if you see Maxwell then communicate through the coms.” Without listening to what would without a doubt be another jab at you from Bucky, you stepped away and left him alone, praying that a moment away from him would clear your head.

It had been at least an hour of searching, still no sign of Maxwell or at least any type of drug dealings you could snap a picture of for evidence. The ache ever present in your feet from the six inch leather boots. You had scoured the entirety of your side, ignoring the clapping of wet skin and grunts of feral men. You just needed a minute to rethink your strategy and come up with a new plan - something worthy enough to draw Maxwell out of his hiding spot for the night.

Stepping into the nearest open plan room, you lean against the wall and rub your temples in an attempt to get your brain flowing. Not noticing the growing crowd gathering to watch the spectacle on the sofa in the middle of the room. You really hadn’t paid attention to the man laying a woman down and spreading her legs for everyone to get a good view, too preoccupied with your own situation.

It only registered what was happening when you heard the first breathy whine of a woman, slowly lifting your head to witness a man licking her pussy in languid strokes, thumbs holding her folds open to suck her clit.

Shit, this is really happening.

It also occurred to you that the woman kind of looked like you - same hair colour and body type, enough to have you imagining it was you in her position.

You swallowed the growing knot in your throat, the arousal pooling in your lacy underwear creating a sticky mess. Chest heaving up and down as the scene before you had your breaths coming in heavier.

What the fuck am I doing?

You had never counted yourself as a voyeurist. You most definitely were not inexperienced and had experimented plenty in the bedroom with partners, but this was a total new sensation for you. Watching someone else bask in the pleasure their partner was bringing them, legs trembling uncontrollably. It was really doing it for you.

Without permission, you found yourself stepping closer, greedy to be just that tiny bit nearer to the main event. Your mouth stayed open as you placed your hands on both of your arms, licking your lips with raw need.

As you got a closer look at the man, you took in his mid length brunette hair, tied up in a bun at the back of his head. He had a broad stocky build, beefy and probably big enough to tower over you should he stand up. Wait…

He looks like Bucky.

You shifted on the balls of your feet at your new epiphany, shaking in anticipation on whether to stay and watch or leave.

Surely it couldn’t hurt to watch a little, right?

Bucky was growing fed up with the lack of leads on his hunt for information. No sightings of drugs and no clue where the leader of the drug ring was. He guesses you were still searching on your end too, a silent line on his com alerting him you’d found nothing as well.

He should probably go check to see how you’re doing.

While Bucky knows how irritated he makes you, it wasn’t his intention to make you dislike him, believe it or not. In fact, he had the biggest crush on you and just didn’t know how to deal with it. It’s true he really is used to most people gawking in lust over him and the endless invitations to go out for a drink. So when he first observed your blatant disregard for him, it sent him into a frenzy, powerless to his instant attraction for you. He was desperate to get a reaction out of you, even if it had you wanting to pummel him into the ground.

You’re cute when you’re angry, sue him.

And he’s not stupid enough to not comprehend the tension between you, you’re just unwilling to give in - don’t want the shame of contradicting yourself and falling for him like the rest of them.

Silly little bunny, you’d give in soon enough.

So imagine his surprise when he silently walks into the next room to find you there, hand trembling against your neck as you watch a man sloppily eat a woman’s pussy, teeth biting your lower lip to stop any noise from coming out of your mouth.

His naughty little minx, getting off by watching other people fuck. He was impressed.

Bucky wouldn’t have pegged you as a little voyeur. He can’t say he’s disappointed though.

It’s times like this where Bucky praises his super hearing from the serum, low chatter from the upper floor has him pulled out of his thoughts of you and sneaking a glance up to see a middle aged man leaning over the open plan railing and looking directly out at you. Maxwell.

Fuck, he was onto you.

Options speed through Bucky's head as he quickly concocts a plan to kill two birds with one stone. Throwing the target off your scent and getting to have some fun with you.

Time to play, babydoll.

Glued to the scene in front of you, your surroundings blur, mission forgotten as you focus on the sounds of the woman’s sloppy wet cunt, obscene squelching from the man’s thick fingers that fuck her pussy and her juices spraying out.

All the more reason for the loud gasp that escapes you as a cold hard hand wraps around your throat and drags you back into a firm chest, the whir of fingers squeezing the sides to slightly cut off your airway. Warm breath tickling the curve of your neck as electricity shoots through your body.

“Who’d have thought a stuck up little bitch like you enjoys something as dirty as this, huh?”

Shit.

“You’re a filthy fuckin’ slut, you know that baby? Y’know how disgusting you are getting off on this?” You can’t help crossing your legs to try and create some friction to ease the ache in your cunt and the needy whimpers that echo across the room even with Bucky's hand choking you - blending with the slick noise of the woman’s wet pussy on the sofa.

You weren't banking on your mission partner catching you in the devious act, anxiety bleeding over you as he finds out how shameless you are and how much you want him.

A large number of the growing crowd have turned to watch the display of you and Bucky. Humiliation washing over you from his degradation and how exposed you feel.

Bucky hadn’t felt this horny for as long as he could remember, his hard cock straining against his trousers over how much he’s enjoying turning you to putty in his hands for everyone to see.

You’re mine, little bunny. Even if everyone can see the dumb fucked out mess I’ve reduced you to.

“C’mon dollface, you’re normally so feisty, where’s them claws you like to scratch me with, kitten?”

His condescending words only cease to turn you into a bigger puddle, unable to get your words out without moaning or stuttering, “B-bucky, p-please.”

Even though Bucky wants to hold out longer, he can’t help but bring his other arm up from his firm hold on your waist up to your tits, toying with your peaked nippes over your dress.

Somehow, the little shit knew they were sensitive.

His grip on your throat moves up to hold your jaw, making sure you’re still watching the other couple play as he tweaks your nippes, rubbing his thumb over them and squeezing your tits. He fucking loved it. The broken moans you no longer care to keep down break free as drool drips down your chin.

You didn't think you could like being spoken to the way Bucky does, his harsh words but soothing tone has your head fuzzy and your mind empty, no coherent thoughts other than the man behind you.

Your ass rubs back onto Bucky’s crotch as you squirm in his hold, the throaty rumble he lets out only worsening the throb of your cunt.

“Y’know they kinda look like us don’t ya think, bunny baby? Is that what has you so fuckin’ gone, huh? You wanna know how good I’d eat your pretty little pussy?” He starts to grind his cock into the curve of your ass, the thin material of your dress leaving no guesses to how thick he really is.

It’s helpless as your head flops back onto Bucky's shoulder, boneless in his arms. You’ve forgotten about everyone else in the room with you, only enough room in your head to process who’s making you feel so good.

The tingling of your swollen clit has you wailing needy moans, the lack of stimulation edging you and forcing tears from your eyes.

“Oh dollface, you’re crying now? You need me to make all those tingles go away?”

You couldn’t nod your head fast enough, dragging his hand to place it over your soaked panties under your dress with pleas whispered against his neck. He’d punish you for that in normal circumstances, but right now he really wants to see you cum.

His warm fingers gently start rubbing your pulsing clit, the added friction of your lace underwear making your eyes roll to the back of your head and high pitched whimpers to fill the room. Gyrating your hips to follow his motion, you can feel the knot in your stomach getting tighter, so close to that release you’re internally begging for.

“You’re so fuckin’ desperate, bunny, my cocks rock fuckin’ solid for ya, bet you could take this fat cock in your tight little cunt.”

You can feel the brink of your orgasm on the precipice from his words, his Brooklyn accent spilling through as he continues to rub his huge cock against your back.

But it’s the switch from rubbing to repeatedly tapping your bundle of nerves as he licks the trail of sweat from your neck to groan in your ear that makes you finally let go.

“Now, fuckin’ cum for me before I leave your pathetic ass begging for me.”

Your legs give out as you suck lungfuls of air back in, eyes cross eyed as you see stars from how powerful your orgasm is. You don’t think you’ve ever cum that hard before in your life, and you’d crawl to Bucky on all fours to beg for it again.

Eventually, your high slowly descends and you come back down to earth, body limp but twitching with spasms. Should you even try to take a step forward you know you’d fall flat on your face, so you're grateful for Bucky keeping a tight embrace around you and cooing shushes into your ear as you muster a fucked out smile on your face.

You don’t care to see if anyone’s still around, if the couple that turned you on and got you into this state in the first place are still going at it.

Bucky, however, takes a peak back up to Maxwell, knowing he’d watched the whole show and his worries had been reassured by your brazen display that you weren’t suspicious. He catches the back of his coat, walking down the steps and into a back room.

The smirk grows back on his face as he takes one hand away from your body, your whine of displeasure all the more satisfying for what comes next, he won’t be able to see your face but that’s okay - he’s more than happy to feel your reaction instead.

Sucking his fingers from your juices that are still running down your leg, he presses the button on the com to send an update on status to backup and Steve.

“Target's position secured. Distraction followed through and on route to prepare for arrest, over.”

Your eyes rip open from your hazy daydream as you soak in Bucky’s update to the rest of the team. Blood running cold when it finally processes his motive for your little show.

“My my little bunny, I gotta say I’m impressed you folded so easily for lil’ old me.” Bucky’s murmur against your head vibrates through your entire being, but you can’t bring yourself to move an inch.

His chuckle has fury bubbling up to the surface, yet you’re speechless as he leaves a gentle kiss to your temple and departs with his final words.

“Didn’t know you were a squirter either, doll. I had fun, looking forward to the next time too. But let’s go catch Maxwell for now, yeah? I’ll even keep hush of your unprofessionalism on the job.”

You can only stare as he strolls towards the back room where you can only assume Maxwell is, whistling a tune to himself as he tucks his hands in his pockets, uncaring to the salacious acts of sex still occurring around you.

You’re so fucked.

A/N: I have to thank my angel baby @rookthorne for the inspiration in writing this after one of our little domme sessions 👀 loves you so much kotenok 💗 thank you for reading lovelies!!

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sturniozo · 5 months

Text

In The Shadows I

masterlist

Most people that work for their father’s company have no choice, they’re thrown into it against their will. I was no different. Ever since I learned what my father really did for a living he had decided it would be what I do to. And I do it well. I’ve been training since I was 16. Now, 6 years later I’m the greatest assassin his company has ever produced.

My father runs a business, a hit man business. Some people are rich enough to hire people like us, people like me. We don’t just kill, we erase. We make people suffer and we make them silenced. Some people hire us just to investigate, gather information on an enemy.

You wouldn’t believe the amount of people that have wanted others dead. Exes wanting revenge, spouses wanting to collect life insurance, adult children sick of their parents. Some of their reasoning isn’t even good, but hey, moneys money right?

The cash isn’t even why I do it. It’s the thrill. Being undercover, being sneaky, solving things people had made difficult because they thought they were smart enough to hide them.

Everything I do, I do for the thrill. That rush of adrenaline that I’ve yet to let anyone who cares about me know about. Most assassins are like me though. No one really does it for the money. That’s just a bonus.

My father’s the only one who knows what I do. He made me what I am today. A killer. Not even my boyfriend of two years knows. He thinks I’m a planner at a company that sells stocks. That’s my cover. Thats my lie.

My eyes snap open as I hear my alarm go off. I dig under my pillow for my phone and shut off the alarm. I set my phone down on the night stand and rub my eyes. 5 am. I look over to my side and see my sleeping boyfriend, Luke. No doubt he went to bed not even an hour ago. He spends most nights staying up all night playing video games.

I sit up in bed and yawn. I get up and make my way to my bathroom. I take a quick shower before leaving to my usual coffee shop for breakfast.

The barista hands me my usual order with a smile. I’m used to seeing her here almost every day. Her usual days off are Wednesday and Friday. I sip on my coffee as I head back to my car. The clock on the console reads 6:53 am. I set the coffee down in the cup holder and drive off to the building I spend so many days in during my childhood, before I knew what it held.

I park in my usual spot, right next to my father’s car. I get out the car with my purse and my coffee, heading to the building entrance. I nod at Bobbie, the security girl, as I swipe my access card. It grants me access to the building and I head straight to my father’s office as I do every morning.

“Ah, good morning my dear.” My dad says as he gets out of his chair and walks to me for a hug.

“Good morning, Dad.” I say as I hug him back tightly.

He pulls away and smiles at me. “What do you have for me today?” He asks.

I dig through my purse and find a little paper bag. I hand it to him. “Open it.” I say while biting my lip to contain my excitement.

My father smiles at me and opens the little paper bag, letting a ring fall out onto his hand. “24 karat diamond?” He asks as he examines it.

“Yep. Fresh off the finger of a very unlucky divorcé.” I tell him.

“Ah, so this is the proof of contract completion for that Mrs. Aubrey then?”

“Ms. Aubrey.” I correct. “And yes, her ex husband won’t be bothering her or her children anymore.”

“That’s a good girl, I knew I could count on you.” My father smiles and puts the ring back in its paper bag. “I’ll have it delivered to her tonight, expect your payment in full my tomorrow morning dear.” He sits back down in his chair.

I sit down in the seat in front of his desk. “That’s my last contract, I’m officially out of running orders.” I say with a laugh.

“Oh don’t worry, I’ve got something for you.” My dad smiles as he begins typing away at his computer.

“What is it?” I ask, leaning in.

“I’ll tell you in a bit, go on back to your office dear.”

“Why wait?”

“There’s more than just you and I for this contract, it’s a big one.”

I smile brightly. My father’s finally giving me a big important contract for my own. “All right. Just call my office when you’re ready for me, Dad.” I say with a smile as I get up from the seat.

“I’ll see you in a bit, dear.” He says as he waves me off.

I walk out of his office and to the elevator. My father’s office is on the top floor, while mine is about seven floors below that, a bit more than 2/3 of the way up the whole building. I walk out of the elevator and see the cubicles. I’m glad I got to skip that part.

I walk down the cleared walkway to my office, but am stopped when someone waves me over.

Casey. She started here as an information analyst just over a year ago. Now she profiles the subjects of our contracts. She’s the one who decides which assassin does what job.

“Hey, Casey.” I rest my arms over her cubicle.

“So, your new contact.” She smiles at me.

“I take it you chose me?” I laugh.

“No, this one came straight from the big man, your dad.” She says.

“Ah, okay. So you have no idea what it is then?” I ask.

“Nope.” She shakes her head.

“Then what did you call me over for?” I ask with a laugh.

“To gossip, duh! What else?” She laughs.

“I’m not one to gossip, Casey, you know that.” I say as I begin to walk away.

“I just wondered if you heard anything about the new guy.” She shrugs.

I turn back to her. “New guy?” I ask.

“He’s on loan from another industry. Apparently he’s their best assassin. Might even be right up there with your skill.” She chuckles.

“Who is it?” I ask.

“Well, I didn’t get a name, but he’s handsome. I snuck a peak at his photo in his file when I was in your dad’s office yesterday.” She smirks. “He’s gorgeous, like a god!” She whispers.

I laugh. “He’s a trained killer?”

She nods. “His file was definitely an assassin file.”

I shake my head. “Don’t be spreading this around. Idle gossip isn’t what people come here for.” I say before walking into my office.

I shut the door behind me and let out a breath. I walk to my desk and set down my now half drunk coffee and my purse. I rub my temple and check the time on my phone. 8:14 am.

I groan and lay my head down in my arms on my desk. No contracts, no one to research or study. Nothing. I sigh and start scrolling aimlessly on my phone.

I get bored fast and see my phone down on my desk. I run my fingers over my face and bounce my knee up and down. The agony and boredom is killing me.

I shake my head and begin searching through my drawers, taking everything out and organizing everything. Within an hour I have everything in my office rearranged. I step back and look at it all, smiling.

I turn around and look out the glass wall of my office. Anyone who looked in here would think I was crazy. I just tore apart my entire office and rearranged it all in an hour, just out of boredom.

Staring out the glass I see someone who makes my breath hitch. Matt Sturniolo. Matt worked at this company years ago. He was one of my father’s greatest assassins. He even taught me most of my tricks. But that all changed when Matt betrayed me.

The call finally comes. My father telling me it’s time to go back up to his office. I have a weird feeling in my stomach, a feeling Matt has something to do with it.

I make my way to the elevator and go back up to my father’s office. I walk out of the elevator and stop when I see him. Matt standing in my father’s office. Just talking with him.

I gather my courage and walk into his office, ignoring Matt completely. “Got the call,” I say to my dad. “What’s the contract?”

“Y/n, you know Matt Sturniolo.” My dad gestures to Matt. I side eye him before looking back at my dad.

“Yes, I remember him.” I mumble.

“He’s your partner for this contract.”

My jaw drops. “He- what?” Matt laughs and I turn to glare at him. “What’s so funny?” I ask him.

“Just you.” Matt says. “You’re like a high school girl with a grudge.”

I glare at him before turning back to my dad. “There’s got to be someone else, or I could just do it myself!” I tell him.

“No, you two are the best assassins I’ve ever met, the best trained killers, the best investigators, the best of the best. I need both of you for this.” My father says in a demanding tone.

“What’s the contract?” Matt asks.

“Finley Wilson.” My father stands up and hands both Matt and me a folder. “Collector of rare curios. He’s not the target though, your job is to befriend him. Pose as a couple in search of useless art and befriend Wilson. Find out who he cares about the most.”

I stare at my father. “Us? A couple?” I point between Matt and myself.

“I won’t hear any of your complaining.” My dad says. “This is an important contact, I want reports every night. Your flight leaves tomorrow afternoon, I suggest you be ready then, understand?” My father says sternly.

I nod and keep my mouth closed.

“Good. Don’t worry, I’ll have your things for your cover sent with you. You’ll need to make a believable couple, and Wilson will have to believe you’re a rich couple looking to buy his curios. That is important. You need him to believe this cover. He’s paranoid, it won’t be easy.”

Matt closer the folder and holds it under his arm. “Where are we going?” He asks.

“Switzerland.”

TAGS: @sturniolopookie @savageking3 @tastesousweet @jko3005 @sturniolo0ntop @bernardenjoyer @sturniolosreads @mbbsgf @xxsadlovexx @whicked-hazlatwhore @sturnsgirl @keira324 @stuniolobbg @timmyscomputer

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gothicflowers · 2 months

Text

You and Alex just finished up a week long undercover assignment in Las Vegas. You two have been inseparable since you got assigned as partners three years ago. Everyone has always been slightly confused by your friendship. It was never just coworkers, or friends, it was like a relationship but there has never been anything more than a hug shared between you two. Fortunately this assignment was short but exhausting.

Alex stood by the window looking down at the busy street below illuminated by the bright lights of Vegas “I don’t see why we had to wait till tomorrow to fly out of here. I’m so sick of this place” Alex was always eager to get back to your shared apartment where neither of you felt the need to be on edge.

“Well at least we can relax for a little while” you replied as you crawled onto your hotel bed enjoying its softness.

Throwing your phone onto the pillow next to you, you look at Alex admiring how his button up shirt is halfway undone. You can’t count the amount of times you’ve almost drooled looking at him. “I’m bored” you huffed, his gaze pulls from the window to you.

He let out a deep groan before saying “Me too, what’s something we can do that won’t give me another migraine” he was referred to five nights you both had to spend in a club gathering intel. Turns out Alex didn’t do well with strobe lights for very long.

“I don’t know, maybe we can go catch a movie” you suggested with a half turned up smile.

Alex sighed “Nah, there’s nothing good in theaters” he plopped down onto your bed next to you, lying on his stomach propped up by his elbows.

You smirk at him, his big goofy smile shining “alright what’s your idea” you questioned.

“Wanna go get married” he said in a sincere voice. His eyes sparkling as he looked down at you. His usual joking tone was nowhere to be found, he was dead serious.

*the next morning*

You both wake up tangled together underneath the sheets. Still naked from last night. You knew it would be good with him. But you didn’t have the words to describe how incredible it was.

You laughed as Alex’s mustache tickled you as he lazily placed kisses on your neck “How are we going to tell Laswell” you asked him as you looked the rock on your finger.

“I have a feeling she won’t be surprised” His left hand came up to cradle your face, the cool metal of his ring felt good against your hot skin.

He leans in to give you another searing kiss that you return back with the same amount of passion. He pulls away with a smirk “and let’s be honest, it was bond to happen now or later”

(Photo credit to grave_fluffy_testicles on Pinterest)

#call of duty #cod #flowerwrites #alex keller #cod alex keller #alex keller call of duty #alex keller imagine #alex keller smut #alex keller x reader #alex keller x you #alex keller cod #alex keller x y/n #cod alex #alex cod #call of duty x reader

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storiesofsvu · 4 months

Text

Devour

Joe Velasco x reader warnings: language, alcohol and drug consumption, smut, semi-public smut, dirty talk. A million years ago @thatesqcrush requested dirty spicy Joe smut, and this is what I finally came up with. Hope you enjoy it!

The club was dark, lights flashing across the dance floor, barely making their way into the booth you were nestled into in the corner, the bass from the music strumming through your veins. The alcohol and small amounts of cocaine and molly you’d done made you incredibly aware of Joe’s hands on your body, one wrapped sturdily around your waist to hold you to him, the other resting on your bare thigh, thumb rubbing against your skin. The heat from his body electrified you, invading all of your senses and you weren’t sure if you wanted more or if that was just the drugs talking. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was a little high too, the consequences of a long undercover case that was pushing the limits, one that the two of you needed to prove your loyalty before you’d be trusted. You were his little plaything, the princess he’d “rescued” from a sex ring one night, unable to let anyone else even lay a finger on you despite his career as a pimp. He owned you, a choker around your neck with a gem of his initial sparkling in the low light to alert any of the other men with wandering eyes that you were his property and not to be messed with.

They’d been talking shop all night, switching between English and Spanish depending who was around and how loud the music was. Three other men around the table, girls flitting in and out seeking approval and acceptance, some of them shooed away while others might stay for a while before disappearing out into the club to find a client for the night. Somone made a comment about your loyalty, how you seemed to only have eyes for Jose and he simply chuckled, squeezing at your thigh even tighter before nipping at your neck.

“My girl knows who she belongs to.” He replied, a dark look in his eyes that made your breath catch in your throat, your mouth suddenly running dry at the thought of being twisted in the sheets with him. Picking up your drink to distract yourself, you shifted slightly on his lap, doing your best to not grind down to heavily, not knowing what kind of reaction you would get. “Princesa, why don’t you go get us some fresh drinks?”

“Course.” You pecked his cheek, your hand brushing down his chest as you stood, your hips swaying a little extra for show, knowing his eyes were trained on your body. You heard him chuckle darkly, Spanish flowing from his lips as you sauntered away from the table.

Only a moment later and you returned, sliding the full glass over to him as you slipped back into the booth and he yanked you down onto his lap. You let out a small squeal, your cheeks heating as you attempted to adjust your skirt, pulling it down from where it had started to ride up. Jose’s left hand wound around you, resting on your right thigh, squeezing softly,

“Relax pretty girl.” He husked into your ear, breath hot on your skin, “I’m sure these boys won’t mind a little bit of lace peeking out.” His thumb disappeared under your dress, hand slowly sneaking up, “you could probably even spread your legs.”

Your eyes flicked up to your table companions, a shy grin on your lips as you let out a small laugh, thankful they were distracted in their own conversation. Their attention was on a girl across the room, their remarks over sexualized and in Spanish, lost in their own world as much as you and Joe were. You adjusted yourself on his lap again so you were sideways, your arm able to brace across the back of the booth over his shoulder and his hand slid further up your thigh as you leant into the crook of his neck.

“I can’t wear panties with this dress.” You admitted, “and do I need to remind you I speak Spanish? I heard what you said.” Feeling your cheeks heating, you were about to pick up your drink, distract yourself with a sip when he chuckled darkly, his free hand grasping at your jaw, pulling you back to him.

His gaze was full of lust, eyes boring into yours, his lips parted just enough that his breath was hot on your face and you could smell the tequila. “So you decided to come out being a little tease then, hmm?” He raised a brow at you, watching the way your pupils dilated, your lips falling open in an attempt to protest but you had no argument. His hand slid further up your dress, squeezing tighter before his thumb trailed through your pussy and he chuckled again, “heard what I said? You must’ve liked it to be this wet already.” His thumb continued to stroke you, smearing your wetness, “all distracted thinking about my cock buried nice and deep in this pretty pussy of yours?”

“Jose…” You tried to warn, your eyes fluttering shut as heat began to course through you.

“Mm-mmm.” The thumb of his other hand traced your lips and you couldn’t control the way your mouth fell open, “good girls don’t leave the house without panties. Only dirty ones who want to be fucked so good they can’t think pull stunts like this. Now, spread your legs.”

His thumb rubbed at your clit and you practically trembled in his lap, thankful that his lips finally met yours when he sunk two fingers into your pussy. He was able to swallow the moan that escaped you, his tongue sneaking into your mouth, dancing with yours as he took control of the kiss, complete control of you and you were simply putty in his hands. The hand from your chin sunk to your throat, squeezing softly and you whined into the kiss. His lips broke into a smirk, a fire in his eyes as he bit your lower lip, winking at you as his fingers stilled inside your cunt.

“Be good Chiquita, I’ve got business to finish.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, patting your cheek before turning back to the table to catch up with the conversation. You gulped, pussy fluttering around his still fingers, earning your hip a soft squeeze as he grinned over the rim of his drink at the other men across the table who were completely unaware of what was actually going on.

You picked up your drink, taking a small sip to try and ignore the heat that was beginning to creep through your body but the liquor was really only making it worse. Between that and the drugs sinking deeper into your system you were fighting every urge to not squirm in Jose’s lap, to not arch your back slightly and begin to roll your hips. It would be barely noticeable in the darkness of the booth and maybe just enough to get you where you wanted in the meantime. His lips hit the side of your neck and you were jolted back to reality when he asked you a question and you had to squeak out an answer as his thumb brushed over your clit. He chuckled lightly, clinking his glass with the other men before continuing to basically ignore you, focusing on work talk.

Feeling his fingers still inside your pussy you took a deep breath, hiding yourself behind your drink as you busied yourself with anything but what was going on at the table. Jose continued his conversation, smirking at the way you were attempting to not squirm in his lap, his teeth scraping at the column of your neck between his words. Suddenly the fingers he had stuffed inside you curled and you let out a quiet gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” You murmured and he laughed.

“Making my girl feel good.” He husked into your ear, “now keep quiet.”

His fingers flicked again and you tried to not to whimper, burying your face into his neck again as Jose laughed darkly, his free hand brushing over your hair. He let you curl into him, his fingers continuing to press into the extra sensitive spot inside your cunt as you whimpered into his ear softly. He lifted up his glass to cover his lips as he muttered into your ear, his words bringing even more heat to your cheeks.

“It’s a shame, I’m pretty sure if I was properly fingering you right now the whole table would hear this drenched little cunt, wouldn’t they?”

You whined, burying your face deeper into the crook of his neck, any inhibitions totally gone as your lips met his skin, kissing and nipping, occupying your mouth as he continued to curl his fingers inside your pussy. Your teeth sunk into his pulse point and he groaned before your tongue swiped over the spot, a soft sigh leaving your lips at the salty taste of his skin. His fingers sunk deeper into you, causing you to grind down onto his lap and you could feel his cock hardening.

There was a slight snicker from across the table, “Jose.” One of the men called a little louder in order to be heard over the music and Joe managed to look up across at him, watching as he slid a small baggie across the table, “take this, get outta here and have some fun with your girl before you get us all in trouble.”

A chorus of laughter broke free around the table, yourself included as you attempted to avoid any eye contact, watching as Jose pocketed the drugs, tossing down a wad of cash as he quickly said goodnight. A small whine left your lips when his fingers slipped out of you but his hands were hot on your waist, practically manhandling you out of the booth. He wasn’t going to waste any time getting you back to the apartment where he could do whatever he wanted to you.

Joe wasn’t even sure where he wanted to start once the apartment door was shut behind the two of you, he wanted to dive right in, pin you against the wall and drive his cock into your cunt. He also wanted to slowly strip you down, admiring every single inch of your body, watching you come undone as many times as humanly possible before finally fucking you. He wanted to taste you, run his tongue through your pussy until your fingers were yanking him off by the hair, wanted you on your knees in front of him, cock crammed down your throat.

His flying thoughts were somewhat settled at the feeling of you pulling him closer, backing into the wall as you tugged him into a kiss, your lips soft against his. His eyes fluttered shut, a hand cupping your cheek, the other gently wrapping around your throat as he savoured your taste, tongue sneaking into your mouth. Every moment of the kiss was fogging his brain even more, drowning in your essence, fire crackling under his skin wherever your fingertips traced across his skin. You let out a whine into the kiss, your body rocking toward his and his lips twitched up into a smirk.

You wanted him just as badly as he wanted you, pussy already fluttering, wishing his fingers were still buried in it, touching it where you absolutely ached for it. Your hands trailed down his body, fingers tickling at the skin just under his shirt before sneaking under it, tracing up along his torso. He broke the kiss only long enough to pull the fabric off his body, dropping it to the floor. The hand he had on your cheek sunk south, groping at your ass through your dress and your hips rocked into his. Practically panting, he broke the kiss, his lips messily tracing across your jaw, down the side of your neck, biting and sucking at your supple skin.

“Jose…”

A gasp left your lips when his hands cupped your chest, pinching at your nipples right as his teeth sunk int the crook of your neck. He practically growled against your skin, thrusting his hips against you and you moaned at the feel of his cock, thick and hard in his pants.

“Wanna fuckin’ devour you.” He groaned, his breath hot on your neck before he bit your earlobe, hands continuing to toy with your body. Your head dropped against the wall behind you, eyes fluttering shut as your chest began to heave, tingles shooting through your entire body.

“Then do it.” You managed to muster up, letting out a squeak when he gripped your waist hoisting you up so your legs wrapped around him and he could finally carry you into the bedroom.

Joe dropped you to the floor, whipping you around in his arms so you faced the bed while he fumbled with the zipper of your dress, yanking it down before you shoved the fabric away from your body. His hands were on you instantly, wrapping around you from behind, pinching at your nipples, rolling them between his thumbs and forefingers, his mouth finding home on your neck. Your head rolled back onto his shoulder, ass pressing back into his body, aching to feel his cock again. One of his hands traced down your body, feeling the way you practically shuddered under his touch before he softly began to play with your clit, rubbing at it gently.

“Fuck…” you groaned, “more, please. Need you….”

“Christ.” He felt his dick twitch in his pants, twirling you in his arms once again before his hand wrapped around your jaw, directing your lips to his for another deep kiss, this one messy, passionate, full of whimpers and moans, “get on the bed.”

With a gentle shove you were bouncing on the mattress, shifting backwards until your hands hit the pillows, watching with wide, greedy eyes as Jose made quick work of his belt buckle, never once losing eye contact with you. His cock springing free when he kicked his jeans and boxers to the floor, your mouth practically watering at the sight. His hand slid up your body, gently pressing you into the bed,

“Lie back.”

You instinctively spread your legs, letting him settle between you and he groaned, “such a fucking pretty pussy.” He spanked it first and you gasped, your hips jolting up off the bed before he spat onto it, rubbing his saliva into you, mixing it with the juices already leaking out of you, “and so fucking wet. You needy girl.”

“Just for you.” You mumbled out, moaning when he chuckled and two fingers easily sunk into your cunt again.

“Fuck…” Groaning, your head dropped into the pillows, your eyes scrunching shut as he began to finger you. This time at a more convenient angle, and neither of you had to hold back, moans and whimpers escaping your lips as he continually praised you, eyes full of lust as he watched his fingers disappear into your cunt.

“That’s my girl…” he murmured, “so fuckin’ good for me. Gonna stretch you out, get you nice and ready for my cock, alright querida?”

“Mm-hmm.” You frantically nodded, your hips rolling in time with his ministrations and he chuckled, lowering his head to your inner thigh, determined to leave a mark on your skin that was just for his eyes.

With his teeth on your thigh, tongue laving across the building mark when a hiss left your lips, his fingers continued to curl and twist inside your pussy, squelching sounds echoing through the room. He picked up the speed of his hand, wrist flicking with every thrust and your moans got louder.

“Feels so good.”

“I know baby.” He murmured back. Jose could feel your wetness dripping down his hand, making a mess of his wrist and the sheets underneath you. Satisfied with the growing mark on your leg he shifted back up to his knees and with a twirl of his wrist he slid a third finger into you.

“Fuck!” You cried out, your hips jolting up off the mattress, “oh god don’t stop!”

“Look so fuckin’ beautiful like this.” He purred, his gaze locked on your body, trembling with pleasure, coated in a sheen of sweat, your chest heaving as your legs twitched. His free hand found your clit, rubbing at it in time with the fingers fucking into your pussy. “Just fucking gorgeous.”

It was only a second later he dropped over you, lips wrapping around your nipple, teeth scraping gently over the sensitive nub. Your pussy clenched down around his fingers, cries leaving your lips each time they curled, pressing on your g-spot, lingering for a millisecond longer each time. Your clit pulsed underneath his hand as your body began to shake.

“Fuck, fuck…gon’ come.”

“Come for me querida.” His breath was hot on your skin as he moved to the other side of your chest, tongue tracing patterns across your skin, “let me see how gorgeous you are.”

One more brush of his fingers and you were seeing stars, back arching up off the bed as you let out a loud moan, pleasure shooting through your body and Jose felt like he was in fucking heaven. Feeling your body shake underneath him, the way that it was his hands that brought you to that high was enough to drive him insane, his cock twitching, throbbing as he ached to be inside you.

“Christ…” You muttered, panting as you attempted to catch your breath. He slowed his movements, pulling his fingers out of you as he trailed kisses up your chest. You were about to protest his lack of contact when his lips found yours again, tongue plunging into your mouth and you groaned. He shifted on the bed, settling properly between your legs and you could feel his cock against your thigh, already leaking pre cum, smearing across your skin. “Need you to fuck me…” you managed to get out, mumbled and needy between kisses.

“So impatient.” He teased with a grin and you did your best to glare back at him, knowing he was aching for this just as badly as you were. Your hand slunk between your bodies, palming at his cock and that certainly got his attention, a groan leaving his lips as his eyes rolled back in his head. Your thumb ran over the tip, smearing the pre cum down his shaft, continuing to pump him, cock twitching in your hand. He let out a near growl, nipping at your neck, “fuck.”

A second later and he was lining up with your pussy, pushing in slowly to stretch you out until he was completely buried inside you.

“Oh god…” You moaned, hands wrapping around his shoulders.

“So tight…” He groaned, his hips finally meeting yours, “fuck, baby…”

You whimpered under him, your body rocking up towards him and that’s all it took for him to start moving, slow and deep at first, making sure that you could take it, that he wasn’t going to come right away.

“Harder.” You begged and his lips pulled up into a smirk.

One of his hands reached downward, pulling up one of your legs, spreading you wide for him, pinning your thigh to the bed before he picked up the pace. Each thrust of his hips his cock buried deep inside you, body snapping against yours with power you almost weren’t expecting.

“Fuck! Right there!”

Jose could feel you fluttering around him already, the slick of your pussy heavenly on his cock, with a roll and tilt of his hips you let out a loud gasp and he knew he’d found the perfect spot. Your hands grasped at his back, nails scratching at his skin as you urged him on, whines and whimpers leaving your lips, muffled by the way you were buried in the crook of his neck.

“Shit, you feel so fuckin’ good.” He growled, and you squeezed around him, pulling a groan from his lips.

With each thrust of his cock it felt like you could actually feel every ridge and vein, your entire body on fire like it had never been before. One of your hands tangled into his hair, pulling him impossibly close while he continued to fuck you like his life depended on it.

“S-so good.” You moaned, and thrusted even harder into you, picking up the pace once again as you attempted to keep up, meeting his hips with yours on each thrust.

Before you knew it there was no breath left for words, only moans, whimpers and pants leaving either of your lips between breathless kisses. The slick between your bodies building with each thrust of Joe’s hips as you clung to him, the only sounds in the room absolutely sinful and skin on skin. You could feel the heat coursing through your body all the way down to the tips of your toes, a coil building tighter and tighter within you as your pussy pulsed around Joe’s cock.

“F-fuuck!”

Joe could feel just how tight you were squeezing him and he knew you were close, managing to sneak a hand between your bodies to play with your clit and you let out an even louder moan, a few strangled swears coupled with his name leaving your lips and his cock was throbbing inside you. He pressed harder onto your clit and the dam broke, your orgasm tearing through you, your body trembling in his arms.

“Fuck!” He groaned at the sensation, your pussy clenching down even harder around him, wetness leaking out of you, drenching his cock more than he’d expected.

You nearly fell limp in his arms, little gasps leaving you as he chased his own orgasm, hips snapping into you with even more force before they started to falter and he grunted, stilling deep inside your cunt and you let out a breathy moan at the feeling of his cum painting your pussy.

“Holy shit…” you muttered after a few minutes, your fingers still tangled in his short locks, nails scratching at the back of his head gently and he groaned softly before pulling his head up and shifting on the bed, letting out a low breath as his cock slipped out of your pussy.

“Fuck…” His eyes drifted down to between your legs, watching the mixture of his cum and your juices dribble out of your cunt and a smirk broke out on his lips as his eyes darkened.

“What?” You asked, feeling yourself already fluttering around nothing again.

“You trust me?” He asked, raising a brow and you nodded, watching him with curious eyes as he crawled to the foot of the bed, scooping up his pants and digging through the back pocket. He pulled out the bag of molly, scooping out some for himself before tossing it to you, “take another bump. This’ll feel even better, and I still need to taste you.”

________________

@witches-unruly-heart @fandom-princess-forevermore @cycat4077 @xoxabs88xox @alwaysachorusgirl @plaidbooks @thatesqcrush @im-just-a-mississippi-girl irl @wandas-wife @katieslotherford @momlifebehard @dondivajade @misscharlielulu @alexxavicry @rosaliedepp @legit9thlunaticwarrior @daffodil-heart @onmykneesformarvel @kmc1989 @silversprings-mp3 @bullet-prooflove

#law and order svu #svu #law and order #law and order special victims unit #joe velasco #joe velasco x reader #joe velasco x you

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mymreaderlibrary · 1 year

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Male reader/ character x Natasha Romanoff

I’m a simple man, I imagine Natasha being her normal badass self while also dating the most generic “just some guy” kinda dude and I am happy.

(Note: I wrote this in the middle of the night with no spellcheck or beta-ing so I’m sure there’s lot’s of mistakes n nonsense).

I’m picturing her at a party for Stark Enterprise. It’s massive, packed full of rich people who favor their status among all else. She blends right on in and spends most of the night dealing with small talk and trying to watch out for suspicious activity (you can never be too safe).

Picture her frustration when Tony decides to hound on her with some chatter despite his awareness of her job/ purpose. He makes jokes in typical Tony fashion, pressing buttons and somehow finding a way to keep even the most boring of topics going. But then he pauses, just for a moment however long enough for Natasha to notice.

He picks up her left hand and twists it lightly to look at the silver band on her ring finger. It’s nothing extravagant, in fact it’s a little cheap, but unless she was playing the role of a random married woman she had no reason to be wearing it. Unless…

To Natasha’s dismay Tony does not let this topic go, trying to trick her with loaded questions in hopes of finding out who gave it to her. He already knew she’s not playing a role, this is supposed to be an Avengers filled Stark hosted event, why the hell would she be undercover? He also knows she’s not wearing it to deter unwanted attention from unbearably persistent men because she had never struggled to send them on their way before (either with the cocky impression that she’s just a tough nut to crack or the realization that she had murder in her eyes specifically directed at them).

So again… who gave her the ring? Is she married? Engaged? Just dating and this is an anniversary gift? Tony can’t help but feed his own ego after he gets her to accidentally admit it was from her fiancé. A man Tony, or well none of the Avengers, seemed to know.

Perhaps he was a fellow agent, secretive and well trained in hiding in the shadows and assassinating political opponents. Or maybe he was a merc for hire who was just too busy to stay in one place as he got called for jobs around the world. Or better yet the Avengers DID know him it was just that he and Natasha were able to keep their relationship completely under wraps even during chaotic missions. The way she kept dodging the answer made Tony’s imagination spiral.

However it turned out, a much less exciting answer was the truth. A basic man, a civilian who worked at a mom n pop shop and only met Natasha thanks to a pub crawl had saved up the cash he had to buy her that ring. A man with no special talents or double life. A man who’s only scrapes and cuts came from the claws of his over excitable cat. A man who she had apparently been dating for almost 2 years without anyone knowing. A man who Natasha did not offer up the name of to Tony no matter how hard he tried to coax it out.

Her fiancé, someone she clearly loved too much to involve in her dangerous life.

That thought reluctantly made Tony back off for the night, but he still insisted that he meet this guy or at the very least see a picture of him. Natasha regretted telling Tony but she couldn’t find herself regretting wearing the ring. She deserved at least that amount of autonomy in her life, the pride of a gift.

#agauurgaggagagghhgghfhfhh idk what this is #just wanted to spit out a prompt n got a lil too into it #this is doo doo dog ass and I made it at literally 4 am so spelling and ideas are… foggy #maybe ill regret posting this but oh whale #future me can deal with it #male reader #x male reader #m reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x male reader #natasha romanoff x m reader #my writing #drabble #no beta read #mw

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yoon-oh-what-i-deserve · 1 year

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💙[request on jaehyun who's an undercover spy looking for his old lover]— DO YOUR MAGIC 💖

I'm back... ish? I've been gone for idek how long and got quite a few asks hanging in my DM, but...

Anyway, this is something I have been holding back for a few years now, and I think it fits perfectly. There might be other parts, but... You tell me what you think of it, if it should be posted. Just out of curiosity, I had named it "Starting Fires".

And thank you, anon, for asking for this prompt! Hope you enjoy it.

Jeong came to a halt, his chest rising and falling in quick motions, his breath labored, his sight not yet adjusted to the darkness of the tunnel. Behind him, he could hear the shouts and steps resonating through the gallery, water splashing around and echoing throughout the chamber, making it hard to pinpoint the location where it all came from.

A drop of sweat rolled from his forehead to his eye, the salty liquid stinging the deep cut over his eyebrow before finding its way to his dark chocolaty iris. The man blinked a couple of times, trying to clear his mind and keep his cool in order to find a way out of this situation.

The putrescent smell from the tunnel gave him the indication he needed. It was a sewer and there had to be a way out of it. That is, if he could find which path to follow before the men behind him had the chance of finding him and giving Jeong the same fate his partner had.

Stumbling forwards, the assassin advanced in the darkness. His left hand against the humid wall while his right hand held onto the gash wound on his lower abdomen, stacking some of the blood that insisted on pouring out of his body due to the constant movement he made.

Jaehyun couldn’t give himself a moment to stop and understand where this mission had gone wrong. He couldn’t believe they had been outsmarted. A whole team with the best of the best, and yet they had fallen prey to some terrorist cell in the middle of nowhere, with no one to turn to and nowhere to go.

The past few months had been like walking through hell, with Jeong and Davis being moved from one camp to another, a blind always covering their eyes, their minds clouded due to the amount of sedatives they had been given daily. It was like a never-ending nightmare, and Jaehyun couldn’t believe he was right in the center of it all. The one being held hostage instead of finding a way to free someone else.

The words Hurley had always told him ringed in his brain every day, the constant nag that no one would come after him. Remember, the voice said. If anything goes wrong, no one is coming for you. You’re ghost.

And that’s what he was trying to be now, a complete translucid, inaudible being walking with water covering his ankles, his steps vacillating, his breath ragged and his eyes blurry.

A sense of determination was what kept him going, though. There was no one else coming for him, there was no future staying. He had to leave and survive. He had to find a way out of this hell he had been living and get back to his life, to the people he had left behind, to the secret he kept from the CIA.

Without thinking of anything else, Jaehyun followed ahead, the path splitting into two directions. A groan escaped his mouth when he realized one wrong move would lead him into his death.

The man closed his eyes and took a deep breath, the face of a woman invaded his thoughts. The smile she had on her plump lips, the way the dimples on her cheeks caved into her features, her fingers intertwining with one another, her eyes glistening in the sunlight.

He wondered what she had been going through, what she thought had happened to him. Hurley had no idea about her, he had no idea about anything Jaehyun had decided to keep excluded from his professional life.

And if that was the case, she had no idea he had been captured, she had no idea he was still alive, and she had no idea he was going back to her. For all he knew, she assumed he had fallen victim to the horrible job he had, the one she had insisted he gave up, to no avail.

With a final grunt, Jeong threw himself to the left, the noises getting closer behind him, his eyes losing focus before a blinding light came in contact with him, his steps leading him to the opening without realizing the most important thing: it was a big fall.

And it was amidst his body free-falling into the ground that Jeong Jaehyun scolded himself. So much for trying to live and see the face of Y/N one more time. What the terrorist hadn’t done, he had managed to. He had killed himself.

#jaehyun #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun smut #spy!jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #nct127 fanfics #nct127 scenarios

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certfieddilusional · 1 year

Text

It would kill you to try? Javier Peña x Female reader. part 1

pairing: javier peña x female reader with latin roots.

chapter/ content warning: a little angsty but also a tiny amount of fluff, cute worried peña, swearing, not entirely faithful to the plot of the show.

English is not my first language so, sorry if you find any mistakes.

I intend to make a series out of this but who knows.

summary: You joined The DEA three months ago & after spending most of those days doing calm investigation work at the office, it’s time to face the real danger and go undercover along with Peña and Murphy to follow one of Escobar’s sicarios’ journey. But something unexpected happens that changes the work relationship you have with Javier. And that indifference you used to have between each other seems to unravel into fire,prejudice and something deeper.

Everything seemed like any other day at the office. The room was canonically silent apart from the typical office sound effects. Like papers being passed, coffee cups landing on desks and the sound of telephones ringing. The first day you were introduced to the team and most of the employees, things were also the same. And you started to wonder if it was your effect on being the new girl and people restraining themselves so they wouldn’t scare the shit out of you. But every day after that morning seemed to unravel in a similar way. The office environment wasn’t anything crazy. And that morning, three months later, was sharing a lot of similarities with the one of your very first day in Colombia. That was until Peña showed up and the room exploded.

You knew the effect he had on people. He was that kind of person that looked intimidating and at the same time everyone liked and disliked extremely. There was no in between with him. Which automatically pushed you away. He was everything you weren’t. Charming but demanding. Secure but careful. An asshole and every girl’s fantasy. Girls at the office wanted him and dudes idolized him or totally despised him. Too much for you. You liked people who felt real and he didn’t. Is not that you disliked they guy, you just didn’t bother to interact with him.

Something inside of you told you it was probably the safest option.

You were in your desk hearing the whole conversation while reading one of the reports about one of Escobar’s sicarios. Trying so hard to concentrate you gave up and focused your attention on him. He was wearing his usual office attire, dark colored shirt with short sleeves, leather jacket and orange aviator sunglasses hanging from the collar of the shirt. Three undone buttons showing a glimpse of his natural tanned skin in a triangular shape. You got it. He was handsome. In the words of one of your female colleges “He has a vibe”. But something about him felt so dark to you, it made him instantly uncomfortable. He was talking with other guys, leaning in front of Murphy’s desk who hadn’t arrive yet. The rest were trying to make fun of him about an unmentioned event that happened the night before. But giving the context and the fact that it was Peña they were talking about, you could vaguely picture what that could’ve been.

“Did you even get any sleep?” mention one of the boys in between laughs.

“I still can’t believe it, he literally just arrived and he had two around him like bees to honey” followed another one in the same tone.

“Did you kicked her out to come to work or is she still sleeping?”

You heard about the stories. The hookers and controversial places he had the reputation to visit. Even about the way he found all of those informants so easily. But you chose to never actually believe those theories. You’ve worked in offices like that one before. People tend to put people on pedestals and create this whole narrative around them to keep up with the boredom. And even though Peña looked like he could play that part very well, you didn’t wanna fall into the easy stigma. Also the fact that he wasn’t actually engaging in the conversation gave you a bit of hope. He was about to break his silence when Murphy showed in the room.

“We gotta leave immediately. They found one of Escobar’s sicarios location, it looks like they have something in mind. We need to have a look.” Javier didn’t seemed surprised about the information and quickly he reincorporated from his position, ready to leave.

“Wait. You.” Murphy quickly redirected his gaze towards you, catching everyone’s attention “Boss says you’re ready to come with us this time.”

“Me?” you asked petrified on your seat “Now?”

“Congratulations agent Gomez, you’re gonna stop being the ghost of the office!” said jokingly one of the agents from the previous chat with Peña.

“Not really that funny” mentioned Murphy politely like always “Don’t worry, it’s just a fast inspection, we’ll be in the car”. He looked at you with reassuring eyes but you couldn’t feel anything but dying inside.

You knew where you were getting yourself into by accepting this job. You knew the up’s and down’s of doing what felt right to you. You joined because of the range of justice not being taken seriously in a country like Colombia and also, the feeling of being close to home in some way, after so many years out of the continent. Part of you was pissed as hell of having to wait months stuck in that stinky office to finally get to the place you always longed for, for so many years. But another, the one that was always terrified and could smell danger from yards away, was in constant state of anxiety. You couldn’t help but wanting to cry a little in that precise moment. But you stood up. Because you couldn’t. You didn’t have time to cry or making excuses. This was duty. And also you wanted to shut down those bastards from before.

Murphy left first and Peña stayed there waiting for you to be next. “Are you coming or what?” he directed towards you, gesturing for you to go after him.

You couldn’t recall him actually acknowledging you like that. You crossed words before, but it wasn’t a big deal. Now things felt real, he was talking to you like you were finally a part of the team. Someone to consider a piece of the puzzle.

“I- I have to go to the restroom first, I- I’ll join you in the car” you disappeared rapidly from the room without giving him any chance to agree.

Now inside of the tiny cubicle, your lungs struggled to fill with oxygen and you managed to splash a bit of cold water into your face. Looking at your reflection in the mirror, you looked as pale as ever. Maybe you were actually the ghost of the office. Maybe that was the role you were born to play in that terrible theater full of criminals and confident pricks. You managed to control your breathing by repeating fake affirmations in your head. ‘You’re here for a reason’ ‘you deserve to take this chance’ ‘if they can, you can’. Not believing a single thing. You managed to go back to the now, empty hall, towards one of the untouched phones on one of the secretaries’ desks, Marzia, you used to talk to her in between breaks. With shaky hands you pressed your fingers into the digits until you heard the tone.

“¿Hola?” answered the person on the other line in confusion.

“Mami, soy yo” (mom, it’s me) you quickly responded.

“Y/n what’s going on?” she asked sweetly.

“It’s time” you said “I’m going on an expedition with the other agents.”

“Oh, honey, that’s amazing! Are you happy?”

You took your time to respond. You couldn’t help it, tears started to build up in your eyes.

“I don’t think I can do it, mamá. Tengo miedo.” (I’m scared) you admitted in a sigh trying to sound as strong as possible. “I’m not made for this shit, I’ve should’ve stayed home”.

“But you didn’t, mi amor. And there’s a reason for that” tears were already surrounding you face as you rapidly wiped them in case someone showed up in the hall “You wanted this. You always go after what you want.”

Another sight.

“What if what I want it’s not meant for me?” you sadly asked. Not actually wanting to know the answer.

“Have you try?”

“Well, I guess I’m about to” you laughed through the tears.

“Then you go do that. You try and then, you’ll see. Lo hacemos y ya vemos, ¿si? You’re being part of something so important because you are important, my love. Remember that.”

“Te amo.”

“Yo también, go.”

You quickly hang up and wiped the rest of the tears. Blindly hoping your waterproof mascara was strong enough and your nose wasn’t too red to give away your unstable state.

“You good?” Peña’s deep voice interrupted your recovery moment making you jumped.

“Yes!” he scanned your face with his rounded commonly known puppy eyes while nodding with his head. You hoped for the love of god he had just arrived and wouldn’t notice any drama going on “Yes, let’s go”.

—

Thirty minutes later you were there, at the back seat of the car, following that man’s lead and trying so hard no to freak out at every little detail of the scene. Murphy stopped the car at the same time the objective stopped his, close enough to have a good sight of the man but far enough to not get noticed by him.

You played the stalker card before. This wasn’t new to you, so why were you this nervous? Something about being in that car make your stomach ache. You knew this man was dangerous as heck. If you three got caught they wouldn’t hesitate to at least try to shoot in your direction. But there was also the presence of those two agents by your sides. You barely knew them, but to be honest, you were still surprised they weren’t fired already. Giving their methods and the crazy shit they’ve done to get to finally end Escobar’s business. You respected them in some way, at least they were committed. But you also didn’t trust them at all.

“There he is.” said Murphy catching your attention, that instantly focused on the man getting out of the car “Who the fuck is he waiting for?”

“Prolly one of the other two bastards” followed up Peña adjusting his glasses “or maybe Escobar” he suggested in a sarcastic tone.

“Wouldn’t it be crazy if he randomly showed up?”

“That’ll make you excited.”

“No as excited as Gomez, right Gomez?” asked you Murphy this time, turning to look at you from the driver’s seat with a light grin.

You would die there at the spot if that happened.

“Um, I dont know if excited is the right word.” You tried to explain politely with a funny tone, trying hard no to give away that fact that you would actually hate it more than a whole afternoon under the Colombian heat or another late shift at the office.

“Well, it’s your first expedition as a DEA agent. It’ll make it more memorable for sure. Don’t you think, Peña?”

Peña looked at you from the rear-view mirror slightly lifting one brow.

“It would sure shut some mouths.”

He didn’t sound friendly at all.

“So how long have you’ve been a cop?” asked Murphy focusing on you again.

He was being too nice and you realized maybe they both could notice your nervousness. Even though you didn’t exactly loved talking about yourself with people at work, you gave in to ease the tension and thanked him in some way for trying so hard to make small talk.

“I started three years ago” you mentioned and waited for the reactions.

Both of their eyes widened.

“And you’re in the DEA already? wow, impressive.” You could tell he was actually being honest.

Peña didn’t say anything.

“Thank you.”

“Anyways, is not as excited as it seems. Believe me, it can piss you off most of the time. But I guess it’s better than handling those pricks at the office that often.”

“They are not so bad, Murphy” interrupted Peña.

“That’s cause the idolize you, idiot. Which makes them even more stupid.”

You were glad he also understood. Peña was about to open his mouth to rebate that, getting closer to Murphy, when you suddenly spoke again.

“He’s moving” you mentioned in a dry tone, gesturing at Pablo’s sicario with your head.

They immediately went back to their initial positions, staring at the man that quickly entered the apartment buildings in-front of him. Peña seemed to get a little tense at this action, taking off his glasses and running his hands through his thick dark hair.

“Okay” said Murphy getting rid of his seatbelt and opening his door.

Your cool totally dropped.

“Where the hell are you going” asked Peña in a demanding tone.

“We’re going after him. We’re losing him and this could be our only chance.”

You could feel your hands shaking again.

“Are you insane? He’s probably surrounded by now. We’ll be dead in minutes if we leave this car.”

Javier’s comment didn’t help with your anxiety slowly raising up. You could swear he rapidly looked at you through the rear mirror again, but maybe it was just a reflex.

“Well then I go first and you two cover me. I’m not wasting our only chance to get him” insisted Murphy.

“I don’t think so, Murphy.”

You were surprised by Javier’s words and you couldn’t help but let go of a sight.

He noticed.

“Excuse me?” said Murphy outraged.

“This was not the plan. We were supposed to check on him, in the car. We don’t have resources to go after him just like that, you know what happened last time we tried something like this.”

You remembered that day, almost two months ago. They got suspended for a whole week. The office was a mess. “But if you wanna go, we’ll need a getaway car and a getaway driver. Do you have a license?”

He directed to you this time looking directly to your eyes. No glasses on, not puppy eyes but a look of concern.

“Not yet. I’m working on it, though.” You responded a bit embarrassed.

“You’re a DEA agent and you don’t have a license?” Murphy asked you this time with frown eyes. Almost not believing it.

You and cars didn’t exactly got along pretty well. But thanks to your impeccable curriculum and expedient, they managed to let that slide with one condition.

“Well, they said I could get one here.”

“In Colombia? Do you even speak Spanish?”

“I was raised here”.

“Have we talked before?” interrupted Peña again with a playful look.

“Once or twice.” You replied a little offended by the sudden question, realizing he actually didn’t notice you at all before that day.

“I think I would’ve remembered…” he murmured this time more to himself than the rest, looking at you up and down.

“So you’re from here” reassured Murphy still not quite believing it.

“Well, I was born in Spain but we moved here when I was like nine, so, yeah, something like that.”

“Well that’s nice.” Said Javier. He seemed weirdly happy about your roots.

“Okay, love birds. We’re loosing the objective. Let’s fucking go, Peña.”

You hated that Murphy could also tell all you did and even more the fact that he only acknowledged Peña. Making it clear you weren’t even an option to continue with his plans. But liked he could instantly change the tone of the situation.

“We need a getaway driver just in case and she doesn’t have a license. Plus, it’s her first, I don’t think she wants it to be THAT memorable” stated Javier.

He had a point.

“You’re being such a pussy right now.”

“I’m just trying to risks as less lives as possible. You go after him if you want, I’m staying in the car.” He ended by sitting straight, totally ignoring the blonde.

“Since when do you follow instructions so correctly?”

“I’m doing it for once. Shouldn’t you be proud?” answered him in a goofy tone, still not looking at him.

“Agh, fuck you.”

Murphy slammed the door close and started jogging towards the entranced of the building, patting his gun through his pocket.

Silenced was installed in the inside of the car after that. Only your breaths, yours and Javier’s were heard. He stayed there, one elbow resting over the passenger’s window, fingers on his mustache. You noticed what he did. You knew Murphy was the responsable one, not him. Something had to really stop him of going after his college and complete the mission in his own way. Not the right one. The right one didn’t feel enough for him.

You just couldn’t keep it to yourself anymore. It didn’t feel fair.

“Thank you” you said softly.

It took him a while to process you were actually talking to him.

“For what exactly?” he questioned you. Gaze still on the window.

He was waiting for you to open up. He didn’t like half honesty.

“I have the feeling you know.”

He shifted on his sit. And it was clear he heard your phone conversation before. You were glad he didn’t say anything on the spot. He played the whole thing in a very discreet way. You didn’t need more of him, not even some words of comfort.

But he gave them to you anyways.

“Look it’s none of my business but…you’re here for a reason” he started, looking at you again, eyes on the mirror “…not everyone gets to be here. Specially not after only three years in business.”

You felt your cheeks burning a little. You were slightly embarrassed about this unknown man, with a questionable reputation that barely knew of your presence half an hour ago, lecturing you about your stupid fears.

“You have to have something, you just gotta grow into it, chiquita” you laughed a little at the sudden nickname, he sounded like a dad. “Start acting up”

“Is that what you do? You act it up?” you asked jokingly trying to blow away the intensity.

“Sometimes I overdo it. That’s why today I’m staying in the car.”

You both chuckled and that was it. Murphy reappeared breathing heavily in exhaustion, sweat running over his forehead. Peeking through the window of his seat.

“I lost him”.

#javier pena fic #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x female reader #pedro pascal #narcos #narcos show #javier peña fic #javier peña imagine #javier peña x y/n

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gothamscormorant · 2 years

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this is how i imagine jason todd…

(a lot of this is also canon/inspired by canon)

click here for the other boys

- loves to cosy up with a cup of tea and a piece of classical literature.

- definitely drinks tea and not coffee, and definitely boasts about how much healthier he is than tim for it,

- but then will finish a bottle of vodka by himself and wash it down with a glass of whiskey.

- this man cannot get hung over and it’s unknown how much he actually has to drink before he becomes fully drunk. have you seen the size of him? nothing can knock him.

- listens to east coast rap and will argue that it’s better than west coast until the day he dies again; and even that won’t stop him.

- he was a street kid; he was raised on that kind of music and he has to defend his childhood life source.

- knows a bunch of undercover street artists which he recommends to people to get them more hype.

- can you imagine the amount of street cred you could get if you get saved by red hood and he goes “oh btw sick music dude”

- he hardly listened to any other music until later in life, but he’s not absolutely reluctant to other genres anymore.

- definitely goes on private mode on spotify if he listens to any guilty pleasure pop songs.

- i like to think he only listens to pop songs dick used to listen to, (aka the ones that sound like they should be in jazzercise lmao) but that for some reason stuck with him.

- not only do they share music, why these brothers share a ✨ fear of commitment✨ too.

- all height and muscle which he uses to his advantage -as well as being super stubborn.

- someone’s hogging the batcomputer? sit on them. someone’s winning in a sparring match? lay down on them or the mat and refuse to move. someone’s doing push ups? hold them down with his weight.

- some days he’s throwing stuff (and people) and shooting things, but other days he’s rubbing his knuckles on damian’s head, calling bruce his old man and patting him on the back, telling dick to be careful on patrol, giving cass a hug and throwing a blanket over tim after he’s all cried out.

- very sleight-of-hand. if you're hiding something in your pocket/bag or behind your back, jason can get it if he wants to.

- likes watching really shitty movies to laugh at them.

- always uses niche movie references and quotes that only a few people ever pick up (the others are just impressed at his one liners).

- shamelessly watches the kardashians, can name all of them -including step kids and ex husbands- and knows everything going on with them.

- for some reason gen z on social media have made red hood’s moto “stay in school” because of his constant literary and movie references, and the fact that he busts drug rings dealing with kids and will threaten to do unspeakable things to the dealers (and anyone who messes with children for that matter), all while promoting school/education to the kids.

- he is probably the best cook out of the batfam (excluding alfred obviously). he had to look after himself for so long he’s had a lot do practice.

- he’s bruce’s favourite, but i’d need to elaborate on this in another post

#dc comics #jason todd #red hood #headcanon #batfam #batfamily #batboys #jason todd x reader

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hawkezone · 1 year

Text

[[ RETURN TO HALAMSHIRAL - PART ONE ]]

A missing Queen Cousland, whispers of an elven rebellion, and one hell of a party: Hawke, Fenris, and Varric attend a lavish ball at the Winter Palace celebrating Empress Celene and Marquise Briala's alliance, where Hawke finds himself enlisted to help by a man with a strong Fereldan accent and a deep-seeded fear of swooping. A Trevelyan-Dorian & Fen(m!)hawke imagining of the events leading up to Dread Wolf, sequel to The Seat of Power.

CHAPTERS: ♕ [1]

♕

“I cannot believe you’ve talked me into this, Hawke.”

Fenris, frowning, fidgeting uncomfortably in his velveteen guardsman’s uniform. It was the closest thing either of them had for formalwear - Hawke, being a man of habit, had smuggled some amount of finery out of the Hawke Estate when they’d escaped Kirkwall that night so long ago, but, much like Hawke’s usual escapades, he neglected to pick up a few key items - such as britches that actually matched their doublets, and shoes. Any shoes. At all.

“I think you look handsome,” Hawke smiled, impishly, knowing that Fenris, while grumpy, had a little room left in him for some light teasing. Unlike Hawke’s usual methods of heavy teasing, which typically led to even heavier petting when the two were left alone.

Fenris didn’t take this well, but he merely sighed, tugging the uniform so its creases unfolded. “My least favorite part of going undercover,” he said, solidly and glumly, “is that the rest of us have to play-act while you always get to be yourself. Do you remember when we went to Chateau Haine? You had to accompany that awful Tallis, and Varric and I were assumed to be your manservants.”

“I remember,” Hawke chuckled. “You almost threw that guard in the moat outside the formal gardens.”

“I should have!” Fenris pouted. “Manservant. The gall.”

Hawke turned, and swept Fenris up by the waist. He smiled, from ear to ear, and Fenris - very briefly - forgot what he was mad about. Briefly.

“I promise. This ball will be better. And if anyone calls you a manservant, I’ll punch them in the face,” Hawke smiled.

Fenris, despite himself, let out a crooked smile, too. “That would blow your cover, I think.”

“Who’s to say the Champion of Kirkwall doesn’t go about punching random nobles in the face for calling his boyfriend a manservant?” Hawke said, defensively.

“You’re ridiculous,” Fenris said, but he didn’t let go of Hawke. Or stop smiling.

The gardens at Halamshiral were abuzz - it was a hot, breezy, summer night, and the fireflies were out in full force. The sun had set not but an hour ago, and the coolness of the evening had just begun to lay down on the stuffed shirts in attendance at the Winter Palace. The hum and splash of the magnificent fountain, forming the centerpiece of the front gardens, made for a soothing backdrop to the idle chatter and excited gossip of the guests. This was a much less fussy affair than the Winter Ball - but as an afterparty of sorts, to greet guests cordially as one of the first “informal” parties of the social year, and to introduce the Empress Celene and her recently reconciled lover, the elven Marquise Briala.

Hawke and company, however, had alternative goals in mind.

“Thanks for coming, Hawke,” Varric muttered, feeling rather out of place at the soiree.

“You still haven’t told me why we’re here,” Hawke replied, a little suspiciously. “You’re not one for parties. Well, not this kind of party, anyway.”

Varric sighed. “Just - trust me when I say I’m glad you’re here, all right?”

This time, unlike at Chateau Haine, Varric was wearing an unusually formal shortcoat, and he seemed ever so slightly nervous, shuffling from one foot to the next - which piqued Hawke’s interest, as his best friend almost never showed any signs of things getting to him. Especially social affairs.

Bethany was dressed in an Orlesian gown of periwinkle blue and white, in lush velvet, with a high collar in delicate gold filigree, embellished with designs of leaves and rings, reminiscent of the Circle. It had been a gift from Leliana, sent by courier when she had heard the Good Lady Bethany would be attending her first party at the Winter Palace. Hawke had interpreted this as a nice gesture, but Varric was quick to point out that the Nightingale had probably gifted her the dress as a sort of measure against the Inquisition’s acquaintances, however distant, being played as rubes in the dangerous machinations of the Game - especially when debuting.

Varric seized a beignet from the tray of a passing masked server, staining his gloves immediately with powdered sugar. The server either didn’t notice or pretended not to.

“Are those the ones with the chantilly cream?” Hawke asked, with interest. “Last time I was in Orlais, they had these tiny little beignets full of chantilly cream. And dusted with sugar, just like that. Only I think they had little swans made of gold foil on the top, too.”

Fenris rolled his eyes. “Nobles,” he said, scoffing. “Always trying to outdo one another.”

Varric bit into the beignet, and made a face. “Nope. No cream. It’s filled with something, though.”

“Hmm,” said Hawke, eyeing the server who’d gone off with the tray. “I could go for some something.”

Before he could pop off in search of the most ridiculous food the party had to offer, Varric grabbed him by the coat.

“Have you noticed,” Varric began, very slowly, “That this party is filled to the brim with people who have pissed off the Tevinter Imperium?”

Bethany, who had taken a beignet of her own and was nibbling with interest, nodded along. “Isn’t the majority of Orlais an enemy of the Tevinter Imperium? That’s like saying the Qunari and Tevinter are in a little spat.”

“No,” Varric continued, slowly, looking around again. “I mean, this party, specifically, is full of people who have made specific enemies of the ruling magisters of the Tevinter Imperium.”

Hawke, listening, subtly reached for one of his sheathed daggers, which he’d kept on his attire for an emergency. Most people saw it as a bit of a Hawke-esque flourish, just another quirk of the Champion of Kirkwall. But it comforted him - as both an accessory and an accessory to a quick escape.

Varric, who had finished his beignet, patted down his coat as well - just to make sure Bianca was in play. “We’ll keep an eye out. Could be the Empress just keeps really good company.”

“I’ll admit, it’s a bit of a who’s who of people I’d like to meet,” Hawke said. Was that even a hint of being impressed in his voice?

Fenris, in the meantime, had not let his guard down for one second since entering the gardens, and was stationed just to the back of Hawke, in a position, he subconsciously realized, to thwart any surprise attacks on his charge. What was he to call Hawke, now that they were together, but he still felt compelled to protect him? What did Donnic call Aveline, do you think?

“I don’t trust a thing anyone at this party has put forth,” Fenris said, muttering, darting poisonous glances at the nearest group of nobles, who huddled together and began to giggle, which only infuriated Fenris more.

“Keep it together,” Hawke advised, patting Fenris on the arm. “They’ll probably kick you out if you try to rip out their organs. Although it is rather salacious when you do.”

Fenris frowned, but Hawke winked, boyishly, and he found himself smiling, despite himself.

Towards the group came a meandering group of ladies, all dressed in triplicate; the Empress’s Ladies in Waiting each curtsied lightly, one after the other, like a set of ascending piano keys.

“Messere Hawke,” the first one said, curtseying lowly. Her golden mask glinted in the gaslights that dotted the garden’s walls.

The second one giggled at Varric, and bowed to Bethany, who began to wave, then began to proffer a hand, then, finally, attempted a sort of curtsey, which was rather hard to tell in the voluminous dress Leliana had lent her.

“Why didn’t Mother ever prepare us for this sort of thing?” Bethany hissed, turning ever so slightly to Hawke.

“Mother was trying to run away from this sort of thing when she met Father, I think,” Hawke said, with a smirk.

“It is most pleasurable to see you, Lord Tethras,” the second one continued, to which Varric immediately held up his hands, which were still powdered with beignets.

“Please,” he said, shaking his head. “Just Varric. Thank you. This is hard enough.”

“We’ve read the Tale,” the third one said, nodding at Varric, who - Hawke could tell behind his mask - was already sheepishly shrugging in extreme apology for the fracas that he was about to invite.

“Yes, the Tale,” the second one went on, animatedly. “Is it true, then, that the Champion really defeated the Arishok in hand to hand combat?”

“Well. It was more knife to knife,” Hawke shrugged, with a lopsided grin.

“And is it true, too, that your fellow Isabela ran off with the sacred texts of the Qun?” the first one asked, leaning in, with genuine curiosity.

“Just one book of the Qun, but yes,” Varric admitted.

“And is it true,” the third one said, earnestly, leaning in even further, “That you fought a High Dragon on the outskirts of the Bone Pits?”

Hawke, shrugging again, gave them a bit of a grin. “Fenris was there for that one. Varric, too.”

Tittering, the Ladies all looked at each other, flapping their fans at premium speed. A quick rush of whispers went through them, before they turned again to Hawke.

“We shall have to return, then,” the first one said, smiling coquettishly under her mask.

“And hear more of you and Lord Tethras’s stories,” the second one went on, as Varric winced at the “Lord Tethras” comment once more.

“It was a pleasure, truly,” the third one said, and all three of them curtsied, deeply, again, as Hawke bowed as they took their retreat, into the throng of the gardens.

It was as if they’d narrowly had a brush with a storm - or a windfall.

“Ugh,” Varric groaned. “Remind me to never tell people who I am or what I do, next time.”

“...Did they ignore you?” Hawke asked, looking back at Fenris, who was still standing a small distance away, his heavy, two-handed sword almost dragging in the garden lawn.

Fenris, sighing, barely looked up at Hawke as he dusted off the sword’s hilt. “I believe they are accustomed to people of your stature bringing elven servants as part of your coterie. Perhaps it would have been impolite to acknowledge my existence.”

Frowning, Hawke crossed his arms, glaring after the trio of Ladies-in-Waiting. “Perhaps it’s impolite to ignore you, at all,” Hawke said, scoffing.

Sighing heavily, Varric dusted the last of the beignet sugar off his hands with a clap.

“Well, I’m going to get just drunk enough to forget what’s going on, while being sober enough to remember why I’m here,” he said, stalking off with the firm purpose of a man who’s on a mission for nothing but the worst Antivan wine.

“And I would like to meet some new people,” Bethany said, with enthusiasm. “Is that the Marquess du Pompadour? Do you know her? Can we be introduced?”

“No, but I’m sure she’d be enchanted to meet the great Lady Bethany of House Amell,” Hawke smiled, as Bethany squeezed his arm excitedly before bounding off to introduce herself to Orlais’ best and richest.

“Have fun,” Hawke beamed, wagging his fingers at Bethany as she bounced to the next group of nobles, who already began chatting with her excitedly about the gold filigree neckline and the status of the party’s hors d’oeuvres.

Looking back at Fenris, Hawke frowned - but not at him.

“I don’t mind. Truly,” Fenris said, but his anger betrayed him in the way he wore his face.

Hawke frowned even harder.

“Well, I do,” he said, crossing his arms again. “One of the reasons why I agreed to come to this silly thing was to make up for Chateau Haine in the first place.”

Now, it was Fenris’s turn to frown. “Chateau Haine? I had assumed we came here to pry information out of the Inquisition. To assure their allegiance against the magisters. Or whatever strange twisted plan Varric has fished up.”

Nodding, Hawke waved a hand in the air. “I’m as eager to fight some magisters as the next man,” he said, continuing, “But I really wanted to come and show you a good time. I don’t like how things worked out at Chateau Haine - and I know how you feel about Tallis. I just supposed - perhaps - I wanted to take you to a party, and have you by my side. Properly. For once.”

Hawke looked rather embarrassed at this, and shrugged a little, in his reclaimed part-Hawke Estate part-leftover-guardsman-formal-uniform combination of attire.

“Hawke…”

Fenris’s eyes glinted in the moonlight. He reached for Hawke’s arm, and squeezed it.

“If you wish to have me by your side, you need only ask.”

Hawke, smiling, sweetly against the honeyed air of the garden, squeezed his hand back.

“I always need you by my side, Fenris,” he said, softly.

Meanwhile, at the other end of the party, Dorian Pavus was getting drunk. Very, very drunk.

He had harangued Josephine for an invitation to the Inaugural Ball, and, despite her best efforts, he had finessed his way into blackmailing, cajoling, and, in one case, outright bribing assorted members of Skyhold staff into bugging the Ambassador straight into sending Dorian one of the Inquisition’s coveted invitations to Empress Celene and Marquise Briala’s first ball, formally thrown together. Not counting the last one, of course. He felt he deserved it, after all, since he was both the life of the party and present for when they got together. The second time, anyway.

Dorian was engaging in one of his favorite pastimes - flirting with the masked drinksman serving the flutes of violet cocktail - when he was jostled by another patron, elbowing his way in.

“Ale, please. Not dwarven. Please tell me you have ale that isn’t dwarven. Everyone says it’s top notch but it just tastes like piss, and I know it does, so don’t tell me otherwise.”

Dorian’s ears perked up. That voice. It sounded weirdly familiar. Weirdly… Fereldan.

Looking over, the man next to him, wearing a simple silver mask with blue silk piping, slumped over, sighing, putting his head in his hands. His dirty blonde hair was just barely poking out of the back of the silks of the mask, and he had the stature of someone who had spent a long, long time training as a warrior - and an even longer time sitting around afterwards, getting all antsy as those muscles waited for their next workout. The man tapped his fingers on the table - and his heavy rings clanked against the delicate, white-lacquered wood. One demon head ring, as big as two knucklebones. One thick, silver sigil, like the symbols carved on the tunnels in the Deep Roads marking the location of Darkspawn. And, on his ring finger, a delicate, tiny silver band, with the smallest of silver roses, inlaid with flakes of mother-of-pearl and red ruby.

Dorian raised his eyebrows.

“You’re not very subtle, Your Highness,” he said, leaning against the bar, rolling his R’s. Loaded, like bait.

Startled, the man turned around, coughing and straightening up, making sure his mask was covering his face.

“We’ve met,” Dorian went on, somewhat relishing in the man’s uncomfortableness. “However briefly. I believe you know my paramour, Lord Angus Trevelyan? He has nothing but good things to say about you. King Alistair.”

The man, startled, whipped his head back around to the bar, to make sure nobody was listening, then, as best he could, made an extremely frustrated gesture at Dorian, hunching over, clearly annoyed.

“Have we met?” he said, irritably. “Because you are absolutely blowing my cover, here. …Which would make you, I suppose, a likely candidate for Angus’s new boyfriend. Which is who I suppose you are.”

Alistar sighed, and put his elbows back on the bartop. The server returned with a large flagon of ale, and Alistair placed several sovereigns on the bar. The server sniffed.

“We don’t take Fereldan currency, messere,” he sneered, pushing the coins back towards him. Alistair - even with a mask on - looked utterly defeated.

“Here,” Dorian said, hiding a smirk, pushing a handful of shiny Orlesian gold pieces towards the server, who nodded curtly, and disappeared back behind the bar.

“Thank you,” King Alistair groaned, putting his head between his arms. “You would not believe the amount of social faux pas I’ve racked up tonight. If I’d gone as myself, Orlais and Ferelden would be back at war by now.”

Dorian looked at him curiously. “Why are you here, if I may ask?”

Alistair shook his head. “Ale first. State secrets later.”

Dorian laughed. “You’re cute. I see why you’ve got the whole country wrapped around your little finger.”

“I do?” Alistair said, surprised.

“Not this one. They seem to think you’re a gauche little imp, here,” Dorian said, airily.

Alistair frowned.

“Ferelden,” Dorian clarified. “I hear you and your little wife are something out of a fairy tale, a Grey Warden King and Queen alike. Must be some sight to see. Does seem rather romantic, in a way.”

Alistair paused, then, slumping even further, let out a sigh that seemed to shake the very foundations of Halamshiral, let alone the bartop.

At that moment, Dorian remembered the other thing Angus had told him about Alistair - the important thing.

“Ooh. Ah. Sorry. I - I know it must be difficult, with your wife missing, and all. I’m sure - I’m sure she’s busy doing, ah. Grey Warden. Things.” Dorian thought about this for a moment. “Ah. Oh dear.”

Alistair looked hopeless, but downed his entire ale in a resolute gesture of bravery. “Lord Dorian of House Pavus, right?” he said, straining his last Kingly muscle to make the most out of the situation.

“Yes. Please don’t tell anyone I’ve so successfully put my foot in my mouth,” Dorian said - charmingly. As charmingly as possible, under the circumstances.

Alistair sighed. “You’re part of the Inquisition, then. You - were at Adamant.”

Dorian shook his head. “Not personally, no. …And don’t get me started on how I feel about that. Have you ever had your boyfriend go off into the Fade and have you think he was dead for almost twenty-four hours? No, I suppose not.”

Alistair gave him a withering look.

“...Right, missing wife, right,” Dorian said, hastily. “Here. I shall buy you another ale, and I’ll answer everything you wish to know about our visit to Adamant, as told by Lord Trevelyan himself. But no promises on me remembering everything correctly. I’ve had quite a lot of champagne.”

Alistair sighed, then nodded, solemnly. “Everything?”

“Everything.”

Finishing off his ale, Alistair motioned to the bartender for another, while Dorian slipped over another handful of silver coins.

“Then let’s begin,” Dorian said, with a raised eyebrow and a mischievous grin.

#dragon age #return to halamshiral #god i love fuckin' writing fenhawke. gaaaawd #and also fancy parties.#dragon age fic #dragon age fanfic #fenhawke #m!hawke #purple hawke #da:i oc #da2 oc #dorian pavus #alistair theirin #fenris #bethany hawke #varric tethras #andey hawke #antoinette cousland #queen cousland

26 notes · View notes

damn-it-a-hogwarts-legacy-blog · 5 months

Note

PLEASE— talk about isabel

2, 13, 15, 21, 35, 50 :DD

YEAHHHHHH THANK YOU FOR THE ASK, MY DEAR

2. Why'd you choose your OC's name?

Sooooo in HL itself, she’s Zip Findlesnap, named after my short-lived Hogwarts Mystery character. I wasn’t taking it super seriously, so I came up with the first silly Game Grumps-style name that came to my mind.

Anyway, I had no idea I would get into HL the way I did, so I just copied Zip into HL. Eventually I realized that as funny and cute as her name was, I needed something else that fit the tone of my worldbuilding a little better lol. So now, Zip is just a nickname her little sister came up with when she was a baby who couldn’t really grasp her siblings’ names. Isabel seems like a reasonable name for someone whose nickname is Zip. Thankfully I have never had anyone draw comparisons between her and Isabelle from animal crossing (greatest fear /hj). I couldn’t bring myself to change Findlesnap, so that’s still her maiden name lol.

The Greymoore surname came after ~3 painful hours of researching traditional English names. I wanted something that had some meaning behind it. “Grey” is just an elegant-sounding reference to their subdued state as adults, and a sorta abstract foil to the House of Black, figuratively diluting the ancient families’ mix of xenophobic ideals and inbred bloodlines the same way grey is a dilution of the color black. “Moore” just refers to the moors surrounding Hogwarts on which Isabel and Ominis frequently adventured and bonded as students lol.

13. What's the worst thing your OC's ever done?

This one is tough, ooh. Casting unforgivables is pretty bad since it’s Azkaban-worthy—and because she’s an adult who definitely knows better and doesn’t have the excuse of underdeveloped teenager brain like what one could argue for Sebastian. She’s really ashamed of it. It happens in moments of great weakness while in service to the Ministry of Magic. She could be any combination of sleep-deprived, angry at the fact they have to do favors for the Ministry if they want continued protection from the Gaunts, or reacting to someone who physically hurt Ominis. She’s managed to hide it from Ominis, and it’s her darkest secret. She isn’t sure their marriage could survive if he ever found out she was hiding something like that from him. At the very least, she would become like a stranger to him and he would feel really deep betrayal. Her usage of unforgivables decreased a lot throughout her 20s, and the last time was when she was 31.

15. What item does your OC hold most dear?

I’ve never thought about this one, hmmmmmm. As a teenager, probably Isabel’s wand. She was under the impression she was a squib until she was 15, so it means an incredible amount that she actually has magical abilities. Her wand is the physical representation of the freedom she gained at 15.

It’s pretty dang corny, but as an adult I have to say her wedding ring. They might have their arguments and disagreements like any other couple, but Isabel and Ominis are just so closely bonded and so in love their whole lives, and they would both be in a pretty bad spot without each other. I think a very close second for her would be the 1925-ish Daily Prophet issue announcing Morfin Gaunt’s assault on Bob Ogden and subsequent arrest, in which the article went into detail on how Morfin and his immediate family were the only known Gaunts left alive. It meant she and Ominis no longer felt the need for outside help with protection, and they dissolved their agreement with the Ministry. She finally felt like she and Ominis could lead normal lives, and they re-entered wizarding society after having mostly withdrawn for the past 30 years. Their children and grandchildren were pretty happy about finally being able to do things like have wizarding world jobs, meet with non-muggle friends outside Hogwarts and go to Diagon Alley without undercover aurors monitoring them at all times and telling them where they could or couldn’t go.

21. Is your OC big on revenge?

Isabel used to want to seek revenge for a number of things, but after she and Ominis started having kids, her world view shifted drastically and she became focused on preservation of herself and her family instead. Her children were never caught in the crossfire of the Gaunts’ attempts to attack them, but she was no longer willing to take risks that might have put her family in danger, including seeking revenge. She sometimes wishes her parents-in-law were still alive so she could make them pay for all the ways in which they irreparably hurt Ominis, but she also knows Ominis has never liked the idea of getting revenge on his parents.

35. Random fact about your OC

Isabel doesn't do well with loneliness. In fact, being alone is one of her biggest fears. As she often felt caught between the muggle world and the wizarding world when she began attending Hogwarts, there was a time when she felt extremely out of place in both worlds and actually wanted to go back to believing she was a squib. Being alone was also what got her kidnapped by Rookwood, so she became especially careful of wandering into deserted places for a long time afterwards. As an adult, old habits died hard and she feels better when she has Ominis, her best friend Poppy, or her children with her when she travels someplace new.

50. What do you love and hate most about your OC?

I most love that Isabel is so focused and dedicated. She gives 120% to everything she feels is worthy of her attention, from school to her marriage. She’s ridiculously patient with Ominis as he heals a little more every day, and being married to someone with such a significant handicap, especially back in the days long before most people were willing to accommodate anyone with total blindness, I think says a lot about her character.

I guess hate isn't really the right word because I've lovingly crafted her exactly the way I want, but she has a lot of self-destructive tendencies that don't have any positive impact in her life, including the use of unforgivables as an adult. Probably because I’m usually projecting onto her when I write her being self-destructive lol. Sometimes she’s a bit too impulsive and indifferent to danger, like wanting to fight literally every single member of the house of Gaunt just to defend Ominis and being overly casual about nearly bleeding out, and wondering why Ominis gets so frustrated with her. She wants to demonstrate she’s strong and has overcome her trauma from being kidnapped by Rookwood and being cursed with crucio by Ominis’ mother, but it often comes off like she doesn’t care about her physical wellbeing or Ominis’ feelings.

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt x mc #headcanons #ask game #I'M SO HAPPY YOU GAVE ME SO MANY GOOD QUESTIONS THANK YOU

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vampsquerade · 2 years

Note

Idk if it sent the first time so I’m trying again lol

Can we get a Bandit/Reader fic where the reader comforts him after one of his nightmares about his time undercover? I think he deserves someone to love and care for him <:3

thank the stars you tried a second time bc there was nothing for bandit in my inbox until you sent this in. thank you for requesting tho! i love bandit’s backstory a lot, so getting to write something like this has always been on my to-do list ^-^

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Bandit x Reader: Night Terrors

Trigger Warnings: angst with a happy ending, night terrors, self-hatred, comfort/hurt, mentions of a notorious biker gang, death

Night terrors were no new thing to Dominic, as he felt he had some sick deal with the Devil after he gave up a part of his soul to stay safe while undercover. The amount of things he did and had to do were the worst you could imagine, and he absolutely hated it. He wished he could make the flooding of those awful memories he sometimes got randomly in the night stop, but he knew he would never get that chance. And once he started dating you, it felt like they only ever got worse and worse. Dominic would always refuse to cuddle you or fall asleep next to you, as his terri’s never really stopped. It was awful, and he didn’t want you to see him like that. You were just a civilian, oblivious to the threats around them, and you never needed to learn of his past double life.

But you insisted, even crying over it because you just wanted to hold him like you had always seen other people hold their partners. And after all that, Dominic caved and decided to let you be with him in his bed for once. The German, who reinforced a wall that was already so impenetrable, let a single butterfly through. You were nuzzled up against him, gently stroking his hair and kissing his neck. Dominic sighed softly, closing his eyes a bit as he began to feel a bit drowsy. “Hey, Dominic?” you ask softly. Regaining his attention, he opened his eyes to look at you, “What is it?” he asked sharply. “Um…I love you…” you say softly. That was the first time either of you ever said those three words to one another at all, and it warmed Dominic’s uneasy heart. He just gave you a slow nod, before then falling asleep.

Dominic, at first, wasn’t restless. His dream, or possible night terror, wasn’t so bad just yet. He saw himself walking down the streets where the Hannover Chapter of the Hells Angels usually met, and he looked down at himself. Dominic was fully dressed in the same attire he usually wore when he was with them, and now he was convinced he was just reliving a memory in his dreamscape. As he walked further and further down the street, he turned to walk into an alleyway and met up with them. It was once he turned the corner where Dominic realized the memory he was currently living.

Dominic was about to kill a man that tried to stop an operation they were doing in the city.

The man in front of him was covered in his own blood, wheezing softly as they held him up. “Finally you’re here! Took you fucking long enough, now hurry up and put this man out of his misery.” one of the men holding him up said. Dominic nodded and walked over to a table nearby, grabbing a gun and loading it. The bloodied man began wheezing more, panicking as he was about to have his life abruptly taken from him by a man who was only doing it to take down this whole operation. Dominic then stood right in front of the man and aimed the pistol right at his face. “P-Please…” the man whimpered, staring up at him with his one good eye.

Dominic sighed and just shook his head, staring down at the man. Though his face was stone cold, his eyes held a pitiful warmth that he’d hoped would guide the man to wherever he would end up. He then clicked off the safety, causing the man to struggle more, then pulled the trigger. Upon the sound of the gunshot ringing out, Dominic woke up and sat up quickly. He put a hand to his chest, panting heavily as he needed to feel like he was himself in his current state. He turned to his side and then saw you staring at him with a worried expression on your face. “Dominic…” you say softly. “I-I’m sorry…I told you this was a bad idea…” Dominic said.

He got himself out of bed and walked towards the kitchen, with you following right behind him. “Dominic, you need to tell me what’s wrong…what did you see in your dreams..?” you ask, grabbing his wrist tightly enough to get him to stop walking, but gently enough to where it was more reassuring. “I…before I joined Rainbow, I was undercover in 2010. I did terrible things in my time, and sure, it got me where I am now, but I wish I never did those things.” Dominic said. “What kind of things..?” you ask softly. “ Anything terrible you could think of, I did most of it.”

Your eyes went wide, but not out of fear, out of pure shock. Dominic was in an organization where that was something he had ti do against enemy forces. But against innocent civilians? You couldn’t even begin to imagine the horrors that plagues his mind. You always had a feeling that the slight goofiness he put up was just a front, and you seemingly found yourself being the one thing that broke through. “You can break up with me if you want, it’s fine…” Dominic suddenly said, breaking the silence between you two. “Dom,” you say, now gently bringing him in for a hug, “I’m not breaking up with you over keeping that a secret. You were doing it to protect me, and I can understand that. But you can’t just bottle your emotions away. We’re partners, we should always be able to tell each other how we’re feeling. I’m not leaving you.”

Dominic sighed, holding onto you tightly. He was shaking like a leaf, terrified of opening up to you about the amount of things he did. “You don’t need to tell me now, but you can tell me when you’re ready. I love you, Dominic.” you reassure, gently rubbing circles into his back. “I love you too, Y/N…I’m so sorry…” he apologized. “Don’t be sorry, you don’t have any reason to be. I would have wished you told me sooner, but things take their time. If anyone should be sorry, it’s me.” you say. Dominic pulled away from your embrace, giving you a confused look, “But why?” he asked. “I was the one who insisted on sleeping next to you.” you say bluntly.

Dominic’s expression softened, bringing a hand up to gently caress your face, “Liebling, don’t worry about all that…you just wanted to spend more time with me a bit more intimately. I should have at least tried a bit more, rather than push you away.” he said. “I just…feel bad about it. Maybe I should’ve been a bit gentler…” you say sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. “Well…let me just drink some water before we go back to bed.” Dominic said, now walking away from you so he could get a glass of water. “If you wake up again, please be sure to wake me up as well. I want to help calm you down and comfort you when you have another night terror.” you say.

Dominic gave you a smile after drinking some water, cleaning his cup before then going and giving you a kiss on the forehead. You smiled, and the two of you went back to his room to sleep. Going under the sheets together, you had Dominic actually be the little spoon for once, and gently helped put him to sleep with words of reassurance and kisses. “Ich liebe dich…” Dominic mumbled sleepily. You let out a soft laugh, smiling, “I love you too.” you say, kissing the back of his neck before you both drifted off to sleep.

#r6s #rainbow six siege #r6s x reader #rainbow six siege x reader #r6s bandit #dominic brunsmeier #bandit x reader #angst #angst fic #comfort/hurt #angst with a happy ending #fluff

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headingalaxys-spicy · 1 year

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omg i loved your magical strike ask 🫶

may i request a yandere magical strike america with a metal head darling who’s a guitarist?

This ask has Aggretsuko vibes on it, and I just finished the final season soooooooooo.

He isn't taken by surprise like some of the others, would be. He knows that people definitely have polar opposite sides to them sometimes and the degree varies. And for him, he feels like he should be the only one to witness this wild side of yours.

He found out about your special talent when you were shredding your guitar right after work. Some motherfucker was trying to catch dez hands the moment the phrase: "I don't want to talk to you. You've been rude. Where is your manager? I won't be insulted this way." You could practically hear the stupid bitch put her nose in the air when she said that. Before you even had a chance to politely respond while holding the poison on your tongue back in a dam, the witch hangs up in your face.

'Okay... well least I don't have to continue a conversation with that bitch anymore.' You think to yourself as you continue typing away on your computer. You had better things to worry about than some Boomer who couldn't get a grip on reality.

Then the phone proceeded to ring again about 20 minutes later. It was that old hag again.

This only adds more heat to your already budding irritation, and you are ready to explode. So you do what a metalhead does best: scream our head off and play your guitar and pretend that your fingers moving across the strings and ripping that rude witches face off.

"THE LION. THE WITCH AND THE AUDACITY OF THAT BITCH! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Alfred heard your shrieking in the area and decided to see what the hell was going on. After all, he was bored and didn't really feel like being in another one of his business meetings. Yes, yes big oil and how he'll be destroying more natural land to get it and other crap. Alfred eventually find that room that you've escaped to and it's an abandoned reading room that few university students use. A perfect hideout and a great way for him to look through the glass as he watched you headbang and yell out to the mostly soundproof room how much you wish certain people should go fuck themselves, and take their entitlement with them. He'll watch for a few minutes before he will make himself know to you by interrupting your little vent session.

A lone person clapping interrupts you.

"You have quite the musical talent. I could really feel the power coming off of your lyrics. You have a show coming up soon I'd love to support your music."

These are the beginnings of where his control with begin. He will introduce you to the right people to get you a ' recording interview.'

With a top dog at a major record label. You nail it, and your road to stardom is a long grueling one. Where Alfred will begin to attach more and more control over you and you never seem to be able to have a moment without him when you're not on the stage, recording, or signing autographs. (Although during any of those events, he's never too far away and likely has another one of his henchmen watching you.)

He controls your tour schedule and schedules outside of your music career as well. Since you're exhausted from the long nights of practice, recording, and traveling, you tend not to notice the amount of control he has over you. Sure, when it comes to the paparazzi and such he always makes sure that you're close to him and he's probably giving you a peck on the cheek or a gentle peck on the lips for the cameras. He's ensuring all know that the famous metalhead is taken already.

As for fans who may be obsessed with you, Alfred has thought ahead. He uses a mix of Ai technology and his undercover agents to keep fans he deems too clingy. (IE they may be a Stan on Twitter who has concert tickets and a meet-and-greet pass. or someone who nonchalantly said on FB "I'd marry Y/N." Or even so far as having access to any device that has searched your name or band, become a part of his 'system' of which his computers and men will monitor for threats. They will be dealt with accordingly. )

Regardless escaping his watchful eyes is virtually impossible.

#hetalia fanfiction #hetalia x reader #yandere hetalia x reader #yandere x reader #hetalia imagines #hws alfred f jones #alfred jones #answered #hetalia fandom #hetalia fanfiction writers #magical strike au #hetalia magical strike au #headingalaxys spicy #headingalaxys writes stuff #hetalia headcannons

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potatothots · 1 year

Text

Curious

Genre: Drama, Horror

Rating: Mature/Explicit (for gore)

Pairing: God-like thing Nick Fowler x Reader (it’s more like an OC, I guess? Nothing is really mentioned)

Warnings: loss of a loved one, dead bodies, allusions to killing, allusions to sex, talk of blood (a lot), gore

Summary: Nick is curious about another man’s wife.

Note - I'm not your guardian. You read what you want. I can't stop you. If you don't heed the warnings, too bad for you, not me.

The woman just wouldn’t die. He had his nails dug into her neck. Blood poured out slowly and made his skin feel sticky, like an overly humid day in a swamp. She struggled, holding onto his wrist in a weakening grip.

"Mace, you treacherous bitch," Nick gritted out between his teeth, followed by a tired sigh. “Just die already.”

"What are you?" she croaked out, eyes full of fear.

He smirked. "Nothing to you, now. Enjoy your nothingness."

He let the redhead slump to the floor with a final crunch and twist of her neck. He hated her so much he didn't bother to absorb any of her life force. It felt poisonous to him. It always had.

She had been someone he thought he could count on once. At least, as far as being loyal. Now, her sickly pale and gaunt skin made her look like the ugly witch she really was. Her dead body fit in with her band of useless bitches trying to be heroes. Can't be a hero when you're dead. His eyes skimmed the carnage of their dead bodies while he sat to relax in a chair. He sipped on a glass of scotch with a single round ice cube.

The antique wood floors of his house were ruined from the amount of blood and gore that adorned them. There were arterial sprays up the wall. Most of the expensive furniture lay broken or dirtied. Holes, both bullets and fists, littered the walls. Not even his designer suit and tie were spared from the carnage.

He was beyond mad. The alcohol helped him calm down, but he was still seeing red.

From his position on the chair, he could see her looking up at him with lifeless eyes. Her mouth parted forever in an agonizing expression. It matched the odd angle her neck was bent at and the harsh bruises that littered her like the garbage she was.

His long, slender finger tapped on the glass in his hand. He knew Mace wasn't the right thing for him. She was too gullible. For an agent of the CIA, she was too easily manipulated. All he had to do was put a ring on her finger and pretend she was the one - on an undercover mission, no less. He enjoyed playing with her emotions. He fucking loved it when she was rough, but sadly, she couldn't even gain the upper hand. Nick never played fair. He was a God, for fuck's sake. He was above being fair. He hadn’t even needed guns to take down any of those who bombarded their way into his house.

He snorted, looking over his fingernails and cuticles. He’d need a manicure to fix the damage. At least now he wouldn't need to worry about her or her girl club annoying him. He could go back to siphoning the emotions, thoughts, and prayers of those worshiping him.

Nick tilted his head back to finish the last of the scotch. What he needed was a real challenge. His own doll he could play with, but that could handle him. The idea sat heavy in his head. Nick was a selfish man. To find someone to just be his had proved impossible in his long life so far. Mortals were fickle and flighty. They were the dancing flame on a candlestick. It was easy to set them alight and watch them burn away or snuff them out.

A muffled twill caught his attention. Standing, he meandered over the bodies until he could pinpoint the cause of the noise. In the pocket of some random backup Mace had, a phone was going off. Nick pulled it out and looked at the screen. The face of a young woman with a bright smile greeted him. Her name and phone number were above her picture. He hit the accept button and held the phone to his ear.

“Hey babe, what do you think about spaghetti tonight?” the woman’s voice on the line asked.

Nick smirked, looking over to the owner of the phone’s shredded face. “Sounds perfect,” he answered her.

“Sorry to bother you at work! I’ll let you go, I know how busy you are. Love you!”

She hung up the phone before he could say anything back. Her peppy voice matched her picture.

She must be in love with him, Nick thought to himself.

He inspected the contents of the phone. They looked like a happy couple according to the images in his photo gallery. They sent each other hearts and kissy faces. A few messages were stilted attempts at sexy talk, highlighted by racy images like two first-time lovers.

Except for one.

Nick’s eyebrow shot up as he read it. The girl he’d just spoken to, the one with the bright smile and an adorable body, had an intelligence about her he hadn’t expected to find.

“Don’t explain yourself. I got what I needed out of Donna. Do you think you can go and fuck other women? Just remember what I have on you. They’d kill you on the spot.”

He read and reread the message. It was almost alien how different the message sounded from the others exchanged between the two. A grin etched its way across his face. If this girl was really like this, he wondered how much fun he could have before he’d have to kill her.

Finishing his drink, he flung the glass away so he could text her.

Bby, look nice 2nite. I’ll get that wine u like n we can have fun after din <3

A few moments later she responded. really???????

nethng 4 u

It physically pained him to type that way and send those emojis. Yet, he was curious...

#nick fowler #nick fowler x reader #what are you #what are you au

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