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buckyysdoll · 9 months

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— 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲! 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐡𝐜𝐬 — ╰┈➤ + more generalised dating headcanons ๋࣭ ⭑

જ⁀➴ 18+ MDNI — summary: pretty self explanatory — based on an old request from when i was @sjjwriting; <𝟑; cw: preg!reader, allusions to sex (eg, oral — f!rec), large (but legal) age gap, maybe ooc tony? i haven’t even yet seen the ‘iron man’ films, so shoot me now :’), brief mention of praise/degradation kink, daddy kink; tony still dies at end :( !! pairing: tony stark x fem!reader

MAIN MASTERLIST

• okay this may seem morally questionable but there's gonna be a pretty big age gap

• as in, if tony's in his forties during the franchise as we know it, then you’re gonna be in your early/mid twenties. SO I PROMISE IT’S LEGAL, OKAY?

• you met when tony got involved with peter parker, as you lived with him and aunt may in new york. you weren’t related, but she’d been best friends with your mother since her own teen years, and when your parents had passed she had taken you in as her own. you loved her to bits

• peter was a good few years younger than you, and hence like a brother figure — one who annoyed you like hell, but that you still loved just the same.

• cut forward to the avengers’ era when you and T are in an established relationship -> you’re part of their circle and already it feels like home at the compound — you just fit right in

• and while that means you’re one of the group and you couldn’t be more thrilled, tony absolutely hates the way that you're so quick to endanger yourself in his eyes

• therefore — frequent and explosive arguments when you want to get involved but he simply won't let you

• — "tony you can't shut me out of this! i have every right to help if i want to.”

• — "no, you have every right to back the hell away and not get yourself killed because of me."

• but still, the avengers swiftly came to be like family to you

• you and natasha get close as you're nearer in age than a lot of the others are to you; you and her have girls nights out, and tony puts you to bed when you come home drunk

• essentially, in other words, you’re getting the princess treatment all. the. time.

• eg, being the only one that can touch/do certain things around the compound

• and as per sugar daddy! regimen, of course tony stark just spoils you rotten

• and i mean full-on, absolutely dotes on you — both gift giving and touch are his two main love languages

• for example, if you’ve had a bad day? there's his credit card -> "go cheer yourself up a little, honey"

• at first, his fellow avengers are kinda 👀 about such a vast age gap, but they see the way the two of you are with each other — just different. complete.

• because who he is [apart from] and [with you] are like two fully separate people, to be honest.

• nat seeing him in a good mood: “who are you, and what’ve you done to tony?”

• he’s just obsessed with you to be honest, and as such way too overprotective

• — “and where exactly are you going in that dress?"

• — "out for drinks with natasha?”

• — “like hell you are"

• you being like the mom friend even to the members of the group much older than you

• somehow being perfect for tony when his bold hotheadedness is met with your even calm.

• no one ever would’ve thought of him as likely to settle down, but when he met you that was it — his days of being playboy were suddenly behind him

• you host the stark parties with him and look like a young trophy wife on his arm; at least, that's how it appears to the people on the outside who don't know how much you're in love

• sitting on his lap in avengers’ meetings with your arm across his shoulder and his own around your waist

• easy domestic sweetness at the compound — heads resting on shoulders, hands held just because. a cup of coffee made and a kiss on the cheek; soft, whispered “i love you”s at night.

• walking around the compound in just his oversized shirt and your panties, not sparing so much as a single thought for the other avengers you happened to live with. instead, you bet your ass you’ll just walk straight into the kitchen, tony’s hand in yours and a question to ask: “morning guys, who wants coffee?”

• the rest of the group being extremely protective of you, too — especially natasha and steve

• the latter, of course, wants to know exactly what his intentions are with you; and Tony's response is pretty much exactly what you'd expect — not happy at all

• — it went something like, "it's not the 1940s anymore, rogers. in modern terms, that means mind your own business."

• meanwhile, natasha just opted straight for the threat on behalf of her friend; for the girl who was like the sister she felt she’d been missing for most of her life: "you'd better take care of her, tony. i may be your friend, but i’m still an assassin.”

• peter parker, already like an aforementioned brother, called you “mrs stark” way prematurely despite how you’d known him for most of your life. you thought it was cute, and he was in pure shock on the day you first told him you and tony were dating.

• in reality though, by now, tony's had an engagement ring stored away for ages; all he needs now is the courage to actually ask, but the goddamn question just won’t come out.

• and who is it who, eventually, gives him the advice that makes him finally do it? none other than rogers himself, who tony is now reluctantly grateful to know.

• because it turned out that tony was surprisingly insecure about the age gap, but tried hard to hide it. and when you eventually found out you couldn’t quite believe that he was actually saying these words.

• you’d never loved anyone the way you loved him — and yet, he didn’t even see why you did? he didn’t understand why someone so young and vibrant and beautiful as you would ever want to settle with a man “past his prime” and who came with a “fuck ton of emotional baggage.”

• and so only you three knew the truth of your love’s well-kept facade: the great Tony Stark wasn’t quite so arrogant as he’d have the world believe.

• though he was close enough to it <3

• so, you savoured the time spent proving it to him — how you feel — with your hands, mouth, tongue. Sex with tony is certainly an experience, going rougher when you want it but so tender when you don't.

• and let me tell you that man gets pussydrunk as hell and it drives him insane.

• just imagine this level-headed genius who approaches every problem and scenario with logic, suddenly unable to focus past the hard-on in his jeans because you sent him a dirty text while he was in the middle of a meeting

• and you do that a lot — teasing him in public is your new favourite thing; a photo of you scantily dressed or a message saying just what you'll do to him later

• his hand is always on your thigh when driving, or when just sitting anywhere in public/at the compound.

• he’ll also deliberately tease you in public or when you’re both with the others at home, just to watch you blush and struggle through attempts at conversation while his hand beneath the table’s roaming higher up your skirt

• tony’s had so many meetings with the other avengers that he’s had to cut short — all because of you, because he needs you right there and then, and can’t seem to wait a single moment longer

• not that you’re complaining

• he takes you on dinner dates in restaurants where he still insists he pays; even after all this time spent together, he’s never once stopped trying to romance and treat you <3

• he’ll leave a box with a bow on your shared, kingsize bed and within it? — a dress and a note: wear this for me tonight, and be ready for 7. love you, honey, it reads

• and good lord, the man has very expensive good taste — it feels too much !

• but it appears that he literally cannot stop buying you gifts; that man is whipped as fuck and he knows it, yet somehow wouldn’t change it for all the world.

• you two often leave for the bathroom at most social functions, like you’re teenagers again. but what can he do, when there’s a counter right there waiting for you to sit on, for him to kneel before as he slides that thin scrap of lace down your knees, off your ankles, to the floor?

• but still, he’s a perfect gentleman in public — a hand on your lower back to guide you through crowds.

• going to black tie events on his arm as his "pretty, young thing,” turned eventual wife

• let's be real, there’s a clear daddy kink. also heavy on the praise, maybe light degradation? pet names "sweetheart,” "honey,” “baby" — the latter mainly after a fight

• you being the only one that can make him see reason, despite how you often have your differences, too.

• most of your fights come from when he’s trying to martyr himself for the world, yet still you're the only one that can humble him, who he’d get down on his knees and beg for.

• having to be protected because you're with a man in such a high position of wealth

• "mrs stark” 💅🏻 has such a good ring to it now, much better than “that young girl he’s with”

• jealous and protective tony when men make their thoughts of you quite plain; and though he’s rich and successful — now an old household name — he’s not above the odd fight for your honour 😌

• absolutely adoring happy, who’s now become your personal security guard, too. you get along so well and to him, you’re both like a good friend and a kind of daughter figure in one

• even after all this time, you still team up with peter to tease mr stark ♡

• the four of you are like a family — five, once your little baby daughter is born <3

• and of course, she’s a daddy’s girl too — just like her mama, and who really could blame you?

• when you're pregnant his protectiveness absolutely ricochets up several notches; not to mention his own hormones for the mother of his child ;) -> those too have risen <3

• so now he’s far less subtle and even more of a total, stubborn pain in your ass ♡

• nine months come and pass, and all the while tony is just worried sick. he’s desperate to stop doing missions, but when the world needed saving — what choice did he have?

• and so you become a young mother to your sweet baby girl and let tony do just what he has to; and when he doesn't come home you’ve become a young widow left to raise your daughter without her daddy </3

●○●○●○●○●○●

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consistencynevermether · 7 months

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Astarion x Rouge! Tav

A/N: I am, as the professionals would say, back on my bullshit. anyways here's another in my series of Astarion x a certain class

part 1 (Paladin Tav version)- https://www.tumblr.com/consistencynevermether/730256251991310336/astarion-x-gn-paladin-reader-hcs-an-this-man?source=share

Bastard x bastard

You two are absolute little SHITS together let me tell y’all that

Your love language? CRIME.

No but seriously imagine this- one of you had this plain steel ring, nothing special or anything just collecting dust at the bottom of your bags. Honestly, you don’t even remember which one of you it originally belonged to

When you first met, one of you had stolen the ring from the other to prove they were “superior with their hands” to the other. Eventually, it became a game between the two of you, every few days stealing this little trinket from each other. And bragging until the other stole it back. It didn’t matter whether either of you wore it on your fingers, around your necks, or even hiding it in folds of clothing. Neither could hold onto it for more than a week before the other snatched it up

The most memorable little moment with this ring- once you had both gone on a late night walk, hand in hand. The moon's soft glow bathing you both in silver, it was like a scene out of a romance novel, especially when you leaned in to press your lips against his

And then-

While he was distracted you slipped it off his finger and booked it. Immediately running as fast as you could, not daring to look back, laughing as you sped off with your prize

Unfortunately for you, Astarion happens to be a vampire spawn. Vampire spawn are quite physically inclined, and Astarion is pretty fit

What I’m saying is you made it a good 30 feet before getting tackled to the ground and had the ring wrestled out of your hand

Honestly, though, you were laughing so hard you didn’t even mind losing the game, you were just happy that for a second your master plan had worked.

Astarion complained about how his outfit got all dusty because of you, but you had heard him laughing right along with you when he had tackled you to the ground

Astarion won’t admit this, but that ring means more to him than any bejeweled precious jewelry ever could, because it connects him to you

Both of you claim to have the best set of knives and take every opportunity to show off to each other with your skills. Once you actually picked a lock with a smaller blade and you could swear it caused Astarion to be a little flustered.

Sharing clothes? Sharing clothes. Listen, I'm just saying, will you let your vampire boyfriend burn up in the sun or will you lend him that nice new cloak you just got? Yea, that’s what I thought now it’s joint property. Dw tho it all evens out when you steal one of his nightshirts (it’s the comfiest thing ever, and not just because it always faintly smells like him)

You guys definitely do couples' heists together. Sneaking, pickpocketing, lockpicking, running from the law, it's all in a day's work for the most shifty couple in Faerun. One of you might distract a lord while the other snuck into his vault to retrieve some valuable magical item.

Ok but in all seriousness, y’all must be the most ethereal couple around. Imagine seeing two people glide over the rooftops of Baldur's gate, each jump almost like steps to a dance they both know by heart. Flitting around each other like ribbons in the breeze, one with soft silver hair and the other face obscured by their pitch-black cloak, hood pulled up and rippling in the night air. They dance across rooftops, swift as shadows, graceful as spirits, never touching, and yet somehow the rare onlooker knows they are meant to be a pair.

Some bard has definitely written a song about that last bullet point I promise you.

You two probably had a million cons just waiting to be used. I imagine during your time together trying to get rid of the tadpole, you would both talk late into the night, bouncing ideas off each other, throwing out ideas of different tricks you could pull on the unsuspecting. Some genuinely clever, most just absurd attempts at making the other person laugh.

If you ever actually got the chance to you it though? Oh ho HO. let me tell you how this went down. Your party had gotten into a situation, attempting to be as inconspicuous as possible. But by a bout of bad luck, someone had started harassing Karlach and at the same time, Lazel had started yelling at a guard, hand on her sword, inches away from striking. The party needed some sort of distraction, and luckily you both had just the thing.

Astarion had grabbed the nearest glass of wine and splashed it on you, then putting on his best offended face he anguished, “How could you cheat on me?!?! And with my own BROTHER!?!?” That sentence made everyone's head snap up, including the guards as you both laid the theatrics on thick. You kept this act up with Astarion for a good 10 minutes, with fake tears and dramatics from both of you. At one point on the spot, you made up that he had slept with your mother and it was revenge, and the crowd was extremely invested, people taking sides, guards trying to calm down the chaos. But hey you're fake out worked, Karlach and Lazel were able to sneak away quietly and you had both given the distraction of a lifetime. Shadowheart disapproves.

Occasionally the two of you will talk in Thieves cant to each other when you don’t want the party to overhear certain conversations. Originally you were both probably talking about important things like strategies and debating about how to go about getting rid of the tadpole. But now you kind of both just use it to piss off Lazel a little.

Ultimately you two really understand each other on a deep level, you really are 2 people with one mind. And together there's a world of adventure out there for you both, and infinite fun magical items for you both too “acquire”.

#astarion fic #astarion romance #astarion x mc #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x you #baldurs gate 3 astarion #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x y/n #astarion x rouge

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leclsrc · 8 months

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could i get a carlos imagine where you have commitment issues and he calms you down? as a girlie with commitment/trust issues i just wanna b repped in one of ur fics/drabbles :/// it's tuff out here brotha

bring you home — cs55

Moving in together gets difficult. Carlos is there to ease you along. title from this

genre: fluff

auds here... i hope you enjoy this!!! i too am a commitment-afflicted girl ..... it truly is tough lol. but i hope u find the right person who helps u put ur anxieties to rest <3 insp by a scene from satc i saw on tiktok

It started with a duck. But the duck started with the box. And the box started with a toothbrush joke. And the toothbrush joke started with your old lady neighbor moving out. So really, it started with Mrs. McDonnell and her massive moving van rolling down the street and leaving the flat next door empty. Somehow that old hag had managed to irritate you long after she left, albeit through means not her own.

In terms of time, it started a month ago. In terms of people (sans the old bitch), it started with Carlos, as so many of your stories do. “Mrs. McDonald finally moved out today,” he’d said, hip against your stove, watching bits of garlic turn from pale to brown. From the living room you hummed affirmation and then laughed: “McDonnell.”

“Donald, Donnell, Dinero,” he rolled his eyes. “Everyone’s moving in and out. Charles bought a new place in Monaco.”

“Well,” you shrugged, fixing the ridden-up hem of your tank top, “you could have an extra toothbrush in here, if that gets y’there.”

He laughed, pointing at you with the oil-hot rubber tip of the spatula. You two had been dating for over a year at that point, yet any suggestions of moving in together remained vague, cloudish ideas in both of your heads. For him it was impractical; for you it was a little scary.

But a toothbrush, which he always had at your flat and you at his, wasn’t moving in together. Neither was a drawer of clothes and knick-knacks. It was a symbol of your busy lives and the intermittent intersections far and few between.

Except they’d been becoming less intermittent and a lot more constant. He was almost always at your flat, the wide two-bedroom you’d decided was a good place to live with your income and the area. You had two parking spaces, a good rep with the board, and a coffee shop across the street—a place all your own.

A little plus was you had Carlos on some free days, like that day—that fateful day he turned back to the pan and said, with a smile: “I should move in.”

You froze. “You’re asking—you’re telling me or the garlic?” In fits of nerves, you could only blurt out bad jokes.

He laughed but it was a small exhale of breath. “I’m serious.” He turned to you, brown eyes big.

Your heart swelled with something between apprehension and absolute excitement, that finally you were going to take a step you felt like you’d been waiting to take forever. “You are?” You asked, so giddily you could hear your own smile.

The truth was, you had moved in with a boyfriend before, offered him a key and suggested the entire affair, bought fresh flowers and cooked eggs and made coffee and lived the bliss you only read about in romance novels. Months later you caught him fucking somebody else in your bedroom, and years later the memory fails to purge itself from your mind or your habits, plaguing every inner thought you have.

But this, you assure yourself, is Carlos.

“Dead seriou—uuooof!” Carlos barely got to the end of his sentence, with the way you barrelled into him, smiling into the blocky build of his chest and muttering a repetitive yes yes yes into the cotton of his tee. He held you there, pressing a kiss to your hair and promising he’d be in with his boxes as soon as time made way.

—

“Make way,” you yell into the tiny gap between your door and its frame.

“Hey, hi, hello,” your boyfriend sing-songs. “How are you?”

In the month you’d spent watching your boyfriend move into your flat, you’d also been subjected to your complete lack of personal space. Every time you entered, he’d be there talking his head off. Every time you came home at night, he’d be there. You felt suffocated. Scared, even if you couldn’t sleep at night without some part of you touching him. You’re simply a human with needs, and you needed space. You needed silence. Needed it. Absolutely needed it. You knew this because every time you opened your own door, it collided with a—

“Box.” You shove yourself through the gap and wedge the door closed, pointing an accusatory finger at the cardboard. “Another box by the door. Don’t make me burn those,” you mutter, fussing with your hair and toeing off your Blahniks. Across the foyer, Carlos is nailing something into the wall, noisy and incessant and you want to shrink into the floor.

“Sorry, sorry. Lo siento. I have so many stuff.”

“Yeah! You do. My flat’s only nay fucking big,” you respond, raising your pointer finger and thumb to exaggerate the size of your (in actuality, wide) living space. “Carlos, couldn’t you unpack some of these? Just some. It’s—you know, it’s piling up. And you know I hate mess.”

“I know, baby. I will as soon as I finish this up. I promise.”

You nod once, sighing and moving into the study to gather your laptop for work. You’re halfway into the room, eyes scanning your desk’s surface and finding your Mac laying flat atop it, unassuming next to a figurine of a wooden duck. You pause and blink. The wooden duck does not, its eyes painted wide and smooth and you definitely did not purchase this duck.

Somehow, this is the straw that breaks your back.

“What is this duck doing here?!” You yell, voice loud even from the study into the foyer. Carlos pulls off the goggles he’d been wearing to drill shit into your wall and smiles. A gift from me.

“A gif—I, I, I don’t like ducks.” You flail your arms around. “I just… hearing you talk or drill as soon as I come into my own home feels weird. For so long I’ve been alone and… and I’m supposed to hear silence and I—I’m scared that you’re going to figure out how scared I am and you’re going to leave me.”

He just stares, eyebrows knitted. You smother a hand over your face. You pause and breathe for a minute, then two.

“It’s just—I’ve only lived with someone three months, and that was ages ago, and before that it was my parents, so. I’m going to be really frank with you and I’m sorry if this sounds… but I’m gonna close the bedroom door and I don’t want you to talk to me for thirty minutes. I need space. And keep the duck first. I’m sorry. Is that selfish? Is that okay?” When he shakes his head and then nods, you deposit it into his arms and back up into your room.

His face, torn between concerned and endeared, softens into an understanding, patient smile. Okay, he mouths. I love you, you mouth back, and then you’re shutting it softly, leaning your forehead against the white wood and letting a long exhale leave your lips. You half-expected him to fight you back, to raise his voice, but it’s your own worst expectations weighing down on you all over again, born out of memories of your ex.

You stay like that for a while, and slowly with the quiet you realize—you find the duck cute.

You like the boxes because they remind you this is becoming a home. You like hearing him talk because it means you know he’s there. (The drilling will always be irritating, but he makes it better.) You don’t dislike anything he does, but you’re not totally lying either: you are scared. Scared of the commitment it’d take to make this a sure thing. The commitment you’d given before and the commitment that’d been betrayed.

But this is Carlos. This is Carlos, who’s understood every part of you, who’s given you time and patience even when you didn’t know how much you needed it. The Carlos who knows how you like your toast, who eats the yolk off your sunny-side eggs and gives you the white of his hard-boiled ones. The Carlos who said I love you first, surprising you into shock, and then took it back in embarrassment before you cut him off with a kiss. The Carlos who stays.

The air clears and you breathe easier. You open the door after five minutes. ��You okay?”

He’s unpacking a box. He turns and smiles wryly, mimicking a zip motion across his lips. He shakes his head. No talking, remember?

You pout, smiling. “Sorry if I’m neurotic.”

You pad softly toward him and it’s easy, too easy for him to pick you up into his arms, wrap your legs around his waist, stay standing and hugging you. He’s quiet still, patient, warm. “I like hearing you talk. I like your boxes. I like that you’re mine and we’re here.” You inhale. “‘M just scared. And I don’t… want to be, but I am, and… it’s just me. I’m crazy.”

“Hey, Crazy. So am I. Take your time.” He hugs you tighter. “I’m not gonna leave you, even if you hated the duck.” I didn’t, you say quietly. It was cute. “I know it’s hard, baby. I know. You have to let me take care of you. You have me, okay? You have me.”

“And when you’re not here?” Fear slithers up and tries to tug at you but his arms are around you, secure and holding you there, so you don’t let it.

The thing with needs, really, is when they’re met—met in the best, most understanding way, especially…

He kisses your neck. “I’ll always be.”

…You find you no longer need them at all.

#f1 #carlos sainz #carlos sainz imagines #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz drabble #carlos sainz x reader #f1 x reader

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greatooglymooglyyy · 2 months

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Say Goodbye Part III (Chris Sturniolo)

part one, part two

a/n: so ig im just letting this story go where it wants to, idk how many part it will be but lmk if you want to be added or removed from the taglist

contains: fluff, angst, breakup emotions, cussing, childhood friends to lovers to exes?, mentions of kissing, use of y/n (i couldn't avoid it anymore <\3), friendship issues, 1.1k words

There’s a tree in my backyard that’s witnessed almost every big moment Chris and I have ever shared. There used to be a treehouse in it, built one summer before I was born, where I first fell in love. It was just wide enough for our ten-year-old selves to lie head to head, our shoulders just barely kissing, as we listened to music on my first phone.

The treehouse was where, at thirteen, he first leaned in to kiss me, egged on by a dare from our friends. It was where I stopped him and whispered low that I wanted my first kiss to be real and he just stared at me nodding patiently like he understood.

Then, after my dad had torn down the treehouse and replaced it with a hammock bed, this tree is where he asked me to be his girlfriend. Where we lay together, watching the stars through the branches, until he got the courage to make that first kiss real after all.

But it’s also where I sat to make the call that ended us a year ago. Where my mom found me the next morning after I had spent the night crying so hard there was nothing left to do but sleep.

So I guess it’s fitting that I’m laying under this tree, swinging gently with the wind, when Chris finally makes his promised call. I take a deep breath, wondering if this is a step forward or backward before I answer.

“Hello?”

“Hi, baby.”

**********

I pull my phone away from my face to check the time, my eyes widening when I see how late it is. We’re two hours into this conversation about everything and absolutely nothing, and it’s getting cold out here. But somehow, going inside and away from this spot feels too much like breaking a spell so I’ve stayed put.

Chris finishes up telling me about some of the craziest fan interactions he's had and I pretend I haven't heard them all on his channels. Pretending to forget all the nights when the distance between us hurt too bad to ignore, and I'd turn on their podcast listening to them argue to chase the ache away. I shake off the memory and sigh, picking at the frays of the hammock.

“What was your favorite tour stop?” I ask. stifling a yawn and pushing off the ground to make the hammock sway.

“Umm…” He starts, and I can hear movement on his end like he’s pacing his room. “Is it cheating to say Boston? It was just a crazy moment to be on a stage in our hometown.”

I smile to myself at the wanderlust in his voice.

“I bet. I wish I could have-” I cut myself off remembering our situation and bite my lip. “I mean, I’m glad you guys got to have that, Chris. I’m sure it was amazing.”

“You could have come, you know.” He says quietly after a beat.

“Chris.”

“No. I know. It’s just…For some reason, I really thought you would. I had this vision of the show ending and I would find you waiting backstage. I played it over and over again in my head. How I’d get the chance to make it right.” He laughs, the sound a little bitter. “Man, it took a lot out of me not to call you that night. Took everything I had.”

“Don’t do this.” I sigh, closing my eyes to fight off the emotions he’s stirring up.

“I don’t know how not to do this.” He admits breathlessly. “I don’t know what it’s like to not want you.”

Neither of us says anything for a few moments letting his declaration hang in the air before I clear my throat.

“We’ve tried this before-” I begin but Chris interjects.

“If at first you don’t succeed-”

“Nothing has changed between us!” I cut in, my tone stern. “It will be exactly the same.”

“You’re wrong. Everything has changed. I know what it’s like to live without you now.”

God. I sit up and stare at my phone, trying to keep my heart from running away from my head. I want to get my car and drive to where he can hold me. But what if all roads to my first love lead me right back to this heartbreak?

“We can’t just go back to how we were before,” I say sadly, shaking my head to clear out the fantasies.

“I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to move forward.” He insists.

I scrunch my face up in thought. “Friends?”

He laughs like I’ve said something hilarious, “Not a chance in hell.”

“Chris, I can’t-”

“We get on a plane back to LA in four weeks. Give me until then. Four weeks to make you fall back in love with me. And if not, I’ll walk away. I’ll call you my friend. I’ll do whatever you want. Just give me a month.”

I take a deep breath and give in, making a small noise of agreement. Chris makes a goofy celebration noise and I smile despite myself before we finally end the call.

What the hell did I just do to myself? I run a hand over my face in disbelief as I wonder how the hell he could ever think I fell out of love with him in the first place.

**********

I wake up the next morning to the smell of breakfast cooking and almost float down the stairs to the kitchen. My mom only ever cooks on special occasions so I’m confused until I turn the corner and find all three of the triplets around our island.

“Uhhh… good morning.” I sputter out, reaching a hand up to smooth down my hair. Chris and Nick smile over at me but Matt won’t meet my eye.

“Good morning, gorgeous.” My mom says, smiling as she slips past me in the doorway. “See you tonight.” She tosses a grin back at the boys and they call out their goodbyes. Nick stands from the stool and comes over to me, wrapping me up in a hug that I melt into immediately.

“We missed you, Y/N.” He says when we pull away, making tears spring to my eyes.

“I missed you guys more,” I say earnestly.

Matt scoffs and stands up, grabbing his keys and pushing past us. “I’ll wait in the car.”

I flinch as the door slams and Nick shrugs apologetically.

“Yeah, about him…” He trails off and Chris picks it up for him.

“I wasn’t the only one you left in the rearview, Y/N. Maybe you should go talk to him.”

I swallow hard knowing they are right. Because before there was me and Chris, there was Matt.

Matt who sat next to me in kindergarten and shared his crayons. Matt who pulled his sleeping cot closer to mine when I was scared at naptime. Matt who was my very first best friend. Our friendship plays on repeat in my mind as I walk out to their car, wondering what I say after a year of silence. A year of ignoring my best friend for a fight that was never his at all.

I hear Kid Cudi playing as I approach his window and bite back a smile at how much nothing ever changes. I knock softly against Matt’s window and he cuts his eyes to me, annoyance evident.

“What do you want?”

part 4

taglist: @sturniolho @sttzee @tillies33ssss @miloisdone1 @sstvrnioloo @sturnioloslurps @hearts4chris

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space-invading-pigeon · 1 year

Text

Steve is the Mom Friend™, officially the most reliable member of the Party; it would be Dustin, but Dustin insists that they'd be lost without Steve there to help them. Steve doesn't argue, but he disagrees. He thinks he's too volatile to really be considered for Most Reliable.

For most of his childhood, he was isolated from his peers, who he was Not Allowed To Talk To Because They Aren't Worth A Harrington's Time, Stephen. Steve is young and still wants his parents to love him, so he obeys. He's a good boy, if a little sensitive, and therein lies the problem: he feels so much, and he doesn't have a clue on how to express any of it. He can't process his feelings, they're too big to fit in his body. It overwhelms him easily and makes his throat tight- impossible to speak. His father scolds him when he has these overwhelmed episodes, as if Steve is purposely ruining his off time at home by crying; his mother ignores him if he acts childishly. There isn't really anyone who teaches Steve how to cope with being a human.

Steve remembers that he was always angry. It felt like an itch under his skin, a low but steady humming in his veins that could explode at anything, and even back then, he despised that feeling, scared that it meant he would end up a Bad Person. He'd started getting into fights (the first one he could remember was when he was eight and Keith pushed him to get to the playground faster. Keith got a bloody nose and Steve got detention for a week) and never really stopped. By twelve, his entire school is afraid of him, except for a select few kids: Tommy H, whose dad worked with Steve's dad, Barb Holland, who thought Steve was both a good person and a blockhead, and the new Munson boy, who didn't say much of anything, but especially nothing about the time he caught Steve crying in the woods in April after his parents missed the sixth birthday in a row.

It didn't really get better until high school, when his father demanded suggested he sign up for the basketball team; practice and drills helped diffuse a lot of that stifled anger, and for the first time, Steve feels like he can breathe. He doesn't have to be angry all the time anymore, even if most of his calm is just a lack of energy. That isn't to say the anger is gone; he still gets into fights often, but he manages to tone down the violence and rely more on a sharp tongue and a lazy confidence whenever fighting is brought up.

Cue season one! Steve, at the top of his game, the bloody, undisputed King of Hawkins High, is absolutely head over heels for sweet, shy Nancy Wheeler. He bares his soul to Nancy, who, after hearing what he has to say, promises that she'll be there for him. They're together now, they look after each other. It's everything Steve had ever wanted.

When he finds out about the creepy photos Jonathan took of them at Steve's pool on the night Barb went missing (and I love Jonathan, I really do, but what the hell man), he feels that anger starting to boil over again and panics. He was doing so well! Nancy would help, though, just hearing that find "You're an idiot, Steve Harrington" would cool him off. But it worsens when he tries to sneak in to Nancy's room and Jonathan is SLEEPING in Nancy's bed, half-curled around her. Steve doesn't want to get the cops called on him again, so he goes home.

The next day, it all boils over. He tried to stay calm, really, but it was like using a wine cork to stop a volcano; he stands by while Carol and Tommy spread rumors about Nancy, smirks cruelly while Carol spray paints the slur on the movie theater sign, and does not give an inch when Nancy calls him an ass, tears in her eyes and flanked by Jonathan. He's trying his damnedest to keep his hands to himself, though (his father wasn't happy the last time Steve got arrested, and somehow Steve knew that he wouldn't be happy if it happened again), so he's caught off guard when Jonathan starts throwing punches. (Later, Steve will admit that he doesn't really remember what he'd said to make Jonathan so angry that he'd actually try to fight Steve, but he'll apologize anyway. Jonathan is quick to forgive, and apologizes for starting the fight, as well). Steve's memory gets spotty around this time; he remembers a sharp pain in his head, just above his left ear, and being so dizzy that he struggles not to throw up, but he doesn't remember Jonathan landing any other hits (he has three bruises, two around his sternum and one under his eye, as well as a split lip), and he definitely does not remember running from the police trying to break up the fight.

It takes him a few hours to calm down, but it's largely due to the gap in his memory keeping him confused and panicked; he can't remember what he said, and Jonathan Byers may be a girlfriend-stealer but Steve remembers that he's also the kid who held funerals for the mice caught in the traps behind the school gym. Whatever he said had to have been really, really messed up, and Steve genuinely hates that he gets angry, that it isn't uncommon for him to lose time to his anger, that his first response to anything is always anger. So he goes to apologize.

The loaded gun pointed at his face is somehow the least upsetting part of that night.

During season 2, there's a lot going on. Steve has been working so hard on his anger, on keeping a lid on it and actually processing his emotions (thank you, therapy that Hopper demanded Hawkins Lab provide), but it wasn't enough. Nancy resented him, had actually blamed him for Barb's death, and that bitterness came to a head on Halloween.

Without Nancy, Steve struggled a lot more. He had nothing, no one; he didn't have anyone to tell about his parents' death in early June, and he didn't like talking about his wealth. There was no support system- until Dustin decided that Steve was going to help him. The kid was relentless and demanding and trusted Steve to help him almost immediately. Steve could hardly keep up, but he loved the feeling. And, when they ended up in a junkyard bus surrounded by demon dogs, he had three people depending on him, and suddenly he had a way to channel his anger (Dr. Harris would be so proud when he told her). He had a bat and enough unresolved trauma to rival those people his dad used to talk about with shell shock, and by the gods he was going to use that. He went apeshit on some demodogs, saved the kid's lives, and apparently became a big brother to a genius boy and a little girl that could probably fight God and win. He also got his third concussion when Max's stepbrother threatened to kill Lucas, but the order of events for that night is skewed; he blames the concussion. The doctor Hopper forced him to go to after said that he may never hear out of his left side again.

Season 3 sees Steve with a little family that he built all on his own: there's Will (who's shy but has a smile like sunshine when Steve asks him about anything), Jonathan (who cried when Steve asks if they can be friends and then proceeds to infodump on musicians every time he hears Steve so much as hum in a mildly musical manner), Max (the girl with a keen sense and a quick wit, whose older brother terrifies Steve because that's exactly how he could have turned out had he not gotten help), Lucas (who treated Steve like the big brother he never had and often called him racist for trivial things ["Steve, can we order pizza?" No. "Is it because I'm black?"]) Erica (who just sorta showed up with Lucas on occasion and reminded Steve just how fun it could be to be That Bitch), Mike (who alternated between passive assholery and cartoon-esque assassination attempts), Nancy, shockingly (who sat Steve down soon after the massacre at the hospital and apologized for blaming him for- well, everything. They'd talked for a long time, hashing it out, and by the end of it, Steve felt like he had a friend), Eleven (who comes by every Wednesday and Saturday for homemade waffles and a secret knitting circle), and Dustin (who became like a real little brother in the span of three days and never looked back. Steve vowed to keep Dustin safe with everything in him that night in the tunnels.).

He meets Robin when he gets a job at Starcourt (he may be set for life but Hop had told him that hard work built character, and Hop was the kind of man Steve wanted to become). She's wary of him, at first, especially when she watches him break the ice cream machine in a (now rare) fit of anger after a customer blew up at him for their ice cream melting before they finished it. But then he stammers through an apology and brings her a batch of cookies the next day, and tries to explain that he's better now, really, and Robin decides that he's a good person deep down. Maybe not too deep down, though, because his cookies are the best she's ever had. Besides, watching his face turn cherry red as he hides behind the shelves to spy on the repair guy is the most entertaining thing she's seen all summer, possibly in her life.

("Steve, you're drooling," she warns, and Steve hurriedly checks his chin.

"I'm making sure he doesn't get his hair stuck in the machine!" He tries to defend.

"First, his hair is under that bandanna. Second, Eddie Munson would rather die than ruin his rockstar hair.")

Their ice cream machine breaks six more times before Dustin comes back from camp, and each time Steve is a flustered mess talking to Eddie Munson. To his credit, Eddie only gives Steve a half-fond, amused smile before chatting with him about nothing in particular. After the third time, Eddie starts calling Steve "big boy" and lightly teasing him over the fist-shaped dents in the side of the machine.

Steve fights the Russians in the secret Starcourt base, not because they're coming at him, but because one of them reaches out for Dustin/Erica. The edges of his vision blurs, and distantly he knows that he's experiencing something like his childhood episodes: all his can feel is fire in his soul, burning straight through his body, and he has to get it out, he has to protect his brother-

"Wow, Steve won a fight!" Dustin crows as Steve is coming back to himself, his whole body trembling with leftover rage and no one to take it out on. Steve just clutches Dustin to him and tries to breathe. Dustin allows it for two minutes, then starts to squirm, but Steve doesn't release him until they hear footsteps.

With Dustin and Erica safe, Steve surrenders pretty easily- he needed to save his energy. But then they started the "interrogation," and Robin sounded so scared, and they hurt his hands and there were drugs-

Steve faintly remembers jumping onto a man (so tall and broad that Steve briefly felt like he was just a backpack) and biting him, locking his jaw and clawing like a feral cat. Robin remembers Steve promising to "smack the red right out of you commie assholes" while forcing his way through the tunnels, but she can't be sure if it was real or the drugs they were given. Dustin recalls Steve giggling at the movie they were hiding in, like a dork. Erica will never forget that Steve has a Berserker mode, or that he protected her even though she was in the process of blackmailing him for free ice cream.

In October of '85, Jason Carver catches him in the high school parking lot one night as he waits for Hellfire to get out. Steve denies all memories of what was said between them, but Jason walks away without need for an ambulance, so he counts it as a win.

In December of '85, the day that the kids all get out for Christmas Break, Chrissy Cunningham finds him in the parking lot and they sit for nearly an hour talking about projects for their secret knitting circle with the police chief's daughter. As hellfire let's out, Chrissy leaves, and Steve gets to watch as the older members walk his kids to his car, like awkward little nerdy gentlemen. Eddie always hands them off with a flourish and a wink. ("The children, Your Highness," he would say confidently, his three nerds behind him giving him nervous looks. "Perhaps you'll join us next week, my liege?" Steve pretends to be unamused by his theatrics, but Eddie has an infectious grin and a genuinely happy shine to his eyes.)

Season 4, Steve is definitely on edge, twitchy as they search for Eddie. He's worried for Dustin, who is attracted to trouble and smart enough to drag everyone else into it too, but also for Eddie, who occasionally popped by Family Video to talk with Robin. According to Eddie, he's allowed in the break room and behind the counter because he and Robin are "friends of Dorothy". Steve doesn't even know a Dorothy. (Eddie usually waits until Steve walks away in a flustered, confused huff before whispering to Robin, "Dorothy says: be gay, do crime.")

Eddie held a jagged glass bottle to his neck and Steve didn't feel anything. He wasn't scared for his life like the news promised he would be, nor was he angry like he'd expected he would be. Eddie shuffles around nervously, but the only thing Steve feels is concern for him.

He gets dragged through the Watergate and immediately attacked by those godawful bats- he was almost in the boat, they had to help Max, he would not lose his baby sister, and boom, he's back to fighting. He fends them off with the help of Eddie, Robin, and Nancy, all of whom he is furious with for following him into the Upside Down like idiots.

"Harrington's got her. Don't ya, big boy?" Eddie teased, and Steve felt electricity through his whole being. His face flushed red and he stammered an affirmative, not noticing Robin or Eddie as they grinned at each other. Eddie stuck close the entire time they were in the RV, and if Steve didn't know better, he'd say Eddie was flirting with him. But he did know better, there was no way Eddie was flirting. He was on the run and desperate for human interaction.

Separating for the plan was the hardest thing Steve had ever done. While Dustin was getting ready, Steve pulled Eddie aside. "Please keep him safe. I'll do anything you want, just please, don't let anything happen to him," he begged, desperately clutching Eddie's sleeves. "He's my brother, Eddie, I can't lose him-"

"I promise, Steve," Eddie had interrupted. "I'll guard him with my life."

"Guard him with mine," Steve insisted. Eddie didn't get it at first, but it would hit him later that Steve wanted Eddie to keep them both safe.

Steve would never tell a soul, but he liked confronting Vecna. Armed with chemical weapons, Robin stayed a bit behind, but Nancy emptied round after round into One, and Steve? Steve got to use his bat.

It was exhilarating; as much as he hated his anger problems, he could not deny that it felt good to attack the source of all their problems. His arms grew tired after a while, though, and Vecna seemed distracted, disoriented, so Steve resorted to his usual tactics. He never fought fair: biting, scratching, clawing his way to victory in everyday scuffles, there was no way he'd give up this opportunity.

Something in him twists suddenly. He feels sick to his stomach and scared, but he has no idea why. All he can think about is Eddie and Dustin- he's hurt he's hurt he'shurtheshurtheshurt. So he makes the decision to go back; Nancy and Robin technically have the injured Vecna under control. He runs.

Eddie is being swarmed when he makes it to the trailer. One minute, Steve watches as they descend on his friend(?), and the next, he's supporting an injured Eddie as they hobble together to Wayne Munson's truck, Wayne on Eddie's other side and rambling about "what the hell is going on" so similarly to Hop that Steve feels the hollow sting of loss. Later, as they rest in the living room of Steve's empty house, Dustin tells Steve about what he saw: Eddie, going to the ground, unable to fight them off any longer, hope lost and grief already tearing its claws into Dustin's chest, and then out of nowhere Steve appears, covered in bits of vine and rock. He tells Steve about the enraged roar he could hear from the trailer (ten feet behind Dustin as his hobbling came to a stop) and the nail bat that had yet to leave Steve's hand swinging at each assailant with such a precision that, for a brief moment in the chaos, Dusting could hear the sounds of an orchestra playing a symphony, Steve as their ragged, bloodied maestro. He tells Steve about the wild look in Steve's eyes as he carried a half-conscious Eddie into the trailer, snarling about how stupid and careless Eddie was, and how moronic Dustin was for jumping through a gate the way he did. He tells Steve about the stray demobat that burst through the door, how Steve grabbed it with his bare hands and ripped it in half- Dustin's got stars in his eyes as he relays this, even now, days later.

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

This kinda got away from me I'm sorry

I'm still new to people wanting to read what I write so I'm just gonna tag the one person I know was also excited about steve being feral: @amoris-no-smut-allowed

#steddie #stranger things headcanons #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie and steve #the party #let steve go apeshit #feral steve #steve can cook #let steve go feral

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artificial-transmutations · 9 months

Text

Transformation Letter: Charlie

Hi my name is Charlie, I would like to be transformed into any man you want. But not an object please. I am 26 yo, 170cm tall with a slim twink body. I have white skin, blue eyes and short dark hair.

You hesitate slowly before putting the envelope into the box. It is not that you are unhappy with who you are, but somehow, the thought of becoming someone else is oddly interesting to you. With a silent thud, the letter falls into the box - it's done now, and you can't retrieve it.

The shady online ad had promised that changing your body was not only possible, but really easy to do, too. All you had to do was write a letter to the company and they would care for the rest. To be honest, you don't really believe in all that. It was scientifically unlikely that anyone had developed a technology to change bodies - let alone at a distance knowing nothing more than your name. But still, you had been curious enough to try it.

So, you composed a lengthy letter, describing exactly who you are and what you want changed. That you are happy with your slim build but would like to change certain details. For example, your dark hair could be a bit more interesting. And your butt could be a bit juicier. Oh, and if they shaved one or two years off, leaving you at 22 again, that would certainly not hurt.

It's not like you are old, not even having hit 30 yet, but the gay community was somewhat superficial - picking up guys had been easier a few years ago.

You even attached a picture to your letter showing how you look right now.

What you didn't do though, is read the description of the ad thoroughly. Instead of monetary compensation, they reserved the right to choose your transformation. All the details you worked out for your change will ultimately be in vain - and you are entirely at the mercy of a faceless internet company, having unknowingly sealed a contract that grants them all rights on your physical appearance.

Of course, you know nothing of that. After having put in the letter, you head back home and fix yourself a salad before heading to bed early.

Over the course of the next few days, absolutely nothing happens and soon, you have already forgotten the strange ad and the letter you sent. You continue to live your life without knowing your letter has been dispatched, delivered and processed at its destination. Until, a good week later, suddenly, your face feels itchy. Thinking nothing you scratch at the itchy spot, but the itching returns a few moments later.

When you touch your chin again to scratch it again, your hands meet an unfamiliar feeling. There are short, bristly hairs on your chin! But that's impossible! You never grow a beard, and you distinctively remember being entirely smooth this morning. You quickly rush to the bathroom to have a look in the mirror and almost can't believe your eyes:

There is a clearly visible five o' clock shadow in your face, looking alien and ill-fitting. But it's definitely there. When you touch the short hairs again, you can feel the short hairs bend slightly to your touch. They are dark and clearly visible against your skin. This is definitely *your* stubble! You are growing a beard!

Suddenly, you remember the letter. But that can't be, can it? You certainly didn't wish for a beard! Perhaps this is some kind of side-effect?

You have a closer look at your face, searching for further changes. You notice a dirty spot on your cheek.

Has this been there a minute ago? You try to rub it off but only manage to smear it across your face. You try again, this time with water, but as you look up, you find the dark smear having spread all over your face. Even worse, when you try to wash it off, only some of it comes off. The rest of the dark muddy dirt seems to have seeped into your skin and has made it darker than before, like a tan.

You can even watch the tan spreading in the mirror. Going down your quite hairy chin onto your neck and disappearing into your shirt at the collarbone.

Quickly, you try to wriggle out of your shirt, only to find that surprisingly difficult. When you finally manage to do so, you understand why at once: Your body has bulked up considerably! Your torso that has darkened with the spreading tan and is also covered with stubbly dark hair is way more muscular than before. Your shoulders are broader, and your entire frame is... bulky to say the least. There is not much left from your original slim and twinky body. By the second, you're becoming buffer and darker. When you look back into the mirror, your face reminds you nothing of what it was! It even appears as if you have actually gained a few years, putting you at least past the mark of 30.

This is impossible! You have to stop that. You need to call the company right now!

With that thought, you rush to your laptop and try to remember the company name. Artificial something was it, right? Transformation? No, wait. Transmutation. That's it. You start entering the company name into the search engine but find it increasingly difficult to do so. You do know how to type, of course, but your hands are getting bigger and less precise. When you finally hit enter, the search engine lists the results.

Or, at least you think it does. You blink once, squint your eyes and blink again. You can clearly read the letters on the screen, but the composition makes no sense at all. It's like trying to read an entirely different language. But that can't be! English is your mother tongue, you should be able to read it clearly. Instead, you only recognize very few simple words. "and" for example, or "I".

It's no use. You have lost the ability to read English. But certainly, you can read another language? You try not to think about anything as you type a new query in the address bar of the browser.

Well, good news is that you can read the texts again when the site loads. It's clearly Spanish that you have no problem understanding. But instinctively, you have entered a porn site. Gay porn, to be precise - good. At least this hasn't changed.

Just looking at the pictures makes your cock grow in your pants. And grow. And grow. When you look down at your lap, you recognize a massive beast of burden that certainly wasn't there before, either. Curiously, you unzip your pants and are greeted by a large, throbbing, uncut cock, framed by dark curly pubic hair. Of course, in your old body you always shaved your pubic hair neatly. However, here it's ungroomed and a dark contrast to your tanned brown-ish skin. With the cock that has sprung free, you also freed a cloud of musky smell. The manly smell of unwashed groin and sweat, along with traces of piss and precum.

Without thinking, you take a deep breath and then another one. That smells good, you decide, and your throbbing cock agrees. You grab your large cock with your large hand and start a video with your left one.

As you watch the manly figures on the screen fucking each other, your quickly start to move your hand up and down your length, too. A deep, rumbling sound escapes your throat and soon, your heavy balls begin to churn. You are going to cum!

The thought makes your head spin, and you quickly aim your cock at your laptop's screen. Your mind is so overwhelmed with lust, it's not like you can even think anymore. When your first rope of cum lands on the screen, splashing all over the photos, the second shot flies even further and lands in a pool of white semen on the keyboard.

Huffing and panting, you slowly regain clarity. God damnit, you didn't really do *that*, right?

Worse enough that you snuck into your clients home and used his laptop to watch porn, no. Now your sticky cum is slowly running down the screen and dripping under the keys. There's no way you’re able to clean this up properly.

Awkwardly, you use your shirt to wipe over the laptop superficially. Still, there is a clearly visible spot of dried cum on the screen and the keys will be sticky to operate. You briefly consider cleaning the machine with water but don't want to damage it.

It's no use. You just hope your client won't notice until you are gone. On that note, you quickly make your way back into the garden, resuming your work in the heat of the summer, only clad in a short pair of shorts that accentuates your huge Mexican cock.

Gone is Charlie the twink. Your new life is Carlos, the dumb and randy Mexican gardener.

What is this? A "Transformation Letter"? Yes, you heard right! Over at my riot page, you can send transformation letters that will change your life forever. The only catch? You can't choose what you will become. Carlos here is certainly changed a lot, but not like he intended. Would you be luckier if you tried? Head over to the instructions to try your luck!

#TransformationLetter #racial transformation #male transformation #muscle transformation #dumbing down

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lambiewrites · 4 months

Text

Letter To Santa

TaskForce 141 x Child!GN!Reader

Warnings: none, be prepared for teeth rotting, sweet fluff. We believe in Santa on this page. This is primarily center around our dear Capt. Price because seeing him as a father figure would cure my woes. This is not proof read and I just woke up so have fun ❄️🎶🎄

Word Count: 1.29K

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The stocking were hung by the chimney with care in hopes that St.Nicholas soon would be there.

Little hands eagerly worked at a red pen and delicate paper, smoothing out wrinkles. Fingers grazed papyrus with ease and little barefeet barely brushed against the cold floor. Brows knitted in concentration as the wee babe bite their tongue in thought.

“How do you spell Santa?”

The sweet voice echoed through the barrack walls quite the contrast of its usual interior.

“S-A-N-T-A. Here little one, I’ll write it down for you.” The gruff voice bent down with a crack of his spine before letters curled one by one to spell the jolly fat man’s name.

“And how do you spell Christmas?”

A gruff sigh came from the man’s beard lips as he spelt out the words CHRISTMAS in extra large font for the babe.

Captain Price was a man well into his years, beaten and broken down from multiple years of war and hardship but, somehow or another you wiggled your way into his heart. He most certainly thought of you as his own and cared for you like such.

Calloused hands tending to your every need such as tying your shoes, reaching top shelves, teaching you sight words and so on and so forth.

“Kid, what are they teaching you in school? Do I have to spell everything for you?” He teased, running large calloused digits though H/C hair, ruffling it a bit but quickly slicking down its strands back in place.

“Could you write my letter? Please? I’ll tell you everything you need to write!?” Eager pleads filled the air and brought about the rest of the men to seek out your woes.

“Just this once! And I won’t ask for anything else!”

A half snort left the masked lips of our dearest stoic, balaclava covered “friend”. Deep voice for a large man indeed. A bit scary but, you were never scared of the one in which they call “Ghost”. Oh no, quite the opposite. You played with him, hugged him, snuggled up to him, had breakfast with him, much like everyone else who you had wrapped around your little tiny fingers.

“I find that rather hard to believe,love” He stated rather promptly, leaning back against a rickety chair, stretching his limbs out a bit.

“It’s true! I promise! And I can’t lie because Santa is watching AND, unlike some people-“ You shot glares at Ghost and Soap, Soap whom shot you a half innocent look back as if he had no idea what you were even rambling about. Ghost, if at all possible rolled his eyes beneath the mask at your little rambling. At least Gaz was safe from your rambles and tales of the “naughty and nice list.” You were certain your name and Gaz’s name was on the nice list, and maybe Price’s, but Ghost and Soap’s? Absolutely not!

“I’m gonna be on Santa’s nice list so I can get lots and lots of presents. So I can’t lie. Just, someone please write my Santa letter for me!? That’s all I ask! Please!? Pretty please?! Pretty please with sugar on top?!”

Little hands clasped together eagerly begging and pleading for your letter to be written, feet bounced from one heel to the next, little E/C eyes looked up to the men round, full of light and wonder but pupils wide and begging almost like a puppy who wanted a treat.

“Tch, fine. Only this once. Got it? Now, come here, little one. I’ll see to it that your letter is written and fit for Santa.” Captain Price patted his knee and you eagerly abided, settled atop his knee as if he were Santa himself. Come to think of it, if he had a longer, white beard and was a little fatter and more jollier, he could be Santa. You giggled in thought, earning a brow raise from Price before he carefully held you steady.

The hand that was holding you, held that same bright red ink pen gently against the notebook paper that you had originally used to write your own, little letter.

“Ready Captain? I gotta big list of things to write and say. Think you can keep up?” You teased the old Captain though you did this quite often and found joy in joking about his age. Though, the Captain wasn’t that old. He was in his late 30’s, early 40’s but, to you he was ancient.

“Take your best shot, kiddo.”

He chuckled before the tip of the red pen pressed against the crinkled paper, whereas you rambled on about your list, Price was lightly writing out as followed:

Dear Santa,

I have been really good this year. I have done all of my chores without complaining and been on my best behavior. For Christmas this year I want (insert toy list here) and for my “pretend” family to get everything they want Christmas. Oh! And I want them to be able to go home and spend Christmas with the people they love. Because that’s what Christmas is all about. Family and love.

P.S. Can you please get my Uncle Ghost a boyfriend/girlfriend. Thanks. He’s really lonely.

“Is that good?” You asked the Captain with a small tilt of your head, holding up the crinkled paper reading over each and every sentence you made Price write.

“Men, Do me the honor of looking over their letter. Tell me, is it Santa Clause worthy?” Price held the crinkled paper up for Ghost, Soap and Gaz to look over.

Gaz was the first to read it, chocolate hues scanning the paper over and over again with a small chuckle at the last sentence. A hand went over to tuck strands of H/C behind your ears and compliment your work, though Price wrote you you worded it.

Soap was next and as azure blue eyes looked over the paper he chuckled whole heartedly.

“Ya really are doin’ poor L.T. a favor here aren’t ya lass/lad?” Soap chuckled wholeheartedly before Ghost snatched the paper from the Scotsman.

“Johnny what’re you laughing at-“

He breathed in a heavy sigh at the last little sentence you had, had Price write.

“Bloody hell…”

He grumbled, large digits pinching the bridge of nose through mask and balaclava.

“It’s funny.”

You giggled, peering over Price’s tired shoulders to see Ghost’s reaction.

“Aye lass/lad, it’s also Santa worthy.” Soap got in another chuckle before snatching the crinkle red written letter back from Ghost and letting Price read over it one more time, before sealing it up into an envelope, licking it shut and sticking a little stamp on it.

“Say, Y/N? Do you know what Santa’s address is?” The Captain arched a brow at you as you seemed to be falling somewhat sleep in his gentle hold.

“Uh uh. But I bet it’s on your maps. Somewhere. You got lots of them. You can find it, I believe in you.”

You chuckled in a half sleepy manner, leaning back against Price’s broad chest, H/C and H/L falling over your tired features.

Price turned your body, so you were tucked tightly into his arms gently moving strands of hair out of your face. He thought for a moment at your little request and a subtle hum came from him.

In a hushed tone he whispered a simple,

“Don’t worry little lamb, St.Nicholas will get your letter, my men and I will make sure of it. “

He pressed a soft kiss against the crown of your head before letting you slumber and dream in his arms. He fetched the other men to quickly find Santa’s address for your silly, one of a kind letter.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A/N: I suck at accents and writing but, my brain has been turned off recently because ya girl graduated last Saturday and I threw everything I've ever known out the window haha. I love writing fluff and I will die on that hill. This idea also came to me from a couple of AI chat roleplays and simply, well Christmas spirit. I know the gang is probably ooc and I sincerely apologize for that. I will get better, trust me! Reqs are open forever and always! Reblogs are def appreciated!

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thebestofoneshots · 6 months

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Gilded Constellations | wolfstar x reader

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 5.3 K Warnings: PG-13 kisses Prompt: You venture to a reading club, entering a part of Hogwarts you had not yet been into, and meeting new and exciting people. A covert trip to the library, on a quest for a werewolf book, leads to an unexpected encounter. This IS a wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. A/N: Sprinkling in a bit of spice, hope you enjoy <3

Chapter 15: No One Like You

The week went by a lot faster than you expected it to, Remus, just like the last time, had gotten a lot better by dinner, Madame Pomfrey told him he could go once he took a painkiller potion, and gave you some anti-headache drops. You both thanked her and walked together towards the Great Hall. You were in awe of how fast he healed, really, just the thought of how bad he had been in the morning, and how much better he was now, was outstanding, and it made you wonder what other benefits his condition brought along, even if it was clearly a nuisance for him.

Later on the week you’d gone to the book club Nina had invited you to, you wondered if she had also guessed Remus’s condition by reading the book she’d lend you, even if she hadn’t spent so much time with Remus; and to be honest, one of the reason you realised was because you were made pretty aware of the moon phases by your classes and professor on the past few months, you had gotten that silver ring as a gift, and you spend a great deal of time with the boys, down to the point that you easily noticed when they were all acting weird. All of them things Nina had not been a witness to, at least not up close like you had, but she had been around a lot longer than you, you really had no way to tell, unless you straight up asked, and that was obviously not happening.

“So… did you like it?” She asked you with a bright smile when she spotted you outside of the Ravenclaw common room.

You nodded “It was really nice, helped me learn a lot too.”

She frowned “Learn a lot… about werewolves you mean?”

You nodded “I hadn’t studied them before,” you added later “I mean I know it’s not all accurate…” I certainly hope some of those Alpha and knotting things aren’t accurate, you thought “but it got me investigating more about them, it’s pretty interesting.”

Nina nodded “It is, right?” She told you with a smile “I was taking an extra class on magical creatures and they’re all super interesting. They say Newt Scamander may come give a talk at some point next year, it would be absolutely brilliant!”

“Yeah, totally!” You agreed she guided you inside her common room, and you marvelled at the ceiling. You remembered Remus had told you about it, how it was enchanted to look like the sky above instead of a normal roof. It was definitely prettier than what you and Rem had created together, but you rather liked the Gryffindor one best.

Nina smiled when she saw you, “beautiful, right? I’m sure you would’ve fitted in perfectly in Ravenclaw.”

You smiled at her “I’m not sure I’m as studious as most of you,” you told her with a smile “Just the other day I skipped some classes because I had a headache.”

“Yeah, but you still have incredible grades,” she told you, matter of factly “Everyone thinks we’re nerds that study all the time,” she whispered, leaning in closer to you “but just because we’re reading it doesn’t mean we’re studying,” she smiled mischievously “as you saw with the book.”

“Yeah, those spicy scenes were certainly something…” you replied.

Nina guided you towards a small little gathering in front of the fire, it was different to the Gryffindor one, it somehow looked a lot more regal and elegant, reminded you of Professor Nightshade, and then made you wonder how the Hufflepuff common room would look, perhaps Alex could sneak you in one day, after all, he was the head boy.

“Hey everyone, this is (Y/N),” She said as she pointed at you, you waved awkwardly.

“Not that she needs much of an introduction,” a boy said, standing up and offering his hand for a shake, you took it with a smile “Neil Perry, it’s nice to meet the new Gryffindor legend.” You laughed, Neil had a very dashing smile, he almost reminded you of Prongs, he was just as bright “That’s Alice,” he said pointing to a girl with silver hair.

“We share a class, don’t we?” You asked with a smile, she nodded, and the two of you shook hands.

“That over there is Nox,” he said pointing at a boy with Slytherin robes.

You both shook hands as well, “Nice to meet you,” he said “This is Comet, by the way” he said, pointing at a girl who was sitting right next to him.

“I’m really sorry about the Slytherins that have been picking on you,” she told you with a smile “We’re not all entitled pricks.”

“Some of us are even nice,” Nox added.

“I don’t hold grudges against houses,” you told them with a smile “I kind of skipped the whole indoctrination moment by getting here so late,” you joked, and it cracked a chorus of laughs from the entire circle.

Comet extended her hand for you to shake, “I already like you,” the girl said with a grin, which you returned with a wink, you already liked her as well.

“I’m Jennifer, everyone calls me Jane,” a girl with curly black hair and freckles said as she extended her hands, you shook it.

“She picked the book,” You heard another girl say from behind, she was wearing Ravenclaw robes too “I’m Clara,” she told you with a smile. You’d seen her around Nina often.

“Marina,” said another girl with a wave, she was wearing a Hufflepuff beanie.

“I believe that’s all of us?” Neil said with a smile.

Then another boy barged into the room, he had light brown hair and looked a little distressed for being late, “I’m sorry, got caught up on the stairs when coming from the library,” he said. Neil smiled fondly when he saw the boy “That’s Todd,” he told you, “he doesn’t talk much, but he enjoys listening to us a lot.”

You also smiled at the boy “Nice to meet you,” you said looking at him “I’m (Y/N)!”

He looked at you puzzled “Same (Y/N) Nina won’t shut up about?” He asked, still fondling with the amount of things was carrying in his arms.

You raised your eyebrow, smiling at the same time “All good things, I hope.” You said as you shook his hand, and helped him hold some of the books he was carrying.

Todd nodded “It’s like she completely forgot about her old Gryffindor crush and replaced him with you.”

“Will you shut it, Todd?” Nina said, with a tight smile on her face.

He just shrugged and took a seat next to Neil. Nina looked a little debased, so you placed a hand on her shoulder “Don’t think too much about it,” you told her with a smile, you could feel her ease under your hand “Where should we sit?”

“Come here!” Jane said as she slid to the side of the rug where she was so you could both fit in as part of the circle. Once you did, she took out the book and levitated it towards the centre of the circle, letting it float in between you all. “All right, session starts now.”

“Favourite parts?” Asked Clara.

“The chase scene at the end,” Said Neil “No offence Jane, but the book was a bit slow.”

“Excessive with the descriptions of abs,” added Nox.

“Nah, I rather enjoyed those,” countered the first boy.

You raised your eyebrows at that but nodded in agreement.

“I like the way they depicted the werewolf.” Said Nina, who was next to you.

“Yeah, especially on the sexy scenes,” added Comet with a cheeky smile. Alice hit her on the arm playfully “What? It’s true!” She retorted.

“I don’t know about the knotting though,” you added in.

Nox cringed from the other side “Please don’t remind me of that,” he said “I’ve been trying to erase those lines from my mind.”

“I found it rather interesting,” said Jane “That’s why I chose the book.”

“But it’s not like that in real life, is it?” You asked, trying to sound playful.

“Well I’ve never done it with a werewolf, but I highly doubt it,” Responded Comet casually.

“It’s not,” Todd said, everyone stared at him, and he turned red “I looked it up on a BOOK! Merlin guys!” that got a chorus of laughter from everyone.

The reading circle continued on, with its playful banter, jokes and a rather in-depth discussion of the relationship mechanics within the story. You actually had lots of fun, Nina was right, just because they had their head buried in a book, it didn’t mean they were nerds. Even if some people would see you from afar, talking about a book so gleefully and entertainedly, that they would consider you as such. Once the reunion was over, they decided on the next book that would be reviewed, Nox picked a wizarding world book titled “Point of Know Return” and he promised it would be delightful, with Pirates, mermaids and fairies and underwater cities deep in the pacific. He also promised there would be no knotting.

As the night started to fall, you realised the stars on the Ravenclaw ceiling became a lot brighter, you wondered if there was a spell that you could implement to make the same thing happen to the one you’d created in the Gryffindor common room. “All right guys,” said Jane, “I think we should all head to bed, especially our guests from other houses since you don’t want to leave after curfew.”

Everyone nodded and started to stand, as you grabbed the book they’d borrowed, you remembered “Hey Guys! Sunday’s the Halloween Party at Gryffindor, you should all come! Costumes are obligatory tho…”

“You’re inviting us? To a party?” Nox asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“We aren’t exactly the type of people that get invitations to parties often,” added Todd.

“Speak for yourselves,” added Neil “I’m down!” He smiled, yeah, he definitely reminds you of Prongs “I’m sure I can conjure something to dress up as before Sunday.”

“I’m coming too!” Said Jane with a smile.

“If she’s going I’ll be there,” Clara said as she gave you a thumbs up.

“Yeah, I’m definitely coming,” smiled Comet. “Minho will be there, won’t he?” You nodded in response. “Good, I’ll tag along with him.”

“I’d be lovely to see you all there!” You assured, and waved at them as you walked towards the door, Nina walked close behind you.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” She asked you with a smile.

You nodded “Yeah!” You responded excitedly “It was excellent! I’m pretty sure Remus and Lily would also love to join in, have you asked them?”

She seemed surprised but shook her head “They uh… they’re not like you. Remus is always very polite, but too closed off and Lily is always busy.”

“I think you should ask Remus,” you told her “I could ask him for you if you wanted,” you offered, but she shook her head again.

“I’d rather it was just a you and me thing,” she said shyly.

You raised an eyebrow at her statement but shrugged “Just us then,” you said, placing your arm over her shoulder, Nina tensed up with the unexpected contact and then relaxed back again, once she remembered it was you.

“I really like hanging out with you,” she said, almost in a whisper. You reassured her by rubbing the side of her arm with your hand, Sirius’ touchiness was rubbing off on you.

“I like hanging out with you too, luv.” You smiled “You’re coming to the Halloween Party, yeah?”

She shook her head “I’ve got a thing that day,” She told you.

“A thing? What kind of thing?”

“A date,” she mustered.

You stopped the two of you dead in your tracks “Shut up! With who? I thought you liked Remus. Wait… Is it Remus? He didn’t tell me a thing, I’ll punch him!”

“It’s not Remus.” She said and then frowned “How did you know I liked Remus?”

You arched an eyebrow “You should be more surprised no one else knew, I figured it out on the first day of study group.”

She laughed, “Well, I was pretty hung up on him then, that’s not a lie. But…” she cleared her throat “Someone else came around, made me realise Remus wasn’t really my type.”

“What?!” You narrowed your eyes at her, “Come on, tell me who!”

She shook her head, a diverted smile playing on her lips “No-uh.”

“Awww… Nina!” You complained. She just shrugged in response.

“You figured out who the first one was by yourself, figure it out a second time,” she replied. You smiled and shook your head at her response.

“Fine them, what prize do I get if I get it right?”

“Knowledge.”

You raised your eyebrows at her, “Not a Ravenclaw, remember?”

“Fine then, a kiss.” You gave her a look. “What? You wouldn’t kiss a girl?”

You laughed “I would, I have. Kissed Evans a couple of weeks ago actually.” You explained “But… I’m kind of dating Sirius now.”

She frowned as if the news were a shock to her “Sirius Black? You’re dating him?” You nodded “And is he aware you are dating?”

You opened your mouth, drawing a bit of air in before speaking “Well… uhm– he seemed pretty aware last time I checked.”

“What I mean is…” she started, shaking her head as if she wasn’t sure which words to use “Does he know you are exclusive?”

“I’m sorry?!”

“Sirius has a bit of a reputation…”

Finally, you understood what Nina was going on about and you smiled at her softly, she was worried about you, so sweet. “He knows,” you reassured her “We uhm-“ you cleared your throat “We’ve got a bit of history.”

“And what about Remus?” She asked then, curiosity getting the best of her.

“What about him?”

“I thought you’d end up dating him.”

Now you frowned “Remus? Why would I–“

“-you always seemed to be really close to him, from the day you arrived, really.”

“I…” you started, but you weren’t exactly sure what to respond. Remus really was great, very different to Sirius, but he had his own charm to him, and he was just as beautiful as your boyfriend, just a different kind of beauty. The more you thought about it, Nina wasn’t wrong, if you weren’t so enamoured by Sirius, you might have fallen for Remus instead.

“Nevermind,” she said as she discovered you weren’t saying anything, “Want me to walk you back to your dorm?”

You smiled “That’s so gentleman-y of you Nina,” you told her with a smile “But I’m gonna stop by the library on the way, it’s better for you to stay here, or you might be returning after curfew.”

“The library?” She asked, puzzled “What for?”

“I’ve been looking for a book,” you told her with a smile “for a little investigation I want to do on Magical Creatures.” Nina nodded, and pulled you into a hug before the two separated, she stayed in her common room as you walked towards the library.

When you arrived, the doors were closed and you carefully sneaked inside, not wanting to disturb anybody. You were pretty sure no-one had spotted you, cause even when it was past curfew, and you were still roaming the halls of the library quietly, attempting to find a book, you realized no-one had asked you to leave, the librarian seemed to have left too.

“You’ll have trouble for sneaking about at this time,” you heard a portrait say disdainfully.

“I’m not sneaking about,” you responded “It’s not my fault no one was looking when I entered.” The portrait raised an eyebrow at you, as if he thought what you were saying was bull. You stared at the old wizard for a second, narrowing your eyes and turned your back on him, still trying to find the book. As you scanned through the old bookshelves, you finally spotted a book that could be useful, “Dark creatures and the things that make them tick'' you were just about to grab it, when you heard a very low whisper from a couple of bookshelves behind.

“Merde…fuck-fuck.” You recognized that voice. You would recognize it anywhere. It’s Sirius.

You looked around, trying to find him, but no matter where you looked, there seemed to be no-one there. Since you had to move further into the library, to try to spot the boy, you decided to put a disillusionment charm on yourself, so you could walk more freely, and perhaps sneak up on him.

You walked through the lines of shelfs, quietly so you didn’t make much noise, but no matter how hard you looked, Sirius was nowhere to be found. Just when you started to think you had imagined it, and started walking back to get the Dark Creature’s book you’d found, you heard the creaking of a door. You turned around and saw how the door of the restricted section was being opened, by itself.

Finally it downed you, James’ invisibility cloak, Sirius must have it, you thought before walking up behind him. Or, at least behind where you assumed he was. Eventually you saw his wand come out of the cloak, along with his delicate but strong looking hand. You smiled, almost wanting to applaud yourself for recognizing your boyfriend with a simple “merde.”

You sneaked up on him, sharply placing your hands over his shoulders, He turned sharply, the cloak falling on the floor before he pushed you against one of the bookshelves. He narrowed his eyes, and then he drew in a breath “Mon Coeur?” he asked, visibly confused. Truth be told, he had smelled you earlier, but he assumed it was just that your scent had stuck to his own clothes from when you were sitting together in the common room earlier that day.

Finally you vanished the disillusionment charm and smiled “Surprise,” you whispered, he still had you pinned against the wall, hand bunching up your uniform threateningly, you bit your lip “I had no idea you liked it rough, Puppy,” you joked, a playful smile on your lips, as you eyed the way he was holding you.

“Shit, sorry.” He whispered, finally letting you uniform free, you quickly straightened it, and then turned your head back to him, “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Came to find a book after the reading club with Nina.”

Then you heard noise and he quickly picked the cloak up, placing it over the two of you as he drew you a bit closer to him. “Shh, it’s Peeves!” He whispered, he probably didn’t need the two of you to stand so close together, nor did he need to place his hand over your mouth, since the two knew you were sneaking about, but he was certainly enjoying it.

And you were enjoying yourself too, especially when you slipped your tongue out of your mouth and licked the hand that was covering it. He made a disgusted expression when you did, pulling back and cleaning it off on his pants as he stared at you in disbelief. “What the hell?” He mouthed, the shadow of a diverted smile playing on his lips.

You shrugged, with a smile placed on your own, you found his reaction really amusing. You then looked to the side, the sound was further away, far enough for you to whisper “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for a book,” he said as he placed his hand on your shoulder, thumb brushing on your neck as he pushed your forwards lightly, motioning you to move.

“And here I assumed you’d come for a barbecue.”

He rolled his eyes as he chuckled “It’s for a prank, the one for the Slytherins that we talked about the other day, remember?”

“And you got commissioned to pick the book by the boys?”

“I was meant to come with Remus, he was feeling off, and I told them I’d come alone. I wasn’t really eager to spend a long time snuggled up against Wormy under the cloak.”

“But you were eager to snuggle up against Remus, I see,” you teased. He chuckled again.

He used his free hand to pull his wand out and illuminate the titles of the books as he read through them, he now stood a lot closer to you, his chest basically pressed against your back, you could feel it going up and down as he breathed. Somehow it felt different to when you sat on his lap, almost more intimate. Maybe it was the rush of sneaking about together, or maybe you were just being silly, “What are we looking for?” You asked him, turning your head to see him better, reflecting on how lucky you were a boy like that was your boyfriend. His stunning grey eyes, framed by his dark eyelashes, were scanning the bookshelves as he did.

“It’s a book called The Compendium of Pernickety Enchantments.” He told you as he continued scanning the shelves. You nodded and did the same. But then in-between some books, further down on the shelves, you found a small tome about werewolves. You had to take it. But you obviously couldn’t do it while Sirius was still there, or at least not while he was paying attention.

You had to think of something, a distraction, but one that wouldn’t get the two of you caught. And then you remembered Sirius was a boy, and there was one thing that could easily distract any boy “Hey Puppy…” He hummed in response, his face awfully close to yours, his long hair brushing against your cheeks “You haven’t cashed out on those kisses that I owe you.”

He frowned, giving you a look before turning back to the bookshelves “You’ve been too busy, haven’t you?” he responded, “with the whole trying to finish the book before the session and then the session today, on like our only bit of free time of the week”

You arched an eyebrow at that “You jealous?”, you teased.

“Well, you should spare some more time for your boyfriend.”

“How about I spare it now?” You said, finally turning to face him.

“Right now!?” He questioned, eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you, confusion evident in his face, we’re in the restricted section of the library!, he thought.

“Of course, if you don’t want to…” you said, with feign innocence and a little shrug of your shoulders. You were tempting him, and Sirius wasn’t one to resist temptation, let alone if it came from you. So he placed his hand behind your neck and pulled you towards him. You gently let your backpack fall on the floor.

“C'est une idée terrible,” he said as he finally closed the gap between the two of you.

“When have we ever been known for doing the most prudent thing?” you responded in between a kiss. And it was true, when you and Sirius were together it seemed like you threw caution to the wind, responsibilities be damned, fun? Pleasure? They always seemed to come first.

Sirius now had both of his hands on your face, expertly leading the kiss, as you pulled your wand from your pocket and started using it to levitate the werewolf book towards your bag. You felt terrible as you did, distracting Sirius with a kiss to take a book from the shelves without him noticing, even if it was harmless, made you feel dirty, and not in a good way. Sirius trusted you, and here you were, hiding your knowledge from him, even if it was because you feared you’d lose a friend over it.

When the book was safely inside the bag, you decided you’d make it up to him, and placed both hands around his neck, drawing him just a little closer to you and focusing absolutely all of your attention into the kiss. And that had you almost completely forget about the werewolf book in your bag. Sirius was kissing you hungrily, thirstily, like you were water and he’d been in the desert for days.

You weren’t too far behind either, his lips might have been the most incredible thing to ever be created. So incredible you almost wanted to bite them. And you didn’t hold back from that either, you gently bit his lower lip as the two of you separated slightly, panting for air.

“Did you just?” He whispered, but you ignored it, and went to place soft, wet kisses over his sharp jawline before using one of your hands to pull his hair out of the way and trail kisses all the way to his neck.

Sirius Black smelled incredible, of pine trees, musk and a tinge of leather, probably from the leather jacket he often wore, he smelled like an adventure, and you couldn’t help to be hauled by it. Sirius had lowered his hands over to your hips, and held you close as you kissed his neck, eventually you found a particularly sweet spot, and kissed away, stopping to smile as he stifled a moan.

“Shhh…” you whispered as you continued kissing the spot. Eventually his hand found his way to your waist, tucking your shirt out of your uniform skirt before placing his hand in the warmth of your back, his cold rings causing a shiver to rush down your spine. But his touch, oh, his touch made your skin feel like you were on fire. You placed your hands over his hair and pulled him back a little, bringing his lips back to yours. Both you and Sirius had kissed plenty since you started dating, but never like this, in fact you were certain he’d never reached for your skin the way he had today, but it felt good, and you didn’t want him to stop.

Eventually he stopped the kiss, letting his forehead rest on yours, his hand still in the small of your back “We should stop,” he said, panting.

“…don’t want to,” you answered, a little bratty in the way you’d said it.

“Don’t make it harder for me Starshine,” he groaned, as he softly bumped his forehead on yours.

You reached for a quick kiss on his lips “‘m not…” you replied, and kissed him again, now in the corner of his lip “I just–“ you kissed his cheek now “don’t want to stop kissing my beautiful boyfriend.”

“…merde…” he said, it was taking him all the restraint in the world to stop himself from pinning you against the bookshelves again, this time with your legs around him instead, but with you being so willing, it was harder, so much harder.

You looked at him expectantly “je m’en fous,” He whispered, and dragged the two of you onto a nearby table, easily hauling you to sit on it, you helped accommodate the invisibility cloak around the two of you, managing to set it around the table by the time he was kissing you again. You weren’t sure you’d ever felt like this before, especially when he reached his hand higher and unclasped your bra. He broke off the kiss to look at you, to make sure you were ok with it, you only brought him back to the kiss in response.

You moved yourself to reach him better, his left hand already in your abdomen, dangerously close to your breast, when, all of the sudden a vase, that was at the end of the table, tumbled and fell to the ground, making a very loud noise in the otherwise quiet library. You broke off the kiss, pulling apart just a little and staring at each other, both alert of what may happen, over his shoulder, you managed to see a shadow, it was peeves in the distance.

“Shit, we’ll get caught.” You whispered, turning back to look at him.

He looked at you impassively, as if he was itching to tell you the “I told you so”. You deserved it, but he very well knew it had also been his fault. He seemed to be thinking about the possible escape plans now, but he hadn’t found the book he was looking for by the time you started snogging.

“The book,” you whispered.

“You find it, I’ll distract Peeves.”

“What? No way! You’ll get caught.”

“Aw… put a little faith in me, will you?” He told you with a smile, “Find the book, I’ll see you just outside the library.”

You weren’t entirely convinced by his plan, but nodded, turning around to look for the book, while he got out of the cloak and used the same disillusionment charm you had used earlier. You took a deep breath, still trying to gain back composure from the kiss, and moved towards the bookshelves, scanning through the names of the tomes, trying to find The Compendium of Pernickety Enchantments. After looking through three shelves, you finally found the book, and right next to it, there was one called, The Refined Art of Mild Hexes: A Sophisticated Spellbook, so you grabbed it as well, since it looked like it could be useful.

You scurried all the way to your backpack, which was still laying on the floor from earlier, and threw both books inside of it. Once the backpack was securely hanged over your shoulder, you scurried outside of the restricted section.

You were already close to the door when you spotted Sirius, hiding behind a huge shelf, he was almost imperceptible, but close behind him was Peeves. Sirius didn’t see him, since he wasn’t looking towards him, but you could.

So even if Sirius had told you he’d deal with it by himself, you weren’t about to let him get caught, you had to improvise. You kneeled behind another bookshelf, cloak still covering your frame, and pulled out a piece of parchment, scribbled a small dialogue on it, and charmed it. You used your wand to levitate it to the other side of the library and then, you popped the seal. Now there were whispers coming from the other side of the library, Peeves smiled wickedly as he heard, and started flying towards them.

You ran towards Sirius, and covered him with the cloak quickly, he was a little startled at first, but then smiled. “That was you?” You nodded “Brilliant! It’s like you’re made for this.” He told you, and it was no lie, he was genuinely impressed with your cleverness, one more reason to the pile of why he was so smitten by you.

“Thanks,” you said, a small blush creeping up your cheeks. You looked to the side so he wouldn’t notice, he’d probably tease you mercilessly about it if he had. After a couple of seconds you took his hand in yours and did a small head gesture to indicate him it was time to move, Peeves was far away enough that you could sneak out of the library unnoticed.

A couple of minutes later, you were out of the library and speeding through the halls under the cloak. Sirius was the one leading the way now, he took sharp turns, taking you through stairs, doors, halls and even small passageways. He clearly knew the way by memory, and it made you wonder how many times he had sneaked about the castle like this, how many he’d do it with you from now on.

Another sharp turn, and he pulled you into a broom’s closet. Letting the door shut quietly behind you. “What is it? Did you hear someone?” You whispered in his ear. He almost felt guilty from the shiver that your innocent whisper had sent down his spine.

He shook his head and raised one of his eyebrows with a smirk “You said something about… wanting to continue kissing your beautiful boyfriend, didn’t you?” You looked at him with amusement, your eyes shining at his words. “Turns out he also wants to continue kissing his beautiful girlfriend…”

You were about to ask “here?”, but then again, why would a broom closet be any less proper than the restricted section of the library. You bit your lip and let him close the gap between the two. The common room would have to wait.

Disclaimer: This story WILL NOT include knotting; I also do not mean to poke fun at anyone who reads / writes it either, this was just meant for comedic purposes, and I firmly believe you can read and enjoy whatever type of smut you like. Now if you don’t know what knotting is… google it if you’re brave? But trust me, it’s not for the faint of heart.

Series Masterlist | The Interlude | Next Chapter

TAGLIST: @rayrlupin @callmelovergirl @warcelia @ireneop @endversewinchester @moonyunebi @smuttysluttybitch @mazzymoons @drugs-for-memes @sofiacblair @vmpir3lvr @remuslupinisbae @rabluver @willgrahamisalesbi4n @thatobsessedreader @orkwardx0 @itskailey24 @hell0-kittie @belovedmoony @blacksgarden @loving-and-dreaming @cassie-love20 @starchaser-lily @zucchini-queenie @springflwer07 @sseleniaa @cometsghost @orkwardx0 @imdoingbetternow @sbrewer21 @remuslupinsbae @maxinehufflepuffprincess @wifiatthetrainstation @unstablereader (hi lovelies, this chapter came out on Wednesday, but for some reason the tags weren’t working, I was told by dear Lily, so sorry for the inconvenience, hope you guys enjoy <;3)

Leve a comment telling me if you wanna be tagged on Gilded Constellations

Want to support me? Like and reblog this post (reblogs are extra nice since they help me get my work to more people), also guys, I absolutely love reading your comments, so do throw them my way if you have any!

A/N: Is it me or is it geting hot in here? Next week we have the Q&A, you can send in your questions now for the long post, or save some for asks later that day, (The halloween special is coming and boy, is it going to be fun! One of my fav chapters tbh, also a tad angsty, but you'll see...) Ly, Lilly xx

Raead more Marauders Fiction

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maehemthemisfit · 1 year

Text

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐀 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐄

ask — Can I ask you that the reader 💋 them while they are 😥 and 💙 in order to 😇 them, (I really hope this makes sense) Characters: Scaramouche & Xiao (This is my first time requesting something, hopefully I did it right ☠️) - requested by @oddshroom

a/n — this took me so unbelievably long to write but I'm working on my emoji asks now! okay so apparently I have no self control when it comes to writing scara so this ended up being 3k instead of 500≤1k so I'm making this separate from the xiao's. also dw love, you did it absolutely right so it was clear and concise <3

pairing — [ scaramouche x gn!reader + 💋 kissing them while they're 😥 having a nightmare and 💙 playing with their hair in order to 😇 comfort them]

edited by: my homegirl @xiao6ao

masterlist / xiao post / emoji prompt list

Since when was the melody of screams this unpleasant? Or perhaps, maybe it was never a sweet tune to begin with.

The crackling of fire howled and filled his ears, yet he watched silently as the flames ate away at the wooden structure, devouring the joyous memories he created there. Ashes sprinkled the blazing air, scurrying around like fire flies and filling his lungs.

His breathing was shallow, huffs of air spilling from his chest and reminding him of how human he seemed. But he could never be human, not when his chest was but a hollow cavern, overflowing with nothing but broken dreams and empty promises. His fingers trembled beside him, and subconsciously, he backed away from the dazzling light.

Why was he afraid? How could he be afraid? After all, he was the one who’d started the fire.

"N-No..." Scaramouche whispered, his eyes widened in disbelief as he took in the scene before him. "This... this already happened. Why am I seeing this again?" He looked to his palms— a desperate attempt at gathering his sense of self— but upon seeing his old attire, he found himself inarticulate.

This can't be. It was like he was back to being—

"Kunikuzushi," That voice... that was- "Why did you do this?" The child cried, clutching a familiar doll to his chest. It was threaded with such precision and care, casting in his mind a fond memory of the weeks he spent learning how to sew such a thing with his past friend.

Then the sight of the child’s charred skin hit him, and the endearing thought was discarded. He looked just as he did so long ago— sick, fragile.

But his eyes, oh his eyes told another story.

Scaramouche remembered his eyes, always full of wonder and curiosity, much like his own when he was just a fledgling. Those eyes that would beam up at him as the child tugged him away to a new discovery. Those eyes that would melt close as a smile formed on the child's lips. Those eyes, that were now boring holes into his own, absent of life and that childlike glee he was once accustomed to. Those eyes that were now swirling with fear, fear that was now directed at him.

"I didn't—!!" Scaramouche found himself choking, misery seeping into the depths of his chest and pouring out into his voice. He felt utterly nauseous at the sight before him, heaving breaths of uncertainty as hot tears began to spill from his indigo hues.

Shakily, he brought a hand to his mouth, searching for the words he wanted to say. "I didn't mean to... you- you broke your promise..."

The child took a step back, "Promise? What promise?" The puppet’s brows furrowed at the confusion on the child’s face, the air getting all the more jeering— threatening to strangle him— the longer they spoke.

"You said we were family. You said you would never abandon me," Scaramouche recalled. Abandon. Just the word sizzled and left a bitter taste on his tongue.

It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair at all.

“I didn’t abandon you,” the boy managed to retort, his voice scarcely a rasp. “I died!” He choked on a fit of coughs as he succumbed to the illness both his parents fell to.

Abandon… die…

Those were two completely different words, were they not? Yet, somehow, the discarded creation had found the two synonymous. The concept of death was still foreign to him all those years ago, and the timing was impeccable, as if someone were pulling the strings to all his misfortune. One betrayal after another. It was a deadly recipe of disaster that bubbled over into impulsive decisions and, finally, the roaring flames before him.

And now, he could only witness this village burn all over again— brick by brick, plank by plank— and watch the terror in the eyes of the one he called his friend, of the people he held close to where his heart should be, resurface from ashes long gone.

Damn it. It's not fair. It's not fair at all.

Another staggering step, and the flames began clawing at the child’s leg, searing deeper into his already charred skin. "Wait! Please!" Scaramouche shouted, lunging forward towards the kid now set ablaze and embraced in the wild, untamed fire. “Don’t leave me—" No, not “—again.”

But it was all in vain. He pleaded. He cried. He called, yet no one came.

His fingers crossed the child's, the doll slipping from the child's grasp and into the desperate puppet's hands. And without skipping a beat, the child burst into cinders before his eyes.

The ground kissed his knees as he collapsed, trembling hands digging into the veil that did little to shield him from the raging light. Within seconds, it was torn to shreds and soaked in the tears that he bled.

He wept, voice barely above a whisper. "Why couldn't it have been me…" Those tears, those pathetic emotions he harbored, why couldn't they stop? Why did it hurt so bad? Why did everyone leave him?

A dry, forced chuckle passed his lips that were drenched with the downpour from his eyes. He wiped them.

"Maybe I am just some faulty being." He looked up at the stars that watched in silence above him, ignoring his pleas for help. Gods… humans… even the stars were nothing but lies.

It was only then that a sensation ran down his neck, causing him to flinch from the sudden sense of touch. He whimpered despite trying his best not to, yet what he felt wasn't in the slightest unpleasant.

He leaned into it, eyes growing heavy with whatever was circling his skin, the pain that drenched him before growing numb as the flow of his tears drew softly to a stop. He felt small, yet safe under this eerie yet familiar touch, like an angel was embracing him and shielding him away from the tragedies that plagued the world.

A trickle of hope poured into him, flooding a soothing warmth through the chest that had been poisoned by a twisting ache. His fist unraveled the tattered veil, his hands now clinging onto something more plush and soft, though he couldn't see.

It told him he was fine. He was safe. He was sound.

Sound?

The air caught his mind, now devoid of the screams that smothered him just moments before. Even the crazed laments of the fire ceased, replaced by the quiet pitter patter of falling droplets— none of which he felt.

What he did feel was something soft showering his face, warm and featherlike, and another delicate touch swaying back and forth over his cheek, creating a peaceful harmony within his settling mind.

Despite the heaviness in his limbs, he pulled himself closer, his legs rubbing against silky fabric instead of the ashened ground of what had once been his home. His arms drew himself closer against whatever was bringing him comfort, the sound of something beating surprisingly washing away the rest of his worries. He drifted far away from the panic that once overcame him, the raging storm in his head now reduced to calm waves of water, carrying him safely back to reality into the arms of an angel.

His eyes, tired and spent, fought to open. His vision made out from blurring colors the sight of another person laying beside him. They leaned into him, and he felt the same featherlike sensation on his forehead. A voice he recognized— he had yet to decipher the words— filled his ears.

It was…

Before his eyes could fully adjust, he was already curling against your chest, fingers softly grabbing your shirt and tugging like his life depended on it. In an instant, the world came rushing in, his lungs breathing in the calming air of the small apartment you shared.

He was fine. He was safe. He was with you.

He called your name, his voice cracking as a groan slipped past him, muffled by his face pressing into you. Memories of his nightmare crashed back in restless waves, threatening to drown him once again. He coughed, attempting to speak through labored breaths.

"I s-saw… my, I-'' Scaramouche hiccuped, his body starting to shake like the harsh winters of Snezhnaya was biting through his porcelain skin.

“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay, take your time.” You were quick to silence him, whispering affirmations in the mist of night for only his ears to hear. He clutched onto you tighter. “It’s okay love, I’m here.”

After the countless years of suffering the puppet endured, he wasn’t fond of being touched by any living being— at least, not after all the torturous poking and prodding he was subjected to during Dottore’s experiments, whilst promises of “making him stronger” or “unlocking his true divinity” fell on deaf ears as he withered in pain.

But you? He couldn’t help but melt under your irenic touch, something that was foreign to him for decades. It took awhile for him to adjust to your displays of affection, but eventually your arms became his new safe haven, something that was all apparent now as you rubbed gentle strokes against his back, the sobs that were born from his horrid dream now dying down to soft sniffles and hums.

The moon glowed in all its glory in the blanket of night, illuminating the two lovers cuddled closely together like birds in a nest. Its silver glow became sparkles in the stray tears that spilled over his cheeks, your hands calmly wiping them as they fell. He came to realize over some time that the featherlike touches he felt prior were you pressing kisses to his face.

The moon came and fled as the sun put it to rest, painting the darkened skies in shades of blue and red. Its rays glimmered, peaking through the window and shedding its warmth on the both of you. By then, the wandering puppet’s tear stained cheeks were dried, his breathing leveled, and eyes half lidded, swirling with bouts of serenity.

Your hand was idly playing with his hair, gently combing through and dividing pieces that fell across his face. A comfortable silence filled the air, only penetrated by the whisper that flew past your lover’s lips, calling your name. You hummed as his hand slowly crept from under the covers, reaching out to grab yours from his strands and bringing it to his chest. His warm breath tickled your skin when he sighed, the feeling being overthrown when his lips kissed the back of your palm, lingering for nearly a minute.

“Do you…” He spoke softly, still firmly holding onto you, yet his voice sounded far off, eyes distant and hazy. “Do you think I’m evil?”

The question dripped from his lips like dew to a leaf, dropping into your ears for your brain to soak it in. Melancholy sprouted from it, growing vines that entangled your heart.

The word evil ran through your head, such a harsh term to describe someone, you scrutinized. Could you really compare the word to the former harbinger lying across from you? Perhaps his past actions, but…

Do evil people cry genuine tears? Do evil people feel remorse for their wicked deeds? What truly defines evil anyway?

The fluttering of wings fanned your clouded thoughts, your answer becoming clear along with the sound of birds chirping. You tugged at the vines clenching your heart, ripping them with ease as you looked at the man in question.

“Doing good things doesn’t make you a good person,” you imparted, staring honestly into his alluring eyes. He listened intently as you spoke, hanging off of every word like a puppet to a string. “And doing bad things doesn’t make you a bad person either.”

The foggy look in his eyes finally cleared.

“I think you experienced the worst parts of the world before you could understand the beauty of it, which led to your notorious doings.” You adjusted your hand to hold his, and he gave you a gentle squeeze as your thumb caressed circles into his. “But if we look back to your ‘previous incarnation’ without your memories, or your titles before Balladeer, would you call them evil as well? Would the people who knew you then describe you in such a way?”

The question floated in the air. A quizzical frown assuming the puppet’s features. For a second, he was back in his dream again— images of fire and ash tainting his mind. He remembered those eyes that were swirling with fear, anxiety threatening to crawl up his spine again.

He was fine. He was safe. He was…

“I didn’t abandon you,” The child's voice played back in his head, oddly sounding more soft compared to the voice he heard in his dream. Another recollection filled his thoughts— it was the sight of the child pulling him eagerly, a wide grin adorning his chubby cheeks, a giggle followed by his own filling the air as he allowed the kid to guide him to some growing lavender melons.

"I- I can't reach it. Awhh," The child pouted, looking away from the tree dejectedly.

"They are pretty high up," Scara- no, Kunikuzushi observed, bringing a hand to his chin. "You'll be able to reach them if I give you a lift though."

"Really? Oh thank you, thank you, thank you! You're really the best ya know, and d-don't forget it either!" The child cheered, jumping up and down in his small burst of excitement before calming down. He tired easily, no matter what he did.

"I'm the best? But I'm just a mere—"

The small mortal coughed weakly, balling his fist right after and shouting a heartfelt declaration. "Puppet this, puppet that. You're a good person and you're a good friend. There's no if, ands, or buts about it,"

He couldn't help but reciprocate the child's smile.

"I- I guess you have a point," Kunikuzushi hummed, his face blooming a pretty pink as he tried to hide under his veil. "You know… you sound a lot like an old friend of mine.”

The memory faded as quick as it came, his shoulders now relaxed and expression thoughtful. You assumed he reached the same answer as you.

They wouldn't call him evil. Never in a million years.

“I couldn’t either," You answered his thoughts, bringing your hand back to card through his hair. "Which is why I don't think you're the monster you make yourself out to be."

He wanted to laugh, but he found himself without a voice. All those questions he aimlessly sought answers to. He’d even asked the God of Wisdom the same thing, yet her answer was quite different from yours. But could he really take your words to heart— or hold it above the words of a god? Would her answer change if he asked her again? Would your answer change if he wronged you?

He was fine. He was safe. He was good.

The sounds of rain dwindled as the critters of light rustled away, chirping and hollering to the sun’s presence. By now, its light blanketed you both, whisking off the drowsiness as you rubbed your eyes. You were in the midst of calling your lover’s name when his fingers wrapped around your leg, pulling it over his hip to bring you close once again.

He cupped your face, your eyes instinctively closing as his lips embraced yours, the warmth of his touch enough to rival the sun and the shine of the moon. No celestial body could reap what the two of you had sown beautifully together.

You held his past, present, and future, carried his vices and virtues, wiped his tears and tore down his walls even when he built them up too high.

You stayed, even when he couldn't give you his heart.

He was enough, you reminded him proudly each day. He was safe. He was fine. He was loved.

"I love you," Scaramouche found himself mumbling against your lips, breathing out a content sigh when the two of you finally parted.

It was the first time he initiated such a declaration, and while he'd never admit how much it affected him, the shy smile carved into his face spoke it well enough. His passionate gaze lit a thousand flames in your soul and it was your turn to fall into the rabbit hole of his beauty.

With another quick kiss, you touched your foreheads together, your voice a lullaby to his ears as you chimed the words that always made him feel something skip a beat in his chest.

"I love every part of you, and never forget that," you huffed, feigning a pouty expression to entice a smile— which he effortlessly gave.

"Don't worry, I won't," he laughed heartily this time, making an effort to find your hand and intertwining your pinkies. He brought them to his chin, pecking the side of your hand once more. "I promise."

TAGLIST — @sonder-paradise @96jnie @scaramouchenumber1fan @linn-a-a @wisteriaflowersss @ineriris @yesntforno @serramii @shadowmist0706 @jmgrule @imeanwatever @c00kie-cat @xtodorokismistressx @ieathairs @endlessmari @strawberryclumsy @serenity-ren-bliss

reblogs appreciated (⁠っ⁠.⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)⁠っ

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rax-writes · 1 year

Text

Now close those eyes, and let me love you to death.

Xavier Thorpe x Reader

➼ could be considered a part two of this

warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), oral (m!receiving), bondage, overstimulation, edging, orgasm denial, dom!reader, dacryphilia if you squint

Of one thing you were entirely certain: as long as you would live, there would never be a prettier sight than the one before you at this very moment.

The love of your life, Xavier Thorpe, tied to his bed at the wrists with a Nevermore uniform necktie, stark naked. Sweat covered him from head-to-toe, his beautiful long hair sticking messily to his forehead, cheeks, and neck. His face was flushed, and ragged breaths fell from his pretty lips as he panted, chest heaving and covered with scratches and hickies. He looked both euphoric and miserable.

You loved it.

For the past hour or more, you'd been edging him. At first, he'd agreed to you tying him up because he thought you'd suck him off and then maybe ride him. But now, as he squirmed on the bed, half-mad and horny, part of him regretted agreeing to your little plan.

But the other part of him really, really fucking liked it.

The way you stood at the end of the bed, leaning idly on the footboard, staring at him with a look that could only be described as nefarious – god, it made his cock twitch. The lingerie you wore, coupled with the fact that you had him in absolute shambles, had clearly given you a power trip, and the confidence that came with it looked very sexy on you.

"You're so fucking beautiful, honey. Please, please, will you just – can you – fuck," Xavier rambled, thoughts incoherent as could be. His cock ached, and every little thing made him shiver as though he were hypothermic – which is why you trailed a single, sharp fingernail from the tip of his toe, up his leg, across his hip, up his chest, and to his jaw as you made your way over to him, leaving him twitching and shuddering.

"What is it you desire, my darling? Use your words. Tell me what you want from me."

Xavier groaned in frustration, genuinely not thinking himself capable of meeting such demands. He sucked in a ragged breath as he struggled to piece together a single sentence. The way your long, perfectly manicured nail traced mindless circles across his chest certainly wasn't helping.

"I want, ugh, fuck! I want you to– to get me off," Xavier managed to choke out, before sighing in relief that he managed to say something coherent. His tone turned whiny when you didn't respond nor move to accommodate his request, adding, "Wanna come, baby, please. Let me finish, please. I'll be so good to you. Come on, honey, please."

"You sound so lovely when you beg," you mused, smiling devilishly down at him. "So lovely, in fact, that I think I'll grant your wish. But, under one condition: you may only finish when I tell you to."

"Okay," he agreed immediately. "Yes, okay, I'll do whatever you say, baby, I promise."

"Good boy," you replied, patting his cheek condescendingly, and he groaned at the praise.

Xavier watches through half-lidded eyes as you resumed your position from earlier, and you relished in the way his eyes fluttered shut as you wrapped your hand around his cock. You pumped him a few times, before wrapping your mouth around him, using your hand to tend to the few inches you couldn't fit in your mouth.

The poor psychic was half-mad, watching you use your hand and mouth on him, especially considering how close he'd been for so long. Your piercing eyes watched him like a predator to prey, and you still somehow managed to look beautiful while sucking the life out of him. In the moment, Xavier wasn't the slightest bit aware of what sounds he was making, if any. But Ajax's half-concerned, half-amused "Good lord, man, what did she do to you last night? I wasn't sure if I should be happy for you or call 911" the next morning was a pretty good indication that he was far from silent.

"I'm – I'm gonna – oh god, fuck! Baby, please, can I?"

Although he didn't make much sense, you still got the message. He was asking permission to finish. You removed yourself from his cock for just long enough to answer.

"Yes, my love, you may come."

The sigh of relief Xavier let out was short-lived, as it almost instantly turned into screams of pleasure, curses, and your name, as he came down your throat without another moment's hesitation. Tears from the overstimulation flowed from the corners of his eyes while you swallowed his release, then sat up to better watch his reaction as you pumped him with your hand a few more times. His body jerked so violently that he practically folded in on himself.

"No, oh my fucking god, please – have mercy, sweetheart."

With a chuckle, you held your hands up in surrender, before untying his hands. He let them fall to his sides, arms weak and tired from pulling against the restraints so forcefully for so long. You watched as his breathing steadied, and after a few minutes, you held out a water bottle for him to take a few gulps from, then you sat it back on the nightstand. Then, you grabbed a blanket to cover him with, and when he opened his arms to you, you laid your head on his chest, covering you both up with the warm quilt.

"Was that too much? I know we discussed a safe word, and you did not use it, but I just wanted to be sure that it wasn't too much."

"No, baby, it was great. More than great, really," Xavier replied instantly. "You were… unhinged. And I mean that in the best possible way. I absolutely loved it."

You smiled, and he kissed your forehead, settled into the pillows, fixed the blanket a bit, and pulled you even closer.

"Now, shh, I'm gonna sleep for a week."

#again - if you get the reference in the title i love u #xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe imagine #my writing #wednesday #xavier thorpe x y/n #xavier thorpe fanfic #xavier thorpe fan fiction #xavier thorpe fic #xavier thorpe fan fic #xavier thorpe fanfiction

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southernbluebellereader · 1 year

Note

Can i request for a family trip with captain price x fem reader and the task force 141 going on a trip to disneyland and price and reader being ultimate parents mode and they also act like a old married couple and the task force teases them about it 👀

Family Day

Captain John Price x F! Wife Reader acting like a old married couple

Warnings: Some cursing, Price being Dad, Task Force 141 being absolut children. Mention of death.

Master List (Tag List at the bottom)

A/N: OMG THIS THIS THE CUTEST THING I'VE EVER SEEN. I LOVE IT. I'm gonna make the reader a civilian because for some reason that makes more sense to me? I hope you like it though! Thank you so much!!

"Simon, baby, your face paint is not sunscreen," You sigh as you beckon him to come closer to you as you pull out a baby wipe out of your pocketbook.

"Bu-"

"Ah! No buts, no cuts, no coconuts! You ain't leaving this room until I get this off of you. C'mere."

Simon did as he was told and leaned forward, letting you, Mrs. Price, wipe the black face paint he habitually put on nearly every day. Johnny snickered as he watched you wipe Simon's face. Annoyance radiated from his body.

"Oh hush, Johnny! Didn't you burn your ears on your last mission?"

Johnny stopped laughing, mumbling under his breath.

"Hey!" Johnathan shot at Johnny, then chuckled, "Don't burn your ears off, Johnny."

Kyle was looking around the hotel room, scratching his head, "Anyone seen my hat?"

Simon and Johnny let out a 'dunno' in unison, making you and Johnathan sigh in unison, "Didn't you wear it when we got here?" he asked.

"Yeah bu-"

"You mean this one?" You held the hat in your hand, smiling. Kyle thanked you and put it on. Johnathan rounded everybody up as you packed extra sunscreen, snacks, and water.

---

How you and Johnathan managed to bring three adult soldiers to Disney World, neither of you know. But all of you are here. Johnny wanted to go on every ride. Simon refused to take pictures with Mickey Mouse. Kyle thought it was too hot.

"Simon, please, it's just one picture. You like Mickey Mouse!" You begged and pleaded. Johnathan chuckled as he held the camera. Kyle and Johnny whined. You eventually pulled Simon by the arm and placed him beside the person dressed up as Mickey Mouse.

You looked up at Simon and adjusted his collar, "Just one picture, that's all I'm asking for, aight?"

"Yes, ma'am," he mumbled and took a deep breath. You gave him a reassuring smile, "I promise you won't regret it, sweetheart. I know it's a little overwhelming, but we gone go eat soon."

You went back to your husband, letting him take a few pictures of the boys, trying to encourage them to smile. Such an odd sight. You and Johnathan and his stupid hat that he insisted on bringing with him, he almost had a fit at the airport security when he had to take it off to run it through the x-ray.

But here you were, in front of Cinderella's Castle at Disney World, trying to convince three grown super soldiers to at least not whine in order to get a picture with Mickey Mouse.

Once finished, Kyle started complaining that he was hungry.

"Alright, alright. Let's go get something to eat," Johnathan gave you the camera and waited until you'd put it in your pocketbook before wrapping an arm around your shoulder, following Simon, Johnny, and Kyle in the direction of whichever restaurant they wanted to eat at.

Out of nowhere, you started laughing, then sighed.

"What?" Johnathan inquired, smiling at you, his beloved wife.

You wrapped an arm around his waist and looked up at him, "Oh Johnathan. What are we going to do with these boys?"

"You tell me. You're the one mothering them."

"What'd you just say? Who was the one who suggested to go to Disney World?" Both of you chuckled.

"It was Kyle actually."

"And somehow all of them, including you, forgot sunscreen, Johnathan."

They looked back up and saw the three musketeers standing by one of the smaller restaurants, waiting for you and Johnathan.

"Quit acting like oldies and get in here," Johnny crinkled his brows in hunger as he rubbed his stomach.

"Did you just call my wife old, MacTavish?" John playfully spit back.

"W-what?" Blushing, Johnny apologized and scratched the back of his head, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Price."

"Oh it's ok, Johnny, I forgive you." You rub his cheek gently.

Once the five of you arrived to the front of the line, suddenly the four men forgot how to order.

"Oh my God, you can't possibly be serious?" Mumbling under your breath, you turn to the restaurant worker, "I'm sorry for my husband our boys, but can we get started with some appetizers."

Our Boys. That's what you called them. Johnny, Kyle, and Simon looked at each other for a moment, then back at Johnathan. Johnathan just smiled and gave them a reassuring nod. They were your boys. Whenever you could, you sent Johnathan with copious amounts of food - most of it not allowed on the base - so that he and your boys could eat good food.

Sometimes you'd visit the base and bring food. You'd do their laundry. You'd clean up after them. If you were there, they wouldn't go to the doctor, they'd go to you for injuries - despite the amount of times you scolded them for it.

Sometimes when you happened to be on the base and sit in on a meeting and Johnathan would raise his voice at one of them, you'd chime in and say, "Excuse me? Why are you yelling at him? He did his best." The rest of the conversation would go as follows:

"Yes, I know, sweetheart. But this is important that they know they can't make mistakes-"

"Ok but there's no need to yell, Johnathan."

Johnathan would pinch his nose and sigh. Kyle and Johnny tried their absolute best not to snicker, but would be met with Johnathan yelling at them some more. "Why are you laughing right now?" Simon would just stand there in awe. His mask luckily covered enough of his face to hide it. He honestly didn't think that Johnathan could've ever met a woman like you - someone who could talk back to him and scold him, as if Johnathan wasn't a Captain of a military test force.

You always went above and beyond for them, whenever and however you could. You all reminded them of home - or what home could've been. Johnathan and you were those very few people who'd seen Simon's face. Around you, he could be Simon. You reminded him of his own mother. And sometimes you'd ask him about his own mother. Not to get information out of him, just to make sure she's taken care of. You were the first to notice a change in him when his mother passed. You had a silent bond with him that he truly appreciated.

---

By the end of the day, the five of you were spent. You all returned back to your hotel room. There were way too many blankets and pillows on the floor in front of the TV.

You stood in the bathroom doorway, brushing your wet hair as you watched the your boys scroll through the TV channels while all laying on the floor of blankets and pillows. Johnathan comes up behind you and hugs your waist, resting his head on your shoulder.

"What're you thinking about, Y/N?" He whispered.

You kissed his cheek and placed a hand on his cheek, caressing it gently, then looked back at the scene in front of them.

"Would you want a Mini-141?"

Johnathan turned his head and looked at you in awe - no, shock.

You waved your hand in front of him, "Oh, not now! When we get home."

The both of you chuckled, making the three men turn their heads and look at the both of you.

"What are you talking about?" Johnny dared to ask.

You blushed and started giggling, Johnathan blushed slightly shot back at Johnny, "Shut up, Johnny!"

"What? I just-"

"Johnny, be quiet and pick a movie!" Simon voiced in annoyance, making the Scotsman mumble under his breath.

As they returned to the movie, you and Johnathan went back into the bedroom, picking a movie of your own. You occasionally looked up at your husband as he watched the movie, thinking about all the things that happened today. You wanted a family with him. But it was hard to start one with how often Johnathan had to leave. But you think that today was a glimpse of what having kids would be. And you couldn't wait to get home to begin that chapter.

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

TAG LIST

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#cod #cod request #call of duty #captain John price #John price #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty mw2 #call of duty mw #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #cod mw2 #Johnathan price #captain Johnathan price #captain price #price x reader #John price x reader #captain John price x reader #captain price x reader

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mydarlingbeatrice · 11 months

Text

Arcadia.

Characters- James Potter x reader , James Potter x Lily Evans (for a short amount of time) , Marauders x reader (platonic)

Summary- Reader's in-love with James Potter, he however, is in an ongoing "relationship" with Lily Evans, her roommate.

Word Count- 655 words

Warnings- Angst (?) , James being an idiot , Reader being oblivious , I think that's it!

A/N- My first writing! Any and all feedback will be appreciated :)

picture found on Pinterest! <3

It had been so much fun, honestly, but if there would be one thing the young girl would change it would be that her friend, James had not brought along a woman that none of the friend group had known fully. "Lily Evans, pleasure to meet you!" She had said to the group, who was awestruck that James Potter, someone who they had thought only had eyes for the girl in the friend group, had thought that Lily Evans out of all people would be a perfect fit inside their tight-knit friend group.

She had been greatly surprised, having known Lily personally, well as personal roommates can get in the Hogwarts experience. Not in a million years would she have ever expected her to go after James Potter. Of all the boys our year, she had chosen someone she described in her own words to be "Egotistical, narcissistic bastard!" So, you could definitely say that she was nothing short of surprised when she saw them talking together at the muggle amusement park, having fun at that!

"So.." she says, trying to break the awkward silence that had fallen within the group.

Sirius is too busy messing around with Peter, and Remus too busy scolding them and trying to avoid the tension between the trio. "Lily and James, how did you two meet? I've never noticed Lily mention your name, not in a good light that is." she chuckles softly, turning to look at them.

James looks at her, a glint in his eyes she could not decipher at the time. Lily notices this and says, "Well, really, he asked me one day if he could get help on the Potions essay that we had assigned to us a while back. I mean, I couldn't say no. He was devilishly handsome!" She smiles at the girl, expecting her to laugh. Although she frowns, remembering that she herself had helped him with the Potions essay, not knowing which one Lily was talking about.

"What do you mean? I think you might be confused.. I remember precisely that I had helped James with the essay, the one about Liquid Luck right?" she goes on to say, confusion running through her words.

Lily's expression now consists of widened eyes and she turns to look at James. "Oh well, Lily must be talking about Transfiguration. Remember, love?" He turns to look at her threateningly.

"Right, yes!" She tells him. The girl sighs and looks at Sirius, Remus and Peter. They've somehow managed to get into a argument with the guy selling popcorn,

"Not even ten minutes have gone by! You guys are so immature. I expected more from you, Moony." She runs towards them, furiously scolding them, and then apologizing to the innocent shop-keeper.

. . .

"James, you can't keep on doing this to her!" Lily tells him, furrowing her eyebrows.

She moves to sit next to him, plopping down on the couch. "Seriously, it is so obvious that she's absolutely insanely in love with you! How hard do I have to get it through your thick skull?!" She pleads to him.

James holds both of Lily's hands in his, "Lily I promise that one day I will. One day I will-" He is cut off as the girl they were talking about walks into the room.

"Oh hey there, what a surprise!" She approaches them in the big red decorated common room.

She soon notices their hands still interlocked and stares at them blankly, "Terribly sorry, I didn't know I was interrupting you two." Her voice remains emotionless, but her mind and heart slowly turn into a thunderstorm.

James stands up, "No it's nothing! You're not interrupting anything!" His pursuits fail though, as she is already out the door before he could even finish his words. Lily comes up behind him and grabs his arms, giving him a look of encouragement.

"See what I mean? You need to tell her soon, otherwise you will lose her."

#marauders #harry potter #james potter #remus lupin #sirius black #peter pettigrew #lily evans #marauders era #the marauders #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter angst

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devilry-revelry · 11 months

Text

Untitled - Male Orc x Female Human (Part 4)

OOPS I TRIPPED.

Not lemon, but maybe lemon zest?

Minors Do Not Interact

This marks the original concept/story for these two. First story was Riley worrying about stuff and things. Names may have changed since then. It's hard to remember. Ya know, because I deleted everything.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

“Fuck,” Arzok snickered. He sounded absolutely winded from all of the laughter. “I’m not just going to ram it in and hope for the best, Riley. I promise you, we’ll fit together just fine.”

Riley’s curiosity was a dirty little bitch; a needy insatiable little whore.

Four weeks, and seven dates had left Riley’s baser urges feeling frayed and restless. After their second date they had shared the first kiss, and had since enjoyed a bit of necking. It was during their last date when their kisses turned downright sinful. Sitting in the car outside of her apartment in the middle of the night, Arzok’s hand clasped around her throat, the other slipping up her skirt as his tongue dominated her mouth. He’d teased her for just a moment, thick fingers tracing a slow path over the cleft of her pussy before he completely withdrew and bid her goodnight. Riley had been a mess ever since then. Any attempts to ease the tension Arzok had created left her feeling bereft and wanting. His had been such a strong, and commanding presence. Fiddling around with her vibrator didn’t do her any favors.

And that’s where her dirty, dirty curiosity came in.

Riley couldn’t help but think that her and Arzok’s first time together would be coming up soon. They had discussed her staying at his place for a weekend. Planning was still tentative at best but it was something they talked about with increased frequency. Arzok lived a little over thirty minutes outside of town, and while he claimed that the commute wasn’t any trouble, they had both agreed that a relaxing weekend without all of the typical date-night run around would be a nice change of pace. That, of course, meant that Riley would be staying at Arzok’s house and, sure, she could sleep on the couch or in a spare room, but she probably wouldn’t. Sex or not. Because they were adults. And they were dating.

But those thoughts took a hard turn and she had been stuck with thinking about what she should expect were she to sleep with Arzok. He had mentioned that he was dominant and controlling, but what else should she anticipate? Arzok was big. Huge. He dwarfed her by nearly two feet and Riley was on the taller side of average. He was broad, and he was strong, but what about the rest? Short of just coming out and asking Arzok “hey, how big are orc dicks?” her only real avenue of getting that information was the internet.

And that’s where Riley’s curiosity turned into a dirty, insatiable, little tramp.

The initial search was a simple request on average sizes, but then a few videos showed up. The first video Riley stumbled into involved a beast of an orc, his height easily breaching the eight foot mark. He was paired with a petite, tiny little woman. The orc’s dick was bigger than Riley’s whole forearm, and while the pornstar took it like an absolute champion, Riley was aghast. It was porn so of course there were so many degrees of separation, but there was no way. No. Way. One video chased another in an effort to debunk the sudden theory that orc men were just obscenely massive in the pants department. Absolutely nothing was debunked. She’d even tried narrowing down her search, but it yielded no results. Instead, Riley had somehow ended up on orc-human BDSM play – and that was how Arzok’s phone call found her: stunned, horrified, whole-heartedly curious, and completely dejected.

Riley didn’t process the first ring. She was far too engrossed in what was going on on the screen. On the second ring, she had a whole body reaction like he just walked in the door and caught her personally. Riley yelped - actually yelped - and slapped at her keyboard to pause the video. Then she abandoned the laptop on her coffee table and retreated to her bedroom as if getting away from the laptop would hide the evidence of her insatiable curiosity. She even closed her bedroom door. Locked it.

“H-hi-llo–?” Hillo. Jesus. C’mon Riley.

“Hey, baby,” Arzok said. His voice was low, and sleepy-quiet. He had informed her earlier that day that he wouldn’t be getting home from a work-thing until late. Nearing midnight, he sounded absolutely knackered. The growling rasp that was always in his voice was more prominent with his fatigue. Riley couldn’t help but like the idea of hearing him sound like that in person, grumbling sleepy good mornings. “I was just calling to say goodnight.”

“I won’t keep you then,” Riley replied. Her voice matched the quiet pitch so as not to rouse him. “Did everything go okay, though?”

“Don’t know, and right now I’m too fucking tired to care,” he groused. Riley was able to pick up the teasing inflection of his words despite his bitter tone. “How about you? How was your night? What’re you still doing up?”

“Oh it was fine,” Riley replied quickly.

Arzok asked again, “What are you still doing up? You’re usually down for the count by now. Is everything okay?”

The heated flush that rushed into her cheeks felt as if her own body was trying to betray her. She moved away from the bedroom door to sit on the edge of her bed, then she flopped to her back. She hated that he was right. Riley was typically curled up, in bed, and on the verge of sleep by 9:30 most weeknights.

“Oh, everything is fine. I just… lost track of time.”

“Yeah? Doing what?”

His question didn’t feel as if he was prying. He sounded genuine in his interest. Riley worried her lower lip, wishing that she had curiously looked up videos on how to knit or crochet.

“Nothing. Just…” The idea of lying left a sour feeling in the pit of her stomach. So she skirted the details and addressed it in broad strokes. “I’ve just been thinking. It’s really nothing crazy though. But, hey, why don’t we both go to bed and we can talk about it tomorrow, okay?”

“The fuck we will. What’s wrong, what happened? Is everything alright?” The sleepy timber of his voice was gone, and he now sounded wide awake, and bordering on frantic.

“It’s literally nothing to worry about. I promise–”

“Riley.”

“Fine just… Just don’t make fun of me, alright?”

“Never. Just talk to me, baby. You’re freaking me out. ‘I’ve been thinking’ sounds like a goddamn death sentence.”

Riley sucked in a slow breath, held it, and released. She tried to control the swell of stinging, hot, embarrassment. She had thought about it so much that it worried her, which drove her to the internet, which worried her more. The fact that she had thought about it enough that she was driven to consult the internet was so stupid–

“Riley, sweetling, come on.”

“Okay, okay.” She babbled, “You have to promise not to make fun of me though, alright?”

“I already said I wouldn’t. Look, if you don’t tell me I’ll drive over there and–”

“Whatifyoudon’tfit?”

“Fucking what?”

I said,” she heaved another heavy breath. “What if… you don’t… fit?”

Silence. Quiet, deafening, silence. Riley waited with baited breath, waiting for him to say something. Anything. It felt as if the quiet stretched on for an eternity before a hint of sound broke through. It was barely there. Muffled. There was a sound like a snort, and then another–

“Don’t you laugh at me, you monster!”

The laughter came through full force suddenly. It was loud, booming, jovial. Riley could imagine him; his head tilted back, eyes squeezed shut tight as he succumbed to it. Imagining him laughing made Riley’s mood darken. He was making fun of her, but he was beautiful when he laughed. The bastard.

“I–I’m not–I–” His efforts to calm himself only seemed to make the situation that much worse.

Riley sat up in bed, glaring daggers at her bedroom wall. “Hey, I’m serious!”

Arzok’s rolling laughter slipped into its decline, and eventually he said, “Fuck, sweetheart. You’re–you’re up this late worrying about whether or not my dick will fit–?”

“Yes!” Riley wailed. “I am! Look, I know it’s dumb, but I like you a lot. And if this whole thing doesn’t work out because you have a third arm–” Arzok cackled. “--then that’s really going to suck.”

Riley grumbled morosely through his reassurance, thoroughly embarrassed and ready to hide under her bed for the next century. She should have known better than to let her curiosity win. And on top of it, she sure as shit shouldn’t have been data collecting by watching pornography. Even if it was mostly accidental, once she started it was hard to look away and she fell down the rabbit hole.

“Sweetling,” Arzok growled. “When we are ready to take that step, I’m going to take pleasure in making sure you’re good and ready to take me.”

His voice cut her grumbles short, and she fell into surprised silence. She sucked in a quick breath, searched for a reply, and managed an airy and incredibly eloquent, “Oh.”

“And I’ll make damn sure that you enjoy every fucking second of it, baby.”

The low rasping purr of his voice was warming her in ways that the insane porn videos didn’t. This was for her. She crumbled back into the bed and let her eyes close as he spoke. She imagined lying beside him as he made his dark promises, and that familiar want that had been plaguing her began to flood her system.

“I’ve thought about you cumming on my tongue as I prepare you to take my cock. Would you like that?”

Riley shivered. The ache in her core assaulted her with no mercy. She could feel her pulse leap in her sex, and the sensations resonated through her body, making her toes curl.

“I asked you a question, Riley. You will answer me.” Arzok’s tone dipped lower still. It was suddenly threatening in a way that Riley liked far too much.

She pressed her thighs together, and hummed her agreement.

“No. You will answer me. Use your words.”

“Yes…” she whispered feebly, feeling more heat gather in the apples of her cheeks. The heat seemed like it was everywhere now, emphasizing her timidities, and fueling the fire he had created with just his voice.

“Good. Now stop worrying about this shit, you hear me?” The way the threatening rumble of his voice shifted into something entirely casual and bordering on playful smacked into Riley like a Mack truck. The spreading fire was doused with a bucket of water. Her eyes popped open to stare dumbfounded at the ceiling. “I don’t know who got into your head and told you we wouldn’t work, but we will. I can’t tell you how I know that, but I look at you and I can feel it in my goddamn chest. We’ll work. Promise me that you’ll give us a chance before you let someone convince you that we won’t. I–”

“It wasn’t anybody,” Riley said gently. She had initially been willing to let him ride with the assumption that an actual person had stirred up her concerns. Now she didn’t want him to think that she was willingly associating with someone who was trying to cause problems with their relationship. That wasn’t fair.

“Then what did it? Do I need to slow down? I will…”

“No,” she said quickly. Maybe too quickly. “The only reason I was thinking about it is because I’m-I’m looking forward to it. But… Okay, you can’t make fun of me this time.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

“I assure you, it is. No laughing.”

“No promises.” When she didn’t immediately reply, Arzok pushed onward. “Can you tell me so I’ll stop worrying about it?”

Riley rolled so she could suffocate herself with the pillows in the event that the humiliation proved to be too much.

“I watched porn, okay?” I watched dirty, filthy, orc-on-human porn and I regret it! Stop laughing–!” He did not stop laughing. “Alright. Well, I’m going to go walk into the ocean now. Goodnight!”

“Baby, what the fuck?” He was still coming off his most recent bout of laughter. “Wh-why?”

Riley shoved her face into her pillows, mumbling a muffled reply, “Can we stop talking about it?”

“I will never stop talking about it. Fucking wow.”

What a nightmare of a night. If she managed to get to sleep after all of this, she was going to wake up still embarrassed.

“I’m assuming I don’t need to explain why porn isn’t the most reliable source.”

A mumble of agreement.

“All of this worrying because some pornstar with a monstercock spooked you,” he said good naturedly.

“Stop.”

“Alright, alright. I’m done. No more orc porn though, got it?”

“Got it.”

They elapsed into silence, but it felt like Arzok was smiling like an idiot. Riley felt it in her heart. She glowered and mumbled about going to bed. He agreed, and she was almost completely certain she could hear him smiling.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Almost as soon as they hung up, her phone buzzed once, twice, three times. Three text messages. All from him. Two were images.

First there was a picture of his face. His torso was bare, his arm curled around a pillow as his dark eyes stared into the camera. His inky hair was splayed out over his big gorgeous shoulders and white sheets. Riley smiled, simply staring into his eyes for a moment.

The text read:

> Just so you can get an idea of what you’re working with.

The angle of the picture came from somewhere over his head. It started just at the bottom of his chin, and it went down, down, down over his splayed chest, his stomach, his waist, to the tops of his thighs where the sheet was precariously bunched. His green skin offered a stark, beautiful contrast against the pristine bedding. Basked in warm lamp light, the contours of muscle were highlighted from his pectorals, all the way down to the tantalizing V of his hips. One of his hands was resting over his navel, and she followed the strong musculature of his tattooed arm down, and up, and down again. Riley’s eyes caught on the smattering of dark hair that met the sheet.

That awful (wonderful) orc.

Another buzz. Another message.

> Sleep sweet, Riley.

[Part 5]

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soulcandi · 22 days

Text

𝐩𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐲 | 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐣𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬

synopsis: on your fifth day at the lennox house, blue jones called you his puppy. and to the amusement of everyone else trapped inside this glittering hellhole, it stuck. it stuck like glue.

warnings: written with afab!reader in mind, fluff, heavy petting, mentions of sex, no explicit smut (yet), pet-play-ish, puppy!girl vibes, mentions of human trafficking (blue literally owns you), mentions of drug use, you smoke a cigarette at some point.

a/n: i actually published this on ao3 like...a long time ago, but i feel bad not posting anything here and also I'm re-watching this movie (sucker punch 2011) and it slaps so hard and i need to pressure you ppl into watching it too. go go go.

word count: 2,932

blue playlist, anyone?

Blue loosened his tie and listened for his office door to click shut behind him. He could feel the black makeup melting underneath his tired eyes that were still swimming from the two whiskies he downed at dinner with his potential client; the very same client he ended up losing by the end of the night. To top off that great show of success, he also had to fire one of his best men for trying to tamper with one of the dancers. She was new enough not to understand one of the most obvious rules at Lennox:

No one fucks with the merchandise without paying for it.

He would even go as far as to say they might have been a cute couple. If only one of them wasn’t lying in a ditch somewhere off the highway with a hole blasted through their skull.

While Lennox was just a front for his real business —the arms dealing, the coke smuggling, the gambling, all the fun stuff— taking care of his girls was often the most taxing part of Blue’s day. But he was sure that someone else could handle breaking up a few petty girl fights and settling disputes between dancers for a few hours. He was a promised man from now until sunrise.

He felt the weight of his day slip off of his shoulders as he slinked into the apartment. Being near you always had that effect on him. It was addictive.

Of all the girls that made up Lennox House, your name came the easiest to him. He nearly gave in when Sweet Pea started calling you Crybaby during your first week. And he had to give it to her, it was a fitting title at the time. But by the third day when you came to terms with your situation and those beautiful wet doe eyes finally dried up, you only ever pointed them at Blue.

You clung to him like he was your lifeline in an ocean of fierce eyeliner and suffocating hairspray fumes. And to make matters worse, he let you. He was the only one who didn’t glare as you walked through the dance studio, but he sure as hell wasn’t smiling either. Unassuming? Maybe. Bored? Absolutely. But bored was the closest thing you’d gotten in the way of kindness since you were booted through the front door. It didn’t occur to you that you should be afraid of the man who not only bought you from your family but who kept you hostage in that dark, lonely place for days on end.

It didn’t take long for boredom to melt into mild curiosity, which soon took the shape of vivid fascination. His thoughts were consumed by the girl desperately eager to earn her place amongst his best dancers, who didn’t know it but somehow got anything she wanted from the few girls who took pity on her.

His pride forbade him from immediately giving in to your gentle begging and pleading looks. He wanted to spoil you rotten from the very beginning. You had a natural talent for getting what you wanted and you would have done numbers on his clientele. It was a shame he could never bear to share you with his customers.

On your fifth day at Lennox, Blue Jones called you his puppy. And to the amusement of everyone else trapped inside this glittering hellhole of a prison, it stuck. Like glue.

“Puppy?” he called expectantly, a relaxed smile already making its way up to his lips as he loosened his tie an extra inch. The space was everything he could have ever needed —his office, bedroom, and living quarters— all without ever having to leave the building. He’d arranged for CJ to have you delivered there while he finished up his schmoozing, but you weren’t in your usual spot at the foot of the bed when he passed through the entryway.

Blue’s smile instantly tightened into a silent snarl, his eyes flickering around the small, warmly lit room. Evidence of your presence only lingered from the countless nights he had called you there for his own selfish reasons. Your perfume spun through the air in faded ribbons and his eyes fluttered shut as he savored the scent that seemed to follow you everywhere around this dirty place.

If you weren’t sitting there waiting for him, at least he knew you’d been there recently. There was at least some comfort in the image of you planted on your knees, pouting as you watched the clock mounted on the wall opposite of his desk, watching the minutes tick away into restless hours.

God, Blue knew he didn’t deserve you. He told himself that every time he came home like this just to sink against your warm, pliant body. He didn’t deserve you. But lord knew he needed you.

A soft noise drew his attention to the bathroom door, held slightly ajar by a mound of thin fabric that Blue immediately recognized as the costume you’d been wearing in the theater that night. He memorized the look on his potential client’s face when you bounced into the room with a tray of tequila shots balanced carefully in your hands.

“Close your mouth, hotshot,” he’d wanted to say, but there’s no fun in calling off the dogs before they start wagging their tails. “She’s spoken for.”

Blue pushed the bathroom door inwards with the back of his knuckle. The hot steam fanned his tired face and he bit back a desperate whine even before he ever saw you hidden there amongst a towering array of bubbles.

“Who said you could take a bath without me?”

He didn’t mean to startle you, but he certainly wouldn’t apologize for that delicious panicked expression on your face either. You were a shy little thing. A little less than a month at Lennox still hadn’t beaten that out of you. Blue had seen all sorts of girls in all sorts of states of undress, but you did something special to him. He had yet to decide if this was something to be wary of.

Your back had been to the door when he first entered. Blood rushed to your face and you moved to cover yourself with a small pile of bubbles that you’d accumulated as Blue swaggered closer to the tub, eyes shamelessly drinking in every inch of you that he could see. You felt caught, avoiding his gaze like the black plague.

He played with you too much. One of these days you were going to bite back and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to it. Setting his glass on the edge of the claw-footed tub, Blue kicked off his leather shoes and made a show of jutting his throat so his cigarette wouldn’t mar the red silk tie as he pulled it up over his head. “Just teasing, precious. Make room.”

The heat of embarrassment never left your face and you could only stare down at the iridescent bubbles as Blue undressed in front of you. You’ve only ever seen him bare from the waist down. Or rather — from button to fly.

Blue took it upon himself to teach you everything he thought a Lennox girl should know and he was generous enough to take the time out of his busy schedule to let you practice on him. You’ve memorized every pulsing vein and tender inch of his cock, just like he instructed you to, but it didn’t make you any more willing to unshield your eyes as your boss slipped underneath the veil of hot water beside you.

Was this your divine punishment for wandering out of the bedroom and drawing a bath without his permission? You could only lay upside down and count the ceiling tiles so many times before getting a headache.

Your hair was still pinned up from your time on the floor and Blue watched carefully as specks of glitter rivered down your bare collarbones. He was content in watching you manipulate the bubbles with your hands, stacking them in short towers and swirling your fingers through the water. He took a long drag from his cigarette. Those thick Cuban cigars were reserved for his highest-paying customers only. Besides, he never got used to the taste. Like aged paper and stale earth.

Blue watched you closely, his eyes trailing up and down the pale scars that littered your delicate fingers. He hated how eager you were to work alongside your friends in the kitchens. He made it very clear from the start that you didn’t have to do anything like that as long as he was around, but you persisted with those perfect little puppy eyes of yours.

One day he would have to say no to you. But that day was not today.

He found himself watching the security footage like a hawk whenever you had kitchen duty. After the cook’s little fuck-up with one of his girls a while back, he was hesitant to let something as dear to him as you anywhere near the backrooms.

But the pig seemed to have learned his lesson. If anything, he appeared to be under the same spell as he was. Poor little fucker. The only difference was that the cook never got to see you like this — stage makeup smeared from warm bathwater and perfumed steam.

Blue sunk lower into the tub, two fingers pinching his cigarette millimeters above the water’s surface. You were completely bare to him. The only thing decorating your body was a white leather band – just as wide as his thumb was long – secured around your neck. He studied the golden heart-shaped pendant nestled between your soapy breasts, tracing the letters with his half-lidded eyes.

PUPPY

A smug smile wrestled its way onto Blue’s lips, knowing that his name was printed just as bold on the opposite side, right after ‘property of.’ It was one of your first little treats after he became completely and utterly infatuated with you.

He made it a habit to bestow most of these treats upon you in the crowded dressing room or dance studio. He loved watching the lights in the other girl’s eyes flicker with raging jealousy as they studied your newest gift, knowing that while they shunned you for the next week or so, you would spend all of your time pouting in his bed while he worked from his desk. Once he got a taste of that view, it became impossible to focus on anything else.

“Can I try?”

Your voice rang out in the silent room like a bell. Your arms crossed over your concealed lap and the charm around your neck jingled from the movement. Your eyes were glued to the cigarette between Blue’s fingers and when he held it higher above the water to readjust his weight, you licked your lips hungrily.

You’ve seen the men on the club floor smoking them all the time as they watched the dancers perform. They smelled god awful and the smoke always clung to your hair even after you shower at the end of a shift, but you couldn’t help but wonder.

Blue chuckled, unable to hide his growing amusement. The water rippled as he reached across the tub. “Two fingers, there you go.” He instructed you on how to hold it properly, sitting back to watch the show with a snicker.

You wrapped your lips around the papery cylinder and breathed in deep, just like you’ve observed. The bitter smoke rapidly filled your lungs and you leaned forward to cough into your wet elbow, gingerly handing it back out to Blue who was barely containing an understanding chuckle.

“Nah, Nah, Nah, you’re doing it all wrong. C’mere.” He tapped his thigh underneath the water and you recognized it as one of his more casual commands, immediately abandoning your bubble creations to crawl across the floor of the tub until your back was resting up against his slippery bare chest. Your wet hair tickled his jaw as he took another inhale, worshipping the taste of you all along the mouth of his cigarette.

“Here,” he grumbled, skipping the part where he handed it to you just to pin the off-yellow end between your lips. A hand traveled up your throat and his thumb stroked the underside of your jaw encouragingly. “Suck in. Deep.”

It’s a command and he growls it, watching your chest rise and fall with the glowing of the embers. When he wants you to stop, he taps your cheek with the back of his finger. “Hold it.” And obediently, you do.

With the fresh, mind-clouding smoke swirling around in your lungs, Blue leans down and slowly kisses up the column of your throat, beginning his journey right above your white leather collar. Such a good girl, letting him pet you like this. He marks you with his lips all the way up to your earlobe, ending your torment with a harsh nibble.

“Okay,” the word leaves him in a regretful breath and he clings to the lingering taste of your skin on his lips. It’s the first time you’ve bared yourself to him like this and he wasn’t going to let you get away without memorizing every curve and dip of your flesh. “Let go, puppy.”

The smoke fans from your parted lips without a single cough or wheeze of discomfort. As soon as the last of the vapors were expelled from your lungs, you turned around to project your proud beaming face at Blue, which he returned tenfold as he let his eyes roam your face freely. Look at you, doing just what he asked.

He took the opportunity to hike you up taller in his lap until your stomach was pressed flush against the underside of his hardening cock. He groaned at the way your thighs instinctively tightened around his torso. Your eyes grew wide as you smoothed your hands over his chest. Blue smirked, chin jutting upwards in a shallow nod. “Kiss me.”

Like you’d only just been waiting for spoken permission, you instantly captured his lips with yours, allowing his firm hands to rock your hips against his lap in painfully slow circles that made you whine softly into his open mouth.

He allowed his hands to travel freely over the landscape of your body, his hands gliding over your wet skin. Your soapy breasts felt like heaven under his fingers and you let out a desperate little pant as the rough pads of his thumbs rolled over your untouched nipples. The pleasure caught you off guard and you giggled into his kiss. Unbeknownst to you, Blue was memorizing the feeling of your smile and how it molded perfectly against his.

The drugs did nothing for him. But this — you — he could see himself easily becoming addicted to.

A heavy knock shook the door to Blue’s office. He hadn’t thought to close the bathroom door when he was still clothed and he could make out the silhouette of one of his henchmen behind one of the stained glass panels past the entryway.

“Mr. Jones?”

“Yeah! Just… One —One minute!”

He wasn’t quite done navigating your body, but you seemed put off by the presence at the door, already trying to sink deeper into the protective bubbles. He doesn’t like that—how you try to hide yourself from him.

You’ve turned yourself to face the door now, eyeing the silhouette although you knew whoever it was couldn’t see a thing past the pictured glass. Blue was the only man in Lennox House who didn’t look ready to eat you alive at a moment’s notice. Other than CJ, who always seemed like he would rather be someplace else as he trailed behind his boss and dutifully cleaned up his messes.

Blue accepted this new position and began assaulting your neck with hungry kisses that made you yelp and melt back into his arms. The knocking starts again, turning thunderous just as he decides to explore the territory that you’ve kept hidden underneath the canopy of soapy water.

His fingers traced your outer thighs, rolling his fingers in loose circles as he inched his way closer and closer to your core. Blue could nearly feel the tips of his fingers tremble with anticipation before another series of knocks broke his nearly religious concentration. He glared at the doorway as he pulled away, bringing both hands up to clutch your jaw and turn your face to the side so he could plant one last parting kiss against your cheek.

“Dry off,” he barked, a little peeved at himself for letting his workday anger seep into this one moment he had with you. His other hand came up and patted your cheek. “I want you on the bed when I get back.”

The fresh towel he haphazardly secured around his waist did very little to obscure his growing erection and he cussed under his breath. Gathering his clothes into a pile, he heard the water stir behind him and peered over his shoulder to see you leaning halfway out of the tub, looking up at him compliantly. “Okay, Blue,” you chirped, only sounding slightly dejected by his brief dismissal.

It was like hearing his name for the very first time every time you spoke it. Blue huffed, now glaring sharp daggers at the figure standing just on the other side of the door. Whatever required his attention so desperately better be worth it. Because if it wasn’t, he wouldn’t hesitate to drop another body into that ditch.

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