#ao3 how long will war take this time?

[leapingthroughworlds]

this was my 13th reason

just in case yall don't hear from me again

#not to be dramatic #but #what about my daily gay dose? #what about when i go to sleep thinking about a certain pairing being lovey dovey #and wake up the next morning to try to find a fic like that #what then????? #omg #my bookmarks #im fucked #i had nearly 1000 there #ao3 how long will war take this time? #i miss having you home ykno #ao3

[gremlingottoosilly]

Eat your Young (viking!Konig x fem!Reader)

You weren't afraid when the Vikings came. Your ruler pays them well, and they protect you from enemies far worse - there is nothing to worry about as you, an unmarried maiden, wander into the embrace of one of them. They are on your side. Right? Tags and CWs: Age gap, size difference, Konig is a bit obsessive and a huge perv, mentions of violence, Vikings Are Actually Kinda Nice No For Real, hand jobs, oral sex, naked man/clothed woman, slightly historically inaccurate, jokes about inbreeding Thanks to @angelbabysblog for the idea. I changed quite a lot because I was reading articled about how many of the Slavic cities were actually cool with Vikings and worked with them AO3

The Vikings are here. Your Father never allowed you to meet them before – as an unmarried girl, even if you’re already of age, it would be…scandalous. Not smart. Dumb, really – everyone knows that girls that are messing with the warrior from overseas often end up being taken away. And you couldn’t survive sea travel. The Vikings are here, but it’s not really a problem – you know that there are other countries over the sea, the countries that die and burn every time a ship is sailed in their harbors. You also know that you do not live in a country like that. That sound of Vikings approaching is a good one – that you’ll be protected from the other enemies your country has. You always stole glances, despite what your father has told you – you were a curious thing, always searching for trouble, always interested in everyone outside of your small village. You’re on the border – stuck between sea and great plains, open for any enemy if it weren’t for mercenaries who deemed this place as worthy of their camp. They live here, occupying the territory outside – even build themselves houses, despite every rumor calling them nothing more but overseas barbarians who would tear you down for a flick of a coin. 

Well, you always thought you’d have nothing to worry about – you are not made of coins, after all. The Vikings had a leader, the one that stayed in the long house just outskirts of the village – the one that would always visit the elders, discussing the payments and the spoils of war. Father always punished you if any nosy neighbor would see you sneaking out to look at the warriors – but you couldn’t care less. If you are going to end up in a marriage with a fool, you could at least steal a few looks at the real men. Not the ones from your village – they felt more like brothers than anything else. Some of them were – second, third, fourth, just diluted enough to make the babies a bit less disfigured. 

But, oh, nothing compared to the vikings. You see them when you run for the lake, far from the shore. They are clean – cleaner than sailors from Byzantine who sometimes stumbled upon the small village by the sea. You think you heard them talking about how cleanliness is a sin – and just how silly it sounded. You think you didn’t like people from this place very much – sailors were often drunk, always handsy and never spared a kind word without an insult…not that you knew their language – but you are smart enough to know that if a man is attempting to grasp your breasts while sneering something through his teeth, it won’t be a love poem. 

— What are you doing here? 

Ah. 

You were spotted. Like a fox in a hunter’s trap – you are standing in the tall water grass, looking at the man through the weeping willow branches. Maybe, if you are lucky enough, he’d think you were a mavka, trying to drown him – some men were foolish enough to fall for the act, sparing you the consequences of your curiosity. You aren’t sure if the Vikings have legends of mavkas – if they even have lakes back where they are from. All travelers are mixed in your head – desserts, great plains, barbarians who would steal your sisters if you’d been blessed with some. Sea beasts who will take you on your ship, away from your father and…ah, it doesn’t sound too bad. 

— Can’t you talk? 

His voice is rough, and accented. Younger than you thought he would be with a body like this – a seasoned warrior, ginger hair covering his muscular chest and a small trail falling down his…

Viking knows your language. Shouldn’t be surprising – they are working for the elders and your ruler, after all. They get gold from your village, they get food from your village. They get sons – you heard about at least some of the women falling pregnant to the guests overseas. No one dares to say anything against it – but the rumors are still falling. You wonder if it’s as bad as it sounds. — I can talk. 

This sounds dumb, but there is no use in hiding. Your intentions weren’t innocent – you are curious and curiosity is what leads to the devil. Or god of death. Or goddess – you are not well-versed in matters of spirit and while half of your village is still worshipping old gods while the other preaches about new, stronger ones, you wonder what kind of beliefs Vikings have. You heard their women can wield magic – and can count. And read. You would love to read, you think. — Gut. Thought I spotted a Margygr.

The word is weird. Rough. You don’t know what that is, but you certainly aren’t one. You take a step forward, not caring that your linen dress is getting drenched in water – not caring about what your father might say after. You would just tell him you wanted to go and drown since he was so adamant on marrying you off to some one-eyed half-wit quarter brother of yours. He wouldn’t be surprised – and you probably wouldn’t be missed. A whore to be, as some older women from your village would say. 

— What is that? 

He tilts his head to the side, his blue eyes looking at you. You notice a piece of cloth in his hands – something that must have been covering his face, you think. He is covered in scars and dirt, blood from some battle is getting washed away into the water of the lake. Gods, you say to yourself – you won’t even be drinking from it again. Although you promised it to yourself a few years ago already, when you spotted a dead deer lying in the water – and it’s not like you held to your promise. Better than seawater, after all. — A…drowned creature. Drowning creature. Your people are calling them… — Oh. Mavka. — Others call it mermaid. Selkie. Mermaid sounds harsh too. Rude. Other languages are rude – still, you would like to know more. Still, you would like to do anything to get out of your village. Learn to read. To write. Maybe hold a baby goat close to your chest and not have it ripped away for the nearest dinner. 

— I’m not…that. 

— I can see. 

He laughs and you steal a peak at his manhood. You should be ashamed, really – if your dear mother was alive, she’d beat you up for being so immodest. If your dear mother was alive, you wouldn’t be allowed to sneak out like that – but she isn’t, so you stare at the man who can crush your skull in one hand. You stare at the trail of ginger hair going down his waist. The muscles flexing and the scars on his hips, glossy from cold lake water. 

Hm. 

Is it supposed to be this big? 

He coughs and you peek to look at him again. Coughing isn’t good – he can be sick. Contangenous. There is a sickness coming around from sailor to sailor – you wonder if vikings have it too. You don’t want to get sick – but it would surely keep you out of marriage for a long while. Maybe, if you’re lucky enough, you could be buried like a pretty maiden. White dress and mourning relatives. That would teach them how to send you off to marry some dumb cousin you never knew before. Or knew too well. — You shouldn’t come here, Schatzen. 

— Why? 

— My men won’t be as nice as I am when they see a maiden in the lake. 

You smile, tilting your head to the side. There are rumors – you can’t invite foreign mercenaries into your country without them taking their toll on the locals. Some people like them, some people are scared of them. Some are going out of the ordeal pregnant and some are not returning at all. But, you can run. But, this is your lake. You like it here – the quiet, the tranquility. You think that if your father proceed with calling you an old bride who should be married as soon as possible, you could just run away and live here. Fish is nice and there are berries when it’s not too cold. — Where are your men? 

You never saw Vikings in battle. Never saw a group of them up close – you’d like to, of course. There are warriors in your village, but their best shot is wolves and deer. Not other men – you think you’d like to see war sometimes. Maybe, all the boys of age would die and you won’t have to worry about anything anymore. You would be nice as a local witch – or a local healer. Old hag sounds nice too. — Around. Waiting for the order. — What order? 

You ask so many questions, König thinks. Pretty thing – smart, too. You aren’t afraid of him, even though you have to be. Most women would be screaming and crying if they saw someone like him in the lake next to them. Not Viking women of course – but people from around here are soft. Cherished. Coddled. You also seem soft, too soft, too gentle – a woman living in a small village on the shore without a husband shouldn’t be this careless. König knows you’re just lucky that the ruler of your country is kind enough to pay the overseas mercenaries instead of suffering the pillaging. Not all of people are this lucky. 

If he won’t get a promised weight in gold this village won’t be lucky either. 

König looks at your sweet face, at the way your eyes constantly dart to his crotch. Curious little thing you are – he isn’t sure if he is that happy that the payments have been consistent up to this point. That he can’t just screw this all over and demand a payment in other ways. That pillaging this village and taking all of its women isn’t really an option while they get their gold from here. Your long linen dress clings to your skin - you’re shaking, he notices. From cold, probably, dumb lady who is too curious for her own good. Hm. He has furs not far from here. He can…

— We’re protecting the shore. The border, too. You smile, nodding. And here he thought the locals knew why the foreigners were here – but he can’t expect too much, he guesses. At least it seems like you haven’t heard of most of his accomplishments. The rivers of blood would be enough to fill this whole lake three times. Or, maybe, you heard – and didn’t care, brave and fearless little thing. König likes the sound of that. 

— Are you cold? 

You ask him, to his surprise. Your gaze is switching from his face – he is open, cheeks flushed from the cold and a maiden right next to him, and he can’t even find it in himself to cover his scarred mug – to his cock. It’s standing proudly, heavy, balls hanging low as if asking to be held in your soft palms. König isn’t embarrassed – but he is surprised that your body, showing only a little bit in that dress of yours, is already enough to make him this bothered. This ready to give up the supposed protection of this village and take what’s his. — You can warm me. 

You tilt your head to the side, mimicking his action from earlier. Curious bird – he could keep you at his ship. Tied up to the post, ready for anyone to use you. You’re strong, and resilient. Should survive the long way home – and he is getting quite ready to find someone at last. If the ruler of your little kingdom won’t be as stingy as the previous one, König can walk away with a sack of gold hanging on his shoulder. Enough for him and for him men. Surely enough to sway you. — How? 

— Do you have a husband? 

He knows, you probably don’t. A husband wouldn’t allow his wife to run around and flirt with other men – and if König was yours, he surely would keep you locked in like the treasure you are. There is too many men ready to take what doesn’t belong to them. 

— No. And I won’t.

— Why? — Soon I will be too old to be a bride anyway. Not that I want it. He laughs at that. Surely, little bird, it wouldn’t be your choice. If the luck is on his side, it wouldn’t even be the choice of your father. — Touch me, Schatzen. You want it, ja? 

He says this with more awkwardness than before. Swaying women by his side isn’t his strong suit – and even with his strength, not many of them would just throw themselves at him. Being a mercenary leader might bring him money but with the whole team consisting of equally strong and handsome men, the broody leader usually isn’t the first choice. He gets his fill eventually – but not the one that would make his heart flutter. With you, however… Your hands are traveling down his abs. Caressing every bit of skin you see – sending goosebumps down his navel and straight to his hard and leaking cock. He wonders if you’ve done this before – but your actions are the one of an explorer, not a professional. YOu grab his cock with both hands almost as if strangling him, and König lets go with a choked moan. 

You retrieve your hands, nervous. Good girl. Eager, pretty. Such a shame this village usually pays its tolls. — Are you hurt? 

— Nein, it’s…go on. You proceed to touch him, the softness of your touches is making him groan from pleasure. This is something else – you’re something else. Having the power to bring a seasoned warrior to his knees – god, how much he liked the way you looked at him. Eager and curious, always going down to touch his cock some more. You press your palm together, making s steady rhythm – using the pre-cum from his cockhead like a lube. 

König relishes in the feeling – he might be one of the strongest soldiers, but it was the first time he felt victorious. With your hand pumping his cock up and down, the pleasure settling in his stomach and threatening to burst, he felt like a king. No, the king. Gods, you were beautiful. Worthy of throwing this village into the fire for. Worthy risking the payment. Your mouth is warm on his manhood – he didn’t expect you to be this active, to wrap your lips around the bulging head and bop your head just a bit. Up and down. Tongue swirling, as if tasting him. Making him sweat that you will decide to take a bite out of it, just to satisfy your curiosity. To his peace, you didn’t. He came shortly after you decided to put your mouth on him – when your tongue started to swirl around and collect the bitter taste of his pre-cum. When your curiosity about foreign warriors bathing in your lake finally made you do something about it – and he would feel bad about pressing a hand in your hair and forcing you to choke on his length, your nails digging small red paths in his pale thighs. You choke and squirm and cry and this is the sweetest sound he ever heard – so when he finally drags you away from his cock, smiling as you wipe your mouth and whimper. Squirm again, some more. The light in your faded a little as he pushed one calloused finger into his mouth and pushed your lips apart. Poor thing, he thinks. — You did good, little bird. 

His seed tastes weird on the tongue. You wince, but swallow – it’s what good brides should do, you think. Somehow, looking at this warrior, you don’t feel so bad about being considered a bride. Maybe…no. You stalled here for long enough – you saw the Viking. You touched him. Tasted him. Father is probably looking for you. 

You don’t even bother to say goodbye as you come out of the water – but König stops you right on the edge of the lake, firm hand on your shoulder. Squeezing. Touching. Feeling. 

— I…I apologize, maiden. I lost control. 

His voice is hesitant. You don’t like how unsure he sounds. It made you feel unsure too. Weird. Uncertain and meek. 

— Are you going to leave soon? 

He stops mumbling, looking into your eyes. This is settled – he is not leaving you here. You must return to your family, say your goodbyes. Maybe enjoy a few weeks of peace before his troupe finally gets a clearing on killing whatever enemies grouped at the border – and he will take you no matter the payment your ruler can give him. Nothing will be worth more than you. 

— Yes. Yes, I will. You turn away, almost running. He didn’t stop you this time – you need to get as much freedom in your lungs as you can. He will take you eventually and, well…you best enjoy freedom as much as you could before this. 

When your village will burn along with all the cousins, half-triple brothers, and elders, you’ll find out why most countries fear the Vikings. When you will be hauled to the wooden ship over a giant’s shoulder, with his hand sitting firmly on your ass and his other palm preventing you from screaming, you’d know why taking the attention of overseas mercenaries is a bad idea. When your ruler would refuse to pay the warriors for their service and force them to just take everything by force, you’d know why making payments on time is so important. 

When König would finally make you his wife, you’d understand why you should have drowned in that lake instead. 

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #yandere cod #call of duty #cod x you #konig x you #konig cod #cod konig #yandere x you #yandere x reader

[bridgetotheskyyy]

Filthy Clean

cw: You and Levi have a clean rivalry lmaoo. levi x f! reader, smut, 18+, shower sex, fingering, face slapping, slight cum play, mild dubcon, praise kink, cum swallowing, creampie. I HATE posting fics on tumblr with a passionnnn but I thought you guys would enjoy this one. I posted this to ao3 a while ago but I'm still in my levi era lmaoo. wc 6.9k.

Men were disgusting.

The dirt the younger cadets trudged into the barracks and lounging areas did not discriminate, but the filth the male cadets managed to accumulate was truly unmatched. Beds unmade, toilets unflushed, and had none of them heard of a fucking coaster? 

Or a napkin?

You leaned farther so your swiping hand might reach the table’s full breadth. You wiped in wide, angry circles. You’d be here for ages trying to get the grime off the table, gathering the courage needed to tackle the bathrooms. 

“Ugh.” Your washcloth came across something unidentifiably sticky. “Fucking gross …”

So consumed were you with your task you did not see the hand come to meet yours until it was too late, and your pinkies met.

You blinked.

“Oi.”

You looked up to see a dark-haired man fixing you with a glare, the majority of his face obscured by a handkerchief.

“What are you doing?” 

You frowned. “Cleaning this table.”

The man straightened. “Well” — he snatched your washcloth from your grasp — “you’re doing a shitty job.”

“Hey!”

“Just let me do it.”

“It’s my job.”

“Hah?” A brow raised in question your way. “Someone’s paying you to do such a shitty job?”

“I’m not!” You were truly flustered now. “I’m doing as good of a job as I can with how filthy people are here!”

“Tch.”  The man’s sharp eyes cast down to the table. “That we can agree on.”

“And” — you grabbed your cloth — “you shouldn’t take what isn’t yours.”

You ignored the heat of the man’s appraisal. He can stare at my ass all he likes. You hummed. “Who are you anyway?” You asked, layering the wooden table with more solution. 

His eyes widened. “How do you not …?”

“I don’t keep tabs on everybody in this infernal regiment.” You scrubbed angrily at the sticky table — was it fucking gum or something? “So, I wouldn’t know if  you were famous.”

You looked up in time to see the man undo his handkerchief to reveal —

You froze.

Levi. Ackerman.

The Levi Ackerman.

Captain Levi Ackerman.

… Fuck.

“Oh my god …” You straightened, suddenly feeling foolish with the supplies in your hands. “Captain …”

“How the hell do you not know who I am?”

“You —“ You stammered. What should you do? Should you put down the cloth? Should you leave? Fuckfuckfuck. “I — You had that …” You gestured to the handkerchief. “That thing on your face!”

“The handkerchief doesn’t cover up my voice.”

You gobbed like a fish, face flushed from embarrassment. “I —“

“Tch, it’s fine,” he waved you off. “Just let me tackle this room — or stay; you might learn something.”

The humiliation was almost too much. Almost.

“Sir.” You cleared your throat, arm akimbo. “I’m very sure I know what I’m doing.”

Another inquisitive eyebrow. “That so?”

You recognized the challenge in his voice and stretched the cloth — flack — with a tilt of your head. “Yeah,” You said, the edge of your mouth twitching to add, “sir.”

Levi straightened himself again to his full height (which wasn’t much) and took three intimidating steps toward you. You stood your ground as he reared on you, looking you dead in the eye: 

“We’ll see about that.”

After that, you were sure you’d be fired. 

You’d been fired by (figuratively) smaller men for far less. The others cleaning girls were in a tizzy that, somehow, you had squared off with Humanity’s Strongest and were ravenous for developments as soon as you had something to tell. You weren’t sure you’d last that long. Surely you’d be getting canned any moment now.

But instead something far more bizarre was happening: it seemed you were now in a cleaning war with the squad captain of the Special Operations Squad. 

Everywhere you went, the work was already done. Walls scrubbed. Floorboards wiped. Curtains dusted. Limestone’s ass kicked. Even the heinous bathrooms had been tackled by a brave, meticulous set of hands — and you had an inkling those hands were calloused and attached to a pipsqueak.

Your suspicions were only confirmed when a tale of the captain scrubbing one of the barracks had reached you. Apparently, Levi’d done a stunning job — until he noticed a fucking boot print on his flawless floor. All the trembling cadets were rounded up to find a boot match like a scene from some fairy tale, and eventually the print was proven to belong to none other than Eren Jaeger. 

Why was it always fucking Eren Jeager.

By the end of the second week of this cleanathon, you were sprinting to the currently unused dining hall, slamming the doors opened: 

Tables glistened, floors polished … You turned your head to the windows … windows you could use as  fucking mirrors — 

“Son of a bitch!” You shot arms to your sides before storming out, two cadets making way for you. 

Sunday evening, the horse stables were all you had left; you shuffled hay and tended to the equine beauties as best you could, spurred on now by a newfound enthusiasm for your job. By sundown, the hay was stacked, the floors were wiped, the cedar like brand new. 

“Ha! Could be someone’s living quarters.” You turned, satisfied, to the horses with hands at your hips. “Not too shabby, huh?”

One of them huffed at you, blowing hair from your face.

“You must be his,” You scoffed before exiting the stables.

You were proud, but you were tired. The showers were empty by the time you stepped into one to use, pleasantly ignoring the suspicious sheen with which everything glistened as you wheeled the knob to hot. You sighed as water fit to rival hellfire rained down on your aching muscles. You lathered and rinsed, fit to remove the day’s grime. 

Another labored sigh. Finally, some time to — 

The door burst open. You shrieked, spun, covering yourself.

“Get out —!”

“Relax.” Levi, of all people, stepped into view. “It’s just me.”

“My order still stands! Get outwhatthehellareyoudoing —“

“I give the orders.”

Realizing he wouldn’t leave, you scoffed, spinning back toward the shower head. “Can’t believe this,” you murmured. “I can’t wait to report this and let everyone know the captain is a perv —“

“I said relax,” Levi said, not a step out of place (beyond the obvious). “I won’t do anything.”

“Oh, what a comfort …”

“… You did a good job today.”

You blinked, forearms still crisscrossed over your chest. Was that a compliment? You tilted your head, as disturbed as you were intrigued. “Come again?”

“You do have some skills when it comes to cleaning, I’ll give you that,” Levi droned from behind. “Peroxide with a hint of lemon? Definitely more than a rookie.”

Fuck. Even his compliments were nestled in insults. “And this couldn’t wait until after I took a shower?”

Soft rustling; you could only imagine him crossing his arms, staring at your naked back. “I wanna to see if you keep it up.”

What did that mean? You looked down at the nest of suds cradled in your cleavage. And you understood: he wanted to watch you clean yourself. 

“You’re a weirdo.” You shook your head. But, understanding he wouldn’t leave, hardened yourself to this new challenge. You wouldn’t be intimidated. You carried on as though no one were watching, finishing what you had started. 

“You’re doing it wrong,” he spoke up as you bent down to lather a leg.

“Shut —“ You froze, sucking your lips into your mouth. “Sir …” You couldn’t abuse him … he was still a captain … Why did that matter he was fucking watching you take a shower — 

“Tch.” There was that odd sound from him again, but was it just you or was it now tinged with amusement. “Think we’re beyond formalities now, don’t you think?”

You didn’t answer. Your face grew hot as you rose to full height, allowing the shower water to wash the accumulated suds away. You didn’t know what you thought; you were mildly dizzy, the heat and situation doing something to you. Why were you letting this happen, letting a man watch you shower?

… Why were you liking it?

You were about to turn and face Levi to get out when he clicked his teeth:

“Fine, I’ll do it myself.”

You saw Levi grasp your shoulder. You gasped, nearly slipping as you turned, at last, to face him. 

“Wait,” You said as your back hit the wall. 

But he was there, fully clothed, the shower water getting his hair and uniform wet.

“You’re …” You watched him get drenched. “You’re all wet now.”

Levi’s eyes flickered to yours. “So are you.”

Your lips parted but no words came. Dark strands clung to his face now, and you refused to admit how good he looked. His hands were on you — hands much softer than they should’ve been. He swiped the washcloth from you, threw it away. Levi took the soap from you and treated your skin to a thorough lathering with his bare hands. Calloused hands that should’ve been rough and harsh caressed your neck.

“People always forget their neck,” Levi murmured.

Lines of foam ran down the valley of your breasts, to your stomach. Suds nestled in your belly button as Levi’s hands came to your sides and tugged, motioning for you to turn over.

You made to protest — didn’t. Wordlessly, you turned around for him. His hands cleansed you of the sweat accumulated in your crevices. He massaged into your back, caressed the tension from your shoulders. Levi’s thumb dipped in the small of your back and you suppressed a sound, whatever it had turned into unknown to you and him both. Your trembling hands pressed to the wall when you sensed him bend forward to knead into the skin of your thigh. You squirmed, biting your lip at the moan his meticulous hands fought to elicit. Levi’s hand reached forward and grazed the pert skin of your nipple. At an honest to god moan you couldn’t repress, Levi paused. 

“I …” You kept still under his gaze. 

It was a relief when seconds later Levi resumed his ministrations. 

“Want you fucking spotless,” he said, and you believed him. His hands worked in tandem with the hot water to cleanse you. Levi worked your breasts, cupping them from behind, offering them to the water to be dowsed of suds. Fingers you knew were purposeful grazed at your excited nubs in the process. A hand, once gripped firm at your waist, breached the gap of your legs, a finger sliding over the slit of your vulva. 

You gasped through the moan. “I — I thought you said you wouldn’t do anything.”

“That was before I saw how lackluster your methods were.”

“My meth —“ You bit your lip as Levi’s finger grazed your clit. “I — I hardly see how this is supposed to help me get clean, captain.”

At the title, Levi groaned in your ear, lips brushing against your shoulder.

You ignored the thrum of pleasure in your cunt. “Why would I need to be — ah — clean from the inside?”

“Quiet.” His finger threatened to slip into your moist entrance, your natural slick assisting in this endeavor. “If you knew what you were doing, you wouldn’t be asking that.”

“I don’t think —“

“If you had a problem, you wouldn’t be fucking drenched, either.”

“Ah …” Your forehead thudded against the wall, your skin hot. Everything hot. You couldn’t argue; even the shower water couldn’t wash away evidence of your want. 

“And now you’re gonna make an even bigger fucking mess, aren’t you?”

Despite the haranguing, Levi only pressed closer, the fabric of his jacket adding friction to your damp skin. His finger teased the ring of your entrance, teasing, daring.

You moaned when Levi abandoned your hole to concentrate on teasing your clit. He tended to it with the slightest touch, so removed you began to think his touch only imagined. 

“I — I’m too achy to —“

“Do you ever shut up?” Levi snapped. “I’ve already told you.” His lips were at your ear now, his chin sitting in the crook of your neck. “Not asking for you to reciprocate. Just let me do it …”

You gripped Levi’s forearms as his finger slipped past the ring of your entrance with shameful ease. You bent forward, squeezing your legs around his hand. Your lips parted with a shuddering moan when his fingertips brushed the roof of your g-spot growing ever jagged.

“Didn’t think it would be this easy,” he spoke into your ear. “Just letting me in, hm? Fucking freak …”

You looked over your shoulder to Levi already staring at you. You did not need this. You did not need Levi, wet and close and hair dangling in his gorgeous face, mocking you.

Another finger slid in to meet the first. You clawed at the shower wall, growing feral.  

Levi withdrew them.

“Wait,” You murmured. “What?”

His brows furrowed. “Do you want this?”

You scoffed. “Really?” 

He studied your face. “Wanted to be sure,” he murmured, his arms caging you in.

You turned to face him. You pressed into him, your forehead meeting his. After all this, now he asked? But a part of you was endeared by his asking. Despite his foul mouth and gruff disposition, you didn’t fear him. 

You found his hand and guided it back to your wanting cunt. “Yes.”

Not needing to be told twice, Levi hand roped to your neck and pulled you in for a kiss. You weren’t caught by surprise; you opened your mouth for him to explore while his two fingers returned to their mission of exploring you. His groan caught in your mouth and went straight to your cunt, inciting a new layer of slick to coat Levi’s fingers.

“Thought so,” he muttered into your mouth. He abandoned your mouth just as he invited a third finger into your weeping hole, his lips traversing the length of your jaw. 

You were a moaning, sobbing mess, grinding against his fingers. You couldn’t take all this stroking, probing, stretching. The shower water pebbled your skin, the incessant dribble sensitizing your heated skin. Levi was driving his fingers into you now, assaulting the tender spot within to drive you feral. You entwined a leg around his with a whimper, your head falling against the wall to widen the expanse of skin Levi’s lips could torment. His thumb tweaked randomly at your clit, the uncertainty of when he would reward the nub with attention only driving you further toward the edge of the cliff. He nibbled, bit into your neck and you all but jumped into his arms, all dignity forgotten.

“Go ahead,” he said when you squeezed his digits, your breathing heavy on his shoulder, “bet you look pretty when you come.”

His voice, as though your climax was the most predictable thing in the world, sent you over the edge. With an onset of broken moans you came, nearly ripping the arms from Levi’s jacket as he finger-fucked you through your orgasm. You drenched his fingers, saw through vision bleared by water and steam and drowse, how they had turned pruney playing in your snatch once Levi at last pulled them out of you. He held you up with a hand, your legs turned boneless and useless under your lasting throes. 

Levi inspected his fingers as you caught your breath. He bent down to retrieve your abandoned washcloth and wiped his fingers clean. 

“Levi …” You murmured as he did it, your senses returning slowly but surely. “What …?”

He turned back to you, fixing your back against the wall again as he captured your mouth in another kiss, not as rough as the first, but affirmative. A statement. He withdrew and you, eyes closed, followed him until you realized he was truly through with the kiss and opened your eyes. 

He wiggled his fingers, almost to taunt you. “I was right,” he said, a flicker of a smirk there. “Fucking pretty.”

You’d lost all control over your life. 

Afterwards, you often found yourself frequenting the same spaces with Levi, places you were meant to be cleaning but would end up as sanctuaries so Levi might fuck you into oblivion inside them.

More than once you’d cried out as he crashed you into the wall, arms wrapped around each other, passion overcoming dull reason always.

“Levi!”

“Keep it down!” he would hiss in your ear before nibbling the lobe attached. “Want the whole headquarters to hear us fucking?”

And then you would clean. Thoroughly. Meticulously. There were never any traces of your sudden trysts, you both made sure of that.

What was happening? You weren’t sure. It wasn’t as if you were suddenly the captain’s girlfriend or something. Right?

Right?

… Right?

“Are you the captain’s girlfriend?”

You startled away from Potato Girl, who had somehow materialized by your side, nearly falling off the step you sat on in the process. 

“Sasha!” Jean Kirstein reprimanded. He graced you with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry about her.” To Sasha: “You can’t just sneak up on people you don’t know and ask them —“

“But it’s clear something’s going on, isn’t it?” Sasha said. “I heard Mike say the other day that —!”

“No!” You cried. Do these fuckers do anything but gossip? You were reminded of your grandmother, who had once said the military was nothing but death and gossip. “No, you — you don’t understand. The captain and I — we’re just friends. We like cleaning, that’s all.”

Jean’s blush belied his nod toward you. “You don’t have to explain anything.”

“Aw, c’mon!” Sasha said. “Captain Levi would fall head over heels for a girl who can clean as well as you!”

Jean ran a hand over his face. “Sasha …” Exasperation made his voice heavy.

“It’s okay,” You assured him before turning to Sasha with a smile, your voice fit for addressing a child when you said, “The truth is, I don’t know why Captain Levi’s taken such a liking to me. I’m just happy to make him proud. But I promise: nothing untoward has ever occurred between the captain and myself.”

How well you could lie through your teeth. Should you be proud or ashamed? Untoward … Levi’s fingers sank into your cunt; his cockhead twitching on your cervix; a mouth full of —

Boy, could you lie.

Sasha scrutinized your face. Seemingly satisfied, she said, with a disappointed dip in her voice, “All right. But tell us if that changes! We want the best for the captain and only want him to be happy!”

Strangely heartwarmed by her comment, you nodded to the both of them. “You got it!” 

And you’d thought that would be the end of it, but it wasn’t; you were doomed to have a couple more run-ins with members of the Special Operations: a few cadets once eyed you surreptitiously in the hallway. And on the last day of the week while on your way to dust the shelves of the library, a little blonde boy caught sight of you and promptly scurried away, a book tucked in his armpit, leaving the library hilariously bare.

“Oh, come on!” You said, the lack of people affording you moxy. “If I was really fucking a captain, don’t you think I’d have gotten a raise by now? Hello?!”

“You wanted to see me, Commander?”

Levi shut the door. The moment Levi walked into the Commander’s office, he knew what he was in for. Erwin wasn’t alone; Hange was ready to bounce off the walls. Mike looked like he was suppressing some laughs. Levi let himself in; eyes made of ice appraised his every step.

“Have a seat, Levi,” was all Erwin said, and once he did the man knitted his fingers together. “I’ve heard rumors.”

“Tch, didn’t think you were the type to listen to shitty gossip.”

“More than rumors, I would say.”

Levi raised his brows to encourage elaboration.

“There have been complaints.”

“Of?”

“You and some cleaning girl hooking up!” Hange cried out — happily. 

Without a beat, Levi tilted his head: “What?”

“There has been a shortage in cleaning supplies,” Erwin said. “Some cadets have complained about headaches. Some have reported breathing issues. Some have fainted.”

Levi glared. “They’re allergic to everything except filth, then?”

“I’m told chemicals from the cleaning solutions are the cause,” Erwin continued, leafing through what could only be reports from this very issue.

“The morons can always open a fucking window.”

“Still, there’s such a thing as too clean, Levi,” Erwin said. “Some have begun to speculate why there’s been such an uptick in cleanliness. It seems … suspicious.”

“Tch.”

Erwin’s eyes flicked upward expectantly. “I’ve not heard you deny anything.”

“There’s nothing to deny.” Levi crossed his legs. “I help her clean when I have the time, that’s it.”

Hange squealed. “Oh, this is fascinating —!”

“ — You’d think so,” Levi shifted his glare toward her.

“A friendship forged from alcohol!” Hange chirped. “I’m such a fool; I should’ve predicted something like this would happen!”

“Nothing’s happened, you fucking weirdo,” Levi said.

Mike had failed to comment thus far, sticking to his corner of the room, but his shoulders rumbled with hushed laughs. Fucking prick.

“Hm?” Hange stood. “Oh really? Tell me, then: If you’re just cleaning, why are there reports of moving furniture?” 

“We have to move furniture to get to spots people forget to clean, moron,” Levi said pointedly, crossing arms now. “If these idiots spent as much time training as they did gossiping, fewer of them would be eaten every expedition.”

“Nevertheless, we can’t have you and this girl making hazardous gases in your attempts to clean headquarters,” Erwin said. “Be more discriminate with how you use your supplies. I don’t want to hear any more complaints about this, am I understood?”

A curt nod from Levi. 

A snort from Mike. “I bet she’s cute.”

“I bet you’d look better without a nose, Mike,” Levi said, standing. “And, Commander, I think you should address some of the rumors concerning yourself.”

It was Erwin’s turn to raise his fatass eyebrows. “Pardon?”

“I don’t know.” Levi was already striding toward the door. “Something about you and some nurse.” He turned back to Erwin, hand on the knob. “Can’t be true, can it?”

Hange gasped. Mike choked. Erwin himself, surprising no one, moved not an inch, only dug knives into Levi’s disappearing back as he considered himself excused and shut the door behind him.

He wouldn’t give in. He couldn’t lose his cleaning fuck buddy. Not now. Not ever. No one had understood his desire to eradicate filth as well as you.

He would just have to have a little conversation with you.

“You make too much noise.” 

Hardly the statement you were looking forward to. Where was you feel so good? Your precious good girl?

You broke the kiss, subtracting your tongue from inside Levi’s mouth, to stare at him crookedly. 

“Come again?” 

“S’you,” Levi said, the flush coloring his face as conspicuous as day. “People are talking around these shitty barracks. We’ll have to cool it if you can’t keep your fucking mouth shut.”

You snorted while resuming your task: unbuttoning Levi’s shirt. You dipped forward to snatch one button between your teeth where it waited to be chewed off. You broke away to nibble at the skin beyond it once it snapped open. “Shut me up then.”

“Fuck …” Levi said in response to your slutty hips swinging into his, your teeth leaving love bites over his protruding collar. “Do you have to make everything so difficult?”

“This is your fault, you know?” You ground your hips into Levi’s obvious erection and was promptly rewarded with a delicious groan. His hand came around to grip the fat of your ass. You licked a wet strip onto his neck before nibbling the skin there. “If you didn’t” — another swing of your hips, another groan from Levi — “fuck me so good, my volume wouldn’t be such a problem.” 

“Not apologizing.” 

You leveled your face with his. “Then we’re at an impasse.” And you kissed him, slotting your tongue back into place above his. 

Levi stole air from your mouth when your hand slotted between the two of you, found the heavy imprint of his cock and gave it a firm squeeze. Levi pressed you closer to him, a firm grip on your ass. He swiped up at your tongue before nibbling on your lower lip and repeating the action with its twin. 

“You really want your slutty mouth exposing us to the world?” Levi grumbled, no doubt begrudgingly aware of how his cock twitched in your hold. 

“I really don’t care,” You said. “But I guess I don’t have as much to lose, right, Captain?” 

He jerked you away by the back of your head, hand fisted in your hair. “You’re out of line.”

A grumble in his throat at the sight of your tongue running over your lip. 

“Says the man who walked in on me showering.”

Levi’s eyes narrowed, as if to say touche.

“Maybe you’re right.” He met your eye, fixing his face neutral. “Maybe I need to shut you up.”

“Oh.” You wiggled your brows. “Levi.”

“On your knees.”

You giggled — stifled it when Levi tapped your cheek with barely any force but enough to threaten a harder hand in the future. 

“Don’t make me repeat myself, brat.” 

And so you sank, remaining eye contact as you sat on your knees and fiddled with the buckle of Levi’s pants. You freed his cock, was rewarded with a soft grunt from him — and one slightly louder when you fed his cock into your mouth, wiggling your eyebrows at him again. 

“Even with your mouth stuffed with my cock, you’re still giving me attitude?” Levi huffed, but there was no bite to it.

The edge of your mouth quirked before focusing on your task. You gave Levi a hard, fruitful suck before releasing him with a loud, wet pop! to run the flat of your tongue down the underside of his cock. From base to tip. Base to tip. You swallowed him again, hollowing your cheeks to work his cock. Excitement flushed your cunt as Levi’s grunts filled the air, and your fingers itched to sneak down and play with your juicing folds. 

A groan from Levi. An encouraging hand met the back of your head. “Fuck, good, little brat …” His hanging his head back sent your cunt clenching at nothing.

You released him, curled stroking fingers around his shaft. “Who’s the loud one now?” You teased with a smirk — 

You gasped when Levi’s hand swatted your cheek. Harder than before. A tepid warning.

“Finish what you started.”

You opened your mouth to get smart with him, only for the hand straddling the back of your head to pull you forward; Levi’s cock tumbled back into your mouth. 

Your eyes fluttered closed. Your hands stroked the end of his shaft, pubic hair tickling your pinkie, as your mouth lay preoccupied with the rest. Levi’s sounds impelled you to move faster. You didn’t care about the aching pain in your jaw or your screaming knees on the wooden floor. You sucked for those sounds, for the power you held over him in that moment. 

“This is a better look for you anyway,” Levi said — hissed as one hand came to cling to his naked thighs, the other thumbing at his ball sack. “Fuck, clean my cock, brat.”

You weren’t his brat. Nor were you one of his cadets he ordered around, but your cunt fluttered around the words all the same. The way he was so determined to playfully shame you, when he was the one to jump you and sink his fingers into your cunt? 

Levi assisted in your head bobbing, his fingers nestled in your hair. “Give it a spit shine, show me how fucking good you are at your job, cumdump.”

You parted with his cock to obey, to spit on the veiny shaft. You thinned out the spit with your palm before introducing him back into your mouth. You moaned around Levi’s cock, the vibrations around his member causing him to do the same. 

Fuck. You couldn’t take it; you led a hand between your thighs, startled at how sensitive you were to your own touch when your fingers circled against the damp clutch of your panties. 

“Playing with yourself while you suck me off …” He hissed when you sank forward, his cockhead tickling, threatening the sanctity of your uvula. “Depraved little slut.”

Levi clutched your head firmer to steady you and started thoroughly fucking your mouth. You gasped, choked, the rapid tousling of your head clouding your senses. Your eyes pebbled with tears. You ran a fingertip down your clothed slit, the seam of your panties wet from your want. You moaned as Levi did. Your lips tightened around the span of him. You raised to the challenge, sucking harshly as he bucked into your willing mouth. 

“Ah, fuck,” he hissed. You cracked an eye open to see Levi’s hips stutter, his other hand bracing against the table.

“Mmm!” You were so hot. You worked your clit harder before realizing you didn’t have to cheat yourself slid a hand past the elastic of your panties, slipping fingers through your folds. 

“Don’t you dare flake on me,” Levi said. “We just cleaned these floors; take every last drop.”

You didn’t need him to tell you what to do; you knew your role now. Levi slowed his pace to allow you to take over. You rose on your knees, gripped one of his ass cheeks to hold him close. A soft gasp from Levi as you ran your tongue over the vein on the underside of his cock, coaxing him to coming. You felt it twitch, excited and abused in your hot, wet mouth. 

“Fuck, fuck —“ Levi growled, gripped the side of the table. “Every drop, you little cumcatcher —!”

Levi fisted your hand as he spilled into your mouth. You closed your eyes to it, clinging to his shaft to pull him back and allow your mouth much needed space. Levi fed you his pants, his hurried breaths quickening your heart. His cockhead sat on the flat of your tongue while ropes of cum ran down the length of it. You obeyed his command, swallowing every drop, letting him use you as the little cum dispenser he wanted you to be. You wanted to be for him.

Your jaw screamed with relief when Levi left your mouth. A bridge of saliva connected you to his spent member and you promptly wiped it away before it could threaten the sanctity of Levi’s perfectly polished floors.

He looked down at you, his stoicism softened by fondness. He stroked the cheek he’d previously abused. “Good girl.”

You purred. “Only for you.”

“Hm.”

You stood and pecked him inches above his ever-scowling eyebrow. “That’s all you have to say? After all that huffing and puffing you —?”

Levi’s hand met the back of your neck and pulled you close, glaring right into your eyes. “You’re running your shitty fucking mouth before I can even reward you.”

Your brow raised in interest. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Levi jerked his head toward his bedroom. “Let’s finish this.”

You gaped in surprise. “But we just cleaned the sheets!”

“And you’re not about to get them dirty again. Right?” Levi stared pointedly at you before leaning into your throat, giving it a soft but prompt nibble. He pulled away as you hummed. “Right?”

You ran your tongue over your lip, batting intrigued eyes at him for a second. He really was an eccentric weirdo. You wordlessly complied, strolling into the bedroom to get into place for him. Levi followed, pulling you toward him. One hand yanked you to him by your shirt, dragging you into a kiss. You gasped at the sudden action. His force pressed the bed into the back of your knees and you clumsily sat. Levi worked your shirt away before hooking a hand down the elastic of both your trousers and panties. 

He peered down at your lower half, mildly amused. “Bet you’re already dripping after playing with yourself while sucking me off, fucking freak …”

You giggled, your rebuttal your raised, pruney fingers. 

Levi gripped your wrist. “Filthy …” He brought your fingers to his mouth — jerked the two articles of clothing fisted in his grip to hook at the back of your knees. The tiniest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips at your widened eyes, your tiny gasp.

Levi tossed away your clothes. He slotted into the new space between your legs. You ran your fingers over his plump lower lip as he fished for his cock, and pride flared in you to feel he was already hard again, your teasing sufficient enough to make him stand at attention.

“We — ahh …” You furrowed your brows at the feel of Levi’s cock sheathing inside you. You sighed. Tried again. “We’re going to make a mess for sure.”

“We’re not going to make a mess,” Levi corrected before inserting himself fully, thrusting to the hilt and, over your moan, “You’re going to take it.”

You didn’t wonder because you didn’t need to; his tacit answer, coming in the form of another pointed look up at you, had been enough for understanding to flourish like moss on stone. He was going to fill you up, leave you so full of his cum he would surely pull out of you squeaky clean, every precaution you might’ve taken against pregnancy be damned. The insinuation sent flutters to your cunt you were sure Levi could feel around his cock, were sure he could feel the effect he had on you. Your final confirmation being that he was still fully clothed, as though confident you would not sully him even as he ruined you.  

Levi quickened his pace in such a way you were forced to grab ahold to his shoulders. “Fu — Is that so? Mm!”

“Yeah — fuck,” Levi muttered in your ear. “As you said, we just fucking cleaned these sheets, and there’s no way they’re getting dirty again just because you can’t control your disgusting sobbing snatch.”

You wanted to slap him — wanted to throw his insults and his eager cock in his face — and your hand itched to do so, but as he found his rhythm you couldn’t; he fucked you hard into the mattress, barely breaking a sweat as he barreled into you. A hand flew to constrict your throat, sinking you down further and thus making it easier for him to bully into you. Levi brought his face close to yours as his hips went wild, giving you a taste of that Ackerman strength you had heard so much about.

“Ah — uh —!” You moaned, your eyes falling closed as your mouth slacked wide. “Levi — Levi!” 

You cracked eyes open to see Levi’s face strained from his efforts above you. Another flutter down below struck to see how much of an effect you were having on him. You loved him like this; the sarcastic, stoic know-it-all you’d come to know melting away until he was just a man enthralled with your pussy. You looped arms around his, bracing your hands at his back. A hand grazed your mons pubic and three fingers at your clit had you choking a moan. 

“Come on,” You urged. “Oh.” You shuddered when Levi flicked at your clit every which way in response. “I’ll be such a good girl for you and take it, mm …”

“Fucking noisy brat, nrgh!” The hand Levi had roped over your throat tightened. “Using my own words against me …”

First your arms then your legs wrapped around him — only to aid in flipping him on his back. The world whirled around you as you came out on top. Levi choked back a sound of surprise as you mounted him. You looked down at him with a smirk.

“The fuck you think you’re doing?” He said, an aimless hand groping at your tit.

“Being a good girl.” You let yourself down on him, basked in the triumph coming in the form of Levi’s relieved groan beneath you. “I wanna show you how good I can take it.”

Levi’s face contorted in an almost-glare he soon realized he had not the energy for when you planted hands on his chest, rebellious fingers discreetly tweaking his nipples through his uniform as you found purchase, and began to bounce on him. His eyes shut, brows furrowed as the round of your ass routinely slapped against his thighs. 

“Fuuuck.” Nails left crescent moons of your thighs. “Feels good, ugh …!” 

“Anything for you, Captain —“

“Don’t call me that.” Levi grasped harder at the junction between your thigh and ass. 

“Why?” You paused, sitting on him, opting to squeeze around him as you did so. Levi grunted, bucked up in response. “It doesn’t have an effect, does it?” 

“Fuck, read the room —“ Levi’s eyes trained on where you two met in the middle, your sopping snatch routinely coming to devour him. “Clearly, I’m not your captain, otherwise — urgh!” 

You kept fucking against him, surprised by both the agility and stamina you seemed to have in this moment. Levi’s cock split you open so good, so completely. It was growing increasingly hard to tease him as you felt yourself getting close. So close. Levi slapped your ass before taking a handful and tugging you forward. You fell onto him.

“Otherwise — oh — what?” You asked, your faces now so close as to have your noses rubbing. “You won’t let me drain your cock of every last drop?” 

Levi’s knuckles had to be white from how tight his hold now was on you. He groaned, biting down on his lip as his forehead met yours. 

“I don’t care about the rules,” You said, voice sounding more desperate than was your intent due to your cresting release. “You’re my captain, so I’m gonna — oh! — be a good girl and fuck my captain until he’s fucked dry from my cunt —“

A sound of utter frustration from Levi and his hands were bruising your hips. Hard. He fucked up into you, slamming you down onto him, and every time he met you half way. Now you held onto his shoulders for fear of falling off, too hazed from lust and pleasure to register that as a foolish notion; like Levi would ever let you fall. Like he would ever let you go.

You fisted one hand into the sheets, meeting Levi’s upward thrusts however you could. Teasing words devolved into endless grunts and moans. You exchanged breaths before you remembered you could kiss him and did, kissing him hard as your last threads of sanity snapped and you clenched wildly down onto him. 

You moaned into Levi’s mouth as you came. You gripped his cock with your cunt again, again, and felt Levi come undone underneath you only seconds later. Warm, thick ropes of cum spilled into you and you stilled on top of him, sitting flat, then grinding your hips, your clit rocking into his abdomen rug-burned by his pubic hair. The sensation added another shock of pleasure as you came undone. 

Levi was determined to fuck you through it. With strength you didn’t think he still had, he flipped you over and proceeded to fuck his come into you, the length of his shaft coated white with your juices and his. Another thrust and he slammed into you without retreating, holding there. 

“Levi …” You moaned out. You felt him move and whined; you weren’t ready for him to leave you, to be empty. 

But the second Levi pulled out, he replaced what you’d lost with his fingers, ensuring his spent be left inside.

“Oh, fuck, Le …!” You shuddered, too overstimulated to submit to Levi’s fingers rubbing up against your spot.

“Quiet,” he murmured. “You’re a good girl, remember? Don’t wanna hear it …”

You bit your lip, nearly ripped the sheets from their corners as he stimulated you from inside. Finally, he withdrew his fingers, certain his spent had taken with you.

“Phew.” Eyes closed, you fell back into the pillow, too blissed out to articulate much more. 

The mattress depressed at your side and you knew Levi was there, trailing kisses up your arm. Once in the crook of your neck, “Good girl.”

You hummed as Levi relaxed beside you. Despite his claims, you knew there was no way the sheets hadn’t been tainted — by sweat, by juice if not by his cum — and Levi would have you rip the sheets from their corners and wash them. He’d watch to see what kind of detergent you would choose, testing to see if your skills were up to par with his. And perhaps he would fuck you in the laundry room while the sheets dried. Maybe he would fuck into you from behind while you made the bed. Whatever it was, you were game. Always. When and if it was with him.

While your mind swam with sordid thoughts, Levi spoke up:

“What do you want?”

You propped up on an elbow, facing him. “Hm?”

“Us.” He turned to you, stoic expression having returned, but his eyes ever watchful. “What do you want out of this?”

You smiled. “I … want a partner. Someone to share things with.” You sought out his hand to entwine your fingers with his and, to your surprise, he reciprocated the gesture after a second or two. “But it doesn’t have to be serious. Or public.”

“Hm.” Levi nodded. You always got the sense he was testing you, somehow, both in and out of bed. The romantic in you wanted to believe it was because he feared hurting you, feared pushing you beyond your limits. “I think that would be best for now.” 

Fuck buddies it is.

“We should work on these sheets,” Levi said. “It’s not too late. We could have them dried before midnight.” He eyed you with challenge. “If you’re not too tired?”

You thought of your previous fantasies. Perhaps you would be the one to initiate this time?

You smirked. “You’re on.” 

#levi smut #levi x reader #aot smut #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman smut #aot x reader

[hirukochan]

Can I please request a snape smut fic? The reader and him have been friends since school and she is in love with him only he does not know it or realize his feelings till Sirius is flirting with her and it leads to a fight between them leading to them confessing to their feelings. Maybe some dirty talk biting and rough smut

Sooo...I got a bit carried away with this...definetly not the roughest smut I've written, but I hope you like it anyway.

Severus and his sunshine

Pairing: Severus Snape x fem!reader

warnings: Smut, loss of virginity

Wordcount: 7402 (oops...)

Read on Ao3 or below the cut:

“To the youngest Professor in the history of Hogwarts!” You cheer and raise your glass clumsily into the air, spilling half your drink down your arm. “Oops-” You giggle. 

It’s not the first drink of the evening and not the first time you toast to Severus’ new job - and certainly not the last. It bears repeating after all because how fucking awesome is this? You have always known that Severus is the most intelligent and brilliant and ingenious person you’d ever meet! It’s unfair - no, a bloody shame! - how many people never realised it just because Severus’ is a bit awkward and rude and- alright he’s a downright cunt sometimes but he has every bloody right to be with the road his life has taken so far! With a father like that and that awful Potter and his stupid goons!

“We need to cut you off.” He drawls, the corner of his lips curling, and tries to snatch your glass from you. You jump off the chair you're standing on and cradle your drink protectively to your chest, firewhiskey dripping down your arm.

“Try and I’ll bite your finger off!”

“You’re drunk.”

“No, I’m not.” Severus shakes his head but doesn’t try to get your drink again, instead focusing on his own (the second of the evening - what a bore). The pub is crowded and loud, nobody pays any attention to the two of you sitting at a table in the corner.

You plop back down on your chair and take a sip of your drink. 

Severus’ eyes have gone distant again. That happens a lot lately. Like something is on his mind that he lacks the words to tell you. Social interactions aren’t his strong suit. You’re the ‘Severus-translator’ Lily used to joke when you three were still friends because you always knew what Severus wanted to say but couldn’t. You always made sure he was included in conversations, told others to shut up so he could speak or smooth over his rough edges whenever someone didn’t get Severus’ dry and dark sense of humour. 

One look at him from across the Great Hall during breakfast and you knew whether he was in a good or bad mood. You knew when he had a nightmare the night before and needed a gentler touch or when to bluntly tell him he’s being a cunt.

This you can’t seem to figure out. 

He smiles less these days. Even less than usual. The four years since you finished school have been hard, especially for him, especially with the war. 

Emotions are not Severus’ thing.

His long black hair falls into his face, hiding his grave expression from the world and you. His face has lost its boyish features. His jaw is more prominent, complementing his high cheekbones. His hooked nose suits him. It’s something about the proportions or symmetry of his face - you can’t quite put your finger on it. Most people seem to be put off by his appearance, but to you he has always held something uniquely beautiful.

He taps his finger against his glass repeatedly. His fingernails are still painted black…You made him let you paint them last time he was at your flat. It suits him.

You place your hand over his, stopping his fidgeting. You wish you’d know what’s going on in his head, clearly whatever it is puts him on edge, but you trust he’ll talk to you when he is ready. 

“You’ll be great.” You say. “I have no doubt. You’re a bloody genius, Severus! These kids are so lucky. They can learn so much from you!”

“I am certain they will share your attitude.” He says sardonically and you snort. Severus downs his drink and takes your empty glass to get another round (and probably a glass of water for you because he’s such a mum sometimes). You smirk as you watch him make his way through the crowd. 

He sticks out like a sore thumb in these new robes he got, but you think they too suit him. It’s probably the first time he isn’t wearing hand-me-downs. He’s wearing all black of course. The most colour you ever saw him wear was at Hogwarts in the form of his emerald green school tie. 

Severus looks intimidating. It makes him look older, stronger somehow. It’s such a stark difference to the beat up jeans, the The Cure bandshirt you gifted him one Christmas and the shabby leather jacket.

But not in a bad way.

He looks good. 

Maybe it’s the fact he has grown taller since graduation. He’s a head taller than he used to be and shed his bend over posture. Escaping both Hogwarts and his recently deceased father agrees with him. That and your continued effort of forcing him to eat three whole meals a day, every day.

His wide shoulders and dark hair disappear behind people and you rip your eyes from the spot you last saw him.

So much has changed in the last four years but that little flutter in your heart whenever you look at him has not changed. When it first started in your fourth year you didn’t even realise what it was about. You’d start stammering around him, earning you silent glares and raised eyebrows from Severus at which you’d blush. After an embarrassingly long time you finally accepted that you had developed a crush on your best friend. 

You’re too terrified of losing him as a friend to ever tell him though.

Severus isn’t good with feelings. They are too complicated. Too messy. He doesn’t need messy. His life is messy enough and so you swore to yourself to never tell him.

Your friendship was already a miracle. You are his polar opposite. You are outgoing and friendly, polite - too polite sometimes - bubbly and optimistic. Severus is - well Severus. He is grumpy and quiet and rude.

You decided to befriend him in your first year. You saw him during the sorting and something about him pulled you in. You really wanted to get to know him and when you heard him talk during your first potions class you made the decision to gain his friendship however long it would take.

You started by sitting at the table next to his in the library. You’d sit there everyday, quietly doing your homework and when he stopped shooting you irritated looks when he thought you weren’t looking, you moved to sitting at his table. You simply smiled at the befuddled Severus and did your work. 

You approached befriending Severus like one might approach gaining the trust of a wild animal. Over the year a truce-kind-of study group had formed between you.

Towards the end of term he asked for your help collecting some things from the forbidden forest - Lily would never break school rules, but you are certain Severus didn’t actually need help, he just didn’t know how to tell you he wanted to spend time with you.

During the summer you send him letters, even after not receiving any back from him and when you saw him by himself in the Hogwarts Express in September you sat down next to him and you’ve been friends since.

You know a romance is even less likely than your friendship was.

“Merlin! I almost didn’t fucking recognise you!” A familiar voice says and you throw up a little in your mouth.

“Black.” You say monotonous. As if he owns the place Black sits down opposite of you on Severus’ currently empty chair.

“You’re hot! How come we never snogged in school?”

“Because whenever I am forced to face the fact that you exist I want to smash my head against a wall.” You say with a honey-sweet tone of voice at which Black’s grin only grows. He doesn’t get the hint. 

“How come you’re drinking alone, gorgeous?” Black continues undeterred, a poised and arrogant grin on his lips.

“I’m not.” His grin wavers ever so slightly but Sirius Black has always believed himself so utterly irresistible that such small details don’t matter to him.

“I don’t see anyone.” He is wearing muggle clothes, trying just a tad too hard to look like a rockstar, but he talks and holds himself like a pureblood still. He might have run away from home but he is still living off of his family’s wealth and he hasn’t changed one bit since school.

Black is (as usual) utterly unaware that he isn’t welcome. Black’s eyes roam over your face and down to your chest like he is appraising you, determining how much effort you are worth putting into seducing you. 

“I think it’s fate we meet like this! You look-” He licks his lips and a shiver of disgust rushes over your arms. “So different. Bet you cut loose that tosser Snivellus. He was clearly dragging you under. A frown on such a pretty face should be considered a fucking crime.” You clench your fists under the table. You have your wand in your boot. It would be so easy to hex him-

“Someone as stunning as you- Oi! I was about to head to this club in Dublin that recently opened to meet Moony and Wormtail - You should join me!” He winks.

“As I said - I am here with someone.”

“But you could be with me!” He laughs as if he just made a joke but you know he is dead serious. He thinks you’d gladly ditched whomever you are here with for the chance of spending time with him. “Bring her too - the more the merrier.” There is a not so subtle suggestive tone to his words and he wiggles his eyebrows. “Come on gorgeous! Someone as sexy as you should not be so uptight! Let’s have some fun, let loose a little - it’ll be worthwhile to you, I swear.”

“What a compelling offer.” Sneers Severus and your heart drops. Great. “I wonder how many you made that promise to, Black, and how many you left disappointed.” Black’s grin falters for a split second.

That’s right.

Severus is different.

He stands taller. He’s fierce and strong and you aren’t at Hogwarts anymore where it’s four against one with the teachers turning a blind eye. You have no doubt Severus would pull out his nastiest curses on Black given the chance.

“Let’s leave, Sev.” 

“Come on, gorgeous!”

“That’s not her name, but one can hardly expect a simpleton like you to care for such fine details as names.”

“Sev.”

“No wonder she looked like somebody was fucking murdered in front of her eyes when I found her - how Lily could bear being close to you for so long I’ll never understand.” Black turns towards you. “Kick this dick to the curb - I’ll buy you a drink, gorgeous.”

“She does not need you for that-”

“I can buy my own drinks.” You hiss and when Severus still makes no move towards leaving, you grab your jacket and storm off. Let them duel like little children if they want, but you won’t get in the middle of that. 

The cold hair of the night hits you while you run down the street. Tears sting in your eyes and you feel so stupid and pathetic for crying. Nothing even happened. You don’t know what’s going on- that’s a lie. Severus sounded like he was about to suggest you’re with him and therefore don’t need Black to buy you drinks which…it’s not wrong. You were at the pub with Severus and you were going to make him pay (he’s a Professor now after all and from what Sev let on the pay isn’t bad) but it wasn’t a date. And Severus suggesting or intending to suggest that hurts. You want it to be a date goddamn! You’ve wanted it for over eight years!

Severus calls your name but you just wrap your arms tighter around yourself and continue down the empty street on the outskirts of London.

“Just wait!” He catches up to you. “What a fucking wanker.” He huffs.

“Mh.”

“What did he say to you? I should have hexed him! I knew it!”

“Drop it.”

“No, I will not drop it! He made you cry- come on tell me what he said and I’ll-”

“What?!” Abruptly you stop walking and spin around to face Severus. He looks at you perplexed, his cloak billowing behind him in the breeze. “You’ll go and start a duel? Why? I told you to drop it.”

“He’s a fucking cavemen! Just the way he looked at you-” Severus grimaces. A muscle in his jaw tenses and he flexes his wand hand.

“Why the fuck do you suddenly feel the need to defend my honour?! You just ignored me in there- nevermind. I’m tired. I want to go home.”

“Don’t let Black ruin our night-”

“You ruined our night! I asked you to leave, you ignored me. I ask you to drop it, you ignore me. I don’t want you to fight Black! We aren’t at school anymore - you’ll get arrested!” Something you have never before seen crosses through Severus’ eyes. Something dark. A cold shiver runs down your spine and you take an involuntary step back.

“I wouldn’t be arrested, Sunshine.” He says, voice low, rumbling like thunder, a muttered promise of destruction and ruin and heat pools in your belly. That he called you by his nickname for you which he uses very sparingly, if ever, doesn’t help the matter. Severus takes a step forward. The heat morphs into a twisting, curling mass that takes your breath away. Severus looms over you, shadows dancing over his pale skin, drawing his cheekbones into an even sharper contrast and you gulp.

“You think Luci is going to come and rescue you?”

“Lucius? I don’t need Lucius for that.”

“Do you even fucking hear yourself?!” Your voice echoes through the empty streets, thrown back off the house.

“He made you cry!”

“Why does it matter?!”

“Because-” He clenches his jaw, his fists shake with suppressed rage. His nostrils flare and for a split second a tingling sensation winds around your heart at the expression in his eyes - the softness in the middle of a raging storm. A lone, untouched, unbothered island in the midst of a roaring ocean. 

Severus exhales. Tension falls off his frame and the expression is gone.

“Fine.” He says quietly. “Let’s go then.” And he walks past you.

“No.” You can hear his steps stop behind you. Tears drip over your cheeks and you stubbornly wipe them away. “Say what you wanted to say.”

“I thought you’re tired.”

“Say it.”

“It’s- it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m not moving until you say it.” You cross your arms in front of your chest. Behind you Severus sighs and you can practically hear him pinch the bridge of his nose like he does whenever you annoy him.

“You sound like a spoiled child.”

“Good practice then. You’ll have to deal with a lot of those, Professor.”

“Are you- I have the feeling you’re angry with me.” You spin around and glare at Severus. He’s not good with emotions, sure - but now he’s just being dense.

“What made you think that?” You deadpan. He rolls his eyes and his disregard for your feelings drives you mad. 

“Black’s a bastard-”

“This is Warren all over again!”

“Yeah and I was fucking right about Warren wasn’t I?” A vein on his forehead pulses, but you don’t give a shit. Warren was your first boyfriend and Severus behaved absolutely rotten towards you.

“Warren was a huge mistake, yes - but he was my mistake to make! What- do you actually fucking think I would ever fucking touch Black? Just the thought gives me an STD!” The barest flicker of amusement flashes over Severus’ features. “I just- I don’t get why you overreact like this everytime I talk to a guy. And it’s not like I was engaging Black there! The fucknugget is just to stupid to get a hint!”

“I-”

“There it is again! You did it again! What is it that you can’t tell me? Come on Sev! You can tell me everything. When did you start having secrets from me?” It’s a hit to your ego as much as you don’t like admitting it. 

You have always been Severus’ safespace. 

He told you things he never even told Lily! Something you didn’t know until third year when Lily asked whether Severus’ parents are ‘fighting again’ when you knew Tobias dickward Snape beat Sev with his belt the day before the Hogwarts Express left for the new term. You fucking healed him in you compartment because his ribs were broken and she asked whether they were fighting. 

Why can’t he tell you this?

Another tear slips over your lower lid and slides down your check. Your bottom lip quivers. You suppress a sniffle and nod. 

You have never felt further away from him than you do at this precise moment. It feels like Severus is sand slipping through your fingers and the harder you try to hold onto him, to the way it was before, the faster he slips away. Maybe too much has changed. Maybe he’s too different. Maybe this unlikely friendship was doomed from the beginning.

You know you’re about to start bawling and that’s the last you want Severus to see.

“Alright…I see.” You whisper. “Life’s different now. We’re keeping secrets now…”

“Sunshine-”

“No- no, ‘tis fine-” You roughly wipe your eyes. “See you- see you sometime….congratulations again.” You turn around to find a quiet alleyway to disapparate to your flat and break down there like a pathetic little teen that got her pathetic little heart broken without ever even working up the courage to confess her pathetic feelings. 

Your steps sound horribly loud in the dark, cold night and with every step you take away from Severus you feel like you’re losing him more, every step is another crack, another break, another insurmountable obstacle between you. The cold wind cuts through your clothes with ease and you shiver. 

“I love you.”

You stop dead in your tracks. Your heart skips a beat or two or maybe it forgets how to work entirely. 

Severus’ voice is quiet, uncertain like it has not been since second year when he thought you didn’t want to be friends with him anymore after he lashed out at you.

“Sunshine- I knew Warren would only hurt you. That he’s not good enough for you. He bragged in the Slytherin common room that you showed him your boobs- He said all sorts of awful things and I- I just sat there. I should have said something, defended you, made him shut up but- Warren was two years above us and…” He takes a shuddering breath, dispelling old shame and insecurity from his voice. “Black’s just like that. He never cared for you before and now all of a sudden he is dying to go out with you? You don’t even realise it, Sunshine but- you- you are stunning. You have changed so much since school, you are- fuck I don’t know- words-” He sighs and rubs his hands over his face. 

You feel numb and like you’re on fire at the same time. Of course you knew Warren spread some shit about you around, it’s why you broke up and broke his nose in the process for good measure, earning three weeks detention with McGonagall, but you wished you would have known sooner... 

And- Severus loves you? No- that can’t be right- He’s in love with Lily- it’s always been Lily-

“You’re happier somehow- you- you’re radiant and beautiful and- you’ve grown up so much and- and- I love you. I’ve loved you for years- I want to protect you. I want to guard your happiness and yes I’d go back to knock out every single one of Black’s teeth for talking to you like that. You just have to say the word - sunshine - I’m pretty sure there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. And I know I’m not bloody good enough for you- I am rude and surly and miserable to be around - I don’t expect you to feel the same…I- fuck I don’t know-”

“You love me?”

“I love you.”

“I thought you love Lily.”

“Lily is- was- still is- I have no goddamn clue- she’s like a sister. I love her. And I think marrying Potter was a huge mistake and that she’ll divorce him in about three years - if she manages to stand him that long and when she does I hope- I hope we can mend our friendship…maybe- but- but I don’t love her like that. Not like I love you.”

Severus loves you.

Has loved you for years.

Severus loves you… You swirl around and before your anxiety can overpower your heart, screaming and aching and thrashing about in your chest you cup his face with your trembling hands and press your lips against his.

Severus stiffens. For a moment you just stand there, on your tiptoes to be able to reach him, holding onto him, feeling his heat against you, your lips exploding with electrifying tingling. Your stomach clenches and twists, flip flops and gives birth to a thousand erratic butterflies and all flutter around in a whirlwind of emotions that are too colourful, too many, too intense to ever find words worthy of describing the sensation.

Cautiously Severus puts his hands on your back and moves his lips against yours. You’re still crying, tears stream over your cheeks and run along the curves of your face to your lips. 

As if woken from an enchanted slumber, Severus drags you against his chest and kisses you fiercely. One arm wrapped around your back and clutching at your waist, and one hand cradling the back of your head, long slender fingers threading through your hair. You grab the front of his robes and cling to him. 

You both stumble a few steps and your back hits the brick wall of a house. Severus licks along the seam of your lips which you happily part for him. Your kiss grows sloppy and desperate. Your tongues meet gingerly at first but soon the slight air of discomfort and wariness at this development vanishes, flies away into the cool air of the night, gone and forgotten, as unimportant as your stupid fight.

Severus is kissing you. You are finally kissing Severus. He loves you. He has loved you for years.

Everything is good.

“Sev-” You whimper against his lips between two kisses. You try to break them, to wrench an inch of air between you but Severus is like a man dying of thirst that finally found a water source and is clenching his burning thirst. “Sev-” You push against his chest. Severus releases your lips, but doesn’t move away, doesn’t let go of you. 

He leans his forehead against yours and blinks back at you, his dark eyes seemingly trying to pervade yours, to find a direct path to your deepest thoughts, a link between you and him that is untouchable by anybody else, that runs deeper than any other connection between two people.

“Don’t you want to invite me back to your place?” You murmur and tug playfully at the button just above his throat. Severus’ eyes darken. A muscle in his jaw jumps. Your cunt clenches around nothing. Needy, desperate, wanting.

He clears his throat and steps back. How the fuck does he still look put together? How can he manage to reign in that storm in his eyes so expertly, so fast and clean while you’re a panting, sweaty, needy mess after just a few damn kisses?

“You won’t like what I’d do then.” He says, voice heavy with what he leaves unsaid. You push yourself off the wall and wrap your arms around his shoulders. You trail a few chaste kisses up the side of his jaw and flick the tip of your tongue over his earlobe. Severus inhales sharply and flexes his hands again.

“I don’t break easy, Sev.” You whisper and press a kiss to his ear. “You should know that.” He takes another shuddering breath and just when you think you’ll have to deal with the aftermath of his kiss on your own while picturing him nestled between your thighs (once again), he pulls you against his chest and holds you in a bone-breaking grip. You feel the familiar pull of side-along apparition and in the next moment you smell the even more familiar, dusty scent of Severus’ house. The smell of books is new, added after Severus renovated the house enough to evict his father’s influences and put his own touch to it - namely by adding a shittone of books.

Severus doesn’t give you time to catch your breath. He grabs your hand and pulls you up the stairs. You giggle and run to keep up with him. He practically kicks the door to his old room open (you know for a fact he has not even touched the door to his parents room since his father died) and crushes his lips against yours as soon as he pulls you over the threshold.

The burn marks from where Severus used to zap flies with his wand are still on the ceiling. The little pencil sketches you made near the baseboards are as well. He replaced his bed though. A brand new double which you are being steered towards now.

“Severus-” You moan against his lips and tear at the buttons of his new robes.

“Is this real?” He whispers back and leans his forehead against yours again, watching you struggle with his clothes. “I’ve pictured this so many times- thought about how I would feel to have you here- is this happening? Or am I sleeping?”

“It’s real.” You say, lips against his recently freed throat. “I’m here.”

“You’re here…”

“Severus-” You hesitate and pause your quest of revealing Severus’ body to your eyes. “I’ve never done this-” Suddenly you feel shaky and overwhelmed.

“Warren-?”

“Is full of shit. He lied- about all of it. Have you-” He nods, but there’s a distant expression in his eyes that tells you it’s not something he wants to talk about. Probably something he’s ashamed of. You know the kind of company Lucius, Mulciber, Rosier and the other’s like to keep and don’t pry further.

“I’ll trust you then.” You murmur and sit down on the bed, pulling Severus down with you.

“I’d never want to hurt you, Sunshine.” You kiss and between kisses scoot up the bed until your head is resting on the soft pillows and Severus’ lean body between your thighs. “I’ll take care of you.” He mutters against the corner of your mouth and kisses your cheek. “Such good care.” He trails down your jaw. “Like Black or Warren never fucking could.”

“I never wanted them.” You moan. Your body moves on its own, knowing precisely what you want and need even if your mind has yet to catch up. Your legs wrap around his hips, your back arches, pressing your breasts to his chest. You thread your fingers through his silky hair. “Only you.”

“Me?”

“Only you. Always you. Whenever I thought about it…when I pictured how it would feel while touching myself I only ever pictured you.”

“Oh sunshine-” He groans and rolls his hips against you.

“Sev-” Severus draws his wand and mutters a quick spell. Something curls in your stomach, it’s the weirdest sensation and for a second you are utterly confused, but then your gaze meets Severus’ and you understand. Contraception spell. You didn’t even think of that. Of course Severus did. You smile. 

He mutters another charm and your clothes vanish. You squeak, blush and hide your face behind your hands.

You can hear the clanking of wood hitting wood as Severus tosses his wand onto the nightstand.

“You- fuck…” Cautiously you peek between your fingers. A faint pink tinge has spread over Severus’ cheeks and nose, down to his now fully exposed neck. He looks cute. Adorable. You take a deep breath and drop your hands. This is Severus. Your Severus. There is nothing to be afraid of with him. “You put to shame all great beauties of the comprehensive history of this world.” His words brush over your skin like a tender caress and make you shiver and burn with embarrassed heat at the same time.

“Severus-”

“It’s true. The old greek masters wish they would have had a model like you sit for their marmour statues. Such beauty has to be preserved for the ages - but you…you are just mine.”

“Who are you and what have you done to my stammering, cute, insecure Severus?” You tease. Severus’ eyes are still pinned to your breasts. He visibly snaps out of his thoughts and looks up to you. There he is. Flashing through his impossibly dark eyes for the flicker of a second before they return to the heavy gaze, consumed by carnal desire that has been ignored for too long and has now broken free with demanding force.

“He knows he’s about to find out how you feel.”

“Come and find out then.” You shoot him a challenging grin. Severus kisses you in response. He kisses you and settles more of his weight on you. His very much hard cock presses against your exposed cunt. You gasp and clutch at Severus.

“Shit- Severus- that won’t fit!”

“It will.”

“You sure?” He chuckles, his eyes lighting up with amusement like they do so rarely and you relax.

“I’m sure.” You trust him. You love him. You want him. He’ll take care of you. 

You let him take control. Severus kisses you more. He seems determined to cover every inch of your body with all the confessions of his love he has missed out on. All the elapsed opportunities. All the kisses you could have shared if you both had had just a little more courage. But it doesn’t matter. You are here now. You are together in his bed, skin pressed against skin, breathing the same air, staring into each other’s eyes longingly while his hand slips between your thighs.

You’re soaked and whimper when his slender fingers gather your slickness, brushing your aching cunt with featherlight touches. He draws gentle, slow circles over your clit. Pressure and heat build in your belly and deep inside your cunt fast. You cling to his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin without even noticing.

“I wondered so many times how you’d look…” He murmurs. His lips brush over yours as he speaks. His breath dances across your cheeks.

“...in the throes of pleasure.” Severus’ voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it. A smoky rumble that goes straight to your core.

He teases your entrance until you’re squirming and rolling your hips against his touch before finally plunging a finger inside you. “I wondered how you’d sound…how I would feel knowing it was me making you feel like that…” You give him the answer promptly. Moaning and whining, gasping for air.

“Sev!” You throw your head back and arch your back. The pressure keeps building and building, beyond anything you ever managed yourself. He adds a second finger and with it a delicious, stinging stretch. He curls his fingers and presses the heel of his palm to your clit. You squirm under Severus’ intense gaze that seems to look right through you, through your skin down to your very soul. He watches every flicker of pleasure and desperation he paints onto your face with utter, devoted, undisturbed attention to you and nothing else. Nothing else matters.

Severus knows you like no other. It feels right to share this with him as well.

He loves you.

You still can’t believe it. 

“Sev!”

“Cum for me, sunshine. Cum on my fingers. I want to know- I’m done wondering. I want to know.” You do. Crying out and panting his name, thrashing about beneath him as waves upon waves of intense pleasure run havoc over you, but it’s fine. You can let go with Severus.

“I need you Sev- please-” You gasp even before your orgasm has released you from its clutches. “Please please please- Sev-” He groans. 

“Fuck and I thought you sounded needy in my head.” Severus mutters and aligns himself with you. He takes his time, giving you time to adjust to his girth, slowly pushing deeper and deeper into your still spasming channel, forcing it to give way to him. He grunts and whispers praise, how tight you are, how good you feel for him, how well you’re taking him. You whimper and hold onto him, leaving red streaks across his back. Severus doesn’t even bat an eye at it.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck and savours your every sound, every twitch and throb of your cunt finally, finally gloved around him.

“Sunshine-”

“Severus…” More words aren’t needed. He rests there, deep inside you, his body pressed to your trembling smaller one, shielding you from the cold of his room and the world itself and you know there is a promise in there somewhere.

“I can’t believe it-” He murmurs and kisses your collarbone, down to your sternum. He kisses and licks, sucks, grazes your skin with his teeth. “You feel…incredible…you’re so good for me sunshine-” He kisses your breasts, flicks his tongue over your hardened nipples, licks broad strokes and teasingly closes his lips around them.

When Severus finally moves again he does so in slow, measured thrusts. He watches your expression with hidden wariness, watches your every reaction. He can’t hide from you though. He is waiting for you to regret this. To tell him to stop. He’s afraid of letting go, afraid of scaring you off, of losing you.

But he’ll never lose you.

You buck your hips and whine impatiently. “Come on Sev.” You whimper. “Fuck me like you really want to fuck me.”

“It’s your first time I will not-”

“It’s done, Sev. Bye bye virginity! That train of stupid little things society places far too much worth in has left the station indefinitely. Now fuck me.”

“Sun-”

“Severus Snape! Fuck. me. properly.” He groans. His eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Fine.” Severus grunts and a rush of excitement pulses through your stomach and drenches his throbbing cock in more fluids. “I warned you.”

The bed creaks dangerously under his thrusts. His hips slap against yours with a wet, fleshy sound that drives you crazy.

“Oh fuck yes- yes- just like that- that’s-” You babble more nonsense, moaning and shredding Severus’ back with your nails. He fucks you mercilessly into the mattress, spearing you open with his cock with each hard thrust. Your entire body trembles under his thorough attention. Your cunt yields to him in wet, fluttering excitement. It cherishes the promise of soreness his thrusts leave behind. 

Any attempt at grasping for and trying to hold onto one of the many thoughts rushing through your fuzzy, hazy mind is a fruitless endeavour.

“Fuck! Ahhh- so good…” Severus mutters against your collarbone and plunges his cock into your drenched cunt again before pulling out almost completely and driving back in with such force he knocks your head against the headboard. You both laugh.

“Sorry-”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” You weave your fingers through his hair and pull him down into a sloppy, passionate kiss. You gasp and moan into the kiss and drink up the way Severus continues to lose the iron grip on his emotions he had cultivated since graduation, revealing more and more of the love-starved, unapologetic, fierce man you know him as. The man that feels so freely, so intensely, so deeply that it hurts him so much.

Every thrust, every kiss, every exploring hand gliding over your sweaty skin, squeezing your breasts in testing, careful motions is a testament to how deep his feelings for you run and have been running for so long. 

It breaks free of him in violent bursts and buries you beneath roaring pleasure. 

Severus is not good with words.

But he will be damned if he doesn’t show you what he can’t figure out how to say.

“Severus-” You moan, joining the creaking bed and his grunts, the symphony of your love. This would not be a pretty, romantic, fairytale like love. You are both messy and broken in your own ways. It will be hard. It will take work and compassion and will seem impossible at moments, especially in the midst of a war, but Severus is worth it.

To you he is worth it.

He always was and will always be.

You whine in protest when Severus pulls out of you but before you have a chance to voice it otherwise or even glare at him, Severus flips you over.

“Put your hands on the headboard.” He rasps in your ear. You are shaking and struggle to keep yourself upright, but Severus’ arms around your waist stabilise you. You hold onto the headboard so tight your knuckles turn white. Severus is kissing your neck, nibbling and sucking, painting his marks onto you as if to say ‘I was here’ or maybe ‘back off’. Maybe both. Maybe more.

He fills you up again, reaching much deeper than before and you gasp at the unfamiliar, intense feeling.

“Your cunt clutches me so hard-” He grunts and bottoms out. “Sucks me in- all soaked and desperate.”

“Sev-”

“Hmm…yes. I’m here…” He sucks the delicate skin on your neck into his mouth and bites down gently, at which a loud, wanton moan breaks free of you and he bites down harder. 

You meet his thrust with your hips, his cockhead hits a spot inside you it previously missed and you fall apart. His grip around your waist turns bruising and Severus pulls you back. Your grip around the headboard goes slack. You melt into his touch, twitching and shivering, whimpering, mind fuzzy with always new, higher, stronger, more intense levels of pleasure.

Severus holds you to his chest, your thighs on either side of his, useless, hands helplessly holding onto his arms, and moves your body up and down his hard shaft. Using you and the fluttering of your cunt as your orgasm continues to coarse through you. He grunts and bites your shoulder, harder than before and a particularly strong spasm shakes your body. You drop your head onto his shoulder, melting further against him.

“Again-” You rasp and present your neck to him. A grin flashes over Severus’ lips. Sweaty strands of hair stick to his forehead, his eyes are glazed over with hazy lust.

“My pleasure.” He coos, but instead of indulging you, he kisses you. One small, chaste peck after another. You squirm against his grip, claw at his arms, painting more red streaks on his pale skin.

“You never told me you got a tattoo-” You murmur. The sight of the jet black snake and skull on Severus’ left inner arm pulls your mind out of its haze and into a brief moment of clarity. Severus hesitates ever so slightly in his thorough, teasing attention he’s paying to your neck. Something about the tattoo unsettles you, though you can’t exactly decide why.

“Must have forgotten. It’s new.”

“Hmm…very metal.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Why’d you get it then?”

“I thought I would.” Severus sucks on your neck and that plummets you back into mind-numbing, all-consuming, ecstatic pleasure.

“Maybe we should go to Dublin after.” Severus purrs in your ear. “Show Black all your pretty marks.”

“Idiot.” You giggle.

“I’m going to cum-”

“Cum inside me.”

“I don’t have to.”

“Please, Sev! Cum in me.” Severus pushes you forward and you fall face first into the mattress with a tiny outrages squeal. Severus laughs at you and grips your hips, adjusting them to sit flush with his own. He fucks you roughly into the pillows. You clutch at the sheets. Severus loses more and more of what little composure he still had. He mutters things you can’t make out.

His thrusts are accompanied with lewd, wet noises and the headboard hitting the wall.

“Severus!”

“I’ll fill you up ahh- with my cum- leave you dripping-”

“Yesyesyes-” He moves your hips with each thrust, pulling you back into him as he buries his cock inside you. His balls hit your sensitive cunt. His fingers dig into your skin, sure to be leaving bruises. 

Severus cums with your name on his lips, tumbling over them in a low, reverent, lust-drenched prayer which you join with your own faint, desperate whimpers.

Feeling the hot spurts of cum hit your inner walls violently kicks you over the edge for the third time. Severus slumps above you, pressing his forehead to your back between your shoulder blades, panting and spent.

You stay like that for a while. Both of you trying to catch your breath, relishing in the buzzing glow of your aftershock and the feeling of each other’s love on your skin and warming you from the inside.

Gently Severus pulls his softening cock from you and lies down next to you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“Sorry.” He murmurs in your hair and presses a tender kiss to the top of your head. “I hurt you.”

“I liked it.” You murmur back and place your hands against his chest, nuzzling your face to his neck. “Why did it take us so bloody long to finally do this?” He chuckles. He tugs a strand of messy hair behind your ear. You look up to meet his gaze. It’s heavy with emotions, a swirling storm of love and care and fear. You reach out to him in a futile attempt of soothing it. The pads of your fingers meet his cheek and he shudders under your touch, before leaning into it. His eyes fall closed and for a brief moment he looks at peace. Content. Home.

“I-” He opens his mouth as if to say something but closes it again. His brows pull together into a frown, a deep crease forming between them. His lips go white as he presses them together into a thin line. His jaw tenses. “I’ve made a terrible mistake-” His voice is hoarse from unshed tears and the effort of suppressing them. He loses. One escapes from between his closed lids and slides down his cheek, meeting your fingers. You wipe it away, but more follow. 

“I’m trying to fix it- I am! But I-”

“It’s ok.” You whisper and press a tender kiss to his jaw. 

So he did it…You had your suspicions, of course you did, but a part of you refused to believe Severus capable of those horrible acts committed by the Death Eaters. And you were right. The pain, regret and self-loathing is so evident in his face. He can’t bear to look at you.

“We’ll fix it. Together. It’ll be fine.”

You are there when the Aurors storm his house to arrest him. You were sitting on the threadbare sofa in his arms as he read to you. 

You tell him not to resist, to not tell them anything.

You send an owl to Dumbledore.

You are at the trial, sitting on one of the benches. Severus looks miserable sitting in the middle of the courtroom, deep shadows under his eyes, a tremor in his wand hand. The chains of the chair are wrapped tightly around his arms. He avoids your eyes.

Dumbledore defends him passionately. Recounting Severus’ turning spy for him, reporting you-know-who’s steps to Dumbledore, how invaluable his intel had been. He recounts the dangers Severus was willing to face. He demands he is released. And he is. The Wizengamot clears him of all charges and you walk out of the Ministry with him, holding his still trembling hand in your own.

“Is this real?” He whispers and you bite the inside of your cheek to not start crying. You want to be strong for him.

“Yes.” You kiss his cheek and wrap your arms around his neck. “It’s real. You’re a free man. I’m here. I will always be here. We’ll figure this out.”

“Together?”

“Together. I love you, Severus.”

“I love you too, Sunshine.”

#severus snape #snape fandom #ao3 fanfic #severus snape smut #Severus Snape x reader #snape x reader #snape x you #request #dividers by cafekitsune

[thebestofoneshots]

SERIES MASTERLIST

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Summary: You meet Sirius and Regulus at a family vacation in the Caribbean, but things don't go as planned and you end up losing contact once the trip is over. Years later your family moves to England and you get accepted at Hogwarts where you finally meet Sirius once again, along with all of his friends. One of them with a mysterious secret, that you'll uncover as you embark on your own Hogwarts adventure. Mostly canon-compliant. 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.

Read Gilded Constellations on AO3

Read the French Translation by @nagareboshi-chiyo

Paring: Sirius Black x Reader / Remus Lupin x reader / Wolfstar x reader

Chapter average: 5k - 6.5 k

Content: Smut in later chapters, Poly!Marauders, throuple, graphic descriptions of violence, MAJOR and minor character death (this is The Marauders Era guys, you know), jealousy, angst, pining, love triangle, LGBTQ+ themes, The Wizarding war 1.0, implied child abuse, possible proofreading errors, mental health struggles, hurt no comfort, hurt with comfort, period typical attitude, first war with Voldemort, canonical character's death, fluff, Requited Love, F/M/M, mostly canon-compliant.

Status: Ongoing (Weekly updates)

PLAYLIST

01 | Summer Breeze

02 | Escape

03 | Bitter Sweet Symphony

04 | Rainy Days and Mondays

05 | Good times

06 | Crazy Little Thing Called Love

07 | Peaceful Easy Feeling

08 I Fooled Around and Fell in Love

09 | The Fairy Feller's Master-Stroke

10 | Black Dog

11 | Do Ya

12 | You really got me

13 | Rebel, Rebel

14 | Maybe I’m Amazed

15 | No One Like You

Interlude (Q&A Event)

16 | Boogie Wonderland

17 | Tonight’s What It Means To Be Young

18 | Friends will be Friends

19 | Silver Bird

20 | Bad Moon Rising

21 | Fox on the Run

22 | Long Long Way From Home

23 | Hungry Eyes

24 | Peace of Mind

25 | I’ll get Even With You

26 | Hooked on a Feeling

27 | Can’t Take My Eyes Off You

28 | If You Want BIood, (You’ve Got It)

29 | With a Little Help From My Friends

30 | Bridge Over Troubled Water

31 | Strange Magic

32 | Come a Little Bit Closer

33 | More Than a Feeling

34 | You Belong to Me

35 | Chill of Desire

36 | Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy

37 | Gimme, Gimme, Gimme

38 | Let the Good Times Roll

39 | Running With the Pack

40 | Hot Stuff

41 | Urban Adventure

42 | Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

43 | Sympathy for the Devil

44 | TBD (24.04.24)

45 | TBD (01.05.24)

.

.

.

.

BONUS TRACKS:

Your Theories, The Note, The Costumes, Sirius and the Chimney, Sirius and Vix after the bad moon, Evans and Vixen, Remus and Vixen at the infirmary, Remus holding Sirius at DADA, Remus and Sirius’ height difference, the FOXSTAR picture, Art by @nineloseteeth, We're going French,

Leave a comment telling me if you want to join the tag list

A/N: Most Poly!Marauders fics are oneshots, where the relationship between characters is already established, and they're all happy and pleased with it. No issues, no drama, but I WANTED the drama. Couldn't find it, so I set myself up to write the story behind the stablished relationship. I wanted to know how they started dating each other, the jealousy, the will they won't they, because getting into a poly relationship can't be an easy task, and I wanted to explore that story. If you're interested: Welcome to Gilded Constellations!

#imagine #marauders era #marauders x reader #marauders x y/n #moony #padfoot #prongs #sirius black #sirius x reader #sirius black fluff #sirius x you #sirius x y/n #remus x y/n #remus x you #remus x reader #remus one shot #sirius black one shot #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders #wolfstar x reader #wolfstar x y/n #wolfstar x you #sirius black x fem!reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #moony x reader #moony x padfoot #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #moony x you #james potter #poly marauders

[celenawrites]

You apologize to Simon.

AO3 Version

Three days. 

Three days of silence since you and Simon had a fight over something insignificant enough for you to even forget about it after a night’s sleep. Three days of silence and avoidance due to an argument that could’ve ended in less than an hour had you been more amenable. You can make excuses all you want (and you’d like to, it’s easier than acknowledging you’re the one at fault for a change - easier to ignore the lump in your throat and your shortened breath, or how warm your ears are from shame) - talk about how shitty this week had been, how much of a right cunt your boss was, or how things just don’t seem to go your way no matter what you do; despite your best efforts, life seemed to be holding a mean grudge against you and punishing all your efforts for it lately. 

Paired with all the shitty things in your life at the moment, and one of these days when Simon ends up saying something to you in a tone that you couldn’t seem to take kindly to (you try your best to understand people and what they say to you, you really do; yet your past has never been as kind to you, and sometimes your patience runs thin despite your best efforts) - which ultimately resulted in you screaming your head off at him. Simon has the patience of a saint on most days - years of war, trauma, and abuse had motivated him to be much kinder than his family ever was, urging him to do everything in his power to never end up as the man who sired him. 

But you forget sometimes that he’s a Lieutenant and he has the tenacity and the rage needed to put the rowdy recruits at the base into place just fine. So when his anger snaps and it does when you decide that he doesn’t get a chance to defend himself (you’re judge, jury, and executioner and you have condemned him for a transgression not his own), he matches your cruel word for cruel word - dark eyes sizing you up as he raises his voice at you in a way that makes your lip quiver and your eyes burn with tears of shame and burning anger as you throw him a mean glance before locking yourself up in the bedroom. 

Simon sleeps on the couch that night. 

You feel guilty the moment you wake up and notice the cold, empty space beside you - the lack of his warm body lying beside you is a sight that will possibly haunt you for the rest of your days. You note the time and you go out of the room, hoping to find your boyfriend sitting on the sofa after his morning run as he wipes his damp forehead with a micro-fiber towel, his brown pupils tracking the time just as you hear the kettle on the gas give out a loud whistle, evident of the fact that Simon had made both of your tea to share in the morning before you both part ways. Instead, you find the empty apartment greets you.  You expected as much. 

He’s angry - at you and at himself, and if he was here, you’d have told him you share the same sentiments. But he’s nowhere to be found in your shared apartment. So you whip up a quick English breakfast, put out all the things he’d need for him to brew his beloved Earl Grey when if he decides to come back and then you leave for work in a hurry. Your mind is preoccupied with worry - about work, about your mess of a life, about Simon and if he has eaten yet. The day passes you by in a blur, and you find yourself finally free from the dissociation you have been plagued with since morning, when you hear the sounds of your footsteps on the concrete sidewalk, taking the long route back home despite the setting sun painting the sky a blood orange, bleeding into the soft clouds and reflecting off of the shiny glass windows adorning the buildings around you. You prolong the commute for some reason - not in a rush to head back home just yet, afraid that this fight might have broken the camel’s back; that you’d return home and find him just gone. 

Like a ghost. 

Your fears are unfounded, luckily - you open the door to your house and find him sitting near the dining table with his arms neatly crossed up on the mahogany table, his face covered by a black surgical mask, and his eyes are unfocused as if he’s meditating deep in thought. You’re almost surprised that your entrance didn’t break him out of his thoughts, out of his own head. Your head feels heavy just by looking at him, and the way your throat constricts forces you to skip dinner altogether as you quickly grab a granola bar (or two) and decide to leave for the bedroom just as quickly, dumping your office attire in the wicker laundry basket near your bed. You leave the door to the bedroom unlocked. 

Just in case, you tell yourself. 

Your night mainly consists of tossing and turning haphazardly - you’re free to move due to the absence of those strong, scarred arms that hold you still and provide you the tether you need in order to actually fall asleep; but your restlessness eventually tires you out enough for you to catch at most a measly two-to-three hours of rest that leaves your eyes aching for more respite when the sunlight invades the softness of your room uninvited, blinding you for a solid minute as you try to gather your wits about you. 

When you turn around in your bed, you’re surprised to find it all messy (as if someone had slept in it while you were knocked out) and it smells of him. Him and his pine body wash and the little smoke that clings to him whenever he decides to go out and hang out with his military friends in a seedy pub and drink cheap beer and half-assed whiskey (he wouldn’t dare touch their Bourbon unless it was Kentucky). He slept here. 

It has been over a day since you last spoke to each other, but the idea of Simon still sleeping near you gives you a sense of comfort you weren’t aware you needed. 

You spend the day in and out of the house since it’s the weekend - bringing in fresh groceries from the farmer’s market and laying down all the vibrant fruits in a glass bowl at the center of the dinner table. You find Simon standing near the kitchen with a brush as he oils the hinges of the creaky door. You both acknowledge each other with a soft nod of your heads as you go about your day tackling chores that the busy week has allowed you to neglect till now. 

Then, you place the new succulents you couldn’t resist buying (couldn’t resist as they reminded you of Simon), and you adjust the window curtains so that they get ample sunlight. You turn around to see if Simon’s here; if he’d noticed the new plant pots and manure packets you had picked up - you wonder if he’d shake his head, almost amused as he joins you to tend to the little succulent pots. Instead, you hear the whirring of the lawn mower to indicate that your partner is outside, getting rid of the tall grass that invades the grounds surrounding your little home.

Then you notice that it is already noon, and decide to brew yourself some ginger tea and plate some oatmeal cookies on a saucer plate as you snuggle into the weary green couch with your current read (a book you had heard people rave about on social media, which made you buy it the moment the local bookstore had it in stock) and drape the cozy baby pink blanket over your shoulders. Simon is still outside, still working on the sparse vegetation of your lawn. You’d like him here right now, with you - drinking the tea from your cup and stealing one of your cookies as he pinches your cheek while you whine to him about it; his soft hands playing with the stray strands of your hair and pulling you into him till your head rests on his chest and his soft heartbeat lulls you to sleep with a lullaby of his worn heart. 

Instead, you sit alone on the sofa, and you almost call out to him and your lead tongue weighs heavy in your jaw (makes it tick an awful lot) and you reason with yourself that the whirring of the loud mower would make it near impossible for him to hear you anyway, so there’s really no merit in screaming your head off as you try to call out to him over the noise. 

You excuse your hesitation with technicalities - it has been a lifelong habit.

Reading with a warm cup of tea has made you drowsy (almost compliant) and you don’t remember when you had allowed yourself to close your eyes, your hands loosen their grip on the book as it fell onto the plush cushion beside you. You wake up an hour or so later, to the afternoon sun blinding your eyes momentarily, and you rub them lightly with your fingers as you try to rub the sleep away. You find the house awfully quiet, an anomaly from what it usually used to be  - the background noise of the television playing a repeat of an old season of the baking show you and Simon would watch while holding each other close, the rhythmic ‘thump thump thump!’ of the hammer as Simon works on whatever passion project you have on your mind (you remember when he made you a dresser from scratch, and when you showed him the Pinterest post that inspired you to request his services, he squinted at the small device screen as he probably wondered how he had ended up being your personal handyman), or the sound of scrawling of ball-point pens as he tries to solve the daily sudoku puzzle in the newspaper. You can hear none of it. 

And there is no whirring of the lawn mower in the backyard anymore. 

You look into the bedroom, and kitchen en route to find it empty - the bed is still well made and there is no 6 '4 behemoth of a man hunched over the gas stove as he brews himself another cup of Earl Grey for the day. You decide to climb the stairs, hoping to find your boyfriend holed up in the spare bedroom that you both had renovated into a study room - something Simon can use whenever he’s forced to bring work to home, and when you need to hole yourself up as you try to finish an impromptu project the night before a very important meeting (that never worked out for you) or work on your work reports that truly embodies ‘brevity is the wit of the soul’ with how empty the Word document looks despite you staring at your laptop screen for hours on end, urging yourself to just write something. 

You open the door lightly, cringing as the hinges squeak at the minute movement. Guess he only oiled the kitchen door today. You peer into the room, apprehensive of facing your partner head-on, stealing a glance into the usually empty room with your heels off the floor, ready to take flight at the slightest hint of confrontation. God knows your heart cannot take it. 

Simon is hunched over the mahogany desk, his head is cushioned by his crossed arms (you can admire his tattoo sleeve with the black t-shirt he had decided to wear, despite the sweltering heat) and he seems to be fast asleep. Christ, he’s gorgeous. 

The sunlight makes his hair light up, and his relaxed face along with scars and healing bruises remind you of the vibrancy and lightness that Monet’s paintings possess. You never thought a person could be like art. And then you met Simon Riley. 

He’s snoring out loud, his blonde hair is a mess - strands of hair pointing in all directions (you still need to cut his hair right; his last haircut had ended up with him having uneven layers all over his head - you’d have much preferred that he should’ve just taken a trimmer and given himself a buzz so at least he can regrow his blonde hair right)  and he’s sweating buckets while sleeping on the wooden table.  And while you still hold some anger in your heart for how your last argument went, and yet all you can think about is how much you love him. You don’t blame him entirely for how you both are now - skittish and walking on eggshells, the wounds of your previous fight still fresh and stinging and oozing with crimson. 

You know you're in the wrong as well, but it's hard to make amends with your dear boyfriend because whenever you try to speak to him you feel a lump in your throat that stops you from speaking your true feelings out loud to him. Shame creeps up on you like the weight of the world is on your shoulders alone (is this how Atlas felt?), and the humiliation chokes you off - your tongue heavy with unsaid things and your empty arms aching to forego all niceties and hold him where he truly belongs. 

So you decide to break the silence between the both of you in the best way you know how, because you love Simon. Because you love him more than you love your bruised ego. 

You make him his favorite tea (‘Was it his third or fourth cup of Earl Grey?’, you mused while pouring the hot beverage into a clean mug.) and cleanly cut open a clementine from the groceries you had brought in earlier (your hands are sticky with its juices as you try to separate each piece from its leathery peel), fanning out all the pieces over the flowered ceramic plate, something you had convinced Simon to buy for the house when you first decided to visit a flea market together to stock up on necessary things after your lover finally asked you to move in with him. That was over a year ago. 

Words may be failing you right now, but you hope your actions can convey your remorse and love for him.

You walk back into the room to see Simon awake, his hands rubbing all over his face as he tries to get rid of the fatigue. You freeze, unsure of how to handle your current predicament. You have been hoping that he’d be still sleeping so that you could quietly place the tray near the table and leave without disturbing him. But he’s awake, and as he glances back at you, you wonder if you look like a deer caught in the headlights - your little detour interrupted by his alert as he takes all sensibilities away from your being. 

“You brought me fruit”, he said dumbly.

“Yeah. And tea”, you reply back dumbly. 

You stare for a beat too long and then abruptly cross the room, quietly placing the plastic tray with the fruits and his tea mug on the study table. You notice the manila folders scattered around, some pages strewn around his working space but you avert your eyes to avoid reading anything written on them - you’d rather not read all that he has to deal with on almost a daily basis as a man of the military. In such moments, you truly do not envy Simon. 

“Uh, I’ll leave you to it then”, you whisper to him, all soft as you swallow the words you truly wish to say. I love you so much. I’m so sorry. I wish I could hold you. I cannot lose you. Please be angry, be mad at me, yell as much as you want. Hold me, I miss you. 

You wish you could at least choke on them to save face. 

You leave the room instead. 

You clean up the living room - you fold the blanket and fluff the pillows and you ignore how your back burned with his gaze on you as you left the study room. You put the flowery bookmark where you had last stopped reading and you go to the kitchen to prepare something light and easy for lunch (pasta in white sauce and toasted garlic bread) and you ignore the urge to drop everything and rush upstairs and spill all the apologies you have wished to communicate but have failed to since the day of the fight. 

Your ego has always reared its ugly head in moments like these. What was borne as a means to protect yourself with the wounds your loved ones had inflicted on you has now made it impossible for you to make amends with the only man that matters to you on God’s green Earth. But ego is nothing compared to the love you have for Simon. So when you’re done with the cooking, you take your sweet time cleaning up the island of the kitchen and you go upstairs to invite him for lunch - you hope the food will soften him up enough to accept the apology you will offer him as a white flag later on. 

You peek inside the room, standing behind the half-closed room and you see him sitting in the black ergonomic office chair (you had bought it after you couldn’t listen to his back crack every time he got up from bed, or from the plastic chair that he used to sit in while staying at his desk for hours on end, only agonizing his fucked-up back further). He’s leaning back on the chair and it creaks under his weight slightly, and he stays motionless, eyes closed and shoulders tense. It’s even better since you won’t have to be weighed down by his intense eyes. 

You walk on your toes, socked feet muted and nimble as they walk across the hardwood floor and you note that he had finished up all the clementine pieces you had laid out for him on the floral plate, and the orange mug is mostly empty - save for remains of sugar residue sticking at the very bottom of the utensil. (You had been surprised to know that the scary, big man you call your boyfriend had a sweet tooth. Luckily, it gave you the perfect excuse to visit the bakery two blocks down on your way back home from work with a paper box of dessert or two.)

You know how hard it really is for him to be at ease, and his tensed shoulders serve as the testimony to that harsh truth. You know sneaking up on him like this will only make him lash out - all in the name of pure self-preservation. And you won’t ever blame him for it.  He hasn’t told you all of it, but between shared silences and a post-coital cigarette on his behalf, he’d open up - the endorphins would make him talk sometimes, and he’d talk of his Ma. Of Tommy. Never his dad. He hasn’t laid down the entirety of his scarred soul bare for you, but you know enough to not hurt him like that ever again. So you gently allow yourself to take note of his uneven hair and say, “I keep forgetting to cut your hair”. 

Your hand creeps up on his neck, eager palm gently running through the golden tufts as they coil around the tips of your fingers. Your attention is on the way his shoulder tenses when you announce your presence in the room. (You’re certain he knew you had come here before, and he knew you were here before you even came this close. He’d never leave himself this vulnerable if he knew there was a threat abound.)

His shoulders stay the same, but you can hear the audible exhale he lets out, and you slowly use your other hand to gently massage the area where his neck meets his shoulder - aware of the stiffness that has been ailing him there for a while now. He groans in relief, and he blinks his eyes open to greet you with brown pupils and a solemn look you fail to decipher.

He looks at you with his head tilted back against the chair, and you focus on the lightning-like scars that cover half of his face, traveling from his temple all the way to the left corner of his chapped lips. “Thank you for the snacks”, he mutters, his eyes trailing all over your face. 

You hum a little, not providing him with a response.

“Would’ve been nicer if you were here to eat them with me…”, he trails off, hoping you’d catch the bait. 

“Yeah. Would’ve been even better if we talked too, no?” You smile down at him, and you gently scratch his scalp as you kiss his temple, murmuring your apology against his skin like a forgotten prayer to an old deity. I’m sorry. Sorry. Sorry. 

“I’m so sorry for being a cunt. You know that right, Simon?” you ask him, and you can already feel your chest cave in on itself and your eyes burn with tears of remorse. 

“Wasn’t like I was any better, lovie”, he mumbles, and you feel his shoulders sag in relief under your touch. You tell yourself that’s a good sign. 

“Still…”, your fingers gently mess with his hair, “Should’ve swallowed my damn ego, and apologized to you soon”. It’s a learning process. For both of you. 

“Would’ve been easier if you didn’t scamper about whenever you saw me”, there’s amusement in his eyes, and you chuckle at him fondly as you invite him to join you for lunch. He turns the chair around until he’s facing you, and then he pulls your wrist in his hand as he reverently lays down a gentle peck against your knuckles. (You know your skin carries the taste of dish soap on it, and you hope it doesn’t taste too bitter when Simon kisses your hands as if they were God.)

“Missed you”, he speaks against your skin, mimicking your prayer as he looks up at you, and your breath hitches - just a little as you stare down at Simon. Your dear Simon. 

The silence was maddening. 

“I missed you too, Simon”. 

Note -

I got my first apology from a now-close friend of mine when I was 18 years old, and God did it change how I looked at love and people completely. So I guess this piece is dedicated to that friend. Thank you, Voltie. <3

Also, I mainly show my love for people through gift-giving and acts of service and I think Simon is a big 'acts of service' guy…..so here it is - Simon dealing with a girlie who is just as emotionally constipated and can only show her love by doing things for him

totally not inspired by my Asian/Desi upbringing lol

Divider by @/firefly-graphics

#call of duty #cod #cod:mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #call of duty angst #simon ghost riley angst #simon riley #ghost x you #ghost x reader #cod ghost angst #char.simon ghost riley

[ikaroux]

How are they with their pregnant companion? Capitano, Kaveh + Bonus.

Synopsis: Pregnant, your husband/partner is over the moon. But how would he take care of you during pregnancy?

Style: Cute, fluffy, female reader.

Bonus NSFW (18+) I remind minors to avoid reading this kind of content.

Alert: May contain story spoilers for some characters.

Characters: Capitano, Kaveh + 1 Bonus rewrite.

Note: Did you notice that with this series, I work by paragraph? I try to make a maximum of 14 paragraphs per character and 4 or 5 for the NSFW part. Did you know that a pregnant woman's sexual appetite actually decreases during pregnancy? But I assume that this is not the case for all women, and our genshin men are so sexy, how could we resist them?

Since I now have an AO3 account, I decided to rewrite the first versions of this series to post them on it. I hope you'll still enjoy them.

Part 1 Diluc, Zhongli, Kaeya, Xiao, Venti, Albedo, Kazuha, Childe.

Part 2 Scaramouche, Dainsleif, Thomas.

Part 3 Dottore, Pantalone, Alhaitham.

Part 4 Cyno, Ayato.

Part 5 Tighnari.

"No one is allowed to enter ma'am."

The Fatui guards blocked your way, preventing you from reaching your companion. "I must see Capitano, it's important." You tried your luck again, trying to force your way through, but the two men, clearly stronger than you, pushed you back as if you weighed nothing. One of them wrapped his hand around your arm, the iron grip he put on it making you wince in pain. "Our captain is not seeing anyone today." And he shoved you violently backwards, causing you to fall. "You brute! Let me in! I'm his fiancé!" The two men looked at each other for a few seconds before a loud laugh escaped from them. You looked at them with bewildered eyes, pondering what was funny about what you had said. The larger of the two was the first to calm down, stepping forward calmly before bending down to grab your already sore arm. He lifted you up violently, pulling you towards the exit. "Enough joking, get out where I should show more… Firmness." You were ready to scream in order to alert your lover, until a squeak from his colleague got your attention. The man manhandling you was stopped by a strong hand on his shoulder and when he turned around, he could only see that his captain, your fiancé, was standing behind him, a menacing aura emanating from him. "Lo-Lord Capitano, this woman she-" Capitano's hand came down on his subordinate's wrist, applying a force to it that forced the soldier to release you. "Silence, wait for me here. We'll discuss what just happened later." The man shuddered, stepping aside to let Capitano pass as he gallantly guided you to his office. Once the two of you were alone, you threw yourself into his arms, thanking him for helping you. The man returned your embrace, caressing your back with great gentleness. "I'm sorry for what just happened. What are you doing here my sweet? You should have told me you were coming to see me." You smiled at him as you pulled away from his embrace. Taking his hands in yours, you placed them on your stomach with a bright smile on your face… "You'll be a father soon…" Capitano remained silent for a long time, his masked face still turned to his hands. O Tsaritsa, he was going to have to be much more cruel to the one who had abused you in front of his door. Capitano slowly removed his mask, exposing his battle-scarred features, and then lifted you off the floor, placing you on his incredibly tidy desk. He leaned in, placing kiss after kiss on your lips…

Capitano didn't want a child. War, fighting, the cruelty of this world and death were part of his daily life. But you changed his world. With you, he discovered love, the warmth of a home and the happiness of a family. He quickly imagined himself with his baby in his arms, although an illogical fear was born in his heart. It would be so small compared to him. Did his hands, covered in blood, have the right to touch such a frail and defenseless being? Fortunately, you were by his side to reassure him and guide him toward the future that awaited you both.

Unfortunately, your beloved captain often had to leave for missions entrusted to him by the Tsaritsa. He was never reluctant to leave to accomplish his duty, even if he had to go away from you… He missed you, no doubt, but Capitano was a committed man, faithful to the justice he believed in. But now that you were pregnant, every time he had to leave, his heart was heavy with sorrow. What if something happened to you while he was away? He would ask his superior, Pierro, to watch over you, even from a distance, so that he could leave with peace of mind.

Capitano was already very protective of you. Pregnancy has only strengthened this affectionate side that he usually hid from the world. Believe it or not, you don't want to know what he can do to those who want to hurt you…

When you both sleep, you have taken the habit of curling up against him. Capitano is a light sleeper, and the slightest movement puts him on alert. By the time sleep takes over, he will look at you for a long time, wrapping an arm around your waist and then touching your stomach. He could see that it had become slightly rounded. A peaceful smile spread across his face as he kissed your head resting on his chest with a sigh of contentment.

As soon as he has some time to himself, Capitano will gladly agree to do some shopping with you for the birth of the child. This tall man with an impressive build tended to stand out in the stores, especially since he refused to go out without his mask. However, you kept your cheerful nature, presenting baby clothes with a big smile on your face to your companion who stood beside you, one hand resting tenderly on your lower back, admiring your every move.

Capitano likes to position himself behind you to put his big hands on your belly. He may be content to stay that way, looking over your shoulder while you go about your business. Tender kisses on your neck and jaw will make you smile with amusement and tenderness as he caresses your lower belly, feeling at times the movements of his child…

A little habit that you both have developed: the bath. A privileged moment between the two of you, allowing you to enjoy the warmth and contact of your companion while Capitano savored the sight of your body transforming little by little. He was probably the one who enjoyed this intimacy the most, knowing full well that no one would come and disturb you. His tender and loving side came out wonderfully as he held you in his arms.

Capitano does not want to talk about you and his unborn child with other Harbingers. Other than Pierro, he doesn't trust others enough to keep you safe. He was not fooled about Pulcinella, the man hiding dark ambitions. Arlecchino was a manipulator with a heart of ice, a form of madness eating away at her. The rest of the executors were no better… Perhaps he could make an exception with the eleventh? He had never spoken to him, but he thought Tartaglia would probably be good advice with the children…

Your companion had a very soft, calm and steady voice. Every time he talked to you, you could feel the baby react to the sound of his voice. When you told him, Capitano just smiled, looking away from you. Was it a blush you could see on his ears?

Capitano will be less stingy with his tender words when he's alone with you. Your pregnancy seems to have softened him up a lot and he'll find it much easier to express his feelings towards you. Every "I love you" or "I missed you" he says will be a real treasure for you.

Capitano will be a strict but loving father. He will dedicate his life to his child and of course to you. He will do his best not to be a burden to his son/daughter, as his reputation as the strongest man in all of Teyvat may weigh down such small shoulders.

NSFW Bonus

Capitano would keep his distance from you to prevent his carnal needs from doing you more harm than good. He knew he was rough and sometimes a little mean when he couldn't control himself. Yet it was you who came to him, confessing that you needed him, that you wanted him. How could he resist you?

The doors of his office were still locked by one of you, leaving the field free for your fiancé to lie down on his desk, abruptly pushing on the floor anything that could have hurt you. Taking care to remove his mask before starting anything, his lips would find your mouth as soon as he was free of it. His hands greedily roamed your body, removing the clothes that were in his way. His eyes landed on your belly, which had quickly taken on a few curves, causing a glint of excitement to shine in his pupils. His hands slid tenderly over it, admiring the way your belly was inflating with each breath. It was his child growing inside you. He was the one who had made you pregnant. It made his member harder and harder every time he thought about it. Pulling gently on your legs, Capitano pressed himself against you, making you moan with anticipation as you felt the hardness in his pants against your you. He wanted to make you scream with pleasure, to let the guards outside his door know what he was doing to you and that you were his. No one would dare laugh at you again when you said you were his fiancé or that you were carrying his child.

Capitano wished he had been gentler with you, for fear of hurting his child. But his instincts told him otherwise… Still, he had asked a Fatui doctor for advice about your sexual relations. He was reassured when it was explained that there was no risk to the baby and that sex could even be beneficial in easing the delivery.

While his long fingers took their time preparing you to receive him, Capitano stood straight in front of you, watching your every reaction. Seeing you squirm on his desk, red and moaning at his ministrations made his member more painful than ever. He waited to make you cum on his fingers before slowly removing his sex from its fetters, his eyes never leaving your breathless form. Positioning himself at your entrance, Capitano took your knees between his hands, spreading your legs further apart before he began to thrust. He knew he was big, but you had always taken him without complaint. As soon as he felt your walls give way to his invasion, he immediately began to pound you with force, making his desk creak. Your screams of pleasure made him smile as he heard the murmurs of the guards behind his door. Ceasing to keep his distance from your lips, Capitano let go of your legs to bend toward you, careful not to crush your belly as he used his forearms to lean on the wood of the desk. With a muffled grunt, he kissed you, enjoying the feel of your hands pulling his ebony hair.

Capitano rarely moaned, but when he felt your orgasm tightening his member like a vise, he couldn't stop the pleasure he felt from vibrating his vocal cords. Instead of going slow to follow you, his thrusts became rougher, a dull growl escaping his throat each time he hit your hips. He clenched his fists as he felt his orgasm pouring into you. God, if you weren't already pregnant, he wouldn't have hesitated to do it again… But you were exhausted, the pregnancy taking all your energy. Capitano withdrew, taking the time to kiss your belly before lifting you up in his arms to lie on his couch. Covered by his long coat, you looked at him with loving eyes. You drew him to you, demanding his caresses and kisses. Capitano sighed against your lips, his heart beating with adoration for you.

"Pregnant!"

Kaveh inadvertently shouted through the streets of Sumeru, startling a few passersby as they went about their business. The architect inhaled sharply, grabbing your wrist to take you to a quieter place. Once out of sight, he took your face in his hands, plunging his beautiful gaze into yours. "Are you pregnant?" You smiled at him, tenderly wrapping a hand around his wrist before placing a light kiss on it. Kaveh couldn't believe his ears, his heart drumming in his chest as he seemed about to burst with happiness. Gently, he brought his face closer, pressing his forehead against yours, exhaling a shaky breath from his mouth. As he closed his eyes, a dreamy smile stretching his lips, Kaveh wondered how he had managed to survive so many years without you by his side. You were a blessing in his life, an angel fallen from heaven who offered him love and home. "Thank you my love. Thank you." Simple words in his mouth, yet loaded with emotion. You embraced him, celebrating your happiness to come.

Kaveh had moved in with you, leaving the hell of collocation with Alhaitham for boundless happiness with you. Although his shoulders were still weighed down by the astronomical debt of his latest masterpiece, Kaveh kept his head high, continuing to work hard on numerous projects to clear his debt. He didn't want his problems to cause you stress, especially during pregnancy…

Kaveh took care of everything at home. He would let you rest, especially when he heard you getting up at night to vomit… He would stay with you, holding your hair and helping you clean up afterwards. As soon as you returned to bed to go back to sleep, your companion would encourage you to lie down in his arms, stroking your forehead and hair until your eyes grew heavy.

Since Kaveh couldn't really afford to buy anything for you and your child, he decided to use his architectural skills. He will design and build with the help of Tighnari and Collei a crib and rocking chair and a whole lot of beautiful furniture for the baby's room.

As your belly gets rounder, Kaveh will make it a habit every morning to kiss your belly, saying a sweet "Hello" to his baby before getting up and kissing you tenderly.

Your partner will often offer you afternoons on your terrace. Comfortably seated on cushions, Kaveh would hold you between his legs, one hand on your belly while he read you the book of your choice. You could also just listen to him humming a Sumeru tune, savoring his lips on your scalp.

Alhaitham and Kaveh were "friends". Sure, it was a strange friendship, but the two supported each other in their own way. That's why you weren't surprised when Alhaitham knocked on your door, his face expressionless, holding a teddy bear in his arms… Kaveh looked at his friend with a strange grimace on his face and you couldn't help but laugh at the sight. It was over tea that you were able to chat with Kaveh's friend, sharing with him your wishes for your child.

Arguments were rare in your relationship, but sometimes you felt like your hormones were getting the best of you. You could go from pure anger to tears of sadness after an argument. Kaveh understood your problem and always made sure to hug you, whispering in your ear that he was sorry and that he loved you…

The first time you called Kaveh to put his hand on your belly, the man was speechless as he felt his little one moving around inside. The following times, your companion could not help but tell his baby about his day or even complain about Alhaitham and the wise men or his mom who had gently scolded her for nonsense. With your ear pressed against you, your arms wrapped around your hips, you stroked his hair, rolling your eyes with an amused smile as you listened to your companion confess to your child.

Kaveh often told you that he wished it was a girl. He knew that little girls had a stronger bond with their fathers, especially at a young age. Of course, if you gave birth to a boy, he would spoil and cherish him just as much.

Every outing you took, Kaveh would stand by your side, protecting you from crowds and careless passersby who might inadvertently punch you in the stomach. If someone dared to push you around, the anger in Kaveh's voice and the strength he used to push the person away shocked you every time. Yet you were the one who calmed him down, reassuring him of your health by taking his hand and placing it on your stomach. "You see, our baby is fine." You said to yourself as your child was having fun doing somersaults. Kaveh sighed, calming his nerves before smiling and kissing your forehead apologetically. "I rather think he wants to defend his mother, like his father…" You laughed at his comment.

Between the two of you, Kaveh was definitely the one who was dreading the delivery the most. The closer the date got, the more the fear that the delivery would go wrong invaded his mind. He didn't want to lose you or the baby. His fear could be contagious, fortunately, it was your friends who reassured you. Alhaitham, Tighnari, Collei, Nilou, Layla and even Cyno. All of them promised you that everything would go well and that the doctors who would take care of you were used to deliver even the most difficult babies. This will not stop Kaveh from cuddling you every day, enjoying your closeness and warmth until the big day.

Kaveh will be a very loving and devoted father to his child. He loves to hold his baby in his arms, showing others how perfect his child was. He loves to kiss his chubby cheeks.

NSFW Bonus

Kaveh was the kind of man who was into romance. Whenever he wanted you, he made it clear in a roundabout way. Soft kisses on your lips, sensually running down your neck. Or soft words whispered in your ear as he slowly led you to your room decorated with flowers and some lit candles… But you were the opposite of him.

The first time you felt the irresistible urge to feel him inside you, you pulled him to your room, kissing him fiercely, drawing a surprised moan from his throat. Not having the time to grab your hips to avoid falling, you pushed him onto the bed, spreading him out beneath you. His shocked eyes stared at you as you straddled him, bending towards him to claim his mouth again. Kaveh felt like his body was boiling from the inside out as you wrapped your tongue around his, rubbing your hips against his pelvis. He could feel his member hardening at the sight of you, his eyelids closing sharply at the sudden invasion of desire. Was he allowed to have you while you were pregnant? In doubt, he gently pulled you away from him, slowly catching his breath before asking, "W-Wait, isn't this going to be dangerous for the baby?" He shuddered as you rolled your eyes before smiling at him, your hands clutching at your top to slowly remove it. Kaveh's eyes couldn't turn away from you as he admired your bare body. Hesitantly, he raised his hands to you, first caressing your round belly before moving higher, kneading your breasts free of your bra. He grunted when you moved your hips again…

Kaveh let you undress him, welcoming you into his arms once you were done. He liked to see you sitting on top of him, stroking his member against yours to coat it with your arousal. Kaveh closed his eyes tightly as he felt you slide down his member, his hands coming to rest on your hips to help you get off him. As soon as he opened his eyelids again, he felt his cheeks heat up sharply at the sight of your flushed face, his eyes closed by the feeling of pure happiness that overwhelmed you. To see you in this state, with his member buried in you and the round belly of his child made him mad with desire.

Kaveh took you by surprise when he tightened his grip on your hips, using his feet as a fulcrum to start penetrating you hard. It was not in his habit to behave like this, usually preferring gentle sex. But his sudden brutality made you scream with excitement. Kaveh had never felt this way. Desire was running through his head as he concentrated on the pleasure he was feeling as he pounded into you with force. The noises you were making were making him dizzy and when you called out his name, begging for more, Kaveh knew he was lost. Turning suddenly, careful that nothing hurt your stomach, your lover grabbed your knees, pinning them in the crook of his arms. Despite the haze of desire that prevented him from thinking properly, Kaveh was still careful that the position was not uncomfortable for either you or the baby. As soon as he got your go-ahead, he started pounding you again with rigor.

Kaveh never held back his moans, openly expressing the pleasure he felt when he made love to you. He knew it turned you on to hear him moan your name, your own voice getting louder every time he panted in your ear. He whispered to you how good it felt, how much he loved you and how happy you made him. Sweating, Kaveh slowly felt his end approaching as your walls began to tighten around him. As your screams became more and more high pitched, he applied more force in his thrusts to help you reach your orgasm. Your name came out of his mouth in a final moan as he felt himself coming at the same time as you. His hips slowed their rhythm until they stopped completely. Kaveh slowly separated from you, falling down beside you, out of breath and exhausted… Gradually regaining his senses, he started to sit up to see how you were doing before being interrupted by your hand pushing him back against the bed. A smile was frozen on his lips as he watched you straddle him again, a smug expression on his face. God, you were insatiable and terribly sexy as he watched your hand slowly caress your belly until it fell on his member… He felt that the next few months of pregnancy were going to be a real physical ordeal for him…

"Diluc I… I'm pregnant."

Diluc dropped the quill he used for signing several contracts with Fontaine's clients, staining the papers beneath. His round eyes stared at you as he kept his mouth slightly open. You could see his hands trembling as he backed up in his chair, clearly frightened by your admission. He could feel the world spinning around him, dizziness clouding his ability to think. He didn't understand how this could have happened, knowing that you were both protecting each other. You were everything to him, his life, his heart, his world, and now you were giving him a child. He was happy but also so scared… Yes, Diluc was afraid. Scared of losing you. Scared of hurting you. Scared of… Not being a good father. He had never known his mother, who died at birth, and his father, whose sudden and violent death left him with deep scars in his heart. What if the same thing happened to you as to his mother? Or if Diluc suffered the same fate as his father? He couldn't bear it… He would never forgive himself, even in death. Your lover gasped when he felt your fingers gently caress his cheek, taking him away from the dark thoughts that were invading his mind. "Diluc, darling calm down." - You cuddled his cheekbones, then his ear, before tangling your fingers in his hair and pressing his forehead against yours. The gentleness in your eyes calmed his doubt-ridden heart and he finally allowed himself to breathe peacefully. - "You will be wonderful. You always have been." - His hands had stopped shaking as he took yours in his. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. The fear had left him. Happiness was right there in front of his eyes, he loved you so much and he will love this little being that you both had created just as much.

Diluc has always been very considerate and gentle with you. And he was even more so since your pregnancy. Every word, every caress he offered you made you feel like you were falling in love with him all over again.

During your seventh week of pregnancy, the problems associated with it became more and more complicated to bear, often forcing you to lie in your marital bed with a cold cloth over your eyes. The pain pounding in your head and nausea were especially bad in the morning. Although Diluc had a lot of work to do, he stayed by your side, moving your head to his thighs to massage your temples and forehead. He hated seeing you in so much pain and not being able to do anything about it. So he asked some friends what could help you with your nausea. Lisa advised him to make you a ginger drink, which was well within Diluc's capabilities.

Your companion has always been a protective man. Too protective. You knew he had deep-seated fears about you, and the thought of anything happening to you while he was away terrified him. Of course, you weren't going to complain about spending more time with him, but you didn't want him to put aside his business or nightly duties for you. So you gently scolded him, reminding him that you weren't made of sugar, just pregnant. With a tender smile, you kissed him, promising him that you would take care of yourself while he was away.

You stopped counting the number of times Diluc put his hands on your belly, savoring the curves that were gradually taking shape. He loved to caress it while he held you close. It was a warm and intimate moment, taking advantage of the private time between you to bury his face in your neck and kiss you. Most of the time he kept his eyes closed, imagining your life when the baby was born. That reality took on a clearer shape in his brain when he felt his baby move against his hands for the first time. Tears welled up in his eyes, wondering if it was possible for him to be happier.

As soon as sleep came, Diluc, who tended to fall asleep later, would lie down next to your belly, placing tender kisses on it before whispering sweet nothings to his baby. "I'll protect you and mom.", "I love you both so much." His baby would respond positively to his voice, pressing against your belly to form a small bump. Diluc would smile, responding to his child by stroking that spot.

Diluc had gotten into the habit of helping you support the weight of your belly when you went out. He could see that it was getting harder and harder for you to stand, so whenever he could, Diluc would go behind your back, resting his chin on your shoulder and wrapping his arms around your hips. His large hands would reach under your belly, helping you support the baby's weight. Who cares if people looked at him, didn't he have the right to support his wife? Plus, it made it easier for him to kiss you, his lips brushing your shoulder, neck and jaw with tenderness before whispering his love for you.

Your husband was an excellent cook, and although Adelinde was the one who did most of the cooking, Diluc wanted to prepare it for you personally. He insisted on using only the best produce, even going so far as to have the fruits and vegetables he needed planted in the estate gardens. This man loved to shower you with affection, which is why he would bring you a beautifully flowered tray to bed every morning, with a dish he had specially prepared on top.

Diluc didn't care if his child was a boy or a girl, he only cared that it was healthy and safe. The fear of childbirth had never left him, and as the due date approached, the fear gripped his heart. He vowed to stay by your side and hold your hand during the birth, making sure to call on the best doctors and midwives in all of Mondstadt to accompany you through this ordeal.

When you reached the eighth month of pregnancy, Diluc caught you looking at yourself half-naked in front of the mirror, studying your round belly as he slowly ran a hand over it, his lips stretched by your sweet smile. Diluc admired the scene, his eyes shining with love. The baby would be here soon and he thought, seeing you like this, that you would be an incredible mother. Diluc silently approached, coming up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and placing his hands on yours. His eyes stayed on your reflection as he felt you melt further into his embrace. Diluc sighed, happy and content.

Upon learning of your pregnancy, Kaeya had decided to spend more time at the Dawn Winery, trying to ease Diluc's shoulders by being with you. This was difficult at first, as there was always an icy coldness between them. But as the weeks went by, the two men began to speak cordially to each other. You could sometimes see them smiling at each other as they talked about the baby and how Kaeya would be the best uncle in Teyvat. The gifts he gave for your child always ended up in the baby's future room. A stuffed animal that resembled an owl would wait warmly in the crib for the arrival of the Ragnvindr offspring.

Sometimes Diluc was forced to leave the manor late because a source told him of abyssal mages, Fatui, or bandits lurking around his lands. For your safety, Diluc would put on his Darknight hero outfit and go hunting. Even though you were asleep most of the time, Diluc would always offer you and the baby a kiss and an "I love you both" before he left. He would do so as quickly as possible, reluctant to leave you alone in the manor with only a few maids unable to defend you in case of attack. Fortunately, and Diluc knew this, the source of his information, specifically Kaeya, was keeping a close eye on the Dawn Winery.

Diluc would be a very gentle and loving father. His heart warmed every time he held his baby close. It was a little being that seemed so fragile in his arms. The first time he held him, tears welled up in his eyes as he looked at him in silence, becoming more emotional as his baby's tiny hand wrapped around his finger. He vowed inwardly to do everything he could to protect his family.

Bonus NSFW:

Diluc was amazed at how much you'd been craving sex since you were pregnant. Even though your sex life had always been full, with Diluc satisfying your needs to perfection, you now sometimes went to him more than once during the day to ask for his help, pulling his tie to lure him into your bedroom. His cheeks were flushed with excitement as he obediently allowed himself to be dragged along by you. Once in the privacy of your room, Diluc locked the door, pinning you against it. His lips, eager for you, crushed against your mouth with desperate force, while his hands grabbed your knees to lift you up. Wrapping your legs around his hips, Diluc took advantage of having his hands free to grab your ass, allowing him to press his growing erection against your folds. Moaning against his lips, you savored the languid movements of his hips against you…

Diluc thought back to the first time you'd made love since you were pregnant. He had been so afraid of hurting you that he had just made you cum on his fingers and tongue, completely ignoring his needs. The second time, you reassured him that the baby was safe, that he could enter you without any problems. You didn't have to say it twice. Now there he was, holding you against the door, struggling to get your clothes off. Archon, he felt so insatiable! Already this morning he had woken you up with his mouth and fingers, waiting patiently for your eyes to open and asking for more…

At first, Diluc went slowly with you, treating you like glass that would shatter at the touch of his fingers. His back and forth was sensual as his fingers happily caressed your belly. He can't help but kiss you, his tongue wrapping around yours. His hands roamed your body with passion, enjoying the softness of your skin against his palms.

Now that your clothes were on the ground, he didn't bother to remove his own, simply unzipping the front of his pants and then pulling down his underwear to free his member. Lord, you were already ready for him, he didn't even have to prepare you with his fingers. Was it the pregnancy that made you like this? He'd never admit it, but he loved feeling you so in love with him as he was with you. With one of his arms still holding you firmly in place, Diluc used his free hand to position his sex at your entrance, penetrating the tip first before slowly working his way in. His gentle back and forth movements made you see the stars and as soon as he hit bottom, his movements stopped, probably waiting for his breathing to calm down. The pleasure was so great that his body trembled against you. His soft grunts against your ear drove you wild with excitement as you felt Diluc press you closer to him, melting you into his embrace. He left no space between the two of you, allowing himself to feel your little round belly against his abs. His shirt prevented him from fully feeling your body against his, and he cursed himself inwardly for his impatience. Slowly, his hips began to roll against you, making you moan his name against his ear. Diluc kept his jaw firmly clenched, occasionally hissing with pleasure as he felt your walls tighten around him. It felt so good that he had to hold back hard to keep from cumming immediately. He hadn't even begun to come properly… As he languidly rolled his hips against you, his face hidden in your hair, he heard your pleas against his ear. Faster. Harder. This is what you wanted. Well, then he would grant your wishes. Grabbing your buttocks more firmly, Diluc began to penetrate you hard and fast, making you scream his name. Archon, he could feel your nails scratching at his back, and despite the pain, it excited him more. The door creaked with his pounding and he was sure all his employees were aware of your lovemaking. But he would have time to worry about that later, continuing to pound you, being careful not to hit your belly. He rarely got to a point where he couldn't control his own sounds, but it was when he felt completely lost in you that his moans got louder, more ferocious with each swing of his hips. His sex ached as he quickened the pace of his thrusts, feeling your orgasm approaching. He let a loud grunt escape him as your walls tightened around him.

He savored the feel of your hands on his shoulder blades, on his neck and in his hair, feeling the love and passion of your actions. He came inside you, again and again, going straight back to the assault when he was done. Since you were pregnant, the urges he once managed to control were now overpowering his reason. He wanted you and your lustful looks didn't encourage him to calm down. He was going to satisfy you in the best way possible, as many times as necessary and for as long as you would let him.

#genshin impact smut #genshin impact #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #capitano #capitano fluff #capitano x reader #capitano smut #kaveh #kaveh x reader #kaveh smut #diluc #diluc fluff #diluc smut #genshin capitano #genshin kaveh #genshin diluc #diluc x reader #genshin imagines #genshin smut #genshin harbingers

[soapskneebrace]

disquiet comfort

Pairing: John Price x f!Reader Rating: Explicit (18+ only) Word Count: 1.8k Warnings: voyeurism, implied masturbation, John is very lonely and very horny Author's Notes: I tried to get this out yesterday as a birthday present to myself, but I was so dead tired it wasn't gonna happen. Late is better than never! MASTERLIST Now on Ao3!

John hears the creak of your bed springs the next morning.

He’s not surprised by it—you’re not the first neighbor he’s had, only the first he’s met. He knows how thin the walls are now, and has long passed the point of finding it annoying. He listens as the sound of your taps coming on filters through drywall and insulation at a low hum, thinks he can hear the buzz of an electric toothbrush. He wonders if you can hear his razor going as he trims his mustache.

It feels nice to have this odd company, he thinks. The two of you, going through the same motions. It strikes an old, abandoned chord—he hasn’t woken up with anyone in a long, long time.

He puts his razor down and squashes the thought flat. His neighbor—his kind, pretty neighbor—does not need him to think like that. Even if your eyes had traveled the length and breadth of his body before making it to his face.

He meets his own eyes in the mirror, giving himself a flat look. He isn’t used to civilian life. Answering the door shirtless had probably been some sort of faux pas. If you’d been looking, you’d probably been more disconcerted than anything else. That’s the long and short of it, he tells himself, because there’s no room for anything else.

John is never very good at being home. The things that keep him alive out there—hyperawareness, sharply defined mission parameters, strict operational regimens—are, at home, needs that go unmet. Liverpool is not a popular terrorist hotbed he needs to pay attention to. He isn’t going to die if he forgets to buy milk. And he can only go to the gym so often.

But he needs something to do, or he’s going to go crazy.

So today he does on leave what he dreams of in the field: he has his first of two showers for the day, makes himself breakfast in his own kitchen, and turns on the telly for the noise. It’s some dumb morning show, with too-clean hosts shilling for weird kitchen tools. Easy to ignore.

Inevitably, he thinks about Mexico. About Shepherd. About Chicago, and Hassan, and Laswell telling him he needs to get some goddamn rest before he kills himself trying to stop a war that isn’t even happening.

“Yet,” he’d ground out.

She’d just stared at him with dagger-sharp eyes and told him to go home.

John bites into his toast harder than a grown man told to take a fucking vacation should, and turns up the volume.

Three soft, polite taps sound on the wall.

John blinks. Remembers the previous morning, what he’d said to you. The remote is in his hand before he thinks about it, the mute button depressed beneath a quick thumb.

The quiet is like the end of a gunfight. Unsteady.

He waits. He doesn’t know what for. The silence stretches. He notices a shaft of sunlight coming through his window, little motes of dust dancing in the air, as he looks around his own flat for some reason. It’s habit—surveying a battlefield after it’s been passed over by violence.

He looks back to the space above the TV. Rises carefully from his seat. Goes over to the wall.

Raps his knuckles twice against it. All good?

Immediately there are two taps in response. Yes, thanks! And the break of the still silence is like a soap bubble popping. John breathes, and then realizes he hadn’t been.

There are no further knocks. It disappoints him, but he does not expect them. It’s just a friendly interaction between neighbors.

It doesn’t matter. It feels like something has unknotted in his chest.

-

He feels almost like a voyeur as the day goes on. He hears when you work in your kitchen, notes the muffled clang of a pan on the stove. He hears your dishwasher run later, and briefly wonders at the utility of using it for so few dishes.

You’re on the phone at one point, but he can’t make out the conversation. He only half-tries to, but the even the indistinct, low sound of your voice is comforting. It reminds him of late nights in the barracks, listening to bunk mates talk while trying not bother anyone else. The closest to domestic comfort John has really ever had.

You turn music on at one point, something soulful and a little moody. John thinks it might be Marvin Gaye, but he’s not sure. The urge to knock on your door and ask is a strong one, but he doesn’t think you need a lonely old soldier bothering you in the middle of your day. At least, not any more than he already has. And before he can figure it out for himself, he hears you exclaim “Oh, shit!” and the volume immediately drops.

He has to smile at that. It’s a rare luxury for him to experience these days, that kind of consideration.

Something in his chest gives a little jump when he hears two knocks on his wall again. Sorry, he thinks you’re saying.

He knocks twice back. All good.

He should not feel so invigorated by this exchange.

You leave the house a little after noon—he hears your door open and close, and the jingle of keys followed by footsteps quickly retreating. Then, your noise is gone.

John and silence do not go well together. Too quickly, the quiet closes in, and John thinks if he stays in his own home a minute longer he’ll suffocate from it—so he takes your cue, and leaves. He isn’t really sure what to do, but he has to do it anywhere else.

-

He gets home after you do, sore from the weight racks and full on pub food and a few pints. The sky is dark and the sidewalks are illuminated in yellow lamplight, and the air hums with the wind of cars driving in the distance. He sees your window lit up bright and warm, and the relief it fills him with is disproportionate to how anyone should feel knowing that their neighbor is home.

Where did you go during the day, he finds himself wondering? What are you making for dinner? What will you do once you’ve eaten?

John realizes he’s standing there staring at your window, and scowls at himself. He’s a fucking creep, that’s what he is. A pretty neighbor talks to him once, fucking welcomes him home like any nice person would, and suddenly he’s pining like a stupid little schoolboy.

He goes inside. Hears you in your kitchen again and convinces himself he’s ignoring it. Tries to find something to stay awake with. Has one cigar more than he’d planned for the day, and thinks at least he’ll get to go out and get more sooner—something to do with the wealth of time he didn’t ask to receive.

He’s already in bed, second shower finished, when he hears activity on the other side of the wall. He hadn’t really been falling asleep, but he’s wide awake now, and feeling like a pervert as he listens to your bath come on.

He hasn’t gone to bed with anyone in a long time, either.

John lays there in the dark, eyes open, and tries to ignore how easy it is to breathe as the water runs muffled only a few feet away. He doesn’t acknowledge the fact that he can hear again the tiny buzz of a toothbrush a little after the flow shuts off. He listens to the creak of your bed and does not think about how warm your skin must be, how softly the sheets must fall around your body.

He closes his eyes. He tries to sleep. He isn’t thinking about listening to your breathing beside him. He isn’t drifting off imagining the smell of your hair on his pillow…

He hears a tiny buzz again. Brushing your teeth a second time? No, it’s closer now…

Oh. OH.

John’s eyes fly open. Your bed creaks again. He is rigid under the covers, every muscle tensed. He breathes consciously, testing the limits of his diaphragm, counting to three between each inhale and exhale. He is desperate that his pulse remain even, that his blood refrain from rushing through his ears and other parts.

A small sound. Breathy. Low.

John slaps his hand against his thigh before it can move any further inward. He curls his fingers around the hem of his briefs, grips the fabric as if it’s going to save his damn life. Clenches his other hand into a fist, digs his nails into his palm.

What expression is on your face? What is the scent of your toothpaste on your breath?

What angle are you holding that vibrator at?

You give a low moan again.

His breath shallows out. John considers giving the wall a tap but dismisses the option immediately and ruthlessly. He will take his secret audience to the fucking grave. And he’d shoot himself before denying you this—and, he thinks shamefully, denying himself this, too.

He should get up. He should go into his living room and give you privacy. Your bed creaks again. He remembers his own mattress tends to the same disruption. He can’t move, because it would effect the same outcome as a knock—you’d know exactly how thin the walls are, know that he’s right there and that he’s only leaving after he’s already gotten an earful.

Another sound, higher. John isn’t sure he’s breathing anymore. What did your skin feel like? Would his fingers fit you better than that toy? Would his cock?

He thinks he feels a nail break skin. He tries to think of anything other than the throb of blood and heat between his legs, between your legs.

You give a sudden, high-pitched cry, one that abruptly cuts off.

John knows you’ve buried your face in your pillow to quiet yourself. His entire body twinges with the disappointment of it. He breathes so lowly as to be silent, to give space to your noise, and waits.

But the buzzing stops. Your bed shifts again, and then all is silent.

Wait. What?

Was that it?

The silence stretches. John does not move. That was it.

John does not think about how much longer he could’ve made that last. He does not think about teasing you with his hands, his lips, his tongue. Does not picture your legs hung up high on his hips.

His cock aches. He ignores it.

The gym tomorrow. And then a run. Maybe a drive to the coast, and a dip in the cold ocean.

It wouldn’t be enough, but it had to be something. John isn’t going to get a minute of sleep, and he’s going to be hearing that cut-off moan for a long, long time.

Taglist: @yeyinde @guyfieriiii @aduckingpain @jaimiespn @aconstructofamindd @trashy-panda77777 @lich1 @smoggyfogbottom @cielobgers @antigonusyukii @bubble-dream-inc @monsterhighsblog

The taglist is closed. Thanks everyone for your interest.

#john price x reader #john price x you #captain john price x you #captain john price x reader #captain john price #mw2 price #mw2 x reader #mw2 fanfic #mwii #cod mwii #mw2 #mw2 imagine #cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod:mw2 #cod imagine #mw2 smut #cod smut #call of duty imagine #call of duty fanfic #price x reader #og post #need to make a masterlist... #neighbors au

[believemedarlin]

Call Me Yours

Aaron Hotcher/Female Reader (9.4k words) Also available on AO3

Summary:

You blamed it on the alcohol.

The combination of a glass of wine with dinner, after-dinner drinks, a couple of shots, and the overall joviality of the night was surely the reason why you felt it was a brilliant idea to confess aloud your teeny tiny minuscule barely even there crush on one Aaron Hotchner to your friend Penelope.

OR

Five times you regretted telling Penelope your secret crush and the one time you didn’t.

You blamed it on the alcohol.

The combination of a glass of wine with dinner, after-dinner drinks, a couple of shots, and the overall joviality of the night was surely the reason why you felt it was a brilliant idea to confess aloud your teeny tiny minuscule barely even there crush on one Aaron Hotchner to your friend Penelope.

Thankfully, it had only been the two of you in her apartment when you blurted out your long-held thoughts on the BAU’s unit chief. 

Penelope, of course, had been delighted to hear that you were smitten with the boss-man and wasted no time in plotting and planning your confession to him.

To which you had laughed heartily and patted her hand conciliatorily—and perhaps a bit patronizingly at such a silly idea—because there was no way in this great big beautiful world of ours that you would ever say those words to Agent Hotchner’s face.

Because then he would hear them and then he would know and then what would you do?

You supposed it wouldn’t be too hard to pack up and move to someplace like Timbuktu, or Wales, or New Zealand, never to speak with anyone ever again. You’re sure you could find a way to make a living wherever you ended up.

Because you knew that confessing to him could only lead to one thing and you weren’t up for that level of rejection, no matter how gently he tried to deliver it—and you knew he would be as kind as possible. That was an interaction you could live without, thank you very much.

You had planned to keep your burgeoning feelings tucked safely away in a hidden corner of your heart, only to be brought out on special occasions and holidays like fine china. Or, if you were being honest, after every interaction you had with the man and sometimes late at night when the loneliness was at its peak.

But you had never planned on telling anyone, let alone your co-worker turned friend who was notoriously bad at keeping secrets and a world-class meddler.

Thus began a war of wills between you and your friend; Penelope, determined to help you find love and happiness with a man she was convinced was just as smitten with you as you were with him, and you, ready to thwart her at every turn because there was no way a man like him would ever be interested in you. 

***

The first skirmish happened a few days after your drunken divulgence.

You were standing in Penelope’s lair, taking notes on the tasks she needed your help with.

Like her, you were a technical analyst, though you worked in another department. You were nowhere near the caliber of Penelope—few were—but you were capable at your job. That was how you met her, in fact. You had been called in to help with some background checks and surface-level research while Penelope had been tasked with a deep dive that needed her full attention. 

That was also how you met Agent Hotchner. 

You had been hurrying out of the elevator and down the hall to the office your supervisor directed you to, focusing on finding the correct door—both nervous and excited to be assigned to help the prestigious BAU—when you accidentally bumped into a tall man exiting said office. Though bumped into was a gentle way of saying that you rammed your face straight into his chest at full speed.

You heard a low oof as the head-on collision caused you to bounce backward on your heels and you could feel yourself teetering before a large, warm hand steadied you.

You looked up—and up, he really was impressively tall compared to you—into dark eyes set in a rather stern face. The imposing man stared down intently at you with a furrowed brow and for one panic-fueled moment, you felt as though those eyes could see into your very soul.

But then rationality returned and you realized you were standing incredibly close to a stranger that you had literally just run into. 

You had backed up immediately causing his hand to drop from your arm and your traitorous brain had quickly noted multiple things simultaneously; namely that his chest was appealingly firm, that he smelled amazing, and that his hand had felt comfortingly warm. 

Any one of those thoughts would have been enough to make you blush, but the combination created an almost overwhelming heat that quickly flooded your cheeks.

“I am so sorry,” you blurted as you straightened, regaining your balance. “I wasn’t looking where I was going and didn’t see you and I didn’t mean to nearly bowl you over. Are you okay? I really am sorry—”

“Yes, I’m fine,” a low, gruff voice interrupted. “Are you? You hit pretty hard.”

Your face was positively flaming now. 

“I am so sorry.” You shook your head. “I’m okay. No pain beyond excruciating embarrassment. I promise I am usually much more aware of my surroundings.”

The hint of a smile softened his features. “No harm done. Was there something I could help you with?”

You smiled, relieved that he wasn’t upset with you and more than happy to change the topic. “I’m looking for a Miss Garcia? My supervisor Agent O’Neill sent me.”

“Ah, yes. I was expecting you. I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner, I asked Sam to send me her best.”

The blush that had finally started to recede reared back to life as you grinned sheepishly. “Rest assured, my computer skills are much better than my coordination.”

And that’s when your life as you knew it was changed forever because Aaron Hotchner had the audacity to smile at you. Dimples and all. 

Then he chuckled. Lowly and gruffly and insanely attractively. 

And you were instantly smitten, with no hope of reversing the damage that had been done by the proverbial Cupid’s arrow that he’d just launched at you.

With no regard for your sudden life-altering moment, Agent Hotchner had unceremoniously guided you into Miss Garcia’s office, performed a quick introduction, and then sauntered off without a second glance, unknowingly carrying away a tiny piece of your heart in his hands.

It had taken you a few moments to focus on the task at hand, but Penelope had been patient with you, and once you were able to shake off the effects of meeting Agent Hotchner, the two of you got down to business.

You and Penelope had worked well together that day and you had since been asked back multiple times. Hence your summons to her domain today.

The two of you were wrapping up when a knock sounded at the door and Agent Hotchner entered.

“Garcia, I—Oh, good she’s here. I was just going to suggest you call in some reinforcements if you needed any help but seems you beat me to it.” He smiled at Penelope and acknowledged you with a nod. “Nice to see you again.”

It took you a second to realize he was speaking to you—as focused as you were on his incredibly distracting smile—causing you to rush out your response in a moment of embarrassment. “Oh, yes sir. Nice to see you too, Agent Hotchner.”

His eyes did a cursory scan of you, something you noticed he did every time you saw him, though you guessed that was something ingrained in him at this point after all his years as a profiler. “You can call me Hotch, if you’d like. Everyone else does.”

You prayed your face was not glowing as pink as you thought it was. “Oh, I… Thank you, but I…” 

You sighed, frustrated with how you were stumbling over your words.

Thankfully, his phone rang before things became even more awkward and he excused himself. You could hear his curt “Hotchner” as the door closed behind him.

You kept your back to Penelope, but you could practically feel the elation radiating from her.

“Saved by the cell, huh?” Her teasing tone was only a tiny bit irritating. You couldn’t really blame her. You’d be teasing her if the situation were reversed.

You pressed your hands to your burning cheeks and turned to look at her. “Okay. On a scale of one to ten, how bad was that really?”

“Oh, a solid five.”

You groaned.

“But there is a silver lining.”

“How? I completely forgot the entirety of the English language and I’m sure I could heat the room with my face.”

Penelope chuckled and leaned forward. “Don’t think I didn’t notice him taking a good look at you. Those eyes lingered on their way back up, too.” She smiled smugly. “I told you that skirt was fire.”

“No, I seriously doubt that’s what he was noticing. He was probably just reading my incredibly awkward body language.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’d love to study your body in every language.”

“Penelope!”

***

It was two weeks later, and thankfully you hadn’t had another awkward encounter with Agent Hotcher.

Though, you knew it was likely you were living on borrowed time. 

You were arriving to work with Penelope, having met at her favorite cafe to grab breakfast together before heading in. You each had decided to surprise your respective teams with their own treats as well, so you both were juggling your drinks and a large box of delicious-smelling pastries.

As you approached the entrance, one of the guards spotted you and kindly held a door open for you to enter. Not wanting him to wait, you hurried up the steps only to trip on the last one, nearly dropping everything as you stumbled about, trying to regain your balance. You managed to save the pastries, but your half-full coffee tumbled to the ground, the lid popping open and spraying you with the contents. 

Penelope turned back to check on you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just tripped.” You looked down to see your new heels completely soaked. 

Bending down, you quickly dabbed at the coffee staining your shoes with the napkins you’d grabbed at the cafe, hoping the liquid would just wipe off. It did not.

You huffed as you stood. “Well, fuck. I just bought these.” 

Good thing you kept an extra pair of shoes in your office.

Penelope blinked. “Did you just cuss?”

You blinked back at her. “Yes?”

She gasped dramatically. “I’ve never heard you cuss before!”

You resisted rolling your eyes as you continued past her into the lobby, thanking the guard who was still gallantly holding the door. You spoke over your shoulder to Penelope. “Oh, come on. It’s just a word.”

“I know but I can’t believe my little Cinnamon Roll just used an expletive!”

“Your Cinnamon Roll? I thought that was Morgan.”

“Nope. He’s my Chocolate Thunder. Or Hot Stuff. Or Angel Face. You are my Cinnamon Roll.”

You snorted as you walked through the metal detectors, gathering your items again on the other side. “How am I the cinnamon roll when you’re here?”

“Because that’s what you are, sugar.” She blew you a kiss as she grabbed her things.

You eyed her suspiciously. “This is going to be what you call me from now on, isn’t it?”

She smiled gleefully. “Yep!” 

“Well, if I’m going to be Cinnamon Roll, then I’m calling you Cupcake.”

“Cupcake?”

“Yeah, because cupcakes are all bright and colorful, fun and sweet. Like you.”

Penelope grinned. “Aw, thanks.”

You wrinkled your nose at her. “You’re welcome.” 

You balanced the pastry box in one hand as you pressed the elevator call button. “And I guess I’ll accept being your Cinnamon Roll. Makes a bit of sense, actually. They may not always be the best looking things but they are sweet and a little spicy. Maybe a bit dry sometimes but always enjoyable.”

“What’s dry but enjoyable?”

You startled at the deep voice coming from behind you, turning to see Agent Hotchner looking between the two of you. Beside you, Penelope was grinning mischievously. 

“Cinnamon rolls.” She chirped, looking much too pleased at the turn of events. 

You could feel the blush coming as you heard the ding signaling the arriving elevator.

Being the gentleman that he was, Agent Hotchner reached forward to hold the doors, gesturing for the two of you to enter. He followed you in and hit the buttons for both of your floors.

Penelope glanced at you with a smirk. “You like cinnamon rolls, don’t you sir?”

Agent Hotchner hummed in agreement. “I do. They’re my favorite breakfast treat, actually.”

“Your favorite, huh?” Penelope waggled her eyebrows at you and you thanked everything that was good that Agent Hotcher was standing in front of her and didn’t look around to see her display or the ever-persistent blush on your face his mere presence caused.

“Good thing I grabbed some to share this morning then.” Penelope winked at you.

Agent Hotchner looked over his shoulder at her, his eyes darting to you briefly. “I wouldn’t say no to a cinnamon roll.”

He faced forward again while you tried your hardest not to die on the spot.

Penelope nudged you with her elbow, her face more gleeful than you’d ever seen it.

The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors slid open to your floor, saving you from more of Penelope’s not-at-all subtle teasing.

Agent Hotcher stepped to the side, allowing you to exit, which you did with a nod, forcing yourself to look anywhere but him. “Have a good day, Pen. Agent Hotchner.”

“You, too.” 

You closed your eyes at the sound. Did he have to say it all low and raspy like that? Didn’t he know he should be careful how he wielded that voice of his? It was dangerous, to both your heart and your knickers.

You rushed down the hall without a second glance.

An hour later, you received a text from Penelope, and you couldn’t help but laugh. She’d sent a photo of the team enjoying their pastries, with a heart drawn around Agent Hotcher as he took a large bite from one of the cinnamon rolls. See, her accompanying text said, he looooves cinnamon rolls.

***

A few days later, you were in the BAU bullpen chatting with Penelope and Morgan before heading home for the day. 

You were chuckling at the back-and-forth banter between the two when a bright voice cried, “Miss Penelope!”

The three of you turned to see an excited Jack Hotchner rushing towards you, his beleaguered aunt not far behind.

You had met Jack a few times and always enjoyed seeing the cheerful boy, who was now giving Penelope a fierce hug.

“Hey, mini Hotch! How’s it going?”

Jack beamed up at Penelope. “I did it! I got an A on that presentation you helped me with. The teacher liked the design and everything! She said it was very creative.”

“That’s awesome!” Penelope cheered.

“Way to go, little man!” Morgan gave Jack a high-five while you and his aunt Jessica shared a grin.

“I was going to take him home like usual,’ Jessica said. “But he insisted he had to tell Miss Penelope immediately.”

“What was the presentation on, Jack?” You asked.

He turned with a grin. “Darth Vader: From Hero to Villian to Heroic Anti-Villian.”

Your lips curled into a matching grin. “That sounds amazing actually.”

“The teacher even let me do part of the presentation in my mask!”

“You have a Darth Vader mask?”

He nodded. “It’s a full mask that lights up and everything.”

“That’s so cool. Does it augment your voice and do the—“ You mimicked Darth Vader’s breathing as best you could. It was a poor imitation, but it made Jack giggle, so you counted it as a win anyway.

“It does! My dad got me the full costume for Halloween.”

“That sounds like the best costume ever. I’m sad I missed seeing it.”

“Oh, Aunt Jessica videoed it. I can show you, if you want.”

“Yeah, I’d love that.” 

You looked to Jessica with a smile as Jack blurted out. “Okay!” 

And with that, he spun and dashed towards his dad’s office.

“Wait, Jack! Don’t… Aaand he’s gone.” You looked towards Jessica, Penelope, and Morgan, who all just shrugged.

Moments later Jack returned, pulling a confused Agent Hotchner behind him. He stopped beside you and looked up at his dad. “I need your phone please.”

Agent Hotchner blinked. “What do you need it for?”

Jack pointed at you. “So I can show her that video of my Vader costume,” he said in a tone that implied he thought the reason was obvious.

“The video that your aunt, who’s standing right beside her, also has on her phone?”

“Yeah.” Jack replied.

“Then why did you need my phone?”

Jack shrugged. “I dunno. You always let me use it when I ask.”

With the long-suffering sigh of a father used to his son’s antics, Agent Hotchner pulled out his phone to pull up the video, then handed it to Jack. “Here.”

“Thanks, Dad!” Jack smiled sweetly at him. 

You could feel your biological clock screaming at you as you witnessed Agent Hotchner completely soften and smile down at his son fondly, all the irritation from a moment ago forgotten.

Holy moly, but fatherhood was a good look on him. You’d never really been interested in the concepts of DILFs, but you certainly were now.

With your ogling, you nearly missed the start of the video when Jack held it a bit too closely to your face in his eagerness to share it with you. You steadied it with your hand and lowered it so you could watch it together.

You grinned as you watched Jack having the time of his life, fully decked out in the coolest Darth Vader costume you had ever seen, as he wielded his lightsaber and used the Force to ‘open’ a set of elevator doors.

You listened as he explained all the features of the costume and lightsaber, and how he still liked to put it on sometimes at home. 

“Dad said the next free weekend we have, we can watch all of the movies together.”

“That sounds like a lot of fun. I used to watch them with my mom and we’d stock up on candy and popcorn. Of course, there were only three movies back then.”

“Really? Which is your favorite movie?”

“Return of the Jedi.”

Jack gasped. “That’s Dad’s favorite, too!”

You glanced at Agent Hotchner, shooting him a quick smile, before Jack drew your attention again by asking another question. “Who is your favorite character? I like Darth Vader but Luke is cool too.”

“Princess Leia.”

“Oh,” Jack said sounding a little disappointed. “But she didn’t have a lightsaber or use the Force or anything.”

“No, but she is a princess with a blaster, and she’s just as tough as the guys. She took down Jabba with a chain. And she’s really clever.”

Jack tilted his head and squinted his eyes in thought before nodding. “Yeah, you’re right. She’s actually pretty cool for a princess.”

“And her second favorite character is Han Solo.” Penelope chimed in. She turned to you with a much too innocent smile. “Isn’t he the one who inspired your admiration of tall, dark, and handsome men?”

If death by glare were possible, Penelope would become its latest statistic.

Jack spoke excitedly beside you while you kept your lethal glare focused on your friend and pointedly did not look at anyone else. Especially the tall, dark, and handsome man standing nearby. “Dad! She likes Han Solo, too!”

Agent Hotchner chuckled. “Yeah, I heard buddy.”

“She likes your favorite movie and your favorite character!”

“She must have good taste, then.”

“Oh, she does,” Penelope agreed. “Impeccable taste. In fact, you might be pleasantly surprised by the things she loves.”

You couldn’t bear to look at Agent Hotchner’s reaction to that, so you dropped your eyes to your hands, fiddling with the phone you were still holding.

His phone.  

You squeezed your eyes shut before looking back up at him, only to find him already looking at you. 

“Oh,” you breathed and quickly offered the phone back to him. “I’m sorry Agent Hotchner. I forgot I was still holding on to this. Thank you for letting us borrow your phone.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiled as he took the phone, his hand brushing against yours and it was just as warm as you remembered. “And it’s Hotch, remember?”

You fought against the urge to drop your head again to hide from his piercing eyes and forced yourself to nod nonchalantly, though your words came out more breathy than you liked. “Yes, sir.”

His eyes seemed to darken at that and you found yourself torn between losing yourself in his gaze and fleeing before he caught on to your desire to do just that.

Luckily, you were saved from having to decide by Jessica’s phone ringing loudly and drawing your attention. She gave an apologetic smile before giving a quick goodbye kiss to Jack and a fond pat on Agent Hotchner’s arm. “Sorry, I have to run. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

Seizing the opportunity, you quickly followed suit. “I need to head out, too. I’ll walk with you.” 

You gave everyone a short wave and spun to follow her, not looking back until you were at the elevators. A subtle peek provided you one last view of Agent Hotchner smiling down at his son, prompting your own soft smile. 

You had only meant to steal a glimpse, but you could never resist it when he smiled. Before you could tear your eyes away, he glanced up and caught you watching, his warm smile now directed at you.

You jerked your head forward, embarrassed at being caught and hoping Jessica hadn’t noticed your crimson cheeks.

If the grin on her face was anything to go by, she had. Thankfully, she was kind enough not to tease you about it.

Even when you darted into the elevator before the doors were fully open and wedged yourself in the corner out of view with an unflattering squeak as you pressed your hands to your flaming cheeks.

***

You were making your way to the cafeteria to grab a quick lunch when you heard the rapid staccato of high heels behind you.

“Hey, Cinnamon Roll!” Penelope scurried to catch up with you. “Fancy seeing you here.”

You chuckled. “You mean here at the cafeteria where I almost always grab lunch around this time? What are the odds?”

She swatted at you with a tsk as she linked her arm with yours. “Don’t be cheeky.”

“Please. You love me being cheeky.”

“Yeah, but not when it’s directed at me.”

“Whatever you say, Cupcake.”

You made your way into the queue, peeking to see what was on offer for the day. The food was generally good, but sometimes the options were limited. You ended up settling for a sandwich while Penelope went with a salad.

You chatted while you ate, your lunch break going by much more enjoyably with your friend there. 

You were discussing the recent episode of a show you both watched when Penelope looked up. “Huh. What’s he doing here?”

You followed her gaze to find Agent Hotchner in the queue. “Well, using my astute powers of deduction, I’d say he’s getting some food, just like everyone else here.”

She huffed. “You’re at full capacity cheek today. I meant, that he doesn’t usually come to the cafeteria.”

You shrugged. “He did today.”

Penelope hummed and then that mischievous grin you had learned to be weary of crept across her face. 

Your eyes widened because you knew she was about to do something meddlesome.

And you were right.

Before you could stop her, she waved wildly and called out, “Hotch!”

His head swiveled in your direction and you could have sworn his face actually lit up just the tiniest bit when he saw you. He quickly paid and made his way over to your table.

“Hey, you two. Enjoying lunch?”

“We are,” Penelope replied with that puckish grin. “Would you care to join us?”

“Oh,” Agent Hotchner’s brows creased slightly. “I have a meeting soon so I have to run. Sorry.”

Was it just your endless hopefulness regarding him, or did he sound disappointed?

“That’s alright, Agent Hotchner. Don’t let us keep you. We were almost done, anyway.”

His eyes did his now routine scan of you before the corner of his mouth quirked up in a small smile that almost seemed wistful. “How many times do I have to tell you to just call me Hotch?”

That ever-constant blush warmed your cheeks yet again. You never knew what to do with yourself whenever he looked at you. This man always made you flustered beyond reason. 

You could see he was waiting for you to respond so you blurted out the first thing that came to mind.  “At least once more, Agent Hotchner. As always.”

To your dismay, his eyes seemed to dim as the quirk of his lips dropped a fraction.

“Right,” He breathed out.

He studied you for a moment longer before glancing at his watch and giving a quick wince. “I have to go. Enjoy the rest of your meal.”

He pivoted on his heel and was halfway to the exit before either of you could reply.

You watched him leave, barely aware of the open longing on your face. Once he was out of sight, you turned back to Penelope to see her biting her lip to hide a smile and her eyebrows well above her frames.

You tilted your head. “What?”

Her eyes shined merrily as she asked, “Did you just quote the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie at him?”

You didn’t know what to say as you felt heat flood your entire face.

“OMG, you did!” Penelope cackled.

“I panicked, okay? I’m fluent in movie quotes and it just slipped out!” You buried your burning face in your hands.

That only made Penelope laugh even harder. “This is why I love you so much, Cinnamon Roll.”

“I can’t help it! I get so nervous around him.”

“Is that why you refuse to call him Hotch?”

“I don’t refuse to. I just… I don’t know. It feels safer to just call him by his title. Less chance of me slipping and saying something we’d both regret.”

Penelope looked at you thoughtfully. “I’ve known Hotch for a long time and I’m positive he wouldn’t regret hearing that. In fact, I’d bet my favorite fluffy pink pen that he’d welcome it. Be overjoyed by it, even. He might even smile.”

You sighed. “Not this again, Pen. I love how supportive and encouraging you are about everything, but on this, you’re wrong. He does not see me that way and probably never will.”

“Well, you’ll never know if you don’t try. You should start by calling him Hotch next time you see him and watch his little frown turn upside down.”

“Not gonna happen,” you declared with a petulant shake of your head.

“So you’re just going to call him Agent Hotchner for the rest of your life?”

You crossed your arms defiantly. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

She smirked. “Are you gonna call him Agent in bed? Not my kink, but I can see the appeal.”

You gaped at her. “‘Penelope!”

 She cackled again.

***

Your workday was finally over and not a moment too soon.

You slid into your jacket with a huff and snatched up your things, taking yet another deep breath when yet another ping came from your phone as yet another text was received.

They had been increasing in frequency for the last hour.

You stomped down the hall, jabbed the elevator call button, tapped your foot impatiently until it arrived, and darted in the moment the doors opened. Thankfully, it was empty so no one had to bear witness to your increasing frustration at the slowness of the elevator.

When it finally reached your desired floor, you stalked down the hall to your destination. 

Your eyes dropped to the phone in your hand when another text came through as you burst into Penelope’s lair without knocking, already mid-rant. “Penelope Middle Name Garcia! Why have you been spamming me with DILF memes all afternoo—”

You looked up from your phone expecting to see a grinning Penelope, only to find Agent Hotchner there looking at you with a raised brow and bemused smile.

You jerked to a halt, torn between wanting the floor to swallow you whole in your embarrassment or plotting out the imminent demise of your meddlesome friend.

Both seemed like great options at the moment.

Then Penelope leaned out from behind her boss, wearing the most impish smirk you had ever seen.

You narrowed your eyes at her and she batted hers right back. 

Problem solved, then. Plotting her imminent demise it was.

But, unfortunately, that would have to wait until after you’d recovered from your latest display of awkwardness in front of Agent Hotchner. 

Who was still watching you and looked to be enjoying the moment nearly as much as Penelope.

Mortified, you scrambled to say something, anything, to redeem yourself. 

“I’m so sorry, Agent Hotchner!” You squeaked—a sound that was high and breathy and not at all attractive.

Now you were rethinking your choice. 

Yes, having the floor open beneath you and saving you from this sounded like the better outcome now.

Why, oh why couldn't you ever act like a normal human being around this man?

Determined to get out of this as unscathed as possible, you cleared your throat and tried again. “I apologize, sir. I didn’t mean to interrupt your meeting with Penelope. Please excuse me.”

You began to turn when he took a step towards you, his hand partly raised towards you. “No, no,” he said in a rush.

His hand clenched and he stuffed it into his pocket. “You didn’t interrupt anything. We were already done.”

“Oh, that’s good. I’m still sorry for bursting in unannounced.”

He chuckled and your heart raced in delight. “Well, it sounds like you had justified cause.” He looked at Penelope over his shoulder. “Maybe refrain from spamming memes during work hours, okay Garcia?”

Penelope smiled and saluted. “Aye aye, sir.”

Agent Hotchner shook his head and turned back to you with a grin you couldn’t help but return. His eyes locked with yours and for a moment, you lost yourself in their depths. You would have been content to remain like that but the moment broke when he cleared his throat. “Well. I’ll leave you ladies to it. I have a bit more work before I can head home.”

He nodded to Penelope and made to leave, pausing at the door. He looked back at you with a sly smile. “Oh, and it’s Grace.”

You tilted your head. “Pardon?”

“Garcia’s middle name. For the next time you want to yell at her for sending you DILF memes.” 

Then he did something that you were in no way prepared for and would never forget in your lifetime. 

Your eyes widened almost painfully as your face flushed.

He winked.

At you.

Agent Hotchner winked at you and was out the door before your brain caught up.

You stood frozen for a long moment before exhaling a shaky breath. You dazedly shuffled to the chair Penelope had acquired for the times you needed to work alongside her and plopped down, your eyes still trained on the door.

“Did…” You slowly turned your head towards an enthusiastically grinning Penelope. “Did Agent Hotchner just wink at me?”

Penelope was nearly bouncing in her seat as she clapped her hands excitedly. “Yes! He most assuredly did! And he teased you! Oh, this is the best day ever. I never thought I’d live to see the day Hotch teased a woman about DILF memes. And he winked! I didn’t know he could do that.”

You continued to stare in her direction, but all you could see was a replay of him winking at you. With as flustered as it made you, that wink should be labeled a deadly weapon. You would never be the same. There would be the you before the wink, and the you after.

Scratch that.

There very well may be no you after. Because you’re pretty sure you died. That was it. You were dead and your tombstone would read death by wink and tales would be long told of your tragic demise. 

Because there was no way you were going to survive knowing that Agent Hotchner teased you and then winked, after saying the word DILF, of which he was the prime example.

You knew exactly why Penelope had been sending you increasingly inappropriate memes about DILFs. And it was because of the man that just left you as a puddle on the floor whom you were absolutely besotted with.

But then a horrifying thought struck you.

“Pen?”

“Yeah?”

“How likely is it that he knows those memes were about him?”

Penelope hummed in thought. “Honestly, maybe 20 percent?”

You looked at her skeptically.

“Look, Hotch is a brilliant profiler. One of the best I’ve seen, but when it comes to things like this, he can be completely oblivious.”

You shook your head. “I doubt that.”

“Trust me. He’s often the first to notice when a person is crushing on someone, but never if he’s that someone. He never sees it. Maybe he just doesn’t want to but I think he just can’t imagine anyone finding him attractive.”

“Seriously? Does the man not own a mirror?”

“I know. It’s crazy but he never picks up on it whenever he gets hit on. It’s like he has blinders up just for that.”

“Oh.”

“But,” she grabbed your hand and squeezed gently. “I’ve never seen him act the way he does around you. I’ve told you before but hopefully, you’ll believe me this time. I think he’s interested in you. I think if you were very clear with him, told him straight out that you’re attracted to him and interested in getting to know him, asked him on a date, he’d say yes in a heartbeat.”

You worried your bottom lip, anxiety rushing through your veins at the mere idea of confessing to him. “I don’t know, Pen. I’m not… I’ve never done that.” You sighed. “I’ve never been any good at this and the thought of telling him how I feel terrifies me.”

She smiled kindly. “I know. But don’t you think he’s worth it?”

Of course, he is, was your immediate thought. Who could ever think otherwise?

He was handsome, of course, but that wasn’t what truly attracted you to him. 

It was all the little parts of him that caught your attention and drew you in.

It was his kindness, bravery, and strength. It was seeing glimpses of his humor and light-hearted moments. It was witnessing him being a good leader, a better friend, and the best dad.

It was all the things you knew about him and all the things you still wanted to learn.

It was the fact that he was a decent man, an admirable man, a good man.

Yes, you thought. He is absolutely worth it.

***

You sat at the bar, your chin resting in your hand. You glanced at your phone, checking the time again. Penelope had stopped by your office earlier that day, demanding that you meet her for dinner and drinks that night. As you had no plans, you readily agreed.

However, she was late so you were restlessly waiting in the lounge of the restaurant, sipping on a fruity cocktail.

A few minutes passed and you looked towards the entrance again, hoping to see your brightly dressed friend.

She wasn’t there, but someone else you recognized was.

Agent Hotchner was standing there, scanning the room like he was looking for someone.

Even in the low lights of the lounge, he caught your eye. He stood a head above the other mingling patrons, his dark hair softer than he normally kept it at work. He was dressed casually, for him, in a black button shirt and dark jeans. His sleeves were partially rolled, drawing your eyes down his arms to see his fingers tapping on his leg.

You looked up in time to see him notice you. He tilted his head with a smile and made his way through the crowd to you.

”Hello,” you breathed out when he was close enough to hear.

”Hello.” His eyes ran over you in that familiar pattern, lingering for just a moment where your legs crossed as you sat on the stool. “You look lovely.”

Your cheeks flushed, as was their habit when he was near, and you thanked your earlier self for taking the time to dress up a little for the evening. “Thank you. You look nice, too.”

He grinned as he shuffled closer to you in order to let someone pass. “Thanks. It’s nice to be out of the suit for the weekend.”

You had to agree. While he was distractingly attractive in his suits, he was devastatingly handsome dressed like this.

You’d have to remember to thank Penelope later for picking this restaurant. You were very much enjoying the view.

“It’s a pleasant surprise, running into you here.” He looked at the empty stools beside you. “Are you meeting someone?”

“Ah, yes. I’m meeting up with Pen, but I guess she’s running late. You?”

He nodded. “Same. Meeting a friend. Looks like he’s not here yet, either.”

You felt a flash of relief. He’s not on a date then. That’s good.

You smiled, looking up into his eyes as he stood beside you. So far, this had been the best interaction you’d had with him. No awkwardness on your part and no meddling friends nearby.

It was nice, being here with him. You wanted the moment to last.

Gathering all your courage, you decided to take a chance. “I was just having a drink until our table was ready. You’re welcome to join me while you wait.”

His smile grew, his dimples coming out to play. “I’d like that. Thank you.”

He sat on the stool beside you, his long leg nearly brushing yours as he adjusted.

You took a sip of your drink, peeking at Agent Hotchner as he flagged down the bartender. You couldn't keep your eyes from running up the length of his arm, watching his muscles flex and move.

You nearly startled when your phone pinged, buzzing against the bartop and drawing his attention. You shot him an apologetic smile as you reached for your phone, meeting his eye when his own phone buzzed. 

You shared a grin at the coincidence, before you both checked your phones.

Sorry Cinnamon Roll, the text from Penelope read. I’m not going to be able to make it.

Is everything alright? You asked her.

Yes, everything’s fine. A thing came up. Sorry, sugar. You should stay and enjoy yourself though.

You held in a sigh as you began to type your response, stopping when another arrived from Penelope.  Maybe you can find someone else to enjoy the evening with. A certain tall dark and broody someone, perhaps?

Suspicion flared within you and your lips flattened into a thin line. You already know he’s here, don’t you?

Hotch is there? WOW, what a crazy random happenstance!

You glared at your phone, hoping she could feel your wrath on the other end. Penelope Cupcake Garcia! Did you set this up?

You know my middle name’s Grace.

Your lips pressed together even tighter. PEN!

You waited impatiently until her replies came in rapid succession.

I plead the fifth. 

Take a chance. He’s worth it, right?

Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!

But definitely do everything I would. 😏

It was moments like these that made you both love and hate Penelope Garcia

You chanced a peek at Agent Hotcher. He was bent over his phone, rapidly typing away. Maybe it was the lighting, but you could have sworn he had the beginnings of a blush on his cheeks.

He huffed and glanced at you. “Sorry about that.”

“That’s okay. My night with Pen has been canceled. She can’t make it.”

He hummed. “Dave just canceled on me, too. Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

“Does he do that often?”

“Rarely, in fact.”

“Oh.”

“I think our friends may have set us up.”

You buried your face in your hands. “Oh, no. This is all my fault. I’m so sorry, Agent Hotchner. Pen probably planned this whole thing and roped poor Rossi into it and…”

“You call him Rossi but still won’t call me Hotch?”

“I… I don’t… I’m sorry, Agent Hotch—” The look on his face stopped the words in your throat. His head tilted in a way that seemed stern, his eyebrows raised expectantly, but the quirk of his lips looked playful. Impish, even.

Was he teasing you?

“You’re getting closer,” He smirked. “Just drop the Agent and you’ll be there.”

Yep. He was teasing you.

And now you were blushing so hard you were sure he could feel the heat from there.

You pressed your lips together in a small pout. You weren’t sure what to do with a playful Agent Hotchner, but you couldn’t deny you liked it. Still, being teased by the object of your affection was not something you felt equipped to handle at the moment.

You took a fortifying drink of your cocktail, thinking back on Penelope’s encouraging words. You could do this. He was worth it.

“H-Hotch.” 

“There you go. Wasn’t so hard after all.”

You huffed a laugh. “Actually, it was harder than you’d think.”

He ran contemplative eyes over you. “And why’s that?”

You finished off the last of your drink and turned to face him, leaning against the bar. It was your turn to study him. “Surely you know how flustered you make me.”

The corner of his lips turned down. “I had noticed, yes. I know I can be intimidating, but I never wanted to make you uncomfortable.”

“I never said I was uncomfortable.”

His eyes brightened. “Just flustered?”

You hummed. “I know you try not to profile your coworkers, but I’m betting it’s hard to just turn that off. So, what have you noticed about how I act around you versus everyone else?”

He straightened in his seat, bringing his glass to his lips as his eyes stayed focused on you. He took a slow sip before speaking. “You display signs of discomfort and hesitation with me, while you are more open with others, especially Garcia. You only make direct eye contact with me enough to let me know you are acknowledging me, but you often look down or to the side when we speak. You fidget and sometimes stumble over your words. I don’t see you do that with anyone else.”

“And why do you think that is?”

“I assumed it was due to my role as unit chief and the perception that I’m a hardass who never smiles.”

You grinned at that. “Now, we both know that’s not true. I’ve seen you smile countless times.”

His cheeks pinkened and your grin grew. “Yes, well. That doesn’t change the fact that others think I’m incapable of it.”

“It’s their loss then. I happen to like seeing you smile.”

His eyes dropped almost shyly and that was definitely a blush spreading across his face. “I… Thank you.”

You watched in awe as he shifted in his seat, exhibiting all the signs you knew you normally did when he was around. Could it be that he was the one flustered now?

You felt a well of confidence spring up inside you. You felt powerful in a way you never had before. You had somehow managed to affect this stoic man enough to fluster him.

You smirked. “You’re wrong, by the way.”

He blinked. “Wrong?”

”That’s not why I acted that way around you.”

”Oh.”

”Can you guess why?”

“Normally, I would think that you didn’t like me. That I had done something to upset or offend you, but if that were the case, I don’t think you’d still be here talking with me.”

”Correct. I definitely don’t dislike you.” At the tilt of his head, you could tell he still didn’t understand. “If you had seen me act that way towards someone else, what conclusion would your observations lead you to?”

He swallowed. “Normally, such behavior would signify attraction or some depth of feeling towards the other person.”

”Did it really not occur to you that was the case here?”

”Honestly, I didn’t want to get my hopes up. Didn’t want to assume you felt the same way.”

”The same way?”

The corner of his lip quirked up. “Attraction and some depth of feeling.”

You couldn’t keep the pleased smile from brightening your face. “Oh.”

You shyly tucked some hair behind your ear, his eyes following the motion. “Is… is that really how you feel about me?”

He stayed silent for a long moment, his focus firmly on you as if he were contemplating your features like one would fine art. ”Do you know why I kept asking you to call me Hotch?”

The abrupt change of topic threw you and it took a few seconds for you to respond. ”I thought you were just being nice.”

He shook his head with a soft smile. “It was because I hoped you’d feel comfortable enough to call me by my name someday. If I could get you to call me Hotch, then eventually, I might be able to convince you to call me Aaron.”

Your breath caught when he leaned in, his eyes never leaving yours as he quietly spoke words meant only for you. “But what I’d really like, is if someday you’d call me yours.” 

You were pretty sure you had stopped breathing and that all the blood in your body was rushing to your face. Surely you didn’t hear that correctly. “W-what?”

He pulled back, his cheeks attractively flushed. “I apologize if I overstepped. I’m a bit rusty at it, but Dave suggested I try flirting. I’ll admit I got a bit nervous and that just came out.”

“Flirting? With me?”

He must have read something in your face because he smirked. “Yes, flirting with you.” 

He leaned closer again. “Is it working?” 

You’re sure your face is red enough to stop traffic. “Yes,” you managed to squeak out. 

“Good.” He ran his hand down your arm, wrapping his fingers around yours and bringing them up to his lips, pressing a barely there kiss to your knuckles. “Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?” 

“Yes,” you breathed out. 

He smiled down at you, dimples on full display and you couldn’t help but smile back. 

“Not here, though.” He glanced around the bar. “I wouldn’t put it past Garcia to hack into their network to watch us.”

You chuckled and nodded knowingly. That was exactly what she would do.

He turned to wave down the bartender. “Please put both our drinks on the tab for David Rossi.” 

You gaped at him and he shrugged with a grin. “He comes here all the time and he would have paid if he had been here. Besides, it’s the least he can do for plotting with Garcia.”

With a giggle, you conceded. “That’s true.”

He stood from his stool, offering you his hand to help you from yours. “Come on. I know a great Italian place nearby.”

He laced his fingers with yours once you were on your feet and led you out of the restaurant.

“It’s only a few blocks away. Since it’s a nice evening, would you like to walk?”

You nodded and allowed him to guide you down the sidewalk, noting that he took care to walk between you and the street.

You walked in companionable silence for a while before he spoke, his eyes trained ahead. “You know, I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time.”

“Really?”

“Since the moment we met.”

You looked at him skeptically. “You mean when I barreled into you and almost knocked you off your feet?”

He grinned down at you. “No almost about it.”

You gasped playfully. “I didn’t make you fall.”

“Sure you did. And all it took was your smile.”

You ducked your head down. “You’re teasing me again.”

“I’m not.” You shot him a leveled look. “Okay, yes, maybe a little. But I’m pretty sure I fell for you the moment you smiled up at me after you finished rambling and were more concerned about me than yourself even though you faceplanted pretty hard. I was worried you might’ve broken something.”

“Hey! I didn’t hit that hard.”

He chuckled, giving your hand a squeeze. “Sorry sweetheart, but you did. I’m surprised there wasn’t an imprint of a button on your face afterward.”

The endearment surprised you but in the most pleasant way. You weren’t sure if it was just a slip of the tongue or a calculated move, but either way, you hoped you’d get to hear it again.

Despite that, you wanted to bury your face—preferably in his chest again, but in a much gentler manner than the last time—to hide your discomfiture. “I’m always so awkward around you. It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s endearing.”

“Oh, stop teasing me. There’s no way you find that even the least bit attractive.”

He stopped and you paused alongside him, looking up at him. His expression was serious but his eyes were soft. “I do. I find everything about you attractive. I think you’re beautiful, especially when you smile. Even more so when you’re blushing. You’re kind and sweet and funny. You might be the most charming woman I’ve ever met.”

You could feel your blush creeping down your neck to your chest. At this rate, you would soon be red from head to toe. “Pretty sure it’s you who’s the charming one.”

His lips lifted in a soft smile as his eyes took in the spreading warmth he always caused. “I’m glad you think so. Makes this easier to ask. I know I should wait until the end of the night but…”

He gently cradled your face in one of his hands, warm even against your flushed cheek. “May I kiss you?”

“Please.”

The hushed word was barely passed your lips before his were there, stealing the last of it for himself.

The kiss was achingly gentle, a soft press of lips that left no doubt as to his burgeoning feelings for you. It was a slow wooing, a tender plea, a solemn promise. A declaration that this was only the beginning of his intentions towards you. 

It was a kiss full of hope.

Hope that this was only the first kiss of many, that this was the beginning of something wonderful, that you would accept what he was only too happy to offer. Himself.

You slowly broke apart, both breathing heavily.

That was, by far, the best kiss of your life, and you knew that they would only get better from there if Aaron Hotchner was the one kissing you.

That one kiss had conveyed so much and you needed to let him know that you got it, you understood, and you wanted the same.

“Aaron.” His name came out as a shaky sigh, but it was enough for him to freeze before dropping his forehead to rest against yours.

“Yes,” he asked just as quietly, his voice deep and husky.

“I feel the same.”

You felt him relax against you as he let out a stuttered breath.

“I never thought I’d have the courage to tell you this. You’re the brave one. But I just need you to know how I feel about you.”

You swallowed and met his eyes that were watching you intently. 

“I’ve been yours since I crashed into you. You stole a piece of my heart with your kindness that day and I’ve happily given you a little more of it each day since. You make me happy every time I see you, and even though I’m flustered and awkward around you, you make me feel safe. You’re a gentleman, you treat your team like a family, and you’re an amazing dad. And you’re handsome. Like, distractingly good-looking. It’s a problem.”

He chuckled and you were pleased to see a blush brightening his cheeks.

“I like you quite a lot, Aaron Hotchner. And I’d really like it if—if I could call you mine.”

Your answer came with his lips brushing against yours once, twice, before they were insistent in their acquisition of yours.

This kiss was deeper. The celebration of a long-awaited victory that had your toes curling. You lost yourself to it and would have continued to do so were it not for the honking from a passing car.

Aaron gave you one more soft kiss before pulling away, his lips delightfully pink and plump.

“As much as I’d love to carry on, this may not be the best place.” 

Despite his words, he pressed a kiss to your cheek and then another to your forehead. You grinned at him and for a moment, he seemed ready to lean right back in.

Instead, his eyes flicked quickly left and right, stopping on something behind you. With a squeeze of the hand that was still holding yours, he guided you to a recessed section of wall that provided a bit more privacy.

He positioned himself in front of you, his free hand coming to rest on your hip. He ducked down to kiss you once more, a tease of his lips that left you wanting more.

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

“Never apologize for that. You can kiss me all you want.”

His grip tightened on your hip. “You called me a gentleman, and yet here you are tempting me to prove otherwise.”

You shrugged with a cheeky smile. “Just being honest.”

“Well, since we are being honest with each other,” he said, the words rumbling in his chest, “I feel I need to let you know that while I plan to do this right and take things slow, there is one important fact you need to know about me.” 

“What’s that?” 

He leaned in, his breath low in your ear. “When granted the liberty to do so, I’m going to show you just how much I love having cinnamon rolls for breakfast.” 

You blinked, the words sinking in. “Cin-cinnamon rolls?” 

“They are my favorite, after all.” He hummed as he pressed a kiss beneath your ear. “My little Cinnamon Roll.”

You gasped and pulled back, narrowing your eyes at him. “You heard Pen call me that, didn’t you?”

He chuckled. “Everyone’s heard you call each other Cupcake and Cinnamon Roll. Was it supposed to be a secret?”

“No, I meant that day at the elevator.”

“You mean when I told you I wouldn’t say no to one?”

“You…you did hear us!” 

He smirked unrepentantly. “I didn’t mean to overhear, but you weren’t being that quiet. So, I just used it to my advantage.”

You swatted his arm. “I was so embarrassed and you’re saying you were teasing?”

“In my defense, it was Garcia who was the one teasing you. I was flirting.”

You pouted at him. “Everyone’s wrong about you. You’re not a stoic hardass. You’re a menace. All these months pining away for you, all the times I was awkward, and now you tell me you were flirting.”

“If it makes you feel any better, sweetheart, I was pining for you too.”

“It does.” You huffed, only a little begrudgingly. 

He chuckled again and dipped down for one last lingering kiss.

You were breathless by the time he pulled back, smiling dazedly when he guided you back onto the sidewalk and resumed your walk to the restaurant.

Despite it having started because of a plot by your friends, your first date with Aaron Hotchner was everything you dreamed it could be. It was romantic, he was charming, and you were finally able to hold a conversation with the man. 

It went so well in fact, that you soon had a second date, and then a third, and then a fourth. And after the fifth date, you found out personally that Aaron Hotchner really did enjoy having cinnamon rolls for breakfast. 

In fact, he enjoyed it so much, he went back for seconds.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner #penelope garcia #criminal minds fanfiction

[wwinterwitch]

teasing — anakin skywalker

summary: just anakin being a little tease before he goes down on you

pairing: anakin skywalker x princess!fem!reader

word count: 3.3k

tags: smut, secret relationship, teasing, masturbation using panties, pet names (baby, my love, good girl, darling), biting/marking, reader gets slightly insecure, softdom!anakin, body worship, he likes your scent hehe, oral (f receiving), he eats pussy like it's his life purpose, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, fingering

reblog or comment if you enjoy please!

all masterlists | star wars masterlist | read on ao3

Anakin smirks devilishly before his lips press against your lower belly, daring to nibble on your skin in an effort of teasing you even further. His erection feels almost painful, hidden inside his trousers; the sight of you looking down at him as he explores your body, the soft sounds coming from you as further confirmation of your pleasure, and the way your hips repeatedly lift themselves off the bed in clear urgency for more do nothing to help his aroused state.

Whenever he manages to have you like this– all his to enjoy, away from anyone who could dare to stand between the two of you, he likes to take his sweet time with you. With him in his endless missions as a Jedi, and your countless duties as the heir of one of the most prestigious kingdoms in the galaxy, it’s not easy to find much time to be together.

But sooner or later, he always comes back to you. 

Ever since he and Obi-Wan had the difficult task of rescuing you and another group of hostages from separatist forces, he’s been infatuated with you, and it didn’t take him much time to realize the sentiment was mutual.

After many stolen glances and a lot of interventions from Obi-Wan whenever he detected the slightest flirting between you, the two of you knew that the ceremony your father organized to celebrate your safe return would not be the last time you and Anakin would see each other.

The excuse was soon invented. You offered to help your father with all security matters on your planet, which inevitably meant having to interact a lot with the Jedi to keep constant and efficient communication. Evidently, you had chosen Anakin to be the Jedi you’d communicate with if your planet ever needed them– he saved you, of course you’d trust him the most.

Maybe not everyone bought it. Maybe the ones who did still have a few doubts when they realize just how good your communication is. It’s clear then neither of you care. As long as you’re able to see each other with a plausible reason and no one intervenes, it’s enough.

So technically, Anakin was back on your planet today for a scheduled meeting with you to discuss a few things. Nothing else, just following protocol. In reality, the two of you are in your chambers, away from prying eyes. Your naked body rests on top of the ridiculously expensive silk sheets, legs wide open for him to lay comfortably between them.

Leaning back, Anakin grabs your panties to push them up against your core, the fabric folding in a thin line that squeezes your clit in the most satisfying way.

He lets out a low groan when he sees the reaction on your face, staring back at you with evident pride and lust as he admires what a cute little mess you've become for him. Legs spread for him to do whatever he wants, your beautiful body all exposed to his hungry graze except for the panties you're still wearing, a few marks on your neck and breasts from his previous exploration just minutes earlier.

Not having enough just yet, he starts to move his arm rhythmically, causing the fabric to rub against your entire slit. You moan louder this time, looking down at him with pleading eyes as he continues his movements.

One of your hands moves towards your chest, urgently massaging one of your breasts. He smirks at the sight, speeding up so suddenly that you’re practically forced to close your eyes and lean your head back against the pillows. Your mouth stays in the shape of an ‘o’, moans increasing in volume, body tensing in pleasure.

Once he's satisfied enough, he moves his hand away, smirking as he stares at the absolute masterpiece between your legs. "Look at that," he comments in a husky voice, admiring the large stain of your arousal on your panties as his palms slowly trace up your thighs.

Anakin eventually reaches your inner thighs and he squeezes your flesh in a way that leaves you whimpering in both pleasure and pain. And then he squeezes again because he enjoyed your reaction a little too much.

His hand finally reaches its destination, the feeling of one of his fingers brushing against the fabric of your panties sending shivers down your spine. The contact is enjoyable, but you need more. "Fuck, your panties are soaked, baby," he practically growls, continuing to trace up and down in gentle movements.

His fingers stay there, carefully tracing your pussy with your underwear still acting as an annoying barrier that prevents you from experiencing the true pleasure that only his touch can bring you. He looks up at you, lips peppering small kisses up your inner thigh. 

At first you thought he’d keep moving upwards, maybe give you the satisfaction of leaving a kiss on top of the fabric, but as soon as he gets close to where you need him most, his lips move to your other thigh to repeat the same trail he previously followed from your knee to the edge of your panties.

You can't take his teasing anymore. Even when you should be used to this kind of behavior from him, you can't stand it any longer. It's all too much, but nothing at the same time.

With evident frustration, you find yourself rocking your hips against his fingers in an attempt to create more friction. The hand previously gripping the sheets moves to his hair, your grip on his light brown locks tightening when he gets closer and closer to your core. 

He looks at you with evident amusement, silent mockery shining in his eyes because he knows you’re getting impatient. Sometimes he’s feeling particularly merciful and he actually listens to your pleas right away, but there’s times where he likes to make you beg for it.

The disappointment is evident on your face when you see him move a hand to his hair, releasing his hair from your grip before he uses that same hand to push your hips down towards the mattress to keep you as still as possible.

"Anakin..." you breathe out in a desperate plea, practically pouting.

He seems to ignore you for a few seconds, almost hypnotized by the sight of you so desperate, distracted by the wetness he feels with his fingers. It's only when he lifts his head again to properly look at you that he finally seems to pay your apparent complaint any attention. "Yes, my love?" he asks playfully, as if he has no idea why you would be calling for him like that.

"Stop teasing," you whine, feeling incredibly frustrated as he just looks at you. The underwear you’re wearing is soaked and your body is completely ready for him to do absolutely anything, yet he’s barely touching you with his fingers.

Anakin ignores you once again, his eyes drifting down to your thigh. He’s leaning in once again, this time tracing his tongue against your skin before his teeth are sinking onto it without a warning, making you gasp as your back arches in response.

He barely moves back to admire the way his teeth marked you, using his mouth to suck on a spot just below the shape of them. The thought of how pretty a bruise –his bruise– would look on your inner thigh tomorrow makes his cock twitch.

"Is that an order, your highness?" he finally speaks, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You let out an exasperated sigh. You’re a woman who possesses an intimidating amount of power, but you’re completely defenseless when it comes to Anakin. You surrender all of it when you’re with him. 

He has a future queen wrapped around his finger, and that thought turns him on more than anything.

"Please!" you whine, fearing he’ll have you crying tears of frustration any second now if he decides to continue this torture.

To add to your growing despair, Anakin chuckles against your skin. "Now, we both know you can do much better than that," he whispers softly, encouraging you to speak up. After all, hearing your voice is one of the things he enjoys the most; he particularly likes it when it's in the form of breathless words and needy pleas.

Your cheeks burn in embarrassment, not knowing what to say at first. Again, you should be used to him being like this, an annoying little tease, but there's something about Anakin that you'll never be prepared for. He’s unpredictable like that, but it’s one of the many things that made him stand out to you.

He's always finding new ways to keep you on the edge, to make you beg for it, to leave you ridiculously wet before he's even properly touching you. The fact that he has so much patience and self-control to keep his teasing for so long is deeply admirable but also incredibly frustrating.

Your breath gets heavier and your walls clench around nothing in torturous anticipation while he keeps his face dangerously close to your aching pussy, his eyes dark as he takes you in like your the most delicious thing on this galaxy and he just can't believe he's lucky enough to have you all to himself– yes, he likes teasing, but that doesn't mean he's not eager to please you, desperate to have his face buried in between your legs to drink up every drop of your delicious essence and stay there for hours. 

He just likes to make you work a little for it, because what’s the fun in giving it to you just like that? A person used to getting everything they want from the moment they were born should know what it feels like to be kept waiting once in a while.

The way his eyes focus on you, so intensely and lustful, does nothing to make you feel any less anxious. It's both exciting and nerve-wracking; to have him worship your body in the way he does, to feel completely exposed and vulnerable. It's more than enough to make you feel self-conscious.

Anakin seems to sense your increasing nerves, gripping one of your thighs as silent encouragement. "Come on, let me hear you," he insists shortly after, his voice softer than ever, almost begging to hear you say exactly what you want him to do to you– of course he knows exactly what it is, but it's so different when you say it out loud. 

After a few seconds, you finally managed to speak up despite your sudden shyness. "I want to feel your mouth on me, please..." you mutter, reminding yourself to look back at him as you speak. At that point, you thought you might even start crying due to how badly you need him. "Please, Ani...I can't take this anymore."

At first, you thought maybe you should've said more. As your words echo inside your head, you’re convinced that you should’ve tried harder. That they couldn't possibly be enough to satisfy him and he'll probably urge you to keep talking despite your embarrassment. Your thoughts were far from being true, however, and it becomes clear to you when you feel the bruising grip on your thigh and the way he groans against your skin again.

"That's a good girl," he says with a pleased smile, looking up at you for a few seconds before his eyes trail down your body appreciatively. 

He knows you're desperate, he knows you're barely keeping it together, and he knows you're trying your best to put up with his seemingly endless teasing. Perhaps it's time to finally reward you for it.

His fingers hook to the hem of your panties, trailing them down your legs before throwing them to the floor. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat in anticipation of what's to come, watching as he looks at your exposed folds with such interest and admiration, it almost makes you feel dizzy.

Before he does anything else, he reaches for a pillow that rests on the side of the bed he sometimes occupies whenever he can find time to spend a night with you, placing it underneath you on your lower back, raising your hips just enough. He wants you to be as comfortable as possible while he pleases you.

His arms sneak underneath your thighs to hold you, wanting to keep you in place as he spreads you wide open, fully exposing you to his hungry gaze. "Beautiful," he lets out in a low voice as he moves closer, "and all mine to enjoy."

You're so sensitive, so eager to receive anything, that you can't help but moan when you feel his breath mingling with your arousal, making you shiver as you lean back against the mattress.

A few seconds pass and you're once again slightly disappointed when you don't feel more. You were already expecting to feel his mouth on you, but nothing was happening.

When you look down, you're met with the hottest sight you think you'll ever see in your life. Anakin is laying on the bed with his head in between your legs, his strong arms keeping them open while his eyes are closed, simply taking in your scent. He stays there, enjoying the smell of you. 

There's something so intimate about it, worshiping you in that way, it makes you feel just as good as if he was actually using his mouth.

But eventually he does use it, and it makes your eyes roll to the back of your head almost immediately because you've been waiting too long for this. Long, excruciating minutes of him just teasing your body and leaving you aching for more are suddenly worth it when his tongue is licking one single strap up your slit, humming in delight as he tastes you for the first time that night.

He doesn't stop there. It's almost as if he became a hungry beast after the first taste, diving right in. His tongue presses harder against you a few more times before his mouth captures your clit, sucking on it in such a deliciously good way that it makes you gasp for air as you grip the sheets.

The exploration continues, starting to quite literally devour you. His tongue is eagerly exploring every inch of you, moving around to spread your folds to discover every part of you. Your legs would tremble every time he finds your swollen clit, pleasuring you with a hard suck or a series of rapid swirls of his tongue.

You're inevitably finding yourself in the need of rocking your hips against his mouth, craving more friction, but he quickly stops you by placing a hand on your lower belly to hold you down, making it almost impossible for you to move.

He leans back from you just enough, and that's when you're able to admire the way his face glistens with your arousal, coating his mouth and chin. "Stay still, darling," he instructs slightly out of breath, right before diving back in.

You try to do just that, moaning in response to his vicious assault on your pussy. The wet sounds of his mouth on you echo across the room and the fact that he has absolutely no problem with being loud and messy while he eats you out drives you absolutely insane.

His movements never slow down, rapidly licking up and down a few times before taking care of your clit and repeating the process. While he works on your body, he refuses to move his eyes away from your face, wanting to take in every single second of the pleasure that reflects on your features, even having the nerve to smile up at you as his tongue continues to taste you.

With the increasing volume of your moans and the fact that it's harder to keep you in place, Anakin can tell you're getting closer to your peak. The prospect of feeling and tasting your orgasm encourages him to continue at an even faster pace.

He makes sure to press his entire mouth against you, sucking as much of your arousal as he possibly can. The wet sounds increase even more when he begins to practically make out with your pussy, doing his very best to drive you closer to the edge.

One of your hands moves to his hair, tangling your fingers in it as you feel the knot in your stomach becoming impossibly tighter, breathing heavily as you try to keep it together for a few more seconds. "I– fuck, Ani, it feels so good," you moan out desperately. "I don't think I can–"

Before you can reply, you feel a powerful wave of pleasure running through your entire body. A loud cry escapes your lips as your intense orgasm takes over, making it impossible to form coherent words or do anything other than tremble and gasp for air, his name slipping past your lips in a breathless whimper.

Unlike what you expected, Anakin gives you no room to relax, continuing to move his mouth against you just as viciously as before, his nose repeatedly brushing against your clit because he's that pressed to you.

He groans against your folds, the vibrations doing nothing to ease the extreme pleasure you're feeling, unable to take a break as he hungrily tastes you. It's almost animalistic, the way he seems to be entirely concentrated on drinking every last drop of your arousal, not caring that you already reached your orgasm and you seriously need time to calm down.

You try to shove him away, pulling at his hair while attempting to close your legs too. Evidently, he's having none of it, spreading your legs wide as the muscles on his arms tense slightly due to the strength he uses to keep them in place and pressing his face to your core more insistently. He looks up at you with darkened eyes, silently demanding for you to take it.

Unable to do much about it, you continue to cry out in pleasure, the overstimulation and the fact that his attack is not slowing down only bring you closer to come, your second orgasm quickly approaching. Another explosion happens deep within you, making you close your eyes as your face contorts in a kind of ecstasy that borders pain.

His movements finally slow down when he feels you come against his tongue again, allowing you to climb down from your high. Anakin is considerably more gentle now as he uses his tongue to taste your release, loosening the grip on your thighs, fingers gently caressing your skin.

Once he's satisfied, he moves away from your sensitive core. A smirk appears on his face when he leaves a tiny kiss on your clit, watching as your body trembles from the contact. It's barely a soft peck, yet it has you instantly whimpering and spasming.

Your eyes remain closed, feeling the way he crawls on top of your body once again. His hand brushes a few strands of hair away from your face, satisfied with how pretty you look after he gave you two orgasms in such a short period of time.

The blissful moment of relaxation doesn't last very long, however, because you quickly feel one of his fingers slowly slipping inside your tight and wet entrance.

Opening your eyes with evident surprise, you notice his eyes already looking down at you, grinning when he sees the expression on your face after the unexpected intrusion.

"Please," you let out in a soft cry, pouting. "It's too much, Ani..."

"Shhh," he promptly replies in a soothing tone to calm you down, his finger already fully in. "You can take it."

Another pathetic little sound escapes your lips when he adds another finger in the same slow, tentative manner. He gives you a few seconds to prepare, his fingers knuckle-deep inside you before he starts to move them.

Anakin's face hides in your neck, a satisfied groan crashing against your skin when he feels your walls clench. "That's it," he whispers, his movements increasing just enough. "She has to be nice and ready for me before I fill you up with my cock. Isn't that right, my love?"

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin smut #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker fic #anakin x reader #anakin x reader smut #anakin skywalker x fem!reader #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker imagine

[genderfluid-insomniac]

age regression!reader with the harbingers

a/n: this was for a request on ao3 but I post all of my works on both platforms (still updating the ao3 one)

THIS ISN'T A SEXUAL THING!! IF YOU MAKE IT ONE I WILL BLOCK YOU!!

Pierro

Usually seems stoic and uncaring but you know him better than most people being his little. Pierro was very understanding and a tad confused until you explained it, wanting to help in any way possible and buying anything you wanted (and more if he thought you’d like it).

Best storyteller as he’s seen so much as both the royal mage of Khaenri’ah and the director of the harbingers; so whenever you want a story and he’s free from work all you have to do is ask. He makes sure you have proper health and won’t budge if you want sweets but you haven’t eaten a meal yet. A strict but very kind and caring caregiver.

If probably one of the most protective caregivers of all. of the harbingers given that he’s got a big target on his back for a variety of reasons (being Khaenri’an, top harbinger, war crimes, etc.). He never leaves you alone if he has to leave which is almost never since he’s rarely sent on missions and is the one the harbingers report back to, keeping you in a side room off of his office within view of both of you and checking on your from time to time between meal breaks.

Pierro loves how small you are in his arms and how your eyes are full of innocence when you are little, if he could keep you with him he would. He has tons of blankets to keep you warm from the cold that seeps in from the harsh weather and makes large fires in the evenings as he does paperwork while you play on the carpet with your crayons and plushies.

Il Capitano

Now as much as he seems tough and cold, behind closed doors you know he’s ironically one of the softest people you’ve met and has said that he’d kill for you if anyone threatened to hurt you in either state (little or big). Capitano keeps you as much of a secret as he can in fear of something happening to you and also away from Childe because, from his point of view, he’s a fighting-crazed maniac and doesn’t want little you to be corrupted.

You are one of the only people to see his face and it’s gorgeous including all the scars and burn marks, cupping your hands on his cheeks and giggling as the soft smile he wears just for you. He has a small team of soldiers that watch you whenever he has to leave and they secretly adore you, gentle expressions watch over you as you play with the toys that Capitano gave you and snack on local fruits while an abyss mage blanket is wrapped around you.

He adores your sleeping face or when you’re yawning after a long day and settling down for a nap, Capitano’s very glad his head covering hides his face because he’s smiling so wide and looking so soft. He has a hidden talent for getting you to sleep in seconds and all it takes for it to happen is to whisper comforting comments into your ear while rocking you.

This man’s voice is shockingly deep and wouldn’t tell anyone but can sing fairly well however he only knows basic folk songs or songs he’s picked up from his travelers. He will only sing if he’s 100% sure he’s alone and is mostly silent around the other harbingers so only his soldiers and you get the honor of hearing his voice.

Dottore

The doctor loves little you no matter what age you are but does have a hard and fast rule which is no playing in his lab. Ever. He acts like he doesn’t care about humanity but he's such a hypocrite as he would kill for you.

In his lab, there is a corner that is sectioned off specifically for you to be in with toys, blankets, plushies, spill-proof food, and drinks however the fencing surrounding the corner is high enough that you can’t climb over it, and thin but strong material. So you can easily see whatever your caregiver is up to but stay safe and out of harm in case anything happens.

If fussy then he’ll usually have a segment around to comfort you and attend to your needs if OG Dottore absolutely needs to do Harbinger work which both of you don’t like for different reasons. There are rare times when what he’s experimenting with or on something (like shield potions or enhanced foods) that he deems “safe” enough he’ll let you sit by him and color or fidget.

You have a lot of perfect tools for your regression that work perfectly because Dottore has done trials of what you like and what you don’t like. For example, your favorite blanket you have is a big Pyro abyss mage fur blanket that he made and keeps you warm with the mage’s abilities infused into the fur. Currently, you’ve seen him working on a cryo version for the harsh cold of Snezhnaya when you want to go outside and play in the snow but he’s yet been able to infuse a cryo-resistant effect which frustrates him to no end.

He has a strange talent for knowing exactly what’s bothering you before you know it given his knowledge of the human body and anatomy, preventing any meltdowns before they happen and keeping little you happy and satisfied.

This man is very protective over you knowing if someone finds out the second fatui harbinger had a soft spot for a human then you’re going to be a main target for his destruction and that cannot happen. Very rarely leaves you alone when you’re little and has either a trusted fatuus or segment be with you until he can get back.

Like in Sumeru, Dottore wanted to bring you with him but couldn’t due to his work having to be his main focus and secretly being worried about the traveler or Sumerian guards hurting you. He ended up leaving in the care of Arlecchino who agreed but under certain circumstances for her own mission in Fontaine and she often had some of the children from the house of the hearth care for you when she had meetings. (Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet adored you and sent you letters or “magic” gifts when you had to leave)

Columbina

This goes without saying but has one of the best singing voices of all of them and has put some of her soldiers to sleep by accident when they’ve overheard her singing to herself since her voice carries. You have been put to sleep by her voice and melodies countless times you’ve lost track and little you really like her voice. So whenever she can she’ll bring you into her office, placing you in a short walled-off area beside her, and humming or singing a favorite song while she works to reward you for being good.

Since she is the third harbinger no one really knows about her strength and that includes you, very rarely have you gotten glimpses of her power, and its always when someone threatens you or dares to question why Lady Columbina keeps a child at her side. Your caregiver shields you from the violence of the world because you’re her little one, her light among the darkness and she’s your mommy, your angelic caregiver who makes all your wishes come true.

Columbina, despite being one of the strongest harbingers, is very weak to your big cute eyes pleading for another blanket, toy, of sweet she brought back from a faraway nation and she of course bends to your wishes. At times you’ve babbled about how you have your very own fairy godmother who wipes your tears and rocks you gently whenever you get fussy. She spoils you rotten and has no shame in it, having your own room attached to hers that is baby-proofed but also filled with everything you could ever need. The room looks almost like it’s made of clouds with pacifiers hung on the wall for you to grab and everything organized in a multilayered box that contains the softest comfort clothes, pull-ups, clean wipes, and noise-canceling headphones for overstimulation.

Another one of the harbingers that is very protective of you and will not hesitate to kill others if it means getting her little one back in her arms. However, she’s pretty confident about being able to protect you; so very rarely will be brought to a meeting and sitting on your mommy’s lap happily napping or relaxing in her big coat. Some of her other colleagues aren’t fond of you being in the meeting while others are very fond of you and as a gift one winter solstice, you were gifted your own big fluffy coat resembling your mama’s coat.

Arlecchino

She isn’t one for gifts but will give you the necessary things like toys, blankets, and eventually other things from neighboring nations that she thinks your little self would like. Arlecchino has everything in themes of the ocean because of her love for her homeland and has everything organized in a somewhat kid-proof box with some stray blankets or toys out for you to play with unless you want others. Whenever you’re regressed (normally in Fountaine since that’s where she mainly stays unless sent otherwise) she pretends not to notice her children Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet giving you gifts as well. Little you is very shy and happy so when you’ve been given a gift you blush looking up at them and timidly murmuring a “thank you” to whoever gave you a gift.

One of the most protective people out of all the harbingers and if anyone decides to fuck with her little one, doesn’t resist killing that person and genuinely is wondering if they’re stupid enough to attack someone close to a harbinger. She mostly brings you with her but on occasions she can’t she keeps you in her office with her most trusted soldiers. You’re comfortable with your favorite blanket and toy all bundled up in the corner babbling about with the innocent child look in your eyes that she loves completely safe. On occasion, she’ll have one of the hearth children come and play with you, those are the days you really look forward to because you rarely get playmates aside from your mommy.

Arlecchino rarely leaves on missions but when she does she leaves you in the care of some of her soldiers along with Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet to take care of you. They seriously love you and take care of you like their own sibling; Lynette of course spoils you with deserts much to Lyney’s dismay who amazes you with magic tricks and Freminet who tells you all about underwater animals. When Arlecchino does take you with her she keeps you with her at all times unless she has to go somewhere where you can’t go or it’s dangerous. In that case, she tells you to stay put at the base until she gets back setting you up with all the necessities and ordering some of her soldiers in and outside of the room.

Sandrone

At first, Marionette thought she had everything down by using her mechanical puppets to take care of you but that proved very wrong when you had nonstop tantrums and cried about wanting your real mommy claiming that these puppets were emotionless (which was true). She then had you with her at all times, including when she locks herself in her lab for hours on end focusing on her research and you’re right beside her with a puppet to bring you anything you want. You’re quite happy since you’re near your mommy and you can play and nap like you want, getting attention from time to time and when Sandrone wants a break she’ll bring you into her arms for a quick nap or cozy affections.

Is similar to Dottore about the necessities as she can pretty much make or get whatever you need and does “experiment” on you and it’s not what you think. She creates different blankets, pacifiers, and comfort clothes using different materials and learns what you like and what you don’t like. Her little one has a number of different toys (quite advanced and new) that she invented and some of them shockingly can respond to your babbles.

Since she brings you with her, where she’s traveling if there comes a time when anything dangerous happens she’ll use her main puppet that she sits on to open a sizable compartment where she’ll put her little in until the danger is over and then bring you out when this is over. Comforting you if you get scared and pulling out a small music box that sounds like your favorite song, running her fingers through your hair, and silently rubbing shapeless figures on your back.

Tartaglia

Oh my gods, this man doesn’t stop giving you gifts and toys so you have to have a couple of chests full or you share them with his siblings. You do know about his harbinger status however your little self loves the cover status he uses for his siblings and he takes great pride in encouraging it when he plays with you, joyfully claiming you’re his biggest customer and going in for tickles as a reward for being such an amazing patron (even when he had to explain to your regressed self what patron meant). Childe has a small playpen right next to his desk but back enough so he could hold your hand if you wanted and you giggled and babbled bashfully at the large space given to you. His heart warms when you draw crudely done pictures of both of you and show him with a very proud smile like a new soldier winning their first battle.

Might be one of the very protective ones even if he acts aloof and if even one person makes a move or gives off a harmful intent, he’s not holding back if the other person threatens him or his little one for a debt release and is washing some of the blood off of his clothes before he comes to see you. When you’re regressed or your mind is fuzzy you’re not sure why he always has you with him or promises that you’ll never get hurt or harmed in any way as long as he’s alive.

We all know this man is always on missions and on some of them he can’t bring you with him which pains him to no end, hoping you’re alright and his little one is not missing him too much. Like the others sent his most trusted soldiers to watch over you and care for your needs, often hearing that his siblings joined you for most of the day and smiling at the thought of you happily babbling on about your excitement. No harbingers are allowed to even be near you, especially not Il Dottore and the only exception in the fatui now was Arlecchino and Pulcinella.

It should be no surprise that the 11th harbinger spoils you with treats from all different nations and most of them are sugary or your favorite flavors. You have a whole pantry of snacks and food to nibble on if you’re hungry, they’re also non-complex foods and stuff you can easily just grab and eat. Even though your caregiver is very sweet towards you he is strict in the sense of making sure you’re nourished and not just made up of sugar. Childe also doesn’t want you to get sick or cavities if he can help it. So sweets are mostly kept to when you’re good or if he comes back/home from a long mission (usually with you there) and you’re happy either way, your favorite foods make you more agreeable.

Childe absolutely had a hard bedtime that he makes you follow however it doesn’t mean he’s just going to leave in bed to fall asleep in the dark and go about his own. He lets you pick a story for him to read or make up as you fall asleep and quietly sneaks out once he’s sure you’re sound asleep with little chance of waking up. If you have a nightmare he’ll let you cuddle with him and talk out your nightmare so it doesn’t seem scary anymore.

Pantalone

You are so spoiled by him and your whole room is filled with stuff you asked for and also didn’t ask for courtesy of your caregiver. He had a smaller version of the formal harbinger coat made for you and instructed you to wear it when you were outside with anyone, taking extra precautions with the fur and buttons so you couldn’t take them off or chew on them. He has a whole separate wardrobe of outfits for your little self and it’s all in your favorite colors. All you need to do is point to it and he’ll get it as soon as he can or if it’s someone else’s he’s not going to take it cause it’s not sanitary but he’ll make an identical one from scratch.

The banker seems not that violet or caring to anyone given his impartial opinion and blatant lack of care in La Signora’s death however that’s cause he didn’t really have any attachments to his colleagues because that’s all they were…colleagues. You are his one exception, as his lover you’re his first priority obviously over the money and when you are in your little headspace he’s not taking any chances with you. He has you with him in his office diagonally behind so he can still see you while you happily play with your toys all wrapped in blankets in case anyone bursts in with intent to harm either of you.

Pantalone’s almost always never sent on a mission since he stays in Schneznyah to take care of the Fatui’s grand finances as well as the major Northland Banks around Tevyat and that means staying at the homeland to get all the reports as soon as possible. He’s very grateful he doesn’t have to travel and gets to spend more time with you by his side, however, when he does have to leave for a mission he will take you with him every single time and doesn’t let you out of sight unless it’s with his most competent soldier. Whenever you both travel whether it’s on a boat, carriage, on foot, in the air, or on the Fontaine waterways he’ll have you with him to play with a coloring book and if it’s a long travel distance he’ll have you take a nap(if you throw a tantrum then you’re going to get sent to timeout).

Getting you to eat can be a struggle since you much prefer to nap than eat even if you need it to stay healthy and when you do eat because of Pantalone still spoiling you you have a very rich pallet or rather very expensive pallet. He’s glad that when you get hungry you don’t get really fussy you get quieter and pouty hoping your caregiver would tend to your needs. Your favorite thing to do is eat breakfast or dinner with your caregiver's lap as you both finish your meals and Pantalone lists off what he has to do today, telling you to go get your favorite toys and blanket before he heads in to do paperwork.

He is very strict on bedtimes and the reason is that you have a habit of being clingy when he has to get up which is pretty early as he has a lot of work to do as a harbinger but carefully slips in a pillow in place of himself which usually work and sometimes it doesn’t. You’ll happily snuggle into your “caregiver” as Pantalone quietly gets ready and has a soldier guard your room in case you get up or any issues come up, instructing them to report if any problems arise. Going to bed is always fun as you’re piled under blankets and he’s always snuggled next to you and reading you stories he’s heard from across all of the world.

#pierro x reader #pierro genshin impact #capitano x reader #capitano #dottore x reader #dottore #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino #columbina x reader #columbina #sandrone #sandrone x reader #childe tartagalia #childe genshin x reader #childe x reader #pantalone #pantalone x reader #harbingers x reader

[missmonsters2]

Your Touch is My Shelter

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: 6 months later, Natasha returns from the dead. It's a tightly kept secret as it's unknown how she returned, but everyone claws and fights about who will keep watch over her like savages. You're far down the list of people who should protect her, but you find yourself unable to leave her be.

Warnings/Tags: hurt/comfort. undisclosed trauma. physical and mental signs of trauma. angst. somber assisted bath time. sad hair braiding. emphasis on hurt AND comfort.

Note: This takes place after endgame :-) the dates might be inaccurate idk i did my best 🥲 ha-ha enjoy 👁️👁️

Masterlist || Library Blog || AO3

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Count: 5.2k

Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You heard the news through Bruce. 

Well, it was through Bruce telling Pepper, and you just happened to be at the coffee machine getting shitty coffee. The quality drastically dropped since Tony was gone, and you've been putting off telling Pepper she needed to literally buy anything else. 

You didn't really know how long was the appropriate time for someone to grieve before you could ask if they could buy another brand of coffee.

Tony was gone. 

A part of you thinks you keep putting off telling Pepper because then you'd have to face—really face—he was gone. 

Steve was gone. 

What did it matter, really, in the grand scheme of things? Coffee was just coffee, and it'd probably taste fine if you just put a shitload of sugar and creamer in it. 

Vision was gone. 

Honestly, you only really noticed because it was the same brand as whatever was stocked up at the Avengers Compound. 

Natasha was gone. 

But perhaps the coffee always tasted bad at the Compound and it had nothing to do with Tony being gone. Natasha used to bring coffee into the office most days for people, and Clint filled in the other days. 

Maybe Tony Stark just liked shitty coffee, and you were only now just noticing it. 

Natasha was back. 

Your hand faltered at the coffee machine, spilling a little of it on your hand, and the burn stung immediately.

"Are you okay?" Bruce asked as he noticed you inhale a sharp breath.

"Yeah, I'm fine." You smiled awkwardly at him before looking at Pepper. "Morgan's fine. She just has the flu and her fever's gone down. Make sure she gets plenty of rest and fluids. I'm going to set up a humidifier for her and help her settle into bed with a movie and wait for her to fall asleep before I head out."

Pepper let out a heavy breath, putting her hand over her chest in relief. "Oh, perfect. Thank you so much for coming suddenly. I just—Morgan doesn't really like going to the hospital, and suddenly she started throwing up and having a fever—"

"It's fine, Pepper," you waved off her ramblings after you wiped what you spilled on the counter. "You can always call me if you need me."

"Seriously, I think I might just employ you full-time as a live-in doctor if you say that," Pepper joked, and you laughed. 

"I am already your live-in doctor, just for one of your research labs. instead."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You don't think about Natasha—at least, you try not to. 

You heard things here and there about it through Pepper. Apparently, she's being held in a government facility similar to The Raft, detained like some criminal they needed to study instead of the war hero who sacrificed everything to save the world. 

It made you sick to your stomach. 

But you hear that Clint, Bruce, and Nick Fury have been fighting to get custody of her, so you don't think about it. There were people who knew Natasha far better than you did and were way closer to her than you were. 

She was in good hands. 

So, you continue on with your daily routine to pass your monotonous days, unaware you're waiting for some kind of update.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The next time you heard about Natasha Romanoff, it was Clint and Bruce cornering you at your lab.

"What?" You panicked, tensing up. "Why me?"

"You're the only person Natasha ever sought out to treat her," Clint answered, and you felt even more lost at the fact he knew. "Natasha allows medical professionals onsite to help her, but there were times she left to go see you. That has to mean something."

But, of course, he knew. He was Natasha's...best friend. And Clint was an incredibly nosy person, even if Natasha didn't tell him. 

"I've only treated her a handful of times—literally only five times. I don't know her that well," you shook your head, trying to walk around them. "I didn't even know she had a sister until you told me."

"Please," Clint begged. "I'm fighting to get her out, and the doctors they have looking after her are shady and callous with her. I can only visit her with Nick's influence, but it's not enough to get her out of there."

"And what do you suppose I can do?"

"You're a renowned cellular biologist," Bruce cut in. "If they're holding her for research, we want someone on our side who will at least treat her like a human being. The faster we get answers, the faster we can get her out."

"Please," Clint begged again. "Natasha needs help. She's...different. And it's only going to get worse if she remains in there. She's not talking, and they won't let her go until they can find some answers."

It felt wrong. 

You don't want to study Natasha Romanoff like an animal. Despite being a scientist with an inquisitive mind, you don't care about how she returned.

But it sounded like Natasha would be researched whether you liked it or not. And if that was the case, you do wonder how the other doctors may be treating her.

"Fine, we're going first thing in the morning," you gritted out, unable to block out the handful of memories of times you've treated her.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

June 2012

"Oo, that looks painful," you hissed in sympathy as a redhead with a busted lip and nasty gash on her temple entered the med bay.

There was a snort that sounded like a half-grunt. "It looks worse than it feels. I hope I'm not intruding, but Tony said I should see you to be treated."

"Natasha, right?" You asked slowly, gesturing to a seat for her to take as you grabbed some medical supplies. 

"Yes," Natasha replied, equally slow with caution.

"Tony talks about you a lot," you tried to reassure her of whatever paranoia she might have. It probably didn't help that Natasha was still in her catsuit and probably would've preferred to be called by her alias.

"Well, don't believe everything he says," Natasha gives a light but somewhat tight smile. 

"Oh, so you aren't a unique woman with high intellect, sneaky, and rightfully smug?" You teased, and it was flattering that you could make a superhero laugh. 

You began treating Natasha's wound carefully. 

"You're pretty good at this, doc," Natasha commented as you blew on her brow, even if it didn't sting. "You're pretty gentle. Must be why Tony says you're his personal doctor."

You chuckled. "I'm actually a cellular biologist. Tony is funding my research and pretty much my lifestyle. With the money he's paying me, he can come crying about his boo-boos anytime. Although, he doesn't really come to me for serious stuff. It's usually if he has something ridiculous like a papercut."

"But you can treat wounds and other medical things?" 

"I was on my way to becoming a medical doctor before I decided to go into research instead."

"Huh," Natasha hummed, raising her brow at you. "Smart cookie."

"I'd like to think so," you finished cleaning Natasha's wound and putting a bandaid over it. "Feel free to come see me if you need any other basic medical aid. For a pretty redhead, it's free of charge."

"And if I come back blonde?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," you smiled, and Natasha smirked back at you.

"Smart and funny. Tony has it too good."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

April 2014

"This is the worst bandage job I've ever seen. Who did you go to see for this? A grocery clerk?"

Natasha grunted. "Hi, to you too, doc."

You looked at Natasha, noticing how different her hair is now. But it's been about two years since you have seen her. Despite your offer for her to come to you anytime she needed help, she never did. Or she rarely did, you supposed. 

You could only deduce that Natasha was used to caring for her wounds on her own. That, or she didn't trust you. 

"Alright, let's go to my office," you sighed. 

"Am I interrupting?"

"Not really, kind of hit a brick wall."

"Oh, me too."

You looked over at Natasha, who had a straight face, but you noticed the bruise on her temple outside the obvious gun wound on her shoulder.

You pursed your lips. "Will you hate me if I laugh?"

"Not at all. On the contrary, I may like you less if you don't."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

June 2015

"You know, when I told you that you could come for me for basic medical aid, I feel like you didn't understand the meaning of basic."

"Is this too complicated for you?"

"No."

"Then am I unwelcomed?"

You pursed your lips at the redhead, who stared at you with a tiny upward quirk on her lip. "No," you sighed. "Just not sure why you'd want to see me for such serious wounds. There are other more experienced doctors."

You lift Natasha's shirt up, looking at the long gash on the side of her stomach. "We're gonna need to stitch this up. I've been doing research with Dr. Cho, and we have a new machine that can help with cell tissue generation. It would be faster than me manually stitching—"

"It's fine," Natasha declined. "I'd prefer if you manually did it."

You frown lightly at the fact but relent to the redhead's wishes. Another year passes, and Natasha's hair has changed again. 

You worked silently on cleaning Natasha's wound, and she also declined the anesthetic. You focus on stitching up the wound with precision and care.

"I like to go to you for some things because your touch is gentle," Natasha said quietly, but it felt so loud in the silent room. "It makes me feel human when I can feel your touch."

You looked over at her face briefly, but Natasha wasn't looking at you. You don't take any deeper meaning into it. She's someone who's probably felt dehumanized most of her life. The machines that can heal her twice as fast would be fine for life-threatening injuries, but it probably all feels clinical. 

You looked back down at the stitch. "Well, as long as you're a redhead, it's free of charge."

"Don't kid yourself, I would look perfect blonde."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

September 2016

"What are you doing here?" You hissed as you pulled Natasha in quickly, peering outside before shutting the door. 

"Why? Am I unwelcomed now?" Natasha's tone sounded a little hurt, and you scan her body. She didn't seem to be bleeding anywhere that required immediate attention, but you did notice crusted blood at the edge of her nostrils. 

"No, but you could get caught here," you shook your head at her. "They're looking for you and the rest of team cap everywhere."

Natasha shrugged. "I highly doubt Tony has your place under surveillance. We don't meet enough for anyone to consider looking for me through you."

You sighed, not sure what to feel about the statement. "I suppose. I don't work for Tony anymore, anyway."

Natasha's brows furrowed.

"Why?"

"I don't agree with what he's doing."

"So you're on Steve's side?"

"No, I think Steve was obstinate too. They're both stupid. Men are stupid."

Natasha laughed before wincing as she held her nose.

"What happened?" You brought her over to your couch before finding your first aid kit.

"I broke my nose," Natasha shrugged. "Can you believe breaking my nose saved millions of girls?"

"With you? Yes." You smirked as you tilted her head to look at the injury closer. "Lucky you. Looks like you don't need surgery. Do you always come here immediately after you save the world?"

"Yep."

"Couldn't even clean your nose before you did?"

"And deprive you of giving me care? I wouldn't dare."

You snorted, carefully cleaning the blood in and around her nose. It was silent again before Natasha spoke up.

"So, what happened with your research stuff now that Tony's not sponsoring your work?"

"Pepper is funding it, even though she knows I won't share anything with Stark Industries at the moment. She doesn't want me to sell my research or provide any data to other companies."

"Smart cookie."

"And a really hot blonde."

"This feels targeted. It's like you know I might dye my hair blonde soon."

"You're still a redhead; I have no idea what you mean. I like your hair, though. Braids look good on you."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

June 2018

Natasha showed up at your front step, holding her rib. There's a look of genuine relief at seeing you.

"You're still here," her voice sounds empty and hollow. "You're still here."

You pulled her inside gently. You're still in shock yourself. You were on a walk when people started disappearing left and right. The sheer panic on the streets was chaos as you were dialing Pepper frantically, almost crying when she picked up the phone. Then there were actual tears when you called other people in your life, and half of them didn't pick up...and they weren't going to. 

"I'm here," you swallowed. "What happened to your rib?"

"I don't know." Natasha looked so lost. There was the look of failure and self-blame all over her face. 

"Does it hurt?"

"I don't know."

You grasp her wrist, carefully moving her hand away from her rib before gently putting your fingertips against them. Your fingers trail up, down, and around. 

Suddenly, Natasha broke into tears. 

"Does it hurt?" You asked, panicked.

"You're still here," was all Natasha choked through her tears.

You didn't know what to do other than treat her wounds more gently than ever before while reassuring her you hadn't disappeared. You were one of the many people on this planet still here. And when she was better, she'd get the rest of them back. 

It was a long and exhausting night, and Natasha fell asleep in your bed, and you made sure she was comfortable before leaving to sleep on the couch.

Natasha's hair has changed again.

"You look good blonde."

That was the last time you saw her. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Natasha's hair has changed again. She's gone back to being a redhead with blonde tips. Her hair was a mess, barely brushed, and looked knotted. 

The room was big and had padded walls, a singular bed in one corner, and a toilet and sink in another. There were lights in parts of the cell but also areas of darkness. It looked like a fucking prison cell. 

You were looking through an unbreakable glass window, the middle holding up a microphone you assumed was linked to the speaker in the room.

Natasha stood in the middle of the room under the light in a hospital gown falling off her shoulder. Her hands were covered in scars, and her lips were so chapped, you were sure they'd split even if Natasha breathed the wrong way. 

Natasha was only a few feet away from you, but it felt like she was a million miles away.

They let you see her alone under the guise of privacy as you saw her.

You felt you weren't supposed to see this—see her like this. 

A sense of dread filled you at the blank expression on Natasha's face at what she'd gone through—what she was still going through. 

She was a hero, and this was how they were treating her? This was someone who had fought wars repeatedly for this stupid country and the rest of the world, and they had her locked up like a mental ward patient from the 1600s.

You thought the government had gotten better. There were reforms and peace after people came back from the snap. This wasn't how they were supposed to treat someone who'd given up their life to ensure everyone got theirs. 

It shouldn't matter that she came back; she had still given it up in the first place for them. 

Natasha didn't even seem to recognize you through the glass as you stepped closer to the microphone. She looked past you as if she could tell the exit was somewhere behind you. 

"Natasha?" You said into the mic, and it bellowed into the room.

Nothing. 

"Nat?" 

Natasha's eyes were listless. She was a broken, empty shell that seemed more like an animated corpse than actually being alive.

You swallowed, trying one more time. "You're still a redhead. Looks like it's still free of charge."

Natasha's eyes flickered this time, her head tilts towards you as she blinked with focus. It was just a spark, but it was something, and relief spreads through you. 

"Not completely." You could barely hear her voice, but it was coarse. Cold.

There should've been a joke about some kind of discount, but Natasha didn't make it. You were speechless.

You didn't know what to say. Don't worry, you're trapped in here, but I'm going to help with the research, and hopefully, we'll get you out soon?

It was like prolonging a death sentence. You were horrified.

"Just—wait for me," the words flew out of your mouth so fast but you meant them with every ounce of your being. "You're gonna go home with me today."

Natasha's eyes sparked at the words but just as quick as you saw it, they died out, falling back into listlessness. She turned, stepping into a darkened corner away from your view and prying eyes of the cameras as she said, "No, I'm not."

You realized she's probably spent weeks watching Clint, Bruce, and Fury try to get her out unsuccessfully.

The resignation made something lurch in your throat and eyes sting with desperation and rage. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"So, we can send you a contract—"

"You're going to release her to my custody," you cut off some government official. He was old, wearing some kind of toupee that was slicked back to hide his balding head. 

He looked at you in disbelief, almost laughing like you were some stupid, naive young girl. 

He looks at Clint and Bruce, who are also just looking at you in shock.

"As I've told your friends and Nick Fury, this is out of their hands. The Accords are still intact as of right now, therefore—"

"I don't care about the Accords. You will release her into my care. I'm more than qualified and I have the resources to find the inane answers you're looking for while rehabilitating Agent Romanoff," you cut him off again, able to tell that it was irking him. 

"That won't be necessary as you can see we have the resources here," the government official raised his brow at you.

"Your resources can't compete with Stark's resources."

It was no secret that Tony had left a very sizable fortune to you in his will, outside of everything he gave to Pepper and Morgan. And it was also no secret how close you were with the surviving Starks. 

"Doctor," the government official sighed, obviously making it sound like you were a nuisance. "If you're not here to join our research team, I suggest you go on your way and remember the NDA you signed."

You glared at him even more. "I'm not leaving without Agent Romanoff. You will hand her over to me, or you will regret it."

"And exactly how will I regret it?" The government official looked smug, and you smirked back at him.

"I'm still in talks with the government regarding my research, and I will pull out and sell that information outside of this country as I'm free to do so. I know Dr. Cho is in talks between the US and South Korea about her nano-technology. One word from me, and America can fall behind on those advancements as well." You pulled out your cell phone in a threatening manner. "Pepper and I will pull out all of our money from the very same banks and company investments that you're supporting and make you watch as they collapse one after another."

"You'd ruin our entire economy—our country by doing so!" The official was red in the face. "You'd put your entire country into chaos?" He sneered at you.

"I will if you don't give me Agent Romanoff!" You sneered back at him. "It's not like you won't eventually get your research and answers if she's in my custody. It works in both our favor."

The official is staring at you, glaring and seething.

"I imagine your colleagues and superiors will pin the blame on you if this entire economy and country goes into ruin because if I have to do that, I will say that it's the government's fault. The NDA said I can't specifically talk about Natasha and this place, which I won't. But I'm sure some journalist will discover the truth and plaster all over the news what you're doing to a war hero," your voice was so vindictive; you're not sure if you've ever been so cold before. 

"So," your voice was flat, devoid of emotion now. "What will it be?"

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It was agreed that Natasha would stay in a cabin that Pepper owned out in the countryside. You were to provide monthly updates on your research and rehabilitation progress. And while this was in headway, neither you nor Natasha was free to leave the country or this planet. 

Clint initially wanted you and Natasha to stay with him and his family, but you declined. You pointed out that it would be hard for him and his family—his children, especially—to see Natasha like this. 

Pepper had everything prepared while you gingerly collected Natasha.

"We're going home, Natasha," you said softly, shrugging off your jacket to wrap around her shoulders. But Natasha still didn't react, even if she let you take her hand and drag her out of the facility. 

During the car ride, you mentally planned what you needed to do. Natasha needed to eat, take a bath, and rest. 

"Have you eaten yet?" You asked the redhead, sitting stoically in the car, straight as a rod. 

There was no answer. Natasha was peering out the windshield, her hands perfectly on both thighs. Clint looked worried as he looked at you.

"Natasha?" You gently placed her hand over hers. You could feel the bumps of the white scars over her hand. A part of you is too frightened to ask where she got these from. 

Natasha looked down at your hand over hers before looking at you. Her eyes were so empty. Such a dull green like dying grass.

"Did you eat?" 

Natasha nodded once before looking back outside the windshield. 

You looked at Clint, trying to give him a reassuring smile, but deep down, you were afraid you had no idea what the fuck you were doing. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Pepper says you've been here before, but let me know if you need help finding anything," you brought her into the house where Natasha just stood, looking at nothing in particular. 

"Um," you took a shaky breath. "How about a bath? I'm sure it'll be good to get the grime and stale air off of you." 

Natasha didn't move on her own, so you began to lead her up the stairs to the bathroom. 

It was a detached tub near the high window to get plenty of sunlight without anyone being able to peer in. 

"I'll just get this started for you," you offered. Turning on the tap and pouring in a liquid that formed into bubbles. "Just make sure to check the temperature and adjust. Pepper says that sometimes that faucet can be a little finicky."

You turned to Natasha, who stood there, staring at the wall. She was unmoving, making no gesture if she was waiting for you to get out or to start undressing.

"Do you, um, need help?" You asked, but there was no answer. 

Maybe it would wake her up a little once she was in the water. 

"I'm—" you took a long breath in. "I'm gonna help you undress and get into the tub. If you get uncomfortable at any point, let me know and I can stop or do something else."

It wasn't like you've never seen a naked body before. You've seen plenty both in your sex life and field of work. You've even seen parts of Natasha's body when you've treated her. You just never thought you'd see Natasha fully naked. 

You slid your jacket off her shoulders, letting out a puff of breath. You looked past her as you undid the string of her hospital gown. You looked up when you slid down her underwear before guiding her towards the tub. Your gentle guiding seemed to spark Natasha into mechanically climbing into it herself the rest of the way. 

"Okay, cool. Um," you stuttered. "I'm sure you've been through a lot. Once you're done, we can get you into bed and if you're hungry later, I can make you something."

You were getting used to the lack of answers, but it didn't make your stomach drop any less. "Just let me know if you need anything."

You don't wait for a response this time, leaving without shutting the door fully. Down the hall, you leaned against the wall, swallowing harshly. 

It feels like you brought a lifeless shell home. A part of you wonders if Natasha really did return or if this was just some lifeless doll. 

You didn't want to think about it anymore, so you pushed yourself off the wall and into a bedroom with a suitcase and unzipped it open to grab some clothes.

When you were heading back, you heard the water still running and frowned. 

"Natasha?" You called as you opened the door. The tub was overfilling, and you rushed to turn off the faucet, trying to not slip.

Natasha was sitting how you left her, staring ahead at the running water but not really looking at it.

You sighed, relieved that the bathroom floor was designed with wood and curved so that any water would naturally run towards a drain in the floor. 

You go to check the temperature of the water and find that while it was initially fine when you turned it on, Natasha hadn't attempted to adjust it, and the finicky faucet ran nearly scalding water. 

"Jesus, Natasha, you're going to hurt yourself," you yelped. You braced through it and stuck your hand in to drain the tub halfway.

You inwardly sighed, knowing you would have to help Natasha through the entire process. You began to refill the tub, monitoring the temperature and shut it off when it was filled adequately. 

"I'm going to help wash you if that's okay," you muttered. "Just let me know if you prefer to do it yourself at any point."

You grabbed a nearby stool and sat on it before grabbing the loofa. You began with Natasha's shoulders and arms, trying to wash parts of her that were easy to access.

Natasha tensed as you washed her, so you tried to be more slow and careful. 

"It's just me," you said softly, trying to reassure the redhead. "I've always taken care of you."

Natasha said nothing, but her shoulders relaxed slightly as you continued. There wasn't much dirt on her, but the stale air that was surrounding her began to fade away. 

Her knees were propped up, folded to her chest, and you washed down her thighs and legs, trying to not think of anything too much as you did it. You tried not to think about the scars on her hands and feet. 

Readjusting your stool, you went to sit behind her. You used a cup to wet Natasha's hair, trying to detangle some of it gently first. It was then you discovered a shaven spot in the back of her head, where there was a large scar. You realized that was where Natasha's head hit the ground when she—

You swallowed, trying to suppress the anger that they shaved her head to get a look at something so private. 

You squeezed a considerable amount of shampoo in your hands and gently rubbed it into her scalp. Natasha tensed at first before your fingers massaging her scalp made her relax, her body leaning back against the tub and her head into your hands. 

It was quiet as you did this. You shampooed her hair twice before slathering it up in conditioner and finally getting out the rest of the knots. You drained the tub, grabbing the shower head to rinse her down once more before you grabbed a towel and helped her out. 

You helped put a bathrobe around her to help dry her as you didn't think you had the gall to fully dry every part of her by hand. Grabbing her clothes, you led her to her bedroom, setting her down on the bed. 

Natasha sat silently as you towel-dried her hair with gentle hands. Her eyes fell closed as you began to blow dry it. Your soft fingers tousling her hair. 

So delicate. 

When it was dry, you set the blow dryer aside. 

"Hm, your hair is pretty sensitive and might be for the next week. It might be better to braid it so it doesn't tangle and break when you're sleeping," you commented, mostly to yourself. 

You took sections of her hair, delicately beginning to put her hair into a french braid. 

"You've always had beautiful hair, red or blonde," you complimented Natasha as you finished. You moved to sit in front of her to check if you did okay from the front. There wasn't a response, but Natasha opened her eyes. They focused on you, looking at you as they traced over the features of your face. She was studying you apprehensively. 

Natasha lifted a hand, slowly reaching up as her fingers brushed the side of your face. It felt bumpy from the scars, but it made the back of your throat burn. 

"Am I really here?" Natasha mumbled as she then traced your cheek before your lips. "Am I really here with you?"

Your eyes were burning now. You couldn't even answer right away because you were afraid your lips would start trembling. 

You lifted your hand, hesitating at first, before you held her hand against your face. "Yeah, you're really here."

The edges of Natasha's eyes began to brim with tears. 

"When I jumped, I didn't die right away," Natasha whispered. "There was a feeling that something bad was going to happen. It didn't get me yet, but it was going to."

You couldn't help the tears that began to fall over the edge of your eyes when they overfilled. 

"Something bad happened to me," Natasha's lip trembled. "It's still happening to me."

You gripped her hand tighter unintentionally, but it was like it grounded Natasha. 

"I was scared," Natasha admitted. "I was scared that even if you came to me, it wouldn't go away."

Then, Natasha grabbed your hand and placed it against her cheek. It was still warm from the bath and blow dryer. 

"But I can feel your touch," Natasha sighed like it was a relief. "It's gentle and I feel human. I'm scared I'm not really here."

"You are."

Your throat felt clogged with raw emotions, and you didn't know what to do with it. You've only seen Natasha a handful of times, and maybe it's because the more you do, the more emotionally charged you both feel. 

"You're really here," you told Natasha, using your thumb to caress her cheek. You didn't know what else to say. 

All you can do is offer her shelter under your touch.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fluff #black widow x reader #black widow imagine #natasha romanov imagine #natasha romanov x reader #avengers imagine #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha x you #mm: my fics

[gremlingottoosilly]

The horror and the wild [!emperor!Konig x fem!Reader] ch.5

You had a nice, simple life. Serve the princess, obey the princess, protect the princess with your life. You never thought that this nice, simple life would bring you to be kidnapped by the infamous Northern Emperor. Konig never thought that kidnapping a wife would be much easier than courting one.

CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2| Chapter 3| Chapter 4| Chapter 5l you're here! AO3

Word count: 3188 Tags/Warnings: Medieval fantasy/Alternative European history AU, Age gap, Enemies(one-sided)to lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Forced marriage, Size difference(Konig is absolutely huge), Somewhat one-sided slow burn, Yandere Konig

Warnings for this chapter: Predator/Prey kink, mild choking

Little princess doesn’t know what’s good for her. Little princess is dumb and naive and oh, so deliciously weak, it makes Konig sick just how much he adores her pouty face, her aggressive expressions, and that squeak in her voice every time he does something to embarrass her – which he does, a lot, in fact. Quite aware of how his war dog lingo would affect an innocent young lady like his precious dearest darling illustrious wife, he uses it to hi advantage – when you have your lady cornered, heavy panting and cumming from your tongue and your fingers in her tight royal cunt, she wouldn’t be able to open her mouth for something meaningless, right? Thou shall not think as thou would be a sin against god. 

Emperor is a sinner, but he still believes that you shall always follow the religious instructions – as if not ever trying to oppose him and speak like you have the right to think in his presence. Perhaps, his devotion to making you weak and pliable in his arms is what led to this situation. 

Little princess doesn’t know what’s good for her, so little princess runs. 

You might brag about your best education and most elegant courses for women you attended in the palace – but he knows just how empty your adorable little head is, because you had no idea how much the thrill of the hunt turns him on. 

You’re nowhere to be found, escaped through the window of the room you were stationed in – it was his mistake, assigning you a place from which you could jump so easily. Next time, he will cuff you to his bedpost, like a loyal palace dog lying on his legs. Next time, he will make sure to love you so eagerly that your legs won’t work for at least a few days. 

He doesn’t even need his hunting dogs to catch you. Horangi offers his help, Tiger so eager to come out and play with a little princess, perhaps maul her a bit, showing the royal cunt what she deserves for disrespecting her emperor and his subjects – but oh no, this won’t do. König needs to discipline you himself, track your scent like the hound he is, and get you back to your wedding bed with your body in his teeth. 

Woe on you, dumb little princess, as your emperor considers escape attempts the richest form of courting. 

Following you through the forest near the castle, your footsteps are clear in the mud and dirt – a piece of your dress serves as a grinding light. Your scent, delicious sweetness, and fresh flower oils maid had infused you with made it laughably easier to find you. He can almost see the glimpses of your body running through the woods – god, he knew that he wanted you and was right about taking you away. 

How can he resist a wedding gift from his bride who wants to play tag? He follows you like a madman, a dog, he sees through trees, trying to see where you could run. The deep golden brown of your dress almost made you look like a forest spirit standing in the depths of the woods – if it weren’t for König’s trained eye, he would rather mistake you for a tree. Or a particularly precious deer. 

He licks his lips, a wolf approaching the bunny he was hunting for so long – you run away, still try to. These dumb skirts aren’t made for running away from your fiancee in a forest – you can barely walk in those, poor thing. You take a step back, panicking, squawking from fear, as he approaches you as slowly as possible. 

Perhaps, if he gives you one more chance to run, it would make the chase even more precious. 

He is used to hunting with his royal hounds, with a group of his closest friends by his side – war hawks helping hunt for prey, the animal snifters making the whole process laughably easy. He doesn’t have anyone for the company now. 

Only you, him, and wilderness – and his adoring love for everything you do. 

— Stop resisting, little princess.

You whimper, but your little annoyed expression makes him only harder. Hell, how he adores your frown, how much he wants to kiss your face right now – god knows he is holding himself back these days. Little princess doesn’t deserve to get her innocence taken on her back, legs open on the dirt of the royal forest – but sometimes you act like a good lashing, and some passionate mating is the only thing that would keep you in line. 

He yells in your direction, hoping that even that dumb head of yours has some sense in it – the chase is fun, and he would continue it more until you’re completely unraveled under him, exhausted and defeated – but, oh, your silly desire to be free has led you to the edge of the lake. Dancing on the shaky, soft sands and warm mud of the pond, your clothes leave you with very small chances of getting out of here in one piece. 

He doesn’t want to be the bringer of doom, but just one sleep, a nervous movement that you can’t control – and the little princess of his dreams will come flying in the dark waters. Even if your royal majesty knows how to swim, the heavy fabrics of your garments would be declared as your executioners. 

You look so fragile like this – your skirt is lifted, showing your pretty ankles, as you’re trying to jump from stone to stone, as far away from him as possible. You’re scared, only reminding him more of the bunnies he used to hunt as a kid – and he is almost offended that you’d prefer that risk of drowning over getting in the hands of your husband again, but alas, princesses are usually not the smartest creatures on the planet. 

— I’d rather die, Your Majesty. 

You bite your lips and look at him, so stubborn and cute – the feelings in him rise, your arrogant expression making the thrill of the hint ever sweeter. God, he cannot control himself around you like this – you should stop trying to make yourself sweeter for him, he already wants to keep you chained in his bed and never let you go. 

You’re so…

Ach. 

His path of thought is stopped by the splash of water. 

Dumb thing, you really decided to make the most of your words – like a cornered animal, you jumped in the lake, getting to the bottom almost immediately. Your dress is heavy and expensive, all the weight of the fabrics pinning you down in elaborate execution. Your emperor stands on the small beach, looking at the water circles going from where you fell…and then he jumps straight after you. 

The last thing you remembered before the world went dark was the scream of a man who, for the first time in his life, had experienced genuine fear. 

*** You wake up warm – and naked. 

No wet clothes, no heavy dress lingering on your skin like a soft coffin. 

You’re as naked as the day you were born, shivering despite the warmness of the room and the crackling of fire somewhere near you. You remember this room – a royal bedroom, quickly made as your quarters when you moved to this god-forsaken castle. Empire has some horribly extensive architecture, and this room, big, stony, and expelled of any decor, has only made you feel regret ever waking up. 

You wished to wake up in the cold embrace of your Princess – but you open your eyes and see this room over and over again. Why couldn’t death come sooner? 

— It was incredibly stupid even for you, little princess. 

König sits on the edge of the bed. A future husband shouldn’t sit like this, resembling a servant who is scared for the health of his misstress. His eyes are filled with cold fury and other emotions that you can’t quite grasp – you don’t want to look at his face too much as even the mere glimpse is making you uncomfortable. God knows you are not in the mood for trying to talk to your captor. 

God knows he doesn’t care about your wishes. 

— If you can only provide me freedom in case of my death…

— You will not be free after your death. 

You sigh, shocked – your brain isn’t nearly ready for this information when you just almost died. You shift in your bed, trying to pretend that you accidentally fell asleep – but the emperor pushes his hand on your cheek, warm fingers lingering on the cold skin. You sigh quietly, sealing his warmth. 

You fight the desire to nuzzle in his palm like an obedient little pet. 

— It’s not for you to decide, Your Majesty. I should be allowed to die on my own accord. 

— I'm entitled to your life, my bride. Don’t make me remind you of this, ja? 

— I would rather… 

— I can deliver death to you, little one. In a verdammt heartbeat. 

His hand goes from a warm presence on your cheek to an angry squeeze of your neck – you cough when he continues to shut your breath, fluttering of your neck in his grasp only makes your defeat even sweeter. König has you right where he wants it – under him, holding firmly in his grasp like some exotic bird he picked up from his travels. 

Lack of air makes you dizzy – as ironic as it sounds, you feel airheaded, hands clinging to his massive palm in a poor attempt to make him let you go. You whimper, you cry, you feel death all too soon – you want to die, of course, maybe, willingly meeting in hell with the royalty you had sworn to serve, but you don’t want to be killed. Tears run down your cheeks when you finally see the other side of him – out of control, angry, worse even than the conqueror you saw when you first met. 

You feel replaceable and small – he squeezes your throat like you aren’t his bride like you don’t mean anything to him, and, yes, it makes you feel hurt. Vulnerable as ever, your manicured nails have zero power over him – he only laughs at your helpless expression. For a second, it makes you think this is it – the last thing you would ever see is the cold anger in the eyes of your emperor. 

When your vision finally got blurry enough so you could not see anything anymore, König softly lowered his face closer to you, lifting the bottom part of his weird, strange hood. Smothering you with his lips, delivering the air you were craving for – if only to make himself feel even more in control. You’re lightheaded and a bit dumb, still, your mind is too delirious to actually understand anything that is happening around you. 

His lips are warm and dry, you steal air from his lungs with each second – you feel the energy feeling you up again, eyes are finally set enough to see at least some part of his face. Chiseled chin, covered in scars, tanned skin – you’re surprised that he is not as pale as you thought he must be, with his love for the masks. 

His veins are dark and rotten – you don’t understand how he can survive with his blood looking like this, but the dark tendrils of his body almost make him more of a curiosity than an actual human being. It’s only his lips that are still holding you in realms of the living. You don’t want to think of the implications and gossip you heard from some servants that were allowed to go out – allowed to witness the growth of the empire that was soon to eat you all. 

König finally lets go of your mouth when you start falling asleep again. You don’t allow him to simply cover his lips with his hood again though – your hands are heading to lend on his neck, fingers tracing the outlines of his veins. 

A medical curiosity, this emperor – you squeeze the rot of his neck, and he moans like you just did something that he liked too much. 

It’s only fitting that he has the body of a monster – for all he is done, you wouldn't be surprised if his head actually resembles the one of an octopus from silly books you were reading or a mess of dark tendrils, wiggling and swarming. Your delirious, oxygen-deprived mind still wants to touch him more, to satisfy your curiosity in all the more fitting ways. Maybe take your research a bit further down to see if he truly is a man down there. 

But oh well, you saw his body before – although you never as much as paid attention to that detail. Did he change in a few days that passed? Does his veins start to spew out darkness because he is…

He crushed your hand in his, almost making you feel a crack in your dainty lady fingers. God forbid you feel like your hands are being torn apart. 

— Never try to defy me like this again. 

He spews the words with anger than would be fitting for the enemy – and he is, for you, but you were sure that he didn’t consider you one of them. The contrast with his soft actions earlier, you can feel tears collecting in your eyes as he slowly lets go of your hand. 

Not knowing what to do, you roll to the side, burning desire to never see his face – or lack thereof – ever again. Like an angry cat that doesn’t know how to stop biting, you feel like you’re going to cry again and again. 

You whimper, trying to escape the haunting gaze of his eyes – and his face softens, if only for a bit. He presses his hand against your damp forehead, checking the temperature. You don’t want to forgive him just yet – for anything at this matter, but he is soft at this moment, and somehow, it is almost enough. Somehow, you almost feel like you can breathe again. 

— I was so scared, little princess. I don’t like being scared. 

You laugh dryly, your face is still deep in the pillow. You are trying to ignore the beast, but the beast decided that you’re his best option for a nice free snack. Beast decided to take off some of his clothes – you don’t see it, but you hear the sound of fabric hitting the floor, and you don’t want to even think how much it cost. 

You try to cover your naked body with the silk sheets of your bed, but soft fabric only entices your desires in a way that can only be called sinful. You remember the sensation of his tongue between your legs, your desire to simply run out of your skin because of how good it felt – each stroke made you strive further and further away from your duties. Like a good little maid you are, a perfect lady in waiting, waiting for her demise, you have to ignore all the mortal pleasures. 

If you want the royal family to truly forgive you in their graves, you would have to join them. Perhaps, you gave up on drowning too fast. 

— It wasn’t my intention. 

He shifts, the bed is too small for someone like him. You feel his legs, clothed, thank god, touching your naked thighs – and you immediately stir to the further side. You keep your arms and legs in check, getting into a small ball of limbs as you’re trying to comfort yourself without his touch. You don’t want to admit it, but König is warm, warmer than you thought he had the right to be, and you’re freezing. The phantom feeling of cold water on your skin is making you shiver. 

— What were your intentions then? 

If the emperor knows about manners and how a fiancee should behave around his bride that he didn’t even consummate the marriage, he is ignoring that knowledge. Large hands pinning you to his chest, warm and firm – to your utter dread, he took off the armor plates and even the simple shirt under it, making you helplessly squish your cheek against his muscles. He smells like a man, and you never knew you’d feel that smell in your life. 

You don’t hate it. 

— You killed by parents, Your Majesty. 

He only laughs, his hand goes to stroke your back. This is a contrast with his coldness before – he is soft and warm with you, and you hate that you don’t hate it. Gigantic palm goes to settle between your shoulder blades and you simply sigh, trying to get used to his touches. You don’t want to, but a good servant should adapt to everything, so you do just that. Adapting, deforming, melding yourself in something you never knew you even could be. 

Your head hurts, and you whimper when his gentle massage relaxes your sore muscles. You hate his gentleness, you hate his firmness. 

You want him to let you go, but you don’t even know where you would go. 

— Your parents, little princess? Really? 

There is a vile mockery in his voice, and you immediately remember who this man is. Not some devoted lover and slightly obsessive romanticist – he is dangerous, horrible, he is the conqueror of your country. You may not have warm feelings about the royal family, but he doesn’t know this – his laugh and mockery of your “family” must be real. It has to be, or else you’re going to die after your deceiving has been opened. 

He pushes you even closer to him, and you whimper like a dumb little dog without any means of stopping him from touching you. There is some freedom from being exposed like this, but you still don’t like it. Still feel like he is going to murder you, given the reason. 

— If anything, my men did it. That dog you called a father did not deserve my sword. 

Anger fills your whole body – not because you were particularly close with the king, but because König is parading his mockery of your supposed family. He hugs you with hands that are covered in blood, no matter if he is just the one to give orders. 

You try to get out of his grasp, but apathy fills you. What’s the point if the royal family is dead? What’s the point if you aren’t even the real princess. 

— You will not call my father…

He makes you shut your mouth when he kisses your head. Sweet and soft, you do not understand his intentions. If anything, it feels like yet another mockery. 

— I will call him like I want, meine Liebe. And you will still be mine. 

— I won’t just take it, Your Majesty. 

He laughs again. You feel sick. 

— With our wedding tomorrow, little flower, you will have to take it. Not the last thing you’ll take on that day, little princess. 

You feel like you are going to be sick. 

König kisses you again, forcing you to sleep in his hands. 

#cod #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #yandere cod #konig mw2 #reader insert

[randomshyperson]

As It Was (Part 2) - Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Once the truth is out, will you be able to forget and forgive the past, or the weight of choices be heavier than the feelings you and Wanda never learned to outgrow? | The Second Part is more based on "Satellite" than "As It Was" tbh. | Part One

Warnings: angst(ish) with happy ending, milf!Wanda, age gap, ex-lovers meeting again, witchcraft lore, some making out but nothing explicit in this part | Words: 6.552k

A/N-> At the request of many, I managed to write a sequel to that one "As It Was". It was much longer than I expected, but I managed to write things that I hadn't done before, so the result pleased me. Forgive me for the lack of smut, it ended up not fitting within the context and rhythm of the story, but there is the possibility of specials. I hope you all enjoy your reading.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Song-Based Collection

-&-

It occurs to her that you are distant.

Physically speaking, it's quite evident - Wanda hasn't seen you for five days. Not even on her secret getaways from family dinners, school reunions, or anything typical of an American suburban mom's routine so perfectly set up for herself, brings you back. You don't visit her on any of the days that follow, not for lunches or late afternoons, nor do you send either quick or long messages made up of intense declarations that always shake her with all the emotions she might have.

Wanda has no idea where you are, and the lack of control over the situation almost suffocates her. 

But there is something new that occupies her enough not to take action on it. Or rather, someone new.

It's true that time passes differently in Westview. The leaves are starting to turn orange when Pietro Maximoff arrives on her balcony. Wanda is trying to find her footing with so many ghosts from the past coming back at once and she has to admit that her twin brother's presence impacts her enough for her not to escape her house and family in an attempt to find out if you were still in the same motel where she left you in the early hours of one morning almost a week ago.

Wanda tries to focus on the good things in life; she has the family she always dreamed about, complete at last. A husband, children, and even her long-missed brother. She has friends and a house. She should feel happy and fulfilled, or so she tries to convince herself while she tries to ignore the not-so-easy feeling in her chest when she lies next to Vision at night.

He doesn't mind that she's distant herself. Sometimes, Wanda thinks he doesn't even notice. Maybe it's her will, playing with everything around her and ensuring she's not disturbed. In fact, Vision has stopped noticing many things since the last heated argument they had, on the same night that Pietro reappeared. He's just as distant as she is as if he has a whole life going on outside those walls. Wanda could say the same.

She falls asleep with difficulty, and it’s one of those nightmare nights once more. 

When she opens her eyes, she knows she’s still dreaming.

Nevertheless, she allows herself to fall into that fantasy with peace of mind.

The atmosphere is familiar, and the smells and sensations too. Wanda remembers well how things were before Hydra, and before the outbreak of civil war in her country. In the few years of tranquillity at the end of her adolescence, where the revolution group was almost a pastime for irritated young people, for a moment, she could imagine herself as nothing more than a schoolgirl.

Of course, the war would get worse, and almost the entire group of her former colleagues would leave the universities to occupy the streets, but in the safety of the dream, none of this would happen.

Wanda could leave the soft bed and follow the smell of food. She knew she would find you in the kitchen, moving your hips softly to a gentle melody because this was a memory Wanda had never learned to erase.

Her voice came out raspier than she expected once she tried to call your name. But luckily, you were distracted enough by the food to notice the tears welling up in her eyes. After a whole week without hearing from you, she truly believes she lost you once more.

But in this dream, things were saved. Your hands just continued to separate the mixture. “Morning, krasotka (gorgeous). Sit down, there's coffee on the table."

Wanda swallowed, controlling her temper. She watched your back for a moment, trying to memorize every feature of that appearance in case this was the last time and she wouldn’t have another chance before that fantasy ended.

When she didn't sit down you looked at her, offering her an easy smile from a face marked with flour and youthfulness.

"What's wrong, Wanda?"

She moves instead of answering, determined steps until she reaches you at the counter. Your confused eyes close as Wanda, who has just grabbed your belt, pulls you close and kisses you firmly.

It takes you by surprise, but you respond without hesitation. The position isn't ideal, but you kiss her eagerly, as breathless as she is once she breaks the act. Wanda's tight grip around you makes you chuckle softly.

"Hey, Pietro will wake up soon." You warned in the same casual tone, rubbing your nose against hers. "He'll kill me if he finds out about us like this..." Your mouth pecks down her jaw to her neck. 

Wanda giggles tearfully. She had forgotten about that. The teenage fear of telling her protective twin about you. Thinking back at how obvious you two were, she was sure that Pietro knew. To be fair, anyone could notice the way you looked at each other.

You tried to pull away, but Wanda didn't allow it. A sigh escaped your lips, which formed a mischievous smile.

"Behave yourself, Wanda." You warned softly, but she raised her hand to your cheek, the touch surprising you a little. Your curious expression didn't intimidate her.

"Where are you?" She questioned and curiosity gave way to confusion.

"Here, dorogoya, what do you mean-" But green irises turned red, and the confusion vanished once your eyes reflected her magic as well. Your shoulders tensed, and you sighed as if you were tired. 

You tried to pull away and this time, Wanda allowed you to. Your hands reached for a cloth, and the flour from her favorite pastry that you had prepared for her in that memory was leisurely wiped from your skin.

When you sighed again, more calmly you were leaning on the counter, with your arms crossed and your gaze distant.

"That's different." That was the first thing you said, with a small smile at the corner of your lips. Wanda swallowed, pushing her emotions down. She looked in the same direction as you next. "The sofa was dark blue, not brown."

"Some things..." She cleared her throat, trying to hide the urge to cry. "We remember it differently. Some things, they're just... different."

You hum thoughtfully, shrugging. "Yeah, like ourselves."

Wanda fiddles with her fingers. "Y/N..."

"I wasn't afraid to tell Pietro." You cut her off with no emotion in your voice, but seriousness in your gaze. "You were. I was always ready to shout out to the world that I loved you, but you were terrified of his reaction. Why did you change that?"

"I didn't." Wanda fights back immediately, defensive. You look away with a dry laugh, and she sighs. "I didn't do it on purpose. I... It's only been a long time, Y/N. It's hard to remember exactly what it was like."

"I heard that grief changes things." You retort more softly, and Wanda is sure she's going to start crying. She hugs her own body, and you sigh. "When..."

"No." She cuts you off, her voice breaking. "Why can't you just give me this day? This memory? Just... stay here. Let me live it again." She practically begs, but you don’t flinch, stepping away for the kitchen counter to move closer.

Your hands hold her arms, and your gaze makes something in her spark.

"Don't you think you deserve more than a fantasy, Wanda?"

She chuckles tearfully because this has to be a joke. 

"And what choice do I have?" she retorts, tears running down her cheeks. Wanda doesn't have the opportunity to wipe them away, you do so almost immediately. Your instinct is as quick as hers to lean into your touch. "God, there isn't... a day that I haven't missed this. Us."

You smile tenderly at her confession, and Wanda closes her eyes for a moment. She’s just enjoying the feeling while you wait. It takes another sigh for her to ask: "Where are you?"

Being asked again doesn't surprise you. You caress her cheek, and your other hand entwines around her waist.

"It doesn't matter."

She sighs impatiently. "Of course, it matters!" She insists. "I want-I need to see you." She corrects herself and you frown slightly. Wanda lets her hands grasp the collar of your blouse, and her red eyes are almost desperate in yours. "Tell me. Please. Where-"

You kiss her, hard enough for the protest to turn into a needy moan. The hand around her entwines her completely to lift her onto the counter, and Wanda melts. She kisses you as she manages, almost overwhelmed by the longing she has felt over the last few days for the sensation of your lips again.

When you part, she's tingly all over, but your hands don't go beyond her clothes. Your affected breath hits her cheek before you look at her again.

"I remembered."

Wanda almost breaks down in a sob but she manages to keep her emotions around her border. With a sniffle, she guides pleading eyes to yours. Her legs tighten around your waist as if she fears your escape.

"Please stay with me." It comes in a whisper.

You chuckle and Wanda can feel her cheeks burning, her heart breaking. She fears your answer more than she's ever feared anything else in her life.

"You don't understand, Wanda." That's what you say, pulling away and grabbing her hands. Before she can despair, imagining that you were pushing her away, your hands entwined with hers, your eyes tender and intense. "Tell me what you remember."

She looks at you with confusion before denying it with her head. "I don't like... thinking about that day."

"I know, but I need to talk about it." You say, kissing her hands for a moment. "I'm not a memory, Wanda. I'm here. I really am here."

But she shakes her head, her shoulders tensing and her breathing going out of rhythm. "My mind is playing tricks on me... First you, and now Pietro. None of it makes sense. The only thing I know is that I don't want to lose you again. Please don't leave me again."

She doesn't even realize she's started crying. You hug her, trying to calm her down with pats on her back as she wets her shirt. 

Wanda clings to you as if you're going to disappear, but you stay there until the tears dry.

"I'm not going anywhere, I promise." You whisper. "Never again, Wanda. I can't change what happened to Pietro, but I'm staying. Screw the consequences, I'll never leave you alone again."

She looks at you with confusion, wiping her wet face with the hem of her blouse. " What consequences- what you talking about?"

But you smile, kissing her cheek quickly. "It's time to wake up, my love. Meet me when you're ready to leave. I'm waiting outside for you."

Wanda tries to grab you by the blouse, but she wakes up in a jolt. Vision complains low in bed so that she stops making so much noise and Wanda hides her tears in her pillow.

She dares to try to search for your presence around the house, every floor, every room but all there is is Vision and her twins.

Her mind is playing tricks on her. A stupid dream just to try to break the perfect life she has now.

She goes back to sleep and makes sure that she won’t dream of anything else.

-&-

It's not the ideal place or your favorite setting, nor does it have the best food, but the dinner is the closest outside the Hex that you could find, so it's enough.

The back table becomes the mystery traveler's spot (that's how you hear the waitress and some truck drivers refer to you) for the next few days.

It takes almost two for Agatha to show up.

"You're late, witch." That's how you greet her, outside in the parking lot. The cigarette is hanging unlit from your lips, and Agatha snatches it from your mouth before you have a chance to light it. Your relaxed posture breaks, and she hits you over the head with a slap.

"Insolent child! Irresponsible! Arrogant-" You let her hit three more, they don't hurt, and it's good for her anger. The next time she's about to swear at you for something else, you hit her first. 

"Get a grip, you grumpy old woman." You snap. " Don't cause a scene, huh?"

Agatha raises a finger in warning, her eyes blazing with fury before she walks away with an annoyed grunt. 

"You're unbelievable." She retorts, taking up your personal space again. She pulls a box of cigarettes out of your leather jacket pocket and takes one for herself. You roll your eyes but watch her light one, and blow the smoke away. Agatha keeps muttering to herself “Challeging a direct order; what will the council say? In the worst scenario, they will know I helped you and I’m done. This little shit…”

You adjust your posture to lean on one of the parking lot irons, your hands in your jacket pockets. You pull the witch out of her complaints with a question:

"What's the matter with you anyway?"

Agatha chuckles dryly, the cigarette between her fingers. "Your girlfriend."

Your posture doesn't change, but the glint in your eyes is almost sinister. "Watch your next words carefully, Miss Harkness."

It's her turn to laugh dryly and take another drag before turning her face toward you. "What is with little show you put on anyway? Standing guard outside, waiting for Rapunzel to leave her tower?" Her teasing only makes you chuckle. Agatha sighs impatiently. "You laugh now, but the whole place is surrounded. If that crazy witch ends up getting shot, I won't sell you any spells to fix it."

You roll your eyes, snatching the cigarette from her fingers. "Stop talking shit, Agatha." You retort. "There are no agents inside, I kept my part of the deal. Now, if the whole thing's still on, it's you who's not doing yours."

Agatha clenches her jaw, looking at you angrily. You just flick the cigarette, and she rolls her eyes.

"I've had unforeseen difficulties."

"Right." You laugh. "You're getting soft, that's for sure."

The cigarette flies out of your hand with her hard slap. You snort in annoyance, but Agatha is busy pulling something out of her purple suit, back now that she's out of the Hex. It's an old piece of paper that she presses hard against your hand.

"Do as written, it will be irrevocable. He'll be forced to show up." She guides between her teeth. "I doubt Mephisto will explain, but just getting his presence should do some good. And don't talk about me. I still need a big job to get back on his good side."

There's something like gratitude in your gaze, and Agatha waves you away, turning her attention to the barrier not invisible to magical eyes a few meters from dinner while you tuck the paper safely away in your pocket.

"I'm going to end all this crap today, Y/N." She declares, and you look up immediately. "Are you sure you won't-"

"No." You cut in, forcing a smile. "I'd just be getting in the way. Either side, I suppose. Wanda thinks I died, and well, I have no idea how to break the whole story to her. 'Hey baby, you thought I died but I kind of sold my soul to keep you and your brother alive. When that didn't work out for him, I ran away for fear of fucking up your life too, but whatever your magic rank, it's high enough to summon one of Mephisto's riders against his will. Any chance you would want to date me again?'”

Agatha laughs softly at the statement, shaking her head. "Don't forget the part where you're helping a witch take down her little fantasy town."

You grunt slightly. "In gratitude for my memories, only. You're a tricky merchant, Miss Harkness."

The woman chuckles, shrugging. Before she can walk away, you clear your throat and Agatha looks at you curiously. "Anything else?"

"Our arrangement, don't forget." You retort. "You won't do anything against her, or the boys."

Just to torment you, she raises an eyebrow. "No request for her husband's safety?"

You snort, rolling your eyes. "He's already dead." You grumble, and Agatha laughs darkly.

"Until recently, you were too."

"I wasn't really!" You retort indignantly, but Agatha is already turning and waving goodbye.

Alone in the parking lot, you feel the weight of the summoning spell in your pocket. Your boss would have to listen to you at some point.

-&-

Being betrayed by what seemed to be her only real friend for some time felt like a punishment.

Well, maybe it was karma. For what she was doing to Vis, and by God, to all those people trapped and subjugated to her wills, fears, and desires. But Wanda wasn't to blame, or at least, she wasn't ready to take on any of it. There was only emptiness at first, and then there was contentment. Crude and meager, but there. Her peace was as superficial as the magical fantasy surrounding her, and it didn't take long for the fear to creep back in; until finally, she was confronted with the reality of what she and her brother had never been able to accept in their youth: there is no magic formula to fix things. Just as Hydra didn't save Sokovia and cost her her twin, her magic didn't fix her grief but made it even worse.

Wanda would have to say goodbye to her children, and for this kind of pain, she had never been prepared.

Agatha seemed to take some amusement from her agony; a lot of ironic jokes as she searched through her memories. But even centuries of experience didn't rid the witch of her innate arrogance, and just as the Black Widow had once taught her, Wanda saw the opportunity to exploit her opponent's weakness.

The victory was not that satisfying, even if Wanda felt more powerful than ever. 

And Agatha, in a last desperate act, said the name of the one person who would make Wanda hesitate.

With her fingers still in the air, the redhead narrowed her eyes at the witch lying on the ground, powerless and frightened.

"I know you're bluffing."

"I swear I’m not!" Agatha assured hurriedly. "I'll take you to her. I can-"

"She was one of your tricks, then? It's as cheap and cruel as using my brother, Agatha." Cut the redhead off coldly, but the witch held up her hand, asking for time.

"Wanda, by the wizard oath." She insisted, letting out a laugh exhausted by the effort of the fight. "She was one of your tricks, not mine. You summoned her to this place."

Wanda nodded, sniffling a little. "Stop lying! I know she's dead."

Agatha shook her head. "She's not! Let me go, I promise I'll take you to her."

Wanda hesitated, in her gaze, in her posture, in her heart. Agatha continued to insist, and she looked back at her family waiting for her and all those agents around.

She turned to Agatha, who fell silent when her hand was raised again.

"I'll say goodbye first. And I swear if I find that you’re trying to trick me again-"

"I know." Agatha cut in, forcing a smile. "I promise." 

That seemed true enough to Wanda, and Agatha's determined look convinced her. She sighed and nodded, then turned away to hug her children, who were already running towards her. A mask of happiness, despite the heartbreak, stamped her face.

When it was all over, Wanda was physically and emotionally exhausted. She said goodbye to Agent Monica too, realizing bitterly that perhaps that woman was the only real friend she had made since Natasha and that she would have to lose her now too. 

And as she crossed the city limits, she assumed that Agatha had taken the opportunity to escape, and came to the conclusion that she didn't care about that at all. Something inside her broke the minute she had to put her children to bed for the last time. No silly rivalry could really bother her. 

"Look alive, Maximoff." The joke was unwelcome, but Agatha didn't mind. Nor did she get out of the parked vehicle.

"Have you ever heard of magic portals? Or, I don't know, flying?" Wanda asked as soon as she noticed the witch waiting for her from inside the car parked outside the city. Wanda didn't understand how the witch had kept the SWORD agents away from that edge, but her mind was elsewhere to ask. 

The older woman chuckled at the question, adjusting herself to lean her arms on the window and look at Wanda. "Did I mention I like the new look? Did I leave the oven on or is that heat coming from you, hot stuff?"

Wanda chuckled with more indignation than anything. When she was close enough, she sighed. "Just do what you agreed to do."

Agatha smiled mischievously. "Well, you're the one with your back to the show." She retorted, pointing at something behind her.

When she turned, she saw two figures, too far away to be identified. The sunlight didn't help either. The people had been talking for some time and it didn't seem to be a peaceful discussion.

"Who...?"

"Who do you think?" Agatha interrupted somewhat ironically. Wanda's heart leaped, and her stomach did a complete flip. It couldn't be you, could it? 

"B-but she... she was-"

"Yeah, the confusing world we live in." Mocked the witch in the car seat. "She wanted to explain everything to you but she has been a pain in the ass so I'll do it. Your friend made a deal with the devil, in the literal sense of the expression. Whatever Hydra did to her, it almost killed her. Mephisto, being the good opportunist he is, offered her a deal and perhaps because she had two people to protect and a hole in her chest, she accepted without reading the terms." Agatha smiled at her own narration, while Wanda continued in shock, being able to imagine the whole story. "And of course, like any deal with the devil, nothing goes according to plan. Mephisto must have known that the boy would die in battle, so he lied to get your friend's soul. She chickened out, by the way, after she heard about her brother. She thought the same would happen to you if she got close, of course at the time neither of you must have known your true power and authority..."

"Authority?" She interrupted hoarsely, getting a laugh from the other witch.

"By Hecate, young witches these days don't know anything," muttered the woman. "As I said before, Wanda, you are the Scarlet Witch. You're the greatest magical authority on earth. And the fact that you don't know this is exactly why I'm needed." Agatha explains. "You need a magical tutor, Miss Maximoff. Someone to train you, and explain important things, like your magical power to break a contract of souls and summon one of Mephisto's ghost riders as you please."

After everything that had happened, absorbing and accepting the madness of this whole story seemed like just one more little push for Wanda to collapse. 

Lucky for her, she wasn't alone this time.

You finally started walking towards her, until the figures became clearer, and without needing to ask, Wanda was sure that the man with a skull pipe walking next to you was Mephisto.

Everything about his posture was intimidating, and the air seemed much heavier and darker once he was close enough. But Wanda didn't mind the audience, she threw herself into your arms and was greeted in an equally enthusiastic embrace.

Mephisto waved to Agatha from the car, letting the two of you have a moment of reunion as he commented quietly to the older witch:

"I send you to collect an undeserving one and you not only fail, but you make me lose my best rider."

Agatha swallows dryly, annoyed by the scolding. But if there's anything she feels besides fear, it's pride. And that's something she and the man share, and Agatha knows it very well.

"No creature, not even the Lord of Hell, has power against the Scarlet Witch. The humiliation of losing is strong, but you get used to it." She teases, and Mephisto loses his temper, punching the car hard and trying to grab Agatha by the neck.

A scarlet tug pushes him away.

"You filthy hag, how dare you-"

"Watch your temper, Big M." You interrupt with a serious expression, despite the provocative nickname. You gently put Wanda down, who until now had been lifeted in your arms, but you continue with a hand around her waist. 

The man huffs angrily, but visibly struggles to contain his anger, while Agatha hides a little smile and Wanda tries to gain confidence in her new title and the respect that comes with it.

When Mephisto addresses her, he is much more submissive than anyone would expect after the scene.

"My Queen, please, there has been an agreement. With both of the present, this treacherous witch owes me favors and the rider owes me her life. It's not fair that I go unpaid. If I'm not compensated, I'll obviously have to withdraw the loans..." He speaks but Wanda raises a hand in the air, interrupting him.

"I think I understand what you mean. You saved my friend, and if she doesn't serve you, she dies?"

"Yes, my lady."

You tried to protest, but Wanda put a hand on your shoulder and looked at you quickly: in her eyes was the simple request that you let her handle this. 

Agatha didn't interrupt either, nor did she react when Wanda approached Mephisto.

"I've been told that the title of Scarlet Witch makes me the highest magical authority." She begins, and somewhat begrudgingly, the man nods in agreement. Wanda sighs. "I don't understand this power entirely, but I will. What I do understand now is that if I am the authority, you must obey me."

"My lady-"

"I am not done talking." Mephisto bites his tongue, but doesn't risk challenging the red irises again. "Let's make a few things clear, sir. These two don't belong to you, I do not care about the debt. I don't know how to settle it yet, but I will. So for now, you should know that they're off-limits. Agatha will be my tutor, and any extra activity must come with a guarantee that she'll return to lessons in one piece, and as for Y/N, well..." Wanda takes a step forward, a dry laugh escaping her. "She's mine, do you understand? You're not going to harm her in any way. Not ever. You've kept her away from me long enough, toying with her perception of the truth. Of that, I think we both understand well."

Mephisto clenched his jaw, seeming to fight the urge to end you right then and there. You exchanged a proud glance with Agatha at the witch's posture in front of you.

"This will be my only warning, Mephisto. I'm taking her with me, and it's better that she keeps breathing after we leave."

Irritated but restrained, he retorts: "A rider must serve, my lady, and I don't say that to contradict you. Even if she doesn't obey me, she won't be able to ignore the call. Her soul only stays in this body because of its usefulness."

"We'll deal with it without your intervention in the matter, don't worry." Wanda assures him. "And as for your payment, I still don't fully understand how this realm works, but I'll learn with the help of Agatha and the Darkhold. I believe the Lord of Hell can wait."

To Wanda's surprise, he grew friendlier, with a smile full of evil intentions. Without her realizing why the mention of the book made him so excited, Mephisto bowed again briefly. "I see a promising future for our professional relationship, Scarlet Witch."

He adjusts his hat as a sign of farewell, and it's as if the sun changes direction only for rays to obscure her vision for a moment. Just long enough for Mephisto to disappear.

"He's always rude, don't take it to heart." 

The older witch commented, but neither you nor Wanda were paying much attention to her. Wanda came back to you, wrapping you in a tight hug as a confirmation that things were really happening. And as you held her, you exchanged a quick glance with the witch in the car, a grateful one, and all Agatha did was offer the first sincere smile of the day before breaking the moment with a loud honk.

"I'm sorry, but your girlfriend is a fugitive, and flirting in the middle of the street isn't really appropriate for this moment." Mocked the witch, remembering the dozens of federal agents in the area all too willing to ask Wanda for a statement. It wasn't really a problem - but it was a nuisance.

Your girlfriend ignored Agatha's warning to kiss you on the mouth. It almost takes you by surprise, the intensity, but you manage to match it until the older witch honks again and you and Wanda break into a shared giggle.

"Don't worry, we'll have time." You meekly assure her, kissing her cheek before pulling away to open the car door. Wanda doesn't seem too keen to let you go - not that you'd want anything different - so you follow her into the back seat. Even under Agatha's warnings about behaving or she'd throw the car off the first bridge.

Once on the road, the witch met your gaze through the rearview mirror.

"My place or yours?" 

You sigh. "Mine's fine."

-&-

The first fight happens as soon as Wanda finds out that for years, you've lived nearby.

So many days when she could have taken a different route from Avengers Tower downtown to the Compound and bumped into you. 

Of course, you assured her that you kept a safe distance and that New York was full and big enough for that, but the justifications only made it worse.

And Wanda started crying and locked herself in the first room she found on the way.

You tried to look at Agatha on the sofa - very much comfortable in other people's homes, by the way - but the witch shrugged as she used her magic to bring food from your kitchen to where she was. 

With a sigh, you leaned your forehead against the door.

"Wanda, I'm so sorry I left you alone. I swear to God, I lost count of how many times I wanted to break into that tower and just say that I was with you. But I couldn't. I went to the memorial, to visit Pietro. I saw the news about the fight. I saw him die, and I kept seeing it, every time I closed my eyes. And my nightmares replaced him with you. I was sure that if I got close, you'd get hurt, and I'd rather live away from you than lose you." You confessed with emotion, knowing that she was listening even if she didn't answer now. With another sigh, you continued. "I kept my distance, but I never left. I went to all your public events, I even sent you gifts as an anonymous fan. I almost risked everything so many times. And when your friends got into fights and you disappeared to the Raft, I lost my mind. That's when... he made me forget you. It was the only way I could keep doing the jobs and not go after you. But I still lived here, and there was this lack in my chest and I had no idea what it was. Then one day I heard your voice, like a whisper in my heart, and I followed it. I ended up in Westview, and the lack was gone. It was Agatha who gave me back my memories, and we ended up here. With me trying to make you understand that there hasn't been a day since we were separated that I haven't missed you, that I haven't loved you. Please, Wanda. Forgive me."

It takes a long moment, almost long enough for you to think about letting her have more time to think about it, for Wanda to open the door.

She hugs you by the neck, very tightly, and you waste no time in reciprocating.

"Agatha has to leave." That's what she says as she releases you, making you assume a confused expression. You're ready to recall that the witch, despite her mistakes, helped you when Wanda pulled at the edges of your shirt while hiding her face in your collarbone. The way she speaks again makes you understand. "We've lost a lot of time, my love. She needs to go, so we can make up for it."

You nod foolishly, glancing quickly at Agatha who is already getting up without abandoning a bottle of your most expensive drinks that she opened without permission. Not that you're paying attention to anything other than the woman clinging to you.

"You two are disgusting, I'm out." Complains the older witch, practically running out the door as Wanda kisses your neck again and you sigh.

The door had barely closed and Wanda had already pulled your face back to hers, meeting your mouth in an intense, passionate kiss that almost made you lose your bearings.

Your hands wandered across her cheeks in a foolish attempt to gain some control of the kiss, then towards her hair and down her arms to her waist, squeezing and earning a satisfied sigh in return. Wanda's hands were busy undoing your clothes, bursting buttons, and finally throwing your belt aside.

Your blouse ended up somewhere in the room after you kicked your shoes away and while using the interruption and distance necessary to undress, Wanda spoke again.

"All this time you've been keeping watch... tell me, how far have you gone?" she asked between kisses, leading the way to the sofa as she pulled you up by the straps of the barely hanging pants on your hips. 

You fought your own arousal to reply: "Hm, never very close. Except, once..." You try to count between kisses, almost losing your train of thought when Wanda pushes you sit up and looks so stunning with her flushed face and out-of-rhythm breathing standing in front of you. "On your birthday. I went to your window, and I just... watched you sleep."

Wanda let out a curious giggle. "Do you fly now?"

"Not really, it's something called astral projection, I'm sure Agatha will teach you." You mumble quickly, and it's your turn to tug at the straps of her jeans. "Can we talk later? U-unless of course, you don't want to do this anymore, because then I'll need a minute to stop shaking and then I can tell you everything-" She interrupts you with a determined kiss, taking the opportunity to sit on your lap too.

With another sigh, she assures you, "We'll talk later." Those are the last firm words of the evening, really. After that, all that leaves Wanda are begging moans and whimpers of pleasure calling out your name.

You wouldn't have it any other way.

-&-

It's a simple routine, within the normal range of living with two witches and having your soul in imprisonment with the Lord of Hell at least.

Agatha becomes a tutor - it suits her, even if she is grumpy and mean and doesn't have much patience for teaching magic. She ends up doing a good job, and in a few months, Wanda already has the same knowledge that a witch who has spent half her life in a coven would have.

As well as classes with the grumpiest teacher on the planet, Wanda has the Darkhold. You don't see her use it that much, because she always chooses the times of your rider duties to study. That, and well, that book gives you a very bad feeling. But Wanda always makes sure that everything is under control and kisses you until you forget about it.

Of course, over time, people tend to waver in their lies and perhaps because it's a Rider's business to feel dark magic, you end up discovering exactly how bad the Darkhold is for your girlfriend. 

Or maybe the black fingers gave you a hint.

"It's not too much to ask that you be careful!" You were arguing - no, discussing - Wanda's intense study routine with a book that apparently condemned all readers. "Actually, it's quite reasonable for me to worry-"

"Oh, that's rich coming from you!" She interrupts you. Even though she is now twice the age you first met her, Wanda Maximoff is still as beautiful as the first day you saw her. And just as stubborn as the angry teenager she once was. "Do you want to talk about being reasonable? Do you think you made a good decision when you decided to sell your soul, or when you believed you could stay away for ten years and act as if it didn't affect our relationship?"

You hesitate. "I-I... you said you forgave me."

But Wanda snaps back: "Forgiving isn't forgetting! And why do you think I'm doing all this? I have to learn to control my magic, and I have to learn to be the Scarlet Witch. But most importantly, I have to learn to undo a deal with the devil because at some point you thought it was a good idea to be the Dark Lord's little slave!"

"I did it for you!"

"I know you did!"

"Then why are you angry?"

"Because I love you, you idiot!" she retorts breathlessly. "I love you and I hate how stupidly loyal and impulsive you were to do something like that. And I hate the pain we were forced to endure, and I hate that we wasted so much time."

"Wanda, I-"

"I know." She interrupts with a sigh. "I love you too."

You smile. "Stop reading my mind."

She returns the same smile. "There's not much to read." She teases, wasting no time in bringing her hands to your shoulders when you take her by the waist. You chuckle with a false offense.

"Wow, I'd forgotten how evil you can be." You retort in the same playful tone, nipping at her jaw and lowering your mouth to her collarbone.

Wanda sighs, hugging you for a moment. In the bedroom mirror by the wall, she can see her true reflection and all the Darkhold's influence on her hidden appearance. She blinks away from the demonic appearance to focus on the person holding her so dearly.

"You have no idea, my love." She whispers, forcing a smile when you look at her again. "I just want to keep us safe. Nothing and no one will ever break us apart again. I'll make sure of that."

You don't want to worry, or at least, you don't want Wanda to notice your hesitation about the frightening determination in her eyes. So all you do is kiss her forehead and hold her close.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #marvel imagines #as it was

[crosshairlovebot]

you good? / crosshair x gn!reader

pairing: crosshair x gn!reader (no y/n). reader has a nickname.

description: crosshair returns to you on shore leave to find you unwell, so he takes care of you.

word count: 2,521

needed to write a crosshair version of the hunter one i did. i love him so much i can't even talk about it properly. hope this brings comfort to anyone who's reading and sick. you deserve a gentle crosshair looking after you.

also posted this on ao3. feedback is welcomed, reblogs are appreciated.

Crosshair had intended to use his unexpected shore leave to surprise you. To knock on your door and see you light up at the sight of him. That feeling always made him warm inside, to see you happy that he was standing in front of you. He relished in the feel of your arms being thrown around his shoulders and wrapping him tightly. He could live inside your arms if the galaxy let him. His chest would expand with contentment when you would gush about how happy you were to see him, knowing that happiness was not only in response to no longer being alone in your cold, quiet Coruscanti apartment, but also the knowledge that he was okay, and safe, and alive in a war that only seemed to become more endless as the fighting went on.

Crosshair would let you fuss over him, give him real food, let him have a warm shower before you would both fall into bed together, wrapped in each other’s arms – feeling like he had never left. It was easy to pretend he was just a man when he was alone with you. To get lost in the normalcy of sharing a home. You’d both play pretend for as long as you could before the inevitable end of his all too brief shore leave would sneak up on you both, and he would be shipped out again, for who knew how long with only infrequent comms for both your comforts. 

He had been looking forward to the familiar routine of his shore leave, to seeing your entire body lift once you opened the door to him, but those hopes were dashed when he knocked on the door and you opened it, blanket wrapped around your shoulders like a cloak, sniffly and half-closed eyes.

“Crosshair,” you croaked, excitement clear in your voice before you began coughing into your blanket. “You’re home.”

“Ca’tra,” Crosshair breathed as he took in the sight of you, concern immediately spiking inside him. “You’re sick.”

“It’s nothing,” you brushed off, sniffling and stepping aside so Crosshair could enter the apartment. “I’m so happy to see you.”

“It’s not nothing,” Crosshair scolded as he watched you press the close button on the door and shuffle into your tiny living room without even hugging him like you usually do.

You had made a bed on the couch, full of pillows and other blankets. The holo was on and playing some movie he didn’t recognise. You sat down, making a sound that made it sound like walking and standing had been a big effort for you. He shrugged off his pack and placed it by the door before he moved to crouch in front of you, hands on your knees.

“How long?” he asked, looking at you.

You tried breathing in, but your nose was blocked. “Was feeling a little off yesterday but woke up today feeling much worse.”

Crosshair stood up and he watched your neck crane up to follow his gaze. He placed one hand under your chin and the back of the other against your forehead. You were warm, but not feverish. With the coughing and sneezing, it must just be a bad cold. He knew you didn’t take much time to relax, usually opting to keep busy to distract yourself from his absence. He guessed it was all catching up with you, the exhaustion manifesting itself into sickness.

“Have you been to a med droid?” Crosshair smoothed a hand over your hair in a gesture so soft, that on a regular day, he would’ve watched you close your eyes and smile in response. Instead, you barely reacted before pulling away gently.

You were more unwell than you were letting on.

“Too expensive. Too much effort,” you coughed before letting yourself fall on your side, head hitting one of the many pillows as you groaned.

Crosshair watched you, crease in his brow. He sat down on the caf table, elbows on his knees. “Tell me what hurts.”

You huffed and curled yourself into a ball. “Throat. Head. I’m so tired.”

Crosshair looked at an empty plate on the floor next to the couch. “Have you eaten?”

You breathed through your mouth, rubbing your nose. “Small things. Crackers. Bread. Low effort stuff.”

Crosshair let out a breath. He hated seeing you like this. He’d never been sick, since clones had been engineered to be immune to nearly all diseases, but to not feel like yourself didn’t seem like something he would enjoy.

Crosshair pulled a blanket out from the many under your legs, and you frowned at him as you watched him drape it over you wordlessly. He pulled it up to your chin, the way he liked as a cadet before he bent over to tuck you in.

It wasn’t even a decision for him to take care of you during his brief shore leave, more like something he was willing to do simply because he loved you.

When you loved someone, you tried to do anything you could to make their life easier, to release them of their burdens and carry them yourself.

Crosshair would shoulder all your burdens unasked, no matter what they were. The act of caring for you wasn’t and would never be something you had to ask for. He was glad he was here, that way he knew you would be well taken care of under his watchful eyes.

Though he had become better at articulating his love for you with words, the best way for him to show how much he loved you was still with actions.

“What’re you doing?” you croaked, brows furrowed at him as he pushed the blanket around the edges of your body.

“What does it look like?” he replied tersely as he adjusted the pile of pillows you were reclining on, making sure they were supporting your head properly.

“Cross, you don’t have to take care of me,” you told him.

Crosshair only scoffed in response as he took in the rest of the living room.

It was messier than you usually kept it, with several plates and empty cups littering the floor and the caf table he sat on as well as small piles of discarded face napkins.

He started gathering up the dishes before walking them over to the sink. He hated mess, and he knew you did too, so the fact that you hadn’t at least taken the used dishes to the sink told him how sick you really were. He started rinsing them before he placed them in the small bench-top dishwasher he’d helped you pick out a few shore leaves ago.

“Cross,” you said from the couch, having made yourself sit up and ruin his perfect tuck-in job.

He couldn’t be annoyed at you, no matter how hard he tried.

Crosshair ignored you as he made his way back to the couch to gather up all the face napkins and put them in the trash.  You said his name again, this time falling into a coughing fit as your breath caught in your sore throat. He grabbed a clean cup from the cupboard and filled it with some water. He came back over to you and sat on the coffee table, holding the cup out.

“Drink,” he ordered softly.

You gave him a look like you weren’t happy with him. But he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to leave you to fend for yourself, not when he was here. It was his job to look out for the people he loved.

You wordlessly took the cup, and the bottom of it immediately went on your knee, like you lacked the strength to bring it to your lips. Crosshair sighed. You needed some proper food in you. He took the cup from you as he shuffled closer then placed his empty hand behind your head.

“Head back,” he told you. You did what you were told, and he helped you take a few sips of water. After, he ran his thumb across your lip to catch a stray drop. His hand stayed for a moment so his thumb could caress your cheek. He wished he could take this away from you.

“Cross, I’m okay,” you tried to tell him.

“No, you’re not,” he said, placing the cup next to him. “Lie down. Rest.”

“I’m not good at resting,” you grumbled.

“Too bad.”

You groaned and the strain on your throat only made you fall into another coughing fit. Crosshair gave you another sip of water before he tucked you in again, tighter this time so you wouldn’t get up.

Once he was satisfied you weren’t going to move again, he told you he’d be right back before quickly going to your bedroom. He stripped out of his armour and blacks before taking the speediest shower of his life and dressing in the spare clothes he kept here.

Now in loose pants and a threadbare short-sleeved top that smelt faintly like you, Crosshair padded barefoot into the living room again. He was relieved to see you in the same position as before, eyes closed. He watched you from the doorway for a moment and looked at how small you looked on that couch. He didn’t like the thought that if he hadn’t come home when he did, you would be suffering through this by yourself, without him to care for you.

He tried to move quietly, but your eyes cracked open once you heard him enter the room, a small smile on your lips. Crosshair returned it and came and sat back down on the caf table, facing you.

“You good?” he asked, placing the backs of his bare fingers on your cheek. You pulled a hand out from under the blanket and grabbed his, moving the backs of his fingers to your lips, kissing them gently. He smiled, warmth blooming in his chest at the simple gesture of intimacy. It’d been a long time since he felt your lips on his skin.

“Better, now that you’re here,” you told him honestly, your voice scratchy.

Crosshair smiled. He liked being here as much as you liked having him here.

“You’re all warm from the shower,” you smiled, pressing your face against his hand, holding his arm close to you.

“Been a while since I had a decent one.” The corner of his mouth tipped up. You chuckled and kissed his palm. He let you cradle his hand and arm, and he would’ve let you hold onto it forever, but he wanted to make sure you were taken care of before he wrapped himself around you.

“Hungry?” he asked. He frowned when you shook your head, nose rubbing against his wrist. “You should eat something. Even if it’s small.”

He sighed when you wrinkled your nose at the thought. He went through what he remembered from the Kaminoan training module on nat-born illnesses. “Have you taken anything?”

You nodded. “I took something a couple of hours ago when I woke up.”

“Did you eat then?”

You nodded again. He would have to be satisfied with that. Maybe he could get you to eat something when you were due to make more medication, but for now, he just wanted to let you rest. He’d try again later.

He searched your face, his mouth pressed in a line. He wished he could do something more for you, it frustrated him to not be able to fix this easily; that he had to wait it out with you. He was patient when it came to sniping, he could lie in the same position for hours before taking a shot with no difficulty. But he was not so patient when you were in pain or unwell. He felt himself scowl. It was the restless and useless feeling he hated. Crosshair never liked feeling useless.

“I feel bad,” you told him in a small voice.

Crosshair’s spine straightened in alarm. “What can I do?”

“No, I mean, I feel bad about this,” you gestured to yourself lying on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket, poorly.

“You?” He couldn’t hide his surprise. “Why?”

He was just silently commiserating about how bad he felt that he couldn’t absorb your pain and experience it just so you wouldn’t have to. Why would you feel bad?

“It’s your time off,” you told him, your hold on his arm tightening. “You barely get any and now it’s ruined because I’m sick.”

Crosshair let out a breath. Is that what you thought? That your being unwell was an inconvenience to him?

He shook his head. “It’s not ruined.”

“We can’t even do anything fun. I’ve been wanting to take you to this new diner that opened a few levels up. I haven’t even been there because I wanted us to go together.”

Crosshair smiled at the thought. “There will be other times, ca'tra.”

You let out a frustrated breath. Crosshair crouched down and smoothed your hair back off your face with his free hand, and you watched him with those eyes of yours that rivalled even the most beautiful of stars. Crosshair leaned forward and placed a lingering kiss on your forehead. When he pulled away, you were looking up at him with slanted brows, like he was the single most amazing thing you’d ever seen, and that made his chest tight with the kind of feeling he’d only ever read about.

Never in the entire galaxy did he think he would ever be loved the way you love him.

You yawned as Crosshair stroked your cheek softly, tenderly. “You should sleep.”

You tugged on the hand you still had gently. “Lay down with me?”

Crosshair stood up and shut the holo off before lifting up the edge of your blanket. You wordlessly shuffled over and when there was enough room, he lay down next to you. His feet dangled off the edge, his frame too long for the piece of furniture.

You wriggled around trying to find a comfortable position in the narrow space of the couch, before you finally settled to lying half on top of him, head on his chest, arm wrapped around his torso, and leg hooked around his hip.

Crosshair grunted as he adjusted his position, he predicted he would not be moving from this spot for some time. He didn’t care. He’d let you lie on him until you were back to normal, and even then.

He let out a breath as he draped the blanket over you both, tucking it around your frames. You relaxed on top of him, and there was something so comforting about having your body right next to him like this. He rubbed a hand gently up and down your back as you sighed, the breath all broken with your sore throat.

“Thanks, Cross,” you whispered. Crosshair smiled and kissed the top of your head. He didn’t need to be thanked. He’d do anything for you.

“Love you,” you murmured as your breathing became deep and even as you fell asleep. Crosshair tightened his hold on you as your heartbeat pressed into his. He loved you more.

banner art by @vimse thank you reading! i love writing soft crosshair so much :') it's literally my mission to fill the crosshair/reader tag with soft crosshair fics

🏷️ @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations @moodymisty @nahoney22 @freesia-writes @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @bobaprint @crosshairsnose @jesseeka @thegalaxys-edge @chopper-base @shredderwest @leavingkamino @r2d2staser @beckbucket @pb-jellybeans @mylifeisactuallyamess @padawancat97 @littlecrowtime @jedipoodoo @ezras-left-thumb @lovelycurls @fruitsaladtree @literallydontlook @burningfieldof-clover @queencousland101 @clonethirstingisreal @skellymom @hopelessromantic727

TAGLIST FORM

#larissa writes #crosshair x reader #crosshair reader fic #bad batch crosshair x reader #crosshair fluff #crosshair bad batch fluff #soft crosshair #crosshair bad batch #crosshair bad batch fic #the bad batch hunter fic #the bad batch fluff #tbb x reader #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair #tbb crosshair fic

[swordsandholly]

Across the Way

Chapter One: New Places, New Faces

Ao3 | Next

MDNI

Pairing: Ghoap x fem!plus size!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: You go to Scotland with high hopes for your future. After all, you have the bakery you always dreamed of and a whole new life to live. Plus, the men who own the butcher’s shop across the street seem nice.

Johnny stirs awake with a grunt as Riley’s wet nose bumps against his hand. There’s a very slight ache behind his eyes - the kind that marks an oncoming migraine. He groans, not wanting to open them to the invasive sunlight that will inevitably make it worse. Then again, that’s the only way he can get any preemptive pain medication in his system. He still makes a noise of complaint when he finally peels back his lids.

“Feelin’ alright?” Simon rumbles, setting a glass on the nightstand along with two little pain pills. How he’s able to tell what kind of morning Johnny’s having before even he can is a true mystery.

Johnny just grunts back, rolling onto his side to grab his hearing aid out of the nightstand drawer. Normally he wouldn’t bother with putting it on with a possibly impending migraine, but he figures he can chance it. They’ve been lessening in the past few months. Somewhat.

“Plans for the day?” Simon asks as he pulls on one of his work shirts. “Up for coming to the shop?”

The little clock beside him blinks out five in the morning. Even after being retired for nearly three years, neither of them can manage to sleep in late whether they have to be up or not. “Gonnae take Riley out tae the park. Might drop by.”

“Don’t push yourself too hard.”

“Me? Never.” Johnny flashes his husband a grin.

Simon just rolls his eyes in response. The rest of their morning is quiet, as most are when Johnny isn’t up for talking. It’s a comfortable silence, one they both came to appreciate long before this current chapter in their lives. One that developed on cots and in tents and the wreckage of war zones.

It’s just how they are.

Being essentially a stay at home husband was not how Johnny pictures his thirties. Being disabled was not how he pictured… any of it. He thought he’d be up for Lieutenant by now. Thought Simon would have taken over as Captain of the 141. He’s learned not to be bitter about it (with Simon’s and some professional help).

He can’t complain too much. He’s alive. He gets to be with his family. With Simon. With Riley in this run down dog park throwing around a ball that she dutifully chases and brings back with the pride of a great hunter bringing home a prized beast. He gets to go home to a place that is truly his, with a big comfortable bed and a man he fought tooth and nail to fill it with.

It’s a small life but he’s learned that small doesn’t mean unimportant.

Christ who knew turning thirty would make him a damn philosopher.

“Alright, lassie, time tae go.” Johnny crouches to shuffle Riley’s harness and leash back on. He knees pop and his back protests the movement. It’s a mercy that they were able to get such a lovely service dog. She’s such a good pup, always at the ready and happy to obey.

Except now, as she begins to tug insistently at her leash with her full weight - or at least as much as she can use without hurting him. It isn’t like her. He clicks and commands her to heel. She tugs harder and whines. It isn’t an alert that he knows - maybe it’s one that they don’t need often? He lets go of the leash, following as she quickly jogs away.

He circles a few bushes in pursuit, coming to face one of the large trees on the outer edge of the park. There’s a girl leaned on it, breath coming in and out heavy. She starts to slip forward a bit before Riley props her up, stabalizing the girl in much the same way she does Johnny when he gets faint. He speeds up his steps, holding out his hands on either side of the girl in case she falls.

“Aren’t you a good girl?” She coos at Riley quietly. American. Huh. He watches the girl dig in her pocket for something, eventually pulling out what looks like a to-go salt packet. She tears it open, throwing it back like a shot.

“Ye a’right?” Johnny asks, tilting his head.

She nods and takes a long, deep breath. “Sorry, I have a…thing.” She waves her hand around her head, straightening up and turning to face him. She’s cute. Insanely cute - with big eyes and soft body. Lovely curves from head to toe. Johnny may be a married man but that doesn’t mean he can’t apprecaite a little, right?

“Donnae apologize. I’ve got a thing, tae.” Johnny grins and points to the scar on his head where his hair never quite grew back.

She gives him a soft smile. “Well, you’ve got a good dog. I’ve never had one alert like that.”

“Aye, she was tuggin’ hard. Must’ve been a pretty bad spell. Ye sure yer okay?”

“Yeah.” Her braided hair falls about her shoulders. “Just didn’t eat enough before I went for a walk and then I stood up too quickly…”

“Och, standin’, my age old enemy.”

She giggles quietly, pressing her fingers over her lips to cover them. It’s pretty, the way her round face gets even rounder with her smile.

“Johnny.” He holds out a hand, flashing his most charming smile he can muster. It’s a little more tired these days - the corners of his eyes crinkle more than they used to. The girl takes his hand, so soft and warm and small in his, and breathes out her name quietly. Almost bashfully. So cute.

Unfortunately his phone chimes, interrupting the moment before he can ask her more.

“I should be off, ye sure yer okay?” Johnny lets his eyes take over her, not just her body but also checking that she is, in fact, okay. Her eyes seem clear, stance steady, not too pale or too flushed. He’s no medic but he’d say she’s going to be fine.

“Yeah, yeah. Thank you.” She crouches slightly, slowly moving to look at Riley. “And thank *you* ma’am.”

Johnny watches her walk away, pausing to make sure she doesn’t stumble. He’s not sure what compels him - maybe it’s the solider in him still wanting to watch for the safety of those around him. It definitely doesn’t have anything to do with the way her wide hips sway as she makes her way down the path.

Johnny can’t stop smiling as he makes his way to the shop for some reason. It wasn’t even all that impressive of an interaction, but something about it really warmed his heart. Maybe it was just meeting someone else with a *thing*, as she put it. There really isn’t anyone else in his life who needs as much support as him - certainly not many adults in this small town who need assistance on the whole. It’s rare to meet someone who gets it, however briefly.

“Wot’s got you so chipper?” Simon quirks an eyebrow as he enters.

The door bell chimes above his head. Riley trots off from Johnny’s side to her designated bed in the corner of the shop. Away from the food but close enough that she could easily get wherever Johnny might be. One of the regulars even made a plaque for her that his Da screwed on the wall.

“Met a nice lass today in the park.” He shrugs. “Pretty little thing.”

“Ah, your great-aunt’s prayin’ finally do you in?” Simon chuckles as Johnny ducks behind the counter to rest a hand on the small of his back.

“Aye, finally realized I should turn tae a life of lassies an’ biarns. Yer great arse has no power over me now, foul demon.”

Simon chuckles. There’s something about it that always does Johnny in. A low rumble he can feel in his very bones. “Glad to see you’re feelin’ better.”

Johnny hums. “The warm weather helps, fer whatever reason.”

“Good. You see the shop across the street?”

Johnny turns, looking out their front window. The construction has been going on for a few months - various workers milling in and out. Neither he nor Simon could figure out what they were putting in until small signs were put across the windows announcing the new location to be The Honey Bun Bakery with an opening date at the bottom. A bit cutesy for their taste, but a new bakery in town is exciting. The last one closed because the owners got too old and had no one to take over. His mother has been buzzing about it since the signs were first put up.

The biggest mystery is the owner. No one has seen hide nor hair of whoever owns the place. There were movers taking things into the attached apartment on the floor above about a week ago, but no one has actually seen the resident. He or she is a ghost. Gossip has filled the town, of course. Especially among the older folks. That’s another thing his mother has been fluttering about.

“Already opening day, eh?”

“Yep.”

“We should check it out, then.”

Simon hums. “We’ll go after the morning rush if you’re up for it, hm?”

“Aye.”

“Johnny?” The shorter man jumps as Simon’s hands rest on his waist. He’ll never get over the intensity of Simon’s eyes. For a man who keeps his emotions locked in the deepest parts of him, he sure carries a lot of it in those pretty dark pools.

“Aye?” The word comes out breathier than he means it to.

“You look sunburnt.”

Johnny barks out a laugh, half-heartedly shoving his husband off. “An’ here I thought ye were gonnae say somethin’ romantic.”

“You know me better than that.” Simon’s eyes crinkle in the corners with a smile as he pulls the mask to the side, pressing a kiss to Johnny’s lips.

You may or may not have slept exactly 3.46 hours last night. It’s not your fault, really. Today’s your first day. Your first real day of your new life and your new career. Years of prayers and months upon months of planning, waiting, crying, and straining have finally come to a head. You’re in Scotland, your bakery is constructed, all that’s left is to actually bake.

And sell, of course, but you try your hardest not to think about that part or you might throw up. Again.

You curse the time it takes you to shower, carefully acclimating to the heat of the shower and sitting in your little plastic seat. You want to run, to act like the a whirlwind you feel in your head. You can’t, though, it’s not worth possibly ruining the most important day in your life just because you were impatient and passed out. At least you finally got your medication situation figured out before coming over here - the perfect little cocktail sitting on the corner of your dresser.

Your hands tremble a bit as you open up one of the cardboard boxes still sitting in your living room. You’d picked out a special outfit for your first real day of owning your own business months ago - one you made sure would be here with you on opening day. Really, it isn’t anything special - just a pair of black gingham trousers and a black cotton t-shirt along with your well-loved non-slip shoes. It’s yours though, and it perfectly matches your specially embroidered apron with your little logo on the front, center pocket. It’s yours. All yours. It’s a reminder that you’re here. You made it out.

You had already done a good bit of the work the day before - putting together your doughs and shaping up pastries to proof overnight in the fridge. Now all that’s left is to actually bake them and put them out. The smell wafts through the building, covering any left over scents of paint or construction work. It feels real. Grounding. You’re here and you can feel, smell, even taste it.

You expected a few customers. Not much. High hopes and low expectations. Just a couple people here and there that noticed the new shop coming to town and were curious about it. You’d advertised as well as you could from across the pond. Maybe a little rush around the late morning when people are usually out for brunch and shopping at most.

You did not expect a constant stream from the moment you propped the door open until the late afternoon. These Scots run you fucking ragged. A constant flux of in and out, all day. All them wanting to chat, as well.

“Oh, American! Whit part are ye from?”

“Yer sae young! Just a wee bairn!”

“So nice havin’ a bakery again, aye?”

“Urr ye merrit? Ah hae a son-“

You regret not buying that coffee machine for the back room.

Just as you’re stacking display baskets to take to the back to wash up the door chimes behind you. Here you thought you were finally done for the day. You sigh. “Sorry, hun, I’m pretty much out of everyth-”

“Ye!” You whirl, only to meet those same bright blue eyes from the day before.

“Johnny!” You squeak, eyes wide.

“Why dinnae ye mention the shop?” The man grins wide - the same as the day before. Sparkling and bright and far, far more pretty than you’re prepared to deal with. His hair is neater today - not ragged from exercise with his service dog who currently sits politely by his feet.

“Ah, was little light headed. Wasn’t thinking straight.” You shrug.

“Speaking of, how’s yer thing?” He waves a hand about his head the same way you did the day prior. It’s cute how invested he seems to be, genuinely asking if you’re alright. The man looming behind him watches silently.

“Oh, I’m alright. Finer than the hair on a toad split four ways.” You grin.

The man behind him furrows his brow slightly at the expression, but doesn’t offer a word. He’s tall. Wide too and dressed in all black with long sleeves despite the warm, spring weather. His hair is buzzed neatly. There’s a severity to him only emphasized by the scar splitting his brow and the small chip missing from his ear.

“Och, this is my husband Simon.” Jihnny steps to the side and gestures toward the brooding figure behind him. “We own the butcher shop across the street.”

“No shit!” You can’t help but smile ear to ear, holding out your hand. They seem so sweet. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you. Glad to have such nice neighbors.”

Simon shakes your hand a single time curtly before stepping back behind Johnny. The severity in his dark eyes softens whenever he glances toward the other man. Cute.

“We wanted tae come see whit ye’ve got.”

“I haven’t got much left…” You tap your chin and rest a hand on your hip, wanting to rectify the dip of disappointment in the pretty man’s brow. “Oh! I’ve got a sourdough in the back. One sec!”

You skitter off, paying little mind to how silly you must look practically prancing toward the back room. Originally, you’d planned to save this for yourself tonight as a job-well-done treat but it feels more gratifying to give it to your new neighbors. Hopefully they like it - maybe you can finally make some friends for the first time in… ever really.

“How much fer it?”

“On the house. We’re neighbors now, yeah? First ones free.” You grin, wrapping it extra nicely in some brown paper packaging.

“Thank ye, bonnie.” Johnny cradles the loaf so carefully you almost laugh - as if he’s afraid too much pressure will completely ruin it. Like he’s holding a precious treasure. “We’ll leave ye alone tae close but we’ll see ye around, aye?”

“Course.” You nod, waving after them and they exit. You can see the big blonde, Simon, turn to Johnny to say something but it’s impossible to hear them or tell from their lips as they cross the street back to their butcher shop. They link hands, fingers intertwining with long practiced grace, and something in your throat constricts.

What’s it like, you wonder, to have a love like that?

#simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #call of duty #ghost cod #cod x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #ghost x reader #cod #ghoap x reader #ghoap #soapghost x reader #plus size reader #fat reader #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #slice of life #holly writes #john soap mctavish x reader