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#being asked to do the same thing readers in the original language do
kamiversee · 17 days
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➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏
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✧.* CHAPTER 35 || The Failing Streak
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[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?
[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, fluff, & a tinge of angst.
[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 3.6k
[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.
[ [ chapters mlist } ]
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——WRONG, AS USUAL. Oh, it was so clear that Nanami was the only person on the list who could actually be considered difficult or hard.
And the crazy part about it was that it wasn’t him who made his level of difficulty so high, it was more of his situation. You considered him to be the hardest on the list because, well, you couldn’t get a hold of the damn man.
Sitting down and having a conversation with him? Oh please, it was damn there impossible. Being able to get a hi or hello out to the man and hopefully lead to flirting and seducing him? Yeah, not a snowball’s chance in hell were going to accomplish such a thing so easily.
Worst part about it was always that it wasn’t his doing. None of it was intentional, simply coincidental. But even so, it was frustratingly coincidental enough for you to consider Nanami the most difficult name to check off the list.
After your deed with Sukuna, you still spent some time not exactly talking to Gojo. Even after you went out of your way to send him a thank you text, which you don’t normally do, for the money he sent-- Gojo only replied by hearting your message.
You didn’t like how he avoided you, even though it was probably best for the two of you considering all the shit he’s keeping from you and how desperately you wanted to understand him. But, all of his avoiding you only lasted two more weeks before you were set to see the man.
To keep the timeline in check, the week Gojo originally took you to see Nanami, on the Friday after Sukuna’s party, it turned out that Nanami only goes out every other week. The following week, in which Nanami would’ve been at said nightclub, you didn’t go because you needed a day or two to recover from Sukuna. Leading up to now, two weeks after Sukuna and dating to the end of November.
You felt like you were running out of time for some reason, even though Gojo assures you that Nanami goes to said Nightclub every other week and has been doing so for maybe two years straight.
As of this very second, you were dressed in this lovely blue dress with matching blue heels, all of which Gojo had purchased for you, as you sat in the passenger seat of the man’s car.
Time was moving by fast and yet slow at the same time. On days like today, when you were starting to work toward seducing a new person, the hours dragged on. Yet, on days when you didn’t do anything regarding the list, they’d fly by in the blink of an eye.
It was like your studies, classwork, and finals didn’t even phase you anymore. This was crazy to think about when just a year ago around this time of finals season had you swamped and panicked like crazy. Yet, this year it seems that you weren’t worried at all.
Your studies were always held at the top of your priority list, no matter what. So, as the year slowly crept up to its end, you weren’t one bit unprepared for your tests since you spent almost all your free time studying.
Back to the current though; here you were in Gojo’s car. Had a word been said to each other so far? Not really. Gojo only greeted you for a moment with a hey, not even placing his eyes on your own like he usually would, and then he asked if you were ready. After you responded with a yes, he was quick to turn the radio up to fill the silence and begin the drive.
You didn’t remember the drive being as long last time but it felt like you were in the car with Gojo forever and not talking to him or not hearing him talk to you was eating away at your insides. It was so unusual.
Even though you hated Gojo, and yes, hated because you’re not sure if that’s still how you feel despite what you may tell him, he’d still talk your ear off no matter what. But now, he was so quiet.
If it wasn’t for the radio playing their end-of-year tunes, you’d be dying in the awkward silence. Even so, at one point the man seemed to be annoyed by the Christmas songs that played and you watch him move a hand to change the station, quickly going to a random one that played some kind of R&B.
He seemed more relaxed once the songs changed and you couldn’t help but steal multiple glances at the man. They were very short glances though, never anything more than a peak over at him. Gojo wasn’t dressed up like the week prior because he didn’t plan on going inside with you this time, just dropping you off.
The low hum of the car along with the slow tunes of the music eased into your ears as he drove and drove and drove. It was rather late into the night so as you stared straight ahead, you lost yourself in your thoughts.
You wanted to say something to Gojo, anything to get him to talk but, you didn’t know what. You weren’t even sure why you wanted to speak to him so badly, there was a time when you wished for him to shut up and now he was.
You hate how the universe does this to you. When you wanted him silent he’d talk for hours and when you wanted him to speak, he was mute.
Part of you debated on asking him if he was okay or how he’s been these past two weeks. There was this burning curiosity inside you in regards to Gojo, the image of him sobbing into your chest plaguing your mind endlessly and you even felt like you could still hear his broken words and pitched voice.
Your eyes squeeze shut at the memory. No matter how shitty he’s treated you or treats you, you don’t think you ever want to see that man cry again. It was the most beautifully disturbing image ever. He looked like an angel the more you think about it.
His eyes were glossed over and appeared to be all glass-like due to the azure shade embedded into his irises, those pretty fluffy white eyelashes of his, thinned and coated with water, his pale face fused with shades of red and pink along with the way his eyebrows, eyes, and mouth would twist and contour into sadness…
You had to shake the image out of your head. You never want to see something so angelically sad in your life again. It almost haunts you how Gojo Satoru seemed to be the prettiest crier.
As you shake yourself from your recollection, the car comes to a stop and your eyes open. You were at the nightclub already. Your mouth suddenly went dry and you didn’t want to go in just yet. Going in meant you would meet Nanami, hopefully sleep with him by the end of the night, and possibly never get the chance to talk to Gojo properly again.
The sound of Beyonce’s voice was in your ears and you furrowed your brows as you looked at the screen in between you and Gojo. Haunted by Beyonce was on, the song nearing its end, and at that one part, the kinda’ part that would make someone feel like they were in a scene from a movie.
You finally turn your head to Gojo, looking at him fully instead of a mere glance. Gojo looks so damn perfect? Your heart throbs in your chest and you don’t know if it was the music drilling into your ears or the man beside you but…
He had his eyes up on the sun visor where a little mirror was, making sure he looked okay. You don’t think he knew you were staring at him-- taking in his clear skin, gorgeous side profile, sharp jawline that led you to look at his neck, a hickey you left on him present even after it being weeks since you last slept with him, and the white t-shirt he wore clung to his body like always.
The echoing of your heartbeat got louder and louder the more you stared at him, the song was almost over and you swear it was in slow motion that Gojo turned his head to you, meeting your unwavering gaze. At that very second, time had either stopped or frozen and you felt your breath hitch.
Those blue eyes of his were dilated like crazy as they met your face. His lips were so plush and rose-tinted, his cheeks decorated in a faint blush simply because he’s caught you staring at him and you saw the way his eyes softened. A look of never-ending love was given to you and you felt like you could die happy because of that look alone.
He didn’t need to say anything to you, his eyes said it all, and they helped you overcome your confliction within seconds. Your eyelashes fluttered into a slow blink and Gojo didn’t say anything but his gaze flicked down to your lips for a split second, then back up to your eyes.
Gojo Satoru was-
You had to turn away. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your breathing suddenly caught up with you, nearly making you choke. Holy shit, this can not be happening right now. You are not falling for your blackmailer.
Right?
You don’t hate him but you can’t love him. You don’t love him. Right?
Your face is heated and you brought your hands over yourself to try and collect whatever the hell emotions just blossomed in the pit of your stomach. You could feel the way your heart rate was beating differently. Curse Gojo and the stupid song for having you feel this way.
The soft, yet deep sound of your name being said causes the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up. Why are you suddenly so nervous? What the hell is wrong with you?
“You alright, sweetheart?” Gojo asks and god his voice is so sappy with love and emotion that it makes your stomach churn.
You can’t look at him so you remain turned away, “Mhm, I’m f-fine.” You hated the shake in your voice, the nerves so clearly obvious.
Gojo can’t read what it is you’re experiencing but he wishes he could. He wants to know why you turned away so suddenly with your face all flustered. “Look at me,” The man whispered.
You couldn’t. There was already something wrong with your heart and you absolutely could not look at the man right now, “I uhm…” You exhale softly, “I should head inside…”
A hand is raised to the door and you go to open it but Gojo’s hand is suddenly on your thigh, his touch making your body tense, “I know I’ve been quiet but, I don’t want you to go in there all nervous. What’s wrong, love?”
Oh god. That. That’s what’s wrong. Love, sweetheart, sweets, whatever it is it always yanks you by the strings of your heart and wraps them around your neck, leaving you in a heart-wrenching chokehold. You wonder if Gojo even realizes how in love he sounds when he speaks to you.
“N-Nothing,” You whisper, still yet to look at him.
Gojo sighs, “You’re lying, sweets. What’s wrong, c’mon, tell me before you go.”
“Fuck,” You whisper out loud, just barely catching his ears. You then turn your head to him and Gojo’s eyes go wide at your expression.
He’s never seen you look at him with such dilated pupils outside of when you were horny and, that couldn’t possibly be the case right now… right?
“Satoru, I… Something’s wrong,” You murmur, you don’t know where you’re going with this but he wanted you to say something so you’re trying your best to do so.
Gojo blinks a could times to make sure he’s not imagining the look in your eyes. “Damn right something’s wrong, did you drink or smoke before I came to get you?” He suddenly asks.
You shake your head no.
“Then…” Gojo blinks, “Why’re you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“You’re pupils are dilated.” He points out.
Your eyes widen, “A-Are they?”
“Mhm,” Gojo hums softly, almost in awe. He then whispers your name, “Are you…”
“N-No.” You say, feeling like he was about to ask if you were horny.
Gojo tilts his head, “Okay well…” He doesn’t know what to say or how to feel about the dilation of your pupils. He only sees it from time to time, a few times when you talked about Choso, and almost every time you were horny.
So if you’re not horny… or high, or drunk… then…
“It’s not a crime,” Gojo comments.
You grit your teeth, “Might as well be.”
His brows tense. He can feel the emotions you’re experiencing exuding off you, “You’re allowed to-”
“I shouldn’t.” You cut off,
He frowns, “But you can-”
“You told me I shouldn’t.” There’s a shake in your voice that doesn’t go unnoticed.
“I…” Gojo sighs heavily, “I know but, i-if you do then I…”
There’s so much going unspoken but the two of you knew what either was saying, you understood each other more than either of you realized.
“You what?” You ask him.
“Well, I love you too.” Gojo shrugs, “But, you already know that.”
“I don’t-,” You huff, wanting to deny the fact that you love him in the first place, “Satoru, I… I can’t love you.”
“I know,” His voice is so soft, so gentle with you. He understands what you’re going through and can see the worry in your face.
Your voice trembles, “I shouldn’t be-”
“But you are.” Gojo cuts off, he knows it and he’s not going to let it go. “Your mouth tells you that you aren’t but, your heart and soul know.”
“K-Know what?” You ask breathily.
“That you’re falling for me.”
“I’m not.”
Gojo grins, “I’ll catch you if you do.”
“I didn’t fall,” You say firmly, “I t-tripped but, I never fell. And I won’t.”
“Watch your step next time,” He whispers.
You turn your head and meet his eyes again, “I will.”
The two of you gaze at one another, both of your pupils unknowingly dilated and both of your hearts swelling with emotion. You open your mouth to say something, not even sure of what, but Gojoj cuts you off.
“Go inside,” He says, voice gentle.
“What if I don’t want to.” You mumble. When did you grow so attached to Gojo? Why are you afraid to part from him?
“Oh sweetheart,” He shuts his eyes and sighs, “You know the repercussions behind that.”
“There doesn’t have to be any though, you don’t-”
“There needs to be.” He interrupts, putting that wall of his right back up. “Go inside, we aren’t doing this again.”
“Satoru-”
“Please, go inside my love.” Gojo murmurs.
You shift and his eyes open. Gojo is met with your hand making light contact with his face and like always, he melts into your touch. “Satoru,” You say again.
“Yes?” He hums.
“Before I go,” You’re speaking slowly, unsure if you want to say it out loud. Once you do so, it’ll be official.
Gojo rubs his cheek into your palm before moving his hand over your own, turning his head, and kissing your hand softly, “What is it, sweetheart? Tell me.”
“I don’t hate you anymore.” You finally voice out.
The man’s poor heart could only take so much. He inhales a sharp breath, “Okay.”
“Remember that,” You continue, “I don’t hate you, Satoru.”
“G-God,” He stammers, “You’re gonna make me cry again, sweets.”
“Save your tears,” You chuckle.
He nods, “For another day?”
“Are you really referencing The Weekend right now?” You giggle.
Gojo smiles, “Yeah.”
“You’re an idiot,” You comment.
“Your idiot.”
And there’s your heart pounding again, “Don’t say that.”
“Y’know what you are?” Gojo asks, peering into your eyes with nothing but affection, “You’re my eternity.”
“What does that even mean?” You’ll never get over his way with words.
“My forever,” Gojo explains, “But I believe forever has an end and, eternity doesn’t. So by that I mean,” He leans toward you and his forehead rests against yours, “No matter what happens, even through death, my heart will always beat for you.”
You feel uneasy hearing him say that. It’s beautiful like always but, there’s something deeper lying beneath his sugar-coated words, “Satoru…”
“Hm?” He hums.
Your hand caresses his cheek, “Can you promise me something?”
“Anything,” Gojo says with zero hesitation.
“Promise me you won’t hurt yourself.”
He’s quiet for a long moment, your words ringing through his ears. Then, he sighs heavily, “It’s far too late for that.”
You frown, “I mean physically.”
“I…” Gojo trails off. Were you really worried about him harming himself?
“Promise me.” You say again, needing to hear him promise you in order to feel okay.
“I promise.” Gojo tells you, “I’ll never physically hurt myself.”
You knew he’d already mentally hurt himself so you didn’t feel the need to have him promise not to do such again. But, with the way he’d been acting over the past month or so, you needed to make sure that the man wouldn’t go on and do something insane.
So with that, you end up parting from the man finally, feeling much better about the situation now that you’d spoken to him. You’re at peace now and he is too, him more than he let on.
.  . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .  . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆
Now, here’s where things got tricky.
Nanami Kento.
As stated earlier, you end up having difficulty catching the man at the right time.
On this second attempt to speak to him, as you entered the nightclub, you were actually able to spot him with no problem. The thing is, while you made your way over to him, you watched the man drop a couple of bills onto the bar and then get up and leave.
Okay, you didn’t want that to stop you at first, thinking to accidentally run into him and then go on from there. Yet, as you tried to do so, you didn’t even bump him at all, nor did he see you. Nanami had walked right past you and right out of the building.
There went your second attempt. As for the third attempt, which then dated into the second week of December, you missed him yet again. That time, when you arrived, he was talking to this short brown harried man with big bright doe eyes.
You didn’t want to just walk up to Nanami, you wanted it to be as natural as possible so, you didn’t approach him then either and waited for a moment where he was alone. The brown-haired man went off in the direction of the bathroom and you had gotten up from your seat with the intent of approaching Nanami.
…Only to be beaten by some other woman who approaches him. He didn’t seem too interested in what she had to say but he spoke to her nonetheless, conversating long enough for the other guy to return to him and make you miss your opportunity.
Thus, the third attempt down the drain.
This led you to a bit of a pause. Why? Well, since it was the second week of December, for you, it was also the last week of the semester.
This meant that the following week, and or, the remainder of December was winter break for you. That means that the next time you would see Nanami would be just after Christmas and possibly before New Year's.
You had plans for those weeks so, you’d have to skip coming to this nightclub again. That frustrated you because, well, that means you’d be trying to get with Nanami in the following year and almost a month from now.
It sucked but, you were content with that. It’s not like you could get ahold of him as it was anyway. So, after that night you went home by Uber.
How were you to spend your winter break exactly? Well, most of it you wanted to spend with Shoko but you and her worked it out where on Christmas week, you’d go home to your family to spend most of that day with them and then return in the afternoon.
Shoko didn’t have family to go home to and you knew she spent her Christmases with Gojo and Geto but even so, she pleaded for you to spend it with her and them this year and after a talk with your family, it was agreed that you’d do exactly that.
Nanami would have to wait until the holidays were over.Which was completely fine but, you weren’t expecting such an eventful Christmas… Perhaps it’ll go down as the most memorable for you, especially since it was just full of surprises.
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GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮
GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮
TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢
KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮
ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮
ITADORI SUKUNA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???
NANAMI KENTO ☐ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙙
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asterias-record-shop · 10 months
Note
BINGO: Mommy kink, Ethan Landry. Prompt 14. Reader is just having their way with Ethan who keeps cumming and keeps getting hard
—𓆩[the perfect virgin]𓆪—
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𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[updated bingo card!]𓆪 𓆩[bingo masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[join the bingo taglist!]𓆪
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𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Sub! Ethan Landry x Dom! Mommy! Reader
𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut
𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 3.9K
𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - You were originally attracted to Ethan because he looked like a boy who had never been touched by a woman - ever. Your corruption kink was going haywire, and it was the main reason why you pursued him before you got way too attached to his stupid nerdy personality and his utter obliviousness to anything that has to do with sex, so you decide to put him to a… test of sorts.
𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - kind of mean/teasing reader || mommy kink || cursing & foul language || tit worship || reader wears revealing clothing & makeup || reader could be described as a nympho? || vibrators || virginity loss (Ethan) || attempt at lactation || breast milk production without being pregnant (it can happen, hormones are a thing and can be caused by constant nipple and breast stimulation) || in turn, lactation kink || oral || grinding || riding || breeding kink || multiple orgasms || unprotected sex || multiple positions || maybe slight corruption kink?? || everything is consensual || public teasing ||
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Study hall. That’s how everything started.
There were no empty tables, every one being full of a person, so you decided to move deeper — just in case there was one someone missed.
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Of course, though, they were all full. All of your friends were either in other classes or working, so there was no point in texting them to come and join you so you wouldn’t be alone at a table with someone who could very well be Ghostface.
Slowly, you walked around the library to find a table you could sit at before you saw the same book for the Psychology course you were taking. You paused, looking from the book to who had it, his brown curls immediately letting you know it was that quiet boy who sat a few rows back from you.
It didn’t take you long to walk towards him, his eyes flickering up for a quick second before looking back down. It made Ethan panic; were you walking towards him?
He inhaled deeply as his eyes flickered down to the heels that stood a few inches from his chair, inhaling deeply when he felt a soft pat to his shoulder. “You’re Ethan, right?”
He tried not to let it be too obvious that his eyes started to trail up your body; your beautiful legs that were on show, your skirt black and to your midthigh and your shirt just perfectly tight around your body. “Uhm… yeah,” he whispers, nodding as you smile down at him. “Yeah, I’m Ethan.”
“I’m Y/N,” you respond, smiling. “Do you mind if I sit down with you?”
“U-Uhm no… no, not at all,” he said, quickly looking around to see if he could grab a seat for you until you grabbed one yourself and put it right next to him. “I-I’m just studying econ right now.”
“Oh, I did econ last year!” You say, smiling as you tapped the book. “I could help if you help me with psych?”
He nodded immediately, staring up at you before you sat down next to him, holding his hand tightly with a smile. “Y-Yeah, I would like that.”
After helping him out like you wanted to, it was onto psychology. You were learning about Sigmund Freud, a sick bastard who had to relate everything to sex, and two of the theories were the Oedipus and Electra Complex.
“Maybe that’s where the daddy and mommy kinks come in,” you joke, giggling. “Playing. Kind of. I think those stem from not the loving of one’s literal birth parent, but the attraction to someone who fulfills the role of sorts.” “What do you mean?” Ethan asked, leaning over to peer at your textbook and to stare at the diagram comparing the two complexes.
“Well, for those kinks, with those who have daddy kinks - whether male or female - they often have some sort of issue with their true parental figure, but not always, or a strong attachment to their father, or the love that they showed. Same with men who have mommy kinks.” You shrugged, fixing your bra strap as you looked over at him. “I don’t think I’d mind a man calling me mommy.”
Ethan could feel his cheeks get hot, looking away as you giggled. “Wh-What do you mean?”
“Well, I think I would make a good mother,” you shrug, but hum. “I just don’t like the thought of having children - now at least - still got my whole life ahead of me! I definitely do like the thought of the… process though.”
He stuttered out the same question, swallowing. He stared at you, mouth going dry as you giggled.
“Are you a virgin, Ethan?”
He clenched his fists, looking away before you held his wrist. “Y-Yeah, I am.”
“Well, I mean someone cumming inside,” you tapped his chin, getting him to look at you as you smiled at him, giggling. “Like… anywhere. I’m not the biggest fan of anal, but it depends on who’s giving it, you know? But I definitely like how it looks when cum like floods out of my cunt, you know what I mean?” You asked him, biting your lip as his cheeks get redder and his eyes try to avoid yours as much as he could. “You don’t, do you? Kind of forgot,” you hummed, letting your hand place on his and draw lines across his veins with your nail. “You don’t look like you’d be a virgin, Ethan.”
He quickly looked at you, confused. “I-I don’t?”
“No,” you say, smiling as your fingers intertwined with his. “You’re too cute to be a virgin, but you seem to be one of those types who don’t realize how much they make a girl’s pussy wet.”
He shivered as your nail slowly dragged up his forearm, a hum leaving your mouth. “D-Do I make your pussy wet?”
You smiled, shifting slightly to move the wet patch of your underwear. “You do. Can I touch you, Ethan?”
“H-Here?” He basically squeaked, but your hand placing on his thigh made him gasp.
“Not like that, silly,” you laughed, but your nail trailed down his inner thigh. “I mean… unless you want me to.”
“Y-You would do that in a library?” He whispered, watching as you tilt your head slightly.
“Why not?” He inhaled sharply as your finger trailed down his growing bulge, a satisfied hum leaving your mouth. “You should take me out.”
“Y-Yes, yes ma’am.”
That was the beginning of your relationship. Four months in, Ethan had a habit of getting way too comfortable laying against your body with your nipple in his mouth as he sucked and groped the other, a vibrator shoved into your cunt that he had licked and prepped all perfectly.
It had basically become a routine ever since you figured out that he actually did have a mommy kink, coming home from school and his nimble hands stripping you after slipping off your jacket and shoes, kissing your ankles and wrists before leading you to your room. If your feet were sore, he would give you a foot rub, and if your back hurt, a massage. He was so, so good for you, how could you not repay him?
You stroked his curls as his hand pulled your tit deeper into his mouth, sucking and biting against your areola making you hiss. “Hey, don’t be too rough, baby. Be nice.”
He hummed, nodding as he pulled away. “S-Sorry… you just taste so good.”
You laughed, stroking his hair with a smile. “Taste, hm? What tastes? There’s nothing with flavor-”
“You,” he interrupts, his tongue flattening against your sensitive but hard bud. “You taste so good.”
You hummed as you pushed your hand down to push the vibrator into the next setting, the second one being something you were basically ignorant to. You inhale sharply as you hold the end, pushing it deeper into you to feel the soft pink silicone vibrate against the perfect spot inside of you, your hips bucking as he groans against your tit.
One of his hands tries to push down your stomach, attempting to touch your pretty clit before you slapped his hand, a whine against your nipple making you groan. “You already had your time with my pussy, baby, pay attention to my tits.”
He whined, pulling away from your swollen nipple, his hands squeezing at your full breasts. “But mommy-”
“Ah,” you interrupted, raising a brow. “What did mommy say, hm? You’re going to be a bad boy and not listen to your mommy, just to get a taste of my pussy? If you’re good, you won’t have to beg for it.”
“O-Okay,” he mumbled, moving onto your other tit as his thumb flicked against the nipple that wasn’t in his mouth, a pleasure filled sigh leaving your lips.
One of your hands stayed in his hair, your head tilted back as the other guided the vibrator deeper into your cunt, hips rolling to try and get the tip against that perfect spot deeper inside of you. His mouth was nice against your tits, but not something that completely gained your attention, desperate to get that spot inside of you abused by the perfect silicone pink vibrator that always fucked you so good.
You felt a jolt go up your back as he groaned against your tit, biting against your nipple, a scream leaving your mouth as his teeth dug into your areola. “E-Ethan!”
He pulled away with the strong tug of your hand, whining loudly. “W-Wait, wait Y/N! Pl-Please, please you taste so good!”
You didn’t notice the pearly white liquid dripping down the side of his mouth, only registering the now discomforting vibrations inside of you. “No, you want to take advantage of what I give you? Hm? I be nice and let you suck on my tits as much as you want and you fucking bite me?!”
He whined, shaking his head as you pulled the vibrator out of your cunt, turning it off. “No! No, you don’t understand-!”
He choked as you pushed the vibrator into his open mouth, watching the creamy white ring envelope his lips as you pushed it down his throat, watching as he obediently sucked on it like you wanted him to. “You just like sucking on shit with me on it, don’t you? If I had another man fuck me, would you be desperate to suck his cock baby?”
He whined, shaking his head around the vibrator had been inside of you, soaked and covered in your arousal and cum. You pulled it out of his mouth to hear him whine even louder, his head shaking. “No, no! Mommy, mommy you promised that if I was good I’d be able to fuck you!”
“But you weren’t good, were you?” You hissed, squeezing his chin as you threw the vibrator to the side, forcing him onto his back. “I wanted to be nice and feel your mouth on my tits, but you wanted to bite me?”
“Pl-Please, you had milk coming out!” He basically begged, his hands cupping your tits and fingers squeezing at your nipples. The sensation makes you scream out, gasping as he rolls the hard, sensitive buds between his fingers, gasping as he pulls them slightly and the white liquid slowly starts to drip out. He groaned, staring up at you in desperation. “Can I please… please suck them, mommy?”
You paused, staring down at the liquid dribbling from your nipples. How the fuck were you lactating right now? There was absolutely no way you were pregnant, there was no other symptoms, you were on birth control-
“Y/N?”
Your eyes meet his as he smiles, sitting up.
“Just because you're lactating, doesn’t mean you’re pregnant. It can be caused by constant stimulation to the nipple and breast.”
You paused, holding his shoulders as he slowly ducked down to delicately lick the translucent, white tinted liquid. “Did you... look that up?”
“Well, yeah,” he laughed, shrugging. “I could tell that it kind of bothered you whenever I stopped, and they were getting heavier and you said that they were sore, so I looked it up to see if me sucking on them was doing anything. That’s why I just gave them massages for a while.”
You stared down at him, confused. “I thought you just liked squeezing my tits.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “As much as I do like that, I care about your well-being more.”
You could feel your heart swell, a smile on your lips as you leaned down and pressed a firm kiss to his mouth. “You’ve been doing so good, baby, I think you deserve a treat for looking out for your mommy.”
He groaned as you leaned down, pressing another kiss to his lips, his mouth desperately following yours as you pulled away. “Wh-What do you mean by a treat?”
“Anything you want, baby,” you say, giggling. “You just tell me and I’ll do it.”
“Can… can I fuck you?” He whispered desperately, inhaling sharply as you hummed, nodding.
“How do you want me, honey?”
“L-Lay back for me,” he whispered, nodding. “Please.”
You smiled as you slowly got off, laying on your back with a languid stretch as he quickly straddled your waist after slipping off his clothes. He lifted himself up, pumping his cock as you tilted your head slightly, desperate to look at his way too pretty cock. It wasn’t the thickest in girth, but his length and the slight upwards curve from how fucking hard he was with the picturesque dribble of cum sliding out of his tip.
He groaned as he slowly slid his tip up and down your slit, jaw falling as he tilted his head back with even the slightest push into you. His fist nightly to the thought of you had nothing on the warmth of your cunt, how fucking soaked you were, and fuck you couldn’t have been tighter. He had to hold himself back from cumming just from this, a shaky groan falling from his mouth as your hands slowly trail up his chest, his perfect milky skin making you groan.
He cursed, leaning down to press a firm kiss to your lips, a whine falling from his mouth as you rolled your hips into his. “You ever going to start moving?”
He groaned, head tilting back as he desperately tried to control the sporadic bucks of his hips. “Y-You feel… you feel too good. F-Fuck, fuck, I can’t move without cumming,” he whispered, his voice breathy as you tried to hold back from moving your hips on your own. “Pl-Please, just let me… let me stay here for a minute, n-need to feel you.”
You held back a pout, nodding reluctantly. “Not too long, baby, before I give myself pleasure.”
Ethan groaned as he leaned down, desperately kissing at your neck as his hands groped your tits, his thumbs finding your nipples and sliding over them firmly. “N-No, no, I’ll still… I’ll still give you pleasure, mommy, that’s what I’m here for. To give you pleasure.”
“Well, don’t just give it to me on my tits, my love.”
As much as you did love him sucking and licking at your nipples, desperately drinking at the milk that was a production of constant stimulation, a sigh leaving your mouth at the same feeling filled your body like it had the past few weeks. It felt good, a weight of some sort being lifted from your swollen tits at the milk being sucked out, but with his cock this deep inside of you, how could you not want it?
You shifted your hips, smiling when you heard the whine fall from his lips, purposely clenching your cunt around his cock. He gasped against your tit, groaning loudly as you pushed your hips off the bed, rolling your hips against his to get his cock deeper inside of you, his hips bucking against yours seemingly on accident.
You gasped as his teeth dug into your nipple once again, whining loudly as his hips started to move faster, more collected. You certainly didn’t expect him to be this good at fucking right off the bat, his shaft rubbing along your walls as one of his hands push down between the two of you, smearing your wetness along your slit and rubbing at your clit.
You moaned loudly, gasping as your arms wrapped around his shoulders, his back arched as he attempted to continue thrusting into you as he sucked on your tits, his thrusts getting rougher as your nails dragged down his back. He pulled away from your tit with a deep inhale, a shaky moan leaving your mouth as the white liquid dribbled down his chin.
“A-Am I doing good, mommy?” The name makes your walls clamp down on his cock, a whine leaving your mouth as his hips stutter, your cunt used to the steady and rough pace of his thrusts being affected by the slight falter. “I-Is that a yes? Y-You clench when I call you mommy, you really like it, don’t you?”
“Y-Yes!” You yelled out, gasping as his tip kissed your cervix, grazing that one spot that made your eyes roll back. Your mouth fell open, moaning wantonly as his hands held your tits to keep some sort of steadiness to his actions.
His mind was cloudy and hazy, body hot in desperation to just fuck you. He had been waiting desperately until he got to this point, thinking of you every time he pumped his cock, hating your teasing when you forced him to watch you get yourself off with that pretty pink vibrator that you shoved down his throat earlier. Fuck, he was jealous of a fucking sex toy.
“Do you like it when I fuck you like this, mommy? Do you want me to be rougher, softer? J-Just tell me, fu-fuck, just tell me what to do.” Ethan whined, his face moving to press against your neck to get into more of a comfortable position, your cunt clenching around him once again making him groan. “J-Just tell me!”
“D-Don’t stop,” you cover your mouth, whimpering as your cheeks turned red in embarrassment; a fucking virgin has you this fucked out? A virgin is making you feel this good? “J-Just don’t stop, fuck, don’t stop!”
He groaned loudly, slamming into you as his fingers squeezed your clit firmly, taking pleasure in the way your hips bucked and your walls convulsed around his length, his vision going white as he came inside of you. You gasped, just the feeling of those hot ropes of cum squirting into you making you scream out, desperately trying to get that perfect thrust to hit your g-spot, the sharp thrust of his hips successfully making you come undone and cum all over his cock.
You could feel his cock twitching, still not softening. You had never been with a virgin before, so you assumed that he probably just needed a few more thrusts to successfully go soft, but with the lazy rolls of his hips, he was still fucking hard.
Slowly, you patted his chest, inhaling deeply. “Can I ride you, baby?”
He inhaled sharply, nodding as you pushed against his chest, inhaling sharply as you sat on his cock. You whined, his length still incredibly hard as he shifted himself, slipping a pillow underneath his hips to help push his cock into you at a new angle. You could feel every bulging vein on his shaft, his perfect arched cock pushing into you, desperately bouncing on his cock to get it as deep inside of you as you could.
Your nails dug into his chest, your head lulling back when you felt his tip hit that perfect spot inside of you, the knot inside of your stomach weak from your first orgasm. You could feel it being teased by his tip, each bounce making his head hit that perfect spot inside of you, loud groans falling from your mouth as he held your hips.
“Yes, yes, fuck!” He groaned, head tilting back as he accidentally bucked his hips, your nails digging into his chest as your eyes rolled back, supporting yourself to stay sitting up as you screamed out. “F-Fuck, fuck, don’t stop mommy, please.”
You could feel his cock continue to twitch inside of your cunt, groaning loudly as more cum flooded into you, your thighs shaking as you lifted yourself up, keeping his tip inside of you before releasing your weight again and sinking down onto his cock. He groaned loudly, tears pricking his eyes as he squeezed your hips. You were not going to let a fucking virgin outlast you.
“Y-You sure you’re a virgin, Ethan?” You whimper, a laugh falling from his mouth as you reach toward his face to wipe the tears falling from his cheeks. “Fucking hell, Ethan! We've been at it for hours, how are you still hard?!"
He was definitely a virgin if he was crying after two releases, but he definitely couldn’t be a virgin if he was still hard.
He laughed as he rolled his hips upward, groaning without holding back from his thrusts upward into you, your hands on his shoulders and your nails digging into his shoulders to stabilize yourself. You weren’t going to let yourself fly forward like you were tired, because as much as you were tired, you weren’t going to let him see that.
“Y-Yes, yes mommy, am I doing good for you? F-Fuck, I love it when you use me, mommy, I love it when you fucking use me for your own pleasure!” He groaned out, your walls tight around his shaft as he slammed his hips upward, desperately trying to chase his next release.
As much as you wanted to stay sitting up, put on that strong front, you couldn’t. You flew forward, groaning as your tried to hold yourself up above him, his mouth ducking to suck on your tits once again. The added stimulation made you scream out, eyes rolling back as another mind blurring orgasm resonated in your body, tummy convulsing as your walls clamped down on his cock.
Your nails dug into the sheets, gripping the silk fabric between your fingers as his teeth teasingly dragged against your nipple, his hands holding your hips as he thrusted into your abused cunt just a few more times, another orgasm rippling through his body as he came again, whimpering against your shoulder as you panted above him.
“You can’t be a virgin.”
He laughed as he pushed you onto your back, humming. “Can I keep going?”
You inhaled sharply, pausing when his cock continued to stay hard inside of you, but you nodded. You wanted someone who could keep up with you, who cared if it was a virgin? “Yes baby, you can.”
He groaned, leaning down for a firm kiss to your lips. “Thank you mommy, thank you so much. I love you, I’ll make you feel so fucking good, I promise.”
You groaned as he slowly flipped you onto your side, his hands pushing against your tits as he kneeled in front of your cunt and over one of your thighs, pulling your other leg over his shoulder.
Fuck, he truly was the perfect virgin.
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omg, I love fulfilling requests ♡ keep them coming for Bingo!!
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Bingo tag 𓆩[@ennycutie]𓆪   𓆩[@yoongiwife23]𓆪 𓆩[@urlocalbum12-blog]𓆪
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Regular taglist: 𓆩[@lem0ns77]𓆪 𓆩[@cecepop15]𓆪 𓆩[@memeorydotcom]𓆪   𓆩[@your-favorite-god]𓆪   𓆩[@xyzstar]𓆪  𓆩[@just-my-shit]𓆪   𓆩[@your-mom21]𓆪   𓆩[@c78r]𓆪   𓆩[@dizscreams]𓆪   𓆩[@asrt5]𓆪   𓆩[@xoxomoonlightbabe]𓆪   𓆩[@wenvierismycomfort]𓆪   𓆩[@copypastedaphne]𓆪   𓆩[@f-aggotry]𓆪
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© asterias-record-shop
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itsmearia01 · 2 months
Text
Past Love || Prolog
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Various! Yandere! Jujutsu kaisen x Sukuna's past wife! Itadori's best friend! F! Reader
A/N : English is not my first language, sorry if there are some wrong words. (btw, here Sukuna is considered as king and you considered as the queen) And there are some OCs that I added to add more drama. Hope you like it!
Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Chapter 1
Series summary : You always get the same nightmare over and over every night. You feel annoyed but can't do anything about it. On the other hand, your best friend who suddenly becomes the vessel of a cursed king brings your nightmares to reality. You don't know what happened but the people around you started acting strangely.
Series warnings : Non-con, dub-con, yandere, stalking, kinks, gaslighting, blackmail, overtism, smut, NSFW, Minors DNI, all character 18+ (but first years still first year, try to make sense), sex, rough sex, oral sex, dom/sub dynamics, blood, manipulation, corruption, mind break, forced relationship, yandere character being their own warning, mind control, possessive, kidnapping. ⚠️Jujutsu kaisen character was not my original, credit to Gege Akutami as original author! There's a few OC as my originally made character. If you don't like/ you hate this kind of story, please go.
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(Y/N) (L/N) or now known as Ryomen Sukuna's wife. That night was a wedding between you and Sukuna. Your father, who is the only parent you have now, is the figure behind all of this. It all started with him make you engaged to hundred year old demon when you were 12 years old. And now you are 18 years old, which means it's time to get married.
Many important people come, make you have to smile throughout the event. And when it all ends, that night you ended up at your bedroom alone. You reflect on all the things happened.
They think you're happy, they all think you love him. All this time you have to act like you can't live without Sukuna. You have to act like you love him. No, of course you don't love him. You admit he's quite hot, but he's not your type. You don't like mean, psychopathic men. You like gentle and loving men.
Your father always forced you to be obsessive with Sukuna and act like you love him. So you always hurting women who tease him because your father told you to. But you can't do much if Sukuna wants those women. So you are the antagonist.
You're 100% sure he's with one of his mistresses now. As the first wife of Ryomen Sukuna, everyone is sorry for you because he likes to sleep with other women. But you don't mind it, you don't care. But THEY CARE, those who think you love him.
"What should I say to your majesty?"
You hear the waiters talking behind the wall, you start to focus on listening.
"Did lord Sukuna slept with his lover?" Ask someone you recognize as your personal guard now. "Yes. I have to immediately bring this dinner to queen (Y/N)."
Not long after the conversation ended, your bedroom door was opened. "excuse me queen, this is your dinner." He said while put down the tray of your dinner. "Thank you, did he slept with his mistress?" you ask.
The butler raised his head, looking at you with pitying eyes. "I-That's right, Your Highness." he answered nervously. You sighed and told him to leave. Before leaving the room, he look at you with pity once again.
Several months passed, nothing special. He always looks at you disgusted, because he also thinks you're obsessed with him. When you meet Sukuna, he always with his concubines and those concubines always grin at you.
You have to be patient, this is for your family.
That day, he suddenly call you and everyone to the great hall. He was with a woman as usual, but something was different.
"I want to make this women, as my first wife." He said. Everyone was shocked. Because if he wants to make that woman his first wife, it means that she will replace your position. You saw the woman smiling innocently, but you can see her grin.
Because Sukuna wanted to make that woman his first wife, all support for you disappeared and turned to that woman. After your father investigated the woman named Yurika Sato, a illegitimate daughter of a lowly noble who went bankrupt.
The thing that made he attracted to her was because of her innocence. Sukuna really likes innocent women and really hates rude women like you. And just as you'd think, Sukuna will eventually replace you and take Yurika as his first wife.
But you realize this is your chance to escape. You tell your father that you will run away and he agrees. Just in time for the wedding between Sukuna and Yurika, you packed up your things and leave a farewell note. Finally, after everything Sukuna did to you from betrayal, his harsh words, and other acts of cruelty that you received from him, you are finally free.
You and your father still communicating by letter and he bought you a house that is not big but still very nice. Now you live in a village and sell cakes you make by yourself.
Until one day something special happens in your life. At that time you were walking around in the market suddenly you hit bye someone and fell. When you look at that person it was a tall handsome man.
"Sorry, I'm really sorry." He says. Reaching out his hand to help you up. And that's when you were get to know to him. It was strange that an aristocratic family name was used by a commoner like him. You were suspicious, but you were a person who believed easily when he said that he completely unrelated to nobles, he happened to share the same last name.
He work as a doctor in this village.
Months have passed and now you know him better, you start developed romantic feelings for each other.
One day he proposed to you and you happily accepted. It's been a month since you were married and you read a letter from your father explaining that the capital in chaos. There are so many evil curses attacking everything around.
You want to go there, but hampered by your body feeling unwell. You keep feeling nauseous and vomiting, your menstruation hasn't come since a month ago. You finally checked secretly with other doctors in the village. Unfortunately, it took a few days to find out.
Three days have passed and there is still no news about the results. Due to getting another letter from your father and worrying about him, you finally decide to go to the capital that day without your husband knowing.
But you don't realize that will be where it ends. You didn't find your father at your family's residence, and you immediately went to Sukuna's residence. You find your father fighting a curse and behind him is Sukuna. When your father neglects to help the others, sukuna who somehow looks very weak is attacked by a special grade curse.
Time went fast, you ran trying to protect Sukuna's body and in the end the curse attack hit your stomach. You lay down weakly and heard screams of your father, Sukuna, and your husband who somehow were there. You see them approaching you and screaming for someone to heal you. And what surprised you the most was when your husband shouted, "SHE'S PREGNANT!"
It's too late. You was already unconscious and fell asleep forever.
_____
"HAH- HAH- HAH."
You wake up from your sleep, the dream is again in your mind. You quickly looked at the time and realized that you would be late for school. You hurry up and get ready for school. Go downstairs and find your father and sibling eating in the dining room.
You grabbed a loaf and rushed out of the house ignoring your father's screams telling you to come back.
And this is your life now, (Y/N) (L/N) the only one daughter of a rich family which has one of the most successful companies in the world.
On the way to school, you keep imagining the dreams you've had every day since you were 12 years old until now. No matter how much you deny it, You know that it's not just a dream but an incident that happened in the past. Maybe it was your past life.
To be continued
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A/N : Hello! This is the end of the prologue, once again English is not my first language, btw your family won't be featured much in the next chapters, so it's okay if you don't have any siblings to imagine in the story. Sorry if there are any wrong words. I feel it's too long for prolog, so I'm sorry but hope you like this story and waiting for the first chapter! Banners credit to @cafekitsune !
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ciy0 · 3 months
Text
☆*:.。.ONLY YOU.。.:*☆
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Summary - The one where Mingyu is inlove with his sweet friend y/n and copes by using other women to fill the you shaped hole in his heart.
Word Count - 1.4k
Content Warning - 18+ Sexual Content and Vulgar Language, Fem!Reader, Implied College Au, One Siding Pining[or is it], Twist at the End, Rosé and Wonwoo are in here, Mingyu’s Morals are Questionable, So is the Reader’s, Mingyu was A Hoe, Rough Sex, Jacking off, Obsessive!Mingyu, Argument & Breakup
a/n - i have to give props to @bvbysita because their posts have been keeping me up at night oml i can’t stop thinking about them, it definitely was in mind while i wrote this ahh ( ̄∇ ̄) i am a simple woman and i must give credit for the inspiration ☆彡
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☆*:.。.o .。.:*☆
“You know you’re so obvious?” Wonwoo asked suddenly as he passed by Mingyu in their shared kitchen.
Mingyu arched a brow, “Hello to you too, about what hyung?,” He asked while offering a spoon to him to taste the Alfredo mixture he was currently working on.
“First I thought it was just a coincidence that they had the same eyes,” Wonwoo started after trying the concoction, “needs more salt— then another had the same lips, the next having the same nose...”
“Hyung what are you going on about?,” Mingyu brows furrowing in confusion as he reached for the seasoning cabinet.
“But it really clicked when you introduced me to your current girlfriend Rosé,” Wonwoo finalized, “She has the same exact beauty mark on her face… the same one Y/n has.”
There was a beat of silence, Mingyu pausing slightly before actually opening the cabinet, “We’re just good friends Hyung, Y/n’s not the only one allowed to have certain features you know… it’s just a coincidence-“
“Was it a coincidence when I heard you moan her name last night too?”
“ - And what are you doing, spying on me now?” Mingyu shot back, lisp slightly appearing. He chose to focus his sight back on the pasta instead of giving into his hyungs ruthless prying. His breath coming a bit heavier at being put on the spot.
Wonwoo decided to calm down on his assault seeing the agitation in the younger one’s shoulders, “…Does she know?”
Mingyu couldn’t help but laugh bitterly, “She’s fucking oblivious…”
You that is. The girl of his dreams who never once looked his way. Side stepping all his advances, treating him like you treated everyone else. What was he to do? Maybe it was childish how he subconsciously searched for any glimpse of you in all the girls who approached him. Running through women like a marathon because none of them were the original. The original didn’t want him how he wanted her. So weak as the man he is he let counterfeits fill the place reserved for you.
It was wrong though, he knew his exes and current girlfriend didn’t deserve it. Didn’t deserve to be compared, didn’t deserve to have their faces coldly smushed in his pillows so he could imagine the curvature of their backs to be yours instead. Large hand muffling their moans in slight frustration because he knew you wouldn’t sound like that. Knew you’d sound prettier—lovelier. Jacking off pathetically in his hand after curtly sending them home, free hand scrolling desperately through innocent pics of you he cropped from group photos kept tucked away in his phone. It’s what he did last night after Rosé [begrudgingly] left.
He blatantly saw the hesitancy in her movements as she gathered her things, probably hoping he’d finally ask her stay the night only to be met with a quick “night babe” and a swift kiss to the cheek. He knew he should’ve tried harder — harder to get over you. Harder to invest himself more in his relationships instead of using them for a short moment of companionship but it became so involuntary. And he’d see the heartbreak in their eyes when they’d ultimately meet you. Seeing the adoring side of himself that they desperately wanted for themselves all spent on you. Running back and forth on your beck and call, dropping everything to come to your aid like a loyal puppy. Usually shortly after that display his exes would give him an ultimatum and seeing as they’re no longer together his answer came too easy.
“You know Rosé is in love with you,” Wonwoo reminded as he made his way to their living room with a sigh. “It’s better to cut it off now before things get messy.”
Mingyu chose not to reply because he fucking knew that already. Out of all his exes she was the closest he got to moving on. He knew how much she loved him, it was clear with how she looked at him and she was great, got along with his friends well, kind to his family, easy on the eyes… but you—you were amazing, his friends adored you, his family treated you like their own, you were the most beautiful woman he’d even seen and— Fuck just like that he compared you guys again.
He finished up the pasta, lost in his thoughts before serving Wonwoo his plate and joining him in the living room. They fell into a relaxed conversation on something different than the charged one from before. Mid-sentence he felt his phone ding in his sweatpants pocket. It was from you. You never texted him first like this and he couldn’t stop the flip his heart did. He excused himself to head to his bed room, clicking facetime as he climbed into his bed.
“Ya,” Was the first thing he heard once you accepted, “Don’t you know how to text sir?” You pouted playfully, “You always facetime me so abruptly, what if i looked a mess?! Just text like a normal person. ”
He couldn’t help but longingly smile at your nagging. No, he wanted any excuse to see your pretty face. You? Look like a mess? Never. Not possible. “It’s easier to just talk plus i missed you cutie” He flashed his canines as he threw an arm behind his head.
You rolled your eyes, “ You saw me at Cheol’s frat party literally the other day but anyways I have a question,” now back on topic your countenance dimmed a bit, “I-Is everything okay with you and Rosé?��
He instantly sat up at the sudden change in mood and inquiry. “Hey hey look at me, what’s wrong?” His thumb brushed against the screen, “We’re fine, why did you hear anything? Y/n look at me”
You bit your lip unsurely, “She messaged me… she told me to stay away? She blamed me for the issues in your relationship?” Your slightly damp lash line at the supposed claim caused his chest to squeeze painfully. “I-I thought you both were doing well, i’m so confused Gyu—“
Mingyu’s eye involuntarily twitched at this nugget of information. But in the moment he chose consoling you over confronting Rosé. He cooed softly at you, calming your worries, “Shhh don’t worry about that, I’ll talk to her but i need you to smile for me first baby— need to know you’re okay. Don’t cry.”
You gave him a wobbly smile, nodding your head as he showered you with praises to ease your mind. You blamed yourself for how angry she was, you didn’t know what you possibly did for her to spew such nasty things at you but Mingyu’s comforting purrs helped cheer you up.
Once he was sure enough that you calmed down enough he ended the call with a “go relax baby, i’ll come by in a bit” and a tender eye smile before immediately dialing Rosé number, expression darkening.
She picked up on the first ring, “Hi baby! What’s-“
“What the hell is your problem?!” he chided abruptly. “How could you talk to Y/n like that?! She’s been nothing but kind to you.”
“Wh-What? Mingyu, what are you talking about, I never-“
“Don’t fucking lie to—,” he shut his eyes trying to simmer himself down, “Listen let’s just end it here, okay? You were a nice girl but we both know we weren’t progressing any further than this. Don’t come around anymore, bye.”
Rosé was speechless. She checked her messages and there was nothing recently sent to Y/n— what was going on? She tried to cut in to clear her name but she was met with the sound of an ended call. When she tried texting you her messages wouldn’t send. Did you—
She grabbed her things to rush over to your dorm to verify if what she dared to think be true. She missed the familiar parked car she’d been in too many times to count in her frazzled state once she reached your building. Catching her breath she reached to bang on your door just to freeze at the deep voice she jus heard on the phone a bit earlier from the other side.
“Fuuckkk Y/n, you feel amazing. I-I’m so glad you feel the same way. Do you know how long i waited for this huh? I love— fuck you’re such a dream— i love you so fucking much baby. Gonna love on you all night, yeah? None of them could come close, not even a little— don’t haaah don’t hide your moans from me pretty girl. Need to hear them, god-”
Wet smacks and smooches, desperate moans, violent squeaks coming from your cheap college mattress and between them all breathy declarations of love surrounded Rosé’s eardrums as she fell to the ground gasping into her palm in utter defeat.
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sorcerous-caress · 5 months
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So fun fact about me irl I work with children but often my teacher language slips out like telling my friends to say “bye bye bus”, telling another person in my lecture writing to “be nice to the pencil, it’s your friend.” And greeting a roomful of grown as adults with good morning boys and girls. It’s mortifying but How do you think the companions would react to having a teacher!tav slip up like that.
Dealing with a Teacher Tav
[Bg3, fluff, platonic kinda, nb!reader]
[Gale, Shadowheart, Laezel, Wyll, Karlach, Astarion, Halsin, Minthara, Jaheira, Minsc]
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Gale
He delightfully plays along whenever you tell him to thank a stranger or say goodbye to an inanimate object. He thinks it's very silly and joyous.
Teachers have always been a big part of his life, it doesn't phase him in the slightest when you unawarly awake the deep memories of being in wizards pre-school for him.
Says good morning to you back, adding a teacher honorific at the end for the sake of being playful while asking if you've finally graded the homework he handed in.
He gives you an apple occasionally. He thinks he is very hilarious.
Shadowheart
She freezes in awkwardness whenever it happens, not sure if you’re being serious or just playing around. Sometimes, you don't even register slipping up as go on with your day, leaving her wondering if she's imagining things.
She has zero experience with the school system, completely confused by the need to say thank you for carriage after it arrived. It's just a carriage, why should she?
One time while her and Laezel were arguing, you used the same call you'd use in the classroom to get the kids to quiet down and it completely caught them both off guard. They just stood there baffled, forgetting their original argument.
Laezel
Why, yes, she is very familiar with teachers. In fact, she was the best out of her class, ask any githyanki teacher, and they'd tell you endless praise about her throat cutting techniques and sword welding stances.
You, whoever, use very unusual teaching techniques. How would learning a song about washing your hand and brushing your teeth help her in slaying her enemies?
Intriguing, so you take advantage of the brain's tendency to latch on to phrases that rhyme, which makes them easier to remember? And you encode your melodies with instructions to embed them into the impressionable youth?
Huh. She actually is impressed. She made her decision, you will lend your teaching skills to help her embed the most effect way of fracturing someone's spine into a melody to spread to the githyanki children.
Wyll
As someone who has been an unofficial teacher for so many kids throughout his years, he can relate to your struggle a lot. He slips up more than he cares to admit.
The both of you meeting early in the morning while still groggy and tired, your brains working on automatic mods as you greet each other with the same high pitched enthusiastic voice you use to greet a toddler.
Then just stare at each other, complete understanding between the two of you. Like two people accidentally using their customer service voice in front of the other.
You struggle to tie your boots once, and he unconsciously bends down to tie them for you while using the rabbit loop euphemism, only to stop in his tracks as he realises what he's doing.
He uses a curse word once, and you immediately use your teachers voice and say, "we don't speak like that here, that's wasn't very nice."
You're both tired, you both need a nap and neither of you brings it up when the other slips.
Karlach
Much like Gale, she finds it extremely amusing. Top tier comedy to her. Unlike Gale, she hasn't been to any proper schooling system, so she doesn't exactly know what most of these phrases mean or imply.
In a way, it lets her pretend she was a part of something like a school in her youth, like she could've had a normal childhood like everyone else.
She'd indulge you, saying goodbye and thank you to the pigeon that delivered her a letter, or overhearing Wyll's rabbit loop ryhme and whispering it under her breath as she ties her own boots. Who knew this could've been so easy?
Astarion
You remind him of how Leon was with his daughter back in Cazador's manor. Astarion never was close with any of them, but still, he sometimes overheard him attempting to give his daughter a semblance of a normal childhood and growth.
It's endearing when you accidentally use your teaching ways while dealing with the owlbear cub, but he'll never admit it.
Doesn't indulge you with it, he has appearance to keep. Well, unless he has a chance to twist your innocent meaning words into a sex or gorey joke like the 12y old humour that he has.
Ah, the scrowl on your face is the exact same one Leon had around him, such fond memories.
Halsin
Ah, you bring him back to his old days of having to deal with the children at the grove. Although his methods focused more on showing them that nature is a friend rather than inanimate objects.
But who is he to judge your ways? If anything he could learn a thing or two from you to add to his skillset.
Tells you about the fables that were passed down from elf to elf throughout the generations, animal stories have always done a great part in teaching him morality.
Do you happen to have any? Maybe you could tell it to the children of the grove, they are good kids.
Minthara
As a noble, she was only given the best and most prestigious of teachers while growing up. Even the ones that weren't a drow would still be considered the best of the best, crème de la crème.
Yet not a single one of them applied such...childish methods. etiquette and discipline were taught by the lash and threat of punishment, not lullabies and gentle guidance.
....it's not as bad as she imagined.
She doesn't get why some of your companions find it amusing. She doesn't bother indulging either.
But sometimes, sometimes, when it's just the two of you, and she is sure not a single soul is around, she will reply with a pun with the most deadpan face expression you've seen.
Jaheira
Despite what most would think, she actually integrated the same methods into her teachings back when her kids were little, it just happened to be weaved with her more dangerous lifestyle ascept.
Here comes the plane, with the airplane usual holding a good dosage amount of poison to build resistance.
A short rhyme about what to check before leaving the house, except the list has a suspicious amount of daggers and trap disarm kits in it.
If it works, it works, so what if she had to alter a kid's book about a honey loving yellow bear into one with decipherable texts to teach them Harpers' secret communication language.
Minsc
Ah! Boo does use the same method on him sometimes, the two of you have a lot in common. Although Boo's methods do involve a bit of biting every now and then.
Say, how about he teaches you some fables from Rashemen, a lot of them are about a rabbit who got lost after not listening to his witch frog companion.
You could use it in your teachings later! Show the youth the importance of good teamwork. Yes, he is aware of the fact he didn't listen to Jaheira and got captured by the cult. No, he doesn't see why this is relevant? Why is Boo suddenly agreeing with you? He is supposed to be on his side.
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rafescurtainbangz · 3 months
Text
Rafe Cameron One Shot +18
Minor DNI
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Sorry @shy-micchele I had to reupload because I deleted the original post on accident 🫣 sorry I’m so painfully new to this.
Thank you for your ask! Taking requests 💕✨🫶 (Rafe, JJ, Munson, Hargrove, Harrington, and Gator Tillman)
Rafe x female reader
Needy/sunshine reader hears her boyfriend’s friends complaining about her being needy/clingy. He doesn’t deny it. Reader ignores him until they get home. Mean Rafe with a fluffy ending. Smut 🤭
Warnings: smut, language, name calling
Fingering, unprotected p in v, pet names, choking, squirting, overstimulation, breeding kink, praise kink
Lightly edited
Enjoy! 💕✨🫶
Y/N’s POV:
"Hi, Mr. Lewiston," you sing, giving a little finger wave as his golf cart rolls up.
"Where's Rafe, sunshine?" He smiles, tobacco smoke pouring from his lips as his cart wads to a stop.
"Clubhouse. He's been in there forever, though." you sigh as you look up at the pro shop, your boyfriend, nowhere to be found.
"Want me to holler at him, darlin'? No reason a sweet thing like you should ever be alone."
Your disappointment must be painted across your face. What is he doing?
It's been like ten minutes. How hard could it be to get a few beers?
“Thank you, Mr. Lewiston, but I think I'll just check on him myself.”
You step out of the cart, adjusting your little golf skirt on your hips, ponytail bouncing as you walk toward the lodge.
You bite your lip, butterflies filling your stomach as you see Rafe walk by the open door, a broad smile on his lips. He falls out of sight a moment later. You can hear some laughter coming from inside as well. Topper? Kelce? Why wouldn't he call me if our friends were here?
You foot toward the door, stopping in your tracks as you hear your name on Topper's lips, jumbled in a mess of incoherent gossip.
"She's hot as fuck; but, she's gotta be suffocating you, dude," Kelce adds through a snicker. “Suprised she's not in the clubhouse right now. How is she managing without her Rafey Baby?" Sure, they're teasing Rafe, but you can tell they mean every word.
You peek around the door, watching Rafe roll his eyes and smile in silent agreement.
"Tell me that pussy's worth it." Topper adds. "It's gotta be worth it, Cameron."
"Course it's worth it," he mumbles. You can hear the exhaustion in his tone.
‘It's’? He couldn't even say 'she's’.
Why isn't he defending me?
"We're going out for drinks and cigars tonight... You in? Or, is your old ball and chain not gonna let you out of her sight?" Topper bullies.
"M'goin" Alright?" He sighs. "I'm sure that'll be a fun conversation," he mumbles before taking a swig of beer. "Sure your girlfriends don't wanna come? You could save me the hassle."
No.
Your heart breaks, tears building in your eyes as you hear the words uttered so easily by Rafe like he does it often. Rafe's eyes flick to the door. You watch as his jaw coils, unsure if you heard or not.
You batt your lashes as you wander past the door, heading toward the bathroom. "Hey, guys," you push the words through your quivering lips, a fake smile stretched across your glossy pout. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom," you mouth to Rafe.
"Sounds good, baby," Rafe smiles, giving you a little nod, biting his lip slightly.
Tears leak from your eyes as you amble down the hall toward the locker room. You quickly brush them away, running your hands along your pink polo.
You walk into the bathroom, slamming the lock shut as your tears wet your cheeks. You look up to the ceiling, fighting further emotion, kicking yourself for getting so upset.
I'm so fucking embarrassed. I thought that he wanted to hang out with me, too; thought that his friends liked me... I can't help that I want to hang out with him. He's my boyfriend... He should feel the same way as me. Right?
You feel your anger start to build inside you, replacing your usually sunny disposition. Thank God he'll get to go out tonight. Get to hang out with the boys without me. Maybe he'll get to finally breathe.
Your hand trembles as you blot the tears from your eyes, taking a few deep breaths, freshening up for him.
Smile. Act normal. Stop being so fucking needy. You scold yourself as you step toward the door, tugging it open.
"Princess? What were you doin' in there?" You jump slightly; instantly met with Rafe. He cocks his head, eyes narrowing on yours. "You okay?"
“Course, Rafey. Just got something in my eye."
*******
The Camerons' House...
"So, you gonna talk to me or what?" Rafe snips as you pull into his driveway. You huff out a little breath, turning your attention in the other direction entirely. "Are you fuckin’ pouting right now?" He raises his voice, shifting in his seat to get a little closer.
You continue to ignore him, crossing your arms across your chest, biting your cheek to hold back yet another round of tears as his truck rolls to a stop. You grab the door handle, jarring it open as Rafe barks out your name.
"Leave me alone, Rafe," you pout, stepping out of his truck.
"Excuse me?"
Your heart starts to race as Rafe jumps out of his truck, slamming the door, making your whole body tense up. You don't wait for him, continuing toward the Camerons' home.
"No. No fucking way!" He booms, matching your gait quickly. His strong hand reaches out, nabbing your arm with a bruising grip. Rafe spins you around, gripping your chin between his fingers, forcing your gaze.
"Think you just told me to leave you alone. That right?"
"Yeah”. You whimper.
Rafe's eyes roll in irritation, a deep laugh rumbling in his chest. "And, you're gonna leave me alone? You're not gonna be up my ass? You're needy as fuck. You think you could manage even an hour without me? Really? Please. You'd probably fuckin' die without my attention.”
You swallow thickly, clearing the lump in your throat, your tears rolling over Rafe's grip.
"Leave me alone, Rafe," you sniffle.
"Mmm... Mhmm. Whatever you say, Princess," he chuckles in annoyance, giving you a condescending pat on your cheek. He leaves you behind, striding toward the house. "See ya in five minutes, baby girl. I'm sure you can last that long," he taunts. "I believe in you, sweetheart."
You wait until the door swings to a close before you start your walk toward the door. I just need to keep myself busy...
You blow past Rafe, walking toward his room. I'll show him who needs who. You strip off your clothes, letting your skirt fall off your frame, landing in a puddle at your feet.
Rafe walks into his room as well, strolling toward the closet next to you, looking at you with a smirk on his lips as you try your best to resist the urge to look in his direction.
Let's see if he can resist me now. I know he can't. You tug your sports bra over your body, letting your breasts bounce free. Rafe expels a breathy laugh, shaking his head. His tongue glides along his bottom lip, ogling your naked body as you press the hangers to the side, picking out a little cropped white tee and flowy mini skirt.
Rafe pulls on his gym shorts, muscles flexing tight, waiting for you to gawk as you always do. You step into the floral number before pulling on your shirt brushing the material flat. No bra. It's completely intentional; the blush of your hardened nipples visible through the thin fabric; just a tease for him.
"Attention whore,” he mocks under his breath as you walk out the door without acknowledging him, heading toward the kitchen.
You stroll onto the cool marble floor, walking toward the fridge. A snack.. I'll just get a snack, waste some time while I think of something else to make him cave.
You grab the milk, setting it on the counter, before grabbing a couple of cookies. Rafe wanders into the living room not long after you, grabbing a seat on a bar stool before pulling out his phone; scrolling aimlessly.
Shit.
You look up at the cabinet, your cup on the top shelf. Pausing momentarily: just long enough for Rafe to see why your snack efforts came to a standstill.
"Grab me a cup while you're at it, Princess," he chuckles cruelly. Dick. You hike your thigh up on the granite, pulling yourself on the counter.
"Baby st-" Rafe cuts himself off, finding himself falling into your little unplanned trap.
You stand up, grabbing your cup only, making it a point to let the cupboard door clap to a close. You step back, a little too far, way too fucking far. Your heart skips a beat as you wobble.
A wave of relief crashes over you as you feel two hands steadying you, your favorite mug slipping from your fingers a moment later, shattering on the floor below.
Rafe grabs you by your waist, lifting you off the counter; setting you on the floor.
"Get a fuckin' broom," he grunts as he gives you a little shove toward the pantry, his boat shoes crunching through the ceramic shards as he walks away.
Hot tears trickle from your eyes, cheeks reddened with embarrassment. You pull out the little hand broom, walking shamefully to your mess, lowering yourself to your knees. You brush the scraps off the floor, trying your best not to sob.
You hear a deep, laborious breath behind you. Rafe reaches for you, pulling you from the floor into his arms. He holds you tightly, lips resting against your head.
"It's okay, honey. You're okay. Alright." he soothes. He kisses your hair, working his way to your cheek. He cups them in his large hands, a very different touch than before. His beautiful blue eyes match yours. You can see the remorse brimming in his eyes.
“I'm sorry, Princess.”
Your lip juts out in a pout. "M'sorry I'm so needy, Rafe," you whimper. "I'm sorry I'm suffocating.”
"You're not, honey. I mean, you are a little," he laughs lightly, smiling at you sweetly. "But, I like it, baby. I need it. Alright?" Rafe's hands roam slowly down your back, cupping your ass in his hands. I don't want you to change."
"Just love you so much," you add: cheeks blushing as you hear how pathetic you sound.
"I love you too, honey. And, I already told 'em I couldn't go tonight. Said I wanted to stay in. Me... Okay? Didn't blame it on you."
"Thank you," you smile.
"Anything for you, baby," He leans in, kissing your lips tenderly. "Didn't know I needed you so much until you started ignoring me. Don't do that shit again. Understand?" He scolds playfully before kissing your forehead.
“I understand." you whisper.
“Now, co'mere,” he mumbles, lifting you into his arms; walking you toward the counter. "Don't move. It’s not safe." Rafe snags the brush off the counter, working to his knees, brushing up your mess.
He tosses the remnants in the trash, shuffling toward you, licking his lips his eyes hungry for you as he eyes your tits, drifting slowly to your eyes.
"You're so sexy, Princess,” he praises. His hands take a hold of your knees, spreading your thighs wide, stepping in between.
"You... You are so fucking hot, Rafey." you hail. He moves even closer, one hand knitting into the nape of your hair while the other grips the plush of your hip.
"Topper and Kelce just don't know a good thing when they see it. Okay?" He assures as his rough fingers trace over the top of your thigh, disappearing between your legs.
"Okay, daddy."
"Love when you call me daddy," he hums. You let out a little gasp as he thrusts two fingers into your sticky folds.
You finger the waistband of his gym shorts. He tugs them quickly off his body. "Here?" You giggle dizzily.
"No one's here. Just you and me," he assures, drawing your shirt over your head. You grip his thick dick in your hand, rubbing his precum into his swollen tip. *You heard everything. Didn't you?"
"Mhmm.."
"M'sorry. Shoulda stood up for you. Shoulda kicked Topper's ass for talkin' shit in the first place. This pussy is more than worth it. You are more than worth it,” he rasps. "My fuckin' girl,” he mumbles against your lips. His voice is deep and thick with sex, pumping and scissoring his fingers.
"Need your cock right now," you beg.
Rafe smiles against your mouth, digits pressing deep inside. He gets to work, quickening the speed of his hands, thrusting his fingers at an insane pace. "Gonna get you with my hand first. Yeah? Think you can wait for my cock, baby girl?"
"Yeah,” you whine, but you can't help but stare at Rafe's cock. His fat head throbbing, a slight curve that hits your g-spot just right. You grind against his hand, thinking about him deep inside.
You're a moaning mess in his arms, crying out in pleasure as your knuckles turn white from your grip on the lip of the counter. "Gonna cum," you moan, your cry of passion music to his ears as he pulls out your orgasm with no intent to stop as he thrusts his thick cock into your drenched pussy.
"S-Shit,” you whimper, mouth hanging open as he circles his hips nice and slow, buried balls deep, letting you adjust to his size. You cling onto his shoulders, nails digging into his tanned skin as he stretches you out.
Rafe lifts you off the counter, taking you into his arms. His eyes fall down your naked frame, taking in your curves. You look down as well, eyeing the place where your bodies connect; Rafe's thick cock still sheathed deep.
"Love bein' inside you..." He moans; forcing himself as deep as possible, making you puff out a breath as you sink lower on his dick.
"I love your cock. S-Shit," you shudder.
"Show me, sweetheart," he rasps, drawing out of your cunt, reeling you around before bending you over the counter, thrusting back into your aching core.
"Fuck, Rafe!" You sob, feeling him deep in your guts. You take hold of the counter; his hands steady your hips, clawing into the plush of your ass.
You bounce your ass on his cock; cheeks clapping against his warm skin. Ass recoiling with each slap of his muscular body against yours.
"Mine. Fuck, Rafe. This cock is mine," you moan out. Feeling him hit depths that make your knees buckle as he chuckles darkly, no doubt a satisfied smile on his lips as he watches you go weak on his dick.
"That's right, sweetheart. All yours. Gonna breed this perfect pussy.” He mumbles through panting breaths. "You're all mine, honey. Not goin' anywhere." His hand clasps your shoulder, the other latched on your hip, pounding into you.
"Don't stop!"
"Mmm... Cum for me, baby.”
You squeal his name as you gush around his cock; your entire body shaking as he keeps you standing.
"You and me," he pants, tugging your hair, pulling you close, back pressed against his heaving chest. One hand wraps around your throat, squeezing tightly, while the other arm binds around your waist.
"You and me," you mewl.
Rafe starts rocking in and out. You can feel every ridge and curve as he gives it to you, slow and deep, making your eyes roll back. "Gonna be drippin' out of you for days."
"Rafe, I-" You pant. "I need you closer."
"I got you, honey." He grips your hips tightly. You look down at his throbbing dick, the creamy ring of your arousal gathered on his shaft. Rafe loops his bicep under your thigh, plunging his cock back in.
He rolls his hips deliciously slow, finding that perfect angle, making tears fall from your eyes. You're overstimulated; absolute putty in his arms.
You can't even form words; all thoughts in your mind shut off, but Rafe, Rafe, Rafe. His smell, his touch, his taste; the way he fucks; the way he looks at you...
"I love you, honey," he hums.
"Love you - I love you."
"You're squeezing me so tight, baby... Think you could cum for me again?" He whispers against your ear, slamming his cock back into your pussy. You let out a cry of pleasure, your cracked sob reverberating through his large home. "Could you, baby?" Rafe does it again as the knot in your stomach starts to twist tighter.
You pinch your eyes shut, nodding frantically as you feel your orgasm within reach, completely cock-drunk.
"That's my girl. That's it, baby. Cum for me. Yeah? Cum on my cock," Rafe moans, setting the perfect pace, hitting your g-spot again and again.
"Cum with me?" You plead, lips parting with his as you watch him fall into bliss as well. Your walls spasm around his cock; waves of your finish crashing down on you again and again as you call out his name. Rafe answers with yours, flooding you with his warmth. You can feel his dick twitching inside you, your body milking every last drop of his release.
Rafe's forehead falls to your neck in exhaustion. He lets out a deep, satisfied breath before meeting your lips. "Snuggle? That's what you want. Don't you?" He mumbles between kisses.
"Yes, Rafey."
"Me too, Princess."
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jacevelaryonswife · 16 days
Text
Supermassive Black Hole
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A duo project changes some perceptions about your classmate
pairing: Michael Gavey x fem!reader
warnings: smut, period tipical misoginy (2006 guys), loss of virginity, english is not my first language.
word count: 3,297
ewanverse masterlist
When a firm knock came from the door, a name automatically entered your mind.
Gavey.
Michael Gavey.
You imagined that he would come to your meeting eventually, you actually longed to, although you didn't admit it. That idiot deserved to be put in his proper place — which was necessarily below you.
It had all started when a duo project was designated by draw earlier that day, and for both luck and bad luck your partner was the awkward genius, and difficult to deal with Michael Gavey.
There was no shortage of adjectives to be used for the unstable dirty blonde, which was truly fascinating. He intrigued you with his sharp intellect and his eccentric personality to the same extent that he repelled you with his peculiar and almost aggressive way. He was quite a figure, although you didn't allow yourself to think much about it.
It was also not a mystery that he was a true Norman No Mates, which wasn’t difficult to understand since his social skills were disastrous. The memory of him screaming at Oliver Quick in O Week never left your mind, especially the sudden change of attitude when he lowered his head and responded to the sum that Felix's pet (as your friends called him) made. You watched the whole situation closely, with a lot of curiosity, since your tables were close.
After that, whenever he entered an environment, you wondered what he would do next. You never knew what to expect from Gavey.
He started fervent debates during classes, demonstrating unparalleled intelligence and self-confidence, in addition to a slight arrogance that made him look strangely hot. Obviously a dispute of nervous male egos originated from these discussions, which made you watch with veiled fun and irritation while remaining silent. You admired the way his brain worked for math, but you didn't understand how he could be so bad at dealing with other people.
Because of this, you chose to keep a considerable distance from the horizon of events that involved Michael and his complexity, and for a long time this worked perfectly well. Until that damn moment.
Feeling humiliated by the way that insolent worm acted when trying to take responsibility for the whole activity for yourself, as if you were incompetent and incapable, you immediately confronted him about such behavior when he went to your meeting at the end of the class while you collected your material.
"Excuse me?" You asked.
"I'll finish this by Saturday, no need to worry," he repeated condescendingly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"Do you think I won't participate? Or did you just choose to pretend that I don't exist?" You asked with your eyebrows furrowed, posture becoming more imposing.
He remained silent for a short moment, seeming to analyze the situation (or the best answer to it, you couldn't tell). He wasn't used to being so reluctant to say what he thought, so it was a surprise to see him using time to devise something.
"I don't like working in group, I thought it would be faster if I did everything," he looked down quickly, running away from your gaze.
"I also don't like working with other people and I didn't even think about excluding you," you replied.
“Of course you don't.” There it was. The veiled arrogance that you so hated, present in most of your classmates.
Few were your STEM classmates, since your class was mostly composed of resentful boys who did not know how to deal with a woman without seeing her as a less intelligent object. Luckily not everyone was like that and you managed to put together a really cool group.
When all you did was send a cold and angry look, Michael cleared his throat and tried to speak again, but you cut him off impatiently. "When you're less asshole look for me again, I think you have my Myspace."
Who did that little shit think it was to treat you like that? 'Of course you don't' He was so fucking pretentious! And that's because he almost couldn't keep eye contact for a long time.
Pathetic.
That skinny nerd tormented your thoughts for the rest of the afternoon and served as gossip between your friends. Predictable. The way he acted was not very different from what you imagined about his annoying self-sufficiency. And even so, there he was, stopping in front of your door (more nerdy than ever) with his laptop and notebook in hand, wearing a blue button striped shirt, black belt and cream pants. He had a terrible taste in clothes, although they totally reflected his personality, he was curious.
“I'd like to apologize for my behavior earlier, it wasn't cool,” he started as soon as you leaned carelessly against the door.
Interesting.
You considered it for a moment, looking at him before turning his back and clearing the way for him to enter your space. "It wasn't that hard, was it?" You pulled a chair for him and threw yourself dramatically on the bed before sitting down to face him, already well established and looking closely at your figure. "So... I assume you've already thought about the structure of the project."
Of course he had thought.
He opened the laptop and exposed his idea while showing some calculations in his notebook, and you made an effort to pay attention to what was said and what was sketched. Obviously his idea was good, great actually, incredibly structured and cohesive with what the professor wanted. But you also had some ideas and would like them to be taken into account, telling you what you had planned. Surprisingly, he showed to consider your suggestions, even praising them — you knew they were good, but not that his ego allowed you to visualize this. You suggested a division of parts that would be meticulously checked in a future meeting.
"As you have already started, I thought about staying with the second part, what do you think?" You asked.
"It's okay, I intend to finish tomorrow maybe, I'll forward some references by email to you."
“Sure.” It was all very bureaucratic and direct. You sneaked up to look at his laptop screen before looking at what he was typing. "I have some of these books here, but I'll look for the others."
And without realizing it, you got into a big problem.
The freshness that radiated from him flooded your senses gradually, looking too long at his neck and jaw...
He had such beautiful features and aquiline dirty blonde hair that it looked so soft. And those hands... those long fingers... no, no, no and no. You (your body) couldn't be heating up to Michael Gavey.
But it's been a while since some fun... and you were at a suggestive time of the month. Maybe... just maybe... It wasn't a bad idea. As you returned to sitting on the bed, specifically next to where his chair was, you analyzed him as he typed the references in the email. He was not bad looking, no, quite the opposite in fact.
He was handsome, really handsome. And you wanted him. You wanted Michael Gavey.
You wanted to fuck him.
Fuck that attitude.
But how? How would you approach that nervous nerd?
Your mind struggled to develop an effective approach. You didn't want to waste time, not with the heat that spread high between your legs. You just waited for him to send the damn email and close the laptop. "Do you want anything to drink?"
“I'm good. I think we ended up here, I'll try to finish my part quickly," he looked at the notebook that was on the pillow, which you anticipated to pick up and deliver it, standing up in a false farewell.
"Sure," and as soon as Michael got up with the notebook and laptop, you held his arms, gently removing the objects while placing them on your study table. "But I don't think you should go now," you used without a more seductive tone while holding his shoulders.
"What are you doing?" He asked still, tense, looking directly into your eyes.
“Are you dating someone?” You asked softly, getting closer, leaning your breasts against his chest.
"No, I'm not," he answered the obvious, but you wanted to hear the obvious with all the lyrics.
Stretching a short distance from his lips, you asked: "So can I kiss you?"
That same look seen earlier was present again, as if his mind worked hard to find a solution to the problem presented. His mouth opened minimally when he took a deep breath, this time his gaze fell on your lips. "Why do you want to kiss me?"
"Because I fucking want it."
And then you collided your lips with his in a demanding kiss that took a long time to be reciprocated, but when it was... oh boy. Michael held your waist and tried to keep up with your rhythm. He wasn’t so experienced, but his lips were soft and pleasant against yours, kissing you with so much enthusiasm that it made you dizzy.
It made you both dizzy.
He couldn't believe was happening — and that it was happening to you. You... gorgeous, sexy and intelligent. You with a nice and phenomenal ass, who he believed would never look at him twice. You, who kissed him on the tongue and moved his hands to your chest and ass and smoothed the back of his neck and massaged his shoulder. He'd never been kissed like that before. Had never touched a girl like that.
What the fuck was going on?
With the deepening of the kiss you felt a hardness to press against your belly, inhibiting a conscious smile while Michael struggled between apologizing or pretending that it was not happening. Fortunately, you didn't intend to let that be ignored. Your hand slid from the nape of his neck until it reached the increasing bulge, gently squeezing over his pants, making him moan against your lips. You squeezed again before breaking the kiss.
"I don’t wanna just kiss tonight."
Fuck. He couldn't believe what was going on.
He felt that he would cum right there if your hand kept rubbing his cock.
"Are you sure?" He asked uncertainty, still not convinced that you really wanted him that way. It was so fucking sudden, one minute he was collecting his things to leave and the next he was kissing you.
"All the certainty in the world, and you?" You sang against his lips.
"I-" that would be fucking embarrassing, you would laugh at him, "I want to but- I never-"
Oh. It wasn’t different from what you expected.
"It's okay, seriously, there's no reason to worry about it."
“... are you fucking me or something?” He asked weakly, looking at your beautiful face with lust, seriousness and insecurity. You've never seen him so vulnerable.
"Of course not, I want you Michael, I want that, but if you feel you're not comfortable we don't n-"
"I want that."
“Are you sure?”
“I'm fucking sure.”
He felt a chain of confidence run through his body and leaned over to kiss you. You wasted no time unbuttoning his shirt, groping his newly exposed soft torso. Michael almost sighed when receiving your soft touch, pulling the blouse out of your body and coming across exposed and already hardened breasts.
Fuck.
He almost moaned. They were the first tits he saw in person, it was more than exciting. He held them immediately, massaging, squeezing, experiencing...
"Not like that," you held his hands gently.
"Sorry, I never-"
“It's okay.”
Your hands landed on the belt and unbuttoned it, continuing to unbutton the pants that were urgently removed by him while you discarded your own and hovered only in panties, watching him get rid of the shoes as well. Michael had little time to get used to your half-naked figure, since with a mischievous smile, you slowly lowered your panties and left it accumulated on the floor. He felt his neck and face burn and cock pulse with your vision, contemplating for too long.
You touched him over his black underwear, feeling him hard and big, making him moan.
"I won't last long if you keep fucking touching me like that," he took a deep breath, closing his eyes.
"So why haven't you taken that off yet?" You shook his head, teasing him, watching him almost tear off his underwear and show off his cock in all splendor. He was packing, bigger than you expected, all pink, beautiful and anxious. “You have such a nice body,” you kissed him lazily, anticipation thrumming through you.
Michael felt himself in the clouds with your body pressed to his without any layer of fabric, but a big wave of anxiety hit him when you walked away to get a condom before gently guiding him to bed. “Relax, let me take control,” no foreplay would be necessary when you were already wet enough to receive it. "Take a deep breath and calm down, it's quite intense, try to be distracted by something else," you adjusted the condom to its length and saw it almost shake. That boy wouldn't last a minute.
He followed your instructions and concentrated as much as possible not to cum fast, holding firmly on your hips but nothing prepared him for your wet and hot folds.
Fuck, not even the best handjobs compare to your tight pussy going down on his cock. He moaned loudly when you rested against his groin, staring at where your bodies connected.
You bit your lips and closed your eyes, feeling deliciously full. He was bigger than average and had a delicious thickness that you would love to squeeze on your walls just to see him have a spasm, but I knew it would be too much for the beginning.
"When you want me to move, just say it."
Oh no, no! He was sure he would end up there even if you moved. "Don't move yet," he replied quickly, "Fuck," he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
It was terribly satisfying to see him all vulnerable and red, without the usual arrogance and weirdness, and even better to have him inside you (albeit for a short time presumably). He thought about all the things he heard about sex all his life in those long seconds, filtering out what seemed more credible and useful. Think of something less sexy. It was fucking hard.
“Move.”
“Enjoy baby,” you slid gently up, resting your hands on his chest as you started an experimental and slow rhythm. “Mmm.”
So damn good.
Your juices made the movements easy and smooth, leaving him breathless whenever he was balls deep. The friction generated by the constancy of the movements made you two moan and the tightness on your waist increased. He was a fucking vision with disheveled hair, half-open mouth and crooked glasses, all docile while he was fucked dumb. The feeling of power over such an intelligent man was as exciting as sex, causing a presumptuous smile on your lips when you leaned over to kiss his milky neck, rubbing your body against his.
“Are you enjoying it?” You purred against his skin, kissing him superficially on the lips.
He was in the fucking clouds. And you knew that. Little shit.
He wrapped your body to move his hips against yours. He couldn't hold it anymore, he needed to cum. "I won't last long."
“It's okay, baby.”
Your tits jumped when you started riding it hard at a terrifying pace. He closed his eyes and felt his balls weigh every time you sat on his cock, holding your waist, your tits, your ass, everything you could while you allowed it.
"Fuck- I'm-" he moaned loudly and released his load on the condom, feeling a mind-blowing pleasure that paralyzed his senses and one pulled into a supermassive black hole. A thin layer of sweat covered his body, illuminating the reddish tone that covered it.
So beautiful.
Coming out of the top, you lay comfortably next to him, supporting a part of your peso on his chest while watching him struggling to stabilize his breathing. He still couldn't believe that it had finally happened, and especially with a girl like you.
“Are you here?” You asked after a while with a fun smile, although warm between his legs. He didn't know if he was, but he replied with a panting 'yes'. "Well, because we're not done yet."
What?
“What?” He asked.
“Sex is a two-way street baby, and I haven't come yet,” you purred softly against his ear, biting the lobe.
"I don't know when I'm going to get hard again," he confessed. Well, his brain was working again.
"You don't have these long fingers for nothing, Michael, and if you want it again you'll fuck me with them."
As much as he was affected by a sudden one, his sharp senses were awakened in the implication of a next time. He faithfully believed that hard work would lead him to maximum success in his life, he could not imagine otherwise in this situation. "How should I do that?"
You purred, taking his right hand and guiding it to your wet center. "Always start here if you want to make a girl cum," you circled your bud with his fingers, enjoying the delicious feeling, showing him the place before going down to your entrance. "Start with one finger, then add another."
He followed your instructions firmly, sticking a long finger and pumping slowly. "Not so slow," you bit your lower lip, somewhat impatiently waiting for the development of a slow orgasm. You needed to cum hard. Taking his hand, you held your middle finger and attached it to your index finger. “Faster.”
And although inexperienced and a little strong sometimes, his fingers felt fucking good on your walls, reaching the sweet point that made your feet's fingers curl. “Keep going, mm.”
"Can I kiss you?"
“Yes.”
Michael collided his lips on yours in a kiss full of tongue and teeth, staying on top while he fucked you with his fingers. He was hypnotized by the sounds you were making, by the warmth of your body, by the taste of your mouth...
“I'm close!”
You couldn't believe that that sleeky nerd of all people was giving you such pleasure.
Michael got up abruptly and used the hand that held his weight to circle your clitoris, making your eyes close with the construction of an abrasive orgasm. He pumped faster, watching your body squirm and your back arch.
“Michael- I'm gonna-" your whole body trembled when the coil burst and a hot pleasure flooded your senses, holding the sheets and closing your legs with the strong spasms.
It was the hottest thing he'd ever seen in his life. And he did that. He made you cum. Michael was still very stunned with everything that happened, watching your figure before being pulled to lie next to you. You rested your head on his chest with a satisfied and tired smile, giving light kisses on his skin, relaxed with the post-orgasm fog.
“Did you like it?” You asked to break the ice.
"You've already asked better questions," he joked with a hoarse laugh, "Of course I fucking liked it."
“Mmm, I like to make sure,” you replied, facing his beautiful blue eyes behind the slightly blurred lenses.
Having your body so close (and with everything that happened) Michael felt his cock contract and a new electric current run through his body. "So there's going to be a next time?"
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taglists
general: @succnfuccubus @fan-goddess @kravitzwhore @partypoison00
ewanverse: @aemonds-fire @partypoison00 @schniiipsel @fan-goddess @arcielee
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thank you smm @solisarium for the help with this ❤️
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ghostlywhiskey · 6 months
Text
Simon Riley (Priest AU) - Forgive me, Father.
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Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 2,203
Warnings: MDNI 18+ ☆ Sacrilege, priest, mentions of prayer and common language used in confessionals - overall religious content that may upset some. Abuse of power. Mentions of being used and somnophilia. Cussing. Masturbation (Simon & reader).
Summary: After having improper thoughts weighing guilt on your mind, you decide to resort to confession. Simon has methods of how you can be forgiven.
Notes: Um, well, yeah. I’m not sure what to say. Writing this whole thing was a 'damn, Catholicism ingrained in me fr' moment from how I literally closed my eyes to remember how I would walk into church & what would be said in confession. Ha. Anyway. Minimal proofreading, I felt too dirty to re-read.
find my masterlist here
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You weren't a frequent churchgoer. After years of Catholic school, it all became tiring and felt almost forced at this rate, but you went for the holidays like Easter & Christmas - at your grandparents request to be fair.
But, old habits die hard and one day you find yourself pulling into the parking lot of the church. Maybe it was the Catholic guilt ingrained in you that drew you to go today. 
The large wood doors creaked as you opened them and walked into the church. Every Catholic church looked the same to you - the stained glass, the architecture, the same old wooden pews either their original wood or coated in layers of white paint refreshed over the years. And every church you had ever been to was always so cold - why?
Every single move was like muscle memory. Your fingers dipped into the font that contained the holy water, quietly whispering as you did the sign of the cross and genuflected. 
Your eyes scanned the church, noting the layout as you located the confessional. Once you entered and sat down, you rang the tiny bell to indicate your presence. Heavy footsteps outside getting closer as you heard the priest enter the other side of the confessional, the divider sliding open so you can only make out the figure through the tiny holes.
"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen." The words are spoken in unison. His voice is clearer to you now as he only speaks now, "May God who has enlightened every heart, help you to know your sins and trust in His mercy." In response, you quietly whisper 'amen' in return.
Clearing your throat and tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, you prepare to speak. "Bless me Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was 5 years ago. These are my sins.." The list of sins are far more minimal in nature such as disrespecting your parents, gossiping, lying and so forth.
Then, you finally get to what has been weighing on your mind like a ton of bricks. "And impure thoughts.." Your words trailing off, the sound of the priest shifting on the other side noticeable from the close proximity despite the divider separating you both. "In order to truly know the severity, what do these impure thoughts include, my child?" He asks, your body tensing as the question catches you off guard. "Ah, regarding premarital sex acts, Father."  You respond, fingers fidgeting with the rings on your hands. "Explain." This is all he says before the silence lingers in the small space before you speak again. "This is only to help your absolution." His voice urges you to continue, the words trying to ease you to come clean. “Well," Swallowing the lump in your throat, your cheeks burning from embarrassment despite your identity being unknown to him. "The thoughts consist of being used at will by a man. To be degraded and fucked until I'm begging for him to stop, but my whines only encourage him to continue. I don't want him to stop.” Your voice is strained, as if you're scared to admit it out loud. And truthfully, this was the first time you had admitted the thoughts out loud.  Your thighs squeeze together as your brain digs deeper into the thoughts you’ve been suppressing for a few months now. 
The sound of the priest clearing his throat pulls your attention back. “Surely that isn’t all, my child.” He says, and you shake your head in response even if he can’t see. “N-No. That isn’t all.” Rings spinning around your fingers as you continue to fidget from nerves. “Please remember, I need to know everything to offer you absolution.” Nodding, you swish spit in your mouth to coat the dryness to some extent and swallow. 
“I-I think about being woken up in the night, the man already buried deep in me. My body  doesn’t resist the feeling and clenching around him as my consciousness regains from sleep.” The heat between your thighs grows as you now shift in the seat, one leg moves to cross over the other in an effort to control the sensation.
The sound of a zipper coming undone is undeniable as your ears pick up on it, your lips parting slightly from shock as you process what’s happening on the other side of the confessional. “Father?” Your voice barely whispers, wondering if you acknowledge it, then he would stop. “Are these thoughts about anyone specific?” He mutters, his hand palming himself through his boxers. “No, just general desires, Father.” 
He inhales a breath and exhales before he speaks. “Have you acted on these thoughts?” No, but you fucking wish. “No, Father.” And maybe it was your own thoughts warping, but you could have sworn you heard him mumble the words, ‘Forgive me, Father’. 
On the other side of the confessional, unbeknown to you, the priest had now pulled his cock free from the constraints of his briefs. Biting back a groan, his hand comes up to his mouth as he quietly spits into his palm before he wraps it around himself. “For your penance, you must do exactly as I say, understood?” He speaks, his voice sounds low, demanding in a way. 
“Understood, Father.” You reply, your chest rising and falling slowly as you anticipate what he is going to say next. “We must rid you of these thoughts. You need to release them.” He murmurs, his hand slowly pumping up and then down. “Be a good girl and spread your legs.” 
Oh my God. Like actually, oh my God. Your brain rings in your head, doing as you're told and spreading your legs. Hearing the movement, he continues to speak. “My child, what are you wearing?” The question is simple, your hand already sliding down to the exposed panties your dress reveals once your legs are spread. “Knee length sundress.” You respond, your head leaning back against the wood of the confessional as your fingers rub the fabric covering your already wet cunt. “Hmm, and I suppose that length is useless as your legs are spread. Exposing yourself like a good girl, but such a slut.” The word slut drips from his mouth like venom, the tone of his voice sending excitement through your body. “Slide the panties off.” He orders, and you obey as you reach for the waistband and slide them down to your ankles, shaking them off to the floor of the confessional. “They’re off, Father.” You whisper, glancing at the divider. Never in your life did you want to be seen more than in this moment. “Father Simon.” He corrects. “Call me Father Simon.” 
“Father Simon.” You repeat the name he asked you to call him. A quiet groan travels to your side of the confessional and you can’t help but move your fingers to rub between your folds. The fact he was groaning to you just saying his title was causing your stomach to tie into knots. “What do I need to do, Father Simon?” You beg, wanting him to continue directing you. “Such an eager girl to be forgiven. You wouldn’t need forgiveness if you weren’t such a slut.” He hissed. “But you come into this confessional and speak of how you wish to be used. To be degraded. Do you think you can be forgiven?” 
“I-I want to be forgiven.” Your fingers build up your excitement, teasing your folds as your fingers move to give your clit some attention as you rub it gently. “I’m sorry, Father Simon. I’m sorry.” You choke out, almost forgetting to breathe amidst the pleasure. “Just because you’re sorry does not guarantee forgiveness.” Simon’s own hand continues to pump his cock, his thumb brushes over the head as some pre-cum oozes out. “You sound stupid saying sorry. Saying sorry while I can hear your hand moving as you touch yourself. Take those fingers and fuck yourself with three of them.” The order coming out of his mouth leaves you breathing shakily.
“F-Father, three?” You ask in order to clarify his demand. “R-Right away?” You needed time to adjust, even with your own slender fingers it took time before you could even have two. “You heard me.” He responds, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Don’t disappoint me, sweetheart.” Simon’s hand starts to pump his cock faster, his free hand moves to massage his balls. 
While you’re already wet, just to be sure you take your index, middle and ring finger to your lips. Your mouth wrapping around the fingers, sucking and swirling your tongue to coat them in saliva. Pulling them away, you carefully position them, teasing your entrance before you push into yourself. Your free hand covers your mouth as you feel them stretching you slightly. A moan muffled by your hand is the additional sound mixed with your fingers starting to pump in and out of you, the wet stickiness filling the confessional. “Oh, sweetheart. You must look so beautiful spread out fucking yourself with your fingers.” Simon coos through the divider, his breaths shallow. “I wish I could bury my cock into that wet, tight cunt. Let me hear you pray to God for that.” 
Closing your eyes as he speaks, you imagine the priest grabbing your hips and forcing himself into you, despite having no idea of his appearance. Your head against the wood of the confessional again as you try to hold your moans in even with your hand over your mouth, scared if anyone else were to enter the church they would hear you both behind these curtains. “I don’t hear you.” Simon growls, glancing at the divider to barely see the movements of your hand as your body moves in response. “G-God, please. I want Father Simon’s cock.” He hears you whimper quietly, a grin forming on his face. “Oh..such a good, good girl.” Simon’s voice acknowledging your compliance. Your fingers curl inside as he praises you, allowing yourself the small reward. “Father Simon, I-I’m so wet.” 
“Mmph..those pretty little fingers must be slick with your juices.” Simon’s own head leaning against the wood of the confessional now, eyes closed as he pumps his cock faster and pushes down hard. The image of his cock disappearing in between your folds making his thoughts spin. “Keep pumping those fingers. We need to make you cum. Release the thoughts that are rotting your brain.” Simon’s teeth grit together, a soft hissing sound coming out as his pump down puts pressure on him.
Not trusting yourself, your hand is back on your mouth. The sound of your wet cunt getting pumped with your fingers fills both your ears and Simon’s, the squishing sounds push him closer to his own release. And for you, the thought of his cock instead of your fingers pulling you closer to the edge before you jump off and release. Whimpering into your palm, you clench around your fingers and pump a few more times before releasing around them. Your thighs immediately squeezing shut as you try to control your shaking. “S-Simon.” You cry softly, lips parted as you pant softly. “F-Fuck.” He groans, the hand not pumping his now cum covered cock fists and hits the confessional wall. The release that had been building up in him for months now. 
“In addition, you leave your panties behind. Along with that, I expect you to recite twenty Hail Mary’s and twenty Our Father’s after your release. Make an act of contrition.” His voice strained from his recent climax. Dazed from your own climax as well, the words come out of your mouth without hesitation, “My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart. In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good…” Pausing for a brief moment, you swallow a lump in your throat. “I have sinned against You, whom I should love above all things. I firmly intend, with Your help, to do penance, to sin no more, and to avoid whatever leads me to sin. Our Savior, Jesus Christ, suffered and died for us. In His Name, my God, have mercy. Amen.” After the words leave your lips, you catch your breath again.
The sound of Simon readjusting and zipping himself up is the only sound you hear in response. “F-Father?” You say softly, awaiting for him to absolve you. “My child…” Simon’s voice sounds like it did when you first sat in the confessional. “God cannot give you pardon and peace as of today. Therefore, I cannot absolve you of your sins. Come back in five days after I’ve had some time to rest and ask God for a final answer.” 
And with that, the sound of footsteps fill the church once more, followed by the door to the sacristy opening and closing indicating he would not be seen by you when you left. The response leaves you stunned for a few moments, before your legs get the strength to stand up and exit the confessional. The hand you didn’t use to finger yourself gently dips into the font as you leave, the sign of the cross spoken softly as you walk out.
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impishjesters · 5 months
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Jax-in-a-box Part 2
warning(s): suggestive/implied sexual content/language, potential out-of-character Jax (look you're just so big and it's distracting okay... let him be distracted and have thoughts), bratty(?) Jax note(s): I swear this wasn't intending to go down this route of horny rabbit man, but I was feeling some dom/sub vibe and it just happened I'm so sorry, I don't know why I'm like this. A/N: I wanted Jax to feel teeny so the reader is at least 9 ft/274 cm minimum. Man, Pomni must look like a step stool next to the reader... Also, this would take place at some point in the dating stage. Also, this is the same original requester of the Jack in the box reader, thank you for requesting more this was really fun to write~ request: I’m just requesting a little story if your up to continuing that request. So what l’m thinking is just a little scenario of the reader completely coming out of their box for the first time (well the first time they were caught) Mabye the scenario has Jax coming into reader’s room unexpectedly and seeing reader chilling outside their box? Though of course you can do/write anything you’d like for this. I’d like it if you made the reader even taller, since they are actually standing this time instead of being in their box.
While being inside your box brought a level of comfort your bedroom couldn’t provide, that didn’t mean you didn’t use it. No, the privacy of your bedroom was used to stretch your legs—something the others, specifically Jax, hadn’t known about. Not that it was a secret, you just loved seeing it wrack his brain as to what lay beneath.
The box sat abandoned, lid wide open as you lay in the provided bed just a few feet too small for you. It’s not like Caine had expected someone as tall as you after all, you aren’t even sure if Caine is aware you can even exit the box, but you made do and got yourself nice and comfy to relax.
You plucked up an interesting-looking book earlier from Caine’s weird collection of provided reading material. Nothing risque sadly, but you can’t help but feel like Caine has never even read any of these and merely plucked them from whatever and just willed them into existence.
The next hour easily passed, nose buried into the book, so much so that you didn’t even hear the jingling of your locked door being forced open. Hell, you didn’t even notice until he said something.
The first thing Jax saw was your box, empty, his eyes shifting to the bed to see long legs dangling off the bed before he realized who it was. Well, of course, it was you, it was your room and it was locked.
“You have fucking legs?!”
You snorted and finally looked up from the book, Jax looked completely flabbergasted, and fuck, if only you had a camera. “Just normal legs, but they could do that too.”
Jax didn’t even have it in him to retort to that little comment, no he was far too focused on the fact you had fucking legs. He’d been entirely convinced that you didn’t have anything below the waist, it’s like that box had this weird black fog that looked like a void you were just coming out of. There are so many questions he wants to ask…
How the fuck do you fit in the box with legs that long? Do you sit with your legs crossed or on your knees? Do they just vanish into that weird black void? Have you been just weirdly seat-jumping around this whole time?
He’s so caught up in his thoughts he doesn’t even process that you moved to sit at the edge of the bed, legs crossed at the ankles. It’s not until you clear your throat that he realizes how close he’s gotten and wow, you’re just sitting and you’re able to look him straight in the eye. Is this awakening something in him? God, he hopes not.
“What can I do for you, my little cotton tail?”
You loved the dumb little pet name, he claimed to hate it and it stuck. If he was gonna call you all sorts of dumb pet names he was going to get at least one of his own.
Jax cringed at the name and rubbed his face as if that would get rid of the growing blush. “Stop it with the name would ya?”
“Then stop calling me Jack.”
He waved his hand before snorting out a “Nah”.
“Fine, at least stop calling me Boxxie.”
“Oh c’mon, it’s cute.”
It was your turn to cringe, he only called you that because he was convinced you were a box when you first showed up. A sentient box, how fun. “Was there a reason you came lock-picking into my room?”
“Tsk tsk tsk, I’m not a heathen to stoop so low as to lock pick.” he held up one of the many keys in his possession. “I used a key.”
A chuckle left you, accompanied by an eye roll. “Yeah okay, that I didn’t say you could have but it’s you so I’ll let it slip. Now spill cotton tail.”
Jax’s face scrunched up at the name again before moving closer, forcing your ankles to unlock so he could stand between your legs. “I wanted to see if you’d give me the honors of helping in a little mischief. But after seeing your legs I’m not sure if I wanna go cause mischief or stay and admire them in their spread-out glory.”
“The only legs getting spread are yours, cotton tail.” Reaching out you placed a hand on his hip, your fingers easily wrapping around him, your thumb meeting your middle finger on his other hip. “Who do you want to bully now? It better not be Pomni again, that poor girl doesn’t need another scare so soon.”
He swallowed hard, eyes glued to his waist and the way your hand just completely wrapped around him. You’ve done it before but in a setting like this, it just hit differently. “It’s not bullying, she’ll be fiiine.”
Jax cleared his throat and used the arm closest to him as his own armrest, you easily supported his weight as he crossed one foot over the other. He was trying hard to play this whole situation off, he was supposed to be in charge and you’ve gone and taken the upper hand without even trying. “So uh, h-how tall are you now? Ya know, without the box.”
That was a good question.
You gestured for Jax to step back and he did so hesitantly before you pulled yourself up, grumbling at the way your knees hurt from getting off the already low-ass bed. Truly a downside to being taller than the furniture here, something you didn’t experience until you started taking breaks outside the box.
Jax let out a string of unintelligible words as you stood to your full height. He knew you were big before but you were a lot taller than he thought you’d be, god his neck already hurt. Is this how Pomni felt standing next to him? God, you could just, break him…
“Penny for your thoughts?”
You tried not to look so smug, but god damn if it wasn’t satisfying to see such a thirsty yet bewildered expression on the usually smug rabbit’s face. Truthfully you weren’t too sure just how tiny Jax would be at your full height, he’d already seemed small before but now you could just toss him like a Javelin spear.
“I take that back, sit your ass down.”
“Make me.” You crossed your arms with a grin and simply watched him curiously.
“Don’t think I won’t climb your raggedy ass and—”
“And what cotton tail?” He flinched when you bent down to get in his face. “Can’t knock me down if you climb me, not that you could on the ground either.”
Jax chuckled nervously but didn’t back down. “Oh yeah? Wanna try?”
Looks like causing mischief would be put on hold for an hour or two.
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jtargaryen18 · 3 months
Text
His Inheritance ~ Chapter 33
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Part 33: Under Pressure
Series Masterlist
Words: 5k
Pairing: Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader
Warnings: References to mafia, reference to violence and violent acts, references to sexual violence. Strong language. This is a dark fic. Please read responsibly.
Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but archiveofourown and tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.
Summary: For @alexakeyloveloki. Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.
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You had just sat down at the dining room table for breakfast and it was quiet. Luca stepped around the corner from the kitchen, winking at you when he spotted you. Before he could bring out your breakfast, Dyson came wandering out of the kitchen, coffee cup in hand. Pulling out a chair at the other side of the table, he took a seat and joined you.
"How are preparations going?" you asked, delighted that you were allowed to ask now.
Dyson nodded. He wasn't a bit surprised by your question.
"Things are coming along," he told you. "I called up some extra men first thing this morning. Clint and Scott are making the rounds, making sure we won't have security issues. We'll have it locked down well before everyone starts arriving."
You nodded, smiled. "Sounds good."
Luca hustled out with your breakfast, serving you fluffy eggs and fruit. You thanked him, grinning as he pulled out a chair next to Dyson. 
"What time is everyone getting here?" he asked Dyson.
"Four," Dyson told him. "That's the meeting time the boss set anyway."
Luca nodded, his gaze roaming to you. "What are you up to today, boss?" he asked.
Boss had you grinning. Plus, like Dyson, you could tell he was a little worried about how today would go from your perspective. You really appreciated that they noticed and cared.
"Nothing out of the ordinary," you told him after a moment. "I'm going to get in a little exercise, spend some time with Nat."
The two men exchanged a look and you had to laugh. "What are the two of you so worried about?" you asked. "Steve called a meeting today with the heads of the families to make sure everyone is on the same page. It's a good place to start. It'll put all the rumors to rest and Steve can start leading the families outright."
Luca's expression was bordering on comical. "I mean no disrespect but... You know you're not going to the meeting, right?"
That did have you laughing. "Yes, I'm aware."
"What's so funny?" Yelena's voice came from behind you as she walked into the dining room.
"These two making sure I'm okay with the meeting today," you explained. 
Nodding, Yelena made her way to the kitchen. You turned your attention back to the two older men across the table from you.
"Thank you for caring about me," you said, "but I'm fine with not being in that meeting. I promise."
"You are?" Dyson asked, skeptical.
"I am," you assured him. "Steve is letting me be part of the family business now. I don't need to be at the meeting."
Was that pride flashing in Dyson's eyes? He nodded as Yelena returned with her breakfast, taking a seat next to you.
"Any word on Barnes?" she asked.
Dyson blew out an exhale. "Someone is coming from the Barnes family," he said slowly. "I got an RSVP."
Luca scrubbed a hand over his face. "Could be sending Killmonger," he said.
"Barnes will be here himself," you said. It was just an instinct but you knew you were right. 
Setting his coffee mug on the table, Dyson's gaze met yours. "I think so too. He almost has to. Same reason as Steve. He has to show everyone he's still here."
"Male posturing," Yelena added and you chuckled. 
"Let's hope not," Dyson said. "Things are more than a little tense right now."
That had you thinking... "Do the other families know what Barnes pulled? I mean, do they know he tried to take Steve and his family down?"
"The Starks do," Luca said. "The Wilsons and Odinsons? I'm sure they're aware. They just tend to stay out of the drama unless it involves them."
"That's smart," Yelena added.
"Or they lack the muscle," you said.
Dyson nodded, indicating you were right. 
"If Barnes decides to try anything, we're ready right?" you had to ask.
"We are," Dyson told you. "But along that line of thinking, we need to think about where you're going to be during this meeting."
"Yes, we do," Yelena said. 
You understood. "I'm sure Nat, Yelena and I can find something to do. Where would we be safest?"
"Steve's study," Dyson said instantly. "We have a quick way to get you out if all hell breaks loose."
You made a mental note of that. "Just let me know when we need to be where."
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"Do you think she'll be okay?" Nat asked for the third time in an hour.
You sighed. You didn't know the young woman who Hansen held prisoner. It was disconcerting that she looked like you. Even though you had nothing to do with it, you still felt a heavy sense of responsibility. You'd arranged for her to fly back home to her family, sent Barnes' money with her. The best thing you could do for her was to get her out of Boston and back to where she had a support network. You made sure she had a way to reach you in case she ever needed anything.
"Barnes wasn't kidding when he said he was giving her a generous gift," you said. "It's a lot of money. I know that in no way makes up for what she went through but... She was in college. I'm just hoping she can take that and make a fresh start somewhere else. Finish her education. I hope in time she's able to heal."
Yelena was quiet in her seat next to Nat, across Steve's desk from you. You understood why. Yelena had been the sick bastard's captive too. Since you'd known Yelena, Hansen was the only thing that scared her. You knew why your friend and personal protection dressed in the suits she wore. Yes, she was trying to be like any other soldier, to earn respect. But it made your heart sink to think about the physical scars she was hiding. Scars that Hansen branded her with.
If the bastard was alive, and you thought he was, he'd better pray he never crossed your path again. 
"What did doc have to say today?" Yelena asked Nat, changing the subject. "Everything is healing well?"
Nat smiled. "Everything is healing. But then, I didn't get shot so..."
You laughed at that. "That's just about the only thing the bastard didn't do to you."
"I'm glad he's gone," Nat said after a moment.
You exchanged a look with Yelena, both of you happy to hear that. You knew Clint was happy about her reaction to her abusive husband's death. While you understood why he took Banner out with Yelena's help, you knew he was worried about the impact of his actions on the woman he loved.
"I am too," you told her. "Now you can just be with Clint the way you always should have been."
Nat's deep sigh was the only sound in the quiet office. "I'm not the only one worried about today, am I?"
It was actually a relief that she addressed the elephant in the room.
"No," you admitted. "I don't like this any better than you do. But it has to be done."
"Why wouldn't Steve let you attend the meeting?" she asked.
"He never said I couldn't." That was the truth. "It was my decision to sit this out."
You couldn't tell which woman was more surprised. Yelena knew you were good with not going but she didn't know that. That had you smiling.
"It's not the right time," you told them. "It may never be the right time for anyone outside our family to know that I'm part of Steve's council. And if that's how it goes, I'm fine with that. I got what I wanted."
"It's more than what you wanted," Yelena pointed out. "It's where you need to be."
You appreciated her faith in you. Nat's smiled told you she agreed. You weren't worried about weighing in on situations as they arose to keep the family, all of you, safe. You knew you could help.
"I am a little nervous today," you told them, "because Barnes is coming."
"He RSVP'd?" Yelena asked.
You shook your head. "Not necessarily. Dyson said they indicated someone was coming but they didn't name Barnes. But he'll be here. He almost has to. He has to show everyone he's fit. Just like Steve does."
"After everything he did to this family," Nat said, "he gets to just waltz into our home for this meeting?"
You nodded. "He does. For now. And Steve has to be careful here. The other families have heard things. This is Steve's chance to set the record straight. To make sure everyone knows exactly what happened."
"And then what?" Nat's face was darkening in her rising anger. "We just go on like nothing happened?"
"No, then we gauge where the other families' allegiences lie," you explained. "Until we know that, we don't know how best to move forward."
"Tony Stark and Sam Wilson have been friends with my brother since high school," Nat said. "They better not even think about siding with Barnes on this. Not after everything he did."
Yelena nodded her agreenment.
"Steve doesn't think we have anything to worry about with the Starks or the Wilsons," you said. "The others? We'll see."
"What if the other families decide they don't have a problem with Barnes' bullshit?" Nat was really pissed about this.
"The only ones left are the Odinsons," Yelena pointed out.
You knew there was practically no chance of that happening but... 
"If that should happen, and I doubt it will, we'll deal with it," you told her. "Barnes will be dealt with. It's the how he's dealt with that we have to be careful with."
"Didn't we lose men over this shit?" Nat asked.
"So did Barnes," Yelena said. "Plus he lost Hansen and that's a big blow for him."
Nat wasn't done. You could tell the way she was staring you down. She was just trying to decide how to frame what she wanted to say.
"Aren't you afraid?" she asked you. "Of Barnes? You could have killed him at that little meeting in the park."
Yes, you were scared of Barnes. Very much so. But the only person you'd admitted that to was Yelena. Steve had overheard you but in your defense, you'd thought he was in a coma and couldn't hear you. You steeled yourself to answer her because you weren't going to let anyone else know just how worried about Barnes you were.
"Steve will keep me safe," you told her meaningfully. "He'll keep all of us safe. The day in the park? We intended to kill Barnes that day. If I hadn't panicked at the last moment..."
From the window behind Steve's desk, you could see the cars arriving. The screen of your phone showed it was 3:35 PM. The meeting would start soon.
"You did so well," Yelena picked it up from there. "You should have seen her, Nat. He had no idea who was she until she wanted him to know. I'm not sure I could have done that."
"Bullshit," you said, smiling. "You would have done a better job. And you had to deal with him because I froze."
"It's my job to protect you," Yelena reminded you. "Not the other way around."
A light tap at the door got your attention. Clint was stationed outside the office, neither him or Nat would allow otherwise. His gaze met yours and he crooked a finger at you.
Walking around the desk, you went to the door, walking out when Clint motioned you. Clint walked into the office and closed the door, leaving you in the quiet of the hallway with your husband. 
Smiling, you let him pull you into his arms. Steve was healing but he wasn't back to full strength yet. Still, he felt more solid and alive in your arms now. The blood red tie stood out against the polished silver suit he wore. The sent of his cologne, of him, invaded your senses, made you wish you could stay here a while. 
Easing back, your stretched up to kiss his mouth and Steve took you off guard. His kiss was searing, demanding. He took your breath away, his kiss seeking and lusty. You tasted the need of so many nights when you couldn't make love, when you didn't know if you'd lose him. Your own need was just as strong and you rotated your hips against him, feeling the heated hard ridge you were hoping for.
"Stop," he whispered against your lips. "You keep doing that and I'll fuck you right here in this hallway."
You grinned up at him. "How much time do we have?"
Steve smiled. "Don't tempt me."
"It's almost time," you told him. "You've got this."
"Yes, I do." Steve's entire demeanor backed up his words. "And once this meeting is over, we'll have a better idea of where we go from here."
"You'll tell me everything, right?"
"I promised, didn't I?" Steve brushed a kiss on your forehead, his gaze locking with yours. "Stay in the office with Belova and Nat. If Clint wants you to move, you do it with no question. You understand?"
"I do," you told him, trying to fight back your fear. Your entire world felt like it was balancing on a knife's edge and you just wanted it to be over. To move on.
Steve shook his head, chuckling. "I'm not used to you being so acquiescent. I could get used to this."
"Don't," you told him. "Because I'm not always going to be so easy to get along with."
"At least you're honest," Steve said. He stole one more kiss that had your heart hammering against his. Every part of you was in knots right now. From tension, fear, and lust. When he broke the kiss, his breath and yours came fast. "Let me get through this meeting... I need you so much right now."
Just as much as you needed him.
"Just make sure you're up to it," you said. "I want you too but I'm willing to wait if that's what's best for you."
"You are what's best for me," he said with feeling.
It was then you spotted a tiny spot of your lipstick, smudged on the collar of his pristine white shirt. "Shit," you muttered, reaching to see if you could get it off. 
Steve caught your hand. "Leave it," he said. "I want Barnes to see it."
You just wished more than anything that Barnes wasn't coming to your home. A sense of foreboding had you shivering.
"Go back in the office," Steve told you. "I love you."
"I love you too," you whispered.
Steve tapped on the office door and Clint came out the door in an instant, ushering you back into Steve's study to Nat and Yelena. Somehow, with their company, you made it through the next two hour while the meeting took place.
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"They're all here, boss," Dyson said from behind him. 
Downing the rest of his Scotch, Steve set the empty glass on Luca's small kitchen table and blew out an exhale. It was time.
"Barnes is here?" he asked.
"Sure is," Dyson said. "Brought Killmonger and Zemo with him."
Turning to face his man, Steve prepared himself.
"You're going to handle this, you know?" Dyson said. 
"As long as I know she's safe, yeah, I am going to handle it."
"Nothing is going to happen to her," Dyson said meaningfully. "I promise you that."
Well, then...
Steve headed for the conference room, not stopping until he reached it. When he opened the door to let himself in, he saw his own men posted around the room, led by Scott who stood just behind the chair at the head of the table. His.
Steve's gaze met that of Tony Stark, then Sam. Thor Odinson watched him with cool blue eyes, his raven-haired brother Loki sitting by his side. They were the only unknowns in the room. Steve knew he had Tony and Sam's loyalty.
Then there was the man of the hour, Bucky Barnes himself, situated between the Odinsons and the Wilsons. Killmonger and Zemo stood behind his chair.  Barnes had no trouble meeting Steve's gaze but he was thinner than the last time he saw him, his pallor uncharacteristically pale. Belova and his wife had done a number on him. 
And Barnes would seek revenge. Steve would need to be a lot more vigilant in protecing his wife, his family. Everyone considered Hansen was out of the picture, but it would be unwise to forget about him. And Killmonger had always been the one he respected most. He was quiet, calculating, and deadly efficient.
"Gentlemen, thank you for coming," Steve said to the room. Taking his time, he took his seat. 
It didn't feel the same sitting there now. He'd only held one other such meeting as head of the families. That day he'd been excited, eager to take over, to rule. He'd been naive.
Things were different now. Yes, he'd sat on the throne, won the wife and her heritage. And he'd almost lost all of it because of arrogance. As he took in the heads of the other four familes, one by one, he knew he'd never take this position for granted again. Now he could feel the weight of all the responsibilities that came with it. Steve wanted to make his father proud. Her father proud. 
Mostly, he wanted to keep pride in his wife's eyes. The way she'd looked at him in the hallway. She believed in him. She loved him. And there was nothing he wouldn't do for her.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dyson standing behind him. Yeah, he didn't want to let him down either. Dyson was his right hand, yes. But he was a father to him. He was a father to her. 
He had no intention of failing Dyson either.
"What's on the agenda today?" Tony asked with his characteristic smirk.
"I'm just going to be direct," Steve began. "There has been some dissension in our ranks."
"Dissension?" Thor asked.
Steve nodded. "Since I took the leadership of our five families, my family has been attacked numerous times." He caught Barnes' gaze and held it as he continued. "Barton was shot, Lloyd Hansen brought goons to my house in an attempt to kidnap my wife, my wife and my sister have suffered considerable injuries, and all the while my leadership has been called into question."
On that last, Barnes grinned. But before he could speak, Steve absolutely could not let anyone steal the floor from him at this meeting, Steve cut him off.
"All of it stops today," Steve said slowly, dragging out each word.
Loki grinned from his seat, his gaze sweeping around the room. "This is going to be fun."
His brother Thor looked skeptical. "Word on the street is that Banner is the one who shot Barton. Barton was having the man's wife, right under his nose. He dealt with his wife. None of these personal items have any place in this meeting."
"Dealt with his wife? My sister?" Steve kept his demeanor nonchalant but on this inside he was fuming. "That's what I thought too until I learned Banner had been talking with Barnes about business without my knowledge. My own consigliere. See, Barnes' consigliere is about to retire. Banner was under the impression that if he helped Barnes bring my family down, he'd be serving the Barnes family as their new consigliere. That changes things."
Thor's gaze cut to Barnes who now wore his poker face. Still, he looked unrepentent.
"No one has seen Banner," Thor pointed out. "Has that been dealt with? If what you say is true, that's quite a betrayal."
There it was. A subtle challenge to his leadership, but a challenge nonetheless.
"Banner has been dealt with," Steve said. "Barton found him hiding in Stark's turf... Why was he hiding there? Why wasn't he under your protection, Barnes?"
The pure anger in Barnes' steely blue eyes told Steve he was hitting his mark. When he remained silent, Steve continued.
"I allowed Barton to deal with Banner how he wanted. And anyone else who ever tries to deal with my sister? That man will  meet the same fate. Is that in any way unclear?"
A low murmur across the table. Tony wasn't doing even trying to hide his enjoyment of the meeting so far.
"You had proof of Barnes' traitorous actions before you made these decisions?" Thor asked, not letting it go. "I'm sure you realize these are serious allegations."
"Do I owe you or anyone a fucking explanation?" Steve shot back, pissed.
"Yeah, you do," Barnes chimed in. "Because the evidence suggests you're not managing your own turf all that well, boss." He put an ugly emphasis on the word "Boss." "You've taken hits to businesses you're supposed to be protecting. People who depend on you are losing business, people are getting hurt."
Smiling at the reminder, Steve sighed. "People getting hurt. Like the murder and rape your men committed in that shop on my turf? Like the girl you allowed Hansen to kidnap from a donut shop in my territory? She got hurt. He kept her for days."
"I didn't give him that order," Barnes said cooly.
"Doesn't matter," Stave said. "He still acted under your authority."
Barnes was now staring him down and Steve silently willed him to say something else. Say it. Tell them you were poisoned by my wife's guard. See how much respect you get for that sloppy shit.
"Anything else?" Steve dared him.
Cold silence.
"I get that you're still raw I took the lead," Steve told him, rising from his chair. "That's why you promised Banner a position at your side that I don't think you ever meant to give him. It's also why you turned Loguidice against me, got him to give you inside intel. You got him killed by Hansen."
"That was on Hansen." Barnes couldn't produce much color in his anger, likely from the poison, but his face darkened enough for Steve to see that he was really getting to him. "He knifed me, betrayed orders."
Like my wife's guard knifed you? A woman?
"You all know why, right?" Steve walked around the table even though Dyson had advised him against it. But he liked to pace when he talked. "Hansen and Neal took Dyson which I think was your plan. Right? They were supposed to draw me out, finish me off."
Thor listened intently to the exchange, not as amused as his brother seemed. No, he was dead serious and Steve had him on the hook.
"Hansen decided to lure my wife out instead," Steve told them. "Shot Loguidice in the face. What did you promise Neal for turning on me anyway?"
Barnes' smile didn't reach his eyes. "I didn't have to promise either of them much at all."
"The point is," Steve went on, "that you couldn't even control Hansen. Your own man. And you think you'd make a better leader of these families than me?"
Barnes was out of his chair, ready to lunge at Steve. Killmonger struggled to hold onto him. 
Steve chuckled, watching the scene he'd created. Around the table, Tony and Sam watched passively, the Odinsons were attentive. Dyson looked proud and that was everything to him in that moment.
"Are you really the one leading your family, Rogers?" Barnes yelled. "Because all the nasty little presents you sent me just didn't seem like your style."
"What are you implying?" Thor asked him.
"Word has it Rogers got shot that day," Barnes said to the room. "After that, I got some none-to-subtle reminders of the bad blood between us. But they weren't his style at all. I think he got shot and he's struggling. I think Mrs. Rogers had a hand in this."
Tony's gaze moved from Barnes to Steve, almost comical interest so plain on his face.
"You're so fascinated with my wife, aren't you?" Steve said. "Why don't you tell them all of it?"
Tell them that you were bested by a woman and let's be done with it.
"Wait," Loki said with an artificial calm that didn't match the sheer glee in his eyes at the scene he was witnessing."Not to be indelicate, but isn't Mrs. Rogers your half-sister, Barnes?"
If looks could kill, Loki would have been dead on the floor. Steve had a hard time not laughing at that.
"She's not my anything," Barnes hissed, still struggling in Killmonger's hold. "She's an evil fucking bitch that you'll regret marrying one day, Rogers! I'd watch my back if I were you! Remember what her mother did to my family?"
"I thought she was a ballerina," Tony chimed in. "Huh."
Loki laughed out loud as Barnes managed to shake off his man's hold and charged at Steve. Scott and another of Steve's men caught him first. That didn't stop Steve from approaching, getting up in his enemy's face.
"You got shot, didn't you?" Barnes demanded.
"If I got shot," Steve said, "why are you the one who looks physically weak right now? Something you want to tell us?"
Steve could have shamed him there. He could have told the entire room what really happened to Barnes. But considering what Barnes had just shouted to the room about his wife, it was best to draw no more attention to her.
"I'm the head of these families, Barnes," Steve said in a calmer tone. "I won't tolerate any other challenges to this position."
The warning was clear, the room quiet now. Shoving Scott to the side, Killmonger took Barnes' arm to take control of the situation. Barnes' had broken out in a sweat, his face unnaturally pale and he was struggling to breathe.
"We understand," Killmonger said to Steve, struggling to keep his boss up because he looked ready to pass out. 
Steve tipped his head towards the conference room door, giving his consent for Killmonger to get him out of there. Zemo, looking more than a little alarmed, followed them out.
The tone of the meeting was much calmer with their departure, tension thick in the air. Even Thor had nothing else to say as Steve went over his plans for the families moving forward. When the meeting dismissed, Steve lingered until it was only him and Dyson, Scott and another soldier outside the door.
"You made the statement," Dyson told him. "That means if Barnes so much as breathes wrong, you know what you have to do."
Steve nodded. He would have to take Barnes and his family out, ensuring nothing was left.
"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it," Steve told him.
Dyson nodded. "Still, it was a good meeting. It set the right tone."
Steve nodded but inside, he was elated. Dyson approved of the way the meeting was handled, how he dealt with Barnes. It was a new start, it was everything.
He couldn't wait to tell you about it.
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When Yelena didn't answer your question, you glanced her way. 
She was looking out the window. "The meeting couldn't be over yet," she said.
Was someone leaving?
Getting up, you walked to the window. Your first instinct was stand back and not make it obvious you were watching.
But wasn't this your house? You could stand in the window if you wanted to.
So you did. And sure enough, one sleek black luxury sedan was moving in the circular drive. It startled you when it stopped in line-of-sight from your window. The rear passenger window powered down and Buck Barnes was staring out that window in your direction. At you.
After a moment, the car started moving and the window went back up. You shivered at what the simple gesture meant for your future. The meeting only started fifteen minutes ago. That wasn't a good sign. At least no one else seemed to be leaving.
I'll get you!
 Bucky Barnes' threat ran through your mind as you watched his car drive away.
A/N: There's a marathon smut scene coming next and it was either shorten it and tack it onto this chapter or make it a chapter on its own so... Very soon. Thank you!
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gretagerwigsmuse · 2 years
Text
and even when we’re wrong in every way, we come out the other side okay [part 1/2]
Summary: in which lieutenant commander bradshaw has a thing for smart girls - and maybe ones who hate his guts on principle. a lie by omission is still a lie after all and bradley never exactly told you what he did for work...
OR you take on the us military industrial complex one hinge date at a time...well sort of
Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader
Warnings: 18+, explicit language, explicit sexual content (oral (m receiving), vaginal fingering, p in v, and slight dom/sub and praise and rank kink elements), idk basically she’s a bit of a brat? and he likes it? it’s kind of filthy, but it’s supposed to be kind of funny and a little silly?
A/N: thanks to everyone who liked the sneak peek and provided such positive feedback! but i really have to give a shout out to my buddy sol (desertsagecelestial) for being the absolute best sounding board with this fic! definitely check out her wip, it’s amazinggggg. anyway, enjoy! (9.9k) Part 1.5
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Bradley previously hadn’t had much luck on Hinge, but after Phoenix had taken charge of his profile, specifically his picture selection, he had been doing a lot better. That being said, however, you were still the first girl he had actually met up with to go on a date. 
Hangman had initially scoffed at the notion of Bradley’s Hinge date that night - god, Bradshaw you’re hopeless, don’t you know all the easy ones are on Tinder? - but had quickly changed his tune once Bradley had shown him your profile. 
She seems smarter than you was all he had said and Bradley wasn’t so cocky as to not take it as a compliment. Plus, he liked smart girls. There was something about them. It didn’t hurt that the ones he had come across were always a little prissy, a little spoiled - a little uptight. 
A little bratty.
You both originally bonded over going to UVA - albeit with quite a few years between your graduating classes. You worked for one of the Big Four accounting firms and had a job title that Bradley didn’t quite understand except for the fact that it sounded important. You both traveled a lot for work, were newly settled in the area and randomly New England Patriots fans. 
Over the last few days, you had been texting frequently, starting off the day with your Wordle scores and a fun fact. It was cheesy and a little nerdy, but you were a big trivia fan - and San Diego County Barstool Trivia Champion - and Bradley had wanted to impress you. It was important that he impressed you.
Before heading out for training every morning, he’d try to find some new fact to stump you. His were always a bit nerdy, more random, while yours were always a bit more serious. Yesterday’s had been the tiny pocket in jeans was made for a pocket watch, while yours had been there are over 7100 islands in the Philippines. 
Thankfully, the date was going well - really well, actually. You both loved history and had studied political science at UVA. Bradley couldn’t believe you’d had some of the same professors, even graduating eight years apart. 
And he couldn’t stop the smile from creeping across his face when he got you to admit - begrudgingly - that you had been a Tri-Delta. Because of course you had been. All the smart, rich girls had been. And well, if one thing had been consistent over the years, it was Bradley’s taste in women. 
That being said, he had been absolutely bowled over when you had shown up, pretty little sundress and all, looking even more beautiful than the pictures on your profile. 
More to the point, though, he liked you and it appeared that you liked him too if the way you readily laughed at his jokes and kept brushing your knees against his under the bar top were any indication.
But it was about an hour into your date when the trouble started. Or well, maybe not trouble. A development, he supposed. 
A minor divergence of opinion, really. 
Nothing major.
“So, what’s with the bar?” you asked, looking around, a teasing smile on your face. Bradley cocked his head. “I mean, is it just me or is like every naval officer within a forty mile radius here?”
He shrugged. “Oh, uhh my friends and I like it. It’s right near the base and we normally come after training. It’s not too fussy, I guess, so I thought it would be good for a first date. Low key and all that?”
Maybe he had misjudged picking the Hard Deck. It wasn’t exactly the finest establishment in San Diego County, but the drinks were good and you had mentioned Coronado a couple times over text, so Bradley had thought it would be convenient for you. 
In fact, to offset the location, he had even worn a pale blue oxford, unbuttoned but with a plain white t-shirt underneath. You seemed like the kind of girl who would have appreciated the effort. At least that’s what he had gleaned from your Hinge profile.
“Oh.” That wasn’t a good ‘oh.’ You even leaned back on your barstool. “You’re in the military?”
Bradley chose his next words very carefully, mindful that there definitely seemed to be a wrong answer here and he was about to give it. 
“Yeah, a naval aviator,” he nodded, trying to sound casual, “is that going to be a problem?”
You shrugged and took a sip of your margarita before licking some of the salt off the rim. Bradley watched, captivated, despite the fact that you had just insulted him indirectly. 
“I mean, I understand that we need a military - to a certain extent, at least. But I’m kind of against the whole US Military Industrial Complex thing? Like the US alone spends more on defense than the next nine countries combined. And the cost of one of those planes you fly could probably feed the entire New York City public school system’s worth of kids three meals a day for at least - well, I’m pretty shit at math, but I’d say at least five years -” 
Holy shit. You were - oh, fuck. Before he really thought it through, Bradley went to interrupt you. “- I mean, when you put it -”
“- Plus, the whole imperialism, white man’s burden, manifest destiny bullshit you all like to spout out like Uncle Sam’s got your dick in his mouth. It’s a bit much.”
Bradley scoffed. He couldn’t help it. In all his years of being in the Navy, he’d never once had this sort of reaction. It was - oddly stirring, actually - finding out the woman he had envisioned every night before he’d fallen asleep the last few nights apparently now hated his guts.
“I get what you’re saying - to an extent,” he reiterated once he saw your pleased smile, “but the military still does a lot of good outside of combat zones.”
You laughed, but it lacked any humor. “Sure, taking advantage of impressionable kids with the promise of free college - that they probably won’t actually take advantage of because going back to school when you’re older than ninety-nine percent of your classmates isn’t daunting at all, to say nothing of the exploitation of foreign nations to further stock the US’ natural resource coffers - is a great business model?”
He ignored you and nodded towards your margarita. “Want another drink?”
“Only if you put it on Uncle Sam’s dime.”
------------
“So, do you just regularly lie to women?”
You were both on drink number two and the awkwardness of your earlier outburst hasn’t quite dissipated yet. The sexual tension on the other hand? If Bradley had thought it was high earlier, it was stratospheric now.
“What’re you talking about?” He hadn’t lied to you, to his knowledge, at least. 
You crossed your ankles and clasped your hands in your lap. “On your profile, you didn’t mention anywhere that you were in the military? A lie by omission is still a lie.”
And you didn’t mention how much of a brat you were. 
Bradley shifted on his barstool and subtly readjusted his jeans. “I’m not in the habit of lying to women…”
You scoffed. “Well, how do women normally react when you tell them you fly around in a $65M plane all day?” He’d never really thought about it. “Is it like a puck-bunny thing?”
“Puck-bunny?”
“Or whatever the military equivalent of a puck-bunny is?”
It was a tag chaser, but Bradley wasn’t about to tell you that. Not when he was imagining you wearing nothing but his dog tags, splayed out on his bed, while his tongue lapped against your dripping wet cunt - 
“- Some women like it, sure.”
You cocked an eyebrow. “And you like that?” 
Bradley shrugged. It was nice sometimes, but it definitely got a little old, all those guys and girls imagining playing the good little house-spouse waiting for him at home with dinner on the table, two kids and a dog running in the yard. That was more Hangman’s thing, anyway. Lately, Bradley had liked his partners with a little more spark, a little more fire, a little more substance. 
A little more like you.
“It has its benefits sometimes.”
It seemed like you couldn’t hold back the bark of laughter that burst out of your mouth. But just as suddenly as you‘d started, you’d stopped. You rolled your shoulders back and then flipped your hair over one of them, giggling in an exaggerated manner. 
“Hmmm like this? Oh, Captain Bradshaw, please take me for a ride in your big, big plane? Is there any way I can thank you for defending our country? No, sir, it’s just the cockpit is so big and I don’t know if I’ll be able to manage it. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of on leave. Yeah, I bet you just love that, captain,” you bit out the honorific.
“If you’re gonna be a brat about it, at least get my title right, sweetheart,” he snapped, the first time all night. He shoved his knee in between your legs, widening the space between your thighs just slightly. “It’s Lieutenant Commander.”
“Oh, my apologies.” You shifted on your barstool and crossed your legs at your ankles, looking like the textbook definition of prim and proper. “You’ll have to excuse me, lieutenant commander, all this new information I’m learning about you has left me feeling a bit…overwhelmed.”
Bradley hooked his foot around your barstool and dragged it even closer to him. You let out a squeak and had to brace yourself by holding onto his shoulders. 
And then it was like everything else in the Hard Deck had faded to the background: the jukebox playing Al Green’s Tired of Being Alone, the clack of billiard balls in the back corner, the King’s game on the TV above the bar. All Bradley could focus on was you - the slight rise and fall of your chest, the way your breasts were straining against the deep V of your dress, the smell of your floral perfume, and how your eyes widened at your sudden proximity.
And that was when he knew. Knew as well as the sun was going to rise tomorrow morning that you were going to fuck that night.
He hadn’t planned on sleeping with you on the first date. In fact, it really hadn’t even crossed his mind. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. But Bradley never fucked on the first date. Long gone were the one night stands he had indulged in during his twenties. He wanted someone who was smart, who put him in his place, who he could laugh with and have a real conversation. 
Someone like you - military prejudice aside. And yeah, you made some…interesting points and he agreed with some of them. But, for now, Bradley wanted to see how far you both could take this before either of you snapped. 
“You have any more questions for me, sweetheart?” He dragged his fingertips down your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. “Don’t like the thought of you being too - what was it again - overwhelmed?”
You let out a little whimper and then shook yourself slightly, seemingly stepping out of a trance. 
“Hmmm have you ever taken a girl for a ride in that stupid plane of yours to get her to sleep with you? Seems like misappropriating government property would be right up your alley - lieutenant commander.”
He clicked his tongue and leaned back. “Can’t say I have. Bit of a stickler for the rules.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” you teased. “Do you have one of those nicknames - no wait, what are they called? Callsigns? Do you have one of those callsigns?”
Your legs were pressed tightly together, crossed at the ankles. He had a sudden desire to thrust his knee in between them again. It had been impossible to ignore the fire that had sparked in your eyes the last time he had done it. 
In response to your question, Bradley hesitated, already knowing you were going to tease him even more. “Rooster.”
“Like the chicken?” You tilted your head. “Or is it a cock? I can never tell?”
“Why? You wanna see it?”
You rolled your eyes and knocked back the rest of your margarita, making a point to keep eye contact with him as you licked the salt off the rim - again. Fucking minx.
“I’ll be back, get me another.”
And without a word from Bradley, you spun around on your barstool, giving him the slightest glimpse of your ass when your dress rode up, and set off towards the bathroom at the back of the bar.
He sat there for a moment, his mouth slightly gapped open in - shock, awe, arousal? Because holy shit. The past twenty minutes or so had been some of the most sexually charged of his life thus far. There were times when he could have sworn one of you was going to leave - or worse, grab the other by the back of the neck and start dry humping against the bar.
“What the fuck did you say to her?” Phoenix hissed in Bradley’s ear, snapping him out of his daydream. 
He startled and then gestured wildly. “It was going fine for a while and then I told her I was in the Navy and she started going on about defense budgets and misappropriating government property and Uncle Sam sucking my dick - I don’t know, Phoenix!”
She snorted and then seemed to realize he wasn’t kidding. “Oh my god - wait, we need to tell Bagman -”
“- Don’t you fucking dare -”
She ignored him and went on her tiptoes to lean over Bradley. “- Bagman, get over here,” she shouted.
Surprisingly, and without comment at the unfortunate nickname, Hangman came over towards the two of them. “What’s wrong, Bradshaw scare the poor girl off already? Probably escaping out the bathroom window as we speak.”
Bradley flipped him off, but it lacked any heat. He also signaled for Jimmy to get him another margarita and old fashioned then to close out his tab. 
“She doesn’t like the military.”
Hangman whistled. “Tough, I’ve dealt with that before and trust me, it never ends well. Cut your losses and block her.”
But Bradley didn’t want to do that. His losses did not want to be cut - at all. He wanted to see how that smart mouth of yours looked wrapped around his cock. Or how prettily you sighed as he lapped at your sopping wet cunt. If you laughed easily or thought he was a good singer. If you wanted to try that new restaurant that opened in Gaslamp with him. 
Fuck. He wanted you - desperately. And worse than that, he liked you. Liked how smart you were, liked your sense of humor, liked you. And some part of him felt bad for setting you up. 
Because he hadn’t told you he was in the Navy. It wasn’t that he purposely didn’t tell you, he just hadn’t. And you were right, a lie by omission was still a lie. 
So, yeah. You were probably a little validated in your ire. But god, if it wasn’t one of the hottest things Bradley had ever seen. Who knew a woman reading him for filth would be such a turn on?
“Nah,” Phoenix patted him on the back like you would a child who had just lost their first little league game, “I have a feeling Rooster’s going to see this one through.”
Jimmy brought over a fresh margarita for you and an old fashioned for Bradley and also left the check. He gave Bradley an encouraging smile and Bradley was glad Penny hadn’t been there to see - well, see whatever the fuck was going on with you and him. Because Penny would tell Mav and Mav would go all fatherly on him and tell him to be respectful towards girls, no matter your difference of opinion. He sighed.
“It’s like I still want to impress her - she just doesn’t -”
“- Want to be impressed by you?” Bradley nodded. “Do you actually like her or do you just like the challenge?”
“The challenge, obviously,” Hangman scoffed, “girl sounds like a bitch - guess she could be kinda hot, if she cut out that whole type a, stick up her ass shit -”
Bradley clenched his jaw and muttered: “- Fuck off, don’t be an ass.”
“Oh that’s right,” Hangman nudged Phoenix like she was in on it, though she looked almost as pissed off as Bradley, “girls like that have always been Rooster here’s kryptonite. Do you think that stems from your mommy or daddy issues?”
Just as he was about to go off on Hangman, Bradley noticed Phoenix’s eyes widened at something over his shoulder and he instinctively knew it was you. Fuck. He really hoped you hadn’t heard what Hangman had said. 
“Just fuck off,” he muttered to both Hangman and Phoenix before you could get any closer. Phoenix sent a small, but kind smile your way, while Hangman just rolled his eyes and then they were gone. 
You were quiet as you approached the bar, a timid smile on your face. 
“Your buddies trying to get you to ditch me?” Your voice sounded softer, shy for the first time all night. “They scared I’m going to brainwash you or something? Make you drink my liberal tears?”
Bradley genuinely laughed and got a brief smile out of you. “Nah, they were more worried about me being too hard on you, at least my friend Natasha was - here,” he held his hand out to help you get back on the barstool. 
You ducked your head as you muttered out a thanks. For the first time since your date had started, the conversation wasn’t flowing and the two of you sat side by side in silence having a couple sips of your drinks. Bradley kept thinking over what Hangman had said and hoped you hadn’t been able to hear him as you approached. Meanwhile, you rolled the tiny straw between your fingers as you took a sip of your margarita, thinking something over if the little crinkle between your brow was any indication.
You had definitely heard what Hangman had said about you. But that didn’t mean it was what Bradley had thought about you. He missed the you from earlier in the evening - the one who got the Wordle right in two tries that morning and relentlessly bragged about it, the one who he had made laugh so hard tears had sprang from your eyes when he told you about his run in with an old woman at the grocery store last week, the one whose entire face lit up when talking about something you were passionate about.
Sure, he liked arguing with you - and he was pretty sure you did too - but he didn’t want you to think this was a joke to him or anything like that.
Bradley took his eyes off the King’s game he wasn’t really watching on the TV above the bar and turned his body towards you. He said your name and lightly nudged your shoulder. Slowly, you turned your head, though not your body, to face him. 
“Sorry about Hangman - Jake, that is. He’s not exactly who I’d go to for dating advice - pretty sure he hasn’t made a girl cum in about five years - something about seeing this girl for a couple months until they found out they were distant cousins or something?” 
It wasn’t true - at least Bradley didn’t think so - but he got a small smile and slightly amused head shake out of you. 
“Regardless of all of this, you shouldn’t have had to hear that, especially since I don’t -”
You fully turned to face him. “- Listen, Bradley,” you said a moment later, “I got dressed up for this, wore cute underwear, and even got a wax, so if this was a - a joke or if you don’t see this going forward in any way or - god, if you don’t even want to - look, I can just leave and we can pretend -”
“- No. We’re leaving.” He didn’t recognize his own voice. It was deep, commanding - dominant. And all you could do was lick your lips. “Now.”
With a smile on your face, you let him take you by your elbow and guide - read drag - you towards the exit, barely stopping to allow you to grab your clutch off the bar top. Knowing Hangman and Phoenix were no doubt watching the entire series of events unfold, Bradley threw his middle finger up over his shoulder, and then let the door close firmly behind his back. 
It was quiet in the parking lot, just the hum of the chatter and music from inside the bar echoing across the pavement. Bradley held your hand as he walked to his car in the back corner of the lot. You approached the Bronco and leaned your back against it casually. 
“So, what now?” You crossed your arms over your chest, inadvertently pushing your breasts together. “You gonna take me against the side of your truck like a big strong boy? Put me in my place?” 
He took a step towards you, then another. He could feel the heat pouring off your body and watched the slight rise and fall of your chest. 
“No, I’m gonna take you home and fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk straight in the morning, that sound good, sweetheart?” You nodded dumbly. “And for the record, it’s not a truck, it’s a Bronco.”
You giggled. It was cute and so out of place considering what Bradley had just said to you. God, you were cute. More than cute. 
“Fine, as long as you don’t take us on the 405 to Brentwood…”
Bradley barked out a laugh at your joke. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”
“I doubt my charm is what got me all the way here.” You placed your hands on his chest. He couldn’t tell if you were going to push him away or pull him closer. 
“You’d be surprised…” he muttered. 
And then, before he could overthink it, Bradley leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. For all his thoughts earlier in the evening, the kiss was surprisingly tender. You tasted like lime and tequila and smelled like summer. 
His hands dug into your hips, pulling you even closer and you let out a gasp - a perfect, breathy, little gasp against him when he pressed himself against your core. Your arms wound themselves around his neck and he in turn picked you up slightly and leveraged you against the door of the Bronco with his weight. You yelped at the action.
“Ooof - that was - god.” You cut yourself off as Bradley started peppering kisses down your neck, behind your ear, across your jawline. Meanwhile, your own hands were sliding under the collar of his t-shirt and oxford, digging your nails into his shoulders.
“Now, sweetheart,” he says the term of endearment teasingly, “when you went to the bathroom earlier, you were gone for a while. Thought maybe you got lost or were busy with something else…”
You scoffed. “Please, I was trying to see if I could pick the lock on the bathroom window.”
“Whatever you have to tell yourself.” He started inching his hands up your thighs, higher and higher until he could feel the warmth radiating off you. Your legs wrapped around his waist on their own accord, leaving your barely clothed core pressed against the fly of his jeans. “But I bet if I slipped my hands underneath that cute underwear you mentioned earlier, I’d find this pussy soaking wet, hmmm? Lemme make it up to you? All those nasty things that bastard said about you - you know I didn’t agree with a single one, hmm?”
“I know - ohh,” you cried out as one of Bradley’s fingers slipped into your already dripping wet cunt, “god, f-fuck, Bradley.”
He clicked his tongue. “Uh uh uh, that’s Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw to you.” Even in the early throes of pleasure, you managed to glare at him. “Now, you gonna take my fingers like a good girl or not?”
You whimpered when he added a second, then a third. The stretch felt so good and you rolled your hips so he could get even deeper. You were panting against his neck, your feet barely touching the ground as Bradley fucked you with his fingers while his thumb circled your clit. Your breasts were heaving and straining against the fabric of your dress and he could only imagine what they would look like if you were bouncing on his cock.
“Who knew you were such a little slut? Fucking yourself on my fingers in a bar parking lot…”
“Bradley, I - ahhh, ahh - fuck, I hate you.” The words lacked any force behind them due to the moan you let out. 
“Careful, sweetheart. I could make a real mess out of this pretty little dress of yours.” You found yourself nodding along, anything to keep him talking and keep his fingers inside you. 
Bradley could feel you clenching around his fingers, which were buried all the way to his knuckles and absolutely slick with your cum. Fuck. Imagine if you weren’t so blissed out getting finger fucked and you could talk back at him? This time he let out a groan. 
Maybe later.
“Bra-Bradley, I -” you cut yourself off with a moan that turned into a pitiful whimper. Your walls were tightening around him and he knew you were close. Fuck, he couldn’t wait to sneak a taste later. 
With a final thrust of his fingers and a pinch to your clit, you came apart for him with a blissed out cry, tensing and then relaxing against him.
“Shh, shh, that’s a good girl, yeah? Such a good girl for me.” Your body was trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm and you tucked your head into his neck, breathing in deeply. Your lips grazed a sensitive stretch of skin on his neck and he hissed. 
“Come on, look at me…” Bradley said quietly, but firmly. 
Once you lifted your head up, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, Bradley removed his fingers - carefully, so as to not make a mess of your pretty little dress. You whined at the loss, your pussy still clenching at nothing. He briefly brushed his fingertips across your lips to give you a taste of yourself, before he put both fingers in his own mouth and groaned. 
You watched, transfixed, as he took them out with a resounding pop. “Fuck, sweetheart, you taste so good - here, open up.”
You did as he asked and instinctively started sucking on his fingers. He noticed you subtly rubbing your thighs together and applied the slightest bit of pressure with his other hand, which was on your shoulder and inching closer to your collarbone and neck. 
Eventually, you had to breathe and Bradley pulled his now clean fingers out. 
“Good girl. Now why don’t we head home before you really make a mess?” You nodded and gave him a bashful smile. God, you were so fucking perfect - which reminded him - “but first, I want those soaking wet panties of yours before we get in the car.”
------------
The entire drive to his house was agony. Pure fucking agony. Bradley hadn’t been this tightly wound since his first deployment. Beside him, you appeared relatively unaffected, probably still experiencing the after effects of your orgasm, and were drawing invisible circles on your knee with your left hand. Your nails were painted bright red and looked sinful against your skin. 
Suddenly, the Bronco hit a bump in the road and you both slightly jolted off your seats. You let out whimper, while Bradley was reminded of the white lace underwear shoved in his back pocket. He couldn’t wait to get another whiff of them. 
The two of you rolled up to a stoplight, giving Bradley an opportunity to really look at you. The hand that had once been drawing circles on your knee was slowly inching higher up your thigh before it disappeared underneath the tiered skirt of your dress. You turned your head to look at him, a coy look on your face.
“Are we almost there? I thought you pilots drove as fast as you flew…”
He smirked, glad your spark was back. (Not that he didn’t like the little submissive display you’d put on in the parking lot.) “Almost there - don’t fucking tease me.”
With that, he swatted at the hand currently underneath your dress skirt. You pulled it back with a pout. “But Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw, I’m wetter than the Middle East before you and your little buddies purged it of oil.”
At that, Bradley barked out a laugh and the light changed. He was still chuckling as he passed through the intersection. “I’ll give you that one.”
You preened. “Plenty more where that came from - don’t forget I still don’t like you…” You both knew that wasn’t exactly true, but Bradley wasn’t going to say anything to the contrary. 
A few moments later, the Bronco practically rolled into his driveway on two wheels. Thankfully, Bradley had left the porch light on so the house wasn’t entirely dark. You looked at the house critically and he desperately wanted you to like it. 
It was important to him that you liked it.
The three bedroom, craftsman house had been built in the 1930s, but had been renovated before Bradley had bought it when his official transfer to North Island had gone through a couple months ago. It was set back a good distance from the tree lined street and had a nice lawn that laid way to a wide-set front porch. You were probably used to the manses dotting the streets of Coronado or Del Mar, but Bradley liked the tree lined streets and sense of community he had found in South Park.
“It’s nice, Bradley,” you said with a smile, sincere for the first time in awhile. 
“Thanks.” He ducked his head, not wanting you to see how happy he was at your meager compliment. “Now come on, sweetheart.” 
Without another word from you, he slid you across the bench seat and into his arms and then opened the door and got out of the car. You sat there, a little thrown and Bradley sighed. “Well, if I have to do everything…”
“Wha - oh my - Bradley!” you squeaked in surprise, as he picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder. He chuckled and shut the door with his hip. “You - you oafish man! If you don’t put me down I’ll - I’ll -”
“- You’ll what?” He smacked your bare ass as he walked up the front steps and headed over to the front door. “Sweetheart, I don’t really think you’re in the position to be making demands.”
In turn, you smacked his back. “And you would know all about that - making demands. Hostage negotiations, CIA blacksites - mmmhh!”
He slapped you again and felt his cock twitch when you moaned. God, you had such a smart little mouth on you. 
“Alright, now you gotta be quiet unless you want all my neighbors to see you like this - ass out, marked red by my hands. Is that what you want?”
“No…”
“Good girl.” You wiggled your ass and this time it was Bradley’s turn to moan. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”
He fished his house keys out of his pants - accidentally grazing his hand against the pocket holding your panties first - and then unlocked the door. He kicked it shut and locked it, then turned on the light on the hall table before he even contemplated putting you down. It felt like you were trying to turn your head around or at least pick it up, probably to get a look at the place. Eventually, and with another smack on the ass, Bradley put you down. 
Your chest was heaving and your hair was all over the place. You quickly tried to fix your hair in the mirror hanging above the hall table while Bradley threw his wallet and keys into a bowl on the same table and toed off his shoes. He briefly glanced at you in the mirror when his eyes fell on something reflecting light on the mantle in his living room - his gold plaque from the uranium enrichment mission was proudly perched for all to see. 
Including you.
Bradley could already hear the teasing comments coming - what’s that? a participation award? - and resolved to distract you before you caught a glimpse at it. Luckily, you were both horny as fuck, so it wasn’t exactly hard to think of a distraction. 
He slipped behind you and brushed your hair over one shoulder and started pressing featherlight kisses down your neck, keeping eye contact with you in the mirror the entire time. You leaned back against his chest and sighed, before you turned around and pulled him in for a kiss. He could have sworn he could still taste your sweetness from earlier when you’d sucked his fingers clean, but that may have just been wishful thinking. 
Slowly, and without breaking your frantic kiss, he walked the two of you through the house and towards his bedroom. He only stubbed his toe once and you laughed against his lips when you let out a grunt of pain.
“Watch it, lieutenant. Thought you had your sea legs?”
He chose to ignore your comment and turned on another light, creating a soft glow in his bedroom. You took off his oxford, throwing it onto the chair holding other various button downs and Hawaiian shirts in the corner. Your hands slid underneath his white t-shirt, roving over his abs, dragging your short, but sharp nails across the skin. He groaned.
“Navy’s good for one thing, I guess,” you muttered against Bradley’s neck while your hands ran over his body. 
He pushed you back slightly, so you fell onto the bed, propped up by your elbows. “Only one thing?”
You spread your legs, fully taking advantage of the fact that you didn’t have any underwear on. In fact, it was still in Bradley’s back pocket and there it would stay. “Well, that might not be not true. I bet you probably get loads of discounts and shit like that - wait do you have a J Crew discount? I can only imagine there’s nothing like getting rewarded for colonizing and exploiting half the world fuck - Bradley!”
You cried out when he grabbed your legs and pulled you to the edge of his bed. He’d perfectly positioned himself between your legs, leaving your absolutely glistening cunt on full display. Bradley would be - admittedly - shocked if there wasn’t a puddle of slick on the passenger seat of his car right now. You bit your lip, no doubt thinking you knew what he was going to do next.
But instead, he tightened his grip around your ankles and then let go of them a moment later, so you were sitting up perfectly on the edge of the bed. 
“Awww, sweetheart. You didn’t think I was gonna go down on you with that stunt you played in the car, did you? Only good girls get their pussy eaten.”
You whined and Bradley figured you would’ve stomped your foot too had you been able. “Tell me - tell me how to be a good girl? I want to be a good girl for you.”
Oh fuck him. He’d come in his pants like a twelve year old if he didn’t hurry this along.
“Get on your knees.”
You didn’t have to be told twice and sunk to the floor in front of him. Your bare ass was resting on the backs of your feet while your dress fanned prettily over your knees. 
He clicked his tongue. “While that does make for a pretty picture, I believe I said on your knees, sweetheart.”
“Sorry, lieutenant commander.” Your eyes were wide as you peered up at him and Bradley hoped you’d try and keep eye contact with him the entire time you had his cock in your mouth. 
“Good girl.” He cupped your cheek and then swept your hair out of the way and untied the ribbon holding your open-back dress together. 
Though your dress didn’t quite fall down right away, it did gape open to your shoulders and was easy to slide off the rest of the way. The ruffles and fabric bunched at your hips due to your kneeling position, leaving your breasts on full display. 
“So pretty.” You ducked your head, but he tipped your chin back up so you had to look at him. “Knew you were hiding something under that pretty dress.”
You bit your lip, a genuine smile flitting across your face. “I bought it special for you - for our date.”
“Then I’ll try my best not to ruin it. Maybe I’ll aim for those gorgeous tits of yours instead.”
With slightly tremulous hands, you unbuttoned Bradley’s jeans and then dragged your index finger - with the fucking red nail polish - along the zipper. His cock practically jumped at your touch and he held back a groan. God, he was going to finish way too fucking quickly. Probably another thing you’d tease him about. (Oddly, that didn’t help him, if anything it turned him on even more.)
You pulled the zipper slowly and then started to pull Bradley’s jeans off, but he got impatient and did it himself. His cock was already erect in his boxer briefs and you just stared at it, a wicked smile on your face, for a moment before tilting your head up. 
“Got to say, I’m a little disappointed. Thought for sure you’d have American flag boxers on.” You reached out to palm him over the soft fabric and Bradley couldn’t help but buck his hips into your hand. “Somebody’s eager.”
“Well, not everyone got taken care of in a parking lot…” He forgot the rest of his sentence because you had just slipped his boxer briefs off and his cock sprang out.
You licked your lips and peered up at him. “Bet you’re the pride of the Navy with this.” You leaned in and blew a stream of air on him and then pressed a light kiss to the tip. Bradley shuddered. You swirled your tongue around his cock, making sure to flick your tongue along the underside. He then gently guided himself into your mouth and you salivated more around him. He moaned - deep and guttural - as you fully took him in your mouth, while your head bobbed up and down. Of course you were good at giving head. Of course.
“Glad to know that smart mouth has other uses.”
You moaned and Bradley quickly realized the futility of his plan to try and last longer. He groaned and his shoulders sagged in pleasure as you worked him, hands doing what your mouth wasn’t able to as you grasped the top of his shaft and balls. 
At one point, you changed tactics and hollowed out your cheeks and sucked. Bradley couldn’t help but bring his hand around the back of your head and buck his hips, getting faster and harder with each passing thrust.
“That’s a good girl, you’re taking me so good, sweetheart.”
The praise spurred you on, your enthusiasm only getting better with every passing second and Bradley felt that tell-tale tugging in his gut that he was close. It was like you had something to prove - you took him deeper, your hands became more skilled and dexterous, your moans more sinful, your eyes wide and eager as you peered up at him.
“Fuck, I’m so - close. I’m gonna cum.” Bradley said your name and your hands dug into his thighs. “If you don’t tell me otherwise, I’m gonna cum in that pretty mouth of yours.”
You pulled back just enough to say: “Please, just wanna take care of you.”
And that did it. With a final thrust of his hips into your sweet mouth, he spilled himself inside you. Like a good girl, you swallowed everything he gave you. Every last drop. You looked so proud of yourself.
You wiped at your mouth with the back of your hand and slowly rose from your knees. You were completely naked, your dress pooled down at your feet and he couldn’t resist roving his eyes up and down your body. God, you were so gorgeous.  
You were both breathing heavily, but he didn’t hesitate before grabbing your chin and kissing you deeply, tasting himself on your tongue. When he eventually pulled away, your eyes met, and he rested his forehead against yours.
“Fuck me, Bradley - please?” 
You said his name. Not lieutenant commander or asshole or some other slightly condescending moniker. You said Bradley. As in you wanted him - the guy who had originally asked you out. The one you had tried so hard to impress all those days and nights spent texting. 
And who was he to say no to that? 
He grabbed you by the hand and laid you down on the bed, your hair fanning out on the crisp white pillowcases and sheets he had put on freshly that morning. You sighed as you burrowed your face in the sheets. “Kiss me.”
Who was he to refuse you? But instead of pressing his lips to your own, he went lower and wrapped his mouth around your breasts which had taunted him all evening, always straining to break free of that gorgeous dress now thrown on his floor somewhere. You arched your back to grant him better access and then wrapped your leg around his hip, digging your ankle into his ass.
His dick was hard again, pressed against your wetness, reminding him that he hadn’t touched you there since you had been in the parking lot. God, it seemed like hours ago. 
“Bradley,” you sighed as he kissed down your stomach to right below your belly button. “Need you inside me - now.”
He groaned. “You gotta be patient, sweetheart. Wanna take my time with you now.” You whined, clearly not liking that answer. Bradley slid his hand between your bodies and started playing with your clit. You sighed and he then slid one finger into you, then another, crooking them both as he dragged them down your walls. He could tell the teasing was driving you crazy, but he kept at it, bringing you closer to your release and then pulling back before you could find it.
“Please,” you whimpered sometime later. It was a simple, one word response, but it proved to be his undoing. 
Bradley slid his hand down to his cock, pumping it a couple times before he lined himself up and slid into you. You both moaned at the contact and Bradley started to find a rhythm that would suit the two of you. It took some direction from you both, but you eventually figured it out.
“How ‘bout you tell me more things you hate about me?”
You turned your head into the pillows, muffling a moan as Bradley snapped his hips to meet yours. “Ahhhhh, That Hawaiian shirt on your chair is - is abso-lutely h-heinous -”
“- Not like that.” He pulled one of your legs over his shoulder and you keened, loving the new angle. His dick plowed into you relentlessly and Bradley savored every thrust, loving the way your cunt tightened around him each time.
You grabbed his shoulders, bringing the two of you chest to chest, so you could pull him in for a kiss. It was frantic and hot, all teeth and sighs against each other. The feel on your breasts against his chest was another sensation he didn’t want to miss out on any longer. Fuck, you had gorgeous tits. The perfect size for him. Bradley pulled his head back, but didn’t slow his pace.
“Want my girl on top, want those gorgeous tits in my face as I fuck her.” 
Your back arched at his words and before you could say anything, he flipped the two of you over so now you were on top. “Ohhhhh,” you sighed as you took his cock to the hilt before you started riding him in earnest. 
You pushed your hair back and smiled down at him wickedly. “Do you know how many,” you started, seemingly just remembering his comment from earlier, “CO2 emissions that - fuck, Bradley, right there - that stupid fucking plane of yours emits ev - everyday? Fucking des-troy-ing the environment - ahhh,” you broke off with a sigh.
“No, tell me?” Your breasts were bouncing right in front of his face and Bradley reached out to grab one with his right hand, keeping the left firmly on your hip. He pinched your nipple and you keened. 
“I - I can’t remem -” you panted, “- it’s a - ahhh, fuck - it’s a lot.” 
The absolutely blissed out expression on your face made him groan. “God, look at you now, all cock dumb for me. What happened to that smart girl from before?”
You took a moment to gain your thoughts. “She wasn’t getting fucked so good back then.”
“So good, huh?”
“Bradley.” Your head was thrown back in ecstasy, but you still managed to get another question out. “How did you vote in the last three presidential elections?” He slowed his pace and you glanced down at him. “Wait, are you registered to vote?”
Bradley actually paused, fully in possession of his faculties. “You know, I don’t think I changed my registration over yet from Virginia -”
“- So help me fucking god, Bradley, I will jump off your dick right now if you -”
 “- Obama.” Thrust. Moan. Pull Back. “Clinton.” Thrust. Moan. Pull Back. “And then Biden.” Thrust. Moan. Pull back.
“Good boy,” you just managed to get out before Bradley really felt himself losing control. 
He wanted to - no, he needed to finish inside of you. He couldn’t bear the thought of flipping you over and pulling out, only to spend himself all over your stomach - seemed like a waste. Neither of you had the forethought to get a condom out of his nightstand.
“Are you on the pill?”
“IUD,” you barely got out, “Can’t have any of your military brats running around now, can I?”
Thank fuck. He wanted to come inside you so badly. Fill you up and then watch his cum drip out of you. God, he was so close. He just wanted to flip you over again, so this time you were on your back.
“Gotta wait a couple more dates before we start talking about kids, sweetheart - god, it’s like your cunt was made for me -”
“- Jesus fuck, Bradley! Just come inside me before I -” The most beautiful moan he had ever heard interrupted what was sure to be another diatribe of yours. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck -”
And then it was like nothing he had ever experienced before. With one final thrust, his orgasm crashed through him and he spent himself inside you. A moment later, you followed, your body briefly tensing and then you came with a cry. 
You collapsed against his chest, spent - the two of you a sweaty mess of limbs and slick between your thighs as you both rode out the aftershocks. You glanced up at him, resting your chin on his chest, and gave him a look of pure adoration. 
“There’s my good girl,” he said, getting a winning smile out of you. Somehow, you managed to pull yourself up and give him a kiss, less heated than the previous ones you had shared, but no less meaningful, before you rolled over onto Bradley’s other side and slipped under the top sheet. 
You both laid there, side by side, chests rising and falling heavily. Fuck. Neither of you knew what to say - if there even was something to say. It had never been like that with anyone else - ever. 
“I still don’t like that you’re in the military,” you said, not turning to face him. 
The matter of fact way you said it made Bradley chuckle, which then turned into a proper laugh and you soon joined in.
“Sorry,” you said through your laughter, “just had to make sure that was clear.”
“And I’ll just try to forget you asked me who I voted for in the last election while I was literally inside you.” You groaned and hid underneath the sheet. “Just so you know, that was my honest answer. You can look up my voting record if you really want.”
You peeked your head out from under the sheet. “And you’ll promise to change your registration to California?”
Bradley chuckled. “I’ll go this week.” 
“Good.” You smiled shyly at him and then propped yourself up onto your left elbow, peering at him curiously. “So, how do we really feel about the stache?” You brought your finger up to his mouth and dragged it across his mustache and then to his lips. 
Bradley leaned back on his elbows and glared at you. “We like the stache…”
“Okay, sure, sure.” You scrunched your nose and tilted your head back and forth a couple times. “For now.”
“You’ll change your mind after riding my face.”
You pulled the bedsheet up higher on your chest, but tangled your legs with his. “Planning another round already, huh?” 
He kissed your nose. “You know us military guys, ready with a moment’s notice.” You yawned. “Or maybe not…”
“Sorry,” you started sitting up, “I was busy all week with that project I mentioned.” He nodded, remembering the couple times you had brought it up earlier in the week via text. “And didn’t get much sleep. Anyway, I guess I should get going…”
Despite his best efforts, his face fell. “Oh. Right, yeah.”
“Yeah…” But you didn’t move. “This was -”
He scooted over towards you and laid his hand on your thigh. “ - You can stay here tonight - I mean, if you want to? Like by the time you get an Uber and then get back to your place - you’ll be out like an hour of sleep already.”
You glanced around the room and bit your lip. “I don’t know - I figured you didn’t - I mean, I don’t know if you want -” you cut yourself off, seemingly not wanting to say anything more for the moment.
“It’s no big, really.” You still seemed unsure and Bradley hoped he didn’t sound too eager. 
“Okay - yeah.”
“Yeah?”
You nodded. “Cool. Uhh is it okay if I just use the bathroom…”
Bradley nodded readily. “Yeah, uhh, it’s down the hall, second door on the right.”
“Cool.” You tiptoed over to the leather and oak chair in the corner that held Bradley’s mountain of shirts. You grabbed the button down he had worn earlier that evening and threw it on, quickly fastening the middle two buttons. “I’ll just,” you thumbed over your shoulder and scampered out of the room.
“I’ll be here,” Bradley said to the empty room. 
Fuck.
-----------
Saturday mornings were one of Bradley’s favorite times of the week. He allowed himself to sleep in a little later - nothing crazy, just nine o’clock - and then prepared himself a well balanced breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast with one of those fancy cold brew coffees he had finally figured out how to make. 
He so rarely allowed himself that time during the week - the ability to ‘just do’ and not over think everything. To do whatever he wanted. But that Saturday morning was different. 
Because that Saturday you were there.
His arm was thrown over your stomach, leaving you close, but not too close to him. You slept on your back, while he slept on his side. Your sheets had barely moved during the night, still wrapped tightly around your breasts, while Bradley’s were half kicked to the end of the bed and half bunched between the two of you.
There were a smattering of bite marks across your neck and chest and Bradley wondered how the rest of your body under the sheet had fared. He stretched slightly, hoping not to wake you yet and felt a pleasing ache in his thighs. Beside him, he watched you shift slightly in your sleep and twitch your nose. He quickly shut his eyes, knowing you were waking up and didn’t want to be caught staring. 
You let out a blissful sigh and burrowed yourself into the pillows on your side of the bed. As you stretched, your leg grazed against Bradley’s and you let out a little gasp and quickly yanked it away. 
Figuring that was a good excuse to wake up, he rolled over to face you and let out a little groan of his own, but didn’t open his eyes yet. 
“Morning,” he rasped as he opened his eyes. You were staring at him, looking like a deer in headlights. “How’d you sleep?”
You opened your mouth to speak, but didn’t say anything for a moment. “Uhh, fine - thanks.” You cleared your throat. “Do you know what time it is?”
Bradley rolled over to glance at the old fashioned alarm clock on his mid century modern nightstand. “Just after nine. Do you want -”
“- Oh. I guess I should head out then…”
He tried not to look too disappointed. “Oh, yeah.” He sat up in bed, leaning against the pillows piled up against his headboard. “Uhhh, I think your clothes are over there.”
You slipped out of bed, taking the top sheet with you to preserve your modesty he imagined, and made your way to the foot of the bed where your dress had wound up last night. You managed to put it on without letting the sheet slip and swept your hair out of the way to tie the ribbon at the back that Bradley had loved undoing hours ago. 
Once you finished, you looked around the rest of the room, but avoided eye contact with him. He had a feeling he knew what you were looking for - your underwear.
He cleared his throat. “Uhh, it’s in my jeans. The back pocket.”
You went over to the pile of his own clothes on the floor and picked up his jeans, finding your white lace underwear in the back pocket, like he had said. For some reason, Bradley glanced away while you slipped them on. He turned back around and gave you a small smile, but found that you were already staring at him, an unreadable expression on your face. You shook yourself out of whatever trance you had been in and made your way over towards his side of the bed. You cleared your throat before speaking.  
“Look, I’m sorry, Bradley. But I don’t know if I see this as a long term thing?” You leaned down to give him a kiss on the forehead. It was only slightly condescending. “But if you ever want to ever want to fuck again, let me know?”
And before he could even get out a response, you were gone, a trail of perfume in your wake and Bradley was half hard again. He leaned back against his headboard and let out a deep sigh. 
Oh.
He had thought you’d both come to some sort of truce last night. You’d slept over for fuck’s sake. Was it so out of the realm of possibility that you would want to see him again? And for more than just sex at that? For a moment he just sat there, staring at his hands clasped on top of his duvet. Was this how every girl felt after Hangman did the ol’ two pump dump on them? It made him rethink every date or one night stand he’d had in the last fifteen or so years - was this how it felt to be ghosted? Wasn’t that what people were calling it now? God, it was fucking shitty -
Suddenly, there was a commotion coming from the hallway and Bradley belatedly realized he hadn’t heard the front door close. The sound of sandals slapping on the hardwood echoed through the house and you suddenly burst through his bedroom door, a giddy smile on your face. 
“Oh my god, your face!” You giggled, looking downright gleeful. 
The realization that he had just been had - mercilessly, truly he would never live it down - just hit Bradley. 
“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” He tried to keep a straight face, but couldn’t hide his smile or the relief he had felt. 
You smiled in turn, looking carefree and beautiful with your messy morning hair and post sex glow. You took a couple steps towards him and the bed and he reached out to absentmindedly finger the hem of your dress. 
“I think we’ve established that I’m actually hilarious.”
“Tell me a joke then - come on, right now. Tell me a joke?”
You tapped your index finger on your chin - once, twice. “Hmmmm, what about the fact that you work -”
“- For the Navy?” he finished with you. You nodded, that giddy smile back on your face. “Not your best, but we can work on that.”
“You know, I’ve been thinking…”
“Smart girl.” 
You hummed in response and leaned forward to play with his hair, pulling it slightly at the roots. “So you’ve told me. But I’ve been thinking, have you ever thought about a career change?”
Bradley sighed, humoring you. “Can’t say I have, but what do you have in mind, sweetheart?”
“Well, I think I could proudly fuck an astronaut - oh my god, Bradley!” You let out a shriek when he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you onto the bed next to him. 
He leaned over you, propped up on his right elbow. “An astronaut, huh?” 
You nodded, now laying flat on your back. “Unlike your obnoxious friend from last night -”
“- Bagman,” he purposely gave you the wrong name, hoping it would stick and you’d earnestly call Hangman that to his face the next time you saw him.
“Bagman,” you repeated, “right, well, unlike Bagman from last night, you’re actually very intelligent.”
“Oh, I’m very intelligent, huh?”
You ignored him. “You already fly in that death trap plane and can handle all the g-force so the astronaut training programs shouldn’t be - don’t look at me like that, all surprised I know what g-force is, I’m not an idiot.”
Bradley couldn’t help but smile. “Sorry, sorry. Go on.”
“And -” you sat up in your excitement, “- now this is the most important thing - you won’t be actively contributing to the exploitation of foreign nations by exporting their natural resources for the benefit of the US economy.”
You looked so pleased with yourself that Bradley couldn’t help the proud smile from stretching across his face. “How about I think about it? That good with you?”
“That would be nice…” you tried to sound nonchalant about it, but he could tell you were pleased. “And what do you want in return?”
He scoffed in mock outrage and sat up beside you. “Me? Want something in return? Never?” You shot him an amused look. “Hmm, how about this?” He grabbed your hand and played with your fingers. “You go out with me again?”
A smile crept across your face and you ducked your head. “I think that’s a fair trade - provided I get to pick what we do?”
“Oh, of course,” he said with mock solemnity. 
“Then I accept.” 
You gave him a quick peek on the lips, but Bradley pulled you back in for a deeper kiss. You responded in kind, leaning into him and pressing your body against his. He wasn’t entirely sure how serious you were about this whole astronaut thing - he doubted you were - but he was committed to making this work between the two of you. 
If your thoughts on the military were that important to you, then you and Bradley would work something out together. He wasn’t about to give up on this just yet. He wrapped his hands around your hips, right at the top of your ass, and you squirmed against him, never breaking your kiss. For a moment, he let himself get lost in a daydream with you, of him going off to space and you - hold on just a minute...
He pulled his lips away from yours. “- Wait, wait - it’s not okay for me to exploit foreign nations, but it’s okay for me to potentially colonize space?”
You straddled his waist, barely moving your lips away from his neck as you gave a reply. “Shh, shh, we can work out the details later…”
THE END
[Part 1.5] [Part 2.1]
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daisynik7 · 11 months
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Out of Time Nanami x f!reader
Part Two out now!
Rating: Explicit (because of part two)
Word Count: ~5.7k
Summary: Two nights before your thesis is due, you decide to take a break at your favorite bar. Meanwhile, Nanami, after a week’s worth of exhausting missions, is desperate for a drink. By chance, the two of you meet and spend an unforgettable night with each other that ends just a little too soon. cw: language, drinking, kissing, suggestive touching, switching POVs (reader is in second person, Nanami is in third), eventual smut, original female character (Gina). Author's Notes: Inspired by The Weeknd's Out of Time music video, because I think Nanami + karaoke is always a fun idea! This is part one of a two-part series. Reader is in grad school, mid-twenties, Nanami is around the same age. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thanks for reading! Divider credits to @/cafekitsune.
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With your final statement typed out on page forty of your thesis, you save it, shutting your laptop closed and immediately groaning into your hands. All that’s left is to proofread, cite your sources, and you’ll be ready to submit. Finally. 
It’s been a six-month long journey, and at last, you’re seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. In two days, you’ll be rid of the dreaded thesis statement, and in two weeks, you’ll be the proud recipient of a master’s degree. Two years of the most rigorous academic challenge you’ve ever faced in your life, sealed with a piece of paper that you might not even benefit from in the future. This still calls for some celebration, right?
After another minute of grumbling, you take your phone out to text your best friend Gina, who should be off her shift by now. 
You: I need a fucking drink.
Gina: highballs at Kanpai?
You: YES
Gina: I’ll pick you up in 15
The Kanpai Cocktail Bar is your favorite downtown. That’s where you first met Gina, who was a bartender there at the time. After she left to work for another establishment, the two of you still frequent Kanpai, the perfect spot for tasty drinks and entertainment, mainly in the form of people-watching. 
However, this past semester, your trips there have lessened significantly, too preoccupied with this goddamn thesis. You need a well-deserved break, something to fuel you for the next two days before you click submit. 
You quickly get ready, throwing on a blouse and a pair of jeans. Once you receive Gina’s text, stating her arrival, you swing a tiny purse over your shoulder and head outside, greeting her with a hug. 
“Did you finish your thesis?” she asks, linking arms with you, starting the walk to the train station. 
“For the most part.”
“Good. We can get drunk tonight,” she says, a devious grin on her face.
“Not too drunk, I still have some work to do. I just need to take the edge off.”
“Fine. We’ll get buzzed, maybe find some cute guys to dance with, and call it a night. Deal?”
“Deal,” you agree, unsure about the cute guys part. It’s been a while since you last danced with, or even encountered, a man. With your priority being this paper, you haven’t had time to date or hook up with anyone. You predict that tonight will be no different. 
Five stops and you’re downtown, strolling towards Kanpai, which is already packed. Luckily, you find a table and flag a waiter down to place your order. Minutes later, they deliver the first round of cocktails and a plate of fried chicken karaage. You and Gina cheers, feeling relaxed for the first time in months. Halfway through your drink, you notice Gina eyeing something, or someone, in the distance. 
“What are you staring at?”
“There’s this really hot guy at the bar. Like, really hot. I’ve never seen anyone like him before.”
You turn to the direction she’s looking at, immediately knowing who she’s referring to. He’s tall, well-built, with strikingly white hair, almost blinding in the dim lighting of the room. The most intriguing thing about him is the black blindfold around his eyes, and a naughty smirk on his face. Leave it to Gina to spot an attractive man instantly; she’s always had excellent radar for that.
“I’m going to invite him to our table,” she announces, sliding out of her chair to stand up.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. He’s hot. And we have space.”
She’s right; there’s two empty chairs, one beside the both of you. There’s no reason why she shouldn’t invite him, so you don’t question it any further, watching from your peripheral as she heads towards the bar, leaving you momentarily alone to sip on your highball. 
You’re almost completely finished with your cocktail when you hear the distinct click of Gina’s heel’s approaching. Craning your neck to face them, you’re surprised to find not two people, but three, standing next to the table. Another man, a tad shorter, similarly well-built, blonde hair, and dressed in a tan business suit. His eyes are also covered with spectacles that resemble steampunk glasses. The spotted tie he wears is interesting, adding a splash of pizazz to the otherwise normal outfit. 
You greet them, introducing yourself. Gojo, the one with white hair, happily shakes your hand while his friend, Nanami, maintains a stern expression. They take their seats in the chairs next to you and Gina, Gojo on her side, Nanami on yours. 
“Should we order another round of drinks?” Gina suggests, glancing around to catch the waiter. 
“Sure! But I’ll have a Shirley Temple. I don’t drink alcohol.”
“You’re at a bar, but you don’t drink?”
“I don’t; he does,” he answers, pointing his thumb across at Nanami. He simply grunts in response.
“What’s your drink of choice?” you ask, tilting your head to face him.
“Sake,” he states, focused on the center of the table avoiding anyone’s gaze. He’s cold, standoffish, and stoic. The type of person you’d typically avoid. 
“Should we order sake then?” Gina suggests. “And a mocktail for you, Gojo,” she adds, nudging him flirtatiously. 
“I’ll have a little bit,” you say. “I have to finish my thesis, remember?”
“Are you a student?” Gojo inquires, leaning forward, elbows propped up, chin in his palms.
“Grad student. I’m almost done, thankfully.”
“Good for you! This round will be on us then, right Nanamin?” 
He shrugs silently, gaze unmoving. What an odd fellow. He’s showing absolutely no interest in socializing, which you don’t entirely blame him for. Maybe he was dragged here beyond his own will. He’s opposite of Gojo, who oozes charisma from every crevice. You can’t expect him to match that type of chaotic energy. 
Gojo fetches the waiter, ordering sake and his virgin drink. Him and Gina chat amongst themselves, no doubt flirting excessively. You sit next to Nanami in silence, slurping on whatever liquid remains in your glass, basically water from the melting ice. You want to pull your phone out to have something to distract you, but your neighbor continues to stare at the table, frozen in place, not speaking. Hands tucked neatly in front of him. 
You attempt small talk once more, gradually losing hope that this will lead anywhere. “What do you do for work, Nanami?”
“I’m a salaryman.”
“Is Gojo a salaryman, too?”
“No.”
“How do you two know each other?”
“From high school.”
“Neat.” You glance around the room, wishing the alcohol would arrive sooner. His answers are curt, as if you’re pestering him. Even behind the steampunk glasses, you can tell he’s uncomfortable. He clearly doesn’t want to be here. 
You tune out whatever Gina and Gojo are discussing, not wanting to eavesdrop on their privacy, remaining silent as you twiddle your thumbs beneath the table. The drinks arrive, which you’re ecstatic about. Gojo smiles as he sips on his mocktail. Gina does the honors and pours the cold sake into each small glass, passing it to you and Nanami. With a cheers, you each down your shots, refreshing and bitter down your throat. 
“So, do you ladies have any single friends you can set Nanamin up with?” Gojo asks. 
Beside you, Nanami tenses up. “Gojo, I don’t want –”
“Don’t worry, buddy! We’ll find you a nice girl! Nanamin here is so shy, poor guy needs a lot of help when it comes to the ladies – ”
“Gojo,” he warns, sterner this time, Gina unable to contain her giggling. 
“He’s an attractive guy, right? If it weren’t for the stick up his ass, he’d for sure be a catch.” Gojo smirks, finishing the rest of his drink. 
Gina elbows him, grinning. “Don’t be so mean to your friend. Not everyone has to be in a relationship. She’s never been in one and she’s totally fine.” She points at you, much to your dismay. 
You’re reminded how loose Gina’s lips get whenever she indulges in alcohol. While it’s nothing to be ashamed about, you still feel heat rush into your cheeks from embarrassment, having a personal fact about yourself revealed so casually in front of two strangers. “I’ve never had time for a relationship,” you explain. “Been too busy with school.”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with being single! I’m just trying to help this poor guy out, he’s always complaining to me how lonely he is, but he never puts himself out there!”
The table rattles suddenly and Gojo yelps. “Ouch! Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” Nanami has his arms crossed tight over his chest, foot flat on the floor after kicking his friend in the shin. 
Rubbing his leg, Gojo changes the subject, talking about his latest travels somewhere, to which Gina is absolutely enthralled by. You listen passively, swirling your fingers around the ring of the glass. It’s getting late and you should head back to your apartment soon, knowing your thesis is stuck in your laptop, waiting to be submitted. You don’t want to leave until Gina is done working her magic on her new friend, so you wait, not bothering to converse with the guy next to you. He seems equally as unenthused as you do, now tapping one of his feet impatiently. 
Gojo eventually calls the waiter to pay the bill. After giving him your thanks, the four of you walk out of the bar together, ready to say your farewells. Or so you think. Once outside, Gojo and Gina look at you with guilt on their faces. You’ve known your friend long enough to predict where this is going. 
“So, Gojo and I are actually going to hang out a bit longer.”
He wraps his arm around her shoulders, smirking. “Yeah, Nanami and I have a room at the hotel across the street. I want to give Gina an exclusive tour. We should be done in about an hour or so.”
Nanami makes a strangled noise in his throat, clearly distraught. He can’t formulate a sentence, so you do it instead. “What are you really trying to tell us?”
“Well,” Gina starts. “We thought that since the two of us are hanging out, then the two of you can hang out somewhere else. Just until we’re done. With the tour.”
You roll your eyes, annoyed by the euphemisms, more irritated by the fact that you’re being temporarily stranded out here with someone who wants nothing to do with you.
“Please keep my dear friend company. I promise, we won’t take too long. But definitely not too short either,” he adds under his breath, him and Gina giggling like naughty schoolchildren. 
Nanami is still stunned, probably shocked that his friend would dump him like this. Before he can formulate a response, Gojo and Gina turn their backs, walking in the direction of the hotel. “Have fun! I know we will! We’ll call you when we’re done!” Gojo yells out, waving. Gina blows you a kiss before holding hands with him, leaving you two dumbfounded.
You stand beside Nanami in silence, unsure where to go from here. You’re familiar with this location, and you know there is plenty to do at this hour. But you have no clue what this guy likes. Does he like anything?
Clearing your throat, you say, “Well, I guess we have to kill time somewhere.”
He does the same, coughing into his forearm. “I suppose we have no choice.” 
“There’s a nearby bakery that’s always open late. Do you want to check that out?”
Focused on his shoes, he shrugs. That’s a good enough answer for you. 
You start heading down the familiar street, the shop being only two blocks away from the bar. The two of you walk in silence, Nanami trailing behind you, arms swinging slightly at his sides while you have your hands placed in your pockets. When you arrive to the bakery, you notice one of the workers you’re acquainted with, Susie, waving from the counter. You return her greeting with a warm smile.
Nanami seems intrigued, browsing through the assortment of baked goods. He reads each label carefully, head moving up, down, side to side, inspecting each pastry intently. “Their bread is amazing here,” you comment. “Perfect for sandwiches.”
He hums in response, leaning closer to the loaves of sourdough on display. This is the first you’ve seen him with a more relaxed expression on his face. Without the scowl, he actually seems friendly and approachable.
“The croissants are also really good. My favorites are chocolate and almond,” you suggest, pointing through the glass. 
To your surprise, Nanami ends up buying the chocolate one, per your recommendation. Susie, always a cheery smile plastered on her face, rings him up. She eyes you playfully, brow raised, but doesn’t say anything. When it’s your turn, you order two hot coffees, a spur of the moment decision. You have no idea how long you’re going to be stranded out here, so a nice pick-me-up wouldn’t hurt. You explain, “Coffee and croissants go perfectly together, don’t you think?” He looks at you, confused, then shrugs, walking away to find an empty table. 
Susie passes you the coffees, as well as creamer and a few packs of sugar. “Hot date tonight?” she asks quietly, a sly smirk on her face.
“No. We’re just stuck together for the next hour or so.”
“Well, I wouldn’t mind being stuck with a fine man like that,” she winks. “Have fun the rest of the night. Also, here.” She opens a small brown bag and sneaks an almond croissant inside. “On the house. You both should enjoy a tasty treat together.” She gathers all of your goods on a tray and slides it towards you, grinning. 
Nanami is seated in a corner of the shop, hands placed neatly on the surface, one on top of the other. When you arrive, you set the tray down, sitting in the chair across from him. “Here’s some cream and sugar for your coffee, in case you want any.”
He nods in acknowledgment, removing the lid to pour in two creams, two sugars. You do the same. He remains silent, brows in a tight knit, concentrating on stirring his coffee. It’s almost endearing the way he’s so focused on the most mundane tasks. Grabbing a napkin, you take your croissant out, ready to bite into it. Before you do, you offer, “Would you like to try some of this?”
Behind his specs, you can see surprise in his expression. He clears his throat, muttering, “Sure.” He takes his chocolate croissant out and begins to tear it in half. “We can split both of them and share.”
You grin. “Good idea.” His lips twitch, as if he wants to smile. 
You trade halves, first taking a bite into the chocolate before sipping on your coffee. You let out a satisfied, “Yum!”
This time, there’s no mistaking it; he does smile. “That’s a good sign,” he comments.
“I’ve had this plenty of times, but it’s always so good.”
He removes his glasses and folds them neatly into his breast pocket. You have a clear view of his eyes now, which are much kinder than you expect. He takes a bite, then smirks, wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin. 
“Well?”
“You’re right. This is definitely deserving of a yum.” The corner of his eyes crinkle. It feels like you’re finally getting through to him.
“See? I told you it’s good!” you say, moving to the almond croissant.
“If I knew you wanted one, I would have bought both of them for us.”
“Susie actually gave this to me on the house, so it all worked out.”
With a brow raised, he asks, “Do people usually give you delicious pastries for free?”
You laugh. “Ha, I wish. Just here. We’re friends.”
“That must be nice.” He nibbles on the rest of it, sips of coffee in between. 
“Why are you talking to me all of a sudden?” Maybe it’s the sudden rush of caffeine surging through your body that makes you decide to be bold and ask him straight up.
He’s caught off guard by your bluntness, clearing his throat nervously. “I wasn’t really in the mood to be social earlier this evening.”
“But you are now?” You rest your elbow on the table, hand tucked under your chin, studying him. 
He chuckles softly, wiping the other corner of his mouth with a new napkin. “I guess so. The croissants and coffee help.”
“So the way to your heart is through your stomach? Good to know,” you tease him, smirking.
“Is that something you’re interested in? Winning my heart?” He gives you a small grin as he meets your gaze. 
There’s a flutter in your belly, a skip in your heartbeat. It’s obvious he’s an attractive man; you were focused so much on his off-putting demeanor, you didn’t really think about it until now. Cheeks warm, you respond, “I’m trying to get to know you. We’re stuck with each other for tonight, might as well be friends.”
He nods, agreeing. It’s one night. All you’re doing is killing time together while you wait for your friends to finish their little rendezvous. The chances of ever seeing each other again after this are unlikely. Might as well make the most out of it.
The two of your finish your pastries in a comfortable silence. Only half an hour passes, and still no word from either of your friends. Suddenly, you remember that on Friday nights, street food vendors set up shop down the block from your current location. “Nanami, do you like street food?”
He meets your eyes again, smiling. “Absolutely.”
~~~
Nanami was desperate for a drink tonight. 
Him and Gojo are out of town, having completed a strenuous week of exorcising curses from several areas of this city. All he wanted was to consume alcohol, enough to get a good buzz going, then eat a late-night snack before heading to bed. He didn’t expect to find himself at a street food festival with a total stranger, having been rudely abandoned by Gojo. Though, he doesn’t mind his current situation. Anything involving food is something he always delights in. And the company isn’t so bad either. She’s actually quite nice. 
Nanami doesn’t like opening up to people. Ever since he went back into Jujutsu Sorcery, he made a promise to himself to never date, not wanting to subject any potential spouses to the horrors of the world he lives in. He keeps himself closed off on purpose, especially to strangers. It’s easier this way. Sure, it comes off rude and cold. And maybe he does get a bit lonely at times. It’s for the best; that’s how he justifies it. 
Yet, somehow, this woman is slipping through the cracks. He finds himself enjoying his time with her as they stroll through the street of food vendors, selling all types of delicacies: meat skewers, noodles, varieties of desserts. They even share a serving of Takoyaki because what kind of street food outing is it without a taste of that? 
They casually exchange bits and pieces about each other: hobbies, interests, favorite foods, the standard. Nanami has to remain especially cryptic about his real profession, a complicated topic to explain to normal civilians. Besides that, their conversations feel natural. Effortless. There’s no need to be closed off, considering they’re doing this for the time-being, until their two friends finish whatever fling they’re partaking in at the hotel. Their time together will end soon, going back to being strangers, never seeing each other again. Maybe that’s why he’s loosened up; all of this will be over as soon as it began. 
After having walked through the vendors once more, they rest at a table off to the side. Nanami finishes off the last piece before tossing the little tray into the trash can. He hasn’t checked his watch since they arrived, occupied with food, and chatting. It’s been about an hour and a half now, still no peep from either Gojo or Gina, though he isn’t anxiously waiting to hear from them. He tries thinking of something else they can do, besides sit here, and watch the clock. 
Before he can start suggesting ideas, she beats him to it. “Nanami, do you like karaoke?”
Again, he smiles at her, similar to earlier at the bakery. Chest swelling with an odd, but pleasant sensation. “Absolutely.”
Minutes later, they’re in a small private room at a karaoke bar, ordering a round of cold sake before the singing starts. She volunteers to go first, choosing a well-known pop hit, not at all embarrassed to belt out any high notes. Her voice isn’t bad, enough to carry a tune and to make Nanami, who is as tone-deaf as they come, not feel ashamed about singing in front of her. Halfway through the song, the sake arrives, and he pours it into the two cups, waiting for her performance to be over before passing her the glass. They cheers, then throw it back. She hands him the mic, teasing, “I expect a breathtaking performance.”
“Prepare yourself for disappointment, then,” he smirks, entering the number on the remote. He picks another popular song, one that he always like to start off with whenever he’s doing karaoke with Gojo and Shoko. In fact, he can’t remember doing karaoke with anyone besides his close friends. This is definitely the first in a while; he doesn’t feel as shy as he thought he would. The strobe lights in the dim space create an atmosphere where Nanami isn’t embarrassed to put on a show. He removes his coat and loosens his tie, to which she whistles playfully at him, causing him to laugh. “Don’t encourage me.”
“Oh I absolutely will encourage you,” she responds, leaning forward for a better view. “I’m so ready for this.”
Maybe it’s the alcohol taking its effect, though it wasn’t much. Or maybe he’s genuinely having a good time. Whatever it is, as soon as the melody kicks, he swings his hips to the beat, barely bothering to read the lyrics on the screen because he already has them memorized. From behind, he hears her clapping to the rhythm, giggling and singing along quietly, hollering when he nails a particularly hard note. 
The marathon continues, sake flowing into their mouths between songs until the bottle is empty and they’re both on their feet, dancing to the music. Mics in hand, they serenade each other, swaying to the upbeat tempo, smiles open wide with glee. Nanami tosses his tie to the couch, unbuttoning his shirt a quarter of the way down, sweat beading on his forehead, body hot from his buzz and merriment. Their playlist ranges from ballads, alternative rock, R&B, even a few classic Disney hits Nanami secretly likes to indulge in. At some point, Nanami offers his hand to twirl her, not letting go as he swings his arms with hers, grooving to the beat. Their fingers interlock, fitted to each other naturally. There’s no second guessing or doubts in his head that he wants to do this with her. It just feels right.
A worker comes in with a cold pitcher of water, informing them they have five more minutes left of their hour. Nanami is surprised how fast that hour flew. He swears they still had more time left. He can’t help feeling disappointed that it’s over; he still had more songs he wanted to sing before the night ended. 
He notices her checking her phone, probably waiting for that text from Gina, hoping that whatever this is ends soon. There’s a tightness in Nanami’s throat, and not from all the singing. He hasn’t bothered to check his phone the entire time they were here, hoping not to see any type of message from Gojo. He realizes in this moment that he doesn’t want this night to end. 
To his surprise, she sets her phone back down on the table, attention at the worker. “Can we book another hour?”
For the third time tonight, Nanami can’t contain his smile.
~~~
To say you’re surprised by this recent development is an understatement. You’re actually shocked that this is the same man you attempted small talk with just a hours earlier, only to be treated with the cold shoulder. Now, he’s spinning you around this small room, disco lights twinkling in each other’s eyes, laughing, carefree and happy. It’s contagious, and you have no choice but to join in on the fun. 
It’s not until there’s five minutes left of your reservation that you remember the reason you’re here in the first place. Checking your phone for any updates from Gina, you almost audibly breathe a sigh of relief, seeing no new messages. On a whim, you request another hour, not wanting this to end yet. You wonder if he feels the same way.
Halfway through your second hour, the two of you finally take a break, letting the preloaded list of songs you selected play in the background. You sit beside each other, closer than you’ve been all night, thighs touching, body heat radiating. From your peripheral, you observe him, watching his throat bob with each gulp of ice-cold water he takes, emptying the remnants into his mouth. Before he catches you, you look away, sipping on your own drink, suddenly nervous to be so near him, despite dancing with him the past hour and a half. 
He chuckles softly. “This was really fun.”
You turn to face him. “It was. You’re quite the performer.”
“I could say the same about you.” He stretches his arm behind you, setting it on the couch. The rolled-up sleeves of his polo graze your neck, making you more flustered. You remind yourself that this is totally normal, not a flirtatious response or anything. Just a guy casually resting his arm behind you, no big deal. 
“I feel like I’m going to lose my voice. But it was worth it,” he mentions. 
You face him again, beaming brightly. There’s an expression on his face you haven’t seen all night, as if he’s getting a proper look at you, studying you like he hasn’t seen you clearly until now. 
“Totally worth it,” you reply. Before you know it, you blurt out, “I don’t want this to end yet.”
At this, he blinks a few times, startled by your statement. “Really?”
You giggle, leaning closer to nudge his arm. “Yeah. Really.”
In an instant, your lips meet, mouths still cool from the ice water. He kisses you gently, both hesitant and sure of himself. He breaks away to ask, “Is this okay?”
You nod, sliding your hands to his nape to close the distance again. His arm slips behind your waist, hand gripped loosely on your hip, pulling you in, kisses getting sloppier. Tongues pushing past lips to swirl around each other. 
You can blame this hasty decision on the alcohol, but that wouldn’t be accurate. You’re tipsy at best, and you would bet money that he’s in the same state as you. This isn’t fueled by sake or by the sappy love song playing in the background. This is pure, unadulterated passion, building up the moment you shared those croissants together in that bakery. 
You giggle into his mouth as you swing your leg over his lap to straddle him. He has both hands on your waist now, peering at you with a naughty expression. “What can you possibly be giggling about right now?”
“I was just thinking about how I was right earlier. The way to your heart is through your stomach. Admit it; you fell for me as soon as I split my croissant with you.”
He pulls you in closer, nuzzling his nose against yours. “Okay, I admit it. You won my heart.”
His grip is tight on you, guiding your hips back and forth on his lap, his lips scattering delicate kisses along your neck, your hands messing up his hair as you run your fingers through it. There’s not enough time to process that this is actually happening. All you want is to feel him on every inch of your skin. His palms glide underneath your blouse, reaching for your bra, squeezing at your breasts. With his mouth now hot on your ear, he whispers, “I want you.”
You’re not thinking properly when you grab the hem of your shirt to hoist it off your body. Before you strip, there’s loud knocking on the door, startling the both of you. 
“We know what you’re doing in there!” a voice yells from the other side. “Cut it out before we call the police!”
Immediately, you remove yourself from him, unsuccessfully ignoring the obvious bulge in his pants. He’s reluctant to take his hands of you, giving your tits another loving fondle before relenting, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. Quickly gathering your belongings, you head towards the door, ready to do the walk of shame. Before you turn the handle, Nanami spins you around, kissing you once more. You melt into his mouth, fists bunching his dress shirt, his heart pounding through his chest. If it weren’t for the threat of the cops being called, you’re certain the two of you would go at it right here in this karaoke room. 
Another angry rap on the door snaps you both back to reality. You slowly exit the room, staring at the tile floor, avoiding eye contact with the disgruntled worker, crossing their arms at you. You pay for the room, then walk outside into the brisk night air. Nanami holds your hand, fingers entwined seamlessly, a perfect fit. 
Despite having spent the last few hours with him, it feels like the beginning of the night. You lean in to kiss him once more, craving his mouth on yours. He places his coat over your shoulders, surrounding you in a snug embrace, resting his chin on the top of your head. You stay like this for what seems like forever until it’s not enough, your phone vibrating in your purse, his ringing in his pocket. Gina’s name is displayed on your screen, and Gojo’s on his. That’s your cue; the final scene of the night. 
The two of you take your time walking back towards where your little adventure first started, holding hands like a couple familiar with each other. At the end of the day, you’re still strangers, one night not enough to establish a relationship. You’re certain neither of you wants this to end, not with the way he touches you, the way he gazes at you. There’s no doubt something’s there. The both of you are cowards, too afraid to admit these intense feelings to someone you hardly know. It’s easier to enjoy it in the moment, letting it fizzle out as midnight approaches, leaving it behind as a fond memory. 
That’s the problem, though. In the short amount of time you’ve spent with him, you’re already sure that you want to make more memories with him. 
In the distance, you spot Gina and Gojo, standing outside the bar, chatting as they await your return. You’re about to call out to them, but Nanami tugs you into the nearest alley, your cheeks between his palms, kissing you deeply. His thumb grazes your skin tenderly, sending a shiver down your spine. He pulls off, breathing staggered, forehead pressed against yours. 
You don’t want to say goodbye; this is what it is, right? Back to the real world. You have a thesis due in less than forty-eight hours, one that you forgot about until now, and Nanami is from out of town, soon to be back to his own life, which doesn’t include you. That’s just the way it is. 
Without a word, you shrug his coat off your shoulders, handing it to him with a gentle smile. He stares at you, wary, accepting it anyways in his hands, hanging it on his forearm neatly. He reaches for your hand, leading you back to the pathway under the streetlights, letting go as soon as you approach your friends.
Seeing you, Gojo yells out, “Hey!”
Gina waves, hair slightly disheveled, a satisfied grin on her face. Gojo asks, “So, did you two have fun tonight? I know we did.” Gina snorts, kicking him lightly at his ankle. 
Nanami clears his throat. “Yes. We had fun.”
Surprised, Gojo replies, “Really? Nanamin actually had fun? I’m in awe!”
Gina looks at you. “Did you have fun?”
“Yes. I had a lot of fun,” you answer. You turn to face Nanami, giving him one last smile. He returns it, nodding slightly. This really is the end of it. 
Your friend links arms with you, announcing, “Well, we should head home now! This girl still has a thesis to finish.” With that, Gina steers you in the direction of train station, waving farewell to the two men. 
~~~
Nanami begrudgingly follows Gojo back to the hotel room. He gives his friend an abridged version of tonight’s festivities, to which Gojo seems thrilled about on his behalf. “You had almost as exciting of a night as I did! Almost. That Gina is a real firecracker.”
He sits at the end of his bed, only now realizing they didn’t even exchange contact info. In the heat of the moment, it didn’t cross his mind, too focused on her soft lips and gentle touch. He leans forward, burying his face in his palms, groaning. “I forgot to ask for her number.”
Gojo chuckles, patting his shoulder. “How can you forget that?”
“Everything happened so fast. We ran out of time.” 
The realization of it hits him hard. This can’t be it; there’s no way it can be. He won’t accept that this is the end of them, not after what happened. He’ll do whatever it takes to see her again. Fuck the vow he made to not date; whatever this is, it’s worth it.
“I don’t know what to do,” Nanami muffles through his hands, defeated.
Gojo sits beside him, massaging his shoulders, something Nanami usually hates, too distressed to shove him away. “Well, my dear friend, lucky for you, I have Gina’s number.” 
At this, Nanami turns to his friend, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. 
With a cocky smirk, Gojo says, “Let’s go get your girl.”
--------------------
Tagging @liliorsstuff-blog, another fic of our husband, hope you like it!
Stay tuned for part two!
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all-mirth-no-matter · 3 months
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Time After Time | Chapter Fourteen
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character
Summary: Startling revelations ensue after drinking the tea. While you wait for Tommy to return, Benji comes in search for another date. Ada takes you shopping for a new dress to wear to the races.
Warning: language, slight supernatural (kinda?), harassment (not anything explicit but not fun), less tommy in this one but promise next chapter will make up for it!
ao3 link | catch up on tumblr here
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Chapter 14: Raise Hell
I found myself an omen, and I tattooed on a sign. I set my mind to wandering, and I walk a broken line. You have a mind to keep me quiet, and although you can try. Better men have hit their knees, and bigger men have died. 
It came upon a lightning strike, and eyes of bright clear blue. I took that tie from around my neck, and gave my heart to you. I sent my love across the sea, and though I didn’t cry. That voice will haunt my every dream, until the day I die.
— Raise Hell, Brandi Carlile 
The tea cup landed on the rug with a soft thud, the hot liquid spilling at your feet — though you couldn’t feel a degree of it. 
Your mouth gapped open at the sight before you — your mother, sitting on the rug across from you, her legs crossed same as yours, as she smiled at you. 
“This isn’t real,” you whispered, still too surprised to move, your heart racing. 
Your eyes searched over your mother’s features, looking for some hint of something fake to indicate the trick that was being played here. 
But there was your mother — as plain as day. There was no otherworldly glow or translucent quality. She looked solid, wearing the same kind of modern shirt and jeans that she would have been wearing back when she was alive, looking very out of place against the 20th century backdrop. 
The only difference between the person in front of you and the memory of your mother was the smile on her face. 
“Real is quite relative, don’t you think, Y/N?”
Her voice sounded the same as well, if not maybe stronger than it had in her last handful of years. 
Instinct to combat your mother reared its ugly head as you scoffed and responded involuntarily, “Quite relative to whether I’m hallucinating or dreaming, sure.” 
Your mother chuckled, “I’ve missed you, my darling. We have so much to talk about.” 
Swallowing, you accepted that whether dream, hallucination, ghost, or indeed real, you’d done this for a reason. You’d been given this opportunity by the Delphi for a reason. It was now or never, and you couldn’t let a little thing like freaking out over talking to your dead mother stand in your way. 
“Do you know what’s happened to me?” you asked, feeling yourself sit up a little straighter. 
Her smile fell, eyes moving around the bedroom before landing back on you, running down the clothes you were wearing. “The curse. It finally came for you, too.” 
“Too? Are you saying—“
“Yes. I too was pulled from my present and into the past. As was my mother, and her mother, and her mother before that.” 
You couldn’t believe it. Of all the things you had expected, this hadn’t even crossed your mind. “How far back?” you wondered aloud.
She shrugged, “Centuries, I suppose. All the first born daughters of this cursed lineage. Cursed to know the future, because it’s our past.” 
So that was the schtick, you realized. You couldn’t predict the future, but you could recall it from a past that hadn’t happened yet — as long as you’d been paying attention. Your mother’s insistence of learning history now made more sense. 
And yet, there was still a big question, one you asked aloud, “Why?”
“I don’t know. That is still a mystery.” Your mother dropped her head slightly out of shame, “Even in death, I’m still searching for answers.” 
I curse you, Cassandra! The voice from your dreams echoed through your head and a crazy realization hit you. “Who was the first?”
Your mother swallowed. “When you were born, I saw a vision of my daughter. A woman who would know the future, just like I did. I heard the whisper of a name. It should have been a warning, but I was under a lot of drugs and hormones and thought the name was pretty. So did your father. We already had your first name picked out so on the spot agreed to name you Cassandra. I had no idea it was the name of our matriarch — of the first to be cursed.” 
“So it’s true, we come from the original Cassandra of Troy?” Your mother nodded and you shook your head. “But that doesn’t make any sense. Say the stories are true — say the Greek Gods really existed — she could actually tell the future and she’s from the ancient past.” 
“Another mystery.” 
You huffed, so sick of the ambiguity. 
“I’m sorry,” your mother said softly, causing you to meet her eyes again. “For lying to you all those years, for confusing you. For causing you grief and madness.” 
You felt a lump in your throat, your chest tight at hearing the acknowledgment you’d wished for your whole childhood. Your brain wanted to comfort her, tell her it was alright, but your heart was more wounded than you’d ever realized.
You swallowed down the rise of tears that were threatening to build and changed the subject. “When were you born?” 
She blinked, aware of your deflection method, and answered. “The early 2020s.” 
“But that’s so—“
“Close?” your mother sighed. “Yes. I grew up blissful — my mother never mentioned her own displacement. So when I was stripped from my loved ones in 2040 to 1990, I was distraught. I was lucky to meet your father, though regretfully I was never able to open myself up completely to him, still mourning the loss of my first love. I would jump from fits of madness to total denial. After we had you, I thought things would be different. But as you grew, I became more suspicious that you would also be stripped away from me, or I you, and the fear drove me mad. So I tried to prepare you. But the closer I got to my own birth date, the madder I became and more desperate for answers I grew. Eventually, I became convinced that I’d made the whole thing up. The line between reality and delusion became nonexistent.”
You felt the tears begin to pool again as you thought about your own struggles with reality since arriving here. Madam Despoina had told you that you were stronger than your mother. But that wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. 
“I’m sorry for your father, as well,” she went on. You opened your mouth to protest, but she stopped you. “I was able to warn him about certain events — terrorism, the housing bubble, natural disasters — but I couldn’t save him, not in the end.”
“Did you ever tell him? Properly, that is?” You found yourself asking, thinking about Tommy.
Your mother shook her head. “Not directly. The best I could come up with was the gift of prophecy. After a while of telling that story, a part of me began to believe it. Believe it for you.”
“I’m sorry,” you found yourself saying, “for being so hard on you. I didn’t understand—“
“And now you do,” she said with a soft smile, “more now than ever. And unfortunately, darling, I’m going to have to put pressure on you one final time.” 
“What do you mean?”
“The curse — it must be broken. You have to find a way to break it.” 
“Me? Why—“ your words stopped as you thought about Madam Despoina’s prophecy. “‘You have a chance to mend ancient mistakes. Break the cursed chain, end the line of travel.’ A woman from the Delphi family who said she was a descendent of the Pythia told me that.” 
She smiled knowingly again, “Your tattoo, ya?”
Your mouth dropped slightly, “You knew?” 
“I have the same one. I had the same impulse before I was pulled away. I didn’t even know you had it until I—“ she cut herself off, looking somber again before clearing her throat. “It’s the tree of knowledge, of balance. But how were you able to find them?”
“I’ve met some people since arriving here. A Romani family that I’ve grown quite close to. One of the brothers specifically, he— he helped me find them.” 
Your mother hummed as she listened, her eyes moving again to the space around you. “What year is this exactly?” 
“January 1919.” Your mother’s eyes widened. “I’ve been here a few months now.” 
“And I thought fifty years was a shock,” she murmured. “Remarkable. Although the interwar period has it’s merits I suppose. Roaring 20s, jazz, rise of automotives, electricity, women’s suffrage. Though suppose it also has it’s negatives: Great Depression, prohibition, facisism, gangsters—“ You must have had a reaction, because your mother paused. “This man, is he a nice man?”
You swallowed at that, your eyes shifting. “I think he wants to be. But the circumstances are a little more complicated.” 
“Complicated like organized crime complicated?” She retorted, and you were surprised at her humor in the situation. “Oh sweetheart, you didn’t—“ 
You scrunched your face, “I didn’t mean to. There’s been odd coincidences between us since even before we met. I had a vision of him the night I woke up here. He had one of me as well. And then there’s the other dreams—“
“What dreams?”
You took a deep breath, feeling once again like you were in a room filled with puzzle pieces trying to figure out which was the right piece to pick up and share with your mother. “I’ve had dreams. Very real feeling dreams of myself as Cassandra in ancient Troy. They’ve just been pieces though, it still feels incomplete.” 
“You’ve got a strong connection to her,” your mother mused. “There has to be something in those dreams, that story, that can help you?” 
Shifting in your place, she rose her brow at you. A wave of nostalgia hit you as you recalled the look many times from your childhood. She knew you had more. 
“The Delphi woman, Madam Despoina, she— she called him Apollo. It’s his face I see in my dreams when I, as Cassandra, am with him, as Apollo. But I— I don’t know what that means.”
Her eyes narrowed as the muscle in her cheek flinched, “And does he mean something to you?” 
Her question caused your brow to furrow. “What does that have to do with this?” 
“Mother’s intuition, I suppose,” she smiled. “It’s been good to see you, my darling.” 
“What do you—“ 
You blinked. 
She was gone. 
——-
You woke up the next morning on the cold floor of your apartment, the empty tea cup still laying on the rug. 
“Mum!” you exclaimed with a jolt upward, looking to the spot in front of you. 
But of course, no one was there. You were as alone in your apartment as you’d been when you arrived last night.
You reached for the tea cup and knew that it didn’t matter. Yesterday you might have tried to argue with yourself that you’d simply been dreaming or hallucinating, but the time for denial was over. 
Whatever this stuff had been that Madam Despoina gave you had given you the ability to talk with your mother last night. 
As you got ready for your shift at the Garrison, you tried to go through everything your mother had said to you, trying to commit it to memory, afraid that any little bit of it could slip away. 
You were going through it for about the twentieth time when a patron cleared his throat at the bar. 
“Apologies, I was—“ you turned and your customer service smile fell, “Oh, Benji, hello.” 
“I was just coming by to see when you were available next,” he said, offering you his most handsome smile. “No deaths or births or any other excuses this time, eh?”
Your brow lifted, finding that statement slightly rude. It’s not as if you’d blown him off for a headache or something minor — someone had died. 
But you knew what you had to do. Benji had been nothing but nice, if not a little forward, with you since you’d meet. It’d been wrong of you to accept his invitation when you were feeling alone and rejected. You couldn’t allow him to continue to believe he had a shot, but there was no reason to be rude about it. 
“I’ve been thinking about that, Benji, and I just— I don’t think it’s such a great idea.” His smile slowly began to fall as you talked, his brow creasing. “I shouldn’t have accepted in the first place,” you continued, feeling awkward and guilty. 
“Come on, love, you haven’t even given me a chance,” he tried to defend, pulling another smile on his face, though it didn’t reach his eyes. 
“I wasn’t ready to start anything. I’m still— I’m still adjusting and I—“
“Hmm,” Benji shoved his fists in his pocket. “And this wouldn’t have anything to do with the rumors going around of you and Tommy, would it?”
Your mouth opened slightly at the allegation, but you couldn’t form any kind of defense. Instead you crossed your arms, “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” 
“Liar,” he hissed, slamming his fist to the bar top. The handful of patrons in the pub looked toward them, curious by the commotion. Benji noticed the eyes and cleared his throat, lowering his voice as he lifted his finger. “You’re making a big mistake, Y/N. Tommy-boy can’t sit on the throne forever, I’ll make sure of that.” 
He gave you a wicked smile as he turned and left the pub, slamming the door on his way out. 
You contemplated whether you should tell anyone about your interaction with Benji. Unsure if his threats were real or brought on simply by rejection and jealously, you decided to stay quiet for now. 
Things had been quiet for a few days afterwards, but slowly you began to notice some major irregularities in the books. Benji’s numbers were showing signs of stealing again. It started off small, similar to what it’d been when you originally became suspicious of him. But now it was quite obvious.
Finally, you came to the conclusion that you had no choice but to bring this to Polly’s attention. It was early in the morning before the shop opened. Polly was helping with John’s kids while Ada was MIA (though if you were a betting woman, you’d say she was with Freddie), and you found yourself sitting alone at the kitchen table, book open in front of you as you felt weirdly conflicted over Benji’s malfeasance.
In the past, you hadn’t been aware of what happened to the people you reported. But now, you knew that there were physical repercussions for stealing from the Shelbys, even as extreme as death. And whether it was guilt for leading him on or some piece of you that still believed that deep down he was a good guy — you began to contemplate whether he deserved a fair warning before you officially reported him. If he knew that he wasn’t as sneaky as he thought he was, that someone was paying attention to him, maybe he’d realize his mistake and end it before something bad happened to him.
You got up to get some tea, trying to think through how exactly you were going to warn him without giving yourself away, when the front door opened.
“How were the kids?” You asked over your shoulder as you poured, assuming Polly had returned.
“Y/N?”
A deeper voice than you expected came from behind you. Spinning around, you were surprised to find the man himself standing in the kitchen doorway.
Your heart rate surged when his eyes moved curiously from you to the table, the open diary and pencil next to it.
“You–” he started, the gears in his head turning to process the scene in front of him. “It’s been you all along.”
“What are you–” you tried to discreetly walk toward the other set of doors, but Benji rounded the table quicker than you, cutting off your escape routes.
What was the saying about good intentions?
“Benji you shouldn’t—“ you tried to lift up your arms between you.
His eyes narrowed and he took a step toward you. Your back hit the counter behind you as he caged you in. “It’s you isn’t it? I kept trying to figure out how it was Lenny and Jackson got stitched. And there you were all along — the little mouse hiding in plain sight.”
“Get off me!” You shouted as you tried to push him away, but he grabbed your arms. You tried to use some of the self defense moves you’d learned, but Benji was stronger than you’d anticipated, and much more sober than the last man you had to fight off of you in the pub. He spun you around and pinned your arms behind your back, pressing his weight onto you so you were pinned even tighter against the shelves and counter. You tried to kick, but he had your legs locked between his.
You were completely defenseless.
“You think you can fuck with me—“
“I wasn’t— I haven’t said anything–,” you gasped out, your face against the shelves as you tried to catch your breath while still struggling to get him off you. You felt the tears begin to fall down your face as you felt helpless.
“And you fucking won’t! You killed my mates. I’m gonna make you wish you’d never met Tommy—“
“Oi!”
Polly’s voice shouting from the doorway finally caused Benji to release you. At the slightly feel of freedom, you pushed him off and ran for the other other end of the kitchen. You grabbed a near empty bottle near you and threw it at him. He ducked as it broke against the wall behind him.
“Out!” Polly shouted, grabbing his arm and pushing him out the door. “And don’t you dare come back!”
Benji was shouting as well, raving that he was a Peaky Blinder dammit, and no one could stop him from getting what he wanted.
He looked back at you as he said that and you shivered.
Sure, you were shaken by being manhandled like that by someone you thought was a good enough man. But more than that, you were angry. This had been the second time since you’d been here that a man thought he could toss you around like you were some kind of doll.
Polly turned back toward you, and immediately got busy pouring you a cup of tea. She let you take your time as you finally launched into explanation. At the end, she calmly rose from her seat and found Scudboat in the betting den, who’d shown up at some point in all your distraction. You watched as she whispered in his ear and then calmly again walked back toward the kitchen. She reached into a drawer and pulled out a small handgun.
“You know how to use this?” 
Nodding, she handed it to you and told you to keep it on you from now on. 
“Go back to work, Y/N. Benji won’t be bothering you again.” 
——-
Polly had been right. Another week went by and you hadn’t seen or heard a peep from Benji. Part of you wondered if the bastard was dead, and you weren’t sure how exactly you felt when you realized that you didn’t really care. 
You also wondered if Tommy knew now about what happened with Benji. You hadn’t heard from him since he left again, but knew from Polly and Ada that they’d be back by the following weekend. 
In all the excitement, you’d forgotten about Tommy’s invitation to the races. When Ada burst into your apartment to announce that they were going shopping, you’d been surprised. It’d been a while since you’d been to the shops, but you weren’t going to deny the opportunity to find something nice to wear to your first race. 
“I’ve been crying nonstop for weeks,” Ada explained as you both walked around, looking at different fabrics as she pointed out some options. “Every little thing sets me off, I tell ya. I thought it was because of the funeral, but Martha and I weren’t really that close. Suppose it’s sympathy for the kids. Dunno. It’s been making me so tired though. I think I may be ill or something.” 
“Maybe,” you mused, grabbing the dress she handed you. 
A woman caught the corner of your eye. At your gaze, she dropped her head and turned. 
You ignored her, used to people staring when she was out with Ada. You hadn’t understood it when you’d first become friends, but now you realized. 
When you saw her again at the next shop, you began to feel less like it was accidental. 
“Hi,” you greeted when you met her eyes again. She looked away and tried to leave, but you spoke again, “Can I help you?” 
The woman stopped finally and turned, her head down slightly sheepishly. She wore a small hat and trendy dress, her hair was cut short like most women of the day, and you could tell she was quite tall, though she seemed to slouch slightly. Her facial features were sharp, complimenting her slim body shape. She was quite beautiful, and in your day could see her being the ideal supermodel. But the bags under her eyes and wornness of her skin led you to believe that her story probably wasn’t that simple. Not here, in Small Heath. 
“Pardon?” She finally said innocently, trying to subtly give you a once over as well. 
You shrugged, “It just seemed like you were needing something from me. My mistake.” 
You turned to leave but she spoke again. “This is incredibly improper of me, but I saw you and I just— you and Tommy, ya?” 
As you turned back to her, your brow creased. Instinct had you looking around for Ada. Ever since your encounter with Benji, you’d been edgier than you’d ever been, always looking for the exits and for familiar faces to run toward. It made you feel incredibly vulnerable and you absolutely hated it. You felt your fingers grip the strings of your handbag, knowing the gun Polly had given you was safely tucked away inside.
Swallowing, you resounded yourself to shake it off, to toughen up, and you straightened your shoulders as you addressed the stranger once again. “Excuse me?” 
“My sister saw you both walking home often late at night. I suppose he’s moved on, I shouldn’t be surprised.” She was rambling now, her cheeks blushed as if she were embarrassed by her own words. “I know we shouldn’t be speaking of this, not in public at least. It’s just hard, y’know, losing a customer. Especially one like him.” 
Customer. You looked over the stranger in front of you again and tried to think of any other instance where her phrasing would make sense aside from the very clear one that came to mind. 
Ada called for you, reaching you with a handful of dresses. You turned back to the woman who nodded and made her leave. 
“Ada, who was that?” 
She craned her neck and clicked her teeth. “Ah, that was Lizzie Stark. Surprised you haven’t seen her around town. Though why would you, less you were payin’ I suppose. Here, try these on.” 
——-
It’d been a while since you’d been on a real date. Even before you’d been sent to this place, dates had started to dwindle as you got older and got more choosy. For a while, starting in college, you’d easily been able to flirt with someone new, get to know them, and then start a fling for a while until one or both of you got bored. The couple serious relationships you’d had were harder for you. Being vulnerable hadn’t come easy for you, and it created commitment and trust issues. Dates became more complicated than they were worth. 
Tommy had greeted you at your place, and you surprised yourself with how much you missed him in the few weeks he’d been away. There was something about his presence, knowing that he was here, in the city, gave you a wave of some kind of safety and security that you hadn’t realized you’d been missing. 
He looked tired, though he smiled at you warmly as he walked you toward the family car, and offered you a hand in as you climbed in. 
This had been the first time you’d actually been excited for a date since possibly high school. 
And of course, Harry had to go and buzz kill your mood the day before the races. He hadn’t meant to, of course. After the Benji incident, he’d been extra protective and cautious. You’d explained the situation (without the stealing money from the Shelbys part) and he’d been surprisingly sensitive. But he believed his recent pub decision would make you feel better instead of make you sour.
“Somethin’ the matter?” He asked when you were quieter than he expected. “If this is about Hancock—“
“No,” you answered, already knowing from Polly that Tommy and the brothers had learned of Benji’s malfeasance, but he’d disappeared before Scudboat and Lovelock could find him. You’d cursed your previous self for trying to be sympathetic toward the man — it seemed like you’d just made everything worse. “It’s nothing honestly, just something silly.” 
“Go on, then. I can handle silly.” 
Your cheek flinched as you looked over toward Tommy, humored by him even saying the word ‘silly’. He rose his eye brow as he looked over to you, offering you a smirk before pulling his eyes back to the road. 
“Harry’s putting in an advertisement in the paper for another barmaid.” 
Tommy’s smirk turned into a frown, “Is he mad? The place wouldn’t be standin’ without you — I’ve seen the numbers, I know. I’ll have a word with Harry—“
“He’s not replacing me,” you quickly corrected. “I thought the same thing, but he wants me to concentrate more on the books and said he’d rather bring someone in part time to fill in behind the bar.” 
“Ah,” his brow creased as he gave you a short look. “The problem, then?” 
You sighed, knowing that you were being childish. “I’m just feeling territorial, is all. I know I’m not technically being replaced, but part of it feels that way. Did I mention I have a small case of control issues? I blame it on being an only child.” 
Tommy chuckled softly and shook his head. “You have nothing to worry about. If anything it’ll leave more time for you to do your real job.” 
“My real job?” You asked him curiously. 
“The Shelby business, ‘course. Wheels are already in motion, and today we’re going to enact the second part of my plan.” 
“And that is?” 
Tommy smiled, “Gonna buy a horse.”
>> next chapter << chapter masterlist
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likedovesinthewindd · 10 months
Note
Request for reader taking Rues place in s1 ep2 when mouse pays a visit to Fez
ofc, hope you like!
fezco x fem!reader (season one ep 02: stuntin' like my daddy)
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warning: drug use/abuse, coercion, violence, swearing, slight sexual language, mentions of overdosing, after effects of naloxone (narcan) and fentanyl like nausea, urinary retention, drowsiness.
wc: ±2465
a/n: requests welcome!
gif not mine, all credit to original creator.
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The only time you'd ever really see Fez at a party was if he was dealing. He wasn't one who really enjoyed going out or being around a lot of people, but parties were one of the fastest ways to sell his shit, and a guy's gotta eat. On the days he had all to himself, he'd often be at home doing nothing.
The only thing he enjoyed more than relaxing at home, was relaxing at home with you. You seemed to have that effect on him; he enjoyed doing things more when you were around. He'd take you shopping because he knew you'd buy actual food and not just any random stuff with no nutritional value. He'd take you with him on random night drives through the city because you had the best playlists to listen to and he wouldn't admit it, but he secretly loved listening to the different genres of music you enjoyed. He always enjoyed having your presence around the house, and around him.
Right now, however, he really really wished you had stayed home. Not that he didn't want to see you, but he was about 5 minutes away from doing business with one of his suppliers (not one of the nicests guys either), and he didn't want to anywhere near when they arrived.
"Hold on, you can't be in here right now," he drawled nervously when he saw your wet frame enter the living room. "I just came to make you guys dinner, got everything for your favorites," you smiled as you made your way inside, placing the groceries you had bought on the kitchen table. You toed off your shoes and made your way to Fez's room. "Nah, you gotta go Y/N," he said following after you.
"Why, am I not welcome anymore?" you joked, looking through his drawers for dry clothes. You settled for a pair of old sweatpants and a t-shirt you had forgotten there, and swiftly changed.
"I'm serious, come back in a few hours but right now you gotta get the fuck up outta my house," he said seriously. You frowned at his words. Was he seriously going to kick you out in the middle of a rainstorm? "It's fucking pouring outside, Fez. I can just—"
"Nah you ain't listening, you gotta go right now before these motherfuckers come through," he interrupted you. By now you had grown irritated by his behavior. "Who are you talking about?" you asked angrily, walking past him to go sit on the couch in the living room. "My guy's boutta come through and I don't want you here when he gets here, you understand?" he said following you. Right. His guy, as in his supplier. You were on the verge of asking him what the big deal was if you just stayed out of their way for the few minutes, when his phone buzzed from the table he was previously sitting at.
You peered behind the back of the couch towards the table and then back at him. He did the same, and when your eyes met, you could see the anger mixed with fear on his face. "I could fuckin' kill you right now," he muttered before reaching for his walkie talkie. "Yo Ash, they here," he spoke into it before he started packing stacks of money into a paper bag.
By now you had grown a bit nervous at what was about to go down. Fez never allowed you to join him when he was doing any of his deals. He wanted to keep you as far away as possible from that side of his life, and right now you were about to meet one of his suppliers.
He walked over to the couch were you still sat frozen in fear, pushing his hands between the two cushions and pulling out a gun, checking to see if it was loaded. Your eyes widened before meeting his. "Look I'm serious Y/N," he said quietly, "just stay right there, keep your mouth shut and be cool. These dudes ain't fuckin' around." You could only nod in response, watching closely as he placed the gun back between the cushions.
☆☆☆☆
To say the big bald guy with the face tattoos currently standing behind you was scary, would be one hell of an understatement.
"So this your little bitch?" you heard him ask. You didn't dare turn around, nervously clasping your hands together in your lap to stop them from shaking too visibly. "Nah bruh, that's my girl," Fez subtly corrected him as the guy made his way around the back of the couch. He kneeled infront of the couch and extended his hand in greeting. "Well hello there," he said. You nervously unclasped your hands and placed one in his, which he took and kissed softly. You wanted to retract your hand from the feeling of his cold, dry lips on your skin, but you had no idea if that could potentially piss him off, and you didn't want to find out what he'd do if he got mad.
"My name is Mouse, it's a pleasure to meet you," he said. How ironic you thought, but you couldn't find anything humorous in the way his stare sent chills down your spine. When he walked away you looked over to Fez again, who was sitting right across from you. He gave you a small nod as you tried your best to calm down your racing heart.
Mouse started unpacking and naming all the diffrent drugs he had available. You tried not to look as shocked as you felt, but truth was you weren't used to all of it. Yeah your boyfriend was a drug dealer, but you didn't do drugs, and he's made it his life's mission to keep it that way You turned around and caught a glimpse of all the different bottles and pills all packed in big plastic zip lock bags.
"7750," Mouse's lackey Custer said as he finished calculating the price of everything at a quite impressive speed. Fez quickly got the paper bag with the money, throwing it to Mouse, who threw it to Custer. "Sure you don't want no Fentanyl?" he asked. "Nah man I'm cool off that shit. Too many OD's, man. I don't want the heat," Fez said calmly.
Mouse turned around to where you sat. "How about you pretty girl," he asked, "you ever tried Fentanyl?"
"No," you said quietly, still looking down at your lap. "Nah, she's good bro," Fez said as Mouse took a seat next to you on the couch and placing his arm behind you on the back of it. He used his outstretched hand to play with the loose strands of your hair. "You gonna let your boy talk for you?" he asked with a smile. You looked over at Fez, not knowing of you should answer him or not. "I don't know—"
"Don't look at him, look at me." You felt as though you might burst into flames if you did look at him. You turned your head slightly towards him, and you were met with a smile that made your stomach churn nervously. "You ever tried it?" he asked again.
"Yo forreal bruh, I don't want her fuckin' wit that shit," Fez said through a clenched jaw. You could hear the irritation and anger in his voice. Whether it was aimed at you for being here right now or at Mouse talking to you, you didn't know.
Mouse ignored Fez's talking, moving closer to you until his mouth was at your ear. "You know that feeling when you cum so hard you can't feel or hear shit?" he asked. You frowned, turning your face away from him and looking down at your lap once again. You didn't want to answer him, you didn't want to be talking to him anymore. "You like that feeling?" he added. You couldn't do anything but nod dumbly, afraid of what he might do if you ignored him.
"Well shit, you gon' love this."
Soon he was reaching for his pockets, pulling out a knife and a pouch of liquid Fentanyl, placing a small amount of the substance on the tip of the blade. He bought it closer to your face, and before you could think you were instinctively shaking your head and moving your head away from the knife.
"I don't— I don't think I should," you said softly. "What, you don't trust me?" he asked. "Yo for real man, she's good," Fez said desperately trying to diffuse the situation. He was praying that you didn't come close to that blade, he didn't want you using that shit at all. "Shut the fuck up bitch," Mouse said, still looking at you, "ain't nobody talkin' to you."
"Tell your boy I ain't talking to him right now. Tell him to shut the fuck up," he said to you. You looked over at Fez, the tears already burning behind your eyes. "C'mon don't be scared. It won't bite you." His voice bought your attention back to the blade that was still infront of your face.
"C'mon, try it."
Fez was shaking his head at you, praying that you weren't stupid enough to take up his offer. You were shaking like a leaf. You didn't know what to do, you just wanted to get out of this situation as fast as possible.
Without a second thought you placed your mouth on the tip of the knife and licked the substance off. Please don't let me die the words replayed in your head over and over and over as you felt yourself slowly and quietly slip into a diffrent state. After a while you couldn't even sit up straight anymore, and you found yourself softly falling on the couch cushion. Please don't let me die please don't let me die please don't let me die please—
"It hits quick," you heard Mouse's voice faintly as you tried desperately to hold onto some form of lucidity. Fez was watching you closely, trying to see if you were still conscious. "You like the way that feels?" he asked placing your leg over his lap. "Mhm," you managed to get out through lips that felt as heavy as concrete. "You wanna couple of patches pretty girl?" he asked and you replied with what you hoped was a yes. He got the patches from his jacket pocket and placed them beneath the waistband of your sweatpants.
"Its gon' cost you three hundred," he said to you, but looking over at Fez, "C'mon, pay up pretty girl."
"I only have like, seven dollars on me," you said, slurring your words like a drunk. "I said three hundred," Mouse repeated running his fingertips along your leg. "I bought like, groceries and shit." You could feel the drool running out your mouth and down your cheek, but it felt like your body was nailed to the couch. You felt so relaxed, so good and fuzzy that you couldn't even be bothered by the drool.
"Yo Mouse, lemme pay for it man," Fez spoke up. "I thought you was too good for Fentanyl" Mouse said with a taunting smile. "What is it, everybody changing they motherfuckin' minds on me?" he asked turning to Custer who sat on the back edge of the couch laughing.
"She can't afford it, she gon' have to find another way of paying me. Straight up," he said, now rubbing along your leg. "Ok," you replied, thinking he was still talking to you. Fez wanted nothing more than to pull out the gun from between the two cushions and shoot Mouse right there and then. He could feel himself getting angrier with every stroke of Mouse's hand along your clothed leg.
"Yo man, jus' lemme pay for it. Got the money right here."
Fez stood up from the couch, and placed three hundreds in Mouse's hand. "Damn, your boy must love you. Its gon cost you six hundred now, man."
☆☆☆☆
After Fez gave Mouse his extra money he counted the bills before standing up to leave. "It's always a pleasure doing business with you," he smiled, pushing your leg from his lap and getting up from the couch. As soon as the door closed behind him, Fez stood up, taking the Fentanyl Mouse had left on the couch and calling Ash. "Flush that shit down the toilet, and go grab the Narcan, just in case," he said placing the pouch in Ash's hand.
He went over to the couch were you were still laying quietly and motionless, your one leg still hanging off the couch. He carefully pulled it back up the couch, maneuvering it to prevent you from rolling onto your stomach, and covered your body with the small blanket that layed by the couch's end. He sat by your head on the couch, softly stroking your hair and praying that you were okay. Your eyes fluttered open when you felt his soft touch on your head. "'M sorry," you slurred, trying to keep your eyes open, to stay awake. Your breathing was irregular and soft, and you felt a dull discomfort in your chest.
"It's ok," he said softly, wiping away the layer of sweat from your forhead. "I ain't leaving you."
When Ash returned with the Narcan you were quickly given some in each nostril and after a while your breathing returned to a somewhat normal tempo. You couldn't fight the urge to sleep anymore and soon you were closing your eyes and dozing off.
☆☆☆☆
You layed in bed next to Fez feeling like absolute shit. You couldn't fall asleep. The dull pressure in your bladder and the constant nausea made it impossible to get comfortable. You turned around slowly, to find Fez laying next to you, his eyes trained on you. He hadn't left your side since your little run-in with Mouse, and had you stay with him until you felt better. He even went as far as to ask one of your friend to bring you clean clothes from your house.
"How you feelin'?" he asked, voice thick from sleep. You only shook your head no, you couldn't even find the strength to talk. "You want some' to eat?" he asked softly. The mention of food made your stomach churn uncomfortably and before you knew it you were jumping out of bed and making a beeline for the bathroom for what felt like the millionth time.
You felt Fez's hand rubbing circles into your back softly as you threw up once again. "Let it all out, baby," you heard him say softly. He knew you hated throwing up, and he hated seeing you ill, so he tried his best to give you any sort of comfort.
After you finished you flushed the toilet and wiped your mouth. The cold tiles beneath your knees and the warm press of Fez's hand against your even warmer body grounded you. "I'm sorry for taking that shit," you said through quiet sobs. You hadn't even noticed you'd been crying. "Is alright," Fez said softly. He hated seeing you cry more than anything. "You'll be alright, okay?" he said, pulling you into a hug, "I ain't going no where. Gonna look after my girl."
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Text
To Date a Criminal
Bucky Barnes X Celebrity!F!Reader
Word Count: 1,800ish
Warnings: Angst | Talk of ending relationships | Asshole Interviewers | Language | Brief mentions of sexism | Fluff? 
Summary: Bucky’s history is a problem to some of Y/N’s fans
Author’s note: This is more angsty than I originally intended, but life is a shitty mess so there’s no point sugar coating it lmao. Unedited. Didn’t know what to call it, so this is what I landed with.
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"A-list celebrity Y/N Y/L/N is speculated to be romantically involved with ex-assassin James Barnes, the Winter Soldier. A lot of people believe that Barnes should be convicted of the numerous murders that he committed over the course of the Cold War, but Y/L/N seems to have no issue flaunting her criminal boyfriend on every platform she has a voice. The 108-year-old man was once a close friend to Capt-" Sam turned the TV off. Bucky stared at the blank screen for a little longer, before swallowing heavily and looking down. Sam wanted to say something but struggled to find the words.
Bucky sighed. "This is fucked," he said after a moment. He appeared to be fairly calm about it, before he slammed his fist down on the table, leaving a small dent in the wood. "What the fuck?" He shouted out, as Sam crossed his arms.
"Buck, you know better than to listen to that shit," he said. Bucky turned to him, shaking his head.
"It's not about me listening to them." He started. "Y/N is being attacked. Even if she doesn't agree, her entire reputation is at stake, for dating me. They're calling me a murderer for fucks sake." Bucky ran his hand through his hair. Sam sighed. Of course, he didn't care what people thought about him. He'd been receiving death threats and insults daily since returning from Wakanda, he was used to it. "She has every reason to leave me. She'd be an idiot not to." He mumbled, turning away from Sam.
Sam sighed. He couldn’t argue with that. But something he’d come to realise is that both Bucky and Y/N were complete dumbasses when together. “Just, talk to her, man,” He replied, leaving Bucky to stew by himself.
*
He sipped his drink slowly, hearing the door slam close and a loud sigh. “You wouldn’t believe the shit I’ve had to deal with today,” She said, throwing her coat onto the back of a dining chair. She bent over the sofa and pressed a kiss against his cheek. “The guy who was interviewing us made some sexist comments before we even began, so we just knew it was going to be a long session,” She kicked off her shoes and sat on the sofa beside him. “It was really tempting to just walk out on multiple occasions, but apparently I needed a better reason,” 
Bucky grinned quickly, before placing his glass on the coffee table. "Baby, we need to talk," He began. Y/N looked at him and her eyes narrowed in confusion. She couldn’t read his expression at all. Her face fell when she realised that his smile had disappeared. 
"What about?" She asked cautiously. Her heart sped up.
Bucky took a deep breath. "You need to break up with me," he said. 
Y/N furrowed her eyebrows at him. Everything was going well. She really liked Bucky and she thought he felt the same for her. "I don't understand. I don't want to." She said.
"And I don't want to either. But people are calling me a murderer." Bucky looked at her finally, and she could see the sadness in his eyes. She let out a deep exhale, relieved that she’d not done anything to upset him.
It took her a moment to think her way around his comment. "But you're not a murderer, and I don’t care what people say," She replied, crossing her arms across her chest.
Bucky smiled softly. Y/N was brazen, just one of the many things he liked about her. “Sweetheart,” He started, “I’m not worth ending your career over,”
She bit the inside of her cheek and turned away. Whilst she held the belief that he very much was worth it, she didn’t want to admit that now. Not if things were going to end. “Do you want this to end?” She asked. He was fairly insistent.
Bucky seemed taken aback. “No, god no, you have no idea how much I don’t want this to happen. But you have to do the smart thing here. You can’t stay with me,”
“I don’t care. I’m not ending this.” She said indignantly.
Bucky rubbed his forehead. Fuck, he loved her stubbornness sometimes, but it was not helping right now. “Your reputation-”
“I’m not worried about my stupid reputation! I couldn’t give less of a shit about it!” She shouted back and Bucky stared at her. She exhaled heavily and furrowed her eyebrows. “The only thing I’m worried about is you, Buck,”
Bucky clenched his jaw and turned away. “Well, that’s really not convenient. Because I worry about you and the way people treat you and the way everyone sees you. And you not giving a shit about that sort of thing really makes my job a lot harder,” He replied, and Y/N smiled. 
She pulled his face back in her direction, and her hand fell to rest on his chest. Pressing a kiss to his lips. “I’d leave everything behind to stop you from worrying,” She admitted and Bucky rolled his eyes.
“You’re crazy if you think I’d let you,” He raised his eyebrows, but grinned, all the same, leaning in to kiss her again.
She pouted at him. “I’m starting to think that you want me to be famous more than I care for it,” She joked.
“Not famous. Successful. I want you to do well, and I like seeing you get the recognition you deserve. I need people to love you as much as I… love you,” He paused at the last words, and looked down, hoping she didn’t notice.
But of course, she did. She’d been waiting to hear those words for weeks now. She stared at him, noticing the slight pink tinge that was creeping up his neck. “Buck,” She began. “I love you too,”
He looked up at her, searching for any hint of a lie. It had been a while since someone had said those words to him and meant it. As if she could tell, she took hold of his wrist and directed his hand to feel her heartbeat. “I love you,” She said again, smiling at him. 
“And if you still think we should break up, then you’re the crazy one. Especially after that super romantic admission of your love for me,” she stated, grinning at him as his cheeks tinged pink. He looked down, but his small smile was very much evident.
He sighed. “You’re right. As much as I hate to admit it,” He said back, as Y/N giggled. She kissed him again, and Bucky’s hand moved to hold her face, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “I love you,” He murmured in the space between them, their foreheads resting against each other.
*
One of the downsides of being a celebrity was having to maintain a social presence. As a result, Y/N had to attend several red carpets that she had no real investment in. This particular time, Y/N was being interviewed by someone from some media outlet that she was unfamiliar with. The questions had strayed from anything remotely related to the public perception of her boyfriend.
“Bucky is not a murderer,” Y/N scowled at the person interviewing her. Her dating life was noones business at the best of times, but it was entirely inappropriate to discuss this right now.
The interviewer smirked at the rise they were getting. “He was one of the worlds most wanted criminals. He’s credited with at least two dozen high-target assassinations. He’s responsible for the Avengers breaking up back in 2016…”
Y/N stared daggers at the interviewer, and their face fell as they noticed. They stopped talking and swallowed heavily. “Bucky is not a murderer. He was given a pardon which has forgiven him-”
“Implying that there was something to forgive.” The interviewer interrupted “Why do you think it’s ok to date a war criminal?” They added.
Y/N lips parted in surprise. “You know what? I don’t have to deal with this. If people have a problem with who I love then that’s their issue. I do not have to listen to you insult my partner.” She snapped back, before storming off to the bathroom.
On her way there, a hand took hold of her wrist and pulled her away. Looking up, she saw Bucky beaming at her. “You look gorgeous, sweetheart,” He held his arms around her waist. His face fell when he saw her look in her eyes. “What’s happened? Are you ok?” his first instinct was to check her over for any injuries.
Instantly she let her tears fall and leant against him. “Why do people have to be assholes?” She bawled out. Bucky hugged her back, resting his chin on the top of her head. He held her tight, letting her cry into his chest.
“What did they say?” He growled, angry that anyone would have the gall to insult his girl. He looked around to determine whos fault it was. If anyone seemed even remotely guilty for the upset that they’d caused, but everyone seemed fairly content with themselves.
She sniffed quietly. “They were being so rude about you! I had to leave the interview,” She replied, and Bucky seemed taken aback. They’d insulted him and she was distraught.
He held her at arms length and looked at her, lowering his head so that she was staring directly into his eyes. “There are always gonna be assholes in the world, but you walking away from them in that situation helps people realise. You are so incredibly brave for walking outside your door every day when you know what people have said about me. And for that I love you. I worship the ground you walk on. I’m honored to have a place in your heart.” He said sincerely, desperate to calm her down.
“But you have to promise me that you will not give these people a place. Please don’t let them hurt you. Don’t take these shots that are meant for me,” He added, caressing her cheek with his knuckles.
Y/N furrowed her eyebrows for a moment, but seemed to smile. “Buck, I would take actual bullets for you,” She said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Bucky chuckled. “Very unwise. Bullets hurt like hell. And you’d be taking a lot of them,” He bantered back. “But I appreciate the sentiment. I love you sweetheart,” He smiled.
Y/N exhaled heavily, smiling back. “I love you too,” she pressed a kiss to his lips. “Do you wanna come with me?”
He looked at her, confused as to what she meant. “Back onto the carpet? What about the interviews?”
She grinned. “Maybe you can do some staring if they piss me off.” She giggled.
Immediately he seemed excited. “Oh sweetheart, don’t tempt me!”
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literaryavenger · 4 months
Text
Broken - final part
Summary: The wait for Bucky's trial is finally over.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Warnings: Minimal use of Y/N. Language. Innocent and broken Bucky. Mentions of Bucky's past and nightmares. A lot of fluff.
Word Count: 3K
A/N: this is the last part of this story! I had originally planned on making it much longer but I honestly had not many ideas to go on, so I decided to use the ideas I did have and end it there. So here it is, hope you like it!
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
Masterlist
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Slowly you started to forgive the team, starting with Peter that came to you one afternoon handing you some flowers and a teddy bear as an apology and making your heart melt, how could you stay mad at such a sweet boy? 
After about a month you were back on speaking terms with everyone, except Steve and Tony. For some reason you couldn’t get over the fact that they started the whole civil war and were the ones to decide to cut you out of it. Everyone tried to make you see things from their side, even Thor and Bruce that were back from New Asgard along with Loki, who couldn’t care less about the whole situation but kind of enjoyed the chaos. 
After that night with Bucky’s nightmare you talked more about pretty much any subject, and he came to you everytime he needed comfort. Bucky also wasn’t able to keep his hands to himself anymore, not that you minded, a feat that did not go unnoticed by the team. You didn’t miss the knowing looks they gave each other every time Bucky hugged you or randomly grabbed your hand. Even though you couldn’t bring yourself to forgive Steve yet, you started being around him more and more especially after Bucky asked you to start coming with him to his meetings with Fury. The closer it got to his hearing, the more touchy Bucky seemed to be with you, as if his hands on you was the only thing that kept him together, kept him grounded. 
The day before his hearing Bucky couldn’t get himself away from you, following you everywhere since you woke up in the same bed, a thing that started to happen more and more every time he had a nightmare, some nights even going as far as going to sleep directly in your room without stepping foot in his. Steve was biding his time the whole day, trying to choose his moment, which came in the early afternoon when you left Bucky on Scott's floor with Cassie while you went to yours to get some Pop Tarts for Cassie since, not surprisingly, Thor finished the ones in their kitchen. Scott thought that spending time with Cassie, which Bucky has come to be very fond of, would help the super soldier take his mind off the trial, and he was right. When you got to your floor, and Steve saw you were alone, he didn’t think twice about approaching you. He was speaking before you even had a chance to realize what was happening.
-Listen, I know we’re not in the best terms right now, but I want to talk to you about Bucky.- As much as you wanted to ignore him you knew he really cared about his best friend and, since he’s been nothing but respectful of your decision to avoid him, you thought that him actively seeking you out meant this was important, so you nodded at him to go on and, with a relief sigh that you were gonna listen to him, he did. -Here’s the thing, we both know Bucky’s been through a lot…- he starts, trying to think of the right words to not give his best friend away completely.
-He’s been doing so much better, and even I realize that’s largely thanks to you.- you’re about to protest, but he raises his hand to stop you. -It is, we all see how he is when you’re around, but you don’t see how he is while you’re away on missions. He’s like a puppy just waiting for you to come back, brooding away everytime someone that isn’t you walks through the door.- you can tell he’s trying very hard not to smile as he thinks about it, but fails miserably, before shaking his head a little and getting back on track.
-Anyway, my point is you’re important to him. Tomorrow is gonna be a really hard day for Bucky and I want to thank you for being there for him. Not just for the trial, but for everything I know you do for him. And, I realize it might not be my place to say but, as the only family Buck has left, I feel like I have to tell you: please be careful with him. After everything he’s been through the last thing he needs is to get his heart broken.-  Steve knew maybe he said a little too much, but he needed to know Bucky was in good hands, even if he did trust you with his life, he also wanted to know he could trust you with his best friend’s heart.
He didn’t expect you to answer, your face staying neutral the whole time he spoke, and he was about to turn away when you basically threw yourself at him, giving the tightest hug he’s had since you started avoiding him. All you could think about was how glad you were Bucky had someone who cares about him as much as Steve does. Now more than ever you can see Steve’s reasons behind his choices, how he was motivated by his love for a guy he sees as a brother, the only family he has left. You get it, you truly do, but seeing it made you almost cry on Bucky’s behalf.
-I promise you the last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt him.- is all you say as you let go, a wordless understanding between you both that you forgive him. You grab the pop tarts you came here for and go back to an awaiting Bucky and Cassie, who are wearing tiaras and giggling making your heart melt. The rest of the day goes fast and soon you’re getting into bed with Bucky, not wanting to sleep by himself tonight.
-Hey- he says as he wraps his arms around you -I just want to say, in case things go wrong tomorrow-
-Don’t say that Buck- you interrupted -everything’s gonna be okay, and you’ll come home a free man- you finished firmly.
-Doll, we both know there’s a very real chance that I’ll be found guilty and sent back to the Raft. If that happens, I don’t think I’d be able to live without you knowing this…-
Before he can say anything else, you put your hand on his mouth, effectively shutting him up. -Don’t say anything, please. You can tell me tomorrow, after we come back home together.-
You can tell he’s trying really hard to hold himself back, but eventually he agrees and you take your hand away, getting more comfortable in his arms and falling asleep in each other’s embrace for what Bucky prays won’t be the last time.
The next morning comes and Bucky’s a bundle of nerves, so worried that time seems to go by in a flash. Suddenly he’s in a courtroom, asking the judge to please repeat his rouling one more time. A full pardon. He can’t believe it, yes, he has to go to court mandated therapy and has a probation period to go through with the team, but still. Now he feels like time’s going in slow motion, all he can see it’s you as he turns to your seat next to him, you hug him with tears in your eyes as you tell him how proud you are of him, that you knew he was gonna be okay. Somehow, you made it real for him, hearing you acknowledge it makes him believe it and then he’s crying too, not able to hold back. Steve puts a hand on his shoulder, making you let go of each other and turn to him, a smile so big on his face that you can see all his stupidly perfect teeth.
You all finally get home and, as soon as you enter the living room on your shared floor, you hear a chorus of “congratulations” followed by loud noises and confetti falling everywhere. You’re as shocked as Bucky and, as you turn to Steve you see a surprised look on his face too, which turns confused when he looks at you mirroring his own reaction, the same question in the tip of both of your tongues, but before you could ask each other, Bucky beats you both.
-Did you do this for me?- he was amazed, overjoyed and then as confused as you when you both shook your heads. Then the mystery was revealed.
-I did it.- All three of you were shocked when you turned around to the voice, thinking you were imagining it, to find a very real Tony Stark standing in front of you, the rest of the team behind him.
-You did this?- you had to be sure you heard him correctly.
-Yeah, I did, I’m amazing, get over it.- and with that he walked away towards the bar.
You turned to Bucky and Steve and since all they did was stare at you, you just shrugged and went to join the rest of the team in celebration, the super soldiers right behind you.
You joked and laughed and danced all together for hours, until eventually you found yourselves sitting scattered around the living room, various conversations going at the same time. You were sitting on Bucky’s lap, his arms around you and your head on his chest as he joked with Steve and Sam when you noticed Tony going behind the bar, where nobody else was. You felt the need to follow him so you kissed Bucky in the cheek and tapped his arms twice signaling to let go of you, when he did, somewhat reluctantly, you got up and walked after Tony. You leaned on the bar, crossing your arms in front of your chest. But before you could say anything he spoke, not even bothering to turn around.
-Don’t need to thank me, Cyborg deserves it.- You rolled your eyes at the nickname, but decided to let it go for the time being.
-So what, you’re his biggest fan now?- You knew you were kind of pushing it, but you just needed to know what changed. He turned around and you got ready for him to yell at you again, but instead he smiled in a way that was too sweet not to be genuine. Yep, Tony Stark is full of surprises.
-I’m not. But I see the way he looks at you.- you arched your eyebrow at him.
-How does he look at me?- he answered without skipping a beat.
-It's the same way I look at Pepper. I know he knows he's not good enough for you, but I can see he's trying to be. That's all I could ask for.- he shrugs and turns back around.
You know he meant it, as much of a genius as he is, even he couldn’t come up with a lie like that, that fast. You stare at the back of his head while he works on his drink, both of you thinking of a way to approach the next subject the right way. When he turns back to you he puts a glass in front of you, your favorite drink in it, and takes a sip of his own drink. After a few moments of silence, he decided to speak first.
-I’m sorry. For keeping the whole war thing from you and for how I treated Barnes. I had a lot of time to think about it, I read all the Hydra reports we found on him, I rewatched the footage… I can see now it really was out of his control. I shouldn’t have blamed him for something he had no way of stopping. And I shouldn’t have kept something so big from you. I really am sorry.- you’re glad he finally sees things the way you do, but you can’t help yourself as you say -I appreciate it, and I forgive you, but I’m not the one you have to apologize to.-
-Trust me, I know- he sighs -Pepper already gave me the speech…- he says sheepishly. God, you love that woman. He makes his way around the bar and stops in front of you.
He gives you a hug and whispers in your ear. -I’m doing this for you, too. I don’t like it when you’re mad at me and I need you to know I meant everything I just said.- you’re a little confused at what he’s talking about until he lets go of you and walks towards the couch where Buck’s still talking to Sam and Steve.
-Bucky- he starts, and the room goes silent -I just want you to know that I’m sorry for blaming you for my parents’ death. And it’s not just because the government believes you’re innocent, after everything I’ve learned about your situation the past month I can’t not believe you were a victim and still call myself a genius. I also read some of dad’s old journals from when he worked with the Howling Commandos. You guys were friends, I realize you wouldn’t have hurt him if you had a choice. And I’m also sorry for the name calling, Terminator.- you rolled your eyes with a smile at his last sentence while the others snickered at the nickname. You went to stand next to Tony and wrapped your arm around his waist and, when he wrapped his around your shoulders and looked down at you, you gave him a squeeze, letting him know you were grateful to him for doing this.
You looked at Bucky who didn’t quite know what to say, you let go of Tony and made your way to sit back down on his lap, his arms going around your waist automatically. That seemed to snap him out of it.
-Thank you, Tony. You don’t have to apologize, I understand why you were angry, but I appreciate it. Howard was a good man, he didn’t deserve an end like that.- Tony didn’t say anything back, merely nodding and going to sit next to Pepper. Well, that’s a start.
Everyone went back to their own conversations and you turned back to Bucky, who was already looking up at you.
-Thank you- he said low enough so only I could hear. -I didn’t do anything, it was all him. I told you, anyone with a functioning brain can see you’re a good person.- you told him with a smile. He smiled back at you, holding you tighter as you laid your head on his shoulder, looking at your friends talking and laughing amongst each other, happy that things are back to normal, with the added bonus of Bucky finally being completely free.
The party eventually ended and the living room slowly emptied out, the last people remaining being you, Bucky and Steve.
-well, I’m going to sleep. You guys should too, today’s been a long day.- Steve says, giving Bucky one last pat on the shoulder and, with a smile to the both of you, he got up and left. You’re sitting in a comfortable silence, not really feeling the need to get up just yet, when you felt Bucky leave a soft kiss against your shoulder, which made you sit up a little straighter and turned to look at him, your arms going around his neck.
-we still have a conversation to finish… Are you gonna let me talk now?- he was much more confident than he was last night and you nodded, now curiosity taking over you. -Great… I’m just gonna get to the point. I like you, doll. The longer I spend time with you, the more I feel like myself. I feel at peace, like the last 70 years never happened because I know that’s not what you see when you look at me. You’ve never been scared of me, never looked at me like I was a monster. You spend  time with me because you want to, not because you have to. You don’t mind having me around even when we don’t talk and all I do is look at you. You comfort me when I’m sad, calm me down when I have a panic attack and hold me until I fall asleep after I have a nightmare. You never judge me  or make me feel guilty or like I’m too much, and you never push me to talk about anything, you’re always patient and let me take my time. I truly appreciate everything you do for me and I need you to know that. And to be clear, when I say I like you I mean it in the ‘I’d like to take you out on a date’ way.- you’re almost crying now, your heart melting as you look at an expectant Bucky. You honestly have no words to reply, so you do the only thing you can think of. You lean down and kiss him softly, feeling him kiss you back almost right away, his lips are so soft you almost moan into the kiss. After a few moments you pull away, forehead resting against his.
-I really hope that means you like me back- he says with a goofy smile, making you giggle.
-Yes, I like you too- you gave him another kiss -You make me feel seen. You make me feel important. You make me feel safe. I love spending time with you and having you close. And I’d love to go on a date with you.- this time he’s the one to initiate the kiss and you can’t help but smile into it. Suddenly he gets up, picking you up bridal style and making you squeal in surprise. He laughs at your face while he takes you both to your room, where he lays you gently on the bed.
-I could’ve walked, you know.-
-I know.- he answers while basically lying on top of you while you laugh, smile seared onto his face.
You hang onto each other as you fall asleep, more than glad to have found the other and both silently planning your future together.
Bonus part
Requested taglist: @aesthetic0cherryblossom @buchi91 @sapphirebarnes @ordelixx
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