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cinnabunwanda · 2 days

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We shouldn't be doing this ･｡ﾟNatasha Ramnoff

content warning — Smut, Shower Sex, Degration Kink, Mommy Kink, Angst

pairing — Fem Reader X Natasha Romanoff

summary — Steve, an avenger, faces tension with his girlfriend Natasha at a shindig. Wanda suggests they make a great couple, but the protagonist refuses. Natasha admires their friendship, asks to fuck him, and makes him feel vulnerable.

word count — 6.0k

Life as an avenger was a constant rollercoaster of danger and responsibility. One day, we could be on the hunt for an Alien threatening to destroy the world, and the next we could be in a high-level meeting discussing how to utilize our powers and resources for the good of humanity.

But even superheroes needed a break, and when we did get some time off, the team liked to spend it together. Tonight was one of those rare occasions.

"What's on the agenda tonight?" I asked Tony, always the mastermind behind our group outings.

"Well, my dear comrades, I have decided to throw a little shindig for us. Drinks, dancing, games...the whole nine yards," he grinned mischievously at all of us.

"The crew? Are you twelve years old?" Bucky teased him.

"Hey now, don't be boosting his ego too much. He's ancient," Sam chimed in with a sly smile.

"Says the man born in the 20s," Tony retorted playfully.

"Well, if Nat's going then count me in," I declared, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.

"Actually, Nat won't be joining us tonight. We have a date," Steve announced proudly, looking at his girlfriend with adoration in his eyes.

Natasha looked back at him with confusion written all over her face. Clearly, she had no idea about this so-called date Steve had planned.

Tony shot me a look that said "uh-oh, trouble." I couldn't help but stifle a laugh at his expression, but when everyone turned to look at me, I quickly diverted my attention to my water bottle.

"Nat is a grown woman capable of making her own decisions," I spoke up honestly after disposing of my empty bottle.

I was sick and tired of Steve treating Natasha like he owned her. She was my best friend and under no one's spell. I couldn't understand what she saw in him, especially since they were always bickering, but I admired her for standing up to him. His mind was still stuck in the 20s.

"Stay out of my relationship," Steve snapped at me, his tone harsh and accusatory.

"Don't talk to her like that!" Natasha slammed her hands on the table, her voice filled with frustration.

"What did you just say?" Steve's anger was evident in his eyes.

"You heard me. Don't. Talk. To. Her. Like. That," Natasha spat back at him.

And so it began, another argument between the two of them. Tony, Bucky, and Sam quickly made their escape, and I attempted to do the same, but Natasha called out my name, causing me to pause and turn back towards them.

"Why do you always drag her into our problems? Leave her out of this," Steve shouted at Natasha.

"I'll involve whoever I want to. You don't own me, Steve. I'm sick of this bullshit," Natasha shot back fiercely.

I wanted nothing more than to leave and take a nice hot shower to escape the tension in the room. I speed-walked down the hallway but bumped into Wanda along the way. She smiled sympathetically at me before glancing down the hallway where we could still hear Nat and Steve going at it.

"They're fighting again? What happened now?" Wanda asked in disbelief.

"I know, can you believe it's already the fourth time today? Tony was planning a team get-together and Nat said she would go, but then Steve said she couldn't, and well...you can hear how that turned out," I explained, nodding my head towards the source of the commotion down the hall.

Wanda sighed and shook her head in exasperation before turning back to face me.

"You and Nat would make a great couple, you know," she shrugged nonchalantly.

"Excuse me? Me and Nat? No way. She's Nat, and besides, she's my best friend," I laughed off the suggestion.

"Y/n, your thoughts are too loud to hide from me. Just something to think about," Wanda said with a knowing smile before walking away.

As I continued on my way to the shower, I couldn't help but wonder if Wanda was right. Maybe there was more to my feelings for Natasha than just friendship. But for now, all I wanted was a peaceful evening without any drama or arguments.

As I walked away from her, a thin smile graced my lips in response to her comment about my secrets. With each step, the sound of my feet hitting the ground echoed through the hallway. Suddenly, I heard her voice ring out behind me.

"I KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT EVERYONE, DON'T WORRY!" she shouted after me.

Ignoring her, I sent her a defiant middle finger and continued on my way to my room. Once inside, I quickly gathered all of my shower essentials and headed into the bathroom. Stripping off my clothes and tossing them carelessly into a corner, I was interrupted by the sudden intrusion of someone barging into my room.

"Ugh, this better be important. I'm about to take a shower," I called out irritably.

To my surprise, it was Natasha standing in front of me with a weight seemingly lifted off her shoulders. Concerned, I wrapped a towel around my body and stepped out into my room to face her.

"Hey, are you okay?" I asked gently.

Without hesitation, she scanned me up and down with clear admiration in her eyes. Our friendship had always been like this - playful flirtation and pretending to be each other's girlfriends to ward off unwanted advances from guys.

"Eyes up here, Romanoff," I warned as her gaze lingered on my chest.

"Kiss me," she stated bluntly.

I hesitated for a moment, knowing that she had a boyfriend and not wanting to complicate things between us.

"Nat...as much as I would love for you to...you know...fuck me...you have a boyfriend and I don't want to-"

"Y/n, listen. Steve and I aren't together anymore. So please just let me fuck you until you can't walk," she said earnestly, looking directly into my eyes.

I couldn't help but feel conflicted as she leaned in and pressed her lips against mine. They were just as soft and inviting as I remembered, and I couldn't resist kissing her back. Lost in the moment, we stumbled towards the bathroom, our hands desperately tugging at each other's clothes.

Once inside, Natasha pulled away from me with a mischievous smirk on her face.

"Let's get rid of these," she said playfully, gesturing to my towel.

"I like them where they are," I teased back, unable to take my eyes off of her.

"Baby, I thought you wanted me to fuck you," she pouted, running her fingers along my jawline.

"I do," I whined, feeling more turned on by the second.

"Well then, let's remove this obstacle," she whispered seductively before nibbling on my ear as she tugged on my towel.

"Mmmh, I think you're right, Natty," I replied breathlessly.

In one swift motion, she pulled down my towel so that I was standing fully naked in front of her. Her eyes roamed over my body with hunger and desire, making me feel small and vulnerable under her intense gaze.

"You are going to be so much fun," she murmured, tracing her finger lightly over my chest before pushing me into the shower.

As the warm water cascaded over my body, I couldn't help but let out a slight moan. Natasha stepped in behind me and pressed her body against mine, her lips crashing onto mine once again. As our tongues tangled and hands roamed freely over each other's bodies, I couldn't believe what was happening. And as she pinned me against the wall of the shower and continued to ravish me with kisses and touches, I knew that this would be a night to remember.

The hot steamy shower added so much passion into our little hookup. It made everything way more hotter than normal. The way Natasha's red hair looked as the water trickled down her body was a sight I will never forget.

She placed her hands on my thighs and tapped on them. She picked me up and I wrapped myself around her waist. I began to try and grind myself to try get some sort of friction which worked for a minute as I grinded myself on her abs but when she realised what I was doing she stopped me

"Such a desperate little whore aren't you? Look at you so pathetic trying to get yourself off by using my abs" she degraded me

I could feel myself get wet at her choice of words. I was dumbfounded and my moth couldn't even form words.

"You like that? You like it when I call you a whore baby?" She smiled evilly at me

There definitely was a pool between my legs at this point. She kept staring into my eyes when she spoke to me which made it harder to keep eye contact when she was saying these hypnotising things

"Answer me slut" she snarled

"Ye-yes mommy I do" I replied with a smirk once I pulled myself together

She wore her famous smirk on her face as she stared into my eyes. "Mommy? God I love that" she smirked

She began to attack my body with kisses. Sucking,biting and leaving marks all along my neck,chest shoulders you name it she marked it. She slammed us against the wall and I slowly got off her waist moaning quietly at her marking my body

She placed her knee between my thighs so my pussy was resting on her knee. She pushed it up hard causing me to moan loudly and my moan echoed around the room I quickly covered my mouth but Nat grabbed my wrist and removed my hand from my mouth

"I want to hear those pretty moans, go on scream shout let everyone know that Starks golden child is being fucked by the black widow" she said with lust in her eyes and voice

She gripped both of her hands on my waist and began to harshly push my hips into her knee. The pleasure shot through my body sending shivers down my spine.

"GOD NAT" I moaned loudly

She smirked wildly at me and began to slow down. Which was horrible I needed a release the knot that once was in my stomach had disappeared. My head was resting on Natasha's shoulder.

"Ple-please Nat I NEED you" i panted

"What, you have me what more could you want" she slowed down even more

"Mommy please your killing me" I breathed out

"Such a little slut aren't we? Be a good girl and beg for it" she instructed me

"Please please mommy let me finish all over your knee, I will be a good girl-please mommy" I begged

"Go on get yourself off I want to watch you" she smirked at me

She let go of my hips and I began to grind myself down onto her knee. It felt so good, moans began to fall out of my mouth. I picked up the paste and I could feel my tits bouncing as I moved up and down on her. I had my eyes shut and I threw my head back in pleasure when she flexed her leg.

I opened my eyes and seen Natasha was fingering herself. God it was hot. I shoved 3 of my fingers in her and she moaned

"YES Y/N RIGHT THERE" I picked up the pace

I could feel the knot in my stomach again. I was so close. I could tell Natasha was too by the way she was pulsing on my fingers.

"I'm so close mommy" I moaned

Natasha's moans echoed through the bathroom as I thrust a fourth finger inside of her without warning. Her legs flexed and she threw her head back, lost in pleasure. I quickened my pace, my body on the verge of climaxing.

"PLEASE NAT, I CAN'T HOLD IT!" I cried out, overcome with desire. "Cum on me," she moaned in response.

The sound of our passionate encounter filled the small bathroom, but in that moment, we didn't care who could hear us. My fingers continued to move inside of Natasha as she reached her peak, her release coating my hand.

We collapsed against each other, panting and exhausted. I rested my head against her neck and she nestled hers into mine, peppering light kisses along my skin.

"Holy- fuck," she panted between breaths. "That was...the best shower of my life."

I breathed out a laugh and nodded in agreement. But just as we were starting to relax and catch our breath, Natasha reminded me that we had plans for the evening.

"We should get ready for tonight. That is, if you're still going..." I told her hesitantly.

"Y/n, if you're going, I am going," she said with a smile.

I bit my lip nervously and flashed a shy smile in return. We exited the shower and wrapped towels around our bodies before parting ways to get dressed. As I put on my favorite red dress, revealing just enough cleavage to make it daring yet elegant, Wanda burst into my room with excitement.

"Oh my God!" she squealed. "Natasha and Steve broke up!"

My acting skills came into play as I pretended to be shocked and happy by this news. Wanda bought it completely.

"No way! Really? You're not joking with me?" I exclaimed.

"I wouldn't do that to you!" She laughed. "How did you find out?"

"I overheard Steve telling Bucky," she informed me.

"I thought Natasha and I were the spies here, not you witchy," I teased her.

"That's not the only thing you and Natasha are," she smirked.

"What are we, Wanda?" I turned to face her.

"Each other's future wives," she smirked again.

I rolled my eyes playfully while trying to hide my blush. But Wanda was right, there was definitely something special between Natasha and me.

"You look beautiful, by the way. Is that for Vision?" I joked with a wink.

"Shut up, I can dress up for myself, you know!" Wanda shook her head in mock annoyance.

"Mmhm, yeah, but that dress is new and I know you wouldn't wear it unless you were planning to impress him," I teased as we linked arms and made our way down the hallway.

"Well, I could say the same. We both know a certain spy's favorite color is red," Wanda joked back as we walked.

"But how do you know I'm not trying to impress you? Your favorite color is red too," I responded with a sly smile.

"Well, if that's the case..." she smiled mischievously and we both burst out laughing.

As we entered the main room, still giggling about our love lives, we noticed that it was practically empty except for Tony, Maria, Steve, Vision, and Natasha.

"Well, isn't this quite the party," Wanda quipped at Tony as we approached the small group.

My laughter echoed through the spacious room as I stood with Wanda, trying to decide who to talk to first. There were so many people to choose from in this tower, and we were all gathered here for some unknown reason. "You two give it up," Tony commented, rolling his eyes. "People are coming, unlike you two. Some of us have lives outside of this tower." Maria smirked at me, her gaze lingering on my face. "Well, Y/n certainly does," she said suggestively. "What are you on about, Ms. Hill?" Vision asked curiously. "From the looks of it, Y/n has had some fun recently," Maria grinned, gesturing towards my neck.

Suddenly, everyone's attention turned to me. What was Maria talking about? Wanda slapped my arm playfully. "Miss Y/L/N! What is that on your neck?" she gasped. "It appears to be a hickey, I believe," Vision stated loudly. "WHO HAS A HICKEY?!" Sam's voice boomed as he and the rest of the group descended down the stairs. "Y/N!" Maria exclaimed, causing everyone to focus their attention on me.

I blushed furiously as they began to bombard me with questions. "When did this happen?" Bucky smirked mischievously. "Doesn't matter, it's none of anyone's business," I replied coolly as I sat down on the couch and grabbed a beer from the cooler.

"Okay, so it had to be recently, like in the last 2-3 days," Carol calculated, her eyes scanning my appearance. Tony looked disgusted while Bruce seemed uncomfortable and kept shifting in his seat.

"But Y/n doesn't leave the compound," Wanda announced defensively. "I do too!" I defended myself, feeling slightly hurt by their disbelief.

"I mean, she clearly does," Rhodes pointed at my neck accusingly. "Can we stop talking about this?" I asked, feeling embarrassed and uncomfortable.

"Yeah, please, can we?" Tony pleaded, looking like he was about to have a heart attack. "But-" Vision started to say.

"Yes, Vis?" Wanda interrupted him. "If Y/n went out and had intercourse with another person...well, that's impossible," Vision stated matter-of-factly.

"How is it impossible?" I asked, confused by his statement. "You haven't left the compound in 4 days apart from that mission, and unless you slept with someone from Hydra 4 days ago, plus the fact that those hickeys look somewhat fresh...it's impossible that you had intercourse elsewhere...plus-" Vision was suddenly cut off by a loud outburst from Tony.

"STOP! STOP! THAT'S ENOUGH!" Tony yelled, causing everyone to turn their attention towards him. I could see the shock on Rhodey's face as he exclaimed, "Stark, seriously?! She's half your age!"

My eyes went wide as I realized what they were all hinting at. "Ewww, no! No, we didn't," Tony defended himself quickly.

"Stop it now, please," I begged as I placed my hands over my face in embarrassment.

Tony stood up abruptly and walked over to the bar, while Natasha sat smirking and sipping her beer. Bruce also seemed preoccupied with Nat, which wasn't unusual since they were close friends. "Wait, so Y/n brought someone to her room and slept with them?" Carol looked around at the group.

"It isn't anyone here," I said quickly, trying to deflect the attention away from myself.

"I'm going to join Tony at the bar," Bruce announced suddenly, trying to make a quick escape. But Carol and Maria stopped him. "You know something, Brucey. What is it?" Maria interrogated him.

"Leave the poor guy alone," Nat defended him, giving Bruce a reassuring glance.

"Come on, aren't you dying to find out who she slept with?" Carol asked Nat eagerly.

"Of course I am, but we all know Mr. Anger over here gets uncomfortable easily," Nat teased back, causing Maria and Wanda to laugh.

"Oh, Witchy Witchy," Maria smirked at Wanda, who responded with an equally mischievous grin as she slowly walked over to Bruce.

I could see the worry in Bruce's eyes as he sent a quick glance my way. Fuck, he must have overheard something. I gave him a questioning look, hoping he knew something that could explain this situation. He looked away, his expression filled with concern. Damn, he definitely heard something.

With a sudden burst of energy, Sam practically leapt 6 feet in the air, exclaiming, "HE KNOWS WHO IT IS!"

"NO- GUYS I DONT," he quickly defended himself as everyone turned to look at him.

"DO IT NOW WANDA," Bucky smirked at her, urging her to reveal the identity.

I glanced at Nat and Bucky, who were sitting closely beside each other. Dread filled me as I realized that soon everyone would know.

"Guys, who actually cares who she slept with?" Steve groaned, clearly annoyed by the situation.

"Everyone apparently," Nat shot back, glaring at him. "Well Tony doesn't, nor do I," he began to walk away.

"Well you would care," Bruce murmured quietly under his breath.

"What was that Brucey?" Wanda smirked playfully. "Hmmmmm?" He acted dumb, but we all knew what he had said.

"Let him go guys please, this is embarrassing for me. It's my life, not yours," I pleaded with them, trying to diffuse the tension.

But my efforts were in vain as Wanda's smirk grew wider and red wisps of energy emanated from her hands. She was reading Bruce's mind. Suddenly, she gasped and Bruce quickly ran to Tony, apologizing frantically.

"I'M SO SORRY Y/N!" he shouted over his shoulder as he rushed away.

"OH MY GOD," Wanda smirked at me, her eyes glinting mischievously. "WHO IS IT?"

"WITCHY TELL US!" Maria exclaimed, unable to contain her excitement.

Wanda paused for a moment before announcing with a sly smile, "It's someone in this room."

The group erupted into a frenzy of questions, desperate to uncover the truth. Maria gasped in shock while Carol couldn't hide her curiosity.

"Okay, who was getting it on with Y/n?" Sam's wide smirk displayed his eagerness to know.

"It could be a girl," Natasha pretended it wasn't her and shrugged nonchalantly.

"That's funny," Steve commented, clearly uncomfortable with the topic.

"So what if it is a girl, Steve? It's my body, not yours," I deflected his judgmental comment.

"Well, it's wrong," he argued back, causing me to roll my eyes in frustration.

"Wanda..." Maria turned to her, hoping she would reveal more information.

I gave Wanda a pleading look, but she shook her head at me. Little witch.

"I'll give you all a hint: their favorite color is red," Wanda began, enjoying the power she held over everyone's thoughts.

"Okay, so that rules out Sam and Nat. Plus, we already established that it isn't Tony or Natasha," Maria listed off potential suspects in the room.

Vision looked relieved at being cleared as a suspect, and I couldn't help but find it cute in that moment. But then reality hit once again.

"Okay, to cut ties. Sam had no clue, so that's him out," Clint suggested logically. "And let's be real, we all know he wouldn't be able to pull Y/n anyway."

Sam was highly offended by this insinuation and tried to argue his case, but I quickly shut him down. Natasha smirked at me for turning him down while the rest of the group joined in on teasing him.

"Well then that leaves two possibilities: Bucky's exes Nat and Steve," Bucky stated matter-of-factly. My heart sank at the thought of either of them being involved.

Steve was busy chatting with Tony and Bruce at the bar, completely unaware of the conversation happening right next to them.

"Well, it has to be one of them. Maybe they used Y/n as a rebound since they just broke up," Carol suggested, causing me to feel even more upset.

"I'm not some lousy one night stand," I interjected, feeling hurt by the words being thrown around.

"Are we correct that it is one of them, Wanda?" Vision asked politely, trying to move the conversation along.

"Yes, you are," she confirmed with a mischievous smirk.

"Well, I could be right then," Carol shrugged her shoulders confidently.

"You really think that?" I asked sadly.

"Well, I mean, it is strange that they broke up and whoever it is ran to you. Maybe they did it as a way to get back at Steve for something," Carol said without thinking.

I sat there in shock as Maria slapped her on the arm for her insensitivity.

"My money is on Steve. He's always had a thing against Y/n and it would make sense if it was an enemies-to-lovers situation," Sam boomed confidently.

"Nah, I think it has to be Nat. If we're going off of what Carol said, she would want to get under Steve's skin by sleeping with his best friend who he dislikes," Thor chimed in with his own theory.

Everyone began agreeing with Thor and even I couldn't help but consider their theories. After all, Nat and Steve were always on-again-off-again. But the thought of either one of them using me as a pawn in their love triangle made my stomach churn.

As I looked at her, my heart ached and tears began to fill my eyes. She was about to say something before she was stopped by Tony's outburst.

"STOP IT! Can't you all see what this is doing to her? Look at her, she is on the verge of tears. You are all making her feel like a piece of shit, like some cheap hooker," Tony defended me passionately.

I looked up and saw Bruce standing next to him, offering his support. Tony protectively placed his hands on my shoulders while Bruce sat beside me, gently placing his hand on my knee in an attempt to comfort me.

"You should all be ashamed of yourselves. We have all gone to Y/n with our secrets at one point or another, and she has never said a word. Is this how you want to repay her? By speaking about her personal life with such lack of empathy?" Bruce's tone was harsh as he scolded the group.

A tear streamed down my face, which I quickly wiped away as everyone's eyes turned to me. I could feel their gaze, but some were shamefully looking at the ground. Without warning, I felt someone wrap their arms around me from behind - it was Natasha.

"Well, I'm telling you now it wasn't me," Wanda spoke up with a smile.

I wrapped my arms around her, taking in her comforting scent. She truly gave the best hugs. As I cried softly into her shoulder, all the hurtful thoughts and accusations that had been swirling in my mind disappeared.

"It's okay, you're okay," she whispered softly to me.

But suddenly, everything came flooding back as I remembered what they had done. "No, please get off of me," I pushed Wanda away and stood up.

Feeling disgusted and betrayed, I walked away from the group. Carol was right; Natasha had used me to get under Steve's skin, and he watched me leave with a smug grin on his face - I could see it from a mile away.

From Natasha's point of view, Y/n had just stormed out of the main hall. As she looked at the rest of the group, they all wore expressions of guilt. Anger rose up in Natasha like never before.

"Baby, did you do this to make me jealous?" Steve approached her.

"Don't fucking call me that," Natasha snapped at him.

"In fact, I don't want any of you to even call me your friend anymore. None of you are my friends after what you did tonight. The only people who I consider friends are Tony and Bruce. The rest of you are just horrible colleagues that I have to put up with," she yelled at them.

"Nat, we're sorry. We didn't think she would..." Wanda started to apologize, but Natasha cut her off.

"Out of all the people, you were the last person I expected to do this to her - to us," Natasha said, disappointment evident in her voice.

"Actually, no, scratch that. I didn't think any of you would be so cruel. But here we are. So since you all are dying to know - YES, I slept with Y/n. And NO, Carol, it wasn't to get back at Steve. It was because I genuinely love her with every piece of my body, and I would die for her. It was the best experience I've ever had because I was with someone who truly cares not only for me but for everyone around her. Y/n would go to hell and back for any one of you. So fuck you all," Natasha stormed out.

She went to her room and slammed the door shut behind her. Frantically changing into her comfortable pajamas, she grabbed Y/n's favorite hoodie which always goes missing when she's away on missions. Determined to fight for her and prove her love, Natasha left her room and went down to find Y/n's room. She had to show her girl that she was willing to go to great lengths for their love.

Your POV

The weight of disappointment and hurt settled heavily on my chest. With a heavy heart, I trudged to my room, eager to shed the facade of happiness that I had worn all day. Taking comfort in soft, loose clothes, I wiped away the thick layer of makeup and let myself succumb to tears.

As I lay in bed, memories of Natasha and the events of the day flooded my mind. How could I have been so naive? Of course she slept with me as a way to get back at Steve. The realization stung like a fresh wound.

But amidst the pain and betrayal, one moment stood out - our encounter in the shower. For a brief moment, she had smiled at me with genuine affection before kissing me again. Was it all just a ploy to manipulate me?

My thoughts spiraled into self-doubt and anger towards my friends, especially Wanda for exposing my vulnerability and feelings for Natasha.

"Why did I trust her?" I cried to myself.

A knock on my door interrupted my thoughts, but I ignored it. Using my powers to lock the door, I refused to let anyone in unless it was Bruce or Tony. But they persisted and eventually picked the lock.

Ready to defend myself with my magic, I sat up on the bed as they entered. To my surprise, it was Natasha who walked in with a gentle expression on her face.

"Did you not hear me? Last time I checked, you're not Tony or Bruce," I sniffled, trying to regain composure.

"I may not have a clean record like them, but I promise you, I'm not here to hurt you," she spoke softly as she approached me.

"Nat, please just go away," I pleaded.

"You'll have to make me if you want that to happen," she challenged with determination in her eyes.

I braced myself, ready to use my powers against her despite my reluctance to do so. But her words and gaze softened me, and I slowly dissipated the energy ball in my hands.

"That's it, Natasha. It's just me," she whispered, sitting at the end of my bed with a familiar hoodie in her hand - my favorite one.

But even the comfort of my cherished item couldn't ease the disgust I felt towards myself. "Giving me this hoodie won't change how I feel about what happened," I told her bitterly.

Her face fell at my harsh words, and for a moment, I regretted lashing out. But I pushed away any guilt and continued, "Why wouldn't I be disgusted? You slept with me to spite Steve, and now everyone sees me as a cheap whore you use when you need a boost."

Tears welled up in her eyes as she asked softly, "Is that how little you think of me?"

I paused, realizing I had let my hurt and anger cloud my judgment. "You're not denying it, so yes, I did think that lowly of you – no, wait, that's not true." My voice cracked with emotion. "I don't want to believe that about you."

"Y/n, listen to me. I didn't sleep with you to get back at Steve. I don't care about his opinion. But I care about yours," she pleaded with sincerity etched on her features.

She gazed into my eyes, her expression filled with sincerity and love. "You're not some cheap hooker or a whore, Y/n. I slept with you because I have real feelings for you. I couldn't resist acting on them the first chance I got," she confessed to me.

I felt a lump form in my throat as her words touched my heart. I was about to respond when she silenced me with a gentle kiss. My body responded instantly, melting into her touch. She pulled away after a few seconds, leaving tears in my eyes.

"Why the tears?" she asked, cupping my face in her hands.

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier, Nat. It wasn't fair of me to judge you like that," I apologized, my voice trembling with emotion.

"Don't worry about that. I'm okay. Let's talk about it and I'll help you through it, if you want me to," she reassured me, rubbing my cheek tenderly.

I couldn't shake off the looks of judgement from everyone at the party. They made me feel dirty and ashamed. I know some of it may have been in my head, but Carol's words really got to me and made sense. I had been suppressing my feelings for Nat for so long, thinking they were wrong and that no one would accept us. But then we shared that moment in the shower and it felt right, until Carol's words brought all my doubts rushing back.

"Fuck it. I'm so in love with you," I blurted out, tears streaming down my face now.

Nat looked at me with so much love in her eyes that it made my heart swell with emotion. I wrapped my arms around her tightly and buried my head in her shoulder while she drew soothing patterns on my back.

"Thank you for listening to me," I mumbled against her.

"Hey, it's what I'm here for," she replied sweetly.

We pulled away and I took the jumper from her lap and put it on. She chuckled at me and I pulled her into my bed, pulling the covers over us. We both decided to keep our relationship private, but not a secret.

"You looked breathtaking tonight," Nat complimented me, her eyes filled with admiration.

"Thank you. The dress was for you," I blushed, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

"But I have to say, you are effortlessly gorgeous," she said with a smile.

"That's not true," I shook my head.

"Yes, it is. Even right now, lying here next to me. You are perfect in every way," I whispered softly.

"I'm not perfect, Y/n. Trust me," she said honestly.

"ты всегда будешь идеальной в моих глазах Наталья Романова," I whispered against her lips, reminding her of how perfect she will always be in my eyes.

She smiled into the kiss and lightly held onto my waist as I gently ran my fingers through her red hair.

"Не важно что," I mumbled against her lips, reaffirming that nothing else mattered to me.

"When did you learn Russian?" she asked with a curious smile.

"I learned it for you a while ago. I'm now fluent," I bragged a little, feeling proud of myself.

"How come you never spoke it before?" she questioned playfully.

"I was learning it to ask you out, but then you started dating Steve and all I knew how to say at the time was 'Natasha Romanoff, will you go out with me?' and 'I love you'," I laughed a little at the memory.

"Stop, please tell me you're lying," she groaned, burying her head into my chest in embarrassment.

"Unfortunately, no. But I continued to learn it so I could say things to you without the team knowing," I smiled softly at her.

Nat's eyes sparkled with love and adoration as she leaned in for another kiss, grateful for our secret language that only we shared.

My heart skipped a beat as her beautiful smile lit up her face. "Wait, you learned how to say 'I love you'?" she asked, looking up at me with shining eyes. "Yeah, it was one of the first things my teacher taught me," I replied, a fond smile tugging at my lips.

"Say it in Russian for me," she requested, her smile growing wider.

"But you already know how to say it in Russian," I said, confused by her request.

"Amuse me," she replied with a playful glint in her eyes.

My heart swelled with adoration as I spoke the words in Russian: "Я люблю вас."

Her smile softened and she echoed the words back to me: "я тоже тебя люблю, Y/N." It felt like an exchange of promises, a declaration of our feelings for each other.

She leaned in and kissed me, and I eagerly returned the gesture. In that moment, as we stood there with our arms wrapped around each other, I knew that I never wanted to be anywhere without her. She had tricked me into saying those three little words, but they were more than just words. They were a reflection of what we both felt deep in our hearts - love.

©Elena do not copy, edit, or translate my works.

#marvel smut #natasha romanoff x reader smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff smut #wlw smut #gxg smut #natasha x y/n #natasha x reader #bottom natasha romanoff #sub natasha romanoff #top reader #dom reader #x reader

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gloomwitchwrites · 2 days

Text

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): canon-typical swearing, suggestive themes, birth control discussion, dirty talk, making out, lots of touching

Word Count: 5.2k

A/N: Part Sixteen of Ink & Needle

You and Simon explore Edinburgh before heading to Johnny’s family farm in the Highlands. At the secluded cottage on property, you and Simon finally have the chance to be truly alone.

Chapter Fifteen

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

Green grass. Fall rain. Endless gray sky.

Funny how the simple things, the things you don’t expect, can bring you joy. They ground you in a singular moment, capturing the present like a snapshot. Simon’s head is quickly filling with these pictures. They are consuming. Perfect. A calmness that he often feels just before the first sip of tea.

It took twenty minutes—and all of Simon’s willpower—to pull himself from your arms and out of bed this morning. He would have stayed but this is so much better. This is freeing. A complete separation from the stresses of his life. Since waking, Simon hasn’t thought about a single fucking worry all day.

No 141 Ink. No British Intelligence. No Kit Walsh.

Nothing.

Simon even forgot to care that he didn’t pack or wear a balaclava for this trip.

There has only been you.

You—who is the bright light in the dark that is his life.

It’s raining in Edinburgh, but that doesn’t appear to dampen your mood one bit. If anything, it makes you wilder, and Simon loves watching your intense satisfaction in everything you see around you. Right now, you stand in the middle of a cobblestone street, staring up into the cloudy sky, smiling at the soft rain as it lands on your face.

Simon is on the pavement, grinning like an idiot as you make your way back to him. Before you reach him, Simon presents his hand. You take it without question, the two of you effortlessly coming together.

It is natural. It is instinct.

The connection between his actions and his brain are so seamless, Simon doesn’t realize what he’s doing until after it has already happened. Each movement flows into the next, and it keeps the worries at a distance.

You are right in front of him. You are here and whole and all his.

Nothing compares.

With the rain, Simon sticks to indoor activities. The two of you linger in little trinket shops and old bookstores, explore winding streets, and watch the rain from café windows. You are curious, and this curiosity forces Simon to see the world around him differently. Simon always stops in Edinburgh when he visits Johnny’s family farm, but it’s just another stop to him. Nothing more.

At this point, it is routine, but watching you explore the city with new eyes gives Simon pause. It tells him to slow down, to consider that he can enjoy what’s before him as it is. Because watching you is shifting something inside of him. Not like a knife to the gut that twists and turns, but a healing with thread and needle and a tenderness that he can’t place but feels in his marrow.

When the rain stops and the clouds clear out, you and Simon stop for a sandwich before trekking up Calton Hill. Simon has seen this view hundreds of times. He stays back, allowing you to take it all in. There are other people up here—mostly tourists—but unlike them, you do not pull out your phone to snap photos. You simply admire, and inhale deeply, just living in the moment.

Simon does not interrupt. He does something he hasn’t done in ages.

From his coat pocket, Simon removes a small sketch pad and pencil. Finding a comfortable spot in the wet grass, he starts to sketch, allowing the graphite to lead. Simon sketches, simply existing, until you turn your back to Edinburgh and extend your arm to him, fingers wiggling in invitation.

Simon is the one that moves, taking your hand instead of you taking his. Again, like all the other times today, you step into his space, molding to him as if you’ve always belonged there. Bending down, Simon brushes his lips against the crown of your head before departing.

The drive to Johnny’s family farm up in the Highlands is peaceful. You sleep most of the way, and Simon doesn’t wake you until he pulls into the drive. He parks off to the side next to the tarp-covered quad and shuts off the car. Simon promised Johnny he’d check on the place before heading out to the cottage at the edge of the property.

Simon gently places his hand on your shoulders and squeezes. “We’re here.”

You stir, eyelids blinking slowly before opening fully. Sitting up, you yawn and glance around, realization dawning. “This the place?”

“Cottage is elsewhere. Stopping here first. Promised Johnny I’d look in on the place.”

“You mentioned no one would be here.” You have the passenger door open before Simon can hop out and open it for you. He comes around the front of the vehicle as you shut the car door. “Are we checking on the animals?” you ask, hopefulness in your tone.

Simon chuckles. “Absolutely not. Think I know how?”

“No,” you reply automatically, laughing. Your grin is infectious, and Simon cannot help but match it.

“You have so little faith in me?” he teases, placing one hand above the passenger window, creating a barrier between you and the house.

Simon leans in and grins when he receives the reaction he wants. You’re flustered and sweet, your gaze darting from his face to his chest in embarrassment.

“Never,” you murmur, lips parting slightly.

Your pupils widen and Simon has to swallow down a growl. Just a few more minutes, and the two of you will be where you need to.

Simon pushes off from the car and nods toward the house, walking backward. You follow, clearly eager. The main house is single-level, rectangular, and made of gray stone. The cottage is similar but boxy, housing a single room instead of several.

Approaching the front door, Simon begins lifting the edges of rocks that make up the flower bed with the toe of his boot. Usually someone is always here when Simon comes for a visit and all that’s required is just a knock on the door. But whenever the farm sits empty, a key is placed under a rock, and it is a hunt in finding where it is. The key is never in the same place twice and Johnny always forgets to remind Simon where it might be located.

A flash of metal catches Simon’s attention. He overturns the rock and bends down, snagging the key, jostling the rock back into place with his boot. Simon slides the key into the lock, and the door gives. Simon enters and you follow on his heels.

Simon loves this house. It’s cozy and comfortable. A true home. He’s spent many Christmases here, sleeping on the lumpy sofa and stuffing his face at the large wooden dining table. Hesitantly, you step forward as Simon tosses the key on the kitchen counter.

“Is there anything I can help with?” you ask, turning in Simon’s direction.

Simon shakes his head. “Just checking that windows are locked. I’ll walk the exterior after.”

You nod, slipping your hands into your coat pockets, strolling further into the house. Simon starts in the interior room before moving on to the bedrooms and bathroom. Everything is secure. Nothing is out of place, but the lock in the main bedroom is loose.

“Simon,” you call out. He tenses slightly at your raised voice but you don’t sound nervous or afraid.

Cautiously, he reenters the main room. You’re standing in front of the fridge. When Simon appears, you glance at him, the corners of your mouth turning upward into a bemused expression.

“What is it?” he asks, suddenly apprehensive.

Your head slowly swivels back to the fridge and that is when he notices a small piece of paper attached to it by a magnet.

“Simon,” you begin, reading from the paper. “I’ve stocked the fridge with all your favorites. Harold is taking care of the animals. Heard you’re bringing a lady friend. Hope you bring her at Christmas.” You turn back to Simon, one eyebrow arched in question.

Bloody hell.

The next time Simon sees Johnny, he’s strangling him.

“It also says to strip the bed before we leave if we—” you glance back at the note, “make a mess.”

Johnny, you’re a dead man.

Simon nearly chokes at that last bit. “It doesn’t say that,” he grumbles, striding forward to snatch the note off the fridge. Simon turns the paper over, revealing a familiar sprawling cursive. That is Johnny’s mother’s handwriting. He reads over it and then crosses his arms over his chest, staring you down.

You burst out laughing, covering your mouth as you giggle uncontrollably.

“You’re fucking done,” he says, pointing in your direction before folding the paper and stuffing it into his pocket. Simon tries to keep a serious demeanor but utterly fails. He’s grinning too as he rummages around for the toolbox under the sink.

After fixing the lock, Simon takes a lap around the perimeter of the house. Finding nothing, the two of you return to the car and head out to the cottage. It isn’t far and the dirt road that leads to it borders the pastures.

The cottage is a near replica of the main house. It too is made of stone with a small flower bed out front.

“Is this where we’re staying?” you ask as Simon opens the boot and removes the bags.

“You like it?”

“It’s lovely, Simon.” Your gaze softens. “Thank you.”

His heart stops and then melts, becoming liquid in his chest. “We both needed a break.”

You nod. “We did.” Your glance at the bags hanging off his shoulder. “I can take mine.”

“Absolutely not,” he says, pushing right past you and to the door.

You are not lifting a finger this entire trip. Simon won’t allow it. If you need anything, he will provide it.

Simon has the key in the door before you can form a protest. You’re grumbling behind him, but Simon ignores you, pushing open the door and stepping inside. Slowly, Simon slips the bags off his shoulder and places them at his feet.

Like the main house, the cottage is old. It’s seen two world wars, rebellions, and invasions. While the exterior hasn’t changed much, the interior has been updated to accommodate modern amenities. It consists of one large room and a small bathroom. Across from the entry door, on the other side of the room, is the hearth. It is the focal point of the room, and other than some general upkeep, it hasn’t changed since it was first built. Simon could comfortably crouch inside it and still have room to move.

Simon can build a fire in it, but he cannot fucking cook with it. Johnny’s mother certainly passed on her knowledge but it never stuck. Thankfully, there’s an actual fucking oven. The kitchen area itself is relatively small with limited counter space and a small fridge. Next to that is a tiny breakfast table that segways into a little sitting area with an armchair and sofa that seats two.

Directly inside the door to Simon’s left is the bathroom, and to his right is the bed. Its wood frame is weathered but sturdy.

“This is where we’re staying?” you ask softly, as if you don’t believe it to be true.

“Until Wednesday,” answers Simon, suddenly nervous.

Do you like it? Is it enough?

Simon cannot see your face. You’re turned away from him, walking further into the room. He stands awkwardly near the door, and the only thing in his head is how much he desires your approval. This trip isn’t much, but it’s something.

When you remove your coat and shiver, Simon’s response is immediate. “I’ll start the fire.” Grabbing the wool blanket off the bed, Simon unfolds it and holds it at your shoulders for you to accept.

This time, Simon finally sees your face, and the softness in your features dissolves any doubts. You are happy, and when your gaze meets his, Simon is momentarily lost, delving into your endlessness.

And yet again, Simon’s movements do not register until he is already reaching for you.

He drapes the wool blanket over your shoulders and then wraps you up in it, pulling you against his chest as he does so. Simon does not ask. He does not hesitate. There is no trepidation when he claims your lips. All Simon knows is that he wants this, wants you, and you are here with him.

No one can take you from him.

You open, and Simon advances. The second your taste finds his tongue Simon knows that he’ll slaughter anything and anyone who attempts to steal you away.

They will only know the shape of his fists.

They will only know the flavor of lead.

Suffering will be their sleep and their memory upon waking.

You are too good—too fucking sweet for Simon—and yet he’s never giving you up. Will never drop the addiction. If you leave, Simon can only follow.

The kiss deepens, your fingers finding the back of his neck. You’re smaller than him but you still try to show a bit of force. It’s cute how you’re pulling on him, telling Simon you crave more. Eagerness is pumping in your blood, and Simon is ready to explore that need. To understand and match it with his own.

He wants to fill his lungs with it.

Breathe you in so deep you’ll leave scars.

While Simon would love nothing more than to remove everything beneath the blanket, he needs to warm this place up and put some food in your belly.

Reluctantly, and with harrowing effort, Simon pries your fingers away from his neck. You whimper in response, and that sound goes straight to his dick. The sudden rush of blood is what snaps Simon out of his haze. When he draws back and notices your puffy, pouty lips and blown pupils, Simon nearly submits all over again.

But even that is not enough to completely shatter him.

“You’re distracting me,” he mumbles.

Your smile is gentle. “You’re the one who kissed me.”

Simon reaches up and runs the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip. “Curl up on the sofa. I need to grab wood.”

“Let me help,” you say, tugging on his jacket.

“Rest. I’ve got this.”

Your palm goes flat against his chest before dropping away. It leaves a lingering warmth behind. Backing up, you plop onto the couch, bending forward to remove your shoes. Simon turns away quickly, running his fingers through his hair as if that will calm his racing heart.

He retrieves wood from the pile on the south side of the house, stacking it all next to the hearth. Removing the correct tools, Simon sets to work. It won’t take much to warm the room, and Simon gives just enough life to the fire to take care of other tasks. Given the right conditions, the fire will do what it needs to on its own.

Opening the fridge, Simon snorts. Johnny’s mother truly did stock it. She not only prepped for dinner but left plenty for breakfast, lunch, and afternoon tea. Amongst all that are various snacks.

We won’t need to leave at all.

That is what Simon ultimately wanted, and it’s exactly what he’s receiving.

Simon begins heating the small oven and selects one of the prepared meals from the fridge. Johnny’s mother even left a couple bottles of wine and a small bottle of scotch on the counter. While Simon loves a strong drink, he prefers Kentucky bourbon, but he won’t turn down what’s freely offered.

By the time the two of you finish a bottle of wine and dinner, it’s dark out. Simon shutters the windows, cleaning up the cutlery and wine glasses before joining you on the sofa. The old thing sags under his weight but it’s comfortable, and you lean into him, resting your head in the crook of his arm.

Simon doesn’t feel anything but contentment. He’s like white linen hanging on a clothesline under the summer sun. No cares. No worries. There is nothing but you and him and this cottage for the next few days.

Shifting in his arms, you look up at him, your chin slightly digging into his shoulder. Simon glances down at you, and without hesitation, places his large palm against the side of your throat, his thumb gently caressing your cheek.

“Ready for bed, love?” Simon means sleep, but that idea utterly vacates his brain when you swing your leg over his thighs. Still keeping his hand on your throat, you move from his right side to his lap. The wool blanket is still around your shoulders, and it falls open slightly as you raise both hands to rest against his chest.

“Simon.” His name on your tongue is honey-thick. “You know what I want.”

“I know,” he says, because it’s what he wants too.

Two months. Two months since he first saw you standing in the doorway of 141 Ink. He thought you a phantom, an illusion of the mind that happens to him sometimes. But you were real that day. You were real and fate brought you to him.

Simon has waited three fucking years for you.

And he’s going to make up for every missed second.

His hand drops from your neck only to settle on your hips. Simon squeezes, filling his grip with you, imagining when there will no longer be a barrier between his skin and yours. It’s what he’s been thinking of, what he’s been wanting, but that’s not the whole picture.

You are more than what you can offer him physically, and while that is the final piece, it’s not everything. Simon adores your kisses and kind smiles. He loves your silly jokes, and the sense of peace that comes with your presence. The instinct to protect and possess is a constant thing. It sits in the back of his head and between his rib bones.

A model relationship isn’t something Simon knows. He grew up with violence and made a career of it. Every person Simon has ever engaged with on an intimate level have always been quick and efficient affairs. Simple need fulfillment. Nothing more.

But this? With you?

It’s so much more. It goes beyond the bounds of reason. It is suffocating as much as it is lifegiving. There is no doubt in Simon’s mind about how he feels, only beautiful truth.

Your hands venture away from his chest. One comes to a rest in the muscled dip where his neck and shoulder meet. The other is low, nearly in his lap, toying with the end of his shirt like you want to delve underneath but aren’t sure if you should.

“Do you want me?” you ask, and Simon hears the gentle break.

Do you truly think he’ll reject you?

“Always,” he answers. “Constantly.”

Simon’s hands slide up to your waist, holding tight, drawing you closer. Your head tilts in invitation and Simon matches your movement. The connection is electric and yet completely comforting. This feeling is a tangled web of warmth and anticipation. It courses through Simon’s veins until it buzzes in the tips of his fingers.

Again and again, Simon is lost in you. The craving is unending. You press in, roll your hips, and Simon snaps. Breaking the kiss, Simon grasps the nape of your neck. The gasp you release upon separation heats his blood.

“We need to talk first,” he says.

You whimper and try to return to him, but Simon’s grip is firm. He doesn’t want to deny you this but the two of you need to discuss protection before anything continues.

“Listen to me, love,” coos Simon. Your gaze goes from his lips to his eyes. “If we’re doing this, I want no barriers.”

The middle of your brow creases in confusion. “You have me, Simon. Completely.”

Simon shakes his head. His left hand falls away from your waist and slides over the curve of your ass, dipping between your spread thighs. Pausing, Simon cups your pussy and your eyelids flutter with pleasure.

“No barriers,” he repeats, pressing slightly until you make a sound in your throat that shoots a bolt of need to his dick. “That’s what I want.” Your gaze darts over his face, but you don’t say anything.

The silence is excruciating, and he needs an answer. “Do you want that?” he asks, even as the uncertainty of your answer bites at his resolve.

If you say no, it’s not a big fucking deal. Simon packed an entire box of condoms for this very reason. Whatever you decide, he’ll respect it, but he just needs to know. Because whatever you tell him, the two of you will need to make a plan moving forward.

Simon will fuck you bare. He wants you dripping with him. To see it between your legs and know that you belong to him.

“Simon.”

“Tell me.”

“Yes.”

Fucking hell.

“Yes, what?” he prompts.

“I want you,” you breathe. “No barriers.”

Simon removes his hand from between your thighs. “Are you sure, love? Don’t say yes just for me.” His fingers tighten slightly on your neck, and your eyelids flutter in response. “Not looking to put a baby in you.”

Not yet.

The unspoken words hang in front of his eyes, and Simon freezes.

Fuck.

Not yet. Not. Yet. Why the fuck did he think that? Why is his head even considering that as an option?

Because it’s true, even if Simon has only given the idea a few seconds of consideration. When Amelia showed Simon the photo of you holding Lillian, he couldn’t help himself. He imagined the small infant as yours. The one he’d have with you. Wanting a child is not something Simon has ever entertained, but then again, he didn’t have you in his life.

Pieces of him—pieces that were nothing more than scattered fractures—are beginning to reform. They’re finding each other, fusing, collectively forming the image that is Simon.

It is happening.

Slowly. But happening.

He is finding himself in the void.

“Is that something you want?

Your question pulls Simon right out of his silent musings. He considers his next words carefully.

“It’s on the table.” Because it is, but only if you want it. “In the future,” he amends, making it clear that is not what he wants at this particular moment.

Even if he did where would the infant go in his flat? There isn’t any fucking room.

You simply nod and say nothing. Simon senses an unease radiating off you but he’s not entirely sure why and it’s unclear if he should push the topic.

“You on birth control?” he asks, deciding it’s better to receive verbal confirmation.

“I am,” you reply.

Simon sighs audibly and squeezes your thighs. “Good.”

You smile coyly. “You’re very sweaty all of a sudden, Simon. Are you nervous?”

Simon swallows and his salvia sticks in his throat. He coughs, almost chokes. “What?”

“Your cheeks are flushed.” The backs of your knuckles graze the line of his jaw. “Haven’t seen that before,” you murmur, almost as if you’re speaking to yourself and not to him.

“Come here,” growls Simon, pulling you in for a kiss to cover up whatever has caught your attention.

You giggle, playfully swatting at him, only to soften with each lingering kiss. Your muscles relax, and you melt into him, lengthening and deepening each meeting until you’re pliant in his arms again.

This is how it should be.

You become absorbed in him, and Simon revels in it. All this time, all these years, Simon believed his need for you was entirely one-sided. But with you in his lap, and your hunger flaring hot, Simon understands that you just as desperate.

Squirming, you tug on the front of Simon’s shirt as if you can pull him closer. “I want you inside me, Simon.”

You say these words against his lips, branding his flesh with your desire. Sweet victory roars beneath his skin like an animal. Simon is going to fuck you senseless. Take you over and on every possible surface.

“How, love?” he replies. “Use your words.”

When you answer, it is with shaky breath. “No barrier. Want you. Only you, Simon.”

Using just his hold on your neck, Simon draws you back to him. The kiss is chaste, more of a whisper against skin. “Can I come inside you?” Simon flexes his hips upward, rubbing his growing need against your covered pussy.

Your own hips answer back, arching into his touch as you beg. “Please.”

“That’s my good girl,” he purrs as he gives you what you need.

Why are these kisses so much sweeter? So much more addictive?

Simon craves another the moment the last one is done, as if the second they stop he’ll lose them forever. This desperation makes a home in his stomach, filling him with a smoldering demand to completely possess every part of you. Like a feral beast, Simon awakens, seeking his meal.

Without losing his hold on the nape of your neck, Simon removes the wool blanket from around your shoulders. He discards it to the side, not caring where it lands. Returning to your mouth, Simon seeks and tastes until everything within him shatters.

He is made of splintered bones, and you are the adhesive glue that will fuse him back together. To achieve that, Simon needs renewal, a blessing of your flesh.

Your top and bra are only simple obstacles. They surrender to him easily, and neither of you gives either item a second thought. It is meaningless now.

There is only bare skin against bare skin.

Simon’s palm explores, running up and down your stomach to the valley between your breasts. Everything is touched. Everything is savored until his blood roars in his ears.

Groaning, Simon forces himself to release that lovely mouth. He aches until he finds you again. Simon’s head dips, lips brushing against your throat. The kisses he leaves along the line of your neck are simple things that slowly shift and ebb, transforming into playful nips that turn to claiming bites.

Your fingers find his hair, threading and tangling, pulling slightly until Simon growls. The hold you have on him is pleasurable as much as it borders on pain. He moves lower, and it’s an odd fucking angle, but Simon doesn’t give a shit. Every inch of you deserves his mouth. When his lips skim just above your right breast, you instinctually lean back, giving Simon better access.

Simon runs his tongue over and around your nipple. You shiver in his arms, fingers lightly digging into his scalp as he teases it to a hard peak. Once stiff, Simon switches to the other, giving it just as much attention.

But it is not enough.

Sliding his hands to the backs of your thighs, Simon lifts you up as he stands. Your arms immediately lock around his neck as your ankles cross behind his back. The fact that he doesn’t need to instruct you in this pleases him.

Simon travels from the couch to the bed, and this one action reminds him of Riot Room when he lifted you in the air and bounced you on his cock. He was observing the expressions on your face as you watched him enter and exit your body. Witnessing that was fucking bliss.

He’ll do that again. But not yet.

At the edge of the bed, Simon eases you down onto the comforter. While your legs come to the bed, your hands take longer to retreat. Your fingers linger, nails lightly dragging across the back of his neck and then down the front of his chest.

Simon lets you have this.

But once you completely fall back onto the bed, Simon’s resolve is absolute.

He doesn’t demand or ask.

Like your top and bra, Simon simply grabs and tugs until you’re in nothing but your underwear. His fingers trace up your bare legs, stopping at your thighs momentarily before his hands drop away.

You’re fucking beautiful like this. A banquet. A feast he’s about to gorge himself on.

Leaning back on your forearms, your bare chest is completely exposed, breasts pushed forward in his direction. Your nipples are still hard and raw from his mouth, and Simon has to bite back a groan at the sight.

There is plenty of time to enjoy all of you. Simon needs to get a fucking hold on himself before he pushes your legs wide and buries himself without a thought for you. His blood is electrified, buzzing until it bounces around in frenzy, attempting to convince Simon to claim you until there is no doubt who it is you belong to.

He needs to slow the fuck down. Wednesday is the day the two of you return to civilization, and neither of you are leaving this cottage until then. There is only him and you and this bed.

Slowly, Simon returns his hands to your legs. He begins at your ankles, roaming up your shins and then your knees, sliding down your thighs to stop at the band of your underwear. He considers them a moment and then roughly fists the fabric. In two quick tugs, Simon has them down and around your ankles.

“You don’t need these,” he says, tugging one last time and tossing them aside.

Much better.

Your lips part and your thighs quiver. Simon’s mouth salivates from that alone. All this time, and you crave him just as much. Pride swells in his chest with the knowledge that you want to be here, and that you want this with him.

“What about you?” you ask, nodding toward Simon.

Here you are, naked and on your back, and Simon hasn’t taken off a single fucking thing. His mind was too focused on stripping you down than thinking of himself.

To answer your question, Simon reaches behind him with one hand, grabbing the collar of his shirt. Yanking it up over his head, Simon tosses the shirt to the side, leaving him in only his jeans and black socks.

“Better?” he asks, extending his hands outward slightly.

You nod, pink tongue darting out just before you nibble on your bottom lip.

Simon draws his hands back to his sides, turning them into clenched fists as a small tremor hits him causing his hands to shake. He’s worked up, and his cock fucking aches, but no matter how much he’d love to spread you wide to pound into you, your pleasure is just as important.

You’re not taking anything until you’re prepped and ready for it.

“Spread those gorgeous thighs for me,” he commands through clenched teeth. Simon watches as you part them slightly, but it isn’t nearly enough. You’re still hidden from him.

“More,” demands Simon, desperately needing to see that sweet pussy.

Again, you part your legs further, feet sliding across the bedding, but it’s still short of what Simon is after. He needs to wide. Completely open.

“No. Like this.” Simon slides his hands between and forces your thighs apart until he can see fucking everything.

The sight of you steals the oxygen from his lungs.

You are glossy. Slick. Wanton.

Fucking hell.

Simon is going to devour you.

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verimuru · 2 days

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"Daddy"

Armand’s eyes widened slightly, which was probably meant to make him look innocent, but it only made The Face worse. “This is just my regular face, Daniel.”

“Yeah, right. You’re up to something.”

In which VERIMURU and GRAYGIANTESS team up to give you the Armandaniel age difference COMIC you never knew you needed!

A 16-page IWTV (2022) Armand x Daniel fancomic

Story by @graygiantess

Art by @verimuru

On Ao3, the written version: DADDY - FIC

Content mentions & warnings: Discusses Daniel’s health and the pandemic. Fluff, talk about age difference, hints of daddy kink.

Some notes about the comic below:

A huge thanks to Luce for trusting me with your wonderful writing, if I only could I would just love to do this every day. And for a couple weeks I DID! I can't believe how smoothly the collab happened and now suddenly exists!

I hope people read both the comic and written version of this fic. AND THEN GO READ THE REST OF THE PENTHOUSE SHENANIGANS by Luce. Those are my ultimate comfort fics I can't get enough of, aggh. Xoxo, I had so much fun! <3 I

- verimuru

Also: Shout out to ahoy_soups for sending GrayGiantess this epic video by everyone's favorite Armand cosplayer and reminding her that this was a plot bunny she had hopping around in the back of her brain!

(Very loosely related to @graygiantess' another fic Baby)

#iwtv #verimuru art #graygiantess #iwtv fanfiction #iwtv fanart #armand #the vampire armand #armandaniel #daniel molloy #amc iwtv #iwtv 2022 #iwtv fancomic #old man daniel #old daniel molloy

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eelnoise · 15 hours

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with hearts aligned (nsfw!)

zoro x fem!reader this fic's followup btw. takes place between fishman island and PH (yes there's lore!! 🙄! and yes zoro did keep all that shit bottled up for a bit!!) cw: confessions of love, somewhat troubled zoro, not-so-awkward first times (our boy is intuitive okay ?!), piv sex, fingering, cute stuff idk an: okay i know this took a long time but i re-wrote this like 5 times and accidently got hyperfixated on ffxiv and generally needed a break from writing BUT WE ARE BACK BABY !!! wc: 3.4k tagging @bby-deerling @kaizokuniichan @sleepymarimo @willowbelle @nina-ya

The clinking of cutlery upon plates and chatter among friends fills the small island tavern with animated joy and serene relief. Brook plays the violin somewhere to the left side of the room, though the eager blathering of the crew drowns out the more finer notes and melodies played.

A well-deserved interruption and a welcome change from the unpredictable nature of the past few day’s events – though for Zoro, it’s a distraction that’s come to an end. Despite the crew being whole again, he still feels a hollowness within – something no amount of eating or drinking or fighting can fill.

And it’s entirely his fault.

You sit across the table from him, sipping at a near-empty glass of wine and discussing something inaudibly with Usopp. He can’t quite read your expression from where he’s seated, but you look interested enough in the conversation.

And if it’s obvious to himself that he’s keeping you at arm’s length, it’s clear to anyone with a working conscience that he’s doing his utmost to avoid you. The many longing gazes from his peripheral do not go unnoticed, but he dares not to look – for the hurt in your eyes would crush him and sear and stain into his soul. A far-flung difference from the camaraderie that came before all of this, when the two of you were rarely found an inch too far apart from one another – and now Zoro can’t even look you in the eye. After his many imagined intimate rendezvous,how could he?

With you distracted, he lets his eye wander across your face, to the length of your arm, down to the glass pinched between your fingers – but it comes to rest upon your lips. He watches, transfixed on the flight peek of your tongue behind your teeth when you speak, how your lips twist with each syllable, how they purse when you’re in thought, and the way they stretch across your cheeks when you smile.

Zoro’s throat tightens, a sharp dagger of guilt carving into his chest. He forces his stare to the table, the tiniest sliver of your form still lingering in the corner of his vision. You’ve journeyed this far, fought, bled, and laughed together. And now, for once, he’s unable to find the words to say.

The weight of his inaction bears down on him, leaving him listless. The only respite he’s found is in the distraction of a battle, a thudding, a clash, steel ringing against steel. In those moments, he’s alive, he’s focused, and the words that plague his every waking thought cease to exist. But without the battle, Zoro is left with nothing but the echoes of unspoken desires.

His hand trembles, gripping his mug of ale as he brings it to his lips. The bitterness of the brew does little to quell the fire in his chest. He’s a swordsman, a pirate – not a poet, bard, or a man of words. It’s a mess of feelings. Lust, want, longing, love, all these indescribable sensations that only serve to make Zoro feel weak and helpless and vulnerable when faced with them. He feels like a coward, daring never to speak to you again, never to confess his feelings, and never pulling you into his arms and kissing you senseless.

Zoro’s eye meets yours for one singular fleeting moment, the intensity of the connection making his heart race. He knows he can’t keep up this charade, this dance of avoidance – but how does one even confess to these feelings? How does one bridge the gap between comrade and lover? He scratches his chin, trying to come up with a solution, but all he can think of is a single, frustrating fact: he can’t keep running.

Whether it’s every empty bottle he’s seen the bottom of tonight, the last of his resolve wearing thin, or just the sheer guilt of it all that drives him suddenly to his feet, he isn’t sure. Inhaling one of the deepest breaths he’s ever taken, he silently trudges around the table to where you’re seated.

At first, he hovers awkwardly so as to not interrupt the conversation you’re having. Both hands come to rest at either side of the back of your chair and he can feel his pulse through his fingertips on the wood – and when you tilt your head up to look at him, a curious smile twitching at the edges of your cheeks, he cracks.

Zoro clears his throat and forces his gaze. “I need to talk to you for a sec.”

His voice is hoarse as he asks, and he hopes you can’t hear the nerves that lie beneath his words. Surprised by how much he’s sweating and how his heart races against his ribcage, he swallows to regain some semblance of composure.

“It’s important,” he adds, trying not to stumble over his thoughts. It’s a pitiful excuse, but all that comes to mind amidst the maelstrom of emotion in his head.

“Oh, yeah – of course!” You reply with raised brows and begin to stand. Zoro allows you the room to move, taking a step back from the table. “Sorry, Usopp,” you say as you turn and give him a weak shrug, “Remind me where we left off later?”

“No prob!” The sniper shoots a thumbs-up and the two of you exchange a wave before you turn to follow Zoro away from the lively table and out of the tavern.

Zoro leads you to a quiet spot by the docks nearby, where the salty scent of the sea mingles with the faint tang of fish and the distant hum of the island. He can’t bring himself to look at you, electing instead to focus on the water and the twinkling reflection of the night sky in the soft waves.

“Everything okay?” You ask softly, taking a few steps toward him and assuredly taking note of his hesitance. “What’s up?”

“I missed you,” Zoro replies, fixated on the sigh of the shifting tides lapping at the wooden posts below. “A lot.”

“I missed you too, Zoro, but what’s so urgent?” The concern in your tone is apparent and caring, and normally works to soothe him when his mind runs rampant – but this moment, this situation he finds himself in, it does the opposite.

“No,” Zoro shakes his head, his fingers twitching at his sides. “I missed you - differently from the others.”

“Differently?”

Zoro’s jaw clenches, and part of him wants to jump into the ocean and swim as far away from the island as his arms will take him. The honest admission hangs heavy on his tongue, the weight of the years of denial suddenly threatening to push it out. He pauses, opens and closes his mouth a few times, then finally, with a shaky exhale, he looks you straight in the face.

“I love you.”

The admission hangs between you, the weight of years of suppression. Zoro shifts his weight from one foot to the other, twinges of regret creeping up the nape of his neck. It takes you a moment to reply, and considering the nature of the confession, it's reasonable. Zoro's nerves feel like hot coals beneath his skin as he watches your face for any sign of an answer.

“...for real?” Your gentle response fills his entire being with a wistful spark of hope.

Zoro's fingers curl into fists. "Yes, for real," he confirms, still not looking up. His heart thuds painfully in his chest, a heavy, leaden weight. All his hopes and fears rest on the outcome of this conversation. He's unsure if he could handle rejection, but he can't go back to the pretense any longer. Zoro swallows, tasting bile at the back of his throat. "I should've told you before now, but I... I'm an idiot.” He lets out a humorless laugh, his voice quiet.

He isn’t sure when you move, but a smaller, softer hand wraps around his – and in an instant, he feels himself relax into your touch. Zoro relaxes his grip, allowing your fingers to entwine with his.

He snaps his gaze towards you, his heartbeat ringing loudly in his ears. You peer at him, a sweet, crooked smile on your lips and a blush across your face. And when your free hand finds purchase on his cheek, Zoro finds himself leaning in.

You meet him halfway in a genuine, tender kiss that sends a jolt of electricity coursing through him. Zoro's arms wrap around you and pull you close. The world around falls away as you both delight in the embrace. The kiss is gentle, delicate, and filled with longing. It floods him with an unexpected warmth – and for once, he can't think of the past or the future. He's simply lost in the present moment.

When you finally pull away, Zoro can't help but lean into your palm on his cheek with a bit of a dazed smile on his face. Holding onto your hand, his other hand slowly moves to cup your cheek in return. His heart is pounding, his mind a blank slate tinged with overwhelming happiness. He's lost in your gaze, unable to speak, but he doesn't need to. The moment says everything.

"Do you know how much I missed you?" you murmur, lips ghosting his and thumb trailing upward to gently trace the lower half of the scar that now covers his right eye. "How often I thought of you?"

And then you say it - the words he's only imagined hearing you speak.

"I love you, too.”

Zoro's chest tightens, a lump forming in his throat as he meets your gaze, his heart swelling. Words fail him, the raw emotion in his gut silences his voice. A slow smile spreads across his lips, a look of awe and joy shadowing his features. He doesn't need words. The simple fact that you feel the same is enough to fill him with warmth and peace.

Leaning in again, Zoro captures you in another deep kiss – a deep and soulful kiss that speaks volumes. He's consumed by the feeling of being with you, of finally being able to express his love. His hand moves to cup the back of your head, pulling you closer, and he kisses you with all the passion and longing he's suppressed for far too long.

You sigh into him, the sound willingly swallowed by Zoro’s growing hunger. Arms wrap around his shoulders and you press yourself into him, the opened-mouthed kiss quickly turning into a twist of tongues dancing together in a frenzied rhythm with audible smacks of saliva mixing with each meeting of your lips. His hand clutches your hair more firmly, his other hand slipping around her waist to pull you impossibly closer.

The gesture is all-consuming, a whirlpool of desire and affection that leaves him lightheaded. For the first time in years, he feels like he's truly alive, his heart beating in perfect harmony with yours.

Slowly breaking the kiss, Zoro's lips ghost over your jawline, trailing down to your collarbone as he breathes in your scent, savoring every moment. He wants to memorize the taste, the feel, and the sound of your breath as his hands roam over your body, his heart beating a furious tempo.

You let out a small gasp when his lips touch your sensitive flesh, your body reacting to his every move. Goosebumps raise in the wake of his fingertips as he nibbles at your neck, causing your grip to tighten and for you to moan softly into his ear.

Part of Zoro wants to take you here and now, but what remains of his will stops him. He growls into your neck and lifts you up fully and, – with a little assistance from you – heads in the direction of the ship anchored nearby. The others wouldn't be back for a while, so why not take advantage of the privacy?

You’re weightless in his arms as he carries you away from the bustle of the small island village and towards the deck of the Thousand Sunny. Zoro can feel himself growing hard beneath the fabric of his pants as you kiss and nip along his neck, giggling in his ear when he retaliates with a playful squeeze to your rear and a rumbling growl against your skin.

He wastes little time pushing the door to the men’s quarters open with the tip of his boot, his grip on your hips tightening when he moves to lift you onto the nearest bunk, one hand still clutching your waist while the other travels up under your shirt to caress your chest, deft hands making quick work of unhooking your bra and tossing it aside to be forgotten.

Zoro’s breathing hitches, his eyes dark and lustful as he dips his head to suckle at the swell of your breast. He can feel himself twitching against your thigh, and despite his inexperience, he wants nothing more than to please you.

He kisses down your body, taking a nipple into his mouth and flicking it with his tongue while his hand roams, finding your core already soaked with desire. He pauses, fingers grazing over your clothed slit and feeling you shiver in pleasure. Zoro murmurs your name, and snakes his fingers beneath the waistband of both your shorts and panties before sliding them down your legs in one motion, leaving you naked and bared before him. His own pants follow suit, quickly discarded next to yours.

Zoro's hand finds its way between your thighs again, spreading your folds with ease, and he lowers his head to kiss you once more, his tongue probing your mouth as his fingers gently stroke your clit, drinking in your soft moans.

"Show me." He whispers just loud enough for her to hear. His expression is a loving one, though she notes the slightest bit of hesitance in his words.

Show me how you like it.

You nod and guide his fingers, taking two of the large digits and easing them in circles on your clit. "Not too rough, though," you say patiently, letting go of him with a soft sigh and an encouraging smile.

Zoro hums in acknowledgment, his thumb and forefinger doing as you ask, the slickness of your pussy allowing his fingers to move easily as he continues to tease at your clit. His other hand rests on your hip, steadying you as his thumb rolls over the sensitive bundle of nerves, eliciting small moans from you.

Zoro brushes the tip of his finger against your entrance in an experimental move, and by the way you wreathe and whine, he's urged to continue his work. He slides one past your folds and inside of you, making your toes curl and your back arch.

"Shit–" You sputter out between breathless sighs of desire. "Feels really good..."

One finger becomes two, your inner walls clenching around them as he scissors them in and out of your pussy. There's a wet slosh of sound coming from where you meet, your wetness audibly coating his fingers and dripping down down his wrist.

Zoro's breath hitches at the sound of your pleasure, his eyes dark with desire as he watches your reaction. He's entranced by how your body responds to him, and he can't help but lick his lips as he continues to finger you. He adds a third, the stretch making you gasp and tighten around him.

His pace increases, his fingers swirling and thrusting within you, and he watches as your body writhes and arches beneath him. He can feel the tension building in you, the way your breath hitches and your eyes flutter closed.

"Do you want me inside you?" Zoro asks, his voice low and thick with need. He's anxious to give you pleasure, but he's struggling to keep himself from joining his fingers inside you.

"Please," you whine, eyes wide and watery with pleasure but red hot with the need for more. "Need you, Zoro."

Zoro's heart beats wildly in his chest, his own need for you overwhelming as he pulls his fingers from your slick warmth and licks them clean before sitting back on his heels to position himself between your legs. He lines his cock up with your entrance and looks into your eyes, the passion reflected in his own.

Without warning, he thrusts forward, plunging deep into your tightness. You're hot and wet around him, and he lets out a growl of satisfaction as he bottoms out. He pauses for a moment, allowing you both to adjust and to revel in the feeling of being connected. He pulls back, slowly at first, then picks up the pace as he leans over you, the headboard digging into the wall with each forceful thrust. Zoro's eyes never leave yours, his gaze locked as if he's trying to absorb every detail of your expression.

Each stroke of his cock against your walls feels heaven-sent, and the taste of you that lingers on his tongue drives him crazy with want. Nails dig into the flesh of his triceps and your back arches, a song of passion belting from between your lips, a serenade made for him and him alone.

Zoro grunts at the sound of your pleasure, his thrusts becoming even more ferocious as he watches your reaction, the sight of you so lost in ecstasy driving him to the brink. He grips your hips, holding you steady as he pounds into you, the sweat glistening on your skin as your bodies collide.

The moonlight trickling in from the window illuminates your body below him. It's a sight better than anything he could dream, your face contorting in bliss and ecstasy, hands clinging harshly onto him as if he'd disappear if you let go. Savoring a feeling that neither wants to forget.

"You're so fucking perfect." Zoro growls, leaning over you to kiss you feverishly, his tongue seeking yours as he fucks you. He can feel the tension building, the way your body tenses and your nails dig into his skin, and he knows you're close. He wants to give you this moment, wants to make you cum as much as he wants to feel it himself.

"Come on," he urges, his voice thick with lust. "Let go for me." The words were a warning, a promise that he wasn't going to last much longer..Zoro increases the pace of his assault, his own release imminent as he watches your face, your eyes half-lidded and flushed with pleasure. Together, you move, driven by the primal need for release.

Zoro's thumb meets your clit, matching the rhythm of his thrusts with the speed of his ministrations. The dual stimulation pushes you over the edge, crying out butchered attempts at his name as your body convulses around him, your orgasm washing over you in waves. Zoro can't hold back any longer, feeling his own climax building as he watches you.

With a roar, he lets go, burying himself deep as he cums, the spasms of your walls milking him as he shudders and groans into your ear, seed spilling inside of you. He pants heavily, leaning over you as he rests on his forearms, his forehead meeting yours. He stays like that long enough to press a quick kiss to your lips before collapsing atop you with a very exhausted, but very relieved sigh.

You breathlessly hold him close. Cradling his sweaty form to your chest, one hand makes its way into his moss-green tresses to lightly scratch at his scalp. Zoro lets himself relax, letting out a sigh and nestling into your shoulder. He closes his eyes, feeling thoroughly sated in your embrace.

Zoro pulls out of you eventually, gently rolling off your body to rest. He pulls you into his side as he nuzzles into your hair. "I love you." He whispers, his voice soft and tender and almost unrecognizable.

Snuggling into his side, your hand still lazily strokes his head. "I love you too," you reply, voice equally tender, and a smile playing at the corners of your lips.

Your soft touch and tender words soothe Zoro, your shared connection cemented in the aftermath of passion. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer as he feels himself drifting off to sleep, a smile still lingering on his lips. The words you whispered echo in his mind, a warm feeling settling in his chest – and together, in each other's arms, you find peace.

#one piece x y/n #one piece x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x y/n #one piece x reader smut #zoro smut #one piece imagine #x reader #fem reader #rattling the bars of my cage!!!!!!! RAAAAAAAAGH I LOVE ZORO SO MUCHHHHH

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 days

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WIBTA if I turned my coworker in for using his phone?

☎️ for obvious reasons.

So I’m gonna put this up front: this isn’t actually about the phone, it’s about the coworker. The phone is just convenient.

Our players are me (35 AFAB), Coworker A (~30 M), Supervisor C (N/A M), D (N/A F), and L (N/A F).

So first, the reason I have beef with A: he has never had a conversation with me that didn’t involve hitting on me and/or inappropriate questions. These have included demanding to know who I voted for, how my paycheck is delivered, whether I’m in a throuple with my roommates, and whether I have a boyfriend, which wouldn’t be weird except it was literally the first question he ever asked me—he didn’t even know my name yet. After I yelled at him over the voting thing because he refused to take “I don’t discuss politics at work” for an answer FOUR TIMES, he tried to break my glasses when I put them down so I could put on my safety goggles.

You may be wondering why I haven’t turned A in for harassment, ESPECIALLY after the glasses incident. I have. The problem is, he’s very good at looking pathetic and saying “I was just _________.” In this case, he was just looking at my glasses (never mind that you shouldn’t be playing with someone else’s expensive medical device!), and just making conversation. In spite of the fact that he was ignoring his trainee and distracting me from my work, he somehow got away with this. After a few of my screwdrivers went missing the same day he went pawing through them and he broke my brand-new pen, C told him to stop having anything to do with me, that his attention WAS NOT WELCOME.

Now we get to L and D. They’re two of our coworkers who can solve just about any problem you have. Ever since A was warned off, I’ve noticed that if I’m working with L or D, suddenly A needs all kinds of help that keeps bringing him over to our machine, and he always seeks out help from whoever it is I’m working with—if I’m with L he’ll go to L, if I’m with D he’ll go to D. If you’re a dude and think I’m overreacting, go ask a couple of the women in your life—you probably know someone who’s had similar experiences. (And for the record, another coworker I only know to say hello to has commented that his behavior toward me makes her feel like “he wants to wear your skin or something.”) I don’t think A is actively dangerous, but he’s very clearly a creep—especially because he also has a girlfriend and baby and still keeps doing this.

Now we get to the phone. I work in a factory where we’re not allowed to have phones on the floor because we work with food product and a phone dropping in a box is a huge contamination issue, on top of which distraction at my job can lead to life-changing, possibly even life-threatening injuries. (I was on a machine that threw its chain drive once and the only reason I didn’t lose an eye is because there happened to be another machine piece between me and the snap.) So: phones are a big no. Management will look the other way for people in extenuating circumstances, like having a sick kid at home, but in those cases your phone is to remain in your pocket and if it rings and you need to answer, you have to leave the floor.

I have caught A texting FOUR TIMES in the last month. Once I caught the words on his phone screen, and he was making plans for a party. That’s definitely not extenuating circumstances, and twice I’ve found his phone in the product catch tray.

So: very against rules that are there for the safety of us and our end users, and if I turn him in he’s going to get a writeup and possibly even a termination, which would mean I didn’t have to deal with him anymore. On the other hand, if he gets fired for violating safety standards he’ll have a hard time getting new work, and his baby doesn’t deserve hardship just because Dad is a creeper. Also, while I don’t carry my phone on the floor, I worry that turning him in could lead to a blanket ban that affects those in extenuating circumstances, because I’m almost positive he’d try “I was just checking on the baby” as his excuse.

WIBTA?

#aita #am i the asshole

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perseruna · 2 days

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Endiness made a beautiful long post with all his quotes on that topic that I think is very informative and worth looking at, so here’s a link to that. And with that already discussed, I thought I’d make a thread of all his changes that we are aware of, because when you look into them, you find that none of his “book accurate” changes are actually book accurate.

His decision to make Geralt grunt and cut his lines.

HC: "All the grunts, I either added or I didn't say anything and just grunted instead. It was often up to the other actors to go, 'I think he's not gonna say anything now.'"

JB: "Henry likes to cut his lines, 'cause he's lazy. No, he literally just likes to cut them. He likes to do more up here [frames his face with his hands] and just with face and hmms and grunts. There's a lot of hmms, and so I often have to take a lot of his lines and turn it into a lot of my stuff so that the plot happens."

So, as everyone who has read the books knows that Geralt is and always has been a yapper. Gerakt often talks or thinks in monologues, and definitely not in short grunts.

Of course when the audience started making fun of Geralt for not being able to speak in full sentences Henry promptly went back on admitting the blame and instead said that the big bad writers were the ones who didn't give him lines, and now it was his life’s mission to fight for a book accurate Geralt who speaks.

Roach’s death scene

After S2 came out, Lauren received a lot of backlash for Roach’s death scene, with multiple sources citing that she wanted the moment to be more “comedic” before the brave Henry Cavill stepped in and refused to participate in such horrible anti source material activities.

LH: "Henry was so unhappy with the line. Finally I said, 'You know what, you come up with something. I trust you, you know this material so well, you know the book so well, you don't even have to pitch it to me.' And he came back the next day with a beautiful speech that's at the end of 'Sword of Destiny' when Geralt is facing death.”

This is the line he ended up using:

“Enjoy your last walk across the meadow and through the mist. Be not afraid of her for she is your friend."

This was Lauren’s response AND the original line.

LH: “Here's what was scripted, in homage of the fact that a previous Roach had existed, and another one will exist soon. It's hardly a joke. Henry wanted a longer, more emotional moment, which I was more than happy to give him. Don't create drama where none exists.”

So in S2 Geralt ends up quoting a part of his monologue from ‘Sword of Destiny’ when he’s at his lowest after thinking that Yennefer had died at the battle of Sodden Hill, and he has nothing left to live for. Which to me doesn't work that well with Roach at all. That line was a response to Geralt thinking he's lost the love of his life, not his horse. In my opinion, the original line Lauren penned out is more heartfelt and actually more emotional and more book accurate as well.

The absolute removal of any Triss and Geralt “romance”

This one we don’t have that much information on in comparison to others. But there were multiple reports that at the beginning of S2 Triss and Geralt were supposed to have some kind of a romantic scene with each other which then was cut during production, and it was largely speculated that it was due to Henry Cavill.

“Several months ago we reported on a sex scene happening between Geralt and Triss, sometime in the first half of Season 2. That didn’t happen, as we all saw, but here’s what we know about the original plan for that: Geralt and Triss are in a room together, they seem friendly at first. They are playing some kind of weird game. Whoever wins a round, gets to ask a question. We’re not privy to the exact flow of the conversation, but it eventually leads to both of them ending up in bed. We can only guess why this was cut, but perhaps it was thanks to Henry Cavill.”

Now, irrelevantly on your feelings on book Triss and Geralt you have to admit that that short-lived “romance” is indeed a part of the books and therefor book accurate. So the removal of it would go against Mr I’m fighting to make this show as much book accurate as possible.

The removal of the Yen and Geralt sex scene in S2

"We just wanted to be very careful that it was true and real, and it didn't turn into something that we, as actors, didn't believe it should be," Cavill stated. When Yennefer and Geralt unite, they embrace, but it doesn't go further than that. He continued: "We wanted it to be emotional rather than sexual. It was really, really important, and we had to lean away from what was originally on the page." Initially, Geralt and Yennefer were written to have a more passionate night. Henry Cavill and Anya Chalotra went to "The Witcher" producers and explained why they thought a steamy evening was not the way to go. "These are people who believe one thing about the fate of another and then find out something else is true," Cavill said about Geralt believing Yennefer was dead. "That's not how they behave," the actor added. "How they behave is they just want to be with the person and emotionally recognize their existence again in that shared space.”

This one is a bit tricky because I am willing to get behind an actor who doesn't want to do a sex scene out of comfort reasons or whatnot, but Henry saying that "That's not how [Yennefer and Geralt] behave”, is quite absurd in my opinion. Because that is very much how Geralt and Yennefer behave, especially in the short stories and ToC. They are inherently a very sexual couple who come crashing in and out of each other’s lives while having very passionate sex. But I can understand wanting this scene to be more “emotional” (as if sex isn't emotional), so this one I am willing to give him a bit more leeway on. (But then again looking at the blinds saying that he refused any sex scenes because oh his “ideals” and was allegedly really nasty to Anya about it, well..)

Geralt being the perfect father figure to Ciri with no flaws and no struggles (which inevitably snowballed into the Yen Betrayal Arc)

This one I don’t see talked that much at all, and to me this one is his most detrimental one.

@LHissrich: “In interviews, Henry explains how he felt strongly that Geralt NOT be bumbling, nor a struggling father figure. In fact, a lot of S2 is about how Geralt does come from a loving (albeit unconventional) family. Henry was passionate about this shift, and we discussed it a lot, and ultimately thought it was wonderful for his character development. But it also had the domino effect of changing what Ciri needed from Yen when she entered the picture. Thus, introducing the idea of balance.”

So I don’t know about you, but I love when characters have flaws and naturally progress be it for good or bad, some would say that that's what story telling is about, well that someone wouldn't be Henry Cavil. Geralt being a struggling father figure at first, someone who makes mistakes and learns from them and tries is very much a prominent theme in Blood of Elves and is actually very real, people make mistakes! Especially in huge shifts such as “becoming a father overnight’ but we didn't get that because Henry refused to play it that way. What we got is Geralt who already basically knows exactly how to parent, he always knows what to say, what pep talk to give and also doesn't hold any resentment and any negative feelings towards Vesemir at all. It's all one dimensional happy family here! Which goes against not only the books but what he preached about fighting tooth and nail to make the “forgotten” male characters three-dimensional as well because the horrible feminist Lauren only thinks about female characters.

Lauren then goes on saying that “it also had the domino effect of changing what Ciri needed from Yen when she entered the picture. Thus, introducing the idea of balance” So, it is fair to speculate that Henry’s refusal to showcase Geralt having any flaws at all and act book accurate snowballed into The Controversial Yennefer Betrayal Arc.

These are the ones that I can remember off the top off my head, so there might be more, there’s probably more that we aren’t even aware of. I think putting them all together showcase a very interesting picture. One of Henry Cavill never actually understanding who Geralt fundamentally is as a character, and of him not being a team player at all. I just hope that more and more people are aware of the insane PR his team did for him when it came to this show, and that more people are able to see through it.

#anti henry cavill #the witcher #long post #i do believe that i have an interesting vintage point because ive been in this fandom since the show premiered so some people might not be #even aware of these things when ive lived them and have an archive of them in my head lmaoo #i don't like the formatting of asks when you reblog them so im making this a separate text post

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starsofang · 3 days

Text

Change of Heart

hitman!ghost x f!reader / part 3

previous part

tw: alcohol use, brief mentions of suicide, soft ghost <3

When life has completely and utterly failed you, you hire a hitman to take you out, too afraid to do it yourself. Instead of killing you like you had planned, he strikes up a deal with you, and you're too stubborn to bail out.

Day six.

You made it another day in your deal with Ghost, and it was supposed to feel good. The entire point was to prove to him and yourself that you didn’t want to die, that you could figure out the demons in your head and summon them out, but it was proving to be a much more difficult task than you thought.

Waking up on the morning of your sixth day didn’t feel all that good like you thought it would. Ghost hadn’t returned to your apartment since he stayed to see you make it to day five, and you weren’t sure when he was coming back.

It wasn’t clear why you were taking a liking to his company. Maybe you were lonely, maybe you just needed a friend, and he happened to be there in the right place at the right time.

The thought of it scared you, though. You hadn’t let anybody into your life since your ex-boyfriend, and you always preferred it that way – keeping a distance meant you wouldn’t get hurt again, and certainly, this masked man would eventually do the same thing to you if he decided to stick around.

You wanted to call the deal off. Not because you still wanted him to kill you, not because you wanted your life to end, but because you didn’t want to grow attached, just for you to not have a change of heart in the end.

It would be fucked up of you if you allowed a bond to form between you and Ghost, only to take it away through an act of death after the deal was up. That would just be plain selfish.

So, you tried distracting yourself instead.

It was a nice day today, and the weather, albeit chilly with that slight bite of cold wind, was an almost perfect excuse to take a night off and have fun by yourself in a bar. Surely, that doesn’t count as you going against Ghost’s deal of self-healing bullshit if it’s just for fun, right?

That’s exactly what led you to appear at a local bar downtown. Ironically, it was right down the street from the coffee shop where you first met Simon in the meeting to discuss your self-proclaimed suicide mission. You passed it on your walk to the bar, and a slight feeling of guilt tugged at your heartstrings as your eyes drifted to it, even as it was already behind you.

Shaking the guilt away, you continued on your journey along the sidewalk. There was no reason to feel guilty. You owed nothing to Ghost, and you were still technically keeping up your end of the bargain. A harmless night of fun was something you needed to shoo away those demons, at least that’s what you told yourself.

The bar wasn’t packed, which you didn’t mind. After all, it was only a Thursday night and most people had work the next morning. Lucky for you, that meant the bar wouldn’t take a long time for your drink orders, so you wasted no time in diving in, conversing with the bartender as the night went on.

About four drinks in, you could feel the weight of the alcohol lay heavy on your mind. It made things a bit hazy, like a brewing fog was beginning to loom over you. Your arms rested comfortably on the bar counter, head slightly bowed down as you attempted to keep yourself upright. Being an ex-alcoholic (you absolutely were not an ex, you just loved to float down the river of denial), alcohol was unpredictable in the way it affected your body.

Sometimes, it forced you to loosen up and have fun.

Other times, it made the weight of your issues much heavier.

Right now, it was an awkward middle, like your body was torn between wanting to enjoy this moment of serene relaxation, and wanting to plop right into bed and sleep your worries away, pretending they never existed in the first place.

The sound of somebody plunking themselves down on the stool next to you forced your head to lift, and when you came in sight of that damned mask, you wanted to stand up and let your legs lead you right to the bar’s exit.

Ghost sat unbothered, ordered himself a bourbon from the kind bartender. She flashed him a polite smile, throwing me a slight glance, and when you gave her a shrug, she left the two of you alone after retrieving Ghost’s drink.

“You a stalker now or something?” you grumbled in feigned annoyance, letting your head loll back down on the counter with a huff.

Ghost’s hand wrapped around the glass of bourbon while the other lifted his mask enough to reveal his mouth. You noticed instantly that he wasn’t wearing his gloves, and you stared at the littered scars on his hands as well as the veins that ran up from his knuckles and beneath the cuff of his hoodie sleeve.

Swallowing, you forced yourself to look away from them, opting on his eyes.

“Somethin’ like that,” he hummed, tipping the glass to his mouth to take a sip of the bitter alcohol. You wrinkled your nose up at it, not quite fond of dark liquor (though, who were you to be picky, seeing your collection of scattered bottles that consumed your home?).

“‘M not gonna kill myself, y’know,” you slurred out in defense, rolling your head so your cheek rested flat on the counter as you stared at him with what you hoped was perceived as disapproval.

“I know, love. Wouldn’t hire me if you were.”

Touche.

Frowning to yourself, you observed the way his lips parted to allow more of the murky liquor to pour into his mouth and down his throat, your eyes dropping to see his throat bob as he swallowed. The small scar on his lips caught your eye, and you couldn’t help but stare at it for a moment more, taking in the slight curve of it over his top lip, the scar tissue white in contrast to the light pinkess of his mouth.

“Why are you here?” you managed to ask, having to practically pry your eyes away from him.

The alcohol must’ve been getting to your brain too much, because you had the brief thought that he looked pretty. Gosh, half of his face was still covered by the mask, what was wrong with you?

“Went by your place. Saw you weren’t there.”

“You mean broke into my place,” you corrected, and you swore you nearly saw stars from the way his lip curled up in amusement.

“Mm. Maybe that,” he agreed with a careless shrug.

He leaned one of his arms on the counter, tilting his head in your direction. You could feel his eyes taking you in, studying you as always, as if you were a book he was analyzing every time he saw you. They stare at your cheeks, flushed from the alcohol. Your hair, which was lazily falling in your face from where your head lay. Your mouth, which was pulled into a mix of a frown and a pout that you clearly had no intentions of wiping off.

“Why are you here?” He repeated the question back to you, and you gave him the same shrug he had given you.

“I can’t have fun?”

“This fun to you?”

“...No.”

He chuckled out a laugh that rumbled you to the core, and you blinked stupidly at him as he downed the rest of the bourbon.

“Thought so, sweetheart. It’s a bit dingy in here, innit?”

You shifted your eyes to take in the bar, and sad to say, he was right. The bar itself wasn’t all that great, though you didn’t necessarily come because it was lavish. It was pretty old and outdated, with wooden counters, old floors, and stools that creaked under every movement. But hey, they had a pool table and a dart board, so it wasn’t all that bad.

“Maybe just a bit,” you sighed out, and he smiled at you.

“Right. So why are you here?” He asked again, and you stared at him for a moment before sighing again.

“Figuring myself out like you wanted me to,” you offered, and he raised an unimpressed eyebrow under the balaclava.

“Figurin’ yourself out with half a dozen vodka cranberries isn’t somethin’ I see as helpful. Weird choice in drink, by the way.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but promptly shut it, because damn it, vodka cranberries really weren’t all that good.

His fingers tapped mindlessly along the empty glass in front of him, and you found your gaze once again drifting to take in the rough pads of his fingers and healed cuts on the back of his hand. For a moment, a very, very brief moment, you wished you could reach out and take hold of it, just to feel what it was like to hold somebody else’s hand again.

It had been a long time since you’d had any sort of touch, both innocent and intimate, and your ex-boyfriend certainly wasn’t the type of man to hold your hand like delicate glass and place kisses along the back of it.

Ghost let out a long sigh through his nose as he took note of your mental absence. “That pretty head of yours is always runnin’ around.”

Pretty head. He always said that, and now, it caused a weird clench in your chest.

“You’re pretty,” you blurted out drunkenly, and when Ghost stared at you in silence, you prayed that the floor would open up and swallow you whole. Never in your life had something so embarrassing happened, and you weren’t even sure why you said that.

You’d met Ghost a total of three times, and it wasn’t under normal circumstances. Most people meet a man on dating apps or at a damn park where they accidentally bump into one another and have a moment of love at first sight. You met Ghost off of the fucking dark web.

“You’re pretty too, sweetheart.” He chuckled in amusement, seemingly unbothered by your sudden display of admiration, and you felt your cheeks warm.

You aggressively turned your head away from him, plopping your other cheek on the counter so you wouldn’t have to look at him. He made no move to stop you, which you were thankful for.

“Think it’s ‘bout time you start goin’ home and get yourself ready for day seven, yeah?”

Ghost’s voice sent a buzz through your already fuzzy body, and instead of protesting, you found yourself nodding despite him being unable to see your face.

Yeah, home sounded good. Your bed sounded good. Sleeping this shame off sounded good.

“Okay,” you agreed quietly, and when you felt a hand lightly rest on your shoulder, you picked your head up to look at him.

His mask was back over his mouth, but his eyes crinkled in a familiar smile as he gestured his head to the bar door.

Oh. He wanted to walk you.

You stood on legs of jelly, lightly swaying as you gained your balance. His hand reached out to grab hold of your elbow, and when you met his soft gaze, you felt small underneath it. Tall was what he was, towering over you, but instead of feeling intimidated like you did in your first meeting, you felt a wave of security.

Ghost had somehow knew you would be here, drinking away your sorrows, and he showed up with no judgment. Now he was offering to walk you to your apartment, even though he barely knew you.

Were hitmen always this sweet? Or was it just Ghost?

You let your mind run astray as he gently guided you out of the bar and on the sidewalk of downtown, keeping a light grip on you the entire way. No words were said, but none needed to be. The silence was comforting, and it allowed you your moment of serenity while you processed just how much this man was doing for you on his own free whim.

You expected Ghost to simply drop you off at your door and leave you to go inside, but when he fumbled with the doorknob and led you into your home, you realized he wasn’t that kind of asshole and he wanted to make sure you made it to bed instead of a heap on the floor.

His hand remained on your elbow as he took you to your room. The sight of your bed was one that could’ve brought you to tears, and you happily crawled into it, curling up in a ball the moment your head hit the pillow.

Ghost stood by your bedside as he waited for you to get comfortable, before stepping out of the room. At first, you thought he left you without saying goodbye.

Your mind plagued you in those futile seconds. Was he mad at you? Did you disappoint him by going out and drinking again?

Then you heard the tell tale signs of him rummaging around in cabinets, and you could only guess he was in the kitchen. You continued to lay there patiently while he proceeded with whatever task he busied himself with, eyes staring into the darkness that filled the room.

When he returned, he was holding a glass of water, which he set carefully on the nightstand near your head.

You didn’t understand. Nobody had ever shown you such kindness before. Life had only ever given you the hands of people who would use you up until you were wrung dry. People always expected things in return, and your fear was making you wonder if that was what Ghost was expecting.

To make things worse, you practically invited that idea into his head by saying he was pretty.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper. It came out in a tone that revealed your hidden uncertainty, and he instantly took note of it from the way his eyes softened beneath the fabric of his mask.

“You’re drunk. Not goin’ to just leave you there to dehydrate.”

“No.” You shook your head, frowning up at him. “I mean, why are you doing any of this? The deal, helping me, watching me, I– I don’t understand. I can’t give you what you want.”

“And what is it that I want, sweetheart?” he asked you, crouching down by your bedside so he could be eye level with you. You wanted to look away, you should’ve looked away, but you had never seen such gentle eyes before.

“I… I don’t know. Sex? More money? Isn’t this all some sort of trick?”

“Sex? A trick?” His tone was slightly offended, perhaps even hurt, and you instantly wanted to take your words back. “No, sweetheart, that’s not why I’m doin’ any of this. I’m doin’ this ‘cause I care.”

“But why?”

The air filled with silence as we competed in a staredown, and the sobering side of you was regretting every moment of this conversation. Stupid girl, always ruining good things, why can’t you ever keep your mouth shut–

“I see myself in you,” he confessed, and you shut your mind up. You didn’t respond, only continuing to stare at him, waiting for him to continue. “You’re hurtin’. I can see that. Life’s treated you real bad, hasn’t it?”

His words felt both like salt being poured into your open wounds, while simultaneously placing a bandaid over them with loving hands.

“You’re the only person who’s ever tried to hire me to kill themselves. Couldn’t just leave you high ‘n dry like that, not when you’re hurtin’ that bad. I don’t want to kill you, sweetheart.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“But… you will, if I end up deciding that’s what I want, right?” You weren’t sure if you were convincing yourself or convincing him.

Ghost stared at you, eyes flickering over your face that was dimly lit up from the stray rays of moonlight peeking in through your sliding door of your balcony. Your eyes were slightly glossed over from both the alcohol and unshed tears that threatened to spill, and he wanted nothing more than to wipe them away, to encourage you to let them fall.

“Don’t know if I have the willpower to do that to you anymore, sweetheart.”

He stood up from where he was crouched beside your bed, and your eyes followed, staying locked on his.For a pause in time, the two of you said nothing, and the room filled with a deafening silence that made it hard to breathe.

It was broken when he carefully lifted his hand, reaching to your face to brush a stray hair that was hanging over your eyes. The rough pad of his finger lingered, tracing along your eyebrow and tracing out the feature before promptly pulling back.

“Get some rest,” he said, voice soft and quiet, but still with the tinges of gravelly undertone that made it sound like a sweet lullaby.

Your nod was confirmation for him to leave, and as he stepped out of your bedroom, you called out to him.

“Thank you for bringing me home, Ghost,” you thanked with a grateful smile.

He looked at you for a moment before smiling himself, evident in the way his eyes wrinkled.

“Call me Simon, love.”

#cod #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #call of duty #cod mw3 #cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod mwii #ghost simon riley #ghost x reader #hitman au #simon riley #i love them your honor

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wosoimagines · 2 days

Text

Surreal

part 5 of rivals

Jo gets to celebrate winning her first World Cup with not only the national team and New York, but also her niece's birthday.

3,336 words

previous part| |next part

I grinned as the final whistle was blown. There were really only two people who I was looking for. I didn’t even have to really search as I was wrapped in a hug after just a few moments.

After Becky let me go, I was wrapped in another hug. But this time, I was lifted off of my feet. I grinned as I turned to look at Alyssa.

“I thought you didn’t like hugs.”

I had quickly learned that Alyssa wasn’t really one for much physical contact. Not that I had minded. Becky would give me all the hugs I wanted.

“I think this calls for one.”

I pulled the two in a proper hug this time. But when I let go of them this time, Becky was pushing me toward some of the others.

“Go,” Becky said. She gave me another push. “Go. Go crazy with Kelley or Pinoe.”

My grin widen at that. I was quick to take off before I was crashing into Christen and Tobin first. The two gave me a hug before we were quick to talk about our plans for celebrating now.

“You know that you can’t have any alcohol, right?” Christen said as she looked down at me. I nodded at that. It had been a topic of discussion that I had with the coaches in the previous days. “No champagne. No beer. None of it.”

“I know,” I groaned. It was kind of unfair that the rest of my team would get to celebrate while I had to sit out of the drinking. But I knew that I would still have a fun time. “Can I at least spray the champagne?”

“Of course!” Tobin said as she pulled me closer. Christen was already shaking her head and opening her mouth to argue. “We’ll make sure she doesn’t drink any, Chris. But spraying the champagne won’t hurt anyone.”

Christen closed her mouth at that. I didn’t miss the slight glare she sent Tobin’s way, but I didn’t have much time to comment on it as this time it was Tobin pushing me away.

“Go tell Kelley and Pinoe that you’re gonna be the first to do it. They’ll both wanna do it, so tell them you get to since you can’t drink,” Tobin said.

I immediately nodded my head as I took off to tell the others. I had faltered slightly when Christie overheard what Tobin said that I could do. The two of us even getting into a slight argument which I won with support from both Kelley and Pinoe who had even agreed that they wouldn’t try to sneak me any alcohol if I was allowed to be the first one to spray the champagne in the locker room.

Once that was decided, I was directed to the sidelines for an interview. I couldn’t keep the grin off my face as the mic was placed in front of me.

“Congratulations on becoming the youngest player to ever win a World Cup at sixteen years and a hundred and twenty-seven days. What’s going through your head right now?”

“I don’t even know!” I chuckled. It was true. It was really hard trying to sort my thoughts right now. “I’m just really happy that we won! I know that Jill had received a lot of criticism for choosing to bring me to the World Cup, so to just be able to silence all of those doubters it’s a really good feeling and I’m glad I got to do it with this team.”

“What was the key to making the most of your time on the pitch?”

“Yeah, you know, I knew going in that I wouldn’t being seeing an insane amount of time on the field, so I knew that I had to make every chance count. Jill had laid out the game plan to me for the group stage months in advance, so I was prepared to do everything I could to make sure we succeeded there, and we did.”

“You played in five matches out of the seven that the team played. You started in two of them. What’s that like?”

“Surreal. There’s no better way to describe it. Even just starting a match at my age is absolutely insane. I knew that Jill wanted to start me against Nigeria, but then to have the chance again when we played Colombia in the Round of 16, of all places, is exhilarating. I just feel bad for my club teammates cause this is all I’m going to yap about for months.”

“All right, well, thank you for your time and congratulations again on the win today.”

Instead of being ushered to where the rest of the team was, I ended up being pulled along with Carli and Hope. I was confused by the decision because I knew that I hadn’t won the Bronze Boot because I had only scored four goals, so I was just out of contention for that. There was no way I played enough time to be in talks to receive the Golden Ball.

“Friends, we congratulate the winner of the Best Young Player award, Jo Knox!”

I froze for a moment before Hope pushed me forward. I glanced back at her and Carli, who were both urging me forward.

I snapped out of my shock since I hadn’t even been warned that I was nominated for the award. I was quick to make my way up to the stage. I shook the hands of the FIFA officials that I passed before I was handed the award. I turned to see where the rest of the team was before I held the award up. That only caused the team to cheer even louder for me. At least until I was ushered off the stage.

I waited to the side of the stage as the other awards were handed out before I got a picture with Carli and Hope as they both had won awards as well. Once that was wrapped up, we were lined up with the rest of the team to receive our medals. I couldn’t contain my excitement as I wiggle to the music that was playing as everyone in front of me had their medals placed around their necks before I was walking the stage again shaking hands with all the officials from FIFA and even the USSF officials that were here before the medal was placed around my neck.

Becky was quick to pull me into her side as I stood next to her and Kelley. I chattered aimlessly with Kelley until Alex had gotten her medal and then Kelley was quick to attach herself to Alex. It was long after that when we had all received our medals. Christie stepped up to take a hold of the trophy from the FIFA president.

We all cheered and jumped up and down when Christie and Abby lifted the trophy. With the trophy being passed around it wasn’t long before we were headed into the locker room to start our real celebrations. I had even made sure that I would be the first one into the locker room and grabbed the first pair of goggles that I could.

I waited until Kelley and Pinoe had made their way in before spraying them with the champagne in my hands to their surprise. It led to the rest of the team cheering and laughing at the two. But it wasn’t long until they got me back as they both sprayed me with champagne. But as promised, I kept away from drinking any of the alcohol that was passed around the room.

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

I grinned as I stood on the float with the others. I looked out at everyone who was here to celebrate with us. I knew that most of my teammates had already had a couple of drinks and you could tell in the way that they were so freely dancing on the float.

I still hadn’t drunk any kind of alcohol as promised to Christie after our win. That didn’t mean I didn’t celebrate just as hard as the rest of my teammates. I was just able to actually remember what had happened the next night.

I got distracted from watching Kelley chug the beer she had in her hand once I spotted someone familiar looking in the crowd. I had to do a double take to make sure I was seeing things correctly.

Spoiler alert.

I wasn’t.

As I looked at the young girl, I realized that she just looked eerily similar to Sky. I soon focused on the shirt she was wearing, and it only made me smile at just how similar she was to Sky because it was a shirt with me on it. Then I had the chance to read the sign in her hands.

Before anyone could stop me, I was jumping down from the float despite all of my teammates yelling out in protest. I darted to where the girl was. She couldn’t seem to stop waving as I got closer.

“Hi,” I greeted, “I’m Jo.”

“I know! You’re my favorite player! Look, I made this shirt!”

My grin got wider as I took in just all the pictures that were on the shirt. Most of them were from goal celebrations but there was a couple from random videos that the USSF had put out that I was in.

“I made you one too!”

This time it was the girl’s father who passed the shirt over to me. I took it from the man before looking at the front of the shirt before pulling it over my head.

“If you have a pen, I’ll sign yours if you’ll sign mine.”

The girl perked up at that as the man handed over a sharpie to me. I quickly signed the girl’s shirt before letting her sign mine. I grinned at the name that was now on my new shirt. Andy Thompson.

“You’ve just made her day,” the man said. I looked up to meet his eyes as I sent him a soft smile. “Thank you.”

“You guys have made my day too,” I told them. I really couldn’t keep the grin off my face. “I don’t tend to get a ton of attention from the fans so to have someone give me a custom shirt means a lot.”

I got a picture with Andy before I moved to take off to get back to the float.

“I wanna be just like you when I grow up.”

I froze at that. I had gotten used to hearing it from Sky. But to hear it from someone who wasn’t related to me? That had me absolutely floored.

My eyes darted up to meet the girl’s. And all I could see was Sky telling me of her dreams of following in my footsteps. I knew that this was what I wanted to really define my career. How many young girls I eventually inspired to play the sport that I loved so much.

“Who knows, Andy Thompson? Maybe one day I’ll get to watch you playing in a World Cup alongside my niece.”

With that I gave Andy a wave before running back toward the float. It took me a moment once I caught up to it to get back onto it. I didn’t even mind as I was scolded by Becky and Alyssa for getting off in the first place as I showed off the shirt I had gotten.

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

“Can I see it? Can I see it? Can I see it? Can I see it?”

Sky’s voice came through the house before I even saw her. I grinned as she came barreling out the back door and into the yard. I opened my arms up as I crouched down. Sky was still chanting to see the medal as she ran into my arms, and I lifted her up.

I didn’t stop Sky as she reached out to pick the medal up off of my chest.

“Can I bite it?”

I chuckled at that but nodded none the less.

“Not too hard though,” I said softly, causing Sky to stop just before she could bite the medal. She tilted her head. “If you bite it super hard then you’ll leave teeth marks. Gold is a pretty soft metal so if you really bite it then you’ll damage it.”

Sky nodded before she softly bit the medal.

“One day, I’m gonna win my own.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Will you come watch?”

“You play in the World Cup?” I asked Sky. She quickly nodded as she dropped the gold medal so that it fell back against my chest. “Who knows? Maybe if you’re good enough to make the team before I retire, we could win one together?”

Sky started to wiggle in my arms as her face lit up. I didn’t hesitate to put her down before she was pulling me toward the makeshift goal we had in the backyard.

“Come on! You gotta help me get better.”

I grinned as I tucked the medal into my shirt so that it wouldn’t get in my way as I helped Sky practice her shots. There weren’t a lot of skills that Sky could really get the hang of just yet since she didn’t have the coordination, but I helped her with the few skills she could do.

Neither of us had bothered to pay attention as the rest of our family started to decorate the backyard for the party we were having. That was until Sky’s friends started arriving. Once they did, I imagine I began to feel how Marley usually felt once Sky spotted me since I was left by myself with no explanation.

I didn’t mind though as I moved to join where most of my siblings were. Most of them were talking about their plans for the rest of summer. I knew that my summer would be filled with joining the national team for the Victory Tour. A couple of my teammates had also been talking about making sure I got the chance to watch them in the NWSL this summer.

“So, when are you going to be training with Mia Hamm?”

I furrowed my brow as I was snapped from my thoughts about what my own summer would look like. My eyes found Stevie who had been the one to ask me the question.

“What are you talking about?”

“What am I talking about?” Stevie asked as everyone turned to look at us. “Everyone’s calling you the next Mia Hamm.”

“I don’t know why they are,” Hendrix added on. I sunk in my chair at that. I had heard similar stuff plenty of times from him, Elvis, and Mick since I joined the national team. “You only started two games at the World Cup.”

“I’m sixteen,” I defended. Not only was I younger than Mia had been when she was at her first World Cup, but Mia had been playing with the team for four years by that time. “I still played in five games. I’m three years younger than Mia Hamm was during her first World Cup. And I scored two more goals than she did in her first World Cup. Besides, I’m not Mia Hamm. I shouldn’t be compared to her because our journeys are different and I'm playing in a different time of the game anyways.”

“Because you know you’ll never be as good as her.”

I rolled my eyes Hendrix.

“Because I know I’ll never develop into the same player that Mia Hamm was. That doesn’t mean I won’t ever be as good as Mia was. It just means that the team doesn’t need me to be Mia Hamm,” I said. I didn’t understand why it was so hard for my brothers to grasp that I didn’t need to be compared to Mia Hamm to be one of the best players. “If I ever do get to train with Mia Hamm, it’ll be a great experience, but I’ve got a team full of world class players that help me out in the meantime.”

The boys stayed quiet for a moment as I glanced down at my empty cup. I knew that if I wanted to get away from them, I should just use the excuse. But I gave it an extra moment to see if any of them would try to apologize or at least something similar since I had never had any of my siblings tell me sorry in my life.

None of them did. I took it as my cue to get up.

I refilled my drink, but I also made sure to distance myself from my brothers. Hanging around my sisters wasn’t bad. At least they didn’t throw insults at me like my brothers. They just weren’t that interested in soccer.

But I spent most of the party pretty much on the side even as a few people offered me their congratulations on my win at the World Cup. I didn’t really mind, but it would have been nice if at least my siblings had made an effort to spend time with me. I knew that most of my older siblings weren’t entirely sure what to do with me since there was such an age gap and most of the others were just closer to the siblings their ages. Which is what made it so unfortunate that Hendrix, Elvis, and Mick were the closest to me in age.

When Sky had told me at the end of the party that she was going to have a sleepover with me, it made up for the lack of attention from my siblings.

“Did you like your cake?”

I was taken back by Sky’s question as we were laying in my bed.

“Go to sleep, Sky.”

“You liked the cake though? I asked Mom to make sure it was red velvet cause I know that’s your favorite.”

I furrowed my brow at that. There hadn’t been a red velvet cake. It was something I only ever got for my birthday.

“Your cake was good. Well, as good as a vanilla cake can be.”

Sky stayed quiet after that for a moment before she had suddenly rolled on top of me. I let out a grunt as Sky looked down at me.

“Why didn’t you eat your cake? Mom said that they would get you a cake to celebrate too.”

“Sky, my birthday was in February. It was months ago. Why would we celebrate.”

Sky furrowed her brow as I could see her getting concerned.

“You won a World Cup. Why wouldn’t we celebrate?”

I sighed at Sky’s question. She obviously still hadn’t picked up on just how our family had worked.

“It’s okay, Sky. It’s important that your birthday was separated from celebrating the World Cup.”

“No. No, it isn’t. Mom said that we weren’t going to do anything for you,” Sky said as she shook her head. “I asked. I asked her if we could celebrate you too. Cause the whole family was here. It’s important. It’s important that we all celebrate you winning. I want to.”

“Sky...”

“No! You deserve cake for winning. Cause you’re my hero. And you did something no one else in our family has done.”

I sighed as I sat up so that I could face Sky in a more comfortable position.

“It’s okay,” I assured her. “I promise. I still have the Victory Tour to celebrate. And I got to be part of a ticker tape parade. I promise my win isn’t going uncelebrated.”

“You still deserve cake.”

“Then how about we make one tomorrow?”

“Can we?”

“If you want to.”

“I’d like that. Can we smash some into the twins faces?”

I chuckled at that. I knew that Jo hadn’t liked how Elvis and Mick had talked about me and how they always seemed to be putting me down.

“Sure, but after we eat a piece first. Or else they won’t let us have any.”

“Deal!”

#uswnt imagine #woso imagine #leah williamson imagine #uswnt x reader #woso x reader #leah williamson x reader #uswnt imagines #woso imagines #leah williamson imagines #uswnt #woso #leah williamson

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 days

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Girl On Fire 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as cheating, neglect, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: neglected, you find comfort in another home.

Characters: Jonathan Pine, Loki

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself

You don’t know why you’re trying. Why you’ve marked the day on the calendar. Loki’s coming home but nothing’s going to change. Still, there’s a glimmer of hope inside of you that wants him to prove you wrong.

So it is that you wake up early with a list of to-dos and to-gets. You have a plan. That makes the days a bit easier. When you have something to do, you don’t have time to think.

You think maybe if your husband comes home to a nice dinner and a tidy home, he might have some epiphany. He might realise he likes it better there then on the road. He might just see what’s been right in front of this the whole time. He might even remember the vows he spoke a decade ago.

What happened? When did he forget? When did you become an afterthought?

No, you won’t be. Not forever. He’s just overworked. He’s busy. He has a lot going on. He can’t pay for your lifestyle sitting at home. Get over it. Get over yourself.

You grab your purse and head out. You have a list. You’re going to make his favourite dish; sesame crusted salmon. You’re no Michelan start chef but you know a few tricks. It feels good to have a purpose, to have something ahead of you. And it will be nice to eat more than the microwave noodle bowls you’ve been living off of.

You ignore the dirt littered across your walk as you clutch the reusable bags in your fist. You’ll fix that before he gets back. He won’t know the difference. Hell, if you dug up the whole strip, he might not even notice.

You try not to fixate on it. That’s your problem. You latch onto things and they just build and build until they boil over. You’re a mess. It’s like he always said, you hold onto stuff. You just can’t let anything go.

The grocery store is busy. The cramped aisles add to your impatience as you search out each ingredient. Why does that woman need to have her cart right there? Why does that man keep inching closer as you’re searching the spice shelf? Back off!

You join the queue to check out, feeling worse for having made the trip. All the people have you amped up and anxious. People are always so stressful. Why is that customer bitching at the cashier about an expired coupon? They don’t care, they make minimum wage.

You make sure to offer a smile to the overworked staff. You were once one of them. Loki likes to remind you of that when he remembers you exist. Nope, don’t do that. This isn’t about the past. You’re going to have a lovely dinner and talk and laugh and... try.

Yeah, you thought the same thing last month. And the month before.

Your optimism is waning as you come out with your bags over overpriced ingredients. Every time you go shopping, you swear it’s more expensive than the last. You tuck the bags behind the seat and brace yourself for the drive home. The clogged parking lot gives you little hope for a smooth ride.

The traffic mellows as you reach the suburbs and you slow down and take each speed bump with caution. Children run after each other or walk with parents. You don’t know if you want any but Loki’s not really offering up the chance. His fleeting touches don’t offer much more than his own satisfaction.

You turn into your drive and rub your lower back as you lift the bags out of the car. You push the door shut with your hip and turn, stutter stepping in place. Something’s different. Your flowers!

The white and pink tulips are still lost to the squirrel’s mischief but in their place are new stems. Blue petals standing tall. You glance across the street then back again. You’ll have to go over and thank Jonathan. He really didn’t have to do that.

You’re almost teary-eyed as you get inside. It’s just something small. It’s not that big but it feels like the world. He thought of you. Someone thought of you.

Were you that pathetic? To go to that effort just to replace some flowers, you must’ve made quite the tragic scene. Suddenly, you’re not so eager to show your gratitude.

You put everything away and make your way through your list. You check the clock between chores. Scrub the stove, clean the dishes, mop the floors; do everything you neglected in your husband’s absence for your bouts of tears and lazy nights of reading romance novels until you pass out.

As the hours pass, you feel your stomach fluttering. You’re almost excited to see him. Loki’s coming home and you’re going to make it special for him. And you’re going to ask him that big question. Do you think you could stay home for a bit?

It’s fear as much as it is excitement. It’s not like you haven’t thought to ask it before. The answer is clear. Each time he leaves, it’s for a little longer. He always tells you the same thing; he has to pay his dues, he has to show that he can do the job.

Not this time. If he’s not going to change, then you have to. If he won’t stay home, then you’re going to start looking for a job so he can. If you bring in money, then he can’t hold his wallet over your head. Worse comes to worse, it’s a way out.

Makeup done, hair too, your best dress on, the food is cooking, the house is fragrant with savoury aromas, and you’ve timed it all perfect. It’s almost five. His flight was supposed to get in half and hour ago.

Your phone vibrates. You grab your cell from the table by the front door where you left it to charge. It’s him!

A text. Not a call, just a text. You tap the screen and read it eagerly. Your shoulders drop and you drop your phone.

‘Won’t be home til ten. Business dinner in town. Big client.’

Worse than the disappointment is what he doesn’t say. No ‘love you’, no heart emoji, not even an apology. Just the facts. Just another excuse.

You don’t respond. What’s the point? You don’t even know why he messaged. You should be flattered that he even bothered.

You shake your head and drop the phone on the screen. You should’ve expected this. Maybe you did. Maybe you get some sort of thrill out of the rejection.

The oven beeps. Just in time. You go and take the pan out, silencing the alarm with your thumb. You toss the fish onto the stove and spin away. You want to scream but you just don’t have the energy. You march back to the doorway and stop yourself.

You take a deep breath and push it all down. The rice is done. You turn it off and the veggies are glistening perfectly. You might not be a professional but damn it looks good.

You take a glass container from the cupboard and carefully begin to transfer the portions. You make up two full meals. You were precise in your measurements, sure not waste a morsel. You seal the lids and the walls fog up. You stack them and carry them down the hall.

You steel yourself as you pass through the front door and keep your chin high. The tulips sway gently in the early evening breeze. You get to the curb and muster a smile. You cross and march up to Hattie’s house. The old woman has been reclusive of late but by her nephew’s report, you can assume why.

You go to the front door and ring the bell. Your stomach is churning again, in a much different way. You wait, doubt rising with each second. You’re about to turn away when Jonathan answers the door. He’s just as you remember; strangely familiar but refreshingly not.

You swallow and stamp your smile in place, “I just wanted to say thanks for the flowers. They’re lovely.”

You hold out the containers and his brows rise, “oh, you didn’t need to do all this.” He takes them, his warm fingers brushing against yours, “that’s so nice. And it wasn’t any trouble. It was getting crowded in the garden.”

“The least I can do,” you insist.

“Don’t you look wonderful? Special occasion?” He looks you up and down. When’s the last time a man did that?

“Oh, uh, no... not anymore,” you look away, “anyway, I hope you enjoy. Salmon, jasmine rice, and some roasted veg. Nothing very special.”

“Ah, but it is,” he says, “unfortunately, my aunt’s already abed and she has a very strict diet,” he intones, “so... would you like to join me? I’m afraid it’s all too much for just me.”

He raises the containers and examines them. You’re too embarrassed to admit what’s happened. It would also be insulting to admit the food isn’t even meant for him.

“I’ve some wine that would pair nicely with fish,” he continues, “and good company.”

You consider his offer as you peek over your shoulder. Your house looks ominous like a horror movie. Empty and dark. There's nothing for you there. You face him again.

“I’d love to.”

#jonathan pine #loki #dark jonathan pine #dark!jonathan pine #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #jonathan pine x reader #series #drabble #girl on fire #au #thor #avengers #the night manager

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georgiapeach30513 · 1 day

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Your Mark On Me, Part 15

Summary: things are no good.

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: explicit. Dead dove do not eat

Warnings: explicit language, explicit dark content, kidnapping, mentions of drug abuse, mentions of stealing money, degradation (not for sexual play), spitting, hitting, pinching, slapping, restraining, mocking, blood, human auction, forced removal of IUD, realization of voyeurism, sexual recordings without knowledge, dark imagery 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.4K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

Rage. Blinding hot rage that boils every ounce of his blood. Hating himself doesn’t even cover it. Leaving you the way he did as a broken shell of the woman that he first met. You had shown resilience to his impossible needs. You had fallen so hard, and he still withheld how he truly felt for you.

The threat was enough to not just chill him all the way to the core of his being, but the video — whoever it was had caught him. Caught exactly what you meant to him on video. Words he had never spoken in years, and they had the evidence. Coupled with the threat of not only you, but Bucky’s Shy Violet. His unborn son. And Steve could not be responsible for that much pain.

Steve can barely see as he flees the hotel he left you in. A crumpled mess. A true depiction of the barren wasteland he left your heart. People don’t love as deeply as you did, and have someone rip it out with scars that may never heal. He’s an example of that. And he did it to the only person who he had ever truly been in love with.

He meant every word to you this morning, even the ones you would never hear. Why did this person, this entity hate him so much that he would threaten three people that had no part in this scheme? He had to tell Bucky. He also had to be able to visually see, and he can’t put anything into words except the red hot coils of desire to burn down the world.

Questioning if what he did was the right answer. He was told they knew his weakness, and you would be removed from his life. He beat them to it. He took away the person that they knew was his the one that would destroy him. But who? Who hated him that much to want to destroy him? Clearly it was competition but there was only one person, or people that were competitive with Steve.

“Sam?” The other man sighs. Hearing Steve's voice as wrecked as it was didn’t take much to realize what the idiot had done. “Who’s watching her?”

“You put Loki outside. Told him to watch her for a few weeks. Said that you figured she would move on. But you’re a fucking idiot.”

“They,” he yanks the steering wheel to the side of the road, throwing his car into park before pressing his palms into his eyes, and wills the tears to not spill over his lashes, “They were going to kill her and Bucky’s Shy, and…your family.”

“Figured as much. I told Nat to get the kids to the safe house. Just like you should have done with Dove. With her and Bucky there everyone would have been safe. You’re too fucking irrational. You don’t think. You should have discussed with me, and we could have came up with a plan. But you didn’t like that I heard what you said,” Steve pulls at wads of his hair, and he slams his fist on the steering wheel. “Love doesn’t make you weak.”

“I told you that you didn’t hear anything,” still in this world of denial and wanting to protect his ego. His pride? Protect anything but the person he truly cared about. You.

“You love her. You’re a coward that couldn’t even tell her to her fucking face. Is a million dollars really going to make up for what you did? You’re the problem here, Steve. She was the solution. Go back. Go get her, and I’ll take her to the safe house. I’ll leave Nat and Bucky with the kids, and Shy, and we will figure out what the fuck is going on,” Steve shakes his head. You hated him. He made sure to make you feel worthless to him, and hope that one day you could move on.

The thought of another man touching your flesh sears into his mind. Thinking this dumbass could ever hold you and love you the way he did. It was a toxic love, but he found serenity in your bright glow. The devil came to find his goddess of spring. The link that kept his underground hell blooming into the most beautiful chaotic garden.

Every morning he could see the sun shining on your face like you were the beacon, and it was trying to find you. But instead, Steve did. He tried to dim every bit of your light, and instead you changed him. And how did he repay you? He left you, his beautiful goddess, a void. Gave you every opportunity to turn into the darkness that he helped flourish. Instead, you were making him lighter.

You had a link to the depravity of his world that was Lark, and one wrong move and you would become a demon to addiction. A beautiful woman lively turned into a servant for drugs and the underbelly that he helped create. Try and be noble all he wants, he still sold a lie to users. He catered to the whims of one of the most powerful things in the world. Addiction.

“Sam,” he says as he starts to turn the car around. “I made a mistake.”

“Get your girl. I’m calling Bucky. We’ll keep her safe, and we finish this once and for all. It’s time,” without hesitation and very little thought Steve knows exactly where the threat came from. Peggy. The one who set this all off to begin with. No doubt a woman who thought she had broken Steve would be infuriated that he had managed to actually fall this time. The purest form of love. Childlike. He was in fact so in love with you it hurt him.

Pained every inch of his inky skin. He was only trying to let his Dove out of her cage, and let her fly alone. He was no longer the cage that kept you trapped. He was made pure again, and was a dove right along with you. He wasn’t meant to set you free, he was meant to fly out of his own cage with you.

He fucked up. He knows you may never forgive him for this whiplash, but if it meant that you were going to keep your life, that was the burden he would have to bear. He would carry the weight of that on his back for the rest of eternity as long as he knew you were alive and well. He had to. Because he was in love.

You don’t cry. You barely blink. Couldn’t even move to clean yourself off as per his request. That towel lays haphazardly on his spilt cum, and you stare up at the ceiling trying to make this a nightmare. He was a liar. That wasn’t Steve, and as much as you wanted to cut etches of his story off his skin, you wanted him to hold you even more.

It is a bizarre feeling to hate and need the same person. Time has no meaning on this bed. Earlier today you saw him for the man he used to be before Peggy tried to destroy him. And then he burned that man at the stake as he became the monster you first met. The lord of the underworld, and he brought you down into his depths, but maybe it was all one sided.

Watching as the room spins around you in a humiliating and dizzying haze. It’s why he couldn’t look at you. He has fought and fought his true feelings, and because he couldn’t accept them he had to remove the seed that was sprouting in his heart. The seed that was changing winter into spring and you saw lightness and color that once resided inside of his soul.

You hate him. And still, you’re in love with him, and you need him to hold you and tell you that wasn’t him. That he was sorry, and he was so in love with you and he was done fighting, and you doubt that moment will ever come. If you could close your eyes and never wake up that would be the most fitting. You didn’t want to see anything anymore.

“Dove?” Your eyes stare blankly up at the ceiling, and you swear there’s a pattern to the odd appearance of it. Dots that you feel are just the stars, and they’re covering you in a warm blanket. As warm as the fuzz that is thrown over your body.

“Sissy, how much money did he leave you?” Your blinks start to slow down, and you hope that they’ll eventually close forever so you don’t have this sickening feeling in your stomach. “I’m going to take this and invest in — things, yeah. You don’t need it. You’ve got your school you can bounce back on, okay?”

If there is one thing you wished it was that Steve could have quit fighting the inevitable. That he would have just admitted the feelings he had for you, and the two of you could run away. Money and power are just as dark of an addiction as the drugs he sold. And he was letting his addiction win.

“Won’t you let me get you dressed. You don’t want to leave here naked. And — he didn’t love you. That mess on your stomach is how he treats the girls he threw away at the club. Used their warm flesh to fill a need, and then…”

“You’re lying,” your eyes finally focus on your sister, and you turn and look away from her quickly. She no longer was the vibrant older sister you once knew. Either Steve had been lying about your addiction and usage, or she had found another supplier. “What happened to you?”

“You should look in the mirror,” you didn’t want to look at your face. You’d look like a bird with clipped wings that could no longer fly because that’s just what you feel like. “Get dressed.”

“What are you doing with the money?” You inquire. But she doesn’t respond just goes towards your bag, and opens up one. Tossing over a dress, and you finally take stock of what’s going on. Sitting up in the bed so see her clinging to the bag with cash in it. The stupor you were once in now is a dull pain of the past hour. “Lark?”

The door opens up to your room, and scramble to cover yourself. You know him. “Dovey, it’s time for you to go. He’s been waiting on you,” tears flood out your eyes as you shake your head. “You really want him to see you with Steve’s cum on your stomach. Your pussy fucked out, and tits hanging out? Now,” he clicks his tongue, snapping a finger at Lark, and your sister scurries out of the hotel room.

“It’s just you and me,” grabbing at your foot, he pulls you down to him and you kick and scream. Biting every time his hands touch you. Your reason to fight became apparent because whatever is wrong is worse than the empty gut you have now. “He threw you away!”

“Fuck you!”

“Keep fighting me, and it’s you that’s going to be fucked,” clearing his throat your room is flooded with men, and they all close in on you, struggling to hold on to your body before with one snap, you go into blackness. A darker world than you have ever ventured to. A world where things will never be the same. Left and broken, now stolen and restored. Fight is still there.

Steve sprints to your bedroom, racing through every part of it. Knowing without seeing physically that you’re gone. His hands pick up and throw everything in its path. Destroying the room just like he destroyed you. The luggage with clothes is still here, but the suitcase with money was gone.

Lifting up the mattress he flips it over, standing in the fucking room that was devoid of you. You were gone, and he can’t shake the feeling that you were taken. Stolen from this room, and from — he can’t even say himself anymore. Because he left you. You weren’t his to steal. He fucked up.

Chest heaving as his mind races on where you could be. He has an idea of who took you and it sickens him. He sees what Lark has become. Rumlow was the worst kind of drug dealer, because he dealt in more than just drugs, he dealt in women.

“Steve.”

“I fucked up,” he turns around. Eyes pleading at Bucky. “Why are you here?”

“Sam’s with the girls. I’m risking my life and the chance to see my future son because I can’t imagine what you’re going through. You fucked up, but I can’t let you wonder your what ifs or wonder where she is. I can’t let you lose the love of your life,” Steve shakes his head, the anger turning into the worst pain he’s ever felt in his life. As the last of his humanity is wrenched from his fingers. “Why can’t you say it? Does she mean that little to you?”

“She means more than any amount fucking words, Bucky. She means everything. Shy and Ember were threatened. Nat and the girls, and a lot don’t even know that Sam and Nat are together and have kids. Why do they want her?”

“They’re trying to make your kingdom crumble. The dark lord of the seedy underbelly. Ruled by fear and power. For a drug lord you had some morals, if that’s what you want to call it. And there’s…”

“Peggy,” Steve gulps, glancing around the room that is as messy as his head. Disheveled in every crevice. He has to clear his mind if he’s ever going to find you.

“I want you to make me a promise,” Steve nods. Taking a few deep breaths to center himself. It ends now. He won’t hold back. It’s time to burn the world down to save you. Rumlow’s entire organization will disintegrate. He doesn’t even care where the two of you end up. He needs to know you’re alive, and living the life you want. And he hopes you still can find a place to put him in it.

“If we find Dove, I need you to tell her exactly how you feel, you coward. Quit waiting until the girl falls asleep before you say it.”

“Deal.”

“Let’s go save a dove.”

You could look at Steve trying to destroy you as a good thing. There’s a numbness that courses through your veins, or maybe it’s just a sleepy fog since the moment he walked out that door. Staring at the sleeping form of the man that tattooed you while your arms are restrained above your head, you wonder how you slipped this far into this world of darkness. Your will to fight dormant and resting. Now you observe. Paying attention to everything while you remember every bit of this moment. Something eventually had to help.

You don’t hate Steve. In fact the reason he did what he did seems to be to avoid this bullshit right here. Protecting you from whatever this hell is, but he failed. He let the wrong one watch you. And your own sister somehow played a part. You’d cuss him for the fool that he is when he comes to rescue you. And then allow your exhaustion and anger to rain down him with a fury that is hibernating.

Your eyes start to droop a bit. The adrenaline and heart shattering moments hitting a climax so high that your body is spent. There is no time for fear, and no time for anger. It’s survival. Steve would find you, and you would kick him in his perfect balls for ever hurting you. Even though the idea of him throwing that door open to save you like a scarred Prince Charming was looking damn fine, you can’t ignore what he did.

“How long has it been?” A sickeningly sweet voice walks into the room, and her beady eyes look you up and down. “What is she wearing?”

“Whatever I could put on her. You said you didn’t want Rumlow to see her the way I found her. You’re still so concerned with him leaving you for someone else?” His head bounces to the side with the force of the smack she connects to his face. “Why else do you need her covered?”

“I don’t need to see what cunt Steve’s been shagging. Pretending that she was the only one while he was fucking Rumlow’s whores at the club,” you roll your eyes, but refuse to comment. Sam kept tabs on Steve, and even told you he’s never seen him so much as glance at another woman. Her tactics of wearing you down were futile. You couldn’t sink any lower. The bottom has already been reached and all in a few short hours.

“You’ve been fucking like rabbits, and he still hasn’t fucked a baby in you?” You spit on her, gaining a slap against your own cheek. Her red painted nail wipes of your saliva from her face before she embarrassingly rubs it on your face.

“That’s rich coming from a double crossing bitch. You can only smack me when I can’t fight back?”

“You’re a bitchy one, aren’t ya? So tell me, sweet princess, how have you remained without a bastard?”

“It’s called birth control, you idiot.”

“One I need to cut out of your arm? Or rip it out from between your legs? Or do you trust the pill?” What the fuck was this woman getting off on? You aren’t even sure what her fucking problem was, or why it concerned you so much. “Rumlow has suffered with his business, while Steve flourishes. He needs to be destroyed, but I much prefer slow torture,” her fingernails connect to your arm, and she uses far too much pressure to slide all over the delicate skin of your arms before her eyes zone in on your lower body.

”Remove it.”

“What the fuck? No!”

“Stick another fucking needle in her neck and remove it,” she is psychotic. More than Steve could have ever realized. “You know your pretty sister? Yeah, it was easy to break her spirit. It’s funny what money and drugs can get people to do. What would destroy Steve? To see you broken from another human. To see you as a ghost of who you were. A zombie that he can’t even recognize. You know how many people are willing to bid for Steve’s precious Dove? Use your body to work out their frustrations on their biggest competition. Your sister sold you out for money and drugs, but the good thing is she is no longer being pimped out. But you — Steve will never want you again. Remove it. She can be someone else’s problem.”

Her stilettos click out of your room, and Loki stands up to walk closer to you. You flail, screaming out obscenities and no towards him. Having very little room to get any leverage over him. They were all fucking mental. “No! Don’t touch me.”

”It’ll only sting for a minute. You keep getting stuck with this, you’re going to have a bigger problem,” his voice is cloying in your ear as he grabs your face. Coming closer to you with a needle before it drives into your body.

“No! No! Please, no!” Another wave of blackness. Falling into an oblivion of a dark void that has no end in sight. Whispering out, “No,” one more time, and crying because no one can hear you. Being stripped away from the only salvation you knew, and now becoming the exact opposite of what Steve desired the most in you. Untouched. She wanted to sell you, auction you off while Steve can either be searching for you, or pretending you never existed.

You just want to go home. Home to the cabin, and pretend that he was coming home to you. Hold onto happy moments while your humanity is ripped from you. You hate her.

Your head lulls back on your shoulders, and the dingy light of the room tries to filter through the darkness, and you try to grasp it. Hoping that light can save your soul from the monster Peggy was forcing you to become. You hate her.

He didn’t like it. He hated it. Hated that you were ever put in this position, and he had himself more to blame than anyone. The very thought of something going wrong just wasn’t an option. He didn’t need anything to go wrong. He needed you. He needs to know that you are okay, and you were free to live a life.

The thoughts of you choosing a life that didn’t include him was on his mind, but he couldn’t think of that. Everything had to be perfectly planned out. He knew that Peggy was a vindictive bitch, while Rumlow was a pathetic one. He assumes that they’re hoping for an appearance by him.

It wasn’t a secret what they were doing. Everyone knew they were putting you up for auction. The reception went from an absolutely no because they knew Steve’s vengeance would be grisly to the ones that were drooling and licking their jowls at a chance to fuck Steve over. But retaliation would happen. To all of them. There would be a retribution on every single person that participates in the selling of you.

Every last one of them will get the fiery death of his dreams, and if you wanted to facilitate he would let you watch as they all burn. He failed in the one thing he promised above all else and that was to protect you. He’d make it up. He would get you. Or he would watch it all burn.

—

There’s moments in your life where you freeze up. Your body goes into autopilot, and you’re just there. Going through the motions. While your body is numb to every poke, prod, and movement by someone else. Your mind is on high alert. Listening to every door open. Absorbing every conversation. Your eyes take stock of all that is around you. Memorize every face as you dream about their demise.

You knew there would come a time when you had to identify people because you still hadn’t given up hope that Steve would keep his promise. Rumlow was a boastful idiot and he was letting everyone know who he was going to have up on that stage. Steve would hear about it, and you didn’t doubt that he would have fun in taking care of everything.

That’s not to say that you didn’t want to add another scar on Steve’s body, and you wanted to scratch him, and maul his perfect face, but you need him to wrap those stupid beefy arms around you and carry you out of this disgusting place. You know if you allow your mind to go into the dark places that you would lose all hope, and you’d never stop crying. Or worse become the devil Peggy was trying to make you.

You didn’t even speak to them when they’d ask you questions. You’d just stare at them blankly as they pinched, slapped, and pushed you around. You wouldn’t allow yourself to let them break you. Not yet. When this is all over you could have those moments of clarity, but right now it’s just to survive. And that meant focusing on everything.

You even knew it took Loki exactly thirty-four steps to get to the chair that set outside of your cage. And another forty-two steps to get to the door. You knew that he was the biggest coward of all, and needed to hide behind a more powerful man. Scheming and lying through his teeth while he collects secrets and information as his own form of currency.

He was loathsome. Peggy was the worst bitch you had ever met in your life. A woman who didn’t want Steve, and also couldn’t bare to see him happy with another woman. The kind of woman whose ego got in the way of the bigger picture. While Rumlow was describable he had bigger reasons for doing this. Peggy’s reasons didn’t go past needing to make Steve feel emasculated.

Disgusting woman, all dolled up for a pretty picture. Steve wasn’t a hero, but he could admit it. She wants to act like there was a moral high ground that she was part of, and still involved with another drug lord. That man just didn’t ask questions. You’d come to learn that Steve did, and that’s why Peggy had to ruin him.

“Are you still sore?” It is a stupid question when your arms were always extended above your head, the fact that she made people remove something so personal from you. Sore didn’t even begin to describe it. “You still mad at me, princess? And if you fucking spit on me again…”

You roll your eyes up to meet her, a sinister smile tugging at your mouth. “Ghastly woman. It’s what you deserve. You can pay for Steve’s sins. They always do,” another one of her tactics is to make you think you were nothing but a fleshlight to Steve. But you knew better. “Do you know how many girls that he has made become a sex worker? Rumor has it he filmed porn right in the club.”

Blah blah blah. You did actually talk to Steve. You also listened. It’s something she didn’t do well. Cocky little bitches never wanted to be the quiet little girls that people think aren’t threatening. Like you. She sees a weak submissive bird. You weren’t weak, and you weren’t dumb. You had more knowledge than she could even fathom about the ongoings of Steve’s enterprise. And there’s one thing she forgets, those sex workers Steve employed had a choice. She had removed yours.

“Are you going to play your game of not talking again?” Smirking, you roll your eyes before concentrating on her shoes. You weren’t going to give her the respect to look her in her face. “You’re such a spoiled child. Did your daddy Steve not spank you enough?”

“Nope,” Steve was not your daddy. He was your Captain.

“You do speak,” god, she’s a pompous twat. If she was closer you would spit on her, just for telling you not to.

“I don’t make it habit of talking to trollops,” with a painted red nail, she slaps you across the face, and your mouth fills with the pungent taste of metal. You gather it in your mouth, waiting. She is already getting closer to you.

“You fucking bitch. I will enjoy seeing you sold, and I will revel in the ways that they use your body to fuck over Steve. And that man never cared for you. You were just warm wet flesh,” one step too close to you, and you let her feel the blood she brought with her slap. The red paints her neck such a brilliant color and you chuckle, “You were just a whore to him. Let him fuck you raw. Intimately. Wanna see?”

Spinning on her heels, she snaps a finger at Loki, “I want Steve fucking her stupid on a loop. Let her watch every moment that was ever a lie. Break her fucking spirit, so she knows Steve never loved her. He couldn’t. Because he loved me, and will always look for a replacement. But there's only one me,” if only she knew that the love that Steve felt for her was nothing compared to how he felt about you. You knew it. He told you.

The sound of his voice stings as the monitor is lit up with the two of you. Precious moments stolen, and there is no telling how many people had seen this. You keep your eyes on Steve, more than you ever did while he was pumping into you. Steve never said the words, but he also couldn’t act. The way he stares at you with so much passion and love, versus the anger he had when he broke up with you. Such a lying coward.

You sniffle, refusing to let any tears cloud your vision or run down your face. You were becoming immune to the physical pain, but seeing a private beautiful moment with Steve hurts so deeply. Even the way he paints your skin with his fingers after making love. Yeah, Steve fucked you and would fuck you hard, but what you just witnessed was sweet. Almost like the first time.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Loki staring at you, and you twist your head to gaze back quickly, causing him to flinch. “When you came to our home…”

“It was just a place for him to hide you and fuck you. Don’t make it seem so domestic.”

“Was this your plan all along? Fuck Steve over?” He shrugs his shoulders, moving to turn back around after making a face with Steve’s grunts on the television. “He’ll enjoy torturing you.”

“You think very highly of yourself. Where were you at when I found you? Broken, naked, and used on a bed. Let’s not forget the money your sister stole from you. What do you think she’s going to do with that much money? Face it, Dovey, everyone around you used you and then left you. Steve for your tight cunt, and your sister for money. You’re better off this way.”

“Don’t call me that,” you wouldn’t let him win. Lark’s involvement is the most painful. Your therapist long ago told you drugs changed people. But inside of that body was still your sister. Somewhere.

“Don’t cry, Dove,” he mocks you as a single tear falls from your face. There’s no sincerity in his voice. And you want him to suffer from your own hands. “I finally know what it sounds like,” and you can’t wait to hear him plead for his pathetic life. His time will come.

You gulp as someone pulls on your leash. Fitted with a dog collar, and lingerie. You stare out blankly at the crowd as words about who you are and what the bidding starts off as begins. Faceless people litter a small crowd, and raised paddles keep being held up.

You try and focus on all their faces, see who is bidding the highest, and it is a zoo. Going so fast it makes you dizzy, and you sway on your heels. The price goes too high for average schmucks, and it seems it is a war between two people.

Both the man and woman are masked, and gloved, and neither have Steve’s features. You feel yourself for the first time slipping into despair. Feeling he didn’t actually care at all, and this is the result. Being sold like cattle.

“Two million,” the man say with finality, and the woman shakes her hand, refusing to pay that much. He left you. You really were worthless to him. Played in his stupid games.

“Sold to Mr. Wolf. Come collect your new pet,” the masked man stands up without a word. Pulling the leash from your handler before scooping up in his arms. Vacant. There’s nothing left. Steve left you to rot.

“I’ve got her,” he says into your ear, and it’s a weird sensation, causing goose pimples to arise on your skin. You didn’t have any idea why he was talking to you. You just need to forget the life you once came from.

The harsh light of the outside stings your eyes, and you start to regress in your body. The fight is finally over, and you just are in disbelief. “We’re out of the building. Clint, lock it down. Steve, I’m taking her to the safe house.”

“Steve?” Your body starts to tremble as the tears you have held in for far too long pours out.

“Shh, Dovey. I’ve got you, sweetheart. We’re going someplace safe, but Steve and a few others are burning this down. “Do you know if Peggy was in there?”

“She was bidding,” your words are whispered and confused, using a hand to squeeze on his metal arm, “Bucky?”

“I’ve got you. I gotta get you away,” he places you into the car, buckling you up before he gets in the seat himself. “We’re outta here. Send them right back to hell. Dove, were there any other girls up for auction?” You shake your head no, starting to curl into a ball. Your arms are still so stiff and sore. “She was all. You’ve got free range, Steve.”

Steve’s mouth curls into a gruesome grin. Eyes blazing as he heads towards the building, “Peggy is mine. Fucking bitch.”

Masterlist

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#your mark on me #dark fic #dark!fic #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fics #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #drug lord au

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whipped-for-kpop-fics · 2 days

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spontaneous dates with busy svt, their busy with work but will take time out of their day to spend it with you? If all of svt is a lot, maybe just the vocal unit? ⸜(*ˊᵕˋ*)⸝ ♡

💕Who; Seventeen (individually) x gender-neutral reader 💕What; fluff headcanons 💕Wordcount; 1.4k 💕Warnings; none, I don't think

-2024 Masterlist-

Thank you for the suggestion, anon! I hope you like it! 💖

Seungcheol Okay, everyone says it; sugar daddy Cheol. The man loves to spoil his partner and although he'll still get gifts delivered to you whenever he feels like it, it's not quite the same as taking you around stores in person to see which items make your eyes truly light up. And if it's clothing he's buying for you, you can bet your ass there's a fashion show involved with lots of Seungcheol taking photos of you on burst mode and cooing(or catcalling depending on the clothes).

Jeonghan Honestly, Jeonghan doesn't have the energy most of the time to do a lot. Don't get me wrong, he's definitely more than willing to do pretty much anything you want for bigger planned dates, but for the spontaneous ones, he'll always pick to just go somewhere private with you and relax. Sitting on the sofa with you, tucked up in each other's arms while you just enjoy one another's company with a movie or music on will always be his favourite dates.

Joshua This guy likes to try new things, especially crafts so he'll always have a list on his phone of classes and activities going on in your local area so that when there's time, even if it's pretty last minute, he has potential options. Sometimes you go paint pottery, other times you learn to cook something new and even one very memorable time, you tried glass blowing. Regardless of what activity it is, you both enjoy every second because it's together. And Joshua always treasures whatever item you two make.

Junhui Jun does have a lot of energy in general but when he's with you, he doesn't want to miss a second. So on these last-minute dates, he really likes to take you cloud gazing in the day or stargazing at night. It's always nice to just lay side by side on a blanket admiring the sky pressed side to side and feeling the other's presence. It's grounding and one of the only times he can genuinely remain still. He'll even do research about clouds/stars so that he can impress you with his knowledge and have you look at him with big eyes of awe and interest as he talks.

Soonyoung Picnics are cute af and Soonyoung is very aware of that. Whether they're outdoors in the sun, in the backseat of the car or even in a building somewhere, he loves to grab the blanket from the car and snacks and lead you somewhere new to explore and sit together. If there's more time, he'll convince you to make food together to take beforehand but you're both always plenty content with whatever snacks you can grab from the convenience store. Sometimes he'll take little activities like travel games or a little craft kit too if he has the chance to plan ahead a little, or if he sees one in the store while grabbing snacks.

Wonwoo It didn't start intentionally that when you both have the time to go on a date, you'll always go to the arcade. You would always start the dates wandering around aimlessly as you both try to think of something to do and inevitably spot an arcade, exchange a look and then rush inside giggling like a pair of children. So at some point, you two would without discussion navigate to the arcade and it sort of becomes a thing to compare them all. Wonwoo has it all written out on a notes app on his phone; which arcade has the best games, has snacks or food, toilets, and how busy they are at particular times. When you have more time for the dates, you'll even drive further away to check out the arcades there too.

Jihoon This dude is always so busy that he worries he doesn't actually check in on you enough and make sure you're looking after yourself. So you can bet that his go-to for spontaneous dates is going to a restaurant. Sometimes a brand new one but you two have a few favourites that you're considered regulars at. He never tells you why he always suggests going to eat, of course, so as far as you're aware he's just hungry(which isn't entirely false) but really, it's so that he can look across the table and see you eating well and know that he's not failing in his job at looking after you as his partner.

Seokmin Seokmin loves photography, the guy takes photos at every chance he gets. A lot of people say he's not living in the moment by taking photos all the time but he does it for the sake of memories so that he has a way to look back on the pictures and remember the happy time. And the subject he wants to always remember the most? You. So of course, he'll make up for lost time apart by taking you somewhere pretty/cute/interesting he's noticed on his travels or heard about to take endless photos of you, and many of you together too but mostly you so that he can never forget the way you always smile at him with stars in your eyes.

Mingyu Okay, I didn't really want to do this because it's very much done with Gyu but cooking. He's a great cook and food is a great way to show love, so it makes sense. Plus it means that you can hang out at home with no pressure or unwanted eyes and just be together. Yes, he loves doing the cheesy things like putting his arms around you and his hands over yours to work together, or standing with his chest to your back and his chin on your shoulder. He always melts if you wrap around his back though, it makes him super giggly.

Minghao Minghao is a simple guy really, he just likes to be with you so he loves going on walks with you, hand in hand. Sometimes you're both silent for long stretches of time but it's not awkward in any way, it's calm, comfortable, and you're content. And others you both talk endlessly about everything and anything that comes to mind. Minghao loves that he feels that he can talk to you forever and never run out of words to say. But he also loves that you can remain quiet together and not feel like you need to fill the silence. He will also love taking you into cute stores/bakeries/cafes that you happen to pass to explore and get little treats.

Seungkwan Seungkwan himself is not the most confident driver at all but he's always happy to take you on drives. Though he loves it when you drive, loves watching you navigate the roads diligently while still remaining calm even when traffic picks up. But the drives for the spontaneous dates usually take advantage of all the quieter roads and even go out of town sometimes if you have enough time. There's never any destination in mind but stops are definitely okay too. Caraoke is a must, with both of you singing along enthusiastically to the carefully curated playlists Seungkwan makes for these drives, just for the two of you and filled with your favourite songs.

Vernon Dude loves movies and dissecting all the details and plot after. And he loves doing it with you the most. You didn't really care for discussing movies at first, just wanted to enjoy it in the moment but after Vernon got really animated the first few times, you started to get into it. And now it's kind of your thing together. You regularly go to the cinema when you can to see things on the big screen and then get a meal after where you'll talk it over for hours. But Vernon also loves curling up on the couch with you and watching a movie at home together.

Chan Chan likes to make any time together about the two of you. About being with you and experiencing you as best as he can. So he likes taking you to cute little places that are lesser known so remain quiet and peaceful enough to allow him to focus on you. Cafes and bakeries are his favourite places to go where you can sit down opposite each other at a little table with a drink or a light meal/ dessert and just talk and catch up. He can easily spend hours with you, just smiling across the table and listening to you talk about whatever and never get bored.

If you have any ideas/suggestions of what I could write next, send an ask after checking this post where you can find the guidelines about what I will or will not write

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