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#dispatches from my desk
holy-muffins · 2 years
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I'm watching Persuasion 2022 so you don't have to!
Okay so I am gonna watch Persuasion. I realize people might be enjoying it, so my thoughts are behind the cut. If you liked it, don't click past the cut.
Full disclosure I’ve not read the book and I’ve not watched any other movies but I HAVE heard the song Sk8r Boi by Avril Lavigne and that’s nearly the same right?
It starts with some face touching intercut with fade to black title cards, these last like…a few seconds max. The Wentworth guy is Not My Cuppa.
The first-person narration is not it fam
It’s like a disaffected GenX story that they tried to Millennialize
Oooh someone deeeefinitely saw Emma and wanted to make their own version. The tell not show here is…painful.
The 4th wall breaking is not great, it interrupts every scene to the point where each scene is Waiting for Anne to Say Something Witty.
Someone has ALSO seen Bridgerton and maybe that Dev Patel David Copperfield movie.
The 4th wall…I can’t begin to tell you how even a few minutes in the scenes hold their breath WAITING for Anne to chime in. This is very awful
I know that some of the thing with Persuasion is the tension within families, but the whole family is unlikeable so far.
“In truth I can hardly remember who you’re speaking of” is so badly done. Persuasion fans if that’s A Line from the book then I feel for you. That was so poorly delivered. You didn’t deserve them to do you like that.
I feel like the interaction with Anne and Mrs Russell was supposed to be more than it was…and the Mrs. Russell lady is giving her all. I think she read the book. But the 50 Shades woman is phoning it in, like someone told her that this movie would help her move on from that series of movies. But in reality this is just…bad.
I think someone ALSO saw Little Women and wanted that element too.
Oof 9 minutes in it gets bad folks.
Like this is really fucking bad.
Really. Really bad.
There’s a MINUTES long exposition of the first note he wrote her in church and a FUCKING PLAYLIST HE MADE HER TITLED LOVE TRACKS WHAT THE LITERAL FUCK I THINK YOU COULD USE THE WHOLE AUSTEN FAMILY TO POWER THE EARTH FOREVER WITH HOW FAST THEY’RE SPINNING IN THEIR GRAVES.
One lock of hair. From him. And one from his horse Samson, who I scarcely knew.
AND.
This.
COWBELL
Whose sad empty knell captures my melancholy….??SA DF?SD?Fasdf
I am not well
She has all these newspapers clippings? And…?
Hope springs eternal is like ….sarcastically delivered? Like she’s too good for it/??/as/d//
I’m not okay.
The faces she makes at the camera are trying to make up for the things the other scenes are doing and I cannot stress enough that the scenes continue to wait for her to make a face at the camera. They are trying so hard for the Keira Knightley sarcastic looks from under her eyelashes, but this actress, the writing, and the editing are NOT UP to the task. Keira I’m so sorry they stole from you like this.
The first enjoyable thing was the dad & the sister leaving. This is horrible.
The Crofts are okay so far. Too bad 50 Shades is here to ruin it.
Okay the Crofts read the book I think which makes this more painful.
The first person narration continues to be pretty awful.
And the editing & cinematography wanted SO BADLY to be Emma or to be the 2005 P&P and they just trip and land face-first into a puddle of mud.
Why does Anne have a stupid rabbit? Is that a thing in the book? Does she have a stupid rabbit in the book? Is it stupid in the book?
Rather than showing us Mary being whatever she is, there’s a whole scene where she rants about her sister. Is this Anne that you all love? She’s worse than Emma. And now her sister is complaining and she is numbering off her complaints.
The sisters-in-law are nice?
They seem to have read the book.
I think they read the book.
And now we are back to 50 Shades not being up to the Keira Knightley treatment that they are trying to give her. They are trying to have her do Keira, but the only research she did was Dapnhe Bridgerton but the director only researched Eloise Bridgerton.
This is horrid.
Also folks, we are only 21 minutes in.
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icarus-suraki · 9 months
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There are ballet dancers doing technique lessons to all-piano arrangements of the theme from "Rocky" and "Jurassic Park" over here and I'm
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fangswbenefits · 4 months
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Misty Escape (1) - New Beginnings
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Summary: Astarion has ascended and, in doing so, ruined your shared love.
But you are willing to run away from his grasp to protect your secret.
Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav (rogue)
Warnings: 18+. Pregnancy. Angst. Emotional manipulation. Obsessive behaviour. Hurt/Comfort. Dual POV. Flashbacks.
Word count: 1k
Ao3
Raindrops merged with the tears that coated your hand. 
Maybe one day you'd run out of tears to spill.
Dread took over, but you allowed yourself to push that thought aside.
You were being paranoid.
He would not find you here.
Collecting yourself, you took a deep breath as a farmer passed by.
The rain thickened and soaked through your clothes.
A small jab in your stomach reminded you that you hadn't eaten much.
A more persistent jab even lower in your abdomen reminded you of the reason you were in this predicament in the first place.
You took the first steps along the beaten pathway, headed towards the large farmhouse that stood atop a hill.
Before you could reach your destination, you heard someone clearing their throat to your left.
A middle-aged man stood with arms behind his back and a clear look of unpleasantness as you turned to him.
"Your clothes are filthy."
You take a glance down your body.
"I apologise," you blurted out immediately. "I've been travelling without much rest for a few days."
Your skills as a rogue had been enough that you were able to snatch some food provisions from markets and vendors you had run into, but finding fresh and clean clothes had not been a priority.
The coldness of his stare didn't waver.
"Not to worry," he said dismissively, adjusting his vest. "Follow me."
He turned on his heels, pacing elegantly in front of you, across the pathway that led to a courtyard.
Hurriedly, you tried to tap your hands against the inside of your coat, pulling your dark and damp hair over your shoulder. You glanced around, spotting a few farm animals nearby and some curious heads turning your way.
The stares didn't last long as the nearby guards urged for them to return to their duties.
The man cleared his throat. "My name is Jarq and I am entrusted with running those who work here," he said as he came to a halt. "I was expecting your partner to accompany you?"
With his permission, you took a seat by the vast desk, setting your soaked backpack at your feed.
Your stomach lurched violently from his words.
"It's just me."
His features hardened. "Did something happen to him?"
But you managed to shake your head, repeating your previous words. "It's just me for now."
There had never been a partner, but they had been looking for a couple to work as farmers and you had no choice but to take this opportunity.
He arched an eyebrow at you.
"My contractor in the city told me you'd be travelling with him - your husband."
The contractor in question had been temporarily ��incapacitated’ by you, allowing you to take over the correspondence. You had purposely lied to better your chances at being taken in, and you had no other choice as the survival instinct kicked in.
"If there is anything I should be informed of, now is the time,” he said evenly, leaning back into his padded chair.
You swallowed hard.
"There is nothing. He shall join us later on as he finishes his business in the city.
No one would be joining you, but this deception would buy you enough time.
You had considered writing them a letter to inform you of your… condition , but decided against it.
They would have never taken you in if they knew of it, especially as you were intended to work in the farms.
They would have also never taken you in if they knew a Vampire Ascendant had been dispatching trackers all over the Sword Coast looking for you.
Who would hire a pregnant servant with death on her tail?
He glared silently at you as if looking for traces of deception, but he wouldn't find any.
You could blend in like fog in the early morning and avoid being seen in plain sight, should you choose to.
Your skills had only been ever matched by one and he was no longer around to call you out on your bullshit.
"I do expect you to clean yourself before meeting the rest of the staff. And I take pride in hiring only the best of the best for this farm." He meant every single word as he drew a sky grin. "Your hair is also too long, so either snip it or braid it."
You immediately nodded.
"Do make sure you wear the appropriate clothing we provide. And look after it. You are expected to mend it if it tears and wash it if it reeks."
You nodded again.
"This is hard work as I'm sure you're aware," he continued, sparing a glance at the vast fields of wheat that extended as far as the eye could see.
You nodded again.
Jarq kept eyeing you suspiciously and you forced a curt smile, which he did not return.
"I will be useful wherever needed."
His eyes narrowed. "That remains to be seen. You have two experimental days and if you're no good for field labour, you'll have to leave."
It seemed fair enough.
You had two days to perfectly blend in.
But you would be fine.
You would find a way as always.
For you and for your child.
His child.
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Series Masterlist
Ao3 (please consider subscribing to it as I don't keep taglists here 🩷)
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rinniessance · 4 months
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BETWEEN A ROCK AND A HARD PLACE ༊*·˚ - leon kennedy x fem!reader x satoru gojo
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leon kennedy has been announced mia after 24 hours of no contact. high brass doesn't care that you only came back from a mission a day prior, injured no less. when you're dispatched to spain, the last thing you expect is to get a special kind of rescue mission.
this is my entry for @rinhaler's gaming collab - MASTERLIST 🎮
꒰ warnings: nsfw - mdni .ᐟ.ᐟ resident evil au. kind of following the plot of resident evil 4. aphrodysiac sex, unprotected sex, pet names (it's my staple <3), oral sex (f receiving), slight dacraphyllia, squirting, two dicks in one hole, cream pie. forgive me if i forgot any tags ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -。꒱ྀི১ // word count: 5.8k ꒱ ꒰ notes: we love pure self-indulgence in this house .ᐟ.ᐟ tagging @mymegumi and @lilacliliess because they support my delusions about fucking two blue eyed men:3 ꒱
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it’s been uneasy 24 hours in the D.O.S headquarters – ever since leon kennedy stopped responding to any attempts at communication, he’s been announced MIA this morning. given the sensitive mission of retrieving president’s daughter, the urgency to dispatch someone for another rescue is being pushed by the high brass, sending everyone on a search to find an agent capable enough of handling the job. as it turns out, out of dozens of people working in this forsaken organization, you’re the only one qualified.
“are you shitting me, hunnigan? i just came back from the mission last night. did you not see the stabbing wound?” for dramatic effect, you raise your t-shirt, showing freshly bandaged area where the deep cut resides. coming into the work this morning, the most stressful part of your day was expected to be the tons of paperwork you would’ve had to go through – yet as soon as you stepped into your office, you were greeted by leon’s handler, bearing the news from your superiors.
“sorry, you know it’s not up to me. whatever the president says goes.”
“are there literally no one else in this entire building who can be ordered to go instead?”
slumping over your desk, you put your head on top of your folded arms – it takes everything in you not to scream. your own mission was already problematic enough: bioweapon developers have become exceptional in making new B.O.Ws deadlier and deadlier, and knowing leon’s resume, there is a very high chance he was sent to deal with the worst of it.
“you’re one of the few partners kennedy has had while working for D.O.S. you know how he operates; it makes sense they are sending you.”
you know there is no point in arguing – if it’s been decided by the president, you have no choice but to go. it doesn’t mean, however, you can’t be irritated by the whole situation.
“do i at least get paid overtime?” you sign with exasperation, sulking deeper into your chair, hearing hunnigan let out a breathy chuckle.
“maybe if you bring golden boy’s ass back in one piece.”
“great. can i at least go home and make sure i didn’t leave the kettle on or something.”
“you’re not getting out of it, agent,” she says with a smile, and you can only groan. leon will be paying for all your meals for the next 6 months. “the helicopter is already waiting, actually, so you better gear your ass up and head to the helipad.”
“more amazing news.”
hunnigan only pats you on the shoulder – nothing she can say will make this situation suck any less – and leaves the room, letting you wallow in your misery.
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“can you just fucking die already?” you yell in pure annoyance, trying to shoot the same person for the third time (you aren’t sure you can call these things human anymore). when the creature finally goes down, hopefully once and for all this time, the view in front of you is grotesque: hideous tentacle sprang out of the poor man’s head when you shot him between the eyes; it keeps moving, taunting you to waste more of your ammo. still holding onto your gun, you cautiously approach the body, slightly poking it with your boot – it doesn’t stir anymore. a sigh of relief escapes your lungs.
“just what the fuck is going on here,” you quietly mumble to yourself, looting any useful items nearby.
you arrived in spain this morning. surprisingly, leon made it easy enough to retrace his steps – he stopped by the local law enforcement which in turned let you know two of their men also went missing after they escorted kennedy to the area of interest. no one volunteered to come with you once you acquired the location of the small village somewhere north of here – apparently people have been going missing in the mountains for a while now – which was fine by you. everything you needed was the car you could use, and you were on your merry way.
in your 5 year long career as a government agent, the kind working in anti-bioweapon divisions, you’ve seen a multitude of… monsters, for lack of a better word. nothing could’ve prepared you for what you’ve witnessed when you arrived at your destination though: villagers turned into something sinister, creatures with no will of their own. you noticed it right away: their bulging veins pulsing with black viscous liquid, eyes shadowed with madness. what a surprise it was that when you finally started shooting them (hey, they started it), mandible-like limbs, shape closer to tentacles, with eyes growing out of them, erupted from their dead bodies, as if a swarm of crazy cultists wasn’t already enough.
you quickly glance at the still convulsing body on the ground, parasitic tendrils clinging onto their last living seconds; just looking at it makes you want to vomit. the smell of puss, heavy in the air, doesn’t help your desire to empty the insides of your stomach. you do not know what causes them to mutate, and you make a note to avoid any unknown substances – you also log a mental check not to get bitten by one of them (just in case).
after escaping a village, getting access to this stupid castle trying to find stupid stupid leon kennedy (you’re sure that what s. in leon s. kennedy stands for), you overheard some of the cultists talking about two prisoners on the basement level. leon and ashley? the goal now is to figure out how to get to the basement (and why does it always have to be the basement).
with careful precision, you finish analyzing the room you found yourself in – it’s a storage space of some kind, and nothing about it is particularly helpful to you. letting out a deep sigh, you sit down to re-collect your thoughts. wandering around this castle with no purpose will only stall you further – and time is something you do not have luxury of wasting.
just as you were about to get up from the chair, you knee bumps into something underneath the table. bingo. you quickly try to search for a keyhole or a puzzle piece to fit in to open the hidden compartment. but the gods are smiling down on you today – it only takes a simple click of a lock for the secret drawer to unlatch. before opening it, you stand to the side (the gunshot wound would mean deaths of all parties you’re trying to get out of here), and slowly push it forward with the knife.
“no way.”
the gods are smiling down on you– inside the drawer you don’t find a loaded shotgun, a poisonous smoke or anything else aimed at taking you out. instead, you find yourself looking at the map. something akin to relief makes your hands tremble as you unfold the treasured piece of paper, looking at the building blueprints, as fresh as if this was drawn yesterday.
tracing the way down to the basement level, you try to decide the easiest and shortest way. some of the rooms might require a key, deducting it’d be smarter to stick to the main rooms which are less likely to be locked. shoving the map back into your side bag, you reload the gun and slowly leave the room, looking for any signs of being followed. making sure the coast is clear, you start your way down.
leon, you better be still fucking alive.
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leon wakes up from another torturous nap. he doesn’t know how long it’s been: could be 2 days, could be a week. to keep his sanity, he keeps trying to count the meals they bring them, figuring out the passage of time. why is salazar even feeding them? they’d worth more to him dead.
“good morning, sunshine.”
leon groans as soon as he hears the voice coming from his side. he doesn’t need to turn his head to know that satoru gojo is, despite the circumstances they found themselves in, still smiling.
“god, do you ever stop talking? they should starve you,” leon sighs heavily, and leans against the wall. his arms hurt – they have been cuffed to the ceiling this whole time, and the constant chatting from his unwanted companion makes this situation ten times worse.
“oh, common, don’t you have faith in your government? or you’re not important enough to rescue?”
“i might not be but the girl definitely is.”
it seems to shut satoru up, even if for a moment. his comments did make leon wonder if the headquarters organized the search party yet – more time they spent here means more time for the cult leaders to complete whatever it is they want with ashley. him and satoru have been infected with las plagas parasite too, their time is running short.
sighing deeply, gojo also slumps against the wall. both men can feel… whatever they were infected with moving inside their bodies, crawling their way into their brains. satoru is not sure what makes him and leon so special, but no signs of any infection have been visible yet. he wonders if it is a waiting game now: waiting for the moment they start losing their minds. what a sight that would be.
just as he was going to make another comment about their current predicament, both agents hear gunshots coming from the hallway, just outside the prison cells. blood curling screaming follows, rippling through the air, the unknown person emptying their clip into the guards until the room is engulfed in the oppressive silence.
to leon’s great surprise, and a great relief he must admit, it’s not a crazed guard running through the doors this time around – instead, two locked-up agents are met by your face. you hold your gun out, hand outstretched in front of you, ready to shoot the last remnants of the infected. it’s only when your gaze meets leon’s and you don’t identify any immediate danger, the gun is lowered, and you are rushing towards the cell.
“holy shit, it’s nice to see a familiar face,” leon cannot help but smile at the sight of you standing outside the cell bars, trying to break the lock.
“you won’t believe but the feeling is mutual. one too many mutated cultists, and even i started missing your ugly mug,” you throw back, returning his smile. your eyes move to gojo. “who’s that?”
“his partner.”
“no one.”
two men say that in unison, exchanging a heated glance afterwards.
“okaaaay,” you drawl out, “i don’t really care, you can bicker later. what we need to do it we need to get the fuck outta here like right now.”
you rush to uncuff the men with the keys you stole form the guards you shot earlier, and wait until they are able to push themselves on their feet.
“i am satoru gojo,” mysterious blond introduces himself properly, and extends his arm. you shake his hand and mumble your name back. you don’t know why but he makes you nervous.
“okay, all formalities for later. both of us are infected with that new plaga parasite, we need to extract it immediately,” leon interrupts the intense staring contest you entered with satoru, making you snap your attention back to him.
“well, then you’re in luck. i passed something that looked like a laboratory on the way here. it’s not too far either, only one floor up.”
“okay, great, no time to waste.”
kennedy steps out the room first, you and gojo following close behind. you’re on full alert – it doesn’t matter that you just took half of the castle down, somehow, new infected keep popping out like bunnies out of woodwork. it doesn’t take long the three of you to reach the desired destination, lab laying just behind the door straight off the stairs.
you cautiously look inside – no one seems to be here. after entering the room, you stand on guard while satoru and leon are looking for anything that might look like the cure. it seems that gods are smiling once again on you today because leon is able to find the last two vials of the vaccine sample. you have never seen him grinning so widely – it would’ve been almost heartwarming if not for the grim circumstances all of you ended up in.
before they can inject themselves with the medicine, the door swings opened and you’re thrown into the shelf, located on the opposite side of the entrance. multiple bottles with unknown substances fall on top of you, one of them breaking and infusing the air with a white powder. before you realize what happened, you inhale the mysterious concoction, immediately bursting into a coughing fit.
“fuck, are you okay?” leon yells your name somewhere from the side, and you try to wave him off. gojo is distracting whoever rammed through the doors, shooting the gun you presented him back in the prison cell. it takes exactly three more headshots for the mutated cultist to drop dead, and you’re pushing yourself off the ground and back on your feet. satoru is eyeing you suspiciously – you’re too busy brushing off your clothes and getting your breathing in order to notice.
“common, jab yourselves with the vaccine and let’s go, we have no time to lose,” you say with coarse voice. leon is also looking at you with worry but decides not to mention anything. both men inject themselves with the medicine, hoping and praying it’ll work, before rushing out of the doors and back on track to find ashley.
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running through the corridors of the castle, you can feel yourself getting weaker – there is a sheer layer of sweat covering your spine, goosebumps are dancing on your skin, and a very familiar heat is pooling between your legs. your head feels heavy, you’re barely able to string two coherent thoughts together so you resort to slowly trailing after two men who haven’t stopped arguing about the next course of action.
“i don’t care what you came here for, satoru. i have my rescue mission that still needs to be completed,” leon sighs heavily as he pushes through the heavy doors into the next room.
“sure,” the other blond man quickly agrees, “but don’t you think you government would say ‘thank you’ if you helped securing the source of this outbreak?” gojo questions as he follows leon through the doors. you want to weigh your opinion in but before you can open your mouth, as you cross the threshold of the room, you trip on your own feets and send yourself flying towards the floor. the loud bang makes both men turn their attention back to you.
“god, are you okay?” leon’s by your side in mere seconds, supporting you by the elbow so you can get up. the waves of his body heat wash over you, and you want nothing more but to curl into his body and kiss the spot underneath his jaw. has he always been so handsome? you’re so concentrated looking at leon, you don’t notice satoru standing near you now. he touches your forehead, and it takes all of your willpower not to moan. fuck, his cold hands feel so nice on your feverish skin.
“shit, she’s burning up.”
“you think it’s because of whatever substance she inhaled back in the lab?”
“i don’t know, everything’s possible.”
two agents move you to sit on the table in the corner of the room – they can clearly see how foggy your eyes are, a layer of milky mist dancing across your vision – and leon’s fingers find your pulse point. this time, you are not fast enough to stifle the low whine that escapes your lips. at any other time, you’d be dying of embarrassment but now your body is begging for release, and you’re ready to do anything to get it. anything to soothe the ache building up in your throbbing clit.
“’m so hot…” you mumble as you start taking off tactical t-shirt, baring your sports bra to the two men in the room. “and it really hurts.”
satoru and leon look at each other before they look at you – kennedy will have to work with you in the future so he’s really trying not to look at your perky nipple, shape visible through the fabric, unlike gojo, who’s taking in your current condition with almost sick satisfaction.
“where does it hurt?” satoru asks before leon is able to butt in. as if wanting to confirm his suspicion, you take his hand and guide it to your sex, cupping it.
“here.”
leon is not even able to react before gojo is lunging forward and capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, making your head bang slightly against the wall. you let yourself moan into his mouth, satoru greedily claiming all the sounds to himself. it’s not nearly enough to pacify your accelerated heartbeat, but it’s still making you shudder. you’re spreading your legs to accommodate gojo’s tall frame – but before he is able to move any closer, he is thrown back by leon; loss of his warmth makes you whine.
“what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” kennedy hisses through his teeth, moving away from you and towards gojo.
“what does it look like? don’t pretend like you don’t know this is exactly what she needs right now,” satoru spits back. you think they continue arguing but their voices are being drowned out by the ringing in your ears. heat spreading through you sets everything on fire, and your pants join your t-shirt somewhere on the floor in your desperate attempt to relieve yourself of this scorching feeling. your partner notices it and sharply turns to face you.
“what the hell are you doi-” before leon can finish his sentence, you wrap you legs around him and press your body into his.
“leon, please…” you sob, hot tears pooling in the corners of your eyes, beads of salty water wetting your eyelashes and blurring your vision. hearing your pathetic plea, voice thick with lust and desire, looking at your tears-stained face, mouth slightly agape, and watching your lips, red and messy from satoru’s kiss, glistening in the moonlight – everything about you now screams ruin me and leon is not a strong enough man to resist it.
“what are you asking me to do, sweetheart?” he whispers against your lips in a teasing tone. his switch is almost jarring but you don’t have the brain capacity to mull over his sudden mood change. he moves his hand between your legs now, touching your pussy through your panties. leon’s fleeting touch is sending shivers down your spine, and you culr yourself into him more, whining and panting against his mouth. “jesus, she’s so fucking wet already.”
“i told you, didn’t i? she needs someone to stuff her full of cum,” satoru’s dirty talk comes somewhere from the side. too distracted by leon’s deep blue eyes, gojo’s touch makes you tremble in surprise and turn your head towards him. looking at his face, you’re met by baby blues – it felt like being thrown from the ocean into the endless skies. you think men with blue eyes will be the death of you.
gojo leans down to capture your lips again, re-exploring the sacred geometry of your kiss, while leon is planting wet kisses along your jawline. you mewl in euphoric pleasure, their touches soothing to your burning skin, and you’re completely giving yourself away to the bliss rolling over you in waves. leon’s digits are teasing your clit through the fabric of your panties, and your hips instinctively buck into his hand, making him chuckle into your neck.
“she’s dripping, gojo. i bet she can take both of us unprepped,” leon says to the other agent, still busy with sucking on your lips, invading your mouth with his tongue. at his words, you shiver under men’s bodies, tingling sensation rushing through you.
“i want you in my lap, pretty girl,” satoru whispers against your lips, and you jump off into leon’s arms so the other man can sit on the table first. you move to climb on top of gojo, legs on either side of his thighs, ready to ride him, but your partner’s strong arm stops you from turning around.
“nah-ah, let him hold you spread open for me, i want to taste you first,” leon breathes against your ear, teasing the sensitive spot, making you quiver in his hold. you turn yourself towards gojo and see him grinning as he beckons you with two fingers to come closer. when you end up in his arms, he spins you around, his chest to your back, and makes you sit between his legs on the table, opening you up.
satoru’s masterful fingers unclasp your bra with ease while leon makes a quick work of your panties, shoving them into his pocket, unbeknownst to you. who knows how your relationship will work out after this – he needs something to remember this moment by. you are now sprawled completely naked for the two men’s hungry gazes: your cheeks are flushed, mouth shaped into a perfect “o”, short breaths escaping your lungs – you are truly a sight to behold. gojo wastes no time in cupping your breasts with his hands, trailing his lips on the side of your neck, sucking in hickeys as part of his claim.
kennedy gets on his knees in front of you, looking up into your eyes. gojo’s fingers are playing with your hardened nipple, making your hips buck upwards – right into leon’s mouth. his first languid swipe of the tongue comes just as satoru pinches your sensitive nubs, and you cannot help the pornographic moan escaping your lips.
“jesus, doll, who knew you’d sound so pretty,” it’s gojo’s voice against the shell of your ear, making you shudder. one of his hands keeps massaging your boob, twisting the nipple between his digits, while his other hand goes all the way down and spreads your folds for leon’s easy access. he hums in appreciation, and starts flicking his tongue up and down, drawing tight circles on your clit, sucking on it when he feels your legs tighten around his head.
agent’s movements make you squirm in satoru’s hold, dropping your head against his shoulder as leon continues eating you out. you’re absolutely incoherent now – your fever never dropped so your muscles are aching, toes curling in anticipation of the long awaited release, as you continue moaning through quick breaths.
“finger her.”
leon follows gojo’s command immediately, shoving his middle digit inside, while still lapping at your pussy. your walls clench against him almost instinctively, intrusion sudden but not unwelcome – he groans feeling the embracing heat of your cunt.
“fuck, she’s so fucking tight.”
gojo keeps your legs spread, you trying to close them around leon’s head as he keeps up his assault with his tongue. he’s nibbling on your clit, putting extra pressure with the tip of his tongue, licking it back and forth in quick succession, before flatting it to lick between your sticky folds, all the way down to the drooling hole. leon adds a second finger now, setting up a merciless pace – he is curling his digits in a heavenly way, able to hit the soft, spongy spot inside that makes you see stars and your pussy throb; you gasp loudly.
“i wish we had a phone to record this. you look so divine.”
you clench at gojo’s words, making leon groan. he’s now playing with your tits, rolling your nipple, tugging at them to add the painful sensation to the lit-up nerves. your desperate moans are bouncing among the walls, and gojo decides he wants to hear the squelching sounds of your pussy around leon’s fingers and his tongue’s wet sounds as he sloppily eats you out so he shuts you up with a kiss.
you feel your tummy begins tensing up as two men continue their ministrations: it’s satoru’s hot mouth on yours and his hands squeezing your tits, fingers playing with erect nipples; it’s leon’s tongue lapping at your pussy, precise circles on your clit and his digits scissoring you at a perfect speed, hitting the nerve bundle that rushes to send you over the end. your legs start shaking and you grab onto satoru’s arm around you to ground yourself.
“nnggh-…” you whimper into gojo’s mouth, and he finally lets you catch a breath. “’m so close,” you sob again, “’m gonna cum.”
“yeah, you want to cream all over agent kennedy’s face?” satoru taunts you from behind. “that’s so unprofessional,” he makes a tsk sound with his mouth and squeezes your cheeks to look at him.
“we’re feeling generous today, i think,” he quickly throws a glance down at leon, who only smirks as his tongue keeps licking and sucking at your clit. satoru looks you straight in the eyes as he slowly drawls his next words, “you may cum.”
the orgasm washed over you in glorious waves, rattling your entire existence. you’re scrunching your eyebrows, mouth agape with a sinful moan, as your thighs clasp around leon’s head. you’re quivering in gojo’s hold, his hands forcing your hips down, pressing them more against kennedy’s face. the latter doesn’t stop his onslaught, lips suctioning around the throbbing pearl, fingers still curled at earth-shattering angle. you try to move away but neither man lets you.
“uh-uh, where are you trying to run away? let him drink everything.”
and everything does leon kennedy drink – agent is lapping at your juices like a kitten at a fresh bowl of milk, now substituting his digits with his tongue as he keeps fucking in and out of your needy cunt. ministrations don’t stop, not even when your moans turn into little sobs as your body starts feeling overstimulated. your puffy clit is now ruined from satoru’s finger pads playing with it.
both men can feel your form shaking almost violently, gojo’s gathering your falling tears with his tongue. leon’s finally pulling his face away from your sex, standing up to look at your ruined state.
“god, i only ate her out and she already looks fucked out,” he chuckles to the other blond man, and moves to stand between your legs.
“let me taste her,” before you can react, gojo’s grabbing leon by the back of his head and capturing his lips in a heated kiss. trapped between a rock and a hard place, you can do nothing but observe the most passionate display of carnage you’ve ever witnessed – they were slobbering over each other’s faces, and it made your pussy clench around nothing. god, you can’t wait to fuck them both.
“she’s sweet, just how i like them,” satoru smirks against leon’s lips, turning his attention back to you immediately. “common, princess, you’re going to have to ride me if you want both of us.”
you’re quickly climbing on the table, straddling him. kennedy situates himself right behind you, warmth radiating off him like in suffocating waves. you’re trying to unbuckle satoru’s jeans to free his heavy cock, still trapped in confines of his boxer briefs, but leon smacks your ass, sending you forward into gojo’s embrace. it stings, the outline of his hand already forming a bruise, and you’d be mad if you pussy lips didn’t flutter at the slap.
“you’re taking too long, sweetheart,” you hear satoru, both men undoing their belts and zippers before you can, pulling out their leaking cocks. from your position you could only see satoru’s hard dick as he stroked himself near your aching hole, but what you’ve seen was enough to make you almost scared – gojo’s dick was long and blessed with a perfect curve, just upwards, one thick vein running prominently from the bottom of his shaft ending just before his mushroom head. you’re sure leon’s looked just as pretty.
“you haven’t said a word. you wanna ask nicely for what you want?” you hear leon behind you as he’s pushing you forward again, right into satoru’s chest, and teasing your waiting cunt with his thick tip – the mixture of his spit, your slick and his precum is dripping down satoru’s cock from where he’s positioned just underneath you, and the messiness of it all makes leon groan.
“please, i want your cocks inside me… please,” you sob out again, vocal cords heavy with tears.
“i think this will be our reward for saving us, how about that, huh?” there is a teasing tilt in satoru’s voice, and you grab at his shoulders, mewling like a needy animal in heat.
“yes, yes, anything,” you’re blabbering with teary voice, making men hard at the mere image of you: a capable agent reduced to a cock-drunk slut, an image that makes their cocks twitch.
leon grabs gojo’s member, giving it a couple strokes, surprising the white-haired man but hearing no complaints. his thumb is playing with the drooling slit of his tip, beads of pre-cum decorating the entrance to his flushed dick, and kennedy can’t help but smirk at how blissed out satoru looks. he’s guiding his heavy and red cock inside you, while his other hand rests on your waist. gojo’s forcing your hips down while bucking his up, and he fills you up in one long thrust.
“ah!” you cry out, biting your lip to the blood, metallic taste in your mouth almost overwhelming on top of the mix of pain and pleasure burning through your body. you’re whimpering into satoru’s mouth, while his hand is running soothing circles on your back.
“here you go, such a good fucking girl. taking me in so well, huh? all it took is one thrust, so perfect,” he’s blabbering against your skin as he starts sinking in and out of your sloppy hole. looking down, you can see the bulge in your tummy, and it makes you purr – you not only feel him splitting you in two, you are able to witness it. his reddened tip is meeting your cervix in a bruising kiss, and god, he’s making you fell so good.
you’re so lost in the rapturous sensation of gojo’s huge cock pushing against your gummy walls, you don’t notice leon’s presence behind you – he is grabbing your hips with one hand while his other is jerking his dick, prepping himself to enter you. his tip is near your whole when you finally realize what’s he’s trying to do.
“no! no, it’s too mu- ah!” he doesn’t let you finish before he start pushing himself inside, sliding alongside satoru’s heavy member, making the man grunt.
“fuck, feels so tight and warm,” you hear behind you as kennedy sets a punishing pace, sheathing himself into your abused hole. they are stretching you out to heavens, leon looking at your gaping cunt with pride. it’s fluttering and clenching around their huge cocks, your walls spasming in pleasure as their lengths are grinding against your soft spots. you can hear your pussy queefing, and the filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin add to the dirty symphony.
“ngg, ngg- feels so, so goo-” you’re unable to finish your sentence as they keep bouncing you on their cocks, manhandling your body however they seem fit. you’ve never felt so full – both men keep drilling into you, like you’re no more than their little personal toy to play with. satoru grabs you by the back of your neck, biting at your lips, sloppily making out with you, while leon grabs your hair, forcing you back on his dick.
you can feel both cocks twitching inside you, approaching climax evident by their shallow breathing, moans hitching at every thrust of the hips. your walls are tightening around their cocks, and men’s whimpering and groaning is sinful to listen to, yet they are determined to make you climax first.
“common, gorgeous, cum around our cocks,” gojo hoaxes from underneath you. leon pushes your hips even closer into satoru’s body, your clit now grinding against his pubic bone, and it’s making you teeter on the edge of your bliss.
your bladder feels pressure you’ve never experienced before as gojo’s cock pressing against it from a perfect angle. leon is digging his fingers into the plush skin of your ass, rutting in and out of you, pushing against your back walls. all of your nerves are on fire, exploding fireworks in your brain, sending all your pleasure receptors into the overdrive. as your second orgasm washes over you, you’re left trembling in the men’s arms, leon’s chest against your back, your sweaty tits against satoru’s broad front.
“that’s a good girl, look at how cock-drunk you are,” you can hear them chuckle between themselves, not slowing down for a second. leon can see the white creamy ring enveloping the base of his cock in a soft embrace – it’s making him lose last of his slipping composure as he starts thrusting extra hard, thus speeding gojo up.
you bounce like a rag doll on top of gojo, having no semblance of control, being completely used by two agents. the pressure in your bladder comes back, and you throw your head back – your body continues quivering uncontrollably as you start sobbing again, tears drawing salty rivers on your cheeks, result of your body riding into stimulation. before you know it, something warm and so fucking wet starts gushing out of you. you want to look down, but men react first by groaning, voice impossibly thick with lust and awe.
“fuck, baby, didn’t expect you to squirt this much. so fucking filthy, i bet you waited to do this the whole time,” gojo grunts from underneath you, and you can only purr in response. it only takes couple more thrusts before leon and satoru synchronize their orgasms, shooting the ribbons of cum inside your womb, painting it pearly white, fucking it in warm and cozy. the squelching sounds ricocheting among the walls are nothing but sinful, and your cheeks flush red from the realization of what just transpired.
as both men pull out of your abused, stretched out hole, the combined mixture of all the fluids trickle down your thighs, making you groan in disgust. now that aphrodisiac has been fucked out from your system, you can’t even bring yourself to look them in the eyes. you hurry to pick up your clothes, but your legs give out underneath you – you’d end up flat on your ass, if not for leon who caught you mid fall.
tension in the air is palpable, electricity dancing on your skin is able to set everything on fire again. you’re ready to break the silence when satoru speaks first.
“you know, kennedy, next time you want to touch my cock, you don’t need to bring a woman between us.”
he leaves the room before either of you are able to force a reaction, and you wish you’d left both of them for dead instead.
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© rinniessance do not steal, plagiarize or translate my works. do not recommend me on tiktok, thank you
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celiastjamesoscar · 6 months
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Comfort Holds
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Pairings: Sam Carpenter x fem!reader
Summary: A long day at work leads the best kind of de-stressing at home: Sam holding you.
Warnings: light cussing, mentions of overdoses, extremely soft Sam, Sam and R showering together, not proofread
AN: a real quick one in celebration of me passing my logic exam! I promise I will crank out some longer ones soon!! I also hate how I couldn’t find a good Hozier/Taylor/Lana song to fit this and it’s going to drive me nuts :(
My Masterlist
Word Count: 1.7K
With a soft sigh, you clocked out of work. Today was rough; it seemed like dispatch could not leave you alone, and the calls were the worst. Just today alone, you had four overdoses, which was a new record. On top of that, you also helped deliver a baby, which was a first. You didn’t hate your job, but sometimes you wished for a simple desk job. Something that wasn’t constantly putting stress on your body.
You locked the ambulance before leaving the station and getting into your car. Being an EMT was fun, and you enjoyed it, but just like any job, it had its ups and downs. As you put your key into the ignition, your phone dinged with a message, and your heart fluttered when you read the name.
Sammy Bear 🔪����: When will you be home? I miss you.
-Sam
You rolled your eyes with a small smile as you read the text. No matter how often you told her not to, Sam continued to sign her texts. At this point, you were convinced she was doing it to irritate you.
Y/N ❤️: Babe, I have you saved in my contacts. You don’t have to sign your name
You watched as the bubbles appeared and disappeared for several minutes, and you were starting to get worried you had upset Sam when she sent you a picture. The breath in your throat got caught, and your mouth started to water as you admired the jaw-dropping picture your girlfriend had just sent you.
It was a picture of her lying down in bed on her stomach. The angle at which it was taken had a perfect view of her cleavage, especially with the necklace that had your first name initial resting between her breasts.
The picture was effortless but still breathtaking, and you couldn’t believe how you managed to pull that gorgeous woman.
Sammy Bear 🔪🖤: Just answer the damn question.
-Sam
Y/N ❤️: …Not even 5 minutes
As soon as you sent the text, you drove your car and quickly hurried home to Sam. You two have been dating for almost six months, the best six months of your life. It took you several months to break down Sam’s mile-high walls, but after enough late-night conversations and you taking care of Tara while she was at work, Sam slowly allowed herself to be vulnerable with you. Sam didn’t trust easily; hell, sometimes she didn’t even trust herself, but when she was with you, she knew that she could trust you with her heart and her world: Tara.
Once you had won the approval of Tara (a trial that consisted of her forcing you to watch all of her favorite movies and shows), Sam finally opened up her heart to you, and within a week, you two were officially dating.
Within record time, you parked your car outside the Carpenter apartment and hastily approached Sam. When you reached the door to her apartment, you knocked three times and patiently waited for Sam to open up.
“Took you long enough,” the woman in question stated while opening the door. Like in the picture, she only wore a sports bra and leggings, and your mouth began to water as you admired her abs.
“I tried my best to get here quickly,” you retorted while entering your shared apartment. Technically and legally, it was Sam’s apartment, but you were over so much that you two started calling it your ‘shared’ apartment, and you couldn’t be happier.
Once Sam shut the door, you moved to hug her, but she quickly stepped back from you. “Y/N, I love you, but you smell,” Sam defended as she walked into her room, “go take a shower and change, then we can cuddle.”
You grumbled as you followed her and went to your shared dresser. The top two rows were for Sam, and the bottom two were for you, not that the factor in determining who was on top pertained to your sex life at all. No way.
Rummaging through the dresser, you pulled out a pair of shorts along with a baggy t-shirt and a pair of underwear and then carried them into Sam’s bathroom. You turned on the shower and stripped out of your dirty clothes, and deciding to see if Sam was lying, you smelt your shirt. You hated agreeing with your girlfriend, but it didn't smell good.
You threw your dirty clothes into the hamper before stepping into the shower. You were in the middle of washing your face when you heard the bathroom door open. “Hello?” You called up, and when your lips moved, you got soap in your mouth.
As your luck would have it, you were frantically trying to get the awful soap taste out of your mouth when Sam violently pulled back the shower curtain.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Sam!” You exclaimed as you touched your heart, “You almost gave me a heart attack.”
Sam gave you a small laugh and racked her eyes over your body. “You look pretty,” she stated when her eyes reached your face, silently laughing at your startled face covered in soap.
“Thank you,” you replied before sticking your face under the water and washing off the soap. By the time it took you to get the soap off, Sam had undressed and stepped into the shower behind you. Her firm, muscular arms embracing you from behind.
“I miss you, baby,” Sam mumbled against your neck as she hugged your back, kissing your neck. “I missed you too,” you replied, leaning against Sam’s hold and relaxing.
Sam hummed against your neck as she held you tighter. You were her home, and she only ever felt entirely safe in your presence. In time, she planned to make a wife out of you, but only if you wanted her. Sam would move Heaven and Hell for you; she would fist-fight God himself for you, but she would never do something you weren’t okay with. So, if you were crazy enough to grant her your hand in marriage, Sam’s life would be complete.
“How was work?” Sam asked as she let go of her hold on you, grabbed a shampoo bottle, and put some on her hand. “It was rough, to say the least,” you replied with a weak smile, even though Sam couldn’t see it.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Sam asked as she set down the bottle and rubbed the soap together in her hands. “Not really,” you replied while Sam massaged your scalp and applied the soap to your hair. You knew about Sam’s past drug addiction, so you didn’t want to tell her about all the overdoses you encountered today. “But,” you cheerfully stated, “I did help deliver a baby!”
“Oh yeah? Who would trust you with their baby?” Sam teased while she ran her fingers through your hair. You huffed at her words, “A woman who is shooting a child out of her vagina at rocket speed, that’s who.”
Sam laughed at your response and turned you to face her, “You’re a smart-ass, you know that?”
“I know, but I’m your smart-ass,” you said with a smile as Sam gently pushed you backward into the running water of the shower. “Yes, you are,” Sam replied as she began washing the shampoo out of your hair.
It wasn’t rare for Sam to wash your body, as it was her own way of worshiping you. She loved touching your body in more intimate ways than sex, and she also loved that you trusted her enough to allow her to connect with you in such ways. The respect you both had for each other was undeniable, and your love was sacred; no one could ever shake it or ruin it.
For the remainder of the shower, you and Sam took turns washing each other’s body. And when it was time to get out, you both dressed in clean clothes and brushed your teeth. It wasn’t much, but you would kill for these domestic moments with Sam.
“Come here,” Sam said as she climbed into her bed and opened her arms to you. You smiled at her as you turned off the bathroom and bedroom lights and got into bed next to her.
Within a second, Sam had her arms wrapped around your waist and was pulling you into her chest. You placed your head on her chest as one of her hands left your waist and gently rubbed your back.
“Sam? Can I ask you a question?” You asked after Sam had turned on the lamp next to her bed. “Of course, my love,” she responded as her fingers lightly danced across your back, even though you felt her tense up.
“Can you please try not to snore tonight?” You pleaded with beady eyes as you looked up at her, and you could see her visibly relax. “Y/N, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this, but I do not snore,” Sam declared with a hurtful look in her eyes.
“Oh come on, you big baby,” you jolly teased as you propped yourself up on the bed with your elbow and looked at Sam’s big, brown eyes, “You snore, and you know it.”
“Nuh-uh.”
“Yes, you do! I even recorded you, Sam!”
“That’s a fake video,” she defended, “Why do you hate me?”
Now, this question was her favorite card to play. No matter what you two argued about, this one never failed her. When Sam played this card mixed in with her puppy dog eyes, she knew you were a goner.
“Sam,” you whispered as a hurt look quickly replaced your teasing, “You know I love you.”
“Then why do you insist I snore when I do not?” Sam questioned as you unpropped your elbow and laid back on her chest, listening to her comforting heartbeat.
“Because I love teasing you, Sam. And because your snoring is awful, you should seriously get it checked out,” you responded sarcastically. “Haha, you’re so funny,” Sam dryly replied but hugged you tighter, telling you she was joking.
The two of you talked about your day for several more minutes before you yawned, and Sam reached over to turn off the bedside lamp. You were still lying on her chest as sleep slowly took over your body whenever you heard the faintest whisper, “Delete that video of me snoring.”
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Taglist: @elduster @silentwolfsstuff
I stole the text messaging part from the great @maskthedwarf <3
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heyitsdoe · 2 months
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A/N - The first scenario of the event, this scenario's prompt was Fake Dating from Machine One of Doe's Lucky Slots Casino! If you liked what you read, consider checking out my masterlist for other stories. Keep an eye out for more to come, and please enjoy!
WARNINGS: NSFW sexual content, blow jobs, praise kink
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You're not sure where to stare; Sengoku's expectant and pleased-with-himself expression, or the paper he'd handed to you with your next mission's details.
A band of smugglers had been running black market weapons and ill-harvested luxury items in the area, and the World Government needed to figure out where their base of operations lay. Three islands in that region of the sea were possible locations, given the smugglers' frequent sightings around or nearby, and a two-man team of marines would be dispatched to each one under some false cover. A simple recon. Get in, attempt to locate the hideout, find out what details you could about their operations, and get out. Nothing you hadn't done a dozen times before.
It wouldn't even be the first time you'd gone in with a cover story. Nothing new, and certainly nothing hard for you to pull off. Words failed you, however, when you noticed a few key details of your cover further down on the page.
Rosinante, standing beside you and gazing intensely at the same briefing document you had also received, finally glanced up at your commanding officer with raised brows and a flustered stutter.
"A...couple's getaway, s-sir?"
"That's correct." The man in charge gave a slow nod, eyes closing, before opening them and peering at you both with a patience practiced over years of service. "The island is a known vacation spot; resorts, spas, beaches, and thrill recreation. Quite beautiful, I hear. This time of year, there will be hundreds arriving to spend a few days relaxing from their typical lives. Posing as a couple enjoying yourselves on a getaway trip, exploring a new island with all manner of things to do, will certainly provide you with credible cover if anyone sees you snooping around where you shouldn't. Wouldn't you agree?"
You had to admit, he had a point. "Yes, sir."
Sengoku, now seeming to sense some sort of...hesitation between you and your companion, leaned back in his chair and slotted his fingers together in front of him on his desk. "Is there a problem?"
Rosinante was quick to shake his head. "No, just..." He searched for the right words, swallowing thickly. "...just unexpected, is all."
You meet Sengoku's gaze, who looked at you for your own response. It was hardly prudent to disclose that sending you with Rosinante in particular, under this pretense, was stirring many feelings in you that were carefully tucked away and hidden. Flashes of possibilities in the days to come had you subtly shifting your feet.
Rosinante was your trusted companion, years of experience together saving each other's lives would do that. It was hardly surprising to realize you'd grown to care for him more than you perhaps should over all that time.
Realizing you hadn't responded, you flash a little smile in Sengoku's direction, somehow managing to make it not appear as strained as you felt. "No, sir. I've never been put under cover needing to fake a relationship with someone else is all."
"I understand. This cover would require the both of you to...blur some professional lines, as it were." He gave a sympathetic sigh. "It's not something I ask lightly. You and Rosinante work well together, trust each other fully, and communicate effectively. Given the circumstances, and your dynamic between each other, I believe you're my best shot at infiltrating the island without raising suspicion from the smugglers, if they happen to be operating there."
High praise from the Fleet Admiral. Pride swells within you. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Rosinante smile as well, and then glance at you to meet your own.
"Thank you, sir."
"Any other objections?" Both of you remain silent, so he continues.
"One week should give you sufficient time to see most of the island and gather what information you can." The bearded man continued, reaching into his drawer to pull out more paperwork, handing each of you a small stack. "Lodging and meals have been arranged for the duration of your mission. In keeping with your cover as a couple, it is, unfortunately, a single-bed suite. I trust you'll work something out in that regard."
Oh dear.
"Yes, sir." You both respond simultaneously, and you desperately hope that the rising heat in your face doesn't show.
"It would be suspicious if you did not partake in any of the recreation the island had to offer while you are there, so consider any of the activities and amenities provided as a means to blend in with the other vacation-goers. I shouldn't need to say this, but," He frowned then, staring at the two of you in warning, "don't get distracted."
"Yes, sir." Two voices echo.
Eyes flicking between the two of you, he eases up in his chair and nods satisfactorily. "Any questions about what must be done?"
"No, sir."
Nodding, he gave you both a confident smile and stood from his seat, the both of you only a moment behind him. "Then see to the docks to board your ship. You leave at once."
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The resort was just as Sengoku had described. Beautiful.
A balanced mix of nature and civilization. The many-storied building that rose above the beach and the surrounding trees was pastel-yellow in color, and sporting a large mural of a palm tree on one side. You'd think the salty sea air would have faded the colors long ago, but it was just as vibrant as the day it had been painted.
From your perch against the boat's railing, smoothly sailing closer to the island's docks, you could see many beach-goers playing and relaxing in the golden sand that spanned the shore. A few brave souls dotted the waters on paddle boards and surfboards, waiting for the next big wave.
Half of the island was covered in vibrantly green foliage and palm trees, providing shade and hideaways for romanic encounters with some semblance of privacy.
If you'd been on an actual vacation, this was certainly a destination you'd have considered.
Several couples stepped off the charter boat alongside you and Rosinante, meandering their way down the boardwalk that lead to your accommodations for the week. They'd been a chatty bunch as you'd made your journey here. Luckily, your cover stories had been decided upon long before you'd boarded the charter, and so answering their basic questions about where you were coming from and the usual small talk had been easy enough to navigate without arriving suspicions.
Trying not to look too uncomfortable in your tank top, shorts, and flip flops that was nothing at all like your typical service uniform, bulky luggage bags in hand, you and Rosinante stopped and took in your surroundings, eyes peeled for any sort of sign that not all was as it seemed.
Now that you were on the island with a better view up close, you could see several straw-topped huts peeking out from the palm trees, some tucked away for privacy and some dotting the very top shoreline. They featured stylized canvas drapes that could be pulled apart to view the beach and the sea beyond it, or drawn to shield the occupants from prying eyes.
Further down the beach was a bar, two tenders mixing and servings drinks that looked colorful and likely deceptively potent. A number of beach-goers were lounged on bamboo chairs and sipping on one cocktail or another at their leisure, complete with floppy hats and seemingly no cares in the world.
No shady characters or out-of-place buildings one wouldn't normally find on a resort. So far, no evident signs of trouble in paradise, but that could change quickly, you knew.
"Y/N." Hearing Rosinante mutter, you glance in his direction and catch his meaningful look at your hand. A sympathetic smile graces his face. You swallowed down the little jolt of feeling that lumped in your throat.
"Oh, right..." Quickly, you place your free hand in his, linking fingers together. Standing there gawking with an analytical gaze at the island wouldn't fit your cover, and so you adopt a much more carefree expression, banishing the frown of concentration that had settled there, and let your blond partner guide you towards the resort further down the way.
The warmth of his hand in yours is not lost on you, but with a job to do, the feelings are stamped down enough to focus on your surroundings instead of the spike of happiness that grows in your chest. As if sensing your conflicting, his squeezes yours, whether a reminder to appear natural or as a way to try comforting you, you'd never guess.
Don't fool yourself, this is just a cover, you think to yourself. As much as you wish it wasn't...
You let out a tiny sigh that escapes your companion's notice, smiling face too busy taking in the surroundings.
The sand and sea-soaked boardwalk lead you directly to what was clearly the resort's hotel. Everyone is all smiles, no matter where you look. One of the staff stood in front of the double glass doors, waiting patiently as you approached. With a widening of her smile and a short bow, the woman turned and pushed open the door to allow you to enter.
The interior is just as colorful as the exterior, welcoming and vibrant and tropical in theme. Fake plants—or perhaps they were real?—were plopped in each and every corner, tall palm leaves spanning and drooping to catch the eye. Their waxy texture made it hard to determine if they were actual plants or not without close inspection.
The front desk was manned by a dark-skinned, bald man wearing similar clothes to all of the beach-goers; casual and bright, eye-catching colors. You were willing to bet he too was wearing flip flops. With all the sand around, it seemed the only practical footwear possible on the island.
His smile is easy and appeasing as the two of you step up across the counter. "Welcome! I hope your journey was pleasant?"
"It was." Rosinante gave a relieved smile and nod, as if weary and excited to be here. "Glad to finally get here. We've been looking forward to this vacation for weeks."
You adopted a winning smile as well, looking around as if overwhelmed by the sights, but actually canvasing whatever staff were in your line of sight. Nothing odd in here either.
The attendant looked pleased, closing his eyes and dipping his head in understanding. "Of course. Allamanda Bay is a wonder to behold, and I'm certain the many activities available to you and its exceptional beauty will meet and surpass any and all expectations you may possess."
You finally pay closer attention to the conversation, stepping closer and leaning into Rosinante for greater affect. "I think I read somewhere that they offer full body massages?" You don't need to fake the excitement in your voice.
"You are correct, madam." The man took the reservation papers from Rosinante, simultaneously answering your question. "Full body massages, a soak in the hot springs, facials, mani-pedis, yoga classes in the mornings and evenings...and so much more. Whatever your interests may be, we are certain to have something to delight you."
Rosinante glances your way with an expression that clearly indicated he was impressed so far with the roster of things to do, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his chest as you waited for your room key to be produced. Your heart thudded as you breathed in his scent, but the reality of the situation was never far from your consciousness.
Stop enjoying this so much, you tell yourself angrily.
Who were you kidding?
"Everything appears to be in order." Your host remarked with a satisfied nod. In short order, he turned and retrieved a key from beneath the counter, a small tag with the room number it belonged to dangling from the chain. "You shall be on the 5th floor. Just down this hallway you'll find an elevator." He leaned over the counter and bit and indicated where it would be located. "You'll want to turn left once you exit."
"Thank you very much." Rosinante said with an appreciative incline of his head, before accepting the key held out to him. In addition, the man produced a brochure with more information, should the two of you need it.
"Please enjoy your stay." The dark-skinned man bid, bestowing the both of you with a respectful bow.
Turning and taking your luggage in hand, you follow the instructs he'd laid out for you, reaching the elevator and stepping in beside an elderly couple who were quietly bickering to themselves about which activity they would be doing first that day. Feeling awkward, you exchange a raised eyebrow stare with Rosinante, keeping silent and pretending like you couldn't hear the warbled voices when they finally exited the elevator on the 4th floor.
The doors closed, before dinging once more and opening to the fifth floor, and you turn left to find your room.
You've both stayed mostly silent up to the point, only speaking when necessary to keep your cover. And your trek down the hallway is also without a word. Instead, you eye the somewhat tacky beach-themed carpet and palm-tree inspired wallpaper leading up to your room.
Rosinante finally stops in front of room 516. He inserts the key and, with a turn of his wrist, unlocks the door to allow you both entrance.
As far as hotel rooms go, it's got all the typical amenities; a bathroom off to the right, small alcove with hangers on the left for placing your luggage, a table and two chairs pressed up against the opposite wall just underneath a wide window overlooking the beach below, a couch appolstered with fabric a few decades out of style, two nightstands, a small den den mushi on one of them for calling room service, and a bed.
You'd been warned beforehand about the bed situation, but it was still somehow a jolt when you notice the single, queen-sized mattress that the both of you would have to address at some point today. But, ignoring that for now, you set your bag on the edge of the bed while Rosinante locks the door behind him.
A quick sweep of the room proves nothing unusual or suspicious about it, nor the presence of any hidden den-den mushi that could pick up on conversations within. For all intents and purposes, this was a simple, unremarkable hotel room, no different than any other.
Once established that there'd be no one listening to your conversations inside, you let out a sigh and flopped onto the bed unceremoniously, arms spread out to either side of you.
"I think a nap is in order." You mutter, eyes closing with bliss.
"It's only one in the afternoon." Rosinante points out, chuckling at your reaction. "We can still get some basic recon done today."
Your head perks up hopefully, looking at where he was unzipping the top of his bag. "After a nap?"
He turns to look at you, flashing a reluctant smile. "Probably not. The sooner we get the recon done, the sooner we can come back and rest. How's that sound?"
"Like my feet are gonna be screaming at me by the time we're done." With a muted thud, your head drops back down to the bed, a sigh lifting and lowering your chest. Your complaints were superficial at most, since he was technically the one in charge on this mission. His several years your senior in the force made that certain.
"Well, we got a decent look at the main beach, but it seems like there's more on the interior of the island and within the palm trees." The blonde figured with a shrug. "A basic recon of the whole island can give us a better idea where to look throughout the rest of the week."
He made perfect sense, from the mission standpoint, however that didn't make your throbbing feet feel any better. "You're right...doesn't mean I have to like it, though."
Once more he laughed, and you savored the sound.
"Just give me a few minutes and we can get back out there." You say, relishing this small amount of time just laying down. "Just to recoup the charter boat journey."
He nods, then as if confronted with what was on both of your minds with your position as it was, he cleared his throat and gestured to the bed. "Since we have a moment, I wanted to talk about the uh, bed situation."
It wasn't a conversation you were particularly thrilled to be having this soon, but it was a necessary one if you were going to preserve your ability to work together without issue. Rolling onto your stomach, you give him your full attention.
He glances away, before returning to gaze back at you. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I know there are some boundaries we can't help but cross over in this kind of mission when we're out in public—we both agreed to it when we accepted the mission from Sengoku—but this is one of those things that we do have control over. In this room, we don't have to put on a show for anyone. In here, we can be real. It's just us."
He gestures to the other large piece of furniture in the room. "I'll take the couch. Or, if you feel that's unfair or something, we can always switch off and alternate between the couch and the bed. I'm fine with either decision, but I'll give you the choice."
He flashes you a caring smile, hands raised openly to indicate that it was your turn to speak on the matter. With pursed lips, you mull over the idea.
Your hesitation had less to do with him making you uncomfortable and more to do with restricting your opportunities to see things as more than they were. You knew it would be a little awkward—on your part, of course—being in such close proximity to Rosinante with the feelings you harbored for him deep down. It was a recipe for distraction, disappointment, and heartbreak later down the line. Indulging in your secret desires would do no good. And, in a sense, wasn't that taking advantage of him in some way?
But...you didn't think it fair that he should have to take the couch just because of that. You were both adults. And if you couldn't handle being in a bed platonically, then you were more unprofessional than you'd ever imagined yourself to be.
No. He was your friend. And with a deep breath—and a mental reality check—you shook your head and dismissed his words with a small flap of your hand.
"If you're not uncomfortable with it, I say we both take the bed. We'll need as much decent sleep as we can get, and I highly doubt you'll fit on that couch at all." Your pointed glance at the couch's shorter width makes him reevaluate it for himself, and he winced. "You don't need to worry about me being uncomfortable. It's just a bed. Nothing to psyche ourselves out over."
"Oh...yeah." He slowly nods, giving a rather forced chuckle and rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Sorry, I've probably made it weird just bringing it all up. I just wanted to made sure we were on the same page and all...Uh, anyway..."
He's adorable when he's nervous, you think, smile widening as he went about doing something to change the subject. With a set lift to his shoulders, he grabs the small box containing your den-den mushi linking you up with Sengoku's office and places it on the small table across the room.
"Better let Sengoku know we've settled in, and then go out and get a good look at the island."
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After an uneventful scouting of the island, walking its main trail that weaved through the palm trees and along the edge of the shoreline on the far side—hand in hand to keep up the facade of a couple—you returned to your hotel room exhausted and in dire need of some food.
Room service was, surprisingly, complimentary with your accommodation package. The two of you had shared a disbelieving stare when the lovely woman on the room's den den mushi had disclosed that particular bit of information. How much had Sengoku allocated to this mission? Surely a resort like this didn't come with a cheap price tag...
Since it was provided anyway, you both ordered to your heart's content from the menu provided. Most of the fare was pretty standard, though there was a section for specialty dishes native to the island's edible resources, as well as an alcohol and cocktails menu. Getting hungover on day one of the mission wouldn't be a good look, so you avoided that for now.
With you meals eaten and your bellies full, the exertion of the day began to weigh down your eyelids, and staying awake was nigh impossible. There was still tendrils of light in the sky, visible from the window's faint orange glow, but neither of you could fight the fatigue any longer.
And so, too tired to care much about any awkwardness you'd felt before, you both mutter a 'goodnight' and tuck yourselves beneath the covers.
Somehow, you both made it through the night without dying of embarrassment or causing an incident that would forever change the course of your friendship. Upon waking up that next morning, you were relieved to find that your limbs weren't draped over his and you hadn't inadvertently snuggled into him during the night. No need for a mortifying scene like that. Thank heaven...
Still, you woke first, which gave you the opportunity to see Rosinante in a truly content and relaxed state of being. You'd never admit to anyone that you'd spent a few minutes just examining his face as he lay there, partially drooling into the pillow. Cute...
Some time later, having woken up, showered, and eaten your room service breakfast that left you full and ready to set out for the day, Rosinante looked over the brochure the front desk attendant had given you.
"We'll have to start setting time aside for things that the island offers for recreation, to keep up appearances. We can pick one for this morning, while we think over our next move." His eyes flicked back and forth as he read the inner pages. You smile to yourself, finishing a few things with your makeup in the bathroom mirror.
"I don't think I've ever heard someone say 'let's do something fun this morning' in a more clinical and uninterested fashion." You retort, and he shoots you a rueful smile.
"Sorry, I guess I'm just caught up in the mission. No reason we can't enjoy the things we do to keep our cover, right?" You nod, and he goes back to the brochure. "Says here that yoga classes are held in the hotel's recreation hall in the mornings."
"Mm, nah." You dismiss the idea, wanting to give your limbs a little break from too much exercise a bit longer. Your feet retained a residual ache from all the walking the day before. "Anything else?"
His blonde head turned back to the paper, tilting to skip to the next page. "There's snorkeling on the eastern shoreline, surfing, water polo. Can't do those..." He muttered, continuing on. "All day cocktails served at the cabanas, and a meet-and-greet with other guests at the bar."
"I could use a little pick-me-up, couldn't you?" A little sun and some waves as your ambiance sounded delightful. "Some lounging on the beach, just doing nothing..."
"Alright, nothing it is." He laughs, tossing the brochure down and standing to get his flip flops. "This is certainly the most laid-back mission I've ever been on."
A sigh escapes you. "I suppose we shouldn't get used to it, though."
"Probably not."
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The gentle sea breeze caressed your sun-warmed skin as you basked on the beach lounger. A fruity cocktail of some kind in your hand, you sip slowly through the swirly straw that stuck out of the top, tasting the citrusy fruit native to the island and pucker your lips in delight.
While there is the ever-present chatter of other beach-goers around you, playing and walking and laughing to the tune of their own amusement, the rhythmic and subtle whooshing of the waves upon the sand kept your focus.
When was the last time you relaxed this deeply? Maybe it was wrong of you, but despite being on a mission even now, you couldn't help the instinct to forget all of your responsibilities and just take in the sun's rays.
Pure bliss. The light buzz from the alcohol in your glass, coupled with the warmth, had you on the verge of sleep. Heavy eyelids threatened to close and have you dozing off right then and there, but the beautiful view of the open sea beyond coaxed your energy reserves to keep you awake despite it all.
Eyes closed behind your sunglasses, you hear Rosinante sigh out in contentment from his own chair on your right. Lip twitching upwards at the sound, something stirs you to move your arm, reaching over and fumbling around until your fingers brush over his, tangling them together.
You swallow down the excitement, letting it simmer but not show. If only for the moment, you can pretend it all means more than it actually does...
Rosinante hums, then perhaps looks over at your hands linked together. "Y/N?" He asks in a low mumble, maybe confused as to why you had suddenly held his hand.
"To keep our cover." Is your only response, hoping he doesn't press more than that.
Thankfully he doesn't, and simply squeezes your fingers in his, keeping hold of them as you continue to lay there and enjoy your drinks.
If only he could feel how fast your heart beat in your chest, fatigue replaced by a guilty pleasure.
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After your mid-morning lounging and drinking, it was time to get to work again. Having seen nothing on the first cursory glance of the island, Rosinante felt it prudent to spend more time in the most likely places a base may be hidden, which meant a short hike to the other side of the island, despite your hopes that the day wouldn't require too much strenuous activity.
Hands held as you walked together wherever you went, putting on your best smiles and curious expressions like tourists would, the cave system was your first stop. The resort offered caving tours to descend into the deeper sections to those curious and brave enough to try. But even a quick peek down there proved fruitless.
Your next two locations were nondescript buildings that had been not far off from the caves themselves. Getting inside of them unnoticed proved simple—there was so little supervision away from the main hotel—though a thorough search of both premises proved pointless. No signs of smuggler activity to be found, only equipment storage for the cave tours. So much for that.
Rosinante wasn't deterred, however, and gave you a smile of encouragement. "I suppose no sign of smugglers is a good thing for the island, though unfortunate, given they need to be found and stopped as soon as possible"
Returning to the main resort of lunch, you venture out again, revisiting a few of the next most likely places you could think of to find some sort of sign of smugglers. However, after another few hours of searching, there was nothing to show for it.
"Let's head back." You eventually suggest, once again taking the blonde's hand in your own. By now it felt so natural to reach for it, you felt like you were missing something otherwise. "It'll be dark in another hour, and I doubt we'll have any better luck if we continue tonight."
"Yeah, you're right." His smile returned, and his fingers squeezed yours again. "Besides, I think all our hard work deserves a reward."
Your brows lifts slowly. "What do you have in mind?"
"Oh, just something I saw on the brochure this morning." Is his cryptic answer, refusing to elaborate even as you pester him with questions about what he was talking about. "You'll see." Is all he'd say on the matter.
So, following him back to the resort, you change into clothes that you hadn't spent all day sweating in, and wandered back down to the beach. It was abuzz with activity, even more so than it had earlier when it was bright out. Strange. What was going on?
The echo of what you think is a drum beats a steady rhythm into the night. You try to crane your neck higher to look past the crowd of people mingling around, but can't quite see its source.
By now, the sun had fully set, the horizon barely holding onto the last bits of light as the stars emerged and the moon took its place in the sky. Tall torches stuck into the sand lit up the beach close to the bar, and you finally approach in a small break in the throng of people. It's then that you can see what all the fuss is about.
You shiver as Rosinante leans in close to your ear. "I'll get us some drinks." And before you can respond, he's slipped away in the crowd to get to the bar's bamboo counter.
All your attention is fixed to the two dancers standing in the center of the large circle of space the crowd had left unoccupied, large staffs in hand with fires lit at each of the ends twirling and swooping and spinning as they moved in tandem with the consistent thumping of the drum.
A man and woman, their outfits were obviously homemade, colorful garments stitched together in mismatching patterns with shells and beads sewn in. Their faces were lit up with delight as they moved in tandem, bodies perfectly in sync as they dazzled the crowd of onlookers with each and every flick of their wrists. It all looked so precise and careful, yet graceful and natural. Clearly, both knew what they were doing, and felt no nervousness swirling their flames so close to their own and each other's bodies.
You're mesmerized, eyes fixed to the way the light of the flames at the end of the staffs flickers and glides in the air along the path the dancers take it. In the darkness, the feelings it evokes hit you deep in your chest; as if it were so familiar, but experienced once more after a long time without. An ache relieved somehow. You couldn't quite explain it.
Rosinante returning to your side and nudging your arm shake you from the stupor, and your glance up to see him smiling at you. The passing of the flames give his eyes a glow, a spark, some ethereal quality you are struck by. In this light, he looks even more handsome than you could have thought possible.
His smile remains, but his brows lower a bit in confusion, making you realize you were staring. "You ok?"
"Yeah, just..." It's difficult to form any words suddenly. "Sorry."
"Well, maybe this drink will help a bit." He once again holds up the glass he'd gotten for you, a clearly fruity cocktail once more, a lime wedge placed along the rim of the glass. You accept the offer, and manage to smile back.
"Thanks."
"Anything for my lovely girlfriend." He says with a wink and a husky tone, sending your heart all aflutter. But he doesn't seem to notice the many, many spiraling thoughts now invading your head.
You both turn back to the fire dancers, though you're no longer paying attention, instead idly sipping on your drink while you try convincing yourself he was only saying things like that for the benefit of your cover story.
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"Pere pere pere pere pere..." The small den den mushi rang, sitting on the palm of Rosinante's hand as you ate your lunch that afternoon, another long morning of recon having gone back uneventfully. Patiently, you waited to be connected through to your superior, munching on sandwiches and fresh fruit while the little snarled continued to drone on.
"Pere pere pere pere pere...gatcha."
You both perk up as the snail's eyes opened wider, taking on the facial expression of the man on the other end. "Rosinante, Y/N...status report."
"Negative on smuggler activity." Was the blonde marine's serious tone, giving you a glance. "No signs of anything illicit or suspicious goings-on thus far. If they're here, they're extremely well hidden."
"How much of the island would you say you've been able to search so far?"
Rosinante looks to you for confirmation, and you lean in to be better heard through the snail. "I estimate 45%, sir. All prime locations for concealed illegal activity have been searched. A group like this would need a large enough space for storage of their goods. We've cleared all structures and spaces we know of that could accommodate that sort of operation. We're onto our secondary and less-likely areas just to be thorough."
"Hmm." Sengoku takes in that info, mulling it over. A series of rapid, dull thumps comes across through the channel. Drumming fingers. Both of you know better than to interrupt this time, letting him think over the facts available to come to his own conclusion. "Team 2 has reported a few signs of suspicious activity, they are currently investigating further into those leads. I anticipate team 3's report later this evening."
Another long pause as Sengoku thinks on it some more, before he clears his throat and addresses you both again. "I trust you've balanced recon and keeping your cover? Partaken in the resort's activities?"
"Yes, sir." Rosinante gives a little chuckle. "No suspicions raised yet."
"Well, good...good..." He cleared his throat once more, and you exchanged a look with your partner. Odd. "Then proceed as you have been, and report anything odd you discover promptly. Team 2's findings seem most promising, but if they have a secondary location they operate from, I'd like to weed it out as well and completely wipe these smugglers from the area in one fell swoop."
"Yes, sir." You both nod and say in tandem.
"I expect your next report in two days time, if not before with anything pressing. Until then."
"Gatcha."
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"...really was quite a sight, with Chiyo fending off those awful pirates practically all by himself! Supposedly, they were dangerous, wanted men. With bounties, even! Oh, but you wouldn't have even known, with how easily he'd dispatched of those brutes." The boisterous red-headed woman exclaimed, pressing into her husband's side as she recounted her tale in a buzzed slur of words.
Even if you hadn't been interested in hearing her story, you had a feeling her volume would have dragged you into listening regardless. Which, you think, is exactly how you'd ended up talking to the other couple at the bar in the first place.
"My Chiyo saved my life that day, and my entire fortune. I don't know what I'd done if he hadn't been part of the passenger ship I boarded." She continued, oblivious or unperturbed by her husband's reddening ears and face. Clearly, he wasn't as enthused about his deeds being trumped up so much or so loudly. "I knew then, I couldn't leave his side. It was a sign, that we were meant to be. Wasn't it dear?"
Chiyo mumbled an assent you couldn't quite make out, swirling what remained of his drink before downing it in one gulp, gesturing to the bartender down the way for another.
Seated beside you on his stool at the bar, one arm draped over your shoulder protectively, Rosinante raised his drink in acknowledgement of the man's boasted bravery, an easygoing smile in place. "Quite a story. If only there were more men like you out there, protecting people like us. I'm sure there'd be less of these treacherous pirates out roaming the seas so freely."
"That's precisely what I told the marines when they showed up after!" The woman exclaimed, gesturing emphatically with her half-drunken drink in hand. Some of it splashed down into the sand between you, luckily not going far enough to get on either you or Rosinante. "'Where were you when I'd needed you?' I'd asked them. I was practically left to fend for myself on the journey. Unfortunately, they seemed unwilling to listen. What's more, they refused when I asked that he be allowed to enlist as a proper marine! The audacity...hmph!"
You glanced at Chiyo, who was trying his best to press as far down into his barstool as humanly possible, or pretend he was anywhere but here, perhaps. Poor man. You sip delicately on your cocktail, relaxing a little further into Rosinante's arm. He pulls you that half-inch closer, warming your chest with...something. This close, you could feel his heartbeat...
"Oh, but listen to me, driveling on...how rude of me!" She suddenly waved her hand dismissively, gave finally settling on the two of you. "You make such a lovely couple, you know. There's so much love in your eyes. How did you two meet?"
Your brows raise, and with a nervous smile aimed at your partner right beside you, he gives a little chuckle, rubbing the back of his head.
"I'm afraid it isn't nearly as exciting as your first encounter, Miss Tilly."
"Oh, nonsense!" She pressed, leaning forward with rapt attention. "I'm certain it's a lovely story all the same. I'd love to hear it."
"Well..." He started, looking to you with a little upward tilt to the corner of his mouth. You'd already rehearsed this information on the trip to the island, but now that it was being questioned for the first time, you felt your heart rate increase. "It was in a little village in the South Blue."
"Oh, so far!" The woman exclaimed, a hand pressing to her chest in surprise. "Are you both from there?"
"Yes, though from different islands." You chime in with a conciliatory nod. "I left home to attend academy to continue my studies in writing, which just so happened to be where he lived."
Your sheepish glance at Rosinante revealed that he was playing his part well, smiling at you with a look so full of adoration, you found it difficult to convince yourself it wasn't real. When you paused, he took up the rest of the story, breaking your stare to look at your two avid listeners.
"At the time, I worked in a shoemaker's shop. Honest work, perhaps, but a bit...dull." He explained with a rueful chuckle. "I often found myself staring out the window when there weren't any customers. Across the street was this little bookstore, with a bench outside. Perfect for sitting and reading on a warm afternoon."
"Oh!" Miss Tilly placed a hand on her mouth, as if anticipating where this story was going.
"One day, there's this beautiful woman sitting there with her nose stuck in a book. Never seen her before in my life, and I'd gotten used to seeing the same dozens of regulars there after months of watching." His face takes on an expression of wonder, as if remembering the event like it had actually happened. "And after that day, she was there every day after that."
"Not every day." You mumble, pointing out his story's flaw.
"Most days, much to my delight." He amends with a wink, causing Miss Tilly to giggle behind her hand. Chiyo, having recovered from being put in the social spotlight, was sipping on his new drink and listening with less attention than his wife, but listening nonetheless. Probably thankful the conversation was no longer about him.
"I spent weeks just seeing her from the window, wondering who she was, where she'd come from, and what her name was." He continued, closing his eyes in content. "I'd never gotten a chance to talk to her, even if I'd had the nerve to. She'd be gone by the time my shift was done, and I wouldn't know where to start looking for her. The island wasn't small."
"How did you two finally meet?" Miss Tilly asked, no doubt wanting to get to the part where they'd presumably fallen in love at first sight. The anticipation on her face was palpable.
"I broke my favorite pair of shoes." You chipped in with a laugh. "Imagine that."
"For what it's worth, I'm glad they broke." Rosinante mumbled, and you playfully smacked his chest.
"Anyway," you continued as if he hadn't interrupted, "I didn't want to just give up on them. They were my favorites, ones my mother had bought for me before I left for the academy. So instead of buying new ones, I asked around for the best place to get them fixed. That just so happened to be the shoemaker's shop across the street from my favorite bookstore. And the man running the counter was the most handsome man I'd ever seen, which was a plus too."
"She came in, and we...just hit it off from there." Rosinante finished up, meeting your gaze with a look that could only be described as loving. Miss Tilly 'awwed' from her seat across the way.
"What pure love the two of you share, found in the simplest of places." She cooed in that motherly way, turning to Chiyo. "Doesn't it just melt your heart, my dear?"
His mumble was too low to hear, but it seemed to satisfy Miss Tilly, since she turned back to you, suddenly gesturing between you with a laugh. "Oh, no need to be prudish in front of us, we're no stranger to displays of affection."
You realize she's interpreted your shared gaze as a desire to share a kiss. It would seem odd to disprove her assumption. After all, you were supposed to be a well-established couple. Hesitating would be strange, in their eyes. So, after only a moment's hesitation and a fractional widening of your eyes, you turn towards him and lean in to place your lips on his.
He's taken a bit aback, but recovers quickly, accepting and reciprocating your quick kiss as if you'd done so a hundred times before. By all terms, it was chaste. Barely more than a brush of lips. Despite this, your heart was hammering in your chest, adrenaline making your fingers buzz in your lap, but you only smile wider at the older couple across from you, pretending the kiss wasn't setting your lips a-tingling and your chest a-fluttering.
Rosinante's arm wraps around you a bit tighter, even as the conversation takes on a more casual and less personal direction, but you swear you can feel his heart beating just as rapidly as your in his chest.
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By the end of your 4th day, you'd reconned about 75% of the island. No signs of smuggling, and at this point, you highly doubted you'd find any. That being said, you didn't search any less diligently despite the lack of evidence.
Still, you could tell Rosinante was...distracted. Quieter. More thoughtful. He let you lead the majority of the search today, face pensive with concentration or deep thought. Whether he was mulling over your lack of evidence so far, or something else, you couldn't quite tell. Something held you back from asking, as well.
Part of you wondered if something had somehow...changed. Nothing really had, of course. You'd simply searched the island as usual, and kept to your cover as usual. So why did you think there was more meaning to his little smiles and more weight to each innocent touch on your skin? Why did you feel his eyes on you when you weren't looking at him? Why couldn't you get your mind off of that kiss you'd shared? It hadn't been anything special. A peck at best. You'd wanted so much more than that...
You had made an even bigger space for him in your heart than it already had, and the unfortunate truth was that it had no place being there to begin with. He was, technically, your superior. A partner, at the very least.
Sengoku would never approve. Fraternization was generally always frowned upon. But really, when had that ever stopped your secret pining all these years? You'd always been a fool like that.
When you returned to your room that night, tired and hungry, you ate the room service food in companionable silence, pondering how the hell you were supposed to move on as if nothing happened after the mission was over.
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Rosinante had elected to skip the afternoon's recon. You didn't mind, having become a little tired of constantly walking the island and searching for something that, to you, clearly wasn't there. So an afternoon of relaxing on the beach again was a welcome reprieve.
Skipping the cocktails tonight—after several days of light drinking, a sober evening felt pertinent—you found yourselves walking the edge of the shore, careful to keep just out of reach of the approaching waves. You'd forgone shoes, choosing instead to walk barefoot through the sand, letting it squish between your toes with each step.
Once more, you walked hand in hand, so comfortable with it now you barely batted an eye when he'd tugging you along beside him. You pass by couples drawing hearts in the wet sand, loungers nearby with more couples relaxing in the sun.
Further ahead, a few kids build sandcastles with their little plastic buckets and toy shovels, stacking the towers as high as possible before they slowly crumple under their own weight. You smile, chuckling as one of them stands and stomps on the castle with his foot, letting out as terrifying a roar as a child could, pretending to be a monster destroying the structure.
You pass them by, mulling over the scene for several minutes. Rosinante squeezes your hand, perhaps noticing the faint smile still on your face. "Something on your mind?"
"No." You say automatically, shaking your head to dispel the silly thought. But when he keeps watching you with interest, obviously not believing your words, you shrug. "When's the last time you built a sand castle?"
He quirked a brow, letting out an amused breath. "I don't know. Probably..." Several quiet seconds passed, before he finally shook his head. "Actually I don't know if I've ever built one."
"Really?" The question comes out with more force than you intended.
"What, is that so hard to believe?"
"A little, yeah."
"Well, it's true." He concluded with a shrug. "I don't remember ever building one."
Outraged at this travesty, you let go of his hand and kneel on the sand, gathering up some of the damper stuff into a pile. He looks at you with a slowly widening smile. You meet his with one of your own, gesturing him to join you. "Well, are you gonna help or what?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Absolutely not."
His laugh is surprised but light-hearted. He kneels on the sand beside you, helping you form the mound of sand into a bigger pile. Without the proper tools, there's little you can do to make it look like a proper 'castle,' but with enough molding, you can manage some sort of fort at the very least, you think.
There's not much talk as you work together, hands pressing and brushing and patting over and on each other as you go along. More than once, you catch the other's eyes and smile, before looking away. But you never stop 'accidentally' touching hands as you work on the small sand structure, building up the middle circular mound, and then on the inches-tall wall that wrapped around it.
Little by little, more details came together, with a deeper section in between the wall and the mound dug out to act as a moat. With no bucket around, you couldn't really fill it with sea water, but it served its purpose. Before long, you had a decency built sand castle beside you, not nearly as impressive as the children's, but all your own and done with care.
"Not bad for your first sandcastle." You appraise with an approving eye, sitting beside him on the sand to take a break. "Maybe next time we'll have the proper tools."
Rosinante hums his approval, gaze faraway on the sun as it neared the edge of the horizon. So caught up in your task, you hadn't noticed just how dark it had become since you'd set out on your walk of the beach. Now, the stars were beginning to be visible beneath the light of the afternoon fading away.
Side by side, you watch as the sky grew a dark orange, aflame with golden light. With all the days of recon, you hadn't actually gotten a chance until now to take in the sight from the island's shore. And what a sight it was...truly breathtaking. The sea breeze was gentle and lulling, coaxing your eyes to close in peace and tranquility.
Sensation on your hand has you glancing down, where Rosinante's fingers had found yours in the sand, and linked his fingers together with your own. Smiling to yourself, you look back at the horizon as it began to just barely disappear, bit by bit.
Another touch, this time on your chin, guides you to look back at him, and the surprised question on your lips dies when you catch the way he's staring at them with a yearning that made your heart pound once. His thumb idly brushes your chin, contemplatively tilting his head as he can't seem to tear his eyes away from your lips.
"Rosi." Your voice can't manage anything above a breathy whisper, the sound causing him to swallow and begin leaning forward, the distance between you closing inch by inch.
"Trust me?" He murmurs a question, and you don't even need to think about the answer, dipping your chin in a nod without hesitation.
His lips press to yours not a moment later, warm and gentle and slow as they move in a measured kiss. Lingering and exploratory, it's everything you'd hoped the first one could have been. How your heart hadn't leapt out of your chest by now you'd never guess. You feel like you're shaking as you reciprocate his kiss, pressing forward to encourage him not to stop.
The kiss breaks suddenly, his shaky exhale a rush of break against your cheek until you're pulled back into another kiss not a moment after, this one more insistent and toe-curling than the last. His hand slides up the back of your neck tangling in your hair and pressing you closer. Dear lord, his hands...so capable, and yet so gentle when they held you.
Perhaps you should wonder if this was actually necessary to keep your cover intact, but truthfully, you couldn't care less, heart soaring with each second his lips are on yours.
One of you lets out a breathy whimper. You're not sure who. A tiny part of you says that this was going too far, and the rest was wanting him to push you into the sand and press his whole body against yours.
Shifting in the sand, your hands press to his chest, intent to pull him closer-
"RAAAAA!"
You're startled apart as the childish roar of the boy you'd seen before jumps directly onto the sandcastle beside you, squashing the little sand structure into a foot-shaped indent in the ground.
"Hey!" You say, pushing away from Rosinante to try standing and chasing the kid off, but he's already roared again, running off down the beach with his group of siblings or friends only a few meters behind, giving chase.
The two of you panting hard, out of breath, still slightly stunned from the unexpected interruption, your gazes meet. His pupils are blown wide, lips slightly red from the passionate kissing you'd been engaged with.
Underlying the desire in his gaze, you think you see...guilt? The expression stabs you through the gut with an intensity you weren't expecting. Did he...regret it?
Were you just looking into it too much? Were you interpreting more than was there?
The sun had fully dipped below the horizon by now, the sky turning from a smoky orange to a deep purple, beckoning night to descend over the island. Noticing the lack of light, you glance away and clear your throat.
"We should head back and...order food." You say, remembering that you hadn't eaten anything that afternoon.
Without a word, he nods, standing when you help him up from the sand, leaving your destroyed sand castle where it had once stood.
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"Anything to report, Team 1?" The snail asked in Sengoku's voice, and Rosinante shook his head a negative.
"It's our assessment that there is no smuggling activity on this island. We've scouting all areas possible for an operation of their size to hide, but have found no evidence."
Sengoku didn't ask if they were certain of this evaluation, a point that both marines were prideful of. The trust he held in them was something they were honored by.
"Good. I believe we can rule out the possibility of a second location, based on yours and Team 3's information." He said with confidence, nodding to himself as the snail mimicked. "Team 2 has made positive identifications of 2 known smugglers on their island, so we'll focus efforts there and zero in on their hideout."
You and your blonde companion nod dutifully, waiting to hear further instructions. You'd already packed up both of your bags, anticipatory of an early extraction now that you'd fully surveyed the island. There was nothing further for you to do there.
"With the completion of your mission, normally I'd bring you back immediately." Sengoku went on to say, and you frown slightly at his wording. "However, there are two days left in the reservation. Given it was paid in advance and is non-refundable, I'd say it would be a waste for the two of you not to take advantage of it. Consider it a reward for your diligence and good work."
"Sir?" Just as surprised as you, Rosinante catches your eye, sharing a raised-brow expression. The snail's face smiles a little as your boss chuckles through the den den mushi.
"Don't act so surprised. Neither of you have taken a shore leave in ages. I'd say you're due some down time by now. Relax and take the charter boat back at the originally planned time."
"Thank you, sir." You say, unsure of what else to say.
"Of course." The Fleet Admiral cleared his throat, expression returning to a more serious one. "Just don't go spreading around the fact that I let you stay. I can't have the rest of my marines thinking I'm playing favorites." Or encourage slackers to rush jobs like this...
"Of course, sir." Rosinante's most hquirked upwards, amused.
"Enjoy yourselves. We'll debrief upon your return."
"Gatcha."
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Without pressing responsibilities hanging over you, and with the island's many activities open to try, you could finally, fully, relax in the beautiful scenery. You hadn't realized how exhausting the constant vigilance had been until you no longer had to keep it up.
Rosinante must have felt the same, because after a morning of yoga, a few cocktails with lunch, and an early afternoon once again getting your ears talked off by Miss Tilly and—less so—her husband, he suggested something on the brochure you'd secretly hoped to do at least once.
The resort's spa was just behind the back of the main building in a smaller one, tucked away into the canopy of palm trees. The temperature inside was several degrees warmer than outside, and the air was humid to promote relaxation, you noticed. The attendant at the front desk welcomed you both inside with a smile.
"How can I help you?"
"We were hoping to get one of your full body massages, if there are any openings?" Rosinante asked hopefully, and the woman's face lit up.
"Oh, yes! Absolutely. Right this way, please." She stepped out from behind the desk and gestured with a hand for the both of you to follow her further back into the spa.
The resort spared no expense on the ambient decoration, going for a theme of peace and serenity. Gray-blue walls of stone, steam rising from well-disguised vents in the floor, and low-lighting left you wanting to sink into a chair and melt. Nothing sounded better right then and there.
The attendant lead the two of you back to a small room with shelves and small lockers. Pulling two white garments, she handed you both one and pointed to a door in the corner.
"You may change in there, and set your things in one of the lockers out here." And with a smile, she indicated a small bench on the opposite side of the room. "The next available masseuse will come and get you once ready. I believe it'll just be a few minutes before the tables are prepared for you. If you need any assistance, just use the den den mushi." One last gesture to the wall indicated a small shelf with a tiny snail sitting atop it.
She left you both there, still holding your robes. And after peaking into the room for dressing, you notice there was no partition to shield you from the other. Obviously, not expecting any issue since you were supposed to be a couple, they hadn't really considered anything like that necessary.
You turn to Rosinante and flash a smile. "We can just turn around and...not look?"
He nodded, surprise registering in his eyes. Clearly he had been thinking more along the lines of taking turns, but now that the suggestion was out there...
"Yeah...sure. Uh, I won't look, promise."
Closing the door behind you, your back turns to the blonde and, trusting that he'd keep his word, you begin to undress only feet from where he was behind you.
Something courses through you at that thought, that just behind you he was in a similar state of undress, but after the awkwardness in the hours after the kiss on the beach, it was all you could do to keep your spiraling thoughts in check. Despite the heat and humidity in this building, it wasn't farfetched to say the heat in your face was from something else...
The rustling of clothing is all that is heard in the room, and before long, he clears his throat. "Ready?"
"Yeah, are you?"
He makes an affirmative noise, and you slowly turn around, spotting him wrapped in the same robe you now sport, looking a little flustered. When your brow raises in his direction, he smiles and looks away, not wanting to say anything.
Gathering your clothes, you return to the locker room and choose two to stow them away in. Then, as instructed, you take a seat on the bench to await your turn. You lean back, letting out a held breath. "I feel all stiff from all the walking around we've done. This is definitely needed."
"No kidding..." Corazon leans forward and stretched his back out, giving a grunt when something popped.
"The masseuse will do that for you." You say with a smile. "Don't go breaking your back before they get a chance to first."
That earns you a chuckle, and he reluctantly sits normally to wait for your turn on the tables.
It isn't long. The desk attendant was correct when she estimated only a few minutes. Before long, a knock is heard on the door to your left, and a woman emerges with a searching look around the room, finally landing on you. "Couple's massage?" She asks, then gestures you back with your nods. "Please come with me."
Similar to the long tiled room you'd first entered through, the room the masseuse led you to was small, private, and offered two massage tables in the middle for you and Rosinante to lay next to each other. The steam rose in lazy swirls, and the earthy smell of incense greeted you. Another masseuse stood to the side of one table, hands folded gently in front of her.
"Please remove your robes and situate yourselves facedown on the tables." The one who'd fetched them said, standing to the side expectantly with her eyes cast to the floor. One glance at the second woman confirmed she was doing the same, respectful of your privacy.
The weight of Rosinante's gaze on you should have felt uncomfortable, but it didn't. The dressing room had somehow felt different. Here, within the damp walls of the spa itself, you felt coaxed to set all cares and worries aside. Inhibitions too, it seemed.
Or maybe that kiss just had you yearning for more.
Swallowing down your pride and shoring up all of your confidence, you meet his gaze with a small smile and slowly slide the robe off of your shoulders. The blonde's eyes widen, involuntarily drifting lower to follow the path of the robe as it slipped away, baring more than you ever had to him. Uncovered breasts and the curve of your hip down to your thighs and-
Then, as if realizing what he was witnessing, he yanked his eyes away from you with a clearing of his throat. His hands were clenched together at his sides, knuckles white with effort. You decide to spare him further torment by sliding onto your table, placing your head onto the circular space.
You think you hear him suck in a breath, perhaps unable to resist glancing at you laying completely naked with your ass clear on display beside him, but with your gaze directed to the floor, it was impossible to tell. You see the robe as it slips to the floor, and he too takes his place on the other table, situation himself to be comfortable.
The two women gently explained everything they'd be doing, as well as where on your bodies you'd be touched, so nothing would come as a surprise. Then, with a bit of nourishing oil applied to their hands, warmed to comfort, the massage began.
And oh, was it heavenly! Your masseuse had sturdy hands, the power of her toned arms behind them bringing each and every knot out of your shoulder muscles with little trouble. You melted under her care, barely hearing as she described the benefits of the particular method she was using. All you could recall was mumbling something encouraging back.
Your shoulders felt like jelly in minutes, warmed and slightly vulnerable after having been tended to so thoroughly. All the tension you'd been holding in them had vanished.
Down she went, to the muscles in your back, and as she moved methodically along, her thumbs found and worked through a particularly tense spot. A groan of approval as she worked it loose rumbling from your throat and, a little embarrassed at the sound, you apologized.
"No apologies needed. It's only natural." The woman had said with gentle amusement in her tone. "You're one of the tougher ones to come through here. Not many are this tense so late into their stay with us."
"I guess I...brought a lot of...stress with me to the island." You mutter through grunts as she continued down your spinal column and outward.
"This one too." Rosinante's masseuse mused from somewhere beside you. "Though you feel more tense now than before."
Rosinante's only response is a grunt, followed by a low groan of his own as his own back was being worked through. A shiver runs down your spine, hearing such a sound being uttered from him. Would he sound that way while he-?
Your thought process is disturbed again as your massage continues, though you find the rest of the experience is balanced between completely relaxing into the table under you and picturing a scenario in bed when he'd make such a sound again. It was all you could do not to clench your legs and thighs together to relieve the ache that had began to stir. Not that you could, even if you wanted to. Your masseuse would know, and make you relax again.
Thoughts shifted to daydreams, which were dangerous to indulge in right now. He lay mere feet from you in an equally exposed position. Some part of you feared he'd know the extent of your fantasies if you let your mind wander now. Best save them for when you returned to the base and had some space apart, right?
So you lay there, at the mercy of a woman turning you into putty, hearing the man you couldn't have moan and groan in a way that had your insides fluttering. Dreams probably wouldn't be able to replicate the huskiness, the depth, you conclude. No imagination could capture how much Rosinante affected you in the flesh. Nonetheless, the sound was locked in your memory now, well and truly.
It was bliss. It was torture.
You wanted him. It was wrong.
This mission would leave you well and truly fucked.
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You'd first noticed it as you both rose from your massage tables and dressed in the robes once more. Something in his eyes so magnetic and undeniably sexual. They smoldered hotter than the steam in the spa. This time, he didn't look away. All manner of shyness from before was absent. Nor did he attempt to shield himself for modesty too hastily, letting your eyes take in a glimpse of what rested below the golden hair leading down below his navel...
You swallowed hard when the sight disappeared beneath his robe. Meeting his gaze again was a mistake, because the look he pinned you with nearly had you moaning again. You bit your lip, holding back the noise that threatened to escape, and his eyes locked onto the movement. Before the two women around you could say anything, he put on a winning smile and thanked them both for the wonderful service. You're certain you follow up with something similar, but your brain was in a similar state of mush as your muscles.
Dressing into your normal clothes was quiet, but the tension was as thick as the steam in the spa itself, swirling and hot. Your skin buzzes with nervous anticipation, half convinced you were currently asleep on the massage table dreaming all of this up. Had he really looked at you like he wanted to bend you over the table himself? Afraid you'd see something else in his eyes, you don't look into them again.
The walk back to the resort is silent, though you never stray far from each other. Bumping legs or fingers brushing together the whole way, your breath quickens. It's electric the whole way. You buzzed, hyped up on something only he could sate.
It was evening now, and about the time you'd normally call for room service, but food was the furthest thing from your mind. The elevator up to your floor feels like it takes ages. And when it finally dings open, Rosinante is the first through it, leading you back to the hotel room with long strides. You half job to keep up, feeling your own patience diminishing alongside his. Some unspoken agreement has you both wanting to get back to the room as soon as possible.
There's something incredibly hot about his hands shaking as they finally slot the door's key into the knob, turning it with a rough flick of his wrist. It opens in a rush.
You follow in, but stop short when he turns suddenly and closes the door behind you. It shuts with a bang, your back hitting it not even a second after, and his hands plant themselves on either side of your head. He doesn't touch you, keeping himself the arm's length away, but you still feel trapped when the heated gaze you'd seen from him early is turned on you once more in full force. His mouth is slightly parted as he pants quietly.
"Y/N, I..." His head shakes absently, swallowing down as much of the obvious yearning in his tone as he can, but it's futile to hide it in its entirety. "I need to know. Is this really happening?"
"If you want it to." You breathe, deciding then and there that it was too much to resist, denying how much you wanted and needed him. No one had ever meant so much to you, and you doubting anyone ever again would. Both hands reach out to grab the front of his shirt, intending to bring him closer. But he resists your pull, one hand coming off the door to hold yours.
"It can't just be the mission." He insists. "I can't just...have you like this and then pretend it never happened. There's no 'normal' to go back to if we cross this line."
That line was paper-thin, and you were both rapidly sprinting towards it.
"I know." His lips are right there, and it's almost impossible to look away. You pull him again, and he gives some ground, forehead resting against yours. Yet still, he keeps that small amount of distance between you, intent on getting his message across before neither of you can come back from the edge.
"Tell me no, Y/N." He whispers, though you doubt even he really wants that from the way his voice sounded so breathy and unconfident. You can see a war behind his eyes, batting for victory. Self-control was currently winning—only just—though you could see how easily those tides could turn. Heavy lids make his pupils underneath almost entirely black. "If there's any part of you that isn't sure about thi-"
One more tug is all it takes to bring his mouth onto yours, and this time there's no resistance. You're pressed into the door, his lips slanting over yours in a kiss so desperate you can't help the loud whimper that escapes you. His superior height overwhelms you, knee sliding between your legs to hold you in place.
Holy shit, this was better than any daydream.
One hand fists his shirt more tightly, the other sliding up to thread your fingers into his hair. His own make a slow path down your sides, feeling the clothes areas that he'd seen bare just a few hours earlier. You shiver, wanting so desperately to feel those hands on your bare skin...
His knees presses up, putting pressure on your core through your shorts, and you moan into his mouth. He makes a male noise at the back of his throat in response, mouth never leaving yours, kisses sloppy and uncoordinated, taking your breath away all the same.
Somewhere in the mix, you realize you're still standing at the door. Should anyone be listening just outside of it, you're certain they were getting quite an auditory spectacle. With a little push, Rosinante walks backwards, pulling you along with him.
With each ambling and blind step, an article of clothing seems to disappear with it. At first, it's his shirt, the buttons frantically undone between your shaking and unsteady fingers. He's forced to let go of you to shrug it off, tossing it off somewhere on the floor. Once it's gone, you're free to greedily explore the bare planes of his chest, intoxicated with the rapid rise and fall of his chest beneath your fingers.
Then it's your shorts, the zipper likely ruined with the speed and ferocity you help him jerk it down with. A few fumbling steps and you've kicked them away. Panties still in place, his fingers find the damp garment covering your sensitive nerves.
"Fuck..." He mutters against your mouth, struck at how wet you already were. You moan as he rubs you through the fabric, sending tingles of pleasure shooting up your spine each time he manages to brush your clit. You reciprocate the touch, palming his pants while also trying to undo his belt one-handed.
The instinctive thrusts into your hand have your head spinning, and you think you lose it completely when you once again hear that deliciously deep moan in response. His fingers pause and stutter their steady rhythm in your panties as he latches onto the pleasure you're providing in return.
Another stumbling step back and he growls something you can't interpret, finally releasing his hold on you to help you get the damn belt off of his hips, which had caught on the first loop. Impatiently, he discards the thing away and it clatters to the floor unceremoniously behind him. The pants are easy enough to unzip and shove down is hips, revealing the hardened length you'd felt hidden beneath.
He tries getting the pants off entirely, lifting one foot and dragging it down the other leg to shuck off the garment, but he loses his balance and falls backwards in a seated position on the bed. With a surprised yelp, his lips break away from you, taking a moment to gain his bearings, pupils blown out and dark with lust.
But this new position has you biting your lip, and you drop to your knees before him, tugging the pants down past his knees just enough to give you room to work with. Taking his length in hand and giving a few gentle pumps, you lean forward and lick a slow stripe up the underside of his cock.
Rosinante swears breathlessly, curling in over you and fisting a handful of your hair to give him some sort of anchor point. Resting one hand on his thigh, you feel it quiver when you swirl the tip of your tongue around the head, stimulating the most sensitive nerves with the barest hint of attention. You're delighted at how responsive he is to every touch, giving you free reign to explore him with your mouth as you see fit, tongue laving his cock with just the right pressure to tease and sate all at once.
And when you finally bring your lips over the tip and ease him into the wet heat of your mouth, he lets out the most guttural groan you've ever heard, head falling backwards onto the bed. Down and back up you go, repeating the pattern over and over and hollowing your cheeks to bring the most sensation possible.
Working him over, you realize he's speaking in disjointed, strained sentences, only catching half of the words coming out of his mouth.
"...s-so good at that...oh, fuck, Y/N...ahhh...none of my dreams came close." His fingers tightened in your hair, the subtle shift of his hips lifting to go another inch further into your mouth. Still, you go on, speed never slowing. "Can't believe...you want me...like this...nnghh!"
The vibrations of your own answering moan has him thrusting roughly once into your throat, causing your gag reflex and blurring your eyes with tears. Perhaps realizing what he'd unwittingly done, he guides you off of his cock, gasping as he fully slides free from your mouth.
"Come here." Pulling you from your place on the floor and into his lap, your knees settle on either side of his legs. Like magnets, your lips find each other once more. His tongue pushes past your lips, tangling with your own in an uncoordinated dance, hands roaming and touching any skin they could find.
Noticing that you still had on your shirt, he lifted it up over your head, your bra following only a moment behind it. Bare once more before his eyes, they trace a path that his hands then follow, through the valley of your breasts, then around them, until his thumbs slide up along your nipples.
"You're so beautiful..." Is his breathless confession, watching you practically melt into his touch, chest pushed forward for more. "I've always thought you were, but...fuck, just look at you. Nothing will ever compare."
"Rosi..." You moan, both at the praise and the way his fingers swirl around your nipples in sync.
"Having to pretend all week nearly drove me mad. I so badly wanted it to be real." He continued, eyes riveted to your heaving chest, slowly leaning closer. "You've no idea how many times I just wanted to...to kiss you, and touch you. And..."
Instead of speak, his tongue replaces one thumb, circling the areola before sucking the flesh. A shocked sound leaves you, and once more your fingers are in his hair, pressing him closer to your chest and encouraging the way his tongue and fingers had you squirming atop his lap. His arm keeps you from falling backwards off the bed, making you arch your back and pressing you close.
Remembering your position, you use it to your advantage, grinding your damp panties down onto his bare cock. This earned you a scrape from his teeth, a bit of pain to sharpen the pleasure. The second time, he lifts his hips up to meet you, and the pressure has your eyes fluttering with need. The third time nearly makes you cum then and there. The hours of yearning didn't lend well to any prolonged round of sex.
You shake in his arms, as if clinging to him to weather a storm. You'd waited long enough. Foreplay at this point was just edging, you thought.
"Rosi, please." You mutter into his hair, lust dripping from each syllable as you hold him to you.
He swears against your breast, and you decide that it's the hottest thing to hear such foul words from his lips. His hands slide down to your thighs, pulling you just another inch higher up on his lap to line you up with his cock.
It would be too much to break apart to remove your panties, so you simply shift them to the side, lifting just enough to accommodate his erect cock beneath you. Your breaths mix together in the space between your heads, eyes riveted down below to where you hovered just above his tip.
The wait is agonizing, but it would ruin the mood to hurt yourself by sheathing him in a rush. So, holding your breath the whole way down, you feel the stretching fullness as his head breaches your entrance and continues on with every inch the rest of the way. The blonde hisses in a breath, and you feel him tense underneath you, doing all he can to resist the temptation to buck up into your enveloping heat. Watching his disappear into you has you dizzy.
Your heart hammers, thumping high up as if in your throat, and you swear you can feel that same rhythmic throbbing from his cock. Then, as you're fully seated upon him, feeling the length twitch and brush something so deep within, you involuntarily clench around him.
Rosinante's hands cling to your hips, fingers digging into the skin and holding you still as he hesitantly ruts once, shallow and gentle, testing your limits. Your name leaves his lips, soft as a prayer and just as reverent. It's a tight sensation, but not uncomfortable. With an encouraging roll of your own hips, pressing down just as he lifts up, you begin to find your rhythm and pace atop his lap.
Slowly at first, lifting no more than an inch, then two. Then faster, confidence rising at Rosinante's expression of relaxed awe and pure lust accompanying it. He looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered, in disbelief that you'd want him this way. Like you were an answer to his dreams.
His hard grasp on your hips will surely leave bruises, fingers latched onto your skin as he helps you to lift and lower back down onto his cock. The added strength helps you keep your pace, thighs working overtime to ride him like he deserved. Together you bounced upon the edge of the bed, kept steady by his legs planted to the floor and your shins braced against the mattress. It quietly squeaked in the spaces that your groans and gasps didn't cover.
Needing leverage to go faster, you push on his shoulders until he fully lay down beneath you. The new angle and position, your hands firmly braced against his strong frame, lets you piston your hips down and back in a furious motion, managing to slide your slit along his shaft over and over.
You're moaning something, but so focused now on chasing your cresting orgasm, it would be impossible to tell what the words were. Whatever they are makes him bite his lip and furrow his brow in pleasure, adjusting his fingers to get a better grip on you.
It's getting so close, you're nearly to that peak, but already you can feel your energy waning. Sweat coats you, skin hot and clammy. As if sensing this, Rosinante's feet plant themselves a bit further apart on the floor, and his hips lift upwards with each of your downward motions, meeting in the middle with the most amount of force possible, sending him as deep as he can be into your heat.
So close, so close...!
His sudden deep, elongated groan shocks you nearly as much as the way he completely stills within you, cock pulsing with each release of seed that comes. Gasping for breath, he pulls you down further, dragging your clit against his pelvis, back and forth, with the full strength of his arms.
Open-mouthed and eyes closed, you shudder atop him as the orgasm hits you with those final few strokes, thighs clenching against his legs to keep you in place. You can feel him groan as your walls squeeze and pulse around his sensitive length, and eventually the high subsides enough to give you enough sense to gain your bearings back.
The room feels 20 degrees hotter, the comforter beneath you twisted and pulled from how it had neatly been folded by the housekeeping staff that afternoon. His pants were technically still on, pooled around his ankles in a heap. Rosinante's tired gaze looked you over from where he lay on the bed, hands still gripping your hips in a loose hold.
You smile gently and, seeing you now looking at him with a bit more clarity, he reaches up to take one of your hands in his, bringing it to his lips to place a gentle kiss on the knuckle. Then, worry glossing over the residual high of his orgasm, he looks back to you.
It's obvious. Already, he was thinking ahead to when you returned from your mission, debriefing in Sengoku's office and beyond when the inevitable next mission would come. Fraternization wasn't looked kindly upon within the ranks, but then again, there were a handful of relationships you could think of that were secretly going on right now.
"No regrets?" Is his timid question, eyes searching yours for the truth.
What a silly man, you think, leaning down closer as your smile widens. With a hum, you kiss him slowly and with no less passion than the one you'd shared on the beach. When you pull back, you press your forehead to his.
"No regrets."
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rustedhearts · 2 months
Text
the old house (boxer!steve harrington x librarian fem!reader)
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summary: steve's world is shaken when his father unexpectedly dies.
uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.
✶ the king of the ring (1995) ✶ record store
✶ the library
tags: death; mention of childhood abuse/trauma; daddy issues; manhandling; grumpy (for good reason) steve; ansgst; hurt/comfort; not edited so ignore any mistakes.
“i would rather not go back to the old house. there’s too many bad memories.”
— back to the old house, the smiths
california, september 1995
LOCAL ATTORNEY FOUND DECEASED IN OFFICE
Sept. 12, 1995
HAWKINS, INIDANA — Local attorney Richard “Rich” Harrington was found dead in his office Thursday evening.
Police dispatched to the office on Main St when his assistant called with concern for his well-being after the phone went unanswered for over 12 hours. When the door to the office was unlocked on arrival, his assistant, Ms. Betty Nesbourne, knew something was wrong.
Emergency services found Mr. Harrington at his desk. Police have confirmed the cause of death was a heart attack.
A well-respected attorney, Richard Harrington had a practice on Main St for 20 years before his death, and won countless cases for those in need in Hawkins. Friends and family recall him as a “kind and loving man.”
Mr. Harrington is survived by his wife, Catherine Harrington and son Steve.
Steve dropped the newspaper on the kitchen table with a sharp slap. His hand came to his eyes to soothe the ache that gathered there, knee bouncing against his chair. His fist rattled where it sat on the placemat next to a vitamin you set out for him. You handed him The Hawkin’s Post—still folded and in its sleeve from delivery—with a kiss on his cheek and a beautiful grin.
He never expected to find this when he opened it.
“Honey, have you seen my Nike hat? I don’t want the sun in my face today,” you called from the top of the stairs, readying yourself for the day.
Steve lifted his head, inhaling sharply. He cleared his throat and pushed his fist against his knee to stop it from jostling.
“Uh…closet probably, baby.”
Your feet scampered away to search, and Steve sighed. His eyes glazed over the letters that made up his father’s name on the inked paper before him. He knew nobody was eternal, that death was inevitable.
For some reason, he never prepared himself for this. For his useless father’s death.
And right now, he wasn’t sure how he felt about it.
He wanted to be angry. Hell, he should have been angry. He had every right after they had the balls to call someone like Richard Harrington “kind and loving.” Anyone that ever came into contact with him knew he was nothing of the sort.
Angry, too, that Steve never had the chance to tell his father how he truly felt about him. That he never had the opportunity to dole out his own form of punishment; the punishment Steve had to endure growing up. Because he was bigger, stronger, grown. He could’ve put his father on his ass in five minutes flat.
But every time he drove past his childhood house, all Steve wanted to do was get sick.
“Honey?”
Steve’s head snapped over toward you peeking around the doorway, donning his favorite jeans that sat a little low on the hips and a tight half shirt You found your Nike hat, and it now sat atop your head. Even how gorgeous you looked couldn’t quell Steve’s sudden confusions.
“Yeah.” Steve cleared his throat again, folding the newspaper again.
“You ready to go? We’re gonna be late if you still wanna stop for smoothies.”
“Comin’,” Steve mumbled, standing from the table.
He took the newspaper with him, staggering toward the bedroom with apparent soreness from a healing bruise. You glanced at the vitamin next to his coffee and rolled your eyes.
Upstairs, Steve shoved the newspaper into one of his shirt drawers and slammed it closed.
✶ ✶
"Everything okay?"
You smoothed your hand over the back of Steve's hair in the Cadillac, top down to let in the beating sun. The wind ruffled his long locks, tickling at his eyes covered with a pair of Ray Bans. He had one hand on the wheel and the other dangling over the door—normally, one parked itself in your lap to roam and massage. It wasn't like him to opt out of touching, even on event days.
"Yeah," Steve replied shortly, pumping the gas to send the car jolting through a barely-green light.
You let your hand rest on his back, skin hot through a thin t-shirt. "Okay...you sure?"
"Yep."
You took your hand away, diamond ring catching a glint of sun on its journey to your lap. You fingered the stone absentmindedly, your next "okay" small and quiet.
The low hum of tires over the road and the occasional click of the turn signal filled what was otherwise an empty car. Sirens, car horns, the whoosh of a gentle, morning breeze.
A convertible of women driving alongside in the opposite lane recognized Steve, and passed him a carful of ecstatic waves. He didn't even acknowledge them. You offered them a smile, but it wouldn't soothe the sting. You knew that disappointment all too well.
Steve zoomed the car up to the curb of your local smoothie bar, slamming the door hard when he got out. He yanked your door open and stepped aside, winding an arm around your shoulders as you stepped onto the street—but it all felt mechanical. You peered up at his expression, and it was entirely vacant. He was pressed up right against you, but he felt lightyears away.
Something was wrong—why didn't he just say so?
He ordered your smoothies and leaned back against an empty table near the wall. You tucked your hands into your back pockets, eyes on the tops of your white tennis shoes. The urge to ask once more what was wrong gnawed at you with need, but you were fearful of his eyes cutting down too hard again. You hadn't been afraid of Steve and his moods in quite a while.
Not since he put this ring on your finger last year.
Attention directed downwards, you were oblivious to the bustling crowds strolling in after morning workouts and vigorous runs—until an elbow swung a little too close to your face, a body knocked backwards by an unsuspecting and friendly shove.
A young boy, no more than eighteen, spun around with pink cheeks and a sheepish grin. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry."
You all but looked away, soaked in shame from what you knew was coming next. Steve pushed off the table behind you, a heavy paw shoved against the younger boy's chest. He teetered off balance, eyes wide on his attacker and the glare marking him victim.
Keeping a sharp eye on the boy, Steve grabbed at you by the bicep and tugged you into him. More mechanical pushes and pulls, more hardwired roughness he worked hard to outgrow. But whatever grieved him, whatever he sat and stewed on, sent him spiraling back into a troubled boy.
Worse than the roughness was the absence of words that accompanied it. The lack of commands or reassurances. Just silent glares and hard-set jaws that said all they needed to say.
Strawberry-banana smoothie freezing cold in your hand, you trailed after Steve with a lump in your throat.
At the arena, he plowed past Big bidding him good morning and stomped straight for the dressing room. The coach's eyes slid over to you, throwing up his hands.
"What crawled up his ass?"
You gave a tiny shrug. "Been like this all morning."
Big huffed, returning to his task of wiping down the ring for morning training. Steve had until two o'clock, then would return home to rest until the fight at eight. You hoped at some point he'd calm down.
"Better get it out of his system before tonight," Big grumbled, shaking his head.
Your silence was agreement, and you hurried to the dressing room to tell Steve just that. When you pushed the door open, you found him seated on the leather bench with his back to the door, staring at his poster on the wall.
Clamping the door closed, you tossed your smoothie into the trash bin and huffed. “What the hell is your problem today?”
He shed his shirt sometime before you came, and the bare muscles of his broad back constricted and flexed as he wound a roll of black tape slowly around his fist. His eyes were steadily fixed on the wall, boring into his own face printed in red. More mechanical movements. More empty thoughts.
“Steve.”
He stopped rolling, a ribbon of unfurled tape dangling over his thigh. In the attached bathroom, an echoed water drip plopped. People were arriving outside, filing in and out of the hall. Conversation hummed through the door.
“Dad died.”
When you drop on a roller coaster, all the adrenaline in your body festers in one spot. It all squirms and sizzles behind your navel, bringing the rest of your body to a cold chill. That very feeling overwhelmed your body now.
“W-what?”
Steve tore his eyes away from the wall and placed them on his hand. “Thursday. Heart attack...found 'im in his office."
Your feet moved on their own accord, taking you to Steve where you knew you needed to be. Your arms collapsed around him, face buried in his neck with a hiccuped sigh. His hands remained limply in his lap, eyes casting a ghostly glance upon the tops of his shoes.
"Oh, Steve," you whispered, mouth squished against his shoulder.
Steve had one photograph of his family in the house. Hidden in a photo album behind a page of high school memories: his father in a grey suit, his mother in a turquoise dress with shoulder pads, fourteen year old Steve wearing a sweater to hide the bruises on his arms. It was his father's birthday, and the only time, Steve said, he pretended to love Steve.
But still, scrawled in a fourteen year old boy's chicken scratch across the back:
Mom, Dad + Me
For a moment, you stood there breathing into him. Feeling the size of his own inhales and exhales expand your arms and close them in. Lips pressed to his warm flesh through crisp cotton, thinned a little with sweat. Feeling him pause every few moments, as though to check that he were still, in fact, breathing.
"Saw it..." Steve paused again, and then deflated with a humorless scoff. "...in the newspaper this morning."
You lifted your mouth from his shoulder, chin pressing down in its place. Your adjusted your arms to tighten around him, cheek leaning into his. He was so warm, so suddenly small.
It suddenly occurred to both of you in this moment that his mother had no way to contact him. Even if she wanted to call, she hadn't had his phone number since he turned eighteen.
He scribbled it on a torn piece of paper the day he moved out and tucked it in her drawer. For months, he waited for her call. It never came.
"Isn't that fuckin' ridiculous?" Steve shook his head, a sigh shot through his nose.
You rubbed you hand over his chest, eyes sinking shut. "Jesus, Steve."
Are you okay? was the obvious next line of questioning, but it seemed silly in this moment. Of course he wasn’t. Steve might not have loved his father, might not have known the person he’d become (or stayed) the past ten years, but that didn’t make this any less painful. In fact, it likely made it more painful. To have your father die without truly knowing the man.
"Should I talk to Mikey? See if they can push—"
"What? No," Steve huffed, head craning closer to yours. "M' gonna fight."
You recoiled enough to meet his eye, brows furrowed at the determination in his gaze. "Are you sure?”
Steve clasped a big, warm hand over your own. A gentle pat, a barely-pressed squeeze. His eyes turned away, and he stood to his feet.
“Gonna head out. Stay close, ‘kay?”
He staggered toward the door, and you whirled around. “Wait, Steve—“
The door clamped shut, and the buzz of florescent light was all that filled the quiet.
✶ ✶
He fought, just like he said he would. You sat erectly in your front row position, every breath inhaled held too long in your chest. Your nails pierced divots into your palm from tightly clenched fists. Your legs hadn’t stopped bouncing against the seat.
Every bloody blow had you wincing, each narrowly-dodged swing pulling a gasp. By the fourth round, Steve was staggering to his corner and spitting an alarming amount of blood into his bucket. His left brow split open again. It took the gentlest of taps to rip the skin that never healed correctly. He’d probably need stitches, like he always did.
Under Big’s words screaming at him and a cloth firmly pressed into his wound, Steve’s eyes were empty. Glazed over, mouth lolled open, shoulders slumped forward. It wasn’t his usual huffing, brutish, bull-like performance. It was instinctual, but free of thought.
Right now, you knew Steve wasn’t there. He was in his head, far away in a mess of thoughts. The blinding lights, the frenzied crowd, your own worried face watching him—none of it even registered to him.
The bell dinged, and back in he went. His punches held half the weight, half the power and drive. His dodges and sweeping side steps were stuttered and skipped. It was a dangerous game to play, and sickening to watch. You had every urge to run in front of his opponent and block the next swing, knowing Steve would let it hit him where it hurt.
But you sat where you were, nibbling on the skin around your nails, stamping your heel vigorously on the arena floor. It felt like waiting a lifetime just for that victory bell to ring.
It came out narrowly in Steve's favor. Sculpted arm a limp, weak thing in the referee's hold, drooling blood down his chest. His eyes found a spot on the floor and never left it.
Not until he trudged his way to the dressing room, and he found you seated on the bench. His eyes lifted from the ground and peered into you: blown-wide and still bleary, but alarmed in a harrowing way. A breath shuddered through his cheeks, escaping him with bloodied spittle that rolled down his chin.
They hadn't stitched him up yet. Boils of blood beaded along his cheek and temple, splattered across his chest. His gloves were looped together and strung around his neck. They were the first thing you removed when you stepped forward.
"Hey," you greeted softly. Steve followed your movements silently, blinks slow and staggered. "You did good, baby."
He swallowed, and it came with winced difficulty. A little wheezed, a little struggled where his nose bent from crushing force. He'd need it set again. It sat in a bulging, crimson aggravation in the center of his face. Everything about him was puffed up, bleeding, and pulsing with pain.
But he was the smallest he'd ever been.
"You gotta get stitched up, baby," you whispered, manicured thumb wiping through a smudge of blood on his cheek.
His hands smoothed over your hips, tongue darting out to lick over the split in his lip. "In a minute," he mumbled.
His steps forward sent you backward, guided blindly toward the bench again. You sat instantly, hands braced on his arms still buzzing with heat and adrenaline. You had only a moment to glaze over the state of him before his head fell forward against your chest.
"Oh," you gasped, warmed immediately by the damp heat of his head and the weight of him pressing into you. "Oh, hey, baby, it's okay."
Arms looped around his shoulders, you let your cheek fall atop his head, pushing past the salty, musky scent wafting from the heat of him. Comforting him was the only thing that mattered right now.
Steve's fists pressed into the bench, bookended on either side of your body. His cheek squished against the cotton of your dress, staining the fabric with the blood weeping from his severed flesh.
On the other side of the door, shoes squeaked over polished floors in a bustle to get somewhere. There was an order of things after a fight, necessities and niceties that needed to be carried out. Right now, as you smoothed your fingers through his dripping hair and massaged the knots in his back, you knew Steve wouldn't be doing any of them.
"He'll never know me," Steve mumbled into your skin.
You sighed, eyes sinking closed. The ache that festered in your chest, you knew, was no match for his.
"He didn't deserve to."
On the other side of the door, cameras waited to click Steve's photograph. Fans waited for autographs, his coach waited for a celebration, his manager waited to plead for another endorsement. It was a money-hungry, vain soulless scheme.
In this room, pressed against your familiar frame, Steve knew the only real thing in this world was right here under him.
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rottenpumpkin13 · 21 days
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Imagine the firsts getting competitive over queens blood
Why Queen's Blood Is Banned From SOLDIER, A List
• Some people don't know how to play fair and make up rules on the spot, which results in arguments between opponents. One time Zack made up the rule that slapping down three cactuar cards automatically wins the game, and Kunsel was so enraged he shoved a cactuar card down Zack's throat.
• Some people⏤Sephiroth⏤are too good at QB and and it angers others who don't stand a chance against them, leading to cheating accusations. This came after Angeal was so convinced Sephiroth was cheating that he called the police. This resulted in Lazard having to explain to the dispatched officers that the "cheating" in question was because of QB and not Sephiroth cheating on his apparent lover Angeal.
• Some people⏤Genesis⏤don't know how to lose, which turns the above point violent. Genesis has been known to throw entire decks out the window and set them on fire if he loses. If he loses to Sephiroth, guarantee the table will be broken in half and they end up on the ground in a fist fight.
• Sephiroth lost to Genesis once and Genesis never let him forget it, bringing it up in every conversation. Sephiroth grew tired of this, so he did the healthy thing and attempted to staple Genesis's mouth shut.
• The matches take too long because no one wants to lose, so they spend time planning their moves and strategies. One match between Angeal and Zack took three hours, they skipped a giant mission they had been prepping for weeks for, Lazard had a heart attack, and in the end Zack realized he had spent three hours pouring his concentration into the game for nothing. He had to be sedated.
• The Counterfeit Booster Pack Fiasco: Kunsel started selling shady "limited edition" QB decks behind Lazard's back⏤selling things is also banned from the 49th floor. They started selling like hot cakes, but Lazard caught wind that there was something going on. So he interrogated Sephiroth.
Lazard: I know that there's unauthorized goods being distributed amongst the program.
Sephiroth: You don't say.
Lazard: Tell me what it is.
Sephiroth: How would I know?
Lazard: Eyewitnesses claim to have seen you purchase something from Kunsel in the men's bathroom this morning.
Sephiroth, not thinking AT ALL: It was candy.
• And that's why sniffer dogs were brought in at 9 AM on a Wednesday and everyone had to do a drug test.
• Random people pop in at random times of the day to play against SOLDIERs. Reno uses this as a way to bet money and has scammed Zack out of three paychecks already. Cloud swings by on occasion to beat all three 1sts, enjoy watching them lose, and leaves.
• Deck theft runs rampant. Every day there are reports over stolen QB decks and accusations that have ruined several friendships, which hinders everyone's ability to work together. No one is safe. Sephiroth's deck got stolen, Genesis's deck got stolen, Angeal accused Sephiroth and Genesis of theft, Zack....has a suspicious amount of good cards.
• People play when they should be working.
Lazard: Angeal, where's your mission report?
Angeal: Genesis ate it.
Lazard: Excuse me?
Angeal: I beat Sephiroth in a QB match and Genesis was so jealous and enraged he grabbed the report right off my desk and chewed off a chunk.
Lazard: I'm convinced that there's crack in those apples.
• The straw that broke the camel's back and got QB officially banned, though, was the match between Sephiroth and Genesis that ended in them getting stitches because they discovered a way to effectively stab each other with the cards.
• Its rumored that the mere mention of Queen's Blood is enough to make Lazard have a nervous breakdown.
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pulpbeing · 1 month
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you should make him bark for you. make him hump your thigh and bark so he can cum, maybe tightening the collar on his neck just a little so he feels his throat squeezing. a leash would suit his outfit well i think 💭
okay okay okay okay let me cOOK
barking.
donald’s way too fucking eager for praise. his ‘dispatch complete’ line, for example, where his voice drops as he asks for a ‘commendation ceremony’— your praise. he loves when you invest in his abilities to make him stronger, more powerful, shackle him further, make him yours even more than he already was. he wouldn’t think twice before barking for you if you even mutter it with half a mind or have your heels on his throat: he’s barking, full-chested and smiling, just because you wanted him to do it. he’ll bark, bark all day, howl from pleasure, he’s forgetting his words as he whines as you push yourself back into him, dragging his shaking legs back to wrap around your waist and go for another round… and he’ll still let out a weak ‘w-woof’ as he presses as close as his body could allow.
humping.
dear lord i need this in my life. no cap as the kids say. like barking, you don’t even have to finish the sentence, let alone repeat it even once as he strips himself of his clothes and leaves nothing but that collar on, maybe that necklace that falls perfection between his tits. his funny little carefree, blasé attitude he usually holds crumbling away the moment he’s alone with you because he’s just your puppy, your good boy. a good boy takes only what he’s given, and when told to only hump your thigh, your boot, your hand? he’ll do it, clinging to you all the while and thanking you, thanking you, thanking you, for letting him breathe, for letting him stay with you, for indulging him in his pleasure. it never takes him too long to cum like that— but don’t worry. he can go as long as you want him to. ignore his aging bones; he’s your good boy first and foremost, he can go as long as you tell him to. one, two, three, five loads coating your skin and his grip bruising as he thanks you once again.
the collar & leash. ( THE LEASH‼️‼️‼️ 🧎🧎🧎)
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh fuck you fuck donald fuck fuck fuck i love leashes and collars and clear ownership that anchors the sub down. him keeping the leash on even in his cell just to see it hang from the collar on his neck, biting his lip shyly in a feeble attempt to distract himself of all his dirty little thoughts <3 donald who was breathless when you first got the pretty thing and personally put it on his bare neck, that proud gaze of yours making him melt like nothing else and solidifying the fact he was yours, set in stone before, until his death (shackles? more like marriage), this just shows everyone, sinners and not, the wealthy and the starved: he’s yours, yours, all yours. everyone knows he’s your lapdog, your darling puppy that stays at your side. donald who stutters when he spots your hand even nearing the leash, let alone the near orgasmic feeling of you pulling on it to make him follow you, get him even closer to you. he’s crawled on all fours and barked for you, leash in your hand as your precious pup keeps his hands down and uses his teeth to open up your pants to reveal what he’s grown to crave the most outside of your presence. donald whose eyes glaze over in pure submission any time you tighten his collar up or use the leash to keep him all too close for anything professional, having him rather obey you than think of getting more oxygen to live, panting like a proper dog if you don’t have him choking on something better. donald who, shit, you don’t even have to use your shackles on to get him to obey any command. dispatches, special training, sitting under your desk and staying quiet so your adjutant doesn’t hear as he deepthroats or suckles at your member. he’s got his head on your shoulder and whining like a needy little thing when he isn’t pawing at your pants, begging for you to use him because he knows you’re stressed </3 use him! he can take it! remind him of his place by stepping on the leash and forcing him away— not for too long, though. he might have grown addicted to his position under you.
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ladyxolotl · 2 months
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Thundering Rain
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Qí Yù | Rafayel x Reader (One-Shot)
𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: You and Rafayel cozy up during a cold storm to enjoy each other’s company when you realize he got up for something but didn’t come back to cuddle you.
—• TAGS: Domestic fluff, kinda ooc Rafayel (? if you squint), no use of Y/N, use of the pet name my love, beta read (imagine that)
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A thunderstorm had been raging outside for hours now and you are thankful, for once, about the harsh seasonal changes because not just did you enjoy the rain and the majestic flashing of light that occasionally lit up the otherwise dark gray sky, you didn’t have to go to work. You could enjoy a leisure day indoors, listening to the calming sound of the rain hitting the window and the deep thunder clapping after each rapid flash of light with a warm blanket and hot beverages.
It’s true you loved your joy, loved the adrenaline of being a hunter, the thrill of battle, but it was nice to sit back and relax for a bit. And some reprieve was definitely due after these past few weeks, Linkon City had been seeing more and more Wanderers roaming inside the more civilian populated areas, your team along with some back ups had been dispatched as first responders almost every time; it’s been busy to say the least.
And Rafayel had definitely not appreciated your constant absence. You don’t blame him, you missed him too. Because your job wasn’t just turning monsters to dust and protecting innocent people; each attack meant a lot of paperwork, desk work, meetings. It meant time away from home and away from your already clingy, needy lover.
Who, speaking of, had suspiciously gotten up from cuddling you in the sofa by and hadn’t come back.
The now cool spot behind you made you realize his absence. But as you were about to get up to look for the purple-head you heard his voice, “Stay where you are, how you are, for another 30 minutes…” Rafa trailed off.
He didn’t even ask politely yet you remained on your spot no questions asked and turned your head back to look outside the large, tall window that gave the perfect view to the backyard. “So that’s where you’ve been the whole time,” you chuckled softly, of course he was.
“Inspiration should never be wasted or ignored. The best master pieces ever created were in spontaneous bursts of creativity,” He stated as if it was the most honest to god truth. Yeah, alright.
Amused you simply retorted, “Is that a fact?”
“Most likely,” he shot back before taking a small pause, “Besides, you barely noticed after almost an entire hour I didn’t come back beside you.”
The last part sounded more begrudging, you didn’t have to look at him know he’s pouting. You couldn’t help but giggle, “Yeah, my back was getting cold. That’s how I noticed you were still gone.” Rafa let out the most offended scoff, he didn’t even dignify with an answer.
The room falls silent again save for the rhythmic pattering of rain, it’s then you realize he’s actually consenting and you can’t help the little leap your heart makes. “Are you painting me?”
“As I was coming back from the kitchen the scene and atmosphere looked perfect so I just had to capture it,” he explains, “I haven’t had the opportunity to play around with darker tones or paints in a while and I recently acquired some very high quality materials to produce stunning shades. Very rare finds, honestly.” The Lemurian continued on to explain how and where he’d manage to obtain them, of course pointedly mentioning that he needed something to do in your absence because it was just so so boring.
More than half an hour had past, that’s for sure, as you filled the time with more banter and teasing remarks.
“Rafa can I move now? I’m going to have neck pain and be stuck in this position forever if I don’t get up soon,” you whine loudly, “The painting won’t be needed to immobilize this moment then.” He only tsk’s at you, calling you over to see the painting.
“Holy shit you weren’t kidding, the pigments are so rich!” You know little to nothing about art, any scattered knowledge or artsy lingo has definitely come from listening to your boyfriend talk about painting. You study the painting detail by detail, from top to bottom. He really does deserve the fame, not that you’re biased.
Rafayel smiles big like a satisfied cat (ironically) at your praise and expression of awe.
Though the more you steady the painting the more you realize the gloomy tempest going out outside was definitely not the focus of this piece like you had originally thought, despite the fact that the oversized window gave the perfect opportunity to capture it so.
Instead you realize most of the spotlight was you. Rafayel had clearly taken his time; each curve of your features was perfectly drawn and shaded, the way the light made light and dark contrasts against the little skin that was not covered by the quilt, the shine in your eyes that reflected the lighting that occasionally flashed and the hair that framed your face. The contentless of your expression clearly denoting how engrossed you’ve been on the weather outside, he even included the faintest curl of the corner of your lip. And you looked cozy as hell with the blanket all the way tucked up to your chest and your hands wrapped around the (then) steaming mug of coffee.
A heat crept up your cheeks and chest. Is this how he saw you? Is this what his eyes see when he looks at you? Truly? You must’ve had your thoughts written in your face because he breaks the long silence with in a soft voice, “You are the inspiration of the painting, my love,” circling back to one of his earlier comments. You turn to face him fully, meeting eyes as he was already looking at you, as soft smile that matched the softness of his voice spread across his lips.
“It’s going to be part of the next exhibit, on a very special spot.”
“I’m sorry what?” You lamely ask, astonished but still in a monotone.
Rafayel had the audacity to laugh in your face as he gave the cavas a few strokes with the brush to accentuate some shadows. “It’s not finished yet, of course. I will accept no less than perfection,” he says slowly, words as methodical as his painting technique, “Specially when it comes to you.”
If you weren’t blushing before you sure are now. You shove him gently when he takes the brush off the painting, attempting and failing to hide how much he managed to fluster you.
Another long pause passed, but this felt more intimate, watching him closely add some details, switch between different size brushes for finer details. Rafayel sure went into his own bubble when he worked, yet he is always somehow very aware of his surroundings. At least at the moment he was.
“Not a lot of people get the privilege to watch me like this, so up close, let alone live. Are you feeling how privileged you are?” The tone of playful arrogance brings you back and pops the bubble of comfortable silence. But it does make you giggle.
These little moments make you fall deeper in love with him.
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⟢ A/N: feels kinda funny posting my writing for the first time in the internet tbh. i usually only write for my friend/myself so i hope you enjoy my lil rot. it’s been raining so much in my area it gives me a very cozy vibe.
© 2024 ladyxolotl — all rights reserved. do NOT alter, translate, or repost my works on any platform without my consent, do not claim my content as yours.
⤷ dividers : @cafekitsune ✰
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starrylothcat · 11 months
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I come bearing gift 🥳 (aka filthy fic prompts 👀)
Can I request "I'm either joining or watching, you pick." with Hunter 😘
Oh my goodness, this took me way longer than I anticipated!
(No) Vacancy
🔥Hunter x Female!Reader One-Shot🔥
Summary: Hunter hears you calling out for him, and he’s ready to answer. 5800 words.
Warnings: NSFW, 18+. Minors DNI. Female masturbation, PiV sex, oral, slight overstimulation? Pure smut.
Author’s Note: Uhhh this one got away from me and is pure, PURE self indulgent smut. Hunter is rotting me inside and out. I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!
@wizardofrozz I think you sent me this prompt? If not, true person reveal yourself! But I hope you like it! 🥺👉👈 I slightly edited the prompt in the fic. Thanks for the request!!!
Thank you @wanderer-six and @mylifeisactuallyamess for proof-reading this nonsense. ❤️
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“Well, it’s no royal Naboo palace, but it’ll do.” You observed the outside of the dingy inn as you slipped your hood off your head.
It was tucked away in a dark, grimy corner of a seedy town you were dispatched to by Cid.
A neon “No Vacancy” sign flickered on and off, half the letters dark. The road leading up to it was completely empty except for you and Clone Force 99, who were illuminated by the fading neon lights.
You raised an eyebrow at Hunter, who gave a small shrug as you checked the map on your datapad, making sure this was the right place.
“I’d rather stay on The Marauder…or take my chances on the streets.” Echo huffed, a look of disdain on his face as he walked up beside Hunter, both clad in civilian clothes, as were the rest of you.
“Aww, it can’t be that bad! At least we get our own rooms! I can’t remember the last time that happened, if ever!”
Wrecker grasped Tech’s shoulder, giving it a hearty shake in elation as Tech tried to hold on to his goggles, his body being heaved back and forth.
Wrecker was overjoyed at the thought of a real bed and space to spread out, as was Omega.
“I’ve never had an entire room to myself before!” She buzzed with excitement, not caring about the rundown appearance of the inn.
“It is the most logical situation, if we are to gather any intel for Cid.” Tech gave a quick glare to Wrecker, who had released his poor shoulder. He adjusted his goggles. “If we act as travelers we won’t attract as much attention, even if the state of this lodging is…less than desirable. But I will be honest in stating it will be nice to have a sleep uninterrupted by snoring.”
Tech gestured at Wrecker, his goggles reflecting the flashing neon sign of the lodge as he looked down at his datapad.
“Hey, I don’t snore that loud!” Wrecker pouts, crossing his arms. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one hearing it.” Echo scoffed, rolling his eyes.
“Alright boys, enough.” Hunter pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s only for a few nights, and we can all agree that even though this place isn’t…grand by any means, it’s better than nothing. The faster we can find this shipment location, the faster we can get off this planet.” Hunter felt exposed without his armor, and didn’t want to be here any longer than anyone else.
You were all tired from the long journey here. You were stuck on The Marauder for a few days too long, and everyone was on a slight edge, ready for real rest.
You had been sent to this backwater Outer Rim planet by Cid, tasked with gathering intel on the whereabouts of a high-value smuggled shipment. According to her, the parcel was worth enough credits to buy ten Marauders, and then some.
“This is a delicate situation, bandana, and your goon squad attracts a lot of attention. I need you to blend in, and not cause too much trouble, you understand?” Cid said as she gave Hunter an irritated look from behind her desk.
“We’ll try our best.” Hunter frowned, knowing this mission wasn’t going to be as easy as it seemed. It never was.
Cid rolled her eyes. “Well, I know subtlety isn’t your strong suit so I booked you a place to stay, to stake out and listen for any leads. Your ship might cause a stir, especially if you show up in armor, so you’ll be staying here, acting as civilians while you find the location of the shipment.” She slid over a holodisc with coordinates to a small town inn, where you’d be staying. “Try not to mess this one up, okay, broody? If they get a whiff of someone poking their nose around, they will move it and it might be gone for good. There’s a lot of credits at stake here. You best blend in, for your own sake.”
You remembered Hunter trying to argue with Cid, saying being in one place too long without armor was dangerous. But Cid promised there wouldn’t be trouble if you kept your heads down.
“I don’t know about you, but a real shower is enough for me. I guess we finally have something to thank Cid for.” You quipped, trying to stay positive.
The corners of Hunter’s lips formed a tiny smirk at your comment.
“Don't get too excited, even The Marauder has hot water. Most of the time. Can’t guarantee anything at this place.” You gave him a playful look, smirking back.
Hunter dug into one of his pockets, pulling out small cards that allowed you to access your rooms. “Alright, we’ll meet up at the rendezvous spot early tomorrow. We have a lot of ground to cover.” You looked at your access card, a small number indicating your room location.
Looking at the map of the inn, your room was right next to Hunter’s, the rest of the boys and Omega’s room spread throughout the lodging.
You bid goodnight to everyone as they retreated to their rooms, leaving you and Hunter walking to your own. “Do you think this shipment even exists?” You asked, also getting tired of the wild womp rat chases Cid sent you on.
Hunter let out a sigh. “I don’t know. The intel is limited, and I sense Cid isn’t telling us everything. As usual.” You gave him a soft look, knowing look. Hunter was growing tired of working for Cid, and carries a lot of stress over protecting his team and Omega. His dedication to his family was something you admired about him, among many other things.
“At least she coughed up some accommodation this time around.” You said as Hunter gave a grunt, his eyes flicking to yours. “Yeah…we’ll see if the cards even unlock our rooms. If we even have them.” You had reached your individual doors, stopping in front of Hunter’s, yours only a few feet down the hall from his.
You smiled, the words coming out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. “Well if your access card doesn’t work, you can always come to my room.” Hunter’s eyes locked on yours as you felt heat blaze up to your cheeks at the realization of what you just said. “Err…I uh… I could stay with Omega and you could take my room is what I meant!” You stuttered, trying to salvage your previous statement.
You cursed yourself internally, knowing Hunter probably sensed your heartbeat increasing. You’ve noticed stumbling your words more often around him. Any time he looked your way, all thoughts exited your head and you could only focus on his deep brown eyes, strong jaw, wide shoulders…
The sound of a door unlocking brought you back to the moment. “Well, it seems like my card works. I guess Cid didn’t stiff us. I’ll have to take you up on that offer another time.” You sucked in your breath, trying to figure out what he meant as he slowly opened his door, but didn’t immediately walk in.
“If you need anything, you know where I am.” Hunter hesitated for a moment, looking at you. What you didn’t know was him having the same thoughts as you, admiring your beauty, secretly wanting to join you in your room, hoping what you claimed was a mistake was actually the truth slipping out.
But he didn’t want to overstep and couldn’t bring himself to say anything.
“Yes…uh…goodnight, Hunter.” He nodded, and stepped into his room before he said something he might end up regretting.
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding as you cursed at yourself internally again, accessing your own room. It was small, dinky, and run down, but it was something. The first thing you tested was the shower, and as luck would have it, the water was hot. It was enough to ignore the suspicious stains on the carpet and peeling wallpaper.
You took a long shower, not knowing when you’d have this type of accommodation again, and trying not to think of Hunter, the embarrassment of what you said, but it was getting more difficult.
After your shower you nestled down into the bed, finally able to relax the best you could in these circumstances.
You closed your eyes, trying to focus on the quiet and relish having a room to yourself, finally having a little private time.
Your mind began to wander back to Hunter, as it always did, as you sank into the creaking bed.
You had been with 99 for a while now, acting as an extra hand on missions, also trying to stay afloat by doing odd jobs for Cid. You ran with a pirate gang for a while, dabbled in bounty work, and now you were here. You got along well with the boys and Omega, and finally felt like you had something good, finally belonged.
As you worked alongside Hunter, you began yearning for his gaze, or his rare, surprisingly warm smile. What started off as a small crush has grown into something more and you knew you were falling for him. You tried to deny it, not wanting these feelings to take hold. But you were giving in to him more and more by the day, giving in to his smoky voice, his strength, his loyalty, his everything.
Did he feel the same way? You weren’t sure. But you knew there was some sort of tension between you and it was growing.
You tried to forget these embarrassing thoughts and just go to sleep. But the walls of the rundown inn were thin, and you heard a shower being turned on in the next room.
Hunter’s room.
Heat crept to your cheeks as your mind began to wander again. You imagined him stripping his clothes, neatly placing them at the base of the bed, his naked muscular form revealing itself as he stepped into the hot water.
Stop. You told yourself. He’s your Sergeant. I shouldn’t be thinking of him this way…. But the image of him in the shower was too tempting, as your hand made its way to the waistline of your sleep shorts.
You couldn’t help but think of him thoroughly rubbing himself down with soap, his muscles rippling under the steamy water as the heat released tension from his body.
You imagined his tattoo going all the way down his torso, to his hip, which deliciously dipped to his muscular thighs, which you thought about your hands gripping often. And what lay between his muscular thighs was what really got your mind spinning. You groaned and adjusted your legs, heat beginning to pool between them.
You shouldn’t be having these thoughts. You respected him. He was your teammate. He was your friend.
But you didn’t stop yourself, beginning to get lost in the fantasy as your hand slipped fully beneath your damp panties.
You imagined Hunter’s wet hair stuck to his body as he moaned, his own hand gripping his hard length as he pleasured himself, thinking of you. Water running down his cut muscle, his head thrown back in ecstasy as he brought himself closer to release.
You began to rub circles around your clit, sighing at the sensation, now imagining yourself with him in that shower, his velvet voice murmuring praises in your ear as he thrusted deep inside of you, his warm, calloused hands squeezing every part of your soft flesh.
You thought you were being quiet, stifling your moans as best you could, knowing the walls were thin and Hunter was right on the other side. Maybe you did want him to hear, so he’d know how you truly felt. The thought of him listening only intensified your pleasure and you picked up the pace of your hand, not noticing that Hunter’s shower had stopped a few minutes ago, or that Hunter was hearing every single sound next door.
At first Hunter didn’t want to believe it was you. He had just laid down, his hair damp from the shower, trying to get comfortable. He knew he should be enjoying an actual bed, but his senses were on high alert in this new space. He didn’t like his brothers being so spread out. At the very least, Wrecker’s room was right next door to Omega’s, so he knew that she would be safe if anything were to happen. He knew he shouldn’t worry, but it was habit.
Another worry plagued his mind: you. His thoughts were also preoccupied with you, as they were almost every waking second.
Hunter was struggling with his feelings for you, knowing he couldn’t ignore them much longer. You were reliable, honest, quick-witted, which amused him knowing you were part of a pirate gang before joining them.
You got along with his brothers and Omega liked you, and that was honestly enough for him. He was thinking more and more about his future with his family, and it was hard to visualize that future without you by his side. That’s how he knew he was in deep.
He had wanted to confess his feelings to you multiple times, but always hesitated. He didn’t want to risk ruining your friendship.
Hunter almost told you how he felt tonight, when you were standing outside your door. Hunter wanted to kiss you, take you up on your offer and follow you into your room, show you how much he really cared. But he paused like he always did, not able to find the right words.
Hunter rubbed his face and sighed, wishing he could just sleep.
A faint sound brought him out of his thoughts, his sensitive ears picking up a small moan. He froze, listening as he caught another sigh that sounded awfully similar to your voice.
Hunter first brushed it off to this hotel being less than reputable, probably someone in the room above him watching something illicit on the Holonet.
He was about to put his pillow over his head to drown it out, trying to get a good night’s sleep, but then he heard a louder gasp. It wouldn’t have been heard by anyone else, but he could hear it. There was no denying it now, it was your voice coming from the other side of the wall you shared. The gasps and sighs sounded like they should be coming from a dirty Holonet program, but they were coming from you, from your lips.
His heart thudded, his entire body suddenly on fire, the realization of what you were doing in your room dawning on him.
Hunter knew he shouldn’t listen, but it was impossible for him not to. More soft moans drifted to his ears, his cock instinctually hardening underneath his pants as he imagined you writhing on your bed, your hand working your wet pussy. Were you thinking about him? Someone else? A pang of jealousy shot through him, followed by another pang of guilt. It felt wrong to intrude like this. You deserve privacy, even with his heightened senses, even if you were thinking of someone other than him.
Again, Hunter was going to put his pillow over his head, trying to ignore his throbbing cock and your delicious mewls, but then he heard you again, this time taking the form of his name.
Hunter thought his heart was going to stop. Did he hear correctly? His senses have never led him astray. He focused, listening intently, secretly hoping he was right. Another quiet moan and he heard his name again.
Hunter’s body reacted immediately, intense desire rushing through his veins, goosebumps covering him head to toe as he heard you calling his name. Something primal was climbing its way out of him, not knowing exactly what his next steps were. You were saying his name. You were thinking of him during your most private moment. You must feel the same way that he did for you? All the nights he yearned for you, wanting you, but not knowing how to tell you, or not knowing if you even felt the same way?
Your soft gasps of his name and his name alone was his answer.
His mind was drunk with lust, his body telling him to go next door and help you finish the job. He sat up on his bed, his instincts overtaking his logical brain, and the next thing he knew, he was right outside your door. You were calling out to him, and he couldn’t deny you any longer.
Before he knocked, he could hear your breathing through the door. Your hitched breath as you were bringing yourself closer to release, his name leaving your lips again. He was certain now.
Hunter was ready to break down the door, he needed to see you. To feel you.
Hunter took a breath to focus himself momentarily, trying to get his breathing and heartbeat under control. But he couldn’t wait any longer, your muffled cries the only thing he could focus on. Before he could change his mind, he quickly knocked. For the first time in his life, Hunter had no plan, his mind totally encompassed by you.
He heard you let out a gasp of surprise, then a curse, and quick shuffling. He heard your footsteps coming toward the door. He said your name, his voice low.
You were getting close, your legs shaking, your hand rubbing at just the right spot around your clit, release imminent, your mind intensely focused on Hunter. A loud knock on your door startled you out of your fantasy.
Kriff, who could that be?! You thought, flustered by the interruption and letting out an audible curse. You quickly took your hand out of your pants, frustrated that your fantasy was cut short.
Then you heard Hunter’s voice say your name. You were startled, adrenaline rushed through your body. Why is he knocking at my door so late at night? Something must be wrong. You adjusted yourself, and walked over to the door, just in your nightclothes, panic starting to rise in your chest, the realization that he was right outside your door. Which means he probably heard you. How long was he standing out there? Oh Maker.
“Uh…Hunter? What’s going on?” You asked through the door, trying to play it casual.
There was a moment of silence. “Open the door. Please.”
His voice was strained. You swallowed and grasped the door handle, turning it to open. You pulled the door toward you, only to be pushed back slightly as Hunter barged inside, closing it quickly behind him, his eyes wild. “Hunter…what…what’s going on? Is everything okay?”
You were nervous, he was acting strange and looked disheveled. He wasn’t wearing his bandana, and dressed only in an undershirt and pants. His hair fell around his face as his gaze bore into you. “I heard…you. From my room.” Was all he could muster.
Hunter could smell your arousal in the air of the room and he was close to snapping, all his pent up desire fogging his brain. He needed you, he needed something.
He…heard me? Does he mean…? Oh kriff.
Your face caught on fire at the realization of what he was saying, wanting to disappear into the floor from total humiliation, never to be seen again. You didn’t know what to say, suddenly worried he was mad at you for keeping him awake, demanding to know why his name was coming from your lips, ready to be kicked off the team for insubordination.
You were completely and utterly mortified. Your mind ran circles, trying to think up any excuse. “Hunter I…I’m sorry…I.. didn’t realize…”
“I heard my name.” Hunter interrupted, as he stepped closer to you, his hands forming fists at his sides, his voice shaking. Once again, you wanted to fall through a hole in the floor. You wanted to run away. “You were thinking of me?” His voice was dangerously low as he looked down on you, unclenching his fisted hands and hesitantly resting them on your waist, pleading to himself he wasn’t misreading this entire situation.
Your body quivered, not stopping him as you realized why he was here. He wasn’t upset. He was here to answer your call.
The look in his eyes was absolutely predatory and you noticed a large bulge in his pants as your eyes flicked up and down his body. You were speechless momentarily, but couldn’t deny the ache that was forming between your legs, your heart rate increasing. “I…yes…I was…” was all you could say, your voice barely a whisper. Hunter’s eyes darkened at your words.It was him you were thinking about. No one else.
“Do you think about me often?” he murmured, his voice close to cracking, intoxicated by your scent.
Hunter could see your chest heaving, hear your heart thudding. He could smell a fresh wave of arousal that caused his body to throb as his cock strained against his waistband. “Yes…” You croaked, trembling under his look. His hands gripped your waist tighter, his confidence growing as you answered truthfully. “I could hear everything, your perfect moans…do you realize how long I’ve wanted you?” Hunter hoarsely whispered, barely holding on, his control slipping.
You felt like you were going to explode at his touch and his words. You brought your hands up to grasp his shoulders, his body radiating heat through his clothes.
Were you dreaming?
“Hunter…” a lusty gasp left your lips, and Hunter almost took you then and there. “Let me help you…” He whispered, lowering his head to your neck, his lips brushing right underneath your earlobe.
“I can either join or watch. Your choice.”
Hunter’s voice was deep, and absolutely desperate.
Him admitting he wanted to watch you continue pleasuring yourself almost made you faint, never hearing something so alluring in your entire life.
This had to be a dream.
The thought of him watching you was tempting, but here he was, offering his entire self to you. Something you’ve wanted for so long. You couldn’t pass it up, not now.
“Join me.”
Your voice trembled as you gave him your answer. Hunter lifted his head from your neck, peering into your eyes, searching for the same need that was in his.
“Are you sure?”
You stuttered the words you’ve been wanting to say for months, not seeing any reason to keep it a secret now. “Maker, Hunter…I do want you…I need the real thing, I need you.” Hunter’s eyes flashed, and he let out an anguished growl as he closed the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours in a sloppy and frenzied kiss, doing what you’ve both wanted for so long. It was better than either of you ever imagined, your need for one another finally let loose.
He deepened the kiss by tilting your head back, cradling the back of your skull with his hand, pressing himself even closer to you. You could feel his hot, hard length against your stomach, his craving for you undeniable.
You melted into him, all your secret desire rushing to the surface, tightening your grip on his muscled shoulders. The fingers of his one hand that was holding the back of your head wrapped in your hair, gently tugging your neck even further back as his lips consumed yours. You let out a moan at the sensation, giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, which you eagerly welcomed.
Hunter let out his own gasp as your hands moved from his shoulders to his scalp, your fingernails lightly raking down his crown. You felt like you were floating, the breath completely knocked out of your lungs at his taste and his passion, still not believing he was here, doing this to you.
After what seemed like hours, Hunter reluctantly broke the kiss momentarily, giving you both a chance to catch your breath you didn’t realize you needed.
“I need you, too…” He gasped. “I have for a long time…you have no idea what you do to me, cyar’ika…” Hunter released the back of your head, his warm hands sliding down to your back as he peppered hot, open mouth kisses on your neck. He nipped and sucked at your soft skin, also not believing this was real. If this was real, it felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest at saying out loud how he felt, and hearing that you felt the same way back.
Hunter’s free hand ghosted under your night shirt, and when you didn’t tell him to stop, he brought it up to your breast, squeezing and pinching the sensitive flesh. Your nipples pebbled at the sensation, his skilled fingers rubbing and rolling the hardened nub, your arousal growing more than you thought you could handle.
Hunter’s tongue licked over your jugular, and he could feel your blood pumping under his tongue, tasting the sweat and craving on your skin, stoking the raging fire in him even more as he walked you back toward the edge of the bed.
You felt the back of your knees bump the mattress, and Hunter held you as you slowly laid down, bringing himself with you. He nestled between your legs, kissing you deeply again, his arms caging you in.
You bucked against him, rubbing yourself against his hard bulge, searching for that delicious friction.
He groaned into your mouth, and now it was Hunter’s turn to desperately rut against you, his control now almost completely gone. You were going to be the end of him.
“I need to see all of you, now.” Hunter ordered as he began urgently tugging at your clothes, needing to feel your skin on his. He rolled off of you momentarily, standing up to practically rip his civvies off his body as you did the same on the bed, shimmying out of your sleepwear and tossing them to the side.
He stopped, his mind finding clarity for one moment as he gazed at your body and you at his. Saliva pooled in your mouth at the sight of him, unbelievably defined, broad chest and muscular arms. His cock swollen and girthy between his narrow waist, glistening with precum, begging for relief. Begging for you.
“Beautiful…so beautiful.” He muttered as he climbed on top of you again, still gazing at you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him back down to your body. Your lips met, this time less intense, as Hunter relished your irresistible taste, the taste he’s been dreaming of. He swallowed every gasp that left your lips, the kiss heating up again as you grasped the sides of his head, your soft skin moving against his hard, battle-scarred body as he rubbed his length against your soaking entrance.
But there was another taste he wanted, needed or he thought he was going to implode.
Hunter pulled himself away from you as a whine left your lips, already missing his touch.
He moved down your body, kissing down your neck, collarbone, stopping at your breasts to take each sensitive nipple in his mouth for brief attention before continuing on. He slid backwards off you until he was kneeling on the ground at the base of the bed. “I want to taste how much you want me.” He growled as he grasped your ankles and pulled you to the edge of the bed, throwing your legs over his shoulders, causing you to yelp at how easily he was manhandling you.
You knew what he was about to do, but that didn’t prepare you for how his mouth felt as he began desperately lapping at your cunt, absolutely devouring you as your hands clenched the sheets for dear life as louder and louder moans escaped from deep in your chest. You couldn’t speak as you were quickly reaching your peak for the second time that night.
Hunter was completely lost now, having your arousal on his tongue, his face pressed in the source of your longing. His cock ached almost painfully, but it had to wait. He wanted you to feel how much he wanted you.
Hunter swirled his tongue around your clit, never wanting this moment to end. He could stay between your legs for the rest of his life, lapping at your juices and hearing every single choked cry that caught in your throat as he hummed against your core in his own daze. He felt your hands suddenly grasping at his hair, tugging as you cried out that you were close, gasping his name. Hunter continued his feast as your body thrashed, intense pressure building in your lower abdomen. With one more long lick, your orgasm washed over you, your back arching off the bed, Hunter’s name a ragged cry as he worked you through your release, not wanting to miss a single drop.
He finally lifted his head from between your thighs, knowing he wasn’t going to last much longer at this rate. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that.” You blushed at his words as he climbed back on top of you lost in a haze of passion and pure animal instinct. “Ready?” He muttered, still making sure you were okay with this, with him, as he kissed you, tasting yourself on his lips.
“Hunter, I need you inside me right now, please…I need you…”
You couldn’t wait any longer. You had to feel him inside of you.
Your pleads were all he needed to hear as he pushed in to your entrance, holding back every atom in his body that wanted to slam in to you and fuck you senseless. But he didn’t want to hurt you, though his composure was crumbling.
You could feel all the muscles in Hunter’s body tense as he slowly slid in, the sensation of your velvety muscle gliding against him almost making him cum right then and there, his senses completely overloaded.
Hunter bottomed out and brought his forehead to yours, his breath shaking and labored. “You feel incredible…” His tone was low, barely audible. Hunter waited for a moment, feeling you around him, hearing your breathing, inhaling your sweet aroma, still hoping this wasn’t a dream as he let you get used to him inside you, the anticipation ready to rip him apart.
You moved your hips slightly, telling him it was okay to continue, knowing what he wanted.
He nodded wordlessly and began rolling his hips slowly into yours. The feeling of him finally inside you, stretching your walls, took your breath away. Hunter let out a moan so lewd you knew it would be burned into your memories forever.
You locked your ankles around his waist, adjusting the angle of his cock as he moved in you. “You can go faster, Hunter. I want you to fuck me.”
That predatory glint in his eye returned at your bold statement as he increased his pace, your words fueling him.
It was Hunter’s turn to grasp the sheets around your head as he got lost in pleasure, grinding himself in to you, his eyes screwed shut and his head right against yours, his shaking moans escaping his lips right at your ear. Hunter’s senses were completely shot now.
Your taste, smell, sounds…every nerve in his body felt like it was charged with electricity, a current running down his spine as he focused on nothing but you.
Hunter was hitting a spot so deep you couldn’t formulate any thoughts, your own whimpers and gasps growing louder and more desperate.
You could feel another orgasm building, the pressure of his pelvis on yours rubbing on just the right spot. Your hands grasped at the back of his head as your body shook, getting closer to your release.
He was driving himself into you, his control finally gone. The intensity of his thrusts made your mind melt, you had never felt this way with anyone ever before.
Hunter was pressing frantic kisses to the side of your mouth, getting close himself as he fucked you in to the shaking bed.
You could barely make out the jumble of praises he was uttering on your lips between thrusts. “Let go for me…I won’t last much longer…you’re so beautiful like this…”
Hunter’s fervid hips and passionate words brought you to your peak, your orgasm spreading like a tidal wave over your body, your nails digging into Hunter’s skull and he continued to fuck you senseless, his name a chant in the heavy air of the room.
Hunter let out a strained growl as his hips stuttered into yours, your final pinnacle bringing him to his own end as he felt your walls clench around him. “Wh-where?” He gasped as your head lolled against the pillow, trying to keep your eyes open. “Inside.” Your hoarse statement was all he needed to hear as pleasure ripped through his body, pressing impossibly deep into you, his body vibrating with every intense sensation imaginable.
With a final drive of his hips, Hunter collapsed on top of you, careful not to crush you under his weight. For a few moments, it was silent except for your combined gasps, desperate to get air back in your lungs from the exertion.
Your mind was still trying to catch up with everything that had just happened. Hunter was on top of you? Naked? Still inside you? Was it time to wake up from this dream? Hunter lifted his head, looking at you. “I hope the real thing was as good as you imagined.” His voice was soft, his hair sticking to his forehead, glistening with sweat. You’ve never seen him so breathless.
“It was better than good.” You exhaled, still trying to catch your own breath.
Hunter lifted himself up off of you, rolling to the side, feeling slightly dizzy as the electric buzz in his body began to fade as his senses returned to normal. Hunter hummed and brought his hands behind his head, laying on his back. You were silent again for a few moments, but it was comfortable.
“You know,” he finally rumbled, “This place isn’t half bad. I wouldn’t mind if we had to stay a few extra nights.” His eyes flicked to yours, hoping you’d catch his meaning.
“Though I might have to move rooms if my neighbor continues to be so loud. Won’t get any sleep with such a distraction.”
You smiled and rolled on your side toward him. “Hmm, pretty sure I saw the “No Vacancy” sign out front. But I think we can work something out.”
Hunter let out a chuckle at your response, rolling to face you, his face softening.
“I’d like it if we could work something out.”
You smiled at his gentle words, a blush forming on your cheeks. “Me too.”
Hunter pulled you against him, wrapping his body around yours. “Can’t promise you’ll get any sleep in this room, though.” You muttered against his warm body.
Hunter smirked as he brought his lips to yours for a meaningful kiss.
“If it means being with you, it’s worth it.”
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692 notes · View notes
actuallysaiyan · 9 months
Note
NSFW prompt #4 with Dante please
warnings: mentions of wounds, reader is a demon hunter, smut, rough kissing, nudity, Dante being Dante
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It's tough to keep up with Dante and his twin as they hunt demons. You're good, as you've been doing it for years, but nowhere near as legendary as they both are. Not to mention, you don't have the healing factor that they do. So you often have to be on your guard. Dante has mentioned it multiple times before that he worries about you whenever you go hunt devils with him and Vergil, but you always remind him that you've been doing the job for almost as long as him.
This particular devil happened to be tricky. He was an incubus, which played to his favour when it came to you. As the twins saw him in his true form which happened to be an ugly, wart-covered toad, you saw him as a charming prince with jet black hair and a killer smile. Still, you did all you can to not let that deter you from helping to win this battle.
You figured you were doing well with dispatching all the smaller devils, but it's while you were distracted that the main one attacked you. One large slice of his katana, and you were down for the count. Blood dripped from the wound in your shoulder and your shirt was pretty much done for. You rushed away from him, bleeding more than you'd like.
"Shit!" Dante yells in frustration, and he rushes over to you. Vergil is quick to end the devil, and he takes care of things.
With Dante now by your side, he kneels down and holds you close. He places his hand on top of yours and applies pressure. He kisses the top of your head.
"Do you see why I don't want you coming with us?" He asks, a little ticked off that you'd so willingly place yourself in danger.
You whine softly, "Dante, I'm fine."
Vergil watches the two of you, then he manages to call Nero and Nico to come pick you all up with the van. You'd be fine, but there was no way that Dante would be allowing you to come on any devil hunting trips in the near future. Once you're safe in the van, Dante has you wrapped up in his coat to keep your dignity protected. It doesn't take long for you all to make it back to Devil May Cry.
Vergil recognizes what this signifies for his twin, and he tells the rest of the gang to stay back. They leave you both to enter the office. Dante sets you down on the couch and he begins mending at your wounds. In no time at all, he has your wound bandaged up. He then tells you to rest.
As you sleep, Dante removes the rest of your clothes. He inspects your body for other wounds, but he is very relieved to find that you're okay. Then he places a soft, warm blanket on top of your naked form and he goes to fetch you something else to wear when you wake up. He's less worried now but he has a lot of regrets about letting you come with them.
Slowly, you begin coming to. It's been few hours but with Dante's help, you'll be right as rain. You sit up and gasp when you realize you're naked. He's sitting at the desk, a dirty magazine in his hands. You begin looking everywhere for your clothes, but you don't find them.
You get up on your feet and march over to Dante, and he smirks when he sees that you're stark naked. A small blush creeps over your face, but Dante only beckons you over. You try to say you'd like to get dressed, so he gestures to his own clothes he brought down to you.
"You could wear my clothes. Yours got ripped to shreds, baby." He smirks at you once more. He then pats his thigh and you climb onto him. "Or you could stay naked. That would be nice, as much as I like to see you in my clothes."
Your lips meet in a frantic and rough kiss. The risk of losing you has made him needy. His hands soothe over your body, making sure to be gentle when it comes to your wound. It's not long before he has your thighs spread and he presses his own thigh between your legs. You moan as your clit grinds against his thigh.
"Isn't this much better than hunting demons?"
You had to admit, it was better than hunting demons. Way better.
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icarus-suraki · 8 months
Text
Blease. Blease, everyone stop needing me for a minute and let me eat lunch. Blease.
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WIBTA for reporting my previous place of employment for shady work practices?
Disclaimer: this would be strictly petty revenge for firing me - while illegal, technically, the malpractice doesn't harm anyone.
This might get a little long.
Backstory:
I worked a receptionist position at a family-owned funeral home (in the US) where recently, the managing funeral director was replaced from a highly respected individual by a couple from a different state that had come out of retirement and were completely changing everything - some for the better, most to their liking... and some that while legal in their home state isn't allowed in the current state we are.
I had a strong feeling out the gate that the person out of the two that would end up becoming my direct supervisor didn't like any of the current staff, which got solidified when during a meeting she pretty much stated it would be her way or the highway.
Sometimes when we're slammed, we all work through our lunch and don't get a break for 8+ hours at all, so instead of forgoing eating altogether the entire staff got used to just scarfing down their food super fast at their desks.
We also don't have company cellphones, we only have landlines, and the way we dispatch our team to go pick someone up after they pass is to call the person to make sure they're available, and then text them the needed info (we also don't get a stipend to offset our cell bills).
Dilemma:
Tuesday morning, I got fired due to "gross insubordination" for a. eating at my desk and b. using my cellphone to call the dispatch team. The owner himself fired me, and was pretty rude and, imo, pretty heartless about it (due to some events that occurred on Sunday, I had to call out of work Monday, and when I asked if I should prep myself for the meeting since I had a rough weekend, he responded with "well, it's about to get worse").
He already had my final check in hand (which had a copy of my timesheet with the days that I skipped lunch marked as "busy" or "no lunch cover") along with a termination letter, so he didn't even care to hear my side of the story.
Since I was the receptionist, I've got receipts on some, if not most, of the slightly shady things that they were doing (i.e. selling insurance without a license, selling insurance under a different identity, breaking some state statutes from false advertising, etc etc), and was thinking about reporting them to the necessary agencies.
Its possible that this could lead to the place getting shut down (i dont doubt that the fines would definitely add up) and leave people without work (which is my main deterrent but out of everyone that works there, only a few of the original staff is still there - the rest have either quit or are actively looking), but at the same time, if they continue unchecked they're gonna keep getting away with it, keep making bank, and with the state we're in being a right to work state, as long as they can frame it a certain way, they can use anything at all to fire someone.
So... WIBTA if I went through the proper channels to report them for their malpractice and have them audited?
What are these acronyms?
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poppadom0912 · 6 months
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Together (VII)
Warnings: Mentions of violence, blood, injuries, abuse, kidnappings, shootings, swearing and scary men.
Summary: When Jay least expected it, he suddenly starts hearing things. And maybe, he's starting to hallucinate too.
A/N: Am I suddenly full of inspiration and writing in school when i should be doing my lab write up? Yes I am. This chapter has been changed many times but I finally finished editing. A little spoiler- maybe I’m being nicer to my babies 🙃
Previous Chapter / Series Masterlist / Next Chapter
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Over the course of eating their very poorly put together ‘meal’, Will came to the conclusion that the food hadn’t been tampered with and so he was happy to continue feeding you.   
You had to admit that you felt like a baby, your older adult brother feeding adult you. You tried insisting you could feed yourself but with the state of your shaking fingers, hands sore from the countless times they’d been tied back, Will denied you your request.
The man that had given the tray of food returned and this time, there was something rectangle like sticking out in one of his trouser pockets while what clearly sounded like keys was sticking out in the other.   
Your heart skipped a beat, and you could feel Will’s heart rate increase from where his hand was positioned over yours. He must’ve noticed it too.   
The Ezra's were so meticulous in their plans and their behaviour was always erratic and on another level of violence that it was impossible to believe one of their henchmen could even, for a second, have the thought of being nice to their victims.   
But you were continuously surprised by them because as he took the empty tray, leaving behind the two waters and single juice, he ‘accidentally’ dropped the plastic rectangle and as he was walking away, his back turned to you both, a key fell and clanged against the ground, but he never looked back.   
And just like that, the door slammed behind him, massively contrasting the immense kindness he showed mere seconds ago.   
Holy friggin shit balls.  
*****  
Was Trudy worried? Yes, indeed she is. Was she going to show any concern? No, not unless she was left alone with her detective.   
Ever since dispatch had forwarded her Jay’s call, she’d been on her feet and alert. And ever since she found out that Jackson and Ezra Murray were the culprits to blame, she was determined that they weren’t going to get away again.
Trudy knew all the Halstead siblings, but she knew Jay the best. Over the many years, not only herself but many, many others were forced to get used to not one but three Halstead's being in existence and working within less than fifteen minutes from each other.   
Currently, Trudy and Jay were alone in the bullpen since the younger detective was barred from any field work unless they found Will and Y/N’s location but that was the only exception. Right now, her job was to keep Jay company, keep an eye on him and continue looking for any more clues or evidence that could be of any help.   
Jay was very clearly still losing his mind and his mental and physical state deteriorated as time passed. At this point, Trudy couldn’t help but think the worst and fear for how her detective was going to fare as a result.
Currently, she was sat opposite him at Hailey's desk, doing her own bit by going through security footage that had too many hours of video on it. Usually, she would get bored doing this, but it was a little different this time because whenever she glanced up, she was faced with the struggling sight of your brother who never asked for too much.   
All he wanted was to get his older brother and younger sister back.   
Suddenly, the phone on Jay’s desk was ringing. Luckily for him, he had a second phone whenever he went undercover and since the first one had been taken and was likely smashed in an evidence bag somewhere, this was all he was relying on.  
The sound was slightly jarring as it interrupted the pin drop silence they’d been in but neither of them showed any sign of discomfort. Instead, Jay went to answer the call, but his solemn mood didn’t change. It was evident that he wasn’t expecting much since it was his undercover phone that they’d been using two days ago on a case.  
Just as the desk sergeant was about to go back to her CCTV footage, she felt the entire bullpen still. The tension so thick it was suffocating her veins restricting any blood flow, and as she looked up, it became dizzying.   
His already pale face had nothing on Snow White and from where she sat, she could his heartbeat thundering out his chest, practically vibrating. All this could only mean one thing.   
“Will?”
What the fuck
For a hot second, Trudy thought that Jay was in so much pain that he was transferring some of his hallucinations onto her to alleviate his symptoms but then he continued talking into the phone and reality sunk into her bones. 
"Shit, Will wait slow down I can't- what?!"
Without prior warning, Jay shot out of his seat, wavering slightly on his feet causing the older woman to follow and stand by his side in any case he fell from the whiplash she's sure he gave himself. 
"Knives- you've got keys?- Y/N's not unconscious- she's lost her voice- your bleeding?! When- Why are you talking about grape juice?!" Jay paused several times, his words repeatedly getting cut off by Will on the other side of the phone. The longer the call went on, the more confused Trudy became. Jay must've been thinking the same as her from the height his brows rose every time he spoke. They went from talking about knives and blood to grape juice. 
The duality of the Halstead brothers. 
"Wait so he gave you a knife and somehow you found a gun just casually lying around? Will, I swear to God if you-"
And when Jay screw his eyes shut, something in her mind told her the doctor was doing something stupid and very questionable, very in character even when in a life or death situation. It was nice to know people would never change. 
Despite the anxiety growing in her chest, the call lasted longer than she expected. Will was being very efficient and careful for managing whatever he was doing and that put her at somewhat ease. Eventually, nothing physically tore them apart but it was poor internet or a lack of a connection that abruptly ended the call. 
"Tell me you got a location?" Jay asked, hope drowning out any other emotion in his ever so expressive eyes. If it wasn't for lives being on the line then she would've scoffed and scolded him but a sarcastic remark would do for now. 
"What do you take me for?" She asked incredulously as she glanced at the computer screen, almost immediately committing the address to her memory. 
"I'll call Voight but get in the car first."
But Jay didn't need her permission, he was already moving. 
*****
So much had unravelled in the last twenty minutes, you were still struggling to understand it all.
With all the uncertainty and determination in the world, you and Will had no other plan but to take they keys and the pocketknife and basically run as fast as you could. Well, run as much as Will could since he was carrying you on his back, very reminiscent of your childhood while he navigated the halls as best he could. You made a very pathetic argument that you could walk on your own but when you tried standing up, your legs gave in on themselves and Will gave you his motherly disappointed look that was very spot on; you and Jay had been on the receiving end of this look for way too long now that you should’ve been immune to it but here you were.
Opening the basement door, you both cringed at the loud sound it made. You guys hadn’t even left the basement yet and it was already going off to a great start.
As gently as he could, Will readjusted your position on his back, his arms moving to hold under your thighs more securely so that in a rush, you wouldn’t move. As he did so, you kept your arms around his neck, barely gripping him due to both a lack of strength and cautious to not strangle him.
Before leaving the room, you and Will sat and contemplated very long and hard about your escape plan. You were provided with very little by the mysterious man you were now deeming your saviour and maybe guardian angel depending on how successful the escape was.
Staring at the burner phone, you swore. You couldn’t remember anyone’s phone number for the life of you. Easily, you could’ve called 999 but the response much longer than calling someone either of you knew. It shocked you only a little when you couldn’t recollect a single person’s phone number, not even Kelly’s or Jay’s.
But like always, Will was there and knew exactly what to do. Maybe it was his doctor nature, but he had several numbers memorised and for some odd reason, he remembered Jay’s undercover phone number. You called him stupid, but he only laughed it off while he punched in the numbers.
You waited in anticipation, your nerves imitating Will’s as he held the phone to his ear, biting on the inside of his cheek as he waited for the phone to stop ringing. And when it did, Will audibly let out a sigh of relief, you felt like crying.
Will explained in half detail, leaving out a lot. It was obvious that Will was trying to relay the necessary details Jay needed to know about their current situation but then he decided to add in the random unnecessary fact that you drank grape juice. That totally threw you off, but Will kept talking as if nothing were wrong.
When Will eventually finished talking, he went silent and listened to what Jay was saying. For a minute, you couldn’t hear a voice on the other side of the phone but then you heard his muffled voice, and it brought you immediate ease knowing he was safe.
And before you knew it, the call ended, and you were out the dreaded basement.
Back to the present, Will was carefully cruising the empty corridors of the very nicely furnished warehouse. It made you question the desolate and dirty state the basement was in. At one point, you pointed out a gun lying on an ottoman; it was very suspiciously placed but when Will checked, it was very much real and very much loaded.
So here you were: a burner phone, pocketknife, gun, and sheer drive. You didn’t want to jinx it but… yes you weren’t going to jinx it.
The warehouse was ginormous. Every corridor was identical to the next and the furnishing was as though a professional interior designer had been inside. Luckily for you and Will, Jackson and Ezra’s lacky’s hadn’t been plastered all over the place, making your escape just a little more easier.
To remain as incognito as possible, Will only whispered to you when absolutely necessary, narrating to you what he was doing and what was going to happen. So far, so good. Will was slinking around, movements smooth and looking like a hair on his body had never been touched since being here. If you didn’t already know he was a doctor, then you would question his physical abilities and profession.
Each corner you turned, you felt your heart drop, your body anticipating disaster. The more time passed, the more you could feel Will sweat and struggle. He had begrudgingly admitted that he was hurt, going into slight detail that Ezra stabbed him, and he’d been hurt more throughout the several times you were passed out. You knew he was hurt and if you were to go in order of the most hurt to the least, the list would be: You, Will and then Jay. And considering the blood you saw covering Jay’s body the last time you saw him; God knows what went down between your oldest brother and your kidnappers.
“Will, if you’re tired, we can stop for a second.” You whispered into his ear but the only reply you got was him shaking his head. You knew his answer made sense, you needed to get out as soon as possible before you got caught but if Will took just one minute or two to recollect himself then maybe he’d feel better.
However, he decided that he was going to put himself last and everything else first because according to him, apparently you and getting out of this damned place took priority to his light-headedness and the blood that was only now slowly beginning to stop running like a river.
And so, without another word, he readjusted you one more time, his grip tightening around your thighs but not too much so it would hurt, and he continued walking.
Going downstairs was the hardest thing Will had to do by far. Yes, carrying you and maintaining your weight on his back was difficult but he could manage, and you felt much more lighter than what you should’ve been being a firefighter but that was a concern for later.
Staring down from the top of the staircase, Will calculated the descent. Yes, it would hurt a lot considering how much his legs shook as he merely stood but he was now starting to get worried but how little you were moving. Initially, you would move every now and then when your body felt stiff or to whisper under your breath so only he could hear you.
Now though, Will didn’t want to say it, you were deathly silent.
He shoved all his negative thoughts aside, deciding to deal with them later because the biggest problem he had was staring at him mockingly. How did his life come to such a point point that stairs scared him?
Luck must’ve decided to be nice to him all of a sudden because under five minutes, he safely delivered the two of you on the ground floor. Now, all that was left to do was find a back or front door and get the heck out of this place.
But obviously, fate was laughing down on the Halstead’s because luck ran as fast as she could, after only three minutes of doing her job because Will was facing down two familiar looking men decked out in all black.
Series Masterlist:
@mads-weasley @sowrongitslottie @elite4cekalyma @senjoritanana @hufflepuff-blackwidow @mrspeacem1nusone @kmc1989 @goth-cowgirl-03 @daggersquadphantom @photographerkaiya0306 @jamie0515 @samanthavitale @iamasimpingh0e
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the-iceni-bitch · 1 year
Text
He Gives Me Everything and Tenderly…
Pairing: detective!bottom Bucky Barnes x younger!top male reader (Sarge and Officer Beefcake, NLLYL AU)
Words: ~5k
Summary; Bucky is just fine on his own. He really is. He’s used to it. Even after meeting you and thinking about you a whole bunch, he’s still fine. And he does not appreciate his friends’ meddling.
Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (mentions of male masturbation, salad tossing, protected anal sex, spit as lube and lube as lube, kinda public sex), meet cute, reverse age gap, tall/beefy male reader, bottom!Bucky Barnes, Bucky is grumpy, hints of angst, love at first sight? lots of friendly teasing, m/m relationship, SMUT!! 18+ ONLY!!
A/N: Welp, this was something I wrote entirely in one sitting and I can’t say I’m mad about it at all. This is my first ever male reader fic and I am both incredibly nervous and very excited to share it with all of you! Big ass thanks to the absolutely amazing @howdoyousleep3 for hyping me up and providing some much appreciated perspectives (remember lube, people!)
I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!
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Bucky was exhausted. A long ass shift at the end of a long ass week and he was done, looking forward to going home and drinking a cold beer on his couch while he didn’t talk to anyone for a whole 48 hours. God, he hated people.
Except Darcy, and the cute little peach. Even though he wanted to get the fuck out of there he still stopped by the dispatch desk to chat with his girls and let them cheer him up a little.
“Hey Sarge!” He shook his head when Darcy called him that, her stubborn insistence to call him by his military rank after however many years just one of the many things that endeared her to him. “You look like shit, you finally getting out of here? Maybe gonna see someone special tomorrow?”
“The only people he’ll be seeing are Sam Adams and Johnnie Walker, maybe James Bond… hey!” The peach gave him an adorable scowl when he threw a paper clip at her, rubbing her cheek where it had hit her and sticking her tongue out at him before turning her attention back to her screen. “Don’t act like I’m not right, I’m there every time you drunk dial Nat while you’re binge watching old movies and lamenting your lack of a love life.”
“Tell your girlfriend to quit putting me on speaker or I’m gonna call her ex to chat from now on.” Bucky grinned when she rolled her eyes at him, bringing his attention back to Darcy and sighing when she was giving him a sympathetic pout. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m fine. I like being alone.”
“You’re lying, but fine.” Darcy shrugged at him, grinning when there was a sudden commotion at the doors and a mess of recruits came charging through into the hallway after Sam. “Hi Sammy, boys! Ooh, hey there beefcake, you run laps around all those slugs on the course again?”
“Maybe.”
Bucky choked when you were standing next to him, trying not to ogle you swathed in those gray sweats and feeling like the world’s dirtiest old man all of a sudden. “They’re getting better, starting to catch up. You shouldn’t call them slugs, Darce.”
“Please, like Wilson hasn’t called them worse, you’re too nice.” Peachy girl grinned when she turned in her chair again and saw Bucky looking like his jaw was about to hit the floor. “Have you met Detective Barnes, beefy?”
“Haven’t had the pleasure.” Bucky took in your name with an almost hysterical laugh when you reached out and shook his hand, not entirely sure what had come over him as he felt his neck getting unbearably hot and struggled to come up with something to say. “Well, I’ve gotta hit the showers, always lovely talking to you ladies.”
“Bye!” Both of them were grinning wickedly at Bucky once you were gone, chuckling when he just spluttered nonsense and looked at the floor. “What the fuck was that, Bucky?”
“Shut up.” He was flabbergasted, he’d never felt such an unbelievable attraction to someone right off the bat, except, once. But he never thought about that. “It wasn’t anything.”
“Oh, nothing at all?” Darcy was still grinning when Bucky growled at her, shaking her head and leaning back in her chair while the peach kept laughing. “So you weren’t staring at his ass when he walked away?”
“Of course not.” It had only been a little bit, you were so fucking tall your ass was impossible to miss, and so high and tight and… no, nope. “What the hell kind of nickname is beefcake, anyway?”
“You saw him.” Peach was practically cackling at this point, the redness on Bucky’s face so entertaining she was considering taking a photo to send to Nat. “The man is grade A USDA prime meat, what would you like us to call him?”
“You’re a couple of pervs.” Bucky just scoffed and ignored them when they told him it takes one to know one, flipping them off over his shoulder and almost forgetting his bag when he stormed out of the precinct to start his much needed alone time. “Inappropriate, gonna talk to HR about you two!”
If it had just been the one interaction, Bucky probably could’ve handled it. Yeah, he had jerked himself off thinking about your broad shoulders and tiny waist and that masterpiece of an ass, but only once, okay three times. But it was just over the weekend, he’d forget about you eventually.
Except for the fact that suddenly he was seeing you everywhere. Every damn time he was in the precinct, there you were, smiling that slightly crooked smile and laughing and making every person light up when you walked through the room. And in the fucking sweats every time, it was like torture. Torture that was made worse by the fact that Darcy and peach were always grinning at him like they knew something he didn’t, and they had apparently told Sam whatever they supposedly knew, so now that man was basically parading you in front of Bucky’s desk every chance he got and making him talk to you and get to see how fucking charming you were. He hated it.
“I do, I love cats!” Sam was chatting with you right in front of Bucky’s desk again and he was plotting how he could get away with murdering the man. “Have a little ginger idiot at home who has maybe two braincells, but he’s my baby.”
“Wow, that’s adorable.” Bucky almost growled at Sam when he grinned at him. “Bucky has a kitty of his own, don’t you, Buck?”
“Yes.” Sometimes he even hated his friends, this was ridiculous.
“I love that, knew you were a cat person.” Bucky almost groaned when you placed your hand on the desk so close to his, looking up at you through his lashes and trying so hard not to melt into his chair when he saw you smiling at him. “What’s her name?”
“Alpine.” You smelled so unbelievably good, Bucky had an incredible urge to lean up and bury his face in your neck, but managed to just turn the photo of his cat around to show you instead. “She’s three.”
“She’s gorgeous.” You winked and Bucky almost swooned, there was something wrong with him. “Shit, I’ve gotta get out of here, got a birthday party to get to. It’s always real nice talking to you, Detective.”
“You too.” Bucky swallowed thickly and shook his head when you walked away, his scowl coming back immediately when he saw Sam looking like he just ate a damn canary as he smirked at him. “Shut up.”
“Didn’t say anything.” Sam chuckled when Bucky just hunched over his paperwork and tried to ignore him. “Buuuuut… hoo boy, you like him.”
“I do not.” Murder was the only answer to these affronts. “He’s too young.”
“Bullshit, is peach too young for Nat?” Sam snorted when Bucky just grumbled under his breath, rolling his eyes at the man’s stubbornness. “You like like him, you need to get over that massive hang up, Barnes, it’s holding you back!”
“Man, fuck you!” Bucky jumped when he realized that Sam wasn’t there anymore, so he was just yelling at the bullpen, every member of the team giving him looks of varying amusement before they bent back to their work. “Sorry.”
It was a legitimate hang up, especially when it came to you. Because you reminded Bucky of him.
Specifically of when he was young, when Bucky first realized he was in love and overlooked all of his flaws and just wanted to be wrapped up in him all the time in spite of the fact the man would only look at Bucky like his old friend who he could tell about every single disgusting conquest he made. And that meant you were dangerous. Bucky refused to do that to himself again, it had taken him too long to get over that malicious bastard, and nothing had hurt him more than the realization that he had wasted so much time loving someone who barely gave a fuck about him. He didn’t care how sincere and charming you seemed, he wasn’t going to fall for that same shit all over again.
But it didn’t stop any of his friends from dragging you in front of him at every opportunity, and even though he was polite and listened to you and answered all your questions, it didn’t stop him from snarling at them as soon as you were gone. He didn’t care what they thought he needed, he was fine.
He wasn’t lonely. He didn’t wake up grinding his hips into his mattress after dreaming of sharing his bed with you. He didn’t wonder what you would look like with soft morning light falling across your face while both of your cats jumped on you and Bucky made you breakfast. They all needed to worry about their own lives and quit fucking with his.
Which is why he should have been suspicious as hell when Nat and her little peach and Darcy insisted on taking him out for drinks on a Friday night. All of them together. At a dive bar that was typically just cops. Like they didn’t usually go uptown and dress up.
“Well, look at that, is that Sam?” Darcy bounced on her toes and waved when she spotted Sam with all of his recruits, her and peach squealing while Bucky shot Nat an exhausted look. “Gosh, I completely forgot they’re celebrating the academy graduation, what are the chances?”
“Shocking.” Bucky couldn’t stop growling when Nat just shrugged at him. “I can’t believe they dragged you into their scheming, Romanoff.”
“They’re young and excited, it’s cute.” Nat wrapped her arm around Bucky’s shoulders and started pulling him towards the group. “Besides, you deserve someone nice, and to spend the night with someone besides Alpine.”
“Alpine doesn’t take up that much room on the bed, and I like to spread out.” Bucky just resigned himself to having a miserable night, even when you gave him an easy smile once you laid eyes on him and waved eagerly. “And he might not be nice.”
“Buck, you won’t know unless you give him a chance.” Nat sighed as she rested her chin on her best friend’s shoulder, pinching his cheek and trying to get him to at least give her a grudging smile. “And you know how good my asshole radar is, I’m getting no pings from the beefcake.”
“Yeah, alright.” Bucky steeled himself when you started walking his way, feeling a little tight in his chest and watery in his eyes as he did his best to give you a smile. “Hi.”
“Hi Detective.” Your smile got even wider when Nat introduced herself, shaking her hand warmly then turning back to Bucky and crossing your arms over your massive chest. “Can I get you a beer?”
“I don’t…” Bucky caught himself when Nat looked at him expectantly and blew out a deep breath. “Yeah, a beer would be great.”
“Fantastic, for you too?” You winked at Nat when she nodded before hurrying off to get their drinks with an undeniable bounce in your step that Bucky found he enjoyed very much.
“Listen, Buck.” Nat gave you a very thorough look while you waited at the bar, wrapping her arms around her girl when she came to sit on her lap and Darcy sat across from them. “Even if it doesn’t last, you’re a special kind of idiot if you don’t at least have sex with that man.”
“Jesus Christ.” Bucky felt himself blush up to his ears when all of the women just nodded enthusiastically and started detailing what the two of you should do to each other. “You three are worse than frat boys, oh my god.”
“C’mon, sarge…” Darcy snapped her mouth shut when you came back with Bucky’s and Nat’s drinks, giving Bucky a meaningful look and making a little circle with her thumb and forefinger then pushing her opposite finger through it while your back was turned until Bucky felt like he was in fucking high school. “Hi beefcake!”
“Hi Darce!” You were sitting so close to Bucky he could smell you again, he had to start chugging his beer so he didn’t reach out to bury his fingers in your hair. “I’ve always wanted to ask, why does she call you ‘sarge’?”
“Oh, it was my rank when I was discharged.” Bucky couldn’t handle the way you were looking at him, like he was the most interesting thing in the room, he wanted to fall into your eyes and get lost. “From the army. Darcy’s sister served with me, so she knew me then and the nickname stuck.”
“I didn’t know you served, my dad was in the marines.” You could see Bucky starting to tense up and bless you, you backed off, keeping that easy smile on your face while you nudged his foot with yours. “It’s okay, that’s not something we have to talk about right now, tell me about Alpine, how’s the little lady doing?”
“She’s- she’s good.” Something about the way you instantly pivoted the conversation and didn’t make Bucky feel like an ass for almost clamming up had him relaxing pretty much instantly, grinning back at you and rolling his eyes a little playfully when he thought about his little furry troublemaker. “She’s a brat, but good. Almost gave me a heart attack last week when she somehow managed to climb up to the ceiling beams in my apartment.”
“Oh shit! Really?” You chuckled warmly when Bucky just nodded and took another sip of his beer, plucking at the edge of the label on your bottle and leaning forward a little so you could hear him better. “She get down on her own or did you have to get a ladder?”
“Well, after six hours of pleading and begging, I did finally manage to entice her with some tuna.” Bucky kept watching your face closely, the earnestness he was so wary of constant and never wavering while you listened to everything he said intently. “She’s too smart for her own good, I swear.”
“Fuck, I can’t decide if my situation is better or worse.” You laughed when Bucky scoffed, pushing at his shoulder and shaking your head when he looked at you with mock offense. “No, I love my boy, but he’s a dumbass of epic proportions. The most worrisome thing he’s ever done is get his whole head stuck in a mason jar. Theodore is an idiot.”
“Theodore?” Bucky was vaguely aware of movement next to him after he emptied his beer and set down the bottle, but he couldn’t stop watching your lips move. “That’s adorable.”
“Aw, yeah, my niece named him.” Your smile got even wider somehow and it was making Bucky melt, another bottle of beer appearing seemingly out of nowhere on the table and immediately finding its way to his lips. “It’s her favorite chipmunk.”
Cats. Talking about your fucking cats was apparently the kick in the ass Bucky needed to let almost all his concerns about having anything with you go, letting himself relax and be easy while you told him all these sweet, endearing little things about yourself. How much you loved your niece and how much of a star she was at figure skating. How good you were at baking and you didn’t care what he said, you were baking him a loaf of sourdough to prove it. How you played three different instruments and spoke two languages. You were too goddamn interesting.
And you managed to get him to talk about himself too. How close he was with his sister and mother and how much he loved seeing them as often as possible. How he secretly enjoyed knitting and always made sweaters for the family at Hanukkah but would kill you if you told anyone about his hobby. How he collected old records and could spend whole days just listening to music and drinking good whiskey.
Bucky was more than a little thrilled that you seemed to be hanging on his every word and scooting closer to him until you were right next to him and your shoulders were practically touching.
He had lost track of how many beers he’d consumed by the time people started dancing, but he knew it wasn’t too many as he was just very pleasantly buzzed and staring at your plump, kissable, pillowy lips and wondering what it would be like to suck on them.
“Hey, James.” Bucky had just told you his first name and for some reason the fact that was what you were choosing to call him was making him dizzy. “You wanna dance with me?”
“Oh, um…” Bucky chewed on his lip while he thought it over, he had two left feet when he was sober, and he also wasn’t sure he would be able to control himself if you put your hands on him. “I don’t know…”
“Hey, no pressure.” You winked like you did every time you said something disarming and Bucky decided that he loved that about you. “Just wanted to ask, but if all you want is to talk, that’s a-okay.”
Bucky was struggling with himself. You barely seemed disappointed, it had maybe flashed across your face for a second, but he believed you when you said it was okay. You even leaned back against your chair to give him space, zero hints of malice in your expression and just that perfect, easygoing look that made Bucky feel like you were fine taking no for an answer and you would never hold it against anybody.
And for some reason, that finally sealed it for Bucky that you weren’t him.
“I wanna dance.” Bucky winced when he almost knocked over his bottle when he set it down, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your feet so he could drag you towards the makeshift dance floor. “Let’s go.”
Your laugh made Bucky beam at you over his shoulder, humming along to the music and turning to face you once you were in the middle of it. His breath caught when you were right there, letting you frame his waist with your hands and pull him even closer while you started rolling your hips to the music. Bucky very quickly decided that he liked having your hands on him, shaking his head and gripping your wrists to keep you in place when you tried to lean back before he slid his palms up your arms and over your chest.
Somehow, even though he knew you were big, your massive size hadn’t fully registered in Bucky’s brain until he was in such close proximity to you. It’s not like Bucky was small by any means, he hit the weights, he never skipped arm day, he’d even been called beefy himself a few times. But you… goddamn. You were like nothing Bucky had ever seen before. He was starting to get woozy from it.
Then you ducked even closer and pressed your cheek against Bucky’s temple and he couldn’t help it, he gasped. He could feel your lips moving against his skin but he couldn’t hear anything you were saying, a low buzzing filling his ears while his fingers dug into your firm chest and he rolled his hips against yours. This was dangerous, he was not going to have sex with you without even a proper date, he wasn’t that easy.
He kept repeating it in his head over and over. When you slipped your arms around his waist and squeezed as you kept guiding his movements. When he buried his face in your neck and groaned when he finally got to breathe in your scent fully. When you nipped at the shell of his ear and made some kind of noise that sent a vibration through Bucky’s whole body. And especially when you grabbed his ass and gave such a dirty grind of your hips that made him feel how fucking hard and massive you really were.
It didn’t matter how much he repeated it though, it only took three songs before Bucky found himself with his back against a stall door in the bathroom with his pants around just one of his ankles and his toes barely brushing the floor while he practically sat on your face.
One of his knees was flung over your shoulder while you licked at his hole, his whole body shivering when you hummed against his skin and dug your fingers into his thighs and he didn’t even care that he was getting eaten out in a public bathroom and enjoying it quite loudly.
“God, I knew you’d be fucking sweet.” You growled but barely pulled back, gripping the thigh that was on your shoulder and pushing it up until it was pressed to Bucky’s side so you could see his face. “You taste so goddamn good, James, once I get you in bed I’m gonna make a full meal out of this ass, shit.”
“Oh… Jesus Christ.” Bucky could barely breathe when your mouth was on his hole again, he could feel your jaw working while you moved your lips and tongue like you were making out with him, all while you kept your intense eye contact and let his cock rest on your face like you didn’t even care. “Oh my fucking god.”
Bucky could feel your chuckle when a whine escaped from his throat without his permission, his eyes rolling when your tongue fluttered all around his twitching skin before you were dragging it over his hole again and sucking until Bucky almost squealed. But then your tongue punched into him and the squeal was ripped out of his chest, his breath heaving almost painfully while you fucked him with the thick muscle until his dick started leaking and twitching against your forehead. It was insane that you were so good at this, you were so young, but your mouth worked like you were a fucking pornstar and it had Bucky feeling some kind of way.
“You’re gonna let me fuck you, James.” It didn’t sound like a question, you were telling him, your face serious while you licked your way up his taint until you could nip at his balls while you slid a finger inside him. “I need it, need to feel you come on my cock, god, you’d better fucking hold it until I’m inside you or I’m gonna spank you, I swear to fucking god.”
“Yeah… yeah, oh my god, please.” Bucky felt like he was losing his mind when you sucked on his balls and pushed a second finger inside him, his legs shaking and his eyes rolling back in his head while he grabbed your hair and held on for dear life. “Oh shit… fuck me, I can hold it, I’ll be good, just fuck me.”
You leaned your cheek against his hip and kept grinning at him while you reached your free hand into your wallet to grab a packet of lube, chuckling when Bucky huffed at you when you ripped it open with your teeth and squirted it all over the fingers you were plunging into his ass.
“You brought lube with you?” Bucky was trying to remain huffy but it was difficult when you were scissoring his hole open so slowly and shit, it felt amazing. “What exactly did you think was going to happen tonight?”
“God, I dunno, James.” You looked meaningfully at the fingers that were currently knuckle deep inside him, wiggling them a little when you looked back up at him with a cocked eyebrow and snorting when he whined. “Would you prefer I didn’t have lube right now? Because I can stop…”
“No, don’t do that.” So much for not trying to seem desperate, Bucky was panting he needed you so bad. “I’m just… talking, I’ll shut up. I can be good.”
“Yeah? You’re gonna be a good boy for me James?” What were you doing to him? Bucky couldn’t help but whimper when you spat on your fingers to slick them up even more and added a third, nodding and rolling his hips into your hand when you just barely teased his sweet spot as you kissed the inside of his thigh. “Yeah you will, my good boy, opening right up for me.”
“Mmhm, yours, oh holy shit.” The addition of your fourth finger turned Bucky’s whole body into jelly, your hold on his thigh the only thing keeping him from crumpling to the floor when you licked a wide, flat stripe up the underside of his cock. “Holy fucking shit, pleasepleaseplease…”
“Shhh, don’t you worry, James, I’ve got you.” You groaned when he let go of your hair to shove his fist in his mouth when he gave you a tortured cry, slowly pulling your fingers out of him and setting his feet on the floor so you could stand. “Turn around for me, sweet thing.”
“Yes… yes sir.” Bucky let his eyes flutter closed when you kissed his temple and turned him around, pressing his cheek against the cool metal and arching his back when you placed one hand on his hip and used the other to pull out a condom. “I need it.”
“I know, handsome.” Your voice was muffled while you used your teeth to rip the wrapper open, nuzzling into the tendrils of hair that were resting against the back of Bucky’s neck so you could kiss him there while you rolled the condom over your length and emptied another packet of lube all over your dick. “You gonna call me sir while I fuck this sweet little ass?”
“Ye-yes… oh fuck!” Bucky practically screamed when your tip just barely slipped inside him, arching his back and whining when you wrapped your arm across his throat and growled in his ear. “Fuck… ‘s big, so big, fuck me.”
“You can take it, big guy, keep being good for me.” You grinned against Bucky’s cheek when he rose on his toes as you kept going, smacking his ass and chuckling when it made him clench as you increased the pressure on his neck. “You feel fucking incredible, Jesus. Been thinking about getting you like this since the first time I saw you, you know that? Did you think about me too, James?”
“N-no.” Bucky already felt extremely vulnerable while he was split open on only half of your cock, he didn’t need to admit to you that he had been dreaming about wrapping his legs around your tiny little waist while you fucked him slow and deep. “I didn’t.”
“Pretty sure you’re a liar.” You grinned and yanked his head back at the same time you gave a final snap of your pelvis and Bucky sobbed, his body shaking violently while you rested your hips against the plush curve of his ass and dragged your tongue along his jaw while you let him adjust. “That’s okay though, big guy, you can think about this. Now, I’m gonna apologize, because this is gonna be a lot faster than I would like, but we are in public.”
Bucky didn’t have any response except a yelp when you started driving your cock into him almost viciously, his breath punched out of his lungs each time your hips bounced off his ass while you sucked on his ear. He felt like he was about to explode, your cock driving into his swollen prostate each time you bottomed out until his balls started pulling tight to his body and his cock twitched. You must have felt the change since you dropped the hand that wasn’t attached to the thick arm that was currently choking him to grab his cock and start stroking him in time with your thrusts.
“Fuckfuckfuck…” Bucky felt like such a whore but he didn’t care, turning his head as much as possible so he could rub his nose against your cheek while he whined. “I’m so close, don’t stop.”
“I’ll give you whatever you want, James.” You groaned when his hole clenched around you, squeezing his cock and his throat at the same time and kissing the corner of his lips tenderly while you gazed into his eyes. “Gonna take care of you. Can’t wait to be able to take my time, enjoy you, god, could spend a whole fucking night in this ass, you’re so goddamn warm and tight. But I need you to come for me right now, James, make a mess on my hand, lemme make you feel good, c’mon.”
The thought of you in his bed and fucking him raw and open had Bucky tumbling over the edge of his climax with a shout, his desperate noises muffled by your lips when you smashed them to his as he quaked in your arms and shot his cum all over your fingers. He sobbed when you didn’t stop stroking him even once he was milked dry, his eyes rolling back when you throbbed inside him and almost lamenting the fact that you were filling the condom instead of pumping your cum deep in his guts and determined to get to the point when he would finally get to feel all of you. As soon as you were done you were bringing your cum soaked fingers to your mouth, keeping eye contact with Bucky as you sucked his cum off them slowly and groaning at his taste then pressing your lips to his again so you could share with him.
“Jesus fuck.” Bucky couldn’t think of anything else to say, smiling almost sheepishly at you after you had pulled out of him and tossed the condom, letting you turn him around and nuzzle at his cheek before you were bending to help him step back into his jeans.
“My sentiments exactly.” You gave him another one of those winks and he wasn’t even mad when he blushed violently. “You gonna be as big of an ass about me taking you on a real date?”
“I wasn’t an ass.” Bucky huffed when you stood back up and wrapped your arms around him, nipping at your bottom lip and grinning when you growled playfully at him. “I was wary.”
“Sure.” You kissed him slow and deep and smiled against his lips when he melted into you before pulling back so he could breathe. “Pretty sure the girls and Sergeant Wilson would agree with my assessment, but we can use your word.”
“Oh shit, they’re still out there.” Bucky screwed his eyes shut and moaned at the thought of the commentary he was going to have to endure, shaking his head when you chuckled and opened the stall door to start pulling him back to the bar. “Can’t we just climb out the window or something?”
“Yeah, I don’t think either of us could fit through that window, James.” You nodded at the tiny one by one glass square and kissed his temple when he sighed defeatedly, holding his hand and letting him follow you when you opened the door. “Besides, if you think I’m not going to enjoy showing you affection in public, I’ve got some bad news.”
Bucky’s retort was cut off by an absurd amount of hollering when you opened the door, his face getting unbearably red and the desire to either tell all of your friends to shut the fuck up or just book it out of the bar overwhelming. But then your arm was around his shoulders and your lips were pressed against his temple, and maybe he could put up with his friends being smug rowdy assholes for the rest of the night if you kept smiling at him like that.
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