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animasola86 · 5 months ago

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LOST & FOUND 🫂 CH2

You find yourself at the lowest point of your life, with no way out, stuck in your own darkness, but then a woman approaches you with an offer that may change your life…

soft!Daddy!dom x Mommy!domme x little girl!reader

WARNINGS: F!Reader insert. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Depression, anxiety, mental health issues. Mommy/Daddy issues. Pet names. Mommy/Daddy kink. Dd/Md/lg dynamics. Age gap. Dom/sub undertones. Fluff. (More notes under the cut!)

WORDS: 6.8k 🔷️ READ ON AO3 🔷️ 1–2–3–4–5–6 7–8–9–10–11–12

A/N: This is the angsty-backstory/how-they-met episode. No smut here, just a bit of plot and a lot of angst. The real smut will commence in chapter 3. (This also marks the first part of the past-timeline which will continue in chapter 4 and onward.) If you don't care to read 6.8k words of backstory, there's a TL;DR at the end of the post! (For more information on Reader, check out the A/N in chapter 1.)

Chapter 1 🔷️ Chapter 2 🔷️ Chapter 3

Several months earlier

Sometimes it takes one single stone to bring the entire avalanche down on somebody. Or however that saying goes. You couldn't care less when it eventually happened to you. It started when you stopped going to college. You just couldn't anymore, physically and mentally. It was a chore to leave your room, an entire obstacle course to even think about going to your classes, meeting other people, doing anything anymore. And you still have no idea how it all came to be. It just happened.

You stopped going, but life went on, and in the end you had to drop out, missed too many classes, couldn't get back on track in time, lost contact to anyone you'd considered a friend before. And when it was official, you lost your room in the dorm. Because it was student living, and you were no longer a student. So you gathered the few things you owned (which wasn't much) and left the place. It was all a daze back then, a blind stumble through your darkness, an aimless wandering, your mind either too empty or too full to realize that you were now homeless.

And not even that. Prior to being kicked off campus, you were let go from your job in the coffee shop because you had excused yourself too many times. You tried to return to it, because the people were nice, but even they couldn't take you back because now you didn't have a home address anymore, and somehow that was important? How were you supposed to afford rent when you couldn't even get a job because you didn't have a place to stay yet? Life wasn't fair, and it accumulated quickly.

That first day, you stumbled through the streets, headless, still not quite understanding what was happening. You were numb, unable to process what your life had turned into.

You slept on a bench in the park that night, luckily it was late spring, already quite warm, the only good thing about your whole situation, but even now you realize that you were really lucky that night because who knows what could have happened. A young woman, alone in the dark, helpless. It's scary just how lucky you had been.

You made it back to the coffee shop, hoping they had changed their mind. They hadn't, but they allowed you to spend the day sitting inside, trying to get your bearings, thinking what you should do. The problem was, you didn't have any options. You had a little bit of money saved up, but it was not enough to pay the first-time payment for a new apartment, and you'd burn through most of it by just staying even at the cheapest hotel.

Your worst enemy, however, was your pride. Asking former friends to crash on their couch for a bit? Never in a million years. You had ghosted them, ignored them for so long they'd probably hate you now, and you couldn't face them, ashamed and insecure as you were.

On top of that, even before you fell into your black hole, you had made an effort to burn all the bridges of your old life when you moved to the other side of the country, leaving it all behind to start fresh.

The 'safety' of your family and your hometown was too far away now. Plane tickets were horribly expensive (as was train travel or a simple bus ride), you also didn't own a car, and asking them to send you money would never ever be an option either. Not just because of your pride (though admitting defeat and returning with your tail between your legs was also high on your no-chance-in-hell-list), but because you knew they wouldn't come to your rescue anyway. Somehow you knew they didn't care about you anymore.

Especially your mother had not been happy when you were accepted into a college all the way on the other side of the country, but for you, it was like a dream come true. A new beginning. All on your own. Finally. The first years truly were like paradise. But then, as if someone had flipped a switch, completely out of the blue, it all came down, and buried you alive. And as days turned into weeks turned into months, where you couldn't even leave your dorm room anymore, you kept seeing your mother's face in front of you, condescending as ever, hissing 'I knew it...' into your ear.

You felt like the biggest failure, letting everyone down, especially yourself. And you told yourself you didn't deserve help, maybe you deserved to rot at the bottom of this deep dark pit. Dropping out of college, losing your room, spending your time on the streets, was only the tip of the iceberg of a months long depression you saw no way out of.

You were stuck, too scared and stubborn and self-loathing to ask for help, unable to move back or forward. And when the coffee shop closed for the night that second day, you found yourself huddled in a nearby doorway, unable to even go back to the park or find somewhere else to stay. They told you about a homeless shelter, but you couldn't face any people right now. It felt impossible.

But it didn't stop other people from approaching you. Again, you were more than lucky, you could have met who knew who, you were aware that there were bad people out there, but instead it was a woman. A beautiful woman in a business suit who looked as if she'd stepped right out of one of those fancy fashion magazines. You stared at her in awe and confusion when she crouched down in front of you.

“You shouldn't be here,” she said, her voice so smooth and velvety and gentle, a subtle accent shining through her words.

What she said made you frown though, and you started to move, knowing you shouldn't loiter here like this, but her hand shot out and found your shoulder, holding you in place. You froze, blinking at her.

“Not the safest place for a young woman like yourself. Do you need help?”

There it was, the dreaded question. You wanted to say yes, scream it at the top of your aching lungs, please, yes, help me, but you couldn't. You didn't want to be a burden, you wanted to rot away in your little hole and that was it. It was a strain to ask for anything, had always been, you liked being independent, but that ship had sailed a long time ago.

So all you replied with was a pathetic sniffle that you hid by wiping at your face. It was numb by this time, too many tears, countless panic attacks, it had been all too much. And again the woman grabbed your wrist, pulled your hand away, watched you with genuine concern on her pretty face. You only sobbed more under her attention.

“Shh, it's alright. It's going to be okay,” she tried to soothe you, the back of her finger wiping at your wet cheek. You startled away, gasping, hitting your head on the wall behind you, which caused you to cry even harder. “Oh, sweet girl, it's alright,” she repeated, and then she pulled you into a hug, right against her impressive bust, and it was warm and soft and the touch so confusing and overwhelming that you just went limp in her embrace, sniffling pathetically.

You still don't know why she treated you like that, you were a stranger, a girl living on the streets for all she knew, and yet she looked right through you and saw how lost you were. You can't really remember what happened next, but she seemed to have convinced you to come with her, and she brought you to a diner that was still open, where she ordered food and drinks for you, and you sat there, stunned and still overwhelmed, and let it happen, mesmerized by this strange woman.

And you ate and talked, pushed by her attentive eyes and concerned questions, told this stranger everything, cried some more, had another panic attack, and as you thought she would leave then, too troubled or unimpressed by your story, she asked you something else. Something that would change your life forever.

“Do you know what a submissive is, sweetheart?” The question came so natural. She was sipping on her coffee, watching you over the rim of the cup, a little sparkle in her beautiful eyes.

You frowned and shook your head. You knew the word as an adjective, of course, but you weren't sure what she was insinuating by phrasing it like that.

She smiled softly and explained it to you, patiently and as if she was talking about the weather, and you felt your cheeks burning up, your attention focused on her and the picture she was painting. Your head was swirling with words like dominance and caregiver, deference and submission, guidance and devotion, and phrases like giving up control and letting someone else take over. She never actually said it, but there was a deeply sexual undertone to it all, which confused you as much as it overwhelmed you.

She finished with: “So my partner and I are looking for a girl like this, someone willing to let go for us, someone we can take care of, hold and pamper, you know? We've been looking for a while, but never found the right one.”

You stared at her as she leaned her elbow on the table and her chin into her palm, her eyes wandering over your flushed face. “You would live with us, you'd have a home. You'd be given tasks and chores, because, yes, nothing is for free in this world, but you'd be taken care of, you wouldn't have to worry about anything anymore.”

She inhaled deeply, leaning back in her seat. You watched her, your mind reeling, her words echoing in your head. You were more than intrigued, but it all sounded too good to be true. How was it possible that at your lowest point, when everything seemed hopeless, you'd meet a woman who'd tell you about a way out? And all you had to do was follow their orders, do what they told you to do, let them take control? Honestly, in your current state, at this point, you'd do anything to get out of your own head.

But the longer you stared at her and the longer the silence dragged on between you, the more you deflated, already knowing she'd be disappointed in you too, sooner or later. You chewed on your bottom lip, lowering your eyes, distancing yourself from this possibility even before it could come to fruition. Can't be disappointed if you don't have any expectations, right?

She moved, extending a hand to touch your arm, her long slim fingers hooking under it, slowly dragging downwards until she could get a hold of your hand. You looked up in confusion, tears burning in your eyes. She squeezed your hand gently.

“Will you be our submissive, sweetheart?” she asked quietly, her eyes boring into yours. “Will you give it a chance? There are no strings attached, you come with me tonight, I'll show you the house, you meet my partner, and then you can decide what to do, okay? I know I'm just a stranger now, and telling you to trust me certainly sounds weird, right? But I mean it, you can trust me. I really want to help you.”

You parted your lips, wanting to reply, but only a sob came out. You didn't deserve this. And this stranger was too nice, too generous, offering you all this? Where was the catch? Were you being pranked? Was she a serial killer looking for her next victim? Maybe she just saw another charity case in you, someone to help for publicity or something? All those thoughts flooded your mind as you watched her, but the longer she patiently held your hand, smiling softly at you, the calmer you became.

She didn't look foul or like she had an ulterior motive. She seemed sincere. You swallowed hard, licking your dry lips. In the end you came to the conclusion: it's either this or the park again, and even if she wanted to kill you or do whatever else with you, it beat being alone and miserable. And if you were meant to die that night, then it would happen anyway. Besides: you didn't have anything left to lose.

So from the lowest point of your life, without seeing a way out on your own, you looked at the woman and nodded, biting your lower lip, blinking away your last tears. “Yes,” you quaked out, squeezing her hand back.

Her smile grew wider, and it reached all the way to her eyes, little creases breaking through her perfect make-up. She seems real enough, you thought. Genuine. She really wanted to help you.

And so she took you with her, and as you sat next to her in the back of her car (which was driven by a man in a black uniform and a hat), you realized you might have struck gold with this woman. Your tears dried on your cheeks as you watched in awe how you drove through the better part of town until you reached a large house, almost a mansion, fenced-in and with a fancy gate, something you'd never seen up close before.

She guided you inside, you in your dirty clothes with your bulging backpack that held all your belongings, while her expensive shoes clicked along the hardwood floors, and at first you felt completely out of place. You didn't belong here and these people would notice this soon enough. Whatever they expected of you, you'd never be able to meet those expectations. They were rich, privileged, and you... were nothing.

She seemed to feel your growing worries and grabbed your hand, silently taking you upstairs to a room somewhere in the middle of a long hallway. You were too overwhelmed to even notice the interior of the place, but when she opened the door and gently motioned you through it, your haze lifted slightly. You were in a bedroom, a simple bedroom with a big bed and two nightstands, a large closet, a desk and a bookshelf, and a door presumably leading into a bathroom. It was somewhat posh, but it was also simple, and it was...

“Yours,” the woman said, her hands on your shoulders. “If you say yes.”

Still biting your lip, you turned your head to look at her. She tilted hers, one of her hands gently cupping your face before her thumb pressed on your bottom lip.

“No need to be nervous, sweetheart,” she told you. “How about you take a nice long shower, get freshened up. Maybe you'll find something to wear in the closet, have a look. And when you're done, and when you're willing, come down and we'll have another talk, yes? Don't feel pressured. If you change your mind, you can still stay the night, no problem. But I'd really like you to consider my offer. You may not see it right now,” she adds, stepping around you to fully cup your face, leaning down a little to look into your eyes, “but we have been looking for someone like you for so long. You are the right one, sweet girl. Give it a chance, okay?”

You swallowed, nodding into her hands. Then she leaned in and actually pressed her lips to your forehead, and the gesture seemed to already settle your raging thoughts. She was so gentle, so nice, it almost broke your heart. Leaning back, she watched you, a smirk on her full lips, and without hesitation she leaned in again, and this time she touched her mouth to yours.

Your eyes went wide, the touch short but intense, a moment frozen in time. And while your mind was silenced, your body became alive with a strange throbbing, an urging need, a feeling you hadn't felt in ages. You'd been numb for so long, this felt like a wake-up-kiss. When she retreated and straightened up, you gave her a shy smile that caused her to issue a short little laugh.

“Take your time, honey, I'll be waiting downstairs,” she told you, caressing your cheek before she walked past you and out of the room.

And you were floating, barely able to think as you walked into the bathroom, stripped out of your clothes and enjoyed a hot shower you had needed for so long, or so it felt. It all fell off you as the water cascaded down your body. A new chance. A new life. In a house like this? Everything had looked so bleak before, tainted by doubts, but now the colors were coming back, one hue at a time.

When you were done, you dried off with the softest towels you'd ever experienced, and with one of them wrapped around your torso, you walked back into the room and towards the closet. It was wide and sleek with sliding doors, and opening it showed you a variety of clothes, but your eyes quickly wandered to the dresses hanging on velvety hangers. All colors one could think of, all shapes and sizes, and in the end you chose one that matched your eyes. Somehow it fit you perfectly also. It was elegant and cute at the same time.

You felt like a new person. Watching yourself in the mirror that stood in the corner, you felt mixed emotions though. It had been a while since you'd taken a long look at yourself. The dress went barely over your knees, and looking down, you realized you hadn't shaved your legs in a long time it seemed. Shame flushed your body, drowning out the excitement for a moment. Self-care hadn't been on the agenda while you were wasting your life away...

Sighing loudly, you shook that thought out of your head. No matter now. You had to look ahead! So you grabbed some complementary tights from the closet (and a nice looking pair of panties alongside it, colors you'd never buy for yourself), and easily covered the flaws of your neglected body. You also found a little matching cardigan to hide your arms. And slowly, you felt better. Like a person again, not entirely like yourself, but it was a start.

In a strange way, this was giving you serious princess-makeover-vibes. A few hours ago you were sitting in the dirt, in the dark, lonely and forgotten by the world, spat out to deal with the broken pieces of your life, and now... you were standing in this nice looking bedroom, surrounded by wealth and warmth. You did pinch yourself a lot that night, but you always came to the conclusion that you were not dreaming.

But when you walked up to the door, about to leave the safe space of this room, your heart sank. Doubts came rushing back, and you wondered how this could be real. A woman you'd never met before came up to you and asked you to be her and her partner's submissive, basically their little pet, if you understood her correctly, you'd get a home, and they would... well, do whatever they wanted with you? (Whatever that meant. You were not so sure.) All you had to do was listen to them, do as they said, give up control?

It all sounded rather strange. But what were your options? Go back to live on the streets? Wallow in your failure at life? (Take the walk of shame back to the life you had tried so hard to forget about?) You inhaled deeply, squared your shoulders, flattened the skirt of your dress, attempted to bring order into the mess that was your towel-dried hair, and then, you went to meet them. You could only go forward anyway.

You heard voices from downstairs when you approached the large staircase. Your heart beat faster the closer you got to the room they were in. Your tights-clad feet tapped over the expensive looking hardwood floors, and it would have been a good idea to distract yourself by looking around and taking in the splendor surrounding you, but you couldn't look, couldn't focus, your mind fixated on meeting these people who wanted to give you a new life, without really knowing you.

Why did they trust you so much? What did the woman see in you that made it clear to her that you were the right one (whatever that meant)? You couldn't see it. But it wasn't up to you, apparently.

Taking a deep breath, you extended a shaking hand to grab the door handle, then paused, breathing harder, before you decided to knock. It was a frail attempt, barely audible over the voices still coming from behind the door. So you knocked again, your heart nearly exploding in your chest. And suddenly: silence.

“Come in!” sounded a female voice, before you heard footsteps coming closer.

You pulled the door open and stepped into what looked like a giant living room. Your eyes moved quickly over the interior. Couches, plural, facing each other, a large fireplace (with a TV above it) on one wall, bookshelves on the other. Big potted plants in the corners, a lot of black and white and wood colors. And in the middle of it, next to a little cart laden with alcohol bottles and glasses, stood a man.

For a moment all you saw was him. Tall, dark, handsome, came to mind. His eyes were on you, so intense you couldn't move another step. There was an air of authority around him, enhanced by the black suit he was wearing, by the way he stood, tall and intimidating, wide shoulders, long limbs, muscular but not too bulky, his angular jaw covered in a trimmed beard, short dark hair thick but kept in order. He watched you with a hard expression, and you had never felt smaller in your life.

The woman approached you then, and by touching your arm, broke the spell the man had on you. You blinked and looked at her, and she was just as stunning. Perfect skin, heavy eyes and full lips, a mane of dark hair cascading down her back. She had changed and was now wearing a tight black dress and high heels, and her legs were long, so long and toned and slender. Together they looked as if they'd just come from some kind of gala.

And here you were, in your borrowed dress, towel-dry-hair in messy waves all around your flushed face, hiding your shame under layers of too colorful clothes. You swallowed thickly, blinking again as you lowered your gaze.

“Here you are,” the woman addressed you, gently taking your hand and pulling you into motion. “I'm so glad you came down. Had a nice shower?” Her voice was soft and friendly, and you shot her a nervous smile and a nod. She pulled you to one of the couches and firmly nudged you to sit down. You did, still fighting the overwhelming emotions.

“Would you like a drink?” the man asked, and you looked up like a deer in headlights, staring at him, his voice a low grinding sound in the atmosphere, a timbre that made your core shake.

“I... I don't drink,” you stammered, your eyes flickering over his handsome face. “Thank you, though.”

A shadow crossed his features, but he nodded. “A water, then?”

You licked your suddenly dry lips, your pulse thrumming in your ears. “Yes, please,” you whispered and looked down at your hands. They were shaking badly, so you grabbed the hem of your dress and kneaded it roughly.

You heard the clinking of ice cubes, before heavy footsteps approached you. Looking up slowly, you saw the man holding a tall glass of water towards you. For a moment you just stared at his hands. Beautiful hands, big with long fingers, short nails, veins and tendons snaking under tight skin. You felt your cheeks burning up. To cover the strange excitement crashing through you, you quickly grabbed the glass, giving him a short nod and smile, unable to fully meet his eyes, and when your fingers brushed against his, a garbled gasp escaped you.

“There's no reason to be nervous, darling,” he told you, his hands closing around yours to stabilize the shaking glass. You stiffened nonetheless, your eyes widening.

You took a deep breath and somehow found the courage to look up again. “Y-yes, sir, s-sorry, and, uh, th-thank you,” you fell into an awkward stutter, meeting his dark eyes. A subtle twitch went through his face at your words, a soft smile growing on his lips. He let go of your hands and walked away with a nod, settling in an armchair close-by, still watching you like a hawk.

The woman then sat down beside you, throwing one arm around your shoulders as you tried to take a sip of the cold water. You almost spluttered when you felt her fingers tracing down your arm. “So,” she said with a sigh. “How about we get to know each other a little, hm?”

You saw her exchanging a glance with the man, who leaned back in his chair, large hands splayed out on the armrests as he crossed his legs. “What's your name, girl?” he asked.

You told him. The woman then introduced herself and her partner. They were not married, she told you, but worked together. He was in his late thirties, she was in her early thirties, they'd met through work and continued to cross paths until they moved in together, pursuing the same goals. A strange relationship, you thought (but you'd learn more about that very soon). She did most of the talking, giving you snippets of their lives, while the man watched you and nodded occasionally or added some details. But whatever they told you, mainly what they did for a living, didn't really register in your reeling mind (you couldn't even remember their names at this point).

You were too focused on just sitting there, holding your glass of water, trying to make a good impression by listening intently (or pretending to do so), being polite, hoping they wouldn't change their minds about you. When they were done telling you about themselves, the man uncrossed his legs and leaned his elbows on his thighs, clasping his hands as he looked at you. And then he asked the dreaded question:

“Tell me about yourself, darling.”

Your throat tightened immediately. Over the last months, you'd lost yourself, buried in doubts and dark thoughts, and thinking about the person you once were hurt in a strange, crippling way. You still tried to answer him, told him where you came from, how happy you were to have been accepted to this town's college, to finally leave your hometown, how fun it had been... at the beginning.

But when it came to retelling the events (or the lack thereof) that had led to your downfall, you choked up, quickly hiding the croak in your voice by taking a big sip of water. You felt the woman's hand on your arm, giving it a gentle caress, but it only made it worse.

Tears spilled from your lashes when you tried to tell him what a failure you were. A loud exhale (akin to a sigh but less condescending) escaped him, and when the woman took the glass from you, you looked around in confusion, blinking against the tears burning in your eyes.

“Come here, girl,” sounded his voice through the large room, the dominant tone causing you to stiffen.

But you stood immediately, shuffling towards him, your hands clenched into fists, your head bowed. His long fingers brushed down your arms until he gently grabbed your waist and pulled you between his legs. You ended up sitting on his thigh, a pathetic sniffle escaping you as he held you, tilting his head to look at you.

The hand that wasn't curled around your hip moved up to your face, fingertips brushing over your wet cheeks. “Don't cry, it's okay,” he said soothingly. You inhaled deeply, trying to settle against him, but you were too nervous to relax, sitting stiff on his leg, like a fucking child on Santa's lap or something. It was weird and you felt horrible, small and insignificant, ugly and pathetic in the presence of such a handsome and successful man.

His hand cupped your face, his thumb pushing against your chin to turn your head slightly. You met his eyes, even though your vision was blurry. You blinked, unable to hold his gaze for long, overcome by a sudden wave of embarrassment.

“Look at me,” he ordered, his voice soft but the air of authority never left him. You jerked your chin up and swallowed, looking at him, your cheeks burning up even more. A smile grazed his hard face. “Good girl.”

His praise left a warm feeling in your stomach, and the longer you spent in the captivity of his dark eyes, the calmer you felt. His smile widened as he rubbed his thumb over the corner of your mouth. The motion gave you the courage to smile back, stiff and awkward, but it was still a smile.

“Tell me about your parents,” he then asked quietly, his hand leaving your face to settle on your thigh, holding you in a loose embrace on his leg. “Why can't they help you?”

You took a shuddering breath and told him that you didn't exactly part on good terms, that they hadn't wanted you to leave your hometown. You hadn't been in contact with them for months, probably years, there was usually just the occasional holiday or birthday call, sometimes not even that. You didn't have the money to make the trek across the country to meet them, and neither did they. You didn't grow up poor, but it hadn't been easy either. You were one of many children, your mother remarrying seemingly every five years, and you never had a connection to your father or any of the men she pulled into your home.

The words just tumbled out of your mouth at this point, and you had no idea how that was even possible. This man was a stranger, and yet he managed to loosen your tongue by simply holding you on his lap, listening intently, watching you closely, giving you attention you'd never had before in your life. It felt cleansing, and when you were done, your chest moved easier, the tension in your body melting slowly. His hand rubbed over your back, the other tightening around your waist as he pulled you a little bit closer.

“I see,” he said quietly. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

A croaked laugh escaped you. You licked your lips and looked away. “Thank you for listening,” you replied in a breathy whisper, timidly looking back at him. A subtle cough sounded from behind you. You flinched and turned slightly to face the woman sitting on the couch with her arms and legs crossed. “Thank you too, for... for inviting me into your home, for... helping me,” you added, watching her with an apologetic smile. You'd honestly forgotten about her for a moment.

“We haven't done anything yet, honey,” she said, pursing her lips. “But I think we've said enough. I knew you were the right one. What do you think, papito?” she added, looking past you at the man.

His hand was back on your face, turning it towards him once more. His eyes bored into yours as he replied: “Yes, I think you found the one.” Your cheeks flushed with heat. “Are you aware what we're asking of you, sweet girl?”

“To... to be your... submissive,” you answered quietly, still not quite understanding what that meant, but maybe it was enough to just roll with it. Of course it wasn't.

“And what does that mean to you? Why would you want that?”

You bit your lip, frowning slightly. “I... I need... someone to... tell me what to do,” you whispered, lowering your eyes to stare at his lips instead. “I think... it would help me... to have someone who... guides me... because... because I can't –”

Suddenly he grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him. You gasped, your eyes wide. “Stop. You can,” he said, his voice harsh but there was a soft twinkle in his eyes. “You can do anything you put your mind to. You may need a little push into the right direction, but I will not tolerate you talking yourself down like this, okay? You hit a bump in the road, yes, but you will not wallow in it any longer, do you understand me?”

You stared at him, surprised and stunned by his words, by his dominant tone. “Yes, sir,” you breathed out, blinking slowly, your mind pausing the assault of doubts for a moment. “I'm sorry.”

He shook his head, the muscle in his jaw twitching. “No apologies. It's alright. Accept your failure and move on.” You felt tears burning in your eyes, his scrutinizing stare making you feel small all over again. “And no more tears. You have no reason to cry right now. We're offering you something that will change your life. It may not be easy at first, but I know you'll adjust. You're a fighter, I know it. You wouldn't be here if you weren't.”

Despite his demanding tone, you couldn't help it when a single tear slipped past your lashes after all. You quickly raised a hand and wiped at it, taking a shaking breath, ready to apologize again, but he just looked at you, stern but also somewhat gentle, patient. And you looked back, caught in his deep eyes, slowly feeling yourself relaxing again.

“We will give you a home, we will give you anything you want and need to find your footing again,” he continued quietly, his hand moving from your chin to curl around your head. “And you will do whatever we say. This is as much for you as it is for us. As you know, we've been looking for someone like you for a long time. It's not easy finding the right girl... but you're it, darling,” he said with a pointed look, pressing his fingertips into your hair, massaging your scalp in a very calming, almost hypnotizing fashion that made it hard not to purr under. His words only added to the sensation. “You are perfect. We can make this work, I am sure. If you're willing.”

“I am,” you croaked out quickly, leaning into his touch. “I want to. Please.”

“You will do anything we ask of you?”

His voice was low, his gaze still as intense. Behind you, you heard the woman getting up, the quiet click of her heels echoing in your ears as she approached you, putting her hands on your shoulders.

“Yes,” you breathed out, looking at him, before turning your head to look at her. You saw them exchanging a glance.

“Say it again,” she whispered, teasing her pointy nails into your clavicles. “Tell us what you want.”

“I... I want to be your submissive,” you said, shivering slightly, looking from her back to him. “I want you to tell me what to do. I will do anything you say.”

A soft smile cracked through the hard shell of his face, his gaze getting warmer, little creases visible in the corners of his eyes. While you watched him, you felt the woman's hands moving up the back of your neck until she gently tugged at your hair, turning you towards her, her face suddenly very close to yours, her lips brushing against your cheek.

“You'll be our little girl?” she asked in a low whisper, rubbing her nose against your jaw.

“Yes, ma'am,” you replied, breathing a bit harder, your mind reeling.

The man's fingers dug into the fabric of your dress when he leaned closer too, pressing his rough cheek to yours, the scratch of his beard sending deep shudders down your spine.

“Are you absolutely certain?” he asked, his voice a thrumming vibration through your head.

“Yes, sir,” you gasped out, closing your eyes for a moment, your heart thundering in your chest.

They both cradled you closer, her lips on your right cheek, his on your left. “Will you call me Mommy?” the woman breathed against your skin.

“And me Daddy?” the man echoed, rubbing his bearded chin against your jaw.

You could barely breathe, the warmth radiating through your body was overwhelming. But there were no doubts, no matter how strange their request. You felt safe in their embraces, special. A sigh full of relief slipped from your trembling lips.

“Yes,” you replied, leaning into them.

They kissed your cheeks again, their arms tight around you. As strange as it should feel, it didn't. It felt good. Exactly what you had needed. A warm embrace, someone to squeeze all the worries right out of you. You settled against them, feeling lighter than you'd ever felt before.

“Thank you,” you added quietly, your eyes fluttering open. You met his gaze first. “Daddy,” you addressed him, watching how his smile widened, crow's feet deepening, before you turned your head and looked at the woman behind you. “Mommy.” She issued a happy little squeal and hugged you closer, her lips peppering soft kisses to your cheek.

You smiled back, numb in a way that was almost content, your eyes closing again as you simply melted into them. You felt tired, happy but tired, as if you'd finally reached your destination, a place you hadn't expected at all. Where you could let go.

“My good girl,” the woman, Mommy, whispered against the shell of your ear before she dragged the tip of her tongue along it. “Let's get you into bed. It's been a long day for you, hm?”

You shivered deeply, but you didn't protest when she let go of you and you felt two strong arms lifting you up. “Let's give her some space tonight, okay?” the man, Daddy, said, surely addressing his partner. “Get her accustomed.”

She sighed. “Fine. But tomorrow, I'll take you shopping and we'll do your hair and your nails and, oh, we'll do whatever else we find on our way. I'll pamper you stupid, sweet girl,” she laughed, her hand on your face as you were being carried through the large house that was to be your new home.

“Don't overdo it,” his voice sounded in your ear. “She's not your doll. I'd prefer her looking as natural as possible, okay?”

They continued their conversation, a hushed back and forth you couldn't pay too much attention to anymore, as you felt yourself floating through space, snuggling into a warm chest, firm and hard, but soft enough to lose yourself in. Your head was heavy when it hit the soft pillow, the mattress of the bed denting around you as the two adults sat down on its edges.

“Sleep tight, darling,” Daddy whispered and leaned over you to press his lips to the corner of your mouth. You sighed, your hand twitching, wanting to grab him, hold onto him, but he was gone before you could reach him.

“Good night, Daddy,” you mumbled, feeling yourself slipping into the sweet void of sleep.

On your other side, a set of hands found your face, and you felt Mommy's lips on yours again, a soft press, a short lick, a deep sigh. “Good night, sweetheart,” she said against your mouth, her hot breath fanning over your face.

“Night, Mommy,” you muttered, barely able to get the words out.

“We'll see you tomorrow.” The low voice echoed in your empty head, and you fell asleep with a smile on your face, as you sank into the soft bed, cuddling into the covers someone pulled over you.

You felt like a little girl again (ignoring the fact that you were 23* and supposedly your own person), tugged in by your 'parents', and even though you barely knew these people, you felt safe with them, accepted and taken care of. Somehow through the fog in your head you knew that your life would take a turn now, into different times, better times, because now you had two guiding lights with you, following you into the darkness that had consumed your life, eager to pull you back out.

And you were here for it, willing to do anything they asked in return. Willing to endure anything if only it would distract you from the nagging voices in your head. And endure you did...

Chapter 1 🔷️ Chapter 2 🔷️ Chapter 3

End notes: *By the way, I just chose a random number. If you want Reader to be younger or older, please imagine her like that.

Also note that this is NOT a realistic representation of a BDSM relationship, I'm not a How-to-guide, I'm a writer juggling ideas around! This is fiction, remember?

Find below the TL;DR version of this chapter:

TL;DR: Reader drops out of college, is homeless and jobless, depressed and anxious, alone on the other side of the country with no friends and family, when a woman approaches her and takes her to a diner, asking her if she would like to be “her submissive”. Reader agrees, not really knowing what to expect, and the woman takes her to her home where she meets her partner. They ask again and she agrees, becoming their little girl, calling them Mommy and Daddy.

While you're here, I have a little side note to the tags I'm using: as a writer of original fiction, it is very hard to find any readers if I wouldn't poke my head into various fandoms, so I apologize if it irks you to see this kind of fiction under your favorite tags. But then maybe it's enough to pique your interest and you are already giving this a chance? Thank you if you do, maybe you can project your favorite blorbo(s) onto the characters present in this story.

Thank you for reading! New chapter every Saturday!

Up next: We go back to where Chapter 1 has ended and see how Mommy reacts to Daddy's plan.

MASTERLIST 🔷️ AO3 🔷️ ORIGINAL WORKS

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slaytheusurper · 5 months ago

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⭑ When in Rome ⭑ (Domina Mea, Chapter One)

Masterlist

Chapter Warnings: Death (gladiator fight)

Summary: After years you returned to Rome to visit your father, General Marcus Acacius, to celebrate his recent victory. However, when the Emperors Caracalla and Geta get you in their sights, they will not let you go so easily.

Word count: 3.3k

Your fathers victory stretched far and wide, as did the people's love for him. This provided you with an opportunity, a chance to leave one of your fathers estate’s and visit him in Rome after all these years. You were fairly young when your mother died of the horrible antonine plague. It had struck many and even your noble family was not safe.

It took years for your father to overcome his grief, little by little he started to show pieces of his old self again. And it was Lucilla ‘the mother of Rome’ who fully healed him, you hadn’t spent that much time with her but you knew she was a good woman. You were happy for your father even though after your mothers death he had sent you away for your own safety.

The Aurelian Estate was grand and well protected, it was lonely too. Your mothers death left a gaping hole in your heart, and with your father being the general, he was needed elsewhere. The estate had made you grow bored and even though Rome was still unsafe with the twin emperors in power, you longed to see your father.

Knowing well he would refuse your visit, you lied to the household guard. You informed them how you were to visit your father and attend the games with him at the colosseum, all to celebrate his victory in Numidia. They were hesitant as they had not received orders from the general himself, but agreed after your promises.

The road to Rome was long but durable, the stench of the city came closer and it made your face contort in disgust. Beggars were divided on each side of the road you were travelling and it made you uneasy. Your father had told you many times why Rome was grand but fragile as well, it was ridden with disease and plots, as well as two emperors who were as unpredictable as they were mad.

Still, it intrigued you, the last time you were in Rome, you were young and you barely remembered it. The walls of the Aurelian Estate being carved into your mind deeper, while Rome eroded. One of your servants handed you a cloth on which she had poured some lavender oil, she gestured to hold it to your nose.

You thanked her and glanced out of the carriage again to notice the Capitoline wolf upon the gate of Rome. Your fathers voice echoed through your mind upon recalling the legend that was behind the statue. Soon after passing it, Praetorian guards halted the carriage, demanding to know who you were.

When your name left the lips of Edas, your personal guard, the Praetorian muttered an apology and barked around to make way for the carriage. You had almost forgotten how respected your father was and kept in mind how useful it could be, being his daughter.

You had, however, not thought about what your father would say or do upon your sudden arrival. It was safe to say he was not pleased that you lied to the household guard and travelled all the way to the most dangerous city without his knowledge. Lucilla however was a bit more enthusiastic, giving you a warm welcome.

Standing in the inner courtyard of their estate in Rome was like a dream, even though you were born there, it didn’t seem real to you. To be back after all these years. Lucilla guided you to a table where fruit and wine was spread out, while your father continued lecturing you.

“You know how many times I have warned you of this place, it is not safe! Especially not now these mad-” Marcus stopped himself when he noticed one of the servants being a little too interested in what he was about to say next.

“You should not have come.” He said now calmer. “Father, I have not seen you in three years. How could you blame me for seeking you out? I miss you.” His expression softened at your words, Lucilla gave your hand a squeeze on the table and smiled at you. “She will be safe here, with me. Nobody would dare lay a hand on my daughter.”

It was still a bit weird to hear her say that, but you had gotten more used to it a long time ago. You returned her smile and your father seemed to come to terms with your arrival. “I- I’m just afraid of losing my only child, it’s safer for you outside of Rome, protected by thick estate walls and our own men.”

Lucilla offered him a sympathetic smile, understanding all too well after having lost her own son. “She is here now, safe in our estate. If she stays here, nothing will happen to her.” Marcus gave in and let one of the servants show you to a guest bed chamber. After your servants had unpacked your belongings, you finally got to get some rest.

The next morning you woke up feeling happier than you had in a long time. The dangers of Rome did not seem too much of a concern to you. No, being reunited with your father was what you needed to regain your spirit.

Lucilla made you realise how much you missed your mother but she made sure you had a maternal figure in her, as she showed you the whole of the estate the next day. You shared stories, meals and laughs with her as you regained your energy from your travels, when evening fell, that peace was shattered.

A messenger came, announcing during supper how Marcus was commanded to be present at the games in the colosseum on the morrow, alongside his wife… and child. Your father was furious, abandoning his food to isolate himself with his anger. How did the emperors find out you were in Rome?

You had only been ‘home’ for two days, nobody except for the household guard and your fathers own men knew you were here. In truth you were excited to see the colosseum and witness the well loved gladiator battles. “I do not understand how they know, and why they want you there. Oh sweet child, it is not entertainment for a young lady such as yourself.” Lucilla expressed.

You wondered why it was so bad for you to go, of course you knew of the stories surrounding the two ��mad’ emperors but you were sure that with your fathers station they would not harm you. Your title as step-daughter of a princess and daughter of a loved general made you already liked by the people, you were untouchable, right?

Sleep evaded you that night, you were excited yet afraid. What Lucilla said haunted you, were gladiator battles really that gruesome? And she was right, why did the emperors want you there? Lucilla told you it was probably in retribution of your fathers ‘rude’ request of taking leave to see his family, but how would they know your father didn’t want you there?

You were awake early, only having caught some hours of sleep. And so you had already eaten and bathed before your parents were ready. When Marcus and Lucilla at last emerged to leave, the dreadful ride to the colosseum began. Your father didn’t speak a word the entire way. You knew exactly what he was thinking, that it was your fault, if you hadn’t come, you wouldn't be about to be face to face with the sick men that ruled Rome.

Upon your arrival at the colosseum, your father left the carriage first, helping Lucilla out before he helped you. The ginormous building was riddled with praetorians and onlookers, to your surprise they not only chanted your fathers name but also yours and Lucilla’s. The grand entrance took your breath away, before you were grounded when your father pulled you towards him.

You hadn’t even noticed the man that had walked up to your father and Lucilla. “Daughter, you were asked a question.” Marcus said. The man in front of you looked at you expectantly, he almost looked royal himself, although you did not recognise him at all. “Forgive me, I was distracted by the grandeur of the colosseum, it has been so long since I’ve been in Rome.”

“Do not worry Lady, I do not fault you. I merely wished to know how your travel had been, no complications I hope?” You shook your head. “No, it was fairly smooth. I am sorry, what was your name?” The man smiled at you and took your hand before kissing the back of it. “Macrinus my lady. Again, no need for apologies.”

You felt Lucilla’s hand on your back and you were suddenly grateful for her presence, the man seemed kind but your intuition was telling you otherwise. “Thank you, Macrinus, for your warm welcome.” He gave you yet another smile. “Shall I escort you to your seats? The emperors are already there, I’ve heard they are- eager to meet your daughter General.”

Your fathers lips thinned at Macrinus’ words but before he could snap back the man gestured you to follow him, Lucilla’s hand never left your back, your father keeping a fierce grip around your shoulder. Macrinus led you through the guarded halls and stairs of the colosseum until you noticed the light atop the last staircase.

It was the emperor's box, nerves suddenly overcame you but you felt the reassuring and protecting grip of your father on your shoulder. As you reached the top, Macrinus greeted the emperors before moving out of the way, so you were face to face with them.

Your father greeted them first. “Emperor Geta, Emperor Caracalla.” He said as he bowed, letting go of you for but a short moment before his protective grip returned. However the emperors barely paid attention to him or Lucilla as their eyes burned into yours.

You were speechless for a moment before Lucilla placed her hand on your lower back, recentering you. “Your Majesties.” You spoke while curtsying. Everyone had always spoken of their madness, their ruthlessness, but no one told you of their beauty. You were taken aback by how handsome they were, though they had a mad look in their eye.

Emperor Geta spoke first. “General, you have quite the beauty at your side. Where have you kept her all these years?” You almost winced as your fathers grip tightened. “After Aurelia’s death, I sent her to a safe estate that was built in honor of her mothers memory. Rome was such a dangerous place to be at the time, your Majesty.” Geta hummed in response and Caracalla simply laughed.

“Mm, of course, what a delight that she has come to visit you then. No doubt wanting to join the celebrations, am I right Lady?” Caracalla spoke, both their voices made your heart thump louder in your chest. “Yes Caesar, that is right.” You answered respectfully, lowering your gaze.

“Tell me, have you ever witnessed a gladiator battle before Lady?” Geta then asked. “No your Majesty, I have not.” He smiled at your answer and you were relieved that you seemed to please them so far. No one could tell what they would do if you failed. It was then that a tiny monkey appeared on Caracalla’s shoulder, holding on to his hair.

You smiled brightly at the sight, never had you seen an excotic creature like that before. The only ‘creatures’ at your estate were horses, hounds and birds. Caracalla noticed your sudden change in demeanor. “Have you also never ‘witnessed’ a monkey before Lady?” Your cheeks burned red at his words, they must think you were stupid with how they spoke.

“No, your Majesty.” Caracalla giggled at that and guided the monkey into his arms. Geta’s piercing gaze never left you as Caracalla came closer. It was only then you noticed the weird scratches on his face. “Would you like to meet Dondas?” He giggled. “It would be an honor Caesar.” Your father reluctantly let go of you, as did Lucilla.

You caught Macrinus watching in the corner of your eye. Caracalla then led Dondas into your arms, you couldn’t help the big smile on your lips as the monkey made some adorable noises before holding onto the expensive fabric of your toga. Dondas inspected your necklace for a bit before he climbed around your shoulders and back into the Emperor's arms.

“He likes you!” Caracalla exclaimed excitedly, followed by a fit of giggles you already secretly found adorable. You smiled at him. “Well I like him too your Majesty, you have a very sweet monkey.” He grinned widely and his golden tooth met your eyes, why did it suit him so well?

“Since you have never witnessed a battle such as this before, Lady, why don’t you sit at the front, with us?” Geta spoke, although he rather commanded it then asked. You looked to your side at your father, who tried not to show his fury, Lucilla looked down. It seemed you had no choice, even though that did not bother you as much as it probably should.

“Of course Caesar, how thoughtful of you, thank you.” You answered politely, and relief washed over you once more when he smiled brightly. He commanded servants to move one of the large luxurious chairs to the front, between the thrones of the emperors. Then he gave the signal that the speaker could announce their arrival and that of your father.

“Emperor Caracalla! Emperor Geta! Citizens of Rome!” The speaker's voice echoed through the colosseum as the emperors now stood all the way up front of the box, in clear view of the audience. “These sacred games are in honor of General Acacius’ victory in Numidia!” Loud cheers and applause came from the audience.

“Acacius.” “General.” The twins gestured for your father to join them so the citizens could see him. He raised his hand and loud cheers filled your ears once more. “Speak to them.” You could faintly hear Geta say. Your fathers words faded in your mind as you took in the colosseum.

When he returned to go to his seat, he gave your shoulder a loving squeeze before taking his place. Lucilla was then announced and she too was welcomed with a loud applause and cheers from the crowd. Then both the emperors gestured for you to come forward, as you stood between them, the speaker's loud voice boomed through the colosseum again.

“In attendance today is the beloved daughter of General Acacius himself!” Your brows furrowed as people chanted your name. It confused you, they did not know you. Nor had you conquered lands or won battles like your father. It showed you how much your parentage could mean.

Lucilla had already taken her seat and after you too had raised your hand to the crowd, you took your seat just like the emperors on either side. The speaker then announced the gladiators, the slaves from Numidia, before announcing the gladiator of Geta and Caracalla themselves.

The gladiators had taken their place in the low arena of the colosseum before a giant gate opened. Your mouth parted at the sight, an animal you had never seen before with the gladiator standing on his back entered the arena. You didn’t even notice both the emperors grinning at your reaction. Neither did you notice the sharp gaze of your father.

You leaned forward a bit and watched as the big animal came closer. It then stopped before the gladiator greeted the emperors. “Heil Caesars!” He roared, his low voice sent a shiver down your spine, he looked terrifying and you couldn’t help but feel bad for the ‘slaves’ from Numidia.

Geta and Caracalla raised their hands in response before their gladiator made his first charge, the arena beneath you seemed to shake with the animal's heavy strides. The gladiators jumped out of the way at the last moment, except for one, who was launched into a nearby pillar and died upon impact.

Your eyes widened at the scene, you were slightly frightened but also intrigued. Maybe you understand now why people like the games. Both Geta and Caracalla clapped beside you, feeling victorious through their warrior. You were on the edge of your seat as you watched how the large animal and its rider turned back around.

One of the gladiators caught your attention as he stuck his sword in the ground before clasping his hands together to cup some sand. He then waited for the animal to charge, let it come closer, before releasing the sand into the air, creating a dust cloud. When it seemed he would get hit by the animal's large horn, he jumped out of the way, causing the animal to crash into the wall.

The audience as well as the emperors jumped from their seat, the animal was injured badly and the gladiator had been launched from his seat. You joined the emperors to see how the gladiator got up to fight the slave from Numidia.

It only took a little while before the gladiator had taken the sword from the Numidian and already raised his arms to excite the crowd. You moved back to your seat before Geta spoke. “Brother, it’s that poet is it not?” You had no idea what Geta was talking about. “I can’t remember, that night was a blur.” Caracalla responded before taking his seat as well.

“The gates of hell… are… open night and day- smooth- I forget-” Your brows furrowed, you knew that poem, Lucilla had once read it to you the night after their wedding, as she wanted to bond with her new daughter. “Smooth is the descent, easy is the way.” You answered.

Geta looked at you and seemed pleased, thank the gods. The slave had gotten up again in the meantime and fought back against the gladiator with a shield, they fought back and forth until the gladiator had picked up the Numidian and launched him over his shoulder, causing his back to collide hard with the ground.

The gladiator pointed his sword and looked up expectantly at Geta, the crowd chanted ‘mercy’. It seemed the emperors got to make the decision on who eventually got killed in the arena. Geta looked at Caracalla who almost immediately said ‘blood’. “My Lady, shall we show mercy?” You did not expect Geta to ask your opinion.

You did not want the poor Numidian to die at your hands. “Mercy.” You nodded, Geta smiled before turning to the crowd to raise his hand. While lowering it he balled it into a fist with his thumb out, before pointing it up. “No mercy!” The Numidian yelled. “Your life has been spared by the gods-”

“I would rather face your blade than accept Roman mercy!” You almost cringed at his words, he was clearly stupid to ignore such a presence as Emperor Geta. He then rolled over to grab a blade from the sand before launching it into the gladiator's chest. It was then he looked at the emperors expectantly instead, to which Geta gave the crowd what they wanted by pointing his thumb down.

The Numidian slave then beheaded the gladiator, leaving the emperor's champion defeated. Caracalla stood and clapped his hands loudly while Geta, on the other hand, stormed out. You turned in your seat to look at your father, who gestured that it was time to go. You stood, and curtseyed to Emperor Caracalla, “Your Majesty.” He gave you a nod, and you joined your father and Lucilla towards the exit.

When you had gotten back to the estate, your father retired to his rooms, not saying a word the entire way back either. You were relaxing in the garden with Lucilla, when that man, Macrinus, from the colosseum arrived. To your disappointment Lucilla requested you take a bath after all that happened and you left the two alone. The whole time you were bathing you couldn’t get the emperors out of your mind, neither the man that had won that day.

#gladiator 2 smut #gladiator 2 fanfic #gladiator ll #gladiator 2 #emperor caracalla x reader smut #emperor geta x reader smut #emperor geta x reader #emperor caracalla x reader #geta and caracalla #caracalla x reader smut #caracalla x reader #geta x reader smut #geta x reader #general marcus acacius #lucius verus #lucilla aurelius

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breathlessasphyxia · 3 months ago

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"They're gonna see.."

"Let them see."

Tw: slight public sex (?), use of pet names, rough sex, penetrative sex, no condoms, not proofread, porn with no plot (MDNI, or do🤷) wrote this a year ago and forgot abt it, enjoy?? ><

The room was a mess. Kento's paperworks are scattered all over the floor, the couch is tilted and most importantly, clothes were all over the place.

"Kento not here.." You say in a hushed voice. "Why, feeling embarrassed doll?" He said in a teasing smirk. This was unlike him- well, it ought to be unlike him. But since you decided to be the brat that you are and actively flirt with that annoying co worker of yours, knowing damn well he could see your actions from his glass windows, this was to be expected and the fault was yours to blame.

But still! How could he recklessly pin you right where anyone can see?? "You know you like it slut, admit it." It was like he read your mind as He said in that usual deep voice of his. But he wasn't entirely wrong, no, no, no. In fact, you liked this so much that your wetness was dripping to your thighs.. literally.

Kento pinned you harder against the cold glass wall, the same glass wall that overlooked the whole office where you worked. Thankfully, it was midnight and all the lights were out except the one near the door. The door that could be opened at any minute by the guard patrolling the whole building.

"No I d-"

"Stop lying to me if you don't want me to fuck you outside this office." He sternly spoke, his hands coming down to grip your hips, slightly angling your ass to meet with his hardening cock.

He then swiftly bent you over, his hand coming to your lower back to put you into an arch before making his other hand grip you on your neck slightly. "Say, did you enjoy flirting with those braindead colleagues of yours?" He purred directly into your ear. "I wasn't flirting with the-" "You weren't flirting? So purposely biting your lip and looking at them so lewdly isn't considered flirting now doll? I wasn't informed" He mused sarcastically.

Before you could speak any further, you were interrupted when something suddenly entered your mouth. You looked down to see that it was his.. tie? "Be quiet and take it for me like a good girl, yeah?" He looked down at you, his brown eyes filled with so much lust, it almost made you breathless.

His warm hands travelled down to your waist and then to your thighs. He roughly spread your thighs apart before pushing your soaked panties to the side. Of course, as the insufferable husband that he is, he made sure to tease your folds and occasionally dip his finger into your slutty hole. He then leaned closer, so that his lips was right above your ears.

"say, what if I just ripped your clothes apart right here? Since you wanted to get everyone's attention by wearing that awfully skimpy skirt of yours?" He looked down at your figure, your legs slightly trembled and your breathing was erratic. It was a sight to see

"Hm? Embarrassed now are we? But of course, I won't do such a thing. Since you're my woman, this is only for my eyes, remember that." The way he spoke your name with such lust ignited your body on fire.

Of course, he didn't miss the way your soaking wet cunt clenched around his finger after he said those words. His smirk widened as he shoved his finger deeper into you. "Hm? Such a naughty slut I have." He purred "Don't think I wouldn't miss the way you tightened around my fingers darling. Why, you like being mine that much?" He teased "After eye fucking everyone in this goddamn office, you come crawling back to me like the good wife you are"

And with that, he picked you up unceremoniously, earning a gasp from you, he then pinned your much smaller figure to the glass walls before pulling your skirt up to expose your absolutely soaked panties. "K-kento they're gonna see.." You whimper out whilst he peppered kisses all over your jawline. "Let them see." He calmly responded before ripping your panty apart with one hand, while the other held you up against the wall.

Before you could protest any longer, he finally took off his restraints- his pants before grinding his clothed cock to your wet pussy. The man's hands then went to your thighs, down to your legs to put them above his shoulder. His hands supported your bottom as he continued grinding into you. "Feel me doll?" He rasped out, his hot breath meeting with your flushed skin.

Everything was sending you into an overdrive, his hot touch, his lips, his voice- it was pure euphoria. It sends shivers down your spine, the way he just manhandles you so easily and how he whispers those sinful words right to your ears. Everything he did made you wetter each passing second.

"Fuck- look how wet you are for me, so fucking wet.. you want to feel me that much hm? If you want it so bad then I'll give it to you." Not even moments later, you can feel his hot throbbing member tapping your nasty cunt, making loud squelches in the process which made you release a moan.

"like what you feel princess?" Even when your back was turned to him, you could feel his smirk while he said those words. The sensations were sending shivers down your spine. It didn't even occur to you that your legs were already shaking from exhaustion, nor the way your drool just slides down smoothly on the corner of your mouth- God you were such a fucking mess. His mess

#kento nanami #jjk #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami kento #sukuna x reader #gojo x reader smut #sukuna smut #jjk smut #getou suguru x reader #choso x reader #choso smut

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jeanbie · 4 months ago

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BLUE FALCON ★ masterlist.

pairing: jake x reader

warnings: sexual content, human!fem!reader, rough sex, infidelity | wc: 3k

note: i'm actually developing this plot of a mole in Bridgehead for a much bigger fic, so stay excited for that, as it's rapidly evolving behind the scenes. this is just a version i thought of, but the later fic won't include this scene. anyway, i missed my blue boyfriend jake!

⏤ There's a mole in Bridgehead City - a mole who has helped wipe out scores of Sky People transmissions, fleets and transport lines. And Jake likes rewarding the mole's loyalty with a good time.

Neither you nor Jake remember how any of this happened, how you ended up in this situation together.

Since the return of the Sky People, you had become so invaluable to the Na’vi Insurgency that the way you ended up here became insignificant — all that mattered was what you did for Pandora, and who you were betraying in order to help fight for that cause.

The new human settlement remained a comfortable distance away from where the resistance was stationed, and yet still all too close for Jake’s comfort. It was an uncomfortable fact that both war parties were in acknowledgement of, but Jake had to guess that it made the Sky People more afraid than the Na’vi.

It wouldn’t matter how many buildings the Sky People erected, how many roads they paved; Pandora would always be the home of the Na’vi, and their instincts were so attuned to the forests and waters surrounding the ring of painfully ugly architecture that it was no wonder the humans felt the need to turn their city into a fortress, armed with gunships and garrisons.

Bridgehead City strove to function in a straightforward fashion, and sometimes, Jake had to admit he was impressed by their resilience, their total ignorance of how this world worked and what was waiting for them in forest fringes. He was surprised that a fray of scientists were even brave enough to conduct manned missions to nearby forests to collect samples, studying while their colleagues destroyed the trees, killed the indigenous.

Having been part of a tight-knit scientist collective himself once, Jake knows not everyone there is a cold-hearted killer, and from what he's heard, not everyone there wants to stain their hands with Pandora’s blood.

But, the Na’vi and their allies aren’t the greatest thing threatening the city. It’s not just by chance that the resistance are hitting goldmines by striking RDA train lines and ships and disrupting resource transportation — Bridgehead City has a mole, and that mole is single-handedly making all the difference between winning and losing the war.

As Jake snaps his hips back upwards, sinking himself further up your cunt, he lifts his eyes to stare with extreme scrutiny at the looming eyesore of a city on the horizon. Every flicker of light, every shadow of movement, catches his eye, but he knows from weeks of no issue that where he’s currently bending you over a rock is out of sight from the patrolling guards atop the city walls.

The underground tunnel is manned by several other trusted allies stationed in the city, people you have sworn to Jake he can trust. The Avatar Program did not cease in its studies and activity when Grace died on Pandora; it simply found itself under new ownership and continued its religious study of Pandora and its people, with a bunch of scientists who care more about peace than a paycheque.

So far, nobody has given you over, nobody has breached the trust Jake has very nobly put in them — and the guards whose allegiance is aligned with the Na’vi resistance have turned down their weapons and are securing the narrow tunnel that connects the forest to the RDA labs.

You’ll be fine out here, being fucked by the city’s greatest threat and enemy, and when you’re giving Jake such valuable information, then you can be certain that Jake won’t just kill you where you stand.

There was a time when you thought he might. Back before you even ended up being a hole for Jake to squeeze into, you had offered the olive branch of trust when you’d spotted Jake in the trees assessing the alleged mole who had contacted Norm. You could have called out to the nearby soldiers, could have lit the fuse for a skirmish, but you didn’t. Instead, you remained quiet, staring at him half-fearfully and half-curiously, until he was satisfied with what he saw and disappeared back into the forest like a ghost.

Now, you’re more lax. There is no argument against you being the resistance’s greatest weapon, their greatest strength and weakness, just the same as there’s no argument against you being ideal for their leader. Whenever you seek him out, he gets everything he wants: information, assurance, and a hole to fuck and fill.

“When?” Jake grunts, his eyes shifting back to the sight of your back arched up with pleasure. The rock is rather high, surprisingly flat but still unbelievably uncomfortable, and yet you sound as though you’re being bent over the most comfortable surface in the world.

You don’t hear him ask the question, but you whimper a noise of confusion when Jake pistons back in a bit too roughly, his chest grumbling with a low purr of disappointment. “When?”

What were you talking about? You fumble out a breathless moan and think — oh yes. The upcoming shipment of mined resources expecting to pass by a potential guerrilla attack line.

“Three days time,” you tell him, wincing when he pushes even deeper into you as a reward for your honesty, your walls clenched unbearably tight around him. He grunts again, pleased. “I heard them say something about midday, but I—fuck! Um, I…it could change.”

“You’re sure?” Jake asks. The resistance has spent weeks living around doubts and chances, but most of your reports have been on the nose when it comes to accuracy, and it’s a point that Jake has fallen reliant on.

You hear his question and momentarily panic. The last time you were wrong, you paid for it heavily, and were amazed that you could still stand and walk shamefully back down the tunnel that spans for miles back towards the city. You can understand Jake’s seriousness when it comes to your information — his loyalty and determination can’t be faulted, his intensity inspiring, but the last thing you want is to steer him wrong and get people killed.

It’s not just the lives of the Na’vi on the line. If the RDA were to catch wind of your betrayal, you could safely assume it wouldn’t be a simple dismissal back to Earth. You’d be lucky to be court-martialled — but you can only imagine they would have the most sinister and deserving punishment waiting for you, so horrific that you’d have wished you’d never opened your mouth.

You feel Jake’s hands curve around your waist as if securing you in place, pushing himself all the way inside of you until the wind is knocked from your lungs. At this point, you’ve had Jake inside of you too many times to count, but accommodating him never gets any more comfortable — not that he cares.

Jake’s feelings for you stop and start with ally, and it just so happens you’re an ally he can use, an ally he can manipulate, an ally he can sink his cock into now that there’s barely any time for him and Neytiri to be alone around their work and their kids.

“I’m sure,” you reply, your voice strained to a point where Jake almost doesn’t know what you’ve just said to him. “They sent me away before I could get a closer look, but it’s a maglev carrying weapon shipments and steel from one of their mines—” Jake’s dick spears up against a soft wall of pudge that makes you groan loudly, and his hand readjusts on your waist, “Gotta be around seven carriages.”

Jake hums thoughtfully, wincing as your cunt clenches around him like a fist. He takes a deep breath and pushes you down gently, mindful of the fact that compared to him you could break with the slightest force.

“Good,” he mutters, glancing back up at the horizon. Nothing has changed; no lights have ignited, no horns sounding, no eyes looking at him making a mess of one of their own. “Y’know anything about aircraft that day?”

You shake your head between your arms, gaze tucked low as a knot tightens in your stomach. It’s always so embarrassing how many times Jake can make you cum in one visit. By the time he’s pushed out his first orgasm, you’re reaching your third or fourth.

“Nothin’?” Jake questions. “All you do all day is listen to them talk, and you don’t know anything about what ships they’re flying?”

“Um, maybe Samson ships, or Kestrels, same as always,” you hurry out, desperate to be useful, especially when his hands tighten around you almost threateningly. “Don’t know how many. Three. Four, I dunno—”

Jake grunts again and snaps his hips aggressively into you, your ass slapping against his lower stomach at such a speed that he’s amazed you’re still producing any noises. You always seem to take him expertly, always up for trying your best to keep Jake pleased — he has to admire the level of passion and determination you put into whatever you do.

He squeezes your waist one more time before relaxing his hands, smoothing one up the length of your back and putting the other down near the curve of your ass. Jake can feel your thighs trembling against him, the hot warmth of your cunt closing tighter around his dick like a goddamn vice, and after one final longing look at Bridgehead, Jake sighs and pats your leg.

“Alright,” he relents, his voice slightly kinder and quieter. Mercifully, Jake moves slower, although staying deep in your stomach as if he intends to watch his dick slip up your throat and out your mouth, and another deep rumble erupts from his chest. “Alright.”

“Mmf, I—” A sudden squeal slips from your mouth when you feel Jake’s cock twitch inside of you, a burst of warmth pooling inside your tummy. Jake groans, stumbles forward almost, and brings his hands back to the bottom of your spine to steady himself as strings of his cum spill inside of you.

Your chest falls flat against the rock, breasts squished like an airbag as Jake steadies his trembling lower half, his dick still buried inside of you until every last drop of cum is out of his system and coating your inner walls. He breathes heavily through his nose for a moment, his fingers shaking very slightly against your body until he quickly pulls himself out of you as if the thought of being up your snatch for a second longer fills him with disgust.

Once he’s out, you slump with an ungracious grunt against the smooth rock, feeling Jake’s cum drooling down your leg like a running tap; it’s warm and sticky, and very bothersome to clean up when he has very little desire to help you do so.

Jake finally drags his hand up from your lower spine and lets out a tired sigh. It is hard work being the leader of the Na’vi insurgence on top of being a father, a husband and the Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya clan.

In hindsight, Jake knows that he could very easily send Norm out here to collect whatever information you’ve gathered for the resistance, and he knows that there’s really no necessary need to bend you over any surface and fuck you stupid. But somehow it helps to get it out, to fuck out all of his anger and frustration and stress into something — someone — so willing to be of use to something greater.

Neytiri has told him more than once that the timing is not right, that their time together when they find it should be shared with their family now that any day could be their last. Jake knows that Neytiri will seek him out if she feels the need to fuck, but he also understands her lack of need for it. Neytiri just doesn’t have time anymore.

But your very sudden appearance has become most opportune for Jake when he’s feeling stressed out, and in return for his misguided decisions, he can take back kernels of information about the enemy to help them win the war.

“You could start bringing a towel every time you come here,” you say playfully, your voice still in a low octave, as if you’re afraid of someone hearing you out here. Jake has already patrolled this area several times before coming out to find you — the only things listening or looking are the birds in the trees or the bugs on the leaves.

You pat at the drying streaks of cum between your legs with a mild cringe. “I hate going back in there covered in this. It’s humiliating enough just coming out here.”

Jake finds himself smiling at that, his hands already fastening the tewng back around his waist. “Be brave,” he tells you, gaze cast downwards to his hands as you turn to look back at him.

The true gravity of your circumstances never sinks in until you meet with Jake in passing, along with the surfacing feelings of fear, guilt and shame. You’ve never once aligned yourself with the bloodthirsty agenda of the RDA, not even when the fleet of exiled humans returned to Earth with horror stories to share. The Avatar Program still sought out peaceful relations with the Pandora Indigenous, and no matter what vile plan the RDA had in store, those following in the admirable footsteps of the humans remaining on Pandora knew where they stood and who they stood for.

Your volatile position as Charles Stringer’s assistant gave you the opportunity to continue the legacy of the Avatar Program, and could not have come at a more perfect time. It had been sheer luck that you’d found a connection to some of the excommunicated scientists apart of the Na’vi insurgency, and divine right timing that led you to consort with its leader, and each day came with no guarantee for your safety. But the risk was important regardless of how you manoeuvred around it.

What would be worse? Being caught out as a traitor to the human race by joining forces with the enemy, or being caught out as a traitorous whore letting the infamous Jake Sully fuck you like a toy as a so-called reward for your treachery?

Jake checks over his vest and straightens it out, his eyes finally flickering to find yours in the dull light of the forest. The trees don’t burst or pulse with bioluminescence anymore, no thanks to the artificial floods of light from the city and the painful smog of polluted air and toxins disturbing the will of nature, but Jake can just about see you from his height, peering up at him as you reach for a flimsy leaf to wipe the trickling substance from your legs.

“Are you safe?” Jake asks randomly, dropping to his haunches once he’s confirmed that his armour is on safely. You cringe at the stickiness of your fingers and reluctantly wipe your hands on your jacket, shimmying into your cargos not long afterwards.

“For now,” you tell him. “Nobody knows about anything.”

“You sure?” The last thing Jake wants is the RDA becoming ten times more ruthless after cracking down on the flaw in their regime. He needs you, more than he expected, because without you and your knowledge of every planned schedule the RDA put on their calendars, Jake wouldn’t know where to begin searching for openings.

You fasten the button on the front of your cargos and look back at him. Now that he’s down low, you’re almost eye-to-eye, which is a position that weirds you out, despite the fact that Jake had just been twelve inches deep in your pussy minutes ago. Looking at him so directly makes you feel small, makes you feel vulnerable.

“Positive,” you assure him. “Stringer thinks my one purpose in life is to carry his papers and bring him coffee. Everybody else thinks I’m harmless because I’m an assistant and I wear tight skirts to work, and everyone who I trust is doing their best to fall under the radar.” You sigh with your hands on your hips, bottom lip tugged under your teeth in thought, “It’s surprisingly easy to fool everyone.”

“Stay sharp,” Jake advises, his gaze unwavering as he stares you down. The weight of his gaze is so heavy that you feel forced to look back, finding that he is being as sincere as he can possibly be. “And keep up the good work.”

You bow your head in gratitude. Your last report on a swarm of Samson ships flying through the flux vortex near the base camp for the resistance had been of perfect accuracy — Jake could have given you the moon and stars for the value of that ambush alone.

A low hum of noise makes you flinch and turn back towards the city skyline, meanwhile, Jake chews a frown, grabs his large gun and stands up straight. A dark shadow looms over you, but you’re too busy staring back at Bridgehead, feeling your usual knot of dread tighten.

“Get outta here, Blue Falcon,” jeers Jake, the sound of his gun clicking making you whip to face him with a long expression. He gestures towards the tunnel entrance with a nod of his head, waiting pointedly for you to finish your frightened observation of him and turn on your heel back to where you belong.

When your back is turned, Jake is already heading out, stalking carefully and quickly through the ferns and fauna to where his direhorse is patiently waiting for him.

You find, with reluctance, that there are bigger things to worry about than the strong smell of cum over your legs and the sticky feeling between your folds, as you walk towards the heavy metal doors to the tunnel and jump up to glimpse through the barely transparent rectangle of glass looking into the long darkness.

You’re lucky you’re alive, lucky to be useful. But now that Jake’s gone in the night and the threat of the upcoming maglev ambush weighs on your mind, all you can do is pray that your information was accurate.

#jake sully #jake sully x reader #jake sully x human reader #avatar (2009)#avatar x reader #na'vi x reader #na'vi x human #avatar the way of water #avatar driver jake sully #human jake sully #norm spellman #jake sully smut #avatar smut #smut #jeanbie

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neoflect · 1 month ago

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I totally agree on pt 5 I'm sorry but giorno has got to be the worst jojo of all time to me. Absolute waste of potential and not a single ounce of personality compared to the jojo before AND after him. Just hype moments and aura

and its not JUST giorno, either, the saddest thing about pt5 is that so much of the front half is loaded with potential and absolutely none of it plays out. i can work with a boring protagonist. i have a lot of issues with pt3 but there is at least enough happening in jotaros proximity to compensate for the fact that he doesnt start to get interesting until after he gets divorced.

pt5 has a boring protagonist, a boring antagonist, a boring conflict with boring execution and, most egregious of all, does not connect to the overarching story of jojo in any meaningful or consequential way. when i say "you can skip pt5" i dont mean that as a value judgement (although it is, because pt5 is bad), i mean you can literally skip straight from the last chapter of pt4 to the first chapter of pt6 without missing any information at all. none of the characters or concepts ever resurface (requiems? the origin of the golden arrow? completely fucking inconsequential); cameo appearances by characters from prior parts, rather than enhancing the story or grounding it within the jojo universe, imo make pt5 actively worse because those appearances never lead to satisfying resolutions! koichi working on the spw foundation's behalf to pursue giorno is meaningless because he just stops doing that as soon as he feels like it (and apparently jotaro & the foundation just dont give a shit because it never comes up again), and polnareffs appearance is maybe the single aspect of pt5 i find most infuriating. ill explain why in a minute.

giorno, narratively, has absolutely no fucking business being the main character of pt5. the story is literally not about him. his being the main character would be an odd choice even if he did have the personality and charisma to justify the outsized focus on him, which he doesnt. the story is about bruno, and/or trish - they bear the pathos and the actual plot threads that drive the narrative. giorno gets the designated protagonist role solely because he has joestar lineage, which makes him the titular JoJo. and in a better story, giornos ancestry and the bizarre circumstances of his paternity might be a plot point, or perhaps a recurring theme, or have literally any remarkable influence at all on the events of the story or even just mentioned by anyone, even once, just once for the love of god im begging you. but it isnt! we see the photo of dio in his wallet and learn that the spw foundation is pursuing him on that basis, and... nothing. koichi goes home. its never mentioned again.

like, up to a certain point, i get it. giorno doesnt seem like the kind of guy who would spill his daddy issues, and obviously the other passione guys dont know his family situation and dont have any reason to press him on it. its understandable that it never comes up. but then... but then... polnareff shows up! someone with established connections to the spw foundation that was pursuing giorno at the beginning of the story, who was one of the very last people to see giornos dad alive and even worked for him for a time, someone who has every reason in the world to know who giornos dad is and presumably to have some feelings about the subject. and he never, ever mentions it once. its totally reasonable that the topic doesnt get broached beforehand but it is fucking narrative malpractice that polnareff never brings it up. and then he gets turned into a turtle.

and on top of all this everything that surrounds the fucking black hole of charisma that is giorno giovanna is just so, so boring. i would still rather be reading jojo at its worst (and make no mistake, pt5 is jojo at its worst) than any other shonen manga on earth, but pt5 is the closest araki ever gets to writing something i would describe as "generic battle-shonen". one of the biggest issues i have with pt3 is how incredibly formulaic it is - the crusaders arrive at a location, they fight an enemy stand user, they move on. but even in pt3 araki occasionally puts a twist on the formula and features stand 'battles' with little to no combat: the sun, oingo boingo bros, d'arby the gambler (one of the best "fights" in the whole series and nobody ever throws a single punch). in fact, araki is often at his best when hes not writing combat: lets go out for italian is a high point in pt4; same for sugar mountain in pt7. pt5 is boring and exhausting because it is all combat all the time. i like king crimson vs metallica just as much as the next guy (definitely the peak of pt5 - probably because giorno isnt in it) but you need to give me any reason at all to get invested in the outcome other than that its really cool and badass.

i know some people really like pt5. i dont fault them for it, in the same way i dont fault babies for being excited by jingling keys. some people dont give a shit about character writing or narrative or pathos and only read jojo for the sexy twinks and the cool fights. and pt5 definitely has those two things, in spades! but its so incredibly frustrating because i can see so easily how pt5 could have been a masterpiece if araki had any interest at all in writing the things i think hes good at. i might hate it less if it didnt have so much potential

#jjba tag #this isnt even all the issues i have with pt5 obviously i just had to stop because the post was getting absurdly long.#anonymous #ask

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redflowersociety · 8 months ago

Text

HEADLOCK - [Mouthwashing]

Part 1 - Part 2

It is the year 40xx: almost twenty years since what took place on the pony express cargo ship. You currently work in a space station settled right outside the dwarf planet Haphestus. While reviewing recent data of nearby free-floating objects, an abnormally large mass is located: it’s a cargo ship.

A/N: Hi! I had the idea for a… fix-it au for Mouthwashing with the inclusion of self indulgent Jimmy who takes responsibility. Generally, this is hopefully going to explore all the crew members dynamics if they survived. Basically the entire plot of the game is changed around…. So only read if you’re up for that!!

The sound of a printer buzzing and squeaking pulled your attention off the letter in front of you, and subsequently, the soreness in your chest, if only for a moment. Blinking your burning vision back into focus, you grabbed the warm papers and shifted the letter to the side, replacing its spot in front of you with the fresh inked reports. You sorted through each paper by area code, your brain pulsating at sheer amount of numbers. You rubbed at your temple as you copied down the information into a more organized spreadsheet. Once you got that done, you placed the papers into their respective folders on the wall across the room. You stood up with the hand-written spreadsheet, and exited your office, making your way down the metal corridors.

For the past 5 years, you had been the secretary of the space station settled just outside of the dwarf planet Haphestus (named for being a colony full of factories.) Your job brought along many responsibilities: The safety of the planet you guarded, and of course, filing all the data from nearby space junk to send back down to the planet. Whenever people ask what the job is like, you make a point to explain to them just how engaging it is to do the latter, making no effort to hide your sarcasm.

After a shaky knock at the door, your captain gave the okay to enter her office. “ Mx. Harold!” She greeted you with her usual polite, empty cheeriness.

“Miss. Riley, hey. Here’s the space junk data,” you spoke with less enthusiasm than you meant to, which caused an immediate jolt of panic to shoot through your body. Your hands shook as you placed the sheets onto her desk, and you knew in your gut that she noticed.

“You alright, dear?” She leaned forward in her chair, sliding the papers to the side. Her gaze was so sharp, it was as if it was shooting a bullet hole right through your face.

“I-..I’m alright, sorry, I’m just tired, drank coffee.” You swallowed, taking small, hesitant steps towards the door.

“You can tell me if something is wrong, you know.” She started to stand. Smiling.

“I’m alright, thank you.” You nearly choked on those words, having been standing there without breathing in for a considerable number of seconds. You turned-

“Sit down with me.” She stopped hiding her commands underneath the guise of a kind request. You did as you were told. Miss Riley shifted through the spreadsheets as you sat across from her for what felt like hours. Eventually, her fingertip traced down to a particular column. “You really should be more careful.” She flipped the paper to you, pointing out your mistake. You took a closer look now, having simply been copying and sorting without much thought. The object reported from the scans was unusually big, obscenely sized, and was reported to have the mass of iron.

“…Miss Riley, I just copied what I saw on the scanner reports.” you stammered, wrapping your arms protectively around yourself.

As if upset with you for having brought the information to her, she groaned, leaning back in her chair and turning her gaze to the screen on her left. As if she had seen a ghost, her eyes went large and her mouth hung slightly agape.

“…Miss Riley?”

Exploring old, decrepit cargo ships was never part of your job description. But, considering there being no protocol put in place for such a circumstance, Miss Riley found no issue in making you do it anyways. the sound of metal scraping against itself, and whirring pistons behind you made you jump. The doors were closed. You were on this ship, and had no choice but to look around all alone. You used a test strip to test for breathable air, and once confirmed, took off your oxygen helmet. The damn thing was way too heavy to walk around with.

The bright flashlight in your hand did little to soothe you in the middle of this darkness. The sheer amount of dust getting kicked up with your every step assaulted your nose and made you sneeze more times than you could count. On top of that, it blurred all that was more than five feet in front of you. For a moment, you considered putting the helmet back on.

Stepping through metal corridors with exposed pipes and circuitry, an unusual foam coating the walls in patches; the scenery, the darkness, and the silence aside from your one footsteps, created an ambiance that brought shivers up your spine. you spent a while searching- coming across various rooms.

You had to pry your way in, as the lack of power in the ship meant not a single automatic door, but when you stumbled into the medbay, the first thing that hit you was the smell of iron and rot. blood stained bandages and browned sheets on the stretcher- pill bottles, some empty and some not so much. The labels all read as some outdated pain medication. What really caught your eye was the case left ajar on the crusted stretcher. You recognized the red rim and the outline of a pistol in the foam bottom. This was an empty gun box.

dread beginning to set in, you backed out of the room, sliding back through the half-open door and into the hall. You found yourself in a communal room. It was messy; blood splatters along the table and floor, and a giant broken screen by some dusty couches. “What the fuck happened here,” You wondered aloud.

In no rush, as the fear that gathered in your stomach threatened to paralyze you from the waist down, you headed back into the halls. Eventually, under the crack of a metal door, and through its shattered glass window, was a light blue glow that was jarring compared to the darkness of the rest of the scenery.

“Is this…” you had a feeling about the contents of this room based off that familiar glow. You pried your way inside, slipping yourself through the halfway opened slit you created. In front of you was the jarringly bright shine of 5 active cryopods. The ships power must have allocated to this single room…You were sure of it. You tapped swiftly on your wrist.

“Captain… there are people in here.”

#mouthwashing x reader #jimmy mouthwashing #curly mouthwashing #mouthwashing game #mouthwashing #curly x reader #jimmy x reader #anya mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #daisuke x reader #fix it #fix it fic #fix it au #fix it fanfiction #oh man oh man #Spotify #headlock

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its-in-the-woods · 11 days ago

Text

Reach For Me - Meeting

Masterlist

-Part 1 , Part 2

Pairing: James Buchanan Barnes/Bucky x You/x reader (afab) no use of y/n

Word count: 3.1k

Synopsis: You are starting a new job, courtesy of one Tony Stark. Tasked with becoming the head of medical and research for the Avengers and their companions. What you don't expect is to get under the skin of one ex assassin turned good guy, James Barnes.

Author notes: Hi 👋 I've never written MCU... so umm here we go...Nothing I write is short, this will be multi-chapter. Slow slow slow burn, they may not even like each other that much to start. Any characters from the MCU may appear. I will not note them cause there are too many, k. I will also not tag spoilers... be warned. This will be graphic, sad, and tragic... but there will be sparks I promise.

MINORS and AI dickbags GET OUT.

Rating/Warning: Missing limbs, prosthetic, wounds, ptsd, long silences, brooding, Bucky (you know why), mentions of past torture, physical and mental.

All mistakes, grammar, and plot holes are my own.

You sit in your Corolla looking up at the massive building a block away. There was parking under the building for you, had your name on it and everything. Least that’s what Stark told you, Tony Goddamn Stark. He’d rolled into your lab one day and tossed your whole world upside down. You’d had no idea he had been funding the university's research into neurolink prosthetics, or that he was the one that had backed your grant to get you through medical school. Now he wants you to be the head of medical at his infamous Stark Tower, keep an eye on the health of the Avengers.

Well it was more complicated than that. He wanted you specifically because you were a jack of all trades, you’d served in the military as a medic, done several years in New York's largest ER, before you’d decided to go back to your roots in neuro-science specifically to do with prosthetics bio-connections. That’s what he needed. Also someone who wasn’t scared to stare super-soldiers down and not flinch.

The last part you’d assumed to be a joke, but now sitting here you weren’t as sure. Drumming your fingers over the steering wheel you debated whether you should go in or not. How had you even ended up here? A doctor to the Avengers? It sounded comical just thinking about it.

How was it possible that you were more nervous than when you were jumping out of the back of a plane? Maybe you’d get to do that here too.

“Fuck it,” You murmur, shifting the car into drive you head to your new job.

***

It was a whirl of paperwork, most of it you didn’t understand, really should have brought it to a lawyer. The non-disclosure agreements were lengthy and in depth, but Pepper had summed them up as ‘What happens in the tower stays in the tower’. It felt vaguely threatening, but the paperwork was almost soothing at this point. The tower is massive, it has full medical facilities, dozens of labs, lawyers on payroll, and then there was the Avenger’s end of things. You have been given a special pass to work up there. You have a small team of medical professionals you would be working with. Along with the team of assistance and crew of speciality staff that kept everyone from fighting with each other.

The first day is just that, paperwork, here is your clinic, this is the labs, please file things here and here. This is how the emergency system works, if you see an alien no you didn’t.

You rubbed at your face as you sat in the small ‘clinic room’.White walls, that mix with metal paneling, behind you was a large glass window that looks out over the city. Beside you is your home monitor, the back would be facing the patient. Beside you were four others that you could use to pull up any images or information you needed to show the patient. You’d already decide that you need at least one or two plants here, yes it was a clinical setting but it wasn’t a jail cell either.

To your right was a door that leads into a small medical bay. It has a patient bed, and enough supplies for a full operation if needed. It was overkill really. You were dealing with gods, super soldiers, a green hulk, and the occasional super spy. Besides, there is already an operating theatre on this level that could be staffed within minutes; but it wasn’t your money to burn.

Closing out your computer you grab the tablet that had all your new patients information. Most of it was standard, blood test, x-rays, ct-scan, injury lists and more. All neatly packaged inside a metal and glass case, with an encrypt password and fingerprint scan. You want to go over all the notes in detail, make sure there was nothing that was a miss.

Keys, and bag in hand you close up the clinic door and head towards the elevator. The place was quiet for such a large building, you would occasionally see agents, assistance, and others but for the most part it was empty. You were sure when the world was being threatened by alien invaders it was a hot spot, but right now it just felt cold.

The doors to the elevator open up and you come face to face with Captain America himself and The Winter Soldier. Your heart pounds for a moment, but you quickly push that down, the mask of professionalism slipping on as you walk in. They stood in running gear, Captain in all blue, and Soldier in all black.

“Hi, I am Steven Rogers,” Captain America, Steve, said with a grin holding out his hand. “Hi,” You reply, giving him your title and shaking his hand firmly, before turning to The Winter Soldier. Steve gestures with his thumb. “That’s James Barnes, we are just heading out for a run,” Steve smiles, Bucky nodding at you but keeping his hands firmly folded across his chest.

“Nice to meet you,” You nod at James, who stays silent, just staring back at you. Shuffling over you stand by the far side of the door, you remember the headlines about what happened to him. HYDRA, you’d heard enough about them to wonder how James was still standing upright.

You mentally note to go over his file in detail this evening. The elevator shifts into a mostly comfortable silence, you don’t force conservation, and both men seem more than okay with that. You can’t help that your heart is hammering. Would be difficult for anyone to stand in a small box with two Super Soldiers at their back. Least that’s what you tell yourself. A chime at the main floor and the two men go to get off.

“Nice to meet you,” Steve says, with his signature smile. “We’ll see you around.”

“Have a good evening,” You reply, resisting the urge to slam the close door button. James looks over his shoulder once, his eyes connecting with yours before turning back to Steve. You tell yourself that it was just a silent acknowledgement, but it doesn’t feel like that. It feels like he is making sure you know that you’re being watched.

***

The room was small white, with the smell of metal and disinfectant hanging everywhere. One wall has four monitors, a small 3D model of him spun on one, another had his health stats, some just blank. He was interested in the one that showed what was left of his left arm and the one of his socket that attached the metal arm. He squints trying to read the little text boxes that hover over each point as they spin. Some highlight damages, others things that could be upgraded. The Doc had done her homework.

Looking at the images made him feel itchy, his hand going up to rub along where the metal seamed to his flesh. He mentally braces for pain to shoot through his neck, surprised when nothing happens, he'd gotten so used to them stopping him from touching it. The amount of times he'd tried to peel it off, ripe it out of his flesh, had led them to add tech that made it even more painful to try and remove.

He wasn’t pleased to be there, why did he need some doctor to tell him what he already knew? The arm had been acting up yes, but he was sure Stark with all his money and tech could fix it.

Yet here he was sitting in a chair with no exit strategy, beside jumping out the window. Fingers tapping along the arm rest of the chair, hoping that things could be over soon.

A quiet knock on the door has him sitting up straight. He adjusts his shirt, hoping the wrinkles didn't show where he'd been rubbing.

“Hi, James,” You say, slowly opening the door and walking in. Giving him a small smile as you walk over to the chair in front of the monitors. “Do you like James? Or would you prefer a different name?”

“Uh- James, James is fine,” He mumbles, just loud enough to be heard. Unsure how to feel now that you are standing in front of him.

He'd seen you a few times since the first meeting in the elevator. You mostly kept to yourself, saying ‘hi’ to anyone that crossed your path, making polite conversation, and generally fitting in. He'd also spotted you hanging with Tony going over tech, and helping him modify different gear. You always smile at him and say hello, even if he barely replies. Never treating him any differently than anyone else. It was refreshing.

Steve had said you had a good air about you. Natasha hadn't scoffed, even called you pleasant. So after nearly a month of you requesting him to come by he had caved and come down.

“Alright, so Mr. Stark has asked me to take a look at the arm you've had installed.” You chatter away, you wear casual clothes, a button-up purple shirt, and black slacks. No white coat or name tag. “He noted that it was uncomfortable, and wasn’t operating as smoothly. Do you want to tell me about that?”

Swallowing, he held his breath as you looked at him. There was no intention behind your eyes, you weren't mining for intel or assessing if he was going to explode, just a simple question. Yet he could barely find words to say.

“It's not bad, just needs some maintenance.” Bucky said flatly, his jaw clicking as he kept himself stiff. He wasn't going to go into detail to some stranger, despite how calm and cordial you were.

Or tell you that the pain kept him up at night, how it aches like it was frozen, or the nightmares. Shifting, he pushes those thoughts down, bringing him back to the present.

You nod, typing a few things into the computer. Not pressing him to answer or bombarding him with more questions.

“James, I know this is all still really new. You're still settling in and learning about us, and well probably whether you can trust us.” You take a breath, his eyes watching you look at the screen. A small wrinkle appears between your brows as you focus. It shouldn’t make his skin tingle when you look like that. “Plus I am new here, so it’s all new.”

You hesitate, lip worrying between your teeth, Bucky was definitely not filing all the little quirks you had, cause there was no reason for that. “I don't work for anyone, but you. Technically Stark pays me, but he doesn't meddle with what I do, there is no overreach. If you're not comfortable with the prosthetic I want to know.”

Bucky sits there, his eyes moving to yours, his body still as rigid as ever. “It's fine.”

It wasn't fine, but he had dealt with it long enough and didn't need anyone's help.

“Okay,” You reply, he can see you holding back a sigh. Disappointment flickering under the uncertainty. Why the hell did you care so much?

“Could I take a look at your arm? Please, tell me no if you're uncomfortable.”

Bucky shifts a little, his face scrunching at the words, he wasn’t used to someone giving him space. No one had pressed him to do anything he didn't want in the tower, but there were expectations of him. With you though, that didn't seem to be the case.

He shifts to the side, moving his right hand over to his left arm, the metal reacting to his touch. Gripping the metal he shifts and twists it so that it pops off the joint. Taking the arm he lays it out gently on the glass table with a clunk.

You roll over on your chair, not looking at the prosthetic, instead coming to look at the compression sleeve.

“Are you okay if I manipulate your arm?”He nods, but winces when you touch over the residual limb. The skin is sensitive, sore, and has deep bruises, he forces himself to stay still and not move away.

You carefully look over the shoulder joint. The sleeve on it was worn, and he knew you could feel the swelling happening underneath it. “I am going to remove the sleeve, take a closer look at the skin.”

You talk to him, despite his limited replies. He watches as you carefully pull the cuff down. The joint is swollen, covered with crude scarring, there are several pressure sores that ache.

You grab gloves and carefully feeling the joint and bone, fingers feeling the rigid metal that has been used to reinforce the bone.

Bucky shifts a little as your hand pushes against one of the sores. He can feel the line of his shoulders tightening up, as you continue to palpate it.

“I would like to do a scan of the joint,” You say, as you lift and move the arm. Carefully watching how it rotates and moves. As if you hadn’t just dropped a bomb on him.

“The socket shouldn't leave these pressure sores. Especially with the advanced healing you have, I have a feeling the bone and metal are causing the discomfort."

“I can’t do scans,” He swallows, his right hand shaking without his consent. The sound of the magnets flying around his head start to echo around him. Stomach twisting and tightening as he tries to suppress the urge to run.

You blink, sliding back just a little, giving him some space. “Okay.”

He watches the way you shift, how you carefully take off your gloves and toss them into the bin. “You are not going to want to talk about it, which is fine. I am going to talk through some steps we could take so we could get scans.”

His right hand clenches into a fist, sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. Using everything in his power to stay seated. You’re speaking but the worlds are not sinking in. He shakes his head, he wants to say something but all the words have been trapped somewhere in his throat. The panic is rising up the back of his neck like fire, he feels encased, stuck, breath and heart rate elevating.

“James,” You say quietly, moving so that you were directly in front of him. “We don’t need to do anything right now. Or even in a week.”

He looks right at you, trying to see past any mask you might be hiding behind. “I can get you a new sleeve, we don’t need scans for that.”

Trying to relax, he nods his head, hoping that you will keep to your word. His eyes move away staring at the floor, the pattern of the swirling speckled vinyl. His mind is a mess of images and sounds, the thumping of the magnets, the pulse of the electrical surge. The feeling of it buzzing through his head, the pain surging passed his skin and up his neck, how his molars ground against the mouth guard.

You move away rolling over to the prosthetic, looking down into where his arm latches. Examining internal workings, you go to pick it up and struggle. For some reason it snaps him out of his daze.

“I wasn’t expecting it to be that heavy,” You squint at it, rolling it over the glass surface with a clunk. Bucky picks it up and holds it out for you to look closer at.

You look surprised for a moment but then take the moment to place your hand inside where his nub goes in.

“Oh, yeah there are latches in here.” You move over to where he is sitting, you don’t touch him just exam, lining up where his pressure sores are and the latches.

“That should actually be a relatively easy fix. Would you mind coming to the lab-” You roll back to the computer, humming as you look at it. “Let’s do next Tuesday, Lab C, it’s on level seventy-eight.”

“Sure,” Buck says, his voice a gruff whisper. He takes his arm and clicks it back into place, rotating it and twisting it.

***

The door clicks and you slump into the chair, rubbing your hand over your face. That had gone as well as could be expected, the man was a ball of trauma wrapped in stone, and dipped in concrete.

Steve had warned you that Bucky was leery of new people, and took a long time to warm up. At least he hadn’t gone running the moment you asked a question.

Taking a breath you go back to your notes, you put in to have an assistant with you next Tuesday to adjust Bucky’s arm. It should be relatively easy, something that should have been caught weeks ago. Though, judging by the lack of notes from any previous Doctors, on James Barnes, they hadn’t spent much time with him.

You plug away sipping on coffee, you need to reread the notes that had been gathered about James. Well, if they could even be called notes.

You had seen the few videos that had been found. Had taken a good chunk of first week to sit and force yourself to watch them. To see what had been done to him. Stark had warned you, everyone had, but you wanted to know. To understand why James was the way he was, this was something you took pride in. Knowing who your patients were, what they had been through, and how it affected their day to day life mattered.

The videos ended up being the worst thing you’d ever seen, they had purposefully kept him partially aware of what was happening. They had used the pain to help brainwash him, making his body be in a constant state of fight, while not being able to fight at all. As they peeled open his body, shoving metal and wires into him over and over.

Then without any recovery time they’d freeze him, putting him under for an undetermined length of time.

Didn’t even cover the neuro trauma that had happened, the machine that used a combination of electric pulse and sound waves to affect memory. No wonder he didn’t want anything to do with CT scans, you shouldn’t have even brought it up. Groaning, you try not to beat yourself up over the misstep.

The machine they used wasn’t even completely understood, Hydra had of course destroyed it before anyone could get their hands on it. Maybe if you had it you could have worked at undoing the damage. Instead you were left with half ass notes, and grainy videos.

Pushing away from the computer, you decide it was time to go home. It had been a long day already, and you wanted to be in your own space. The drive back should be uneventful, meaning you could get to the lengthy amount of notes to spill over in your mind. Hopefully it would give you enough info to help James.

Part 2

~☆~☆~

If you liked it let me know below! Reblog to let others know.

Want to be tagged comment so I know.

@hiddlebatchedloki

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bookwyrm-art-stuff · 3 months ago

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Right! I'm bored!

My impression of various danmei

-I have read none of these -I try to avoid the fandom of books I haven't read so my information is minimal -I have only read MXTX

There could be spoilers below the cut? I HAVE NOT READ THE BOOKS and I will not be refraining from possible spoilers. They're under clear headings though so if you're worried you can probably avoid stuff on a book-specific basis.

-Erha

This one scares me. Not because of it being dark or painful or supremely fucked up but because it looks positively INSANE and it's longer than TGCF. I'm also not sure about the main ship from a chemistry point of view because it seems like a worse version of SVSSS in every respect but quality. Probably a better wording is more severe. I mean, it's from the equivalent of LBH's pov.

[Edit: I've started Erha. It is exactly what I thought. There is so much smut. Why won't Mo Ran let me have one peaceful chapter. It is ridiculously and unfairly good.]

[Edit 2: I've finished Erha. It's a beautiful story and it Hurt Me and I was still right about almost everything except that I doubted ranwan's chemistry, which is beautiful and perfect. Highly recommend if you can handle a lot of detailed smut and angst that tears a hole in your chest.]

-QJJ

Looks interesting! And pretty! And scares me more than Erha because I have Heard Things (they actually did that in a meeting didn't they.) Don't think I'm ever reading it.

-Thousand Autumns

I have actually started this one but I'm barely 100 pages in so I still know next to nothing. It looks interesting but I'm having trouble keeping the motivation. Some misgivings about the dynamic but hopefully it'll even out, also I've heard there's political drama (very hit or miss.)

-Peerless

Looks pretty and interesting! Is this the one with the drugs in it? I know there's a lot going on, and also that one of them is stunning (everyone is in danmei but it appears to be emphasized?) Also I think one of them is disabled maybe???

-Case File

Looks cool. I think this one's also modern/more modern than the usual settings in ancient china? That said I am scared of it! I do not particularly like smut and I have heard this is an abomination (same for QJJ)

-Golden Terrace

I've heard this one's cute. Apparently they communicate? Also there's geese? I think this one's modern too. Idk. I'd probably read this if it were available.

-Little Mushroom

Post-apocalyptic, cool worldbuilding, dynamic seems interesting and the book in general sounds very interesting and very cute. I think the MC is literally a mushroom. I'm fuzzy on any plot whatsoever, but that's good because I'm gonna read this one if I get the chance.

-DTBPF/Fish Danmei

I wanna read this one so bad. Like you don't get it. I've been told it's got the fun vibes of SVSSS, and there's no smut, and they look adorable in- without exaggeration- every single piece of art I have seen them in. MC transmigrates into a fish and then ends up with a prince that his system wants him to associate with, and then there is also mpreg. Like... apart from the mpreg, which I don't mind too much, that is my SHIT. I'm doing everything I can to get my hands on these

If you have read these books: PLEASE comment on this. I wanna know how these sound to people who have read them.

#danmei #erha #2ha #qjj #ballad of sword and wine #thousand autumns #qian qiu #peerless #golden terrace #little mushroom #dtbpf #ramblings #books #spoilers i guess?

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love-toxin · 4 months ago

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Conrad Commission

a/n: another commission from one of my lovely commissioners! <3 cws: afab!plus size!darling, meet cute, pwp, stalking, intox kink, fondling, bruises, panty stealing, fingering, possessive sex, strangers to lovers. word count: 4.1k

If there was nothing else you could do, at least you could read.

Dostoevsky. Solzhenitsyn. Row after row of books awaited your perusal, and yet, this was still only one of the dozen aisles packed into the tiny bookshop you'd stopped inside.

The planes had been grounded for weeks, and after several attempts at getting a ticket to sail home instead, you'd arrived at the docks just to be turned around at the entrance. They wouldn't let you on because you didn't have the fees, but that was just bullshit–they'd tried to extort you and you just simply didn't have the money anymore. Not after spending the last month in a hotel and having to ration out your groceries so you didn't waste the cash for your eventual trip home.

At the very least, the little old couple who ran the shop showed you some kindness. The elderly wife would bring you a cup of tea when you sat down on their sofas to read, and although her husband seemed gruff he would pick through the collection and stack your arms with the true classics. None of that new-modernist trash and those plot hole-ridden novellas people churned out nowadays. Good, solid Russian literature that he insisted would show you the best of their culture, and in his words you sensed a firm if a bit stoic pride in their homeland. They never chastised you for spending the day reading, in fact they seemed to welcome you to bring some life to the shop that sorely missed its customers; the city wasn't nearly as large as others around it and just about on the outskirts of civilization itself. You could hear wolves howling in the night from your hotel room, and although people travelled through for the tiny airport and the port very few ever stayed.

But there was one who kept coming around, and surprisingly it wasn't you, but a local man who had just so happened to catch your eye.

“That one is Conrad,” The older lady had offered you the information when you caught a glimpse of him leaving one day, the bell tinging overhead as his long, black hair swished out of view into the street. “Such a kind boy. Very strong.”

He certainly looked like it. Tall, strength concealed beneath a thick coat, dark eyes and sharp features. The scar over his left eye gave him an intimidating aura; he looked alive but not quite warm, he was odd and said little, but he held your attention and snared it like a rabbit in a trap. Sometimes you noticed him walk in after you'd settled into your corner for the day, browsing through an array of titles with careful consideration. He would never pick up a book and set it right back down–he would read at least a few pages, humming and making a soft noise here and there under his breath, before he decided to re-shelve it or take it to the counter to purchase.

Conrad became a staple of your day before you knew it, despite the fact that you never exchanged words. He never seemed to even acknowledge you save for once; he turned the corner of an aisle and bumped right into you, mumbled an apology in Russian, and sidled past quickly with a hand grazing your shoulder on his way by. You'd felt a shiver of something then, but brushed it off and elected to leave the poor guy alone since he seemed a bit embarrassed. Maybe even shy. Of course, that endeared you more to him, and he started taking up your thoughts more, and more, and more still.

It wasn't until you moved from the bookshop to the bar after a long day that you came face-to-face with him at his most relaxed. Actually, he came to you–the bartender spoke enough broken English to tell you the drink he set down in front of you was bought by the guy across the room, and when you looked you spotted Conrad's quiet smile as he lifted his own drink to his lips. Figures that it would be a kind gesture of reader's solitude, but then he stood up and made his way towards your side of the bar, pulling the stool out next to you to sit his towering body into it.

“Privyet.” The sound of his voice soothed the soft clinking and murmured hubbub of the other patrons, deep, low and rough even as he tried to be gentler. He held up his glass to yours and clinked them both together, before holding his free hand to his chest. “Conrad. And you?”

Your name sounded even sweeter on his tongue as he rolled it around in his mouth, adjusting to the feel of it while he shook your hand with a tight, warm grip. You didn't have to tell him you were a foreigner, he could expect that much from your limited Russian if nothing else. But you went on to spill to him some of the details of your life, what city you lived in, what you did for work, and why you were here in the first place–you came to see a friend you had met online, only to arrive and find that they'd completely ghosted you the second you touched down.

Conrad showed sympathy for your story, nodding and following along with every word you spoke, just to offer small reassurances or ask questions here and there. For someone so intimidating and well-read, he was so effortlessly polite and tender with you, like there wasn't the cultural or speech barrier between you like there was with most other people you'd met. You couldn't even blame them because it wasn't like you were that familiar with their country in the first place, but Conrad just seemed to understand you right away even when you had to reword things or speak slower for him to pick up each syllable of your sentences. He was hardly anything like the men you were used to interacting with, nothing for boasts or pushy nagging to get you to do things, or just simply interrupting and talking over you with no regard for what you were saying. Conrad tried so hard to understand you, and the more drinks you shared, the easier it was for you to talk and talk and talk his ear off until the night was drawing to a close. It wasn't until your third or fourth drink that you even realized you barely knew anything about the man who had listened so patiently to you, and started prodding at him with questions that he seemed satisfied enough to answer.

In quick succession you learned that he was nearing 30, he lived in a rural village a couple hours north, he had a younger sister overseas and he got the scar above his eye from the backfire of a gun. He loved fishing and thrilling novellas and spent most of his time hunting or taking care of his community, and the more he talked, the more you admired his humble dedication and the more attractive he became, as if he wasn't already. He wouldn't let you put down any money for your drinks and gently pried your hand off the bartop when you tried, murmuring that a pretty thing like you should never have to pay when there's a gentleman with you. Those little gestures and subtle expressions of dominance sparked a thrill inside you that made you ache for more, and when the time came to leave and you stumbled off the stool just for him to catch you, there wasn't any resistance on your end when he suggested he take you back to your hotel room.

Despite the darkness creeping into the small town when he swung open the door to the bar, your arms wrapped around his neck and his biceps flexing as he hiked up your legs made for a smooth journey down the road to your temporary home. Conrad hadn't even asked if you wanted to be carried back, he just pulled you up on his back and started walking like you weighed nothing, you were as much as a backpack to his indomitable strength. He found the hotel with no problem, found your room on your key–he stepped inside, and after laying you down on your bed, you barely even noticed him shedding his coat or making sure the door was deadbolted before he came round to see that you were comfortable.

Your giggles, the innocence with which your plushy body squirmed on the bed…it fueled something in him. Something that had lain dormant for a very, very long time, waiting to be reawakened. With a glance around, he knew there was no risk of being intruded on–he didn't want you to cry and blubber over being discovered doing something naughty. You seemed like the type, as gentle and cutesy as you were. He liked that.

Conrad knew what you were about as soon as he climbed into bed with you, hoping to cuddle you a little bit while you were out of it, just to feel you rubbing back on him with a little sigh as soon as he touched you.

“So drunk, eh?” He chuckled under his breath and was pleasantly surprised when you nodded with a lovely little giggle. “Cannot hold your alcohol. Is’ bad for a pretty thing.” Conrad fiddled with the buttons on your jeans, hopeful but cautious, just for his heart to skip a beat when you wiggled back on him again. That slow zzzzzzip that followed rang so loud in your ears you could feel it buzzing, or maybe that was just the liquor brining your brain and making it all so unbearably fuzzy. Conrad's hands slipping beneath your waistband barely registered at first, but you couldn't writhe hard enough to bump him off anyways. You didn’t really want to.

“So easy, baby.” He purred. Just as you gasped at the feel of his fingers brushing right by your underwear, his hands retracted, and his laughter echoed softly off the dingy hotel room as he squeezed your hip over your clothes. “You know I like you, but I am gentleman.”

As he sat up on the bed, you reached out for him in a whiny plea of “Don't go, pleeeease?”. He just ruffled your hair and placed a kiss on the top of your head.

“Soon.” He answered patiently. But ‘soon’ couldn't be soon enough; you'd spent weeks alone in this strange country, bored, lonely, and depressed about everything that was out of your control. Your online friend had abandoned you and the authorities wouldn't let you leave–it felt more like a prison than a getaway, and Conrad was so handsome, so sweet, and so exciting…your fantasies swirled about your head and muddled it more. You pulled yourself up with your grip on his collar, and just as he was moving to slide off of you, you yanked him back down with your full weight and pressed him into a kiss. A sloppy, half-0pen one, but a kiss nonetheless. You just didn’t know that from that moment on, Conrad was hooked.

He let his hands wander under your top as you prolonged it, taking hold of the hem to tug it up and up until he could break off the tantalizing liplock to slip it over your head and toss it aside. He wasn’t altogether in his right mind either, he’d needed so much liquid courage before he even bought you a drink that it was starting to loosen his inhibitions even more. It was difficult to maintain his gentlemanly image when there was a beautiful, intelligent, and kind person that just so happened to be his first crush ever in front of him, his perfect type with that gorgeous figure, and their fingers were digging into his turtleneck to try and pull it off. He let you fumble with it for a bit before chuckling softly, and gently prying your hands off just like he did with your tab to yank it off himself. When he’d imagined this night in his head it was a bit more romantic with some candles and flowers, but this was just as good when he got to feel your lips latching on to his adam’s apple and nipping a light bruise into his fair skin. Even if it wasn’t intentional, you were marking him, and it drove his hands downwards to loosen his belt before he managed to help you get your own bottoms off. There was no doubt that he’d be taking your underwear for later, so he decided to pocket them now before discretely flinging his jeans down and kicking them under the bed.

In hindsight he really should’ve lit at least one candle, because the dim lighting of the hotel’s dingy lamp didn’t do your figure justice. He could hardly speak in the face of your tender curves, the softness of your legs, and your sweet face once you felt him staring. You squirmed and shut your knees but he shook his head and cooed for you to keep them open, for him to see you in all your glory like he’d always dreamed of. He just conveniently left that last part out for your sake and focused on lifting your legs over his hips, his gaze heated and shadowed with desire in the dark.

Mine. All of this was his, he wanted to own you in every sense and devote himself to you with every breath he took. Conrad shivered with delight at the sight of your folds glistening at his meager touches, just to glide his fingertips through them and barely hold back a moan at the sound of your sweet little gasp. He eased one in just to explore, and god, he’d never felt something so tight in his life before. You might actually break if he wasn’t careful. So he dragged it out and wetted both fingers with his tongue, before slipping them back in and teasing the edges of your sanity itself with the stretching and curling and prodding of his long digits right into your soft spots; places you never even knew existed and wouldn’t ever forget now that he found them.

With time, he just couldn’t wait any longer. He’d mapped you out but he needed to feel you, he needed to press your body against him and show you in no uncertain terms that he was everything you needed. The mattress shifted with the weight of his knees shuffling forward, but he still took caution and guided your arms to sling around his neck. The drink had done more to heighten your senses yet he needed to make sure you were still awake, still conscious, and he could tell just how needy you were with the whine on your lips as you tried to kiss him again. So cute. He swore to give you so many kisses you would never have to ask for them again.

“Ah-!” Your soft shriek as he tried to push in the first time startled him, but you clung harder to him with a whimper and he couldn’t stop now. The second time he slipped in and out, sliding helplessly over your clit, and he grunted in frustration. But it was all soothed on that third try when he angled himself in, and gasped himself at how easily you parted for him like he was a knife sinking into warm butter. Now it was really obvious how much the alcohol had settled in, as he slurred a foul compliment in Russian and gripped you hard at your head lolling back, your eyes beautifully glazed-over with his first rough thrust of many. The babbling of his name out of your mouth sparked something primal within him, and in an instant he snapped into his possessive side, tugging you up in his lap to lay back with your weight holding him down. His sizeable arms cinched around the small of your back, and with no hesitation he let his powerful hips do all the work with a sudden shuck, shuck, shucking echoing throughout the room.

On the other hand, you could barely decipher the slew of harsh words spilling from Conrad’s mouth with every thrust, your mind already muddled enough that you could scarcely believe you were really doing this–going back to your hotel room with a stranger and letting him screw you into oblivion. But no way in hell were you gonna stop him now, not when his mindless bucking was so raw and filthy you could feel the squelch of your walls surrendering to his brute force in your ears. And even so, Conrad’s sweetness still shone through in the protective squeeze of his hand on the nape of your neck, and the way he smothered your lips in desperate kisses that almost seemed to fuel his incessant chasing of your warmth. His arms encircled your body and dwarfed you by comparison; safe, tight, and devoted like no embrace you’d ever received before. He wasn’t concerned with preserving the image of you in his brain to get off to again later, but rather wanted you to remain protected and comfortable in his presence even when he was fucking into you from below like an animal.

Conrad’s fingers snaked lower to get a handful, but aside from copping a feel he gripped your ass in his palm to guide you down lower–not just to fit more of himself inside, but also to watch you writhe so cutely once his wiry hairs ground against your clit. Somehow he knew you would like it, but maybe not how much until you started to tremble under the onslaught. His hand shot up to grab you by the back of the head, and he pressed your forehead to his with his eyes wide open in an intense stare. The murmurs of a word you would soon recognize as “cum” reverberated throughout your whole being, over and over again like a prayer until your squirming ceased and he let slip a gasp at the spasming of your walls around him. Conrad’s head tilted back and he cried out in bliss that couldn’t be held back a moment longer, his plan to pull out and paint your face going straight out the window the instant he felt you cumming around him. A good, hard thrust plummeted his self-control to the ground, and with a groan he twitched and pulsed within you before soaking your unsuspecting cunt with a creampie you wouldn’t soon forget. He didn’t even know the word in English, but he could tell he had accomplished it with one glance down over your exhausted body to see the puddle he’d made between you.

“Ah…there, lyubimaya. Got you.” Careful as he could be with your lovingly battered body, he braced your weight against him while turning you over on the sheets, and reoriented you to let you lay on the drier side on a sea of comfortable pillows. It was the least you deserved, after all, especially after enduring his rather…intense manner of lovemaking.

Before you could babble anything intelligible you'd already slumped back against the bed, well on your way to being half-asleep with the afterglow of your orgasm, the exhaustion, and the liquor to boot. Conrad gently stroked your hair in the meanwhile, and as you drifted off you swore you sensed the softness of his lips on yours as he murmured one last thing you couldn't quite hear.

If not for the ache in your back and the bleariness of your vision, your slumber felt so brief you might've believed it lasted only a few seconds. Light shone in through the curtains to pass over your face and you paused, confused, before rubbing the sleep from your eyes and sitting up slowly. The sound of someone clearing their throat had your head whipping to your side, and a warm-faced man with familiar black hair stared back at you from his seat, a book laid over his lap and a smile tinting his cheeks.

“Good morning.” Conrad greeted you casually, and you were almost tempted to believe that this was all as normal as his even tone made it sound.

“Conrad?” With a shake of your head to clear the dizziness, you squinted, trying to discern whether this was all still a dream. But it was far too vivid to be anything but reality, so…did that mean that last night wasn't a dream, either? “Did you…have you been here all night?”

He nodded. The book thunked softly as he closed it and reached over to set it on the nightstand, his every movement just as poised and calm as you'd come to expect despite the puzzling circumstances. He stood with a soft grunt, slid the chair back against the wall, and when he turned back to face you his eyes glinted with a hint of something ominously thrilling.

“You like me too, yes?” It took you aback, but his blunt questions were somewhat refreshing. As shy as you were you managed to mumble an affirmative ‘yes’, and that was enough for him. “Good. We get to know each other–so lonely here, no? That is why I came to see you.”

To…see you? He chuckled and brought your attention back to him in a moment, with a hand perched on the buckle of his belt.

“Very pretty. You would be good match for me, and the sex is good. Fantastic. We have common interest–I will take good care of you.”

“What?” Your heart skipped at the mention of the word ‘match’. Did things naturally move this quickly on this side of the world, or was he just a strange case? Either way, you couldn't decide whether you were flattered or shocked. The bed dipped and squeaked with his weight as he sunk a knee into it, slowly crawling his way towards you like a panther until he loomed over you on all fours, elbows perched on either side of your head to cage you in like an animal. The way he grinned alone with all those teeth felt on the brink of feral, and caused a few memories from last night to flash into your head. Maybe all that really wasn’t a dream after all…

“I am your saviour. You would have been meat–that internet man was not your friend.” He shook his head to emphasize, though the way he fiddled with the covers to slowly tug them down didn't make him look any safer. “Pretty thing deserves a good man. I am a good man, my sweet.” As he said so, he leaned in, so close as to puff his warm breath over your skin…and finally, the kiss you shared struck a match inside you that melted away all your hesitation and self-restraint. The fact that he even knew about your online friend was daunting, but even so you couldn't help but believe every word he said. Perhaps he really did save you from a predator hoping to lure you into his trap…and maybe you didn't altogether mind repaying him for that unexpected kindness.

“Stay here with me,” He whispered, careful and soft like the lover he had always wanted to be. “And I will care for you until we rot, my baby.”

Things had spun out of your hands so quickly you weren't sure what to make of it. Conrad's breath puffed hotly from your ear down to your neck, he dressed you down with swift fingers that couldn't bear to be apart from your skin a moment longer. You might never know that it was him that had posed as your friend, and that he was the one who had spent time getting to know you until he could finally convince you to come to his country. How he knew exactly what books you liked and never needed to ask, because he'd staked out the village and predicted exactly where you would go, down to the room number you would pick at this very hotel and the bookshop you would while the hours away at. He knew everything about you for the simple reason that he loved you–and he desperately wanted you to be part of his life, even if he had to lie, and bribe, and steal to get it.

Either way, there was no way out now whether you knew it or not. Conrad had all your resources in his back pocket, but more importantly, he offered the safety and comfort of a life you never would’ve dreamed of back home. And with such a tender, yet protective man staring you down who vowed to be everything you wanted…well, could you really say no?

#conrad dmitriev #conrad dmitriev x reader #spicy writing #yandere ocs #ellie writes #yandere x reader #male yandere #4k

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sunvmars · 2 years ago

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tart | s.r. [3]

pairing: steve rogers x afab/fem reader

↞ previous | next ↠

word count: 2.4k

warnings: very, very brief smut mention !

summary: steve confesses, bucky offers his help

a/n: another short but fast moving chapter for now, the next few will be much longer and explain/fill any plot holes or missing pieces :) I hardly proof read this so be warned

Bucky's eyebrow cocks up in confusion as he recalls the mission, "Yeah, what about it?"

Steve takes another deep breath, preparing himself to release the secret he's been keeping, "I found something during that mission."

Bucky narrows his eyes, his curiosity piqued as he leans forward. "Okay, spill it."

Steve leans forward too and rests his elbows on his knees. He knew that saying something was a risk, but keeping it a secret under the new circumstances was riskier. Steve's gaze fixates on the floor as he speaks.

"During that mission, when I was extracting the files we needed, I stumbled upon some classified files. They had information about a hidden experiment conducted years ago called 'Genesis,'" he explains.

Bucky leans forward, his curiosity getting the best of him, "What's that got to do with all of this?"

"It's got everything to do with it," Steve replies, "Genesis was made to create super soldiers and people with enhanced mental abilities like telekinesis, telepathy, everything in between. Their ultimate goal was to fuse DNA from both groups to create a new 'breed' of enhanced individuals."

"Steve, are you saying y/n is connected to this?"

"More than just connected, Buck," Steve admits. "Her father was one of their strongest super soldiers and her mother was an agent. Her mother was also the only successful recipient of the mental ability serum they curated. From what I read, her parents had a secret relationship. They disappeared when her mother became pregnant; likely to save her from whatever fate Hydra had for her."

A sigh leaves Steve's lips before he continues, "Essentially, y/n is the only living evidence that they existed- that this experiment existed."

Steve feels nothing short of horrible and shitty for keeping this from you. He wishes he hadn't done it, but now it was too late to take it back. All he could do now was fix it. And he will fix it.

Bucky's eyes widen as he starts to connect the pieces together. "Let me make sure I'm getting this right here... You're saying she's the only child of a super-soldier and a Hydra agent with mind blowing abilities, both of whom nobody has any knowledge of? And now she's carrying a baby who's a cesspool of these abilities?"

"Yes, but that's not all of it. I hired people to do some digging after that mission. Turns out that the man who conducted those experiments, the one who created her father, he's been searching for her parents ever since. I've had people looking for him, but he's been evading police for years too, changing locations frequently."

Bucky leans back and rubs a hand over his face. "And you think he's aware of her existence?"

"At first, I don't think he did. She had hardly any social media presence, she was homeschooled, her birthname had no relation to her parents. But now I know he knows she's alive. I got a pretty straightforward letter from him two days ago, and I'm not even sure how he found out she was with me. Figured that means he also knows that we've been following him."

"How do you know it was him? What did it say?"

"I know it was him because all it said was, 'I know who she is.'"

"Well, that's definitely straightforward," Bucky huffs, his heart feeling heavy with worry, "Is that why you told her you didn't want the baby?"

"I...I want her and that baby more than anything, but I can't put them in danger. He'll come for me first to get to her. He's probably been trying to find her for years. I'm afraid he's going to start taking more drastic measures if we don't find him soon."

Bucky tries to take in all the information thrown at him, but only finds himself able to focus on the part about you being in danger. "What does he know about her?"

"I don't know, and that's what scares me. I thought that if I got her away from me then he wouldn't have suspected she was ever here, but I guess I was wrong," Steve admits, guilt laced in his tone, "He wants her, Buck, and now he's gonna want our baby too."

"We'll figure something out, Steve. Don't worry." Bucky raises his eyebrows, still confused at what Steve's plan was. "How does her being alone protect her? What if he's already figured out where she is?"

"I wouldn't call it alone, she's just not with me. She's safe at the tower and I've been pulling strings to protect her."

"What kind of strings, Steve? Please don't tell me you've done something stupid."

"Haven't had to yet, just small stuff."

"Like?" Bucky urges, not taking the vague response.

"I stopped assigning her to missions. When I had to throw off suspicion, I made sure she would be with you or Tony. I've got people I trust watching over her when she leaves home alone too."

"That's a little creepy, Steve." Bucky chuckles briefly, shaking his head.

"I was doing everything possible to keep her from leaving a trace that he can pick up on. That's why she's not here and I'm in her chair, drinking this disgusting cocktail in this empty, lonely apartment."

The two of them sit in silence temporarily before Steve speaks again. "I even took down all our pictures and got rid of any trace of her in case he ever suspected me, just couldn't find it in myself to take those two pictures down," he says as he points at the only two remaining frames on the wall.

Bucky's eyes follow where he points and he finds himself smiling at the pictures. Steve smiles too, but because it's all he's got left of you at the moment even though everything in the house had you intertwined with it. Regret fills the holes in his heart and his eyes linger on the pictures for a little too long.

The photo taken at the beach with all three of you? You were in his favorite bikini and, unbeknownst to anyone else, he later fucked you in it in the kitchen while everyone else was outside swimming. Your first date photo? Well, that one's self explanatory. It was sentimental and he wasn't sure he'd ever take that one down, even if you decided you hated him forever.

"But I guess it was all this pain for nothing, huh?" Steve says, smiling weakly.

"You did what you could, just wish you would've came to me. You know I'm here for you and her."

Steve doesn't find it in himself to respond. Bucky was right, he shouldn't of tried to handle this by himself. Guilt pools in his stomach threatening to make him nauseous.

"Were you ever gonna tell her? She should know, Steve, this is her past we're talking about here. If she knows then she'll be prepared for whatever comes our way."

Steve taps his foot, his nerves slowly overwhelming him. "That's the woman I know and love, Bucky, and I know she'll go digging for answers. I can't let her get hurt, especially not now," he says.

Bucky knows there's some truth to this because he knows you almost as well as Steve does- you're relentless when something's important to you. However, he also knows that you deserve the truth- that's part of the whole reason he came to talk to Steve in the first place.

"You need to tell her," Bucky responds, his tone almost demanding. "I've been watching her hurt for the last few months over something that isn't even her fault."

"I know, and I'm gonna tell her..."

"It sounds like there's a 'but' coming after that, and I really don't wanna hear-"

"But I'm going to find him first."

For a moment he thinks to himself 'he can't be serious, can he?' Then he looks at his friend who has determination written all over his face. He sees a glimpse of that scrawny, nervous kid Steve used to be for a second, and that's what worries him; that's how he knows he won't stop until he finds this guy.

"I'll do whatever it takes to keep them safe. I'll take down all of Hydra if I have to, I'm not letting them get close to her."

"You don't even know where this guy is, Steve. As your best friend, I can't let you take a chance on getting hurt when you do find him. No matter how shitty you've been, she still loves you a lot. She needs you, and so will that baby."

"Buck, this is something I have to do-"

"Then I'll do it for you," Bucky interrupts, the words leaving his mouth before he gets the chance to second guess them. "Give me what you have on him and I'll handle it."

Steve is dumbfounded. He's got the same 'he can't be serious' look that Bucky had mere seconds ago.

"Absolutely not. With your history with them, that's not a risk I can let you take."

Bucky smiles sympathetically. "But I don't have a family like you will. Don't get me wrong, you and y/n are my family, but you've got a baby on the way, punk. I've got nothing to lose here, it's not up for debate."

Steve frowns at this. He looks torn, his emotions at war within him. On one hand, he wants to protect you and his baby at all costs. On the other hand, he can't bear to lose his best friend again.

"Bucky, you're like a brother to me; I don't think I can put you in harm's way and ask you to do this," Steve says, his voice filled with desperation, "But I can't risk y/n and the baby's safety either."

Bucky's expression softens as he places a reassuring hand on Steve's shoulder. "You're gonna be a father soon, Rogers. You need to be there for them. Just let me handle this, they can't get to me anymore. I've got more ties to Hydra than anyone, I can probably pull some strings of my own."

Steve sighs upon realizing that Bucky's decision is unshakable. "You promise me you'll be careful. You'll keep me updated on everything and if anything seems off, I want you to retreat immediately."

He laughs before saying, "You're gonna be a damn good dad, you know?"

Steve narrows his eyes at him. "I'm serious, Buck."

"Alright, alright. I promise, and I'll keep you updated, okay?" Bucky agrees, throwing his hands up in the air to show his compliance.

Steve then reaches for his phone and begins to compile all the information he's gathered about Zepher Hawthorne. He anonymously sends the files to Bucky who immediately starts to study them closely. Bucky glances up to give Steve a reassuring smile.

"I'll be as careful as they come, Steve. Don't worry about me."

With their roles now clearly defined, they continue to discuss their plan in detail. They agree on secure communication channels, establish a backup line for communication, and set up a timeline for Bucky's investigation into Hawthorne. It's a risky endeavor, and they know that, but they're both determined to protect you and the unborn child.

As Bucky prepares to leave, Steve can't help but feel a renewed sense of hope that he'd lost when you told him about the baby. He knows he has a difficult conversation ahead with you, but he's also more motivated than ever to show you his dedication to protecting your little family.

Right as Bucky's about to leave, he turns around to look at Steve. "I'll put it some vacation days and let you know once I have a lead; in the meantime, go talk to her. If you don't wanna tell her the full story until I find him, then you at least need to tell her that you want her and the baby. Sound good?"

"Works for me," Steve chuckles lightly before giving Bucky a tight hug. "See you around?"

"I always come back," Bucky jokes as the door shuts behind him.

With that, Bucky leaves to prepare. Steve, however, takes a deep breath and picks up his keys. He knows it's time to open up to you about everything that's been hidden for far too long. He stands in the empty apartment motionless for a moment, the weight of the impending conversation heavy on him. It's not that he doesn't want you to know, but he doesn't want you to worry. After taking a deep breath he leaves the apartment and locks the door behind him.

As he heads towards the apartment elevator, his mind races with thoughts of how to approach you. He knows this won't be easy, and he's prepared to take all your anger and confusion because he knows he deserves it. Yet he's also determined to help you understand that at first he did everything he did to keep you safe; now he's doing what he has to in order to keep his family safe.

You're in the Avengers Tower sleeping comfortably your warm bed. You're peacefully unaware of the bombshell revelation that has just been dropped, but it won't stay that way for much longer. As Steve walks through the hallways he finally reaches your room.

He hesitates briefly before knocking gently on the door. It's quiet in your room so he waits for a moment, but then...nothing. His worry grows and horrible thoughts swarm in his brain. He knocks again, a bit more urgently this time.

On the other side of the door, you slowly begin to stir. The knocking finally registers in your drowsy mind, and you groggily call out, "Who is it?"

"It's Steve," he answers, his voice riddled with worry.

His voice has you awake instantly, but your heart races at the seriousness in his tone. You slide out of bed and hurriedly make your way to the door. Your fingers fumble with the lock at first but you find it within seconds. The door opens to reveal Steve standing there, his expression tense.

"Steve?" you ask, worry etching into your features as you take in the look on his face, "Why are you here? Are you okay?"

He steps into your room and turns on the dim light before closing the door behind him. He sighs deeply, rubbing his hands together.

"We need to talk," he insists. "There's something I should've told you a long time ago."

taglist!

@oh-thats-cute @vicmc624 @blackhawkfanatic @tooruen

@athenabarnes @gh0stgurl @missing-loki @elizacusi-blog

@terry2227 @imyourbratzdoll @starksbabie @diannana

@flowers-and-fichte @ozwriterchick @kandis-mom @nouk1998

think I managed to add everyone, but if I forgot your tag, or you want to be added to or removed from the tag list for this series, leave a comment or message me :)

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marygih · 4 months ago

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How dates screwed up loop logic.

One of Ransom's biggest mistakes was giving the children dates associated with real events, because that screwed up the entire chronology of the story and the logic of the loops.

In case you don't understand what I mean, let me explain. Fiona and Hugh lived in 1840, so first of all it wouldn't even be possible for them to live in a loop in 1940 since they would age. Another detail is that Fiona had a show as Jungle Jill, which is also impossible for her to have participated in since this was in the present and not in the loop. The same goes for Hugh.

In order not to lose such information, Ransom could have simply said that the children saw such events through loops, and not that they lived through that event.

It makes no sense whatsoever that Hugh, Fee and Enoch are older than Miss Peregrine and don't age like Perplexus did in LOS. And at that time there was no reboot.

What seemed like a cool addition just ruined a logic that was very easy to learn and filled the plot with holes.

#mphfpc #miss peregrines home for peculiar children #peculiar #ransom riggs #alma peregrine

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writingxfootballl · 6 months ago

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i wanna be the one (that makes your day) (jessie fleming x ucla!reader)

the part two to i'll be your biggest fan (and you'll be mine)

word count: 1407 ish

rating: F for fluffy

title- best friend by rex orange county

a/n: again, unedited. part of my fic dump. not guaranteed spelling errors and plot hole free

----

it’s been exactly one month since you left california for oxford.

and in that month, you’ve felt the full weight of the transition.

the chill of the english weather, the constant rush of new information, and the distinct absence of a certain messy-haired canadian soccer player.

you’d been so determined to focus on your studies, on the prestigious rhodes scholarship that had brought you here, that the thought of jessie—of her—had taken a backseat.

but that didn’t mean she was far from your mind. because she wasn’t.

she never really was.

it’s just that, here, in oxford, it felt… different.

the landscape was so vast, so old, the buildings so steeped in history. everything felt so distant, so foreign.

it wasn’t the kind of place where a casual coffee date or library study sessions felt possible.

but that didn’t stop you from wondering if you might see her again.

and then, one crisp morning, while you were walking across radcliffe square, there she was.

jessie fleming, on a freaking london bus, looking effortlessly beautiful in a puffer jacket and jeans.

you freeze in place, breath hitching, your heart skipping.

you hadn’t expected to see her in england, let alone in oxford, and definitely not in this exact moment.

the last time you saw her, she was standing on the bleachers in sunny california, asking you out on a date.

you had kissed her. it was perfect.

and then she had flown back to london for her training with chelsea.

you still have the little text you sent her: "thinking of you. hope practice is going well. "

it was cute. she replied with something equally sweet.

and then you both agreed that you’d keep in touch.

you hadn’t realized how much you'd missed her until this very moment.

you panic for a second, unsure what to do.

should you wave?

run over?

act cool and pretend you weren’t feeling a little lightheaded?

before you can decide, jessie’s eyes meet yours.

they soften immediately, her lips curling into that familiar smile, and just like that, you’re moving without thinking.

she’s already walking toward you, her boots tapping along the stone path, her hands shoved deep into her pockets.

“hey, y/n,” she says, her voice warm.

“fancy seeing you here.”

your heart swells.

“jessie! what—what are you doing here?”

“i think that’s my question for you,” she teases, stopping in front of you.

“i was just in london for training and thought i’d visit oxford for a bit. nice to see you’ve finally joined the world of us english folk.”

you laugh, trying to mask the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“i didn’t know you’d be here. i’m just, you know, studying. trying to become a fancy oxford student or whatever.”

“fancy, huh?”

jessie quirks an eyebrow.

“you look more like you belong in california than in england.”

“yeah, well, i don’t know if i’ll ever get used to the rain. or the weather, for that matter,” you say with a small, self-deprecating chuckle.

“i like it,” she shrugs, grinning.

“it’s cozy. but maybe that’s because i grew up with it.”

“right,” you mutter, glancing down at your boots and feeling suddenly nervous again.

“so what’s the plan? are you here for long?”

“nah, just a couple of days,” she says, looking around with interest.

“but i could always stay longer. what about you? got any plans for the day?”

you hesitate, thoughts running wild. “um, not really. just… studying. you know, the usual.”

jessie smiles knowingly, and before you can blink, she’s offering her arm to you.

“well, if you’re not doing anything, you want to come grab a coffee with me?”

you try to keep your cool.

“a coffee?” you repeat, almost disbelieving.

“as in, just us? hanging out?”

jessie tilts her head, amusement dancing in her eyes. “yeah, just us. no big deal.”

you’re pretty sure your heart is about to burst out of your chest, but you manage to nod, trying to hide the giddiness creeping up.

“sure, i’d love to.”

and so, the two of you stroll through the cobbled streets of oxford, coffee cups in hand, casually talking about everything and nothing.

the conversation flows effortlessly, like you’ve known each other for years, like time and space hadn’t really interrupted your connection.

“so how’s chelsea?” you ask, as you both take a seat on one of the benches overlooking the river.

“it’s been great,” she replies, looking genuinely happy.

“lots of training, a few matches here and there. and you? how’s oxford? is it everything you thought it’d be?”

you think for a moment.

“yeah. and no. i mean, it’s exactly what i expected academically, but i didn’t know how lonely it would feel sometimes. like, everyone’s so driven, and it’s kind of… overwhelming.”

jessie nods, her gaze softening.

“i get that. being away from home is hard, but you’re doing it, right? you’ve got this.”

you smile, warmed by her words.

“thanks, jessie. i appreciate that.”

“of course,” she replies, her voice gentle.

“besides, we’ve both got big things going on, right? you with the rhodes, me with the team... we’re kind of a power couple, if you think about it.”

you laugh, the sound coming out more nervous than you intend.

“power couple? is that what we are?”

jessie’s grin widens.

“why not?”

and for the rest of the afternoon, you both walk around oxford, talking about life, about what you miss, about your plans for the future.

the conversation flows with ease, like you’ve always been in each other’s orbit, like nothing has really changed.

by the time the sun begins to set, painting the sky in shades of pink and purple, jessie turns to you, her smile softening.

“i’m really glad we’re doing this,” she says quietly. “i’ve missed you.”

you swallow hard, your chest tightening.

“i’ve missed you too.”

“i mean it,” she continues.

“i know we’re both busy, and i know this whole long-distance thing isn’t easy, but... i want to see you more. when you’re free, come to london. i’ll show you around.”

the warmth in her words melts you completely.

“i’d love that,” you whisper. “i’d really love that.”

“good,” she says with a wink.

“because i’ve already got a few ideas for our next date.”

you laugh, your heart fluttering.

“a date, huh?”

jessie shrugs, looking casually cool.

“we did kind of kiss last time i checked, so i think it counts.”

you roll your eyes, but you’re grinning.

“you’re impossible, you know that?”

“yeah, i know,” she says with a laugh. “but you like me anyway.”

you shake your head, a playful smile on your lips.

“don’t get too cocky.”

“i’ll try,” she says, her eyes twinkling.

the sun dips below the horizon, and the night air grows cooler, but there’s something incredibly comforting about sitting here with jessie, knowing that the two of you have this connection that just keeps growing stronger.

over the next few weeks, you and jessie stay in touch.

the long-distance thing isn’t easy, but it’s working.

you FaceTime when you can, send each other little messages of encouragement.

she’s training for her upcoming season with chelsea, and you’re buried in your studies, but the moments you do find to talk are the highlights of your day.

it’s strange, though, to think about how your life has shifted since that first meeting in the library back at ucla.

you’ve come so far, both of you, and yet somehow, despite the distance, you still feel that pull to her.

that connection you can’t quite explain, but you know is real.

jessie visits oxford a few more times, and each time feels like a new chapter in your relationship.

you go out for coffee, explore the city, and sneak in quiet moments in between your busy schedules.

with each visit, your feelings for her grow stronger, and you begin to wonder if this could really work—this thing between you two, despite everything.

one night, after a long week of work, you find yourself at your desk, scrolling through your messages when you see a new one from jessie.

"thinking about you. when’s the next time i get to see you? "

your heart skips.

you reply quickly: "soon. i’ll make it happen. i miss you."

she responds almost instantly: "me too. see you soon, love."

you grin, your heart swelling.

this? this was just the beginning.

#jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagine #woso imagines #jessie fleming #canwnt imagine #canwnt x reader #the only chelsea player i will ever like

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