#beckett x reader

[imaginepirates]

Beck and Call

The reader is an employee of Beckett's, working as an entertainer to gather information at social events. While getting a little too close to clientele for Beckett's taste, you're pulled off to an unoccupied room so he can remind you exactly who's in charge. Of course, things get frisky from there.

Please note that the reader is fem. Also know that the fic features a heated makeout session and strip-tease, but no full nsfw content.

@emdrabbles @tesserphantom @viper-official @hellspawn-brownies @groovy-lady @ghoulishbehaviour

~3300 words

~~~~~~~

What first caught your eye was the rather loud waistcoat. Even from across the room, the amount of embroidery looked egregious. It was somewhat made up for by the tasteful choices in color, which managed not to clash with each other on the bright fabric. If the Lowell family were known for anything, it was their flamboyance. And annoyingly good hair, you thought to yourself, touching your own lightly to ensure the pins were staying in place. 

The wearer of said offending waistcoat was the youngest of the Lowell boys, quite eager to prove himself to high society. He was a handsome sort, with a sharp jaw and a ready smile, all blonde curls and shining eyes. Open to speaking about anything, too, which was exactly why you were there. 

The boy’s father had just come into a position in the House of Lords, and would be yet another influencing factor on trade. Your job was to make him talk, to see how open his father might be to working with your own employer, a certain Cutler Beckett. Beckett was always looking for political sway, so you were always dragged to social events to eavesdrop. Spying was too harsh a word, he told you, though you knew he’d let you call it whatever you liked as long as the job got done. 

Thankfully, all socials needed entertainers, and entertaining made you just interesting enough to speak to. You could, of course, pose as some highborn lady, but for the Lowell boy, nothing less than the most dazzling performer would do.

You struck a captivating figure, even you had to admit. Beckett had near outdone himself—he wasn’t one to be afraid of dressing you immodestly, but your dangerously low neckline was nothing short of scandalous. Your dress, a dark turquoise mantua the color of stormy seas, was accented by embellishments of white and gold. Tiny satin roses sat along a creme stomacher, and lace spilled out from the elbows of your sleeves and along your collar. False ringlets hung at the sides of your face, giving the illusion you had more hair than a head could hold. Your jewelry, too, had its own extravagance. A pearl necklace lay at your throat in three lengths, and your earrings featured one dangling pearl apiece. 

Truth be told, you felt a little like a trussed up doll, but you supposed that was all you were for the evening anyway. 

You took your place amongst the musicians, keeping an eye on the boy as you went. You made sure to pass by close enough that he had no choice but to notice you, and you blushed prettily as his gaze trailed after you. Eye contact. If you’d learned anything, meeting a man’s eye for a brief moment was more daring, more alluring, than any dress you could ever wear. 

Working for Beckett required a wide range of abilities from you—singing, dancing, pianoforte, social skills—and you were always expected to put them to use. There were the other necessities, sometimes, like good aim, which you preferred to leave to Mercer, but you learned all the same. Tonight, thankfully, all that was required of you was your voice

So you sang. Backed by a small ensemble, you provided the music for partygoers to dance to, raking your eyes over the crowd all the while, taking in the social scene. You stood at the perfect spot for observing who talked to who, and which groups avoided each other, and if anyone’s dress was out of season, and whether or not the Lowell boy accepted drinks from waiters. 

Oh, and Beckett’s piercing gaze. 

Nobody else noticed—nobody else could—as Beckett watched you from the corner of his eye. His stare raked across you, making gooseflesh rise on your arms and a shiver run down the back of your neck. He watched, of course, to make sure you were doing your job, and that his eyes weren’t the only pair drawn to you. But you had been under his employment a long time, and you knew his many looks, and the darkness in this particular look was one he reserved for precious few people. In fact, you weren’t sure you’d ever seen him direct this look to anyone but yourself, which gave you a little too much satisfaction. 

This look was one of desire, and you’d be damned if you didn’t capitalize on it. Beckett wasn’t the only one who could toy with people. 

The performance over, you mingled with the crowd, graciously accepting compliments and putting on a dazzling smile. It didn’t take long for the boy to be drawn over; his eyes carding over you with clear interest, and you knew it wasn’t just your voice drawing his attention. 

“That was positively breathtaking.” He had a pretty smile, you conceded to yourself, but was full of foppish energy you’d have to brace yourself against. 

“Thank you.” You pretended to be flattered. 

“You’re breathtaking, as well. Wherever did you get that dress?”

The problem, you found, was that he was really and truly interested. All his excitement was genuine, and as much as you hated to use it against him, it was your job. “The silk is from China,” you lied. China sounded much more interesting than Bristol, and he wouldn’t know the difference. 

Soon, he was talking about his father, and you listened to every word. When the topic of spices and textiles arose, you slipped Beckett’s name into the mix, mentioning him as the gifter of your dress. To the Lowell boy, it was nothing more than an offhand comment, but you knew Beckett’s name was in his brain now, and as sure as he was to mention you to his father, he would be mentioning Beckett as well. 

It was when you let him inspect the pearls at your throat that you noticed Beckett’s glare from across the room, hot and fixated on the spot where the boy’s fingers made contact with your skin. You had the sudden feeling you’d done something wrong. Oh, the show you were making of yourself wasn’t truly vital, no, but surely Beckett couldn’t be upset about it. 

Surely he couldn’t be jealous.

Mercer appeared by your shoulder in short order, seemingly out of nowhere. “I’m afraid the songbird is needed elsewhere,” he drawled. “I’m sure she’ll be back in not too long.”

“Oh, of course.” The boy smiled, bidding you farewell. “For you, I can wait.” 

You rather hoped he didn’t.

You let Mercer drag you away from the crowd, though his iron grip on your arm wasn’t wholly necessary. You had no doubt who the order had come from—you were at the man’s beck and call. A thrill ran through you; you couldn’t help but feel a little excited. After all, you’d succeeded in making the famously well-restrained Cutler Beckett snap under the weight of jealousy. But you were apprehensive, too. There was no telling just how he would react, and though you weren’t afraid, necessarily, you were aware he could cause you discomfort without doing harm. 

Mercer pulled you into a library, oak shelves making a maze of the room. At the back, Beckett sat in a comfortable looking chair, rising unhurriedly to greet you. He gave you a casual once-over before turning away to inspect a row of exotic artifacts, affecting disinterest.

“You’ve taken quite the shining to the Lowell boy.” 

“Well,” you started, taking on the same air, “shining is the word to describe me tonight. You’ve made sure of that.”

He turned back to you then, regarding you darkly. He wouldn’t fall for any of your charm; at least, he’d be aware of your acting. You couldn’t fool him. 

But you didn’t need to. Despite trying to make it look otherwise, he’d already given away his attraction to you, and it only felt right to give him what he made you give others. You couldn’t get shy on him now—that wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted your acting, even if he knew that’s what it was. You were a performer, and he liked a show.

“Your…enthusiasm…in tonight’s assignment was unparalleled. I’ve never seen you take such an interest in any of our potential clients before.” Beckett looked up at you through dark lashes. “Though,” he paused, brows knitting together ever so slightly, “I do wonder why that boy in particular caught your attention.”

You fingered one of the small roses adorning your dress, trying very hard to seem like you weren’t thinking critically about your answer. “Oh,” you sighed, letting your chest rise and fall a little more than natural, “you know how it is. He’s young and pretty and has so many stories and so much energy. One can’t help but get pulled into his halo of excitement.”

Beckett snorted. “Please. You’re too smart to find any substance in that sort of personality.”

“It’s not his personality I need to find substance in.”

Beckett’s eyes flashed with an intensity you’d never seen, dangerous. You were in deep waters now, you realized, and there was no backing out. 

“Of course,” you continued, “we would need an empty room and locking doors. I’m sure you could procure something of the sort, given our current atmosphere.” You waved a hand, vaguely gesturing at the library. Then, you stilled, looking back at Beckett with your brows raised as if a thought had only just now occurred to you. “You weren’t hoping for something similar, dragging me in here, were you?”

Lighting quick, Beckett had one of your wrists in his hand, pulling you closer, his breath ghosting across the shell of your ear. “I know what you’re doing. I wouldn’t test me, if I were you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and the nerves in your wrist crackled with some electric impulse triggered by Beckett’s touch. It took everything in you not to gasp. You hadn’t expected his hold to be so tight, but he kept you in a vice grip, and you knew then and there you couldn’t pull away even if you wanted to. 

You steeled your nerves. This was a game, and you had to make your next move, risky as it felt. 

“Or what?” You whispered low in his ear. Your free hand made its way to the joint between his shoulder and chest as if to steady yourself on him, a teasing touch. He breathed deeply against it, and the light press of your fingertips became the flat of your palm.

“Or I’ll show you just what can be done in an empty library.”

He pulled away abruptly, a tidal wave of relief cascading over you. The onslaught wasn’t over, of course, but he was giving you a respite, and though you weren’t admitting defeat quite yet, you’d take it. 

Beckett sat back in the chair, relaxing, a smirk resting on his face. “Go on then. Show me how you would seduce this boy.”

You nearly balked at the suggestion. Whatever you’d been expecting, it wasn’t this—this forwardness, so casually put, not a trace of hesitancy to be seen. You only wondered for a brief moment whether he was serious; the confidence in his deepening smirk told you all you needed to know. 

You straightened. Beckett wasn’t going to back down, and his words weren’t a suggestion. They were an order. That thought alone made you weak at the knees.

Always start slow. This was a seduction, and a seduction called for a certain amount of teasing. Anticipation was the true key; keep your voyeur waiting until they simply couldn’t wait any longer, until they became too enthralled to turn away. You began with the pins at the back of your dress, letting the pleats and folds in the back fall with each steel fastening removed. Heavy fabric settled on the floor, the back of the dress now more of a train. 

Beckett was still perfectly composed, but the effect of your efforts was clear. His eyes followed your every movement keenly. You took advantage of it, having nowhere to set the pins but the small desk beside him. You bent down, allowing him a good look at your décolletage, and you were gratified to see him draw in a breath. 

Next to go was the stomacher, also pinned in place. Here, the true divestment began. Once the stomacher was off, the front of your stays would be on full display. You’d known Beckett a long time, and he’d seen you in plenty of compromising positions, but never like this. 

Eye contact, you reminded yourself. More alluring than any dress. More alluring than any undress. 

Beckett settled back in his chair as the stomacher came undone, staring openly at the space it previously occupied. You wondered how often he’d had the chance to see women’s undergarments so personally, but waved that though away, bringing your hands up to the ruffled sides of your bodice and slowly, ever so slowly, peeled it off your shoulders and let it drop to the ground. 

Beckett readjusted in his seat. You could hear his breathing, now, and his lips sat slightly parted, as if he could taste you on the air. Your arms, now bare, felt the chill of the library acutely. If you shivered, it wasn’t from the cool alone—Beckett’s eyes raked over you with undisguised lust, making it hard for you to keep from blushing. You were all petticoats, well beyond the definition of improper. 

You untied your silk skirt, a matching turquoise to the bodice, never taking your eyes off Beckett’s own, even as his wandered. You had to slip it off over your head, but you managed it smoothly. That too you dropped on the floor, letting it slide right out of your fingers. 

Beckett’s eyes met yours again, though you could tell he was getting impatient. You loosed the panniers from your sides where they hung to give your skirt its volume, dangling them from your fingers. You walked towards him, setting the small hoops down atop the pins you’d put next to him. Precious little covered you; your modesty was saved by your chemise, though you didn’t expect it to last. 

For a long moment, you and Beckett stared at each other. You were close enough to touch, but he refrained from reaching out, clearly interested in what you would do next. 

“May I use the chair?” You didn’t wait for a response, raising one foot to the seat just next to Beckett’s thigh. Your stockings had to go, and you began untying the garter fastened just above your knee, your chemise now hiked up to reveal a sliver of skin. One of Beckett’s hands moved, seemingly involuntary, and you smiled, shaking your head. 

“Look, don’t touch.”

Beckett’s eyes snapped up to yours. It was your turn to give orders, and you weren’t about to play fair. You unlaced your garter, dropping it in Beckett’s lap. Then, inch by inch, you rolled down your stocking, only divesting yourself of it when you were sure Beckett felt tortured by it. He exhaled, resting his head against the back of the seat. But he smiled—a genuine smile—and you knew you were doing the right thing. 

“Dear god,” he breathed, still watching as you undid your other stocking. “You’re lucky I’m a patient man. Otherwise I’d already have you bent over a desk somewhere.”

The way he’d grabbed you earlier, you didn’t doubt it. “And have everything over with so quickly?” you teased. “That’s no fun.”

“You have a point. Though, if you keep me waiting much longer, I might not be able to help myself.” His eyes flicked up to meet yours, and you blushed a little in spite of yourself. 

The moment your other stocking hit the floor, Beckett was out of his seat, spinning you around to press you against the wall. You gasped but didn’t resist, relishing a little in the way his hands explored you, running down your sides and pulling you closer by the hips. His lips brushed your neck, and you tilted your head to give him better access. 

The first kiss seared your skin. You found purchase in the back of his waistcoat, digging your fingers into the fabric to steady yourself. He continued his administrations down to your shoulder, where his teeth drew your attention to the soft bite he left above your collarbone. You couldn’t help the quiet moan that escaped you. If he wasn’t careful, you’d have marks littering your skin come morning, and they’d be on display for everyone to see. You considered that this very thing might be his intent, but his lips at the tops of your breasts distracted you entirely. 

You felt his smirk more than saw it, and you knew he was taking great satisfaction in all the little noises you kept making. His touch became hampered by your stays, but he hardly seemed bothered. 

“Be good for me and turn around, yes?” He murmured.

You complied immediately, shocked by how quickly he made work of the lacings. You couldn’t help but wonder whether he ever meant to kiss you properly. A hint of disappointment wormed its way into your brain; you liked what Beckett was doing to you, that couldn’t be denied, but you didn’t want it to be all he did. You didn’t want to be a fling. If you were being honest with yourself, you longed for him to care about you, and you longed for him to show it.

You turned back to him appraising you, eyes raking over your form. The only thing covering you was your chemise, though you felt naked under his gaze. 

“Kiss me.” You disguised your plea with as much confidence as you could muster. For a moment, you feared he wouldn’t understand, or that he would reject you outright, but all worry was wiped away as his lips crushed against yours, stealing the breath from your lungs with its intensity. 

You were both panting when you parted, though Beckett looked like he could kiss you until he suffocated. The idea both thrilled and concerned you. You reached out, cupping his face in your hands, watching the surprise on his face turn to mild desperation as he leaned into your touch. You pulled him in again for a gentler, more tender kiss, and he sighed against your lips. 

You’d never seen such softness in him before, and you were almost afraid of breaking him. His pupils, blown wide, remained fixed on you in a sort of daze, and to your great astonishment, a blush had crept up his cheeks. 

He hadn’t anticipated this, either, you thought. This tenderness is more intimate to him than any power-play could ever be. You could explore him like this forever, you realized. Gentleness was something foreign to him, but he lost himself in it, needed it terribly. 

Before you could get any further, a knock at the door had you pulling away from each other, gasping for breath and trying to shake off the little world you’d gotten so lost in. 

Mercer slipped in, paying you and your state of undress no mind. He didn’t seem surprised in the slightest to see you both unkempt. “Lord Lowell has an interest in speaking with you, Sir. It seems the youngest Lowell boy has been talking with his father about you.”

“Ah.” Beckett recovered his composure with impressive speed. “I’m glad to hear our little bird sung so sweetly as to sway him.” He looked at you teasingly. Mercer stepped out, affording you some privacy and Beckett a moment to get himself back together. “An unfortunate interruption. Though I do hope you won’t mind resuming later?” You were pleased to see a glint of hope in his eye—he wasn’t as unaffected as he liked to pretend.

“Oh,” you leaned in, whispering in his ear, “I’m counting on it. I’m still not sure you’ve shown me quite everything one can do in an empty library.”

I've never put dividers in my fics before, so please tell me if you liked them!

[ma1dmer]

Vampire the Masquerade - Cuthbert Beckett NSFW

i am gonna impregnate this man

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex): he'll run his claws through your hair ,press a kiss to your forehead and probably return to his research , wouldn't mind you joining him even if its just to nap next to him, he’ll keep a hand in your hair as he reads through various texts and books while you rest before he probably has to rest as well, his body forcing him at that point to join you

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): he knows he is a handsome man, he knows people want him but thinking of something specific for his body, or anyone's body if we are being honest, seems so pointless to him, vanity is such a mortal matter after all and beauty is flitting, he says with a sharp and knowing grin, since he knows he is immortal and very much considered hot. he likes different things on different partners. Different things that have his eyes wandering ,and provide some sort of distraction in his day to day.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person): out of sight out of mind, hates having to clean up everything after he is done

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): he is definitely a switch, depends on the person he is with of course and what they bring out in him, its always exciting to see how things will go, he likes to be surprised

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?): he has spent so many years on this earth ,of course he has quite the experience, and it shows, whore

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual): he loves taking you from behind, while he is doing his research he beckons you over before bending you over his desk ,scolding you if you crumple any paper or spill ink on his precious books

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc): he seems like someone who would be very intense, but if you can't enjoy and be light-hearted with someone you bed whats the point, that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy teasing you if you get overwhelmed and unable to keep up

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.): he doesn't care to trim or shave, especially considering he is a gangrel

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…): he is both incredibly smooth and all types of romantic interactions fly right over his head, it really depends on the mood he is and how deep he is lost in his books, he could have you wrapped around his finger with poetry from aeons ago , and promises of the most delicious things, but also you could stand in front of him entirely naked and he’d get frustrated at you only raising his head from some ancient scroll and asking you what you want

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon): enjoys being given a show, he likes knowing how much you want him, wants to watch you pleasure yourself, his only help his hand rubbing your knee as he keeps his eyes fixed on you memorising every detail of your expressions and body

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks): voyeurism, maybe one(1) daddy here and there but nothing more, some minor roleplaying , naughty librarian? desperate ghoul etc etc

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do): he prefers to keep such matters behind closed doors 

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going): being challenged, he likes people that run their mouths as much as he does, he does get frustrated at first and annoyed meeting someone his equal, but he would be bored otherwise, and all that frustration does make for delicious tension that bleeds into his more carnal needs

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): he hates being pulled away from important work, he’ll tell you once, that he is busy and does not want to be disturbed and expects you to listen, if he hasn’t told you so , he is open to being distracted but you can tell when he wants you to fuck off somewhere else, of course in kinder terms

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc): he loves both, he is very very very thorough when he gives, knows how to keep his claws and teeth out of the way , or not if its the danger you like, and he definitely won’t say no to a pretty little thing on their knees for him

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.): it depends ,he loves simply taking his pleasure from you fast and rough, but also simply having you spread out for him ,taking his time with you until you tremble

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.): not a big fan, hates being taken away from his research will click his tongue in annoyance if you bother him

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.): he is a naturally curious man that thirsts for knowledge so it comes to reason to assume that extends to his more private matters as well

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…): considering what he is and the fact he is pretty powerful i would say his stamina is unparalleld, it takes him a while to get in the mood but once he is , he tends to lose time, and can go for honestly far too long ,you’ll be crying before he pulls away confused like , what happened, check the clock and see its the next day or something, those damn vampires

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?): he can definitely appreciate them, he is slightly too old fashioned to truly enjoy them for himself, but he does enjoy the fantasy of stuffing you with a toy before letting you walk away, however the idea of you potentially getting in danger or being humiliated stops him 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease): he is quite the tease, likes holding you down by the scruff of your neck, using your body while teasing you with his words, speaking almost matter of factly about how desperate you are for him

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make): besides his teasing words he is so quite, sometimes you forget he is behind you when he has you bent over and you turn to make sure he hasnt simply left the room but he'll press your head back down and tell you he was just admiring you

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice): absolutely uses nicknames when he addresses you teasingly, pet or darling depending on the mood

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words): knot? knot! 

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?): quite low, he is very in control of his needs, he likes when you want him and he chooses when he allows himself to want you, when he can afford the time to indulge both of your interest

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): if he could never sleep he’d probably be a happy man , so much work to do, so much research 

[justafairytailofinnocence]

Beckett x wife reader👰⚔

Imagine

Synopsis: A short oneshot of beckett and y/n, spending a night together.

Warning: none

Night fell over the town of Port Royal, the streets no longer bustling as silence filled the air. A cold breeze entered the window of the manor, a girl, who was barely covered in her bed sheets sat on the edge. The girl’s eyes lingered into the starry night, dreaming, wishing, for a better life. The girl was a lady, betrothed to a very powerful man that held no warmth; vile and cruel, he holds no reason to seek mercy in those that need it. That man’s name Cutler Beckett, the owner of the east Indian trading company; he held a great, powerful hatred for pirates. Pirates were the Bain of his existence; he would seek out any means to execute them. The pitiful part of this story was his newly wedded wife, a young woman who shall hold the title of his name. A woman to produce his future heirs toward his company, Y/n Beckett. Y/n wasn’t cruel, she wasn’t hateful, she was benevolent toward mankind. Y/n was bought off from her father, he was persuaded to have grand riches in turn for her hand for marriage. Beckett had no care nor any reaction toward y/n’s refusal, she was his, property to the company, property to him. Cutler wasn’t vile toward his wife, however if she were to speak out mercy for pirates, she would be locked away in her room.

Y/n sat on the edge of her bed staring at the stars above, her mind ran with thoughts of worry and woeful pity toward the lives her husband had executed.

The wooden, painted white door opened with a slight ‘creak’, y/n turned to see her husband standing behind her. Beckett held no expression, no smile, no sadness, no anger, only coldness. He entered the room in an upright stance, placing himself in the bed next to his wife. He laid his head gently onto y/n’s shoulder, his fingers gently stroked her smooth arm. “I often question, what goes on in that pretty little mind of yours” Beckett whispered.

Y/n had no response, she had nothing to say to him, it was just like any other night. The usual routine of her husband coming home, speaking of his succession’s and then falling asleep. Sometimes if he were lucky, he would get only but a single word coming out of her mouth. Y/n placed her hand on her husband’s head, no eye glance toward his way, nor even a smile. She was trapped, trapped in a house with this wicked, cruel man; y/n was broken, she had no brightness she once held. Beckett expected this, he grew used toward y/n’s cold affection, after all, it’s not love she feels for him nor lust, only duty.

“My dear, I brought you a gift, consider this a token of my gratitude” Beckett handed y/n a small ring, a black diamond.

Y/n took a glance at the diamond ring, her mouth muttered out “beautiful”, something Beckett hadn’t expected for a while. In response toward her touching word, he kissed y/n gently. Beckett wasn’t affectionate however, he approved of his wife; he would show her every ounce of kindness that remained.

Anyways that's all I have for now:

Ta Ta ✨️

[smuttyfang]

Beckett, An Intimate Night Together

"Can you please do some Beckett/female reader smut? Please."

Words: 1,124

"Have you found anything yet?" Beckett asked while searching the shelves for anything of interest. Your eyes scanned the book you held in your hands. It's leather bound pages were long worn and torn. Your body felt stiff from sitting on the hard floor for so long now.

"Mm, not really. Nothing too special in this one." Gently placing it back on the shelf, you sighed, picking up another beside it. You and Beckett had been traveling together and found an old library that had long been abandoned. It was in Scotland, hidden deep beneath an abandoned castle.

You were sure it must have been a lovely castle in it's better days. It was gigantic, gargoyles adorned the front doors and the peaks at the very top. It's towers seemed to stretch into the sky itself. You both felt it entirely possible that a vampire lived here at one point in time. Flipping through the last few pages of the second book, you placed it back where you found it.

"You know something Beckett?" You stretched out your legs and turned your attention to him.

"Quite a few somethings." He smirked. "Yes?" His voice always sounded a little seductive, without him even realizing it or trying.

"This would be a perfect place for us to stay together. It's beautiful, it just needs some work. And there's still a ton of knowledge to be found, I'm sure." He smirked at you. You always suggested things like this, but he would never give up on his search for Kindred knowledge.

"What, you think we will find another abandoned library hidden behind another bookshelf?" He teased.

"Well, it's entirely possible. This place is huge. We just have to take out all of these books and see which one makes a clicking sound." He smiled now, putting down his book and picking up another.

"What would be the odds of that happening again? I suppose it's always possible." He shrugged his shoulders.

"Nothing is impossible, Beckett. But.. can I ask you for a favor?"

"Of course, dear." Your stomach knotted when he said that. In a good way.

"Can we just.. stay here for a while? Please? We have all of eternity to look for these things. I want to spend time with you." His eyes met with yours. His emotions were incredibly hard to read. "Just a few nights. Please?" A sigh escaped his lips.

"Just gather some books to take with us, anything that looks interesting. We will find a room to stay in for the night." You could have squealed with excitement, he never agreed to spend time in one place or another unless it was daytime and you were both unable to leave. You stood up and dusted yourself off, walking over to him and giving him a small peck on the cheek.

"Thank you, Beckett." You gave him one more, before you scanned the room for anything interesting. You picked up a few that had strange symbols or languages, and you both set off to search for a decent room.

After an hour or two, you managed to find a room that didn't seem to be as disheveled as the rest of the castle. It had a large regal bed, an odd green color, covered with a canopy. The room had a fireplace and plenty of candles to use. You both set your books down near the fireplace.

"I think this will do." You pulled some matches from your pocket and lit some of the candles. You opened the curtains and pushed the window open. It creaked and groaned from the time it spent untouched, but still came open nonetheless. The full moon was out, and the cool breeze felt nice against your skin. You heard something creak behind you. Turning around, you realized Beckett had gotten a clean blanket from your bag and covered the dusty bed in it.

"Well, I'm glad you decided to bring one of these. I would hate to get you covered in dust." He laid down on the bed, resting his eyes. You wiggled your eyebrows to yourself.

"Are you saying you want to roll me all over this dusty old bed?" You smiled and crawled into bed beside of him. You snuggled up close to him. Even though he was cold to the touch, he made you feel so safe and secure.

"As a matter of fact, I might be saying just that." You perked up immediately, hearing his words. He wasn't often in the mood, but when he was, it was fantastic.

"Then please, indulge me." You loved it when he got like this. It was almost like a bestial side of him came forth when he wanted to make love. His lips enveloped yours in a cold kiss. Your tongue danced along the inside of his mouth, rubbing over his teeth. That was always your dead giveaway. You gazed into his eyes with passion. "I want your bite." He gave you his signature smirk again.

"Anything for you, dear." Although he drank from you often, when it was during sex, it was even more intense and pleasurable. His mouth trailed down your chin and traveled to your neck while he tore away at your clothing, pulling his own bottoms away.

"You always tear my clothes.." You said in a daze. He didn't respond. He merely kept his lips against your skin while he pumped his blood to his cock, bringing it back to life once more. He readied himself at your hole. Letting his teeth graze your neck, he picked out his favorite spot of yours to bite. When he reached the perfect target, he slowly worked his way inside of you, inch by inch. His teeth dug into your skin at the same time, giving you the most perfect mixture of pain and pleasure. He moaned aginst your skin, sucking the blood from your body while he began pumping into you.

"Beckett, oh.. fuck.." He pulled away from your neck, looking up at you with blood and lust ridden eyes. Your blood dripped from the corners of his mouth. Pulling himself upward, he presses his kips to yours, letting you taste yourself. He kept his eyes locked on yours, breathing against your skin.

"Now that I've started, I'm not going to stop." He reached down to bite you once more.

AO3

[vampire-the-askerade]

what would beckett be like with a tremere s/o who was abandoned by their sire and has trust issues?

[Ended up writing a mini-fic for this one :) ]

There was a stillness that fell over the room, Beckett knew that these sort of things were difficult for you, but he also knew they were difficult for him as well. Whenever he thought that you should be farther along with your relationship with him, he had to remind himself of how he would feel if someone, even you, were to ask him to do the same. “Take your time. I’m not trying to rush you into anything.” You took a deep breath and thought for a moment. You wanted to take him up on his offer, you really did. But, there was something screaming at you from the back of your mind that was making it difficult.

“Listen, Beckett… I want to, but what of we get partway through the trip and you decide…” your throat tightened and stoped your sentence. After a moment of you not continuing, Beckett spoke up. “I would never leave you; you know that? At least never on purpose, and I’d find you again as soon as possible.” You knew that. You had known him long enough to know he wouldn’t just abandon you like your sire did. But, it was still hard. Beckett put his hand on your shoulder. “I’m not supposed to leave for another few weeks. You still have plenty of time to decide. I just wanted to let you know early.” He smiled and you almost immediately felt at ease. “Don’t worry.” He started as he gave a a squeeze to your shoulder, “Whatever you decide will be the right choice.”

To be honest, when he first met you, you thought that he just wanted to use you to get more insight on your clan by getting you to divulge something that you weren’t supposed to. After all, everyone else that you had met in the past few years had just wanted to have you around when you were useful, and left you as soon as they saw the opportunity. But, being here with him now, seeing and understanding just how genuine he truly was, you knew that he would never hurt you on purpose. And, that was something that was more important than anything that you could ever hope to have. You gave him a soft smile and hummed, “I’ll think about it.”

[bbsxsaa]

🌼 the real plot of the szn 🌼

[heavysoldat]

it’s really you (on my mind)

best friend’s brother!bucky barnes x fem!reader

(gif by me)

inseparable since middle school, it was no surprise that you ended up falling for your long-time best friend. what was surprising, was who you actually ended up with at the end of the day.

warnings: SMUT (unprotected vaginal sex, blowjobs, face fucking, finger fucking, dirty talk, name-calling, slightly public sex, consent checks, breeding), angst, insecurities, language, very small age gap, hurt/comfort, a little cheesiness. 

(this is highly inspired by something i watched a while ago, that i cannot remember for the life of me)

A two-week long vacation between two families can go one of two ways: completely fine and dandy, or a total fucking disaster mid-way through.

This one time, it’s not so perfectly black and white.

Your feet are covered in wet sand, sliding through your flip-flops and even found home in the bottoms of your bikini. It doesn’t help, how they drag along the hot pavement on your way back to the shared beach house. 

The crash of the screen door hitting the wall is the last thing on your mind, shaking body making it harder to walk as you storm through the living room, hell-bent on landing upstairs with a crash land onto your temporary mattress. You’re practically dizzy with embarrassment, shame, anxiety and fear— feeling like you just swallowed an entire bottle of Adderall mixed with coffee.

Your own anxiety blinds you from your surroundings— so the sudden, jarring feeling of a hand stopping you via a grip on your wrist is enough to have you letting out a shriek.

“Hey! Hey!” Bucky calls, a lighthearted chuckle gracing his voice, “What’s the hurry?”

You’re breathing shallow and fast, heartbeat practically pounding in your chest; you’re crumbling in on yourself. You try to cover it up, try to calm yourself down, but the shakiness in your breathing and palms is enough to blow your cover. 

“Noth-nothing,” You stutter, barely meeting his gaze. “I’m just- tired, and wet, I just wanna take a shower.”

He goes quiet, smile leaving his features. His eyes are scanning you, scanning you with a softness you rarely see from him. Always the cooler, more aloof, older guy— fresh out of college, hurdling closer towards his future than you’ve ever been. It’s rare; rare that he speaks like this, rare that his voice isn’t threaded with incessant teasing and sarcasm.

With one look down to your shaking hands, fiddling with each other nervously, he steps closer.

“Hey,” His voice is soft, “What’s goin’ on? You’re shaking.”

“Nothing.” You insist— but the tears threatening to spill from your eyes tell a different story.

Bucky grabs your trembling hands, holding them together, “Take a deep breath. Calm down.”

After staring down at his feet, lulling it over in your head, you let out a shaky, trembling breath. You continue, deep, in-and-out, until it’s smooth. Until it’s not withering in your lungs. Until it’s not an uphill battle.

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” Bucky asks, slowly letting go of your hands, letting them fall to your sides.

You watch as he leans back against the marble countertop, on the side next to the bar stools. You rub your right arm with your left hand, still trembling, but at least breathing.

“It’s- uhm,” You’re struggling to get past the wall of anxiety that’s flooding you. “I asked- I asked him out.”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, staring at you with the prompt to elaborate.

“Beckett.”

His eyebrows raise in knowing. “Finally?”

“What?”

He laughs humorlessly, picking at the loose thread on his Baja hoodie. “I mean, I can’t say I didn’t see it coming? I honestly expected you to do it sooner.”

Your eyes grow sad, scared and wary.

“It wasn’t obvious, or anything,” Bucky retracts, hoping to calm you down, “At least, like, not to him. No offense to him, but... my little brothers fucking oblivious. Honestly.”

You hum in response, tugging on your bottom lip with your teeth.

“I’m assuming it didn’t go well?”

You shake your head.

“That’s... really surprising.” His voice raises in pitch, eyebrows going back up. “I mean, I- I always thought, he had a thing for you. I think we all thought it. That’s why, well, I-“

“Really?” You cut him off- tugging on your lip harder when he nods. He watches as your fingers grab onto the skin of your arm harder, pinching it between your fingers with unease.

“Do you want a hug?” Bucky asks, voice soft, eyes soft, but with uncertainty.

You nod, almost childlike, immediately melting when he pulls you into a tight embrace. The fabric of his jacket is enough to warm you, fingers folding into it to pull him tighter.

“I’m getting your jacket wet,” You mumble, muffled, head buried in his chest.

He blows a raspberry, mouth vibrating against your hair, “I don’t care.”

It’s the constant throbbing in your brain— the fear of you being you that keeps dragging you down. The fear that you weren’t good enough, weren’t hot enough, weren’t funny enough. It has you crying softly against his chest, rough sniffling muffling with the fabric.

After a few, long, heavy moments of you rotting against his chest, slightly calmed by the constant rubbing he’s providing to your arms, you finally manage to pull yourself away.

Rubbing a tear from your cheek, you gulp. “I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“Hey, what?” His voice strains, “Don’t say shit like that. It’s not personal, I fuckin’ swear. You didn’t- you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s his own shit. That doesn’t mean you fucked up, or-or you’re fucked up.”

Your eyes continue to water, your wiped away tears still making your cheeks sticky and hot. You still can’t look at him, even when he’s holding you, even when he’s guiding you.

“Then why does it keep happening?” Your voice is barely there. Barely a whisper.

“What?”

You swallow, thick in your throat, sucking your bottom lip in behind your teeth.

“This- it’s the second time I,” You breathe, “I just keep getting turned away, rejected, I feel… I feel so fucking stupid.”

“You’re great. You’re... you’re fun, and you’re smart, and you’re- you’re hot.”

That has you scoffing. It’s not in disdain for him, not in anger— but in sorrow and pity for yourself. The frown on your face is bigger than your own eyes. 

Sensing the tension, the anxiety, he asks: “Do you want to sit down?”

When you say yes, he guides you to the long, L-shaped couch in the corner of the room. Sitting down with you, letting enough space sit between you two so it’s not awkward— but not enough that he can’t comfort you.

“You’re not- you’re not unlovable, or unattractive, or whatever is going through your head right now.” He reassures you, still rubbing your arm with his thumb, “I swear to god.”

When you look at him, you can’t help but feel the words bubbling at your throat, giving you heartburn and scorching your mouth like vomit.

“It was you first.”

First, he’s confused. His eyebrows furrow, his eyes squint, his body tenses. “First?”

But when it hits him, it hits him.

“Oh.” He gasps, “Oh.”

You turn away, staring at the wooden floor poking out from between your feet.

“You never- I never- That’s impossible. I never, I couldn’t have rejected you. You never said anything.” He rambles.

You shake your head.

Oh.

Oh.

His eyes soften.

The years of him dating his past girlfriend; Dot, was her name. They had met in college, hit it off quick, and swallowed up two years of your life. The Instagram photos, the times she slept over, her insistence on PDA and flaunting him anywhere she can— it ate you up. It broke your heart.

“I didn’t know. You didn’t- you never said anything.” He stutters, voice still soft. He sounds sad, almost regretful. He sounds saddened for you and himself. “I’m... I’m sorry. I always thought... I thought you and my brother...�� He explains, dread filling his lungs like air. 

Your face only saddens, swallowing thickly. You can’t help but feel your lip quiver, fingers beginning to tremble again.

“Did you actually?” Bucky asks, slowly.

You nod. “Yeah... yeah.”

Bucky can’t help but go silent. He takes a moment, takes a second to really process it, staring off into space next to you for moments before he speaks. The silence kills you, it’s painful, it’s murderous, almost violent in the way it hits you— almost threatening to draw tears from your eyes once again, finally looking at him.

“I wouldn’t have rejected you.” He states, finally, eyes closed. When you don’t respond, he continues, “I... I liked you too, you know.”

“What?” You ask, almost like your flabbergasted by the idea that he would even think about seeing you that way. You’re younger, you’re behind him, you’re from a different world— not even in his peripheral vision.

“Yeah.” Bucky sighs. “I just, I thought you liked Beckett, so I never- I never said anything. And even- and even if that wasn’t the case, I didn’t want to make it awkward, didn’t want him to hate me for ruining your friendship or something.”

“So you...” You trail off, trying to collect your thoughts, “You were into me, before Dot?”

He chuckles, dry and nervous. “I mean- It’s... it’s shitty, but, I did even while I was with her.”

You’re staring, eyes blank, eyebrows raised, finding yourself trying to soften your breathing again. “Do you, still...?”

“I mean...” Laughing awkwardly again, he leans his elbow on his thigh to rub at his forehead, “Yeah. Yeah. Of course I do.”

“Really?” Your voice is hopeful, a smile appearing at the sides of your mouth.

“Yeah.” He laughs again, but this time, it feels genuine. “I mean- have you looked in the mirror? That swimsuit you’re in today is enough to drive me to fucking drink. And it’s not just because you’re hot, you— you’ve been taking up my mind, like. constantly. Every time we talk, I walk away so fucking...” He lets out a long, heavy sigh. “Satisfied.”

That has you almost crying again, but for a completely different reason. You’re laughing, wetly, trying to pry your eyes away from him despite the fact that you can’t. He squeezes your arm, reminding you that you’re still connected.

When you turn back to him, he brings his hand to your cheek, wiping some stray, wet hairs out of your eyes. His hand lands to cup your cheek, just to hold you.

“Can you kiss me?” You find yourself asking, before you can even think about it.

Bucky’s taken by surprise. It has him almost acting immediately, before he roots out his worries.

“I’m not...” Fingers trailing your face, “I’m not taking advantage of you, am I?”

You giggle, heart beating warm from his care. You shake your head. “No. I promise.”

Slowly, he leans in. He places a tentative, experimental kiss to your mouth— lips barely even pressing against yours. You grab his face, pulling him in, swallowing his mouth in yours. It has him grunting and moaning against you, hand moving to your back to pull you in closer.

After exploring each other’s mouths, practically eating each other whole, Bucky pulls away:

“What about- what about my brother?” He asks, out of breath.

“I don’t- I don’t care about him,” You breathe heavy, nose rubbing against his, “It was you first. It still is.”

He basks in your words like they’re the sun, a grin exploring his entire face and crinkling his nose. He brings you in again; has you moaning and gasping into his mouth, hands holding onto his stubbled jaw for dear life. He can feel his body vibrating, his stomach wrapping up in knots as the familiar, cold desire spreads up his spine; the same one that is spreading throughout your core.

With your body pressed so close to his, getting closer by each minute- you can feel his length under his sweatpants, growing harder with each kiss. He apologizes, pulling away from you.

You’re trying to catch your breath, “Don’t be.”

You lean down, pressing open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and neck, fingers trailing down his clothed chest with the same rhythm. Feeling his fingers itching near your ribs, you grasp your hand in his, bringing it to cup your clothed breast.

Bucky groans as he squeezes the mound of flesh— he’s quick to pull down one of your bikini cups, head moving quick to bring his mouth to your nipple. He wraps his lips around the bud, suckling onto it as he massages the rest of your breast.

That has you tossing your head back, letting a moan out into the air- “Fuck.”

“Is this okay?” He asks, mumbling against your bust.

“Yes,” You whine, “Fuck yes.”

With him sucking on your exposed tits, you brush your hand down, palming his cock overtop of his pants. He groans against your nipple, pausing his movements at your distraction.

When he stops, you pull him away from your tits, grasping his face in both of your hands.

“I want you in my mouth.” You confess, breathless.

That has Bucky groaning again, cock throbbing in his pants. “Are you sure?”

“Please,” You whine, “I wanna suck your cock. Please.”

How could he ever say no to that?

With his approval, you lean your head down almost immediately. You pull down his sweats, exposing his boxers, which are removed just as quickly. His cock; hard, leaking and pink at the tip smacks against his clothed stomach. You wrap your hands around his length, suppressing the moan threatening to spill when you realize you can’t even touch your fingers around his width.

When you give your first experimental lick, he’s moaning, head tossed against the couch; “Fuck.”

Bucky’s hand moves to wipe the hair out of your face, watching as you wrap your lips around his cock and slide him down your throat. He’s grunting, moaning at the sight; unable to keep his eyes away from you, despite how they threaten to close. 

He’s salty in your mouth, tip hitting the back of your throat as you bob your head up and down. Your hand massages the part of his length you can’t fit down, feeling the way he’s throbbing against your palm.

One thing you’ve learned is that Bucky is extremely vocal. He can’t keep his mouth shut— between grunts, moans and whimpers, he’s letting out an entire symphony above you, free hand gripping the couch so tightly his hand turns white.

You lean up to grab his hand, pressing both of them at the back of your neck as a signal. 

He stares into your eyes, big and round above his cock, “Are you sure?”

You hum against his cock, making him grunt.

“Fuck, okay.”

Bucky grips your hair between his hands, spreading his legs enough to let himself balance. He starts slow; pushing and pulling you up and down his cock, groaning at the feeling of your tongue moving around his tip. 

He gets faster, fucking your face within minutes. You’re gagging around him, spit trailing down onto his pants, tears slipping from your eyes to mix with your already wet face. 

“Fuck, that’s a good girl.” Bucky moans, “Takin’ it so well. You like my cock down your throat? You like letting me use that little mouth of yours?”

When you moan at his words, he can’t help but laugh.

“God, I know you do,” He gets faster, grunting harder, “I can tell. Such a little- fuck, little whore, lettin’ me use her like this- I love it, shit, I fuckin’ love it.”

He pulls you off of him with a wet pop, whining at the loss of your mouth- despite the fact that he’s the one who caused it.

“C’mere.”

He’s quick to pull you up, pulling you onto his lap. You can feel his cock against your stomach; but before you can react he pulls you back against his mouth, moaning at the taste of his precum against your tongue. 

Bucky pulls the other cup of your top down, freeing both of your tits to the air conditioned breeze. He slides his hands down your stomach; tickling your skin, before it slips underneath your swim trunks. 

His fingers rub on your folds, smiling when he finds you already soaked.

“You get that wet just from suckin’ me off?” He asks, after pulling away from your desperate mouth.

“Uh-huh,” You whine, “Can’t help it.”

He coos, rubbing your cheek with his free thumb, “I know you can’t, baby.”

Bucky’s fingers catch in your hole, slipping inside with ease. He’s able to fit two in with your provided slick, soaking his fingers and sliding them right in. His thumb flicks at your clit as his fingers scissor inside of you, pumping in and out.

You bury your face in his neck, desperately grinding against his fingers with heavy moans against his neck. That only makes him get faster; pistoning inside your heat with abandon, hitting that spongey spot inside of you with ease.

“You want me to fuck you?” He breathes, strain in his voice clear. “Want me to fuck you right here on this couch, where anyone could fuckin’ walk in and see you?”

You whine, “Yes, fuck, please.”

When he pulls your trunks to the side, he slips inside of your wet heat easily.

Bucky groans at the feeling of your fluttering core clenching around him, harmonizing with your whimpers.

He pulls you up by your chin; softly, stroking your cheek with his hand, despite how it shakes with pleasure. “You okay?”

You nod, “Mhm. I’m okay. Please move.”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to your awaiting lips. 

Bucky starts off slow— a tantalizing, torturous grind, barely even moving inside of your cunt. 

“Mm, I know, honey.” He coos, after you whimper impatiently against his skin, “I gotta- fuck, gotta go slow. Pussy’s so fuckin’ tight, if I go any faster I’m gonna blow my fuckin’ load already.”

That has you moaning. That image: him filling your cunt, having him leaking out of your folds and onto the couch, over top of your trunks— it fulfills this primal desire in your stomach, making you even more desperate than you were before.

“Oh fuck, do you like that?” Bucky asks, almost shocked, “You like the idea of me fillin’ that little cunt?”

You nod, whining.

“Fuck,” He moans, drawn out in a long groan. His thrusts get faster; he’s grabbing onto your waist, pulling you down against him so he can piston into your cunt from below. You’re loud, moaning into the air as his heavy balls slap against your ass. “God, you’re so fucking dirty.”

Your hand draws down to beneath your pants, rubbing your clit in circles.

“Fuck, baby,” Bucky grunts at the sight, “Look so pretty gettin’ yourself off like that, shit, yeah, make yourself cum on my cock. That’s fuckin’ it.”

You’re bouncing on top of him without even moving, tits moving rapidly in front of his face, hair flowing every which way with the fast movement. You’re so close, so desperate to that rope finally ripping, tearing inside of your core in the most delicious way. 

Bucky’s sounds of pleasure fuel your need, getting you closer to that edge, hurdling, hurdling, hurdling, until—

“Fuck, Bucky, fuck!” 

You’re crashing. Falling down off the cliff into a bone rattling orgasm, cunt clenching so hard around his cock you’re suffocating it. Your legs are twitching, trembling around him, but he doesn’t let up. He keeps fucking you through it, using you to get himself off- now that he no longer needs to worry about you coming. 

“Oh god, baby, gonna fuckin’ cum,” He grunts, “Can I really come in you? Fuck, you gonna let me?”

His voice is so genuine, it has you turned on all over again. 

“I’m on the pill, please. Please, fill me up.”

You lean down, whispering, whining encouragement into his ear, practically pleading for him to spend his load deep inside your cunt.

When Bucky cums, he cums hard. His balls slap against your ass one last time, burying himself deep inside of you. His legs are trembling, burying his face into your neck to muffle the yells he’s letting out, almost completely against his will. 

“Oh,” He moans, voice trembling like his limbs, “Oh god.”

“Mhm,” You whine, brushing his hair in your fingers.

You two stay there, wrapped in each other. You can feel his cum dripping out of you already, running down your leg to stain the grey fabric of his sweatpants; which undoubtedly need a thorough washing now.

You feel Bucky leaving soft, gentle kisses against your jawline, up to your ear, cheek and nose, then finally planting one on your lips.

“You okay? Was that okay?” He asks, brushing your hair from your face.

“Mhm.” You hum, again, “Was really good.”

He smiles, genuine and soft. “Good. I’m glad.”

You giggle, bringing him in for another kiss by the back of his head, more sloppy this time.

“Hey, uh,” He says after he pulls away- much to his own dismay, “As much as I’d love to just stay here, we should probably move. They’re gonna be comin’ back from the water, soon.”

“Oh- shit, yeah, right.” You laugh, letting out a harsh breath. But when you move to get up off of him, he pulls you down, wrapping your mouth in another harsh, tongue-filled kiss.

“Sorry, just had to do that one more time.”

[leclercstarrs]

dating missy

• the two of you started off as a fling, keeping everything behind closed doors to avoid the wrath of your shared friend, sasha, if she found out you were with her ex.

• eventually, when it was clear sasha fully moved on, you and missy came out with your relationship.

• she treats you like a princess and knows you’ll return that feeling to her.

• she shows her love for you through words of affirmation and acts of service. she’s constantly reminding you how much she loves you and appreciates you.

• she’s a possessive and slightly jealous person. she’s always quick to call someone out for hitting on you.

• she’s also very defensive when it comes to you. sasha tends to find herself in a lot of trouble and arguments with missy, as she makes backhanded compliments about you that missy refuses to let fly.

• you’re super close with her family. when you first met them, they immediately welcomed you with open arms. they’re like a second family to you.

• you’re her weakness. if you want something, all you have to do is give her your best doe eyes and she’s folding.

[black--cherryy]

Pirates of the caribbean Reactions

☁️ Fluff ☁️

—

Jack smirking cuz u look so adorable and small trying to sound serious before u leave to go on land.

Him realizing that u won't see each other for 10 years and u leaving with tears in ur eyes.

U wanted to hear the truth about his feelings towards u so he proved it while the two of u were alone.

Jack caught him staring at u and yelled it through the whole ship making him pretty uncomfortable and embarrassed.

Him smiling at u for the last time before u leave to go with Jacks crew on the sea.

U brought Jacks compass that beckett desired so much and he smirked at how faithful u are.

U injured ur leg really badly while walking to the fountain of youth and couldn't walk further so Philip offered to help u.

[piratesofthecaribbeanwritings]

Ahoy and hello,

Welcome to the pirates of the caribbean writing blog. Here, you'll find fanfics, oneshots, headcanons, imagines, and moodboards.

A bit about me

I've been a writer for 6 years, and writing is my passion and pirates of the caribbean is my hyperfixation. I've been researching about the 18th century because of the pirates of the caribbean, and I wish to continue that trend. By all means, I'm no historian, but the timeline fascinates me.

You may request anything at your whim.

Ocs, self inserts, and ships are accepted!

Send requests through the asks or submissions box.

Matchups are open! Matchups will include why I ship you, the outfit you'd wear (please describe your fashion style or link photos of what you'd likely wear), and relationship information.

Provide your pronouns and a small summary about you.

I respect and welcome the lgbtq+ community. I also welcome anyone who has a disability or is nuerodiverse. This blog is a safe space for all.

Requesting an oc requires information and summary, I need details on appearance and personality, clothing and and pronouns.

Self inserts require the same format. However, this will be in the form of x readers.

When requesting NSFW 🔞 and anything triggering, I will label warnings above or the "keep reading" so you may click to view at your discretion.

Since potc is based in the 18th century, age gaps are accepted. However, I will not go below anything under 18, especially in NSFW.

My limits are no under-age romance or NSFW fetishes (not that I have anything against it, I'm just not comfortable writing those topics), I will NOT write the potc characters committing dispicable acts of SA or abuse. Degrading anyone isn't accepted, homophobia, heterophobia, transphobia, biphobia, acephobic etc is not welcomed.

This will take place in the 18th, meaning I will use nautical terms and lingo. If you are curious, I will write the words meanings at the top of the page.

Toward any of the historians, I accept criticism, but please don't go on a rant if I get something wrong. As I said, I'm no historian, I'm just someone who researches on websites to get the meaning.

Raise the sails and request away!

[radical-ghostface]

Okay, so I'm not sure how many people in the Hogwarts Legacy fandom also indulge in an app called Choices (most specifically The Elementalists) but to those of you who are familiar, am I the only person who noticed huge similarities between Beckett Harrington and Ominis Gaunt?

They even LOOK the damn same istg

Tell me this isn't some shit Ominis would say 💀

[justafairytailofinnocence]

Cutler Beckett x wife reader👰🗡

Synopsis: a girl was bought by a lord from her father, her life with her betrothed husband is anything but a fantasy. One evening, they come to good terms.

Warning: slight smut

"You seem quite content, perhaps you were the correct choice after all"

"You stupid girl"

"Foolish yet adequate y/n"

The girl gazed into her husband's eyes full of hatred and loyalty.

[mychemicalbarrett]

So...if I were to write a vampire x reader fanfiction...who should be the vampire...?

[specialagentlokitty]

Beckett x teen!reader - someone to trust

Sitting on the table, you swung your leg back and forth, eating the sandwich in your hand, looking at the few others who were standing around.

“Seriously you can’t expect us not to do anything.” One of the guys snapped.

“Have some respect when talking to them.” Another sneered.

“You’re telling us to just sit back when some assholes are out there trying to make a move in our territory!”

The men next to you stepped forward and you reached out, grabbing the back of the jacket he was wearing, pulling him back.

“Cool it J.”

He looked at you, huffing a little but sat next to you on the table.

“Well, what do you want to do boss?”

“Leave it for now.”

“They beat the crap outta Tyler!”

You looked at the guy standing in the corner of the room, a couple of bandages around his arms, and one on his face.

“He was on their terf, whether he knew it or not. You know the rules, as do they.”

“Come on we can easily overpower them.” Tyler said.

“Maybe so, but it ain’t worth the risk. These guys have a reputation, right now it isn’t worth the risk to any of us. Just stick to what we’re doing.”

You stuffed your hands into your pockets, and you walked over to the first guy who had spoke.

“Question me again and I’ll show you why I am the leader here, not you..” you whispered.

With that, you made your way towards the door.

J turned around and followed you outside into the street, along with a few others and you all began walking through the crowds of people.

“Is that really what you want to do? Leave it?” J asked.

“We don’t need that shit right now, we got a rat somewhere and maybe more than one.”

“You wanna smoke em out?” Sara asked.

You looked behind you, thinking for a moment before shaking your head.

“No. I wanna know what they’re doing and who they’re doing it for. You four are my first captains, I trust you, the others not so much.”

“So what do we do?” Tyler asked.

You sighed, standing at the crossing, watching as a few people shuffled away from you all.

“We wait.”

With that, you moved past someone, making your way across the road with J.

“Why did we park so far away anyway?” He asked.

“I wanted a change of scenery.”

He hummed a little bit, gesturing to a building next to him.

“Not cause you’re scoping out that place?”

“Ain’t anything wrong with it.”

“C’mon, no one is gonna sell a building like that to a kid.”

You smirked a little.

“They will for the right price and negotiation tactics.”

J chuckled a little nodding his head.

“I like the sound of that, when’s the opening?”

You reached into your jacket, pulling out your phone before putting it back in.

“Right now, let’s go, third floor.”

You jogged up the steps with him close behind.

Making your way to the third floor, you walked to the very end room, pushing the door open.

“Welcome!”

The woman turned around with a smile and it dropped when she saw you.

“I’m not interested in buying whatever it is you two are selling get out before I call the cops.”

You hummed a little, walking over to the large window.

“Everybody has a price, what’s yours?”

“I doubt you even have that money.”

“Maybe they didn’t make themselves clear, name your price.” J said lowly.

The woman looked at him, reaching the writing along the sleeve of his jacket.

“You’re just two thugs.”

You turned around, walking over to the desk you took some papers, standing behind J who stopped the seller from trying to get them back.

With your back against his you flicked through them.

“I’ll buy it.”

You handed the papers to J who tossed them on the desk, then you pulled out a cheque book, handing it over to J who handed it to her.

“Cash it first if you want, just a proof.” He said.

“Let me make a few calls, if all goes well I’ll sell it to you.”

She left the room and you sat on the desk, looking at your second in command.

“What’s this place for anyways?” He asked.

“Nothing wrong if that’s what you’re worried about, it’s just an apartment building. Gonna rent it out.”

He hummed a little, nodding his head.

“Didn’t realise we were landlords now.”

You laughed a little, shaking your head at him.

“Stable income, I have money sure, but at least this way we have some cover.”

“Thinking ahead, smart.”

J began to explore the room, and you sat there just watching him.

“Good news, the building is yours.”

The woman packed everything and left, and you begun plans to bring life back into the old building.

A few weeks later, sitting on the back of a bench, you looked at J who was giving directions to somebody nearby.

When he was done, he answered his phone, speaking for a moment before walking over to you.

“Guess who’s been summoned by the NYPD.”

“Not a chance.”

“You’re in shit now.” He smirked.

You scoffed, standing on the bench as you looked down at him.

“We’re not going in.”

“If that’s what you want.”

You jumped down, walking across the grass with him following him.

You went back to your hideout, laying yourself on some storage boxes.

“They’re going to keep calling.”

“Toss it, get a new one.”

J shrugged, leaving the room.

Sitting up, you stood up along the boxes, climbing up on them until you reached the top, and watched as J walked back in with Tyler.

“That place you got might be running behind schedule.” Tyler said.

You narrowed your eyes a little.

“Look at the news.”

He tossed you the TV remote you, and you turned on the TV.

“That would explain the calls.” J said.

Tyler looked at you and you waved your hand dismissively, so, he left the room.

“Man I just got the place too, that’s shit.”

“Wanna check it out.”

You grinned, jumping down from the boxes.

Walking outside, you climbed on to your motorcycle, and J climbed on his, both of you racing over to the newest investment you made.

Parking outside, you swung yourself off, looking at a few of the people nearby who quickly scurried away.

“Reckon building is seal off?” J asked.

“Yup.”

You walked up the stairs, hands stuffed into your pockets, making your way straight for the stairs to the third floor.

“Get outta here kid.”

You looked at the officer, walking over.

“Fresh out the academy huh?”

“No.”

J stood behind you, resting his arm in your shoulder.

“Definitely fresh outta the academy, look at that ridiculous haircut, that’s dumb as shit.”

“I’ll arrest you if you don’t move.”

“Try it, won’t last long.” J smirked.

You moved around him, ducking under J, looking around.

Grabbing a jacket, you pulled it on, rolling the sleeves up a little bit, and J distracted the officer while you walked away.

Looking around, you tried to find where the crime scene was.

“Hey, that’s my jacket.”

You turned around, putting your hands behind your back.

You immediately recognised him and knew it was your chance.

“I didn’t know sir, I was just cold is all.”

“You don’t have a jacket?” He asked.

You shook your head a little bit.

“Well uh.. I guess you can have it yeah. Here.”

He reached into his pockets of his blazer, pulling out his wallet, holding out some cash to you.

“Here, get yourself some food and a warm drink.”

You reached out to take it.

“Castle what the hell are you thinking?”

He stopped, turning to the woman who was holding J by the back of his jacket.

“They’re just cold Beckett.”

“Oh my god Castle, don’t you watch the news?” She snapped.

She tossed J at you and made a gestured for you to hand the jacket over, so you took it off and tossed it at her, watching as she caught it, shoving it to Castle.

“They’re teenagers?” He asked confused.

You leant against the wall.

“Why’re you here, this has nothing to do with delinquents.”

“It does if I own the building.” You said.

“You don’t own the building. No one in their right mind would sell to a kid.”

“Run it detective, you’ll find everything is according law.”

She sent an officer to go and check it out, and she gestured for you and J to stay put.

She blocked the exit as she stood speaking to someone else who glanced at the pair of you.

Turning around, she looked at you.

“Great news, you two are coming in for questioning let’s go you know the drill, hands on your head and turn around.”

You complied and so did J who gave you a confused look.

“Let it play..”

He nodded his head and you were both taken to the precinct and shoved into different interrogation rooms.

You rested your elbows on the table, staring directly at the mirror.

“Seriously that just a kid, and what’s with the jacket?” Castle asked.

Beckett held out a thick file to him.

“That’s just one of them, and that’s not even the background on this kid, we can’t get any. That’s just all the criminal investigations that they’ve been part of but never convicted due to lack of evidence.”

“NYS?” He asked.

“The New York Shadows, a gang of delinquents, string of crimes are endless, a few of them have been sent down aside from this one.”

Castle looked at Beckett.

“Why?”

“The shadow, (Y/N), we’re guessing around 16, dangerous, never leaves a trace, never caught, knows all the tricks to avoid any sort of detection. Can switch from calm to incredibly violent in a second.”

“No way they’re being a murder though.” Castle said.

“Only one way to find out, stay here.”

Beckett took your file back, and she walked into the room, throwing it on the table, dropping herself into the chair in front of you.

“Let’s talk.” She said

[junkdrawerfics]

the flustered detective

Kevin Ryan X Reader

Listen, I know this isn't Twilight, and I know this is like, a super random character that probably has such a small following, but I love him sooooo much, and had to write for him. So sue me, I'll probably write more for him.

Summary: You make Detective Ryan very nervous and everyone knows it. Even you. So yah, that's it, just a cute little fic about flustered Ryan.

Word Count: 1001

---

“Just go talk to her, man.”

Ryan jumps, jolted from his thoughts as his partner slaps him on the back. He casts Esposito a scowl, straightening his ruffled vest.

“I can’t just…talk to her,” he sighs out, defeat burning behind his tone, “I can barely get a word out when she’s around me!”

“I know,” Esposito snickers, “it’s pretty pathetic, actually.”

The glare leveled at him is deadly. Esposito holds his hands up defensively, inching away with a smirk still glued to his face.

“Sorry. Just saying. You need to man up and grow a-“

“What does Ryan need to do?” 

The sound of high heels clicking along the precinct floor makes both men go stock still. Beckett rounds the corner of her desk, fine brow raised as she lets her gaze drift between the two detectives. Castle pops up behind her, smiling ear to ear, which is never a good thing.

“I believe Espo here was trying to give our friend, Ryan, a little advice on his women troubles,” he hums, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Don’t worry, Ryan, I’m sure we can-“

“No, no no,” Ryan jumps to his feet before Castle can come up with another wild concoction of a plan. “I do not need advice from you-“ He points a finger at Javier and then spins to Castle. “And I definitely don’t need help from you, mister three divorces.” 

“It was two actually…” the writer mutters, looking at his shoes like a kicked puppy. 

Ryan gives him a pointed look, as if what he said sounds any better, “My point exactly. Listen, guys, I’m fine! I am perfectly capable of talking to (Y/n) myself.”

“Talking to me about what?”

The group freezes. Except Kate, who watches over the rim of her coffee cup, eyes dancing with amusement as Ryan goes beet red. You glance between the four, eyes wide with confusion as the men pass each other “looks”. They’re always so secretive, like they’re kids trying to carry out an awful plan. It’s more endearing than it is insulting, though. Esposito makes a show of shoving Ryan’s shoulder, making him face you before he saunters off to the break room.

“What’s going on, Ryan?” You ask as Beckett drags Castle off by the ear, against his dramatic protests.

“Oh, uh, with, with us? Nothing, we just um,” he coughs, blush spreading all the way to the tips of his ears. How cute. You fight back a smile, settling with a look of amusement that only seems to fluster him more. “We were just talking about a case! Yah a case. And I was going to…ask for your help?”

“Really?” You hum, head tilting ever so slightly. Ryan’s jaw clenches and he nods, lips pressed together tightly. You almost want to tease him a little more, see how far the blush goes, but you’re afraid his poor heart might give out. “Okay. I can help with your case! As long as Kate’s onboard.”

“Yah, yah, she, um, she’s totally onboard.” Ryan cringes at the lie. Hopefully Beckett won’t mind. 

“Great!” You smile, sticking out your hand. “I look forward to working with you, Detective Ryan.”

He nods again, rushing to take your outstretched hand. You giggle as he fumbles. Heat creeps up Ryan’s neck, and man, he wishes he could just say something smooth like Javier, or witty like Castle, but all he can do is laugh awkwardly, heart racing a mile a minute. Just because he’s holding your hand.

He’s a grown man, he chastises himself, a detective for the NYPD. He can break down doors and take on criminals, hell, even face torture, but the feeling of your hand in his? That’s what makes him crumble.

The man looks to be seconds from passing out, you realize, chest aching with something fond. You give his hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

“Hey,” you whisper, and those gorgeous blue eyes snap up to yours, wide and uncertain in a way you’ve never seen. It makes your chest ache even worse and your smile turns uncharacteristically soft for just a moment. “Easy tiger. You're doing great.”

That seems to help. Ryan forces his muscles to relax, taking a deep breath and nodding slowly. You give his hand one final squeeze. Your hands are so small compared to his, and not covered in calluses or scars, a thought he tries not to linger on as you slip away back to your desk. Just in time for his team to make a reappearance.

“Sooo?” Javier leans in front of him, eyebrows wagging, “What did you say, mister ‘I can talk to her myself’?”

“I um.” Ryan passes a hand over his neck, trying to get rid of the tingling sensation in his palm. Or maybe trying to lock it in his memory. “I may have…invited her onto the case?”

His partner's face falls. Esposito shakes his head, muttering disappointment under his breath, “Are you serious, man?”

“Yah, are you serious?” Kate presses, faking a frown. It’s impossible to be mad after watching that…ordeal play out. But she’s not one to miss an opportunity to mess with them. Just a little payback.

“It just-“ Ryan slumps back into his desk, shrugging his shoulders in defeat. “-happened. I didn’t know what else to say, okay? I just- I have the words in my head, and then she’s in front of me, and it’s like-“ He purses his lips, blowing out a sigh of frustration.

“It’s like everything gets scrambled and nothing fits together anymore,” Castle murmurs (casting a knowing glance towards Beckett, who returns it with a warning glare).

“Exactly. I just…I like her so much, you know?”

“Nope.”

Ryan just about socks Esposito in the face, glowering up at him, “Very helpful, Javi.”

“I understand, Ryan,” Kate offers.

“You do?” He perks up hopefully.

“Yah. I remember I had a hard time talking to this one guy I really liked…you know, back in middle school.”

Ryan groans, “I have no sanctuary.”

---

When I tell you I would die for this man-

[lustaffairs]

getting some air at a party

This is your rich, white collar criminal boyfriend.

He comes outside from the party, and something is weighing heavy on his mind. The hot day turned into a cool night. A light steam rises from the heated pool. You come outside in your short, sleeveless black dress, and he barely looks up as you close the sliding door behind you. You approach him, and he's distant. He's not really there. Staring into the fire. You stand between his knees and he half heartedly strokes the side of your thigh. You run your fingers through his curls. You tug your dress down, freeing your breasts, and his eyes sparkle when he finally looks up at you. The cool air hardens your nipples. The party buzzes on behind you, muffled by the glass wall. He nuzzles his face in your bosom and hums in contentment. You keep one hand in his hair and reach down with the other to feel him through his pants. He takes a nipple into his mouth and you feel him harden under your palm. You rub him and he kisses your breasts and sucks and licks your nipples. He unbuttons his pants and the sound of his zipper makes you tingle. You reach into his boxers to free his length. He puts his hands on your ass and helps you into straddling him, gaze darkening as he eyes your lips.