#miss jolly blue

[queers-gambit]

Blue Moon Wreckage

prompt: your husband can often lose his temper and resort to the man he was before you. you grow tired of lashing your tongue, and learn your husband responds better to silence.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!wife!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 4.3k+

note: another stand alone, no sequel

warnings: cursing, talk of child abandonment, vulgar dialogue, old-fashioned views on marriage (maybe idk), not edited. small angst, small comfort. author probably missed some warnings.

The entire city cleaned up in preparation for Princess Rhaenyra's nuptials to the heir of Driftmark, Lord Laenor Velaryon. It was refreshing to see citizens rejoicing in a common theme and going around to hang different decorations; chandeliers of strung florals, wreaths woven and hung, lanterns set all around to create an ambiance in the street.

Romance was in the air.

It put people in jolly spirits, brought them elation, and gave the ability to decompress from the woes of life. Wine tasted sweeter, the food saltier, and many merchants came into town for the week-long celebration of Rhaenyra and Laenor in the hopes of selling enough wares to pay for three of their month's expenses. Every room at the inn was filled, brothels hosting the leftover stragglers; money was simply made in an abundance after taking advantage of the citizens come to celebrate.

And yet, deep within the halls of the Red Keep, not all were so at peace with the state of things.

Maids and servants all skidded around the corridor that housed your bedchambers shared with your husband. The walls almost vibrated with the sheer force of the yelling that took place, and while the sun shone on the rest of the Kingdom, there was a dark shadow over the Red Keep.

Rarely, and it was the truth, rarely did you and Daemon ever fight. He was your best friend, he was the love of your life, you've known him for years, and had long since developed an effective way to communicate. Daemon wasn't easy to deal with, in fact, even to those who knew how to handle him, he sometimes pushed past boundaries and threw curveballs into the mix. You were not immune to his sharp tongue and wicked-fast wit, but in reality, Daemon never actively sought conflict with you, so fighting was incredibly rare - though, not totally unheard of.

Like a blue moon - not totally unheard of, but still considered rare. And in pale moonlight, the ship you and Daemon found yourselves sailing on seemed to crash into a set of cliffside jagged rocks, all but imploding the balance you had found yourselves in.

A shipwreck during a blue moon.

Before you, Daemon was violent and volatile. He was irresponsible, impulsive, stubborn, hotheaded, and blood thirty. Many Ladies all vied for the Prince's attention, but as he grew older, he became more and more reckless and more Ladies started keeping their distance. Expect you. You heard rumor his grandmother, the Queen Alysanne, meant to marry him off to Rhea Royce but your father was almost too smart for his own good. He devised a tantalizing offer that the Crown would've been foolish to refuse - thus binding you and Daemon to fate.

Before you, Daemon wasn't a man. He was just a second son trapped in a shell of his body, full of anger with nowhere to expel himself. A boy with a temper. A lad with attitude. He was knighted at 16, an impressive feat, and not a full moon cycle later, you and Daemon wed. He wasn't easy to love, but that was because he was so defensive in his life living in his older brother's shadow.

Before you, Daemon never believed in love or acceptance. Yet everyday he spent with you, he was reminded of his value and worth as a person - not just a Prince, or a Targaryen. You worked every day for his trust and confidence, and once you had it, it was an unshakeable foundation. Daemon was everything to you, and before him, you were shy and awkward and overwhelmed in the glaring eyes of court. Now, you were confident, humble, and weeping with power.

You kept Daemon balanced in his head and heart.

Before you, he was like a wild dog. Now, he was domesticated for you and you alone. He realized how much his recklessness hurt you and never wanted to be the cause of your pain, so, Daemon cleaned himself up. Most days, he was perfectly content in life, and others, he was still as stubborn as ever, but every so often, Daemon loses sight of himself and resorts back to who he was before you.

Fighting with Daemon was always difficult. He wasn't accustomed to losing, so, when you two went toe-to-toe, he was out for blood. He loses himself in his anger, fueled only by the need to cause the most harm with his sharpest words. Daemon jumped to conclusions faster than a grasshopper hops from blades of grass because he was vastly insecure, and it took most of your will to restrain your anger enough to soothe him of his worries.

Daemon hated fighting with you, and you hated fighting with him. There was never a true victor because you both hated it so much. Perhaps that was why your once-in-a-blue-moon fights turned so gruesome and emotional; you both hated fighting that it made you fight even harder.

How you came to this, you didn't remember. One moment, you were enjoying a morning feast with your husband, and the next, you were locked in your chambers, lashing at each other's throats with hateful words.

"I do not understand!" You sobbed. "You agreed to this - "

"No! No, I did not! You did not consult me on this matter, you just accepted responsibility. For the both of us!"

"He is my little brother, Daemon!"

"He is not our responsibility!"

"He is now!"

"Because you took action without a word to me!"

"I did not need to consult you; he is my blood."

"But not mine."

You scoffed, "For fuck's sake, Daemon, do you hear yourself? You are whinging over a child - you're bloody jealous of a child! Where is the man I married?"

"I have done all I am expected and required as a husband, it is you who refuses my seed. Who refuses to grow our family!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake! Now you want a baby!? Married ten years, we are, and NOW you want to whinge about babies!? I am busy in case you've not bothered to look around every once in a while," you snapped, "and I understand having a baby is not ideal right now!"

"So, you will not take my seed because you are busy raising another man's?"

"He was my father - oh, Gods be good, why're we fighting over this?"

"You need to understand, he is not mine," Daemon seethed. "He will never be mine and I do not wish to treat him as such. The life and luxury we live in are not meant for a child that is neither of ours."

"What would you have me do!?"

"Send him to your brother."

"Oh, spare me this notion, Daemon! I will not hear of it! No! We are not discussing this again and again!"

"You mean to disobey me then, wife?" He snapped, making your mouth snap shut. "Huh? Think you're immune to the duties you must uphold as a woman? Think that allows you free rein? You are luckier than most that I allow you to have a fucking opinion; do not abuse my generosity. You want the child to stay, fine, I hear you, but I say he goes. Guess who's want will triumph?"

You blinked several times, unable to find words.

"Nothing to say?" He taunted. "That is a first, wife, you surprise me. In your moment of silence, do well to listen to me now: the child goes, or I do. You either get rid of the child or I will remove myself from this sham of a marriage."

"I do not recognize you, you are not my husband," you finally sighed. "Do me a favor and figure you may speak to me again once you're ready to apologize. If not, I assume by week's end, we will be celebrating both Rhaenyra's wedding and our annulment."

"Too much time has passed for such - "

"I know a Septon that will forge documents. Now," you eyed him up and down, "once more, do not think to speak to me unless to grovel for my forgiveness."

"You will die before that happens."

You nodded slowly, then shrugged and dodged around him to exit the room. You could not bear to be around him any longer, storming away to where your small brother was being looked after by a Septa. You did not speak to Daemon the rest of the day, feeling yourself brimming with anger as you replayed his words.

How dare he find insult in your desire to do "the right thing" by caring for your brother after your parents met their untimely demise? How dare he cite "wifely duties" to you? Just how dare he!

The day was supposed to be merry. It was supposed to be lighthearted and fun and romantic and exciting and gossip worthy. Yet now, you were feeling annoyed, frustrated, weighed down, and plain stupid. You felt alone. You felt tired and worn thin. Your little brother, Jamie, always put a smile on your face, but now, you were simply ready to cry just by looking at him. This planted the seed of resentment towards Daemon, and through the day, only festered.

"My Lady?" You glanced in the mirror to see your hand maiden, who was doing your hair, humming in question. "Alyria has arrived, she will watch young Lord Jamie for the evening."

"Good, thank you," you sighed. "Has Daemon come around?"

"No, my Lady."

"Hmm."

Not 30 minutes later, you were walking towards the decorated throne room with your hair braided back, make-up laid perfectly, and your dress a dark grey, black, and Targaryen red.

However, before you could walk in, someone called your name. You paused, letting Daemon approach you, his eyes raking you in as he realized you dressed to match him. "You look beautiful," he complimented, but you just stared; then sighed through your nose and straightened up. "What? You're not speaking to me?"

"I told you the terms in which you should find it acceptable to speak to me again."

Daemon scoffed, "You're still on that?" You did not answer, just stared forward. "Fine, be that way. Come," he offered his arm, but you brushed past him to finally enter the throne room. Your names were announced, albeit begrudgingly because most in the castle harbored ill-will towards Daemon. They just felt bad for you, not knowing of the man you had grown to know and love unconditionally.

You took long strides to shorten your journey, but behind you, your husband just sauntered in as if the center of attention. However, no matter where he was, Daemon was always the main character, and he was quite the peacock in flaunting himself. You bowed to the King and his daughter, heir to the Iron Throne, Princess Rhaenyra. You took your seat beside the Hand of the King, Ser Strong, as Daemon climbed the stone stairs with a smug expression before taking the seat beside you at the very end.

Needless to say, Daemon was not accustomed to being ignored. You did not look at him, did not speak to him, ignored his direct questions, even went as far as to slapping his hand away when he reached for your thigh. When your hand rested on the table and he laid his over yours, you pulled it back.

It drove Daemon absolutely up the wall.

"And how fairs your brother, my Lady?" Ser Strong asked gently. "How does he like life in the Capital?"

"He adores it," you hummed with a nod. "He is learning so much and loves watching the boats in the harbor."

"How old is he now?"

"Just shy of 4, my Lord."

"Well, what would the little Prince like for his nameday?"

"Oh, uh, no, he's not a Prince," you spoke gently.

"No? Well, I suppose until Viserys recognizes him."

"Well, Daemon's made it clear that if I do not give custody of my brother up, this marriage is null and void, so," you clicked your tongue cheekily, sipping your wine, "no use in titles."

You knew others heard you and smirked to yourself. Another gulp of wine and you were standing, excusing yourself, and moving onto the dance floor. Rhaenyra giggled when you gave her a playful twirl before taking your place with a partner, falling into rhythm with those around you. The entire time, you felt Daemon's eyes burning into you.

You didn't care. You carried on as if there wasn't a ring on your wedding finger weighing like a full fish net, like you weren't burdened by your marriage.

You danced with a Tully, Stark, Frey, and Lannister boy, all who looked at you like a delectable treat but were being effectively ignored, just like your handsome, white-haired husband. It was a lively time, twisting and turning and leaping and being lifted in ture with the instruments playing. Rhaenyra caught your eye a few times, grinning and giggling as she, too, let herself destress in the glee of the festivities. However, when the Frey lad spun you around, you had thought of the devil so much, there he bloody was.

Your husband smirked down at you, "You look startled, little bird."

You scoffed and moved to go around him, but Daemon's hand was darting out to grab your upper arm. He pulled you further into the crowd to use them as a layer of protection, turning sharply to leer over you. He snapped in High Valyrian, "What're you playing at? Hmm? You mean to embarrass my entire family by being so cold and shrewish?"

You scoffed, glaring at him for a moment before he reached forward to grab your neck and cheek in a possessive hold. "I dare you to raise a sharp word at me," he sneered quietly, keeping you in place. "You have ignored me all fucking day, these games are at an end. I have always known your voice to be a sweet remedy, do not deprive me of it longer."

"Then apologize," You snapped.

"For what? Speaking the truth? That you refuse to sire my children because you are too occupied with your wee brother? For taking in a child without so much as asking me? Tell me, what am I apologizing for?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, and swatting his hand from you. However, just as you meant to walk away from him, someone gasped and yelped from the people around you. Daemon brought you into his chest as a sudden crowd thickened, two bodies hitting the floor in a gruesome fight. This encouraged others to get rowdy, and before you could comprehend his actions, Daemon was stooping low to hoist you over his shoulder and stride away.

When out of the fray, Daemon slowed himself enough to set you down at the base of the stairs leading to the Royal banquet table, both his hands going to your cheeks. He panted lightly, looking you over, "All right? You hurt? They touch you?"

"No, I'm okay," you sighed gently, reaching up to hold his wrists in a brief show of affection. However, the crowd only grew in size and aggression; the Royals all taking refuge on the elevated landing to take a headcount. Not a moment later, Ser Harwin Strong, the Hand's eldest son, was emerging from the crowd with Rhaenyra hoisted up his shoulder.

But your attention was drawn elsewhere. You parted Daemon's side to get under Viserys' arm, lifting him up slightly as he coughed into a handkerchief. You frowned when you saw the blood, his eyes meeting your wide ones. You asked the only question you could think of, "Does Daemon know?"

"No," he matched your tone in a whisper.

You nodded and assisted him into the closest chair. After the death of Ser Laenor Velayron's paramour (Ser Joffrey, was it?) the hall was cleared of everyone to only leave the immediate family. In hopes of avoiding future turmoil, it was decided that the Realm's Delight, Rhaenyra, was to wed the Sea Snake's son, Laenor, now instead of at week's end. Viserys asked his brother to stay but you were quick to bow out, promising it was a family affair and you should get ready for bed anyways.

Daemon looked close to protesting your departure but was unable to utter a single word, only watching you scamper out of the throne room as the High Septon finally arrived.

Rhaenyra and Laenor married in front of his mother and father, Rhaenys and Corlys, and his sister, Laena. King Viserys was there with his brother Daemon and wife Alicent, leaving only the Hand present to pose as "unbiased witness".

Further into the castle, you collected your brother, Jamie, and quickly got him ready for bed. Your heart felt heavy with guilt as you looked at him, understanding on a deeper level that if it came down to it, you'd do anything to keep Daemon in your life... And if he said your brother had to go or he did, well, you feared to find out if he was serious.

Jamie fell asleep on the long bench at the base of your bed with a fire crackling in front of his face. He had fallen asleep listening to you read, your emotions catching up to you to let you finally sob quietly while preparing for bed. You hated the idea of losing either Daemon or Jamie, and the fact that you had to choose? It felt impossible. So, once ready for bed, you tied on your dressing robe and bent at the waist to kiss Jamie's forehead. You then found yourself standing at the floor-to-ceiling window, wine in hand, staring out into nothing as you were wrecked emotionally from considering Daemon's ultimatum.

You were overwhelmed.

The door opened behind you and your eyes screwed shut. You took an even breath in, heard the door shut quietly, and then turned to spy your husband already staring at you. His face was neutral, passive, and you knew he was sizing you up just as you were him; both waiting for the other to make the first move.

Your resolve crumbled.

As if your minds were connected by a string, you surged forward as Daemon took a few steps toward you, meeting in the middle, and wrapping your arms around one another. Daemon held your waist tightly as yours tied around his neck in a vice grip, breathing in his scent that seemed to mingle permanently with the smell of dragon. He felt gentle trembling from contained sobs, soothing you with hushed cooing; hand petting the back of your head.

When you pulled back, it was only just enough to find his lips; drenching yourself in sheer relief at the familiar taste and feel of your husband. Just before you could whimper you were sorry, truly being unsure what you were actually apologizing for, when he beat you to it.

The space between your lips was filled with Daemon's rushed words, both his hands cradling your cheeks as he spoke, "I'm so sorry, my love. I am. I am truly so sorry. I hate fighting, I hate us fighting, it just feels so fucking wrong, I'm so sorry."

"No, it is I who am sorry, husband."

"Nothing to apologize for," he rushed, forehead glued to yours as he moved you backwards to the bed. "You do not apologize to me; you have done no wrong. It's me, I am the one who should grovel. I do deserve your kindness; I am so sorry for what I've said." He took a long breath, just holding you carefully, "I was out of line."

"No, you were right. I did not consult you; I should have. It is not just you or I in this, but the two of us together. I shouldn't have acted without so much as a word."

"It is okay," he assured softly, "it is more than all right by me now. I just," he sighed, "I needed to think, process a little. I shouldn't have reacted the way I did, I should've listened to you and been a supportive husband, but instead, I just fought with you." He frowned, petting down your face with a dainty finger. "We fight because we care, but Gods do I hate it."

"I do, too," you whispered. "Can we just," you sighed, "go to bed or something? I'm exhausted."

He nodded, glancing at the foot of the bed before looking back at you, "One more thing."

"Hmm?"

"We will talk to Viserys in the morning about recognizing Jamie."

You frowned, "Well, hang on, I think I understand your point, too, Daemon. Listen, yes, I want us charged with Jamie's care, but I do not wish to replace his parents."

"He should still have a title, a place at court. Access to tutors and such."

You smiled fondly, whispering, "That is the man I married."

Daemon prepared for bed as you check Jamie, finding him fast asleep still. Your husband came to bed after blowing out all candles, leaving the fire simmering and you both under a single linen sheet. He laid on his back with you flush against his side, both hands holding your form and tracing idle patterns.

Every so often, he'd squeeze you tightly and kiss your forehead, but otherwise, you both just laid in peace. However, Daemon broke the silence, "I did not mean to cause you harm. I just felt panicked, I think, after the war."

You nodded with understanding, "Our time is on the horizon, Daemon, I promise, I just needed to find balance with Jamie. I've never been a mother before, 's very odd."

"Perhaps we can learn together, I've never been a father," Daemon offered softly. "I fear I have not been entirely welcoming."

"You've time to remedy it," you urged softly. "But you are not obligated."

"He will be our shared responsibility."

You smiled against his chest. "So, tell me of the wedding."

"Nothing special," he sighed. "Viserys fell ill. And I do mean literally fell."

"What? Is he all right?"

"Yes, he's being seen to... But I was thinking..."

"Of?"

"Us. Our family."

"Hm, and what of them, my love?"

Daemon sighed, reaching for your cheek in order to find your lips in the dark. "We will leave," he whispered, licking another kiss to your lips. "We'll go across the Narrow Sea together, raise a family away from the politics and chaos."

"You would miss your family."

"I would rue staying in this city. Away from here, we'd have liberties and freedoms Kings Landing does not offer us, nor our kids."

"I will think on it."

When morning broke through the window of consciousness, Daemon realized you were still sound and dead asleep, but there was something or someone poking his arm in an annoying repetition. When he blinked awake and looked to the culprit, he smiled slightly at Jamie. "What's wrong, little lad?" He asked quietly, voice heavy and hazy with sleep, seeing tears fill the kid's eyes.

"I-I didn't mean to."

"Mean to what?"

"I wet the bed," he frowned, looking at the lounge he slept on all night. "I didn't mean to. It was a scary dream."

"It's okay," he whispered, glancing at you before standing from bed. "C'mon, it's all right, we can clean it."

He nodded and let Daemon sit him at the bottom of the mattress, some two full feet from touching you. Jamie watched Daemon work, gathering any linens to set aside to be washed before plucking the child into his arms. He took his to the washroom and got him cleaned up before redressing him for the day, Daemon quickly doing the same, and then the two left for the day.

You slept while Daemon took Jaime to breakfast. You slept while the two ate and made merry; getting to know each other. You slept while Daemon answered little Jamie's questions. You slept while Daemon offered to introduce him to Caraxes, his dragon.

By the time you were awake, dressed, and approaching the mess hall, Daemon and Jamie were leaving to head for the Dragon Pit. When they saw you, Jamie grinned and squealed, "Sissy!"

You grinned when he rushed for your legs, greeting him with enthusiasm. You hoisted him onto your hip as Daemon approached you, pausing to lean in and kiss you. "Where are you two lads off to?"

"Dragons!"

You chuckled, "Yeah? Uncle's taking you to see the dragons? You're very lucky, not many people get to see them up close."

"Would you care to join us?" Daemon offered.

"No, no, that's quite all right. Thank you, my love, but perhaps this is best kept to a boy’s trip," you quipped, pecking Daemon's lips. "Bring him back in one piece, please."

"Of course," Daemon agreed, taking Jamie's hand when you set him on the ground. He stole one last kiss before leading Jamie away; where you watched them walk away and felt something stirring in your gut; suddenly come alive with tingling electricity. Instead of venturing into the mess hall, you instead continued your way to where you could meet the Grand Maester for a series of tests.

Learning you were pregnant was surreal, but incredibly elating. You were humored by the fact that, just hours ago, you and Daemon feuded for this very reason. However, after simply seeing your husband and little brother get along so effortlessly, you had no doubt in your mind you could handle this. Worrying about having Jamie and a newborn so close together was valid, of course - but it wasn't something you actually needed to worry about now.

Plenty of families had children with shorter age ranges, but none of that matters now - not when you were so explicably happy. All that was left to do now was tell Daemon and Jamie.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Danny is not enjoying the homeless runaway lifestyle.

He would be the first to admit he was a bit of a cleanfreak, it was a side effect of growing up with mad scientist parents who would often place bottles of dangerous chemicals among bottles of fruit juice thier children had in the fridge. He grown into the habit of sorting through things as a means of survival.

Its not that he hated clutter, its that he hated mess and disorganization and feeling dirty. All of which he was feeling now.

So when Danny saw Brucie Wayne from the TV shop window of the dirty Gotham street he was on, he froze. This tall, dark haired blue eyed man was a jolly idiot. He was just like his dad. He had never seen anyone act like his dad before and he missed him so so much. And what do you know.. this guy collect black haired blue eyed kids like pokemon cards. And well...Danny was a child who had recently lost everything. His family, his friends, his home and desperately seeking out anything familiar.

So Danny starts following Bruce around trying to clean up after him and take care of him like he did with Jack Fenton in hopes of showing Bruce how useful he can be, but the amount of help Bruce needed was surprisingly low and what little he needed was swiftly taken care of by the butler and children he already had before Danny could even react.

Danny needed a new plan...

[sebscore]

PUT IT INTO SPEED DRIVE

pairings: charles leclerc x driver!reader // lando norris x driver!reader // george russell x driver!reader // alex albon x driver!reader

warnings: theft. swearing. talks about sexuality and a sexual reference. cops.

author’s note: the idea comes from this ask that someone send my lovely wife! 🥹 I changed it from a car to a camera, because I don’t want my poor baby to have her car stolen :((

masterlist

•••••••

“Now that you’ve won Monaco two times in a row, you’re too good to play with us?” Alex teased the younger one as she stood on the side of the public padel court.

Y/N stuck out her tongue at him. “Not the guy in a Williams trying to come for me.”

“Auwch.” Lando said to Alex, impressed by his friend’s comeback.

“We can only play with 4 people, and I’m sure Miss Monaco would love to be umpire.” George argued, giving the young woman an expectant look.

She quickly nodded at the tall Brit, holding her hand up to her head as if she were a soldier. “Yes, sir!”

“No! She can’t be umpire! She’s gonna call all my shots out.” Lando complained, pointing at her.

“She’s not, Lando.” Charles defended her, although there was a doubtful tone to his voice.

Y/N smirked at the McLaren driver. “Well, now I will.”

“See, Charles? We’re gonna lose now.” He told his doubles partner.

“I mean- you were gonna lose anyway.” George started the healthy competitive trash talk.

“OH!” Charles and Lando loudly chorused, pretending to be hurt by his words.

“Warm-up first, or do we just get straight into it?” Alex asked the three guys after everyone calmed down.

Charles, George and Lando glanced at one another. “Just get straight into it? It’s not like we’re gonna take this too seriously anyway.” George suggested, already knowing it would turn into a shit show soon.

Everyone agreed with a small chuckle, and started taking their own respective places on the court.

“Alright, who’s gonna serve?” Charles loudly asked.

“Wait! We should do it like they do in tennis! Deciding with a coin toss!” Y/N suggested.

“You have a coin?”

“I think I have one in my bag! Oh, I also have my camera with me, should we do like a before and after picture?” She snickered.

“That sounds good.” Alex stemmed in, the others nodding as well. “Yeah, I like it when I’m all sweaty and people take pictures of me.” Lando sarcastically joked.

“Basically our job.” Charles grinned.

“They should calm down on all the can-“

“HEY! THAT’S MY CAMERA!” Y/N’s shouting interrupted their small talk, their heads swiftly turning to where she was standing.

They were just about to ask for a clarification when they saw the young woman run after, what seemed, an unrecognizable man that was holding her camera.

“Y/N don’t do that!” George yelled to no avail, not wanting her to get hurt by the thief.

The quartet didn’t hesitate in grabbing their own stuff before running after their unhinged colleague- Lando also quickly took Y/N’s bag in his hands, figuring none of her other stuff should be stolen too.

The five of them watched in frustration as the mysterious man climbed into a car that drove away at high speed.

“We have to go after him!” Y/N yelled, agony on her face at the potential loss of the device. “Did someone come by car?”

Alex, Charles and George shook their heads, while Lando nervously glanced at his friend. “Uh, I did.”

“Norris, please?” She begged, growing more impatient by the second.

“Can’t you just by a new one? It’s really dang-“

“It’s the camera that you bought for me!” Y/N admitted, hoping it would convince the Brit to chase them down.

Fortunately, it worked. “Alright, let’s go.”

“Do all of us go or…?” Alex hesitated following the two youngest ones.

“Yes, Albono! The more, the better! We can ambush them!” Y/N loudly answered, resulting in the whole group following Lando to his car.

There was a collective disappointment as they made it to his car, not expecting his blue Jolly Fiat to be parked there.

Lando spoke up before anyone else could. “Look, if I had known we would be doing a Fast & The Furious, I would have come with another car. Get the fuck in.”

Lando got in the driver’s seat with Y/N taking taking the seat next to him as she knew where they had sped off to.

The three others were about to step in, but quickly found out that there were only 2 seats in the back. “Uh, someone is gonna have to stay behind.” George noted.

“Oh, no, someone can just sit on someone else, it’s fine, I’ve done it before.” Lando assured them.

Alex, Charles and George gave each other a nervous glance. “Uh, so who-“

“Come on, ladies! Get it before those assholes see all the ugly pictures I’ve taken of you guys.” Y/N’s words shut them up and they cramped into the backseats, Alex somehow ending on George’s lap.

“Let’s catch some thieves!” Lando shouted out, although the speed of his Jolly made the moment anti-climactic.

Meanwhile Y/N instructed Lando on where to go, Alex suggested someone call the police- which Charles decided to do since he had the best knowledge of the French language amongst the three of them.

“Why does this thing go so slow?” George criticized the car, a judging look on his face.

“They took inspiration from the Mercedes.” Lando bit back, not appreciating the slander of his car.

Alex, and Y/N snickered at the comment. “More like from Williams.” The youngest corrected.

“Hey, that’s enough!” Alex defended his team.

The attention went from Alex to Charles as he hung up the phone. “They’re gonna dispatch a team, and advised us to respect the rules of the road.”

“Fuck the rules, I want my camera back.” Y/N said, yelling at Lando as he almost went the wrong way.

“You’re not being a good navigator right now!” He screamed back.

She groaned at him. “I’m literally pointing at where you’re supposed to go!”

“You’re not pointing good enough!” The two 23 year-olds start bickering back-and-forth with one another, much to the dismay of the other three men in the small car.

“Why are they always like this?” Alex whispered to George and Charles.

The both of them shrugged their shoulders. “Unresolved sexual frustrations is my guess,” he mumbled, “at least on Lando’s part, I’m still not sure what Y/N is.”

The Williams and Ferrari driver snickered at George’s answer, somehow understanding what he was referring to.

“Are you gossiping about me, Russell?” Y/N suddenly turned around in her seat, catching the Brit off-guard.

He merely shook his head, his eyes widened.

“Good, you wouldn’t want the others to know what you’ve been up to.” Despite the sweet smile on her face, the threatening tone to her words made the Mercedes driver feel uneasy.

“THERE!” Y/N’s loud voice made the entire car flinch, Lando momentarily letting go of his steering wheel.

“Y/N ARE YOU CRAZY? WE COULD HAVE CRASHED!” Alex scolded the young woman, almost falling out of the car as he was still seated on George’s lap.

“I’m sorry, Albono,” she smiled sheepishly, “but look, the police stopped them.”

The four men in the car let out a collective sigh of relief, glad their adventure was over.

Lando parked the car on the side of the road, behind the thieves’ getaway car. They could see a cop walking over to them.

“You called?” He asked in French, glancing at the five of them.

The drivers shamelessly looked at Charles, the man internally rolled his eyes at them, but he answered his questions.

After some questions back-and-forth, Charles pointed at the woman in the passenger’s seat.

“Y-your camera?” The cop asked in a heavy French accent.

Y/N nodded her head, a polite smile present. “Yes.”

“Would you, uh, mind filling out a little paperwork in the combi? You’ll get your camera back as well and can check if there’s any damage.”

“Sure, no problem.” She gave her colleagues a smile, and made her way towards the large cop car.

The four drivers remained quiet as the cop didn’t follow Y/N, instead lingering around Lando’s car. “It’s a Jolly?” He asked.

“Yes!” Lando answered, cringing at his over-polite voice.

“Aren’t those for just four people…” The man gave the four of them a stern glance, raising an eyebrow.

They awkwardly chuckled, not knowing what to properly answer. “Uh, well, you know, our friend, she, uh-“

“I’ll let it slide, this one time only!” The cop raised his index finger, indicating this would be the one and only time he’ll let them get away with it. “And don’t speed around. I know you guys are Formula One drivers, but you also have to respect the rules.”

“Yeah, we will. Thank you so much.” George thanked him in name of everyone.

Y/N came walking back to the car, a happy look on her face as she had her camera back. “It’s not damaged!” She excitedly told them.

“That’s great, Y/N.” Lando was relieved his present for her hadn’t been broken.

“You guys are free to leave, but next time I’ll have to give you a fine, alright?” The cop reminded them one more time.

“It won’t happen again, thank you so much.” The group of five chorused several sayings of gratitude, before driving back to the sports center.

“Well, that’s going to be a fun story.” Charles snickered, dimples on display.

The others laughed, only then realizing how bizarre this whole situation was. “I don’t think people are even going to believe this.” George noted.

“Oh my god…” Y/N mumbled.

The heads of her four friends turned towards her. “What is it? Is something wrong with the camera?” Lando asked, concerned about the device.

“Those fuckers took a selfie with it!” She exclaimed, disbelief written all over her face.

“What?!”

“Look at this,” she handed it to the three guys in the back, the small screen showing the two men in their getaway car, “who fucking does that?”

“Well, at least we have proof now…”

[grandprixwinnerlandonorris]

Christening | Lando Norris⁴

Pairings: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: Lando bought a new car, but you think there's one thing still missing for it to be a complete experience

Warnings: smut, no time for plot we're jumping straight into it, semi public unprotected sex

A/N: Well I just couldn't resist when I saw Lando in a lambo, I had to write this little scribble and I bit off the nail gel from my papaya nails while writing this just so you know. Now I'm going to sit in a timeout after this, thank you

Lando picked you up in his new car in front of your flat where you’ve been waiting on the sidewalk. The sleek dark blue car pulled up to the curb, its engine purring softly. Lando leaned over and opened the passenger door for you, a charming smile on his lips.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he greeted, his voice low and smooth. “Hop in.”

You couldn't help, but feel a flush rise to your cheeks at his words. Lando had always had a way with words, and his confidence was infectious. You slid into the car and settled into the leather seat, taking in small, but still luxurious interior.

“You traded jolly for this?” you remarked, admiring the car. “What kind is it now?”

Lando grinned. "It's a Lamborghini Miura," he said. "Just got it yesterday."

You whistled. "Impressive," you said, running your hand over the dashboard. "But how does it drive?” you glanced at him, your voice dropping to a seductive octave.

Lando's eyes flickered with desire as he revved the engine, the car vibrating beneath you.

"Let me show you," he said, his voice husky.

Without another word, he shifted the car into gear and the powerful engine roared to life. The car lurched forward, and you couldn't help, but let out a gasp of excitement.

As Lando sped down the streets, you felt a thrill run through your body. The way he handled the car with such ease and control was intoxicating. You watched as his hands expertly navigated the steering wheel, his eyes focused intently on the road ahead. You bit your lip and pressed your thighs together, wishing he was navigating something else.

“How do you like it?” he broke the silence, pulling you out of you trance.

“It’s nice,” you huffed. “But there’s still something missing.”

“Like what?” he frowned.

“We need to christen it.”

“What? How do you christen a car?” laughing, he switched lanes.

“Drive to the cliffs and I’ll show you.” you muttered, unable to resist the temptation any longer.

Lando glanced over at you, a devilish glint in his eye. "You sure you can handle it?" he asked, his voice low and playful.

You gave him a sultry smile in response. "I can handle anything," you replied, your heart racing with desire.

Lando chuckled and pressed down on the accelerator, causing the car to surge forward. You gripped the edge of your seat tightly, feeling the wind rush through your hair as the car sped down the road.

As you approached the edge of the cliffs, Lando slowed down, the car cruising along the winding seaside road. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the landscape, making it look even more breathtaking. Lando pulled the car over to the side of the road, the car engine idling quietly. He turned to look at you, your eyes locking with his.

“Now what?”

“Lando,” you started. “I wanna ride.”

“You… you want to ride the car?” his eyebrows knitted together, a slight line of concern forming in the middle. “Babe, I’m not sure that’s how-”

“No, silly,” a helpless laugh escaped you. “I. Want. To. Ride.” you put your leg over him, moving in between every word until you were sitting flat on his lap. “Can I ride, Mr. Norris?” you whispered against his lips, your noses brushing together.

Lando's breath hitched in his throat as he felt you straddle him. His hands instinctively went to your hips, holding you tightly against him. You could feel his arousal growing beneath you, and it made you feel powerful, knowing that you had this effect on him.

"Fuck, you're so sexy," he groaned, his lips finding yours in a fierce kiss.

His tongue plunged into your mouth, exploring every inch as you moaned against him. The sound of the waves crashing against the rocks below and the smell of the salty sea air added to the seductive atmosphere. Lando's hands roamed over your body, trailing down to your ass as he pulled you even closer. You ground your hips against his, feeling the heat between your legs growing with every passing second, his hardness pressing against your core. You couldn't wait any longer.

“Let’s make this car ours.” you whispered into his ear.

Lando could only nod, with lips parted and breathing shakily, as your hands snaked down to unbutton his jeans and free his straining erection.

The thrill of the moment turned you on even more. The look in his eyes as he took in the sight of you straddling his lap was absolutely hypnotic. It made you feel wild, like a woman possessed. You bit your lip, your hands trailing down to the base of his cock.

He sucked in a sharp breath as you wrapped your hand around him. You could feel the veins pulsing beneath your fingers, the skin hot and smooth. His eyes widened as you squeezed him, gently at first, and then with more pressure. He let out a low moan, his fingers digging into your skin as you started to stroke him.

“Fuck, y/n,” he groaned as you slid your hand up and down, squeezing harder with every stroke.

Your hands were coated in the warmth of his arousal, his desire spilling over. You felt your own wetness pooling between your thighs, as lust washed over you. You teased the head of his cock with your thumb, feeling the tiny beads of pre-cum at the tip. He whimpered in response, urging you on with his eyes.

You gasped when suddenly Lando lifted you up, moved your panties to the side and rested his tip on your entrance, your juices trailing down on him.

“Oh, Lando, please…” you were the one urging now, gripping his shoulders for balance.

“I could, but,” he gave you a cheeky smile. “Are you licensed to ride me?”

"I think I proved you time and time again, but if you need a reminder..." you trailed off, moving your hips and sliding down on his length, gasping as you took him in, your wetness enveloping him. He was thick, thicker than you had ever felt before.

“Fuck,” Lando panted, throwing his head back against the headrest. “You’re so tight.”

“Lando,” you whispered, lowering your hips. “Just fuck me already.”

You could see the restraint in his eyes as he opened his eyes and gazed at you, his body shaking with desire. A groan escaped his lips as you thrust your hips, taking him in even further.

You moved your hips back and forth, your heartbeat quickening at the delicious feeling of him filling you up. Your body trembled, your muscles aching for more. You could feel yourself growing wetter with every second, his cock slipping in and out of you. You let out a moan of excitement as the car started to rock, his thrusts getting more urgent.

“God, y/n,” looking at you with wonder, he groaned. “The way you look right now... that's so fucking hot.”

“And what about now?” you asked, shifting slightly so that you could feel him hit a different spot inside of you.

“Yeah,” he moaned, his head falling back. “That too.”

You could feel yourself getting closer, your breathing becoming more ragged as the friction against your clit grew stronger. You could hear Lando's breathing growing louder and faster, echoing in your ears. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him toward you for a kiss. The look in his eyes was almost too much to bear. You had never seen such raw, intense desire. You closed your eyes, feeling the pressure building up inside you.

Lando’s fingers dug into your skin, urging you closer. You could feel him getting harder, his cock throbbing inside you. It was almost more than he could handle. His hands gripped your hips as you rode him, thrusting his hips up to meet yours, his eyes pleading with you, begging you not to stop.

"I'm gonna… I'm gonna cum." he moaned.

"Cum for me, Lando," you whispered into his ear, your lips pressing against his skin. "Cum inside me."

Lando let out a loud grunt and thrust his hips up as deep as he could, feeling your muscles spasm around him. You threw your head back, your body trembling with desire as you felt his warmth flood into you.

He let out a lungful of air, his head resting against the headrest as you slowed your pace, his cock softening inside you.

“That was amazing,” he whispered, reaching up to caress your face. “Thank you.”

You took a few moments to catch your breath, leaning in to kiss him softly. The sunlight had vanished, and the orange sky had turned a dark shade of purple. The air outside had cooled, the wind picking up.

You looked down at him with a small smile, your heart twinging. “It was a perfect ride.”

[wood-white-writer]

“Didn’t mean to make your heart Blue” || [1/…]

- OPLA!Buggy x F!Reader

“So, I don’t blame you if you want to bury me in your memories,”

— Mitski, "Goodbye, My Danish Sweetheart"

Pairing: Buggy the Clown (Live Action) x F!Reader

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Summary: You were an apprentice of Gol D. Roger’s crew in your youth, long before his eventual demise. Along with the Red-Haired Shanks and Buggy, you were a formidable trio; the embodiment of a new generation of pirates yet to come. But times changed, and so did you and your friends. Years have passed since you last saw Buggy following the dispute that you thought ended your friendship. When you finally reunite with the blue-haired menace you once considered your closest friend, it’s under less than “friendly” circumstances.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Canon Typical Violence, Slight Canon Divergence, Buggy is an asshole, The reader used to go by "Cross-Hairs" in the past.

A/N: I’m basing this primarily on the LA! version of “One Piece”, as I’ve just recently begun to watch the Anime.

Luffy, for his unyielding devotion towards his dreams of becoming the King of Pirates, evidently lacks the sense of foresight required of a pirate to successfully navigate the seven seas. Then again, it's nothing new.

You’ve always known. The kid's been a hazard to society even in his youth; no filter between his brain and his mouth despite the ungodly amount of food he pushes between his jaws. You used to watch him make his proclamations in front of Shanks' merry band with little more than vaguely piqued interest, indifferent to the youthful albeit naive optimism he exhibited.

Shanks, meanwhile, always used to find his demeanor endearing - “He’s a good kid. Let him dream,”

And so you let him. You watched him dream for the next ten years, making sure that his dreams didn't catch the wrong kind of attention until he was old enough to hold his own weight.

However, back then, Luffy's actions seldom warranted any real consequences. Save for the incident with the Bandit and the Sea King, he's rarely been in any real danger prior to his debut as a pirate.

An unruly child spouting declarations of desiring to become the next “King of Pirates” hardly would’ve caused more of a ripple effect than to make other people shake their heads and laugh. And if it did, you were there to make sure it didn’t.

Now, not only has his actions earned you the ire of the Marines by stealing the Map of the Grand Line, but it has also garnered the attention of other opponents. Far more dangerous ones than the likes of Alvida or even that Axe-Hand Moron.

It was only a matter of time.

So when you find yourself waking up in a wooden cage with the rest of your reluctant crew mates, accompanied by a head-throbbing headache at that, your first instinct is to heave an exasperated sigh.

"Goddamn it."

"Oh, you're up." It's Luffy. He looks unharmed, albeit disoriented, not too unlike yourself. "How're you feeling?"

"Like I just snorted a bottle of rum through my nostrils." You get up into a crouching position, eying your surroundings, which doesn't leave much up for inspection considering your cage consists of broad wide planks. "What the fuck happened?"

The last thing you recall before being knocked out was a Jolly Roger in the distance, too far away for you to make out properly. So, not Marines, but pirates.

You can't tell if that's a good or a bad thing.

"Think we wouldn't have told you if we knew?" The swordsman - Zoro - replies with a deadpan look of boredom on his face as he attempts to peek through the cracks in your confinement. You have half a mind to tell him where to shove it but opt for a more quiet approach.

It's during moments like these when you realize you actually miss that scrawny pink-haired kid with the glasses - Koby. He never spoke to you like this. Granted, he was probably intimidated by the way you were always hovering behind Luffy like a silent guardian, but he didn't provide unnecessary comments like Bounty Hunter over there does.

Small blessings and all that. Very small.

You provide a solid kick to the plank on Zoro's right side without warning, catching him off-guard and earning you a short-lived glare. The planks loosen considerably, probably not meant to contain you for long.

Meanwhile, you listen half-heartedly to Luffy and Nami as they discuss the potential identities of your captors.

"They're not marines," Luffy assures her. "Before I got knocked out, I saw a Jolly Roger. We've been captured by pirates."

You glance at him from over your shoulder. "What'd it look like?"

"I don't know, it looked ... like ..." he pauses in thought. "A skull with crossbones, and a red ... dot? It almost looked like a nose, if bones could have noses, but they don't."

The blood in your veins freezes up, as does the rest of your body until their voices blur into nothing.

You've been keeping occasional track of him in the years that's passed since you parted ways, and when he amounted to a considerable bounty on his head, his signature Jolly Roger was hard not to miss on his wanted posters.

-------

"I didn't know there were so many pirates."

You tilt your head at the wall decorated with various wanted posters of different pirates, some more torn and discoloured than others, some more dead than others. You can't find your own amongst them in Shells Town, but then again, it has been some time since last you were on the Marines' radar. More likely than not, your poster is hidden somewhere underneath the several layers of—

"Hey, there's yours!" Luffy damn-near exclaims in wonder and points at— Oh yeah, there it is, right above Foxy's poster, a little yellow around the edges but still holding strong.

WANTED Dead or Alive "Cross-Hairs" 25,000,000

"Oh, wow, a 25-million bounty. That's a lot of berries."

The image is well over a decade old, taken back in your early twenties, and you were much more easy to identify back then. You were sharper in some angles, softer in others, compared to the present.

You look different now. Less robust, a little older, but no less dangerous in the grand scheme of things. Your sharp eyes remain the same, a trait Gol D. used to remark upon with a mischievous glimmer in his own eyes.

"You have eyes sharp enough to cut through steele," he'd say and ruffle your hair. A sense of loss perforating your being at the memory.

Despite being in your thirties, age tends to alter the appearance of most people, and you consider that a pretty good advantage right about now as you're standing surrounded by an army of Marine officers. Given the fact that you've spent the last couple of years away from the sea without a trace or clue, the World Government probably assumes you've died or gone into hiding.

Be that as it may, they didn't even bother to decrease the bounty since last time. How odd.

While Luffy spends a few moments admiring your old picture like a child that just learned their relative is some kind of famous celebrity, Koby is less than enthralled by this revelation.

"T-That's one of the highest bounties in the East-Blue." He is hesitant to look up at you. "What did ... What did you do to earn it?"

"A little here, a little there. Kicked a few asses, stole a bit of treasure along the way. Nothing too bad." You admit with a half-assed shrug as you continue to inspect the various posters.

For the boy's peace of mind, you won't go into the less ... child-friendly details regarding your reputation. About the way you used to fight to the blood with most of your opponents, Marines and pirates in equal measure. How you'd stand victorious atop a pile of broken limbs and pleading sounds from the defeated crowd.

"Yeah, yeah ..." Koby agrees with a feeble nod. "There are way worse pirates on the Grand Line."

Your gaze happens upon a particular wanted poster, and your demeanor stiffens. Not enough to notice from an ordinary point of view, but it does nonetheless.

His sharp cerulean eyes and bright red nose seem to mock you from his picture, and a heavy feeling settles in your heart. A feeling of hurt and betrayal you've long since thought abandoned in the corners of your heart. Not even the loss of your old captain could hope to compare to it

You snap back to Luffy, your voice a little strained as you speak though you desperately try to cover it up. "Are we done here, Luffy?"

------

It's your fucking luck it had to be him of all people to come after Luffy first.

Why him?

Fuuuuuu—

"We don't need to fight." Luffy's voice snaps you back to the present. "I can talk to them, pirate to pirate."

"Not with this one," you whisper more to yourself than anyone else. The only one who seems to catch onto this is Zoro, but the moment he opens his mouth to ask, Nami beats him to it.

A discussion regarding the duality of piracy quickly causes you to lose all interest in the following sequence.

You don't trust either the thief or the bounty hunter as far as you can throw them, and the feeling is mutual in both parts. Sure, they proved useful in getting rid of the Axe-Hand, and have had thus far been tolerable enough for you not to throw them overboard.

Still, Zoro recognized you on the spot where the Marines failed to, and though Nami doesn't, your status as a pirate is enough reason for her to distrust you.

As mentioned, you don't trust them, but Luffy does, and his lead is the only one you'll follow. This is his voyage, and you’re not here to keep him from making mistakes unless you consider them particularly vital. If this bites him in the end, then you'll be there to keep him afloat.

After all, you made a promise to your old red-haired friend.

"Look after the lad for me, will you? Help him achieve his dream."

With no patience left to wait to get the fuck out of here as quickly as possible, you prepare to kick through the planks. Just then, the top piece of your confinements unfold, and what you're greeted with is the pinpoint definiton of a fever dream on acid.

Tightrope walkers swinging in the air, acrobatics performing acts of impressive feats, someone fire-breathing, and-- was that a guy juggling on a unicycle passing you just now?

A circus troupe. You've been captured by a fucking circus troupe.

"Oh, what the actual fuck?" Is all you can manage to mutter, a sentiment Zoro surprisingly agrees with if the nod he adds serves as any indication.

The troupe has an audience, you come to observe in the distance. They're clapping and cheering on cue with the sign being held in the air, yet they look ... wrong. Forced. Puppets with strings embedded in their limbs, so to speak.

You narrow your eyes in distaste at the view. The hell has he been up to as of late?

In the midst of the enforced round of applause, a voice gradually makes itself more and more prominent through the masses. Deeper and huskier since last you heard it, but yet painfully known to your ears.

"No, no, no, NO! Stop clapping!"

And then he appears. The ringleader himself, exasperated as he throws his arms out to each side and effectively silencing the crowd.

"No, stop! This is all wrong!"

You momentarily forget to breathe as you watch him come into view from behind the audience. He's taller than the last you saw him, that's for damn certain. Must've hit a second growth spurt in your absence because, while you were relatively on equal foot in your youth, he now seems to have grown a head or so taller than yourself.

And like yourself, he's changed, and not inherently for the better. It's a relative statement considering that the life of a pirate is oftentimes a hard one, but it's a fact nonetheless. The years have not been any kinder to him than they've been for yourself. He still has the same hair, the same general appearance, but he's changed.

Out of the three of you, Shanks seems to have had it the easiest in recent years, appearance-wise. He never lost his smile or affinity for the brighter things in life, even when he had his damn arm chewed off.

Meanwhile, you lost your dreams, and he seems to have lost everything you recognized about him in your youth. His smile, his laughter, and even his stance had been replaced by some replica that fails to hold a candle to the original one.

This is a show master, not your friend. Then again, you haven't been friends for a long time now.

Still, changed as he may be from an outward point of view, Buggy's eyes have not. They're clear like the seas, just as they were long ago. (And his nose, of course. How could you forget?).

You can't tell if that's a relief yet.

You're not a fearful person by nature, having lost the distinct ability years ago. Now, however, you feel the tremors vibrating through your ribcage at the sight of him. That's why you decide to turn your face slightly to the side for now, hoping to prolong the inevitable.

Fortunately, your presence evades Buggy's notice for just a while longer as he berates his crew. "The spotlight was late! You completely missed my entrance!"

The sound of said spotlight changing its focus can be heard.

"And where, oh where, was the dancing lion?"

Good! While he's occupied, maybe you can find the right moment to grab Luffy and get the hell--

"Hey! I know you! I saw your wanted poster in Shells Town!"

... You want to dig a hole in the sand and bury yourself right about now.

"You're the clown guy! Uhm ... Binky, right?"

Buggy, you scream inside as you suppress the urge to yank Luffy by the shoulders and shake him until all of his limbs drop down on the ground. Fuck Shanks and fuck the promise. He's Buggy the fucking Clown, and you did not have to go out of your way to pinpoint that fact!

In your internal state of dismay, you settle with trying to locate potential escape routes. Maybe a hole in the walls of the tent, or an absent-minded guard by the entrance. You're stronger than most, with years of experience behind you, but you're not capable of fighting your way through a crowd with three tagalongs so seamlessly.

"Buggy," the man of the hour states as he approaches, still having failed to notice you. "Buggy the Clown."

No one says anything, which he takes as a sign to continue on with - what you personally regard - as a moronic long line of titles.

"Buggy, the Flashy Fool." Still nothing. He raises his arms, like a lost puppy begging for scraps of recognition. "Buggy, the Genius Jester."

Seriously, what's with him and all the names? He’s always been … overdramatic, but this cuts the cake even for him.

"Wow," Luffy seems genuinely impressed, a stark contrast to his companions, who would rather be anywhere than here. "You have a lot of names. I bet everyone in the East Blue knows who you are."

A range of gasps echo from the unwilling audience, and you finally snap your head to the front in alarm. Fuck, he couldn't have used a better word than that. Granted, Luffy didn't mean it in that context, or even that word, but it doesn't matter.

Another thing that hasn't changed about Buggy... And that very same thing might as well be what snaps him out of his theatric act.

You thought Buggy finally would've noticed you by now, seeing it as you're finally willing to face him, but his eyes remain eerily glued to the kid.

"What did you just say?" Buggy asks, calmly.

Way too calmly for your liking.

Oh, no.

Luffy blinks in confusion. "Just that everyone knows who you are?"

You notice the clown lunging before Luffy does.

In the span of a second, you plant yourself between them, the only barrier between him and the clown's rage. You don't move an inch even as Buggy closes in with his gloved hand outstretched towards the boy, having not yet registered your sudden appearance until his fingers are inches from your face.

Your eyes finally lock, the blue in his eyes more prominent now than ever. Almost two decades since the last time you saw each other, and Buggy ceases his attempted assault as though time itself freezes.

At first, there is nothing in his eyes but surprise. Anger. Maybe even a trace of admiration towards the one who dared stand against him. Hot and burning beneath his irises, like glowing embers left behind in a dying pyre.

Finally, there is recognition, and the fire reignites warmer and scorching more than ever before.

He doesn't say anything at first, and neither do you, but the glare in your eyes conveys the message loudly enough that even the performers and troupe members alike know not to interfere.

"Leave him be."

You think of what to say, what you can say, after years of being silent. A simple “Hi” will not suffice, and considering the way of which you parted, there is little room for confessions.

Then, Buggy begins to laugh.

It starts out as a whisper of a chuckle, then gradually develops until he's full-out holding his stomach in wheezes, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes and smudging his make-up.

He points his arm up as he tries to contain himself, and the guy holding the APPLAUSE-sign picks up on the subliminal message. Everyone in the place begins to laugh, both the captives and the captors, so loudly this time that it makes you feel small in a way you haven’t felt since you were a child.

You glance cautiously around yourself, sharing brief looks with your companions before the noises abruptly stop, having most likely been forced to do so.

When you look back at Buggy again, he's smiling wider than ever, but his eyes hold no genuine humor. No, there's an unidentifiable emotion swirling in the depths of his blue eyes that you fail to decipher before he speaks.

"Well, well, well! Isn't this an unexpected surprise?" He raises his arm to gesture to you, as if you're an exotic exhibition behind a display case for everyone to behold. The spotlight is now aimed at you, momentarily blinding your vision.

"Ladies and gentlemen! It is my honor to present to you, the one and only, the myth, the legendary 'Cross-Hairs'! The Beast of the East!"

Applause rings again in the air as Buggy continues.

"She was famous throughout all of East Blue for her many endeavors, with a bounty greater than even yours flashy truly." Admitting that fact looks like it physically hurt him, but he prevails. "And then, almost ten years ago, after her biggest heist yet, she just POOFS!" He snaps his fingers and lets them slowly decline for dramatic effect. "Vanishes out of the blue. Leaving the seas for an unforeseen amount of time."

It would seem like you were keeping track of each other all along.

The next words Buggy utters are so hushed that only you hear them, and his smile is gone.

"Then again, you do have a track-record of leaving things behind, haven’t you?"

Oh, the fucking nerve of this guy. You take a step forward, clenching and unclenching you jaw so much your teeth feel on the bring of cracking. How dare he? How fucking dare he?

You’re about to shout back at him, argue, throwing every caution to the wind just to correct him and scream:

("You're the one who left me, remember?")

Before you can, something taps your right shoulder. Thinking it's Luffy, you turn around, and the last thing you recall before it all fades to black is an air of red dust clouding your vision.

[chrollosbm]

Satoru Gojo is into Some Weird Roleplay (Christmas Smut)

art cr: glowx_21 on x

hey idk what this is LMAOO. i thought of this randomly bc gojo reminds me of a certain christmas character so i just ran with it! he's one of my three husbands who i love so much so i wanted to write about him. i'm so feral for him it's not even funny. anyways, i hope you enjoy and don't take it too seriously, unless you want to idc! mdni.

domestic gojo, husband gojo, dad gojo

female reader, no description of her features but i’m black so

warnings: piv sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, satoru won't shut up, dom gojo

i'm on ao3, pls support me there too!

wc: 1500+

“Satoru,” You surprised yourself in the way you were able to let out a single word with his unrelenting thrusts. “Baby. P-please slow down.” 

The man who was currently plummeting into you from behind let out a click of his tongue, ignoring your request and instead opted with a loud and hard smack to your ass, his pace somehow getting faster and harder. His hips were ruthless against the fat of your ass, creating clapping noises throughout the large bedroom.

“What was that? Couldn’t hear you.” He let out breathlessly, his tone as playful as ever, waiting for you to address him the right way.

You wanted to reach back and knock some sense into him, tell him to slow his thrusts before he knocked the wind out of you and woke up the children. His deep and powerful thrusts prohibited you from saying much though, with his fat cock reaching your g-spot so effortlessly that you were seeing stars.

If you could roll your eyes right now you would, but your body seemed to forget how to function, only capable of following the orders of your ridiculous but gorgeous husband behind you. “Saint Nick…please.” It would’ve sounded ridiculous to you if you weren’t being plummeted to Neptune with each touch of your gummy spot deep within you, but you were being fucked so stupid that you would call him God if he asked. “You don’t wanna wake up the little elves do you?” You played along as you continued panting, fingers grasping the silk sheets tightly, tears in your eyes from the intense pleasure.

You thought he was ignoring you again, with his long fingers digging deeper into your hips before he slowed his pace, deciding on an unhurried, rough one, sliding in and out of those warm, wet walls of yours with a long and drawn out “fuuuuuck,” leaving his mouth. “The elves are fast asleep, baby. Don’t worry about them, just take Santa’s dick, mmkay’?” His voice was jolly as ever, just like Santa Claus himself, and you would’ve laughed if his cock wasn’t basically touching your brain at this point. You could only let out small whimpers as he arched your back further, reaching only a place he could.

Why you agreed on letting your dear husband roleplay as Santa was beyond you, but Satoru had a way with words. All he had to do was promise to make you feel good, make you cum all night long, pretty please baby, in that convincing, deep voice of his, a pout on his features, those bright blue eyes begging, so how could you say no? 

You should have made some more conditions, one being to say no to the bells he had attached to the bed frame, with them ringing with each jerk of his hips, creating an impossibly loud jingle. He said it would get the two of you in the “Christmas spirit,” with the bed decorated in lights and ringing balls, sounding like a real sleigh everytime the bed hit the wall in full force. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by Satoru pulling himself out of you, leaving you empty and missing him already, causing a whine to leave your lips as he flipped you over as if you weighed nothing, before settling in between your legs again. You were faced with the beautiful man you were so grateful to call yours, his cerulean orbs were darkened somehow as they stared into yours, looking dazed and drunk off your pussy, his pupils slightly dilated. His pretty white follicles were tucked into a red santa hat, the puffy ball tossed on the side, sweat trickling from his temples from wrecking your insides. He had that adorable, innocent smile on his face, as if he wasn’t guilty of talking you into this comical predicament in the first place. 

“Will Mrs. Claus let me put the beard on again?” He let out, a pout forming on his pink lips, glossy from sweat and saliva.

“No, don’t ask again!” You almost yelled, your face scrunched in annoyance and he let out a booming laugh at your immediate response. 

Satoru did have a cheap, plastic beard that matched his white hair perfectly, but you made him take it off for a couple reasons. One being it looked terrible. As beautiful as the man above you was as he was staring down at you, shallow breaths coming from his perfectly shaped, rock hard abdomen, and his rosy cheeks, the beard made him look…creepy. Two being it was damn itchy. He had been going down on you when he had it on, but it was impossible for you to focus on his holy tongue work and perfect movements of his fingers, curving into you, hitting that spot that had you crying out his name for the night (fucking Saint Nick.) Once it began scratching your legs painfully, you’d forced him to take it off, which he did with a whine, throwing the damp, shitty excuse for a beard across the bedroom floor, before making you cum from his tongue alone, more than once.

Your husband’s wide grin was replaced with something immodest as he gripped your thighs, pulling you forward, and slipped inside torturously slow, earning a gasp from the both of you. His head was thrown back and his lip was caught in his teeth, causing your pussy to throb from both the feeling of warmth and fullness again, and Satoru’s effortless way of making you feel hot inside just by simple facial expressions, subsequently making a groan escape his lips before sinking into you completely, touching your gummy spot immediately with the angle he entered.

He kept your legs apart as he thrust into you forcefully and fast-paced again, with you giving no complaints this time about the commotion the jingling bed frame was causing. You didn’t care, for he was taking you to heaven in this position, goosebumps erupting from your skin and seeing black dots in your vision with each time he reached a new depth inside you. Your cunt was competing with the loud noises of those stupid fucking bells as it made sloshing noises throughout the room, and when you looked down, you could see your juices dripping onto his pretty, pale, absolutely perfect cock. 

As if he could read your mind, he spoke for you. “You’re so fucking wet, baby. My god.” His head was no longer tilted back, but also looking down as your tight, slippery cunt sucked in his dick, a feral look on his features, absolutely enamored by the sight. His pace never let up, his hips moving at the speed of light almost as he used one hand to press on your lower stomach, making it feel better than you thought possible. “You feel me in there? You feel Santa’s cock abusing this perfect little cunt?” His goofy grin returned and you couldn’t do anything but let out a loud moan of approval, face twisted up, still entertaining his mess because this just felt too fucking good. 

His hand moved from your tummy to focus on your clit, fingers rubbing small, soft circles, completely catching you off guard. Your legs began to tremble from the insane pleasure you were feeling, hands clenching the sheets so hard again you were surprised they didn’t come off the corners of the bed. 

“Can I make you a mommy again? Put another little helper in this belly?” That feral look was in his eyes again, tone as light as ever, as he slowed down, choosing a rough ram motion, causing your tits to jiggle at the change of pace, making Satoru groan at the sight, mouth halfway open. You didn’t know if it was the mind fog you felt from him fucking you brainless, but you nodded vigorously as tears fell down your cheeks, that white hot feeling in your veins approaching, mind so numb you would probably agree to having ten more of his white-haired, blue-eyed children. The two of your already had four, three you’d birthed and one you adopted, but you didn’t care right now, you felt like he had seriously taken you to the North Pole with the way his cock was basically fucking your guts.

His infamous smile returned before leaning down to place his lips on yours, barely kissing you, just sticking his minty tongue in your mouth and panting, speaking incoherent sentences along the lines of you being a “good girl,” and “taking his load so well.” You couldn’t comprehend a thing anyway, as your body began convulsing, washing over with relief as your orgasm was drawn out of you, long and bone shattering, with your back arching off the bed with a squeal that was hard to keep inside your body.

Satoru wasn’t too far behind you, with his eyes closed tightly, as his hips began twitching, the first time all night they didn’t have a consistent rhythm and he groaned out loudly, spurting long, hot ropes of his cum inside you.

His eyes opened soon after, those beautiful blue orbs staring at you adoringly with his signature wide grin on his face, in which you returned, panting heavily, so thankful for this beautiful, insane, goofy husband of yours. He grabbed the comforter and placed it over the two of you, kissing your lips softly, his breath heavy as the two of you exchanged small “i love you’s” back and forth.

“Mommy?” A small voice came from the corner of the room and your heart dropped, recognizing it as your three year old daughter’s, afraid of what she might’ve seen. Satoru hid under the covers, his hat coming off in the process and you had a full view of her now, with her candy cane nightgown and teddy bear in her arms, her lip quivering with tears in her eyes.

“What’s wrong, baby?” You asked, ready to get up and comfort your youngest, afraid something happened as it was past midnight on Christmas Eve. God, did the bells wake her up?

She stomped out the room before you could get up, wailing and yelling for her older brother. “Megumi! Mommy was kissing Santa!” Her cries could be heard throughout the entire house and you knew everyone would be awake by now.

Satoru’s loud laugh could also be heard throughout the entire house, its jollyness rivaling Saint Nick himself. 

my masterlist!

[wandasaura]

— SWEET FESTIVE LOVE

summary — so much has been taken from your girlfriends, so bringing a taste of the holidays into your shared apartment gives back some of the magic they lost out on for so long

warning(s) — just a sweet morning with your girlfriends, the faintest most nondescript mention of wanda/natasha’s childhoods

It was easier said than done; escaping from bed without waking the two Avengers you slept between, but eventually by some kind of miracle, you managed to untangle yourself from their warm bodies and the heavy blankets you had been practically cocooned beneath without too much trouble, and once your bare feet hit the cold hardwood, chills immediately spreading up your bones at the fluctuation of temperature, you were free to escape into the living room where Halloween decorations taunted you on every surface.

The first thing you did was switch the overhead lights on and start a pot of coffee in the kitchen — more for Natasha than yourself. You wouldn’t have much time before they noticed you were missing from bed and came to find you with worried and panicked frowns on their sleepy faces, but coffee was as good of a peace offering as any for your scarlet headed girlfriend. Wanda would just laugh when she eventually found you, she was always the last to jump to conclusions when it came to your spontaneous disappearances.

With coffee brewing and dawn approaching, the fresh-feeling yelled-toned sunlight that peaked through the windows created a gentle golden hue within the eerily quiet apartment, you set off on your original mission, the entire reason you wrangled yourself out of bed so early; setting up for Christmas.

You’d sat with the idea for weeks before you brought it up to your girlfriends, knowing Wanda came from a Jewish family, and Natasha had been cheated of a childhood entirely, you didn’t want to overstep on your first holiday season together, still in the stage of navigating new traditions and celebrations, but the witch had assured you that she didn’t mind the decorations and traditional festive traditions you wanted to bring into the apartment. She was secure in her upbringing (the little she got to have before everything was ripped away at the very least), and she enjoyed the cheesiness of a jolly sleigh riding home intruder and gingerbread men. Natasha had been otherwise indifferent when the conversation turned to her, not the most forthcoming when it came to reliving the Ohio mission, but you caught the slight curl to her pink lips when you started rambling about your family's traditions. After that, you’d slowly started to accumulate different decorations that you thought encapsulated theirs and your personalities perfectly. You shied away from the brighter reds and greens that overpopulated stores, sticking with cooler tones and golds that were more their laidback energy.

You started the process by dismantling all of the fall decorations you’d placed out in September, piling them all on the couch to be put away later on when you had more of an idea as to where all the Christmas decor would be going. You replaced styrofoam pumpkins and scarecrows with porcelain pine trees and snowmen, sprinkling fake snow and vines of artificial holly across the mantle where you’d be handing the matching stockings you had custom made.

You cleared the windowsill in the center of the front wall, stacking the picture frames on the arm of the couch before you went back to decorating, spreading a navy blue table runner across the white trim to add contrast to the primarily red and green decorations. You’d gotten a lot accomplished by time you heard panicked feet shuffling down the stairs, fumbling over the placement of palm sized glass dreidels when Natasha’s presence became known.

“There you are!” She gasped, tugging her fingers through her slept on red curls, keeping them out of her face as the panic turned into annoyance. “Halloween was yesterday, Y/N.” She emphasized her displeasure with a grumpy huff, staring straight at your collection of nesting dolls that were sitting where her beloved jack-o-lantern resided just last night.

“Oh don’t be such a scrooge.” Wanda called from the top of the stairs, amusement clear in her tone as she figured what you were up to, clearly not as worried as Natasha had been. She came down the stairs with less of a rush, busy tying her hair up into a ponytail before she paused at the bottom of the steps when her eyes drifted over to where you were standing. “Dove.” Her tone drips with fondness and appreciation as she takes note of the silver menorah in the center of the windowsill, the blossoming sunlight reflecting off of the glass dreidels that were scattered around as well, casting small shadows of rainbow light against the opposite wall.

“I know you don’t really celebrate Chanukah, but I wanted you to feel represented too. I hope I got it right.” You fiddle with your fingers nervously, “I looked up so many menorahs. I made sure the shamash.. is that what it’s called?…I made sure the shamash was a different height, and that the eight branches were level. So many I looked at weren’t.”

Wanda’s gaze was practically bleeding with adoration as she crossed the living room to hold your face tenderly in her hands, “Thank you.” She kissed your lips earnestly, brushing her fingers over your cheeks delicately before she flickered her gaze to the little details you paid close attention to. She spotted a gold Star of David sitting next to a suction cup hook, not yet hung up wherever you intended to place it, but her heart swelled at the intentions.

“You’re welcome.” You giggled shyly, leaning in to kiss her sweetly as she embraced you in a true and tight embrace. “Now! Since you both decided to wake up, the tree needs to be set up, and I wasn’t tall enough to hang that sign or the mistletoe!” You called out smugly, staring directly at Natasha who just groaned defeatedly, but you knew she didn’t mind, she was just too proud to admit how nice it was to see the apartment so lively and normal. This was all she’d ever wanted her life to amount to.

[eddiemunsons80sbaby]

Blue Christmas

Pairing: EddieMunsonxReader

Summary: You're feeling down with the holidays coming, missing your rockstar boyfriend, so your friends plan a trip to a cabin with a little surprise to cheer you up.

18+ Only

"Y/N, come on! Sing along!" Robin whined from the back seat.

You groaned, rolling your eyes at her. You appreciated your friends' attempt to cheer you up but it wasn't working. Nothing was going to make this Christmas feel joyful or triumphant. The one person you wanted to be spending Christmas with was halfway across the country and you didn't know when you were going to see him again. 

"We're on our way to a beautiful cabin in the woods for a friendsmas like no other!" Steve whooped from the driver's seat. "A whole weekend of fun, drinking, and me! What more could you possibly ask for?"

You couldn't help but laugh, "Yeah, I mean, if I have you Steve, then what more could I possibly need?" 

Eddie. You needed Eddie, but he was currently on tour so you couldn't have him. Corroded Coffin had become an overnight sensation and you were beyond thrilled for him and the guys. But they'd been gone for two months. Two months where the closest you got to having your boyfriend was a phone call. He tried to call every day and you appreciated it but you also knew he was crazy busy. The newfound stardom had caused a whirl of insanity from talk shows to press releases to photo shoots to radio interviews. He was constantly on the go and lately the calls and been shorter and farther and fewer between.

You didn't want to think it, but you couldn't help that nagging in the back of your brain. Those doubts that began to creep in like insects burrowing under your skin. Was he going to find someone else? He was constantly surrounded by beautiful women these days, models and other musicians and actresses. How would he not be tempted? You glanced down at yourself, your leggings and sweater dress and knew you couldn't compete. Maybe he saw you as special when his options were limited to Hawkins but a buffet of buxom had just been opened for him and he was quickly becoming the most wanted man in the world. You could compete with Hawkins girls but you had no shot with L.A. girls.

"Hey, stop that," Robin chided, slapping the back of your head. "Get out of there. No going down that path that leads to nothing but misery. This is not a pity party. This is a Christmas party and we are going to have fun. You are going to smile and laugh and have a good time and you are going to padlock those thoughts away where they belong."

You nodded, turning to look out the window at the snow covered landscape. Robin and Steve were your best friends. You had shared all of your doubts and fears with them about Eddie getting bored with you or deciding he didn't want to be tied down when he had the world at his feet. They consistently assured you that wasn't the case, that Eddie loved you, that you two were endgame. You appreciated their support and their positivity so much but you just weren't sure anymore.

"Here we are!" Steve called, pulling up to the most beautiful cabin you'd ever seen.

Cabin? This was like a manor made of logs. What cabin had two stories with a full porch that wrapped around to a deck? And was that a hot tub on the deck? Floor to ceiling glass windows covered the front, which would give you a beautiful view of the winter woods but, Jesus, this place as to cost a small fortune.

"Umm...how exactly are we affording this place?" you questioned.

"Oh, well everybody pitched in," Steve offered, shrugging. "Argyle, Jonathan, and Nancy are driving up later. Between all of us, it actually wasn't too bad." He hopped out of the car and ran around to the back, pulling out your bag. "How about you head in and check it out? You can look around and get all holly and jolly. Get in a positive head space while Robin and I handle getting the rest of the stuff inside."

"Okay..." you said slowly, taking your bag. Why was he being weird? You walked to the cabin and up the steps, pausing when you heard the car start up. You turned to see Steve and Robin waving at you and smiling as they pulled away. "Hey! What the hell? Where are you guys going?"

Seriously? What were they playing at? Did they think this was funny because you definitely weren't laughing. Ugh. Whatever. Groaning, you pushed open the door to the cabin and stepped inside. You had no idea what those two were doing but you'd be damned if you were going to stand outside waiting for their punch line. 

Your eyes roamed the cabin as you set your bag down and unbuttoned your coat, hanging it on one of the hooks by the door. There was a Christmas tree already set up and decorated in the corner and a fire roaring in the fireplace. You wondered if the owners had done that. If so, it was a nice touch. Possibly a bit hazardous to leave a fire going with no one there but nice. There were cozy blankets draped on the couch and a lush, shag rug right in front of a beautiful stone fireplace. 

You moved to the window to see if Steve and Robin had returned, ending whatever silly game they were playing. Moving the curtains back, you admired the view. Trees coated in sparkling white snow, large rolling hills in the background. Steve had mentioned possibly skiing this weekend. 

"Well, at least it's a beautiful view," you muttered.

"Actually, I would say this view in stunning."

Your breath caught in your throat as that voice reached your ears, flowing over your body like the sun's rays after a long winter. Turning, you gasped, tears pooling in your eyes at the most beautiful sight you had seen in months. 

There stood Eddie, your perfect Eddie. He looked just like your Eddie, not the Eddie that was plastered over the cover of magazines or sitting on the Today show. He wasn't decked out in designer clothes. His face wasn't covered in make-up to ensure he looked lively under fluorescent lighting. He wore his usual jeans and a long-sleeve blue shirt. Those mahogany waves you loved so much were gloriously chaotic, not perfectly coiffed. He was everything, everything you'd been dreaming about for two months, standing there in front of you.

"Baby?" he asked softly, tilting his head slightly, concerned that you hadn't said anything. "Are you happy to see me?"

Your response was to throw yourself against him, your lips smashing into his, hands tangling in his hair. A rumble of satisfaction rolled from his chest, his arms wrapping around you, crushing your body against his. Jesus, you missed him. You had a savage need to feel every single inch of him, to have him as close to you as humanly possible. 

Your hands found the hem of his shirt, grabbing it and pulling it over his head. You threw it across the room, your eyes soaking in each of his tattoos, those images you knew so well. You pressed your lips to his neck, your hands running along his chest and stomach that were much more firm than they had been the last time you'd had him shirtless in front of you. Celebrity came with expectation of a certain body image and you knew his manager had him hooked up with a personal trainer. 

You pressed kisses along his chest, tracing your tongue over each tattoo there, smiling when you felt him shudder under your hands. His hand cradled the back of your head as you moved further down, lips pressing against the flesh of his belly, the soft hair that trailed into his jeans, leading you exactly where you wanted to go. 

Your fingers quickly undid the button on his jeans, slid his zipper down and pushed his pants and boxers down to his knees. You kissed a path along his groin, that lovely spot where his hips and pelvis met.

"Holy shit baby. This is a hell of a hello," he murmured, fingers tangled in your hair as your lips wrapped around him, pulling the length of him into your mouth. "Fuck. I missed your mouth so goddamn much."

You ranked your nails gently along his thighs as you moved your mouth along him. Your tongue slid along the underside, following the vein there and then swirled around the tip. The grip on your hair tightened as his hips rocked forward, plunging him deeper into your throat. 

"Fuck princess..."

Smiling at how easily you could get a reaction out of him, you slid him from your mouth, taking his length in your hand. You began working your hand along him as you ran your tongue over his balls. Gently, you took one in your mouth, sucking just hard enough to make him scream out your name. Switching, you worked his balls with your hand, tenderly rolling them and pulling on them. Your tongue swirled around the base of his cock, working your way to the tip before taking him into your mouth again.

Suddenly, he gripped your shoulders, lifting you from the floor and into his arms. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he moved you to the shag rug, laying you back on it. 

"I have waited too damn long to just come in your mouth," he growled, his lips now devouring your flesh. He yanked your shirt off, undoing your bra and tossing both. "Goddamn." His mouth descended upon your chest, pulling your nipple between his teeth until you shrieked with pleasure. His tongue rolled over the other nipple as his hands pulled at your leggings. Breaking away, he ripped them the rest of the way off. His hands moved to your knees, pushing them apart as he gazed down at you. "I have dreamed of this pussy every single day for the last two months."

"Eddie!" you screamed as he dove forward, his tongue sliding between your folds, licking a stripe from your entrance to your clit. Your hips rolled toward him, your hands gripping the shag rug tightly. Fuck, Eddie was so enthusiastic when it came to pleasuring you and he always succeeded. "Jesus baby...oh my god..."

Your eyes rolled back, waves of pleasure gently creating over you, promising the large crash at the end. Eddie slid a finger inside of you, exploring your walls until you almost came off of the bed with a screech.

"There is it," he murmured, pleased with himself, continuing to press along the sensitive flesh within as his tongue worked your clit. He was a fucking master with his tongue, circling and then working shapes around the edges just as you thought you couldn't take it, somehow knowing you needed less pressure. 

"Fuck...oh...baby, I can't...oh shit!"

"Oh, yes you can," he replied, his tongue flicking quickly along your clit, "I can feel it, princess. Come on. I've been waiting far too long for this."

Your stomach knotted, your toes pointing as every single muscle tensed in your body. Your body lurched, hands slamming into the floor before gripping the rug again for dear life. That crashing wave was about to roll over you. Eddie's fingers continued to move, each time hitting that delicious spot that simply undid you. His tongue was not letting up, knowing you were close, pushing you over the edge. 

"Fuck me!" you screamed, your body shuddering violently up off the floor. Eddie's free hand rested on your belly, gently pressing you back down as he continued to pleasure you gently through the waves of pleasure that coursed through your body. 

"I mean, if you insist," he said with a smile, sliding his fingers from you and before you could even completely come down from your high, his cock had replaced them, your body welcoming him home, finally right where he belonged. "Oh fuck baby. You feel so damn good. Yes, I've missed you so fucking much."

"I've missed you," you groaned, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him close. "God, I've missed you."

Eddie's arms wound underneath you, his forehead pressing against yours as he moved his hips, his cock filling you completely. It filled not just your body but your very soul. Being this close to him was replenishing everything that had diminished in his absence. All doubts and fears flew from your mind at the perfection that was the two of you becoming one, your bodies interconnecting like perfect puzzle pieces. 

"Baby, you're so perfect," he breathed, his breath gently tickling your skin. "You have no idea how much it kills me to be away from you."

Your hands held his face, gazing into his eyes as your hips met each thrust, your legs wrapped around him, pulling him even deeper. Brown eyes...people compared brown eyes to so many normal, every day things but his were anything but. His eyes were the color of sweet melted chocolate, a warm cup of soothing tea when your soul was aching, the color of the earth that brought life after a long, hard winter. These were the eyes that you wanted to gaze into for the rest of your life.

"Me too," you whispered, your head swimming in the lust and love you had for this man. "I hate it." 

"Oh baby, I'm gonna..." he groaned and then his whole body jerked forward, stilling, his eyes closed as you felt his climax filling you completely. He lifted his head, his forearms framing your hand, and held your face in his hands. "I love you. I don't want to be away from you anymore. I can't do it. It's too hard."

"Baby, I hate it too. It's the hardest thing I've ever had to do," you said, smiling. "But you have to. As much as I hate it, I know you have to do it. The tour and everything, this is amazing for you and the guys."

"So come with me," he said. "Princess, I can't say goodbye to you again. I won't do it. I fucking hate it. It's so damn hard. This is my Christmas gift to you. I want you to come on tour with me. I know we talked about it and it didn't seem right but being apart isn't right. I know it's a crazy life, but it would be our life. All of this success just feels like bullshit without you with me."

You paused, looking upon the face that you loved so much. Yeah, you'd be leaving everything you knew behind but everything you wanted was right here. Did any of it matter without him? Could you do it? 

"Yes," you replied without hesitation. "Yes. I don't want to go one more day without these eyes in my life."

"Yes?" he asked, grinning wide and then he started laughing, pulling you against him and pressing his lips to yours. "Yes! This is the best Christmas gift ever. Seriously baby. You and me, forever."

"Forever," you repeated, pushing those messy locks behind his ears. Yeah, forever with this man sounded like pure heaven.

[babydollmarauders]

CANDY CANE KISSES — TREVOR ZEGRAS

trevor zegras x fem!reader

12 DAYS OF KINKMAS

summary: in which Trevor has a unique use for all the candy canes y/n buys

warnings: NSFW CONTENT, nipple play, food play, p in v (unprotected), i think that’s all? (3.2k words)

notes: welcome to day 2 of the 12 days of kinkmas! this was my first time writing smut for trevor and i won’t lie; it was hard!

“this is getting out of hand.”

my eyes fly up to the kitchen entrance, Trevor’s tall frame looming in the doorway. his golden brown hair is tousled as though he’s just woken up, yet i know he’s been awake for hours.

“i didn’t think you were home yet.” i murmur, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights, and my fiancé chuckles as he steps fully into the kitchen.

“i’ve been home for an hour, i was about to call and ask where you were-” his eyes flicker to the shopping bag that rests on the counter before he looks back at me with a raised brow. “but i guess now i know.”

i externally cringe, my mind racing as i try and come up with an excuse.

“i- okay- hear me out!” my hand floats in the air in front of my chest, in attempt to keep him from chastising me.

“oh, i’d love to hear this excuse.” Trevor smirks, sidling over to lean back against the counter. his hands grip the countertop behind him and for a moment my eyes linger there, tracing the veins that lead up to his tattooed arm, until i regain consciousness and remember what i was doing.

“they were buy one get one free! and there’s so many different flavors!”

Trevor’s head tips back, chin towards the ceiling as he lets out a groan.

“baby, you have ten boxes of candy canes in our cupboards!” he states, hand flying up as though to dramatically display our kitchen cupboards.

“twelve.” i mumble, my voice low as i stare at the ground.

“twelve?!” he steps forward, arms winding around my waist as he blocks my view of our tile floor. “look at me, please.”

his soft tone draws my head up, looking into his blue eyes as i exaggerate a pout.

“no more candy canes.” he emphasizes each word, “please!”

i nod solemnly before resting my chin on his chest, giving him the best puppy dog eyes i can muster.

“how many boxes did you buy today?” Trevor questions, bowing his head down to drop his forehead to mine.

“four.” i whisper, the lower half of my face rising to chase his lips. my nose accidentally brushes against his and he repeats the action with intent.

“that’s too many, babe.” he urges, “no more.”

my lips part but i get no word out before he reads my mind, answering my question.

“not even after christmas when they’re discounted.”

i huff in exaggerated disappointment, stepping away from my fiancé to pull the boxes of hard candy from the grocery bag on the granite countertop.

i’m mostly silent as i do so, except for the hyperbolic sigh that passes my lips, my sight flickering to Trevor every few seconds. he bites back a grin, hopping up to sit on the counter across from me before he speaks.

“alright,” he drags out, clicking his tongue against his teeth before he adds- “what flavors did ya get?”

i perk up, the corners of my lips quirking up.

“i got warhead, jolly rancher, sour patch kid, and mint chocolate!” i sing out, holding up each one as i tell him.

“they sound delicious, babe.”

i internally cheer at his approval as i open the candy cupboard, stuffing the four boxes anywhere i can fit them. i take a mental note of the few missing candy canes from a box of original peppermint flavor, taking pride in knowing Trevor has at least indulged in a couple of my holiday obsession.

“can we watch a movie?” i ask, pushing the cupboard closed while i spin around to face my fiancé.

“is it a christmas movie?”

“yes…”

“is it a hallmark movie?” he inquires cautiously, eyes narrowed towards me.

“it doesn’t have to be.” i shrug, shoving the plastic grocery bag under the sink with the others.

“then yes.”

***

Trevor’s t-shirt hangs around my body, the hem tickling my upper thigh, and fuzzy socks adorn my feet.

we ate dinner and watched two more movies before calling it a night, and now i stand at our bathroom counter washing my face and waiting for my fiancé to come upstairs.

i can hear his footsteps entering on the tile floor of our bathroom as i cup my hands under the faucet, filling them with water and washing the cleanser from my face.

i’m drying my face when his arms encircle my waist, his chin coming down to rest on my shoulder.

“hi, beautiful.” his voice is gruff and i can sense a hint of lust that makes me chuckle.

“hi, baby.” i set the towel back down on the counter, opening my eyes to our reflections staring back at me.

meeting his eyes in the mirror, my hands come down to rub soothingly along his arms. his grip relaxes, loosening around me for a moment before spinning me in his arms.

the small of my back hits against the counter, his hands smacking onto it on either side of me, caging me in.

“whatcha doing?” i giggle. my own hands find his chest, smoothing up to lock around the back of his neck.

“looking at my gorgeous future wife.” his response makes me hum, his face lowering towards mine before he speaks again, this time lower, “thinking about how much i wanna fuck her right here in front of this mirror. how sexy she would look; watching as i make her come on my cock.”

his words ignite a pulse between my legs, my breathing picking up just slightly.

“oh yeah?” i bite my lip, angling my hips to press against his.

“mhm.” he hums, bending down just a bit more so his lips brush against mine, and my heart skips a beat in excitement. “but, that’ll have to happen another time.”

my mood deflates as he steps away, backing away towards the doorway to our bedroom.

“oh.” my shoulders sag, my lips flattening into a straight line, and i watch him stop at the doorway.

“well, c’mon.” he urges, crooking his finger at me. “i have plans for you.”

the corner of his mouth quirks up in a smirk and i bite back a giddy smile as i follow him into our bedroom. his hands reach out to pull at my hips, his fingers digging into my skin through the thin fabric of his shirt, and he doesn’t stop until i’m flush against him.

“i had an idea-”

“oh that’s never good.” he rolls his eyes at my interruption, but a smile still tugs at his lips.

“shh, i think you’ll like it.”

his lips meet mine, our noses bumping in the movement, and my lips instinctively part, making way for his tongue to dart into my mouth and tangle with my own.

one hand sliding up to curl around and rest at the base of my neck, he groans when mine give a light tug to his locks. his hips jerk against mine, coaxing a hushed moan from deep within my throat and into his mouth.

he pulls away, looking into my eyes, his own darkened with lust, before he turns and walks away, leaving me breathless and needy.

“what-” i’m cut off with a hurried shush, my lips almost unconsciously falling shut.

“naked and on the bed.” his broken sentence echoes through my mind once, twice, three times before i register his command. making quick work as he walks out of the bedroom.

my fuzzy socks are easily slipped off my feet, panties dragged down my thighs, before finally, i pull the oversized t-shirt over my head, letting the various fabrics mingle together in a pile on the floor.

my movements are clumsy and hastened as i clamber onto the bed, sitting pretty on my knees atop the mattress.

Trevor returns with a cup in his hands, piquing my interest, but when i begin to rise in order to see over the top of the cup, i’m shut down by a single lifted eyebrow.

i heave out a sigh, falling back down to the mattress with a dejected pout.

“thought of a way to put your new fixation to use.” he hums, setting the cup on the nightstand, and it’s then that i spot what’s inside.

the cup is filled with ice, and nestled just inside, buried within the ice, is a single unwrapped peppermint candy cane.

“i’m confused.” i voice, brows furrowed.

“just sit down and close your eyes.”

i do as he says, shifting so my legs hang off the edge of the mattress, my ass now sitting on the blanket. closing my eyes, i lean back on my hands, full trust in the man that i’ll be vowing forever to in just a few short months.

time ticks idly by with nothing happening, and i’m almost beginning to wonder if Trevor has left me alone when i finally feel his hot breath hovering over my nipple.

shivers erupt through my body, goosebumps littering my flesh in their wake, and my head falls back as his lips close around the stiffened bud. his tongue swirls around it, eliciting a choked sound from my lips, and i can feel him smirk against my breast.

he pulls back, sucking my nipple with him between his lips before letting it go with a pop, and my hips involuntarily jerk on the bed at his retreat, a whimper echoing in the silence.

i’m rewarded with a gentle shush, simultaneously combined with an icy cold substance being dragged around my nipple. my back arches, breasts pushed forward as i gasp.

my eyes fly open, darting down to find the source of the chill and discovering my fiancé on his knees, the previously ice-bound candy cane in his grasp, leaving a cold sticky trail along my nipple.

“T-Trevor.” i stutter out. his eyes flick up to mine, a smirk resting on his lips as he pulls the candy cane away, replacing it with his open mouth.

i curse, my arms shaking behind me as my eyes roll back. his tongue explores every detail of the hard peak in his mouth, suckling as his free hand finds my other breast, roughly pinching the nipple, before trailing the cold candy cane around that one.

my hips grind against mattress with every flick of his tongue, and when he switches his heated mouth to the other breast, he moans against it, the vibrations against my nipple causing a full body jerk.

“Trevor, please.” i plead. for what? i’m unsure, but he seems to know; he pulls back, rolling my nipple between his lips before letting it go.

his hand comes to rest on my sternum, slowly pushing me until my back lays against the soft bedding. he swirls the candy around my breasts, stickiness coating my skin, before i can hear the clink of the candy cane being shoved back into the ice.

he rises, hovering over my body before dipping down, sucking at the sticky candy trails of his own doing.

my hips buck up against his, urging him to hold them against the mattress as he continues sucking across my chest. his lips drag along the sticky residue, his tongue darting out to lick across my nipple.

my breath catches in my throat as i can feel the early signs of my orgasm building in my stomach, but i’m left gasping for air as it fades away, Trevor’s mouth parting from my heated skin in order for him to pull the candy cane back from the ice cup.

my abdomen clenches as the candy cane makes contact, being dragged down down my stomach from my sternum. Trevor hovers above me with a mischievous smirk, taking pride in the way my body writhes underneath him.

when he finally puts the frozen candy away, his tongue drags down my body, his eyes locked into mine, glaring up at me with heated fervor.

as my body tenses under his tongue, a whimper draws from my slackened jaw, my fingers tangling into his hair and giving a harsh tug.

he groans against me, vibrations carrying over my tight muscles and sending chills down my spine, but his movement doesn’t falter; instead, he trails down even further, pressing short kisses to my hip bones and along my waistline.

“Trev-” my voice shakes, coming out in breathy quivers as he dips lower, his hot breath hitting against my dripping core.

“what do you want, baby?” his gentle pet name is an extreme contrast to the harsh tone of his voice.

“you,” i grapple with his shirt, tugging him up until his face is above mine, his nose drags up my jawline, my eyes fluttering closed, “god- i need you.”

“you’ve got me, baby.” i can practically hear his smile, the mocking lilt in his tone.

“inside me,” i clarify, my head falling back to dig deeper into the soft bedding as his soft lips attach to my neck. “i need you inside me.”

he pulls away, my eyes flying open at the sudden departure, “oh, you need my cock.”

his hands grip my hips, pulling me forward as he grinds against my core, a sharp inward gasp falling from my lips.

“you want this cock buried so deep inside that pretty pussy, don’t you?” Trevor hums, a mocking smirk resting on his lips when i whine out an agreement. “yeah, you want it so bad that you’re fucking dripping. so wet for me.”

“yes, yes,” i pant out, hips bucking up in search of his hardened bulge, “all for you.”

he snickers as he steps back, my lower body falling back against the mattress and a long complaining whine leaving me. i watch in ernest as his hands drop to the button of his jeans, undoing them and pushing them down his legs along with his boxers, putting his muscular thighs on full display. his erection springs free, nearly slapping against his clothed abdomen, and my thighs press together at the sight of his reddened tip, glistening with precum.

he grins at my reaction, his eyes zeroing in on my clenched thighs as he pulls his shirt over his head.

“open those thighs for me, pretty girl.” his hands smooth up my legs, prying them apart until they’re wide open, my cunt on display for his viewing.

“look at that pretty pussy,” my body jolts as his fingers do a quick swipe through my soaked folds, a broken moan pouring through my lips.

“please,” i mewl, “i need you you to fuck me.”

his hands wander my body, sliding up to cup my breasts as he stands between my open thighs.

“yeah?” he cocks his head, wrapping a hand around the base of his length. he drags it slowly through my folds, applying added pressure when he reaches my clit.

my back arches, my chest heaving as he slides his dick back down to my entrance.

“yes! please!” my cries bounce off the walls as he slides in, each inch slowly being swallowed by my walls.

he groans, head tipping back as he bottoms out inside of me. he stills, allowing me a moment to adjust, before pulling completely out and thrusting back in.

the position provides the perfect angle, the tip of his cock hitting against my g-spot with every thrust. my body wriggles underneath him, his hands making a home on my hips, gripping tightly enough that i’m sure bruises will form overnight.

“Trevor.” i breathe out, my hands coming up to lock around the back of his neck. i pull him down, lips connecting in a passionate exchange, and when he pulls away, i line kisses up his jaw.

each kiss is jilted by a sensual moan; finally reaching the shell of his ear, he thrusts in particularly hard, a high pitched gasp erupting from my lips that ghost his ear, and i can feel his cheek lift against mine in a cocky grin.

“you wanna come, don’t you, baby?” he speaks through strained vocal chords, his thrusts gaining momentum and his hips slapping against mine harshly.

“mhm.” i nod against him, my agreement hummed against his skin.

“yeah, i know you do.” he pulls his face away in order to stand up taller, pulling my hips off the mattress to provide a deeper angle. “dirty little slut wants to make a mess on my cock.”

my eyes roll back in my head, my hands gripping the sheets as he his cock slams against the soft spongey spot that makes my legs shake.

i can feel my orgasm building up once more, my abdomen tightening. his hand slides down to smack against my ass, the resounding sound enough to make him moan, before sliding around to press his thumb to my clit.

one hand flies up to grip his forearm shakily, my hips jerking to meet his, and the squelch of his cock sliding in and out of my cunt throws me deeper into the throes of my impending climax.

my head is fuzzy, tears pooling in my eyes, and my body aching with need for release. broken sobs begin to shake my body, his thumb rubbing deep circles against my swollen bud.

“so close,” i cry, “please don’t stop! please!”

“not gonna stop, baby.” he whispers, “you’ve been such a good girl. wish you could see yourself, all pretty and fucked out for me.”

my walls tighten around him, sweat beading at my hairline as i get closer and closer to release.

“cum for me, baby.” he demands. his cock twitches inside of me, thrusts growing sloppy with each passing second.

with one more circle of my puffy clit, my breath hitches, my body stiffening but my legs shaking as my toes curl.

he fucks into me, riding me through my orgasm until i begin to breathe heavy pants, my hips squirming in his touch.

his hips stutter, his movements growing desperate until he falters, stilling between my legs as his cum spurts out in ropes, coating my walls, “shit, fuck.”

he stays buried inside of me, standing in silence as we each catch up on forgotten breaths.

“i’m sticky.” i sigh, causing his eyes to open in order to look at the glistening candy cane residue on my upper body.

“would ya look at that,” he slides out of me, chuckling while bending down to scoop his arms under my back. he lifts me with an ease that i couldn’t imagine myself having after the activity we just partook in.

my breasts stick to his chest as he walks me to the bathroom lazily. grinning, he sets me down on the edge of the bathtub, my skin peeling away from his with a satisfying sound.

“how does a bath sound?”

“sounds like a lot of extra work after i already washed my face, you asshole.” i joke, kicking a foot at his bare thigh.

he let’s out a wheezy laugh as he turns on the hot bath water before turning back to me, his hands pushing sweaty locks of hair out of my face before gently cupping my cheeks.

“you’re so beautiful,” his words cause a rush of blood towards my cheeks, my hands coming up to rest on his forearms.

“shhh bath first. and then tell me how pretty i am,” he laughs once more, shaking his head.

“have i ever told you how conceited you are?” he hums, crinkling his nose as he lowers to press a kiss to my forehead.

“you love it.” i shrug, puckering my lips for a real kiss.

he squats lower, nose nudging against mine, “yeah, i do.”

[trappednyourheart]

A family visit

Alfred has been granted (Force) by the bats a week off, and whatever way would he do in a week?, visit his Father of course!

Alfred didn't really have a word into this, he only just been given (forced) a week off, he reason with the family ( it always works) but to his surprised! None of it came through there heads! ( Somehow they got lucky from Alfred's reasonable scolding)

What about the manor? Who would care of it? Who would assist? What will happen if-

How many times he reason and tried to budge it in there minds, none of it work?

Alfred is in horror, so the only thing he can only do is accept, remind them what's not do and do, (every single details) or atleast the common things to do, which he thinks they can handle it- if not, if he sees the house in shambles or in the news, he can now have a reason to not always take a weeks off.

In Alfred's room, he was packing some pairs of clothes, a coat, a medical kit, pairs of shoes, a book, his dark shawl that is covered with a lots of constellation's from his papa's gifts, (he always take good care of it when he left on his own, he couldn't leave his shawl even in the time of his work,) and whatever he needs.

He decided to visit and have his week's off to his papa's, it's been quite a long time ( maybe 60 years or so-)

It's not like he was an absent son, he was just busy, he would occasionally send letters or his baked cookie's ( he's own recipe but still came from papa's original treats).

The Batfam does know Alfred had a dad who's still alive?( Which the kids would joke about how his dad is immortal) outside his life here in Gotham as the only staff in the Wayne manor.

While they were chilling in the living room, they could see Alfred heading towards the door, before he stop and took out a letter, and as he did a ring in the bell could be heard, Alfred open the door, and greeted..

The mailman? ( A very hardworking ghost mailman, just saying “Jolly ho!- how may I help send! Deliver, or even package international!” which Alfred replying “International please, for in this ### #### ## address, I need it quickly delivered through his doorsteps” then the Mailman just nodded, Alfred payed him and he just disappeared)

And Alfred sighs in relief and went to get his luggage, and bid the Batfam goodbye without even explaining what was happening (Bruce dropped his newspaper)

They might had ideas Alfred wasn't human or normal, but after that bombshell, they just can't stop the urge to find out ( like the usual thing the Batfam does, but only minimal like just knowing where he went and they wanted to have Alfred privacy)

Alfred was on his way to his papa's home very much missing the feeling of home in Britain now it's been quite a long time almost but he's getting second thoughts, what would his papa think?

( and yes, hes dad was wealthy, and through family too, He lived in a manor too,

which was a very old money manor, cause Danny? he's literally the ghost king)

Alfred decided he got this, so he took a step and took a deep breath In the front door of the home he loved and cared for in his childhood, knocking three times and the only thing he imagined is that his papa would give him a big warm hug like old times when Alfred would visit once a while before he truly left home.

The bats were in disguise, well partially disguise, the british neighbors nearby can see them looking at them like there were weird (stalking is not a healthy way...sometimes) And how can they even see them?! There literally in a camouflage!!

They saw how Alfred took a step, and knock three times...the door open and there they saw- a kid? Wait what? The black haired and blue teenager might be 16 who looks like could be adoption bait look surprised and happy and he give Alfred a hug, and Alfie just return the gesture, they were having a conversation, they couldn't here it because they were out of range and no hearing gadgets ( damn it Bruce)

Then Alfred and the teen went back to the house, and the door could only shut blocking there view of Alfred and the teen.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Take Me Home Tonight

Summary: You run into a familiar face while working. (Bucky Barnes)

Warnings: noncon/dubcon, fingering, dry humping, flirting.

Note: look, we didn't expect Applebee's to inspire one fic, but now it's done two fics. Shit. We are deranged.

Please enjoy and let me know what you think. Please also reblog because it’s a lot longer than I intended.

You hug the menus to your chest as you approach the booth of four newly sat in your section. As you do, you stutter step, unsure if your eyes are seeing clearly. You know that hair, the subtle wave of brown with strands of silver woven in. You step up and give a smile to the men.

“Good evening,” you place a menu in front of each of them; the burly blonde comedically crowded into the corner beside the man with dark hair and darker eyes, the blonde you vaguely recognise from his acquaintance with the most familiar face at the table, “Mr. Barnes.”

“Oh, hi,” he sits up and sets the drink menu back at the centre of the table, “uh,” he gives you a peculiar look, “I thought you worked down at the Denny’s.”

“Used to. Just got hired here,” you chime, “uh, so, are you all ready to go with your drink orders?”

“You mind?” The blond with the short hair nudges him.

“Yeah, go ahead, I’m still thinking,” he sits back.

“Heineken,” the man orders with a tweak of his eyebrow.

“Seems you don’t carry Hansa so I’ll have a jolly rancher cocktail,” the big blond intones. You almost laugh, thinking of him with the bright blue drink with a gummy worm for garnish.

“Shirley Temple for me,” the other says, “designated driver.”

“Oh, of course,” you note each order in your head, “and you, Mr. Barnes?”

“Mr. Barnes,” the man across from him goads.

“Bucky,” Mr. Barnes corrects you, “uh, I’ll take a Corona.”

“Alright, Heineken, jolly rancher, Shirley Temple, Corona,” you list off, “I’ll be back with your drinks and to take your order.”

“Thanks,” Bucky smiles.

“Yeah, thanks, doll,” the blonde at his shoulder winks. You don’t miss the elbow he receives from his seat partner.

You go to the bar and put in the order. You do a round to check in on your other tables, grabbing a few napkins at request and clearing plates. When the drinks are set out neatly on a tray, you carry them to the booth and dole them out.

“So, are we starting with an appetizer?” You ask.

“We’ll do some nachos,” the man across from Bucky says, “thanks, sweetie.”

“Beef, chicken, or veggie?”

“Chicken,” he answers.

“Hey, I know you,” the blond drapes his arm over the side of the booth, “you’re the neighbour girl.”

“Steve,” Bucky reproaches under his breath.

“What? It was killing me. I just couldn’t place the face.”

Bucky utters your name, almost reluctant to do so, “I’m just out with buddies,” he explains, “buncha old men catching up;” he jabs his thumb towards the man beside him, “Steve, Thor,” he points to the other blonde then to the man across from him, “Sam.”

“Sounds like fun,” you chirp, “well, I’ll go get those nachos. Are we planning on entrees?”

“We’ll just share the chips,” Bucky assures.

Sam leans back and pats his chest, “heartburn.”

You humour him with a smile and nod before spinning away. You flit off and head for the kitchen. It’s strange seeing Mr. Barnes– Bucky outside the neighbourhood. He’s always just been next door. Odder even seeing him without his family. Well, you guess he deserves the break. Every time you see him, he’s on his way somewhere.

🍻

The night wears on. Your shifts always pass quickly as you’re kept afoot by patrons and managers alike. Several times you find yourself visiting Bucky’s table to top up drinks and they grow rowdy as the game comes on the big screen. 

You’re almost amused as you’ve never seen your neighbour like this. He’s always so stern and standoffish. A small wave as he mows the lawn or a ‘morning’ as you pass by him unlocking his car. Even your father claimed he was the most serious man he’d ever met.

“Sweetheart,” Sam smiles at you as clear the empties, “can we get our check? I gotta get them out of here before they break something.”

“Sure thing,” you say as you stack the tray with bottles and glasses, “separate or together?”

“Together. I’ll have to chase them down for the difference,” Sam answers.

As you take the clear Corona bottle from in front of Bucky, he rests his chin in his hand and watches you. Your eyes meet his and your cheeks round even more. He’s definitely drunk.

“Hi,” he babbles.

“Hello, Mr. Barnes,” you return.

“I told you, it’s Bucky,” he grins.

“Bucky,” you repeat, “you want some water?”

He sits up and drags his elbow off the table, “I guess I should…”

“For all of them,” Sam says from your other side, “please.”

“Alright, check and waters.”

You almost click your heels before you sweep off on your mission. It’s almost closing time and the place is sparse. A few stragglers along the bar but no more hectic families of screaming toddlers breaking crayons and tossing napkins.

You go to the till and print out the bill and grab a handheld from the charger. You place both on your cleared tray and fill three glasses of water. You carry them back to your last table and gently set the condensating drinks before each diner. Sam takes the bill as he holds his card between two fingers.

“You go to school?” Steve’s voice startles you before you can summon small talk.

“Uh, yeah, second year,” you answer him.

“I thought so,” he says, “college girls…”

“Shut up, Rogers,” Bucky grumbles, putting his hand up to block out Steve, “ignore him. He’s trashed.”

“Speak for yourself,” Steve swats his hand down and receives a swipe back. 

The men slap at each others’ hands as Thor stands and leans over, his size deterring the men as he shoves their arms apart, “enough. Or I’ll drag you out like stray cats.”

You try not to show your discomfort as Sam hands you back the machine and it loudly prints his receipt. You offer him a copy but he insists you go and enjoy your night. You bid them all the same and set off to clear the last of your tables.

Your coworkers start their own closing tasks and the music turns off as closing time hits. You glance up, everyone’s gone. You go back to the booth and gather up the mostly untouched glasses of water and wipe it down. With your tables done, you turn in your apron and go to get your cut of the tips. Your tally comes up higher than you expect thanks to the table of middle-aged men.

You head out the back door and round to the front of the shining marquee. You’ll uber home since your mom is out of town. As you step up on the little pavement lip in front of the restaurant, a figure stands from their perch on the ground. You don’t recognise Bucky until he says your name.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” You ask as you lower your phone.

“Ah, well, me and Steve…” he rubs his neck and chuckles, “I’m waiting on a cab but none have passed by.” He shrugs, “plus, I figured we’re headed in the same direction…”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I guess,” you say, “I was just ordering an uber. Kinda don’t like taking them alone so late at night anyway.”

“Great,” he slurs, “uh, sorry about tonight. My friends are… a lot.”

“It’s fine, you were having a good time,” you select a ride and black out your phone. “Just make sure you drink lots of water.”

“Hmm,” he hums, “you’re so nice… I’ll be fine, you know? I can take care of myself.”

“I know, I just… I hate hangovers.”

“Oh? Didn’t take you for a drinker?”

“Well, don’t tell mom but once in a while.”

“My lips are sealed,” he surprises you as he reaches to squeeze your shoulder. “And I’ve never broken a promise to a pretty girl.”

You want to laugh. He’s tipsy and it’s kind of cute. The glare of headlights flash over you and he drops his arm away from you. The uber approaches and you check the plate, pointing Bucky in ahead of you. 

He sidles over the seat and yawns as you climb in next to him. The driver confirms your destination as you let yourself relax against the seat. The tension of your shift slowly drifts away.

Bucky slowly slides until he’s leaning against you, “I’ll pay you back for the ride,” he grumbles as he rests his head on your shoulder. 

The tension seeps back into you but you try not to overthink it. He’s just your neighbour, a friendly neighbourhood dad, a bit discombobulated from his night out. He probably doesn’t get many of those.

“Been a long time since I went home with a girl like you,” he chuckles.

You laugh, a nervous tickle in your throat as his weight bears down on you. You can smell a hint of citrus from his hair. Hopefully he’ll forget this all by the morning.

You’re quiet as the driver continues on. By the time you get to your street, you’re sure Bucky’s fallen asleep. You’re worried about getting him back to his place. As you get close to your house, you point the driver to the house right beside your own. That’ll be easier.

To your surprise, Bucky sits up and lets out a sleepy grumble. You thank the driver as your neighbour grabs onto your hand and tugs you towards his side as he opens the door. You let him and he clings to you as the uber leaves you in the shadow of the Barnes’ abode.

“Let’s go to bed,” he pulls you towards the walkway.

“Bucky,” you utter, “uh, Mr. Barnes?”

Is he that drunk? He must not realise you’re not his wife. You look around. You don’t see her car. That explains his little boys’ night. She’s probably visiting family again so he’s all alone.

“Hey,” you laugh unevenly as he drags you up onto the porch. He’s very strong. “Mr. Barnes, it’s me.”

He stops and sways. He squints at you and feels his pockets, jangling his keys through the fabric. He steadies himself and grins. His eyes hold yours, drowning you in pools of oceanic blue.

“I know,” he says soberly, “it’s you.”

You stare at him in confusion, blinking as he slides his hand into his pocket. You glance over your shoulder at the dark siding of your parents’ house. You face him again as he pulls his keys out but drops them between his shoes. You put your phone in your purse and shift the bag to rest on your hip.

“I should– oop,” you look down, “Mr. Barnes,” you bends to grab the keys, “alright, I’ll just get you inside and head home.” You stand up and hold up his keys, “which one?”

He points to the square gold one and you shove it into the slot. You push the door inward and gesture him ahead of you. He shuffles over the threshold, tripping before barely catching himself on the frame. You follow him in and look around cautiously. You’ve never been inside.

“Let’s get you to the couch, Mr. Barnes,” you grab his arm as he wobbles, “you just need to sleep this off–”

You tug on his arm but he doesn’t budge. Once more, all unsteadiness fades and he’s suddenly immovably still. He turns his head slowly and puts his hand over yours.

“I told you,” he faces you as he guides your hand up his arm, “it’s Bucky.”

“Um, alright, uh–”

He backs you up and you collide with the door, the impact forcing it shut. You gulp and press yourself against the inside as he pens you in, clutching your hand to his shoulder. The beer on his breath mingles with the citrusy scent that cloys from him.

“Mr. Barnes, what–”

“Shhh,” his hand slips from your and he grips your chin, “it’s okay–”

“St–”

He smothers your protest with a kiss. You’re too stunned to do more than flatten yourself against the door. His grip makes your jaw ache as his other hand crawls up your thigh. You squirm and push against his shoulder with a whine.

He doesn’t relent. He pushes his foot between yours, edging them apart as he picks your fly open. You curl your fingers, jabbing your nails into him. He growls but doesn’t stop.

You turn your head, forcing your mouth away from his.

“Mr. Barnes… Bucky, please–”

He hushes you again as his hand falls from chin to throat. He squeezes, crushing out any hope of screaming for help. He nuzzles into the side of your neck, his nose tickling the line of your jaw. You whimper as his hand delves beneath the cotton of your panties.

His fingertips brush along your trimmed vee of hair and he swirls the short curls with a purr. He extends his middle finger, feeling along your folds and dipping between. He flicks his finger back and forth, exploring you until he finds your clit. He rolls his finger, stoking a heat beneath his touch.

You wriggle and trail your hand down his arm, gripping his wrist as you fight him. You’re too weak. You croak through your tight throat as you try to fight the swirling tide building with the friction of his roughened fingertip. This can’t be happening.

He’s drunk. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s not like this.

A million thoughts race with as many sensations. You stand on your toes as your muscles knots and the tension coils in your core. You shouldn’t feel like this. This is wrong. This isn’t real. Your eyes roll back and you hide behind your eyelids.

His finger glides as you slicken against him. He quickens his pace, toying with you as he breathes against your neck, puffing damply as his hand remains firm on you. He keeps you pinned as he goads your body on, fueling a fire you’ve never lit before.

You squeak as you twitch without permission. You succumb to the brewing storm, blown away in the whirlwind as your mind is stifled by your body. You gulp and gasp, your hand slipping down to his chest as your other falls away from his arm.

“You’re so sexy,” he purrs as he lets you go.

You brace yourself against the door, breathless and paralysed as you watch him raise his hand. He presses his fingertips to his mouth and you see the glisten on them. He pushes them inside and sucks them clean with a growl.

“And so sweet, baby,” he steps forward, crowding you again.

The afterglow has you helpless. He feels along your side as his other hand wanders down your leg. He pulls your knee up and brings himself flush to you. He bends his knees as he presses his crotch into yours. You murmur at the hot weight between you. 

He curls his arm around your neck and your head lolls back. He bows to kiss you, devouring you as he slowly rocks his hip. A fiery heat builds between the layers of fabric, the friction of your seam rubs you through the damp cotton of your panties.

He gasps into your mouth as his pace quickens. The door shifts and squeaks with his motion as he pounds you into it, hips pumping as his bulge pokes through his jeans rigidly. Your head droops to the side and his wet lips smear over your cheek. He bites into your ear lobe and snarls.

Another tickle flares and you moan. A small burst that has you just as senseless. Your delight leaks onto your panties, spreading to the edges.

“Mmmmm,” he hums and releases the pinch of his bite, “fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me go– right in my–” he chokes as his fingertips sink into the bottom of your thigh and he pulls your leg higher, “jeans–”

He shakes and lets out a long rattle, sprinkled with deep groans and soft mewls. He leans into you completely and shudders, stilling at last. He sinks down with you, bringing you to straddle him as his knees meet the floor.

You heave and lift your head, gaping at him as his eyelids droop sleepily. He smiles, the expression crinkling around his eyes. He leans in and kisses you again, nibbling on your lower lip before pulling away.

“I won’t tell your mom about that either, kitten.”

[heyitsdoe]

A/N - This piece is a severely long overdue commission for the lovely @death-threats Thank you so much for putting your faith in me for your request here, and with any luck I'll have done it some justice. <3 Enjoy ^_^

WARNINGS: Threesome, praise kink, rough sex, blowjobs, dirty talk

You notice them the moment they make port. 

No stranger to pirates limping their way into your seaside town’s little harbor, the sight of the emblazoned sails and a jolly roger barely make you do more than blink. Surely, the skull with flaming hair and a dagger was supposed to intimidate anyone who was unfortunate enough to see it. That, or the gaping maw of some massive fish-like creature that preceded the front of their ship. Your brow raises, wondering if it had once been a living being or if it was just made to look that way.

They’d had a rough time through Devil’s Reef. The razor-sharp coral and rock deposits that jutted up just off the island’s southernmost point was a danger to any sailor familiar with them, and downright near-fatal to those ignorant of their existence. The ocean’s current dragged any passing ship through their watery claws, damaging keels and hulls and bulkheads if one weren’t careful. And, that’s if you even made it out without being crushed or capsized by the unforgiving sea.

These pirates were spared the harshest fate at least, though not without scars. Judging by the way they disembarked from the gangplank and stood around the ship’s hull with shaking heads and animated conversation, they’d sustained some sort of damage, if the gesturing arms were anything to go by.

Just as you knew they would, the handful of crew soon decided that surely there must be someone in town who could provide them with the help they needed to bring their vessel back up to sea-faring condition. With a patient gaze, you watch as they speak with nearby locals, who all end up pointing the same direction.

You try not to let the amusement show through your eyes as they inevitably make their way to the front of your little wooden, ramshackle shack. Judging by the scowl on the redhead’s face as he steps up to speak—the captain, presumably—you weren’t entirely successful in doing so. Oh well.

“You’re Y/N?” Is his gruff and unkind question, arms of flesh and metal crossing over his uncovered chest. You contemplate the handsome sight in stride, filing away that fact for later. Neither do you miss his curious perusal of your uncovered tattoos. Which, in your curve-fitting tank top, reveals quite a number of them.

You take a moment before answering his question. “I am.”

“I’ve been told you can fix my ship.”

You look away from his stare briefly to gaze over the large vessel they’d docked at the port. Despite the distance, experience had taught you the difference between a ship with a few planks busted and one that was beyond salvage. This ship, you knew, still had life left in it to sail. How fortunate for them.

A smirk settles in place. “I could.”

The redhead went to speak, but the man beside him with his face hidden behind a striped blue and white helmet beat him to it. “How much are your services?”

“Expensive.” You admit freely, leaning comfortably against the wooden frame of your home. By all accounts, you fit the visible definition of ‘smug.’ His friend, you decide, is just as delicious as his redheaded companion. There’s no need to see his face to make that observation. The way he carries himself, the way he speaks, is evidence enough.

His helmet remains trained exactly on you. “How expensive are you talking?”

“Depends. What do you have?” You question without hesitation or remorse. This wasn’t the first time you’d dealt with men who believed themselves dangerous, so the flash of anger behind the captain’s eyes didn’t surprise you in the least. In fact, you would have been disappointed somehow if he hadn’t reacted at all.

He let out a curse and stepped forward aggressively, glare leveled plainly on you. “Name a damn price. A fair one. I don’t have time for con artists.”

One brow raised, unperturbed by the hostile stance. Wasn’t this one cute, thinking he could intimidate you? At least he was pretty. “You do know what this place is, right? Didn’t you read the sign at the port?” You point towards the dock where they’d come from.

A pirate with light blue hair and grayish complexion, until then having been silent, looked back the way you indicated, then shook his head with a sigh. “Swindler's Bay…”

Whatever the town had been named before the locals had adopted the new one, you hadn’t a clue. It had been decades since anyone bothered remembering. For as long as you’d been alive, the little port city had boasted its reputation openly and proudly. If one didn’t take it seriously, well, that was their own poor judgment.

“Mhmm. Not like we didn’t warn you…” You mutter with a slow shake of your own head. You oh-so-loved the exasperation as it settled in their faces. Poor things, if only they weren’t in the New World, then maybe someone would have taken pity on their plight.

But this was the New World, after all. No one who made it here didn’t deserve it.

“So?” You ply, shifting on your weight on your feet and crossing your own round arms over your ample chest. “What do you have to offer?”

“Tch.” The captain, unhappy with such an answer, turned his back to you with an uncaring dismissal of his hand, the dark-red feathered coat fluttering as he did. “To hell with your damn services, wench. I’ll find someone else.”

You watch in silence as the rest of his men follow in his wake. Another smile creeps up on your face, and you lift a thick, tattooed arm in farewell. “Good luck with that, boys!” If they can sense the pointlessness of their situation in the sounds of your laughter, they don’t show it.

It’s an entire 5 hours before they come back. All in all, you’re rather impressed they held out as long as they did. The island wasn’t that large. No doubt, the captain had stewed in his anger for a majority of that time before reluctantly agreeing to return.

A heavy, impatient knock at the door steals your attention. Not having expected anyone that day, you grin to yourself and lift out of your chair. Oh, this ought to be wonderful…

An angry redheaded pirate is the first thing you see when you open your shack door, glowering with resentment. Your idle musings in the past few hours had been correct. He looked just as fine a specimen pissed off as he did simply angry.

The hours of wandering and asking other residents where the nearest shipwright was had taken a toll on his patience. So much so that he didn’t bother with a greeting. “Name your price.”

“I hope you enjoyed the tour of the island.” You say, ignoring the way his eyes darkened even more as you stood there and disregarded his demand. “The wheat fields are especially beautiful this time of year-”

Something in his face snaps. “I’ve had enough of your-”

“Kid, don’t.” The masked man once again steps forward, laying a placating hand on his captain’s arm. It speaks to their bond that that alone is enough to get the man to back off, even if he isn’t entirely happy to do so. “She’s the only one who can fix the ship. We need her.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” He retorts bitterly, but you only laugh at the exchange.

“If you hadn’t gone stomping off in a huff, I could have told you I’m the only shipwright on the island. The next one is about 5 days sailing to the East, which…doesn’t really help you at the moment.” 

They’re silent, loathe to admit that you hold the cards in this little exchange. Pirates…fools, the whole lot of them. All the same. Though, these ones were a bit more handsome than the ones you typically dealt with. That was a bonus.

You savor the moment, the smugness, and their only hope, before your professionalism begins to kick in. You had your fun. Now down to business.

“How much do you have?”

Kid, as you’d learned his name to be, wasn’t all too thrilled to reveal such a thing. But it seemed his helmeted companion could put his pride aside long enough to move this conversation along. “Around 40 million berry.”

“...that’s all?” You ask, then shake your head. “That won’t buy you a new sail around here, let alone enough boards to repair a hull.”

“How much would you need?”

“I’ve dealt with ships passing through the Devil’s Reef for longer than you’ve probably been pirates. On a ship like yours?” You bother to glance over their shoulders to see their ship still sitting at the port. “The currents drag the bow further down into the sea, often damaging the beakhead. You probably felt it drag along when it swung your stern, right?”

You continued. “Keels are known to be cracked or even sheered by those reefs. I don’t see you tilling to either side at the port, so that shouldn’t be the case. But starboard side panels on the hull are usually scraped to all hell if you’re spared the keel, so…best case scenario? You’re looking at at least 100 million, if I can source the right timbers for it. And that’s only if Old Gill down at the lumber mill is in a good mood.”

The pirates turn to look at their ship as you describe the possible damages. And, you must have sounded competent enough as you went, they didn’t even question how you could possibly know all this without even taking a closer look at their ship. Good. It spared you the extra waste of breath.

Silence settled as you finished, but you began again before they could ask any questions.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said my services were expensive. But luckily for you, I don’t just deal in berry.” They eye you intently, trying to figure out what exactly you were alluding to. You only smile slyly. “I can get started on work with a deposit of 35 million and I’ll figure out what else I want from you by the time you’re ready to set sail. I figure that’s a decent price, given you don’t have much choice, considering.”

Kid seemed to come to life again at the mention of a solid price. He faces you again with hard eyes. “20 million and you have a deal.”

“33.”

“27. If this place is full of cons, I need something to feed and house my crew with, at the least.” He retorts.

“Why not just sleep on the ship? I’m sure you have supplies left over too.”

“If it’s not seaworthy, I’m not risking more damage than it has.” There’s a hard edge to his voice when he speaks. “We’re beached until it’s done.”

Your brow raises at his logic, but the smile remains in place. At least he was a decent captain, you surmise. Given the circumstances, you figure this was the best you were going to get without him raising further upset.

Right hand lifted in a gesture to shake his own, you nod. “27, plus whatever else I think of before you set sail.”

The ambiguity of your second condition makes him pause, but he nonetheless takes it. Not like he had much choice. His grip is firm on yours as you agree on the amount, and you decide you like the strength of this Captain Kid. Your eyes never drift from his, and you wonder if he can see the curiosity and intrigue swirling behind them.

“I’ll begin work in the morning.” Then, you notice the darkening yellows and oranges of the impending sunset. “Until then, I suggest you find somewhere to sleep before too long. The innkeepers triple their prices after 8 pm.”

“Come to stare at me like a creep?” You ask without turning around, hammering the next board in place along the starboard side of the Victoria Punk. The presence had been there for a few minutes, and you’d waited that long to see if whoever it was would announce themselves, but thus far there’d been no clearing of a throat or shouting to get your attention. You figured it would waste less time if you just called them out.

“Just making sure you actually know what you’re doing with my ship.” The surly Captain replies, footsteps indicating he was approaching closer. “You don’t exactly look the part of a shipwright.”

“Is it my size or because I look like a woman?” You venture to guess, not bothering to hide the roll of your eyes as your voice drips with sarcasm. He wouldn’t be the first pirate to ask such a pigheaded question. And here you’d been thinking he was halfway decent for a pirate…

“Tch.” He even has the audacity to scoff at your assumption. “It’s the tattoos.”

Pausing your work, because he’d honestly surprised you with that admission, you spare him a curious glance. He stood a few feet from you, eyes locked on the hull of his ship, body language keeping a clear distance between the two of you.

Deciding you could take a break after a morning full of hard work, you set the boards down and swipe a wrist over your sweaty brow, turning to regard your visitor. “Lots of people have tattoos. I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“Yours look significant…meaningful.” He admits, glancing briefly at your exposed skin and the ink that decorated it. “Like you did them yourself, or something.”

“I did.” You admit, pride showing through in the way you looked at your own handiwork. “A good friend taught me how.”

“Thought you’d be a tattoo artist, then.”

“There’s already a tattoo artist on the island, so it’s really nothing more than a side hobby.” You say with a shrug. And, upon seeing the confused look on his face, a wicked grin flashed in his direction. “We can’t really swindle people if there’s competition in the area, can we? One household per trade, that’s the way things are around here.”

You think you hear him mutter ‘bastards’ under his breath, but choose to ignore it.

“But yes, nearly all of my tattoos are my own. Took me years to finish them.”

“What about that one?” He asks, gesturing to your back. Clearly he’d seen part of the ornate design while you’d been working, between the fabric where your tank top didn’t cover. You wanted to smile at the thought that he’d been staring at your skin. “Couldn’t have done that one on yourself.”

“That good friend I mentioned’s handiwork. And my favorite, as it happens.” You say flippantly. “The last piece they did before they died.”

Your pirate visitor is silent after that, perhaps contemplative. Perhaps feeling awkward about the topic now that you’d thrown that tidbit in. You didn’t feel anything weird about it, and so you simply shrugged and turned back towards his ship.

“I should get back to work. Figured you’d want to leave as soon as you can, right?” Then, as an afterthought, you gave a chuckle. “And don’t forget. You still owe me for the work.”

“Have you figured out what you want from me yet?”

“Not quite. I’ll let you know when I decide.”

“Right.” He gruffs after a quick clearing of his throat. Then, before he steps away, he commands one final, “Quit slacking off and do what I paid you to do.”

“Of course, Captain.” Is your intoned reply, amused and ever-intrigued by the handsome and rough pirate. Oh, the possibilities…

With the starboard side hull almost fully repaired, the Victoria Punk was looking a lot less weathered and pitiful than it had after being battered by the reef. It was a beautiful vessel, you had to admit. Bringing her back to her former glory was as rewarding as the payment.

The next day, it’s the first mate who comes to see you. The one with the blue and white helmet, you couldn’t deny you’d been curious about him since he’d so easily calmed his captain’s rage. Killer, you learned his name to be. How fearsome and yet…clear-headed.

He stays longer than his captain did, though imposes less as he watches your progress on their ship. With barely a word, he sits on a stack of beams amongst your pile of supplies you’d brought to the ship, and simply observes as you work tirelessly to repair the damage.

Another shipwright, another person, might have felt stifled with an audience. But you reveled in displaying your skills and beauty. And, with a shapely body like yours, it was no wonder you took the opportunity to flaunt. Every shift jostled your body in just a way to draw attention to the parts of yourself you wanted him to gaze upon. In shorts and a tank top, there were plenty of wonderful places where his eyes might drift…

What could you say? These pirates intrigued you to no end. Already, you had the beginnings of an idea of what you’d ask for of them before they departed.

Behind the lecherous temptation you projected was a pride in your work. The way you lifted heavy wooden beams, showing off the well-maintained muscles hidden beneath the curves of your larger body, gave you no small amount of joy. The speed at which you could fit a board and secure it where it needed to be, able to do the job of several people on your own. With any luck, even his limited knowledge of ship repair would recognize what a feat that truly was.

Unfortunately, with that helmet in the way, it was so hard to know if he was actually paying attention. What a shame…and yet you tried nonetheless.

“You’re much quieter than your captain.” You blurt out after an hour or two of his presence. “Although, I don’t imagine that’s very hard, from the little I know about him.”

“That’s a fair assessment.” He admits, and you think you hear a quiet laugh behind the mask.

You offer a smile, snatching up a nearby bottle of water while you pause in your work for the meantime. You lounge in a pose that invites him to stare against the part of hull that had already been repaired. “Did he send you to make sure I wasn’t slacking off?”

“No. Just felt like watching you work.”

“And? Have I bored you yet?” Your curiosity was piqued now.

“Hardly.” He summarizes. “You’re extremely skilled. I’ve seen a whole team of shipwrights do less work than what you’ve managed in two days.”

It’s impossible to keep the smirk of pride off your face as you sip at your water. So he had noticed…that was nice. “I enjoy what I do.”

“Enjoying it doesn’t necessarily make you good at it. But I see your point.” He says, standing from his seat on the wood and walking closer. He touched the newly-applied board you’d just finished nailing in and gazed over the work done thus far.

He’s quietly contemplative, and you let him dwell in his own thoughts for a moment, before looking over the vessel yourself. “It’s a beautiful ship.”

“Victoria Punk.” Killer mutters, almost reverent. You could appreciate a man who appreciated his vessel. “It’s gotten us a long way. I’m glad this isn’t her final resting place.”

“Sounds like she means a lot to you. I’m glad the reef didn’t sink her.”

“There’s that…and I’m certain you’d figure out a way to charge us for decommissioning a ship somehow.”

The laugh that springs from your mouth is unexpected, but you can’t help it. His humor had surprised you, but damn if he wasn’t wrong. You’d done exactly that to pirates in the past.

“There are better places than Swindler’s Bay for a ship to die.” You agree, the laughter beginning to die down to low chuckles. “Much less costly ones, at the very least.”

It’s silent again for a long while, as he thinks and you think and your minds are adrift in several directions. You gaze upon the first mate with a new perspective. What a man, this Killer…

Shaken from his introspection somehow, he steps back and looks your way again. “I’ll let you work in peace.”

“You’re no bother. I don’t mind letting you watch.”

A low hum makes it past the mask. “...So I noticed.”

Your mouth opens, half from shock and half to retort something smart, but Killer’s already turned away and started walking back towards wherever his crew had lodged for the duration of their stay.

The expression of shock slowly morphs into a half-lidded interest, mouth upturned into a lecherous little smile. Oh, you liked these pirates indeed…how fortunate for you they washed up into your port like this.

You knew what you’d ask them for.

The repairs were complete, and the Victoria Punk looked like new where it sat moored in the port, bobbing along with the momentum of the sea.

With the starboard hull almost entirely replaced, and the finishing touches to the fearsome maw of the beakhead giving it new life, you gazed upon the results of your hard work with fondness. There was almost nothing quite like seeing a ship like this find its sea legs once more, strong enough to brave the New World sea that lay ahead.

It was there, standing along the dock, that Kid and Killer found you, gazing fondly upon their vessel.

“I’ll admit…” Kid said with an appraising eye, a grin threatening to lift the corner of his lip. “She looks good.”

“Of course she does.” You reply with a shrug, both out of pride of your craft and because the Victoria Punk had been beautiful to begin with. All it needed was some polish to the rough areas. “I’m a professional.”

“A damn expensive one at that.” He said with a low chuckle. Then, he turned to look at you. “You haven’t told me what it is you want as the rest of your payment.”

You regard him for a moment, eyes sweeping down and then back up his figure. He always was a sight to gaze upon, you think. “Not just gonna cut and run like most pirates do?”

“I keep to my agreements.”

“Honor. Hmm. So rare in pirates nowadays.” You mention, leaning back on one of the wooden railings that line the dock.

Ignoring your comment, Kid shakes his head and presses on. “Name your price, Y/N.”

Despite your attempt to remain neutral about it, you can’t help the slow smile that takes up your face as you think about your request. Fantasies and imaginations had been plaguing you all evening and even into your dreams. You only hoped they’d be willing to make them reality.

“My price…” Eyes glancing between the captain and his first mate, your head cocks to the side. “...is sex.”

Killer’s mask swivels to peer directly at you, silent. Kid, to his credit, doesn’t seem surprised at all. Perhaps you were just that obvious, or he thought highly of himself. If you had to guess, maybe a mix of both. His eyes narrow only slightly, appraising your body with an obvious and slow perusal upwards. They linger between your thighs and around your wide waist. Was he imagining gripping there as he slammed you down onto his hard cock? If he wasn’t, you certainly were…

“And not just any sex.” You go on, using the opportunity to spell out all your terms while you can. “I’m talking the ‘can’t walk in the morning,’ ‘a night I’ll never forget,’ ‘ruin me for anyone else who comes after’ kind.”

“What a brazen minx you are…” Kid steps forward with what you can only describe as a purr at the back of his throat, a wolfish grin now firmly in place. “If that’s all you want…I can give it in spades, Y/N.”

Chin lifting to meet his sultry gaze with your own, you mumble a reply. “Not just from you. Your friend here, too. My price is a threesome that leaves me a drooling mess, and you can sail away from here with your debt to me cleared.”

Killer makes a noise you don’t know how to interpret, and Kid swings to look at him. While you can’t see his expression or that of his masked friend’s either, you stay quiet as they ponder the terms of your proposal.

Truthfully, you don’t know what you’d do if they refused. It’s not like you could force them to fuck you senseless. They had all the power to steal away with their ship in the middle of the night without so much as entertaining your demand and you wouldn’t be able to really do anything to stop them. Sure, there was security at the port, but you suspected that any fight they put up would be crushed in the face of these ruthless pirates.

But, looking back at the handful of visits you’d received from both Kid and Killer during the course of the repairs, all bearing a flirtatious undertone you couldn’t deny, something in you knew he wouldn’t turn your offer down.

At least…you thought. You hoped.

Whatever unspoken exchange had occurred between the crewmates had apparently ended, because Kid swung his gaze back to your own with an intensity that had you nearly trembling. Oh…

“Tell me Y/N…” Kid reached up and gently grasped your jaw between the fingers of his hand of flesh, just as Killer stepped closer to the both of you. “Which one of us should paint that tattoo on your back white?”

You thought you’d learned long ago, that dreams were nothing like reality. Usually, that was meant in a bad way. Disappointment and longing for something wonderful that could never really be obtained in life, and imaginations of a mind without limitations.

But as you welcomed the naked girth of Killer’s cock in your mouth—your spit wetting the skin of his shaft and dripping down your chin in thin streams as the head pressed against the back of your throat—while Kid’s length sank itself deep into your awaiting heat, you thought that for once, your daydreams paled in comparison to the real deal.

For one, you were used to be a bit bigger than most of the men who came stumbling and grumbling to your shack. But Kid and Killer were beasts of men, large and wide and built. You felt dwarfed between them, that thought alone sending a sharp thrill up your spine.

“You said you wanna be fucked, wench, so I’m not gonna hold back.” Kid promises in a breathless mutter. Even with one hand, his strength is enough to yank you back into each of his sharp thrusts. The fiend of a pirate doesn’t build up slow, just sets a pace he prefers and groans his pleasure behind you. “Be as loud as you want to…”

Each one hits so deep inside, your toes curl amidst the comforter on your bed. On your knees, your nose buried in the dark blonde curls of Killer’s pubic hair, you can’t see the captain’s expression. But hell, if the noises he was making were anything to go by, he must have been immensely enjoying himself. You’d kill to see how he looked turned on and fucking you…

Killer’s a bit less eager to be so rough so early, but he makes an effort to use your mouth for his own desire. That insistent hand at the back of your head nearly has you choking as his tip pushes harder at the back of your throat. You gag, only for a moment, and he pulls back just a bit.

“If only you could see the way you look on your knees.” The blonde mutters in a surprisingly adoring tone. “Gorgeous, Y/N, fuck…”

Your eyes track upwards to stare at his face—you’d been floored to see him without the helmet earlier, but no matter how long you look at him it would never not shock you—and you put further effort into sucking his cock like he deserves. The stuttered curse that leaves his lips as he throws his head back is music to your ears.

Between a captain so intent on wrecking you, and his sweet first mate caving to his carnal pleasures, you can barely think straight. You’d gotten what you’d asked for. By god, you had. And now all you could do was kneel there and take what they gave you.

Eager to please, your knees spread further on the bed beneath you, allowing Kid that inch or so deeper into your cunt. He growls his approval, the grip on your waist already bruising giving a little squeeze.

“Fuck, you’re something else…so wet around me, and just begging me to go deeper, aren’t you?” Kid’s mouth spills his dirty words, making you moan around the cock in yours. Killer breathes out at the vibrations of your voice, more of his restraint slipping away. “Hell, I would have fucked you even if you hadn’t made it part of the deal, wench…”

“Do that again, Y/N.” Killer demands in a husky voice, staring down at you with heat. And without any further encouragement needed, you oblige, earning a guttural noise from the back of his throat as he stares at you in awe, struck by the way you moaned around his length. “F-fucking shit…you’re good at that.”

Whatever response you try to muster is lost against the tip of his cock.

The pleasure is too much. The last of Killer’s restraint wanes and finally ebbs entirely. Kid’s hard thrusts encourage you to take him faster and with more vigor, and soon enough Killer’s buried both of his hands in your brown hair, pulling you into his own thrusting hips with little regard to if you can take him fully or not.

They use you, little more than a wet hole to seek their own release, and you’re swimming in a haze of your own lust. The pathetic little noises that get trapped around Killer’s shaft is all the reciprocation you can provide, thoughts funneling to how fucking good it felt to be between them. They’re rough and dirty and barely give you time to adjust to the new angle when they shift their hips. You’re dragged along with them on this sweaty, steamy, deliriously sexy ride and you discover you’re in no rush to get off.

So you take it, Kid’s thick cock claiming your cunt as his with every grunt and curse under his breath, and Killer’s doing the same to your mouth, praising how good you feel amidst his own keening noises. With the reflexive tears in your eyes, you can hardly see in the blur, and keeping balance with the force of both men’s hips as you kneel on the bed is getting harder by the minute, but this night would be burned in your mind forever.

You got all that you asked for. Even if you hadn’t asked for the 27 million berry, receiving these two cocks was more than enough for the days of work you had undertaken for their ship.

…would one night be enough? Fuck, you were a goner. Completely and totally a sucker, a goner. Watching them sail away later would break something inside of you, you think.

You’re certain you’ve reached climax at least once during this whole ordeal, though through the intensity you’re not certain. But as their speeds increase, their own releases drawing near and the curses spilling from their lips coming with increasing frequency, you too can feel that peak approaching ever nearer.

Killer is the first to reach it, his hand shoving your head all the way against his pelvis to bury his shaft to the hilt. Hot seed coats the back of your throat, and while you can’t help but gag once, you manage to take everything he pumps into you without complaint. You feel him shudder out a moan as the sensation of you swallowing it presses your mouth against his tip.

You’re not long behind him, eyes rolling back and you quake and tremble as the liquid pleasure consumes your every nerve, rolling down your spine to your toes and up through your shoulders live a wave. You choke out your euphoria, Killer’s cock still shoved into your mouth. Feeling the first mate softly pet your hair as you rock through the sensations has you fluttering your eyes shut in contentment.

Kid lasts another dozen thrusts, all faster than the last, rushing to meet that edge with a fury you’d never experienced before. And just as you think your overstimulation would be too much, he yanks himself out of your cunt and pulls your ass back against his hips, cock nestled between your cheeks and throbbing with each spurt of cum that coats the Oni tattoo inked to your skin.

The design was your pride and joy, but something about Kid leaving his mark on it did something to you that was difficult to explain. It was fucking hot, whatever it was…

The room is suddenly still, only your labored, panting breaths filling the space. Killer slowly extracts himself from your mouth, his cock beginning to soften and hang naturally. Your body feels electrified and raw, sticky and sweaty and your limbs like jelly as you kneel there between them. Your wrists are sore from planting them upon the bed, your legs tingling from numbness after so little activity.

Holy fuck…you were well and truly fucked.

Kid lets go of the skin of your waist, and you fall limp between them on the bed. It’s all you can manage at this point, needing time to recover from…all of that.

As the lust cools, the embers of heat dying and life shifting back to normal, an unfamiliar ache in your heart begins to settle. Trepidation. Sadness. That this would be the only time you’d experience something so beautiful…your heart broke for yourself. The world would feel so different after they left…

What you don’t expect is Kid’s dark chuckle to break the silence.

“Hey, Y/N. I’ve got an offer for you.”

You shift your head to peer his direction, brown hair sticking to your forehead in strands as you try gaining your breath back. “Oh yeah?”

“Join my crew, and you’ll get more than just one night with us.” His lecherous smile is laden with cunning that makes you shiver. With anticipation or fear, you can’t be certain. “I can see it in your face. You want more. Once isn’t enough, is it? Perverted wench, you’re drunk on cock and only ours will satisfy, huh?”

You’re silent, because your pride doesn’t allow an answer to such a lewd question. But the hope that blossoms in your chest and you assume in your expression is all the answer he needs. Kid leans over and grabs your jaw again, tilting your chin to face him directly.

“I’m willing to let you aboard my ship and sail the seas with us…but it’ll cost you.”

Your eyes flicker between his, intrigued. “What are you asking for?”

“What do you have?”

Amusement darkens your gaze and widens your smile, a coy little tilt of your head following. “27 million berry, and my permanent services as a shipwright.”

“Tempting.” He mutters, pretending to think it over for just a moment. “I think I’ll accept that for now. As for the rest of your payment, I’m sure I’ll think of something before we reach the next island. What do you think, Killer?”

“We’ll get creative.” He promises, gazing down at you with thick emotion you can’t name.

Kid nudges you to look at him again. “Deal?”

Some part of you wonders if this sort of decision one should ruminate upon, ponder, and analyze for some determined amount of time. Such a decision, to uproot the life you’d known since you were born, surely couldn’t come so easily. So then why, you think, was it so simple to say… 

“Deal.”

[onepiecepetalfanfics089]

Hii i was wondering if I could request a story for platonic yandere straw hats (gear 5 luffy, zoro robin focused please) with a reader who just set out to sea and is 17 and they flirt with everyone but when they do it back she screams and runs a away because she doesn’t really mean it

Center Of Attention~..

You took a step back and slowly let out a breath, the sound of the waves washing over the shore ringing through your ears.

Finally.

After years of training and waiting for this moment to arrive it finally came. You were setting out to sea all by yourself, a rush of adrenaline shot through just thinking about all the things and steps you would take on your own.

In your now whole 17 years of life you dream that about exploring the deep blue sea, what it would feel like to see new islands, meet new people and just overall have the fun you wanted and craved.

You had everything packed for the trip, food water and you knew enough knowledge to get around..

Imagine your surprise when you saw a small island only a few days after setting out, was this just fate or beginners luck?

Ah, what the hell right? Why are you even thinking so hard? you just set out!

As you drifted closer and closer to land, in the corner of your eye you saw a ship, a very large ship compared to the little boat you were riding in.

It was almost impossible to miss as it had a giant..lion in the front?..

Wait..that ship looked familiar..

Squinting your eyes quizzically, you looked at the Jolly Roger in front.

A strawhat.

Hmm..where did you see that straw hat before..?

Before you could even begin to rattle through your brain even more for answers, your small little wooden boat bumped into the wooden dock that led into the grassy land of the island you spotted.

Deciding to just shrug it off, you quickly got off your boat and dusted yourself off. Anchoring the wooden boat quickly, to head up on land and explore for the first time.

But you didn’t even realize the piercing, blood red eyes following your every move in pure curiosity..

.

.

.

.

.

Drinks pouring, plates clacking, constant chattering, so many distinct sounds in a small town bar you could hear. Looking around cautiously yet calmly you were taking in the details of your surroundings.

A little bored, you leaned your head against your hand as you watched the bartender clean a dish.

Who thought setting out to sea would be so…

Boring?..

You then felt another soft sigh leave your throat. It was almost as if-

Wait.

Silence…

The whole bar suddenly fell into silence. Why was that..?

A chill then ran down your spine.

It couldn’t be..no..

Smoke

Smoke seemed to fill the air as a godly like presence surrounded you.

Eyes..

Eyes felt like they were watching you from behind.

Hands..

Soft feminine hands caressed your body in utter curiosity. It was not a sexual feeling but it just felt so..violating?..

They poked and prorated their way into your skin, touching you like you were a brand new toy of some sort..

Just then a protective gaze fell over you. Pressure was building up inside your body. It was like the whole world had stopped, pushing you down into a small glass box to be looked at like you weee the most interesting, beautiful and peculiar thing on this earth.

A loud laugh then erupted from behind you, but of course, even if you could look turn around to see who was enjoying the view you didn’t.

So many emotions surrounded you, like the whole world was spinning with all of these frustrating yet distinct feelings.

Pause.

Everything just paused and then..it was over.

Just what in the hell was..that..?

That sense..that feeling of being watched.

Letting out a soft sigh, you ran a hand through your hair touched it behind your ear. Maybe you could trick that lousy bartender into think you were the right age to drink or even close. Glancing sideways to check your surroundings, you found that everything seemed to go back to normal completely like that whole hallucination didn’t even happen for a second.

Just as you were about to let out another sigh you spotted woman sitting beside you.

She seemed so calm, yet..off. Was she there before?..

Her eyes were a dark aqua blue and she had her black hair that fell down her back midway. A mischievous smile spread across your face as you were known to be quite the flirt back in your village.

Why not talk to this beautiful woman to calm your nerves down? It’s not like anything bad could happen from it..

Scooting closer to her, you put on your most charming smile and spoke to her, taking a mental note at the drink she was holding so elegantly.

But just before you could even utter a simple sentence you noticed something.

She wasn’t alone.

About nine other people were chatting behind her, they were a very peculiar bunch to say the least..a talking reindeer..a skeleton..? And..

Wait.

You heard a very familiar laugh from afar. It was loud and held loads of joy in it like a never ending joke. Slightly tilting your head to get a better view you saw him.

He was…different from the others to say the least..

His white hair was flowing majestically and..was was he floating?

His eyes were an apple red and his grin..his very side grin made him look like he was friendly but at the very same time up to no good. Next to him was swordsman with strangely three swords!

One of his eyes were slit closed and his lead green hair stuck out like a sore thumb. His expression was rather stern and almost made chills run down your spine from the way his intimidating aura surrounded the whole area.

You didn’t even catch the sharp glance at you that turned into a stare once you began talking approach the black haired woman.

You but your lip and hesitated, they seemed like pirates..and a group you didn’t want to mess with, so should you just back away?..

You’re already this close..and not to mention you could practically feel half of them staring at you from afar so why not?..

So…you gave a charming smile and began to speak to woman with your best ‘you come here often punchline?’

Sure, she was beautiful but..you only flirted as a joke of course.

So when she simply chuckled at your little sentence and began to lean closer you..

You kinda panicked and made up and excuse to leave the bar..

Yes it was a very..rational response, but what we’re you suppose to do?..out of all the reactions you didn’t really expect that to happen in all honesty…

Plus, all of those eyes on you made you feel incredibly uneasy. In your peripheral vision, you could just feel and see their gazes follow your every move. The swordsman’s face from earlier would maintain and stern expression.

So stern it seemed protective.

You wondered why that was..

As the waves crashed against the shore you would let out a deep, long sigh. The moonlight shining directly on your face. For the past hour you felt as if you weren’t alone..

Now closing your eyes, you heard rustling in the bushes.

Damn squirrels..

Couldn’t you just have one moment of peace?..

It was already enough you couldn’t get that longing curios stare off of you no matter how hard you tried but it was the fact that-

Step..

Step..

Step..

Wait..that wasn’t a squirrel..

Opening your eyes you spotted three distinct figures. Stepping out of the shadows came three of the people who seemed most uhm..fond of you? Hell, how were you supposed to know?..

It felt like they were stalking you at this point!

In fact..

“Are you three just stalking me at this point? Where I come from, if your into someone you just take ‘em out on a date..just ask m’Kay? I would be happy to-”

The swordsman, seemed to snicker and the other two couldn’t help but chuckle at your comment..or at least the blue eyed woman..it seemed like the one in white couldn’t control his laughter no matter what situation.

Half an hour later you were all sitting in the grass and talking together. You learned a lot of things..the woman’s name was Robin, the swordsman was Zoro and the boy with a godlike aura was originally Luffy.

They both tried to explain to you that he was in his 5th gear..

Whatever that meant..

The more you found yourself talking to them the more..weird their behavior began to grow. Robin would use her devil fruit to play with your hair or poke and prod at you again..

That seemed familiar didn’t it?..

Meanwhile Zoro and Luffy would quickly interrupt you when you tried to call it a day and leave to go find a hotel to stay in for the night, speaking over you or just even giving you a blank look before talking about something else.

You sighed while Luffy babbled on about meat and his adventures, Robins extended hand was poking your cheek and Zoro kept a sharp eye on you to make sure you didn’t try to leave..

Why though?..why were they so attached..?

Suddenly, you felt a very sharp sting in your neck.

A soft gasp left your lips as your body slowly fell to the soft grassy field. Now having the perfect view of the river that was shining from the moonlight.

“Awww! Robin! Why’d you’d have to do that?! I was just about to tell her about how I get to the fridge every night! And I was just about to ask her to join our crew!!”

“Fu Fu Fu~..sorry captain I couldn’t resist..”

You saw Zoro roll his eyes before he looked down at you silently and without any trouble he lifted you over his shoulder to carry you to..that ship! That ship that you knew looked familiar..

Trying to speak or yell or anything to help with the situation didn’t help as for some reason it felt as if your mouth was sewed shut.

All you felt was a gentle hand pat your back reassuringly as you slowly closed your eyes and drifted off into unconsciousness..

When you woke up everything was spinning, you were in a diner of sone sort..multiple people were chatting and eating around the table like it was an everyday normal dinner..

A soft melody of a violin could be playing and you couldn’t help but get lost in it while the others talked, laughed and yelled..

Wait..was the skeleton playing that..?

The same people at the bar..

No! It couldn’t be..right?

“You idiots!! Why did you have to drag her all the way here! Now she’s probably uncomfortable!!”

The orange haired woman said as you groaned in displeasure, her dark brown chocolate eyes scanning you and your body in worry.

Just then, everyone at the table seemed to glance at you with a soft smile..

Just what were you in for..?

Why were you here?..

You had so many questions..but you pull barely move let alone speak..

One thing you know for sure is that you’d definitely be the Center Of Attention from now on..~

A/N: hiiiii my loveess!!! Again, so sorry I haven’t been posting! This was supposed to be posted yesterday but some things came up! I’m so sorry I haven’t been active but school and my personal life have been really on me these past few days lol😭 I decided to make this one as long as I could for you guys! Thank you so much to the person who requested and I’m so so sorry it took so long to post!!! I’m on winter break now and I’ll be posting much more! I’m sorry if this one isn’t that good or it has typos but I tried my best on it! I really like the ending to be honest what do you think?<3 also, stay tuned because I’ll be posting again in hopefully a few hours on another little project I’ve been working on! I’m also happy to announce that another chapter of ‘Enchanted~’ is coming VERY soon! and eeee!! I’m so excited!!!

Until next time my pretty petals!!💗🌸🌺🌷💖💘💝

[theharddeck]

santa baby (been an awful good girl) // coyote x f!reader

pairing: javy coyote machado x fem!reader (no y/n)

synopsis: coyote dresses up as santa + reader is only human = reader and coyote get it on in santa's workshop

word count: 6.6k

warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI: unprotected sex, explicit PiV sex, a bit of dumbification, slight overstimulation, lowkey desecrating the concept of christmas but like in a hot way

A/N: i...i have no excuse. thinking of javy being dorky during sex has effectively ruined me. merry chrysler

The second Sunday in December was the tree-lighting at Miramar. 

The event entailed, of course, the lighting of the tree at the center of base, but also a crafts market, an ugly-Christmas sweater competition, and breakfast-for-dinner, but most importantly: a meet and greet with Santa. 

While it wasn’t required attendance for any of the Service members, most everyone who wasn’t on leave found some way to be involved. You found yourself at the cookie decorating station, trying to teach kids a modicum of restraint, and sneaking glances at your boyfriend over in Santa’s Workshop. 

That’s right, Javy Machado – distinguished Lieutenant, Louisiana’s finest, and your personal hero – was currently drowning in red velvet and faux ermine, dressed up as jolly old Saint Nick. His diamond-sharp jawline was hidden behind a monstrosity of a fake beard, but he had managed to master the twinkle in his eye. The night was winding down, but he showed no waning energy, just endearing interest in each and every child that made its way into the small structure. 

You could just barely see him through the front window of the Workshop, but every time you looked over at him, your heart fluttered. 

It was the way he hunched his shoulders, clearly trying to diminish his size to make himself seem less intimidating. 

It was the way he met each child’s eye, exuding comfort and kindness. 

It was how after a couple of minutes, even the shyest child seemed to relax against him, how their smiles brightened and their giggles echoed around the family center. 

You knew Javy was a total sweetheart, but it made you so proud to see how special he was making this Christmas for each of these kids, some of whom were having a dark season with their parents being deployed. 

There was a clatter and you looked away from the workshop to find RJ, one of Payback’s kids, looking guiltily up at you, holding an entire paper plate covered in Snowman sprinkles. The faint outline of a sugar cookie was visible under the blue-and-white pile, but not by much. 

Good thing it was only the ninetieth time this had happened today. 

“Happens all the time,” you said brightly, keeping your voice happy so the kid wouldn’t panic, and thinking of a diversionary topic. “Did you see Santa already?”

RJ nodded, willingly distracted. 

“He said he’d get me a Lego set!” he said, the slight lisp in his voice absolutely adorable. “A Lego set!” you repeated, folding the plate slightly so that you could pour the excess sprinkles into a dixie cup. “One of the Star Wars ones??”

“Yep!” RJ told you excitedly, his eyes widening, the sprinkles dilemma forgotten. “With an X-wing, so I can have a plane, like Daddy!” 

You finished pouring off the sprinkles, and turned the still-overly-sprinkled-but-now-recognizable-as-a-cookie plate back to RJ. He grinned up at you through a missing tooth and you couldn’t help but smile back. 

Payback might be nearly as bossy as Mav when you were up in the air, but he did have damn cute children. 

You were halfway through helping RJ with a sleigh-shaped cookie when the Christmas music they’d been cranking turned off with reverb, and someone cheerily announced over the loudspeaker that it was time for the festivities to draw to a close. Overhead lights turned on, dispelling the ambiance created by thousands of christmas lights, but you were halfway through the cookie, so you two kept working on it. 

What were they going to do? 

At some point, Reuben came over with a couple wrapped packages tucked under his arm, giving you a grateful look for keeping an eye on his son. 

The only warning you had was RJ’s reverent gasp and the widening of his eyes before you felt familiar hands on your waist and an unfamiliar beard scratching your neck. 

“Santa,” RJ breathed, and you tried to delicately step out of Javy’s grasp as he realized he couldn’t exactly greet his real-life girlfriend while there were still kids who believed in the magic of Santa within eyesight.

Javy cleared his throat and you pressed your lips together to hide a smile as you watched your boyfriend stand up straighter under the boy’s worshipful gaze.  

“RJ,” Javy said, his voice pitched lower than normal, to disguise it, and you noticed he was avoiding Reuben’s gaze pretty determinedly. “Doing some serious cookie decorating, I see?”

RJ nodded animatedly, holding up his plate to show “Santa” and nearly tipping both cookies off it in the process. Reuben dove for it, and you tried not to laugh, leaning lightly against Javy. You noticed absently that he must’ve taken the suit padding out, because you could feel his stomach through the red velvet.

Unfortunately, when RJ looked up from his plate, he noticed your lean, as well as Javy’s hand on your hip. He frowned, his small forehead wrinkling, and he tipped his head up at Javy. 

“That’s Coyote’s girlfriend,” he told Javy archly. 

“Uh,” Javy stalled, and you again found yourself fighting the urge to laugh, “yes. And…that’s why I want to steal her away for a moment. Coyote’s been a really good boy this year, and I want to talk about what kind of present he would want.”

RJ’s eyes narrowed, and he was about to say something else, before Reuben gave an exasperated sigh. 

“For God’s sake,” he muttered, reaching for RJ’s cookie plate, effectively poaching the boy’s attention. 

“Let’s show these cookies to your Ma, yeah, Junior?” he asked, before turning back to you and Javy. “And you two– behave.”

He spun on his heel, and RJ waved enthusiastically to you before following his father happily, and you turned to Javy, smiles breaking over both of your faces. 

“Not your most graceful, lieutenant,” you teased him, but Javy was already looking around the recreation center. 

With the overhead lights on, and the Christmas music off, it was rapidly emptying. Teams had already been tasked to come in tomorrow to clean it out, so for now everyone was clearing out, trying to get their kids home before the sugar crash set in, and Javy’s gloved hand found one of yours. 

“Come on,” he said quietly, in his normal voice, and you followed him instinctively when he tugged lightly on your grasp. 

You were surprised when he led you back over to Santa’s Workshop, and you ducked into the entryway. 

It wasn’t a large space, something constructed of red and green painted plywood pieces, barely big enough to accommodate Santa’s throne. The throne itself was a replica of the Iron Throne that Fanboy had paid a preposterous amount for, and had been convinced to donate to the greater good. He had then had to be led away from in agony, as Army Wives sanded down the pointy edges, and repainted the swords as candy canes.

“Nice digs, Santa,” you said wryly, your sentence ending on a squeak as Javy pulled you into his arms. 

Kissing him with the fake beard was funny, but his mouth was distracting enough that you soon forgot. 

You melted into him as you always did, your hands pressed against his broad chest. Javy’s strong arms banded around you as he kissed you hungrily, like he’d been waiting, like he’d been missing you. He tasted like peppermint, like the candy canes the “elves” (Natasha and Jake) had forced on him any time he started looking bored. 

When he pulled back, you were breathless, blinking up at him slowly. 

Javy smiled at you softly, his own chest rising and falling underneath your hands. He was so unbelievably handsome, always, but you loved his sweet smile. 

Especially how it looked from this close. 

“Hi,” you whispered, and Javy groaned, leaning down to kiss you again. 

His tongue swept into your mouth, and your knees almost buckled, causing you to cling to his shoulders. He was so strong, so big, and you knew he loved holding you, nearly as much as you treasured being held.  

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against your lips, and you felt your skin heat. You were just wearing a festive sweater under a pinafore-style skirt, aiming for comfort and festivity over something that accentuated your figure.

“It’s just a–” you tried, but Javy made a disapproving sound and kissed you firmly, interrupting your rationalization. 

“Beautiful,” he insisted, after a moment, and you nodded dazedly. 

Javy hummed, approving, and he shifted to pull off his gloves. A moment later, you felt his index finger under your chin. He tilted your head up towards him, and his kiss turned gentle, indulgent. 

“I could feel you watching me, you know,” Javy murmured, between kisses. 

 You shivered when his thumb brushed over your jaw. 

“Hard not to,” you managed to say. 

Javy laughed, a low, warm sound, that you felt like a caress. 

“What is it, honey,” he teased, brushing light kisses up your cheek, and ducking his head to reach behind your ear, “the red velvet doing it for you?”

You let out a breathy gasp when you felt his teeth ghost over your earlobe. 

“‘Course not,” you mumbled, but it didn’t sound convincing. 

It actually wasn’t the red velvet. 

It wasn’t even how sweet he had been with the kids, which was pretty darn sweet. 

“What was it?” Javy asked, as he kissed down your neck. 

You shivered as his tongue and teeth teased you. When he reached the collar of your sweater, he nosed it aside, and sucked lightly at the space where your neck met your shoulder.

“The glasses,” you blurted. 

You felt him hesitate, and he pulled back, looking at you amusedly. 

“The glasses?” he echoed, and you tried not to squirm. 

“Well, and the beard,” you admitted. “Not the actual aesthetics, just, like, the idea of them…the idea of older you. Silver fox Javy, you know, graying and—”

With a whoosh, the overhead lighting in the recreation center shut off. 

You turned to look out the window, surprised to find that no one else was left in the recreation center. They had cleared out quickly and the large room was suddenly dark, except for the lights strung around the “roof” of Santa’s Workshop. 

When you looked back at Javy, his teeth gleamed as he smiled.

His hand trailed down his arm till it tangled with yours, and he pulled you deeper into the workshop. 

“Javy, we should go–” you started to protest, but you broke off when he sat on the throne. 

The twinkling lights cast a golden glow into the otherwise dark room, and even in the shadows, Javy looked so damn sexy. He shifted in the seat, his thighs spreading, and planted his boots on the ground. He still held your hand, and you really did feel like you were standing in front of a throne, a queen to his king.

“It’s just us, honey,” he said, his voice deep, and you were having a hard time coming up with a response. Not when he looked this good, not when he was looking at you like that, not when you could already see the outline of his hardening dick against the inside of his velvet suit. 

God, what a thought–velvet and Javy. 

Your mouth practically watered, and when Javy tugged lightly on your hand, you let him pull you. You stood between his spread legs, the throne tall enough that you barely had to bend down to kiss him. This kiss was impossibly slow, leisurely. 

Javy’s hands trailed down your body, settling under your ass as he pulled you closer to him. You whimpered as his touch pulled you flush against him, his body hard against you, and his fingers gripping the flesh of your ass. Your own hands ran over his chest, around the back of his neck, anchoring you to him.

His big hands kneaded your ass, and you whimpered against his mouth when he guided you slightly sideways, against where his dick rested on his thigh.  

You felt your kisses turn lazy as he overwhelmed you. 

His big hands, his strong thighs, his hot cock, his broad chest…you felt your knees weaken as the kiss deepened. 

Javy knew, and he pulled back, giving you space. His hand found yours again, and he led you from between his legs, before reaching under your skirt. 

His touch was slow, certain, as his fingers trailed up your thighs to your waistband, where he found the edge of your tights, and slid them down your legs. He went slowly, and you were grateful for it; your head was spinning and you didn’t feel like you could catch your breath. You watched as he pulled the tights down your thighs, prompting you to step out of your shoes first. 

“Here, honey,” he prompted, guiding you to balance on the thick toes of his boots, so you wouldn’t have to stand on the floor, before he peeled your tights off. 

That thoughtfulness, combined with the determined carefulness with which he undressed you, sent another wave of arousal for you, and you followed his instruction without thinking. 

His hands were back on your legs then, reaching under your skirt again, up and up, and you shivered when his hands ghosted over the front of your underwear. 

“Were you telling the truth?” he murmured, his voice low, and you pressed your lips together to trap a whine inside your throat. “Am I gonna find you worked up under here?” 

You weren’t sure until his fingers pressed between your thighs. 

And then you moaned, you couldn’t help it. Javy’s fingers pressed into your center over your panties, his touch collecting your arousal and you felt the drag of wetness between his finger, the thin fabric, and your skin. 

Javy hummed his approval, and his pleasure had you bowing into him. 

“Javy,” you whispered, not sure what you were asking for, but certain he would know. 

“C’mere, baby,” he said softly, pulling you into his lap, his hands not leaving your panties, but still keeping you covered by your skirt. He guided you over his thighs, your legs spreading to rest in his lap, and you immediately were obsessed with the feeling of velvet stretched over his strong thighs. 

You looked up at his expression, and you felt your heart flutter. 

Christ, he was so beautiful. 

His expression was one of intense focus, but the panes of his face were so gorgeous, all the more for the fondness between the both of you. 

You pressed yourself up to kiss him, knowing you’d stumble over finding the words to tell him. Javy’s lips were so soft, his mouth so gentle, and the hand that wasn’t under your skirt cupped the back of your neck. The tenderness in his touch coupled with the strength in his hands was a heady combination, and you melted into his arms again. 

After a couple long, sweet kisses, you felt his hands move against you. 

You broke away from his kiss, breath catching as Javy dragged a thick finger over your now soaking panties. 

“You’re so warm here,” Javy murmured, his voice almost reverent, and your hands splayed over the red coat, grasping whatever you could. The pressure of his hand and the deep timbre of his voice were enough to drive you mad, and he knew it. 

“You feel so good, honey, so inviting…” Javy continued, and he pushed your panties aside. 

You whimpered at the first brush of his fingers against your core, slickened by your arousal, and warm against your skin. Your fingers scrambled to undo the red coat, fumbling with the buttons until you had the jacket undone, and you could feel the familiar cotton of his white undershirt. 

It wasn’t enough, you needed his skin. 

“Off,” you mumbled, and Javy chuckled as you pulled weekly at the bottom of his undershirt. It took some maneuvering, but you got the jacket off, then the undershirt, and then decided the beard and hat – while they had their charm – needed to go as well. 

And then you were breathless for a whole other reason. 

“You look like a damn fireman calendar,” you told him, your voice somewhere between amused and chagrined at the perfection that was a shirtless Javy Machado in red velvet pants and thick black boots, reclining in a garish throne. You decided that indulging the fantasy couldn’t hurt, and you guided the suit jacket up over his shoulders again. You tipped your head to the side, regarding your amused boyfriend.  

“Some mom in New Jersey would lose her shit,” you told him honestly, and it probably should’ve made you jealous, but it made you just so damn thankful he was all yours. 

You watched Javy’s abs contract as he laughed, pulling you back to him, and you smiled as he kissed you. You loved that it was like this with him – playful and fun, as well as just so fucking hot. 

It only took a moment for the laughter to fade from your kiss, and Javy’s hand was back inside your panties a moment later. 

He pulled a finger through your folds and your head fell back at his tease. He gathered your arousal with his finger, pulling his hand back up to the top of your slit. He found your clit easily, a familiar path, and when he pressed firmly, your legs jolted. 

“You’re Coyote’s girl, aren’t you?” he said thickly, and you wondered if he was thinking back to what RJ had said, or if he just liked the thought of you being his. Either way, you nodded weakly, overwhelmed by the pattern he traced over your clit. 

Javy turned his head so he could kiss your neck again, his lips pressing into you, tongue teasing you in a motion that mirrored his fingers at your core. You leaned into him, loving his strength and his focus on you. His hand, his mouth, his broad chest, all had your head swimming, and building up a heat within you. 

Your hips were moving, rocking into him, and you felt empty, needy. 

“Answer the question, honey,” he murmured into your neck, and he pulled back his hand to readjust. 

“Yes, Javy,” you breathed, forming the words feeling like a gargantuan effort, “yours.”

“Damn right,” he said, and then a finger was pushing through your folds as his thumb traced over your clit. 

You moaned as he pushed into you, a steady intrusion and just what you wanted. You rocked your hips into his touch, seeking more, deeper, and Javy chuckled. 

“Easy, baby,” he said softly, and you shook your head. 

“Need you, Javy,” you protested. His finger was thick, brushing into you, but you knew it wasn’t enough, knew it wasn’t what you needed. He grunted, shifting again, and then another finger was between your legs. Javy’s hand on your hip angled your hips downward, and your mouth fell open when he lifted his palm so you could grind your clit against it. 

His fingers inside you were pressing deep, stretching you, and you welcomed the width of them as you ground into his palm. 

“Baby, fuck,” you panted, and you felt his hips jerk up into you. 

Which had the opposite effect than what he had intended. 

Because his fingers were good, and his hand was good, and everything felt so fucking good– but you knew what was between his legs. And his hand wasn’t enough. 

“You need to be fucked, don’t you, honey,” Javy asked hotly, his voice low in your ear. You nodded desperately, your hips working against his fingers eagerly. He’d fill you so good, fuck you so full, and you needed it, needed him. 

You were overheating in your sweater, nearly wild with wanting him so bad, but you were taking everything he’d give you, always would. 

“Please, baby,” you whispered, and it sounded like a whine. You felt his hips press up again, an unintentional response, and your hips worked faster. 

“‘s too fast, sweetheart,” Javy said, but it sounded like maybe he was trying to convince himself too. “You’re not ready…”

You moaned, your head dropping to his shoulder. 

You knew he was right, knew you had to be worked up to taking his cock, but you wanted to be full of him, wanted to feel like his, wanted him to push everything else out of your mind with his dick. 

“Please,” you whimpered, unafraid to beg, and you felt Javy’s breath catch. 

“Cum for me first, honey, come on,” he said determinedly, and you would’ve scowled at him for his stubbornness, but he was working your body so fucking well. 

His fingers were pressing deeper inside of you, searching for the spot that would tip you over the edge. He knew when he found it because your whole body seized, and he fucking cooed, pleased and proud. His fingers worked faster inside of you, his palm grinding back into your clit, and you felt your body hurtling towards completion in spite of yourself. 

You whimpered his name, and Javy soothed you, his other hand falling to your ass again. He pressed you into him, shushing you as you trembled, and it was too much, too fast. 

Your orgasm broke through you, heat crashing over you as your boyfriend rocked you in his lap. You were shaking, you were pretty sure you were babbling, as Javy worked you through your orgasm, his strong fingers pulling steadily inside of you. 

You shuddered as you came down, the world fading from technicolor to the dark light of the rec center, and the ringing in your ears quieted enough to hear Javy murmuring praise into your ear. 

“So beautiful, honey, always so beautiful when you come. Fuck, you did so good, coming on my hand like that, such a good girl for me, always so good…”

You were pressed into his chest, and you snuggled closer to his warmth, temporarily sated. You felt Javy shift his hand, pull your panties back down before sliding his hand out from under your skirt. A moment later, you felt his chest vibrate, and when you pulled back to look, his eyes were closed, head tilted back, his fingers between his lips.  

“So fucking sweet,” he said, almost to himself, licking your orgasm off his fingers. You felt your core clench at the sight of it, at the everything of him, and you tilted your head up to him, needing his kiss. 

Javy acquiesced, and you both moaned when his tongue swept into your mouth, sharing the taste of your release. It was so hot, everything he did was so hot, and impossibly, you needed him again. 

You reached down between you, your fingers skating over velvet until you found his cock. He was fully erect now, trapped against his thigh, and when your fingers coasted over him, Javy’s breath caught. 

You hummed when his hips pressed up into your touch. 

Even without your body moving to encourage him, his thighs pushed his dick towards your hand, and you loved the feeling of him. Even through the soft material, he was so hard, so thick, and you were desperate for him. 

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Javy panted, and you loved it when he sounded like that, like he was barely clinging to sanity. 

“Don’t want to wait,” you trailed your hand up to his tip. You couldn’t feel the details of him through the suit, but you knew his cock, you knew where he was sensitive, and Javy groaned as you traced over him. He mumbled something into your sweater, but you couldn’t hear it. 

“Please, Javy,” you whispered, and he groaned again. 

His hands were on your waist, and they tightened when he pulled back. You were surprised by the truly forlorn look on his face when he looked up at you, and your hand paused, suddenly concerned. 

“I don’t have a condom,” Javy said dejectedly. “I’m sorry, honey, it felt pervy to put it in a pocket around all the kids and I–”

“We don’t need one.”

You didn’t mean to say it, but as soon as the words were out, you knew you meant them. You’d been exclusive for a couple months now, and you were tested regularly, and you trusted him. The more you thought about it, the more you wanted it– the more you needed it, the more you knew it was exactly what you needed.

Javy was so still underneath you. 

He was looking at you so closely, hope and caution warring in his expression. 

“Are you absolutely certain, honey?” he asked, and the way he was double checking was all the confirmation you needed. 

You leaned down to rest your forehead against his, loving the way his eyes followed you, even this close. You lowered your head to his, pulling back slightly when he reached up to kiss you. 

“100%,” you said against his lips, and Javy moaned, something deep in his chest, the hottest sound you’d heard. 

He surged up to kiss you, and you felt dizzy from the lingering taste of you on his tongue. When he pulled back, you were both breathless, just shy of giddy.   

“You want me to fuck you bare, sweetheart?” he asked, and his soft question made you shiver. 

“Please,” you managed, and Javy huffed something that might’ve been a laugh. 

“You’re gonna let me into that pussy raw?” he breathed, and you squirmed in his lap. You wanted him so badly, needed to feel him, just him. “Gonna let me fill you up, feel this cock press all the way into you?”

“Javy,” you moaned his name, fully wanton, unable to say anything else. 

Your hips were already rocking into him, craving the stretch of him. 

He seemed to understand, guiding you back to stand on his boots, while he shifted, sliding the suit pants down his thighs, along with his underwear. The red velvet pooled over his boots, brushing the tops of your feet, but you barely noticed. Instead, your eyes were trained between his thighs, where his dick was resting against his stomach. 

He had such a pretty cock. 

Long and heavy, curved slightly to the side, a plump head that felt absolutely unreal when it breached you. You were practically salivating for it, and you pressed your thighs together as you balanced on his boots. 

“Now you,” he prompted, and he helped you out of your sweater and skirt. A moment later, you felt Javy pull your panties off, now with no worry for the suit. 

He dropped the thin fabric to the ground and you stepped out of it, his fingers curled up to cup you. God, you loved how he touched you, so certain and steady, like him. You clutched his shoulder for balance, and Javy’s hand tightened over your pussy, pulling him to you by your pussy. 

You might as well have been on a leash. 

You could feel your legs trembling, you wanted him so bad. He guided you back onto his lap, your legs spread over his thighs again, but it was different now, because you could feel him. When you settled, your core brushed against his hot cock, and you both hissed out a breath. Desperation seemed to build between you, and Javy finally, finally let go of you, reaching down to hold his cock steady as you lowered yourself towards him. 

“Give me that pussy, baby,” he commanded, his voice low, and you wanted nothing more. 

When you felt the first press of his fat cockhead between your legs you felt like weeping. It was the smallest brush, but he was so thick, so broad, a promise. You held your breath as you lowered yourself down, a high-pitched moan working out of you when the head of him was fully inside you.  

“Ah, honey,” Javy breathed. 

It sounded like he was praying, and you understood, because it was just the tip of him, but already you were dizzy with how full you felt. 

You looked between the two of you, at the vision of his fat cock pressing into you and you moaned again. You looked so good together; it was amazing that he fit, that you could take him. You could feel his eyes on you, knew he was watching your face as you were watching where you were joined. 

“It’s so good, Javy,” you whispered, your fingers tightening on his shoulders. Your nails were probably leaving marks, not that either of you cared. 

“That’s right, sweetheart,” Javy said, his voice hoarse, “it’s so fucking good. How does my dick feel inside you, just me, so close to you?”

Your eyes closed and your jaw fell slack as pushed yourself farther onto him. The stretch neared on painful but nowhere near painful enough to make you stop. You felt him, like he said, you felt so close to him. It felt perfect, like you were made for this stretch.

“Halfway, baby,” Javy encouraged, and you practically choked at his words. 

Fuck, you thought you were farther along than that; it felt like you’d gotten farther along than that. 

But when you opened your eyes, there were still inches left of his cock, thick, searing length that you needed to fit inside of you. Javy’s hands rubbed encouraging circles on your back, and you realized your thighs were shaking. It felt like you were boiling, melting, but you knew you couldn’t stop, knew you needed to take all of him. 

Still, you couldn’t stop your whimper, “It’s too big, baby.”

Javy’s hips jerked up at your words, and his head fell back against the throne as he forced himself down, to be still. You both groaned at the ground that gave you, and Javy’s chest rose and fell rapidly. 

“You can do it, honey, you’re doing so good for me, so damn good,” he gritted, and you loved him so much. 

Loved that he was fighting for control but he still found breath to encourage you, soothe you, care for you. Your face felt wet, from sweat or tears, you couldn’t tell, but you made it the final few inches. 

When your shaking thighs met Javy’s legs, you both let out a trembling breath, and Javy wrapped his arms around you tightly. 

“Just stay here for a moment, sweetheart,” he whispered, and you lay your head on his shoulder, resting. 

You were so full. 

So sated, so absolutely content, like all you ever wanted to be was in this moment. You wanted to wrap this feeling up, remember it forever, this closeness. This perfection. 

Javy’s hands were still moving slowly up your back, his fingers pressing gently over you. You recognized he was breathing deeply, whether to help you monitor yours or because he needed to be controlled, you weren’t sure. 

You felt out of your body. 

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that, but it was long enough for the stretch to ease and your body to adjust. As you accepted him, as you welcomed him, your head cleared slightly, and you became aware of the gnawing need at your core. 

You needed him to move. 

You shifted in his lap, just slightly, and Javy’s breath punched out of him, as you clenched around him. 

“Jesus, honey, warn a man,” he choked, and you smiled. 

“Can’t help it,” you said, honestly, “just feels too good.”

“You’re telling me,” he murmured, turning towards you. 

He kissed you slowly, languidly, his tongue pressing between your lips as he gently pushed his hips upward. You felt your limbs go lax; he wasn’t even pumping but he was so damn deep inside you. It felt like a caress, something gentle and sacred, and you rested on him. 

He pressed up again, and he broke the kiss, his warm breath coasting over your lips. 

“Feels fucking unreal, honey,” he whispered hoarsely. “You’re so tight, so wet. God, I can feel every inch of you like this, feels like heaven.”

You hummed your agreement, turning your head to kiss along his jaw. Your lips brushed over his jawline, your tongue tasting his sweat, kissing him lightly as he rocked slowly into you again. Time felt like molasses, seeping so slowly by, and everything was distilled to the press of his hips into yours, of his cock straining inside of you. 

You whispered his name, and his hands slipped from your back to your waist. 

“Need something, honey?” Javy asked, and you whined in response. 

He was slow and steady, unhurried, stoking that heat inside of you. It was perfect, it was killing you, you needed more.

“Do you think,” Javy’s voice was still breathless, but took on a teasing lilt, “you were naughty or nice this year?”

You swatted at him weakly, his chest already huffing as he laughed. 

“You’re an idiot,” you mumbled, turning to a moan at another gentle rock.

“You know I’d know if you’d been bad or good,” he said, amusing himself even as you squirmed on his cock. “I’ve got a list.”

“I swear, Javy–” 

“Do you think you’ve been a good girl for Santa?”

God, he was such a dork, but he was also so hung, and you couldn’t handle both at once. But then Javy’s hands wrapped under your ass again. Before you could sigh in relief, he lifted you up, strong arms fully pulling you off his dick, and then thrusted up into you. 

You screamed. 

You couldn’t help it, you felt it so much, so deep, so fucking full of him, and Javy’s proud laugh turned to a groan as you clenched around his cock. He’d scrambled your brain with his dick, that was the only explanation, because you were moaning and you felt every limb shaking, and you needed him to do it again. 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted someone to hear us,” he chastised you gently, and you whimpered at his words. 

You both knew no one was left in the rec center, probably not even the parking lot, but fuck if the idea of someone walking in on you fucking your boyfriend on this throne of his didn’t turn you on even more.  

Javy sighed, something awed. “Is that it, honey? You want someone to see you? Want someone to walk in on you milking this bare cock? Want someone to watch me shove it so deep into your pussy, see how badly you need it?”

He lifted you again before you could respond, his strong arms pulling you up and then bringing you back down into his lap, his cock thrusting deep into you. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, could only want more, need more. You felt something drip out of your mouth, realized belatedly you were literally drooling. 

Javy swore when he felt it, too, and his hips moved faster. He held you steady as he pushed up into you, slamming his hips up to meet yours. 

It was fast, it was rough, it was so, so deep, and you could only think that you needed him to keep going. 

Javy was grunting with each thrust of his hips, a gorgeous sound that had your mind racing. You could feel his balls slapping against your ass as he drove into you, so deep, and you scrambled for purchase, your hands clinging to the back of the throne, anything for leverage as he pumped into you. 

“I wouldn’t care,” Javy said, almost growled, and you felt your core clench tighter on him at that tone in his voice. “Fucking Simpson could break in now, honey, and I wouldn’t care, I couldn’t stop. You think anything could stop me now that I’ve felt this bare cunt around my cock? Nah, it’s too good, it’s so damn good. Fuck, honey, you feel—”

He broke off, and you felt his teeth bite into your shoulder, grounding himself as he drove into you. Vaguely you knew you were close, knew it in an abstract scientific way, because you could barely string two thoughts together, much less words. 

You could only cling to him, to your sweet, strong, Javy.  

“Riding me so good, baby,” Javy mumbled into your shoulder. “Being so good for me, honey, you’re always so good for me. My best girl, my beautiful, best girl. Sweetheart, I’m close, are you close?”

You nodded, or maybe you wailed, but you knew he could hear you, because his thrusts got more frantic. His thrusts were getting shorter, and you realized it was because he couldn’t reach as deep as he wanted, as fast as he wanted. Javy made a noise of frustration and his thighs flexed, then he was lifting you. 

Still impaled on his cock, he shifted you, turned you, and then your back was pressed against the cool surface of the throne. Javy was between your legs, then, and you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him back into you. 

“Please, baby,” you whimpered, and Javy groaned in response. 

“Anything, fuck, you know that, sweetheart, anything,” he whispered, and then he grabbed the throne. 

All you could do was take it. 

Lie in the space between his arms, between his legs, clinging to him as Javy gripped the throne for leverage and thrust into you. You were held firm as he thrust into you, the new angle causing his dick to brush against a spot inside you that had your toes curling. 

“Right there, Javy,” you cried, and you felt him press deeper, determined. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he panted, as his hips slammed into you. “God, you feel so good, I’ve got you… I know you feel good too, come for me, please..feels like fucking home in you, please honey, I need to feel you come–”

The throne was shaking with each of his thrusts and he pulled you even closer to him. Your body shook with each rutt of his hips, but as you molded to him, your clit brushed against the hard wall of muscle that was Javy. His cock hit that spot deep inside of you, your clit rubbed against his skin, and it was overwhelming, it was everything, it was enough. 

“Come with me,” you gasped, begged, feeling a blinding heat at the tips of your toes. Javy groaned, and you knew he wanted to protest, but as your body seized, you felt him tense with you.   

You cried out as you came, exhausted and overwriting and flying, but you felt it, felt him. Javy surged up to kiss you, his mouth locking on yours. You were too tired to kiss, too poised to respond, but so was he. And as you tipped over the edge, as you cried against his lips, Javy’s strong hips stilled, and you felt his chest heave as he pumped into you. Then you were warm, so warm, feeling his cum spill inside of you, feeling the world burn around you. It was everything, you and him, locked together and spiraling, shaking. 

You were so full. 

Javy collapsed against you, somehow finding the strength to push himself onto the throne beside you. You fidgeted, squirming until you were once again in his lap, panting and shaking, as Javy held you tight while your orgasms rolled over you. 

You were grateful for the Christmas lights. 

They were a gentle light, soft when you opened your eyes, illuminating Javy’s profile like a poem. Sweat slicked between both of your bodies, and you didn’t want to think about the state the suit was in. You could feel Javy’s heartbeat through his chest, a pounding rhythm, strong and steady as he was. 

You should get up. 

But you snuggled deeper into his chest, relieved by the deep breath you felt him draw. You both basked in the muted light, the warmth of each other's arms, and you decided the feeling was also the answer to Javy’s question– you’d been nice.

.............

Tagging some mutuals, some folks who asked for it, and general lovers of Javy: @daggerspare-standingby @blowmymbackout @teacupsandtopgun @mandylove1000 @callsign-fangirl @cheekymcgrath @goldenseresinretriever @mxgyver @laracrofted @coyotesamachado @wildbornsiren @bradshawsbitch @sebsxphia @roosterforme

[wifeofnatasharomanoff]

Chicks & Candy

SERIES MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: pregnant!reader, a slight misunderstanding, fluffy fluff, flirty wives ofc, not smut but a little soft/steamy make-out sesh

WORDS: 1,104

PAIRING: Natasha Romanoff x f!Reader

A/N: felt #emo while writing this oopsies !!😹😹😹

Sure, you had your reasons to be mad at her. You were pregnant and it was probably the hormones, but she still majorly fucked up with her innocent wording. On top of it, the summer heat always put you on a tightrope just waiting for you to fall, her accidental words just pushed you off of it.

She had come back home from a meeting at the Avengers tower and saw you waddling her way with Alex strolling behind you. “Hi darling!” you draped your arms on her shoulders, “hey you cute little chicken.” she smiled. Oh, how naive. She didn't mean for you to take it the wrong way. You furrowed your brows in confusion, “chicken?” oh God. She heard the change in your tone as you questioned her. “No– it's just that y'know you're like.. a mother chicken and– Alex, he just followed you like a little baby chicken. I–” you glare at her and move your arms off her shoulders, crossing them over your chest. “So, you're saying I look like a bird? A stubby bird with feathers that can't fly properly.” she was done for.

So here she is, contemplating her life decisions as she sat in the car parked in front of the house. “Mama why no home?” the toddler asked Natasha. “It's because.. mommy is upset at mama, buddy.” she huffed as she looked down at the candy in the shopping bag. Blue, green, red, and purple colors of fruit flavored hard candy. You mentioned craving jolly ranchers right before she left for the meeting, and here she is, hoping you forgive her little mistake over candy.

After a few minutes, she decided that you might have calmed down and she left the car with Alex. “Mommy I' home!” that dumb little– Nat, that's your son. Shut up. He padded through the hallway and snuck into your bedroom, “hi sweetie! Mommy missed you, c'mere.” he gave you a gummy grin and crawled into your arms. “Ugh, I hope this one is gonna be as chubby and cute as you.” you mumbled against his cheek as you squeezed him tightly. “I‐ can't breathe–” you let go of him and pinched his chubby little cheek. “Mommy! I' not a baby anymore. I' a big boy!” his complaints and huffs turn into giggles as you tickled him. “Babe?” you peered up at your wife at the doorway. Completely ignoring her presence out of pettiness, you continued tickling the toddler.

“Baby?” you chewed on your inner cheek as you attempted to ignore her once more. “Detka?” you couldn't hold in the laugh that escaped your mouth at her desperation for forgiveness. “What is it, Natty?” you finally met her eyes, “I'm.. sorry. For calling you a chicken.” she handed you a green apple flavored jolly rancher. “It's.. it's okay, darling.” you stifled a laugh as you popped the sweet candy into your mouth. “Alex, honey, there's some candy in the kitchen. Go get some buddy.” he gasped and jumped out of the bed, running towards the kitchen.

“Natasha.. you dirty little– close the door,” she smirked and shut the door close. “I'm sorry for being overly emotional.. I wasn't feeling this way when I was pregnant with Alex.” you spoke up as she sat in bed next to you. “It's okay, moya lyubov, don't apologize.” she grasped your hand and gave it a light squeeze. “I hope you know that Alex is.. distracted by a toy car set I left for him in the living room.” she whispered as her gaze flickered down to your lips. “mhm..?” you move over to her lap, “yeah.” she smiled as she nipped at your lips. You felt her tongue glide over your bottom lip, “you're so beautiful, detka..” she rasped as she pulled you in for a slow kiss, tasting the sweetness of the candy in your mouth.

“You think?” you mumbled against her mouth, “well why else would I have gotten you knocked up?” you roll your eyes and lightly punch her on the bicep. It did nothing considering her strength. “oh my God, do you always need to ruin cute moments, Tasha?” she whines as she pushes your body closer to hers, “is the moment back?” she said as her hand rested on your thigh, slowly creeping upwards. “Maybe..” the corners of your lips quirk up into a soft smile. “'Maybe'?” she snaked her arm behind your waist, pushing your breasts against her chest. A silent moan slipped past your lips, “Natasha..” she had a cocky grin on her face as she groped your breast through your clothes. “mm..” she cocked her head to the side and spoke up, “what about cute moments being ruined?” God, why is my wife so insufferable?

“Nat.” you gasped softly as she snuck her hand under your shirt. Well— her shirt that you for that, but she can't get upset at you for that, you being pregnant with her 2nd child is a good enough excuse. You let out a sigh of relief as her cold palm gently rubbed your stomach, soothing your overheated skin. “Does that feel okay? Am I hurting you?” she asks as she continues her gentle movements, “y-yeah.. it feels good, don't worry. Keep going.” you gripped onto her muscular shoulder as her other hand went up your bra. “Natasha.. darling, be gentle.” she peeked up at your face, understanding that she was touching your sensitive areas. “I will, babe, shhh..” she lightly kissed your neck, slowly sucking at your pulse point. You whimpered quietly as your grip on her shoulder tightened.

“Have I ever told you that you look sexy pregnant?” you groaned at her words, “yes, yes you have. My annoying, mood ruining, wife of mine.” she feigned a dramatic gasp, “I don't ruin the mood.” you scoffed. “Two years ago, when I was pregnant with Alex. It was hailing outside and—” you get cut off with a pair of lips over yours, “yeah, yeah, shut up.” she squeezed your waist and locked her lips with yours. Natasha, you bitch. I love you.

“Can someone play cars wif meeeeee?” you heard Alex from the other side of the door. “Nat. Go play cars with my cute little chicken.” you muttered against her lips. “Chicken? So you were pretending to be mad at me.” you giggle as you move off of her lap, “maybe I was, who knows? Now go give our son attention.” she chastely kissed you before leaving the bedroom. “I love you so much.” you smile, “I love you too.”

You wanted him back. Your cute, chubby little chicken.

[nicksolemnlyswears]

WASH YOUR WORRIES AWAY

pairing: opla!buggy the clown x reader

word count: 2.8k

warnings: 18+, cursing, oral (male receiving), p in v, honestly this one is pretty tame but it's cute <3

a/n: hi hi hi! im back with my bullshit! no but this one is really fucking sweet (maybe a tad cheesy at the end). i had the idea for a while so i was really happy to see that he people of tumblr voted for this choice on the poll.

i started this being super naughty with sanji and zoro and now look at me being a doll with buggy and mihawk (which is strange cause they can easily be the kinkiest mfs).

so i think im gonna write another oneshot for buggy in the near future. maybe one for nami and then i'm gonna go back and write the third part for the sanji x reader x zoro. that's gonna be real fucking interesting. it'll be my first time writing a threesome so wish me luck!

thank you guys for reading and putting up with my wild imagination!!

(as always my psa that this is solely based on the live action)

Buggy the Clown stomps into the Jolly Roger angrily. His crew is nowhere to be found on the empty deck. He expected them to be awake, running around, making plans to get their Captain back. Instead, they are snoozing in the rooms of his ship, shielding themselves from the cold ocean breeze.

Buggy mutters insults towards his freaks under his breath. The lot of them should freeze for all he cares. The fishmen kidnapped him, and all they're doing is getting their fucking beauty sleep. He's starting to believe he wasn't missed.

He beelines to the Captain's quarters, where he finds a pretty sight welcoming him. You're on his side of the bed, peacefully asleep. Buggy intentionally slams the door behind him, rudely waking you up from your slumber.

You jump at the bang and sit up, looking alarmed at the intrusion. "Buggy!" You gasp, relieved to see him, "You're back!"

You and the freaks have been working nonstop on keeping the ship afloat and searching for its Captain. You've barely rested in weeks, tracking down Arlong and his crew.

Today, you finally found the location of Arlong Park and set sail. You stopped an island away to let the freaks rest before marching into battle. They will need it to beat the fishmen or at least make enough damage to get Buggy out.

"No thanks to you and my useless crew," Buggy bites, throwing his coat to the side dramatically. At least his theatrics were not hurt while he was away.

You stand from the bed and approach him softly. He's like a wounded animal that might bolt at any second.

"That's not fair. You know we were on our way," you softly say, feeling bad about his harsh tone. Buggy loves to tease you and push your buttons, but it's not often he's genuinely angry at you.

"Taking your sweet ass time, it seems," he cries out, gesturing at the door as if referring to his sleeping crew.

You let it go and decide not to continue arguing. He's physically and emotionally wounded. Not to mention his ego. You stand centimeters away and grab his gloved hand, "Let me make it up to you, Bugs."

Being this close, you can assess his appearance closely. His makeup is smeared more than usual; it's faded on some parts as his blue stubble breaks through the white face paint, and his eyes look defeated.

"Yeah, make it up to me. Let's see what you come up with," he says sarcastically, letting your hand fall from his grasp. His words might drip with sarcasm, but they are a plea for help in disguise. So you pay him no mind, knowing that by the end of the night, you'll have him like putty in your hands. Only to rebuild him back into the Buggy the Clown you know and love and the Marines fear.

"I'll be right back." You tell him, leaving the room momentarily. You return minutes later with a freak who pushes a wooden tub behind you with steaming water. The freak barely spares a glance at Buggy, scared that the clown might lash out at him.

Closing the door once he leaves, you prepare the water with oils and fragrances. Buggy watches from afar, sitting on the wooden chair he has in his room. He's used to hunching on it for hours, examining his maps, and executing master plans for the next big adventure. He likes looking over his shoulder to watch you sleep peacefully as insomnia grabs hold of him. It brings him peace.

"Come 'ere, Bugs," you say, grabbing his hand to help him up. Buggy grumbles in protest despite looking forward to the bath. "Let me take care of you," you whisper, looking up at him. You place your hand on his chest in comfort.

"I don't need you to take care of me. I'm a grown ass man," Buggy gruffs out, avoiding your gaze. It's not like he's felt like a man in the past few weeks as he's been carried around in a sac as a mere head while his body was beaten constantly by the fishmen. It was degrading and made him feel extremely weak.

You roll your eyes at him but play along, "You're right. You are a grown, strong man. Will you indulge me, though? It'll make me feel better seeing you're okay."

Buggy finally meets your eyes and nods, "For you."

There's no reason for him to say no. You're the person that knows him best in this world. You probably know what he's feeling without him telling you in the first place. Still, he acts difficult because he's bratty like that and because sometimes he has a hard time understanding you're there for him no matter what, with no ulterior motive.

You softly smile at him and pat his chest. Your hands trail up to the scarf tied around his neck, and your fingers swiftly undo the knot. You throw it on the bed as you continue down his chest, reaching the buttons of his vest.

Buggy watches you closely as you concentrate on undoing the buttons. Your touch never lifts from his skin for more than a second, granting him the pleasure of feeling your soothing touch after many weeks.

The vest falls on the floor as you push it back over his shoulders. Fingertips tickle his arm as you reach his hand to take off one of his gloves. Your eyes timidly meet his as you plant a small kiss on his palm.

Before he met you, he never thought such a minuscule action could mean so much. Now, he craves it often. It's your way of saying 'I love you,' seeing as Buggy is not good with words. You give him options to show his love, and that's priceless to him.

Your curious eyes have already taken in all his bruises and minor cuts. There's no doubt Arlong's men had been beating him up. You don't bring them up, knowing Buggy will close up again. He'll talk when he's ready.

You kneel on the floor, helping him off his boots, and quickly after, you get rid of his pants, too. You guide a butt-naked Buggy to the tub, ordering him to get in.

"Ohh," Buggy bites back a moan as the warm water soothes his aching muscles. The smell of eucalyptus wafts up to his nose. It's his favorite scent because it's the one you used when you met.

"Would you like me to wash your hair?" You ask him, untying the knot on his head scarf.

"You said you were gonna take care of me. Do whatever you want, sweet cheeks," he knows you've already made your decision, as his hair is already down before he can respond. You beam at the nickname, knowing your Buggy is softening up.

His bright blue hair falls down his back and into the water. Grabbing a jug, you fill it with water and softly tell Buggy to tilt his head back. The water cascades down his head, wetting his hair and turning it a beautiful deep teal.

Buggy opens his eyes and sees your calm expression as you concentrate on not getting any water on his face. A small fraction of his anger chips away, seeing how much you care for him. Only you'd know he hates the feeling of water pouring down his face.

You grab oils from your selection and brush them through his hair, ridding him of any sand and grime stuck in it. Buggy involuntarily closes his eyes as you massage his scalp with the tip of your fingers. A mixture of a sigh and moan falls from his lips.

When his hair is clean and untangled, you grab the bar of soap and a sponge to clean his body. Your eyes are attentive to any bruise or cut, careful not to hurt him any more than he is.

You notice his neck is quite stiff as you spread the soap suds across his back, so you spend some time massaging the area. You dig your thumbs into the tension knots, causing Buggy to become more vocal, groaning and moaning whenever you hit a spot that needs extra care.

Moving to kneel beside the tub, you wash his chest and stomach. Buggy simply stares as you focus on getting every speck of dirt off of him. Any other day, he'd be making you laugh and throwing inappropriate jokes, but the time didn't seem right to him. So, he kept quiet and observed how you tried to hide your grimaces whenever you encountered a nasty bruise.

You massage his knees when you get to his legs because you know they hurt. Buggy might not complain about any pain, but you know the chop chop fruit makes his joints ache when he uses his abilities.

As the dirt is washed away from his body, so does his anger. He's sure that by the end of the bath, he won't be any better than a harmless puppy, and that's all you wanted. Buggy needs to let go of the anger he harbors inside so he can come back stronger than ever and lead the crew to its next adventure, whatever that may be.

You leave his face for last. You're the only person on earth who has the honor and pleasure of cleaning his face free of its makeup. Carefully, you wipe away with a rag the grease paint covering his handsome face. There's layer upon layer of paint staining his skin. A splash of blue over his eyes, red on the corner of his lips, white on his hairline. You wipe away each layer until you're able to see your Buggy. Not Buggy the Clown.

"There you are," you smile, cupping his face. Buggy's hand comes up to encase yours to simply kiss your palm. Beautiful blue eyes stare back at you shyly. Without all the makeup, he tends to feel more self-conscious about his nose.

"You know I was coming for you, right?" You ask him to make it clear you never intended to abandon him.

"I know, Princess," he says, leaning further into your touch. Your thumb brushes over his stubble before you pull back your hand. A soft protest leaves him.

"Let's get you out," you murmur, helping him out of the bath. You tell him to stay where he is as you fetch the towel.

Once you start something, you have to finish it. With the same love and care, you dry Buggy's body, kissing his bruises as you go along. You get on your knees to dry his legs as well.

It's a very intimate position you're in. Buggy's manhood is right in front of your face. He's looking down with hooded eyes, waiting for your next move. He'll go as far as you want to go tonight.

Having him away for so long, you can't resist kissing around his pubic bone. You avoid touching his cock for now as you tease him, looking up at him innocently.

His length begins to harden as you keep brushing your lips all around his thighs and pubic area, but not where he needs to feel you most. You notice his fists clenching as he holds back from grabbing your head and placing it exactly where he wants.

Finally, your lips kiss his length, all the way from the base to the tip. That alone gets all of his blood to surge down to his cock. You continue this torturous pace for too long, teasing the tip of his cock with your tongue.

"Fuck, Princess," Buggy groans, looking into your eyes.

He's tired. He's been away for weeks. Despite wanting to fall on his bed and die for the next ten hours, his need to have you wins out. So, with the energy boost you gave him with the bath, he grabs your arm and pulls you up.

There will be time for you to suck his cock another time. Now, he needs to feel you as close as humanly possible. Buggy grabs your face and presses his lips against yours.

He kisses you deeply and sloppily, tasting your minty lip balm. He hunches over you as you lean back, overwhelmed by the sudden display of affection. Kissing him back just as fiercely as your arms wrap around his sides, pulling yourself closer.

His hand leaves your cheek to tug on the strings of your night dress and push it off your shoulders. The falling fabric tickles your skin as you're left just as exposed as he is.

Buggy grips your breasts, your sides, your thighs, and your ass. All to feel you so fucking close to him. He doesn't care if he's suffocated by you. After weeks of being tortured, all he wants is to feel your soft, caring touch.

You push Buggy back into the bed, and you tumble down with him as his hold on you is unrelenting. You won't be leaving his side tonight. Buggy sits in the center of the bed with you on his lap, grinding against his length.

"Fucking adore you," Buggy breathes, digging his head on your shoulder to leave kisses there, "and the way you take care of me."

"I'll always take care of you, Buggy," you tell him, cupping his jaw so you can look into his eyes, "You're mine. I gotta take care of what's mine, okay?"

A whine comes out of him as he nods at your words. He kisses your palm again, telling you everything you need to know. Buggy leans his forehead against yours. Something he had to get used to at the beginning due to the fact your noses also touch, but right now, it's the farthest thing on his mind. Having you close is his number one priority.

You line his cock with your entrance and slowly sink into it. You watch Buggy's face contort into one of pleasure as his mouth slightly gapes and his eyebrows furrow. You start bouncing softly, being mindful to be gentle with his aching body. Meanwhile, he grabs into your hips, helping you along, his fingers digging into you, afraid this is all a dream, and you'll go away.

There's no way this is a dream. You feel too warm and tight around him for it not to be real.

Buggy's arms encase your body as he pulls you flush against him. Chest to chest. Stomach to stomach. It doesn't matter that it makes it harder for you to move on top of him. Buggy drags his short nails down your back, relishing the heat of your skin. It's not with the intent to hurt but to feel you close.

You keep your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling at the roots just how he likes it. You've resorted to grinding on his lap, as that's how much movement he allows you. His eyes bore into yours, depicting so many emotions he can't begin to comprehend, much less talk about. But it's enough for the two of you.

You peck his lips and ask, "You doing okay?"

Buggy nods and whispers, "I'm doing fucking perfect." He steals a kiss and another and another. Each kiss you let him steal gets progressively longer until he has his tongue in your mouth, tasting you.

The grind of your hips is enough to bring him to the edge. With a warning to your lips, Buggy spills inside of you. He revels in the level of closeness that brings. You play with his hair as he rests his head on your chest, catching his breath.

You need not say anything. It's a moment of vulnerability, and you let him have it. Buggy is resetting and pulling himself together back to the person he usually is.

That night, you sleep naked with Buggy basically on top of you. His head rests on your chest as he falls asleep listening to your heartbeat, and you hold him all throughout the night.

Except, when you wake up, he's gone. As your senses fully wake up, you notice the boat rocking. You've already set sail. Quickly, you get ready and go out onto the deck.

"About time you woke up, Sweet Cheeks!" Buggy yells from the helm, standing by the ship's wheel. The sun beams on Buggy's face, the familiar makeup freshly painted on his face. "It's time to get to work. I have some pirates to deal with."

"Yes, Captain!" You say, which earns you a sneaky wink from Buggy. With a soft laugh, you shake your head and walk through the ship to help the freaks with whatever they might need.

With you by his side, there is nothing Buggy can't overcome.