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Exploring The Unknown
This is the 1k word second place fic won by @tonberry-yoda in my 600 followers celebration event.
Warning(s): mention of spiders, exploring abandoned places, trespassing???
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You easily slipped past the large silver fence bearing the no-entry sign, beckoning Mista onwards past the loosely chained front gates. You tapped your foot impatiently, watching as he looked behind himself before squeezing himself through. You knew he was weary of the situation, but still offered to join you on your adventure, insistent that you shouldn’t be trespassing into the disused amusement park yourself. He was probably right. In fact, you probably shouldn’t be here at all, but the curiosity over what you might find here was too strong to resist.
“I didn’t know Italy had anything like this,” he said, trailing behind you as you wandered past the entryway and into the darkened park.
“There’s abandoned places everywhere if you know where to look,” you replied, eyes glancing around. “Where should we go first? I wonder if any of these rides still work.”
“I doubt it. Don’t they need electricity to run? Something tells me nobody’s paying the power bill around here.” He kept his hand hovering over his gun, currently tucked into his pocket. He was fully convinced this place was haunted, and wasn’t keen on running into any spirits. You noticed his shaky demeanor, letting out a laugh. “Gu-gu,” you said, watching as he rolled his eyes at the nickname, “even if this place is haunted, what is a gun going to do? I’m pretty sure ghosts are bullet proof.”
His sex pistols, nestled closely against your chest, let out various whines. What a bunch of scared-y cats. “It just makes me feel-better, alright? And there could be creeps hanging out in a place like this. Ghosts might be immune,” he said, tapping his gun, “but people sure as hell aren’t.”
“I guess that’s true,” you mused. “But this doesn’t look like a place anyone would want to call home. I can’t imagine how many spiders live in the nooks and crannies of this place. Hah.”
“Why would you say that? That doesn’t help! I don’t want ghosts, creeps, or spiders! Why’d we come here in the first place?” he complained.
You paused your walking, silencing the crunch of leaves under your feet. You shot him an annoyed look. “I wouldn’t have invited you if I knew you were going to complain the whole time. Anyway, this place is cool. Seeing man-made objects being reclaimed by nature. . .” Your hand brushed against a tree branch growing out of a shop window. “There’s something fascinating about it. I’d like to take some pictures.”
“Well start takin’!”
You brushed off his anxious complaining, pulling out your phone. You spotted a particularly decrepit merry-go-round, walking closer to snap an image of the vines that had grown around the plastic horses. Flowers sprouted, contrasting perfectly with the painted roses decorating the fake horse. There was a poetic juxtaposition, and you took a few pictures, making sure to incorporate the dense forest lurking just behind the ride.
Satisfied with your images, you moved on, shoes clicking on the broken concrete path as you searched for a new picture subject.
It wasn’t hard—as you watched Mista leaning against an old test-your-strength carnival game. He stared off in the distance, a serene look on his face. You smiled, snapping a picture. Mista took note, letting out a confused laugh.
“What’re you doin’?” he questioned, eyes now on you as you continued your impromptu photo-shoot.
“You bring a nice contrast to the image—it’s interesting comparing modern humanity with newly abandoned humanity and nature. . . hey, would you mind posing for a few more pictures, actually?”
His cheeks reddened, and he scratched his neck awkwardly. “I don’t care. Just, don’t take any ugly pictures, would’ya? I don’t need Narancia scrounging them up somehow.”
You scoffed. “I don’t think taking an ugly picture of you is possible. You’re handsome, Gu, baby. Don’t worry.”
His already embarrassed visage increased, leaving him unable to reply for a few moments. “Thanks, babe. I appreciate the ego-boost. Anyway, where do you want me?”
You began directing him to stand in certain places, making sure to perfect the pose for the aesthetic you had in mind. You ended up with many beautiful pictures—all incorporating the feeling of lost memories—having him sitting in a former ride car, or leaning on a counter, waiting to be served by an employee long gone. He even convinced you to be the focus of a few images. They all turned out amazing, and at the end of your adventure, you squeezed back out through the fence gate, a good-spirited Mista behind you.
After getting home, you pulled the photos up on your computer, able to look them over easier and make the necessary edits to result in a well-composed image. There was one particular that became your favorite—the first picture of Mista next to the old carnival game. There was something about the genuine relaxation on his face compared to the spooky surroundings that gave you nostalgia for a place you’d never been. You’d have to visit that place again, maybe bringing along the others for a group photoshoot. It might take some convincing, but you had a feeling nobody would say no to a chance to capture the group.
“How’s it goin’?” Mista’s voice called from your open office door. You turned in your chair, beckoning him over to look at your finished edited pictures. You had your favorite image pulled up.
“They turned out really nice,” you replied. “Look at the composition and color contrast of this piece. Your hat matched the machine color perfectly. And look how handsome you are here.”
He pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Thanks to your picture-taking skills. And editing skills.”
You rolled your eyes, caressing his face. “It was also thanks to the fact that you’re just handsome. Thank you for being my muse today.”
“Anything for you, babe. Are you ready for bed now? It’s too cold laying there by myself.”
You nodded, turning off your computer before stretching, letting out a yawn. “Yeah. Go lay down and I’ll join you in a second.”
He pecked your lips. “Sounds good, sweetheart.”
You smiled softly. You didn’t know what you’d do without him. Your Muse. Your Guido Mista.
#jjba#raffle fic#jjba x reader#jojo's bizarre adventure#mista#guido mista#guido mista x reader#MISTAAAAAAAAA#x reader#reader#y/n#golden wind#vento auero#jjba vento aureo#vento aureo#part 5#jojo's bizarre adventure golden wind#exploration fic#fic#fanfiction#jjba fanfic#anime x reader#fluff#cute fic#abandoned places#spider mention#spiders
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the alpha next door
pairing: alpha!steve rogers x omega!female reader
summary: you and your neighbor are harboring feelings for each other, but both of you think the other is too sweet. then, things take a turn when your first heat since moving in hits, revealing the depth of your feelings for the alpha next door—and his for you.
warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), omegaverse AU tropes (heats, knots, purring, mating, scenting), piv sex, breeding kink/pregnancy kink (reader's on birth control tho), accidental voyeurism, masturbation (m + f), dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, little bit of mommy kink, size kink, pet names (baby), mutual pining, idiots in love, dual pov
word count: 8.9k
a/n: here's my entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420's Cum Together Extravaganza!!! i used the A/B/O AU and breeding kink prompts—and this is my very first omegaverse fic!!! so uhhh please be kind because i don't know what i'm doing 😅 also loosely inspired by "too sweet" by hozier!! anyway, this ended up a lot longer than i thought it would be....whoops!! hope y'all enjoy!!!
When you first moved into the little pink cottage next door, Steve Rogers decided that you were too sweet for an ex-soldier alpha like him. An omega like you was filled with sunshine and gentleness, and you deserved an alpha who would treat you like the precious thing you were.
The kindest thing Steve could do for you was stay away. The thoughts you inspired in his alpha hindbrain had him hating the rough and greedy animal side of himself. He wanted to dig his fingers into your plush hips and bend you over, make you present your pretty little body in the way the alpha in him craved.
But he reminded himself you were too sweet. Too sweet for the obscene thoughts that plagued his mind. Too sweet to be defiled by a big alpha like him. Too sweet to be swollen and round and glowing because you were carrying his child…
Still, you were his neighbor and Steve couldn’t avoid you entirely, even though everything he saw only reaffirmed his belief that you were too good for him.
The little pink cottage beside his house had come with a front garden filled with pink roses and all manner of other pink flowers that Steve couldn’t even begin to name, but you tended to them like you’d planted them yourself. Steve would get home from work, park his truck in his driveway—which had a perfect view of your front garden. He’d watch you from behind his tinted windows as you took care of your flowers, looking like a garden fairy come to life.
When Steve eventually grew uncomfortable with how long he’d been watching you, he would get out of his truck and call a gruff hello to you as he made his way inside. Your melodic voice returning his greeting would follow him into his house, where he’d close his door and lean against it, panting like he’d just escaped a warzone while his cock strained against his jeans. But Steve wouldn’t stoop to jerking himself off to the thought of you—at least not while you were just outside.
On weekends, Steve would work in his backyard, mowing the grass and tending to the shrubs that ran along the line separating his property from yours. When the weather was nice and pleasantly warm, you would sit out on your small back porch, curled up in a wicker chair reading some book or another.
Steve would offer to mow your lawn, just for an excuse to stay outside longer, and be a little bit closer to you. You’d let him, and thank him for his efforts by giving him some ice cold lemonade, smiling up at him while he drank it. Steve wasn’t the least bit surprised the lemonade was more sweet than tart.
As the weeks and months passed since you’d moved in, Steve couldn’t help but feel his desire for you growing, becoming a living thing curling around his heart, making it beat for you. You were the sweetest and prettiest omega he’d ever met, and he’d be lucky to be your alpha, but he kept his distance, certain you could do better than him.
That is, until your first heat after moving in next door changed everything.
That was when Steve learned you were far more than the innocent little omega he’d determined you to be—you were a creature of sex and desire, made to take an alpha’s knot and be pumped full of come in the hopes that their seed would take root in your womb. When your heat hit fully, your keening wails echoed from your cottage, and they were a siren song that called directly to Steve’s alpha heart.
But he kept himself away. After all, there were polite ways of going about these things, and he’d never even asked you out on a date, so he certainly wasn’t going to assume you wanted his help to get you through your heat. Besides, you hadn’t asked for him to join you, anyway.
That didn’t stop Steve from keeping an eye on you, though.
He’d noticed the slight change in your scent a few days before your heat truly set in, his cock reacting even more to your perfect omega body than normal. Steve felt like he was walking around with a constant bulge in his pants after getting a single whiff of your scent, but he ignored the niggling feeling telling him he needed to be close to you and did his best to hide his reaction. He knew you had other things to worry about than the comfort of the alpha next door.
Even though something in him compelled him to go to you, Steve couldn’t bring himself to walk over to your cottage. It occurred to him that even if you didn’t want him to help you through your heat, he could offer to go to the store to get the food and provisions you’d need. But he didn’t. He was worried about what he’d do if he looked into your home and saw your nest and smelled your sweet perfume.
So Steve kept his distance, watching you from his truck and the windows of his house as you brought home a week’s worth of provisions—protein bars and sports drinks that would keep you nourished enough to make it through your heat. Steve wished he could carry the heavy-looking bags into your home, but his cock was pitching a tent in his sweatpants, and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable with the way his alpha body reacted to your omega scent.
Finally, as your heat drew closer, you locked up your cottage, closing all the windows and drawing all the curtains. Steve couldn’t help but notice, though, that you left the skylight in your bedroom cracked open a tiny bit. Steve’s alpha hindbrain itched at the thought that you’d only left it open because you couldn’t close it yourself, and he had to hold himself back from going over to your cottage to offer to close it.
Steve knew omegas liked to keep their nests dark and warm and locked up tight. They wanted to keep all the scents created during a heat trapped in their nest, at least until their heat broke. So it was curious that you’d left the skylight open, even a little bit.
But when your heat hit in earnest that evening, your pitiful whimpers and desperate moans filtering through the open window and directly to Steve’s ears—through the window of his bedroom that he’d thrown open the moment he’d heard you—he forgot about what omegas typically wanted. Instead, all the blood in his body rushed to his cock, making him harder than he’d ever been in his life.
Steve stood at the window of his bedroom, which overlooked your cottage, his eyes glazing over as he listened to you pant and whine and cry out for an alpha that wasn’t coming. Because of course Steve had noticed that no alpha had arrived to help you through your heat. He assumed you were using any number of the toys that were sold precisely to help unmated omegas get through their heats without an alpha’s help.
But it meant you were alone, in your nest, riding out your heat on some silicone knot. That thought nearly made Steve storm from his house and barge into your cottage to demand you let him help you, but he reminded himself you were too sweet, too sweet, too sweet for him. So instead, he fisted his cock and listened to your raspy pleas fill the night sky.
“Need your knot, alpha, oh god, please,” you babbled, your voice beautifully melodic to Steve even when you were desperately begging for something he knew he shouldn’t give you. “Fill me up, daddy, I need it—need your knot, alpha—daddy, daddy, alpha, please, please, please!” Your moans grew louder and Steve could only imagine the thick silicone knot that was filling you up the way he should be filling you.
One of Steve’s hands gripped the frame of his window tightly, using the feel of the wood digging into his palm to keep himself grounded as he physically fought with his alpha instincts. He wanted to break into your cottage and rip your toys away from you so he could help you through your heat. Like he was meant to. It should be him inside you, sinking into your warm, welcoming cunt while you looked up at him with those beautiful eyes of yours.
Steve’s other hand gripped his cock, pumping his hard, stiff length with a fist so tight, it was nearly punishing. It helped a little, but his fist was a far cry from your perfect cunt, which would be gushing with wetness and so hot, Steve would feel like he was sinking into heaven and hell at the same time. And when he came, it wouldn’t be anywhere near as satisfying as emptying his balls right against your cervix, pumping your womb full of his seed while knot locked your bodies together so it would be almost certain he’d knock you up.
That is, if you weren’t on birth control. Which most unmated omegas were, Steve reminded himself.
Still, the alpha in him was a beast barely caged—he wanted to breed you.
Steve wanted to see you impaled on his cock and his knot, so bloated from how full you were with his come that he could see it in the way your belly bulged, giving a preview of what you’d look like growing with his child. He wanted to knock you up, he wanted to see you swollen and round with his pup.
He wanted to keep fucking you even as you carried his child, watching you bounce on his knot, your tits swollen with milk and your belly big and round while he tried to fill your womb with another before you’d even popped out the first. Steve wanted to keep you pregnant all the time, your pretty little omega body always ripe and swollen with his pups, taking his knot and his come every moment of the day so he could make sure you were always glowing with the radiance of motherhood.
It was that image of you—beautiful and knocked up, your eyes hazy with pleasure that came only from being impaled on his cock, and being locked on his knot—that made Steve come.
He grunted as the pleasure of his fist and his thoughts of you finally became too much, wrapping both his hands around his thick length, one squeezing his knot while the other pumped the rest of his shaft. His come erupted from the tip, streaming over the windowsill and dripping down to his bare feet on the wooden floor of his bedroom.
A growl tore from Steve’s lips while he came, a deep, dark part of his alpha hindbrain responding furiously to the fact that he was wasting his seed. He should be emptying his balls deep in your fertile cunt while your slick walls gripped his knot and milked every drop of his seed into your womb, where it belonged.
Steve’s release seemed to last for ages, longer than he’d ever experienced before, and if it wasn’t for the fact that his head finally started to clear when it abated, he would’ve been worried he’d gone into rut. But finally, Steve surfaced from the depths of his pleasure, and winced when he remembered the thoughts that had made him come.
Steve was appalled by the direction in which his imagination had gone, and felt guilty for imagining you in such a state as pregnant and bouncing on his cock—even as the reminder made his cock leak one last spurt of his release. Cursing and castigating himself, Steve moved away from the window to clean himself up and wipe down the spot where he’d been standing.
The entire time he was cleaning up after himself, Steve felt off-balance. He’d never felt such a pull toward an omega before you, and he’d never been so close to going into rut just from listening to an omega whimper and moan. If he didn’t know better, he would think you were his mate—the one omega in the whole world who was perfect for him.
But Steve pushed that thought aside and reminded himself you were too sweet for an alpha like him. You might’ve sounded desperate and needy while you suffered through your heat alone, but you deserved better than an alpha who could think of nothing else besides pumping you full of come and knocking you up with his child.
Steve felt disturbed all over again when he thought of the vivid, obscene things he’d imagined while he’d jerked himself off. He’d never been the type of alpha to get off on the idea of breeding, let alone pictured anyone swollen with his kid while they were impaled on his cock. Steve felt so far out of his depth, he swiped his clean hand down his face to try to regain the equilibrium that had been shattered by your pretty omega sounds.
Thankfully, you’d gone blessedly quiet at some point when Steve had been coming all over his windowsill. He tossed the rag he’d used to clean up his mess into the laundry and flopped down on his bed, knowing he wouldn’t be getting any rest that night. It was a good thing he’d called out of work on heat leave.
Even as Steve lay in his bed, the refrain that you were too sweet for him repeating in his mind, he couldn’t help hoping that you were getting some much-needed rest. He’d never been one to worry over much about whether someone was sleeping or eating, but he wondered if you’d had a protein bar and drank a sports drink before falling asleep. He knew you needed to keep up your strength if you’d make it through your heat.
His thoughts spinning around in his mind, Steve fell into a light, fitful sleep, his alpha hindbrain remaining alert and attuned to the sounds coming from your cottage. Little did he know, it wouldn’t be long before everything would change. Something would happen that would force Steve to finally give in to the connection between him and the omega next door.
When you woke on the second morning of your heat, it was to a burning need cutting through your core, urging you to roll onto your knees and sink down on the silicone knot toy that had slipped from your pussy while you slept. Unbidden, the face of the alpha next door, Steve Rogers, popped into your mind and you sobbed through another wave of aching desire, wishing desperately that he was with you to help you through your heat.
You hadn’t met the alpha until after you’d moved into the little pink cottage next door to his much larger home, and you were instantly smitten with the former soldier. He was big—so much bigger than you—with broad shoulders and bulging biceps that were barely hidden beneath the tight t-shirts he always seemed to wear. But it was Steve’s thighs that were always so distracting to you, so thick they made you want to ride them until your slick was drenching his jeans.
A pitiful moan fell from your lips as you reached between your thighs, grasping blindly for the toy you’d discarded in your sleep. With your face still shoved into a pillow and sleep still clinging to the edges of your consciousness, you slid down on the thick silicone cock, pretending it belonged to Steve.
The alpha next door was just so…sweet.
It hadn’t taken you long after moving into your cottage to learn your neighbor’s schedule, and you made sure to always be working in the garden in front of your home when he got back from work. You lived for the growly greetings he would call to you, and the faint blush that would graze his cheekbones, like he was shy around you, his harmless omega neighbor.
And on the weekends, when you knew Steve wasn’t working, you sat on your back porch reading—though you were more often ogling the fit alpha’s shoulders and arms as he worked in his backyard. The sun would shine on Steve’s blond hair and make him look like a golden god, with sparkling blue eyes that would occasionally flick in your direction, though you didn’t think he was really looking at you.
Of course, when he’d offer to mow your lawn, you’d let him. Then, to show the alpha your thanks, you’d make him some nice refreshing lemonade. If that meant you could watch him quench his thirst while you imagined his sweet mouth on your body, drinking your slick as eagerly as he drank your lemonade, then that was just a bonus to being a good neighbor. Right?
It had become abundantly clear to you that you harbored a crush on Steve, and it was nearly excruciating living next to him when he didn’t seem interested in making a move on his omega neighbor. After all, it had been months, and he’d been nothing but friendly and respectful and sweet.
It was obvious, at least to you, that Steve was too sweet for you—too sweet to be the rough, dominant alpha you craved. Too sweet to bend you over and impale you on his thick cock with one stroke. Too sweet to shove his knot into your cunt and make you come so hard you saw stars. Too sweet to knock you up over and over again, filling up that big house of his with pups that you’d created together.
You’d told yourself it was for the best that Steve kept his distance. If he couldn’t be what you needed, then you didn’t want your crush to develop into unrequited feelings. But your heart didn’t listen, so you kept putting yourself in situations where you’d get to see your neighbor—working in your front garden when he got home, sitting on your back porch while he was in his backyard.
Then, you began to feel your heat coming on, and your thoughts about the alpha next door only worsened. It wasn’t uncommon anymore for unmated omegas to ask alpha friends or acquaintances to help them through their heats, but the prospect of asking Steve for his help, getting to come all over his knot for days on end, and then trying to go back to the way things were sounded torturous.
Instead, you went about your heat preparations as you always did, gathering supplies from the grocery store and stocking up the minifridge in your bedroom with sports drinks while you piled your bedside table high with protein bars. You closed and locked all the doors and windows of your cottage, drawing the curtains tight to keep out the sun.
You knew you were a bit of an odd omega, and you didn’t like total darkness in your nest, which was why you had been the only one interested in the little cottage. It had a skylight in the bedroom that any other omega would want closed and covered during their heat. The window itself was covered in a film that dampened most of the direct sunlight and you enjoyed the natural light, even when you were deep in your heat, so it was perfect for you.
It occurred to you, as you were preparing your room, that if you cracked open the skylight, the sounds you made during your heat would filter out from your cottage. Your desperate cries for a knot might even be heard by the alpha next door…
Later, you’d blame your decision to leave the skylight open on the dangerous combination of your pre-heat brain and the exquisite agony of your crush on Steve. But by that time, the little decision you’d made in the urgency of your heat preparations would’ve irrevocably changed your life—for the better—and you wouldn’t give a thought to regretting what you’d done.
Still, on that second morning of your heat, when you were woken by the need to be knotted and flooded with come, you didn’t even remember that you’d decided to leave the skylight open. So you had no idea whether it was working or not, whether Steve could hear you—but he wasn’t far from your thoughts as you rode your silicone alpha toy, trying to slake the need that burned through your body.
Your heats were always a little hazy, like most omega’s, with desire and need pounding through your blood so insistently, you couldn’t form any coherent thoughts. Your mind could only focus on getting a cock inside you, then a knot and, if you’d had an alpha to help you, the gush of their come. Since you were so mindless, you uttered words that you’d forgotten the second they fell from your lips.
The first night of your heat, when you’d had a moment of clear-headedness enough to gulp down a sports drink and scarf a protein bar, you’d hoped you hadn’t cried out anything that would embarrass you—like Steve’s name. You’d had a vague memory of calling out for an alpha, which was normal for an unmated omega, and a daddy, which was normal for you, given your desires when you weren’t going through your heat. But you’d breathed a sigh of relief when you didn’t remember calling out for Steve specifically.
You couldn’t imagine what would happen if you cried out Steve’s name while in heat. But you were about to find out.
The silicone toy in your cunt wasn’t cutting it. It had been just fine that first night, though you hadn’t felt as satisfied as you normally did, and you hadn’t slept as long as you typically did in between waves of your heat. Something about this heat felt different. You weren’t just desperate for an alpha’s knot and come, you wanted more…
You wanted a pup. You wanted an alpha’s cock shoved deep in your cunt, unloading their come against your cervix, filling your womb with a seed that would take and knock you up. You wanted to be bred—and not just by any alpha. You wanted the alpha next door to breed you.
Steve. You wanted Steve. You needed Steve.
“Please,” you gasped, the word leaving your lips as you thought of your big, sweet alpha neighbor. His face came easily to your mind, those sparkling blue eyes and soft lips, that strong jaw and the way a blush turned his cheeks the most perfect shade of pink. “Please, alpha, need your knot, need your come,” you whined, speaking to the image of Steve in your mind.
You pushed yourself up onto your knees, grabbing one of the many pillows from your bed and shoving it between your thighs, forcing the silicone alpha cock deeper into your cunt. Still, it wasn’t enough, even as you tried to make due.
You rocked your hips, trying to replicate the feeling of fucking yourself on an alpha’s cock, but it paled in comparison. A desperate whine worked its way up your throat, filling your room and slipping from the skylight into the morning air.
“Please, daddy, wanna have your baby,” you cried, your hands going to your tits and tugging on your nipples so roughly, pleasure and pain swirled through your body, creating a tornado of sensation that only fed the need burning in your core. “Wan’ you to knock me up, alpha, wanna give you pups, wan’ you to suck on my milky tits while you fuck me, daddy.” You groped your breasts, pinching your nipples like you were milking yourself, the sensations making your cunt gush slick all over the toy inside you.
The pleasure was gathering in your core, making you more desperate to reach the pinnacle of your climax. Your hips worked, humping the pillow and cock between your thighs, shoving yourself down against the knot at the base of the toy, knowing it was what you needed to come, but your pussy was still too tight to take it.
“Oh god, I need it, alpha, I need it, I need it,” you babbled mindlessly, fucking yourself furiously on the toy and still wishing it was Steve’s cock.
You pictured him beneath you, his cheeks tinged pink, not with a blush, but with the flush of his desire for you, his blue eyes nearly black from his pupils blowing wide as he stared up at you. His soft mouth parted as he groaned, his thick cock buried in your tight cunt, twitching as you squeezed him.
It was with that image in your mind that the fateful words spilled from your lips. You cried out desperately, “Knock me up, daddy, gimme your pup, please—please, breed me, Steve!”
So close to the edge of your release, you barely heard the distant crashing sound that echoed between your little cottage and the house that belonged to the alpha next door. All you heard were your gasping breaths and mindless moans, the toy shoving into your cunt making low squelching noises that only managed to turn you on more.
It was only when a much closer smashing sound preceded the swirl of cool morning air infiltrating your home, and flooding into your nest, that you were able to drag your attention away from your own desperate frustration. Your omega instincts were going haywire, part of you telling you something was wrong, while another part unfurled and shifted, like a flower blooming toward the sun.
Blinking your eyes to clear away the haze of your heat, your mouth fell open in an ‘o’ of surprise at the sight of the alpha in your bedroom doorway.
Steve’s big body filled the doorway, his hands clutching the wooden frame while his chest heaved with heavy breaths. It looked like he was trying to hold himself back, his grip so tight on your doorframe that a distant part of your mind worried it might splinter beneath his palms. But you couldn’t think too closely about that, not when your neighbor was staring at you with a crazed look in his eyes, like he wanted to fill you with his knot as badly as you wanted to be filled.
Your too sweet alpha neighbor’s mouth—which was normally curved in a soft, friendly smile—was twisted with ferocious lust, and when he spoke, his voice was a rough growl like nothing you’d ever heard from Steve.
“Invite me into your bed,” he rumbled, the order clear in his voice even if he didn’t use his alpha command. “Ask me to help you through your heat, tell me you want me here,” he went on through clenched teeth, an edge of desperation in his tone that called your heart—and your cunt. “Tell me you want me, omega.” His fingers gripped the doorframe tighter, and you heard the wood creak beneath his strength.
Your pussy spasmed and your heart lurched when Steve called you by your designation, but it was when his scent hit you that you felt something inside your being shift and lock into place. Steve smelled like home—like safety and security and love. He smelled like a future of wrangling children together and making love together and sitting on a porch swing together and growing old together.
In that moment, you knew what your instincts had known from the moment you met Steve—he was your mate. He was the one alpha in all the world who was meant for you, just as you were the omega meant for him. And once you knew that, it was the easiest thing in the world to part your lips and beg him to join you in your nest, in your bed, and help you through your heat.
“Please, Steve—please, mate, please help me,” you begged, your voice breathy with need and excitement, tears of joy shining in your eyes.
Something shifted in Steve’s expression when you called him your mate. You watched as he took a deep breath, scenting you the way you had him. A riot of emotions swirled in those beautiful blue eyes of his—disbelief, acknowledgement, acceptance, satisfaction, pride. You saw the moment he realized what you’d only just discovered, a smile flickering at the corner of his mouth.
“My omega, my mate,” Steve growled, finally letting go of the doorframe and launching himself at you.
Finally—finally—Steve was coming to you, closing the distance between you, and you’d never been happier in all your life. The alpha next door was your mate, and you hoped that meant he would be more than willing to knock you up and breed you like you needed.
Steve had woken from his fitful sleep to the sound of your sweet cries that morning, though they sounded much more desperate to his ears. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or not, but you sounded less than satisfied with whatever toy you were using and Steve slid a hand down to his already hard cock, thinking you should’ve been riding him instead of some silicone dick.
He’d lazily stroked his cock, trying to restrain himself from coming all over his stomach, while listening to your increasingly desperate cries. Steve had fisted a hand in the sheets of his bed, hoping it would be enough to hold himself back from storming over to your cottage and taking your heat into his own hands.
Then, Steve heard you cry out his name and something in him snapped. Before he even knew what he was doing, he’d thrown on some boxer briefs and stormed out of his bedroom, leaping down the stairs and throwing open the front door of his house so ferociously, he’d ripped it off some of the hinges.
Not even caring that he was leaving his door open, Steve charged over to your cottage, taking a little bit more care with your front door when he broke the lock and pushed it open, flinging it closed behind him. He knew it was likely stuck closed thanks to the broken lock, but Steve only cared that it would prevent anyone else from getting into your home. He’d deal with getting out later. Much later.
Finally, Steve got to the doorway of your bedroom, your nest, and he’d stumbled to a stop at the sight that lay before him.
You were perched in the center of your big bed, a pillow wedged between your thighs, the knot of a toy barely visible while you humped futilely on the fake cock. Your delicate fingers groped your tits, squeezing your soft flesh and pinching your nipples like you were milking yourself—that thought making even more blood rush to Steve’s cock. Desperate whimpers and whines fell from your lips, more pleas to be knocked up and filled with pups, and they were nearly his undoing.
At the last second, Steve gripped the doorframe, holding himself back from pouncing on you, as he tried to remember why he shouldn’t be there. You were an unmated omega, in heat, and he hadn’t gotten permission to be in your nest, let alone help you through your heat. And you were too sweet for him…
God, you looked sweet, though. Sweet enough that Steve’s mouth watered with the thought of how slick you were, how good you would taste on his tongue. Even from the doorway, he could see the way your wetness had soaked the pillow between your thighs. He wanted to taste you, to scent you, he wanted you.
Steve was seconds away from launching himself at you when your gaze finally landed on him. It was the delighted surprise in your eyes that urged him to ground out a desperate plea for consent to enter your room and help you through your heat. Blessedly, you seemed coherent enough to answer—but you didn’t only answer and beg for his help, you called him your mate.
That word struck a chord in Steve’s chest, his heart pounding even harder at the impossible prospect that you were his mate—that you were meant to be his. But he took a deep breath, taking in the scent of you and opening himself up to the possibility that you were his.
You even smelled sweet, like the pink roses in your front garden—or, rather, the peace Steve felt when he came home to find you tending to your flowers. You smelled like the warmth of a gentle fire and the giddiness of butterfly kisses. You smelled like life, like the time unfurling before the two of you, years and decades spent with each other, making each other happy.
It was as if Steve truly came alive for the first time when he scented you, and the last tether of the self-restraint holding him back from you snapped.
“My omega, my mate,” he rumbled in a low purr, a voice he’d never even heard himself use before. But he didn’t have time to think about that too closely—he only knew he needed to get to you.
As quickly as he could, Steve surged into your room, tearing off his boxer briefs—the only clothing he’d had the presence of mind to put on, and he was thankful for it, since it saved him the grief of a public indecency charge—in the few steps it took to get to your bed.
By the time Steve tackled you into the tangle of blankets and pillows, he was naked as the day he was born, his cock throbbing with need and brushing against swaths of your soft, bare skin, leaving his precum behind. The alpha cradled your body in his strong arms as he rolled you beneath him, his narrow hips slotting perfectly between your plush thighs, his hard length resting against your mound.
But there was something in his way, something that shouldn’t be inside you and Steve couldn’t help but growl, “Get that fucking toy out of my cunt, ‘mega.” He softened the fury in his voice with light, fleeting kisses to your cheeks and temple and forehead, greedy to taste the sweetness of your skin.
“Yes, alpha,” you gasped, fumbling between your bodies to wrench the silicone dick from your tight hole.
The sweet submission in your voice was too much for Steve—he had to taste it. Slanting his lips to yours, Steve kissed you for the first time, groaning into your mouth at the wondrous feeling of your mouth beneath his. You tasted better than you smelled, like radiant sunshine bursting on his tongue and casting a golden glow over his entire body.
Deepening the kiss, Steve plundered your mouth, stroking his tongue against yours and nipping at your lips until you were gasping and panting beneath him. Your entire body trembled with unslaked need, your fingers clinging to his bulging biceps as you cried out for him, all of which stroked Steve’s alpha ego so much, his cock twitched and leaked against your belly.
“Please, Steve—daddy—alpha—I need you inside me,” you wailed in a broken voice and Steve’s instincts took over.
He shifted his hips back, the tip of his cock finding your slick hole and he pushed forward, sinking his hard length into your cunt with one thrust. Steve’s entire world realigned, his heart stuttering in his chest at the feeling of your tight heat consuming him, overwhelming him. An animalistic groan left his lips, and he buried the sound in your neck, breathing in your scent as he tried not to come immediately.
With Steve’s cock finally buried inside you, he felt your body relax beneath him, your moan of pleasure dissolving into a sigh of relief. Steve’s hindbrain felt a deep satisfaction at the way you melted in his arms, your submission to him apparent in the loosening of your muscles. Finding your lips again, Steve kissed you sweetly, cherishing the moment of calm before your heat urged the two of you to move.
“Thank you, alpha,” you whispered, your voice soft and blissful and the most content Steve had heard it since your heat began in earnest the day before. “The toys weren’t working.” You pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek on your way to burying your face in the crook of his neck, breathing so deeply he could hear your inhale, making his cock twitch in the depths of your pussy.
Then, your words pierced through the haze of pleasure in Steve’s mind and he purred, smiling into your neck when you relaxed further beneath him, responding to him.
“You needed your mate, didn’t you, baby?” Steve cooed, lavishing your neck with kisses until you were whining and squirming beneath him. “Needed your daddy to pound your needy little cunt like only your alpha could, huh?” He started rolling his hips in tight circles, grinding into your cunt, his knot rubbing your clit in a way that had you clenching deliciously around him. “Needed me to pump your sweet little womb full of come, huh, needed me to give you a pup?”
As soon as the heated words fell from Steve’s lips, he wished he could take them back. He’d heard you beg him to breed you, but that was when you were riding a silicone alpha dick, not when you were seconds away from taking Steve’s knot.
Mentally, Steve chastised himself for letting his mouth run away from him so soon. He’d barely gotten his cock in you and he was already talking about knocking you up. He didn’t want you to think he was that kind of alpha, one that only wanted an omega to pump out babies for him—even though the thought did make Steve rock hard.
“Sorry, ‘mega,” Steve mumbled, shifting his arms beneath your body so he could cradle your head in one hand, holding you still while he rocked his hips into yours, kissing your cheek and jaw and neck and anywhere he could reach.
“Sorry for what?” you asked on a gasp, hooking your legs around Steve’s sides and clinging to him so you could grind on his thick cock.
Thankfully, you didn’t seem turned off or scared by Steve’s breeding talk. If anything, the way you arched your spine and shoved your cunt down on his dick made him think you liked it. But surely that couldn’t be true.
“Didn’t mean to mention pups so soon,” Steve said gruffly, hiding his face in your neck so you wouldn’t see the blush that he knew was turning his cheeks pink.
“Oh god,” you moaned, your cunt squeezing Steve’s cock as your body writhed beneath his. “Wanna give you so many pups, alpha,” you cried, humping up from beneath Steve’s big body, riding his cock harder than you’d been riding your toy when he’d walked in.
Steve went cross-eyed at the assault on his senses. Between the perfect heat of your slick pussy gripping his cock, teasing his knot every time you rocked against him, and the sound of your sweet voice confessing you wanted him to knock you up, Steve’s body shuddered with the effort it took not slam his knot home and flood your womb with his seed to give you exactly what you wanted.
“You like that idea, huh?” Steve rumbled, hungry passion and desire coursing through his body and urging him to move faster, to fuck you harder. He pulled out of your fluttering pussy and slammed back inside, relishing the desperate cry that left your lips and the way your fingers dug into the muscles of his arms. “You like it when your alpha tells you how much he wants to breed you?”
Despite his best efforts, Steve could hear the thread of insecurity in his question, and he wasn’t surprised when you cupped his face and moved his head up so you could look into his eyes. What he didn’t expect was the sheer amount of pleasure and desire in your hazy gaze, or the mixture of sweetness and depravity in the little smirk you gave him.
“I do, daddy,” you said, your voice breathy but no less firm in your resolve. “I want to hear everything you’ve thought about doing to your little omega—want you to breed me, alpha.”
Everything else in the world melted away as Steve focused on you—his omega, his mate—and the fact that he was going to try his damndest to give you what you wanted. After all, that was his duty as your alpha. You were his to take care of, to provide for, to protect, to cherish—to fuck and to knot.
You were his to love—you were his to breed. And Steve planned on loving you and breeding you plenty.
You’d never felt anything so good as Steve sinking his thick alpha cock into your weeping cunt, and you nearly sobbed in relief as the edge of aching, burning need finally abated. This was what you needed—not a toy or any alpha’s cock, but your mate’s. Your body and omega instincts had known something was wrong, and it had taken a slip of your tongue to fix it.
Even if it had been an accident to cry out Steve’s name, you couldn’t feel embarrassed about it, not when you finally felt something like satisfaction. The need of your heat still burned bright beneath your skin, but for a moment, you could revel in the feeling of being so intimately connected to your mate, your Steve—the alpha next door.
The words of thanks had slipped past your lips before you could stop them, and you loved the teasing way he responded. But then you felt a shift in Steve. He’d seemed to feel guilty for mentioning pups, but even his apology turned you on, making your arousal burn hotter. Your body had been unable to still when you needed him so badly—needed to give him pups, needed to grow round with his child and know that he had claimed you in the most primal way possible.
Your brain had short-circuited when Steve had said he wanted to breed you, but you’d still heard the anxiousness in his tone and you’d guided his head up so you could look at him. The uncertainty and guilt in Steve’s beautiful blue eyes nearly broke your heart. He was too sweet for words, wanting to make sure you were comfortable with even the words he said in the heat of the moment.
Between one breath and the next, you fell in love with Steve Rogers. He wasn’t simply the alpha next door, he was your mate, and he was yours. A fierce possessiveness filled your chest as you smirked up at your alpha, determining to show him exactly how much you wanted everything he’d said.
“Want you to breed me, alpha,” you begged on a moan, your hips rising up off the bed to meet the brutal thrusts of your mate. “Fill me up with your pups, daddy, please, I need it!” You held Steve’s gaze, letting him see the pleasure on your face, hear the genuineness of your words.
You saw the moment Steve’s insecurity and guilt melted into desire and determination. His blue eyes darkened and his face twisted into a mask of sinful resolve. He looked like a fallen god, with his golden hair and tanned skin, framed perfectly in the little bit of morning light filtering in through the skylight above your bed. Your pussy clenched around his cock, fluttering as he thrust inside you, teasing your hole with his knot.
“Don’t worry, ‘mega,” Steve rumbled, ducking down and capturing your lips in a sweet kiss that left you gasping for breath. He pressed his forehead to yours, staring deep into your eyes. “We’re making a baby today.”
“Yes, alpha,” you cried, spreading your legs wider in an effort to let Steve fuck you deeper. He grinned, shifting his hands to your thighs and pushing them up against your chest, folding you in half and pounding you into the bed.
“Gonna fill up your perfect cunt with all the seed in my balls, and if it doesn’t take today, ‘m gonna fill you up until you’re overflowing with my come—until your belly’s bulging with it,” Steve growled, rutting into you with a ferociousness you never would’ve expected from your sweet alpha neighbor. But Steve’s sweetness was never far from the surface, and he proved it by lowering his voice to a deep rumble that you felt in your belly, asking, “Mm, ’s that what you want, baby, want daddy to give you a pup?”
You were pinned beneath Steve, his cock fucking you so hard, your room was filing with the wet squelching sounds of your soaking cunt and the sharp rhythm of your alpha’s thighs slapping against your own. But still, it was his words that seemed to have the most effect on you, turning you into a writhing, needy creature who’d only be satisfied when Steve emptied his balls deep in your cunt.
“Yes, alpha,” you cried, your fingers clinging to Steve’s shoulders, digging into his warm, golden skin while he fucked you into oblivion. “Want you to knock me up, wanna give you a pup, wanna grow big and round with your child and feed you both from my milky tits,” you babbled, throwing your head back and screaming when Steve’s cock hit against your cervix, pleasure and pain swirling like an inferno in your body. “Please, daddy, god, I need it, I need it—knot me, breed, me, Steve, please!”
“Baby,” Steve groaned, capturing your lips in another kiss while he rutted into you faster and harder, his knot pressing against your tight hole with every thrust and teasing you with the stretch of it. “You’re gonna get a pup, alright,” he growled when he pulled away, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re gonna pop out a kid for me and then I’m gonna fill you right back up.” Steve moaned, his body shuddering and you knew he was close. “Wanna watch you bounce on my cock with your belly ripe and swollen with my pups, your tits heavy with milk—the prettiest mommy and mate an alpha could ask for.”
“Steve,” you sobbed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to hold him close, kissing him and thrusting your hips up to meet his. “Please, make me a mommy, alpha—wanna be a mommy, please, daddy, daddy, please!” Then your lips were too preoccupied with Steve’s, kissing him messily in between desperate moans while he fucked you hard and fast.
Finally, Steve pulled back and thrust forward with so much power, his knot pushed inside your tight cunt and you screamed in pleasure, the feeling of his thick bulge stretching your tight hole sending you over the edge into the most earth-shattering release you’d felt in your life. It was a transcendental experience, coming on your mate’s cock, your alpha surrounding you and filling you up in every way possible.
As your body squeezed Steve’s cock, he groaned loudly in your ear, burying his face in your neck while his hips stuttered against yours, trying to fuck you with his knot but unable to move because your bodies were locked so tightly together. Then, with a moan of, “my mate,” you felt the moment Steve began to come. His cock twitched deep inside your cunt, a warmth filling you as he shot rope after rope of come against your cervix, filling your womb.
For a long time, the two of you stayed locked together, riding out your releases in each other’s embrace. Giggles and moans filled the room, each of you kissing the other wherever you could reach while you basked in your pleasure together. You breathed in the scent of Steve, your lips dragging up and down the column of his throat while he kissed your neck and shoulder and just beneath your ear, making you shiver.
Eventually, when the squeezing of your cunt was reduced to a flutter and your body had milked every last drop of seed from Steve’s cock, the two of you settled. Your heat had abated for the moment. Though need still burned low in the core of your body, reminding you it wasn’t over just yet.
But you had a bit of a respite, and you took the time to revel in you newfound mate. Turning your head, you pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek, which was flushed pink with pleasure.
You felt Steve’s smile against your skin and then he was rising up so you could see the full blush that tinged your alpha’s cheeks. He looked so sweet and ruined, his blond hair a mess, his blue eyes bright with satisfaction, a deeply smug smile on his plump lips.
“Feeling better, ‘mega?” he asked, though there was so much male satisfaction in his tone, you were certain he already knew the answer.
Still, you liked seeing this side of Steve. Typically you didn’t like cocky alphas, but Steve looked so hot when he was confident, your pussy fluttered around his knot at the sight of his smirk.
“I am, daddy,” you said softly, smiling up at your alpha, enjoying the way his smirk deepened as you confirmed what he knew. You couldn’t help but stroke his ego a little more. “Now that you’re here to take care of me.”
Steve’s eyes softened and he pressed a heated kiss to your lips. “Good,” he said when he pulled away. Then his arms were wrapping around you and he rolled onto his back, dragging you with him until you were splayed across his broad chest, your bodies still locked together by his knot.
It would deflate soon enough, but you reveled in the feeling while it lasted, snuggling into Steve’s arms. Sleep called to you, but Steve was still moving and you when you opened your eyes, you found him reaching for your stash of provisions on your bedside table.
“Gotta eat and hydrate, baby,” Steve murmured as he unwrapped a protein bar and began feeding it to you. Even though you were exhausted, you knew he was right and you let him feed you, only sitting up when it was time to gulp down some of the sports drink he offered you. “Good girl, ‘mega, doing so well for your alpha,” Steve said, praising you while you ate and drank.
When you were done, Steve tossed the empty wrappers and bottles back onto your bedside table and relaxed into the many pillows on your bed. You settled down on his chest, your body sated in every way possible, muscles going loose when your alpha began to purr.
“Thank you, alpha,” you mumbled, the urge to sleep more insistent since you were fed. Steve’s hands smoothed down your back, tracing your spine lightly with his fingertips in a way that made you melt even further into him.
“Don’t need to thank me,” he grumbled, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple. “You’re my mate, ‘m gonna do everything I can to take care of you—and our kids.” He added the last bit like it was an afterthought, but you knew Steve meant it, and your heart warmed at his protectiveness.
You smiled into Steve’s warm skin, nuzzling into his neck beneath his jaw, breathing in the scent of him—the scent of home—but his words made you remember something you should tell him.
“Steve, ‘m on birth control,” you murmured sleepily, pressing a lazy kiss to the thick column of his neck. “Thought you should know.” You snorted a little, laughing at yourself for the silliness of your last statement, even though it was true.
The rumble of Steve’s purr changed as he chuckled, his strong arms tightening around your waist for a moment before he grabbed a blanket and pulled it up over your cooling bodies. “Figured, ‘mega,” he rumbled, his voice so warm, you could hear his smile. “Doesn’t mean ‘m gonna stop picturing you round with my pup, even if it’s a while before that happens.”
“Mm,” you hummed in acknowledgment, then pouted as you processed his words. “As long as it’s not a long while,” you muttered, hardly listening to what you were saying because you were so close to sleep.
Steve chuckled again, his hands squeezing you lightly. “It’ll be as long or as short as you want, baby,” he assured you in a gruff voice that was thick with just as much tiredness as yours. “I’d give you a pup today if I could.”
You smiled, your heart filling with emotion, and pressed your lips to your alpha’s neck. You might’ve been exhausted, but it didn’t stop you from murmuring the words your heart urged you to say, “I love you, Steve.”
Steve’s purr deepened, and he held you close, no hesitation in his voice when he said, “I love you, too.” Your alpha brushed a kiss to your cheek and smacked your ass very lightly. “Now rest, omega, we still have to get through the rest of your heat.”
You fell asleep with a smile on your face, feeling safe and protected and satisfied in the arms of your mate, your bodies still locked together by Steve’s knot. You never would’ve expected anything to come of your crush on your neighbor—and you never would’ve expected he’d be a perfect fit for your desires, let alone your mate.
But, you knew the two of you were going to live a happy life together—and you couldn’t wait to spend every moment of it with the alpha next door.
#CT 2024 raffle entry#steve rogers#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers smut#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x you#steve rogers fic#steve rogers fanfic#alpha steve rogers#alpha steve x omega reader#steve rogers au#steve rogers imagine#steve rogers one shot#chris evans#chris evans fanfiction#chris evans smut#chris evans characters#mutual pining#idiots in love#omegaverse#witchywithwhiskeywork
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ok so obviously leona fic, did we ever expect anything else, recently ive been thinking a lot about childhood friends aus with leona so how about that as a trope. THANKS POOKIE THIS EVENT KICK STARTED A MASSIVE LEONA RAMBLING FOR ME SO EVEN IF I DIDNT WIN THIS WOULDA BEEN AWESOME <33
2ND PRIZE WINNER, LOSER
— CHILDHOOD FRIENDS WITH LEONA KINGSCHOLAR (1117 words)
please note that the expressions of love in his this fic are platonic, but can be read as romantic pining if you wish!
Leona’s ears twitch as your footsteps echo down the halls, coming right up to his door before stopping. His tail starts swishing, almost absentmindedly, but the happiness he feels about you visiting is not absentminded in the slightest.
“Leona!” you whisper yell, cracking the door open as sneakily as your clumsy hands can, “Psst, Leona!”
He smirks, blatantly ignoring you. He hopes the swishing of his tail seems lazy, not happy. Overjoyed, even. Leona knows you won’t mind when you find him out—you’ve always been just weird enough to find him fun to be around and his attitude charming. He wishes more of the palace staff were like you.
“I know you can hear me, goofball!” you whisper louder, sliding into his room through the open door, shutting it softly behind you.
“Huh?” Leona drawls, turning around in his chair, “I thought that was a fly. You sure do a lot of buzzing for a herbivore.”
You purse your lips and pout at him, looking more amused than livid. Your acting always sucked, but he doesn’t tell you that in fear of you swatting at him and whacking his tail again.
It’s sensitive.
“The kitchen is empty. We could totally go in there and grab snacks.” you say, and the pout melts off your face like butter on a saucepan, “You’ve been studying all day, you haven’t had any time for me!”
Leona huffs, tail gently smacking against your cheek. You yowl dramatically and rub your cheek like he punched you, glaring at him with the smallest of smiles on your lips. You’ve always been that blunt with him, saying exactly what's on your mind even though you get scolded for it again and again. You’re the only one in this wretched place who doesn’t bow to him every time you see him, or hold your tongue every time you have an idea. You speak freely, happily, and Leona is thankful to have been with you since the two of you were in diapers.
Even if the gap between you would never be bridged.
After all, a person of your position should not talk that way to royalty, even though he’ll never be anything but a prince.
You drag him out of his thoughts and consequently, out of his room, glancing around the halls to check and see if anyone is there. Leona rolls his eyes but the action holds no malice, not when you grab his hand and yank him down the hallway, giggling quietly as if you’re about to steal cookies from the cookie jar.
Which, considering your destination, may just be your scheme.
Leona doesn’t get soft often, he doesn't get that heart-thumping loving feeling, but when he looks at you, that changes. He loves you, he knows that much. You’re his only friend in this suffocating palace, where he shoulders the burden of being the second born with every step he takes. But with you, his best friend, his only friend, he starts to feel like he’s plain old Leona.
Nothing more, nothing less.
It’s so easy to sneak around with you, even if you are a bit clumsier than he is. And sure, maybe it’s because he purposefully trips you on his tail (only for you to whisper that you thought his tail was too sensitive for that with mock anger in your tone) but that’s nothing you can prove.
Over the course of your childhood, there are plenty more of those moments. You and Leona both grow, even though sometimes you wish you could stay kids forever. It isn’t easy watching him mold to fit his role, watching the usual easygoing smirk he has on his face morph into a constant snarl and frown.
You think you’re the only one in the palace who sees him as Leona anymore.
It isn’t long before he receives an offer to go to a school called Night Raven, which he considers with careful attentiveness. You hesitantly watch from afar, not wanting him to leave you behind but also knowing deep down he’d be so much happier if he did.
Soon enough (too soon), you’re helping him pack his suitcases.
You hug him goodbye, face buried in his clothes, squeezing him tight. He promises to call you every night in a voice only you can hear, gruff and reassuring.
Of course, he has to add a jab about you looking like a puppy without its owner so he doesn’t seem too soft. You just blink back tears and agree with a choked up laugh. His expression goes soft once more, and you take it in like you’ll never see him again.
Once he boards, you watch his carriage until it disappears and there’s no one left watching beside you.
Leona keeps his promise and calls every night, telling you about the upperclassmen and how he got sorted into Savanaclaw, to no one’s surprise. You speculate which dorm you’d be put in if you were to go to Leona’s school, and he tells you “soft hearted herbivores like you would end up in Octavinelle or something like that.”
He sounds like he’s having fun. You’re glad.
There’s a small part of you that toys with the idea of going to NRC yourself—training your magic to the point of being one of those exceptional mages the Head Mage seeks out. It’s not like you’ll never see Leona, he’s taken the necessary measures to ensure that you can visit campus whenever you please (oh, how he spoils you so) but it’s different. Things aren’t the same anymore and you know they never will be.
(That doesn’t stop you from training in secret. Leona always put everything he had into himself, so why wouldn’t you do the same?)
You don’t bat an eye when the carriage arrives again, standing stationary outside the palace. If anything, you figure it’s Leona coming back for some sort of official business, or at least that’s what you thought before the palace staff starts to whisper your name.
Your luggage, much like Leona’s exactly one year ago, is crammed into the entryway of the palace before you know it.
You’re in a daze the whole trip, painfully aware that you’re sixteen now, going to Night Raven College, you’re growing up more and more and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.
But there’s also excitement, laced with a fair share of anxiety.
You’re going to see Leona again.
And this time, you two will be equals.
It’s the most difficult thing, composing yourself before you’re sorted by the mirror. It’s even more difficult keeping your head straight and not whirling around the room, looking for a pair of green eyes and a lazy, flicking tail. It’s even more difficult not to acknowledge the thrill that jolts through you when your name is called, knowing that Leona heard it, wherever he is in the room.
“Soft hearted herbivores like you would end up in Octavinelle.”
You hope, wherever you end up, you can be close to him like always.
-> leona's napping buddies . . . @vivigoesinsane @dove-da-birb
#auburn's summer raffle <3#auburn's fics <3#twisted wonderland#disney twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twst#twst x reader#disney twst x reader#disney twst#leona kingscholar fluff#leona kingscholar x reader#leona kingscholar#leona x reader
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Just one kiss | Lloyd Hansen
// Pairing //
-> DrugDealer!Lloyd Hansen x Innocent!Virgin!Female!Reader
// Summary //
-> Your best friend — Ransom Drysdale — asks you to buy special pills for him. You don’t know what he means and you didn’t know that the dealer isn’t like Ransom described the man.
// Wordcount //
-> 4.586 Words
// Warnings // Explicit Content
-> 18+, Minors DNI, dark content, Ransom is a dick, innocent!Reader (really innocent!), talking about drugs, manipulation, non/dub-con, Lloyd being Lloyd, blackmail, innocence kink, daddy kink, handjob, oral (male!receiving), cumming on the face, cum play, finger sucking, degrading, praises
// Authors Note //
-> I want to thank @bucks-babe for all those comments and for proofreading.
-> Written for the “Cum Together: A Community Revival Extravaganza” Event hosted by @labella420 and @stargazingfangirl18.
Prompt: Blackmail + Cum play + “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it? I think you even enjoyed it.”
// Masterlist | Lloyd Hansen Masterlist //
“Come one, please! He is so nice and I just ask you for that favor. Best friends do that for their best friends, princess,” Ransom says, pouting slightly when you still look unsure about his ask.
You play with your fingers, sliding them over the short pink skirt you’re wearing because your best friend asked you to do so. Aren’t you already a good best friend because you always wear what Ransom asks you to wear?
“Ransom, I—I don’t know. I’ve never bought something from him. And m—my parents always say to not get too close to him — to Lloyd Hansen,” you say, his name only a whisper afraid that someone could hear you.
“Princess, I wouldn’t ask when it wouldn’t really mean something to me,” he says, his hand finds its place on your bare thigh and you shiver slightly under his soft touch. “I will give you the money, please.”
“Why don’t you go there yourself?” You ask, looking at him suspiciously. He chuckles, his fingers dig into your soft skin and you hiss softly about his sudden roughness.
“Lloyd and I, uhm, we had some differences in the past and he told me to piss off,” Ransom confesses, scratching the back of his neck.
It wasn't a lie, Lloyd doesn’t really like Ransom but the actual reason he wants you to go there is because sweet, innocent girls like you get better offers than Ransom would get.
“Don’t you love me, princess?” Your best friend asks, his smile fades away and he tilts his head down, avoiding your gaze. He also removes his hand from your thigh, causing your heart to ache. You don’t like to offend your best friend, especially not to make him sad just because of something he asks you to buy.
“I do love you, Ran,” you mumble, moving closer to capture his cheeks with your hands. You lift his head so he has to look into your eyes and then you kiss his nose, smirking when he does. “I will buy it for you, what do you want me to buy?”
“Some special pills. Nothing big, just tell him that you want a small bag of special pills, then Lloyd knows what you ask for, princess,” Ransom says, his grin back on his lips. You nod, letting go of his cheeks and crawl into his lap, cuddling into him, while he wraps his arms around your small body and pulls you closer.
You’re such a good girl for him, he loves how innocent you are — his sweet girl would do everything he asks for when he just plays the right cards. He loves it, his dick loves your innocence not less. It’s growing and throbbing in his pants while you cuddle you cuddle yourself into his tall, muscular body.
“Ran! You forgot your keys in your pocket!” You complain, rolling your eyes playfully. Ransom laughs, pulling you even closer and leans down to your ear.
“That’s not my key, princess. That’s my cock,” he mumbles, causing your eyes to widen and shift slightly. No matter where you try to sit you have his cock point into your ass or back.
Every slight movement on his lap makes Ransom groan and his dick growing even more. “Why isn’t it moving to the side?”
Fuck! Your innocence makes him go crazy and he just wants to destroy your little pussy, wants to fill you with his cum and make you come and scream over his cock over and over again. Tears would stream down your cheeks but you would beg for more and he would gladly give it to you, fucking you until you’re nothing but a whimpering mess underneath him.
“Don’t you know what that is? My cock.” He asks, raising his eyebrow when you shake your head ashamed. Ransom smirks even wider, his fingers draw small circles on your back, grinning you over his hard cock. “I will explain it to you at some point but first you go to Lloyd and buy what I asked you to buy.”
Ransom brought you to Lloyd’s house, even when it’s more like a mansion. A cold shiver runs along your spine when Ransom lets you step out of the car, hurrying you to finally drive to a park slot on the side.
“What happened between you and Lloyd actually, why doesn't he want you to buy something?” You ask innocently while you don’t make a move to get out of the car.
Sweat is running his face down when he looks in all directions. Would Lloyd see him near his mansion he would probably torture him until he begs for forgiveness. “I— uhm. I accidentally shot him in his ass.”
You giggle, then you get out of the car and wave with a soft smile at Ransom before you make your way along the path to the big building. Your hands start to sweat and you press them against the skirt as an attempt to cover more of your bare legs.
Lloyd watches you already from the window, his tongue slides over his lips, while he smirks. So innocent. He groans quietly, turning around to make his way to a chair in the middle of the room. He fucking loves to see those girls all sweet standing there and asking him nicely and cute for some special pills — going to parties with them but you? You look so different, so innocent, so untouched.
His dick is growing when he’s deepening his thoughts about what he could do with you, letting you twirl for him, lifting your skirt. He wants to see you, all of you — you’re so different to all these other girls.
But his thoughts get interrupted when someone is knocking at the door, when he growls a low ‘yes’ you open the door and look at him. His hair is slicked back, mustache and white pants with a shirt — exactly how everyone describes him. He smirks at you, leaning back in his chair, his legs spread open and his hands resting on his thighs.
“Come in, little one,” he tells you. His eyes are roaming over your body and you want to make yourself even smaller. With a short movement you close the door behind you and walk further toward him.
“H—Hi,” you mumble, looking down, your shoes suddenly the most interesting thing you have ever seen. The creaking noise of the chair makes your eyes widen, hearing him walking closer to you, your body tenses and a quiet whimper leaves your lips.
“What can I do for such a sweet girl like you?” He sounds nice, not like your parents told you. His hand grasps your chin, tilting your head back so you have to look into his eyes, he is grinning down at you, while he leans closer and there are only inches between your faces.
“I— My best friend — Ransom. H—He wants me to buy some special pills for him,” you explain, body trembling under the intense gaze of the older man. Lloyd smirks, his hands finding their way to your hips and he pulls you flat against his muscular chest.
“Mhm, Ransom?” He asks, knowing exactly who he is. When you nod, his grin widens and he pulls you with him closer to the chair. You’re too focused not to just turn around and run out of the building so you don’t really realize that Lloyd leads you to the chair where he lets himself fall down and holds you still between his thick, muscular thighs. “Are you his girl, little one?”
“N—No, he is my best friend,” you mumble, looking at your hands. Even though Lloyds hands are warm and his grip is firm, you still feel uncomfortable there. The building is so big, there aren’t many people you have seen and the owner of that mansion is holding you just inches away from him by your hips.
“You’re his best friend, know your parents. Strict ones, do they know that their pretty girl is visiting me here? Do your parents know you’re here, little one?” He asks, and you shake your head slowly.
Your parents would never allow you to visit Lloyd Hansen, he is famous — famous for drugs and illegal things. “Please, don’t tell them. You won’t tell them, right?”
“Mhm— but you need to give me something for that then, can you do this?” His voice is soft and the smile on his face widens. He pulls you onto his thigh, moving your hips slowly forward and backward before he stops and lifts his one hand to grasp your chin once again. He tilts your head up, looking straight into your eyes and you feel like he can look into your soul.
“Do you want more money?” You ask, so innocently that his dick is hurting while it presses against the fabric of his white pants.
“No, can you give me something else?” He asks, fingers digging into your waist while he holds your chin still with his other hand to look into your eyes. His cock twitches when you whimper softly, thinking about something you could offer him.
“W—What do you want to have?” His grin widens, when it's even possible. He just waited for you to ask that unless you tell him what he wants to hear. But since you’re just as innocent as you look he is glad you asked him what he would like to have so he won’t tell your parents about your little visit in the Hansen mansion.
“Kiss me,” he mumbles, leaning back while he lets go of your chin and places that hand on your waist as well. Your eyes widen and you whimper, shaking your head.
“Please, I—I never kissed someone, not even sure how that works. C—Can I just give you more money?” You try but he just ignores your attempts to convince him to give him something else.
“Little one, I’m rich. I don’t need what you offer me. You have two opportunities. First; you give me what I want. Second; I take what I want,” he explains, grinding you on his thigh. A tingling feeling erupts between your legs and you try to press them together causing Lloyd to chuckle darkly. “I always get what I want, pretty girl. And look how needy you are, clenching your tights like a desperate slut.”
“I’m not a slut!” You raise your eyebrow until his grip tightens and you immediately blush. You don’t want to upset him, scared of him. Your body still trembles slightly but the pressure between your legs grows especially when he just holds you, instead of grinding you on his thigh to give you some relief.
“I know, you’re a pretty innocent girl.” He sits up, straight and your lips are suddenly so close that you can feel his warm breath on your skin. Lloyd groans when you move closer against him, your pussy rubbing over his hard cock and your eyes widen.
“I—Is that also your cock? R—Ransoms was hard too earlier,” you tell him, looking down where you just feel his hard bulge pressing against you. A low chuckle leaves his lips, causing you to look into his eyes again.
“That’s my cock, when you kiss me already you can see it. Do you want to see it?” You nod slightly, and he feels his cock twitch once again. Your innocence makes him go crazy, you’re on his lap, willing to kiss him so he won’t tell your parents that you are visiting him. And willing so you can see his throbbing cock.
Even when you would have said no, he already knew the kiss isn’t everything he wants from you. When such a sweet and innocent girl walks into his mansion and makes his cock painfully hard and throbbing he will definitely use that to fuck you or at least have you suck off his cock.
You lean slightly forward, you don’t know why but something changes inside of you and you feel comfortable around Lloyd and you really want to see his cock since Ransom wasn’t explaining it to you. So you press your lips softly against his, just a moment before you pull back and giggle softly.
“Your mustache tickles, Mr. Hansen,” you say, reaching out your hand to slide your fingers over his mustache. You're so perfect for him, so innocent but still so confident when you feel comfortable. He is sure he won’t let you go that easy; you’re his now — his little one, Lloyd's pretty girl.
“Was that a kiss, little one? Give Daddy a real kiss,” he asks, raising his eyebrow when you nod slowly. He laughs, capturing your cheeks with his hands and pulling you closer, his lips pressing on yours with such force that you gasp. You part your lips slightly, and Lloyd uses the moment to slip his tongue into your mouth, causing you to moan.
You press him by his chest away, his cheeks heating up, and you look down at your lap. “I’m sorry, I—I didn’t want to moan.”
“Ahh, pretty girl. Let me hear you moan again, yeah?” Before you can answer, he presses his lips against yours once again. His hands slide to your back and lower down until he grabs your ass, squeezing harshly and causing another moan to leave your lips.
When he lets you pull away, you breathe heavily, your hands resting on his muscular chest while you look into his eyes. They are a little darker than before, filled with an emotion you have seen in Ransom's eyes sometimes — mostly when his hand slid up your leg underneath your skirt until you moved away from your best friend with a questioning look.
Lloyd's hands are still capturing your cheeks. He smirks at you, his eyes roaming down your body to your chest, biting his lip before his gaze slides lower to your short skirt. “Do your parents know that you look like a little desperate slut with such short skirts?”
“N—No, Ransom asked me to wear it for him. Don’t you like it?” Lloyd chuckles, one hand making its way to your skirt, and he slips it underneath the fabric, stroking the soft skin of your thigh. He groans, his fingers moving closer to your panties, but you grasp his arm just before his fingertip is touching your pussy.
“It looks pretty, little one. Now get up so I can show you my cock. What do you think?” He asks softly before pushing you off his lap. You immediately stand up and wait in front of him while he unbuckles his belt and lets his white pants fall down his thick, muscular thighs.
In his boxers is a big bulge, and you guess that’s what he meant. What you didn’t think of was that he was going to push the fabric down as well. His weeping cock slaps against his stomach; the tip is red, and a vein is running along the underside of his huge length.
“You can touch it, pretty girl.” You shake your head, just looking at his length, before you look him in the eyes again. “Do you want me to tell your parents that you’re going out in such a slutty outfit that you were sitting on my lap and kissing me?”
“P—Please, don't tell them,” you say quietly, a small pout on your lips. Lloyd chuckles, leaning forward to kiss your lips, kissing the pout softly away. Then he places his pants between the two on the ground before he pushes you by your shoulders down until you’re on your knees, looking up at him with your innocent gaze.
“Take it in your hand. Wrap your little fingers around Daddy's huge cock. Can you do that?” He asks so softly that you nod and lift your arms, placing one on his thick thigh.
“But you’re not my daddy, Mr. Hansen,” you mumble, looking at him with your innocent and now slightly confused gaze.
“I’m your daddy now, little one. I take care of you, don’t I?” When you slightly nod he grins wide and points at his hard, leaking cock. You bring your other hand to his cock and wrap your fingers around his hard cock.
Lloyd groans, throwing his head back when your soft skin touches his cock. He then looks back down at you, waiting for you to move your hand, but you're just sitting there and staring at his cock in your hand. His dick twitches in your hand, more pre-cum leaking down his red tip when he thinks about everything he could do with you — taking your virginity and making you his — Lloyds Hansen’s pretty girl.
“Move your hand, little one.” You look up; your eyes widen when he gives you more instructions. You thought he would let you go after you kissed him, so why does he want you to move your hand around his cock?
“But you said only a kiss,” you mumble, your eyes watering — your emotions are overwhelming; you feel so embarrassed, but at the time, you don’t want Lloyd to tell your parents that you’re here. And his cock feels not bad in your hand either. He places his hand around yours, grip tightens while he moves your hand up and down his thick length.
“Good girl,” Lloyd praises, his hand tightening even more around yours and his cock, while he picks up the pace. He groans, his hips thrusting up when you move your hand at a slow pace up and down his cock. “Doin’ so well, little on. Now let's try something else: open your mouth and take my dick into your mouth.
“No, Mr. Hansen, please. I’ve never done that before; I—I don’t think I wanna do that,” you say, quietly and not looking up. Your grip around his cock loosens, and you place both of your hands on your thighs.
“You don’t want to?” He asks, his voice dangerously sweet, and you shiver lightly. When you shake your head, he grasps your hair, tugging harshly at it and making you look at him. “I don't care; you're gonna suck my cock, or I will tell your parents that you begged me to fuck you, want that? Want your parents to know that you’re nothing but a little whore?”
You don't really listen to him; your thoughts are running wild, and tears are building in your eyes, making their way slowly down your cheeks. Lloyd wipes his thumb over your cheeks to wipe the tears away; they just turn him on even more — he didn't know you could turn him on even more, but you do. His other hand is still tugging painfully at your hair.
“Then be a good girl and do what Daddy asks for. Now take it in your mouth, or I will make you take it,” he groans, waiting a moment for you to move, but you just sit there, quietly crying and staring at his cock. Lloyd sighs, pushing your head closer to his cock and wrapping his own hand around his base. He brings his cock to your lips, smearing his pre-cum over them before he pushes his tip between your lips.
“Come on, pretty girl,” he says, raising one of his eyebrows before he taps his hand softly on your cheek until you open your mouth wider and he is able to push his cock into your mouth.
Lloyd doesn’t give you much time before he shoves his cock down your throat. You immediately gag around his length, your fingers digging into his thick thighs while he holds you in place for a moment. Your eyes water, and you try to pull away, but the older man’s grin is too tight for you to move away.
“Fuck, pretty mouth feeling so good,” he growls, pulling out of you and giving you a moment to inhale deeply.
“Please, don’t; it’s so big,” you whimper, trying to push him away from you. But at your next attempt to say something, he shoves his huge length into your mouth and down your throat again. Your teeth scratch along his soft skin, causing him to buck his hips forward.
He pulls you off his cock, leaning forward until his face is next to yours. Lloyd is biting into your earlobe, causing you to yelp. “Open your mouth wider, like the good slut you are for me.”
“B—But your cock is so big, Daddy,” you whimper, tears falling down your cheeks. When he pulls you back and smirks at you, causing you to be slightly scared — he looks so soft and at the same time something dark is glistening in his eyes and expression.
“You will get used to it. Fuck— should keep you just for me; what do you think, little one?” He asks, chuckling when you try to shake your head. You open your mouth wider when he presses the tip of his cock against your lips. Lloyd shoves his cock into your mouth, smirking proudly when your teeth aren’t scratching against his huge dick. You’re once again gagging around his length; the tears are falling down your cheeks, and saliva is dripping down your mouth. “Daddy told you he gets what he wants. And when he wants to keep you, then he will! So be good and suck my dick and breathe through your nose.”
Your nails dig almost painfully into the skin of his thigh, grounding yourself. When you breathe through your nose like he told you, you don’t gag that much around his cock anymore. He thrusts every now and then his hips, resting his dick in your mouth before he pulls out to give you a moment to breathe deeply.
You look with such an innocent gaze at Lloyd that he feels like he has to come immediately. Your saliva drips down, landing on your thighs, while his whole cock is covered in it as well. Lloyd growls, fucking your mouth harshly, your tongue licking the underside of his cock, while you swallow his length down your throat — you’re the best and sweetest girl he could have imagined when you walked into his mansion earlier.
He looks down at you, meeting your innocent eyes. You look adorable with his cock down your throat. “Taking my cock like the good girl you are for me, huh?”
After a few more thrusts, he pushes out, and you look at him, confused. Maybe you did something wrong? “Did I do something wrong? Didn’t it feel good?”
Suddenly, you just want to make him feel good; you want him to praise you — calling you his good girl, and give him what he is asking for.
“You did so well for me, swallowing my cock like a good girl. But I wanna come all over your face — want to paint your face with my cum,” he tells you, smirking when you look even more confused. “Let Daddy take care of it."
You nod, looking at his length, which is covered in your saliva when he wraps his hand around it. He then moves his hand at a steady pace, his hand wiping over his tip. It looks hot when he does that, panting and fucking his hand, his cock twitching, and he almost hits your face when he thrusts forward.
His lips are parted, and the veins on his arm are poking out while he looks at you, groaning loudly. “Open your mouth and stick your tongue out!”
You do as he says and stick out your tongue. He grins at you, jerking himself off over your tongue. With a loud growl and a harsh thrust into his hand, he comes all over your face. His cum shoots out of his red tip, landing on your tongue and all over your face, while he fucks himself through the orgasm.
“Looking so sexy with my cum all over your pretty face, pretty girl,” he says, letting go of his cock and reaching out to graze his fingers with his cum. He then brings them to your mouth and pushes them between your lips. “Lick them clean.”
You twirl your tongue around his fingers, cleaning his fingers and tasting his salty cum. You hum satisfied, addicted to his taste.
“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it? I think you even enjoyed it,” he says, fingers still in your mouth, pushing your tongue down. He then removes them and grazes them in his cum once again, this time he licks then cleans himself, tongue curling around his digits. His other hand grasps your chin, his thumb pushing into your mouth and you immediately suck at it. “So good for Daddy, huh? I should give you a reward, don’t you think?”
Your eyes widen and you nod, not exactly knowing what he means, but it doesn’t sound bad. And even though he can be a bit rough sometimes, he is still really nice and sweet with you.
“Get up, so I can pick you up and we can continue in my bedroom,” he says softly, and you immediately obey. When you stand in front of him, he leans down, pressing his lips softly against yours before he picks you up. His hands rest underneath your ass, squeezing your cheeks while he walks out of the room.
“B—But Ransom is waiting for me outside in the car,” you mumble, pulling away from Lloyd to look into his beautiful blue eyes. You haven’t recognized the bit of green in them, but it looks beautiful, and you get lost in them for a moment.
Lloyd smirks. One of his hands lets go of you, but you hold yourself with your legs wrapped around his waist. He looks for his phone, which is placed on a small shelf. He takes it and unlocks it. Lloyd taps a few times on his phone before you hear the familiar sound when you call someone.
“Princess?” Ransom's voice comes through the loudspeaker. You giggle, placing your head on his shoulder while you wrap your arms around his neck, inhaling his intoxicating scent.
“Not exactly, but she is here. She is fine. Calm down. I will take care of my pretty girl, won’t I, little one?” Lloyd says, chuckling, before he squeezes your ass once again. You giggle, making Ransom gasp. “Brought me such a sweet and innocent girl; I guess I will keep her here. Make her my Mrs. Hansen.”
Before Ransom can say something, Lloyd hangs up and places his phone on the nightstand next to his bed. You haven’t noticed that you’re already in his room, but you smirk when he places you on his bed, kissing your lips before he moves down to your neck. He is sucking and biting softly on your sensitive skin.
“Now let’s get you out of your clothes and show Daddy your pretty body, all mine. Understand, you’re mine, pretty girl,” he says, looking at you. You pull him closer, pressing your lips against his, and let his tongue explore your mouth while his hands roam over your body, causing a tingling in your pussy. He grins, already thinking about the way he will claim you and make you his — his pretty girl.
He really likes you, falling slowly for you — your sweetness and innocence steal his heart from him, and he gladly gives it to you. Even though he isn’t used to take care of someone he just fucked but he gladly takes care of his pretty girl.
// Taglist //
@kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @etherealdisneyvillainness @pono-pura-vida @bookishtheaterlover7 @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf
#CT 2024 raffle entry#lloyd hansen smut#lloyd hansen x you#lloyd hansen x reader#lloyd hansen x y/n#lloyd hansen#lloyd hansen x#lloyd hansen x female yn#lloyd hansen x reader smut#lloyd hansen x female reader#lloyd hansen x f!reader#chris evans lloyd hansen#chris evans ch#chris evans character x you#chris evans character x yn#chris evans characters#chris evans character fanfiction#chris evans character x reader#lloyd hansen f#lloyd hansen fic#lloyd hansen fanfiction
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Then he grabs the razor and brings it up, and Ian is in full concentration. His mouth presses into an even firmer line, and his eyes are sharp on where the blade is about to go on Mickey’s skin, and Mickey wishes that there was a way to do this where they weren’t face to face. — it'd be better if you flayed me alive by @crestfallercanyon
Art raffle gift for Michelle @michellemisfit <3 I hope this is the 'slight edge of danger' combo you imagined 🖤🔪
This fic hit me hard. I had a deep resonance or something. I was just overhelmed with feelings, so here we are.
#gallavich art raffle#gallavich raffle#art raffle#gallavich fanart#gallavich#mickey milkovich#ian gallagher#ian x mickey#my art#shameless us#shameless fanart#fanart#artists on tumblr#illustrations#art#digital art#clip studio art#illustration#character art#drawing#gallavich fandom#gallavich fic#gallavich fan art#gallavich s2
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I recently won a fic commission in the "Our Flag Means Pride" charity raffle by @adoptourcrew
Thank you to the hugely talented @ferventrabbit for donating her time and skills to writing this gorgeous piece for me 👏🔥 Go read it!
Thank you to Fidi @fidisart as well for the art that inspired it 💕 (give that some love too, linked below!)
Rating: E Summary: Ed notices Stede looking at him more than usual, leaving them both a bit hot and bothered. He proposes a failsafe plan to give them both a reset. What could go wrong? Set sometime between 2x05 and 2x06
#i'm screaming#😍😍😍#ofmd fanfic#ofmd pride raffle#ofmd#our flag means death#blackbonnet#gentlebeard#edward teach#stede bonnet#ofmd fic#ofmd fic rec#ferventrabbit#fidisart
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No Promises (2)
Lloyd Hansen x rival assassin!Reader
Don't Be Blue, Bunny Boy (see previous or LH Masterlist)
Summary: Lloyd underestimates how dangerous you are when he finds you wrapped like a gift in his hotel room.
Warnings for smut, but it's Lloyd so there's a knife, a gun, name-calling, cursing, drugging, dubcon due to somno, two a**holes in competition, unprotected sex (honestly, just never do anything Lloyd would do, okay? great. excellent. good chat), and possibly the best banter I've ever written gdi. Darkfic...but, like, funny??? For the love of everything, MINORS DNI. I have plenty else for you on my Light Masterlist, but this is not for you! WC 2k 🫣
*This CT 2024 Challenge work can be read completely out-of-context from the rest of the mini-series (which isn't even written yet anyway, lalalahhhh).
It’s bad enough you took the keycard off that fat fuck of a target first, but failing to follow you smacks Lloyd’s ego in just the wrong way. By the time he gets back to his luxurious hotel room, he’s fuming and itching to shoot something. You don’t need to be a mind-reader to know this; the man is still a man, after all, no matter how trained and controlled he thinks he is.
That’s why you’re here, trussed up in a sapphire blue bodysuit, smirking at the irritation radiating off of your rival as his eyes rake the length of your mostly-bare figure.
“Darling,” you burst, posing like a ‘50s housewife by the armchair, playful and sickeningly sweet. “You’re home! I was so worried.”
Anger quivers his lip coat till he vaguely resembles a pouting porcupine. God, you hate mustaches. You’re willing to bet—if you really put your back into it—you could hump his face with such friction, it’d rub him smooth. There are less-worthwhile endeavors that you’ve completely only today. Why not experiment?
“You have some fucking nerve, bitch.”
Lloyd keeps his steps forward into the room slow and casual, though his ire is obvious. He stops halfway across the carpet, unzips his leather jacket, and tosses it onto the foot of the bed.
He seems surprised when you strut over without hesitation; he hasn’t handed over any weapons, but you haven’t asked for a reason. Lloyd’s reputation is cocky, commanding, and curious—in that order—so he won’t start speculating till it’s too late.
Indeed, what possible harm could you inflict wearing this lil’ ol’ thing, huh?
As you get closer, his hand reaches out instinctually.
“Ah, ah, ah,” you tsk in warning. “If you rip my lace, I will gut you like a fish. Understood?”
“Can’t make any promises, but…”
Lloyd, undeterred, clamps his hand between your legs and runs a finger through your folds, proving the crotchless lingerie isn’t in danger of typical snags.
The pad of his digit is rough and teasing.
“I think we can work with that,” he growls.
Oh yes, he’s definitely, perfectly, and predictably cocky. What fun you’ll have.
You make a show of gasping when he starts dipping two fingers into your heat, rolling your head as if truly undone by the minimal effort, and wait for him to watch his own ministrations, distracted.
Then you strike.
You grab his wrist, twisting harshly, yanking the arm behind him, straddling his shoulders so your legs pinch over his neck, and he turns slightly to nip at your thigh. You’re not surprised he still thinks he’ll win.
His steely eye winks as he looks up.
“Bet I can make you cum first.”
A dramatic sigh escapes you. You release his arm to sensually smooth your palm down his body, bending to whisper, “that implies I give a shit if you come at all.”
You fling yourself backwards, using the momentum to catapult him over you and into the side of the bed.
The mustache emphasizes his sneer when Lloyd pushes up on an elbow.
“I, too, like using a firm hand when breaking bitches’ spirits,” he mutters, reaching for his switchblade which you present instead, wiggling it in your hand with a grin.
“Oh, bunny boy, were you too firm to notice my gentle caress?” You deftly unlatch and expose the knife’s edge. “Now, strip.”
You tick the blade quickly for effect.
“Show me some skin so I can mark my two points so far. I know how you love to keep score.”
Lloyd rights himself, peeling his black turtleneck over his head and smoothing his hair into place calmly. “I can kill you just as easily naked as I can clothed.”
“Of course, cutie pie, and I’m counting on many little deaths.” You look at the knife in your hand, concerned. “Please tell me this isn’t the biggest weapon you're packing, or I’ll be so disappointed.”
He’s smug while unbuckling his belt and shucking off his pants. Lloyd Hansen now proudly stands stark nude.
You let your eyes go comically wide, but then your brow furrows and you shrug.
“You’re welcome to keep talking while I sit on your face, but otherwise… I’m unimpressed.”
Lloyd huffs with indignation.
“Fuck you.”
Like the footballer he used to be, he rushes you.
“Promise?” you coo, dodging him and landing a sharp smack to his butt cheek. It’s spectacularly sculpted, plump, and rock hard all at once.
“Oh my! Darling, you did not lead with your best asset…” You notice the faint scar on his pale skin and giggle. “Little prick got pricked, I see.”
Your amusement gives him a split second to grab you, and Lloyd uses the opportunity to shove you back into the window so violently the thick glass rattles its frame.
“Shut your fucking mouth,” he spits viciously, not so cocky as before.
“Isn’t that what I’ve been begging you to do for me, sweetheart?”
Mouth hanging open in a taunt, one hand strokes him, the other warns. The tip of the knife you still wield barely grazes the notch between ribs where you could swiftly puncture his lung. Lloyd watches, fuming and mesmerized, until you transfer the pooling saliva to your palm and resume jerking his cock.
“A firm hand really does make you harder, doesn’t it?”
That snaps him out of it.
He scrambles to bend you over that same armchair you started at, and Lloyd’s version of prep is a single, perfunctory dig of two fingers into your cunt.
To his credit, you are dripping wet for him, so, though his need to check before chaffing himself wasn’t necessary, he rewards you with a beautifully debauched moan as he sinks to the hilt with one thrust.
Lloyd’s got something to prove.
Good.
He’s so focused on groping around to your breasts beneath the stretchy lace that you stick the switchblade deep into the chair’s cushion and hold on; whatever else you’re doing is irrelevant to him. There is only fucking. There is only feeling as if he owns you in this moment.
You let out a high whine and goad him. “Love it when you’re gentle with me, sweetie.”
That earns you an unhinged snarl and the pummeling slap of his hips against your thighs.
He’s so easy to motivate, a majestic maniac on a mission to turn you stupid, if only until the stench of sex dissipates. If the idiot would just reach down to your clit, you’d spare him, but Lloyd is a man.
A selfish, egotistical princeling who’s a good marksman and a shit human. Good, for the business you two are in. But not as good as you.
You sigh like you’re bored, sinking your chin to rest on your outstretched arms.
He stops moving, grunting as he pulls out of you and snapping one of your shoulder straps.
“Fine. You wanna put in the work, sunshine? You go for it.” Lloyd flops onto the bed, face up, his arms spread wide and high.
Of course, he’s going for the gun under the pillow. You know it, you’ve anticipated it, and you decided it would be a nice safety blanket to leave him, to keep him feeling comfortable.
So you crawl on top of him anyway, rocking yourself against his cock for a few seconds before shifting higher. You giggle for emphasis.
You’re just here to fuck him. You’re just here to fuck with him. That’s the truth, and he knows it. Lloyd simply doesn’t know the conditions of both your releases…yet.
“Such a desperate slut,” he rumbles as you settle above his face.
Before you cover your view of him, you pinch at his jaw and smirk.
“Only munches wear a fucking mustache.”
His cheek gets a condescending pat when he smiles back.
He’s cute when he’s having fun, apparently.
Lloyd licks his lips and slowly lifts his head to swipe at your entrance. “You owe me that fucking keycard.” He delicately kisses your folds before his tongue darts out to circle your clit. “And I’ll get it from you one way or another.”
You can hear the rustle of his hand over the sheet. Not even a solid suck on your cunt, and he’s already going for the gun…
“Oh, come on,” you plead, ignoring his threat. “Finish your meal, champ. I know you can do it.”
His eyes narrow, peeking past your mound as he growls, gripping your thighs hard enough for you to collapse forward.
Sloppy. The best word to describe Lloyd eating pussy is sloppy. He contributes as much as you do to the glide of his whole face over every intimate inch of skin. Because you’re sitting with weight mostly on him—some of it still rests on your knees—each movement pushes his nose, lips, tongue, and stache around with enough fervor to polish your raw nerves.
Honestly, it’s a shame he ruins the moment by slipping his hand under the pillow and pressing the silencer's muzzle to your side.
Petulance dialed to maximum, you whimper, “you said I could come first!”
Your hand falls below your navel, clutching the lace like he’s already wounded you, and Lloyd proceeds to laugh right into your cunt.
He doesn’t have time to form a comeback once you peel the sheer, protective layer away from the patch of fabric a mere inch above the opening of the bodysuit. If he’d have paid any proper attention to you, he’d’ve found it, but he didn’t.
The fumes of chloroform-drenched cobalt engulf Lloyd in the suffocating proximity of the bed and your body. He has nowhere to go but under.
The gun falls away once his limbs go lax.
You sit directly on his chest for the few seconds it takes to realign the inner and outer barriers of your dainty, chemical warfare, then you shimmy off of him.
He actually looks quite peaceful this way.
His features are carefree, his broad, smooth chest rises and falls steadily, and his…
Well.
Lloyd’s dick lays erect and proud on his stomach, unfazed by unconsciousness. It’d be an even greater shame to waste that.
“It’s ok, peanut,” you whisper out of habit now, forced to imagine the twitch of his lip, the pop of the vein in his neck. “This is your chance to make it up to me.”
It’s not difficult to take him into your still-sopping core, and once you angle yourself to grind on the cut of his abs, all Lloyd’s previous buildup rushes back. His ass may be the star of the show, but his dick is no fluffer act. He’s packing enough to nudge at that perfect spot relentlessly as you ride him, and you openly mewl as you approach the height of your orgasm.
You imagine he’d say you sound so pretty and pathetic.
He’d probably ask if this is the best you can do, but that makes you fuck him harder until you crash into a wall of pleasure, sweaty, exhausted, resting against that broad chest.
You catch your breath after a short while, skin humming with excitement. Absently, your hands paw at his sides for a tiny bit of comfort.
That thought gets buried in a tense heartbeat, and you climb off the bed, pleased to notice the sheer amount of cum and his softening dick means he finished, too.
You’ll leave that as a souvenir.
The plan was to carve a little message on him—nothing that would permanently scar—but you can’t bring yourself to mar such a glorious ass. That would be akin to treason. Seriously, if he had simply walked around you in a bathing suit with that thing, you would have slipped the keycard into his waistband and thanked him for his service to your wet dreams.
A bit of dried cum smeared all over his pelvis and dripping down his balls, his useless pistol still in-hand, will do fine as a statement.
You clean yourself up, snatching your real clothes from the closet where you hung them tidily beside his own, and give a gentle grip to his immobile knee where it hangs off the bed.
“Sweet dreams, bunny boy. Maybe I'll let you win next time.”
[Next Part: I Left You Something On The Body]
[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]
This work was written for the amazing and inspirational Cum Together Extravaganza hosted by @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420, but a special thanks to @buckymorelikefuckme for the earworm that would not quit. Poppy, you dark enabler you... I fucking love you!
Prompts: "Bet I can make you cum first." || Somnophilia || enemies-to-lovers || Characters A + B cum together at the same time
dividers by @/saradika-graphics (blue art deco) and @/cafekitsune
#CT 2024 raffle entry#lloyd hansen x reader#lloyd hansen fanfiction#lloyd hansen x you#lloyd hansen x y/n#lloyd hansen smut#dark fic#dark!lloyd hansen#or is this soft?#i can't even tell anymore 😣#ct 2024#engagement challenge
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June 2024 AFA Raffle - Prize Clearance Bonanza!!
The prize list is long, and the pile of things to be added to the list is longer, so we need to clear the old prizes out to make space for the new prizes!!
Actual photo of Dean and Cas walking through Admin Michelle's office:
It's really bad, guys. There are just SO MANY prizes. (Click here to see the whole list.)
What this means:
For June, we've added an extra question to the Angel Fish Awards nomination form. You can find the form by clicking here. This question asks what prize you want your nomination to be an entry for. You can find the prize list by clicking here.
The bad, sad nitty gritty:
We're trying to get rid of the physical prizes that are piling up in Admin Michelle's office, so this will only apply to physical prizes. Prizes like podfics and story commissions and such are not a part of this. Sadly, this means that folks in EU are also not eligible for this, since we have all collectively decided that shipping and landing costs and duties are ridiculous and we don't want them. We don't want to leave the EU folks out, though, so IF YOU ARE IN THE EU, note that in the prize question on your AFA nomination form, and we will put you in a separate raffle for a non-thing prize.
How it works:
Fill out the AFA nomination form, as usual. When you get to the last question, type in the name of the prize you want that nomination to go towards. For example, the Coloring Book for Writers.
You can submit as many nominations as you want, and each nomination will be an entry, like always. You can assign each entry to a different prize, though, or assign them all to one prize.
If multiple people want the same prize, there will be a drawing for that prize. This is where assigning multiple entries to one prize would be beneficial.
All the other bits and bobs about the AFA's are as usual, and you can read all of that by clicking here.
So, let's clean out Admin Michelle's office and win fabulous prizes all while spreading love and fic recs!! So many wins!!
(Divider by @glygriffe)
Admins
Michelle - @mrswhozeewhatsis
Marie - @mariekoukie6661
MJ - @thoughtslikeaminefield
Mana - @manawhaat (Founder and Admin Emeritus)
#angel fish awards#angel fish raffle#afa reminder#spn fan fiction#spn fanfiction#spn fan fic#spn fanfic#supernatural fan fiction#supernatural fan fic#supernatural fanfiction#supernatural fanfic#dean winchester#sam winchester#castiel#john winchester#mary winchester#the winchesters#spnwin#spn prequel#carlos cervantes#latika desai
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i’ll be real i did kinda forget how to draw him but im back in business now
#so glad i made him a character ref because i did not fucking remember anything about how to draw mecha#i used to draw him everyday...hyperfixations are a strange beast#incidentally i was rereading some v/ikjayce last night because ive kind of been starving for. well-written fanfic. so my brain was primed#although i did do these raffle pulls a week ago so i might've been subliminally influenced....#very proud of this one author who made like one chapter of a fic half a year ago and put in the notes that they're bad at updating#and now they're at i think 18 chapters? that's growth we love to see it#my art#league of legends#do i tag it like that.#edit: okay i used to tag it LoL which i assume isn't really conducive to tag searches#so ill just live with the shame of having a league tag#its for organizational purposes.
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3RD PRIZE WINNER, IDENTITY! (@identity-theft-101)
— SOFT MOMENTS WITH FLOYD LEECH (511 words)
To everyone else, Floyd Leech is rough. To you, Floyd Leech is the most gentle person you have ever met.
He fixes your crooked tie and smooths out the wrinkles in your vest each morning, brushing any stray eyelashes off your cheeks as you quip that his uniform is far worse. He makes sure you’re always presentable, and you make sure he looks even more disheveled by running your hands through his hair at every given opportunity. He looks like an attention starved puppy when you play with the strands, ruffling them every which way.
Floyd brings you pebbles he picks up when he wants your praise and head rubs, knowing that you understand his courting gestures even though others do not. You give him things you find around campus as well, whether it’s a bird feather or a shiny bottle cap or a spare coin left under the cafeteria table. He accepts each and every gift with delight, thankful he has someone like you by his side.
His heart pitter patters even harder for you when you hand him your jacket, whether it be too big on you or fits you just right, whenever it's raining. He doesn’t need it (really, he doesn’t), but he would be a fool to turn it down and reject your kind offer. Besides, that just means he gets to wrap you up in the jacket too as you run through the rain, maybe even lifting you into his arms as you curl up against his chest if the rain starts coming down heavier.
Floyd adores having you close just as much as he adores surprises from you. One of his favorite forms of affection is having you tackle him, running full speed towards him with a bright grin, launching off the ground with a yell of his name and he catches you in his arms. He’s never missed even once, not when he’s distracted or upset. He’ll catch you no matter what, squeezing you tightly (just the way he knows you like.)
Tackling him isn’t the only way you surprise him. Usually people on campus are too scared to mess with him, but he does occasionally get the little guppies who want to pick a fight with him. He never thinks they’re worth squeezing, especially when he’s in a bad mood (and especially when he’s with you.) He doesn’t need your protection—you and him both know that—but that doesn’t stop you from jumping in his opponents line of fire to yell at them to stop antagonizing him. You protecting him is enough to send both of them into shock, Floyd’s joyful laughter ringing throughout the school.
Ah, his little shrimpy is so cute! Jumping to his defense like he’s about to do something bad...you should know better than anyone that he doesn’t need help, but the fact that you run to his side, bristling as if you can defend him—he’d be lying if he said it didn’t amuse him. You’re just too cute for your own good, really. He loves you so much.
-> floyd's fishies . . . @cookiesandbiscuits @vivigoesinsane @identity-theft-101 @welcometomypersonalhell098 @dove-da-birb
#auburn's summer raffle <3#auburn's fics <3#twst#twisted wonderland#disney twst#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#floyd leech#floyd x reader#floyd leech x reader#floyd leech fluff
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I'm so enjoying following along with both the Jeeves and Wooster and Raffles and Bunny stories via Substack! I haven't felt an urge to post about them on Tumblr since I'm really enjoying their respective discords, so I wanted to mention it! Trying to get into a new fandom is always intimidating, so I'm really happy with the newsletter setup - each installment automatically creates a space for people who are new to the stories to enjoy and discuss them side by side with people who are experts. And everyone being very nice and thoughtful also helps! If you're intrigued, it's definitely not too late to join in with either. I already knew all about the delights of Jeeves and can't recommend it enough, but I'm currently very intrigued, fascinated, and slightly in love with the wonderful Raffles and Bunny. 🐇
#jeeves and wooster#letters regarding jeeves#raffles and bunny#letters from bunny#I don't know if it's possible for me to do this close a reading without wanting to write fic#that would be a long time from now and quite challenging so we'll see#but... them
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Kink/Fluff/Angstober '24 Master List
A new fic every day of October!
Kinktober
Oct 1: Oral Fixation | Fiddleford x Stanley (Gravity Falls)
Oct 2: Phone Sex | Dean X Cas (Supernatural)
Oct 3: Pegging | Apple White x Clawdeen Wolf (Ever After High - Monster High)
Oct 4: First time | Lightning McQueen x Doc Hudson (Cars)
Oct 5: Lingerie | Normal Oak x Hermie The Unworthy (Dungeons and Daddies)
Oct 6: Cockwarming | A. J. Raffles x Bunny Manders (Raffles)
Oct 7: Strip Poker | Spiderman x Deadpool (Marvel)
Oct 8: Overstimulation | Eddie x Venom (Marvel)
Oct 9: Only One Bed | Dick Grayson x Wally West (DC)
Oct 10: Jealousy | Poe x Finn (Star Wars)
Flufftober
Oct 11: Drunk Confession | Fiddleford x Stanley (Gravity Falls)
Oct 12: Lucky Charm | Dean X Cas (Supernatural)
Oct 13: Coffee Shop AU | Apple White x Clawdeen Wolf (Ever After High - Monster High)
Oct 14: Hoodie Sharing | Lightning McQueen x Doc Hudson (Cars)
Oct 15: Mistaken Identity | Normal Oak x Hermie The Unworthy (Dungeons and Daddies)
Oct 16: "You love me?" "I always have" | A. J. Raffles x Bunny Manders (Raffles)
Oct 17: Bewitched | Spiderman x Deadpool (Marvel)
Oct 18: Pet Names | Eddie x Venom (Marvel)
Oct 19: Yearn | Dick Grayson x Wally West (DC)
Oct 20: "I hate it" "You love it" | Poe x Finn (Star Wars)
Angstober
Oct 21: You're Losing me | Fiddleford x Stanley (Gravity Falls)
Oct 22: Betrayal | Dean X Cas (Supernatural)
Oct 23: Tired of Fighting | Apple White x Clawdeen Wolf (Ever After High - Monster High)
Oct 24: Abandoned | Lightning McQueen x Doc Hudson (Cars)
Oct 25: "You're No Better" | Normal Oak x Hermie The Unworthy (Dungeons and Daddies)
Oct 26: "You're Too Good for Me" | A. J. Raffles x Bunny Manders (Raffles)
Oct 27: Miscommunication | Spiderman x Deadpool (Marvel)
Oct 28: Growing Pains | Eddie x Venom (Marvel)
Oct 29: Tear-Stained Cheek | Dick Grayson x Wally West (DC)
Oct 30: Nightmares | Poe x Finn (Star Wars)
#kinktober#kinktober 2024#smut#writing#smut writing#masterlist#flufftober#fluff#angstober#angst#angst fic#fiddleford x stanley#dean x castiel#Apple white x Clawdeen Wolf#Lightning mcqueen x doc hudson#Normal oak x Hermie#normal x Hermie#Normal Oak x Hermie the Unworthy#Aj raffles x Bunny#Spiderman x Deadpool#eddie x venom#dick grayson x wally west#poe x finn#robin x kid flash#fanfiction
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Raffle winner: @elegantkaoru
Length: 500 word minimum / Actual length:900 words
Request: (afab reader) the character can be Mammon, or Asmo (whichever you think fits best!) For the main part if possible could you do a fluff/nsfw where basically the reader is taking care of the characte because they're sick but, (character) really wants to get affectionate due to being sick for so long and the readers trying to tell them they need rest y'know to get better but sooner or later they give in and the character starts initiating more and so they request to have soft sex and be pegged. Afterwards reader gives them good aftercare character obviously making sure they don't leave them for too long and they fall asleep together peacefully <3
Authors note: Chose Mammon bc I think I don’t do enough of him!
-
You were grateful demons and humans are different enough that you can’t get each other sick. Otherwise, Mammon would be a nervous wreck about you right now, even though he’s the one who’s sick…
You ended up spending the night in his room. He demanded the comfort, saying his room was too cold without you and he refused to move to your room. You had covered the bed in extra blankets earlier for him so the bad was already pretty warm but next to Mammon you felt on fire, though you couldn’t bring yourself to move away from him, not when he gives such sad whines when you try to put space between you two.
You were able to coax him to sleep for a while before you woke up again to him readjusting his grip on you. “Mamms, you need to sleep to get better…” You lazily move up to give him a light kiss on the lips, he quickly pushed back against you before you could move back. You give him a small smile as you move back a bit. “Need water? Food?”
Mammon rested his head against your mumbling out a soft…question? You don’t even here it with hiw shakes his voice is. “Come again?” You asked, he whined but responded s few moments later.
“J-just…want you…” Mammon murmurs against you. It takes a few seconds to realize what he’s likely implying.you wrap an arm around his waist, looking up at him to figure if he wanted to be held. “N-not like…that.” He whines before he’s suddenly grinding against you.
You pause and still his movements. “Mammon, you’re already hot I don’t want you to overheat, so tell me if you get to hot, ok?” You left it vague, you weren’t going to tell him you’ll stop at that or he might not tell you since…you’ll stop.
“Y-yes, please..” Mammon whines as you slip out of the bed and sneak into the closet, grabbing one of the straps poorly hidden under piles of clothes. You pick a curved golden strap, it’s Mammon’s favorite, you had it custom made for him. You attach the harness and secure it, grabbing a small bottle of lube you poured it on your strap.
You hurry back to Mammon, who has already stripped what little clothes he had on. You use the extra lube to gently stretch Mammon open. Mammon mewls and spreads his legs. He limply lays splayed as you adjust your wrist to get a better angle. “B-babe, please...” He moaned out. “The strap, now please!”
He trembled when you took your fingers out of him, whining as he waits for your strap to push him open. With a shallow thrust you shove just the head into him, grinning st the little squeak he makes as you push past his entrance. “Is this too much?” He shook his head. You pat his head, leaning down and taking him into a kiss, pushing into him further the deeper the kiss.
Mammom gasp as you finally start thrusting, his cock bounces even with the slow thrust. “A-aah! C-can you…rub that spot?” You hesitate and try to figure out what he means before dragging your hips back and forward in a slow, steady movement. “Yesss! T-there…!”
Mammon tramples and yelps as his cock gives a few heavy throbs, and then he’s cumming onto his stomach. “Good booy!” You praise, bringing your clean hand up to caress his face. “You came without your cock being touched, even when you’re sick you’re still impressive.”
Mammons face is a dark, dark red, he’s shyly grinning at your comment. “Of course! T-the Great Mammon is always impressi-!” He cuts off with a low grunt. “Human, I-I’m tired, need t-to sleep.” You hum in acknowledgment. As you were about to pull out, he quickly tries to stop you. “B-before that,” He grabs your hand and takes it to his still hard cock. “S-still stiff down there….h-help?”
You nod, rolling your hips forward as your hand stroked him faster than your thrust. You intended to give him a quick release so he can rest, you lean over to grab a few tissues from the night stand. You use your free hand and a tissue to clean up the cum left on his stomach, wiping his cock too, not as throughly.
If he noticed, he didn’t react and let you toss it to the side, you’ll clean it later. Your attention is pulled back to his cock as it flexes in your grip. Your free hand takes a napkin and cup the head of his cock as you quicken your thrust. Mammon moaned blissfully at that, hips involuntarily bucking forward as you drag him to another needed release.
Mammon collapses against the bed, whimpering out apologies as his cock spits copious amounts of cum into the napkin. He pants as you come to a stop and wipe him clean if any cum or lube. You are careful of his sensitive cock and move gently and slowly to clean it, earning a few gasp and spasms from him.
Once you have him clean enough you know he won’t feel gross, you adjust to tuck him in. Mammon grabs you, pulling you into his bed. “Stay…” He murmured, hugging you tightly.
Too tightly….you can’t get away…with a sigh you decide to stay there until he wakes up, maybe it’ll help him sleep?
#raffle commission#obey me#mammon#obey me mammon#mammon x reader#mammon x mc#nsft#omomtrta#afab reader#fem reader#just in case#sick fic#cw pegging
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Drunken Nights
Steve Rogers
Words: 1.6k
Summary: A bet has unforeseen consequences that drive Bucky Barnes insane.
Warnings: drinking, violence, swearing, mention of abortion rights, this is such a crack fic I'm sorry, reader insert mention at the end
Author's Note: This is my second entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420 Cum Together: A Community Revival Extravaganza I used the prompt: "You are such a fucking menace.” and kinda sneaked it in because I've been sitting on this fic for at least a year 😅 The idea sparked because @rogerswifesblog and me had a conversation about this 🤭
Divider by @saradika-graphics
It started out as a joke. It started with the Avengers discussing what kind of drunk Steve would be. Tony firmly believed he would be embarrassing, he would spill all the secrets he kept. Natasha thought he would pass out after two drinks. Clint was adamant that Steve would be a very touchy drunk. Thor believed that his friend would be as normal as ever. And Bruce honestly didn't have an opinion but after some pressing said Steve would be a dance machine when drunk. After a while Sam and Bucky were pulled into the discussion. As his best friends they had to know but they didn't. Bucky saw him drunk once, in the 40s, before the serum. And Steve honestly was just paranoid his mom would find out they drank a whole bottle of gin.
Steve was so annoyed with the topic and bets about his drunken state that he didn't say anything for the entire two hours this was passionately discussed. But he did agree on testing the theory. He hasn't been drunk since that one time Bucky mentioned and he was honestly intrigued. He had so many things he wanted to forget, even if it was for just a few hours. An empty brain for once, wouldn't that be nice?
Which is what brought him here. An Avengers party organised by Tony with a shit ton of guests. Three bottles of Asgardian liquor in front of him and his friends staring. The first bottle left a slight buzz. Steve could feel the effects of the alcohol but his brain was still functioning normal. The second bottle made him forget his worries. He had an easy smile on his face as his friends all surrounded him. The third bottle? He took along after his friends got distracted. They left him alone for a few moments too long. The senator he was verbally fighting before stood at the bar alone and Bucky's brain brought back an alarming feeling he hadn't had for a long time. "Fuck... We gotta find Steve!" He said, his voice panicked as he looked at the group of Avengers.
It was a quick search but they were fairly sure Steve wasn't here anymore. "Friday?" Tony's voice quibbed, all of the others’ eyes were on the brown haired man. "Captain Rogers has left the building with a tall male, identified as Jason Smith, bodyguard of senator Ernst, about five minutes ago." The AIs voice gave back, without even being asked the question.
"Told you he'd be very touchy." Clint says with a shrug and a grin. Natasha rolled her eyes at that but didn't seem that bothered. "No... No no no." Bucky rubbed a hand over his face. "fucking hell. He's gonna start a fight. He probably went outside with the bodyguard to start a fight in an alleyway." He grumbles. This couldn't be happening to him. Weren't all those years he had to pull Steve's asthmatic ass out of fights enough?
"Are we talking about the same Steve Rogers? He has a stick so far up his ass he even shook Rosses hand with a smile on his face." Tony quibbed. "He's just reverting to the idiot that couldn't stand back from a fight. I'm telling you." Bucky gave back, throwing his hands up in the air. "No way. Capsicle wouldn't. Even when shit faced drunk he's too righteous." Tony crossed his arms.
"Boys... I really hate to interrupt your little banter here but Smith is back... And... He doesn't look like he had a fun time with Steve." Natasha quirked an eyebrow as she took in the senators bodyguard. Bloody nose, already forming bruise under his eye and a limp in his step that hasn't been there before. "Fuck" both brunettes let out at the same time.
"Hey Captain. Maybe you wanna lay off the liquor?" the tall man's voice interrupted Steve's rant about abortion rights. "Leave this discussion with senator Ernst for another time huh? We don't wanna run into any problems do we?" Steve's eyes took in the man in front of him. He's a professional sure but Steve had fought fucking aliens before. "Wanna take this outside?" It slipped out before he could even think about it. The bodyguard laughed, one hand landing on Steve's shoulder as if it was a joke. Funny banter. But Steve was serious. He was in the middle of telling senator asshat why abortion rights are important. Why women deserve the option to be safe and protected and to choose for their own bodies. Why his fucking religion has nothing to do with an uterus. And this guy has the nerve to think Steve's invitation for a fight is a joke? "I'm serious. Let's take this outside. If I win, senator a... Ernst changes his vote." Steve's voice was dangerous. If Smith hadn't seen him down two and a half bottles of liquor he'd believe he was sober. "Captain... By all means I'm working. I can't just go outside and start a fight over silly little matters." That got Steve's blood boiling. Of course that guy was also stupid. "Ah yes of course..." Steve gave back dryly. His hand moves to shove the senator next to them just a nodge. "And now? Now you gotta do your job and protect senator asshat. I can do so much worse than that." His blue eyes flickered, a smirk on his lips. Just a few minutes later Steve had handed Smiths ass to himself in an alleyway close by.
While Smith stomped off, fuming, Steve downed the rest of the bottle and threw it into a bin. He's drunk, he starts fights but he'll still recycle. Taking a deep breath he looks back to the tower. He couldn't be bothered to go back there. Maybe he could go for a walk? Maybe he could let out all this pent up anger and frustration and do something good with it. This is New York. There were enough criminals for him to use as punching bags right?
"Captain Rogers. Can you please give us a statement as to how you took down this robbery all by yourself?" The blonde in front of him asked, holding the mic a bit too close to his face. He still pleasantly smiled. "Oh uh... I was just in the area and saw it happen... So I swooped in?" He explains, that stupid smile still on his face. As the women asks the next question he just starts to giggle. He runs a hand through his hair. "Sorry... Sorry... It's a serious topic but man Bucky is gonna be so mad at me" he giggles again.
"Damn right I will." Bucky mutters at his phone. There had been several reports of Captain America stopping crime in the last hour and every time one of the team got just a little closer to Steve's apparent location he somehow ended up in a different part of Manhattan. Bucky doesn't even want to know how many fights Steve had started tonight. Never again, he swears. Never again he'll let him get drunk.
After another hour Bucky finally had the blonde in front of him. He was yet again sucked into an interview and passionately ranted about how racism and Nazis suck when Bucky managed to approach. His arms were crossed, his face was stern.
"I think it's important that we show racists... Oh my gosh Bucky is gonna be so mad at me... Uh that we show racists that they're not welcome." Steve says before his eyes find his friend. "Shit." He curses, eyes wide before he runs off. Bucky lets out a sigh and follows him.
To everyone's surprise Natasha managed to lure Steve back to the tower just two hours after Bucky had initially found him. She sets him up with the hangover necessities and leaves him to sleep the alcohol off. Tomorrow would be a big day of fixing whatever mess Steve got into. But that never came. Surprising to everyone Steve did a damn good job and the only 'scandal' that came off this was him saying shit on national TV. Which quickly became a meme.
"I don't regret it. And to be fair this is all of your fault. You wanted to see me drunk and then you invited senator Ernst? You know I hate that guy." Steve said, his arms crossed, his face pouty like a toddler. "Steve you can't just... You ran off and fought people on the street!" Bucky threw his hands in the air. "You shoved the senator so his bodyguard would fight you!" He adds, hoping his friend would see how crazy this was. "I'd do it again." Steve mumbles and looks away from his friends. Bucky lets out an exasperated sigh. "You are such a fucking menace.” He mutters to his best friend who proudly smiles, before addressing the group. “We can never let him get drunk again."
"I don't know, jelly shot Cap seems to be very effective. Maybe we should get him drunk before the next hydra base raid." Tony shrugs, clearly amused by the situation. "No!" Bucky groans. "No. No. No." His frustration is filling the room.
"We can be lucky that this is all he got into. Now let's stop whatever this is and get brunch." Clint suggests, sunglasses on his face, clearly hungover. Steve is very thankful for that. 'Yes Clint. Let's stop this, get brunch and I'll buy you 5 packs of premium coffee beans.' he thinks to himself. Just a few minutes longer and he'd spill what else he got into last night. And he doesn't need the jokes. He doesn't need the judgement. And he certainly doesn't want to share the cute tattoo artist with them -just yet.
#ct 2024#ct 2024 raffle entry#captain america#captain america imagine#marvel fanfic#marvel fic#steve rogers#steve rogers fanfic#steve rogers fic#steve rogers imagine#bucky barnes#marvel imagine#avengers fanfiction#avengers fic#avengers imagine
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Angel Fish Awards and Raffle
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Desert & Reward, Chapter 18
[Read on AO3]
A few months ago he would have dug in his heels. Would have really put these fancy boots to the test struggling against both Kiki and Sir’s attempts to strong arm him into this ballroom, and left a good bit of sole streaked along the stone for his troubles. Obi might not have the muscle Mister does, but but what he lacks in raw strength he makes up for with sheer cussedness. A hard thing for the Big Guy to handle, historically. Not so much for Lady Seiran.
But that was when he was just Master’s messenger, a failed assassin up-jumped to knighthood. When the only thing that kept him orbiting in the court’s highest circles was a royal decree; a flimsy bit of paper and an unbreakable chunk of crystal his only assurance between respectability and the gutter he’d been born into. And tonight—
Tonight he’s Miss’s husband. So he lets Miss Kiki lay her hand over his fine sleeve, and tries to forget that a few years ago, he would have jumped straight off this balcony. Folded himself as thin as foolscap to slip in among the shrubbery, biting his lip bloody to keep the giggles in when the guards tromped past. He’s half-tempted to try it still— he might be bigger now, better fed, but he could still give those rookies a run for their money when it came to a rousing game of cat-and-mouse— but he catches one glimpse of dress blacks through the balustrade, followed by another two or three and, well, it’s clear His Majesty already took cold feet into consideration, even after the papers were signed.
“You can’t possibly think he would let you slip through his fingers now,” Kiki murmurs, all smiles as they stride through the doors. There’s a few curious eyes that fall on them, and an even greater number that linger on the hand Sir’s got clamped to his shoulder, all friendly on the outside, but all steel hidden beneath the skin. “Not when he needs to give these people a show.”
Fair enough. The man’s not one to leave good behavior up to chance. Not his, at least. “Yeah, it’ll be a real production all right. How come no one told me there was going to be public speaking involved in this whole marriage thing?”
“Oh my,” she drawls, one corner of her mouth lifting. That’s practically a guffaw in Kiki-speak. “You didn’t think all this fêting came for free, did you?”
“Considering how I didn’t have a say in any of it” — hell, he barely consented to more than a signature on paper and a wife in name— “yeah, kinda.”
Kiki’s too dignified for a snort— at least in this dress— but the air huffs right out of her still, like this whole disaster is a real laugh riot. “You’ve never had a problem singing for your supper before. Most of the time, we can’t get you to shut up.”
“Well, sure, but that’s different.” On the business end of her ladyship’s arched brow, Obi’s tongue nearly trips over itself to blurt out, “I have to actually mean what I say this time.”
That brow hikes higher, if it’s even possible. Curves itself so much it nearly comes to a point— one Kiki would be happy to hold to his throat, if her glare had its druthers.
“I mean,” he wheedles, “that I have to be earnest.”
“Oh, come on now, Obi.” Sir chuckles, giving that lantern jaw of his a good workout. “I’m sure you’ve done it before.”
For Miss, sure. Master, at least once or twice. He’d even summoned up some liquid courage and managed it with Kiki and Sir. But— “Not in front of people who would eat me alive.”
“There are times I’d like to eat you alive,” Kiki informs him, helpful as always. “If only to get you to stop talking.”
“Kiki.”
“I don’t see why you’re taking that chiding tone with me.” Now it’s the Big Guy under the weight of that oppressive brow, made all the more ominous by the lack of expression beneath it. “It’s true.”
“Well, yes,” Sir allows, red creeping up from his collar. “But you don’t have to say it.”
“I, for one, would be happy to be devoured by you, my lady.” Obi gives her his most charming smile, hand pressed to the place Miss tells him his heart would be— at least according to anatomical models, she would say, too thoughtful. Which only depict the most likely shapes and places of organs. Some people even have hearts on the right side of their chest, if you can believe it. “So long as it would keep me from having to make this toast.”
“You can’t be that hard pressed to say something nice.” Obi’s used to bearing up under Lady Kiki’s glares and scowls, to soldiering through her glowers and leers, but none of those are as devastating as the concern she turns on him now. “It’s Shirayuki, after all.”
It’d be harder to find fault with her, that’s what her stare implies, and that’s— that’s the problem. If they asked him to go up there and wax poetic about the blue of Master— Zen’s eyes, or the breadth of Mister’s shoulders, or the keenness of Kiki’s blade, he could raise enough praise to get them past the heaven’s gates. But to ask him to talk about Miss, to even touch the angles of what she means to him and think to come away unbloodied—
“Maybe…” Big Guy coughs, kindly keeping his eyes elsewhere as he suggests, “…you could just talk about how grateful you are.”
“What?” It’s Obi’s turn to lift a brow now, mouth ratcheting to its wryest angle. “For getting strong armed into a wedding?”
“I meant…” Sir grunts, an agitated flush working its way up from his collar. “For the opportunity to celebrate. Not everyone talks about their” — feelings, that’s what he’s trying so hard not to say— “the bride. Or groom! But their, er…gratitude for their guests—”
“That I didn’t invite.”
“—Or your host,” he adds, more than a bit strangled. “For honoring you. Even your wife for—”
“Putting up with you.” Kiki’s teeth glint like a knife’s edge between her lips. “She deserves the credit.”
“What about you, Mister?” Obi asks, ignoring her ladyship’s all-too knowing smirk. “You did one of these, didn’t you?”
“Well, er…” There’s red blooming right at the tips of his ears, almost painful to look at. “Not, ah…really, no.”
“What?” He stares at him, wide-eyed, before letting it drop the foot to fix on Kiki. “How come he gets out of it, but I don’t?”
“Precedence,” she says, all simple, like he should be able to figure out from there. “As host, it fell to my father to toast the assembled party—”
“I would have though you’d remember.” Sir’s got his brow all furrowed, like Obi should have written this all down in his diary or something. “You had, er, comments after he was done.”
“Notes,” Kiki offers with a twitch of her lips. “They were extensive.”
“Sir.” Obi pressed a scandalized hand to his chest. “Do you think I’d do you the disservice— no, dishonor, even— of being sober enough at your wedding to remember it?”
“Obi…”
Kiki raises a hand, laying it against Sir’s arm. “No, he has a point.”
Mister stares down at her. “Really?”
“But if the host’s suppose to be the one doing all the toasting, how come it’s my head on the block tonight?” Obi gives the silk swags and effusive floral arrangements a pointed glance. “I’m certainly not the one footing this bill.”
There it is, another twitch of her ladyship’s mouth. Oh, what a laugh riot she’s having tonight. “Members of the royal family are exempt from the rule.”
“What?” He doesn’t so much speak as squawk, drawing every noble eye within shouting distance. Lower, he adds, “But they’re the ones raised to talk in front of people.”
“Yes, but— what is it you’re so fond of saying to Zen?” Her teeth flash again, and he’s half convinced he can feel the points pricking at his throat. “They suffer us to live at their leisure.”
“That is definitely not what I say.” Though he’s thought it often enough. “It’s ‘I live at your pleasure.’”
It’s awful how elegant all that breeding can make a shrug. “Same difference.”
“If Shirayuki’s father were here, it would be his job to make the toast,” Sir explains, more than a little harried. Marriage might have given him a fancy title, but politics still make the man break out in a cold sweat. “But since that’s not…er…possible, it’s yours.”
“Didn’t the Marquis stand in for him out there?” Begrudgingly, on both sides, but still legally binding. “A proxy, or whatever? Shouldn’t he be the one putting together some flowery speech about duty and lying back and thinking of Clarines—”
Kiki snorts. “Do you really want Haruka lecturing the court on your worthiness as a husband?”
“All right,” he relents, steps dragging the closer they come to the banquet hall. “Good point.”
*
It’s not that Obi expects Kiki and Sir to hold his hand through the rest of the reception— at some point they’ll expect him to play lord to Miss’s lady, after all, and he assumes that will involve some ritual hand fondling and meaningful eye contact. Much as he’d like someone to feed him his lines in this little skit, three’s a crowd, and four makes for the sort of gossip it’d take more than a marquis’s glare to clean.
It’s just— he thought they might at least see him over the threshold.
Instead, their little party hits a halt right when parquet changes its pattern, the vise grip at his shoulder easing just as Kiki’s talons retract from his sleeve, leaving him to stand there, dumb, as Miss settles in his sights. Her dress is less impressive behind a table, but the gold still shimmers as she sighs, her own eyes searching the room until she finds—
Ah, him. It’s him she’s looking for. At least, that’s what her smile says when she does, so bright and pleased he has half a mind to run right back out this door and—
And only one breath deep in that idea, the Lord and Lady Seiran slap his back hard enough to stumble him across the finish line.
“Good luck,” Sir murmurs, stepping out from his side.
Kiki slips around him, taking her husband’s arm. “You’ll need it.”
Hah. With friends like these, who needs enemies? Still, he’ll give it to them— getting over the threshold makes it easier to stroll it, even with the Marquis glaring a hole through his back. Obi’s got half a mind to saunter over there and ask about payment for a job well done— maybe it took him a couple years, but their red haired guest wouldn’t be marrying any princes anytime soon.
But it’s Miss’s eyes that draw him back, that keep his feet angled along the straight and narrow. A lady’s supposed to maintain her composure, to play coy when the object of her attention draws near, never letting a soul know her true desires— but Miss squirms with his every step, so giddy she might burst at the seams before he get to her, and it’s—
It’s infectious. Obi’s not one for butterflies in his stomach— and for all that he may joke, he’s not the kind of man with gentle flutterings of the heart either— but he’s buoyant when he bounds toward her, lighter on his feet than he’s ever been. Unsinkable, that’s how he feels as he takes his seat beside her, smirk outstretched to a smile.
“Miss.” He flips his hand on his lap palm-up; an invitation, if she cares to take it.
“Obi.” A corner of her mouth curls, mischief bright in her eyes. “I don’t think you can call me that anymore.”
My name. Even now he can remember color of her eyes, so dark he thought he might get lost in them. I’d like you to say it. Just one more time.
He can taste it on his tongue, feel the shape of it filling his mouth, and ah, if they asked him to do that stupid toast right now, he’d sing so many of her praises he’d make minstrels wish they had half as must poetry in them. “My lady.”
A laugh huffs out of her, sweeter than any wine His Majesty could serve them. “That’s not what I meant.”
He’s tempted to tease, to try and draw another please from her before he lets her have her way, but the ornate chairs beside their own sober him better than a judge. “We should talk.”
The shine disappears from her eyes, smile dimming to the realm of mere mortals. “Of course. We haven’t had the chance since…”
Say it. Obi, please…
She flushes, right from her tasteful décolletage to her hairline. It’s terrible how much he’d like to feel its heat against his lips. “You probably have a lot you’d like to ask.”
He hadn’t— just this toast business, and only then to concoct a speech they could both live through, with minimal mortification— but now that she’s mentioned he should—
“Excuse me.” A hand claps him on the shoulder, familiar in its weight— and how hard it grips him, like a mother cat biting its kitten’s scruff. “I think you’re in my seat.”
He blinks, adding up that soft, pale skin and the calluses across the palm at the same time Shirayuki gasps, “Oh, Zen!”
Her hand doesn’t slip from his, but Obi does from hers, turning to grin up at this lost prince. “Well, hello there, Highness. You take a wrong turn at the punch bowl?”
“I’m afraid not.” His smile is strained at the corners, like hide stretched across a rack. “This is my seat, and yours is to my sister’s other side.”
Obi stares down the table, stymied. “That’s three seats away.”
“Sorry.” He doesn’t seem it when he shrugs, adding, “Precedence. You understand, don’t you?”
Miss frowns, a little furrow digging in between her brows. “But—?”
“Of course, Master.” It’s with numb legs that Obi gets to his feet, smiled stretched thin. “That’s the one thing you can always count on me for— I know my place.”
*
Obi might have been in the practice of dodging Wirant’s late night soirées, begging off invitations with reasons that ranged from the mundane— already scheduled to be on shift that night, and he’d walk the length of the wall between Lyrias and Wirant twice over before it was done— to the absurd— another greenhouse apprentice had managed to mix up the two different shigure, and Yuzuri had requested all hands to rescue the plants in the lower beds— but he’d gone to enough to know that the worst part of the night wasn’t all the ambitious mamas, looking for a likely knight to foist their foolish daughters on. Nor was it the dancing, though the ceaseless circles bored him— and Miss’s attempts at copying them usually resulted in a new set of boots for him— or the conversation, which even Miss called tedious, and he called mind-numbing.
Oh no, the worst part would be waiting for the titles to stop talking and eat. Those kitchens would be filled with some of the best chefs in the country making their most delicious dishes, and still theses lords and ladies would let it grow cold as they milled about the dinning room, more eager to fill their bellies with gossip than food.
But tonight, Obi hardly notices the foot-dragging; no, his attention is bent down the table, watching as Master leans into Miss, whispering in her all-too eager ear. Must be funny, whatever he says; Miss lifts her hand, hiding her giggles behind it.
Three seats away. Obi snorts. Even marrying her kept her closer to Zen.
A hand folds over his, gently urging his palm flat. “You’re going to tear the linens.”
It’s not in him to startle, but he does glance up, right into Her Majesty awaiting smile. “Sorry.”
“Don’t think of it.” Her eyes slip from his to drift over the feast hall, never lingering more than a moment on a face before floating to the next. “This will all be over soon.”
“Soon?” It’s three years by his count. Too long and too short, in turns.
“Of course.” One elegant hand lifts, gesturing toward the tables. “Soon, our guests will be seated, toasted and fed, and once our stomachs have settled, you will open the floor with your lady wife. Not so long at all, if you are to think of it like that.”
Obi blinks, running the numbers, but still— he’s got no idea what Her Majesty’s on about. “Not so long until what?”
He’s getting sloppy, letting a mistake like that leave his mouth. It’s barely tripped off his tongue before she’s fixed him with something so like her husband’s smirk it makes his skin itch. “Until we send you away, of course.”
“Send us away?” If only he did remember more of Sir’s wedding, he might know why his mouth’s gone all dry. “Where?”
Her Majesty is too refined for glares and sarcasm, but the looks she sends him is rather flat. “To your rooms. Where you will retired for the night.” A corner of her mouth curls, and when her mouth does part, her smile is all teeth. “It wouldn’t do for the happy couple to dance all night. Not when you both have much more pressing duty to attend.”
It’s a good thing they haven’t started the first course, since Obi does a fine enough job choking on his own spit. “Duties—?”
Silver chimes against crystal, and the steady din of conversation in the hall comes to an utter standstill. Oh, Zen’s accused his tongue of being honeyed and silvered and honed to an edge, but the second he looks out on this crowd, it sits dull and leaden in his mouth. Obi’s palms prickle with perspiration and he presses them to the table, knowing there’s no more time to complain, no more time to bargain, he just has to stand up and—
And sit back down again, since it’s Lata who’s on his feet now, glass in hand. Lata who is glaring down the table at where another man stands, knife still poised beside the glass, glowering back.
“Oh my,” Her Majesty sighs, sounding more amused than taken aback. “Marquis Haruka and Lata Forzeno. The majordomo must be falling to pieces.”
It’s more of that precedence again, that same jostling of elbows between a well-titled lord and an heir apparent to a better one that had them both squeezing their shoulders down the aisle. Obi can’t say he’s the biggest fan, but he’ll give it this: watching these two duke it out over who has the right to say the nicest stuff about him is the best entertainment he’s had in weeks. Better than him trying to choke through it on his own, at least.
But there’s one man here who trumps both of them in position and prestige, and it’s him who gets to his feet, glass upraised.
“My lords, if you would allow me,” Zen says, each word enunciated with such crystal clarity it brokers no protest. “I would like to say a few words.”
There’s little and less that either of them can do in the face a prince, and it’s with great reluctance— from the Marquis— and begrudging respect— from Lata— that they both lower to their seats cede the floor to him.
“First, I would like to thank all of you for coming to see my good friends wed.” Zen casts him a long look down the table before turning back to his audience. “I have known both bride and groom for a long while, and I must say, many of us never thought this day would come.”
Because it was never supposed to, that’s what His Highness won’t say, though the strain of his smile does well enough. Because it was supposed to be me here.
“If I had been told only a few years ago that I would be seeing them married”—Master shakes his head, and the court laughs with him— “Suffice to say, they could not have been less suited for each other. But there’s few hearts Shirayuki can’t turn, and even fewer troubles Obi can’t talk his way out of, and somehow, they have both become some of my closest companions. My most loyal retainers.”
Master peers down at Miss, and Miss looks up at him, and for a moment, Obi sees how it should have been. The two of them together, husband and wife, hands tangled together beneath the table as Zen stood to speak. Oh, how Miss’s eyes would shine as his love of her was finally put on display, put into words so pretty there’s be songs about it, played in every tavern from here to Lyrias. The both of them side-by-side, taking the first step into their future together, always facing forward—
And him, somewhere near the back of the room, clad in his dress blacks, just happy he pulled the right shift. Because that’s what mutts like him deserve: a chance to guard the door.
“After their years together at Lyrias, I’m certain of two things. First, that together, there is nothing they cannot accomplish. And second” — Zen fixes him with a pointed look— “that Obi knows how to do his duty.”
There’s a smattering of applause as he takes his drink— one that continues longer than it might, were it anyone else who spoke. But a prince deserves his due, and they’re still clapping even and Obi takes his own mouthful of drink, barely tasting more than bubbles as he swallows it down.
And it’s in that moment that Miss stands, her own untouched glass clenched in her hand. That she looks down the table and fixes him with a look that shines.
“If it’s not too much trouble,” she says, jaw set like she doesn’t care either way. “I have something I would like to say too.”
#obiyuki#akagami no shirayukihime#snow white with the red hair#1000 followers#my fic#desert and reward#ans#and finally we have reached the end of the voted-on gifts for the 1000 followers celebration!#next week is gonna be the first of the raffle fics#and hopefully i'll have all this wrapped up before bingo in june#we are also FINALLY getting closer to closing out this wedding#and closing out the Wistal portion of this fic#i think 1-2 chaps before this party ends#and maybe another 2-3 after than and then we'll be back with Morel et al.#for what i think my be the third and final act of this fic#BUT WE SHALL SEE
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