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angstylittleb1tch · 3 months

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The brightest star in the night sky. (Aether x creator!reader) pt. 2

Summary: Now that the traveller has made an unexpected visit in your peaceful yet boring life, what all storms will he bring?

Note: Since you guys showed so much love towards the previous part of this fic I decided to continue it (Haha I definitely did not just quit writing mid fic and was awol for months lol who said that😄😄) though I do have to say I have my conerns with how uh *cough* feral *cough* some people are towards aether like chilllllll- anyways I hope you enjoy this part aswell.

Also this is very much NOT proofread at all, I kinda just wanted the part to be out there already after depriving you guys for so long lol.

Warnings: Aether definitely has abandonment issues, borderline yandere(?) Aether, mentions of starvation, Aether being cute as fyck.

Pt 1

Previously on mean girls teyvat:

"I never told you my name."

Both Aether and Paimon looked at each other as the atmosphere took a turn for the worse. There was no humor in your voice and your face looked cold, completely contradicting your laughs and smiles earlier.

"I- Please let me expla-"

Just as Aether took a single step in your direction vines sprung at him, securing him in his place as they wrapped around him. Paimon tried to pry them off but to no avail. He looked back up towards you but all he saw was a pure black sword pointing at his throat and a dark look in your eyes.

"Who am I, to you."

Now:

Life wasn't always kind to you during your stay in teyvat. Yes, you were the first and only reincarnation of the long-forgotten creator of Teyvat and Celestia but no matter how everyone puts it, even a God has Bad days, and you were currently having one of your worst ones.

"Don't make me repeat myself traveler. I expect only the truth and I have to say, my swordsmanship skills are decent enough to behead someone so speak wisely."

Aether had never felt more angry at himself and his own stupidity right now than his entire stay on teyvat. But how could he have known that a small slip of the tongue would have made you this guarded? He knows it was his carelessness yet he also feels a little pang of disappointment in his heart for reasons unknown.

"I'll explain everything y/- I mean, You grace, please lower the sword." He manages to choke out with the vines digging into his neck and hands.

Despite your better judgement you comply because deep down you know that Aether would never even think about harming a hair on your head. Maybe it was the trust and years of exploring teyvat as Aether that made you want to listen to anything he said or maybe the fact that you grew attached to the blonde haired male somewhere along the way. Far more attached than you're willing to admit out loud.

"Thank you your grace, I apologize, I know you want answers and I'll answer any questions you have so please ask away"

"How. How did you know who I was? No one was alerted of my presence, I made sure of it so how?"

"I- Your grace even I don't know for sure but I assumed its because you chose me."

"Chose you? What do you mean?"

"Yes your grace, do you not remember? Back when me and my sister were trying to leave teyvat but were stopped by the unknown god, you chose to bless my with your protection which is why I was able to escape the fight."

"Oh. Right I suppose that did happen in the game."

"What was that your grace?"

"Nothing! Uhm- So then why are you here? It's obvious you want something from me, no?"

"I- there's nothing of the sort your grace. Quite frankly I- I have no idea why I started to find you in the first place. It's just something in the back of my mind, When I first felt your presence In this world I- I felt as though finding you was all I could do, Like I had to protect you from something. It's weird isn't it? I couldn't sleep nor eat for days, I felt a sort of a gravitation or pull towards you, I still do."

"What? A Pull towards me? That's- not supposed to happen-" You stumble back a bit suddenly feeling as if someone tied an anvil to your head.

"Your grace?! Are you alright?!" The vines wrapping Aether weaken and he's able to immediately pull them off and rush to your side, Paimon not far behind.

"Your Grace! Can you hear me?! Keep your eyes open! Y/n!!"

You could barely make out bits and piece of Aether's voice as you started seeing black spots in your vision. You couldn't maintain your balance and fell right into Aether's arms, eyes promptly shutting as both his and Paimon's words drifted out of your head.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Sounds of water rushing down a river and chirping of birds stirred you awake. A small groan left you as you got up into a sitting position and opened your eyes.

You were no doubt beside a riverbed and definitely not where you last remember being. Wait, what were you doing here? Weren't you supposed to be in the....

Your brain fills with memories of what happened before you passed out. Aether was there, and he knew you. He never claearly explained how he knew but you weren't all that concerned about that right now with the fact that you're in the middle of an unknown forest with no recollection of how you got there.

Deciding to get up and find some sort of a way out you pick a direction and move towards it.

What you didn't however notice was the the water in the river didn't seem to reflect you at all.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Fallen leaves crunched under your boots. You'd been walking for hours now yet no matter how much you walked you found yourself going in circles. Admittingly you didn't have great navigation skills but surely walking straight doesn't get you going in circles?

Coughs escape you as its been hours since you've last had a single sip of water and coincidently, every water body seems to want to avoid you. So much for being a reincarnation of a god huh.

However, your chain of thoughts was broken when you heard the snap of a fallen branch behind you. Your head whipped around towards the source at an astounding speed, "Who's there?!" The bushes you were so carefully staring at rustled indicating the presence of something.

Soon after though, a small rabbit hopped out of the bush, instantaneously easing your worries. It was pure white with icy blue iris' staring right back at you. Scratch the easing your worries part, this thing was terribly creepy. (A/N: IS THAT GOJO?)

It slowly hopped its way towards you, making you take a step back incase it decided to maul you to death. Yeah rabbits can definitely do that. It hopped closer and closer till it was touching your leg.

You despite your better decisions, slowly kneeled down and sat albeit uncomfortably. The rabbit however either didn't sense your unease or just simply didn't care. It hopped in your lap and nestled in. You hesitantly, out of reflex started petting him.

The rabbit let out a purr of approval. This isn't half bad eh? "Are you lost too?" You were surprised that the rabbit didn't understand you. Yep you were definitely going insane. Talking to rabbits? You were no snow white.

You definitely needed to get out of this forest and soon. "You're my friend now" Insane or not this rabbit was the only source of life you've seen in the past dozen hours. Screw you for wanting to have some semblence of a conversation.

The rabbit looked up at you with a deadpan expression, almost as if it understood what you said and didn't agree in the slightest. "Don't give me that look life's been hard ok?" The rabbit gave you another look.

It hopped out of your lap and headed for the direction opposite to the one you were going in. However it stopped after a second and turned around to look at you, almost beckoning you to follow it.

You did just that.

Following a creepy rabbit in a creepy jungle when you're alone without food and water? Seems like the most sensible thing to do no?

Trudging down the path behind the hopping rabbit your mind began to wander back to Aether. What did he mean by having a feeling of wanting to protect you? Was it merely because you're The Reincarnation or something else?

I suppose we'll know in due time eh?

The rabbit soon came to a halt. You looked up to see where it had stopped, finding a small house with a little farm beside it. Whoever was living here must have been for a long long time.

The rabbit moved out of the way as you walked up to the doorway and raised you hand to knock. Just as your fist was about to make contact with the door, a voice called out to you from inside the house "Come in!"

Huh that was a little weird. You looked behind you only to find the rabbit gone without a trace. Slightly creeped out, you obeyed the mysterious person's call and opened the wooden door stepping in.

You were immediately greeted by warmth, noticing a fireplace not far from where you stood. The house was exactly what you expected it to be inside. A small living area decorated with rugs and blankets, the fireplace providing warmth. A dining table enough to accommodate two people. Paintings everywhere. On the walls, the fireplace and even the kitchen counter top.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary so you let your legs take you further into the house. Thats when it hit you. The smell of food. Your nose decided to guide your body to the dining table where you found tons of delicious looking options, from pancakes and waffles to eggs and bacon. The sight simply made you drool.

"Well sit down already, breakfast's almost ready dear" You heard that voice again though there was nobody around you at all. It confused you beyond anything.

"Who said that?" You managed to croak out of your parched throat.

"Introductions will be made in due time, first you should eat and drink something. You look starved. Let me help you"

Next thing you know a chair pops out from behind you, pushing your legs making you fall on it and tucks you right into the table. Dishes and utensils float out from the cabinates in the kitchen and place themselves infront of you. Without a thought in your mind, you give into the temptation and scarf down the food presented quite comically.

A choking sound emanates from your throat at the improper ingestion of food. Looking around for water a hand presents the desired liquid in a glass from beside you.

"Woah, easy there darling, we have plenty of time, eat like a human being please" You grab it thankfully and drink it letting out a sigh of relief from your suffocated state.

Your eyes move up to find the source of the sound only to see the most beautiful man you've ever been near smiling back at you. Though you cannot decipher any details of his face you just can't help but be in awe.

"W-who are you?" You sputter out.

"Me? I'm whoever you wish me to be darling."

Just as he says that, a bright light emanates from within him, momentarily blinding you and making you shield your eyes. As the light dulls down, you look up, only to see aether smiling back at you.

But that's not Aether.

No matter how perfectly every crevice of this person's face matches Aether's you know in your heart and soul, that the person across you is far from Aether.

"It seems you can only tell the difference when its him huh?"

"I'll ask you one more time, Who. Are. You."

You demand standing up from your seat as you come face to face with the man thing using Aether's face.

"Worry not dear, i'm not here to harm you. I'm actually doing the exact opposite, i know you aren't aware much of this world you've been thrusted into yet so i'll try to explain as swift as i can but you'll have to drop the cold looks and give me a solid chance."

You, although regrettably, wipe off the sourness on your face and morph it into slight displeasure. The being hums in content and sits down on a chair that wasn't there a second ago, motioning for you to sit down too.

You begrudgingly take a seat and look at the person expectanly.

It sighs and begins to speak "I suppose it started when the original creator of teyvat, Rhea, who was a dear friend of mine, had met her untimely end. She wasn't immortal like me nor was she a god at first. She was an ascender. Ascenders are people chosen by the gods to take on godhood, become deities and live like us. The aren't regarded as pure gods however, since a part of their mortal nature still clings to them."

"However Rhea was different from the other ascenders. She had a secret even I didn't know of till her final days. Rhea wasn't a complete mortal and due to her dual nature, the ascending ceremony had resulted in her unleashing a power that was thought to be long lost. You see, though immortal, us gods are not unkillable. Just as there is life for us there will also be death. We are slaves to the rules of the universe just as the mortals we create."

"Rhea had the power of Yang. She was the only being in existence with energy and power completely opposite to us gods. If we created, she destroyed. However Rhea was not cruel. She was the most admirable and loving person to ever exist, it's ironic how the kindest soul had been given the cruelest power." The being spoke, his lips stretching into a sad smile at the thought of his dead best friend.

"She had grown to hate her power. It had almost killed her and plenty of our other friends multiple times and had driven her sick. And thus came the one night neither I nor any of the surviving gods would be able to erase from our memories, Rhea made a decision. Rather than letting her power slowly destroy her and those she sought to protect, she would create. And she did. She crafted teyvat from her bare hands and used every ounce of her Yang to breathe life into teyvat.

Her power almost leveled the entirety of celestia that night. Had she not locked away herself with her powers in teyvat, there would be nothing left of us." His face had a grim look as his eyes moved up to look deep into your own.

"And that's where you come in dear. You y/n, are the only one in the entirety of the universe, capable of bringing Rhea back."

"M-me? You must be mistaken. You have to be. There's no way I can bring back a dead god! Yes I might be some reincarnation but you're asking me to bring someone back from the dead for heavens sake! Th-theres no way that's possible!" You didn't know what else to say, much less do, all this talk was starting to drive you insane.

"Dead god? Oh darling I never said Rhea was dead. Only that she'd been locked away in y—" A loud sound interrupted his words. Both your head snapped towards the front door and the window beside it. Golden light started to pool in from the windows and door cracks.

"What is happening? Are you doing this?" You asked looking back at the being only to see his face in a calculative and almost nervous look.

However, before you could say anything else, you felt as if you were being forcefully pulled away from the being across from you. His gaze snapped to you as his face contorted into a surprised look which soon morphed into an angry one.

"YOU!"

His voice boomed througout the room, however you noticed that his gaze didn't seem to be on you, rather on something behind you.

But before you could turn you eyelids started drooping, a sudden wave of dizziness and sleep overcame you as your body hit the floor. The last thing you could comprehend being a distorted voice saying,

"You—....keEp___..... from....y/n........make suRE.....you ____......time—...___ ProTect—......her!"

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The sound of a strange buzzing awoke you from your deep slumber. Your head felt like it was being hammered in and that wasn't a pleasant feeling at all. Regardless you decided to open your eyes.

The first thing you could make out was the moss growing on the ceiling. A familiar sight. You were in your room. The thought alone brought your body to relax. The next thing you percieved was a strange heaviness resting on top of your right hand.

You moved your eyes down to see a flock of golden hair resting directly by your side. The familiarity of the hair struck your already throbbing head as you finally realized what that strange heaviness was.

Aether was sleeping peacfully near your bed.

A turmoil of emotions crawled up your spine. Why was he here? Why is he asleep? Is he grabbing my hand? Indeed, Aether had fallen asleep with his fingers interlocked with yours and his head rested by your right hand.

The contact had alone made a blush make it's way to your cheeks, dusting them pink. God, his hand felt perfect in your's, almost as if it was made for you to hold.

However you had no time to let your thoughts fester in your mind as Aether had begun to stir from his slumber due your racing heartbeat. He of course had no idea he was the cause of said heartbeat.

"Y-y/n? You're— you're awake." He stammered out, honorifics completely leaving his mind at the sight of you.

"I could say the same" You speak out, gently squeezing his hand causing him to look down at his fingers.

It was Aether's time to blush now.

Being caught holding your hand much less sleeping next to it was definitely among the top 3 most embarrassing things Aether has ever done. Honestly, who could blame him?

When you had fallen down all of a sudden like that, Aether's heart had almost leapt out of his chest. For the first time in his life, seeing you so deathly still in his arms,

Aether was unmistakably scared.

Yes, the mighty powerful traveller who had fought dragons and gods and rivalled archons in power, was scared.

Your face had never looked so still before, and nothing could have terrified Aether more than when you had stopped Breathing for minutes on end. Aether had absolutely refused to even think straight. You being gone was never a thought he would let into his mind. He wouldn't lose you. Not after he lost everything else important to him. Not you though. Never you.

Back then Aether hadn't paid attention to anything except thinking about how to wake you up. The only thought in his mind being

You. You. You. You.

So unsurprisingly, when the connection he had been feeling for months up until he finally met you today was bursting with actual visible golden energy, that thrummed all the way from his chest, through his veins and into his hands, he hadn't thought twice about thrusting that power into you, hoping it could save you just as it saved him all those months ago.

And his trust was not misplaced.

Soon enough he could feel your heart starting to beat again. The same rhythm he swears to have memorised by now. His hands moved under you and curled around your shoulders and legs to lift you up effortlesly as he moved further into the cottage to set you down someplace comfortable.

Paimon had followed Aether worriedly, seeing how he ignored the way all the plants and flowers around the two of them had shriveled up and lost their life the more Aether continued to use that mysterious power on you.

The only flowers that remained were the Inteyvats, shining among the withering flowers, like the brightest star in the night sky.

Well shit. That was honestly WAY longer than I'd initially planned this to be 😭😭

I FINALLY FINISHED THIS PART THO.

Did you guys enjoy the massive lore drop? Or was it the Aether going almost yandere that you guys liked?(this wasn't planned btw I promise I can write non yandere stuff😭😭)

Tbh i wanted more y/n and Aether banter in here but I'm content with how this chapter turned out lol.

With how long it's taken me to write this ch (because i originally intended for this to be a standalone with no sub parts) but now that I'm writing the idea out, it just keeps getting longer and longer😔😔

SO ALLOW ME TO RE-INTRODUCE THIS AS A SERIES TO YA'LL<3

I'd heavily appreciate it if you guys were to send me ideas about how you think this story would turn out, and what character you think we'll be seeing in the future lol. I have a basic idea of how I want this story to turn out but I'd love to hear your thoughts as well!!

Well then, I suppose I'll see you all in the next part eh?

Until the next one~

Taglist:

@mthewitchsworld @tealconie @ravenstuffs @sirspin @valeriele3 @ash1 @leafanonsforest @the-dumber-scaramouche @goldenglow149 @elite2307 @m-majoko @yourlocalstranger123 @blueberry-jelly-stars @strawpez @sipysuki @esesfurki @ifeellikejumpingoffacliff @toybonix @theabysss @fancyhawk45 @resident-cryptid

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myromanempiree · 3 months

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enchanting ; act one

(Previously titled; dreamers with no stars.)

Pairing; Eris x Archeron!Reader

Warnings: angst if you squint.

Summary: Your sister invites you to a ball, you meet an enchanting man.

"With all I've loved,

I loved alone"

-Edgar Allan Poe

....

To be isolated is to walk down the mahogany stairs of the House, trailing curious fingers down the barely textured, cream-colored walls. To hear the third step squeak when you place your weight on it, just on the left side. To walk down the endless hallways, filled with family portraits that seem to mock her existence with the words whispered in the back of her mind, "you are lost, yet no one cares to find you.” To walk into the warm light of the kitchen to find everyone gathered around the breakfast table for some Saturday tradition.

Forgotten as Feyre and Rhysand dote over the bump that grows larger and larger with each day, forgotten as Nesta and Elain quietly converse, still adjusting to the crowd of fey, yet comfortable in their presence. Forgotten as Azriel makes an off handed comment that rials Cassian up, Mor grinning against the rim of her glass.

To be isolated is to walk to the counter to grab something to eat, only Amren sparing her a single glance, paired with a barely-there nod.

She slowly piles food onto her plate, before finding those same portrait filled hallways, the same cream-colored walls, the same mahogany steps, a new day, yet the same routine.

….

Hours pass as she searches the library, keen eyes scanning the leather bound books looking for a specific title that one of the priestesses had recommended. She pulls a book down with nimble fingers, before adding it to the pile of books for the week.

She absent mindedly sorts through the books, eyes darting from the stack of books to the list she had made a few days ago. Her mind was much too focused on the titles to hear the soft shutting of the large doors, and the rustling behind her. It takes the woman behind her a few tries to pull her out of her focus, Feyre's voice growing louder as she repeats her name several times, before tapping on her shoulder.

“Yes?” She said, head slowly turning to glance at her sister. Feyre hums, circling the chaise and sitting down beside her. “I wanted to speak to you about something.” Feyre began, opening her mouth to speak before being interrupted by the woman next to her.

“Is it about breakfast? I don't usually go anyways–” “No, no… its not about breakfast, I wanted to ask you to join us, Rhysand is hosting an event in Hewn City and… Don't make that face, Sea Lion.” Feyre said at the obvious distaste in her sister's face.

Ah, yes… that nickname. Born from Nesta's teasing over a decade ago, due to her brief curiosity of the creatures after hearing of one from her fathers business partner, it was mocking at first, but morso a pet name as they grew older. Something she had never understood was how her sisters could use something that was originally thought of as mocking, as an endearment.

She was pulled from her thoughts yet again as Feyre sighed, gently reaching out for her sisters hand. “It is very important to me that you go, I would like all my sisters to be there.” At her sisters silence, she nods.

“Please, think about it.”

Please was not a word any of her sisters used often, other than Elain, of course. Feyre must really want this, so she sighed, “I suppose Ill attend.” She said softly, turning to her sister and nodding, looking into her eyes for the first time today.. Feyre thanking her hand skittering off, probably to tell Rhysand.

“Smile. You look like you don't want to be here.” Nesta said, looking amused as she sips from her glass.

“I don't.” She responds, her sister sighing. “Neither do I, and I much less want to have to seduce that.” Nesta said, gesturing to a man in the crowd, speaking with Mor's father, Kier or something. The man turning to look behind him towards the dias, letting her see a proper peek at his face.

Oh, Mother.

There stood the most gorgeous man she had ever seen, cropped copper hair, high cheekbones that added an air of regality to him without making the man look haughty. Plump lips pulled into the most self assured grin, showing his perfect teeth, keen whisky eyes examining the room in a manner that bordered on predatory.

The moment those dazzling eyes met hers, she looked down to her glass, cheeks pinked. Unable to see his eyes widen ever-so-slightly, unable to see the urgency in which he looked away.

She silently excused herself, moving to the clear balcony to catch her breath, not knowing whatever the feeling she held in her heart was. The thought slightly scaring her.

She stays on that balcony for a long while, only parting with it when the still-new sensation of a presence in her mind. And Rhysand’s voice echos words into her mind. “Come to the dais”

….

She walked to the dias, her midnight blue velvet gown ever so slightly brushing against the floor as she steps into the spare spot in between Nesta and Elain, assuming that to be her designated spot. She stands there for a while, watching silently as the beautiful man walks up the stairs, conversing with the High Lord and Lady.

What was said not registering as she gazes at the man. Something about him felt familiar, though she was sure she'd never met him. She only began to pay attention as he walked their direction, Nesta adjusting her posture to appear more sensual.

She assumed this to be the part where Nesta seduced the man, which felt wrong to her, for whatever reason. However, he does not stop at Nesta, he moved past her to stand in front of herself. He stepped a stair below his current stature and bow, taking her hand to his lips and brushing them against her hand.

The sensation setting a fluttering feeling off in her stomach. “What is your name, Lady Archeron?” The man asked her, tilting his head. As she introduced herself, and he introduced himself, she was led to the dance floor by the man– Eris.

Eris.

Her eyes find a mole on the side of his face, right below his right eye, gaze trained on it as they begin their waltz. She claws at her brain to find the steps, yet cannot remember. Eris gently moves his hand to the small of her back, bringing here closer to him and leaning his face against her neck as he whispers softly.

“Follow my lead.”

It felt natural to do so. Even though Eris kept attempting to strike up a conversation, she was too focused on trying to not step on his toes and bring them to the ground to converse. The waltz came to an end, and she bows, her hands shaking.

The walk back to the dais was as silent as the rest of their interaction. She felt guilty for not being able to seduce the man, but regardless, was glad she was even able to waltz without falling and crashing into something or someone.

She moved swiftly up to her sisters as shocking words ring in her ears.

“I will offer you support, in exchange for her hand.”

a/n - I read this back and she's kinda autistic-coded, so I hope everyone is okay with that :)

Taglist;

@babypeapoddd @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @impossibelle @thestartitaness

comment if you want to join taglist!

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #eris vandaddy #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #eris x reader #eris x archeron!reader #eris x you #eris x y/n #eris x oc #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #chubby reader #tale as old as the mother

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imamotherfuckingstar-lord · 2 months

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fate

opla!sanji x reader, fluff

a/n: gif request by @sweetheartlizzie07

The ship rocked steadily; waves quiet as the moon lit the small ripples. Staring out to sea, you thought of all the little steppingstones that lead you to this ship. To the crew that took you in like the lonely orphan you are. Were. A smile made its way to the corner of your mouth, and you wondered if luck finally was turning its head your way. A cool breeze sent a shiver down your spine and then a warm blanket fell onto your shoulders.

“You’ll catch a cold and while the idea of healing you back to good health is enthralling…” Sanji tightened the wool blanket around your body and smiled, hands falling to his side. “I’m sure Chopper would disapproval.” “I don’t know, a week in bed sounds great.”

A charming smile graced the cook’s face, and he angled you back toward the sea, the two of you quietly staring out into the dark abyss. For minutes, a peaceful silence played between the small space left between Sanji and you. Neither of you needed to say much, quiet company had often been what you offered each other. He’d be cooking in the kitchen while you read at the counter, occasionally looking up from your book to steal a mental imagine of Sanji. Sleeves rolled up, a concentrated fiery in his eyes, a relaxed pout on his face – it was your favorite painting.

“Can I ask you something, Sanji?”

His eyes drew away from the sea to you. “Anything.”

And he meant it.

“Do you believe in fate?”

“Not really.”

Your facial expression must have looked disappointed because he began to backtrack, but you stopped him with a laugh. “You’re allowed to have your own opinion.”

He relaxed and edged closer to you, shoulder against yours. Watching as he pulled out the small tin, he kept his cigarettes in, you waited patiently for him to offer one up. When he did, you took a slow inhale and gave it back, once again staring out beyond the waves. “I always felt like my life would always just be. I was stuck on this island, waiting to be married off to someone I would never love. Have children that I would try to love. Just like my mother but then, Luffy found me.”

Sanji nodded, letting out a low chuckle. “He sort of found all of us, didn’t he?”

“That he did,” you replied. Turning to face Sanji, you asked him if he thought this was his fate. “Being on this ship, with this crew? Do you really think this is where you’re supposed to be?”

“Yes,” he answered swiftly, his hand moving to find yours. When his fingertips touched the outside of your wrist, you held his stare. “We can think we don’t deserve better than what we had, but maybe the universe has a way of remedying things.”

His hand moved down to lock with yours and he crushed the cigarette into the ledge – freeing himself to grab a hold of both your hands. Sanji held them gingerly, rubbing his thumb against your skin.

“So, you do believe in fate then?”

He shrugged playfully with a grin. “If fate led both of us to this moment, on this ship, then I guess I believe in it. What do you say?”

The waves gathered some courage to make noise against the ship, rocking it ever so gently as you held your balance – hands in Sanji’s. The moon shined brightly; the smell of sea salt filled the air as you squeezed your palm against his. All your life, you had begged and pleaded for something more than you had. A life worth living for, a family worth dying for. A love worth loving…

“I say I’m all in, if you are.”

Sanji let out a sigh of relief, gathering you in his arms. He kissed your forehead, rocking you under the gathered stars and for what seemed like a wonderful lifetime – the two of you remained that way, enjoying the little moment fate had gifted you.

#opla sanji #sanji x reader #opla!sanji x reader #sanji #one piece

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cdragons · 4 months

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Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You - Part 5

Previous Chapter, Masterlist

Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton. And if you end up murdering your English Professor for forcing you to be paired up with him, WHO COULD BLAME YOU???

Warnings- MDNI 18+, Mention of SA/SH, BDSM (sex dream), M/M/F sex dream, Felix is a pig, Reader claws Oliver's face, Michael loves Reader so much y'all, Farleigh is on Team Michael, Oliver is delusional and awful, alternating POVs between characters, and author has spent too much time researching Oxford crap for this mess for a crack fic to be a crack fic.

Author's Note: Finals are a BITCH, but I'm finally done...except I have to do my summer classes soon. But I really wanted to put this chapter out since it's been a while. Thank you all who've been reading this fic and sharing wonderful comments! They really help push me to become a better writer!

Michael’s head was about to explode in the next thirty seconds if fucking Farleigh Start didn’t stop digging his paws through his closet and drawers. No amount of clinking and clacking from tapping on his keyboard would be enough to dull out his shirts shuffled in his chest and hangers shrill screeching against the metal bar in his wardrobe.

“Dear God,” the Yankee, stick-figured giant groaned. “How many math pun shirts do you have? Don’t you have any normal ones? Oh my god, are all the pants you own khakis or Oxfam jeans? Do you seriously not own a single pair of corduroy slacks?”

He slammed his laptop shut. God-fucking-dammit, he was going to kill this asshole if he didn’t shut the fuck up.

“Maybe,” Michael gritted out, “if you just focused on the presentation we’re supposed to be working on, it’ll not bother you.”

Farleigh Start clicked his tongue. “Now, now – it’s not nice to be so testy. Most would consider themselves very lucky that I’m providing my services for free.”

The blonde-blind nerd balked when the word ‘services’ entered his ears. Immediately his mind thought of all the rumors that latched to Felix Catton’s mysterious American cousin – who apparently sucked off every teacher in England. Not that he was homophobic or anything – kiss, fuck, marry whoever you wanted, but he wasn’t interested in that sort of thing.

“Services – are you trying to suck my cock so I’ll do your work for you?!”

“…First off, ew,” Farleigh began. “Second, if I left you to do my side of the work, I’m about…86% confident that you’ll end up tanking my grade.” He strolled to Michael’s closet, pulled out a blue gingham-checkered shirt, and grimaced. “Thirdly, I am referring to how I am going to turn–” he nodded towards Michael in disgust “–this, into an actual suitor for our dear (Y/N). Or are you two still doing this little dance of being nauseatingly following each other around like sad puppies and giving each other bedroom eyes without actually fucking?”

Don’t take the bait, don’t take the bait, don’t take the bait, don’t take the–

Michael slammed his laptop shut and tiredly rubbed his eyes. With a loud and audible groan that he dragged out, he rubbed his eyelids until he could see the kaleidoscope of stars and squiggles in the dark.

Fucking damn it.

“How many fucking times do I have to tell you?” he damn-near shouted. “It’s not like that between us!”

Farleigh quirked a brow. “The bedroom eyes or the not-actually-fucking? Because if it’s the former…yes, it is, but if it’s the second,” he brought his hands together in a slow clap, “then well done, Gavey!”

Michael shot up from where he was sitting and ripped the shirt in Start’s hands before throwing it back in his silky oak wardrobe and slamming it shut. Was it so necessary for him to be so fucking insufferable? Was he born this intolerable, or did his fucking cousin, Felix fucking Catton, infect him because being a coked-up narcissist was contagious via proximity or blood?

He heard a few clicks behind him, and the scent of Marlboro Gold cigarettes filled his room.

“So what are you going to do about it?”

Michael turned around and stared at his completely useless study partner for this stupid project for his Classics course that he needs to fulfill his fucking “General Education” requirements. Farleigh Start was leaning against his dresser and staring at him with the most judgingly empty gaze ever worn – all while holding a cigarette between his two fingers and getting ash on the floor.

Great – like it wasn’t a bloody fire hazard to cover his carpeted dorm in hot ash.

He shrugged. “What’re you on about?”

Farleigh took a long drag on his lung cancer joystick before exhaling deeply. His disappointed look made Michael’s eyes twitch in irritation.

“About a certain mutual friend we share and adore,” he drawled. “Whom just so happens to be in my dear cousin’s room right now…at night…on a weekend…alone.” He paused to take in Michael’s reaction and smiled. “Ohhhhh, so you do care.”

Michael shook his head. “Nothing’s gonna happen between ‘em. (Y/N)’s too smart for that.”

“Yes, you see – I know that…and you know that. But my cousin?” Farleigh scrunched up his face and made a wish-washy motion with his hand. “Ehhhhh…he’s more the type to think a giant, glaring red-neon sign with blinking lights saying ‘STOP’ is another giant, glaring purple-neon sign with blinking lights saying ‘Come Hither’ in porno studio 69 font.”

Michael Gavey rolled his eyes and reopened his laptop. “Whatever, I’m not worried.”

“You’re telling me that it doesn’t bother you that our friend is currently in the lion’s den with Oxford’s king?”

“Of course it bothers me,” thought Michael, “but I trust her more than I trust you.”

But Michael wasn’t going to let his forced-upon acquaintance know his thoughts, so all he said was…

“She’s not in the fuckin’ lion’s den, alright? They’re in the Bodleian. I’m going to pick her up from there in like thirty minutes.”

Farleigh cocked his head to the side. “Don’t trust our girl to make smart choices?”

“I trust (Y/N) just fine,” Michael bitterly retorted. “It’s your fucking cousin I don’t trust.”

Because he does – he trusts you so much. He knows how sweet and kind you were to everybody you thought deserved the benefit of the doubt. ‘Deserved’ being the very fine keyword in the detailing because there was no fucking way in hell you were dumb enough to think Sir Felix Catton of fucking ‘SalTbURn MaNor’ deserved your kindness.

Mary, Jesus, and Joseph – he wanted to strangle the old kook when he announced the assigned pairs.

It was Classics English taught by Professor Radcliff Michael Charles Douglas. He droned on about what materials would be on the end-of-term examinations. Everyone in the classroom, save for you and a few others, was either passing notes by throwing them across the room or staring aimlessly at the air with red-rimmed eyes.

“Ya’ ready, partn’r?”

You pursed your lips as a groan fought to escape. You would regret introducing John Sturge’s 1960 American Western masterpiece, “The Magnificent Seven,” to Michael Gavey if he kept up with that god-awful Texas accent.

You turned to your left and shot a blank glare at Michael. “Listen, Billy the Kid, we don’t know if we’re going to be assigned together,” you said.

“Come on, Professor Douglas always pairs the people sitting together as partners so far in the entire term. If it’s not broke, why fix it?”

“Melanie Brown…paired with Bryce Landon…Kemi Brown…paired with Amelia Sanders…”

You leaned on your elbow to whisper in Michael’s ear to drown out your professor’s blasé voice.

“Can we do our project on Hercules?”

He leaned back. “Why him?”

“I want to present on the glorification of toxic masculinity in mythology, and he’s the prime example.”

Michael chuckled. “You just want to piss off old Douglas up there.”

“Katie Caldwell…paired with Oliver Quick…”

“Is that so wrong?” you asked with a smirk. “You can either be one jump scare away from seeing Jesus or a product of institutionalized glorification of misogyny – but you cannot be both.”

Michael stifled a laugh. “You realize that takes away pretty much half of the English, Math, Science, and every fucking department on campus, right?”

You innocently tilt your head to the side. “Does it?”

“You’re terrible,” Michael snickered. “Completely evil.”

“Oh, please,” you swatted his arm. “You love me anyway.”

“Michael Gavey…paired with Farleigh Start…”

You and Michael turned to the front with disbelief. Wait…if Michael was paired with Farleigh…then that meant…oh, no.

“(Y/N) (L/N)…paired with Felix Catton. That will be all – no changes.”

Michael watched with wide eyes as your head slowly turned to the back of the lecture hall. He watched your face pale in disgust and horror when your eyes stopped at Felix Catton. Michael’s blue eyes narrowed at the lecherous grin Felix shot to you before he puckered his lips to blow a little kiss with a wink.

Your body involuntarily shuddered at the predatory implications. Michael watched as his best friend buried her face in her hands. He heard her say the exact same thought he was having.

These are going to be the worst few weeks of my life.

To say it bothered Michael that Felix Catton was making the moves on you, so to lure you to his sex dungeon of a dorm was an understatement. It was killing him to know that you were essentially forced into a vulnerable position, but when he brought it up to your professor, the old cunt-rag didn’t give two flying fucks.

“Professor Douglas, please,” Michael pleaded. “I really think it’d be in everyone’s best interest if you could make this exception this one time. I promise it has less to do with me and more for (Y/N)’s sake–”

But the ancient windbag wasn’t interested. “Whatever accusations you and Miss (L/N) intend to throw at Mister Catton, I am uninterested. Honestly, Mister Gavey, I expected this kind of nonsensical drivel from your friend, but to see you being caught in her schemes disappoints me greatly.”

Michael bit his tongue to choke down the tongue lashing he wanted to give. He wanted to tell this wrinkled ballsack about how the ‘fine Mister Catton’ basically assaulted you. He wanted to scream how worried he was when he didn’t see you for the rest of the day. He wanted to shout how when he knocked on your dorm and entered, he froze and paled at the sight of you crying your eyes out until they were red and puffy. He wanted to roar out the fury he felt when you revealed to him the incident with Felix Catton that morning in the empty lecture hall. The very same one where Professor Douglas taught.

*TRIGGER WARNING: THE FOLLOWING SCENE FEATURES PAST SEXUAL HARASSMENT AND A DISCUSSION OF THE TOPIC, IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ THAT, PLEASE SKIP OVER*

“I couldn’t do anything,” you whimpered. “I felt like…like such an idiot! I just froze and stared and did nothing!' You started to cry all over again, and Michael wiped your tears with his thumb before holding you close to his chest. “Hey, hey, hey – it’s okay. Freezing and doing nothing are two different things. You were stunned by what happened, and your body reacted the same way – anyone who tells you differently is a liar.” You shook your head. “I couldn’t even speak…it was like my body – it ju-just shut off on its own. My brain kept screaming, ‘Let go,’ ‘Get off,’ or ‘Stay away from me!’ But I…the words and my voice just failed me when I needed them the most.” Michael blurted out the first thought: “(Y/N), you need to report this.” Your eyes shot open in fear. “Michael, no–” “Look, I know you’re scared, but this is assault. He touched your inner thigh, and you clearly didn’t consent – that’s sexual assault, or at the very least sexual harassment! If you report it, at least the campus police know about this and keep an eye out for you.” But you weren’t listening. “Nononononono—Mikey... that’s not how it’ll go down. Even if I report it, they won’t believe me.” “You don’t know that!” “But I do!” you cried. You shot up and started pacing across the room. “I do know because I’ve seen it happen! Almost every girl I knew growing up—it happened to them! At school, on the trains, some at their own homes! Whether they knew every detail of their assaulter or just saw just a patch of skin – it didn’t matter!” You weeped. “And if I tell the cops, they’ll just throw away the report because they’ll think that ‘all he did’ was touch my thigh. Consensual or not, I’ll be labeled as some fucking crazy man-hater who’s grasping at straws to ruin a fine young man’s life and reputation.” You collapsed back on your bed. “I just…I can’t deal that kind of shit right now. Not with…” you took a deep breath, “Not with everything that’s happening right now.” “…What can I do to help?” Michael hated how his voice cracked. He hated how completely useless he felt at that moment. More than anything, he wanted to march to the campus police and report it. But he knew that by doing so…he took even more control away from you by going behind your back. And then he would be a no better monster than Felix Catton. The idea of him going beyond the point of no return made him clench his fists until his knuckles turned white. But when you touched his hand, all the tension flowed out of him like a creek. “You already did the best thing anyone could do for me right now,” you reassured him. “You listened to me. You cared enough to look for me when you felt something was off. You reached out to me and stayed and listened. And most of all…you believed me.” Michael felt his throat go dry. You looked at him with so much trust, as if he were the safest place in your world. He wanted you to look at him that way forever. “I’ll believe you,” he swore. “I’ll be there for you – no matter what. I promise. Whenever you need me, I will be there.” No words can describe the relief you felt from hearing Michael’s promise. When you entered Oxford's campus, you never expected to meet someone as endlessly loyal and trustworthy as him. You were prepared to keep your head low and remain friendless for the next four years. You were ready to spend the next 1460 days crying your heart out from homesickness and imposter syndrome. But somehow, near the beginning of your first term here, you met Michael. And you were so grateful for him. You leaned in and lightly kissed his cheek. “I know. I know you will.” And you believed that with all your heart.

*TRIGGER SCENE END*

Michael promised you – gave his word – that he wouldn’t say anything to anyone. But, fuck, this asshole was making it hard to keep that promise.

“Mister Catton is a fine young man…”

No, he’s not.

“…one whom I have full faith will end up as remarkable as his father and grandfather before him.”

They probably pulled that same shit, too.

“A man with a future as bright as his does not need some upstart with delusions of grandeur to dismantle an institution as fine as Oxford blatantly spewing out trash about him.”

It��s not trash.

“Unless it was something with proof and worth my time?”

Michael looked at his Classics professor with empty but enraged eyes. “…No, professor. It’s just a personal matter between me and Felix – (Y/N) has nothing to do with it. She’s just…protective, I guess.”

This surprised the sagging skin suit. “Hmm, well, that sense of loyalty from such a strange girl is surprising, to say the least – especially when you take account of her…troubling background as an American from that horrible city. But perhaps there is a chance of decency in her, after all.”

Michael’s right eye twitched slightly. “And what do you mean by her…background?”

“Oh, come now, Mister Gavey. She’s a New Yorker. That city is full of…of…gang-bangers and drug addicts.”

“Her dad’s a professor at NYU, and her mum works for the buildings that host Broadway shows.”

Douglas scoffed. “HA! New York University – what a joke. A campus that’s filled with hippies and no class. And Broadway? Of course, Miss (L/N) is connected to the theatre community. Now, if that’s all, Mister Gavey, I have an important meeting to get to with the chairman of my department. I trust that this matter is settled?”

No, not even close.

But all Michael could do was clench his fist over his backpack’s strap. He forced an unconvincing smile and tersely nodded.

“Yep, won’t get any more problems.”

When old man Douglas replied with his patronizing smile, Michael wanted nothing more than to knock out the rest of the tenured professor’s teeth with a fire hydrant.

So…no, Michael Gavey was not at all okay with the fact that you were with Felix Catton. He was not OK with the idea that you were within ten feet of that depraved vampire.

All he could do was be reassured you were in a very safe and very public space with lots and lots of people who could serve as potential testimonial eyewitnesses if Catton tried anything.

…Provided that Catton Sr. wouldn’t be able to pay off everyone, their third cousin, and their dog.

You wanted to die. You wanted to literally sink into the ground. You wanted there to be a sinkhole to open under you, swallow you whole, close up, and you would never see the light of day again.

…Actually, you wanted all those things to happen to your useless fuck of a project partner.

“Y’know, if you’re bored here, there’s a party going on at one of my mates’ flats not far from here.”

Felix moved to the seat right next to you and limply swung his arm over your chair. “So why don’t we–”

You shot up and moved one seat over. “Considering how we’ve been working on the research for almost two hours, and you haven’t gotten any work done,” you bit out. “Getting wasted and losing more brain cells isn’t the right call.”

Taking your open hostility as a challenge, Felix continued to move closer to you. “Exactly! We’ve been at this for two hours, and nothing got done!” His face was inches from yours, and you could smell the rank stench of craft beers and rancid cigarettes on his breath. “So, what’s the harm in having a bit of fun?”

Oh my – this is getting fucking ridiculous.

You started to pack your bags and gather all the borrowed books. “Parties aren’t my idea of ‘fun.’ And I already told my friend to meet me–”

“So bring him too! The more the merrier!”

You took a deep breath and mentally counted to ten. “Our presentation is due in a week, Felix. One week to hand the paper in and present our topic to the class.”

You swung your backpack over your shoulder. “I take my coursework very seriously, and to say it’s frustrating to have a partner who doesn’t take it as seriously as me would be a supreme understatement.”

“I think from now on–” a swift *RIP* echoed between them as you took a page out of your college-bound notebook. You quickly jotted down instructions for topics so simplified a child could figure it out, “– it’d be best if we work separately.”

Felix shot up from his seat with a panicked look. “Wait, now hold on – let’s not get hasty.”

“I already have a basic outline for the paper - I’ll type up the paper,” you continued while not looking at him. “All you have to do is find the books I’ve so nicely labeled on that sheet of paper I’ve given you.”

“Wha-what happens after I find them?” Felix stammered; his heart broke from how his time with you was so cruelly cut short.

But your tone and body language remained as rigid as it was apathetic. “You have my email, you have a laptop – figure it out, genius. We’ll meet up at a specified time and place; you hand me the books, and we move on with our very separate lives.”

You walked out of the crowded library and toward the nearby bench where you and Michael agreed to meet when he picked you up. You barely had time to sit down before you were bombarded with the presence of a much worse pest stuck to your shoe.

“You get off on bein’ a downright bitch?”

God, was every asshole trying to piss you off tonight?

You turned around with a prominent scowl that further deepened as your eyes took in the insufferable bastard who was clearly trying to pick a fight with you. You don’t know why you bothered to look for confirmation. You immediately knew who it was just by the sheer arrogance oozing from his tone.

As an artist, you had a special relationship with the color blue. In the summer, there was a point in the early mornings when it felt like the world was bathed in it. There was even a period when you were downright obsessed with it. You loved anything and everything blue: the sky, the ocean, hydrangeas, the Obrina Olivewing butterfly – but eyes, you loved painting blue eyes.

You thought of them as these warm, magical rarities that belonged to the stuff of fairies and Disney princesses. Of course, you also knew the popularity of the usage of blue with winter and death, but you never felt that duality…until now.

Because as much of a slimy bastard Oliver Quick was, you had to hand it to the guy…he was one of two people with some of the bluest eyes you’d ever seen.

Which gave you all the more reason to hate him. He made blue eyes look so cold.

You clenched your backpack strap. “I’m not in the mood, Quick.”

Oliver scoffed. “I’d disagree – you’re always in a mood.”

“So stop talking to me,” you snarled, turning around. “And go away, Michael’s meeting me here soon.” You started to walk away when you heard Oliver speak again.

“I’m surprised he hadn’t dropped you left,” he maliciously quipped. “With you and Felix and all that.”

Your nails dug deeper into your backpack strap. “There is nothing between me and Felix – nothing at all.”

“Yeah, for now,” Oliver shook his head. “But you’ll be crawling to him with your hands and knees on the ground, worshippin’ him like he’s Hercules or Apollo.”

He leaned in closer from behind you. “And you’ll compare Gavey to Felix and look back and wonder ‘how the hell could I have missed being with Felix Catton over some pathetic’–”

Stop it. *clench*

“–unimportant–”

Shut. Up. *dig*

“– know-it-all –”

I hate you. I hate you. *pierce*

“– nobody.”

You turned around and dug your nails into his face as you poured every bit of rage and disdain for the single most insignificant person you’ve ever met in each word that came out of your mouth.

“Enough,” you roughly whispered. It was taking everything inside you to stop lashing out even further. “I don’t want to hear another word from you.”

“What? Plan to –” Oliver winced as you cinched onto his skin.

“Of all the mind-bogglingly,” *clench* “douche-like” *dig* “and despicable” *pierce* “crap you’ve spewed out,” you rasped. “Implying that I would ever choose as dull as Felix Catton over someone as rare and wonderful as Mikey has got to be one of the worst.”

“Do not push me any further, Quick,” You felt him tremble as you slowly released him from your grasp. “I’ve tolerated too much from you and the object of your obsession for far too long as is.”

You stepped back and gave the boy before you a good, hard stare. You never felt rage so deep, so demanding.

It was exhausting.

But you heard your name being called out from your left as you turned your head to see Michael waving to you with his arm high in the air. Had it been anyone else calling out your name, you wouldn’t have felt so quickly eased. You were about to move ahead to meet him halfway in the distance before Oliver’s voice stopped you.

“…What could possibly make him so special?” Oliver pathetically whimpered. “Why would you ever choose him when someone as bright as Felix is begging for you? Do you know what being with him means for you? What it gives you?”

…Was that it? Was that his best shot to get under your skin?

Looking at Michael, you answered him without meaning to.

“There’s no point in explaining it to you,” you calmly stated. “And I think you’ve wasted enough of my time.”

You picked up your stuff and left him alone with his thoughts. As you walked away to join your friend, you could feel his icy sapphire eyes digging into your back. Michael could feel how tense you were and asked if there was anything he could help with – but you waved away his concerns, stating that you had already wasted too much of your time with Felix and Oliver and didn’t want to waste anymore. Slipping your arm over his, you snuggled closer to his side and let the familiar scent of old math textbooks and coffee comfort you.

Oliver would make you pay for what you did – you’d be naïve to assume otherwise. He won’t do it directly, but it will happen. He’s the type to drink poison and expect you to die…only to learn too late that it worked as you lay on the ground bleeding and screaming your throat raw for help.

But right now, you were with your best friend; you two were going back to his dorm for a best friend sleepover, and it’d be enough.

…Yeah, it’ll be enough.

Oliver needed to make a plan – and fast.

Getting into your good graces was no longer a viable option for him; you made it annoyingly clear of that by the way you attempted to maul his face off. He gingerly touched the claw marks you imprinted on his cheeks as you tried to dig for his blood and bone with your nails. A corner of his mouth went up as he remembered your viciousness. He could practically taste the blood that nearly trickled down his cheek after you pierced his skin.

He hadn’t expected such a blatant display of violence from you, of all people, let alone on the campus’ hallowed grounds so near an establishment as ancient and crowded as the Bodleian.

For you, sweet, innocent (Y/N), to show such open hostility…to know he urged that beautiful, dormant impulsiveness to emerge…it thrilled him like nothing else. At that moment, he so clearly saw it. A darkness that was hidden deep inside you – bursting open from your carefully stitched seams. A deep desire for more in the dull, dull life God cruelly set upon you. Why else would a sweet, little all-American girl such as yourself travel all across the Atlantic to one of the most prestigious universities?

No, you were like him – exactly like him. Your reaction to his goading only proved that to him.

You weren’t used to it – that much was obvious…but that meant little to him. If nothing else, Oliver was resourceful. He’d learn more and more about what makes you tick before plucking you piece by piece into what he needed you to be for him. He’ll watch you explode before making you fizzle.

The idea of you at your fiercest – only for him to break it down bit by bit until all that was left was a more…subdued version of the hardheaded American girl from the Big Apple who loved to aggravate him during her first-year days at Oxford.

The thought alone made him salivate.

He could only dream how you’d be in bed. Your tight, hot little body would be squirming and writhing from the pleasure he and Felix bestow upon you. You, helplessly lying on your back while being fucked dumb by the two of them.

God, he felt himself getting hard at just the image alone – to make it a reality…that sort of victory, along with having Felix, would be nothing short of heaven for him. He unbuttoned his jeans as he took out his hardening cock into his hand. Not wanting to bother himself by starting slow, he immediately stroked himself with a rough and unforgiving pace. He wanted the pleasure from the fantasy to overwhelm him.

You looked perfect—replete, ethereal, and effervescent. Your entire body twitched as your eyes were blown wide, and drool dribbled down your chin. You put up quite the fight; the scratch marks on his and Felix’s chests proved that. But seeing you on your back on red silk sheets with your wrists and ankles tied to the bed posts made the struggle worth it. The red and pink bite marks that begin from the column of your slender neck down to your plush and tender inner thighs made for a prettier picture you could ever paint. “Oliver,” you pitifully rasped. “P-please, m’sorry – AH!” Your body jolted, and your back arched as he slapped your swollen clit. He struck his hand down one, two, three more times and watched as you thrashed and cried before another peak was forcefully ripped within you and came gushing out. God, how many times was it at that point? Three, four? It must have been quite a high number, judging by how tightly your cunt clenched onto his fingers when he thrust them inside you. “Look at her,” Felix cooed from behind Oliver. The Saltburn heir’s hulking frame towered over his lover as they watched their pet beg for mercy. “You almost feel sorry for her.” His hot breath panted into his ear as Oliver shivered in delight. The Quick boy gasped when he felt Felix’s large digits begin to enter his tight, puckering hole. “Take your fingers out,” he ordered. “And stick your cock inside her. You’ve been so good to me that I’ll let you fuck her sloppy cunt while I finger-fuck your arse.” Oh god, yes. Oliver took out his fingers and immediately positioned his hard cock at your leaking pussy as he spread your legs apart and forced your knees to press against your chest. “Wait,” you slowly blinked. “Wha…what’re you do–” Your back arched as Oliver pushed into you before thrusting into your cunt at a brutal pace. Tears were streaming down your reddened, flushed face as ecstasy-laden sobs filled the room. “Good boy, Olly,” Felix praised as he continued to push his fingers inside Oliver while the nails of his other hand dug into his hips. He let out a ragged gasp from how Felix deliciously stretched him out. He started out slow before moving his fingers at a faster and steadier pace. “That’s it, Olly. You’re so good – so good to me.” God, the contrast between the firm grips and harsh thrusts with gentle whispers of sweet nothings was like nothing he had ever experienced. And it only made the pleasure of Oliver plowing into your weeping pussy while you cried like a bitch in heat feel too good to be true. “Oh, you’re getting so tight,” Felix groaned. “You wanna come, don’t you? You wanna spill your cum into our pet’s little cumdump hole, right?” “Yes,” Oliver rashly answered before snarling to you. “You hear that, you dumb slut? I’m going to cum in you, and you’re going to take it.” “N…not i-inside,” you begged despite your walls clenching tighter around his cock. “P-please not inside!” Oliver just laughed. “You want it – oh, yes, you do.” He released one of your legs to grip your jaw and forced you to stare at him. “Don’t bother denying it. Your body knows how a whore like you is just desperate for me.” He chuckled as he thrusts into you even harder than before. “Well?” “Yes!” you cried out. “Yes, Oliver! Let me be your cumdump! I want your cum so badly!” Before Oliver and Felix permitted you to do so, you spilled onto Oliver’s cock, and the tightening of your walls, mixed with how deep Felix pushed his fingers inside him, made Oliver’s mind go blank – and soon, all he could hear was white noise.

Oliver slumped into his chair as a coat of sweat covered his entire body. Thick, white ropes of cum were still spurting out of his softening cock despite it coating his right hand. He ran his left hand through his dark curls as reality settled back in. Cold, bitter loneliness engulfed his body as he realized that you and Felix were not with him, and he remained as alone as before. A newfound determination to make his fantasy a reality soon took place.

His vision will be a reality. Felix will love him. And you will be their pet whose sole purpose in life is to take load after load of their pleasure.

But such things were too early to think about with how you were now. No…no, no, no…you were far too raw in your current state…too volatile…too stubborn…too American. He supposes it shouldn’t be too surprising that you latch onto fitfulness and inconsistency.

You were an artist, after all, and such was the fate of your kind to be destined to forever claw their way from the bottom as a means of survival.

But, however charming your unpredictability may have been in your concrete-paved, urban paradise that you call ‘home’ – that simply won’t do for him. He was more than confident that he could make you see things his way, but there were…problems needed to be resolved.

Namely, one in particular that came in ill-fitting apparel and bulky-framed eyewear – Michael Gavey.

Only an utterly blind idiot would miss how you pathetically secure your entire emotional well-being onto him. Oliver watched in total desolation and disappointment at how your glorious rage dissipated at the sight of him. But a part of him was equally as impressed at the mask you so expertly paraded, going so far as forcing your body language to adapt to the circumstances.

But…it wasn’t a mask, was it?

You looked at Michael Gavey the way he looked at Felix – complete and total worship. Michael Gavey, for whatever reason, was your sun, moon, and stars. The way you protected and so ardently adored him made the conclusion all the easier to reach.

Suddenly, it all became clear.

Of course…how did he not see it? The answer was so obvious. What better way to force you to his and Felix’s side…than to separate and condition you?

Isolation was a cruel and sadistic thing to thrust upon anyone – let alone who had so few friends in a foreign country like yourself. But he knew how much of an effective tool it could serve for him. Oh, it would be arduous initially – yes, it will. But it would all be worth it in the end. After all, in a way, this was your fault. If only you had complied with him when he was being nice, he wouldn’t have had to resort to such drastic but necessary measures.

Oliver darkly chuckled to himself.

Yes…everything would turn out in his favor. He’d make sure of it.

Tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @arcielee, @asa-do-your-thing, @aphroditesmoon, @axelsagewrites, @the1999kid, @poolnoodlerescuer, @aemondsbabe, @winterblu2, @abaker74, @whereismymindno, @agustdeeyaa, @iamavailablesstuff, @bonnieblue0606, @st-eve-barnes, @nyxthoughtss, @immyowndefender, @ilovemydinoboi, @ahristata, @cxp1d, @jinsoulorbitzen12, @temptation-waits, @bollzinurmouth, @jcngw0ns, @seababehh, @destinydestnation, @lankyboi4, @mindless-rock, @cassavacakes, @paradisepoisons, @pansexualpamandabear, @erikasurfer, @lissamans, @cookielovesbook-akie, @thesmutconnoisseur, @izzyisstuff, @lariisouz, @ma1dita, @jeondeluxe111, @itszzmoon, @wolfeginny, @mioshasworld, @bre99

Let me know in the comments your thoughts and if you want to be tagged when I update!

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go pray to my ancestors and beg for their forgiveness for writing Oliver's POV 🥲

#saltburn x reader #saltburn #saltburn crack #saltburn au #michael gavey x reader #felix catton x reader #farleigh catton #farleigh start #venetia catton #oliver quick #michael gavey #saltburn 2023 #saltburn movie #felix catton x oliver quick #felix x oliver #oliver quick x reader

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bumblesimagines · 4 months

Text

The Clouds and The Stars

Request: Yes or No

Sequel one shot to The Sun and Moon!

Pronouns: He/Him/His

~~~

Married life... such a curious thing. Many grew up with an expectation as to how it would be, mostly based on their own parents' relationship. There were the happy parents who formed a love match and loved each other with their whole hearts. There were the friendly parents who were more friends than partners but still cared for one another. Then, there were the saddening parents who either due to a forced marriage or perhaps because of time grew to despise each other, only tolerating each other for the sake of their children whom they unknowingly harm with their arguments and jabs.

(Y/N) grew up with friendly parents. Lucy and Henry had ended their respective social seasons by marrying under the guise of being madly in love in order to chase after what they truly wanted, even if their desires had to be kept behind closed doors and only exposed to trusted individuals. Secrecy had always been a part of his life, even when it involved marriage, and he supposed now, as he lied in bed and watched the sun peek through the curtains, he'd truly followed in his parents' footsteps. At least, however, he'd found someone. Found more than one, in fact.

"Love," (Y/N) couldn't help but smile as Anthony sighed into his ear, his muscular arm tightening around him and pulling him closer to his chest. Anthony buried his face in the crook of his neck and inhaled deeply, lips pressing against his skin before he hooked his chin over (Y/N)'s shoulder. He gently nudged him, a soft grunt leaving him when (Y/N) remained still. "Love."

"What is it?" (Y/N) chuckled and finally shifted, moving onto his back and peering up at Anthony when he propped himself up onto his elbow. Anthony smiled at him, cheeky and pleased, one hand moving to cup his face and rub his thumb soothingly over his cheek, a warm twinkle in his dark eyes. (Y/N) felt his skin flush under such an adoring gaze.

"I simply wished to see my husband's beautiful face, is all." Anthony cooed, and (Y/N) smile widened tenfold, a bashful and breathy laugh escaping him. They weren't married to each other, not legally or in the eyes of the church at least, but in their hearts and to their families they were. Many in the ton suspected but with Queen Charlotte's silence and Lady Whistledown calling their dance together a 'much-needed change for such dreary balls', anyone with suspicions or beliefs remained silent. Of course, they still had to remain a secret, lest someone grew annoyed enough to reach out to the church.

"Such a charmer, Anthony." (Y/N) spoke teasingly, sighing softly against Anthony's mouth when he swooped down to kiss him. Anthony pressed harder against his lips and fully rolled over, laying ontop of the painter and only pulling away to trail kisses down his jawline and to his neck. Always so hungry, so needy and clingy. "Anthony, we have things to do-"

"They can wait," Anthony murmured against his skin, one hand slipping under his shirt while the other took his hand and locked their fingers together. (Y/N) rolled his eyes and released a breathy laugh, breath nearly hitching when Anthony needily rolled his hips. "We have time."

"It's an important day, Anthony. Francesca will need her brother today, you know." (Y/N) reminded him, dipping his fingers beneath Anthony's chin and gripping it lightly so he could tilt his head up. Anthony sighed dramatically, putting his full weight down on him and bringing their intertwined hands toward his face, a gentle kiss pressing against the back of (Y/N)'s hand. (Y/N) smiled.

"Suppose we should be quick, then." Anthony grinned mischievously, his free hand pushing up (Y/N)'s shirt and head dipping to pepper kisses along his stomach.

"Anthony!" (Y/N) tried not to laugh too loudly, mindful of those still slumbering in the nearby rooms. He could hear the maids and servants bustling around, likely readying the house and preparing breakfast. Such a big day for the Bridgerton family again, and yet, there lied the Viscount, acting like a hormonal boy all over again. (Y/N) swatted at his shoulder and pushed himself up but it only prompted Anthony's head to dip even lower. "Anthony Bridgerton!"

Releasing a muffled laugh, Anthony finally relented and sat back, his hand still keeping an iron grip on (Y/N)'s no matter how hard the painter trying to pull back. (Y/N) groaned again in fake annoyance that only made Anthony giggle like a child and reach out to pull him onto his lap. He leaned in, pressing their lips together again. (Y/N) melted against him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, squeezing Anthony's hand and feeling his fingers tighten even more.

"If only-" (Y/N) leaned back, briefly interrupted when Anthony pecked his lips again. "-you put this much effort into having an heir with Steph."

"Mm, I've been busy and she seems more than content with her... lady friends," Anthony said, nuzzling his face into (Y/N)'s chest. "If you'd been a lady, I'm certain you'd be expecting by now."

"Yes, I'm aware. You've made that abundantly clear, Lord Bridgerton. I don't understand how you can have this much stamina." (Y/N) shook his head with a soft laugh, sweetly kissing the top of his head and exhaling softly. "But, I am not a lady nor your wife, Anthony. You need an heir. I'm sure it won't take too many attempts."

"And what of you and Kate? I'm sure you nor she will have this difficulty if you try for children of your own. We have each other's blessings, you know. If you'd like to have a child-"

"We've been breaching the topic, actually." (Y/N) revealed, finally untangling his hand from Anthony's and rising up from the bed, searching for the clothes he kept in Anthony's home for days he spent the night. Because of their predicament regarding Anthony's position as Viscount and their inability to wed publicly or have children, both men agreed to take on brides. Stephanie provided the perfect candidate for Viscountess and (Y/N) had always held affection for Kate. "She's more than happy to have children. She thinks two is a good number, in fact, so they have someone to keep them company."

"How many do you think Steph will want?" Anthony sighed, standing up as well to get dressed.

"Well, if you have a boy first... I think you'll both be content with just one." (Y/N) chuckled, slipping his coat on and adjusting the ends of it while Anthony began taking clothes out of the closet. The thought of parenthood, of fatherhood, hung over the two of them, both exciting and nerve-wracking. The four of them would care for the children together, that'd already been agreed upon, but still... bringing life into the world? It made (Y/N) queasy yet... pleased.

"If you and I could have children," Anthony whistled sharply, a grin spreading across his face and fingers swiftly buttoning up his shirt. "We'd have a bigger brood than Mother."

"I don't doubt it." (Y/N) retrieved Anthony's coat from its spot draped over the armrest and approached him, helping him slip his arms through and adjusting it for him. He smiled, finishing the last button of his shirt and fixing the collar before tugging Anthony closer to kiss him. "You're insatiable, Anthony."

"Only for you." Anthony cooed, gearing up to lean in again but the sound of the door opening made him pause.

Stephanie dramatically gasped at the sight of them, lifting a hand to her head and fanning herself rapidly. "Oh, Kate, what ever will we do? How could they do this to us?" She gasped again, a teasing smile stretching across her face as Kate giggled and gently nudged her and walked further into the room. (Y/N) rolled his eyes at Stephanie but smiled widely at Kate, pulling away from Anthony to extend his arms out toward her.

"My darling wife." He greeted warmly, coiling his arms around her waist and planting a kiss between her brows. Kate hummed softly, leaning her head down to rest it on his shoulder. Stephanie stopped at Anthony's side, taking a quick look over his clothes before nodding approvingly and curling her arm around his.

"Shall we get to it? Breakfast is ready and Violet has been fretting over Francesca nonstop. She's worried about the poor girl." Stephanie told them and Anthony sighed heavily, leaning over to kiss (Y/N)'s temple and nod to Kate. The Viscount and Viscountess fell into conversation and exited the room, leaving Kate and (Y/N) alone.

"So, my darling husband," Kate began with a small laugh, lifting her head and smoothing out his shirt with her palms, her keen eyes searching for anything out of place before rising to look him in the eye. She smiled, pecking his cheek. "We have a long day ahead of us, as you know. Ready for this social season?"

"As long as I have you and Anthony and Steph, I'll always be ready."

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starlightsearches · 7 months

Note

Hi Star! Huge congratulations on your 2k milestone - it is so well deserved!!

Could I possibly get "Let's Hear it for the Boy" with our beloved ginger general?

Thank you so much and congrats again!!

Drunk / In Love

Track 3: Let's Hear It for the Boy by Deniece Williams - Give me a character and I'll write a short blurb or headcanons on how they would want you to show them that you love them.

General Hux x F! Reader / 📼 ✨ mixtape milestone ✨ 📼

Thanks for the request, my love! Sorry it took me so long!

The idiots from these two stories are back again. Sorry I'm obsessed with them (I'm not sorry at all). Warnings for some minor sexual content and weird consent issues!

Phasma said you were drunk.

What she failed to mention was how—how drunk you were, or how you ended up that way. It was only supposed to be a friendly dinner when Hux first suggested it (and didn't stop suggesting it until Phasma finally gave in).

He thought if you made connections here—even just one—that it might make you more comfortable being with him on this ship, and so far from anything familiar.

Although this might be too familiar.

He reaches the door to Phasma's quarters and they glide open automatically, programmed to recognize his approach. He sees Phasma seated at the table, out of uniform, a smirk playing on her wine-stained mouth.

Armitage is not prepared for the dark flash in his peripherals, or the arms around his neck.

Your embrace frightens him, and that alone is enough to leave him feeling hot, stomach swimming, even when he recognizes your touch on instinct. It has him weak at the knees, just this, has his heart in his throat as all the alarm and panic well up inside him, threatening to spill out.

Then your lips meet his.

There's been a handful of almost-affectionate moments shared between you. The brush of your hand as you wished him goodbye one morning. A kiss on the cheek that missed its target, landing at the edge of his lips.

But nothing like this.

Hux can feel your mouth shift against his, lips turning up at the corners, and the little laugh that passes through them—maybe at the way his hands hang limply at his sides, or the crop of perspiration blooming at his collar from the warmth of your skin, the smell of you. He can't make himself kiss you back, although he wants to.

He really, really wants to.

There's no malice in your eyes when you pull away—Armitage doesn't think you're capable of malice. You smile at him sweetly, taking his hands in both of yours.

"I missed you," you tell him, each word bleeding into the next, eyes half-lidded and hazy from whatever you'd been drinking, "did you miss me?"

"I- uh, yes," he answers—unavoidably honest—his eyes flitting towards Phasma, who's so pleased with herself it practically drips from her, hanging heavier on her shoulders than the armour she usually wears.

A hot anger floods through his stomach, spiked with acrid shame. He doesn’t need any witnesses to his inept attempts at marriage.

Your smile widens, every facet of you bursting with delight knowing that he’s missed you in the hours since you last spoke his name, and then he’s back in your embrace, the sound of sweet laughter in his ear.

He reaches out for something to brace himself on, and finds nothing. It takes everything in him to keep standing.

Armitage peels your arms from around his neck, putting a desperate inch of distance between himself and the press of your body.

"Why don't we let the captain get some rest?" he asks.

Your enthusiasm at the suggestion turns his stomach into knots.

He's able to usher you through the empty halls at a speed just short of a jog, one hand at your waist to keep you from stumbling, and the other wrapped firmly around your wrist to stop any further attempts at touching him.

And, though he can’t puzzle it out just yet—with the warmth of you still against him—he knows something is wrong with you. Something that wine alone could not bring on.

Armitage knows you don’t want him. Not like this.

Yet you practically drag him through the doors of your quarters, mouth planted against his before the mechanical lock whirs into place.

All the desire in him makes him sick—feverish and weak. His body shudders against yours, nerves trying to break through skin at the gentleness of your touch.

“Armitage,” you whine, pouty in a way he’s never heard before—always so polite and obliging when you’re sober, “kiss me back.”

He couldn’t refuse you, even if he wanted to, even though he knows it would be better for both of you—knows the way this memory will torture him endlessly, until the moment he dies. Maybe long after that.

But still, he cups your face in shaking hands, and presses his uncertain lips to yours.

And it’s nothing like all the times he’s thought about this—about taking you, feeling the warmth of your breath mingling with his own, pulling you tight against him with his arm at your waist and kissing, kissing, kissing you, until he tires of the feeling, until he rids himself of all his hideous need to be loved and to be wanted.

It’s nothing like he imagined because he’s terrified. Because he can’t manage to move the ways he wants to, tripping over his feet when you stumble deeper into his chambers. Because his stomach roils at the feel of your tongue against his stubbornly closed mouth, and his arms shake with the need to move, but his hands stay where he placed them, holding hard enough to bruise, pulling you closer with enough force that part of him wonders if he’s hurting you.

And still, your mouth on his, your wandering, eager hands.

The room spins; Armitage’s reason leaves him when his feet lift from the floor, your body underneath him, and below that the cushion of his bed molding you together.

Still kissing. Still you. Your hand, guiding his down the thrumming pulse of your neck, lower. Lower.

Armitage is on the other side of the bed before the thought of how wrong what he has done truly registers, his feet planted and one hand pushing back the fallen strands of his hair.

“Armitage?”

He curses the day you learned his name, curses the ill, vile part of him that wants to go back.

He clears his throat and finds it doesn’t steady him at all.

“You- you should get some rest, I think.”

Your movements are clumsy as you crawl to him on your knees, fighting against the thick bedspread and the fabric of your skirt. There’s a little huff on your lips when you reach him, eyes big and wide and brimming with glistening tears.

“Why don’t you want me?” you whisper, and tears well up to their breaking point, slipping down your cheeks.

Fuck. He wants to touch you, and knows it’s a terrible idea, palms aching beneath the leather he wears and hates—now more than ever when it keeps him from you. His hand reaches out against his will, hovering just out of reach of your skin and the tears he can’t manage to wipe away because, once again, he is the cause of all your suffering.

“You’re- you’re drunk, darling. You’ll feel better if you just-”

“No,” you tell him, pushing his hand away with your own, “why don’t you want me ever?”

Oh, gods. Armitage recoils like you’ve slapped him, the sting of those words and what they mean destroying everything—every moment he’s agonized over since he first saw you and knew you had to be his.

“You . . . you can’t possibly believe that.”

You nod your head, fists curled at your sides petulantly, and your stubbornness would make him laugh, if it weren’t so sad.

“I do,” he whispers, then swallows, reaching for your hand. You let him take it. It gives him something to look at, watching your elegant fingers intertwine with his. “I do, but I—”

How much of this will you remember? Even now, the idea of revealing this soft, vulnerable part of him strikes fear into his very core, has him wishing he could run, wishing he could escape the way your eyes flay him wide open.

Your hand against his chest, he can feel his own heartbeat meet the shapes of your fingertips, molding to you. Armitage meets your gaze, and as frightening as it is, there’s no part of him that could deny how deeply he craves it.

“Please forgive me,” he stutters, and there aren't words for him to explain everything he needs to, just the truth. “I am—oh, gods—I am a ruinous man.”

He watches you, the muscles working in your jaw, the way your brows pull together, examining him, weighing the assessment of himself that he’s offered to you.

“No,” you tell him, “no you’re not.”

He thinks you might kiss him again, as close as you are. Close enough for him to count each of your lashes, map the constellations you’ve hidden in your eyes.

You drop to the mattress instead, and the look you give him has him holding back a laugh, the mix of stubbornness and grudging deference that has Armitage wondering how hard it’s been for you to play at obedience in your union.

“You should change,” he tells you, just resting on the edge of the bed, “you’ll be more comfortable.”

It’s easier to talk to you when you’re like this. It has Armitage feeling like he’s the one intoxicated, and he is, in a way. Because what if this is your most honest self?

He didn’t think you could make him love you any deeper, but you’ve managed.

“Don’t care,” you mumble into the pillows, trying to brush him away with a waving hand. He takes it in his own.

“You’ll ruin your dress.”

There’s a look of intense focus on your face, and he wonders if you’ll refuse again. Maybe you don’t care about the dress either, although Armitage would be disappointed. It’s one of his favorites from your incredibly extensive wardrobe—a beautiful black and cream confection that always catches his eye.

But you shift instead, turning to look up at him. “Kiss me.”

Stars, not again. Not now, when the weakest parts of him are so palpable. “I- I don’t-”

You flop into a sitting position, hold a single finger up between your faces.

“One kiss,” you concede, “okay?”

He nods, despite himself. You wait patiently for his approach, still and hardly breathing through your parted lips as he slides closer. Armitage keeps his eyes open, and so do you, heavy as they are, watching the distance between your faces fade into nothing.

It’s not like the other times he’s kissed you, although all but one had happened only a few moments ago. You let him set the pace, his lips just barely brushing your own, a sigh bubbling up from deep inside his lungs. He can only offer a little more pressure before he’s lightheaded again, little bursts of light dancing across his vision.

He pulls back from what could hardly be called a kiss, and waits for your disappointment, for your insistence that he try again, that there must be something more, or better, that he’s kept from you.

Armitage doesn’t want you to know that there’s nothing else to hope for.

You don’t say a word about it though. Just flop your arms out in front of you, waiting, satisfied in your demands.

“Help me.”

And it passes like that, with more bribes in the form of barely-there presses of his lips to yours—a kiss for you to raise your arms as he slips something soft and oversized over your head, a kiss for you to clumsily remove the dress from underneath. A kiss to get you to leave him for a moment while he changed into his own night clothes after you’d begged and begged for him to spend the night beside you, and a kiss upon his return.

It feels like a lifetime of kisses to Armitage. He doesn’t know what that number would be for anyone else, but you’ve certainly exceeded it for him. He could die in his sleep tonight and have more than he ever deserved.

And now you’re curled up beside him a hand at his waist, your head on his chest. Armitage breathes, but only barely, hoping he won’t wake you.

The tension drains from him, his body the closest it’s been to relaxed in ages. He wonders if he should ask Phasma to invite you to dinner again.

He hopes the next time he kisses you, you'll be sober enough to remember it.

#armitage hux #armitage hux x reader #armitage hux x you #general hux x reader #general hux x you #my writing #starlightsearches mixtape milestone 📼

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jenniekrj · 7 months

Text

Good Fucking Girl {Dom!Bada x Sub!F!Reader}

Warnings:Slight angst,mean/rough Bada,mommy kink,degradation,pet names (princess,sweetheart,slut,whore etc.),slapping,cussing and just straight up filthy smut.

A/N:I hope you guys enjoy!!💗

__________________________________________

You watched as everyone cheered and went crazy while your girlfriend -Bada- thrusted her hips against the floor.You were very mad but amazed and a bit in heat by Bada’s choreography.

Once the class had finished you helped tidy up and closed the door behind everyone when they left.

“Did you like it?” Bada said as she wrapped her hands around your waist and as her chest pressed against your back.

“Yeah it was good.” You replied coldly.You wanted to seem nonchalant but you couldn’t.You were jealous because of how sexual the dance was.

“Just good? I spent an entire week learning this and it’s just good? What the fuck is up with you? They whole day you’ve been so distant and cold towards me.Hm?” Bada nearly shouted as she spun you around making you face her.

You just stayed silent,your face emotionless when deep down you were terrified. “Come on,spit it out.” She said as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“It’s just that you’re showing everyone what’s supposed to be only for my eyes.I mean how do you expect me to be okay after you basically fucked the floor,Bada?” You spat out.Bada let out a dark chuckle as she leaned in near to your ear to whisper.

“You think I’m fucking anyone as good as I fuck you? You’re fucking funny,sweetheart.” She said before crashing her lips against yours.Bada bit your lips for entrance into your mouth which you granted by moaning lightly.

Her tongue didn’t leave a place she didn’t lick in your mouth.She then moved to your down to your neck,actively sucking,biting and licking on your sweet spot.

She went back to your jaw then your lips.Bada loved the way she made you moan so easily.Just the thought of you being a mess because of her touch immediately turned the women on.Bada then lifted you up,placing your legs around her waist.She moved you two to the couch with your lips still attached to each other.

You pulled away with a string of spit connecting both of your lips and said “I’m sorry for acting like that,I didn’t want to seem mean and distant.”

“You wanna show me how sorry you are?” She said,placing her hands onto your thighs and rubbing up and down.You shamelessly nodded,it’s like she put you under a spell;because you’re a tough person once you’re mad,but with Bada you’re a whole different person.

“Then be a good slut and get down on your knees.” She cocked her head at you and you almost immediately dropped to your knees.She caressed your cheek before pulling her sweatpants down,making them pool around her ankles.

You started licking over her folds at a painfully slow pace,hoping to tease her.She suddenly slapped you,grabbed your jaw and said “Don’t even try and tease me you whore,it’s not gonna end good with you if you do.” She glared at you and let go of your jaw.

You gulped and just went with it.You licked all around her cunt and soon you stuck your tongue in.Bada threw her head back and said “You’re such a good fucking girl.Just for mommy,right?” You nodded and hummed and the vibrations caused by your action made Bada groan and moan louder.

She bit her lip as she took a hold of your hair.Her eyes rolled back when you entered two of your fingers in her pussy.She could’ve sworn she saw stars as you thrusted your fingers in and out of her tight and aching hole.

Her grip on your hair tightened and you knew she was about to cum.You went faster when she said “Mmm mommy’s gonna make a mess all over your pretty face and you’re gonna take it,right princess?” You hummed a ‘yes’ making her jolt.

She let out a pornographic moan as she came all over your face and hand and all into your mouth.You swallowed it and went to kiss her.

“Fuck,you’re so good for me.” Bada said trying to catch her breath. “I’ll always be a good girl for you,mommy.” You said as you continued to kiss her before you got up to get cleaned when she pulled you back onto her lap and said,

“Who said I was done with you?”

__________________________________________

A/N:This was my first ever imagine and I really hope you guys liked it.I’ve only ever written (uncompleted) stories and you can find them on Wattpad,my acc is strxypinx.If you guys have anything in mind please send me requests.Love you all and thank you for reading 💝🫶🏻

#bada lee #bada imagine #bada x reader #dom mommy #bada lee x reader #bada lee smut #y/n

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willowser · 1 year

Text

bakugou + strawberries ; 2.7k ੈ‧₊˚ for our meet fruit collab ! ‧₊˚✧ ₊˚

mina suggests speed-dating.

first as a joke — you think — after the two of you spend too many weekends in a row watching sappy rom-coms on her couch while crying into a bowl of trail mix, and then a second time, and then a third time, after you refuse.

in her last attempt, she pulls out the big ones: her upcoming birthday. it will be so fun!! she tells you, with her big eyes and bigger pout, looking at you as if you'd hung the stars by saying yes. it's a cheap shot, really, because she knows you or anyone would do pretty much anything when it comes to mina the birthday girl.

— and that's how you find yourself here, sitting in too nice of an outfit to be spending your allotted time listening to a man bash his ex-girlfriend.

you might have found him a bit cuter if he wasn't doing that, or if he showed even an ounce of interest in you whatsoever. instead, he's treating this like a therapy session, and you're not getting paid for it.

when the timer rings, you're more than thankful. irritated enough, even, to spin around the room in search of mina — who is happily watching on as two men grapple with each other for who gets to sit across from her next. you suppose being a top hero is good for that, finding someone who is willing to give you their all.

to yourself, you sigh quietly and turn back to the little bowl of strawberries in the center of the small table, the flutes of champagne on either side of it. mina's bottle, you noticed, is almost totally empty; your last date hadn't even looked at yours, nor did he seem to think to offer you a drink.

it's not that you're jealous. really. you wouldn't even say that you're interested in dating right now, finding your job at the agency to be too much of a whirlwind to balance, anyway. you love mina: she's your closest friend, your home away from home, your cheerleader and personal hero — but working for her is nothing short of a full-time job.

sometimes your bed is a little lonely, when she's not staying the night in it after another rom-com evening, but you really can't think that you'd like someone in it, anyway, much less a stranger. it's hard to explain where your time goes, who it goes with; having to share that with someone, you think, would take more emotional energy than you have right now.

and maybe it also sorta, kinda has to do with the fact that the one and only man you're thinking of outside of work — is the same man you see inside of it every single day.

the very thought of bakugou has your stomach turning, painfully. the image of him in the late afternoons with the sun glowing in his hair, the gentle look he spares you as you wait for the elevator, how he'd looked at you today, when you told him where you and mina were going; you don't know how anyone could make you feel the way he does, at least right now.

the seat across from you is taken up suddenly, then, and you look up into the eyes of someone that looks — nice. a little shy, a little nervous, as they introduce themselves. they decide to pour you a glass of champagne, and they even tell you, openly, voice shaking, how nice you look tonight.

you smile so hard that your cheeks hurt, much to your own surprise.

"i'm actually allergic to strawberries," they tell you with a laugh, gently pushing the bowl closer to you. "that would be a hell of a first date, wouldn't it?"

you agree. "definitely one to remember!"

"well, in that case—" they joke, suddenly leaning forward as if they're going to pull it back towards them, and it's so earnest and sweet that you feel your heartbeat in your throat a bit. "i sound like i'm kissing up to you, but—you have a really nice smile, also."

you have to sit back in your seat, fanning your face dramatically as you both laugh. "wow, i'm not used to someone—"

"time's up, extra."

you blink so hard that your eyes are crossed when you open them, and you look up at the man standing there, waiting for his turn, just as the timer dings and the room comes to life with a bustle. the person across from you only frowns, too timid to say anything in response before they're getting up and casting you a regretful glance. they're barely a foot away before the chair is taken, so aggressively that it scrapes against the floor and shakes the table.

you can't believe what you're seeing. you can't believe bakugou is sitting across from you, right now, ruining everything.

"what—are you doing?" you hiss, though your feelings — with a mind of their own — flutter like butterflies in your stomach at the sight of him.

the scowl he gives you is ugly, as always, but his face is smoother than you remember it being today; freshly shaven, maybe. the cologne he's wearing is strong, woodsy, potent enough that it dizzies you from across the table, that you can only imagine how sweet it smells soaking into the soft skin of his neck. even the shirt he's wearing, you notice, is a button down that you've never seen him in.

"the hell do you mean?" he growls, face pinched as he leans closer, so that his voice doesn't carry as it usually does. "'s'it look like i'm doin'? saving you from some sorry dumbass."

"bakugou," you grit, though the room quiets as everyone takes their seats again, and you have to swallow back your annoyance so you don't draw anymore attention to yourself.

you're not dumb enough to think he'd get away without some people fighting for his attention, too, the same way they did to mina, and — as irritated as you are, suddenly, at his appearance — you're not exactly keen on sharing him, either.

"they were very nice, thank you very much,"

"psh," he rolls his eyes, a muscle in his jaw jumping. "couldn't even look me in the eyes to tell me to fuck off—"

"maybe because they were worried you would blast them through the window—"

"and i would have—"

"oh!" you clench your hands into fists and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to will your anger back down. losing your cool isn't a good look, especially in a room of people that are trying to get to know you. "are you serious right now? why are you here?"

"you really wanna spend our five minutes doin' this?"

and there's something about the way he says it — our five minutes — that has your stomach turning in that horrible way it always does, whenever you bite into the softer parts of him. the look on his face is pensive, nervous if you thought that he was capable of being nervous. his shirt, his shaven cheeks, his alluring cologne; he's here, right now, on a date with you. pushed his way into it, even.

you straighten in your seat and sit back, dropping your eyes to the table, ashamed at the fire you've just thrown at him. "can you at least tell me why you're here in the first place?"

bakugou is silent for long enough that you can't stand not to take him in, how appealing he is to look at, how your heart sings when he looks back. one shake of his head has him sighing and then he's leaning back, too, staring only at the strawberries.

"this is her birthday thing, ain't it?"

"yeah," you murmur in agreement quietly, fiddling with your own fingers in your lap as your nerves harden into bitter disappointment. he's here for the same reasons you are, you tell yourself: for your friend, only.

distantly, you try to remind yourself that this nothing out of the ordinary. that you shouldn't be thinking of him this way, getting so hung-up on someone that's never expressed an interest in you to begin with. there have been a few late night conversations in the stairwell, that ran longer than they should have, that revealed more than they should have — but it doesn't make him yours. not in the way you want it to.

in an attempt to swallow down your own sourness, you reach for a strawberry, picking through them until you find the fattest one, and then bite it to the stem. a little stream of juice sprays out, dripping down over your bottom lip as you scramble for your napkin. you lick after it before patting at your face, spreading the sugar, the sweetness.

bakugou leans across the table so suddenly that you startle, mouth twisted like he's struggling to say what he's about to say. "alright, look—"

the timer rings, horribly, but his ruby stare never dims, never leaves yours and yours never leaves his, either, as if you're both suddenly trapped in a weird limbo of in-between; in-between the quiet moments, in-between the loudest ones, in-between everyone else, together.

and then mina notices.

"oh my god, blasty, you came!" she shouts, springing up from her seat to wave at you both from across the room. her earrings jingle loudly, bracelet beads knocking together as she leans too far to the left, champagne-drunk already. it snaps the moment between you and him, worry filling the gaps as you think about how you're going to get her out of here, once the night is over.

bakugou sinks a little further into his chair, as if it will hide him, before grumbling to himself. cheeks reddening, you realize; strawberry-kissed. he heaves a heavy sigh before digging his fingers into his eyes, deep enough that an ache develops in your own, and he opens his mouth to speak again when someone else approaches the table.

"okay, time to switcheroo!" he sings, grinning too cheerily at you, enough to make you laugh at his enthusiasm.

it darkens bakugou, considerably; "piss off," is all he says, scooting his chair further into the table as if to claim it. he barely gets another word out before the man is starting to protest, and the look he gives him then is awfully viscious: nostrils flared, looking up from beneath his long lashes and furrowed brow, as if this stranger had pissed in your champagne. "i said, fuck off, before i howitzer you through the—"

"okay!" you interrupt, reaching across the table with both hands to close one of bakugou's. his fingers are curled dangerously, and you swear you can see little sizzles of steam slipping between your linked fingers. "let's just—do an extra skip this time, okay? how about you just gives us this one, and you go to the next table?"

the man frowns — which is a bit flattering — but ultimately takes the lifeline you offer, trailing away without another word down to the next table. you can feel the couple on the other side watching you and bakugou now, a little open-mouthed, and your heart quickens at the worry that they're noticing him, that your new five minutes are going to be wasted, too.

—but his hand hasn't moved from yours and his eyes have returned, full to the brim with some emotion you can't read. if you had to guess, you'd say regret, maybe, but you aren't sure how to take that, and so you don't.

you should let him go, literally and figuratively, but the solidity of your logic is no match for the soft beat of butterfly wings in your gut.

"what are you doing?" you ask him again, softly, surely, because you want to hear the answer whatever it is. he either needs to deny you, here and now so you can move on — or he needs to acknowledge the confliction on his face, the soft intertwine of his fingers into yours.

bakugou looks at you now the way he does in the stairwell, the way he does when the sun is painting you warm, too. "i told you," he murmurs, "savin' you from some dumbass."

"but why do you even care?"

another heavy sigh falls from him and you can feel your glass-fragile heart breaking when his hand slips from yours, a little roughly. it surprises you when he grabs the champagne bottle from the center of the table and pours himself a small glass, downing it in one, bitter go before filling up your flute, too.

liquid confidence, maybe; his cheeks darken, noticeably, before he's running a rough hand over his face, still struggling to wash out the words.

"why the hell do you think?" he finally says, though his harsh question lacks the abrasive tone his voice usually has; instead it's gentler, more sincere, bakugou — katsuki — in his rawest form. "why d'you think i do—any of this shit?" one hand waves around to gesture to the span of the dining room, but you know he means more than that, much more. "you think i spend that much time after work just 'cause i have time to waste? jesus."

"i don't know," you say, earning a flat look. "why do you?"

"why do you?"

you take the glass from the center of the table and peer down into it, how it bubbles. maybe you're playing dumb and maybe that's what's really bothering him, but — someone like bakugou deals in absolutes, and you need him to do it now.

the struggle is clear, though, across his face, thickening how he swallows and turning down his lips that much more. you feel a bit bad in the silence, when the timer rings and the muscle in his cheek jumps again.

before anyone can even approach the table, he simply sticks his hand out, and the man beside you was definitely watching on, because he doesn't spare you a glance before going around.

and maybe, you think, decidedly, that's enough.

"because i don't want to go home yet," you tell him honestly, trying to ignore the blood rushing in your ears with his mouth twists and he starts to squirm at your truth. "because i'd rather spend the night with you in a stairwell, than anywhere else."

there's a ludicrous amount of tension that leaves his shoulders then, so much that you didn't notice it until it was gone, and he slumps back into his chair with pink ears, now. the sight makes you smile, widely, as if the sight is a confirmation.

maybe for him, it is.

"yeah, well," he grumbles, eyes dropping to the strawberries before darting away, as if he'd thought of something he shouldn't have. "that's what 'm sayin', too."

"no, you're not!" you laugh, nose crinkling when he side-eyes you with a frown. "you're not hardly saying anything!"

"i'm here, ain't i?" he argues, huffing like a bull. "makin' a damn idiot of myself just to stop you from—"

"—going home with some dumbass?"

"well, yeah!"

"so you want me to be going home with you, then?"

"yeah! no! i mean—" he scowls when you laugh again, lip pulling up over his teeth as if he means to bite into your softest parts, too. the thought is more thrilling that you're willing to admit — at least for now. "quit laughin'!"

but it's not just you; across the dining room, you realize mina's giggling, too, turned around in her seat, ignoring the chatty man that wouldn't shut up about his ex. when bakugou turns around to glare at her, she nearly tips out of her chair by throwing her head too far back, and when he moves to stand up like he needs to help her, all she does is wave at him to turn back around.

and he does, to you, cheeks flaring as he grabs the bottle of champagne again, pouring himself his own glass to glare into. he mutters out another quiet, "jesus" before slamming both his elbows on the table, rudely, and holding his glass up for — what you belatedly realize is — a cheers.

behind him, the afternoon sun has long since set, replaced now by nightfall and stars that shine through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows — but he glows regardless, and the look he gives you is just as warm.

#IT'S DONE I'M FREEEEEEE #literally i wrote both of these TODAY my brain is WORN OUT #somebody never let me wait this long again LMAOOOO #sorry that these are both dog water !!! :) i have no one to blame but myself !!!! :)#but it's DONE WEEEEEEE #WAAAAHH nikuniku gave me the idea of speed dating with bakugou 😭 where he just — absolutely refuses to play LOL #cuuuteeee #will edit in the morning brain sleepy.....#✿ willow writes #✿ one shot: bakugou

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tarithenurse · 9 days

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Pirate's bounty

Fandom: MCU AU Pairing/starring: 1st mate!Bucky x Pirate princess!reader Word count: 1500 Content: Sparring, smut (oral, fem receiving). A/N: Oh...what’s this? Something fandom related?? Oops!

One night, as her friends are resting and the ship is quiet beneath the stars, she notices Bucky spying on her from the stairs – just his head poking up over the last step, door slightly ajar the way she’d left it.

“I see you,” she says, not bothering to stop the flow of movements.

A bit sheepishly, he steps out on deck. “Need a sparring partner?”

Stopping, [Y/N] considers what sort of opponent he’d be. “I’m afraid, I’d be no match for you.”

Rather than accepting her answer, he steps up and pulls out a vicious looking dagger from his belt – his great sword having been left behind in the cabin below deck. Taking the challenge, [Y/N] puts her rapier aside and draws her own daggers. Both.

They circle each other slowly at first before Bucky lunges with a straight slash towards [Y/N]’s shoulder. It’s easy to dodge and she suspects it was more to test her reflexes than to count for a strike.

Next time he strikes, she pivots around and manages to tap one of her daggers against his chest even as his free hand comes to block her.

“0-1,” the man admits.

As the larger person, he has the benefit of superior strength and he uses it to the best of his abilities but his target is small and nimble with excellent technique and so it is only in their third bout that he manages to score a point by grabbing hold of [Y/N] with one hand and yanking her backward against his chest as she was spinning away from his first attack.

“2-1,” she relents, waiting for him to release her. When he doesn’t let go, she wiggles in his grasp. “I said, you win that one.”

“I know,” he hums. But still holds her tight.

Listening for a moment to the sound of the waves and their breathing, [Y/N] considers if she’s missed something beside his plan that won him the bout but there’s nothing.

“Then let go.”

“Free yourself,” Bucky counters. “What would you do if an enemy had you in a hold like this?”

She considers it. He’s shifted the hold from grabbing the scruff of her shirt to being wrapped around her chest. His dagger is in his right hand but at a relatively safe distance. Slowly sheathing her own weapons (for the sake of safety), she formulates a plan: step on his toes, “stab” him with the left hand’s weapon which they’ll pretend [Y/N]’s still holding, while preparing to block with the right hand.

Carrying it out is like ramming face first into a stone wall: no effect other than a grunt when her heel crunches down on Bucky’s toe.

“You gotta do better than that. An enemy wouldn’t let you go so easily,” the large man growls.

She huffs. “An enemy would have been wounded in the thigh.”

“An enemy would be trained to deal with it.”

Squirming, all she manages to is to come face to face with him but try as she might, she can’t break free. [Y/N] sighs, closing her eyes a moment to avoid looking at the serious face of Bucky.

“Fine!” the young woman then hisses, “how am I supposed to do it?”

Slipping his own dagger away, Bucky repositions them and explains how she can use her shorter stature to her advantage, flipping him over so he lands on his back on the deck. It takes a few attempts before she gets it right but suddenly he goes flying over her back and head, landing hard. Quick as a cat, she follows. [Y/N] lands astride on his abdomen while her dagger flashes in the moonlight as she holds it to his throat.

“Perfect,” he hums, large hands on her thighs and the thumbs rubbing softly through the leather.

Confused, the young woman retreats, allowing Bucky to get back up. Even in the dark, she can see his eyes are dark with something she recognizes from when last they were this close – but that shouldn’t be possible. And yet...a memory presses into her mind of how it felt when he kissed her and the urge to try it again blooms within [Y/N] once more.

Bucky is big for a human, yes. Large in stature and musculature and personality. He has a cockiness to him that she hates and admires at the same time. Right now he’s using all of it as he struts towards her, making her back up until her back hits the mast.

“Put the dagger away,” he purrs and dumb as she is, she obeys. “Good girl. Tell me to stop and I will.”

Wrinkling her brows, [Y/N] considers what he means, if he means what she thinks he is implying, and whether she wants it. She doesn’t stop him. Not even as he grabs her by the waist and lifts her onto his thigh. Or when he dibs his head down to carefully brush his lips against hers.

It’s a soft kiss. Slower than the first they shared and it has her whimpering into his mouth by the end of it. An end where she also realizes that she’s holding on to him for dear life.

“Your father would kill me,” Bucky huffs.

“He’s not here,” she insists, out of breath too.

Cupping his jaw, [Y/N] guides his lips back where she wants them, shutting them both up apart from the delicate moans and whimpers that the wind steals away.

While his hands are steadily holding on to her hips, the young woman’s fingers are dancing along his muscles on his shoulders, back, arms, chest – anywhere she can reach – but they still when he rocks her, causing the pressure between her legs to shift and spark something she’s never felt before.

Alarmed, she pulls back, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“It’s alright,” Bucky purrs, “I’ve got you.”

Allowing him to do it again, [Y/N] realizes what she’s feeling, heat rushing to her cheeks invisibly but her understanding is given away by the way her nails dig into his skin at the sensation.

It’s all him at first, gently moving her into a rhythm that causes the need to blossom until she rocks on his thigh on her own volition, chasing the delicious pressure while she clings to his shoulders.

It’s like standing at a precipice, wanting to jump into the void but not daring too, merely toeing the edge. Tense and focused, [Y/N] chases a foreign high and so she pouts when Bucky manhandles her over his shoulder, stopping the sweet pressure of a caress. He carries her to the very bow of the ship, ducking down behind a large coil of rope for the anchor to lay her down.

“Buck-” she starts.

“I’ve got you,” he promises.

Already fumbling with the strings of her trousers, it’s not long before he’s bared her, leaving the clothing tangled around her ankles as if too much in a rush as he kneels there, trapping her feet in place even as he pushes her knees apart. Bending down with a purr, he noses at the remaining fabric, nudging at the sweet spot that’s tender and tingly from rocking against his broad thigh. The man’s hand is big as it slides up her inner thigh, thumb gliding under her underwear, causing her to realize that she’s soaked by something.

“Oh,” she gasps as his thumb swipes through the wetness up to her pearl, circling it slowly and causing intense ripples of need to rush through her.

“I’ve got you,” he promises again.

Kissing the right knee, there’s nothing rushed about Bucky. He just takes his time to pamper her with his hands and lips and tongue, slowly peeling her underwear away to grant him the view of the soaking cunt.

Suddenly [Y/N] is worried. “I’ve never -”

“I know,” he shushes.

Bending down, he licks a broad stripe from her entrance to the pearl, causing her to shudder and gasp. He finishes with circling and flicking, eliciting new ripples of pleasure to wash through the young person. Then he dives in fully, like a man starved he devours her cunt until her back arches and she has to stifle a loud groan by biting into her own hand. The stars above are blurry, blacking out as the delight surges and peaks, stealing her breath away.

Bucky brings her down, gently lapping at her and rubbing soft circles on the hips that he’s held on to to prevent her from bucking too much.

Eventually he stills too. Looks up at her with a satisfied and cocky grin that glistens with her juices.

“Go get some rest,” the large person directs her, “you’ll sleep better now.”

It takes her a moment to figure out her clothes. Even longer to gain control of her legs that feel soft and wobbly, enhancing the roll of the ship. But she does as she’s told, silently cursing herself for allowing this to happen because she knows she’ll want more.

#fanfiction #fanfic #writing #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #Bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky barnes x you #x you #x reader

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berryz-writes · 4 months

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To Have And To Hold...Till Death Do Us Part

Azriel x reader

Summary: Azriel has spent decades centuries on trying to find his mate. A mate is supposed to be that one constant person in you're life. But as we all know Azriel was damned to an unlucky fate

Note: FIRST TIME WRITING ANGST be nice<3. also yes i will be reverting to fluff again. its my little cosy corner :)

The dry, bland taste of the oats coated Azriel's tongue and he fought to swallow it down. A fight similar to his will to get out of bed every morning. Also similar to the fight of carrying on each day.

Mindlessly stirring his food which had now gotten cold he thought about what he would do for Star fall next week. Maybe he would get drunk so he wouldn't remember the night. Or maybe he would go up to the balcony to get the "best view" but in fact sulk in a corner because he didn't have a special someone to share the night with.

Pulling himself back to reality and berating himself for being ungrateful and forgetting about how much his family had done for him, Azriel watched one of his shadows depart and slowly move across the table until it had reached the open French doors. He tried calling it back but to no avail. Taking a deep breath Azriel continued eating, his shadows were always up to something. Maybe it was bringing back important information. Like maybe who his mate was.

His heart became heavy again at the thought. Still no mate. Azriel had seen so many things, lived through so much and sometimes he thought he deserved a mate. Sometimes when he wasn't so absorbed in self hate he thought to himself maybe he did deserve a mate like Rhys had Feyre or Cassian had Nesta. The thought left him as soon as it had appeared. He shook his head, he didn't deserve a mate. He would ruin her. He wasn't good enough. No where near good enough.

Scoffing at himself for even going down the path of thinking he out of all people could have a mate, he carried on eating his oats, finishing them in record time to get to training with the Valkyries and the priestesses.

***

"Isn't that your shadow?" Nesta asked pointing toward a lone shadow which was making it's way back in to the house, moving across the training ring floor and the edges of the walls before it disappeared completely. She was laying down on the mat, sweat dripping down her face. It had been an intense training session, Nesta having started to channel her anger into physical exercise resulted in Azriel having to hold the punching pads tighter than usual. He was happy for her. Glad she was better now and getting used to her fae body.

"It is" Azriel replied, his confusion increasing slightly. They were acting extremely strange. And the one that had left this morning still hadn't come back. Not to mention the shadows still with him were dancing around as if they were waiting for something. He shrugged it off. It was probably a new bakery or some drama from Velaris they had picked up on. Nosy pricks.

Nesta's silver eyes held concern, "Are you okay?" She bit her lip there was something like recognition in her eyes, as if she once held the same vacant stare that he did. "Are they usually like this?" Nesta questioned again, sitting up and trying to read his expression. He shook his head, flipping his water flask upside down to realise it was empty "They'll come back eventually"

She stood up and brushed her clothes down "You could get it checked. I heard Madja's working late today"

Azriel tried not to get angry. It wasn't as if she would know how it was basically impossible for any healer to ever help him.

"We'll see" He replied instead, already brushing the idea away. All he'd get was an afternoon wasted and a whole lot of poking at his back and wings. It wasn't that big of a deal. Well...that's what he hoped.

***

Flipping the dagger in his hand he began to sharpen the other side, making sure it was as sharp as possible so it would make a clean cut. He didn't need more blood on his hands. Well more than usual anyway. Looking to his right he saw Cassian stretching out his wings and yawning "I'm off to bed. Don't stay up past your bedtime" He grinned. Azriel shook his head a smile on his face even though the joke wasn't funny.

"I won't" Azriel lied. Cassian looked at him for longer than usual as if trying to figure something out. Of course he didn't. Azriel's secrets were too well hidden.

"I'm here if you ever need to talk" Cassian said resting a hand on his shoulder. Azriel gave him a rare smile and patted his hand "I know brother"

Leaving him to sit peacefully on the roof Azriel looked up at the sky. Automatically his eyes searched for the one star constellation he loved. Lyra it's name was. His mother had pointed it out to him when he was young. Said it was one of the constellations that would never leave him. Sometimes it felt like this constellation was the only stable thing in his life. Something that would never leave him and so far it was living up to it's reputation.

***

All fucking night his shadows had been restless, moving about and not letting him get one minute of sleep. Yes he ran on 4 hours of sleep perfectly fine but his shadows didn't even let him close his eyes for one minute without being irritating. Not to mention his shadows from previously hadn't come back. What the fuck was their problem?

Finally giving up he went down to the kitchen, drank a glass of water and stomped upstairs on to the balcony. His shadows were still making incessant noises and moving around too much for this early in the morning. Azriel walked over to the edge of the roof, standing on the edge and freefell down down down.

The air hit him at the perfect angle and gods did he wish he could keep falling. If he hadn't opened his wings at the right time he would have died but who really cared? It was just him after all.

He flew over Velaris, the sun barely visible resulting in a still and quieter city at this time. Not to mention it was Saturday, most of the fae probably nursing their hangovers right now. He veered left toward the Sidra, going past Feyre's bright and cosy artists corner, following his shadow at a leisurely pace as it stopped in front of what seemed to be a row of houses. They were bright and colourful, pale pinks and bright blue's, pleasing to look at. Settling on the roof of a house opposite them he watched the sun rise, his shadows finally calm. It felt like his heart was calm too.

A few minutes of sitting led to one of the rooftop doors opening and......and Azriel couldn't describe what and who stepped out.

She was a goddess.

She was the fulfilment of his dreams.

She was the most ethereal fae he had seen.

She was...gods words couldn't describe her never ending beauty. Moving toward her flowers towards the right of the roof she began to water them, her soft brown hair falling forward and covering her face slightly. His heart hurt. He didn't know why.

He could stare at her for an eternity. Her green eyes sparkled in the sunlight, her pink lips looked like they could say the sweetest words. Like they could soothe any pain he had from one whisper of her sweet voice. He swallowed.

He wanted to talk to her. Enjoy her company. Make her smile. Make her laugh. Watch as her eyes brightened because of him.

He could change. For her he could, he thought to himself as she stood up from watering the roses and looked at the sun rise too.

Her cheeks held a slight blush, hair dishevelled as though she had just gotten out of bed. Azriel was cataloguing each and every thing about her, storing it into his memory to cherish.

Clenching his fists and readying himself, memorising what he would say to this oh so gorgeous female he extended his wings.

Softly landing behind her, he felt like his tongue was twisted. Her hair fell in waves down her back, her arms wrapped around herself.

Taking a deep breath he cleared his throat. She whipped round and it felt like time stopped.

Her hand rested on her chest and her eyes were wide with surprise. Beautiful. That was all that went through his mind as he drank her in, looking at each and every perfect feature.

"Who are you?" His heart felt like it would burst from happiness. Her voice was music to his ears. She had straightened up slightly, her shocked expression gone as she patiently waited for Azriel to speak. He didn't want to. What if he messed it up?

"Azriel. Sorry I....I didn't mean to invade your privacy I-" He cleared his throat cursing under his breath for his stupid twisted tongue. Her lips turned up in a small smile as if she was encouraging him, waiting for him to finish. Like she actually cared for what he had to say.

"I just saw you watching the sunset- not that I was watching you...I meant I just saw you here-" A small laugh escaped her as she watched him struggle. He knew one thing. It was that his heart was no longer his. It was hers. His soul belonged to her. His broken and bloody soul was hers however much it had gone through.

Falling in love was impossible he used to think but looking at her now, he thought it possible.

He was so busy in trying to memorise her face he didn't realise his shadows from earlier swirling around her wrists and waist as if they had found their home.

"It's alright. Lets watch the sunset together, the view's gorgeous from here" Her soft voice beckoned him closer and as she turned back around her arm knocked one of the vases. She turned around trying to grab it and in that split second, she fell.

Over the roof and down to where Azriel couldn't see her.

His heart raced as he ran to the edge and jumped down onto the concrete floor, using his wings to slow his descent.

He had heard the sickening thud when she had fallen but he refused to believe it.

He watched as her lifeless body lay there.

Still.

The life in her completely gone. Silence rang in his ears, his throat closed up, he wanted to rip out his heart. Why?

Why?

Why was all he could think about it as he looked at her broken form. Blood pooled from her head, a puddle of deep red gathering around her hair. His shadows swarming around her, frantically trying to do something.

Maybe if he weren't so useless. Maybe if he had any dignity or shame he wouldn't have stared on and could have helped her. It felt like his voice was lost.

He looked at her dead eyes and when he did it snapped. The golden thread sparkling between the two of them, connecting them, before dying out again. The moment of completeness vanished in a split second.

Mate.

She was his mate.

He let out a tortured scream, his own voice ringing in his ears. His legs weakened as he dropped to the ground next to her, his energy depleted.

Tears slipped down his face and for the first time he didn't wipe them away. Didn't berate himself for crying because this....this was a tragedy everyone should have cried over. But instead it was only him watching her once smiling face lay face down on the concrete.

Why was it him? He hadn't even gotten to see her smile properly because of him. Hadn't been able to hear her speak completely. Hadn't heard the sweet words she was sure to voice if he ever got the chance to get to know her.

His eyes wouldn't leave her body as he choked out sobs, eyes blurry and wanting to look away from her limp body at the same time. His....His mate.

The word left him feeling empty. All he wanted was right in front of him except she was gone. She was dead and it was because of him.

His hands shook, his control slipping away as time passed, slowly reaching for her. He gently touched her hair ever so softly as if maybe she were sleeping and she would wake up. Slowly moving it to the side, he could finally see her beautiful beautiful face. A face which had been removed of all colour and life.

A strangled sound escaped him as he looked on unable to tear his eyes away. His heart fractured into so many pieces he didn't know what he'd do anymore. How could he live without her? Life wasn't worth living without her.

His mate.

Tears made his vision blurry as he tried to memorise her perfect features. She was a poem he would never be able to memorise. She was the dream he was always so far from reaching. She was his except she wasn't. Not anymore. Because she was gone.

He wished he could take her place. Wished he had died after seeing his mate. He would have died happy. Finally would know what true happiness was before dying.

Any alternate way of living his heart didn't know how to. Without her in his life he couldn't search for any reason for continuing on.

Gods he didn't even know her name. At the thought of this his lips pressed together trying to stop the heart wrenching scream he wanted to release. He didn't even know her damn name.

His mate.

His mate who was lying dead in front of him. Looking down at his hands he saw they were shaking, so was his body. He didn't deserve to live. This perfect female in front of him wasn't able to live her life so why should he, a broken and unlovable torturer?

The glint of his dagger beckoned to him. It would be oh so easy to end things now. Stab himself through the heart and lay down, lifeless just like his mate. At least they would die together. Taking out his dagger he looked at. Really looked at it.

The fates had known.

This was why he had sharpened his dagger. For this exact reason.

If his mate didn't deserve to live neither did he. He lifted the dagger, tears streaming down his face, his heart broken in too many places to fix, no one left for him in this world. Looking at his mates face for the last time he pushed the dagger straight into his heart.

Fitting ending he supposed. After all the killing he had done, he had ended his own life. Blood seeped from the stab wound but he didn't care. He tried to touch her face one last time, extending his hand, but he couldn't. Because he had collapsed onto the cold floor next to her, unable to touch her for the first and last time.

He was damned. His fate was unlucky.

He was a bastard who didn't deserve anything.

Without even realising his shadows had left him too.

"LYRA" A heart wrenching scream echoed in his ears as the blood emptied out his body. That was his mate's name.

Lyra

If he were still alive he would have smiled and cried at the irony of it all but he wasn't. His eyes now stared straight up as his heart no longer pumped blood.

A fae walking past would see it as a tragedy but it was more than that. It was a man who would never get a happily ever after no matter how much he wished for it. It would be a story passed down to generations. A story with no happy ending.

***

If only Azriel had known that he was in fact loved. That he did have people that held him close to their heart

If only he had known.

Rhys who was waiting in his meeting room for their debrief.

Cassian who had set up a game of chess for him and Azriel to play.

Nesta who thought up new techniques for fighting that she would show him the next morning.

Feyre who was painting his portrait in her art studio.

Nyx who was waiting for his favourite uncle to come home so they could fly together.

Little did they know Azriel would never come home again.

....first and last time writing angst :) if u can even call it that

MASTERLIST

#azriel x reader #acotar #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #a court of thorns and roses #acotar x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel fic #azriel fanfic

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writethrough · 2 years

Text

Connection

(Billy Hargrove x Gender-Neutral Reader)

Synopsis: You stumble across Billy when you go to stargaze. He seeks you out each time after. (Based on an urge I had to write an unconsciously cuddly Billy.)

Warnings: Language, mentions of Neil and his abuse

Word Count: 2380

A/N: Okay, so I know yesterday I said about you all not being ready, but now that I've read this after a day, I'm not so confident in that statement. It's nice and all, but I think I let the whole "wrote this story in one sitting" get to my head. Anyway, let me know what you think! Also, I don't use feminine pronouns in this, but one part of this may lean toward the reader being a female, so if anyone thinks I should change this to a Billy x Fem!Reader, message me!

Billy Hargrove was the last person you expected to see in your field.

You supposed, technically, it wasn’t your field, but you did come here whenever possible. It was the best place for stargazing.

It was close enough that you could walk there from home. Your backpack was stuffed with two blankets, snacks, and water.

You saw Billy before he noticed you. He sat on the hood of his car, the smoke from his cigarette drifting to you on the breeze.

Cordial would be the best way to describe your relationship with him. Neither of you really spoke, but his sister had become your friend, so awkward pleasantries were as deep as you and Billy went.

You should probably say something to him. It’d be weirder if you didn’t.

Before you could, Billy looked over his shoulder, squinting over your flashlight until he could see you.

“What’re you doing out here?” Billy asked, turning back around.

“Could ask you the same,” you said, slipping your hands into your pockets.

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, lips tugging down.

“You should go home. It’s late,” he said. He inhaled deeply on his cigarette.

You bit the inside of your cheek. He clearly didn’t want to be disturbed, and you weren’t about to poke the bear.

“Don’t worry. I won’t bother you. I’ll just be over there.” You gestured with your head to the right, walking off before he could give you a response.

You pulled both blankets out of your backpack, laying one down and using the other as a pillow.

At first, it was odd to have an audience. Not that you thought Billy was staring at you, but just that another presence was here. It was that feeling you got when someone watched you do something you’d done a hundred times, but because someone was watching, it was like it was the first time you were doing it.

Twenty minutes passed, and you were finally settled, the stars gaining your full attention as they let your mind wander. You were connecting all the ones in Pegasus when you were interrupted.

“How are a bunch of tiny dots so interesting?” Billy stood beside you, arms crossed.

You would've been a little annoyed by the question, but something told you this was his way of reaching out. And you weren’t about to push away someone who needed a bit of company.

“Why don’t you lay down, and I’ll show you?” You patted the spot next to you.

He hesitated. Maybe he expected you to get irritated or start an argument, but your invitation relaxed him slightly. And he laid down, arms behind his head.

You smiled to yourself and looked back up, searching for the right constellation.

“Okay, do you see that little diamond shape with the tail?” You pointed.

His eyes narrowed, searching. “They all look the same.”

You rolled yours. “Okay. How about the big square over that way?” You moved your finger to the left, tracing the shape.

He slowly nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good! That’s a part of Pegasus. Now, keep your eyes in the middle and move to the right. Pass the first star you see and keep going—”

“You mean the thing that looks like a kite?” he asked.

“Yes!” You grinned. “That’s Delphinus.”

“Like a dolphin?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Exactly. The myth goes that this constellation represents the dolphin Poseidon sent the goddess Amphitrite because he wanted to marry her.”

“He sent a dolphin to get her?” he asked slowly, giving you an “are you serious” look.

You nodded. “Another myth is that the dolphin saved a Greek poet after the poet sang a song as his 'last words.' He threw himself overboard, and the dolphin saved him.”

He was quiet for a moment, staring intently at the constellation.

“Which one do you like better?” His eyes met yours, and you were struck by how blue they were. The same blue you imagined, the dolphin swam in.

“The latter,” you said.

He looked at you in surprise. “Really? Not the other one? I thought girls liked that romantic shit.”

You let out a breath of a laugh. “It’s not really romantic. All the dolphin did was give Amphitrite a ride. The other one is…” How did you want to put this? “...It has more meaning.”

He waited for you to continue.

“The poet, Arion, sang a song that drew this dolphin toward him. His art literally saved his life because Delphinus was so moved by it and had to go toward it.” You softened. “Isn’t that what everyone wants? For someone to acknowledge you for who you are?”

He analyzed you for a few minutes. You weren’t sure what he was looking for, but you wished he’d say something. You hadn’t meant to say all that, and something about saying it to Billy felt like your heart was on the line. He could act disinterested, he could argue with you, or he could laugh in your face.

He had never been blatantly rude to you before, prickly, of course, but this felt different. Like there was a line between you two, and depending on his response, he’d either build a wall or cross over onto your side.

He slowly nodded. “I think I like the second one, too,” he almost whispered. Then, faced the stars once more.

It wasn’t what you expected, but the corners of your mouth lifted.

You spent the rest of the night pointing out other constellations. He took a keen interest in Equuleus. The horse had been pierced by Neptune’s trident when he and Athena were competing to determine who’d be the superior.

It went on for some time like that. He’d ask questions, and you’d try your best to answer. Or he’d make up his own constellations.

“You see that long-ass rectangle?” he asked, tracing with his finger.

“Yeah.”

“That’s ‘Smoke Break,’” he said. And when you giggled in response, he grinned.

You had unfolded the other blanket, draping it over the both of you. Between the conversations, the silence lulled you into a sleepy haze. And before you knew it, you were asleep.

—

When Billy woke up and saw the sun rising, he’d never been more confused. Then, he saw you, curled into his side with his arm around your waist. He couldn’t find it in himself to move.

Last night was something he could never have imagined.

Neil had a bad day at work. And that usually resulted in a few good shoves and a backhand. Billy had stormed out as soon as Neil left the living room.

Billy had been driving, speeding down the road when the rage left him, and he slowed to turn into a field. He’d been there ten-fifteen minutes when you showed up.

He wanted you to leave. Didn’t want any questions about why he was out here. So, when you pretty much left him alone, he was relieved. And sorta disappointed.

Billy had known you since high school. You’d been paired up for one project together that you both got an A on—the best grade he’d ever gotten, and he knew it was because of you—and that was about it.

He saw you when he dropped Max off and picked her up, and sometimes you’d wave at him if you saw him around.

In a way, Billy saw you as unreachable. Like your light was somehow drowning out his darkness. And he didn’t mind it. He just wasn’t sure he deserved it—to feel light himself. But you drew him in, and he couldn’t help but approach you after those twenty long minutes.

He was glad he did.

He’d never felt more at peace. You’d calmed a part of him that he didn’t think could be.

It was strange, but that moment with you didn’t feel real. As if the night sky wrapped you in a bubble for only the two of you to know.

And he refused to burst its remains until you woke up.

—

Billy had offered to drive you home that morning.

You’d awoken and pulled away almost instantly, face heating up and profusely apologizing.

He had shrugged them off and helped you shove the blankets back in your bag before throwing it in his backseat and holding the passenger door open.

It’d been a few days since then, and tonight was gonna be another clear one. On your walk to the field, you wondered if Billy would be there, too. It was probably a one-and-done thing—you still didn’t know why he had been there in the first place. But there was that spark of hope. And then disappointment when he wasn’t there.

A half hour went by, and you could feel yourself nodding off. You were trying to work up the energy to pack up when the crawling of wheels made you turn.

Billy got out of his car and strolled over.

“Anything interesting up there?” he asked.

You patted the spot beside you, and he took it without a thought.

“You know there are three goddesses of the moon in Greek mythology?” you said.

“How can there be three?” he asked, lying on his side.

“There’s Selene, Artemis, and Hecate.” You listed on your fingers. “Selene was believed to be the moon personified, while Artemis is the goddess of the hunt and wilderness, and Hecate is the goddess of magic and witchcraft.”

“Is Artemis the one with the wolves?” he asked.

You nodded. “Sometimes, though, she's often shown with deer.”

“Makes sense. What about Hecate? Think if I stare at the moon long enough, she’ll put me under her spell?”

You giggled. “I don’t think that’s how it works, but I guess you never know.”

“What else can you tell me?” he asked, giving you a lazy smile.

“Well, Selene is supposed to bring the moon across the sky with her chariot,” you said.

He hummed. “You think it’s an actual chariot or a motorcycle or somethin’?”

You snorted. “You’d love it if she had a motorcycle, wouldn’t you?”

“She’d be hot as shit.” His grin widened when you laughed. “C’mon, if you were pullin’ the moon across all that, wouldn’t you want something sexy?”

You paused for a moment, pretending to think. “A station wagon.”

He deadpanned. “A what?”

“A station wagon,” you repeated, trying not to laugh.

“Now you’re fucking with me.” He flopped onto his back.

You let a giggle slip. “Think about it. You have this beautiful celestial body, then a shitty, rundown station wagon in front of it. It’d be hilarious.”

You could tell he was imagining it and trying not to smirk.

“See! It’s funny!” you said, nudging his shoulder.

“Didn’t say that,” he said.

“But you thought it.”

He rolled his eyes. And it was enough of an admission for you.

The conversation slowly morphed into something else. Whereas the first night it was about the stars, tonight, it became more about the both of you.

“How do you know so much about this stuff,” he asked, adjusting the blanket over himself.

“I read a lot.” You played with a loose thread. “Helps that I didn’t have many friends growing up.”

He raised a brow. “That’s hard to believe.”

“Why’s that?” you asked, looking at him through your lashes.

He blinked, then cleared his throat. “You’re always hanging around Max and her friends. And Harrington.”

You nodded, missing that tone in his voice. The one he tried to convince himself wasn’t there.

“Yeah, it took a while, but I think I’ve found my people,” you said.

He stopped himself from asking if that included him.

“You, uh, you still working at that bookstore?” he asked, needing to change the subject.

“Why? Thinking about reading up on some myths?” you teased.

He let out a breathy laugh. “Maybe. But I don’t think reading them would be quite the same as listening to you.”

You smiled in response.

Again, you lost yourselves that night, falling asleep and waking up with your head on his chest.

Each time your conversations delved deeper. And each morning, the hasty pack-up and drive home extended to soft “good mornings,” slow risings, and comfortable mullings of nothing. You began to crave those moments.

And so did he.

When he’d drop Max off at the bookstore, he’d walk her in, hoping to see you. And on those days, Max usually bought one book with another stashed under her arm. One to read at home and the other, so she had something to do as she sat in one of the armchairs as you and Billy talked.

Max told El what was happening. Then El told Mike, who told Dustin, and Dustin told Steve, and he told the rest.

None of them knew how your friendship blossomed or why it happened now.

Then, one night, Max watched from the crack in her door as Billy strode out of the house after another of Neil’s screaming sessions.

She knew Billy’s date look, and this wasn’t that. It didn't seem like he was running away this time. There was something in his steps that suggested he was running toward. And it clicked.

—

You were waiting for Billy. At this point, every time you were out here you were waiting for him.

He’d somehow wormed his way into your routine, and now, without him here, it felt wrong. Like you were missing this crucial piece.

When he finally arrived, he didn’t say a word, no sarcastic quip or flirty banter. He simply laid down. What you didn’t anticipate was for him to pull you into his side.

His arm settled around your shoulders, his other hand on your forearm, his thumb rubbing up and down. He didn’t look at you, didn’t speak, his brow furrowed.

It was a look you’d seen before.

It worried you.

You wanted it gone.

“So, what do you wanna know this time?” you asked tentatively, chin resting on his chest.

His eyes slid to yours. They relaxed like he finally realized where he was, and they became hooded. He trailed down to your lips, then back, the barest of smiles gracing his features.

“Everything,” he whispered, pulling you closer.

And you knew he wasn't talking about the stars.

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x gender neutral reader #billy hargrove x gn!reader #billy Hargrove imagine #billy Hargrove fanfic #billy Hargrove fluff

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bucknastysbabe · 1 year

Text

The Handler ★ 2001 ★ I think, therefore I am

Rating: Explicit:

Tags: TW!!! HTP, Bucky being abused by strike team, manipulative relationship, Stockholm aspects/soldier is truly incapable of consent, Hydra!reader, handler!reader, sub!bucky, prostate milking, caretaking, touch starveddddd, Bucky has a Bad Thought.

A/N: Working on bigger stuff and needed a break so threw this up and goin to attempt some asks

You had the mission debrief typed out and printed for your meeting with Pierce. Every time the asset was utilized he requested a personal meeting with you. They usually were short and blunt, sometimes he’d needle you for any shortcomings but you held strong.

Getting up and stretching, your back clicked from sitting at this wretched desk all day. You’d go change and hit the gym made for the Strike boys. Emphasis on boys. You hated the childish mongrels, often catcalling or making dirty remarks about your precious star.

There were other women, but few and far between with this level of clearance. You clicked down long gray hallways toward the locker rooms. Somewhere to the left is where they held your boy. He was in cryo recuperating. You had sucked him off in your chair last time before sending the asset onwards.

Scanning your card you entered the desolate woman’s lockers. You tried to keep your thoughts from returning to swollen pink lips and teary blue eyes, chanting commander over and over and over. Changing into a black sweatsuit you grabbed a small towel and headed to the training room/gym.

Your mouth twisted in horror at the sight surrounding the ‘pen’ as they liked to call it. Where agents could spar with each-other. Your precious boy was once again bloodied and bruised up, fighting off three of the men. Rumlow howled while waving cash, “Last one standing gets his ass!” The others laughed and hooted.

The asset was animalistic, eyes wide and nostrils flared. He was likely confused being so soon ripped out of cryo with no chair, no mission. He grabbed a man’s head and started bashing it into the padding of the ground, the other two realizing then Soldier was in fight mode.

You barked, “Soldat! Soldier!”

He was still slamming the guys head into a bloody pulp, snarling and wild. Rumlow shouted, “Get back get back, I have the stick! Fuck!” You hopped over the railing and advanced on Rumlow, “You stupid fucking pig! He’s not a goddamn toy! This documentation is going to be a nightmare.”

The soldier wiped his bloody titanium on his thigh, slowly looking up at you and Rumlow. The young and arrogant leader scoffed, “Just a bit of fun, didn’t know he was going to go psycho!” You waved your hands in anger, eyes flickering down to the stun baton in Brock’s hand. You seethed quietly, stumbling over your English in anger, “You put in chair first! Blyat.”

“I see it as a good way to get the weak ones out. It’s called bonding you stone cold commie bitch.”

You clenched your fists and swallowed back another angry tirade.

“Get the fuck out of my sight and get a goddamn crew out here Rumlow. That’s an order.”

He scoffed again and swaggered off, leaving you with your boy and the remains of some shit stain of an agent. He looked up at you with deceptively wide eyes, face splattered with blood. In that soft tone of his he uttered, “They told me to fight.”

Carding your fingers through blood-tacked hair you agreed, “They did. Weren’t supposed to but they did. You did what was asked. Come on, follow me.” You knew there were cameras and microphones all over this gym so you kept the pet names to a minimum.

It was a chore having to pull out the listening devices in your office weekly.

Soldat followed along, arms clasped in front, breathing heavily. You’d get him washed in the woman’s showers. Not the damn hose they usually sprayed your baby with. You stated, “Even if it seems real, don’t kill another agent. That looks bad on you and therefore me, okay? You want me to be your handler, yes?”

He nodded, “Only you. Order noted.”

Once inside the lockers you configured the clearance up a notch for security reasons. Brock knew to let you deal with him, no matter how jealous the prick was. Your pretty boy was only clad in his cryo suit, a tight black thing constraining his huge muscles. “Turn sweetheart,” you said.

You unzipped him, frowning at his mottled back and hips. “Soldier, maintenance check.” He stepped out of the rest of the suit while listing off.

“Total functions at 80%. Mentally, confusion and fear are interfering with typical functions. Physically, contusions and bruises, fifth metacarpal fracture, superior labial frenulum tear.”

You sat him down and kneeled between his thighs, sliding your thumb across the torn piece that swelled his upper lip up. The asset grunted but remained still. You hissed, “They do not get it. A bunch of silly boys. I’m sorry they woke you up for this nonsense.”

“I did not mean to kill Agent 0447 I thought the objective was to eliminate until one was left.”

He looked so sad. They’d still give your baby a hard time for this. You caressed a bruised cheek and cooed, “Rumlow should know better. Perfect soldier like you deserves better than shoddy unplanned orders.”

“Yes commander,” he said, so quietly. You hated how despondent the soldier had been lately. He needed maintenance but all they had was the chair, nothing for the human locked inside the weapon.

That’s what Soldat was created to be though. The fist of Hydra. He was a powerful weapon. You were growing weak. Vasily would chide you for this. You couldn’t make yourself care at the moment.

“You need to wash. I’ll help you,” you said.

All of the stalls were furnished with soaps, brushes, and towels. You stripped down yourself, quick and ungainly. Going to the furthest stall you turned on the water, hot as can be for him. The asset liked to be warm and rarely had the chance.

You stepped in and beckoned, “C’mon then precious star, need to get you cleaned up.” He padded over, seeming to melt under the hot spray with a sigh. There wasn’t much room for the two of you, his bulk taking up the space. He wouldn’t have to do a thing.

You first grabbed a scrub brush and asked for the arm, gently getting the encrusted blood out of the grooves. Soldat shifted a bit, clenching his jaw tight. You thought the arm was a work of art, he hated it with a passion without even uttering the words.

“Good boy,” you murmured.

Next came the shampoo, you moving soldat to the tiny built in bench. He ogled your body, fingertips twitching to touch. Your boy’s cock, hanging heavy between his thighs was beginning to plump up.

You shampooed his dark hair, washing out the blood, grease, and sweat. He moaned low in his chest, enjoying the gentle scratching of your nails. You rambled, “Can’t believe they gave that young asshole clearance to even breathe near you. I’m sorry sweet baby.”

You scratched at his lower scalp, earning a hiss when you scraped over a bad bruise. You apologized quickly and moved him back under the shower spray, rinsing the suds out. Next was the soap and towel, you methodically washing every part of him as gentle as possible.

You’d get his privates last.

Coming up from his feet and shins rubbed a hand down the soldier’s flank. He was trembling and whining under his breath, turned on by all the good touch. You breathed, “Almost there precious star, be good, you’ll get a reward.”

“I- I don’t deserve one,” he moaned.

Furrowing your brow you cursed in Russian before snapping, “You did nothing wrong. You didn’t know. Look at you now, being so good for commander. Hush.”

You rinsed the towel and soaped it up again, getting his swollen cock and balls soapy. Soldat whimpered and braced his clacking left arm on the wall. “Soon, soon precious.” You moved the rag around the scrub from taint to his tailbone, earning another warbled cry.

You turned him under the spray and placed your hands on huge pectorals, praising, “All done. My sweet boy. I’m giving you the chance for a reward, but that’s up to you.” He shivered again when you placed a soft kiss on his sternum.

The soldier seemed to be weighing his options, jaw clicking, puffy lip poked further out. His cock was leaking and almost purple. Your baby begged, “Please, anything Commander. I’ll do better next time.”

“You did fine, get a towel and lean against the bench.” He knew what you meant, placing a pillow for his bruised knees. They were already healing but the best deserved the best. You padded to your locker to get a comb. Your hair was short right now so the asset would get a nice brush.

He was almost purring as you combed through dark locks, working through knots fine and gentle. With the aid of some hair oil. It hung in loose waves now, gorgeous just like him. You cooed, “Beautiful boy. No one could make a face that pretty if they tried.” He shivered and eyed you over a thick shoulder.

 Using the oil from earlier you slicked up your fingers and his asshole, sliding around the twitching pucker. Baby was eager for it, bending and spreading out for you. He whimpered in broken languages under his breath, droplets on pale skin shining under the bright white light.

You breached him with two of your slim fingers, easing your way inside his tight channel. The brunette’s breathing was tight and short. Your other hand slid down his back, commanding him to relax some. “I’ve got you, любовь, I’ve got you.” You didn’t mean for the Russian to slip and mentally chided yourself— getting too lost in the job.

Your fingers slid deeper, probing for his prostate. The strained gasp and glob of pre hitting the tile notified you’d found the organ. You massaged it in deep strokes, pressing your thumb on his taint to really milk your baby. The asset gripped at the metal bench, digging indents already. He whimpered softly, head tossing back and forth.

“Mhm, don’t think about a damn thing. Focus on my fingers, how your commander is proud, how good it feels. Been a while since I really milked you good hm Soldier?”

He was making a mess all over the floor, cock streaming rivers of pent up seed. He eyed you in the reflection of the walls, looking wrecked. You pressed a kiss to his tailbone, staying at your lethargic pace. It would be intense but you needed your star to relax.

You spotted a string of drool leaving swollen lips, the soldier’s intense eyes gone lax and hazy. He writhed on your fingers, mewling like a whore. The supersoldier strung out a moan, “T-thank youuuu, thank youuu.” Tears joined his cum on the floor.

You smiled, comforting him by pressing your heat and tits against his back. Now nuzzled near his thick neck you purred, “Of course. Such a perfect soldier. Hydra’s greatest creation. Oh commander adores you so much sweet star.”

He sniffled and whined harder, hitching sobs wracking his frame. You whispered, “C’mon precious boy, my good boy, get it all out and you can get some sleep Hm? Don’t have to worry about those pigs.”

He nodded jerkily, whining a weak, “For you commander, yesyes!”

You dug harder into his prostate, milking it quicker, massaging from the outside just as frantic. The weapon began to fell apart with choppy sobs, cock pulsing and twitching before unloading onto the floor. You awed at the amount, cooing more praise.

He’d worked out two more big loads before whimpering, “T-thank you, oh, oh, yes commander, yes thank you.” Which was code for I’m done. He couldn’t comprehend disobeying direct orders, especially from you. You planted little kisses along his wet cheeks, playing with those dark waves before sitting back and cleaning yourself off, wiping the floor down.

He stayed put, panting and spent. You sat for a couple of minutes, rubbing his upper back. In a reluctant whisper you said, “C’mon soldier, time to get dressed and back to Cryo. You’ll feel a lot better now.” He nodded blearily, shaking too hard to put it on. You took over, helping your star into the tight suit, brushing back wild locks.

“Pretty boy. Let’s go.”

You stuffed the ruined towel in your belongings, intending to retrieve it later. You felt his presence locking in on you during the slow walk to the chamber. You knew he wanted to ask a question.

“Speak soldat.”

“If I’m the greatest creation then why do they treat me like that?,” he asked, face devoid of emotion. You stopped in your tracks, growing stiff. You weren’t prepared for this. This is why the chair was important, awful as it was.”

In a measured voice you said, “Because they’re untrained ignorant bastards who abuse power that they wish they could have. I will speak with the director on this treatment. Go on now, sleep well dear star.”

He frowned but stepped into the chamber, hands clasped at his back. You watched through the small window, mouth pinched. Pierce was going to smell the weakness on you and strike like the snake he was. Then two more heads would take your place.

#dead dove: do not eat #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #htp #hydra!reader #bucky barnes smut #dom reader #sub!bucky

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