#yes those are charms on her sheath

[allfearstofallto]

PLS CAN YOU FEED US MORE hero of the nation knight!childe ON MY KNEES I LOVE YOUR WORK SO MUCH AND I SEARCHED EVERYWHERE FOR A FIC LIKE THIS

This took FOREVER to write, but here you go!!

Blessings Be to The Hero of the Nation

Historical AU

Yandere Hero of the Nation! Childe x Fem! Reader

TW: yandere themes, stalking, minor character death, blood, threatening, forced marriage/engagement

He kept one of your hair ribbons wrapped around the hilt of his sword. It billowed in the wind constantly and would draw watchful eyes to it. That pastel pink fabric didn't match a single thing on his brutish, usually bloody exterior, but he still kept it regardless. You tragically didn't give it to him in a blatant display of affection and well wishes for him on his journey, instead, he found the little ribbon after it'd blown off your head and up to the wind. A little pout formed on your lips realizing you'd lost it, but you decided against retrieving it. He didn't though. He picked it up and placed it in his pocket, taking it home to clean off the dirt and grime.

That same ribbon was clenched in his hands when he arrived at the gate of your manor, along with a few other gifts that he would give to you. He'd just slayed the dragon, the wretched menace that was terrorizing the nation, now and only now did he feel worthy to ask for your hand. Cleaning off all the blood and gore that was on his armor, polishing it into light metal that could blind anyone who looked directly at it, he was certain that this would charm you off of your feet.

When he was invited into your home by your parents who were surprised to see the hero himself at their door, he didn't care about the tea or the cakes. The praise meant nothing coming from them. He skipped the pleasantries and went straight to the point. He wanted your hand in marriage and he wanted the wedding to be soon.

A skittish expression crossed your father's face as he gritted his teeth, “We've decided to leave that decision up to her.” Childe smirked, that was even better. He'd never met a woman who wouldn't fall for his charms.

You were called down from your room, eyelids heavy and half open, still in your thin sleeping gown with a robe over it. You were rubbing the tiredness from your eyes as you walked down the stairs, your other delicate hand gripping the banister. And when you saw him, you bowed. A deep traditional bow, given to those of a respectable higher status.

He kneeled down on one knee before you. The male kneeled for only one person, the queen herself. His sword pulled from its sheath, he laid it flat against his palms, offering it up to you. That knocked the sleepiness from his body and suddenly your eyes were wide open. Genuine shock was making your body stiff as a board and you looked back and forth to your parents who didn't say a word.

“Your visage has danced around my heart non stop since the first time I laid eyes on you. I wish to use this sword only to fight for you. Won't you please do me the honor of becoming my wife?” Words spoken in honor, with him meaning every bit of it. You were meant to take the sword from his hands, tapping it gently upon each of his shoulders, but you didn't. You just stood there, lips trembling, but not saying anything.

A marriage proposal via a letter was easy to ignore or reject, you didn't have to see their reaction. But never had you had someone be so bold as to propose to you in person. And not only that, the very hero that saved the Kingdom. Rumors told you he'd be marrying the first princess, she obsessed over him before he became the hero and those feelings seemed to only grow stronger after he waltzed into the city with the bloody head of the beast. Yet here he was at your feet, patiently anticipating your answer which he was positive was going to be a yes.

“I-'' you began, trying to think of the easiest way to let him down gently, “I fear that I'm not ready for marriage yet.” You said hurriedly. That wasn’t entirely a lie. You spent countless hours looking at the list of marriage candidates and scoping them out at balls and parties, but quickly realizing that none of them suited your tastes in that way. The entire idea of being wed barely satisfied you. You wanted to push it off for as long as possible.

“I'm willing to wait for you until the world crumbles. I'd even accept being your fiance until the day we die, as long as I can say you're mine,” he was persistent, you'd give him that.

You fiddled with your fingers nervously. Time felt as if it had stopped and this moment would never end. No matter what you did, he was still going to be there, “I thought you were to be wed to her highness, the princess?” You questioned him.

A scoff fell from his cherry pink lips, eyes looking you up and down, drinking in every inch of your body in that thin nightgown, “She does not interest me. Not the way you do.”

“There is really nothing interesting about me,”

“Won't you let me be the judge of that?”

Your shoulders slumped as you looked to your parents. They seemed as surprised by his persistence as you did, but weren't going to step in to help you, they always affirmed that it was your decision, they wanted you to be independent.

“Forgive me, hero, but I can not accept your offer,”

For just a split second you saw that princely expression slip. His eyes grew dark, lips in a deep frown, a rage you'd never seen before. But he was back to his usual expression in less than a second, that charming smile forming on his lips again as he stood from his knees and sheathed his sword a little too slowly.

“You wound me, my lady,” he'd mutter softly, hands still conveniently tight around the hilt of this sword, “Won't you please accept my gifts? And if you are to begin considering marriage, I hope that my proposal will be remembered fondly.”

Childe showed himself out, a little too quickly, but you didn't dare tell him to slow down. It was only once he was out those large double doors, did the air in your home feel breathable, you finally felt safe again. You watched his carriage leave from a window, watching as his eyes went dull again, losing all shimmers and feeling like a hollow mimicry of what humans were supposed to look like.

You were quite embarrassed to say you fell in love after that. Not with Childe, of course. You mentally tried to push the man from your mind after the way he startled both you and your family. Instead, your feelings developed for a commoner boy. You found yourself eyeing him when he'd deliver produce to your home, his face being one of pure beauty despite his messy exterior. As months went by, you'd catch yourself stealing bashful glances at him, locking eyes only for both of you to look away shyly. When the engagement was announced, Childe was one of the first to hear about it.

You twirled around the house in your wedding dress. Something plain and basic, but it was what your family could afford, and quite honestly, you loved it. You didn't want to take it off. Your fear of getting it dirty lessened as the days went by, until the wedding was only a week away.

“A guest for you, my lady,” one of your maids had said. Typically, when the employees of the house saw you dressed in your white gown, they'd smile at you, overjoyed as well. But she didn't. She looked worried, even a bit tense as she made the announcement to you.

“I hadn't arranged to meet anyone today,” you said a bit quietly, going to you closer to pick out something to change into, “Please tell them to wait in the day room.”

She stood stiffly for a second, then opened her trembling mouth to speak again, “I tried to, my lady. But he insisted on seeing you right now. He's just outside the door,”

A part of you wanted to ask who it was, who would be so disrespectful as to barge right up to a lady's room without her permission. But you already knew. There was a sense of unease sinking into your stomach. Unease and recognition. All the gifts and letters he'd sent weren't enough, were they? The man you were ignoring just had to come see you in person.

“Let him in,” you told the maid. She seemed confused at the ease at which you allowed such a thing, but still opened the door, revealing Childe who stood still in the hallway. He stepped past her, eyes only trained on you, “You're dismissed,” you said quietly, with a reassuring smile to the maid. Hesitance danced across her face, looking back and forth between you Childe, but she still did as told, bowing before leaving.

“You look lovely,” he said breathlessly, taking in the sight of you in that pure white dress.

“Thank you,” was all you could think to say back. Now that he was here before you, your mind was growing blank, all the things you wanted to say suddenly getting lost in fear. You tried not to notice the tension in the room, the way he was eyeing you like a predator about to pounce on a rabbit, but even your tough exterior was easy to see through.

“My heart aches for you, my lady,” he speaks softly while taking slow steps towards you. The terror of this situation made you move backwards, until your feet had made you press your back against the wall, “I fear that my haste might've made me do something…irrational.”

His dominant hand seems focused on the sword at his hip, making you look at it. It was only when you saw the red speckles all over his hand, hilt of the sword, and the oddly familiar pink ribbon he kept tied around it, did that coppery smell fill your nostrils.

With a trembling voice and a fake smile, you tried to assure him, “Any mistake is fixable, Sir Childe.”

“Not this one,” his hand continued to hold the hilt of his sword, squeezing it a few times as of testing the weight of his blade, “Do you know the best part of being the hero? The dragon slayer?” He asked, waiting for your response which was just a slow, forced shake of your head, prompting him to continue, “It's not the riches or the praise. It's not even the women.” As he speaks, one of his hands slides down from your cheek, to your neck, to the bodice of your dress. Tearful eyes look down to see him smearing that red liquid, that blood onto you white dress, staining it.

“I don't understand,” you mumbled, but your words fall on deaf ears.

“The best part of being the hero, is the freedom to do what I want. With no prosecution. Who in their right mind would stand up to the man who saved our failing nation? The answer is no one. Not the king, nor his workers, and especially not your weak little fiance,”

The sight and smell of blood, Childe's deep, hollow blue eyes, the way your heart felt as if it wanted to lurch out of your mouth. All things you tried to focus on as his words pounded their way into your skull, understanding washing over you like a wave that was trying to drown you where you stood.

“Wh-what did you do?” Your voice, so high pitched and breaking as the weight of the words forced through your body.

His hand, cold, soft, wet with blood rubbed your cheek, while his face never faltered, those dead eyes never changing, he had no remorse. It made you sick to your stomach, images of your fiance flashing through your head as you tried to imagine what he looked like, the hopeful ones saying that he was at least still alive.

“I'm going to ask again, nicely this time,” he began while pulling a ring from his pocket. Much more intricate than the one your fiance had given you, seeing as he had the hero's budget. But that didn't make you feel any less light headed when it was slipped onto your ring finger, freezing cold against your warm skin, “Will you do me the honor of becoming my bride?”

[ishtadawnstar]

Introductions

As Astarion scanned the dense forest, every rustle of leaves and distant animal call set his nerves on edge. The dread of Cazador's wrath was a shadow that loomed over him, a dark cloud that tainted even the brightest moments.

The thought of those harsh, cruel eyes finding him again, of the chains and torment he had barely escaped, was enough to make his blood run cold - as cold as the steel he suddenly felt being pressed against his neck.

Astarion froze, his breath hitching and heart pounding as a dagger slid past his face, the sharp edge dancing lightly across the skin under his chin.

His pulse thundered in his ears, and he held his breath, painfully aware that even the slightest flinch could result in his carotid artery being sliced open. The sensation was a chilling reminder of how close death always was.

"Now this is how you threaten someone..." a voice purred menacingly.

His eyes widened as he recognized the voice. How in the hells did she sneak up on me so quietly?

The fear was quickly replaced by a wave of embarrassment and anger. Swallowing nervously, Astarion slowly raised his hands, palms out to show he held no weapon.

Trying to appear much calmer than he felt, he forced a cheerful tone. "Hello again. Still alive, I see."

"How observant. Yes, not much has really changed within the past half hour... including your position, it would seem," Ishta replied, a hint of amusement in her voice. He could detect a faint trace of mockery, and he felt his anger rising again, his pride stung by her nonchalance.

The sensation of cold metal against his neck abruptly disappeared, accompanied by the sound of a dagger being sheathed.

Springing up, Astarion spun around and reached for his own dagger, only to find, to his dismay, that it was gone. Looking at the Ranger, he saw her holding it up and examining the blade, turning it around to catch the light. She glanced at him with laughing eyes, and he clenched his fists angrily.

"What do you want?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous, eyes narrowing into slits.

"Well, first of all, this edge is a mess. Needs a good sharpening," Ishta remarked, tossing the dagger back to him. He deftly caught it in mid-air by the hilt and looked at her with a mixture of surprise and annoyance.

Folding her arms, the Ranger quietly observed him as he returned the blade to the sheath on his belt, his movements stiff and controlled.

"Is that all you came back to say?" Astarion asked testily, his patience wearing thin, his usual charm stripped away by the tension and humiliation of the encounter.

Ishta shook her head and smiled slyly. "No. I came back to test a theory."

Astarion stiffened slightly, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Surely she can't already suspect I'm a Vampire... The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

"And what theory might that be?" he inquired casually, striving to keep his tone light and unconcerned.

"That you won't survive for long out here without help. If I could sneak up on you that easily without even trying, then I guarantee the predators of this forest are going to be eating gourmet tonight," Ishta grinned, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of mischief and mild concern.

Her words struck a chord, and Astarion felt a pang of vulnerability as he reflected on the harsh reality of his situation. He'd been so caught up in his own thoughts that he'd allowed this damned Ranger to get close enough to lay a blade on him.

Either she was extremely stealthy, or he was getting sloppy. Neither explanation was very encouraging, but maybe there was still a chance to turn things around. She must have sought him out for a reason, unless she just enjoyed toying with people....

The Ranger's tone became more serious as she continued, "Look, the wilds can be a pretty dangerous place for someone on their own even at the best of times. Add to that, roaming Intellect Devourers, Mindflayers, and definitely Goblin raiders, and well... I think it would be best if you joined me and my companion after all."

Astarion could feel his pride warring with the stark truth in her words. He was no fool - he knew that his chances alone were slim. But to accept her offer would be to acknowledge his weakness, to admit he needed help, and that was a bitter pill to swallow.

He took a deep breath, his eyes narrowing as he studied Ishta. Her confident stance and the way her eyes constantly flicked from his face to their surroundings indicated she was fully alert and taking in every detail around them.

She wasn't wrong about the dangers; the forest was more than likely teeming with threats, and he was far from his best while starving as he was.

If her fighting skills matched her calm confidence, then Astarion knew he'd be a fool to pass up an opportunity to ally himself with her - as much as he hated to admit it.

"I was ready to go this alone, but maybe sticking with the herd isn't a bad idea. Safety in numbers, after all," he said slowly, each word feeling like a concession. "And anyone that can crash a Mindflayer ship and walk away unscathed seems like a good person to know. All right, I accept. Lead on."

First impressions are so important, and Ishta has certainly made an... interesting one on Astarion. If you like this excerpt from my story and want to read more the click on one of the links below.

And to clear up some confusion, the Vampire lore in my story is a bit different from recognised D&D lore. (Mainly because from a writing standpoint, its extremely limiting and fustrating to describe the emotions of a character without the heartbeat and breath as indicators.) They have a heartbeat, but it is usually at 1bpm when calm, which prevents blood loss from injuries etc. However the more emotional they get, the closer to standard mortal levels their heartbeat becomes and the more dangerous it is for them to be injured.

Breathing is a bit more complicated; they can and do breathe, but they can hold their breath for an impressive amount of time and it won't kill them if they are suffocated in some way. They just fall unconscious and exist in a sort of hibernation until their bodies sense breathable air again.

https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/369105372-ishta-blood-huntress

[aromanticautiesworld]

If you write poly, can you do poly finntress? Also I'm curious will moth experience bi panic via finntress?

oh yes absolutely i write poly please send me poly requests! not 2 ramble about mushrooms but this first part (there will be multiple parts) kinda takes place middle of season 5-ish (sorry flame princess was with finn earlier in the timeline so mushrooms isn’t right after their breakup) there wont be any bi panic from moth abt fintress BUT! definitely in later parts (i love huntress wizard so much). ANYWAYS request time !

////

poly fintress with a gender neutral reader

word count: 1098

You squirm your way through the underbrush of the forest, following the path of the boy with the bear hat.

You were more introverted and withdrawn around other people than Finn, so he would sometimes take you with him (often very much like this) to meet new cool people he knew. Not that you object to any of this, most of the people Finn knows are cool with you too—as long as they’re not some sort of shapeshifting monster or illusion trick. That’s also happened before, unfortunately. While terrifying in the moment, you two look back and laugh about it. But still, never again.

So here you are now, legs halfway dipped into a creek, its weak current tugging at your clothes (which you regret wearing. Why couldn’t you have worn your waterproof pants today. Or at LEAST shorts).

“This is the spot where we usually meets. Me and yous just gotta wait,”

“And you’re a hundred percent sure she’s not a demon? Or a cursed witch?”

“Yeah I am dude. Hero’s honor,”

You consider. “Arrite,” You punch him in the shoulder, “I’m trusting you on this one,”

You both hear a rustle of branches and leaves coming from the opposite side of the river, and who you think is some sort of cat-person at first, based on the eyes that appear out of the darkness, effortlessly pushes her way out of the woods.

“What’s up, dudes,” She puts her bow back in its sheath, a bow that seems to have been drawn ready to fire a few seconds ago. You’re a little concerned about that, but if anything it makes you want to get to know this stranger more (also the name ‘Huntress Wizard’ could’ve spelled it out for you, but you didn’t think she’d be hunting right then).

“Meh, nuthin’ much. You said you wanted someone who can sing for this spell, right?” He gestures over to you, “They can sing,”

“Hey,” You pipe up awkwardly from where you stand, both still sort-of behind Finn and halfway in the water. Small fish swim past your legs.

“Hey,” She makes her way over to you, now also halfway in the river and half soaked, seemingly inspecting you, “Yeah. Yeah, you’re what we’ve been looking for,”

Ah. Pretty. Girl. Close to you. You are, at this moment, very normal and very functional. Both of those things.

“Thanks? Um. I mean I’m..I’m down to help with anything you guys need,” Glob, you feel like a student trying to talk to the ‘cool kids’ in one of those old teen movies right now. What is happening…

“Thanks dude! Love it when my friends are friends,” Finn grins, missing teeth only adding to his charm.

You now found yourself singing for a spell to bring forth some ancient magical plant. You wouldn’t say you didn’t care about that, it was a very cool thing, but your mind was occupied by…other topics.

The two taller people in front of you play their flutes, somehow in tune with your voice. Magic spreads in the air, emanating from both their playing and you, along with a feeling similar to when the air pressure drops before a storm begins (but with a more comforting feeling than that of impending doom).

…

Wait, no. That was actually the air pressure dropping.

The sky flashes with lightning, breaking open and letting loose a torrent of rain.

“Shelter! Quick!” Huntress yells out.

You start to follow her, when you’re quickly brought off of your feet and out of the now-muddy ground, scooped up by Finn. The water that’s suddenly pouring down on the three of you in the clearing and the flashes accompanied by thunderclaps do nothing to snap you out of your shocked and flustered state, and your face burns.

You’re eventually put down, now in the safety of a nearby cave, and are still recovering.

“Sorry about that, haha…” Finn chuckles nervously, “I might have panicked a little,”

You say nothing for a second, still stunned, before zoning back in.

“No, I would’ve done the same thing…at least, I would if I was as strong as you are,”

Finn ruffles through his backpack, while Huntress casts a spell under her breath to light a pile of twigs you guys’d found ablaze.

Finn then dumps out the contents of his backpack (a copy of Ble, an old sandwich, an uncursed dagger, the head of a mini cyclops, an energy bar, miscellaneous pens, and many other items now strewn across the floor.

“Guys. I don’t have my emergency sleeping bags,”

You both look up, Huntress now finished starting the fire.

“Looks like we have to huddle. We can use my cape as a sleeping bag for now,”

“Well…wait. Who’s gonna be where?”

“What’chya mean?” Finn asks from where he gathers the contents of his bag back to where they came from.

“I mean who’s gonna be on the edge, who’s being in the middle…”

“Hmmm…It’s just for one night, so…What do you think, Huntress?”

“I think you should be in the middle,” She turns towards you as she talks.

Your brain is flooded with both giddy excitement, and slight embarrassment.

“Yeah, I’m good with that. What do you think?”

“Yes. Yes. Good. Cool. Very good,” You nod quickly, shooting them a thumbs up. Words aren’t working too great for you right now, it seems.

Huntress takes off her cape, her hair (leaves?) are very pretty, spreads it out—this thing is big—onto the floor of the cave, and rolls herself up into one side of it. Finn then drops down his bag (he’s managed to put everything back) And rolls into the cape on the other side. Your turn.

You snuggle in between the two, heart practically beating out of your chest, and unbeknownst to the two surrounding you, a large grin on your face.

You were the first to fall asleep, of course, and both Finn and Huntress reflected on today.

You’re cool. A cool person to add to their weird little relationship-hangout thing they have going on. Based on what Huntress has seen today (that you’d tried to hide, to no avail. You were way more obvious about your crush on her than Finn was), and on what Finn knows about you, you wouldn’t object if they asked. If you did they would back off of course, but he knows that’s not the case.

Drip, Drip, Drip…

Honestly, it was very peaceful in this cave. The sound of rain outside, your steady breathing, the warmth you all shared.

You guys should do this every night.

[cryssyd]

A Love Beyond Hell

Previous: Chapter 3

It is an adaption to "Always and Forever" by ChaoticDoll (MadamMimic505) at Quotev.com.

Pairings: Alastor x Reader (Julia) Female

Summary: While resting after a long day, Julia's thoughts are interrupted by a loud knock at her door. Only to find that a vengeful intruder invades her home. As she desperately fights for survival, someone comes along to the rescue.

Warnings: 18+ Content, Established Relationship, Violence, Death, Graphic Details, Pregnancy and Birth, Smut, Minors DNI

Chapter 4

Raindrops danced on the windows of the charming house nestled in the misty forest. Julia cozied up by the fireplace, wrapped in a cozy blanket from the bed. Leaning over the arm of the sofa, she held a colouring crayon in her hand, meticulously filling in the final details of her beloved buck. The radio softly played a love song, causing her to sway gently from side to side as if she had a dance partner. Humming along with a soft smile, she reached for a red coloured pencil to give the buck's sturdy hooves a faded ombré effect.

¯ You’re mine, and we belong together, yes, we belong together for eternity. You’re mine. Your kiss belongs to me, yes. It belongs to only me. Oh, for eternity. ¯

¯ You’re mine, mine, mine, baby. And you’ll always be. I love you so much. I love you so much my darlin’ I’ll always love you ¯

Julia's cheeks tinged with a soft pink hue; Alastor's charm was undeniable. He always seemed to know exactly how to bring a warm smile to her face. Despite loving the beautiful music he played, Julia longed to catch a glimpse of him. Just once, she would give anything to gaze into those loving chestnut eyes again. Letting out a wistful sigh, she reached for her 'Oh Deer' mug filled with hot chocolate. After taking a sip and relishing the sweet taste, Julia hummed contently and placed the mug back on the table. As she sat up, a sudden unfamiliar creak caught her attention. The house had always made noises, but this one felt different. Much heavier.

"Alastor?" She hesitated, her voice echoing through the silence. Against her better judgment, she couldn't resist the flicker of hope that ignited within her. Startled, she nearly broke the pencil in half as a knock resonated from the door. Her heart raced, a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins. Visitors were a rarity in these secluded woods where both she and Alastor resided. Her parents occasionally made the journey, but they always gave prior notice. With trembling hands, she reached for the knife concealed beneath the coffee table, a precautionary measure Alastor had taken. The weight of the blade reassured her, its gleaming silver tainted by a faint crimson hue.

She cautiously gripped the knife, tiptoeing towards the door, her heart racing in her chest. Another knock echoed, louder and quicker than before. The radio had abruptly fallen silent, enveloping the room in an eerie stillness. Inhaling deeply to steady herself, she unlocked the door and cracked it open slightly to peek outside. Who could be visiting at this late hour, not even nine-thirty yet? Standing there was a young man, likely in his late twenties. Tall, with messy blonde hair and a hint of stubble, she couldn't shake off the uneasy feeling he gave her. He sported an orange hunting vest, a knife in its sheath at his waist, and a rifle slung across his back.

Julia inquired if she could be of assistance, turning her head to find him standing there by himself. His piercing green eyes scanned her up and down, a hint of disdain in his expression. "Are you Mrs. Altruist?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow. "Excuse me? Why is that relevant? Look, if you're here to hunt, just know that nothing on this land is open for that. I kindly request that you depart before my husband steps in." She gave him a stern look.

The man's mischievous grin accompanied his question, "Nah, I'm not interested in hunting anything, but do enlighten me, how does your husband manage to come when he's already stone-cold dead?" Julia's face drained of colour as a chill ran down her spine. "How on earth did you find out?"

“I've noticed you around town, and it seems like you've been flying solo for quite some time now. And let's face it, your man isn't exactly in a position to do much after my brother took care of him.” The blonde let out a chuckle as she watched the shock register in her eyes. Julia's grip tightened on the knife hidden behind her back. "What?!" she growled. "What is it that you're after?"

He hissed. "You're the reason my brother ended up behind bars for doing everyone a favour! Did you ever consider why he pulled the trigger in the first place?"

She clenched her jaw, seething with rage. "Leave immediately! Your despicable brother is responsible for taking away the person I cherished the most in this world - my husband! Get off my property before I do something I'll regret!"

The man pressed his fist against the door, keeping it ajar. "You won't be seeing your husband anytime soon, not after I'm through with you," he sneered. With a forceful shove, he pushed the door open, his dirty hand seizing her neck as she fought back, slicing his arm with a knife. Despite the pain, he held on tightly. So, you're a fighter, huh? I must admit, I had you pegged as a naive girl. But hey, I'm pleasantly surprised!

He lifted her once again, feeling her resistance as she clawed at his wrists in an attempt to break free from his grip. With a forceful shove, he pushed her against the table, causing her to let out a pained groan as the radio toppled over beside her, along with Alastor's shattered glasses. The blonde approached her with a cruel smirk, revelling in the sight of her defeated form on the floor. Among the debris on the table, her knife lay discarded, a symbol of her failed attempt to defend herself. Julia's eyes narrowed with determination, tears streaming down her face as she prepared to stand her ground against the looming threat.

The room was suddenly filled with static, the radio screen flashing from yellow to bright red. The air grew heavier with static, making Julia cover her ears in discomfort as the pitch increased. Annoyed, the man reached for the radio as the paintings and pictures on the walls began to shake and rattle. The house seemed to come alive with loud cracking and knocking sounds echoing against the walls, expressing the anger of its lone owner towards the intruder. The fire in the fireplace roared, flames licking up the chimney and casting monstrous shadows around the living room. The flames grew higher, hinting at impending doom.

“If you're searching for blood and bones, I recommend checking behind you.”

The radio wailed relentlessly amidst the crackling static, its voice resonating with a bone-chilling menace that Julia could only associate with her darkest nightmares. "What on earth?!" The young man instinctively recoiled as the rattling and trembling intensified, only to collide with an unexpected obstacle - or rather, someone. A towering, shadowy figure emerged from the very floor behind him, causing Julia's eyes to widen in sheer disbelief. The shadow possessed what appeared to be antlers, growing larger and more imposing with each passing moment. Gradually, the shadows dissipated, revealing an incredibly tall and gaunt figure, adorned solely in a vibrant red pinstripe suit paired with black trousers. The static intensified, causing her temples to throb relentlessly. With its elongated claws piercing into the man's shoulders, eliciting a pained grimace, he turned to meet the gaze of the Radio Demon's malevolent eyes.

“Who do you think you are, touching my beloved Julia with your dirty hands?”

The man's horrified shriek pierced the air as he was violently propelled upwards. From the floorboards emerged sinister shadow-like creatures, viciously tearing into him with their razor-sharp claws and gnashing teeth. Blood and entrails splattered across the living room, drenching the furniture, walls, and ceiling in a macabre shade of red. Paralyzed with terror, she watched as the man was mercilessly dismembered, his life essence pooling into the fiery abyss of the fireplace, while the shadow creatures dragged him away, his screams echoing in terror. Suddenly, his cries were abruptly silenced, and the deafening static ceased. The living room fell into an eerie silence, with only her paralyzed form and the sound of her breath. It was as if the man had never existed, leaving no trace behind, despite the gruesome aftermath left by the shadows. Slowly, she mustered the strength to rise, her tear-filled eyes fixated on the figure before her - a man in a crimson pin-striped suit and black trousers, kneeling with his hand extended.

"Are you okay, my dear?" he inquired, his crimson eyes fixated on Julia with concern. She couldn't comprehend why this peculiar being, who had just moments ago condemned a man to a dreadful fate, was now extending a helping hand towards her. However, as her fear-ridden mind started to process the situation, a sudden realization struck her, causing her eyes to widen in disbelief. "Did he just say her name?!" As she carefully observed the towering figure, she began to identify those eyes, although his appearance seemed drastically altered.

Julia couldn't believe her eyes as she uttered, "A-Alastor?" Doubt lingered in her voice, unsure if her grief had driven her to madness. But there he stood, with a smile that radiated warmth, just like the one he used to give her. "The one and only, my dearest," he replied, confirming her wildest dreams.

His words were filled with a mix of regret and protectiveness as he muttered, "I didn't mean to scare you. I just couldn't bear the thought of that filth touching you." At that moment, Alastor stood before her, and her mind struggled to comprehend his presence. Without hesitation, she lunged forward, enveloping him in a tight embrace. Tears of joy streamed down her face as she sobbed into his chest. Alastor's arms wrapped around her waist, drawing her closer to him. Julia's voice trembled with emotion as she whispered amidst her tears, "I thought you were gone forever, Alastor. I never thought I'd see you again."

"Do you remember when I promised to be with you until death separates us?" He inquired, his hand gently caressing her back, providing solace and reminding her of his unwavering support. "Of course," she replied. Alastor chuckled, shifting his position to allow her to meet his gaze. "Well, my love, I must confess that I deceived you. I could never bear to be apart from you," he whispered affectionately, delicately tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "That's why I've always been by your side."

With a hint of surprise in her eyes, she gazed at him, knowing that his presence had always been unmistakable. "I had a feeling," she said, calming down enough to lean in and kiss his toothy grin. He eagerly returned the kiss, and after enduring so much, they were finally reunited, even if it was under dangerous circumstances. He was back home, safe and sound, but most importantly, he was by her side once more.

Next: Chapter 5

[hanjyukutamago]

to kill a shadow

(imagine based on the graves' betrayal scene) (also definitely not proofread) (edited bcs i wanted to make the story longer) (also this is my first time writing a fic--well at least after 5-6 years?? so pls be kind to me uwu)

words count: 5,655 character count: 31,118

contents: violence, guns, blood, everything you would find in a typical cod game ofc(can be read as reader!!) x ghost x soap(platonic), everyone r mates, mentions of death, angst!!

(illustration is mine)

"Johnny, Mouse. How copy?"

"Solid."

"Great. Thought we lost you there. Mouse, how copy?"

Silence.

"Mouse?"

Not now, Ghost. I'm working right now. She thought to herself, a knife held tight in her left hand. Crouching right behind a Shadow soldier, her small figure gets even smaller, undetectable to the eyes of the American.

Small hands show to either shoulder of the soldier, the right holding his vest and the left stabbing right to the arteries on the neck. Making sure that there won't be any eyewitnesses, she withdrew the knife to her right, making a big slash no one could able to survive.

The soldier went limp, her right hand already on the vest went tense holding the weight of a dead man two times bigger than her, then left hand soon helped after sheathing the knife back into its pocket. Slowly she put down the soldier to the ground, making sure there was no noise made.

"Mouse busy. Killed a shadow."

"Was already thinking on how to look for a dead body as small as you." Ghost sighed in relief, two comrades alive is better than one.

"No need to. Mouse dead, more Mouse show up later. "

"Yes, and we've got a whole exterminator team outside." Ghost said, his voice low, reminding her of the situation. The sergeant tried to flip her brain right to left, front to back, trying to find a solution. There is no way they're going to hide along the way to safety right? There are just too many of them. Fully armed too, to remind her of their disadvantages.

She was lucky she still had her knife sheathed into her vest when the chaos broke out. Turns out Graves was not the cooperative man they were expecting to be. A fight between teams in this kind of situation is the last thing you would want. Especially against the ones who own attack aircraft that would end anyone in seconds.

The city of Las Almas probably is not the best, most peaceful one in the world, but it has its own charms; the music, the voice of children laughing, the chatter of people, it is never quiet in the city Los Vaqueros dearly loves.

Mouse took a small peek outside the alley, the first one after the last hour running and looking for a shelter to hide. The road that used to be so bright, so busy with locals running here and there is now dark, with nothing but bodies on the ground; men and women-children and also babies, the oh-so-beautiful terracotta floor painted with a shade of blood, streaming down the street, wet with rain.

"Bloody hell." She cursed under her breath, which is definitely the most normal reaction to this kind of scenery. "Does Graves know that they're doing a fucking war crime here?" The three of them can definitely hear the screams of wives, and scared husbands usually followed by a bang that ends them all, and the interrogative Shadows trying to force the Iranian out of his hiding, at least that is what they believe.

"These are innocent civilians..." Soap replied, she can hear the rustling behind his voice, probably still moving around trying to find a place safe enough to take a breath peacefully. "Shadows trying to play hero, aye?"

"Typical American move. Ghost, any ideas on how to escape this shithole?" Mouse has never been happy working with Graves, Shepherd, and anyone who's on their side. Too many orders, no solution. Too many noises for a small mission. She is not a fan of those unnecessary brrrts from the sky but she doesn't hate it, the Warthog-faced plane had saved her life numerous times.

"Stay low. Move through the houses. Make use of what you have. " The Lieutenant is a man of few words, but she had to admit that the things coming out of his mouth are usually useful.

Lucky. Mouse thought to herself, "I've got a knife with me. Soap?"

"Shite, got nothing on me. Probably dropped it somewhere in the forest--ouch--" Soap groaned, no matter how hard he tried to ignore the pain on his right shoulder, it keeps on coming back.

"Soap, you injured?" Mouse went into the empty-used-to-be-homey-coffee shop, her whole body complaining because instead of the sweet smell of her beloved coffee, she is greeted by the fishy smell of dried blood.

"Bullet to my right shoulder. But I'll be fine." Mouse nodded to herself, acknowledging Soap's report. Relying on the minimal light from the street and bright Shadow Jeep headlamp, she scoured the area looking for any extra weapons. It may be an empty house right now, but it still feels bad stealing something that used to be someone's. Especially when they're right there, eyes open wide with blood coming from the hole right between their jaw. The blood is fresh, meaning the Shadows were here, not long ago.

"Give me a sit-rep."

"Welcome to Starbucks, what would you like for today, Sir?" Mouse was proud of that one. She and Soap have been competing on who can make Ghost laugh harder. "Brits don't drink coffee, Mouse." Soap chimed, and she swear she could hear the targeted man chuckle a little. "Wid ye lik' some cuppa, Sir?" He continued teasing Ghost, he enjoys doing it every time. The comedian duo laughed together, satisfied by the joke. "MacTavish, sit-rep." Mouse can swear he was holding his laugh too, but for now, his stern reminder of the ignored comment is all they can get. "Rite, rite. Gated alley, Lt."

Mouse loves it every time someone makes a joke on the comms. These small interactions provide a little reminder of them still being human, not man-killing machines. Being in the army has never been easy, and will never be for anyone in the world, whether you're the strongest soldier or weakest loser out there. The emotional toll will always come like a big wave of a tsunami after every mission. When she was a Private, she believed that there is no way the missions would affect her mental health, that as long as she put nothing but her logical side of the brain into it. She was so tired of the stereotypes that women are much more emotional than men and tried so hard to prove them otherwise. But sometimes the percentage is right, and the surveys don't lie. She broke down in silence not long after her first mission.

Mostly, it was the blood. The only times she has seen blood is when it's flowing out of her flesh. The first time she has seen a fresh body it was so weird, and quickly realized how weak a human body could be.

The guilt of not being able to save everyone will never fade away, no matter how many missions she goes on after that. The kid in the Middle East. The small, weak old grandmother in Russia. The young man who died trying to protect his family in front of her.

The man was holding a handgun still wrapped tight by his dead fingers. Mouse noticed the weapon, and proceeded to take it from the cold skin of the owner, gently. This will help me survive outside. Thank you, and sorry I couldn't arrive earlier to help you. She spoke to the lifeless body in her mind, hoping that it would reach him somewhere, that he would forgive her for not being able to save the family.

She then looked around for any ammunition, because if he owned a gun that means he would have the refills for it, right? She thought and while she scoured the master bedroom for more possible useful stuff, she heard footsteps from the front door.

She stopped for a while trying to listen better to the noise, then held the pistol in both hands. By the weight of it, it seems like the previous owner didn't even get to shoot a bullet before having them in their head. Mouse kept her back to the wall, crouching behind the table in the corner of the room. The suspect of the noise stopped for a while, and from her position, she can see nothing but a familiar pair of boots.

The man is like a walking tower, yet his steps are feather-like. Mouse kept her presence hidden, she knows better than anyone that it would be a stupid idea to ambush a 6-foot-tall military man from the front. The scars and wound marks are proof of it.

She was going to wait until the giant walked past her so she could attack him from his back-until his face come into her sight. It was the lieutenant, probably looking for her and the other sergeant. "I'm inside the coffee shop." She could hear Ghost clearly from her comms, also from the man she planned on killing just a minute ago.

"Ghost! Sir!" She whispered loudly. It has been a long while since the last time she felt comfort in her heart. Seeing a familiar figure after hours of hiding in cold rain surely provide some kind of warmth, at least psychologically. The man in the balaclava somehow is fully-geared from head to toe, looking like a killing machine fresh out of the base. He quickly turned his head to the source of the sound, shoulders relaxed upon realizing that it was his junior behind the wooden table.

"Any injuries?" He asked, keeping it short and simple as always.

"No, Sir. Not a single drop of blood out." She answered, finally stood up, and walked to her superior.

"Good. Keep it that way. Gonna need a backup for exfil." He nodded, then proceeded to go upstairs. Mouse follows him automatically, keeping her footsteps light despite the heavy-duty boots. Ghost walked to the side of the window, Shadows can be seen still scanning the area that is now silent because there is no one alive to be killed anymore.

"See that church? We're going to secure our transportation right there." He pointed to the tall building up on the hills, easily visible because of the lights surrounding it. Probably a Shadow team meeting point. Ghost brought the walkie-talkie to his cloth-covered mouth, "Soap, I have regrouped with Mouse. Meet us at the church, how copy?"

"Loud and clear," Soap responded, almost immediately.

"Soap, can you manage? I can regroup with you first." Mouse reminded herself of Soap's injuries, worried about the lad going to the meeting point alone.

"Aye. Bleeding has stopped, kind of. Will somehow manage." He said, followed by a slight chuckle.

"Stay alive, Johnny." Ghost knows Soap probably better than anyone on the team, he would know when the Scotsman needs help or not.

"Roger, Sir."

Ghost moved his head in the direction of the stairs, ordering her to go downstairs first. She then moved to the direction of the kitchen, then opened the door leading to the back alley. The rainy clouds reflected the light from the church, making it easier to find a way out. Ghost followed her, always making sure no one is looking every time they make a turn into another tight alley.

They made their way into another house, the walls yellow-colored with a splash of dark brown here and there, plants on every corner of the room. Must be a cozy house before this shitshow, she thought. Ghost went straight to the kitchen, finding a rather big kitchen knife and handing it to her. 'Make use of what you have', as the skull-faced man one time said.

"Sir, can I ask you a question?" Mouse broke the silence, either it was her habit of being chatty at the wrong times or her attempt on getting her superior to speak more.

"Speak, Sergeant." He answered, eyes on the kitchen cabinets in front of him.

"How come you're so fully geared? You get a special drop or what?" She chuckled at the last sentence like it was a joke, but it really has been in her mind for a while. She has been going in and out of houses for hours, yet didn't find anything to hold on to as a weapon. How come this man has not one, but two rifles on his back?

"Your first guerilla warfare, kid?" He finally turned his back to the smaller women, slightly nodding his head in question. "You've seen my documents, Sir." Her eyes met with his for a second, then moved to the door to move again. He stayed behind her to keep her back, both of them safe.

Mouse tends to overthink her own actions, also over-analyze others' reactions. Usually by how their lips pout, how their eyebrows crease in confusion after she said something weird, and any changes in facial expressions. By Ghost's face not being visible, she could only rely on the slightest of his eye movements. They're a bit sparkly and strong when he's doing his job, dark when something didn't go his way, sometimes soft when he realized his teammate is injured, and she still can't prove it yet but also sometimes when he's looking at her. Is it because she's a woman? Because she's smaller? Looks weaker? Way greener than him? Anything it is, she doesn't care as long as she can keep working with the team.

"Sometimes you just have to let your experience talk, Mousey." He sometimes calls her Mousey when he's feeling a little bit chatty, usually to emphasize how small a mouse, and Mouse is. She doesn't hate it. Quite the contrary, she kinda loves it. It's like when your best friend gave you a nickname only they can use.

"Can't wait to be as experienced as you, Sir." She turned her head to Ghost one last time before stepping the wet road outside, again. They again stopped before making a turn on the alley. "Don't be like me, Sergeant. Do better." He has seen the glory and the muddy, stinky side of being in the army and he wouldn't wish anyone to see what he has seen and feel what he has felt before. If he could make Mouse stop her career in the military, he would. No human should live restlessly and hold the burden of world peace like this. Especially being in the 141 means that no one on the earth would be thankful for what they did, because if one does, that means they had failed on keeping the task force a secret.

"I can see the church, Sir, but there are too many Shadows walking around," Mouse reported to her superior who was behind her. This time Ghost went first, signaling her to get behind the car across the street. "Find cover. We're going to work our way to the church."

"Roger." The car's engine did warm her body for a bit, having it soaked in water for the last hours. She then peeked into the vehicle, the car key still stuck where it should be, feels like a gift from the great heavens for runaways like her.

"Sir, might want to mark this car. Engine's on, everything's there, we get Soap and run." Mouse said, excited to finally flee from the grasp of the Americans.

"Noted. Now let's move." Ghost led the way, avoiding the enemies' eyes which are ready to fire anyone who doesn't look like one of them. The pair kept on hiding behind cars, slowly making their way into the church.

"Any visual on the church?" Ghost asked the other sergeant.

"Aye. Road's blocked, though." Soap looked around for any threats, then moved to a darker alley, hiding in the shadow, from Shadows. "Try and cut through the shops. Much safer." Ghost warned. "Aye, sir. On my way."

After countless houses and shops, Ghost and Mouse finally reached the side fence of the church. The front steps were heavily guarded by an army of Shadows, making it not an option to sneak from the main gate. They could feel some kind of relief once they stepped on the cold granite floors of the religious building. Shadows might be carefree enough to kill civilians for zero reasons, but they wouldn't be brave enough to attack a church... right?

Whatever the truth is, they proceeded to go to the higher floor of the church. "I'll go first. Watch my back." Ghost said, holding his rifle tight. The church looks like it hasn't been touched by the chaos, chairs, altar, and everything still in place.

Ghost placed himself near the window of the fifth floor, prepared to give Soap the backup he would probably need when he reaches the building. Just right after he placed his sniper rifle(which Mouse kept staring at because how the fuck did he get that?), he noticed a figure that definitely doesn't belong in the Shadows squad. The figure ran into an alley, probably inside the house. The soldiers were facing another direction, not aware enough to notice him.

The pair both know it's ninety-nine-percent Soap who is inside the house. Ghost aimed his rifle at the front door of the said building, his eyes fixed right on the scope. "I'm nearby, Sir," Soap reported through the radio.

Soap was going to open the front door slowly and sneak up to the church, but it was unfortunately locked from the outside. Either he didn't realize that there are enemies outside of the house or a pure case of having so little patience left, he tried prying open the wooden door. Which of course was followed by a rather big noise considering you're hiding from a whole squadron trying to kill you.

"No, no, no, Soap! Not like that!" Mouse loudly whispered, her heart beating fast and muscles tense watching Soap's action from behind the walls of safety, or so she thought.

Soldiers swarmed the door in an instant, meeting one of the guys they have been looking for hours. A loud bang of gunfire echoed, not from the Shadow, but from the man beside Mouse.

Heads soon turned in the direction of the church, giving Soap time to escape. Shadows soon swarmed the church from the front gate, rifles on hand, definitely not trying to repel their sins. If you have done one war crime, why not add more, yeah? Nothing will change anyways.

"We've got visitors here! Meet me on the steps outside!" Ghost packed his sniper rifle, switching to a smaller, M4A1. They ran to the other side of the tower and went downstairs hoping that there will be fewer Shadows there. The American soldiers sure are fast, as one, or two already reached the fifth floor they were camping on. Mouse shot a bullet, piercing through the unprotected area of his face, replied by a bang from the other side. Two bodies dropped to the floor, one in all-black attire and one with a British flag on the right sleeve.

Ghost noticed the fight behind him, then turned his face to find that Mouse isn't there. She might sometimes be stubborn, but there was no time she doesn't obey an order. Ghost was midway to the 4th floor, then just as he was about to reach the fifth, another bang echoed, followed by a heavy thud.

He always has worst-case scenarios prepared in his head, and one is to work out his muscle a little bit and carry Mouse to safety somewhere in this mission. Sometimes his habit gets really spooky and becomes a reality.

"Don't--pick me up. I can go by myself." She grunts, holding up her body with the help of the wall, one hand waving to Ghost, signaling him to not worry. She is not scared of blood, but she hates the smell and the texture of it. She hasn't dared to look at her wound but can feel it from her inner left thigh. "Fast, before another Shadow shows up and kills us both."

Ghost opened his pocket and took out a leather belt, then fastened it right above her wound. He tightened it as much as it could go, then poked a new hole with a knife, the belt resting nice and steady, and of course doing the job of reducing the blood loss at the very least.

"Now we can move." Ghost gave a look of approval in his eye, then helped Mouse to stand straight on the ground. "Quick. I can hear the footsteps. You go first."

Mouse nodded, and they change places. Ghost gave an extra look every time he checks his back, and also every time Mouse took another step downstairs. They stop every time the rustling of army vests and heavy steps of the boots can be heard, wait until they are gone, or shoot them when they're heading their way. Mouse kept count of how many bullets will be left in her handgun, making sure every bullet out are deadly accurate. By the time they reached the ground floor, she only got two left inside the weapon.

Finally made his way to the steps outside the fenced church, Soap was a tad bit confused when he couldn't see any Shadows there. "I'm here, Lt! Area clear, no Shadows!" He reported, but of course, there would be no Shadows outside, because they were all inside chasing for the other two 141 members.

The wooden gate of the church opens, showing a limping small soldier and following a tall man with a skull balaclava, both running for their dear life. "Soap!" Ghost shouted to the man waiting outside of the fence, moving to his location to regroup. Soap shot the gates' lock with a handgun he found earlier, strapped to the body of a dead Shadow. He then opened the heavy gate with his unwounded arm, making it easier for the pair to exit the area they were in.

"Steamin' Jesus, Mouse! Y'alright?" Soap noticed the gunshot wound, the camo cargo pants now dyed dark red. Adrenaline keeps Mouse up, running, and shooting bullets, but other than that, she finds it hard to process. She finds it hard to make a proper sentence to answer him, so she just ran to the car she found before going into the church.

"Mouse found a car before we got here. We need to secure the vehicle!" Ghost ran behind Soap and Mouse, then noticed how Mouse became less and less fast. The bullet probably grazed her femoral arteries, and although not completely sever it, it's still one of the main arteries and it will leak more and more blood as she goes. It is undoubtedly Ghost's belt did wonders because if it doesn't she would've been dead from blood loss right now.

Ghost, being the only unwounded one then ran to the front of them, then picked up Mouse along the way. Usually, Mouse would've resisted, but she had little to no energy for that. "What... the... fuck..." She moved her mouth slowly, still processing what had happened, why is she on the lieutenant's shoulder, why is she not running anymore. One good thing is, Mouse is small enough, at least for Ghost, to carry on his right shoulder.

"Soap, use this!" Ghost passed his assault rifle to the sergeant. "Cover us!" He opened the back door of the Jeep, placing Mouse in a position where she could sit comfortably. Her eyes are still open, aware of everything that is occurring in front of her, but not strong enough to react. The handgun was still held tightly in her left hand, her right hand on the car seat, holding the weight of her body. The blood seems like it's not going to stop any time soon. She grunts, and straightened her body, planning on giving support by making the best out of the two bullets inside her gun.

Soap got inside the car, passenger's seat, and Ghost is driving. The car engine is still on, just like the time they found it. Ghost hit reverse, did a whole donut then hit the gas, reaching the speed that definitely will get anyone a ticket if the town is in its normal state. The Shadows, of course not giving up yet, tried to chase the stolen car. Soap shot rounds of bullets, killing the Shadow that was shooting at them. The driver is still chasing them, but no matter how many times Soap pulls the trigger, the bullets are not coming out. Mouse realized the crisis they're in right now and moved her body to the left side of the seat, took a look at the target, and shoots him. The first bullet was stopped by the window, and the second, the last bullet hit the driver near his neck. Was not the headshot she expected it to be, but still enough to help them run away.

Mouse let out a sigh, adrenaline stopped pumping and a wave of fatigue washes over her. She rested her head on the headrest, then moved her eyes, scanning the inside interior of the car. 'Oh, right' She thought, as her eye stopped on the wet wound. Everything is slow and blurry, and all she thought about was how she wanted to throw her body to a bed and sleep.

"Don't you dare sleep, Osborne." Ghost took a peek in the rearview mirror, finding the sergeant about to doze off. Soap turns his body, keeping a look on the wounded soldier in the back seat. "I'll keep my eyes on her, Lt. Keep driving." He said, and he kept his words, as he literally stared at Mouse without even blinking.

Mouse found the sergeant's action funny and let out a weak chuckle. "Stop. You're scary." Mouse knew that it was game over once she closes her eye. She knows it too well, she has seen it too many times, more than enough.

"Where are we going, Sir?" Soap asked the driver, eyes still on Mouse. "Alejandro has a safe house. We're meeting his men there." If Ghost could go faster, he would. The thing is, this is the fastest a Jeep could go. The blocked roads are also not helping. Soap unfastened his seat belt, then jumped to the back seat. "I'm sorry, little mouse, you know I hate violence but I had to do this."

He hit Mouse's cheeks from both sides, squeezing them and bringing his face closer to hers. "Let's do a little quiz, aye? What's your favorite subject in school?" The surprise slap and sudden quiz did open Mouse's eyes a little bit. "Heh, Lame." The driver chimed in.

"What the fuck, Soap." She laughed. "Mom wansme goodadmahhs." Every second she finds it harder and harder to move her body parts, her mouth not excluded. "Mouse... badadid." Her eyes started getting teary, Soap's question brought up some good memories of her hometown. "Tellmamom... Sorry-ah-lie...d." Her body shakes every time she sniffled, her head full of regret for not being honest with the people she loves.

"You tell them yourself, Natalie. Maybe after we are back in the UK?" Soap's mission was only one, and that is to keep the other sergeant talking. Having little to no energy left, Mouse nodded, hoping that her body wouldn't have to be sent to her house, because it will be funny that Natalie Osborne, who's supposed to be working in the paperwork department of the SAS, died because of a bullet wound.

People who have seen her documents, in this case, Captain Price and Lieutenant Riley, must've known that her parents actually knew about their daughter being in the task force. Her dad actually once became suspicious and called directly to the military hotline. He told them not to tell her, though, because he knows she would be embarrassed as fuck if that happened.

They were approaching the road out of the city but were met with barbed wires, preventing citizens to escape from the lockdown. Ghost didn't hesitate and drove through it, finally getting them out of the destroyed city. The surroundings of the car shifted from the street lights to the dark mountains, and them getting closer to the safe house. She doesn't know if it's because of the lack of lamps, but Mouse felt like her vision is getting darker as time passes. Her headache is gradually getting stronger and her eyelids get heavier each second.

"Hold on, Mousey. The safe house is close. We'll patch you up first thing first." Ghost held tight on the steer, he is not panicking, but no one will ever get used to seeing their teammate's soul slipping out of their hand. They are so close, so close to saving Mouse from the death's door.

"Am sleepy, Simon..." Consciousness fading in and out, she doesn't even realize she's calling her superior by his given name. Wrinkles show up between Soap's eyes, worried about the inevitable. "Come on, hey, you said Mouse don't die, aye?" He gave her cheeks some light taps, in an attempt to wake her up again.

Mexico is not supposed to be this cold, even if it's a rainy night. She doesn't know, it's her first time visiting the country. She could see Soap's mouth moving as if he was talking to her, but she couldn't hear anything. The last thing she wanted to do was to talk. She just wants to lay down somewhere warm and comfy, then sleep.

It all makes sense now. She's not going to be a better person than the Lieutenant, she's not going to be the first female captain in the SAS. The book is closing, and it is by an American betrayer. Should she become a wandering spirit, she will ghost Graves anytime she could. Yeah, that's probably a good plan for her future. She unconsciously chuckled with her last drop of energy, and finally succumbed to the fatigue.

"No, no, no, no, no--Fuck! We're losing her!" He slammed his fist to the car seat, then immediately rushed to fold Mouse's sleeves up and took her gloves off, desperate for any signs of a heartbeat. "How long 'til we get there, Lt?" He finally took his eyes off Mouse after a good hour and gave the Lieutenant a look from the rearview mirror.

"One last turn. Hold tight." Ghost made a hard turn but hardly a drift, the trees fading, and a big barn came into sight. It looks clean but somehow abandoned, with nothing but the field of grass surrounding it.

"I'll carry her. Johnny, you take care of your own wound." Ghost got out of the car first, then opened the back door. "Aye, Sir." Soap nodded, then walked to the said safe house. He kneeled to the iron plates on the ground, suspicious of the placement.

Ghost let out a heavy sigh, then carried the limp body out of the vehicle. He could feel her chest rise and fall softly, a sign for him to not give up hope. He may not say it out loud, but having his subordinate injured under his watch leaves a big guilt on him.

He stopped walking behind the kneeling Scotsman, and he too noticed the object on the grass. "Rigged plates." Soap deducted. "Smart bastard." Ghost approved, amazed by the Mexican Special Forces colonel.

Soap went inside through the open window, his now freshly loaded rifle ready in his hand scanning the lowly lighted area. Ghost followed with Mouse on his shoulder, and a red dot appeared on Soap's forehead. "Don't move." He ordered the sergeant, then a knife was sent flying in the direction of the laser, landing on the wooden pole.

"Who's there?" A familiar sound asked, answered by Soap who realized the owner of the voice. "Rodolfo!" He called, and the mentioned man then appeared from behind the pole.

"Soap! Ghost! Mouse!" His eyes light up, seeing his amigos alive and moving, but his face soon turned the opposite when he laid his eyes on Ghost's shoulder. He jumped out of his hiding, and gave back the knife Ghost threw at him, rushing to help them carry the injured sergeant.

"You guys equipped with proper infirmary?" Ghost waved his hand, signaling the Mexican that he will carry Mouse by himself. "Come," He nodded, then did a light jog to the light switch, turning on some of the barn's light sources. He then pulled down a lever, and wooden barn doors opened, showing them another door, hopefully, filled with medical equipment.

Ghost laid down her body on the hard bed, and gave her one last look, his eyes soft as always. The curious eyes that used to look up at him, were now closed, skin pale. He sighs, he has never been good at expressing emotions, on how to act when his teammate is nearly dying, in front of him. The Los Vaqueros had a combat medic, thank whoever's up there. The British Special Forces went out of the room, entrusting the life of little Mouse in the Mexican soldier's hands.

Whatever results that will come out of the door, one thing that Ghost, and Soap know, is that they were not ready to lose another friend. At least after they all saw her efforts in climbing the harsh world of the army. All those hard work, all the times they have bonded together as a team, as mates. How are they supposed to see Price's face after all this? How to tell Gaz? How to move on to another mission with one gear missing?

They don't have enough time to worry, never enough time for anything. They had to move forward, plan on getting their revenge on Graves and Shepherd, free Alejandro, find Hassan, and save the world from chaos.

One thing they keep in their head, is that you can never kill a Mouse. They will always come back, usually smarter, and even harder to kill. As someone once said:

"Mouse dead, more Mouse show up later. "

[ace-malarky]

Hey those are *my* siblings back off

I woke to a message from my friend this morning that went off into headcanons about my travelling band of chaotic feral mages that then spawned this piece of writing and ok it's probably rough and yes I did just write it in the two hours after midnight but hey

you know what

I kinda fucken like it

(in which Jasper might get pissed off by his siblings but no one else is allowed to even think about hurting them)

~~~~

The laughter – good natured as it is – grates at him like the screech of a badly timed parry.

Jasper clamps his sword in his hand and flattens his ears against his skull, snapping to his feet and turning on his heel in one smooth movement.

“Hey, Jas–” Llinos starts, falling out of stance even before the music halts.

“Don’t,” he replies, barely making the word not a snarl. “Just – don’t.”

Kaua and Tadhg stop playing. Tamhas is on his front, getting to his feet.

“Sorry,” Llinos says.

“Yeah.” Jasper stalks out of the clearing they’d made their camp in, leaves them all behind.

He walks far enough that he can’t see the play of their campfire, can’t hear them pick up the halting threads of a conversation he’d been part of when they’d sat down.

It’s nights like this when Kallyin feels closest to the surface, when the fire burns under his fingertips, when everything feels just a little more… a little more.

He won’t stay away long. Just long enough to soothe out his scorched nerves. Just short enough that they won’t bother to send someone out after him, because he doesn’t think he wants to find out who they’d send to talk him down first.

Even if he knows it will always be Llinos; they’ve known each other out here too long for her to send anyone else in her stead.

Jasper lets a little fire escape on his breath, siphoning off a little of his anger. Not anger. Annoyance. He remembers the way Kallyin would prowl, ears twitching, teeth bared in a quiet snarl. She’d always held his anger, and now he held hers.

 It isn’t too much later when he turns back to the forest he’s left them in. There’s nothing out here but the plains before the mountains, and he can only see them as a distant void against the night sky.

 He’s stepped too well to leave much of a trail, but he follows his nose back in along the faint promise of smoke, ears twitching to catch the faint sound of conversation.

 Jasper’s far closer than he ought to be before he realises that something is wrong, that he should have heard something of their conversation now, however faint. They wouldn’t have all fallen asleep without him there.

 He slows to a prowl and flicks his sword partially free of its sheathe, dropping into a crouch.

 The second thing he notices is that the fire is brighter than he’d left it. More spread out.

 The third thing is the charm that’s been painted onto a tree, still fresh and stinking of iron. He doesn’t recognise its design, but he knows it’s been painted in blood.

 A low growl slips past his teeth.

 Shapes in the clearing sharpen as his eyes adjust. Tamhas and Tadhg, back to back and slumped forward, noses almost to their knees. Kaua, gagged and tied up, struggling furiously under the watch of a man holding her down with the blunt end of a spear. She’s oddly muffled even for the gag, and that must be what the charm does, some kind of silencing.

 Llinos, flat out on her front like she’d been dropped, arms tied behind her, her bow in the grass beside her and dangerously close to the fire. There’s a scattering of arrows in the scuffed grass, Kaua’s sword, and another two figures watching them. They’re gesturing with their swords – little more than machetes, maybe, more suited for cutting through plants than people – and seem to be arguing. He can’t hear what they’re saying.

 He doesn’t care what they’re saying.

 No sign of Rhydderch, and Jasper hopes – he can’t see Llinos well enough to tell. He doesn’t think she’s bonded, he thinks that if she had they wouldn’t be caught like this, he thinks there would be more damage to their surroundings (he remembers bonding with Kallyin, the panic and the fire and the yowling pain that had nearly split his senses apart on the path).

 Rhydderch must be free, he thinks fiercely, not looking too closely at the pile of their belongings. It would kill Llinos for it to be any other way.

 He’s still growling. That’s his family down there.

 Fire slides between his jaws, eyes sharpening to slits as he places a hand on the hilt of his sword.

 Llinos hasn’t moved.

 The sound of it drawing rasps in the night, amongst the creak of branches and the rustle of leaves. There isn’t any wildlife nearby.

They haven’t heard; their charm works both ways.

One of the boys – he thinks Tamhas, the fire turning his sandy coat umber – groans and lists sideways, ears flicking up.

 Jasper bares his teeth and lunges from the treeline.

 Sound rushes back in; the fire, the argument, the fire, Kaua’s indignant muffled curses that are half shrieks, the fire.

 “You let that damned fox get away–”

 “It’s just a fox, what does it matter, some dumb animal–”

 Jasper slams into the two arguing men before they’ve realised he’s there; chops into one as he shoulder-barges the other to the ground, barely stumbling as he digs a foot into the ground and rips his claws through the dirt as he turns, holding his sword out.

 A screech pierces the night, a rolling alarm that isn’t any of them.

 The one he’d hit with his sword reels back with a cry, almost dropping his machete. He takes one look at Jasper and tries to run.

 Jasper snarls and fire tips his teeth and he doesn’t let him run. He throws his sword’s sheathe between his legs and brings him down, kicking the other in the face as he turns again, towards Kaua.

 The fire’s between them. It’s not as tall as he’d thought, but it’s more spread out. They’d added to it, made it more of a bonfire, a signal.

 The fire under Jasper’s fingers wants to answer it. Kallyin purrs in his chest, ready to play.

 The man levels his spear at Jasper, kicking Kaua away. She curses him again, digging her talons into the grass, flicking her head to try and dislodge the gag.

 Something screams in the forest beyond the clearing.

 Jasper’s grin sharpens as he recognises Rhydderch’s call. “You made a mistake,” he says, and his voice is barely recognisable, all low snarl and rasping threat.

“You’re surrounded,” the man replies, and keeps the fire between them.

One of the other men, coughing, sets off a flare that shatters against the sky, blinding the stars.

 “You think we didn’t come prepared?”

 “I think you’d like to think you did,” Jasper replies, and feints to his other side just to see him flinch. He turns his sword in his hand.

 There are other people in the forest, coming closer. Now that he’s broken the barrier, he can hear them. They’re not quiet.

 Llinos still isn’t moving.

 “If you’ve hurt my sister,” Jasper says, “Nothing will save you.”

 “Jasper,” says Tadhg, tailing off with a groan.

 “There’s more of them.” Tamhas sounds a little more alert. “Mages.”

 His opponent tries to take an opportunity, thinking him distracted as his ears flick in their direction, and stabs at him through the fire.

 Jasper twists sideways and slaps the spear away with his sword.

 The fire gutters under the draft of their weapons.

 Jasper breathes in.

 The fire dips some more. Shadows grow through the clearing. The flare dies above them, the stars reappearing.

 Jasper blinks, his eyes adjusting to the dim light.

 His opponent catches his breath, hands tightening on his spear.

 Jasper lunges forward, through what’s left of the fire, and sweeps his sword up to catch on the spear’s haft, smacking it out of the way. There’s little finesse in his attack and they go tumbling as he lands, over and over until Jasper is on top and their weapons have been left behind.

He manages to punch Jasper. He hits Jasper’s cheek, splitting his lip against his fangs, snapping his head to the side.

 Jasper snarls – he’s been growling almost the whole time, but it erupts now, fire licking out between his jaws – and catches his hands, slamming them into the ground. “No one touches my family.”

Several things happen.

A group of men charge into the clearing with their weapons drawn. Rhydderch dashes in, another man on his tail. Tamhas breaks free and throws himself at one of the men Jasper had already downed, just as he got to his feet.

 Kaua spits the gag from her beak.

 Jasper throws himself sideways just before an arrow whistles through the space he had been. He rolls, steadies himself, lunges forward without really getting to his feet. He grabs his sword on the way, and charges into the group as the fire blazes back up in his wake.

 Kaua takes a breath and shrieks. There’s no melody to it; there are barely words. It rends the night, cuts through the clash of metal, slices the growl that buzzes in Jasper’s chest.

 Two of the men stumble, go ashen, fall to their knees and scramble backwards to the tree line. Several more turn and run, disappearing amongst the trees with Rhydderch on their tail.

 Jasper ducks a wild blow and twists his sword into two from the handle, palming one into his off hand. He wreaks havoc, surrounded as he is, and every slice finds its mark.

 Somewhere, Rhydderch barks. Somewhere, someone screams.

 “And fucking get gone!” Someone – Tadhg, he thinks – yells.

 There’s only one of them still standing, and that’s either because he’s stayed out of the way or because he’s actually good.

 Jasper’s keen to find out which. He could do with a challenge.

 This man has a curved sword and a buckler and a taunting smirk that he levels at Jasper as he backs to a clear space.

 Kaua has stopped shrieking.

 Jasper steps over one of his opponents and can’t find it in himself to care whether or not he’s dead. He bares his teeth in a facsimile of a grin, eyes dancing with fire.

 There’s a soft moan behind him – Llinos, finally awake.

 Rhydderch appears amongst the trees, stands tall and still for a moment, and then races towards her.

 Jasper’s family is safe, but they almost weren’t.

 Their swords meet in a discordant clash, his second screeching against his opponent’s shield.

 If Jasper cared, maybe he’d taunt him. Maybe he’d ask for information, find out if anyone hired them or if they were just being opportunistic.

 Jasper doesn’t care. Not really. His family was hurt and he hadn’t been there, but he’d got back in time.

 He locks the hilts of their swords together and pulls to the side.

 His opponent slams his buckler into Jasper’s chest and attempts to yank his sword back.

 Jasper stumbles backwards and coughs fire, staining his opponent bright with its warmth. His sword slips from his grasp and his opponent smirks, slowly repositioning as if he has the time to gloat.

 Jasper swings his other sword in and under his buckler, punching through his armour and between his ribs.

 His opponent has the audacity to look surprised, as if Jasper hadn’t been toying with him the whole time.

 Jasper steps back, yanking his sword free.

 The man staggers backwards, lifting a trembling hand to his chest. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something.

 Jasper tilts his head, lifting his sword to let the blood run off it and drip into the fire, where it sizzles.

 The man falls and slowly – finally – stops moving.

 One of the twins whistles.

 “Maybe we shouldn’t get on Jasper’s bad side,” said Tamhas.

 Kaua snorts.

 “Hey.” Llinos is partially leaning on Kaua, her bow in her hands with an arrow on the string, though she didn’t look like she’d tried to pull it at any point. “Thanks.”

 “Yeah,” Jasper says, and wipes his sword clean.

[authorchase]

Dark Urge Beginning in BG3

Hopefully will be able to post this whole story on AO3 eventually, but I have the first chapter done at least.

1 Meeting

Valdon and Shadowheart see a man in messy embroidered clothes looking out at the wreckage by the lake. The nautiloid certainly made a catastrophic mark on the land and there are bound to be people curious about it. The two find they are wrong as they approach the pale Elf.

"There! I have one of those…brain things cornered" the Elf exclaims to the two. Valdon steps closer as he looks out at the wreckage and then looks at the Elf.

"You can kill it can't you? Like you did with the others?" the Elf asks. Valdon is cautious but is excited to spill more blood.

"Easily, stand back" Valdon smirks as he approaches where the elven man is looking towards. After a few moments, a boar's squeal is heard and it runs towards the lake, leaving Valdon confused. Suddenly the sorcerer is pulled back with a dagger at his neck and both he and the elf fall to the ground. Valdon tries to struggle out of the elf’s hold, but he is pushed down again and shushed. Who the hell shushes their victim?

“Don’t do anything rash or I’ll slit that pretty neck of yours” the elf smirks, as he looks at Shadowheart as well. Shadowheart stands ready just in case Valdon cannot get himself out of this.

“Now, I saw you on the ship, didn’t I? Nod” the elf questions as he turns back to Valdon. Valdon headbutts the elf and the rogue growls in surprise. They both get up from the ground at this point and glare at each other.

“You son of a-agh!” the elf shouts, but then feels his mind blend with Valdon’s and Shadowheart’s. Valdon groans as he feels his mind exploring the elf's and he sees the busy taverns and the dark streets of a city he can barely recognize. Valdon himself has been there, but when? The visions cease and they all take deep breaths as the pain ends.

"What was that!?" the elf shouts as he begins to panic at these inclinations.

"Ugh, the tadpole. It connects us and our minds it seems" Valdon answers, still confused himself. Shadowheart groans as she sheathed her mace and decides the pale elf may not be a threat after all.

"Yes, I saw you escaping the ship and getting us back to our plane of existence. I will say, you are quite resourceful" the elf comments. He pulls himself together and smirks. "And here I was, about to spill your innards. Apologies" the pale elf smirks. Valdon chuckles and smirks back.

"And I was looking forward to spilling yours" Valdon smirks.

"Ha! A kindred spirit. My name is Astarion. I was in Baldur's Gate when those beasts snatched me" Astarion introduces.

"I am Valdon. The cleric with me is Shadowheart" Valdon introduces as well. Astarion gives a mocking bow.

"Charmed. Now do you have an idea about these worms in our heads?" Astarion asks. Valdon sighs and remembers what he saw in that pod on the ship.

"It seems the tadpoles will turn us into mind flayers before long" Valdon explains.

"Turn us into…" Astarion begins before going on in an insane laughter. The other two become concerned before he stops. "Of course it'll turn me into a monster. What else could I expect?" Astarion mutters with a hint of sadness and betrayal in his eyes.

"We are looking for a cure to make sure it doesn't happen. Do you want to join us? There is a strength in numbers after all" Valdon proposes. Astarion seems to get out of his own head and smirks.

"You know, I was thinking of going alone, but I will agree with that. Besides, people who can survive a nautiloid crash and live to tell the tale, seem to be people that are worth accompanying. Lead on" Astarion agrees. Valdon can't help but look at Astarion and see a bloodied, pretty corpse.

[art-of-the-harp]

[jgvfhl]

Happy Neverland New Year!

@neverlandnewyear

Yay! First entry for me! It's been a while since I did anything with the OUAT fandom, or Captain Swan for that matter, but I was inspired to join these festivities. Also I love random magical shenanigans. I hope folks enjoy!

Summary: Hook has been trying to be better for Emma--he has. But it's hard when her parents are Snow White and Prince Annoyingly Charming, and he hasn't been a "good guy" in about two hundred years. To make matters worse, a confused and all-too-eager to please Lieutenant Killian Jones drops in out of nowhere, serving as a helpful reminder of just how far he's fallen.

Words: 3920

No warnings that I can think of, but if I need to change that, please let me know! Just a bunch of emotions...

----

Neverland had always had its delightful quirks as long as Hook could recall–usually leaning towards the deadly or otherwise harmful variety. The others, the ones new to Neverland, had learned that quickly over the past… well, one could never be quite sure how much time had passed here. So, the natural response to someone appearing in a puff of blue flame amidst their party was the shrill choir of several blades being drawn and leveled at the man on the dirt, his among them.

“Where the bloody hell–?” the man started, then raised his face to see three swords and one bow aimed at his face.

“What the hell–?” Emma said at about the same time.

And then everyone looked at Hook.

He sighed. Some emotion he didn’t stop to identify flared up–annoyance, anger, loathing, there were a few contenders–and he sheathed his cutlass. Everyone else’s weapons lowered slightly. “Get up,” he told the man on the ground. “Before you make a fool out of both of us.”

Killian Jones slowly got to his feet, brushing dirt off his breeches and Naval jacket. “Where in hell am I?” he asked, staring at the people around him.

“You’re in Neverland, you’ve never heard of it,” Hook told him, finding it difficult to meet his own (?) eyes. Then, to everyone else, he added, “You can put those away, he’s harmless.”

“You sure about that?” Mary Margret asked, lowering, but not stowing, her bow and arrow. “He’s you.”

Hook almost laughed at that, but the impulse died somewhere in his chest. The man who had just appeared in Royal Navy attire with a stupid-looking ponytail and both hands could hardly be farther from him. Young, full of hope of new life in the Navy, always under the watchful gaze of honorable big brother, probably hadn’t had a drop of rum in months, if Hook remembered correctly.

Hatred. That had been the emotion he hadn’t named earlier.

“I assure you, Your Highness,” he said, “you’ve nothing to worry about from him.”

“‘Your Highness?’” Killian repeated, looking between Mary Margret and Hook. He straightened up noticeably.

“Oh, no no, please–” she started, ever humble, and finally taking both hands off her weapon.

Hook stepped forward. “Yes, Her Highness.” He didn’t know why he was doing this. And he didn’t know why there was an odd satisfaction that came from watching Killian’s face when he caught sight of the hook as he used it to point people out. “That’s Her Highness Snow White, he’s her Prince Charming Dave, that lovely creature is their daughter Emma–don’t ask about the timeline on that one–and that is Baelfire but everyone calls him Neal. Got it?” He did not wait for a reaction of any kind. “Good. Now, if you don’t mind, they’re on a bit of a schedule, so if you’d like any chance of getting back to whatever you were doing, I suggest you keep up and do your best not to die.”

As Hook had expected, Killian nodded immediately. The flame of hatred burned a bit brighter in his chest at just how easily he’d fallen in.

“Good, let’s go.”

“Whoa, hold up,” Emma said, and Hook paused, his gaze falling to the ground before finding her face again. “We’re just gonna ignore the fact that your–your past self just dropped out of nowhere?”

“That was my plan, aye,” he answered. “Unless you’d like to put Henry’s rescue mission on pause and give Pan that much more time to dig his claws in?”

The others hesitated. Emma scrutinized him in that way she had.

“I believe we still have a shadow to collect, yes?” he reminded her, gesturing to Neal’s satchel where the coconut shell trap was. If she would just stop looking at him like that…

“Fine.” Sheathing her sword over her back, she then said, “I’ll go with Neal to Dark Hollow to get the shadow. Mom, Dad, you’ll find Tinkerbell, and we’ll meet back up by her place once we’ve got the shadow.”

“And what about them?” David asked, sheathing his own blade and probably trying to ignore his wife not looking at him. “I was just getting used to one pirate around, I’m not sure I want to deal with two.”

Hook restrained the dramatic eye roll he wanted to perform as he waited for Killian’s all-too-predictable reaction. “Pirate?” There it was. The familiar tones of learned self-righteousness. Liam would have been so proud. “I am not some common thief, Your Highness,” Killian said sharply, taking a step away from Hook, his hand drifting towards the handle of his sword. “I am Lieutenant Killian Jones of the Jewel of the Realm and an officer of the King’s Navy, not a pirate.”

David’s eyebrows rose. “Oh.”

“I’d just as soon accompany Emma to get the shadow,” Hook offered, brushing past the interaction in hopes he wouldn’t have to talk about why his past and present selves currently wanted to kill each other.

“No, hang on.” Emma shook her head, placing her hands on her hips. “How do you know you don’t need to stay with him so your past self doesn’t die and Back to the Future you out of existence?”

Everyone except Neal stared blankly at her. He translated. “We don’t know that if something happens to him–” he gestured to Killian– “it won’t affect you too. Because–he’s you.”

“He’s not me!” Killian exclaimed, taking another step away. “This–this is some kind of magical trick–it’s not–”

The small thread of control restraining Hook to civility finally burned through as another flare of loathing jumped in his gut. “You are bloody useless here,” he snapped, “so unless you’ve got hidden magical abilities or a way off this damn island, I suggest you keep your mouth shut if you ever want to see Liam again!”

With a whir of metal on metal, Killian drew his cutlass, but Hook had recognized the familiar dark glower on his face moments ago, and had his drawn and moving before his much younger self could even react. In a few choice motions, Killian was disarmed and pressed face-first against a tree with a hook aimed at his neck.

“That’s enough!” Emma’s sharp call made something in Hook’s chest cringe. He hadn’t wanted her to see that in him. He’d been trying so hard, but then this idiot–

He let out a quiet breath through his nose and lowered his head. As he slowly released his hold on Killian, the latter shook him off and scrambled several steps away. David moved in front of him, sword raised in guard. Predictable.

“What the hell was that?” Emma demanded, Neal’s cutlass raised at him.

Hook sheathed his cutlass again. “May I please accompany you and Neal to Dark Hollow to capture the shadow?” he asked, looking somewhere in the direction of her boots.

Her mother spoke up before she got the chance to answer. “After that, why would I want you going anywhere with my daughter?” Her bow and arrow were back in her more than capable hands, although at the moment, it was aimed at his toes.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure either one of you can sail the Jolly Roger once we have the shadow, right?” David followed up. “Right now, I’m liking the lieutenant more than the pirate.”

“You never liked the pirate,” Hook reminded him flatly.

Emma cut in. “Okay, okay, enough. Like Hook said, we’re on a schedule.” She handed the cutlass over to Neal and stepped towards him. “Whatever this is,” she said, glancing at Killian, “you need to deal with it. On your own time.”

He couldn’t deny his heart sank. He’d had a feeling it would end up like this ever since Pan had told him Neal was alive and on Neverland. Part of him–perhaps the part of him more like Killian than he would like to admit–had hoped if he was just good enough, he might stand a chance.

“But we need to focus on Henry right now,” she continued. “And you know your way around the island, so if one of us doesn’t make it back, you can get the shadow back to the others. Killian can go with my parents.”

“So…”

“So you’re coming with me. As long as you both are going to behave yourselves,” she added, giving stern looks to Neal and himself.

Hook nodded, relaxing a bit. “As you wish, then.”

-scene break-

Emma was disappointed, again, he could tell. It wasn’t like he had planned to have a disagreement with Neal going into this mission. But then again, he hadn’t exactly been planning on facing down his younger self today either. He wasn’t in his best of moods, and seeing Rumplestiltskin out of the blue had done little to help that fact. But at least he’d brought a way to defeat Pan, and now they had the shadow as well.

Hook had jumped at the opportunity for first watch outside the camp. If his enthusiasm to get out and away from them all showed a bit too much, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Mary Margret and David had come back from their trek seemingly at peace from their earlier argument after Echo Cave. Emma and Regina had refocused on helping each other save Henry. Neal would do whatever it took to help his son, and Tinkerbell had had quite the change of heart now that a way off the island was in her sights. Even Rumplestiltskin, even the Crocodile, seemed oddly tranquil, constantly turning Pandora’s Box in his hands.

Worst of all, Killian seemed quite content to follow after Dave and Mary Margret–just like he followed Liam, Hook knew. It was obvious to him, but it seemed a pleasant surprise to everyone else. Everyone except Regina and Rumplestiltskin, the only other villains on this trip.

So, yes, he’d taken the first offer to get the hell out of camp, where he was now, trying not to think about what Emma and Killian might have been talking about with Neal when he’d seen them last. It was probably nothing.

It probably wasn’t Emma preferring to talk to the version of him with no ulterior motive and a distinct lack of romantic interest in her.

Rustling leaves behind him made him turn quickly, but his caution soon faded. It was Killian. Silently bracing himself for the grating exchange sure to follow, he asked, “Where are you off to, sailor?”

Killian eyed him with no small amount of caution in return as he answered. “Collecting firewood.”

An excuse to be even farther from camp? That was attractive. “I could do that. You can fill in for me until I get back.”

“I’m perfectly capable of collecting firewood, pirate.”

There is was. “You could just call me Hook like everyone else does, regardless of how much they hate me.”

Killian stared at him, and it was quite unnerving to recognize the piercing expression he himself had spent so long perfecting. “You really think you have any chance with Emma?”

Hook clenched his jaw shut, clamping down on the first curse words coming to mind. Did he think he had a chance? Sure, before this idiot had showed up and brought into sharp relief just how far he had to go.

“A man who’s probably spent the past–well, I don’t know how long in a life of thievery and murder on the high seas? If you’d spent one second listening to her, you’d have figured out she’s more concerned with rescuing her son than with anything you have to offer.”

“I did listen,” Hook said before he could go on (and on and on). “Why in hell do you think I offered my ship to bring them all here? And back?”

“That’s the bare minimum!” Killian shot back. “There’s a boy in danger, his parents asked you for help, it shouldn’t be a song and dance to offer it. You do it because it’s right, Hook.”

That hurt. And Killian had meant it to. He gave a last disdainful look, then turned to continue on his way into the jungle, drawing his cutlass to cut away vines. Hook watched him disappear in the foliage, and it struck him that Killian hadn’t ever asked what had happened to him into what he was today. Knowing him (and he did), hearing it made the possibility real. Killian wanted to pretend he could never become him. Hook could understand that. And he hated that he understood.

After a few seconds of relative quiet, Hook was again on alert when more footsteps sounded from camp. But it was worse than Killian this time, because it was Emma. Of course, it was Emma, because this was Neverland: cruel tricks and toying with emotions were her specialties.

“Hey.”

He found a tree to lean his back against so he didn’t have to face her. “Is it time to switch?”

She blinked, then shook her head, a small smile appearing on her face briefly. “No, not yet. I was just um…. Well. It’s not every day your past self drops into your life without warning, so.” She gestured with a hand, but didn’t finish the sentence.

He stared at her–something he had been trying not to do as often, but now he couldn’t help himself. “Are you checking in on me, Swan?”

Emma shrugged. “Sure.”

Something bright and hopeful made an attempt to squeeze its way into his heart, but he shoved it away. “Why?”

“I just said why.”

“Right, the landmark event of spontaneous time-travel,” he said. “Not the fact that I’m stuck in arguably my least favorite place in the world, actively going against one of the more powerful enemies I’ve made to rescue a boy I’ve only met recently. And, of course, in order to do that, I’m working with the man I’ve spent the better part of two centuries hunting down for my revenge.” He pushed off the tree to face her. “So forgive me if I’m wondering: why now?”

Emma pressed her lips together and nodded, crossing her arms. “Yeah, okay, that’s fair. But… you slammed his face into a tree, Hook.”

His gaze dropped to the ground. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“Yeah, I don’t think anyone meant for that to happen,” she said, taking a step towards him. “But seriously, why do you two hate each other so much?”

He laughed, short and humorless. “Oh, that’s fairly simple,” he said. “He hates that I’m a pirate, and I hate that he’s not. There you are.” He hated lying to her. And of course, she could always tell.

Like now, as her mouth tilted down at one corner and one of her eyebrows arched upward. “Simple? Nothing about what’s between you two is simple, Hook. I can see that much.”

She was right. There was nothing simple here. There was nothing simple about the horrible, hopeful thing clawing at his heart when he spoke to her. Nothing simple could explain the sheer terror he’d felt when he’d first noticed it. There was nothing simple about the sharp flare of hatred he’d felt upon recognizing his past self. He really wasn’t sure anything could explain it, no matter how many words he used or how long it took.

He’d spent decades upon decades mired in darkness. After being dragged down by Liam’s death he found himself reveling in it, painting his face with it, soaking in the freedom that came from it. He’d always known he would never be the good man his brother had been–even the Killian that had appeared today knew that, for all his bluster about “good form” and being “King’s men.” That Killian looked at him and saw a man who had stopped fighting, who had fallen back to the darkness with a shameless splash of black, and was, in his eyes, thriving in it.

But he wasn’t thriving. Losing Liam had broken his heart, but losing Milah had killed something in him. The part of him that had reveled in evil, in being as bad as he wanted, in the freedom he’d gained from ignoring consequences, had died with her. The darkness had clung to him, feeling heavier than it had before, so he had become harsher just to keep carrying it. He killed without thinking, he flicked the blood off his blade or hook without a glance, where once he’d made a show of it. He looked around at his crew, at the people they conquered, and he felt nothing. He hadn’t felt human in…

And never once had he looked up to notice or to care about how far he’d fallen, how blackened and numb his heart had become.

Not until Emma.

Emma was a marvel. It had taken him some time to see it, but once he had, he had almost been shocked he’d missed her at all. It was as if he’d glimpsed her, high at the top of a staircase. There was something captivating about her, in her sincerity, in her decision, over and over, no matter the tragedies thrown at her, to choose hope. To choose good.

And he’d been climbing those stairs ever since, one foot ahead of the other, one step at a time, to reach her. It was hard. He’d slipped, multiple times. But he’d picked himself back up and kept climbing. She’d kissed him, and he’d thought he might actually have a chance at reaching the top of the staircase.

Then today had happened.

First, they’d rescued Neal in the Echo Caves, and that had been like someone shining a light on the steps he’d been climbing and revealing the dirty, black footprints he’d been leaving behind him ever since he’d dragged himself out of the darkness beneath.

Then Killian. Lieutenant Killian Jones of the Jewel of the Realm.

The best he’d ever been, in many respects.

And that had made Hook stop and look down, and it was like he’d only climbed three steps. He was still dripping darkness. The steps were slippery with it, like blood on the deck after battle. And Emma was still so, so far above him.

He hated Killian because he was human. Flawed, but human. He looked at a clear sky and he felt content, not nothing. He looked at a storm and he felt a thrill of determined anticipation, not nothing. He looked at children playing and he felt amusement, not nothing. He looked at himself in a mirror and he might even feel pride, not nothing. He saw death happen and he felt grief, not the maelstrom-like pull of darkness to fall down, down, down…

But the problem was, Hook wasn’t feeling nothing anymore. Whatever part of his humanity that had died with Milah–it wasn’t dead anymore. It was awake, and it was feeling. He watched Emma smile and he felt something. He saw her devotion to her family and he felt something. He didn’t want to put a name to what he was feeling yet, only that it wasn’t nothing. It was bright and sharp and warm, and it felt… human.

Hook looked back to where Emma was still waiting for a further explanation. He wasn’t ready to explain all of that to her. Hell, there were still bits he didn’t understand himself. And, clearly, this was neither the time or place to tell her that anyway. Echo Caves had proven that.

So he sighed and rubbed his jaw. “I’ve lived a long life, Emma,” he said. “Most of it hasn’t been particularly pleasant. Killian there–” he gestured off into the jungle where his younger self had disappeared a few moments earlier– “he’s at a high point. And I’m sure you can figure out what high points put in perspective.”

Emma followed his gesture, looking into the underbrush for a moment. Eventually, she nodded, and something in her expression made him feel she might actually understand that. “Right. Well… if you two can keep it together until we get back to Storybrooke, that would be… appreciated.”

“Of course,” he replied. “And I… I apologize for what happened in Dark Hollow.”

Her eyebrows rose a bit, but she quickly schooled her face to something more impassive. “Thank you.” She gave a small smile that made something in his chest ache.

Yes, he still wanted her. He still wanted to figure out what exactly she made him feel and how exactly she did it, but he would have to be patient. He could wait a bit longer.

“And, just between you and me,” Emma said, closing the distance between them to something far more intimate than he had expected, although he wouldn’t complain, “he’s probably a lousy kisser.”

That… had not been expected. It took a couple seconds for his brain to kick back into function after hearing it, then he laughed. He laughed because it was true, he knew it was true, and because hearing her reference their kiss in a positive light made the almost painful tension around it in his mind relax all at once.

Emma laughed too, and it was a beautiful sound and sight.

When he had regained his composure, Hook cleared his throat and said, “Well, speaking from experience, he most definitely is.”

“Yeah?” she asked with an intoxicating smile. They were still standing only a foot or so apart.

He raised an eyebrow at her in mock severity, suddenly feeling light enough to mock. “Aye, and I’ll ask you take my word for it, and not to go performing experiments behind my back, hm?”

“Of course not,” she said seriously, putting her hands in her back pockets. She let a beat pass before adding, “I don’t like ponytails on guys, anyway.” When he gave another quiet laugh, she went on, “I mean seriously, no offense to your past self, but it looks awful. Your brother really let you get away with that?”

That new warm, bright feeling was again trying to squeeze its way between his ribs to his heart, and if Emma kept that smile up, it might succeed. “Suppose I hadn’t grown into my dashing good looks yet. Lucky you.”

Her smile grew a little, and she aimed a light punch at his shoulder. “There he is.”

“What?”

“I dunno, you hadn’t flirted with me in like, four hours. I was starting to worry.”

He smiled at that, very aware of being happier than he had been in a long while. “What, did you miss it, love?” he asked, leaning in a bit closer.

“Mm… maybe.”

Well, while she was in a good mood: “Any chance of a demonstration of how much you missed it?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Nope,” she said, raising a hand to his cheek and gently pushing his face away. “Not that much.” She stepped back, leaving him to enjoy the impression of warmth left behind by her touch. “But I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.”

“Likewise,” he replied, recognizing she had been happier knowing they had a plan against Pan and a way off Neverland. “But thank you. For checking in.”

“Don’t mention it.” She drifted back the way she had come, finally saying, “My dad will be out in a bit to change watch, so… see you in a bit.”

He nodded back and watched her disappear in the foliage as she returned to camp. Smiling to himself, he raised his hand to graze the back of his knuckles where her hand had laid against his cheek. Damn. It was love, wasn’t it?

[earlgreydream]

mischief.

| marauders x reader | fluff | smut |

anon requested. they’re all flirty and touchy with one another? like its mutual pining, smutty, dom!reader

“Wake up!” Sirius whispered in your ear. 

You startled out of your sleep, and he put his hand over your mouth before you could scream.

“It’s just Pads, bunny. But c’mon, we gotta go,” he slowly took his hand away, trusting you to be quiet enough not to wake your roommate. Sirius put a sweater in your hands and you slipped leggings up your legs, pushing your feet into shoes. 

You silently slipped from the dorm and ran after your friend, your fingers laced in his. You blinked sleep away as Sirius dragged you through the halls to where Remus and James were waiting near the dungeons. 

“What are we doing?” you yawned, rubbing your eyes. 

“We’re finally getting revenge on Severus for fucking up your charms project,” James answered fiercely.

“So you dragged me out of bed at two in the morning?” You asked in disbelief.

“We’re going to make it worth your while,” Remus promised, kissing the back of your neck. You smiled before turning to the door.

“How are we getting into the slytherin dorms?” You questioned, staring at the painting. Sirius winked, and it swung open, revealing a boy with gorgeous stormy eyes and black curls, a smaller copy of your best friend. 

“Thank you, Regulus,” Sirius ruffled his curls before stepping into the chilly common room. 

“You owe me.”

“Thanks, Reg,” you kissed his cheek, earning a smile from the shy, brooding Black brother. Sirius shot him a jealous look, one that mirrored the expression of the other two. You giggled, rushing them along. 

You found Severus’ dorm, slipping inside in the dark. James went to the chest, opening it silently and waving his wand, murmuring a spell. Every article of clothing turned baby pink with ruffles and bows, and you all had to bite back laughter. 

The boys waved you out, lingering by the door. You hesitated, grabbing his potions essay off of the desk. They all looked at you in surprise, you typically weren’t the one to go farther than just a little prank. You flipped off Severus’ sleeping form, still not forgiving him for ruining your charms project the week before. 

“Are you mad?” Remus hissed as you walked to the common room. 

“Quite,” you shot him a look. 

“Thank you. Do as you wish with this,” you said to Regulus, putting the potions essay in his hands. The younger boy grinned, and Sirius’ gaze softened. 

James and Remus took your hands, running through dark corridors with you, Sirius trailing close behind. You expected to be taken back to bed, but the boys decided not to try to break you back in. They brought you to their own dorm, and you grinned mischievously. 

“Thank you.”

“Always, bunny,” James smiled, kneeling down in front of where you sat on the end of his bed. He slipped your shoes off of your feet, lightly squeezing your ankles. 

You were buzzing with adrenaline, and you stared down at James, your mind wandering to how sexy he looked down on his knees in front of you. Sirius and Remus both recognized the look on your face, both of them sensing the energy shift in the room. 

The four of you were exceptionally close, flirty and touchy. The lines of your friendship blurred to be more than platonic. The adrenaline and excitement fueled arousal, and the innocent night of mischief was quickly evolving into something more. 

James’ hazel eyes gazed up at you, and he sat back on his heels as your fingers traced over the curves of your face. Your fingers pulled him up by his tie, and you pushed your lips against his. Your other hand carded into his hair, deepening the kiss as your tongue slipped into his mouth, dominating his. James moaned against your lips, and Sirius muttered a profanity, shrugging his shirt from his body and kicking his jeans aside. 

James panted when you broke the kiss, and Remus pulled your sweater over your head. James hooked two of his fingers into the front of your t-shirt, pulling the neckline down so he could kiss the soft skin of your chest.

You sighed quietly and set his glasses aside, running your fingers through his dark waves as his tongue lapped over your nipple. 

“Isn’t bunny pretty?” Sirius asked James, pulling your hair out of the way and tying it up before kissing along your shoulder and neck. 

“Yes, so pretty,” James mumbled against your skin. Remus smiled proudly at the submissive boy, encouraging him to make you feel good. You leaned against Sirius, your eyes rolling back at the way James touched you. 

“I want to fuck my beautiful boys,” you breathed against Sirius’ lips. Your tongues slid together, his long, beautiful hand wrapping around your throat. Silver rings left faint indentations on your skin, and he filled your senses. 

“Let off of her, Prongs. We want to see bunny without her clothes on, yeah?” Remus gently pried James from your chest. He whimpered and you smiled down at him, praising him for being good. 

You let Sirius slide your t shirt off, exposing your torso to the marauders. You lifted your hips so James could pry your leggings and thong off, and Sirius hauled you onto the mattress. 

You pushed him down onto his back once he was stripped, allowing the other two boys to entertain themselves. Your fingers slid up his chest, muscular from years of quidditch practices, admiring his tanned body. 

“Please, let me get inside of you, bunny. I want to feel your tight walls squeeze around me,” he asked softly, stormy eyes shining up at you, letting you take control. 

You absolutely couldn’t deny your gorgeous, sweet boy, and you slowly sank down on his cock, letting him pierce you. His hands went to your hips to help guide you, though your hand that went around his neck reminded him that you were in charge. 

“Fuck, bunny, you feel amazing,” he swore as you seated yourself with him buried as deep as possible in your pussy. A quiet gasp was the only response you could manage for several moments, overwhelmed by just the feeling of him stretching you out. 

“Help me ride you, Pads,” you hummed, rolling your hips as he took some of the effort. 

James whined in need, and you pulled him over to you, kissing him roughly and wrapping your arms around his neck as you bounced on Sirius’ cock. When he snapped his hips up, you squeezed his throat and yelped into James’ mouth. 

“Gotta share, Jamesie,” Remus scolded James.

Before you could process his words, his mouth was on yours, replacing where James had previously been. James leaned down to reattach himself to your chest, Remus swallowing your loud moans as the boys stimulated you everywhere. 

James shrieked, biting you lightly as Remus sheathed himself inside of the boy, taking him from behind as he continued to passionately kiss you. 

“James!” Sirius slapped his thigh, pushing his face away from you and down to the bed. The brunette’s back arched as Remus roughly drove into him. Sirius sat up, letting you lean against his chest as you grew unable to maintain your balance, overwhelmed by the pleasure and stimulation. 

“You’re doing so well, bunny. Our gorgeous girl, letting us kiss you everywhere and fill you up,” Remus praised as Sirius softly kissed you, licking over the bruised lips that were swollen from Remus and James. 

“Sirius, fuck, I’m so close,” you breathed, and James moved, reaching between the two of you to rub your clit as Sirius bounced you up and down on his lap. You tightened around him so intensely that he struggled to thrust into you, snapping and falling apart as James’ help sent you tumbling into your orgasm. 

You came with a scream, everyone following behind in close succession, pleasure radiating around your small group. 

“I’ve got you,” Sirius breathed, holding you tightly as the mixture of your release leaked out of you, smearing across your thighs. You clung to him, the aftershocks of your powerful orgasm making you twitch in his arms. 

Remus cleaned him and James up beside you, and you barely heard him ask Sirius to let him help the two of you. You squeaked as Sirius moved, and he hushed you with gentle kisses to your cheek.

“We gotta clean up, bunny. Then you can snuggle between us,” Sirius promised. 

Although you’d been dominating during the sex, now you just wanted to cling to Sirius and let him care for you. You weren’t keen on the idea of him removing himself from you, but he gently laid you back and slipped out. 

“Just let Moony clean you up a bit,” James brushed hair from your face, smiling sweetly at you. You nodded blearily, parting your legs to allow Remus to care for you. You winced at the contact, taking a moment to relax. 

Sirius dressed you in a quidditch sweater, snuggling you between him and James in the large bed, Remus lying on James’ other side. Your head rested on Sirius’ chest, and he played with your hair until you fell asleep. 

“Wake up, gorgeous,” Remus tried to rise you, and you covered your face with your arm, enjoying your sleep.

“Come on, I’ve got some tea ready for you,” James tried, failing. 

“If you get up, you get to see Severus in those pink frilly trousers!” Sirius reminded. 

That got you up. 

Sirius swatted you backside before you could pull on a clean uniform that was in his chest. You often spent the night in their dorm, and now, you were prepared. 

“Sirius rough you up?” Remus laughed as he watched you wince at first. 

“Sorry, bunny,” Sirius kissed your cheek, and you blushed, hiding behind the tea James had made for you. 

The four of you hurried to potions, and you giggled with delight as you saw Severus angrily trying to explain that he’d lost the essay to your professor, on top of why his uniforms had been... altered. 

“The bloke deserves it,” Regulus whispered, sitting down with you and Sirius. 

“Oh, absolutely,” you giggled, bending over your cauldron so you didn’t draw attention to yourselves. 

[after-avenging-hours]

Under Consent of the King: Steve x Reader x Bucky

This story is inspired by the myth that the word ‘fuck’ comes from Fornication Under Consent of the King, where sex had basically been outlawed unless permitted by the king. I have spun the myth a little to make it so that sex out of wedlock can be permitted by the king. This fic follows an established poly-relationship between King!Steve, the Reader, and Knight!Bucky.

Word Count: 10,481 (holy cow this is the longest one-shot I have ever written)

Warnings: NSFW Content (18+), Poly relationship, m/f/m, oral (f/r), unprotected sex, oral (m/r), threesome

The metallic twang of clashing swords rings in your ears. The sound travels through your eardrums as a vibration, just as the power vibrates through your arms with each hit. You ground your feet into the dirt below you, planting yourself like a tree to be unmovable as your opponent tries to force you to yield.

In a battle of strength, you and Natasha are fairly evenly matched. You know that she’s testing how tired you’ve become. Sweat beads down your temple and makes the cotton of your loose tunic stick to your back. Your chest heaves for breath, the air burning in your lungs from the exertion of the fight.

The weight of her blade is lifted and you immediately shift your stance. No longer planted down, you move light on your feet as the two of you circle each other. You keep your balance easily with the leather boots on your feet and your movement is unencumbered by the tight breeches you wear.

Both of your hands tighten their grip on the hilt of your sword as you prepare for her next attack. You don’t have to wait long. She darts forward and your swords meet with another clang. There’s an uncomfortable screech of metal as your blade slides down the length of hers until you have locked the hilt of your sword against hers.

Natasha’s momentum is still driving her forward as you twist to the side while your swords remain locked. Her eyes widen a fraction as one of your hands slips from the hilt of your sword to grip one of her wrists. You use her momentum against her and while she careens forward, you unlock your blades and tug at her arm. This forces her to flip forward before she lands with a harsh thud on her back.

With the wind knocked out of her, she lays motionless for a second. Just long enough for you to place the tip of your sword at her throat and call an end to the match.

She coughs the air back into her lungs before her lips split into a wide grin as she looks up at you. “You’ve got some new tricks up your sleeves.”

You grin back, sheathing your blade and holding your hand out to help her to her feet. “I may have picked up a few things on my travels.”

“I do hope you’ll share.”

With a hold on each other’s forearms, you lift her out of the dirt. “In time. I do thoroughly enjoy the idea of using them to best you first.”

Her green eyes narrow, but her smile continues to shine.

“Are the two of you quite finished?” you both turn your gazes to the approaching knight. Dark brown hair falls in waves just passed his stubble chin. Focused and piercing blue eyes capture yours. A small frown tilts his plump lips. “She had barely stepped foot on the castle grounds before you whisked her off to a duel. At least let her rest from her journey, Natasha.” Though he speaks to the redhead beside you, his gaze is solely trained on you.

You can hear the snicker from your friend. “He’s been insufferable the entire time you’ve been gone,” she tells you, low enough that he can’t hear. “They both have.” Releasing your arm, she takes a step back and gives a sweeping bow. “I leave her in your capable hands, Commander Barnes.” She smirks knowingly before heading off.

Taking Natasha’s lead, you place a fist over your heart and bow. “You bless me with your presence, Lord James.”

“Stop that,” he chastises lightly as his frown deepens.

He catches sight of your cheeky grin when you straighten back up. It’s infectious and melts the frown from his lips. His eyes soften as he reaches a hand out to cup your cheek. His gaze sweeps over your features, taking in everything within sight. “How was your journey?”

“Sam should have given his full report to the council. Were you not paying attention?” Your eyes light with mischief and amusement. You had spent the better part of the last four months on a diplomatic mission with one of the King’s most trusted advisors, Sam. You traveled the neighboring kingdoms, reviewing terms of the treaties in place to keep the peace between your lands. Sam, with his charming smile, kind eyes, and fair-weather attitude had been perfect for the task. He could ease tensions between two bickering nobles with a grace and finesse like no other.

You had been assigned as part of his protection detail. Though it was really only a formality. Sam Wilson was more than capable of taking care of himself. But as the Black Rose of Brooklyn, a name granted to you by your King upon achieving your knighthood status, you had a reputation of your own to uphold.

James narrows his gaze at you. “Yes, I paid attention. I’m not asking about the diplomacy, I’m asking about you.”

You laugh, enjoying the fact that you can still so easily get under his skin. Looping your arm through his, the two of you walk side by side as you leave the training grounds and head for the gardens.

“Did any of those idiot noblemen give you trouble?”

You grin to yourself, sensing the jealousy in his voice. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“They try to touch you?” he presses, his jaw tightening at the thought.

You look at him with amusement, “They couldn’t have even if they wanted to.” Pulling him to a stop beneath the shade of a large tree, you turn to stand in front of him. “If it’s my virtue you ask about, you needn’t be so concerned.”

With just a few short steps he has your back pressed to the trunk of the tree. Blue flame flickers behind his gaze, as the heat from his body seeps into yours. “How can I be concerned over a virtue I have already taken?”

His lips are on you before you can respond. You moan into his mouth, threading your fingers through his hair and pull him closer. His hips rock forward, grinding the beginnings of his arousal against you. You realize that he must have already been half-hard after seeing your duel with Natasha. It’s no secret that watching you wield a sword gets his blood hot.

You can count on one hand the number of men you would willingly relinquish control and submit to. James knows that he’s one of them. He dominates the kiss and controls your body as if it were his own. One of his hands slides passed your hip and over your thigh, slipping beneath the sword strapped at your waist to lift your leg up and more easily slot his erection between your spread thighs. He locks your knee against his hip and thrusts into you.

A whimper escapes from your lips as he pulls his away.

“I missed you,” his hushed confession wisps over your face.

“Yes, I can tell,” you giggle teasingly.

His eyes blaze in warning before he gives a harder thrust against you, catching the head of his cock against where you’re certain that your own arousal is beginning to seep through your pants. “Did you miss me?” he prompts in question.

Your teasing smile turns tender, “You know that I did.”

He brushes his nose against yours and kisses both of your closed eyelids. “I will have you again tonight,” he pledges with promise.

You hum languidly, pulling your hands from his hair to rest them over his broad shoulders. “You will need consent from the king.”

His eyes flash with desire. “Meet me tonight when the moon is at its peak. You know where.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

He gives you one last bruising kiss before escorting you back to the castle and returning to his duties. You make your way through the castle to your personal chambers where lunch and a hot bath are already waiting for you. A soft smile curls at your lips as your heart flutters for the man you know is responsible for ensuring these were made ready for you.

A grape is plucked from the lunch platter and popped into your mouth, the sweet flavor bursting on your tongue as you bite into its flesh. Your hands then move to the belt at your waist, undoing the buckle with familiar ease and resting your sword against the wall. You discard the remainder of your clothes and choose a few scented oils from the selection in the basket left near the tub. Once the desired fragrance has filled your senses, you sink into the delectable heat of the bath.

The lunch platter has been strategically placed on a table within arm’s reach from your reclined position, so you continue to enjoy your lunch while simultaneously basking in the bliss of your bath. After the months of travel and the strain of spending days at a time on horseback, your body is more than happy to receive a little pampering. Your muscles relax with the swirling heat and your head floats on sweetly scented clouds.

With the platter mostly cleared and the water beginning to cool, you take the time to wash away the sweat and grime from your skin and hair before stepping out of the water and wrapping yourself in a drying cloth. With a full belly and sated muscles, you spend the rest of your afternoon cooped up in your chambers, allowing yourself to indulge in the rest you know your body is going to need.

It’s late in the evening when you finally emerge. Most of the castle is asleep. With a finger curled into the loop at the side of the metal holding dish, the single candle helps to light your way as you travel through the darkened halls. Your bare feet are silent on the plush red carpet that stretches over the expansive hallways. The material of your dressing gown swirls around your legs with each step.

You climb a set of stairs and follow the length of another long hall before reaching your destination. Your free hand reaches out to caress the ornately carved wooden doors. They are certainly a welcomed sight after spending so long away from the castle. Curling your hand into a fist, you rap two sharp knocks against the wood.

It takes a short second before the door on the left is pulled inward. Icy blue eyes catch the light of your flickering candle as his gaze sweeps over you. James smirks and steps back, permitting your entrance into the grand chambers. He takes the candle holder from your hands and indicates for you to step deeper into the room with a jerk of his head.

Following his line of direction, you spot the seated figure in the middle of the spacious bedroom. The fire burning in the hearth at the far corner of the room casts shades of red and orange through his normally golden locks. He watches your approach with a sharp gaze. Gathering the folds of your dressing gown between your fingers, you stretch the fabric out and fall into a curtsey. “Your majesty,” you greet humbly.

You keep your gaze lowered, despite hearing the rustle of fabric as he stands from his chair. He towers over your hunched form, but his hand is gentle when it cups your chin and guides you back upright. Your eyes lift and meet his, watching how they glide over your features.

“How is it that your time away has only made you more beautiful?” his hushed words caress your lips like a teasing lover.

Your heart pounds in your chest and there’s a pleasurable flutter in your stomach. “Thank you, my King.”

He tilts your chin up even higher, baring your neck to him as his own face angles downward. Your body shivers in delight at the way his nose slopes down your neck. He breathes in deep and slow, taking in the remnants of the scented oils on your skin. A low hum reverberates through his chest, sending prickling awareness to your nether regions. “Jasmine and rose. I trust you enjoyed the bath I had drawn up for you, then?” his head pulls back, eyes catching yours once against.

Your fingers clench at the fabric of your dressing gown, trying desperately to resist the urge to reach out for him. “Yes, very much. Thank you, my King.”

The corner of his mouth twitches as he attempts to fight his smile. “How many times must I tell you that there is no need for formalities when it’s just the three of us? Why do you persist?”

It’s a losing battle to fight against your own smile. “Because I know how much you secretly enjoy it.”

He loses his own fight as his lips stretch into a tilted smirk. “Well then, your King would like to formally welcome you home.”

The blood runs hot in your veins as your body buzzes with the excitement of what’s about to come. “I accept your formal invitation but hope for a rather informal welcome.”

One of his hands, large and strong, glides against the small of your back, pulling you in closer to his frame. “As you wish,” his mouth slants over yours.

You hum happily into his kiss, arms wrapping loosely around his neck. The hand at your back pulls you even closer until any possible space between your bodies has been sealed. His other hand moves to cradle the back of your head, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

Kisses from your king hit differently than those that come from your armored knight. Where Sir Barnes kisses you like you’re in the midst of battle, giving way to hurried touches and fervent desire; King Rogers kisses you like he’s leading you through a twirling waltz, providing languid caresses and passionate yearning. Both men have their own methods of stripping you down to your barest parts. Like fire and ice. Like wind and rock. Two sides of the same coin. It’s a currency only you can understand.

You’ve loved the two of them together nearly your whole life. As the daughter of the Knight Commander, you’d had the privilege of growing up in the castle alongside both of them. In your earlier years, you all shared your literacy and etiquette lessons. When Steve reached his twelfth summer and had finally begun to grow out of the ailments that used to plague his young body, he and Bucky were taken from you to begin their knighthood training. You were forced into new lessons better fitted for your gender. Or so you were told.

One afternoon, after spending the morning watching the boys train from the windows of the library, you’d managed to pin them both down after their lessons and begged them to teach you how to fight. Steve had seemed hesitant but amenable to the idea, but Bucky had flat out refused. He’d told you that a battlefield was no place for a woman. That girls weren’t even capable of wielding a sword. His words made you so angry that you curled your fist back and punched him straight in the nose.

Your mother had been horrified once news spread around the castle about what you had done. Your father, however, had been markedly proud. You had been made to openly apologize to Bucky in front of Lord and Lady Barnes, but you were also enrolled in the knighthood lessons with them the very next day.

Bucky in his later years would eventually confess that despite the bloody nose and bruised ego, that had been the very moment that he fell in love with you.

A moment of revelation had never really occurred for you. You’re not sure when the love of children and friendship had turned into one of romantic attraction. You just know that there had always been enough room in your heart for the two of them.

Bucky had been your first. He had also been the logical choice. His skill with a blade allowed him to rise through the knighthood ranks. It was clear that in time he would replace your father’s position as Knight Commander. He was boyish and charming, kissing you in the spiral stairwells, fleeting touches during combat practice, flirting while you held a blade to his throat. You gave him your virtue one night in the highest tower of the castle, beneath the light of a full moon. It was perfect. It made sense.

But there was still a part of you that seemed to long for your crowned prince.

When Steve caught wind of the budding romance between his two best friends, he began to recede into himself and drew away from the both of you. He dove headfirst into his royal duties as a distraction. He began to attend council meetings with his father, acting as the king’s shadow, learning all the intricacies of running the kingdom.

Your worry for his wellbeing grew the more that he shut both you and Bucky out. He always looked tired and stressed, like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. You attempted to confront him on multiple occasions, asking if there was anything that you could do to help ease his burdens. You wanted to be there for your friend and to support the man you secretly loved. But he brushed you off every time.

As it would turn out, Steve’s dedication to his royal duties would be both a blessing and a curse. When the King and Queen of Brooklyn perished at sea during a winter storm, Steve was fully capable and ready to ascend to the throne. Your fear for his health grew tenfold when he completely retreated from everyone during the month of mourning after the loss of his parents. He took his meals in his study, sometimes slept in there too. He buried himself in work instead of allowing his mind and body a chance to heal as is intended for the allotted month before he would be crowned king.

On the night before his coronation, you snuck into his bed chambers, picking the lock with the method Bucky had taught you both as children to steal sweets from the kitchen pantry. Steve had been surprised to see you, curled up in a chair by the fire with a book in his lap instead of sleeping like he should have been before such an important day. When he asked what you were doing there, you’d responded by telling him you were there to support your best friend.

 You remember seeing the hope flicker in his eyes before it was quickly snuffed out like a candle. He attempted to brush you off once again, telling you that he didn’t need anyone. When you stood your ground and told him that you weren’t leaving, he quickly grew angry, unused to your defiance. He tossed the book aside and stood from his chair, resorting to intimidation by lording his bulky frame over yours. You held his gaze challengingly and stated quite clearly that it was impossible for a single man to run an entire kingdom by himself. And that whether he liked it or not, he wasn’t alone in facing the trials that lay before him. You weren’t going to let him push you away any longer.

You had finished your speech by launching yourself at him, burying your face into his warm chest, wrapping your arms tight around his torso, and praying that he wouldn’t force you to leave.

He hadn’t.

For the first few moments of your embrace, he had stood perfectly still, like a statue, unable to reciprocate or push you away as his mind tried to catch up with what was happening. And then almost hesitantly, as if he was afraid you might vanish into thin air if he moved too fast, his arms began to circle around you. When he realized that you weren’t going to disappear on him, his hold on you became uncomfortably tight. He gripped you with a desperation that nearly broke your heart. When his shoulders began to shake and your own shoulder grew wet, your heart really did break.

You continued to hold him as he cried. You held him when his legs grew weak and he sunk to the floor. You pulled him in close and ran soothing fingers through his hair and down his neck, encouraging him to let it all out. He cried over the grief of losing his parents. He cried over the fear of the responsibilities and unknowns that would fall to him as king. He cried over the wasted weeks spent pushing you away when being here in your arms was exactly where he’d longed to be.

You sat patiently in his lap, allowing him all the time he needed to work through his emotions. It had been long overdue and you weren’t about to rush it. When he finally lifted his head from your shoulder, he had looked at you like you were everything. It was a look that made your heart race and your stomach flutter, even with his red-rimmed eyes and wet cheeks. It was in that moment that a confession of love had slipped passed his lips before he pressed them to yours.

Your eyes widened in shock at his unexpected kiss. You didn’t respond, but also couldn’t find the strength in your heart to push him away.

When Steve finally realized what he had been doing he pulled away abruptly with a string of apologies falling from his mouth. In a flurry of movement that your shocked mind had been unable to fully process, Steve had lifted you off the floor and deposited you into the hall outside his chamber door. His eyes flashed you a look of pure heartbreak as one last apology left him before the door fell shut.

You don’t know how long you spent standing there, eyes unfocused and fingers pressed to your lips. In a sort of daze, you made your way through the halls of the castle, barely regaining your presence of mind as your fingers rapped against a different door. Bucky was a light sleeper, so it hadn’t taken him long to come to the door. When he saw the upset look on your face, he knew immediately that something was wrong. All he had to do was ask before a full confession tumbled out of you.

You don’t even know why you had told him the complete and honest truth about what had just transpired between you and Steve. But Bucky wasn’t just your lover. He was also your best friend and confidant. You knew that you could tell him anything and would receive no judgment.

He listened intently and made no comment until he was sure you were finished. Grabbing the sides of your face, he leaned in and placed a chaste kiss to your forehead. He whispered words of assurance, telling you that everything would be okay before he took one of your hands within his and marched you back in the direction you had just come from.

In true Bucky Barnes fashion, he barreled his way straight back into Steve’s private chambers. As he made his way straight for his future King a flash of fear shot through Steve’s eyes. You admit that you may have felt a bit of that fear yourself because you had no idea what Bucky had planned to do.

You never could have guessed what was going to happen next. As soon as Steve was within arm’s reach, Bucky’s free hand darted out. In the next second, he was slipping your hand into Steve’s. The blonde gave his friend a look of confusion before his eyes drifted down to where his fingers were curled around yours. Your hand fit perfectly against his like it was something that was always meant to be.

This time, it was Bucky’s turn to provide a confession. He told you that he loved you both more than anything in the kingdom. He admits that he’d always known that he wasn’t the only man to hold a place in your heart and that he believed the love you felt for both of them was not meant to cause a divide between their friendship but was instead meant to be shared. The three of you had always been your best when you were all together. Why should this be any different?

That night, you showered your prince with love and kisses while Bucky taught him all the methods he had come to learn in the art of bringing you pleasure. Like with most things, Steve proved to be a quick study. By the time the three of you collapsed into a pile of tangled limbs across Steve’s expansive bed, the sun’s rays had already started to peak over the horizon. Later that same day, both you and Bucky stood at his side while Steve was crowned King of Brooklyn.

You are pulled from your memories by the slip of Steve’s tongue into your mouth. You moan at the taste of him. You aren’t able to get nearly enough before he is leaning away. A low chuckle escapes him as you attempt to give chase. His hand moves from the back of your head to cradle the edge of your jaw, thumb swiping over the wet saliva clinging to your lower lip.

He looks at you with a hooded gaze. “Tell me, how did the other kingdoms treat our beautiful Black Rose of Brooklyn?”

You give him a knowing look. Both Sam and Bucky would have given him their full reports by now, and yet, he still wants to hear it from you. “I didn’t start any wars if that’s what you’re asking.”

He grins at the bite in your tone. “They have certainly started for less. If ever there were a face that could launch a thousand ships, it would be yours.”

A satisfied flutter tickles your belly as you laugh. “My, haven’t we become quite the flatterer? Those lessons with Bucky are surely paying off.” You glance over your shoulder at your dark-haired lover, who watches your every move with keen interest. You shoot him a wink before turning back to your king. “Has he asked for your consent?”

Steve’s gaze darkens considerably. “He has.”

The deep tenor of his voice makes you shiver. “And did you give it?”

“Not yet,” he releases his hold from your waist and steps back giving a long sweep of his gaze over your figure. “Acts of pleasure are a sin when conducted out of wedlock. Only permissible as fornication under consent of the king. First, you must present yourself to your King for inspection.”

Your teeth sink into your lower lip, a thrill of excitement running through you at the prospects of that. A teasing smirk tilts your already kiss swollen lips. Your hands fall to the tie at the front of your robe and your hips sway with every step you take backward toward the gigantic bed that’s centered against the back wall. “You both truly believe that I’ve been naughty, don’t you?” They follow your movements with heated eyes and tense shoulders. Two elite hunters after their delectably sweet prey.

With a slow tug, you free the knot at your waist. In one move, the dressing gown is pushed from your shoulders and pools delicately at your feet. The two men look poised and ready to pounce as your naked body is instantly bared to them. Taking it one step further, the back of your knees hit the cushioned bench at the foot of the king’s bed. You lower yourself elegantly onto the soft cushions before leaning back to prop your elbows up on the foot of the plush mattress behind you.

Your gaze flickers between two sets of gorgeous eyes in varying shades of molten blue. You settle back on those of your king. You continue to hold his gaze as your knees lift and pull apart until your feet are settled on the top edge of the bench as far spread as you can allow with your thighs stretched open. “I surrender myself to the king’s inspection.”

Both men swallow thickly, eyes traveling to the apex of your thighs where the firelight makes the slick of your arousal glisten. “Would you be opposed if I took her first pleasure this evening?” Steve asks, eyes still trained on the feast laid bare before him.

Bucky smirks darkly. “It’s within your rights, my King.” He yields, knowing that it will be just as pleasurable to watch while he waits for his turn.

Steve stalks toward you like an apex predator. His right hand grips the back of your calf, lifting your foot off the cushioned bench to hook your leg around his waist. His knee lands on the bench beneath your thigh aiding in locking your leg around him. His left hand falls to the mattress above your shoulder as he takes his place above your prone position.

The open collar of his cream-colored shirt hangs loose in the front, revealing a teasing hint at the muscles of his torso that lie beneath the cotton material. “Why do you conceal yourself from me?” you ask with a pout.

He breathes a short laugh, “In due time, my love. First, you must prove you are worthy of your king’s consent.”

Dropping from your elbows onto the mattress, you reach your hand out to grab his wrist above where his hand holds the side of your knee. You guide his hand as it travels the length of your thigh until his fingers are curled against your wet heat. “I trust that you will be pleased with your findings.” Your breasts heave in anticipation as you hold his gaze with lidded eyes.

His nostrils flare and his jaw ticks as he fights to maintain his composure. Thick fingers circle your entrance, ticking your folds and collecting your slick. He watches your face intently as one finger pushes its way into you. Your lips part in a shaky breath and whatever sound you had planned to make gets caught in your throat.

The king’s brow furrows. Even with the abundance of arousal, your body is slightly resistant to the intrusion of his finger. He works his way into you gently until you finally take him all the way to the knuckle.

“How does she feel?” Bucky’s voice sounds distant due to the blood rushing in your ears.

“Tight,” Steve responds, still looking at you curiously. “She can barely even take a single finger.”

You clench around the single digit, hips jutting against his palm. “Have I restored your trust in my faithfulness?” you ask, your voice breaking from the restraint it takes to not fuck yourself with reckless abandon against his one finger.

Steve’s kingly façade falls away in an instant as a look of tender affection softens his features. “Oh love… your faith was never in question.”

The bed dips to your right as Bucky sits on the edge of the mattress. His hand stretches out to slowly stroke his fingers across your cheek. “When were you last touched?”

Embarrassment prevents you from meeting his gaze until the feathered touch on your cheek makes you turn your head toward him. “The morning I left Brooklyn.”

Steve’s finger pulls out of you, drawing your attention back to him. “You knew that we were joking when we forbade you from any indulgences without us, didn’t you?” He shoots Bucky a worried look, wondering if they had taken their jests too far.

“Yes, I knew,” you assure him quickly. “I never once, not even for a second, believed that you could be serious in such matters. I just… couldn’t.” Your voice falls away, unsure of how to properly explain yourself.

“Did you not think of us when you were away?” Bucky asks you.

Your eyes widen, horrified that he could have such thoughts. You reach your hand out to clasp his and thread your fingers between his. “I thought of you both every moment of every day. My body ached with how desperately I missed you. But… the touch of my own hands cannot compare to how my body lights up when I am with either of you. I know that it had been said in jest the morning of my departure, but my pleasure really does belong to the two of you alone. Relishing in the memories of your touch is not enough to sustain me. I need you.”

“You have us,” Steve promises. “Always and forever.” He leans down and places a chaste kiss over your heart. With his head lifted back up, he meets your gaze once more. “Now four months is a terribly long time to have gone without the touch of pleasure. It would be my honor to bring you to release, my love.”

Your leg tightens around his waist as a shiver makes its way through you. “Please,” you beg. Your body is wound tighter than a bowstring that’s seconds away from the snap.

His hand returns to your leg. With a gentle nudge, he pulls your calf off of him for a brief moment, only to then promptly fall to his knees before you as he guides your leg to rest in place, draped over his shoulder. It’s both a humbling and empowering feeling that floods you whenever your king kneels before you. The man who holds the highest power in the kingdom and he will forsake it in the name of bringing you pleasure. It’s a feeling you don’t get to bask in for very long because once he has his mouth on you, all coherent thought vanishes in an instant.

Steve is an insatiable and enthusiastic lover. In everything he does, he gives his complete and undivided attention. He places your second leg on his other shoulder before clamping his hands over the tops of your thighs and ravishes you like a man starved.

“O-Oh!” you cry out, back arching and body writhing against the onslaught of his talented tongue. He laps over your slit and suckles your folds. Your slick paints his cheeks and his chin with the evidence of your pleasure, and he revels in it. The wet slurping sounds he makes as he devours you whole is enough to send you adrift.

Floating in an ocean of decadent carnality, there is no set course or final destination. There is only the here and now, and that is more than enough.

He pierces your entrance with his thick tongue. He laves at you, long and slow, getting your body to relax and give into him. When you are completely pliable beneath him, he pulls his face back enough to slip his finger back into your moist heat.

He watches how your body takes him as he gently thrusts the one finger into you. The wet squelch of your arousal encourages him to slip a second finger inside you. The resistance is minimal and this pleases him greatly. He shows his appreciation by trailing a series of wet butterfly kisses across your thighs and lower belly, all while continuing to bring you to the brink with his fingers.

They curl into your upper wall, pressing and rubbing at the place he knows will make your thighs shake. By the time his lips begin to descend back down your pubic mound, he’s got you stuffed full with three of his fingers.

His last kiss settles over your straining clit. He knows that he’s been denying her, but that had been his plan all along. Now that he was finally where your body craved him to be most of all, he had no plans on leaving until after you screamed his name in ecstasy.

“Oh my- Ah!” your hips buck against his face as you thrash beneath him. The hand at your thigh hooks over your abdomen to keep you pinned down. He works at your pleasure center from both angles, driving his fingers in deep and curling them into you, while his mouth ravishes your clit from above.

He flicks his tongue over the taut bud and sucks her deep into his mouth. He moans from deep within his chest and the sound travels straight to your core. Your climax starts to come at you like a charging boar. It’s strong, loud, and makes the entire earth quake.

“Steve! Don’t stop! Oh! I’m going- I’m coming- STEVE!”

Your thighs clamp around his head and though they are powerful from your knighthood training, he persists in his endeavor to bring you the greatest pleasure you have ever known. His fingers fuck you through your orgasm, feeling how you clench and tremble around them.

When the pleasure becomes too much to handle, you reach your hand down and tug gently at his blonde locks. He releases your clit from the confines of his mouth and blinks his stormy blue eyes up at you. You laugh breathlessly, “If the ladies of court knew what you could do with that mouth of yours, there would be a line from here to Asgard.”

His lips spread into a wide, self-satisfied smile; the evidence of your arousal smeared from cheek to cheek. “Now who is the flatterer?” He carefully removes his fingers from between your legs and presses a soft kiss to the inside of each of your knees as he slides your legs off of his shoulders. When he stands back up, he gives your form one last sweep of his eyes before looking to Bucky. “She’s ready for you.”

Steve turns his back to you and with all the regal confidence that comes with being king, he makes his way back to his chair. He lowers himself evenly onto the plush cushioned seat, back straight, knees spread. He sets his elbow on the armrest and with his chin resting on his palm, he slips the fingers that had just been inside of you into the hot cavern of his mouth. His free hand settles over the bulge in his trousers, stoking at his hardened length through the material.

You feel Bucky’s hands clasp your arms just beneath your shoulders. That’s the only warning you get before he completely hoists your body up onto the mattress. You laugh in giddy arousal at his display of strength. After only one orgasm, you’re already drunk on pleasure. You turn your body to face his and are pleasantly surprised to see that he’s already shed his clothing. He must have disrobed while Steve was having his way with you.

You crawl into his lap settling quite comfortably over his thick thighs. A wide grin stretches your lips as your arms circle loosely around his neck. “Hello, Dearest,” you greet, nudging your nose playfully against his.

His eyes sparkle in amusement. “Did I not say that I would have you again tonight?” he grins in triumph, arms curling around you with his hands splayed across your back.

You run your fingers slowly over the stubble along his jawline. “I do believe the real question here is how will you have me, Commander Barnes?” You rock your hips forward, pressing your wet heat against the hardened length that rests between your thighs.

His hands fall to your ass giving each globe a generous squeeze. “I will have you screaming out my name until the entire castle knows who it is that brings you such pleasure.”

“My, aren’t we confident?” you laugh sensually.

With strong arms keeping your body pinned to his chest, he begins to lower you down onto your back, stretched out horizontally across the foot of the bed to ensure that Steve still has the best view. “I will have you quivering on my cock and begging for more.” He settles himself over you, dark strands tickling your cheeks as they fall in a curtain around your face. “I will have you balanced on the edge of ecstasy, pleading for a taste of sweet relief, but unable to claim it until your Commander allows it.”

He grinds his erection against your folds, coating himself in your slick. He continues to hold your gaze as he balances on one bent arm to reach down and align his bulbous head with your entrance. A gentle nudge is all it takes before be he starts to sink into you.

“God in heaven…” his shaky breath fans over your cheeks. “You really haven’t been stretched in a while,” he grunts at the way you squeeze around him. He keeps his pace slow, moving only an inch at a time. “She won’t be taking us together any time soon,” he sends a smirk over his shoulder to Steve.

The king sends back a dark smile, his fingers falling from his mouth and tracing wet trails over his lips. “We can work her back up to it.”

Both his response and the feeling of the cock stretching you out cause a needy whimper to fall from your lips.

When he is finally sheathed, Bucky guides your legs up around his waist. He grinds into you with slow circles, allowing your body to adjust to being stretched around his girth. He peppers your face and neck with sweet kisses. “I have longed for our reunion from the moment you rode passed the castle gates. Four months is far too long to be without you, my love,” he declares, rubbing his nose against yours. “You are correct in stating that the memory of our lovemaking is nothing in comparison to our actual joining. Nothing on this earth can compare to the feeling of being inside you.”

He pulls out about halfway before slowly easing back in, testing the limits of your body. However, there is no resistance and no sign of discomfort on your face, just complete adoration and love for the man above you. His lips slant over yours as he begins to quicken his pace, so that he may taste your pleasured moans on his tongue.

He slams into you with feverish intent, driven by the sound of skin slapping against skin. Your nails dig into the muscles on his back and your hips rise to his every thrust. There are some nights when you attempt to fight him for dominance, but tonight you are supple and pliant beneath him. Like iron burning red hot from the flames of a forge, yet malleable and ready to be formed into something new. He can bend and mold you into any shape. Pound you down and smooth you over. He’d work his hands to the bone until you were absolutely perfect.

Your moans taste like heaven against his lips. He pulls his mouth back so that he might hear them ring like bells around the room. You gasp for breath and inhale the heady scent of raw sex. Your head falls to the side, eyes a little bleary as they land on your king.

His bare chest glistens in the firelight with a thin sheen of sweat; his shirt discarded to the floor. His trousers have been unbuttoned and shoved down just enough to free his straining cock. He strokes his length with deliberate slowness and watches the sight before him with rapt interest.

Bucky takes the opportunity of your turned head to sink his teeth into your exposed neck. You cry out as pain mixes with pleasure, eyes falling shut and back arching into him. An arm slips between your bowed back and the mattress, locking you in place against him. He sucks on the fresh bite and laps at it with a wet tongue. You shiver within his hold.

When your eyes blink back open and the haze in your vision has cleared, you realize that the chair is now empty.

A small frown of confusion pulls at your lips before you hear the voice come from behind you. “Bring her to the edge.”

A flood of arousal nearly makes Bucky slip out of you at the sound of Steve’s voice. You tilt your head back as far as you can against the mattress. Even upside-down, he’s an absolute vision. He stands naked at the side of the bed, one knee propped up on the mattress, a hand still stroking his cock. It’s enough to make your mouth water.

Bucky uses the power of his hips to thrust your body over the sheets of the bed and to the edge where Steve waits. You are guided into place with your head just hanging over the edge. Your hands quickly reach up to replace Steve’s grip with your own.

You hear Bucky’s low laughter, “Look how eager she is.” He holds himself still, buried to the hilt inside you.

“See? There’s still a way for her to take us both,” Steve grins back.

His hands cradle the sides of your face, palms to your cheeks, and fingers curling over the edge of your jaw. His thumbs slide to the ends of your mouth before pulling back your plump lower lip guiding your mouth open. Your hands bring the fat head of his cock in closer until the salty taste of his pre-cum hits your tongue.

You moan your appreciation, lapping at the slit for more. Steve shudders at the sensation of your tongue against him. Your jaw opens as wide as it can go as you begin to work him deeper into your mouth.

“That’s it,” he huffs, thumbs stroking your jawline encouragingly.

With your head back and your neck stretched, it opens your throat and makes it easier to take his length deeper. You swallow around the head of his cock and use your grip on his base to encourage him to keep going. Both men watch in highly aroused fascination as your neck expands around the intrusion of Steve’s cock down your throat.

You take him all the way, tightening your throat around him and ignoring the tears in your eyes that are welling up from taking him so deep. Steve forces himself to remain still and resists the instinct to rut into your sensitive throat. But god, the way it tightens around him is driving him insane. After a few seconds pass, he pulls himself back to give you room to breathe.

You swallow the excess saliva in your mouth and take a few panting breaths before urging Steve’s cock back into your mouth and down your throat. It’s easier to take him the second time. By the third round, Bucky has begun a gentle series of thrusts, his own cock twitching from inside you.

Both men find a rhythm that works for them without making you too uncomfortable. They work at you from both ends, using your body to fulfill their own needs. Bucky’s thrusts make your throat jolt around Steve’s cock and the abuse of your throat makes you clench around Bucky’s. They take their pleasure from you and you are more than happy to give it to them.

When it starts to become a bit too much for you to handle, a squeeze at Steve’s hip is all that is required to have him pulling back. “Are you okay?” he asks, curling a hand to the back of your head to lift it up and meet your gaze.

“A little dizzy,” you admit, your voice coming out hoarse.

Steve immediately moves to help you sit up while Bucky pulls out of you to do the same. You’re instantly sandwiched between their warm, muscular bodies; Bucky holding you to his chest while Steve molds his to your back. It makes your heart leap at how quickly they can switch from seeking their own pleasure to ensuring your comfort and well-being. You know that your love for them would never have run this deep if they weren’t such caring individuals.

“Sorry I couldn’t-” you try to begin an apology but are gently shushed before you can finish.

Steve’s hand cradles your face and turns it toward him. “You did well, my love,” he assures you. Another reason to love him. There’s no disappointment or resentment that you weren’t able to take him until completion, just gentle understanding and tender affection. He places a chaste kiss to your spit-soaked lips.

When he pulls back, Bucky guides your face to his until your foreheads touch. “If you are feeling unwell, let us know and we will stop now.” You know without a doubt that the two of them would abandon their arousal in an instant if you told them you couldn’t proceed.

You give him a fond smile. “I am alright,” you assure him. “And I will not rest until both my lovers are fully sated and satisfied.”

Steve releases a low chuckle, lips pressed to the hair above your temple. “You may be in for a long night then.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” you grin cheekily. With one hand, you reach for Steve’s hold at your waist. You pull his touch across your stomach until his arm is banded around your torso. Your other hand trails down Bucky’s Adonis belt to curl around the base of his shaft. His nostrils flare and his jaw ticks as you give him a long stroke. “Now, where were we?” you ask breathlessly.

His hands grip the back of your thighs as you rise onto your knees and align him with your entrance. Your body welcomes the now-familiar stretch as you sink down onto him. He grunts low through gritted teeth as he is enveloped back in your wet heat. He’d been close before stopping to come to your aid. Very close. The denied climax has made him overly sensitive. It sits just below the surface of his skin and sends tiny pricks of pleasure up his spine.

Steve pushes in tight against your back, molding every inch of bare flesh to yours. As you circle your hips around Bucky’s cock, you can feel that Steve’s is slotted between the globes of your ass, pressed to his lower abdomen. He grinds hard and slow against the cleft of your cheeks. His heavy breath on the back of your neck makes you shiver.

Bucky leans forward to mash his lips against yours and uses his powerful thighs to start thrusting up into you. The kiss is sloppy and wet. You’re sure that he must taste the remnants of Steve’s cock on your tongue, but he doesn’t seem to care. In fact, he may even like it. The wet slap of sweaty skin fills the room, overpowering the crackle of the fire in the hearth.

Every bounce on Bucky’s cock makes your ass jolt around Steve’s. Their balls slam into each other’s with a steady thwack and muscular thighs brush side by side beneath you. Bucky’s hands slide up your thighs and grab your ass in a bruising grip. He spreads your ass cheeks, making more room for Steve’s thick cock between them.

Steve’s hands glide up your rib cage and settle over your breasts. He molds them in his large hands and tweaks your nipples until they have grown stiff and over sensitive. Your mouth rips away from Bucky’s as you cry out to the heavens and throw your head back against Steve’s shoulder. You are being worked at from all angles by the two men you love most in the world. It’s pleasure beyond words. Beyond imagination, even.

Bucky uses his grip on your ass to change the angle of your hips just enough to ensure your clit catches against his pubic bone every time he slams home inside you. Your moans are getting louder and higher in pitch. Which is a good sign, because he is seconds away from bursting.

“Oh Bucky!” he hits you deep and grinds against your sensitized clit. The scent of sex is so thick it starts to make you dizzy all over again. Your thighs are shaking from barely restrained release. Every muscle in your body is pulled taut. Your arousal flows out of you in such abundance, it not only soaks Bucky’s cock, but also catches against the underbelly of Steve’s and also flows down their balls.

Your pleasured cries drive them both mad with desire. The heat that comes off their bodies traps you in an inferno. You have one arm tossed back to grip Steve’s neck; the other is thrown over Bucky’s shoulders. You draw them both in impossibly closer, allowing the perspiration on your skins to fuse you together into one being.

Animalistic instinct and carnal desire take over as lovemaking transitions to brutal fucking. Like the collapse of a log consumed by flames inside the hearth, there is a flare-up of energy. The control in both men is ripped to shreds as they rut against you like wolves in heat.

Each thrust is punctuated by their feral grunts and erotic moans. Their panting breaths send scattering waves across your feverish skin, providing only temporary relief from the savage heat that consumes you. Their muscles grow tense, balls pulled in tight, hands leaving bruises from their fierce grip on your body.

With your head thrown back, you cry out their names to the heavens above, alerting whatever God may be listening just who it is exactly that controls your pleasure. Your body begins to shake, hips jerking and breasts heaving as you hit your peak. Your walls clamp tight around Bucky and the muscles in your glutes clench as well.

“Oh fuck!” Bucky cries out before one last thrust results in his euphoric release. His body shudders and he buries his face into your neck as he spills into you.

From behind, Steve continues to rut against you. Once, twice… After the third, he releases a low grunt from deep within his chest, and then there is a hot splash against your lower back.

The three of you hold each other through your shared release; trembling from the aftershocks; covered in sweat, slick, and thick white cum. Some might call it debauched or hedonistic, but all you feel is the unbreakable threads of love that bind you to these two men. The moments where the three of you are able to bask together in your indulgence always seem to last an eternity. You feed off each other and reach new heights that had previously seemed impossible to grasp.

And when you’re ready to finally come back down to earth, it’s the embrace of each other’s arms that you return to. Bucky is nuzzling the hollow of your throat and Steve has his lips pressed to your temple. “I love you,” your voice comes out a little broken and raw. All the screaming certainly wouldn’t have helped after the way you took Steve’s cock.

Speaking of that, “Steve, you…” You hadn’t expected him to finish when he had.

“I know,” he soothes, thumbs gently tracing circles around your areolas, easing some of the aches in your breasts from his unrestrained hold earlier. “It has been a long four months for us as well. I hadn’t realized that I wouldn’t be able to stave off my release until it was too late.” His gentle hands release your breasts so that his arms can tighten around your torso. “No matter. Now that you are home, there will be plenty of time for me to refamiliarize myself with your body,” he pledges to you.

“Only if you are not pulled into council for hours on end,” your lips tug down into a pout.

He turns your face toward him with a touch to your jaw and kisses the pout from your lips. “You know that I will always make time for you. I love you, too,” he promises with one last kiss before guiding you into Bucky’s hold so that he can shift off the bed. Steve pads across the room, in all his naked glory, to a side table where a basin of water and a folded cloth lie in wait.

You are pulled from your observations when Bucky falls unceremoniously onto his back against the mattress, taking you with him. You land in a giggling heap against his chest. There’s a smug grin on his face and a satisfied flush to his cheeks. You fold your hands against his chest and rest your chin on top, continuing to hold his gaze.

You can hear the water getting rung out from the washcloth moments before the bed dips beneath Steve’s returning weight. The wet cloth is pressed to the base of your spine, eliciting a full-body shiver from you.

“Sorry,” Steve apologizes, “The water was warm earlier.”

“No, it feels good,” you assure him. The cool cloth is like a taste of heaven against your hot skin.

He cleans the mess of his release from you, wiping the evidence from your back and the curve of your ass. When he’s finished, Bucky rolls your relaxed form onto your back and takes the cloth into his own hands. His flaccid cock slips from between your legs. He’s quick to press the cloth against you to collect his own release as it leaks from between your slick folds. He uses gentle strokes against your sensitive channel, treating you with delicate care and sweet caresses.

After they have both made sure that you are comfortable and taken care of, they then clean themselves up before the three of you move to lay beneath the covers of the massive bed. You recline back, propped up slightly on a mountain of pillows. Steve lays to your left, cheek pressed to your shoulder while his fingers brush gentle patterns across your bare torso. He paints masterpieces across the dips and valleys of your breasts and stomach using just the touch of his fingertips.

Bucky is stretched out to your right. He is turned onto his side, with a bent elbow against the pillows, propping his head up to allow him to look down at you. His crystal blue gaze sweeps over every feature of your face. Once he has completed the path, he begins it all over again.

You do the same with him, a content smile tilting your kiss swollen lips. You lift your hand and run the back of your index finger along his jawline. “You are the most handsome knight in all the lands,” you mutter quietly, not wanting to disturb the tranquility that has settled over you. He releases a scoffing laugh with a sharp exhale through his nose, lips twitching in amusement. The smile on your own lips only grows. “Now that I am so well-traveled, I can say that with full confidence.”

Words that were meant to tease instead place a contemplative look on his face. You arch a curious brow as you wait for him to finish his thought and speak his mind. “If you had met someone else on your travels, you would tell us, wouldn’t you?” he finally asks.

Your head tilts in confusion. “I don’t believe I know what you mean…”

“Buck.” The stern tone of Steve’s voice sets you immediately on edge. Nothing ever good comes when he uses that tone of authority with either of you.

You turn your gaze quickly and catch the disapproving look in Steve’s gaze before he has the chance to school his features. “What does he mean?” you ask your blonde lover directly.

“It’s nothing that can’t wait until morning,” he attempts to appease you. When he sees the set of your jaw, he knows immediately that he has said the wrong thing.

You pushing yourself up to sit straight and square your shoulders. “I think I should like to hear it now.”

Steve releases a long sigh and runs his fingers through his unruly strands, sitting up as well. “Letters have been coming in at a constant rate from the other kingdoms over the last few months,” he begins.

“Letters addressed to you,” Bucky supplies next.

You give them both an expectant look, still not understanding the full picture.

“It would seem that in your journey, you left a string of yearning hearts in your wake,” Steve continues. “The letters are from various suitors asking for your hand in marriage.”

You stare at the two of them in blatant shock, eyes sweeping back and forth between their solemn gazes. “And you both thought that meant that I had met someone new…?” You can’t really help yourself when the laugh works its way out of your chest. It starts as a single burst, but quickly turns loud and boisterous until you manage to slap a hand over your mouth to keep yourself restrained. “I’m sorry,” you giggle from between your fingers. You clear your throat and swallow the last of your amusement, noting the severity in your lovers’ eyes. “I can assure you that there is no one else. Those letters are only coming from a line of fools who wish to conquer the Black Rose of Brooklyn. They see me as a prize to be won. A trophy after completing their conquest. Nothing more.”

You reach out and take their hands into each of yours. “I know that the love we share is far from conventional, but I promise that my heart only belongs to the two of you. There is no space for anyone else. You will be my only loves for all of eternity.” You bring their hands up to your face and place a gentle kiss on their knuckles. They both give a light squeeze to your hands in return. “Is this why you have both been in such foul moods during my departure? We have spent time away from each other before, but I have been informed that you were both particularly brutish these last few months.”

They both share a chastened look.

“Oh, my loves,” you sigh softly, that look of theirs speaking volumes. You tug at their hands until the three of you are settled back under the covers and are thoroughly wrapped around each other. “Rest well, knowing that I am back home in your arms. That I belong to no other and my heart beats only for you. And when morning comes, you will apologize to the others for your abhorrent behavior.”

The two men share a look, eyes shining and lips tilting.

“Do you believe it wise to order your King and your Commander in such a way?” Steve’s arms tighten their hold around you as he lands a playful nip to the back of your shoulder.

You giggle joyfully. “I have gotten away with it before and I’m certain that I will again.”

“I think a lesson in respect may be in order, my King,” Bucky smirks wide.

“Oh, most assuredly,” Steve agrees.

A shriek of laughter escapes from your mouth as both of your lovers descend upon you. Looks like you’re in for a long night after all…

[janumun]

Fair Remission (Obey Me Mammon - NSFW)

Game: Shall We Date: Obey Me Pairing: Mammon/Female Reader Rated: NSFW/18+

Tags: hand-jobs, heavy petting, female on top, fraudulent ;] shenanigans, being silly on and with Mammon

Summary: Ignoring Mammon even on occasion of one of Diavolo's parties isn't granted an easy pardon and so she sets to bartering a mutually beneficial agreement with him, in the most civil of manners.

Author's Notes: Yes, yes, YES! I hope you've been enjoying yourself among Devildom's residents, Nonny and you're welcome to talk Mammon (and the others) to me, if you'd like to squeal! [guessing by your request, you love the chaotic idiot, too ;)] My doors are always open and I hope this story opens some happy doors for you too. 🤸🏽‍♀️🤸🏽‍♀️

You asked for the prompt: “You know, if you wanted sex, you could’ve just asked.” (How perfectly him). Requests for this event are now (long) closed, dear readers. I have just three more to go before I can call it a wrap at long last LOL. Thank you to all who participated.

“Pay up in twenty.” The heel of his shoe taps an impatient rhythm across the floor. Face half-turned in her general direction. Which is a very welcome change from the rest of the night. It’s not an entirely unreasonable demand but she’s been swaddled within her sheath of silk for their entire evening now and wishes to have it off. She clears her throat, asking for an easier price.

Those nettled, azure eyes flit towards her for the space of a single observation; both his palms thrown wide, replace them soon after, held up in bargain. “Ten? “ Mammon’s not in the mood to storm and resist much — his trading is lenient and she couldn’t be happier he’s considering forgiveness, at all, given the circumstances. She attempts to curry favor once more, braving a step forward to capture his fingers within hers. “Lesser, please?”

Mammon breathes a displeased sound — ‘yer fuckin’ with my good graces, human’ — she hears him grouse. “Eight.” He tosses the word as if it measures less than a careless sentiment.

“Three,” she counters.

He drags one of their entwined palms closer, face angling sideways as he presses several, flittering kisses across her fingers. The knot of ivory brows the only thing betraying his vexation, teeth closing around the flesh of a throbbing index before he mutters, “Five. No less. Ya think my generosity comes any cheaper? Think again, schemy trickster!”

Although a muted twist to his bothered mouth remains, he withdraws — he hasn’t let go of her, she notes with no less amusement — awaiting her payment. And since he seems so adamant to hold on—

She tugs at their threaded fingers, urging him nearer. Rising on toes to gentle the firm line of his lips against hers. One.

Mammon blinks, his mouth not as determined anymore. She presses her lips against his once more, lingering against the taste of him. An arm, much more firm in its decision than his mouth now, hooks about her waist to hold flush against him. He returns for the third, a deposit she should be making but she desists from complaints because Mammon’s mouth doesn’t fib against hers. A happy swipe of his tongue across her lips, she smiles into their kiss before his tongue moves to seek hers.

She breaks apart; his sound of dissent causes a shiver to kiss across her spine. “Four?” She stretches it into a question before returning towards her beautiful man. Fingers press and pulse, impatient, upon the swell of her hips; he surrenders a moan into her mouth at the bite of her teeth tugging into his lip. And she laughs at the sound, charmed, delighted.

Silver lashes flutter upon a hooded gaze he soon screws shut in concentration, pink tongue darting forth to swipe a wet strip against plump, kissed lips. “You’re doin’... alright.” He prompts, in an attempt for indifference still, it makes her adore him all the more. “Five now. “

Even more so when she doesn't move to kiss him immediately and that sound turns just that bit desperate. “Five, you… stupid beautiful gem!” Secluding the rest of her laughter against his mouth and he pilfers it, willing and hungry.

Hoarding her tight against his body, until she crumples the fine line of his dress shirt beneath coveting fingers. He doesn’t seem to care, folding her wrist within a hand before he tugs it towards his hair in mute, stubborn silence. She goes, obedient, weaving her fingers through ivory strands, tugging him closer.

Hips heaving up in between the heat of her legs as Mammon moves to wedge a firm thigh and grind against her, a low, grunted sound of pleasure whipped free of his throat. She feels the dig of his erection, heavy in between their bodies. Withdrawing in between heated breaths and interrupted kisses, she cannot help her soft escape of laughter at his backhanded display of need. “I may have found my own match in a ‘schemy trickster’,” she muses, brows raised.

Fingers she slips down the zipper of her dress to remove; Mammon‘s hands reach forward to assist, wrestling the fabric off of her body. “T-That ain’t it… quit smart mouthin’ at me.”

Even as she guides his steps back towards the bed, nimble fingers racing across the line of buttons of his shirt to remove and toss to the side.

Sinking palms into the soft of the mattress beneath as she hovers above, angling an ingratiating smile his way to appease the moue of that beautiful mouth. “Hey,” he frowns; it settles anything but, with the dark flush of his cheeks; the hover of fingers before they move to gather into the weave of her hair and tug. “You just gonna stay there and ogle? Com’ere.”

Bringing her down so that their bodies fit against each other’s, just as their mouths move to meet in soft, flittering kisses. His hips reaching upwards, for her, as her fingers drag a measured path down the expanse of his abdomen. Circling at the indentations around, and scraping against the piercings that decorate the space of his belly button. Mammon’s hips fly once more at the contact, desperate fingers seizing hers to guide towards his erection. “Here, damn it, you’ve got no grace in ya, human.” Despite how he moves to press a kiss, then sink a nip, into the corner of her mouth.

She chases his lips to bury her affection against the same spot, in a quiet gush of laughter. “It’s this certain skittish demon rubbing off on me.” Tracking fingers against the concavity of his cheek before she pinches, soothing the ache, immediate, in a peck. She repeats the motion, a slow, scraping slide of nails against the underside of his shaft before moving to curve a fist against the flared head of his cock. Eyes blown wide — the shattered peace of a cobalt sea — his mouth falls slack in a loud, jerked groan; Mammon tipping his face to bury against her neck in distress. Swearing filth in his indignation.

Her skewed grin; he shoots a hand forward to trace before sinking a thumb into the plush of her lip. “Make that smile ugly…” he grieves. “It’s way too fuckin’ cute.”

Rushes to add when he feels the stretch of her lips drag wider, “Even when yer not being cute with that stinkin’ behavior, ya hear me? Stop grinnin’, I ain't praisin’—” His protests torn apart on the next slide of her fist against his cock, he leans into the sensation, breathing erratic.

“Look at ya… ” He mutters, face sinking into the give of her breasts, palms curving around the shape; shifting the fabric of her bra. His mouth closes around the pebbled tip; his hips rocking against her hand. Speaking around his mouthful of her, she shivers, “You are the schemy trickster.”

“Against the Avatar of Greed? I have to be.” She shifts in to settle against his mouth, pressing a kiss onto his head to smother a breathless moan. “You could’ve made it easier for us both, Mammon. If you wanted to have sex… you could have always just asked.”

He doesn’t ask now either; letting his body speak and carve a skewed shortcut for them both instead.

End Notes: Thank you for reading!

♧° Link to Master List °♡

[sinner-as-saint]

My Favorite Kind Of Night - 3.

Camboy!Bucky x CEO!Reader

Part 3 of this series

Run-through: On Friday nights, you are punctual to your virtual meet-up with your favorite camboy over a streaming platform, for your private stream session. You’ve known him for a couple of months now. He goes by the alias of ‘Winter Soldier’ on the platform, which is perfect for the kind of man he is; brawny and drop dead gorgeous. Over the past few months, he has become your favorite kind of night. And secretly, you became his as well. You two get closer over time, and things get interesting when your real, professional lives gets intertwined.

Themes throughout the series: sex worker!bucky, smut, phone sex, fluff, language, dirty talk

Through texts and phone calls and his livestreams, you got closer to your favorite camboy over the past couple of weeks.

Even if you and him went hours without texting each other during the day because of work, calling each other every night became sort of a ritual. You lived for those naughty phone calls with him. But also, in the meantime you got closer to James.

At work, even in the professional environment, a couple of flirty comments, frequent texts and stealing glances soon became a thing between you two. How could you resist him and his magnetic aura and charm, his stormy-blue eyes and his perfect face?

You were conflicted however. Because you didn’t know what exactly was going on with you and Bucky, but also whatever was between you and James was equally unclear.

You thought to yourself, if it came down to it, hypothetically – who would you choose? The online sex-god whose voice alone could make you cum multiple times in one night? Or the hot employee who made your heart race and flutter whenever he was around?

 Bucky found himself in a similar case. Over the past few weeks, he had gotten so close to his favorite girl. Then again, he was also feeling all warm and tingly towards his boss.

Should it, let’s pretend, come down to it one day, who would he choose? The perfect doll who had the power to make him stutter with just one photo? Or the gorgeous, confident boss lady who made his heart race with just one look?

He shook the thoughts out of his head as he walked over to your office with a couple of interoffice memos and a file. He knocked and waited for the sound of your voice, before entering the room.

He found you standing by your desk, typing on your phone. Dressed in a dark grey sheath dress and black heels, you could bring a man to his knees in no time. But Bucky maintained his composure even though he kept thinking how much better you’d look on top of the desk instead of standing beside it.

“James, hi.” You greeted. And yes, you and him were on first name basis now. No more ‘Mr. Barnes’ and ‘Ma’am’ and you both preferred it this way.

He sent you a breathtaking smile. “Hi Y/N.” He walked over to you and set down the file and notes down and just gave you a slight nervous look.

You caught it. “Is everything alright?” you asked and he let out a nervous chuckle.

“Yeah just…” he trailed off and shook his head. “Nevermind. We still up for lunch?” he asked. And yes, you and him often took lunch breaks together now.

You frowned a little before smiling again, “Yeah, of course.”

He nodded and said a quick ‘see you later’ before turning around and walking away. You called out after him right before he grabbed the door handle to walk out. “James?”

He concluded he would never get used to how his name sounded coming from you. It sounded so sweet and gentle which also made him want to figure out how his name would sound when you would be screaming in his bed while he’s just giving it to you raw-

“Yes?” he forced his thoughts to come to a stop so as not to torture himself any further.

You took a few steps and joined him at your door. “You seem a little off. Are you okay?” you gently placed a hand on his bicep and as soon as you did, his muscles flexed. You held back a smirk and he did the same.

You knew exactly the effect you had on him, and he did too. “I’m alright. Just… how about we talk about it over lunch? Sound good?”

You nodded and let him go. And as soon as he left, you heard your phone buzz on top of your desk. You picked it up and saw a message from Bucky.

Bucky: Do you happen to like someone in real life?

You stared at his text for a moment. What? Also, did you? And what a timing the man had, because just a second ago when you placed your hand on James’ arm, you could have sworn you felt a spark ignite deep within you. Was that because you liked James like that?

You: I don’t know the right answer to that right now. Why do you ask?

You waited for his reply.

Bucky: Don’t mind me. I’m just being stupid. Anyways, have a lovely day babygirl. And think of me.

You giggled at his message put down your phone and tried to get to work again but many questions still lingered in the back of your head.

Did Bucky ask you that because he liked someone in real life and wanted to know if you did as well so he wouldn’t feel guilty about it? Or perhaps he was just confused about the nature of your ‘friendship’? Or was that just a random question? And did you really like James, or did you just find him attractive? Was it wrong to like James? And even if you did, did he feel the same or is he just being nice and friendly?

You sighed and groaned and pushed the thoughts aside and resumed your work.

 Bucky on the other hand, was a little more stressed out. Was it a mistake to text his favorite girl that? What must she be thinking? He hoped he hadn’t messed up. He liked his favorite, naughty girl and he had soon grown addicted to her. Her body, her voice, the sounds she made when she came… he couldn’t get enough.

But he also liked his boss. Her elegance, her politeness and her easy-going manner. Also why did he just make a fool out of himself in front of his boss – who is potentially the woman he’s developing a crush on – by being all awkward?

His brain definitely short circuited the moment you touched his arm moments ago though. He couldn’t help it, that simple touch from you sent electricity coursing through his veins and he stopped functioning for a moment there.

Initially, he came by your office because he planned on asking you a rather important question. But upon entering your office, he began second guessing himself. Should he have just asked you and put himself out of his misery?

He sighed as he sat back in his seat, he glanced at his watch and knew that one way or another he’d have to confront you and ask you his burning question at lunch.

 Lunch time came by sooner than you expected. You had spent all morning drowning in meetings, calls, emails and overthinking. So when James showed up at your door telling you that it’s time to go out, you jumped from your chair in excitement.

You and James walked to a nearby, cozy and uncrowded little bistro and ordered your favorites. Once you sat down and faced him, you saw that same nervous or bothered look on his face.

“Okay. Spill, what is going on with you?” you asked, sipping on your drink.

He sighed and knew that there was no avoiding it now. “Uh, it’s… regarding the charity ball we’re supposed to attend this Friday night.”

You nodded slowly. The charity ball which was to take place two days from now was being hosted by a friend/business ally, and you and some of those who worked with you were invited, including James.

“What about it?”

He fought back a smile and said directly. “I was wondering, you know since we’re both attending, if you wanted to come with me. As my date?” he waited, gauging your reaction to see if it was tipping towards good or bad.

You gave him a bright smile. “I would love to!” you giggled as he immediately seemed much more at ease than a minute ago. “Is this why you were acting like that all morning?” you asked.

He chuckled. “I wasn’t sure what your reaction would be. And as much as I like you, I would never want to disrespect my boss and cross a line.”

I like you… His confession shocked both you and him. Oh well, he thought, there’s no going back now.

You couldn’t help but smirk. “You like me, huh?”

He froze for a millisecond because the tone you used resembled so much to that of his favorite girl whenever she asked him ‘You missed me, huh?’

Or maybe he was just way too tangled in the thoughts of both you beautiful women that he was purposely mixing up to avoid facing the fact that he would have to choose between the two of you eventually. Also, now that he finally confessed he liked you, does that mean he already made a choice and now he’d have to make sure that the relationship between him and his favorite girl is purely transactional – no cute and flirty texts, no more nudes, just private sessions on Friday nights?

Stop. He told himself. You’re overthinking.

“I do.” he replied confidently. Whatever follows, he’ll deal with it, he told himself.

You smiled at him, feeling that same spark ignite as it did this morning. “I think I like you too, Mr. Barnes.” And the smile and the look he gave you made your heart flutter.

 After lunch, you sensed a shift between you and James. A pleasant one – which you would’ve enjoyed so much more if you hadn’t been overthinking ever since he confessed to liking you. You realized then, that you liked him as well.

But what did that mean for you and Bucky? Should things escalate between you and James, would that mean that whatever you had going on with your favorite camboy would come to a stop? No more texts, no more flirting, just Friday night sessions like before?

You’re thinking too much again. You reminded yourself that worrying and overthinking won’t do any good. You’d just make sense of it as you go. You decided that going with the flow for now would be the wisest thing to do.

When you stepped out of the elevator after lunch, to get back to work, James kept his hand very politely at the small of your back as he led you out of the metal box. You both paused outside his cabin, and shared a brief look and shy smiles before you walked away reluctantly to your office.

You felt giddy and warm, desperately awaiting for Friday.

---

The two days leading up to the ball went by swiftly. Casual, non-sexual, but ridiculously funny texts from Bucky and a lot of sweet tension between you and James at your workplace.

Your very traditionalist father had warned you against workplace affairs while he was mentoring you to become your own boss. But now, all his warnings were meaningless because things were just effortlessly comfortable between you and James.

You could tell something shifted between you and Bucky, even when you called him on Thursday night he sounded a little… more-friendly and less sexual. You didn’t engage in phone sex but just talked for about an hour about nothing at all. It was fun and light-hearted and not awkward at all.

You noticed something then. His chuckle resembled that of James a lot. Then you thought maybe you were going crazy, after all, most male chuckles sound alike. Correct?

---

The night of the ball, you were nervous as you awaited James’ arrival in your living room. You wondered if you should’ve texted Bucky to let him know that you wouldn’t be available for your weekly cam session today. Then you decided not to, you’d just make up an excuse later when, or if, he called.

The plan was that he’d drive to your house, leave his car there so that both of you could go to the ball venue in your limo. And as of right now, you were a nervous mess, pacing around in your living room and checking your appearance constantly in one of the floor to ceiling mirrors in the room.

Burgundy evening gown; low-cut, long-sleeved and a risqué slit. The dress showed just the right amount of skin. You wondered for a second what it would be like if instead of a gentleman like James, it’d be a reckless sex-god like Bucky who was to be your date on an evening like this. Would Bucky be playful and fool around even in a crowded room? Would James do something of that sort?

Thing is, the more you observed James, the more you came to the conclusion that he was so chivalrous, and well-mannered and gentlemanly. You couldn’t even imagine him trying to make a move on you tonight, even though you’d want him to. And just as your thoughts so effortlessly drifted to James, he walked into your living room. One of your housekeepers must’ve let him in, you figured.

But oh was he a sight! Lovely black three-piece suit, black silk tie, and a lovely brooch pin with a discrete chain. He looked so well put together, and so classy and mouthwatering. Like the kind you didn’t know whether you wanted to just admire like the masterpiece he was, or if you wanted to just get on your knees and suck h-

“Judging by your stare, I suppose I’m the most handsome man you’ve ever seen?” he lightened up the mood and you giggled, pushing away all your filthy thoughts.

Thing is, he had to use humor to distract himself from staring at you for too long because not so innocent images began filling his head the moment he saw you standing there. The color of your dress looked great on you. Your hair was perfect. All of you was perfect.

Only upon looking at you did he wonder if he should’ve texted his favorite girl and told her that he wouldn’t be available for their weekly cam session tonight. Then he decided not to, he’d just make up an excuse later.

“You do look very handsome, Mr. Barnes.” You complimented the man and walked up to him, reaching out to straighten the knot of his tie but really it was just an excuse to lean closer and get a whiff of that delicious cologne of his.

His heart raced at the proximity. He gave you yet another breathtaking smile. “And you look as gorgeous as always.” He spoke, softly.

You pulled your hands away from his tie and looked up at him. The closeness was making your heart flutter. The more you stared into his eyes the more you wanted to just lean in just kiss his handsome face. You were so close you could feel each other’s body heat radiating off one another.

“We should get going.” You suggested. And he nodded, agreeing.

 The ride to the ball was filled with sweet tension and flirty smiles and casual, light-hearted talk. You were amazed by how easy it was to be in James’ company. How easily the conversation flowed between the two of you. He was definitely your type; amiable,confident, really charming and something about his eyes gave away that he had a playful and naughty side to him as well – which you hadn’t seen yet, but wished with your whole being that you do soon.

You only thought of Bucky once or twice during that car ride. The resemblance between his laughter and that of James was almost uncanny.

-

Your evening at the ball was perfect. The auction was great, the ambiance was amazing, many of your work friends were there and James was the perfect date.

You danced at some point, to a slow and sensual song but James was nothing but a gentleman as he held you close to his body. He even complimented you on your skills at slow dancing.

You were having a great time, and surprisingly, you didn’t think of Bucky once. Okay that was a lie, you did think of him once when James laughed at something you said. His laughter was oddly familiar… but you refused to admit that it sounded like it was Bucky laughing.

 You glanced at the golden, very large, vintage and grand clock in the room. It read ten forty-five. You let out a little sigh, normally around this time on Friday nights you’d be preoccupied with your favorite camboy. And for the past months, you hadn’t missed a session. This would be the first time.

You looked around at the room, then turned to look beside you. You frowned when you saw that James was missing. Weird. You could’ve sworn he was here just a minute ago. You looked over at the bar, but didn’t find him.

But then you felt him.

His large frame pressed against your back and you froze. He leaned down and whispered in your ear, “Follow me.”

You turned to face him, and he held a finger up to his lips; asking you to follow him with no questions asked. He held out his hand and you giggled as you took it, allowing him to lead you wherever it is he was taking you.

The dimmed lights masked the two of you as you made your way away from the party and the crowd. You followed James a hallways, at the end of which was grand French doors. The whole theme of the ball was quite extravagant, and so was the décor and the venue.

“Where are you taking me?” you asked in between giggles.

James looked down at you and smirked. “You’ll see in a second.” He led you down the hallway, and past the pretty doors and you two stepped into the prettiest garden you had ever seen.

Wide and open. Pine trees around the perimeters. A large fountain which made the whole space seem like it was straight out of a dream. You could see a section of the backyard had a very well-maintained maze of grass bushes. And the entire thing was dimly lit by garden lanterns.

“Walk with me.” James spoke again and pointed at something you hadn’t noticed yet – the lovely thatched gazebo in the corner. It looked magical, covered in vines and a couple of lanterns hanging from it; yet another thing which made this space look like it was a dream.

“Sure.” You replied with a smile, linking your arms to his as you two leisurely strolled around and talked. “How did you find this place?” you asked, after a little while.

He smiled as he looked up at the lanterns. “It was a bit too crowded in there, I needed a break so I wandered around and I found this. Then I thought you should see it too.” He answered.

Something about how he felt the need to show you his little finding made you feel all warm inside. You were in complete awe of the place as you looked around. “Well done on your discovery.”

He chuckled.

James held your hand as you stepped on the stairs which led to the gazebo. He watched how you admired the entirety of the vast garden from there. The gazebo provided a perfect view of its green and lush surrounding.

“It’s so pretty here.” You whispered and you leaned against the balustrade, looking around. The garden was almost enchanting, with the lanterns and vines and pine trees.

James’ reply made your heart skip a beat. “Not more than you.”

You turned to look at him and he had a soft look in his eyes as he stepped closer to you. Like he was being cautious, but wanted to be close to you at the same time. “Oh yeah?” you teased, and turned to face him.

He nodded and stepped even closer, trapping you gently between him and the balustrade behind you. “Oh yeah.” he confirmed. Then lifted his hand gently, tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear – just an excuse to touch your face really. “Keep giving me that look and I might just cross a line.”

You shivered at the tone he used. You heart fluttered and pounded at the same time. Oh, that’s how it is? Okay then.

A sudden boost of confidence coursed through your veins. “Go ahead then, I assure you I wouldn’t mind it one bit.” You smirked at the pleasantly surprised look on his face.

He smirked as well as he slowly lifted his hands and placed then on each side of your waist. His touch was gentle, and careful but it made you all hot and bothered. He inched closer and his warm breath fanned your face, your heartbeats rang in your ears already and he had barely touched you yet.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispered and his voice sent tingles down your spine. Your stomach flipped as your eyes dropped from his intense eyes to his perfect lips. You knew you wouldn’t be able to talk, so you just nodded. You don’t remember the last time a man made you this nervous by just standing close to you – probably never before.

James wasted no time in leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. His kiss was gentle and sweet at first, he was testing the waters. And when you kissed him back, you felt him smile against your mouth and he deepened the kiss. Placing his hand gently against your skin, cupping your face with one hand while the other circled around your waist; he pressed your body against his.

You felt his body heat and smiled through the kiss. You gently wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and held on to him as he kissed you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

James pulled away for a brief second, letting you catch a breath before he pressed his forehead to yours. Your hands rested at the back of his neck and you gently caressed his skin and felt the goose bumps which erupted at your touch. You giggled and he groaned.

“You’re making me all crazy.” He mumbled, looking down at your bodies pressed together. How he wished you were both wearing less clothing…

You giggled again. “You’ve been making me all crazy since the day I first saw you.” You finally confessed. James chuckled and pulled away to look into your eyes.

You looked back in his and saw a hunger. You were sure he saw the same in your eyes. An unspoken desire ignited in the two of you; you wanted him. Needed him. Bad, and right this instant.

He could no longer hold back either. His eyes dropped to your lips for a moment before he leaned in for another kiss. And he wasn’t so sweet and gentle this time. His kiss was needy and heated. And you kissed him back with the same enthusiasm.

He pushed you further back against the balustrade. Your hands slid into his hair, messing up his already messy man bun, and he held you tightly against him as his mouth moved perfectly against yours; driving you crazy.

Slowly, his tongue slipped into your mouth, making you moan gently into the kiss as he slowly slipped his hand down to the slit at the front of your dress. He pushed his knee in between your legs. And caressed the exposed skin at your upper thighs with his warm fingertips. His touch was unfamiliar, but so good. You melted under his touch in no time.

His lips left yours momentarily to kiss along your jaw, and down your neck; nibbling on your skin and making you sigh in pleasure. His beard scratched your skin deliciously; making you whine and giggle at the same time. You could feel him smirk against your skin as he gently slipped his hand in between your thighs and gently caressed the front of your clothed core.

You gasped and whined as he nibbled on your skin, surely leaving marks along your throat. “Can I touch you?” he asked, suddenly sounding all soft and shy rather than the absolutely confident man who was kissing you like his life depended on it just a minute ago.

Fuck… “Yes… please.” You whined.

He kissed along your jaw, and down your neck; nibbling on your skin and making you sigh in pleasure. He gently moved your underwear aside and ran his knuckles along your wet folds; smearing your arousal around in the process.

He groaned when he felt that you were wet and ready for him. You looked down to see his hand moving gently against your dripping core but you also noticed the growing bulge in his pants. You bit your lip at the sight of it.

Fuck…

Bucky pushed his two fingers past your entrance with ease and moaned right in your ear as he felt your wet and warm walls immediately welcoming him in. He curled his fingers inside of you, hitting all the right spots which make you weak in the knees. Thrusting your hips against his hand involuntarily, you tried to get him to speed up, and he chuckled quietly in your ear as you moaned out loud while he touched you.

“So needy, aren’t you?” he mumbled in your ear and kissed down your neck; nibbling on your skin around your collar bones. Meanwhile you slowly reached down and unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants lazily. He smirked against your skin, it was nice to see that you were just as impatient as he was.

You palmed him through his underwear and felt his erection. You smirked to yourself as he grunted the moment you touched him. Bucky pulled away from you for a moment, and you saw the hunger and desire in his eyes.

“Touch me.” He said softly; parted lips, chest heaving and hooded eyes. You didn’t have to be told twice. You reached down his underwear and wrapped your hand around his length. And you stroked him gently. He groaned and sped up his fingers inside of you.

You whined and gasped against his mouth as he leaned in to give you a messy kiss, probably smudging your lipstick a little but you didn’t care. He groaned as you touched him so perfectly, pumping his cock gently and making him lose his mind.

He touched you to arouse you more, but he didn’t plan on making you cum around his fingers. He had waited quite some weeks for this, and he just needed to come undone around his cock. So he pulled his fingers out of you and lowered his pants and underwear just enough to free his throbbing, leaking cock.

Then he hurried in parting the slit of your dress, picked you up by your thighs pushed you against the edge of the balustrade as he wrapped your legs around his waist. He leaned in to kiss you deeply again, holding you between him and the balustrade.

Your legs secured around his waist, and your arms held on to him tightly. His cock briefly brushed against your wet folds in the process and you whimpered through the kiss. He needed to be in you already. He couldn’t wait to hear you scream his name as you cum around him. So he wasted no time in aligning his throbbing tip to your wet entrance.

“You okay?” he mumbled in a haze. And you nodded frantically, you were breathless already and he wasn’t inside you yet. Fuck… this man was going to be the death of you.

Bucky pushed himself into you; stretching you out deliciously. His nails digging slightly into your skin as he held you by your hips, and your nails scratched at his neck as he filled you up like no one ever did; making you whine and moan as he went. You were both gasping by the time he filled you up entirely.

He gave you a moment to get used to him. He grunted when he felt how perfect you felt around him, warm and wet.

All your sensed could pick up on were his body heat, his scent and his breathy moans, his heartbeats as his chest pressed to yours and his messy kiss as he coaxed you into surrendering to him and allow him to make you feel good. You gave in the minute his lips touched yours.

“I’ve wanted you for so long…” he whispered against your lips and you melted right into his embrace.  

Bucky started rocking in and out of you, gently at first. He waited to see if you were comfortable, then sped up just a little. You felt all of him, snug inside you; your walls clenched around his thick cock as he started out with slow strokes and then gradually sped up into you.

He was perfect as he stroked your walls with his pulsating cock. You were a moaning mess in no time, pushing your face into the crook of his neck to keep yourself quiet and you were sure you would be leaving behind lipstick stains on his skin, but neither of you cared.

Each sound from your lips, each sigh from you, and each moan only fueled his desire and he sped up into you more and more. His strong arms supported you up by grabbing you at your thighs; holding you against him, as he sped up into you; showing you just how much he wanted you.

Moaning, he pushed his head into the crook of your neck and swore under his breath, all while occasionally mumbling how good you feel wrapped around him; lust lacing his words. Your name sounded so good coming from him, especially when he was a little hazy and pounding into you.

He fucked you relentlessly; earning more and more moans out of you each time his cock stroked your walls. Your hand slid into his hair and you tugged on it each time he pushed into you. You soon felt the familiar pressure forming; pressing inside you as the familiar warmth spread all over your body. You moaned wantonly.

Bucky nibbled at the skin under your ear and you lost all control you had left. Your thoughts became cloudy and all you could focus on was how his body brought you immense pleasure; your mind a foggy mess. Your clit rubbed against his pelvic bone each time he buried himself completely in you, and he soon quickened his pace; earning even more moans and mewls from you.

He pounded into you as fast as he could, making you moan and whine with each thrust. Your body moved along with his perfectly, sensually. You could hear the wet sounds that he caused and the sounds of your skin clapping against each other; it was all too sinful.

He moaned right into your ear and the sound sent shivers down your back. And you refused to think about how familiar that moan sounded.

Your legs started to shake around him as he quickened his pace; pounding into you relentlessly. The pleasure built nicely as he took you higher… and higher… and higher. Until you couldn’t hold back anymore. So, you came undone around his cock; screaming his name in the process.

Walls clenching around him, nails scratching down his back and a loud moan erupting from your mouth. Bucky’s thrusts became irregular and slower as he came right after you did, cock throbbing against your pulsating walls; moaning out loud when he felt your walls pulsating violently around him, both of you gasping for air.

Bucky didn’t pull away immediately, he wanted to relish your warmth and the feeling of you around him for a while longer. He leaned in for a sweet kiss; your fingers tangled in his hair and he gripped your waist, holding you carefully as he set you back onto your shaky legs. He moaned into the kiss, rubbing his tongue against yours before pulling out of you and pulling away to look down at you.

You took in his messy and rugged look as well. Messy hair, swollen lips, slightly hooded eyes and a satisfied look in them. You were sure you looked well fucked as well.

You smiled at you looked up at him. “We should do that again.” you whispered and he gave you a big smile.

“Sure boss. Whatever you want, I’m all yours.” He answered and you hid your face in the crook of his neck and giggled again. Just one round of sex and you were already light-headed. James wrapped his arms around you, sheltering from the slightly cool air of the night.

-

James ended up staying over at your place that night. Even at the back of the limo you two had trouble keeping your hands off each other, and when you finally made it to your bed – you two fucked until the early hours of the morning.

You debated whether you should text your favorite camboy, then decided not to. You could just text him in the morning, right?

Bucky was in the same dilemma as he spooned you from behind, your naked body pressing against his. He wondered if he should text his favorite girl. Then he decided not to, and just cherished this night with the woman he liked.

And you two fell asleep in each other’s arms, soundly.

---

You were reluctant in letting James go in the morning. And he smirked when you walked towards him while he was getting coffee in your kitchen, you came over and wrapped your arms around him from behind.

“Don’t go yet.” You whined, pressing a soft kiss to the back of his neck.

He turned around to face you. “Please ma’am. I’m only a man, not a machine.” And those words earned him a gentle, playful smack on his muscular arm.

“I didn’t mean that.” You looked up at him and frowned. He set down his coffee cup and wrapped his strong arms around you.

“No,” he leaned in and nuzzled your neck, making you giggle, “But you’ve got that ‘fuck me’ look in your eyes.” You laughed and hugged him tightly. He hugged you back. And then out of nowhere he asked, “Will you go out with me? Tomorrow night?”

You pulled away and raised an eyebrow and looked at him with a smirk on your face. “Like on a date?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “Like on a date.”

You agreed in a heartbeat and eventually let him go home.

 You had a silly smile on your face after he left. You went back into your room to clean and noticed that your sheets still smelt like him. You giggled to yourself and then a thought popped into your head. Maybe you should text Bucky now.

You: Good morning, soldier. And I’m sorry.

Not even a second later, his reply appeared.

Bucky: I’m sorry too.

You frowned. Huh?

You: What for? I was apologizing because I missed our session. Thing is, my roommate broke her arm and I had to rush her to the hospital.

You lied and waited for a reply.

Bucky: Oh… I was apologizing for the same. A buddy of mine who got shit-faced drunk and I had to go find him and picked him up from a bar and dropped him home and all that.

Oh. Well isn’t that an odd coincidence.

You: Crazy hectic Friday nights for the both of us then, huh? Maybe we should catch some sleep.

His reply came right after.

Bucky: I agree. Talk later, doll.

You didn’t feel one bit bad about this whole thing. Mainly because you had just spent the most amazing night with a man you genuinely liked.

 Bucky stopped by a breakfast place on his way home. And as soon as he placed his order and sat down, his phone buzzed. It was from his favorite girl. But why was she apologizing? Bucky texted her back immediately and when her explanation came, Bucky was pleasantly surprised.

Well, would you look at that!

He admitted that lying was bad, but it was just one little, innocent lie in this case. It’s not like he ignored you or stood you up, because thankfully you were unavailable last night as well.

Last night… Bucky smiled to himself at the thought of you. And how pretty you looked under him and how warm your embrace was and how the butterflies inside his stomach went crazy each time he made you cum around him.

Fuck. He smiled to himself and shook his head. He could feel how hard and fast he was falling for you. And he didn’t want to hide anything from you. So he decided that he would tell you about all about the camboy thing over a date on Sunday night. He knew you would never judge him, but he just wanted to be truthful and build this new thing with you on a solid foundation of honesty and transparency.

 But unfortunately, most of the times in life; things don’t go as planned…

[roboticonography]

For the WIP game: Item #9118100

I think you may have seen this one before, but here goes... 😂

During WWII, the U.S. Army issued each man an allotment of six condoms every month, to be collected as needed. Besides the obvious, intended use, they were also used in the field to keep weapons and ammunition dry, or to pack explosives. And covert operatives would sometimes use them for garrottes, which is an unpleasant thing to think about, but there you are.

So this story will eventually be a series of short, connected scenes involving condoms being used in creative, unsexy ways. Because what could be more romantic than that? 😁

Excerpt below the cut:

Officially, they were known as Item #9118100, Prophylactic, Mechanical, Individual.

Unofficially, they went by many names: raincoats, helmet liners, sheaths, skins, shields. French letters and Merry Widows.

Whatever you called them, Steve, and every other man in the army, had been told in basic training that the Medical Department would issue him six rubbers a month, if he chose to collect them.

Unlike most other men in the army, however, Steve had been informed of this fact by the most beautiful dame—woman—agent he’d ever seen in his entire life.

Agent Carter had then gone on to describe, in excruciating detail, the effects of venereal disease, and the uncomfortable and embarrassing treatment of same. She also made them watch an extremely graphic hygiene film. She seemed to take a certain visceral satisfaction in delivering this unpleasant information to the recruits in her charge; by the end of her lecture, nearly every man in the room was sitting with his legs crossed, and none of them seemed quite able to look her in the eye.

Afterwards, when she’d asked if there were any questions, Steve had surprised everyone in the room, himself included, by raising a hand.

“Yes?”

“How many rubbers are the girls issued?”

The guy next to him snorted, then quickly turned it into a cough when Carter looked his way.

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you taking the piss, Rogers?”

“No, ma’am.”

It struck him, belatedly, that it was probably a question he could have waited until after the lecture to ask, instead of putting her on the spot. He honestly hadn’t meant to imply anything about her personally, but it was easy to see how she might take it that way.

He continued, “I was just curious. The handbook only talks about the men.”

“That’s because women in the army are expected to practice abstinence,” she said crisply.

“Talk about a mixed message,” said Steve, under his breath.

Carter gave him a look.

Steve decided the wisest course of action was to practice a little abstinence himself—in the form of keeping his mouth shut.

Over Steve’s shoulder, a voice drawled, “You can have some of mine, boss, if you’re short. Of course, we’ll have to share.”

Carter didn’t so much as bat an eyelash. “Charming, Hodge. Stand up.”

Hodge got to his feet. Steve was gratified to see that he flinched when Carter took a step towards him.

“Push-ups,” she said, pointing to an empty patch of floor in the corner of the room.

Hodge walked over to the spot, stretching ostentatiously. “How many?”

“Until I tell you to stop.”

The smirk slid off his face.

Carter waited until he’d done his first twenty push-ups, critiquing his form the entire time, before turning to face the rest of the recruits again.

“Now then,” she said, serenely. “Those of you with better manners and more common sense than Mr. Hodge may someday need to know how to put one of these on...”

[shirbertshitposts]

10 Shirbert Moments from Anne of Green Gables series I think about a lot

In honor of Valentines Day I thought I would post a list of some of my favorite Anne and Gilbert moments. It was hard to narrow it to just ten as I have been going through all nine books and trying to queue posts about all their iconic moments through the series; However I decided to pick the ones that I remember even when I haven’t read the books in a while. I didn’t have the heart to rank them properly so they’re just listed in chronological order.

1. His future must be worthy of its goddess

In the twilight Anne sauntered down to the Dryad’s Bubble and saw Gilbert Blythe coming down through the dusky Haunted Wood. She had a sudden realization that Gilbert was a schoolboy no longer. And how manly he looked—the tall, frank-faced fellow, with the clear, straightforward eyes and the broad shoulders. Anne thought Gilbert was a very handsome lad, even though he didn’t look at all like her ideal man. She and Diana had long ago decided what kind of a man they admired and their tastes seemed exactly similar. He must be very tall and distinguished looking, with melancholy, inscrutable eyes, and a melting, sympathetic voice. There was nothing either melancholy or inscrutable in Gilbert’s physiognomy, but of course that didn’t matter in friendship!

Gilbert stretched himself out on the ferns beside the Bubble and looked approvingly at Anne. If Gilbert had been asked to describe his ideal woman the description would have answered point for point to Anne, even to those seven tiny freckles whose obnoxious presence still continued to vex her soul. Gilbert was as yet little more than a boy; but a boy has his dreams as have others, and in Gilbert’s future there was always a girl with big, limpid gray eyes, and a face as fine and delicate as a flower. He had made up his mind, also, that his future must be worthy of its goddess. Even in quiet Avonlea there were temptations to be met and faced. White Sands youth were a rather “fast” set, and Gilbert was popular wherever he went. But he meant to keep himself worthy of Anne’s friendship and perhaps some distant day her love; and he watched over word and thought and deed as jealously as if her clear eyes were to pass in judgment on it. She held over him the unconscious influence that every girl, whose ideals are high and pure, wields over her friends; an influence which would endure as long as she was faithful to those ideals and which she would as certainly lose if she were ever false to them. In Gilbert’s eyes Anne’s greatest charm was the fact that she never stooped to the petty practices of so many of the Avonlea girls—the small jealousies, the little deceits and rivalries, the palpable bids for favor. Anne held herself apart from all this, not consciously or of design, but simply because anything of the sort was utterly foreign to her transparent, impulsive nature, crystal clear in its motives and aspirations.

-- Chapter XIX, Anne of Avonlea

2. For the first time her eyes faltered under Gilbert’s gaze

“What are you thinking of, Anne?” asked Gilbert, coming down the walk. He had left his horse and buggy out at the road.

“Of Miss Lavendar and Mr. Irving,” answered Anne dreamily. “Isn’t it beautiful to think how everything has turned out . . . how they have come together again after all the years of separation and misunderstanding?”

“Yes, it’s beautiful,” said Gilbert, looking steadily down into Anne’s uplifted face, “but wouldn’t it have been more beautiful still, Anne, if there had been NO separation or misunderstanding . . . if they had come hand in hand all the way through life, with no memories behind them but those which belonged to each other?”

For a moment Anne’s heart fluttered queerly and for the first time her eyes faltered under Gilbert’s gaze and a rosy flush stained the paleness of her face. It was as if a veil that had hung before her inner consciousness had been lifted, giving to her view a revelation of unsuspected feelings and realities. Perhaps, after all, romance did not come into one’s life with pomp and blare, like a gay knight riding down; perhaps it crept to one’s side like an old friend through quiet ways; perhaps it revealed itself in seeming prose, until some sudden shaft of illumination flung athwart its pages betrayed the rhythm and the music, perhaps . . . perhaps . . . love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship, as a golden-hearted rose slipping from its green sheath.

Then the veil dropped again; but the Anne who walked up the dark lane was not quite the same Anne who had driven gaily down it the evening before. The page of girlhood had been turned, as by an unseen finger, and the page of womanhood was before her with all its charm and mystery, its pain and gladness.

Gilbert wisely said nothing more; but in his silence he read the history of the next four years in the light of Anne’s remembered blush. Four years of earnest, happy work . . . and then the guerdon of a useful knowledge gained and a sweet heart won.

-- Chapter XXX, Anne of Avonlea

3. I just want YOU

“I have a dream,” he said slowly. “I persist in dreaming it, although it has often seemed to me that it could never come true. I dream of a home with a hearth-fire in it, a cat and dog, the footsteps of friends—and YOU!”

Anne wanted to speak but she could find no words. Happiness was breaking over her like a wave. It almost frightened her.

“I asked you a question over two years ago, Anne. If I ask it again today will you give me a different answer?”

Still Anne could not speak. But she lifted her eyes, shining with all the love-rapture of countless generations, and looked into his for a moment. He wanted no other answer.

They lingered in the old garden until twilight, sweet as dusk in Eden must have been, crept over it. There was so much to talk over and recall—things said and done and heard and thought and felt and misunderstood.

“I thought you loved Christine Stuart,” Anne told him, as reproachfully as if she had not given him every reason to suppose that she loved Roy Gardner.

Gilbert laughed boyishly.

“Christine was engaged to somebody in her home town. I knew it and she knew I knew it. When her brother graduated he told me his sister was coming to Kingsport the next winter to take music, and asked me if I would look after her a bit, as she knew no one and would be very lonely. So I did. And then I liked Christine for her own sake. She is one of the nicest girls I’ve ever known. I knew college gossip credited us with being in love with each other. I didn’t care. Nothing mattered much to me for a time there, after you told me you could never love me, Anne. There was nobody else—there never could be anybody else for me but you. I’ve loved you ever since that day you broke your slate over my head in school.”

“I don’t see how you could keep on loving me when I was such a little fool,” said Anne.

“Well, I tried to stop,” said Gilbert frankly, “not because I thought you what you call yourself, but because I felt sure there was no chance for me after Gardner came on the scene. But I couldn’t—and I can’t tell you, either, what it’s meant to me these two years to believe you were going to marry him, and be told every week by some busybody that your engagement was on the point of being announced. I believed it until one blessed day when I was sitting up after the fever. I got a letter from Phil Gordon—Phil Blake, rather—in which she told me there was really nothing between you and Roy, and advised me to ‘try again.’ Well, the doctor was amazed at my rapid recovery after that.”

Anne laughed—then shivered.

“I can never forget the night I thought you were dying, Gilbert. Oh, I knew—I KNEW then—and I thought it was too late.”

“But it wasn’t, sweetheart. Oh, Anne, this makes up for everything, doesn’t it? Let’s resolve to keep this day sacred to perfect beauty all our lives for the gift it has given us.”

“It’s the birthday of our happiness,” said Anne softly. “I’ve always loved this old garden of Hester Gray’s, and now it will be dearer than ever.”

“But I’ll have to ask you to wait a long time, Anne,” said Gilbert sadly. “It will be three years before I’ll finish my medical course. And even then there will be no diamond sunbursts and marble halls.”

Anne laughed.

“I don’t want sunbursts and marble halls. I just want YOU. You see I’m quite as shameless as Phil about it. Sunbursts and marble halls may be all very well, but there is more ‘scope for imagination’ without them. And as for the waiting, that doesn’t matter. We’ll just be happy, waiting and working for each other—and dreaming. Oh, dreams will be very sweet now.”

Gilbert drew her close to him and kissed her. Then they walked home together in the dusk, crowned king and queen in the bridal realm of love, along winding paths fringed with the sweetest flowers that ever bloomed, and over haunted meadows where winds of hope and memory blew.

-- Chapter XLI, Anne of the Island

4. Gilbert, I'm afraid I'm scandalously in love with you.

"Gilbert darling, don't let's ever be afraid of things. It's such dreadful slavery. Let's be daring and adventurous and expectant. Let's dance to meet life and all it can bring to us, even if it brings scads of trouble and typhoid and twins!"

Today has been a day dropped out of June into April. The snow is all gone and the fawn meadows and golden hills just sing of spring. I know I heard Pan piping in the little green hollow in my maple bush and my Storm King was bannered with the airiest of purple hazes. We've had a great deal of rain lately and I've loved sitting in my tower in the still, wet hours of the spring twilights. But tonight is a gusty, hurrying night . . . even the clouds racing over the sky are in a hurry and the moonlight that gushes out between them is in a hurry to flood the world.

"Suppose, Gilbert, we were walking hand in hand down one of the long roads in Avonlea tonight!"

Gilbert, I'm afraid I'm scandalously in love with you. You don't think it's irreverent, do you? But then, you're not a minister."

-- Chapter 9, Anne of Windy Poplars

5. Suitable Places

"(Are you sure you kiss me in suitable places, Gilbert? I'm afraid Mrs. Gibson would think the nape of the neck, for instance, most unsuitable.)”

-- Chapter 12, Anne of Windy Poplars

6. He narrowly escaped bursting with pride

"Anne, this is Captain Boyd. Captain Boyd, my wife."

It was the first time Gilbert had said "my wife" to anybody but Anne, and he narrowly escaped bursting with the pride of it. The old captain held out a sinewy hand to Anne; they smiled at each other and were friends from that moment. Kindred spirit flashed recognition to kindred spirit.

-- Chapter 6, Anne’s House of Dreams

7. Queen of my heart and life and home

"Gilbert, would you like my hair better if it were like Leslie's?" she asked wistfully.

"I wouldn't have your hair any color but just what it is for the world," said Gilbert, with one or two convincing accompaniments.

You wouldn't be ANNE if you had golden hair—or hair of any color but"—

"Red," said Anne, with gloomy satisfaction.

"Yes, red—to give warmth to that milk-white skin and those shining gray-green eyes of yours. Golden hair wouldn't suit you at all Queen Anne—MY Queen Anne—queen of my heart and life and home."

"Then you may admire Leslie's all you like," said Anne magnanimously.”

-Chapter 12, Anne’s House of Dreams

8.  Annest of Annes

But the best of all was when Gilbert came to her, as she stood at her window, watching a fog creeping in from the sea, over the moonlit dunes and the harbour, right into the long narrow valley upon which Ingleside looked down and in which nestled the village of Glen St. Mary.

"To come back at the end of a hard day and find you! Are you happy, Annest of Annes?"

"Happy!" Anne bent to sniff a vaseful of apple blossoms Jem had set on her dressing-table. She felt surrounded and encompassed by love. "Gilbert dear, it's been lovely to be Anne of Green Gables again for a week, but it's a hundred times lovelier to come back and be Anne of Ingleside."

-- Chapter 3, Anne of Ingleside

9. I couldn’t live without you

Anne felt like a released bird . . . she was flying again. Gilbert's arms were around her . . . his eyes were looking into hers in the moonlight.

"You do love me, Gilbert? I'm not just a habit with you? You haven't said you loved me for so long."

"My dear, dear love! I didn't think you needed words to know that. I couldn't live without you. Always you give me strength. There's a verse somewhere in the Bible that is meant for you . . . 'She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life.'"

Life which had seemed so grey and foolish a few moments before was golden and rose and splendidly rainbowed again. The diamond pendant slipped to the floor, unheeded for the moment. It was beautiful . . . but there were so many things lovelier . . . confidence and peace and delightful work . . . laughter and kindness . . . that old safe feeling of a sure love.

"Oh, if we could keep this moment for ever, Gilbert!"

"We're going to have some moments. It's time we had a second honeymoon. Anne, there's going to be a big medical congress in London next February. We're going to it . . . and after it we'll see a bit of the Old World. There's a holiday coming to us. We'll be nothing but lovers again . . . it will be just like being married over again. You haven't been like yourself for a long time. ("So he had noticed.") You're tired and overworked . . . you need a change. ("You too, dearest. I've been so horribly blind.") I'm not going to have it cast up to me that doctors' wives never get a pill. We'll come back rested and fresh, with our sense of humour completely restored. Well, try your pendant on and let's get to bed. I'm half dead for sleep . . . haven't had a decent night's sleep for weeks, what with twins and worry over Mrs. Garrow."

--Chapter 41, Anne of Ingleside

10. Old love light

DR. BLYTHE:- “The old, old love light that was kindled so many years ago in Avonlea ... and burns yet, Anne ... at least for me.” 

ANNE:- “And for me, too. And will burn forever, Gilbert.” 

-- Page 189, The Blythes Are Quoted

Feel free to respond to this post with any of your favorite shirbert moments that I missed!

[the-iceni-bitch]

A Wolf in the Castle

Pairing: Charles Blackwood x fem!Reader

Words: 4110

Summary: You arrive at Blackwood Manor to find an unexpected visitor disrupting the sensitive ecosystem of the small family.

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content (oral sex (f receiving), fingering unprotected vaginal sex), very minor violence (brief mention of blood), mention of committing crimes, SMUT, 18+ ONLY!

A/N: I’ve been binging a bunch of Seb Stan movies over the past few days as I finish my week off, and Charles Blackwood kind of struck me. I really enjoyed this fic and hope you do too!

Will reblog later with tags (join my taglist here!)

not my gif

Alright, what the hell? You thought to yourself as you pulled up to Blackwood manor.

There was a strange red convertible in the driveway. Constance and Merricat never had visitors aside from the Clarkes and you. You frowned to yourself as you climbed out of your sedan, picking up the books and flowers from the passenger seat as you went to knock on the front door.

Constance greeted you with one of her beaming smiles that always managed to break your heart a bit.

“Y/N, it’s so good to see you! I know Merricat has been looking forward to you coming to visit. You’ll have to excuse us, our cousin Charles has come to stay with us unexpectedly, so we didn’t have enough time to prepare a room for you.”

“Constance, you don’t need to apologize!” You chided as you followed her into the receiving room. “You’re certain this visit won’t be a strain, now that you have another houseguest?”

“Oh, nonsense! Merricat would never forgive me if I sent you away! I see you brought her some new books. And are those lilies?”

“Lilies, cherry blossoms, and lilacs. I remembered they’re your favorites!” You gave her a warm smile as you handed her the bouquet and set the books on one of the end tables.

“Thank you so much! Oh! Y/N, this is our cousin, Charles Blackwood! Charles, this is Merricat’s tutor, and our very good friend, Y/N.”

You extended your hand to the man who had just entered the receiving room and he pressed his lips to your knuckles with a charming smile. His blue eyes took you in as he leaned back against the rear of the couch. You were a stark contrast to Constance’s proper and domestic appearance. You were wearing a pair of tight white capris and a gingham blouse that you had tied in a knot just above the waistline of your pants.

You gave him an appraising look of your own. He was relaxed in a cream linen suit. His soft chestnut waves slicked back from his face as he gave you a smirk. He had an air of easy allure about him that made you uneasy. 

You didn’t trust him a bit.

“So nice to meet you, Charles.” You murmured as he stared at you.

“Y/N!” Merricat came tearing into the receiving room and leapt on you, wrapping her arms around you in a desperate embrace and making you laugh. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much!”

“Mary, you’re being incredibly inappropriate.” Charles was no longer smiling as he watched your young student chatter at you giddily, her hands and knees smudged with dirt from the garden.

“Please, it’s fine.” You grinned at him as Merricat shot him a poisonous glare over her shoulder. “I’ve brought you some new books Merricat, ‘Transcendental Magic’ and several encyclopedias of poisonous plants of the United States and Canada.”

“Oh, thank you!” Merricat ran her fingers over the book covers lovingly when you handed them to her. “Will you join me in the woods to look for some of these?”

“Dear girl, I would love to. But first I need to bring in my suitcases and unpack.” Constance was still beaming between the two of you as her sister opened the book on magic and started to read. Charles looked incredibly disapproving though, and that made you smile for some reason. “I think it’s a little too late for us to venture out tonight anyways, so why don’t you help me bring in the rest of my things, and tomorrow we can make a whole day of it! We’ll bring a picnic and everything!”

Merricat grinned at you before she ran off to put away her new treasures, taking the steps two at a time.

“You shouldn’t encourage the girl.” Charles mumbled under his breath, scowling at you.

“I think it’s lovely how Merricat light’s up whenever Y/N is here.” Constance started to say, but her words died off and her smile took on a certain strain as Charles turned his disapproving gaze to her.

“Exactly what harm is she doing?” You asked, turning to the man with a tired expression. “The girl is exceptionally bright, and I refuse to stifle her. She could be turning that energy into something far more destructive if she isn’t given a proper outlet.” You murmured, shooting a knowing glance at Constance.

“Very well.” He grumbled. “Just make sure she’s washed up for dinner. Constance has made us a lovely meal, I won’t have the girl spoiling it.”

You considered questioning Constance about her cousin once he left to work his way up to his room, but she just gave you another smile and turned to head to the kitchen and finish her preparations. Merricat came bursting through the front door then, looking slightly comical as she tried to maneuver your two cases at once. You hurried to assist her and the two of you headed up to the guest room.

Once you reached the guest room, the two of you set to unpacking your things.

“When did your cousin arrive, Merricat?” You asked as you hung up some of your dresses and she arranged your makeup and perfumes on the vanity.

You saw her shoulders tense when you mentioned Charles. Jonas had followed the two of you and was winding his way through Merricat’s legs. She picked him up and held him close to her chest.

“He came here unbidden and is most unwelcome.” She whispered harshly as she avoided making eye contact with you. “I believe he is making Uncle Julian sicker, and he intends to take Constance from me.”

You stood up to embrace the girl, hoping to soothe her. You smoothed your hands over her hair as she buried her face in your chest.

“Dear girl. Are you sure about these things?” She was incredibly overprotective of her remaining family members, but you couldn’t deny the man made you uncomfortable too.

She just nodded into your shoulder.

“Well, we’ll just have to do our best to make sure he leaves then, won’t we?” You tipped her chin up to face you and she gave a small smile of relief. “Now, I’m going to take a bath before dinner, you should get cleaned up as well. We don’t want to arouse any suspicions.”

She gave you a serious nod and scurried off to her room as you went to run yourself a bath. You chewed the inside of your cheek nervously as you began to undress, considering the best way to go forward.

You joined the family downstairs an hour later, and again felt Charles’ eyes lock onto you. He was considering the differences between you and Constance, once more. Constance had changed into a lovely pale blue chiffon dress for the meal, while you had again chosen an outfit that could well be considered scandalous; a long-sleeved black satin cape-cod sheath that hugged you tightly. He was leering at you over his glass of wine as you entered the dining room.

You heard Merricat hiss when she pushed her Uncle Julian into the room, and deduced that her cousin was wearing one of her father’s suits. He had also placed himself at the head of the table. You gave a heavy sigh as you took your seat across from Constance, in between Charles and Julian. You gave the girls’ uncle a smile and polite greeting as Constance poured you a glass of wine.

“This looks wonderful as always, Constance.” You tipped your glass to her and gave her a small smile of appreciation before raising it to your lips. The poor woman was doing her best to ignore the excessive tension in the room, beaming at everyone seated around the table.

“I’m so glad you like it, Y/N. I made sure to make you some green beans amandine, I remembered that it’s your favorite.”

“It is, it’s so sweet that you remembered.” You praised her, sending her into a fit of tittering. “So, Julian, how are the memoirs coming?”

You smirked into your drink as the man started going on about the night of the murders. You could sense Charles tense up once he started talking and turned your head just enough to catch a glimpse of the muscles in his jaw tense up as he took a swig of wine.

“That’s enough.” He seethed, slamming his glass back down on the table and taking a deep breath to recenter himself. His smile had a certain strain to it when he lifted his head again. “Let’s talk about happier things.”

“Oh, of course.” You murmured. “Merricat, how are your studies going?”

You saw his knuckles grow white as he gripped the edge of the table.

“Oh, I’ve learned six new spells since I last saw you, the first…”

“No.” He looked at you frustratedly as you threw a wink to Merricat, making her giggle. “How about we just, enjoy our meal, hmm?”

You shrugged at him and took another sip of wine before tucking into your dinner. Constance was such a wonderful cook, it was easy to lose yourself in the food. Everyone had a clean plate before long, and you stood to help Constance and Merricat clear the table.

“No, Y/N, you’re our guest, I don’t want you doing any work during your visit with us. It wouldn’t feel right.” Constance scolded you. “Please go join Charles and Julian in the lounge for some after-dinner drinks, oh, and maybe some dancing later, wouldn’t that be lovely?”

“That does sound lovely.” You turned to walk to the lounge but when you arrived, only Charles was there, pouring himself a glass of sherry. “Where’s Julian?”

“Julian decided to turn in for the night.” He told you as he focused on pouring his drink. “Did you want a sherry?”

“Yes, please.” He handed you a small glass and you took a sip, giving a hum of appreciation when the sweet liquor hit your tongue. “Constance is such a wonderful cook, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, Connie’s great.” He chuckled, turning to face you. You felt your hackles rising as he leered at you, his eyes roaming over your body with no reservations as he gave you a wolfish grin. “So what’s your story sweetheart?”

You narrowed your eyes at him but Constance chose that moment to enter the study, and he put up his charming façade again.

“My goodness, I didn’t realize how late it was.” She said, grinning at the two of you. “Will you think any less of me if I retire early? I feel like such a bad hostess.”

“Constance, please.” You gave her a soft look of reproach. “You need to take care of yourself, darling. Please rest, I’m sure Charles and I can find some way to entertain ourselves.”

“Yeah, go to bed, Connie.” Charles gave her a grin as he moved to refill his drink.

You shifted yourself as Constance turned to go, moving towards the desk slowly as you listened to her footsteps going up the stairs. You shifted a letter opener under your palm as you leaned back, waiting to hear the click of Constance’s bedroom door before you started talking again. You heard the click and turned to face Charles, tossing back all of your drink as a look of malice came over your face.

“Alright asshole, what’s your fucking game?” You seethed at Blackwood, sneering at the look of surprise that came over his face.

“Excuse me?” His accent slipped as he tried to recover, and you knew you had him.

“You come in here, zero prep, and manage to raise the hackles of these morons in what, a week?” You were furious, this man must be some kind of special idiot. “I’ve been working these fools for 2 years, asshole, I swear to god, if you ruin this for me…”

“Listen, bitch, I didn’t realize someone was already latched onto this teat.” You could tell he was pissed now, too, but you didn’t care. “But maybe, the fact that you haven’t gotten anywhere in 2 years means this just isn’t for you. I’ll do you a favor and cut you in for 10 percent once I get access to the safe.”

“The safe?” You covered your mouth so that your laughter wouldn’t carry. “You idiot. No wonder that stupid fucking kid is so worked up. You’re working a short-con on them? This is not going to go your way.” You were shaking with mirth.

He growled and slammed his glass on the bar cart, jostling the bottles dangerously. He was snarling as he closed the distance between you and wrapped a hand around your throat, pressing himself into you so hard the desk rattled. You brought up the letter opener and pressed it against his neck in warning, making him hiss.

The two of you stilled when you heard footsteps above you. You just stared at each other, panting heavily as you waited. The footsteps stopped suddenly, and you sighed in relief as you heard the creak of Constance finally climbing into bed.

“Listen dumbass,” You whispered at him, digging the blade into his neck to accentuate your point. “This is my score. I actually did my research, I ingrained myself to that brat, I fucked the damn simpleton, you think you can just waltz in here with that shit-eating grin and take it all away from me, you are very mistaken.”

He snorted at you, “Jesus, why would you fuck Julian?” he had slotted one of his knees between your thighs and started to edge up the hem of your skirt as he moved even closer to you.

“What?” You were doing your best to ignore the way your body was reacting to being in such close proximity to him. “No, the other simpleton, Connie. What, you haven’t?”

The look of surprise on his face was satisfying and annoying at the same time. You rolled your eyes as he released your throat and gave you an appreciative look.

“Well, fuck, sweetheart. You’re full of surprises.”

“Yeah, right.” You were tired of this. “Alright. We’re both to far into this now for either one to back out without arousing any suspicion. So, we’ll split it.” You pressed the letter opener into his neck when he scoffed at you. “Or, I could just cut your throat now, tell those two gals you assaulted me, and keep it all to myself. Which would you prefer?” You cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Fine.” He spat at you. You had the upper hand for now, but he could find a way to get rid of you eventually, he was sure. His face split in a grin suddenly. “Y’know, we should consummate our little agreement in some way. Make it official.” He moved his hands behind you and pressed you into him roughly, making you gasp when you felt him grind his erection into your hip. “I can make you feel better than that stupid bitch did.” He moved a hand up the inside of your thigh until he was cupping your heat through your panties, groaning when he found you soaked.

You bit your lip as he ran his fingers over the sopping fabric of your panties, teasing them against your throbbing clit. You kept the blade against his throat as you rocked into his hand, begging for more friction.

“You wanna consummate it?” You gave him a wicked grin as you slowly withdrew the letter opener, tutting softly as a thin line of blood rose from his skin when it left. “Get on your knees.”

He pouted at you, that wasn’t exactly what he was hoping for. You shook your head and brought the blade back up to his neck swiftly, with a click of your tongue.

“Look at that, already not holding up your end.” You scolded as he eyed you warily.

He just grumbled at you as he sank to his knees, digging his fingers into your thighs and drawing them apart slowly. He hooked his fingers underneath the sides of your panties and drew them slowly down your legs. You withdrew the blade from his neck and set it aside as he latched his palms under your hips and pulled you to the end of the desk, running his freshly shaven cheek over the smooth skin of your inner thigh and inhaling your scent.

You broke eye contact when you felt him breathe against your entrance, thrusting your hips forward to drive yourself into his mouth as his tongue flicked out to taste you. He dragged it over your slit in a heavy stripe that had you panting with need. You ran your fingers through Charles’ hair and gripped tightly, drawing him closer to you as he moaned against your core.

“Fuck.” You murmured as you fell back on your elbow, screwing your eyes shut as he thrust his tongue into you, curling it inside your canal. “Charles.”

His fingers were gripping your thighs so hard above your stockings you were sure there were going to be bruises tomorrow. His lips brushed softly against your folds as his tongue lapped up the evidence of your arousal greedily, making you moan.

You felt him release one thigh and bring his fingers to stroke over your slit as he disconnected his mouth to give you a wicked grin. “You need to be quiet, doll. All we need is you blowing the whole thing when I make you cum.” He plunged two fingers into you and curled them in a beckoning motion and you collapsed against the desk with a thud, writhing into his hand and whining softly.

You shoved your fist into your mouth and bit down on your knuckles when he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked gently, making your back arch off the desk. He chuckled as he felt you clench around his fingers and he increased the pressure on your tiny bud, sucking even harder as your body rolled underneath him.

“That’s right sweetheart, cum for me.” He curled his fingers one more time as he latched onto you and that was that. You sobbed into your hand as your spine curled, every muscle in your body going rigid for just a beat before you were trembling in bliss, your release gushing over Charles’ chin as he kept fucking his fingers into you while you rode it out.

“God, darling, that was something.” He grinned down at you as he rose to stand between your legs, watching you shiver as aftershocks wracked your body. You looked sinful with your skirt bunched around your waist and your cunt on full display. One of your stockings had come loose from your garter belt and was starting to slide down your thigh. “If we’re gonna have an even partnership though, I think you owe me something.”

He bent over you and pressed his mouth to yours possessively, shoving his tongue between your swollen lips and probing the warm cavern of your mouth as he wrapped one hand around the back of your neck. His other hand started traveling underneath your back, searching for the buttons to undo your dress.

“Alright, fuck this.” He withdrew his hand from beneath you and started fumbling it around the desk searching for something. You gasped into his mouth when you felt the cool silver of the letter opener press against your chest, but he just drew in down in a quick slash, tearing open your dress and the thin lace of your bra until your breasts were exposed.

Charles watched the rise and fall of your chest hungrily as he rose above you, wrenching his tie and jacket off before starting to undo the buttons of his shirt. You reached down to undo his belt and whipped it off through the loops before working on the buttons of his pants. He stepped back when you had finished your work to slip out of his shoes before sliding his slacks down his legs and tossing his shirt aside.

He started tracing his fingers over your thighs lightly as he stepped closer, nudging his tip against your pussy and making you whine. Charles just chuckled as he teased you, one of his thumbs rubbing right next to your slit before withdrawing it again.

“Maybe we should renegotiate, doll.” He pressed the head of his cock into you slowly before dragging it out again. “I bet you’d give me anything right now just to get me to fuck this sweet little cunt.”

“Fuck you, Blackwood.” You hissed at him before it devolved into a moan as he brought up a hand to palm at your breast and you felt the sensation echo in your core as you clenched around nothing.

He lined himself up and clapped his palm over your mouth before spearing into you violently. You screamed into his hand and felt tears leak down your cheeks as another orgasm ripped through you and your shuddered as he began to fuck into you like a madman.

“God, this pussy is so tight, doll. So fucking warm and ready for me.” He kept his hand over your mouth as he bent to trace a bead of sweat that was trailing through the valley of your breasts with his tongue, moaning at the salty taste of you before mouthing softly over the slope of one breast to lave his tongue over your nipple. He laughed against your skin as he felt you clamp around him, your hips thrusting to match his as you neared another release. “You gonna be quiet if I move my hand, darling?” You nodded and sucked in a ragged breath when he removed his hand.

His hand moved underneath your hips and tilted you just slightly as he buried his face in your neck, sucking softly at the hollow behind your ear. You dug your nails into the muscles of his back when he brought his hand between the two of you to rub his fingers against your clit.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum again.” You whispered, tossing your head back and arching into Charles as you felt a warm coil tightening in your stomach.

“Be quiet about it.” He hissed at you, pressing his cheek to yours as he continued rutting into you.

You dipped your head and sank your teeth into his shoulder as your pleasure took hold of you and you heard him swallow a shout as you fluttered around him, your legs holding him to you tightly.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He growled in your ear, bringing up one hand to brace himself against the desk and stare into your eyes. “God, I’m close, darling. You got one more for me?”

You smirked and shoved him off you roughly, making him stumble back and land heavily on the settee. You crawled into his lap and sank onto him with a hiss, grinding into him slowly before you started fucking yourself on his cock.

Charles leaned back and gripped your hips tightly, guiding you as you impaled yourself on his length over and over. You picked up the pace and he groaned as he watched your tits bounce with each thrust of his hips. You braced a hand on his chest as your eyes fluttered closed and you bit at your bruised lips. One more drive of his hips had you collapsing on top of him, your pussy strangling his cock as he fucked you through it. Your body rolled against him as he turned your head to kiss you deeply.

You felt his hips stutter and suddenly you were flooded with warmth as his seed shot into you, thick hot ropes of his spend filling you up and leaking out around his cock as he groaned into your mouth.

The two of you laid there for a bit, panting as you waited for your breathing to regulate. You were the first to move, standing over him and trying to think of some way to cover yourself long enough to make it to your room, eventually deciding to just pull the ruins of your dress over your shoulders and hope for the best. You smirked down at Charles as he started to sit up, his cock coated in a mix of your releases and his skin flushed. His perfectly coifed hair was now falling into his eyes in sweat-soaked curls as he gazed up at you through his thick lashes.

“I think this is the start of a pretty great partnership, darling.” You teased him over your shoulder as you headed back up to your room, leaving him to clean up the lounge on his own.

Not my gif

A/N: Surprise!! Our reader is a bad, bad girl! We’ll see what sort of other trouble she and Charles get up to!