I’m A Mermaid

I stan multiple fandoms. Not picky really, from Kpop to Marvel and Supernatural Typically reblog or like nsfw 21+

[witchywithwhiskey]

wedding night

pairing: dad's best friend!titus danforth x female reader

summary: you lose a game you didn't even realize you were playing.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), arranged marriage, dubcon, unspecified age gap, referenced devil worship, smut, piv sex, brief painful sex, wedding night sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming, breeding kink, dirty talk, possessive sex, possessive behavior, marriage kink, pet names, stockholm syndrome, happy-ish ending?

word count: 2.4k

a/n: i've been struggling to write/finish anything since i posted my chef jack abbot fic, but then the first line of this fic popped into my head and i knew i had to write it. i did not expect to write for titus before pope but i just haven't found the right inspiration yet i guess! this isn't really fleshed out to my normal standards but it's a fun, smutty little read and i hope y'all enjoy it!!

You never thought you'd marry Titus Danforth.

For one, he was your father's best friend. 

For another, he was so much older than you. 

For a third, you'd already rejected his proposal. 

But most of all, you never thought you'd marry Titus Danforth because he was the man responsible for damning your family to hell.

Your father had met Titus when you were in college, and the two had become fast friends. By the time you'd graduated, your father had pledged his undying loyalty—and that of your family—to Mr. Le Bail and his High Council. 

In the months and years that followed, you came to learn more about the council as a network of rich and powerful people who helped each other out. It was during this time when you met Titus and his twin sister Ursula. 

They were both polite, but when Titus looked at you, there was something covetous and hungry in his eyes; it made you feel like a prey animal being stalked by a predator. 

Still, you remained cordial with the Danforths because they were close with your father.

That is, until Titus proposed to you, and you discovered the truth about who, or rather what, Mr. Le Bail was. Then, you ran. 

You cut ties from your entire family, changed your name, and moved to some backwater town in the middle of nowhere. For a long time, you lived in fear, thinking your family or one of the Danforths—or Mr. Le Bail himself—were going to show up at your door. 

But eventually, your fear settled down, you became complacent, and you set down some roots. Not too many—you didn't date and you never got too close to any of your friends, but you made a life for yourself. It was a half-life, but it was yours.

Until it wasn't.

Until the day that Titus Danforth appeared on your doorstep and you learned you'd never escaped after all. The High Council had known where you were all along, but they'd been delayed in coming to fetch you because your father had assured them you would return one day.

But their patience had grown thin and you knew too much to shirk your duties to Mr. Le Bail. As a daughter of a council member, you were expected to marry and reproduce, to create progeny to continue worshipping Mr. Le Bail and do his bidding in the world.

It was only your father's assurances that you would submit to your duties that saved your life. It was decided that you would marry Titus Danforth, the only member of the High Council who had not yet taken a wife. 

You were dragged, kicking and screaming, to the Danforth estate for your wedding. You refused to see your father or any member of your family, so you were stuffed unceremoniously into your pristine white wedding gown by the Danforths’ attendants. 

The wedding itself was a small affair, only attended by the closest members of the High Council, and your family. Your father walked you down the aisle to keep up pretenses but as he handed you off to Titus, you turned to him, caught his eye through your thin, white veil, and hissed your parting words to the man who'd given you life.

"I'll never forgive you for this."

Titus smirked at your father as he took your hand in his, looking for all the world like a man who'd won a game no one else knew they were playing. He led you the final few steps up to the altar, ducking his head slightly to speak in your ear.

"I always knew I'd be the one to get you."

It was then that you realized the depth of Titus's deception. After you’d rejected his proposal, he'd conspired for years to make sure you still ended up marrying him. And you'd played right into his hand. You'd given him everything he needed—leverage over your father, a way to steal you from your family, and worst of all, he'd gotten Mr. Le Bail's blessing to do it.

You spent the signing of the book and the wedding ceremony cursing yourself for being so naive, barely paying attention to the lawyer’s words about devotion and duty. You were so deep into your self-recrimination, you barely noticed when Titus turned to you and began lifting your veil. It took all your effort to maintain control of your face and give your soon-to-be husband a look of disdain.

It didn't seem to bother Titus in the least. That covetous, hungry look was plain as day on his face as he stared at your mouth. He barely waited for the lawyer to give him permission before he was grabbing your face and pulling you toward him.

Titus's mouth crashed against yours, and your traitorous body reacted instantly—your belly swooping and a hot, pulsing throb beginning between your thighs. You tried to gasp for air only for Titus to kiss you harder, his tongue invading your mouth and staking his claim so vehemently, it made your knees week. 

It was bad enough how good his mouth felt on yours, but the sounds he made, like he was a starving man eating his first meal in years, had lust blooming disloyally in your body. 

Your new husband devoured you voraciously, licking into your mouth and stealing the breath from your lungs until you were dizzy and dazed, wobbling so badly on your feet that when he finally pulled away, you collapsed against his chest.

Titus's arms wrapped around your waist, crushing you to him like a child might hold a toy he worried someone might steal from him. His head lowered until his mouth brushed the shell of your ear, making you shiver in his tight hold.

"And now, you're all mine."

Those words echoed in your head as you went through the motions for the rest of the ceremony and reception. While you shook hands and accepted the congratulations of your family and the High Council, all you could hear was the feral possessiveness in Titus's voice. 

It shocked you how much you didn't hate it.

You only returned to yourself when the door to Titus's suite at the estate clicked shut, the lock sliding into place with a resounding thud, like the period on the end of a sentence. It marked the end of your old life—and the beginning of your new one.

Titus was on you before you could even turn around or get your bearings. His hands grabbed your hips and spun you to him, his lips claiming yours even more ferociously than they did at the wedding ceremony. He walked you backward until your legs hit the bed, tearing the bodice of your dress so he could reach inside and palm your tits.

Desire warred with disgust in your body, though you didn't fight your husband as he pushed you down onto the bed and climbed on top of you. Titus's eyes glittered with a darkness that had your heart beating faster, your pulse pounding between your thighs when his expression turned greedy and he took his time looking his fill.

You were splayed on the bed beneath him, your tits out, chest heaving from all the breath he'd stolen during his kisses. But that wasn't enough for your new husband. He growled his frustration, got down from the bed and began ripping the skirt of your dress to shreds, until you were bared entirely for him from the waist down. 

All of a sudden, you realized the error in your judgement when you'd gotten dressed. Along with the wedding gown, a set of lacy lingerie had been set out for you, and you'd chosen to forgo wearing it. But that meant that when Titus tore through your dress, all that was left was you. 

At least you didn't seem to disappoint your new husband. 

Titus's hazel eyes blazed bright and hungry as his gaze raked ravenously over your body, taking in the curves of your hips, the plushness of your thighs and line of your legs. His hands settled on your knees, and with surprising gentleness, he eased your thighs open for him, a low, feral growl rumbling in his chest when he laid his eyes upon the delicate petals of your sex.

"This is mine," Titus snarled, his eyes flicking up to yours as if he expected you to protest. His hand cupped your pussy, his palm cool against your heated core, his wedding ring hard and unyielding against your soft, naked flesh. "All of you belongs to me now, but this, especially, is mine." 

All you could do was nod mutely, but that didn't seem to be good enough for your new husband, because his face contorted into a furious glare. It was obscene how hot he looked when he was angry, his eyes sharp and narrow as a blade.

"Did you hear me, wife?" 

You nodded more vigorously, rushing to say, "Yes—yes, husband. It's yours, I'm yours.” The words babbled out of you so easily, it felt like a betrayal as much as a submission to your new husband.

You'd never thought, all those years ago when you first met him, that you would marry Titus Danforth. Nor did you ever think you'd submit so easily to him as his wife. But that was exactly what you did on your wedding night.

It took very little effort to allow Titus to climb on top of you, to take his cock out when he ordered you, to line up the tip of his thick shaft with your entrance. It took embarrassingly little effort to spread your thighs wide around Titus's broad body and accept his cock into your cunt. 

Your new husband pushed deep into your pussy with one thrust, stretching you so quickly that it stung, even as it felt deliriously good to be filled. He claimed your body as wholly as he'd claimed your mouth, wringing a cry from your lips that he swallowed down greedily. 

Every part of you—your pleasure, your pain—it all belonged to him.

Without giving you time to adjust, Titus set a savage pace, fucking you into his bed with your wedding dress in tatters around you. He was still mostly dressed, an ascot tied around his neck, his jacket buttoned tight and his pants only undone enough to free his cock. It was as if all that mattered to him had been getting inside you, claiming you, and once he'd started, he couldn't stop. 

You held on tight to your new husband as he fucked you, his mouth breaking away from yours only to whisper filthy things in your ear—things about how he was going to use your body in every way he wanted. He was going to bend you over his father's desk, claim you in his sister's bed, set you free in the woods around the estate so he could chase you down and ravage you on the forest floor. 

And every time he'd fuck you, he promised, he'd cum deep inside your cunt, right against your cervix, until he knocked you up. He was going to fill you with his seed until it took, and you were going to give him an heir. 

But not just the one. Oh no. That wasn’t enough.

On your wedding night, while Titus fucked you for the first time, your new husband vowed that he would keep you pregnant until you gave him a whole horde of children—a whole new generation of Danforths who would serve Mr. Le Bail and carry on the family legacy.

And the worst part was, you'd always wanted a big family. 

Your heart squeezed with yearning at the thought of having so many children to love and dote on. It no longer mattered that those children's father would be a man who'd manipulated you into marrying him. All that mattered was that Titus wanted them to, and that he promised to be a good father to them—better than his had ever been.

"Cum on my cock, sweet wife. Let your husband fill you up, let me knock you up. Make me a daddy and I'll give you the world, pretty girl. I'll be such a good dad, such a good husband, just give me an heir."

Titus slipped his hand between your bodies, pressing down on your lower belly and making you cry out as you felt his cock pound into your cunt more acutely. He felt thicker and bigger than before. With more rasping, filthy commands, his thumb found your clit and rubbed, rubbed, rubbed until you saw stars. 

The whirlwind of your pleasure built in your body until it unleashed, sending you spiraling through a torrent of euphoria as you came. Your cunt clenched tight around Titus's cock and he grunted, fucking you through your release as he chased his own, finding it a few moments later.

True to his word, Titus spilled deep in your pussy, your inner muscles milking him dry as your body conspired with your new husband to give him the child both of you so desperately wanted. 

Once he was wrung out, Titus collapsed on top of you. His weight was a delicious blanket, and your mind was delightfully blank after such an obliterating orgasm. That was the only reason you could think of for why your hands found Titus's hair and your fingers began carding through his silver curls. 

You barely knew what you were doing until he gave a pleased rumble. His cheek was pillowed on your breast and he shifted, taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking gently, sending little sparks of desire down between your thighs.

"You'll see," he mumbled, his eyes slowly sliding closed, his softening cock still buried in your body. "It's not so bad to be mine." 

You held your husband close, taking shelter in his warmth as the contentment from your release abated and you were left with the cold, hard truth of your life. For better or worse, you were married to Titus Danforth, and you had pledged your soul to Mr. Le Bail. The life you'd wanted was gone.

You never thought you'd marry Titus Danforth, but here you were. His wife. The only thing you could do was make the best of it. So that was what you'd endeavor to do.

And it turned out, your husband hadn't been lying—it wasn't so bad belonging to him.

thank you for reading!! reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡♡♡

[silly--fangirl]

By thy hand

Baelor Targaryen × fem!niece!reader

summary: Is falling for your husband the worst thing to possibly happen?

content: 18+ mdni, smut, very little plot, established relationship (marriage), large age gap (reader's 23 and Baelor's 42), hand kink, fingering, the rings stay on, praise kink, slight size kink, Baelor Targaryen has a big d, unprotected p in v, creampie, slight overstimulation, aftercare

wc: around 5,9k

author's note: so sorry for the time it took me but i have to study to get into the uni i wanna go to so yeah, that sucks.. anyway, hope you guys can enjoy!!

It was not a match made of love — you and Baelor — but rather one of convenience.

Early in the year you learned your marriage prospects had been under discussion. Your fate was to be decided by a council of men twice or thrice your age. They would sell you to the highest bidder — of that you could be sure — and you'd spend the rest of your life locked up in some castle, made to squeeze out one babe after the other. You hated the idea as much as you despised your situation.

You were not married off young — a Targaryen princess, eldest daughter to Rhaegel forgotten about in the aftermath of the rebellion. Now the court considered you much too old for regular suitors — thought you a spinster at the bright age of three-and-twenty — so there was far too little acceptable options left for you. And so you found yourself beyond hopeless.

That was until you learned of your uncle's predicament — different, yet similar to your own. Baelor Breakspear was in need of a bride and he was free to wed the woman of his choosing. It was not an outrageous possibility — even though he was your kin, the man was kind and gallant. He had no need for multiple heirs as he had fathered two during his late marriage to the Lady Jena Dondarrion. And as you knew — he did not wish for the marriage himself, rather agreed upon the fate set on him by the men of the small council. So you had made your decision.

That night you ventured to his chambers at a late hour. After you knocked on his door the prince invited you in — he seemed slightly surprised by the sight of you. He was still working on some documents — signing them and considering what they entailed.

"Uncle, allow me to speak bluntly." you said then and he gave you a nod. "I know of your situation regarding marriage, as I assume you know of mine. I come to you with a proposal — let us marry. I find you a chivalrous man — a trait not possessed by many these days. I can only assume you'd expand that kindness to your lady wife. As to myself I can assure you I'd carry myself with the same dignity I have for years now. I would not embarass you, nor act foolishly. And I swear I would do my duty — both to you as your wife and to the realm as its future queen." you should've been nervous and yet it was as if you were discussing the weather. Your tone was steady, your back kept straight — a picture of a dignified Lady.

There was a moment of silence.

"My dear girl, I believe you do not know what you are asking for." Baelor carefully said, but it did not seem final. As if you put the image into his mind and he was considering it.

"I have not been married before, that is true. But I am a child no longer. Your own son has been wed for years now — he is my younger by a year. The question of my own marriage is to be decided without my say in it. I find you the most bearable of all my prospects, uncle. I do not wish to end up dead by childbirth in a few short years — my body no longer my own, but a vessel for bringing forth as many heirs as possible. I trust that would not become my fate by your side. I ask you for this union for I believe it could benefit us both. If you do not agree — I shall go back to my chambers and forget about ever coming here." you explained — staying true to your heart. You could not decipher his expression — was it a one of concurrence or a one of indignation? Only one thing was sure now — you held his attention fully.

"Very well then. Allow me this night to consider it, niece. I shall bring forth an answer on the morrow." he said after a moment of thought and with that — you had been dismissed.

The next day when you awoke there was already a small roll of parchment on your table — bearing the Lord Hand's seal. You cracked it open and read its contents. Baelor agreed to your proposal.

You were wed in two moons time.

It had been months since your marriage to the prince. You were content as his wife — he treated you with the utmost respect and kindness. Yet there was a part of your union that had not been planned — the feelings you harboured during all this time.

You couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when you knew yourself to have fallen for your husband. It happened gradually, you supposed.

Through all the feasts he was vigil at your side — assuring your comfort on top of fulfilling his duties as the Hand. He allowed you to stay near as he discussed the matters of the realm — rarely sending you away when various Lords requested his opinion.

Baelor also gave you your space — you could spend your days as you pleased. You obviously treated the duties of a Princess of Dragonstone with the utmost importance — engaging with Ladies of the proper standing, attending court as it was held, politely speaking to nobles and emissaries. But after all that — you could bury yourself in books or spend far too much time on horseback. You were grateful to your husband for that.

The both of you had fallen into a quiet routine. Every third night or so he would call for you to come to his chambers — a servant at your door would inform you of it and lead you to his as if you did not know the way.

You and Baelor then talked — at times for hours on end. He would confide in you — about the matters discussed by the small council, about documents he was supposed to sign, about the fear for his father's health as well as his worries for Valarr. He asked for your opinion on various things — taxes, your own ideas on laws to help the realm, certain Lords and Ladies alike. The both of you discussed volumes you had found in the library and their contents — even argued about that some nights. You liked those nights — and the fact that you would always revisit it to see who was right.

Yet it was all for the sake of keeping up appearances. Your lord husband had not laid a hand on you since your wedding night — even though you shared a bed. You were grateful for that too — at first. And then you became frustrated — so much so that the nights you spent alone would be filled with the moans of his name, your hand between your thighs bringing you to ecstasy. What you had no way of knowing was he spent the same nights in similar fashion — fucking into his own fist, muttering out your name as if it were a prayer.

You were blind to his longing glances and touches lingering a moment too long during dancing — just as he was blind to your clandestine smiles meant only for him and your subtle acts of seduction. The two of you truly were a perfect match.

And so when one night — after perhaps one too many cups of Dornish red — he brought you back to his own chambers you found yourself restless. Baelor helped you out with the lacing of your dress — as well as the one of your corset. He then turned his gaze away — closing his eyes as you let the fabric pool at your feet. You stepped out of it — now clad in only a sheer shift.

He waited until you were abed and under the covers to open his eyes again. Only then did he start undressing himself — pulling out his 'Hand of the King' pin from the fabric of his doublet and then taking it off. The prince did not notice your hungry gaze on his bare back. Once he was only in his breeches he slipped under the covers himself — just to find you already on your side, facing him.

"Thank you, husband. You have been beyond kind in all those months of our marriage. It has exceeded my expectations for which I am grateful. Even though I fear you shall never desire me in the way a man desires a woman, I am truly happy with our union. So again — thank you." you said, your voice serene and then leaned forward to place a whisper of a kiss upon his cheek. Before Baelor could fully register what had just happened — you were already turning onto your other side, your back now to him.

Your husband laid there, frozen in shock. His wife feared he would not desire her — a ridiculous notion. He had spent months yearning for you — too afraid he'd ruin the very thing he promised you upon agreeing to your marriage. Now with this newfound knowledge — there was only one thing he could do.

He came up closer to you back — his chest almost flush with it. And — to your utmost suprise — you felt your husband's fingers lifting your chemise to caress the outer side of your bare thigh. You sobered up instantly.

The touch was warm and gentle, felt almost cautious — as if your lord husband was wary not to startle you, yet you were all but afraid. Heat radiated through you, as if there was a fire raging beneath your skin — wild and uncontained. Your breath stilled but your body moved of its own accord, your legs spreading a little — a quiet invitation.

You heard a sharp intake of breath which was followed by a more firm grip on your thigh. Baelor's calloused — from years upon years of wielding a sword — fingers were traveling across your skin, getting closer to the inside of your thigh. Once they reached it you let out a quiet sigh and so did he. You wanted to say something, to ask something — so did he — and yet the both of you remained quiet if not for the small gasps and shaky breaths. The game was on — who would be the one to speak out first?

You couldn't see his face and yet you could swear there was a grin upon his lips when he reached in between your legs. At first his hand teasingly cupped your already soaked, bare sex — the signets and various rings cold against your heat — at which your hips bucked into his touch. His fingers spread your folds, coating themselves in your wetness — tender was the way your prince touched you — and pulling a moan out of your lips. They circled the small bundle of nerves — the one that had your vision blurring — putting enough pressure on it to have you cry out, your hand clawing at Baelor's strong arm just to ground yourself. He placed a gentle kiss upon your shoulder, the course hair of his beard scratching your skin a little.

The movements of his hand countinued eliciting soft gasps from you and there was a slowly growing pressure in your abdomen — not yet ready to erupt, but undeniably there. And then his fingers left your clit, creeping down towards your dripping enterance — just to tease you by not entering. You whimpered, your nails digging into his arm to rush him — he just kissed your shoulder again. The torture seemed to never end — with Baelor constantly not giving into your cravings, just going around them — and it was maddening.

Finally, he pushed one of his fingers into you and your back arched — your inner walls fluttering at the intrusion and your grip on his arm tightening. Just as could be expected — the finger was bigger than your own ones and it was clad in jewlery. He started pumping it in and out of your pussy, ever so slowly. The palm of his hand was rubbing on your clit with each thrust, the delicious friction making you writhe in his grasp. And then he added a second finger — you moaned, loudly enough to startle yourself.

You remembered him opening you up with his fingers on your wedding night but it was nothing like this — not as exquisite, definitely not causing you to loose yourself in the sensations. It's not to say your wedding night was terrible — of which you had been previously afraid of. It was fairly painless and the prince was kind — so you've been granted more than most women — but your body didn't react to him like this back then.

You also couldn't compare your own taking care of your needs to your current situation. When you were alone it felt good — good to touch yourself right where you wanted it. Your husband's touch however felt different — his palms wider than your own, his fingers longer and a bit rougher — as he teased you, not giving into your desires right away.

Now though you felt the pressure growing in your abdomen with each move of his wrist. Baelor still didn't speak a word — just ground his hips into your backside, revealing he was hard as a rock. You trembled. And then his fingers curled upwards and brushed across a spongy spot inside you — your back arched, ass pressing right onto his cock and a sob fell from your parted mouth. You felt your husband smile upon the skin of your bare shoulder.

He stroked his fingers inside your pussy at the same exact angle as a moment before. You felt yourself closer to your undoing, your legs trembled and lewd noises filled your shared chambers — your moans as well as the wet squelching sounds coming from between your legs. Your thighs clad around his broad wrist like a vice, doing their best to slow the onslaught of pleasure that was urging you toward your peak. But you knew you didn't want it to stop — needed him to keep going.

And it didn't slow him down — with force he pushed his thick digits inside you again and again, bullying them into your pussy. You were constantly grabbing at his muscled arm, your lips parted to let out moans and whimpers alike, your brow furrowed.

Baelor loved it — loved the way you were arching into him, loved the way your cunt clamped down on his middle and ring finger, loved the noises so unbecoming of a proper lady. But in here you did not need to care for propriety — not in front of him, not in your marital bed. He wanted you just as you were — not the carefully crafted version presented to the court.

"Just like that, my sweet girl. You're taking my fingers so well. So good for me. Come around them, will you?" your husband's whispered words came off almost breathless. He did not care for stupid games any longer — needed you to know how well you were doing.

Suddenly, the tight coil in your lower abdomen snapped. Your body went taut, all muscles straining with exertion — thighs quaking, eyes shut, mouth agape and a sinful cry spilling from it. His fingers continued pumping into you, fucking you through the waves of your release. You squirmed in his grasp, your body seemingly unable to take on even a second more of stimulation.

"Baelor!" you gasped, your nails digging into his forearm — hard enough to leave marks — to try and pull his hand away from your abused cunt. He let you — withdrawing his hand from betwen your thighs — but not before cupping your whole sex in his palm at which you shuddered.

Before you could fully catch your breath you felt his strong hold on your hips — flipping your trembling body so you'd face him. And the sight before you? It was magnificent. His pupils were blown wide, making his eyes almost match in colour — and they were set on you. You knew his passing glances in court, secret looks shot your way during feasts — but not this. Now there was something else in the way he looked at you. Yes, it was with care — as he has always done — but there was something deeper, more unrestrained. You did not dare name it for him — and yet the same thing shone in your own eyes.

You wouldn’t wait a moment longer — felt as if you physically couldn't. Your lips reached his with a feverishness you didn't know yourself to possess. The prince wasn't indifferent either — he matched your fire with his own, his kisses scorchingly hot. You were both trying to claim each other — as if a simple moment was not enough. As if you needed to be melted together for eternity.

You let your lips part, an invitation for his tounge. Baelor took it with a frenzy of a man starved. There was nothing soft, nor mellow in the way your mouth chased his. Desperate — a description of the both of you — yet still human. Still needing to part for breath.

"I love you, Baelor. I have for months now. I know our match was not one made of love, but despite my best efforts I can't stay oblivious to the obvious. I wouldn’t have dreamed of disturbing you with this if not for what has just transpired — but now I have a shadow of hope you might share my torment of wanting the forbidden. If you do not bear the same passions tell me so at once, I beg of you, and I shall never speak of them again." the words flew out of your mouth before you could think them through. They were breathless and longing, a palpable proof of your dishevelled state. And yet when you finally found the courage to fully look him in the eye — his gaze was already on you.

"Oh my dear wife, don't you dare suggest I have been alien to what you're speaking of. Do you think my heart to be made of stone? I have tried to practice restraint, tried to give you the union we have agreed upon. Yet it is all to no avail. Every night we are parted I dream of you, every feast I search for your presence as if for salvation. I have loved you for a long time now and by your confession you have saved me from my anguish, ñuha jorrāeliarzy." he whispered fervently, his palm moving to cup your cheek had you leaning into it. There was a soft smile on his face and now you could place the emotion in his eyes — it was love. It felt as though you could take a breath after being underwater for a very long time.

"Ñuha valzyyrys." you breathed, all eloquent thought escaping your mind — leaving only these two words. You were overflown with emotion — so much so that a single tear rolled down your cheek. His thumb caught it — wiping at your skin.

"I have been a fool for not acting on my desires right until tonight. Allow me to make it up to you now, sweet girl." the prince pressed a soft kiss to your lips, a promise. You nodded, not saying anything — too scared your voice would crack.

There was a caring smile on his lips as he rolled you onto your back and climbed over you — propping himself up on his elbows as not to crush you under his weight. He settled between your thighs and they wrapped around his waist on instinct. Your chemise was now pooled around your waist — a result of your previous endevours — leaving your drenched sex completly bare against the fabric of his breeches.

He could feel your arousal dampening the material as he ground his hips into yours — which earned him your shudder and a mewl. The pressure of his hard cock on you – so close and yet not close enough — was exquisite. Baelor lowered his face into the crook of your neck with a heavy sigh.

"Are you sure you want this, ñuha riña?" he then asked, his voice muffled due to kisses he was pressing into your skin. Instead of an answer all he got was your hand in his hair, fingers pulling him forcefully up and toward your own face — just so you could kiss him as he groaned.

"Your wish is my command, wife." he chuckled softly. You had to admit you rather liked the sound — so much so your hips bucked up to meet his, eliciting a low gasp from him and a whimper from your own self. Your hands trailed down to his breeches.

"May I, husband?" your fingers hesitated at the laces — waiting for his consent. It came in a form of a thrust into your waiting palm. You did not say anything as you pulled at the strings and they came undone — nor as you tugged them down, freeing his cock and letting it rest on your abdomen. Only kissed him deeply, claiming him as yours.

It was perfect — the way you fit together. Your mouths molded together, your bodies working in a harmonious tandem. Your legs parted perfectly around his hips, as if he was meant to be between them. His strong muscled arms bracketed your head — letting you forget there was a world outside of your marital bed. And yet it was not enough, you realised there was a constant ache deep in you. A need only he could cure.

"Baelor, I need you, please I-" he cut you off, his lips closing in on yours — you melted into the kiss, your thoughts drifting away. Upon parting you noticed his hand was sneaking between you, reaching his length.

Even though you were quite inexperienced — with no lovers previous to marriage — you knew your husband to be well endowed. He was thick and there were visible veins around his shaft — as well as a certain heaviness to it. His tip was now glistening, a pearly bead of fluid adorning it. You shuddered at the thought of him inside you, even though you knew yourself to be able to take him — had done so once already. A fact you were truly marvelled at now.

"You want me inside you, sweet girl? Is that what you're begging for so prettily? I didn't know my wife to be so desperate for her husband's cock. I have to remedy that, don't I?" the prince teased and you nearly cried out for him — but before you could do that you felt him at your enterance. He wasn’t pushing in yet, just coating himself in your arousal. Your breath caught and your hands flew to his broad shoulders — to hold on to him.

"Gevie." he sighed, his head resting in the crook of your neck.

And then Baelor started — ever so slowly — pushing his tip in. You whimpered, your nails digging into his skin, your thighs wrapping around him tighter. His own body trembled — with restraint and pleasure alike — and he let out a deep groan. It was torturous — the shallow thrusts that were gradually spearing your insides open. The pressure that came with it was not completly foreign but long past being familiar.

"A tight little thing, aren't you? Squeezing me within an inch of my life. We've only just begun, dear wife." his muffled chuckle sounded out against your skin. It was followed by another roll of his hips at which you gasped. And another. And another. You could've sworn you were whimpering — but it all seemed so distant now. It was as if you were no longer inside your own body.

"So good for me. You're doing so good. That sweet cunt was made for my cock, stretching around me so well." you heard him say, the praise falling off his tounge easily. Your inner walls clenched around him at that and you felt him smile. Wetness dripped out of you, coating him and the linens under you — which allowed his thrusts to reach deeper.

You felt full — incredibly so. And yet when you looked down the planes of your body, between the two of you — you saw there was still about an inch to go. The sound that escaped you was one of pleasure and exasperation both. He only grinned into your skin upon hearing it. And then he pushed in right to the hilt.

Your back arched off the bed, your breasts brushing against his chest. The moan you let out was undoubtedly sinful — he answered it with one of his own. Baelor stilled as your nails scraped down his back and your thighs clamped around him like a vice. He waited for a moment and then two — letting you adjust to the fullness.

Your breath was shallow and you had to will yourself into taking a full one. You kissed him — deep and thorough, your tounge exploring his mouth to distract yourself. All through the kiss he did not move an inch — even though the gods knew how much he desired to do so.

Eventually — your breathing calmed, your nails were no longer digging into his skin and the fullness started feeling almost natural. It had you craving more so you bucked your hips — what in turn got you his hiss.

"You want me to fuck you? Is that so? A word would've sufficed, love." his words reached your ears, low and full of lust. You trembled.

And then your husband withdrew himself from your heat — just to slam back into you, causing you to cry out his name. He repeated the motion — set a punishing rhythm to it. You felt as if he was bringing you to the edge of madness — your sanity dangling on a very thin thread.

Your body was already sensitive — still feeling the aftermath of your first peak. Your pussy was clenching down with the onslaught of sensations — which caused him to put more force into his thrusts. He was merciless in bringing you to your pinnacle, your dear husband.

Baelor reached down with one hand. It landed on your thigh, the flesh of it plump and meaty. He hiked it up — bending it and pushing it toward your chest. The next slam of his hips into yours had you crying out, holding onto him for dear life. The change of angle made his cock rub against the tender spot inside you — the one that made your vision blur and your back arch.

"I wish you could see yourself, love. Maybe I should fuck you in front of a mirror next? You are truly exquisite, especially now. A real beauty, taking my cock so well. I'm so proud of you, my sweet girl." your husband's words would make you blush — if not for the fact he had seemingly fucked the ability of recognition right out of your mind.

You were not used to him using such language. He was usually perfectly composed, your prince. The perfect heir, even better Lord Hand. He was a composed man, a distinguished one. Who could have known he'd be whispering such profanities right into his wife's ear?

He rolled his hips forward — again and again. Baelor earned himself your nails, lodged into his skin once more. He'd surely bear marks on the morrow — red, crescent shapes. He was glad — wanted to carry a physical memory of you with him. It would ease the burden of his duties — let him tap back into the moment when he had you in his arms.

And while your husband was already thinking of all possible ways to have you screaming his name tonight — your thoughts were gone. They left only the sensation of him fucking you in their wake. Your brain had been certainly liquified because of that by now. And to add to it all — you couldn't trust yourself to say anything. Your voice would probably break, only sounds leaving you would be moans and cries.

With each trust now — came a whimper from your lips. You could feel the familiar pressure settling low in your abdomen. It had your pussy greedily clamping down on his length — as if it wanted to keep him inside. You knew you wouldn’t last long like this — knew he'd bring you over the egde soon enough. You wanted however to hold out for a moment longer.

Your effort would prove to be in vain.

"My pretty, little wife. You don't even know how much I wanted you through all those months. How much will I have put into not allowing myself to touch you. Every time I saw you in your nightgowns I had to restrain myself. Now I wonder if you were trying to tempt me, test my patience with all those sheer shifts. But worry not, we will make up for all the time lost. The night is long, my girl." Bealor said, his own deep voice faltering as the walls of your cunt fluttered around him. Yet he kept going. Kept bullying his cock in and out of you, leaving you shaking and sobbing in his grasp.

His rhythm was steady — even though it was brutal. And that was probably what had sent you tumbling off the edge, your climax hitting you like a brick to the head. You cried out, your fingers tightened your grip on him — pulling a hiss out of his lips because you dug your nails so deep into his skin. Your peak had your body trembling, your pussy squeezing him hard enough to make his hips falter.

To his credit — the prince kept fucking you through your release. He didn't stop when you were almost unbearably thight around him. Nor when he felt your nails tear the barrier of his skin drawing blood. He just kept muttering praises you were too fucked out to hear — guiding you through the waves of pleasure. Letting the drawn out feeling slowly subside.

And as you realised — he has not reached his own peak yet. So he kept pushing into you — into your sensitive cunt.

"Baelor I- I don't know if I can-" you tried to say, your voice unsteady and hoarse. He delivered a particularly hard thrust at that — making you whine.

"You will. You will be a good girl for me and let me fill you up. You will lay there and take all I give you, my love." he said. The command in his voice had you nodding — agreeing to please him. To make him proud of you.

And so he continued pounding into your wet heat. He loved the feel of you, all trembling and mewling under his touch. Loved the way your back arched and the way your brow creased in ecstasy. It all had him close — teetering just right on the edge of what he was desperate to reach. So his hand sneaked between your bodies — allowing his thumb to cirlce the small, tender bead near the top of your sex.

The action had you sobbing and your pussy clenching down. You were already overstimulated and the added touch was almost painful. You were sure you could be heard by every servant and courtier in the Keep alike — you couldn't bring yourself to care.

Baelor's rhythm staggered. As it turned out all he needed was to feel your muscles spasm on his throbbing cock. He buried himself right to the hilt with a guttural moan — earning him yet another cry from your lips. And he allowed his release to overtake him, spilling his seed deep into you — stuffing you full of it. His strong shoulders shaked and one of his hands grabbed at the pillows — grounding himself through his pleasure.

And then your battle hardened husband collapsed — as if struck down. His weight was comforting — even if only for a moment. For before you could fully embrace him, he was already rolling you both to the side. It allowed you to stay in his arms as his cock stayed lodged in you. You sighed — a quiet, content sound.

The prince leaned back to look at your face — at your shut eyes and features slowly softening.

"You did well, sweet girl. Took me so good. I'm glad to have such a wife." he said before pressing a kiss to your forehead. You melted at his words.

When the both of you settled into a comfortable position you started gradually drifting off to sleep. That's when you felt him move. He carefully withdrew himself out of you — ever so delicate. Yet you still whimpered, still needed to hold onto him. He could only offer you an apologetic kiss.

You winced at the empty feeling — felt his seed start dripping out. It was strange — how easily you got used to him streching you out and how wrong it felt when he wasn’t doing so. Especially considering how a very short time ago you were falling apart trying to take all of his cock.

The chamber was quiet if not for your steady breaths — until you heard the unmistakable rustling of sheets and felt the sudden lack of a husband at your side. Your eyes flew open, searching for his figure in the dark room. You found him going towards a basin filled with water, a cloth in hand. Upon reaching the bowl he dipped the fabric into it. Your gaze followed his movements, trailing the expanse of his bare form. A strong, muscled back. Broad shoulders, relaxed now — as if an invisible weight had been taken off them. And a whole litter of already paled scars.

You wanted to kiss each and every one of them.

He came back to bed with the damp material and sat beside you — then leaned down to place a soft kiss upon your lips, one you returned. You felt his palm on your thigh, spreading your legs and reaching for your sex. Felt him gently run the cloth along your folds — collecting all the fluids. Even though he did it with the utmost care — an involuntary shudder ran through your body.

He kissed you again. It was all delicate, loving — tender. You wanted him close — as much as it was possible. So you pulled him down onto the matress at which he let out a hearty laugh — but allowed it nonetheless. As soon as he was at your level Baelor tugged you to his chest — wrapping his arms around you, his fingers slowly playing with your hair.

"Rest for now, sweet girl. I'm not done with you yet." he murmured and you said a quick prayer in your mind — asking the Gods to grant you strength.

You did as the prince told you to though — sleep creeping up on you easily in his embrace. The last thing you registered was him pulling up the linens to cover you both up and his hand stroking your hair.

You barely slept that night. Baelor's hunger for you disallowed you from rest — he claimed you in so many different ways it would've made even a whore blush.

On the morrow he simply dressed and with a kiss to your forehead, departed for his everyday duties — ever the proper heir. You stayed abed the whole day — feining indisposal.

You had never again slept in your own chambers after that.

[holylulusworld]

A biker's life

Summary: You wanted him. Remember?

Pairing: Biker!Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, asshole Steve, roughness, I’ll label this dubcon throughout the story, rough sex, semi-public sex, mistreatment, (soft) dark Steve, toxic relationship, power imbalance, somnophilia, doggy style, pussy eating, smut, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, injuries, blood, possessive Steve, violence, a hint of fluff

A/N: Please heed the warnings for this story.

Natasha rolled her eyes when you longingly looked your boss’s way. She sighed and poured you a drink. “Y/N, stop wasting your time on Steve. He’s only going to break your heart or back. Maybe both.”

“No, you got it all wrong. He’s rough around the edges but treats the women he brings around so nicely.” You swooned, once again, over your boss. Steve Rogers. The co-owner of one of the most exclusive clubs in town.

“Girl, you better watch your back and panties around Steve Rogers,” Natasha, the bartender at the club, whispered. She didn’t want to catch Steve’s attention. He was a friend, but still her boss.

“I wouldn’t mind losing my panties around him.” You winked at her. “If you know what I mean, Nat.”

Natasha tried to talk sense into you, but you were looking at Steve again. “He’s not as sweet as he seems. Steve charms the ladies to get what he wants and drops them afterward. He’s not here for the long haul when it comes to relationships. Why don’t you look for a nice guy like Scott?”

“Scott?” You dipped your head to glance at the man sitting at the end of the bar. He wasn’t too bad to look at, had a solid job, and was nice. Natasha was right. Scott was a catch, but not the man you were yearning for. “No, he’s not it. He’s nice but…”

“You want to play with fire,” Natasha huffed while wiping the counter. “If you get burned, don’t come running to me, crying. I won’t hold your hand after he broke your heart.”

“What if he only breaks my back?” You sassed back, feeling Steve’s eyes on you. He looked at his expensive watch, frowning because your break was long over. “Shit, I think he’s mad.”

“You should go back to work and play with numbers instead of Steve’s balls,” Natasha joked, but her eyes narrowed in Steve’s direction. She knew about his habit of breaking women down to nothing, then molding them into perfect arm candies. The last thing she wanted was for him to break you too.

Steve watched you hop off the barstool to walk toward the back and get back to work. It’d be another long night. It wasn’t easy to make Steve’s business look legal. He was the leader of a criminal organization after all.

“Y/N, a word.” Steve was suddenly by your side. He slung his arm around your waist to guide you toward the back entrance.

“Uh—boss. I should head back toward my office. The numbers are waiting.” You nervously chuckled as he wouldn’t slow down. “Boss, I know I should’ve gone back to work ten minutes ago. I’m sorry I lost track of time.”

Steve didn’t say a word. He yanked you through the back door of the bar, the heavy door slamming shut behind you. You scrunched up your nose when the smell of dirt and stale beer hit your nostrils.

“Steve? Are you mad at me, boss? I told you I’m sorry…”

Steve spun you around and shoved you face-first against the rough wall. Your palms scraped the rough surface, and you squeaked at the sudden motion.

"You've been staring at me all night," Steve growled against your ear. His hand wrapped around your throat, forcing you to crane your neck. “You’re just another pathetic little slut wanting her fill.”

He roughly kicked your legs apart. One hand shoved your skirt up over your hips and ripped your panties off with one swift motion while the other worked his belt open.

You heard the zipper come down, heart racing. This was what you wanted, just not like this. Steve was rougher than expected, and you didn’t know how to feel when the thick head of his cock pressed against your bare cunt.

“Already wet,” he commented in a mocking tone. “I knew you'd be dripping for my cock like the whore you are. Remember, this is what you wanted.”

He slammed into you in one brutal thrust. You whimpered, the stretch burning, but he didn't give you time to adjust. Steve fucked you hard against the wall, hips snapping.

“You will take it,” he grunted. “That's all you’re good for. Just another tight hole for me to use.”

His fingers dug into your hips hard enough to leave marks on your body.

“Say it.”

You choked out a moan but uttered the words he wanted to hear.

“Say it louder, Y/N!”

“I’m your slut,” you gasped as he pounded deeper. “Only your slut, Steve.”

Steve laughed in your ear, his teeth tugging at your earlobe. “They all watched you make a fool out of yourself. You were walking around my bar like you deserve more than a quick fuck in a dirty alley.”

You were on the verge of tears, from the pleasurable pain, but also from the cruel reality finally setting in. Steve didn’t like you. He was using your body like he had used many before. You were no one special to him.

He reached around and rubbed your clit. Steve was a giver after all. He didn’t want the ladies to complain. ”Come on my cock, like the good whore you are. Listen to your boss.”

You whimpered his name when your high hit you. Your walls clenched around him, and he groaned, fucking you through it until his rhythm faltered. He buried himself deep and stilled his hips.

“Goddamnit, that’s a good little cunt.” He groaned in your ear, filling you up to the brim.

He pulled out, stepping away. Steve didn’t care that you couldn’t keep yourself upright. Your legs were shaking so hard that you lost your balance and ended up on the ground, cutting your leg on a shard. He tucked himself away, zipped up, and turned to leave.

“Here, clean yourself up and get back to work,” he spat, looking down at you like you were nothing but dirt. “What’s with the doe eyes? You wanted me to fuck you, remember? That’s how I treat the women I fuck. Are you happy now?”

You choked out a sob but didn’t tell him you were hurt in more than one way when he walked away, leaving you on the ground. His cum mixed with the blood seeping from the wound on your leg soaked the ground—a reminder of your downfall.

Steve was right. You wanted this. Him. All you were talking and fantasizing about was your boss, and you just paid the price for those daydreams.

Steve puffed out smoke when Sam joined him for a break. “So, Y/N is into you?” He smirked when Steve’s features darkened.

“Bucky talks too much,” Steve angrily replied. He couldn’t shake the image of you on the ground in that dirty alley for hours. It was for the best to keep you at arm’s length. “She’s just a love-sick puppy.”

“She’s a sweet one, Steve. You should leave her alone. I don’t think she’d survive you,” Sam joked, but Steve didn’t find it funny. He had already ruined you and your trust in him. There was no turning back now. His dark heart couldn’t let you in.

“Ah, are we talking about Y/N?” Bucky joined the conversation, grinning from ear to ear. He was the one riling Steve up earlier. “Did you already ask her out?”

“Shut up, James,” Steve hissed and took another sip from his drink. “You did enough tonight. I…I lost control and now…”

“Fuck,” Bucky blanched. His eyes widened, and he felt sick to his stomach. “What did you do, Steve? You didn’t kill her, right? Right…”

“Worse,” Steve grumbled under his breath. His eyes scanned the club, searching for a glimpse of you. “I ruined her.”

“Sex?” Bucky groaned. “Man, I thought you killed the sweet woman. So…was she good?” He grinned. “Did you make her cum?”

“I ruined her,” Steve repeated. He looked at Sam, seeing the judgment in the other man’s eyes. “I know, I know. You told me to leave her alone.”

“I told you not to treat her like the other women before her,” Sam chastised. “I’m not a saint, but hurting Y/N is a new low.”

Steve rose from his seat. He didn’t want to listen to his friend any longer. “I have something to take care of.”

Bucky chuckled while Sam angrily crossed his arms over his chest.

“He had to go and break the only nice woman at this club. Great,” Sam huffed and turned his attention back toward his drink. “I hope he at least puts a ring on her finger…”

“Nat, have you seen Y/N?” Steve asked after he circled the club for a second time. You weren’t at your office, the restrooms or the bar, and he slowly felt uneasy.

“Nope,” she replied, busy pouring another drink. “Not since you walked out of the back entrance with her some hours ago. It’s not my job to keep track of your employees, Steve.”

“I brought her to the hospital,” M’Baku casually said. He was about to take a break when he heard Steve talk about you.

“What? You brought her to a hospital?” Steve panted heavily. “Why? What happened?”

“Uh—I don’t know, boss.” M’Baku shrugged. “I walked out of the back entrance to smoke and found her on the ground. She was bleeding and looked like someone had attacked her.”

“Attacked. Her.” Natasha repeated. “Steve, did you leave her out there all alone?”

“How do you know she was attacked?” Steve growled, stepping closer. “Talk!”

“She was crying, bleeding, and looked like someone tugged at her clothing. I helped her up and drove her to Saint Mary’s Hospital. I wanted to call the cops, but she said no one hurt her. She slipped and fell.”

Steve didn’t listen any longer. He stormed toward the back entrance, fearing the worst.

“Mr. Rogers, please calm down. I can’t tell you anything about Ms. Y/L/N’s condition.” The doctor was breathing heavily while talking to Steve. “Please.”

Steve hesitated for only a second before he said, “Where is she? She’s my fiancée!”

“She’s still in the emergency room. We fixed her wound, and can release her any time,” the doctor stammered. He didn’t believe Steve, but he knew your boss’s reputation. The last thing he needed was to get Steve Rogers’ attention.

“Good. Bring me to her. I’m taking Y/N home.”

You were still dizzy from the pain meds they gave you when Steve carried you inside his home. He’d shown up without a word, picked you up in bridal style, and driven you straight to his place, not your apartment.

You were out cold before he even got you to the bedroom, the pain meds and exhaustion taking a toll on you. Steve laid you on your stomach to shelter your injured leg and stripped you down to your panties.

He huffed and walked out of the room, leaving you alone to clear his head. Steve had no clue why he brought you to his home and hated it.

Hours later, Steve stood in the doorway watching you sleep soundly, unaware of his presence. His cock was already hard again. He didn’t have to remember the way your walls clung to him not hours ago to get in the mood.

Steve climbed onto the bed behind you, carefully shoved your legs apart, and lined up again. You were still slick from your encounter earlier. He pushed inside in one slow thrust, groaning when your body accepted his intrusion. He started fucking you in deep strokes, one hand braced on the headboard, the other gripping your hip hard.

“Fuck, look at you,” he muttered, voice low and raspy. “Even asleep, you take my cock like a perfect little slut. You wanted this so bad you let me ruin you. Now you’re mine to use whenever I feel the need.”

He reached under you and pinched your clit, toying with it until your body twitched and a soft moan left your throat. Steve pulled out and flipped you onto your back, parting your legs.

His mouth was on your cunt before you could even open your eyes. He licked and sucked, tongue pushing in and out, then flattening over your clit.

“Steve!”

Steve growled against your pussy. “If you are in my bed, this is what happens.”

He didn’t stop before your thighs clamped around his head and you squirted all over his beard.

Steve crawled up your body, shoved your knees to your chest, and pushed back inside you. His eyes locked on yours as he fucked you roughly.

“You’re mine, Y/N,” he said. “No going back to your sweet fantasies.”

Steve woke with a groan. He was still inside your sore cunt, and already half hard. “You little vixen,” he cussed, but didn’t move. Steve nipped at your shoulder before slipping out of you.

When you finally woke up, you felt like your whole body was sore. You whined but didn’t dare to be too loud. You slipped out of bed, hoping to leave Steve’s place with what was left of your dignity. If you had any at all.

Steve watched you limp inside the kitchen, wearing the dress shirt he carelessly dropped to the ground last night. He took away your clothes, giving you no choice but to wear his shirt.

“Sit down and eat,” he said without looking at you. You sat on one of the stools at the kitchen island, glancing at Steve. He slid a plate in front of you, then poured a glass of orange juice. For a minute, you forgot how he treated you last night. You took a bite, watching him move around the kitchen like a domestic dream.

Steve had already finished his own plate and set it in the sink. He silently watched you, his eyes raking over your body. Seeing you in his clothes woke something primal in him.

He crossed the kitchen, grabbed you by the waist, and lifted you onto the kitchen island. Your plate shattered on the ground, but he didn’t care. Steve shoved your thighs apart and stepped between them, painfully hard behind his sweats.

“You’re mine to use,” he said. You barely had time to drop the fork before he yanked the shirt up and pushed inside of you. He didn’t wait. He fucked you right there on the kitchen island.

“Shit, baby. You’re still so fucking tight,” he muttered under his breath. “Even after I used your hole all night.”

He pushed you down on the kitchen island, leaning over you, one hand braced beside your head, the other wrapping around your throat.

“You’re mine,” he said, eyes locked on yours. “No other man can fuck you from now on.”

Suddenly, he kissed you. It was unexpected and breathtaking. His mouth moved against yours, tongue claiming your mouth.

Much too soon, he pulled back, looking almost surprised. He huffed and buried his face in your neck. Steve fucked you harder, until you came with a choked-out moan, walls fluttering around him. He followed a few thrusts later, groaning as he came inside you.

For a moment, he breathed into your neck, holding himself deep inside your pulsing cunt. You were still shell-shocked from the kiss when he pulled out. Steve looked at you, brows furrowed.

“Clean yourself up. You need to get back to work,” he said. “And don’t get any ideas about that kiss. It was just the heat of the moment.”

He walked out of the kitchen like nothing had happened, leaving you on the kitchen island with his cum leaking out of you.

You tried to focus on work, not the soreness in your body or the images flashing up in your mind. The rough treatment. How Steve abandoned you behind the club. And then, the kiss. It was rough and dominating, but it felt like so much more.

Steve found you in the office later that day, staring at the stack of papers on your desk. You were focused on getting the work done when he closed the door behind him and locked it without a word.

“You need a break,” he said, a question not in his words. You rose to your feet, careful to shelter your injured leg.

He walked you backward until your ass hit the edge of his desk, then lifted you onto it. Steve stepped between your thighs and pushed your skirt up. His fingertips traced the inside of your leg, careful around the fresh bandage.

You watched him push his hand inside your panties to find you already wet. Or still wet. You didn’t know at that point. It felt like your body was always ready to take Steve since your first encounter behind the club.

“You wanted me. Only me,” he muttered, almost to himself. His free hand unzipped his fly, freeing his cock. “You’re mine now to use.”

He shoved your panties aside to push inside. Slower this time, to make you feel all of him. His forehead pressed against yours as he started to fuck you in long, slow strokes. The desk started to creak under your weight, and you feared people outside could hear your coupling.

“Fuck,” he cursed. “I’m getting used to this nice little hole.”

His hand slid up your back and pressed you closer to his body. His mouth claimed yours again, softer and slower this time.

“You’re mine,” Steve murmured against your lips. “Don’t think I won’t break you even more if you look at some other guy.”

It was almost closing time, and Steve was casually walking around the club, saying goodbye to a few regulars. He was about to find you and take you with him when he heard commotion near the bar.

“Let go of me! I’m with someone.” You sounded distressed when he followed the noise. Some drunk asshole had his hand wrapped around your wrist while you tried to twist away. Your voice grew louder, telling him to back off, but the man just laughed.

Steve moved faster than M’Baku or one of the other bouncers. He grabbed the man by the collar, yanked him back, and slammed him against the bar hard enough to break his nose.

“Hands off her. She’s mine,” Steve angrily growled. “You touch her again, and I’ll break every bone in your fucking body, not just your nose.”

He dropped the man to the ground, waiting for his bouncers to take care of the trash. His eyes were already on you and your trembling hands.

“Back. Now.”

Steve didn’t wait for you to calm down. He wrapped one arm around your waist, guiding you toward the back of the club.

Inside the office, he carefully lifted you onto the desk to look you all over, checking for injuries.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice softer than usual.

You nodded, afraid your voice would tremble if you spoke. He searched your face for a second, then leaned in to press a soft kiss to your temple.

“That’s my fault,” he murmured. “That fucker thought he could touch you because I didn’t clarify you’re mine. No one else gets to touch you.”

You didn’t know if he meant what he said. Steve was like a raging storm coming over you. He destroyed you, only to pick you back up. You only knew you were his, and he wouldn’t let you go anytime soon…

[allthenobodypplfics]

Take You Home for Christmas

Pairing: Dark!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Rating: Explicit

Words: 4.2k

Summary: Your coworkers drag you to a pool hall for the annual holiday party and you meet a stranger there who takes an interest in you, mistakes your polite friendliness as something more, and won’t take no for an answer. This is my entry for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor and @cream-filled-delights' Cream-Filled Delights Writing Challenge!

Prompt: “Stay the fuck on me.”

Warning: Dark, non-con smut (p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex, bathroom sex, forced orgasm, breast play, creampie), sexual harassment, hand on neck, slight choking, triggering non-con quotes and dialog.

Main Masterlist || Read on AO3

“Those are for kids,” he says, nodding at the pool cue in your hands. He has dark hair that hangs just above his shoulders; a neatly trimmed beard frames his jaw. “Or someone much shorter.”

“Oh…” you utter as you glance at the cue you just picked up.

“Here, use this one.” He plucks the cue from your grasp, pulls a longer one from the stand, and places it in your hands.

“Thanks,” you say, glancing back at your coworkers. They’re crowded around the small food table, too busy helping themselves to notice you.  A red-and-green Christmas vinyl tablecloth is stretched beneath a handful of plates and a bright red bowl packed with ice and canned sodas. A small plastic pine tree is its centerpiece, decked in little pool ball ornaments.

You have decided to inspect the pool table instead, letting your coworkers get their fill rather than fighting for a share.

"I'm Bucky," he says with an easy smile, extending a hand.

You shift the cue stick to your other hand before reaching out to shake his, quietly offering your name in return. His black t-shirt clings tightly to a broad, muscular frame, the fabric stretching across his thick chest. His left arm catches your eye, its material sleek and metallic, glinting with black and gold in the light. You catch yourself staring.

“That’s cute, by the way.” Bucky points to the crocheted Santa hat adorning your head. Everyone in your office was strongly encouraged to wear something festive to the holiday party.

You tear your eyes away from his prosthetic arm and manage to uncomfortably giggle, “Oh, uh, thanks.” You fiddle with the drooping pom-pom of the hat.

“You ever played before?” he asks.

“No... But how hard can it be?”

“Oh?” Bucky grins, amused. “Alright then; show me what you’ve got.”

You scoff, step up to the table, and lean in to take your shot. Carefully, you line up the cue, then jab it forward… only to graze the edge of the cue ball, sending it rolling away barely an inch.

Behind you, Bucky chuckles.

You feel your face heating up. Clearing your throat, you shift your stance and try again, more determined… but the cue slips in your grip, scraping the felt, and missing the ball entirely.

Bucky chuckles again. “Are you left-handed?”

You straighten, flustered. “No?”

He smiles, patient but clearly enjoying himself. “Then you’re holding it wrong. Left hand guides the cue. Right hand shoots.”

“Oh…”

“Here, like this,” Bucky says as he takes the cue from you. “Left hand on the table.”

He pushes at your shoulder until you bend over.

You let out an unsure, “Uh…” but he ignores it and grabs your left hand, places your palm onto the table, and adjusts your fingers and wrist.

He slides the cue between your index and middle fingers, then wraps your index around the stick. “Gently, don’t grip it too hard. This is a closed bridge, offers more stability.”

Before you can react, he takes your right hand and wraps it around the end of the stick. “Use this hand to shoot,” he says.

“You wanna get down low,” he continues as he presses down on your lower back. “Get eye level with the ball so you can get a good sightline.”

“Um, Bucky-”

“Hold it steady,” he says as he places his prosthetic hand over yours on the table, “and zero in on your target.” He leans over you and presses his torso against your back; his hips dig into your ass.

“H-hey!” you incredulously protest.

“And then you shoot.” Bucky grabs your right hand and forces you to strike the cue ball.

A sharp crack echoes through the room as the white ball flies forward, slamming into the rack. A cascade of sharp clacks follows as the rest of the balls scatter across the table.

He straightens when you aim to elbow him, and your arm just awkwardly swings in the air.

“And there you have it, doll,” he casually continues. “A bit of practice and you’ll be beating all your pals at this. Pick either stripes or solids and knock them all in, then go for the 8-ball last. If you fuck up and get the 8-ball in before you get your colors, you automatically lose.”

“Uh, r-right… yeah, thanks,” you mutter, your voice catching as you take a step back. You hug the pool cue closer, resting its tip on the floor. Your shoulders draw inwards as he follows you and takes a step forward.

“Starting without us, huh?” one of your coworkers, a fresh-faced intern, remarks as he sidles up to you. He wears a Krampus-themed ugly Christmas sweater.

“Oh, no,” you answer, voice still a bit strained at your earlier discomfort. You quickly step around him to place him between you and Bucky. “I was just practicing.”

Your coworker instinctively turns with your movements to keep you in his view.

“Well,” he quips, none the wiser, “you should really go grab some food before it’s all gone. I swear, these people, it’s like they’ve never eaten anything in their entire lives, the way they’re inhaling those mozzarella sticks.”

“S-sure, Chase,” you stammer, glancing past him to where Bucky is already walking away, heading back to his group of equally muscular friends. A tall man with short blond hair crosses his massive arms and grins at Bucky, while another man with dark skin claps him on the shoulder and lets out a loud guffaw.

You turn and walk towards the food as your coworkers reset the pool table. You find that you've lost your appetite, but try to eat a little something anyway. After all, you had to pay $50 for this. Your bosses are so cheap; they couldn’t even cover the cost of this holiday event. Not only did you have to fork over the cash, but the whole thing was strongly implied to be mandatory. You couldn’t really decline unless you wanted to earn a reputation for lacking the holiday spirit and not being a team player. You’re also pretty sure it doesn’t really cost $50 per person, and that someone is pocketing the change.

You scowl as you crack open a can of soda and take a sip. You glance up to see Bucky staring at you, the corner of his lips turned into a smirk. You quickly snap your head back to the food and randomly fill your plate with a few items.

You sit alone at one of the booths, surrounded by your coworkers’ jackets and bags, and quietly eat your food as your coworkers begin to play. After you manage to chew on a few mozzarella sticks and a couple of buffalo wings, Chase comes over to drag you to a different pool table to start a new game with you.

“Come on,” Chase grins, “let’s see if your practice paid off.”

Your practice did not pay off. With Bucky’s pointers, you’re able to at least hit the balls, but none of them go into the pocket. Luckily, Chase isn’t faring any better. Unfortunately, that means the game is going nowhere, with the balls ricocheting in every direction, but not a single one is sinking.

A coworker from the other table lets out a loud whoop as the clack of a ball indicates a win. You glance over as the winner fist-bumps the air a few times, grunting with each bump, and ending his display with another loud whoop.

Chase sighs as he eyes the scattered balls on your table and steps next to you. He casually drapes an elbow over your shoulder closest to him and states, “Well. We suck.”

You snort and nod in agreement.

“How about we move on to foosball?” Chase suggests.

“Okay,” you answer, voice sounding a bit tired and irritated because you would much rather call it a day and go home, but no one else is leaving yet, so you can’t be the first to sneak out. You continue, “But, uh, let me use the bathroom first.”

“Sure,” Chase grins as he slips his arm off of you.

You walk away, following the sign pointing toward the restrooms, and step into a dim, unsettling hallway with two doors. Golden tinsel garland drapes in sagging U-shapes along the walls, shimmering faintly in the low light. With the crowd now far behind you, the Christmas music from the overhead speakers swells, suddenly louder and strangely hollow in the empty corridor. The last door on the right bears a worn plastic sign of a woman’s figure nailed to the wood. The sound of Darlene Love singing, “Tell me, I've gotta know, where do lonely hearts go? Because nobody oughta be all alone on Christmas…” echoes as you push the door open and step inside.

You squint at the chaotic scene as the door falls shut behind you, the lively music outside fading into a dull murmur. The walls are completely covered in graffiti with layer upon layer of scribbles, tags, and crude drawings. You're not sure if it’s supposed to be some kind of edgy aesthetic or just the result of customers with their pens and Sharpies. Either way, it looks like a mess, and you’re leaning towards the latter.

There are five stalls, and one is already occupied. You skip the next one, not wanting to sit right beside somebody, and head for the stall against the back wall. Gingerly pushing the door open with your index finger, you brace yourself for something gross. To your relief, the toilet is pretty clean, and there’s plenty of toilet paper.

You place a couple of layers of paper on the toilet seat, pull your pencil skirt up and panties down, and finally sit. You sigh as you “release,” your eyes lazily scanning the scribbles covering the walls.

“You still taste like regret,” one accuses from a corner.

“I can’t wash you off my hands,” whispers another, the words looping and rushed.

“You keep running, but you always end up here,” scrawls across the tile in jagged and uneven letters.

Your bored expression slowly shifts to concern as the scribbles start to grow increasingly unhinged and chaotic.

“You belong to me, even if I have to take it.”

“It’s not wrong if you liked it.”

“You’re so sexy when you’re afraid to leave.”

A chill snakes up your spine as your brows pinch. The corner of your lips turns downward before parting in horror, and your fingers tighten against the toilet paper in your hands.

“You said stop, I heard stay.”

“For a good time, scream no.”

BANG.

You suddenly gasp and jump when a door outside is shoved open with enough force to slam against the wall. You huff and quickly wipe as you hear your stall neighbor flush the toilet and step out. You stand, pull your panties up, adjust your skirt, and then flush. Just as you’re about to step out yourself, you hear your stall neighbor squawk indignantly, “Hey, this is the ladies’ room!”

You hear a male voice snarl, “Fuck off,” followed by a shrill shriek of the woman and the chaotic scrambling of footsteps as the door bursts open and then slammed shut with a violent crack. A muffled “oof!” echoes as the woman hits the opposite wall outside. You can hear him flip the lock.

Heart hammering, you fumble the stall lock back into place and retreat until your calves press against the toilet. Eyes wide, you freeze and stare at the door as the heavy thud of his boots begins to move across the tiles. He starts whistling a cheerful tune, a song that sounds like “Baby, It’s Cold Outside.” You shift back instinctively, pressing yourself deeper into the stall until you’re wedged between the toilet and the wall.

The whistling stops. His footsteps pause right outside your door, and then you hear three soft knocks. You gulp, pressing yourself tighter into the corner, and praying that your silence convinces him the stall is empty.

No such luck. You catch a glimpse of metal, black and gold fingers curling over the top of the door, before he pushes against the hindrance and the lock gives with a sharp crack, splintering away from the wood like it’s nothing.

“Hiya, doll.” Bucky grins as the door swings open.

“Buck-” you stutter, “Bucky…you…you shouldn’t be in here…”

He tilts his head, lips pursed in mock consideration, then lets a slow smirk spread across his face.

“Nah… I think I’m right where I belong.”

He steps into the stall, crowding into your space. He kicks the door shut behind him, but it only bounces off the partition, hanging open a few inches. He grabs onto your upper arms and brusquely pulls you away from the wall. You crash against his chest, and he wraps you into a bear hug, crushing you against him.

The air gets squeezed out of your lungs as you wheeze, “Bucky, g-get off me…”

“You’re real cute, ya know that?” Bucky growls, flicking the pom-pom of your hat out of your face. “You in this tight little skirt with your tight little ass.”

He slaps one hand against your ass and grabs a fistful of the cheek.

You grunt as you feel his fingers dig into your flesh. You shove at his chest, but it does nothing to deter him.

“You just kept bending over and showing me the goods. Both the back,” he shakes your ass in his fist, “and the front.” He releases the cheek and then grabs onto the V-neck of your blouse, ripping it down and exposing your bra.

“Did you know you were flashing the entire room your tits when you leaned over?” he snarls. “I bet ya did. You just kept doing it in my direction, making sure I saw ya.”

“It wasn’t-”

“And then swinging your hips as you slowly made your way to the restroom. You wanted me to follow you.”

Bucky shoves his hand under your bra and squeezes one of your breasts. “You’re lookin’ for a good time, aren’t ya?” he snarls.

“No-!” you incredulously yell, but he claps a palm over your mouth and promptly cuts you off.

“Sure, you are,” Bucky confirms for you. “You can’t just go smiling so sweetly and batting your lashes at me and expect me not to do something about it. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

You try to speak, but the hand he holds over your mouth just sounds like gibberish.

“Ah, don’t worry, doll. I’ll give you that good time. I’ll give you everything you want.”

Bucky shoves you against the tiled wall and grinds his hips against yours. You can feel the hard length of him against your pelvis and you whimper against his hand. He pulls at the strap of your bra down until one of your tits falls out. He palms it, pushing it up towards his face as he leans down and takes your nipple into his hot mouth. You squeal and thrash, but he holds you so tightly that all you can do is barely wiggle in his arm.

He moans as he feels you struggle in vain, sucking at the nipple before flicking his tongue up and down at the hardened nub. You jump with every flick as you feel heat pool between your legs at his ministrations. He softly nips your nipple between his teeth and pulls until it slips from him. You squeak and murmur incoherently. He presses his palm harder against your mouth, jolting your head a little, and presses his lips against your ear.

“Shut up,” Bucky demands, his voice deep and unsettlingly calm. The puff of his breath against your ear causes you to tremble. He draws his free hand to your throat and wraps his fingers around your neck gently, but firmly, enough to prove a point but not enough to cut off your breathing.

“I’m gonna take my hand off of your mouth, and you’re not gonna make a sound,” he continues. “You’re gonna be as quiet as a cute little mouse. If you scream, I’ll strangle you until you pass out, you got it?”

After a brief hesitation, you nod.

“Good,” he says as he removes his hand.

You sniffle wetly, take a breath, and whine, “Bucky, I didn’t-”

He suddenly grabs you by your chin, squishing your cheeks until your lips purse.

“I thought I told you to shut up,” he snarls into your face.

“Sorry…” you whisper, tears welling in your eyes.

“Not,” he squeezes your cheeks slightly harder and shakes your head, lightly thumping it against the tile once, “a sound.”

You snap your mouth shut and nod.

He pulls at the cup of your bra until your other tit pops out. He purrs appreciatively as he cups a breast in each hand. The contrasting heat from one and the coldness of metal from the other is striking and you shiver. He circles the nipples with his thumbs, then pinches and rolls them between his fingers. You flinch and bite your lips. Your legs are shaking as they struggle to keep you standing. Your breathing gets heavier as you swallow thickly, clenching your teeth together to keep from making any noise. He leans forward to lick down your neck, and then gives each nipple wet, open-mouthed kisses.

You’re startled when Bucky suddenly pulls the Santa hat off your head and tosses it to the floor.

“Look,” he says, “it’s cute, but ridiculous. I don’t want that pom-pom bouncing around in my face.”

You press your lips together in a pout as you stare at the hat you crocheted yourself sitting on the dirty floor. Bucky snorts as he grabs your face and forces you to look back at him. He slams his lips against yours and tries to force his tongue into your mouth. He’s only able to lick at your teeth since you keep your jaw firmly clenched. He growls impatiently as he gives the side of your face a little tap. When you still wouldn’t relent, he grabs your chin and squeezes your cheeks until the pain causes you to part your lips. He moans as he slips his tongue in. You can taste a hint of beer and something chocolate peppermint from whatever he drank or ate. At least it’s not unpleasant. He brings his vibranium hand up to place around your neck. He didn’t press down onto your throat, but the warning was there nonetheless. Bite, and there will be consequences.

Bucky sucks your bottom lip and then pulls away. He wrenches you from the wall and turns you around so that you face away from him. He sits down on the toilet seat and pulls you back towards him by your hips. He shoves your pencil skirt up to your waist and roughly yanks your panties down, a small translucent line of your wetness stretches from your skin to the panties. When the fabric gets to your ankles, he pats the side of your ankle to get you to step out of them, and then he pockets your panties. He kicks at your feet until you step your legs further apart, and he purrs as he grabs an ass cheek in each of his hands and spreads them. You involuntarily clench as he inspects you and he chuckles. You gulp as you hear the soft clink of his belt, followed by the metallic zip of his fly and rustling denim

“Come on,” he ordered, pulling you further back with one hand as he strokes his hard cock with the other, smearing his precum over his length. He presses down on your thigh, making you lower yourself onto him, his tip poking at your entrance. There’s a little bit of resistance as he wiggles his cock around your hole. You gasp sharply when the resistance gives way, and his head breaches into you with a wet pop, then a soft squish as the rest of him follows. You bite your lips and scrunch your face as he pushes you all the way down, spearing yourself onto him, sitting fully on his lap. He wraps his arms under your still exposed tits and pulls your back to his chest.

Bucky peers over your shoulder and groans, “Look at you, all split open.”

You glance down and feel a mix of horror and disbelief. Your lower lips are forced wide open and stretched taut around him, the hood of your clit pulled apart by his size, and the little swollen pearl glistens on display.

“Never had a real man’s cock in you before, huh?” he growls into your ear as he gives you a shallow thrust. “Feels good, don’t it? Can feel you leaking onto my balls.”

You shake your head, and he lightly taps your exposed clit with the tip of his fingers, causing you to yelp. You press the back of your head against Bucky’s shoulder and arch when he begins to finger the hardened nub. You start writhing when his other hand plays with your nipples.

“Yeah, you like that,” Bucky states, matter-of-factly. He begins thrusting into you, slow, but hard; his skin claps against yours as the air gets punched out of your lungs with each impact.

Your head lolls on Bucky’s shoulder as you moan breathlessly. He wasn’t wrong when he said it felt good; he knows exactly what to do to set your blood on fire, but like hell you’re going to admit that with words.

He smoothes his hand up from your tit to your neck, and finally up to your mouth. He presses his palm firmly against your lips and you let out a confused sound. You quickly find out why when he lifts you up slightly, and then starts to callously jackhammer into you as he cruelly presses his finger against your clit, rubbing rough and fast circles that have your eyes almost popping out of your skull. You inhale a deep breath through your nose and let out a wail that is muffled against the cold vibranium. Your arms flail as you try to hold onto something, anything. You finally settle on grabbing the back of his neck with one of your hands, and the other grabs the wrist that’s keeping your mouth shut.

“Oh yeah, that’s it, doll,” Bucky grunts, “squeeze my cock.” He’s still looking down your shoulder to watch your tits bounce wildly and to watch his dick, shiny with your arousal, disappear into your sopping cunt.

“You’re tight to begin with,” Bucky continues, slightly out of breath, “but now you’re getting even tighter. You’re gonna come soon, aren’t ya?”

You shake your head as tears spring into your eyes.

“Yeah, you are,” Bucky hisses. “Yeah, you fuckin’ are.”

You shut your eyes as you shake your head again, trying desperately to gain control of your body, but to no avail. Your shrill cry gets stifled as he shoves his hand harder against your mouth, and you feel yourself get thrown over the edge. Your walls clamp down so hard on him that he struggles to keep his pace. He nuzzles into your neck as your legs give out, and you fall into his lap, your body trembling violently against him. He releases his hold over your mouth and you gasp, taking in some much-needed oxygen. He wraps both arms under your tits again as he easily lifts you up and down, using you like a cock sleeve to chase his own high. Your body is weak as you hyperventilate, Bucky forcing you to ride out the rest of your orgasm, with your arms swinging limply at your side.

You feel his cock start twitching inside of you, signaling the inevitable. You flinch and yelp as you feel the first splash of him coming inside. You immediately panic and press your hand against his knee, struggling to push yourself up and away from him. He grabs you by the shoulder and roughly shoves you back down, your cunt squelching loudly as he jams his release deeper inside you.

“Where do you think you’re going, huh?” Bucky snarls, his lips brushing against your ear and his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine. “Stay the fuck on me.”

He wraps his vibranium hand around your neck, squeezing just enough to silence your protest. You gasp and wheeze as he continues plunging into you. You feel hot ropes of cum stream into you with each thrust and your face pinches into a cringe. With one last grunt, Bucky shoves you down onto his cock, impaling you as deep and as hard as possible. He finally stills, you can feel your comingled fluids leak around his shaft and pool into his lap.

Bucky releases his hand around your neck and wraps his arms over your breasts and around your stomach, pulling you tighter against his chest. You squirm and try again to dislodge his slowly softening and seeping cock out of you, but he wouldn’t allow it.

He nips your earlobe and you recoil. He chuckles, “That was good, doll. Think I’ll take you home for Christmas. You can scream as much as you want there.”

Author's Note: I only played pool a handful of times in my life (and I suck), I just googled what I could and then made up the rest, so if my knowledge of pool is wrong, it’s because I have no idea what I am talking about.

By the way, Chase is Chase Collins from "The Covenant," making a little cameo in this fic!

Thanks so much for reading! I would appreciate some reblogs and comments!

Main Masterlist || Read on AO3

[navybrat817]

Received this fic rec and whew! Dark!Bucky holds a special place in my heart. The forced social interaction? So real. And the tension, the dread, and the inevitable? Oh, our poor girl. 😏❤️‍🔥

[bradleybeachbabe]

Search and Rescue

pairing: Tim Bradford x Wife!Reader

request: anon said- hello, you are one of the few who wrote for tim branford. I would like to ask you for a story where the reader is kidnapped by a criminal who has a vendetta against him. angst but happy? Thanks

summary: While you're home alone with your nine month old daughter, your house gets broken into by two people who have a vendetta against Tim, and they end up kidnapping you too

warnings: angst, cussing, kidnapping, established relationship, running away, torture, mention of tim’s gun, blood, house being broken into, tim and the reader are parents, crying, begging, sad!tim, hospital, vulnerability, escaping, the reader getting rescued, hospitalization, anger, slight mention of tim being an army veteran, broken glass, tim blaming himself for what happened, tim comforting the reader, slight mention of tim and the reader’s baby being alone after the reader got kidnapped, the reader having a knife to her throat, gun being pointed towards angela’s direction, slight mention of tim being a police sergeant, genny comforting tim, the reader being held hostage in some sort of shed, house being in disarray when tim arrives home, happy ending. please proceed with caution if you decide to read this. if i missed anything, please let me know!

word count: 8.7k+

a/n: this request has been sitting in my drafts for a few years now, so, i truly apologize for that, anon! hopefully, you will somehow see that i have written your request after all this time! also, thank you to @auroralightsthesky for proof reading this for me <3

It was a nice quiet Friday night in your and Tim’s home. You were lying in bed watching reruns of Chicago Fire while your nine-month-old daughter slept in her crib in her bedroom. It was just the two of you at home since Tim was still working. Most likely, he was finishing up paperwork. Tim has always waited until the last hour of his shift to do paperwork.

While you were rewatching the runs of Chicago Fire, you suddenly heard some sort of noise coming from down the hall. It sounded like it came from Tim’s office. You immediately sat up in bed, and you quickly turned off the TV. Then you quickly looked over to the baby monitor that was on the nightstand on your side of the bed. You checked if the noise woke up Vanessa. Luckily, it didn't. She was still soundly sleeping in her crib. So, then you reached over to where your phone was on the nightstand with the baby monitor and grabbed it. You dialed 9-1-1 on your phone but didn’t press the call button yet. You decided to get out of bed and see what the noise was. You grabbed the bat from under the bed and exited the bedroom. You quietly walked down the hallway to see what the noise was.

When you reached the door of Tim’s office, your heart dropped. The door was open just a bit for you to see the inside of it. You saw a man going through all of his stuff. There were papers everywhere, all over the floor. A few of the filing cabinets were opened with a whole bunch of folders thrown onto his desk, and a few framed pictures that he hung up on the walls were broken. The man didn’t even notice that you were standing there, but you did feel someone come up behind you and put a hand over your mouth.

———

Tim was glad that he was finally home. He couldn’t wait to be in bed with you, and possibly get some snuggles from his daughter if she was still awake. Tim loved being a father. It was one of the best things that happened to him. Tim turned off his truck and got out. He closed his truck door behind him. When he approached the front door, he immediately noticed that the door was open halfway. He knew that wasn’t a good sign at all. He reached for his gun from his holster and entered his home. When he entered his home, he noticed that nothing was really out of the ordinary, except that there were framed pictures of you both, and your daughter too, thrown on the ground with broken glass surrounding them. While he was examining the pictures that were thrown on the floor, Vanessa started crying. Somehow she must have sensed that Tim was home. Tim quickly put his gun back into his holster and sprinted down the hallway to Vanessa’s bedroom.

When Tim entered Vanessa’s bedroom, she was standing up in her crib, holding onto the railing. The sight in front of Tim broke his heart. Tim wasted no time walking up to Vanessa’s crib and picking her up. Tim was swaying her back and forth trying his best to calm her down. While he was doing that, he pulled out his phone and dialed 9-1-1.

“9-1-1. What’s your emergency?” The operator said on the other end of the phone.

“This is Sergeant Bradford with the Mid-Wilshire Police Department. Badge number, three-four-eight- three. I need every patrol car that is in the proximity of 3065 Sunset Avenue. My wife has been kidnapped,” Tim said to the operator on the other end then ended the call. After he did, Tim walked out of his house with Vanessa in his arms. He was still swaying her back and forth to calm her down. It was helping just a little though. Her cries have just turned into her whimpering instead.

Not too long after Tim did walk out of his house. He saw patrol cars from both directions of the street arrive. Tim felt relieved seeing all of the patrol cars showing up. John, Celina, Lucy, Nyla, Angela, Lieutenant Grey, and a few other officers got out of the cars. Some ran into the house to search it, a few went on each side of the house to check for anything, and Angela was the one to walk up to Tim to ask him what happened.

“I was leaving a crime scene a few blocks from here when the call came in, so what the hell happened?” She asked as she approached him.

“Y/N’s missing,” were the only words that came out of Tim’s mouth. After Tim said those words, he started having tears roll down his face. Tim couldn’t gather the fact that someone decided to break into your shared home, take you with them, and then leave your daughter alone in her crib for who knows for long.

The sight in front of Angela broke her heart. It’s rare for Tim to get upset about things, but this situation was completely different since it involved you. Also, Angela knew that the sight in front of her too is gonna stick in her mind for a while. In a way, the case is hitting close to home for everyone. Angela considers you a close friend of hers. “Omg, you’re fucking serious? Do you have any idea who could have possibly taken her?” she asked.

“No,” he shook his head. “I just got home and I was disoriented, and Vanessa started crying in her bedroom,” Tim said.

Angela’s eyes widened, “She was alone? For how long?”

“I don’t know,” Tim stuttered. Tim was starting to beat himself up. He should have been home when this all went down. You would still be here. Your daughter wouldn’t be so scared right now. Also, on top of that, whoever is responsible for your kidnapping would be sitting in the back of the squad car instead of running around free with you.

“We’re gonna find her,” Angela promised Tim as she put her hand on his shoulder in a way to comfort him.

Tim just nodded his head.

“Tim, you need to see this,” Nyla called out from the doorway of the front door. Tim turned around and nodded his head.

“Do you want me to hold her until you’re done with Nyla has to show you?” Angela asked, referring to Vanessa who was in Tim’s arms.

“If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Angela gave him a light smile.

Tim handed Vanessa to Angela and headed back into his house to see what Nyla had to show him. Nyla directed him to his home office. When he approached his home office, he noticed that everything was disoriented. He saw case files scattered across his desk and broken picture frames on his desk too. He entered his office and walked up to his desk to get a closer look at everything. When he did, he noticed that the broken pictures were all pictures that he was in. Some of them were pictures from his days in the Army. Some were from when he first joined the LAPD. Some were even pictures of when Vanessa was first born. Tim found it strange that all of the pictures that were broken were pictures that he was in. There were pictures of just you and Vanessa that were on the untouched walls. Tim had a feeling that whoever kidnapped you had something against him. That would explain why all of the pictures that he was in were broken.

“What the fuck?” Tim whispered under his breath.

“Do you have any idea why the person who took Y/N was in your home office? And what could they possibly be looking for?” Nyla questioned Tim. Nyla was hoping that maybe Tim would know, because if he did, then it would make it a lot easier to find you.

“I have no idea,” Tim shook his head. “Everything here is work-related. I don’t have anything valuable here.”

“And, nothing was taken from your house either,” Nyla informed. “So, my best guess is maybe whoever took Y/N had something against you and took her to get some sort of revenge on you. That could explain all of the pictures that you are in are destroyed.”

Nyla had a good point there, because if someone from your past was behind your kidnapping. Most likely they would have broken all of the pictures that you were just in, not the other way around.

“So with that being said,” Nyla started her sentence off with. “Angela and I will head back to the station and investigate deeply about your past. Maybe there's someone from your past who is behind this,” she said. “Also, we will go ahead and check POD footage. Maybe a traffic cam caught something,” Nyla hoped.

“What should I do in the meantime?” Tim asked her.

Nyla sighed, “Well, first things first, your house is a crime scene, so you can’t stay here until it’s all clear to do so. Secondly, what you should do is just let us handle this. Due to protocol, you already know that you can’t work on this case with the rest of us. We will put all of our focus on getting Y/N back,” Nyla explained.

“Screw, protocol. It’s my wife who’s missing. I need to be on this case,” Tim demanded.

Before Nyla could say anything. Lieutenant Grey entered the room and walked up to Nyla and Tim. “She’s right though,” he said. “It’s standard procedure. You can’t be on the case. It hits too close to home for you. Plus, you need to put all of your focus on your daughter. Granted, she’s way too young to know what’s currently going on, but still, you need to be there for her,” He explained.

“Understand, sir,” Tim nodded his head. Tim wasn't gonna argue or beg his boss that he needs to work the case. Grey was right. Tim needs to put all of his focus on Vanessa and be there for her. “I’ll go ahead and pack bags for Vanessa and me, since Nyla mentioned that I can’t stay here since my house is an active crime scene,” Tim added.

“Do you have an idea where you can stay in the meantime?” Grey asked.

Tim sighed, “My sister’s house. I’m gonna call her and see if she’s okay with me staying there until this whole case is solved.”

“Okay,” Grey nodded his head.

Tim walked past Lieutenant Grey and Nyla, and out of his office to go outside and call Genny.

When he got outside, Angela was still out there holding Vanessa, and talking to Lucy. Both of them noticed that he headed over to where his truck was parked in the driveway and that he had his phone to his ear.

———

Tim got off the phone with his sister. He explained everything that was happening and that he couldn’t stay at his house since it was a crime scene due to the kidnapping. When Tim explained all of that to Genny, she couldn’t process it. She couldn’t gather the facts that her very own sister-in-law was missing and the fact that her niece was left alone, crying in her crib.

“What’s going on? Who did you get off the phone with?” Angela asked when Tim approached her and Lucy.

“My sister,” he answered. “I asked her if it’s okay if Vanessa and I stay at her house due to what’s going on.”

“What did she say?” Angela asked as she handed Vanessa back to Tim.

Tim sighed, “She said that she’s completely fine with Vanessa and me staying over at her house. She is shaken up by the fact that Y/N was kidnapped though.”

“Are you going to head over there right now?” Lucy chimed in.

“Not yet,” Tim answered Lucy’s question. “I have to go back inside and pack some things up for Vanessa and me.”

Tim handed Vanessa again to Angela, so that he could go back into his house to pack bags for both of them. When Tim entered his house again, he didn’t want to spend so much time in it, so he walked straight to your shared bedroom. When he walked in, he saw your side of the bed unmade and the TV was paused. Tim walked over to your shared closet and grabbed the duffel bag from the top shelf. Tim started grabbing shirts from the closet, pants from his drawer, and any clothing he was going to need. He grabbed his toilet trees from the bathroom and put them in the duffel bag with his clothing. Tim walked out of the bedroom and headed to Vanessa’s bedroom.

Tim reached Vanessa’s bedroom and grabbed the travel bag from her closet. Tim packed clothes, diapers, toys, and her baby blanket. After Tim was done packing, he exited her bedroom. While Tim was still in the house, he headed over to the kitchen to grab a container of formula and a few of her bottles. When he got all of the supplies that he needed, he walked out of his house.

“You got everything you need?” Angela asked when Tim approached her and Lucy again.

“Yes,” Tim nodded his head.

“Do you want a police escort to your sister's house?” Angela asked. It’s the least thing Angela could do for him, especially in the situation that he’s currently in.

“Yes, please,” Tim said.

Angela just nodded her head, and then she followed Tim to his truck with Vanessa who was still in her arms. He unlocked his truck once he reached it. Tim opened the back door and put the bags on the back seat next to Vanessa’s car seat. Angela handed Vanessa over to Tim and he got her situated in her car seat. Once he did, he closed the door and walked to the driver's side door.

“Are you ready to go?” Tim asked Angela when he got into the driver's side of his truck and rolled down the window.

“Yeah,” she nodded her head. “Let me just head over to my car and then we’ll head over to your sister’s house.”

Angela walked over to her unmarked car that was parked right in front of Tim’s house. Angela got in and then headed down the street. At the same time, Tim pulled out of his driveway. He was right behind her to follow her to his sister’s house.

———

Tim and Angela both arrived at Genny’s house. Tim turned off the engine and got out. Same for Angela. Tim opened the back seat door and got his stuff out.

“Do you help carry anything?” Angela asked when she walked up to Tim.

“Yes,” he nodded. “My bag and Vanessa’s bag. My hands are full just by carrying her in her car seat.”

Angela didn't say anything, she went ahead and grabbed his bag and Vanessa’s bag. Tim unbuckled Vanessa’s car seat from the back seat and then he closed the door. Once he was settled, he closed the door and locked his truck. Both of them walked up to Genny’s front porch. Before either one of them could ring the doorbell, Genny opened the door. Genny wished she were seeing her older brother under different circumstances, not seeing him due to his house being an active crime scene since his wife had been kidnapped.

“Come on in,” Genny said softly as she stepped out of the way for him and Angela to enter.

Tim and Angela both stepped inside. Genny closed the door once they entered her house. Tim set down Vanessa’s car seat on the coffee table in the living room, took her out of it, and started swaying her back and forth to keep her from waking up. Angela set down what she was carrying for Tim on Genny’s couch.

“Come here,” Genny said to Tim once he was settled. She brought him into a comforting hug. Tim needed a hug at the moment, especially from his little sister, and especially after what had happened in the past few hours.

“Do you need anything else before I head back to the station?” Angela asked Tim after he pulled away from Genny’s hug.

Tim sighed, “I want my wife back, that’s what I need.”

Tim’s response broke Angela’s heart. She knew how badly the situation was affecting him. Angela knows how much Tim loves you. She knows that he’ll do anything to get her back.

“Tim, I promise you that we are gonna do everything we can to get Y/N back,” She reassured him.

“You promise?” Tim asked.

“Yes, I promise,” Angela nodded her head. “Also, if your mind changes about needing anything, don’t hesitate to call me,” she said.

“Okay,” Tim just nodded his head. Tim was just all quiet about this whole situation. He wasn’t saying much, or having any reaction. It’s like he just shut down. No one could blame him though.

“I’ll walk you out,” Genny spoke up.

She walked Angela outside to her unmarked car. Once Angela got into her car, she took off and headed back to the station. Genny then walked back into her house.

———

“Find anything yet?” Angela asked when she approached Nyla’s desk. Angela was hoping she did, so then they could get to the bottom of this case.

“No, I haven’t,” She shook her head. “I even checked the POD figure in the area where Tim and Y/N live. Nothing came up. Whoever took Y/N is smart and knows how to avoid traffic cams. Also, I have been looking into Tim’s past to see who could be behind Y/N’s kidnapping, but nothing has stuck out so far,” Nyla added.

“You want a fresh pair of eyes on trying to find the person from Tim’s past who could be behind the kidnapping?” Angela offered.

“Yes, please,” Nyla pleaded. Nyla knew that having an extra set of hands to help would make the case a little easier to solve.

Angela took a seat at her desk which was right across from Nyla’s desk. Nyla handed her a stack of case files. Angela knew that her and Nyla were most likely gonna be up for the night looking through each case file.

“The stack of case files that I just handed over to you is the most high-profile arrest that Tim has made in the past year as a Sergeant. Maybe in one of the case files there could be something that stands out, and maybe that something could give us an answer on who is behind this whole kidnapping,” Nyla explained.

“Got it,” Angela nodded. Angela then grabbed the first case from the stack and opened it. She started to go over the report that was written up by Tim and possibly see if the current person could be behind the kidnapping.

“How’s Tim doing?” Nyla questioned.

Angela looked up from the case file that she was going over and looked at Nyla. Angela sighs, “Not well. You can tell that this whole thing is messing with his emotions. I feel so bad for him. Also, it’s like he just shut down. He didn't even have any sort of reaction or emotion when we arrived at his sister’s house.”

“I mean, can you blame him though?” Nyla shrugged her shoulders. “His wife is missing and who knows where she might be right now?” she said.

“You do have a good point there. I just really wonder where Y/N is,” Angela frowned.

“I do too,” Nyla sighed.

———

The last thing you remember was that a stranger’s hand covered your mouth and then a bag was thrown over your head. That had to have been about two hours ago, or maybe longer, who knows? You were now in some abandoned shed by the looks of it. There was a huge window on your right side. You couldn’t make anything outside the window since it was dark out. The only light source was the moonlight. It was coming from a different window that was on the other side of the shed you were in. You weren’t alone in this shed, the two kidnappers were with you. They were sitting near the door of this shed that you were in, so there was no chance that you could escape and try to get help. If you did have the chance to escape, you wouldn’t know where to run to in the first place. You had no idea where you were.

“Look who's finally awake,” One of the kidnappers said.

“Who are you? What do you want from me?” you begged.

The kidnapper scoffed, “Well, since you asked, I’m Mark, and that’s my brother, Jason,” he pointed to the person who was standing next to him. “And what we want is your beloved husband, Tim. So where is he?” Mark asked.

“I have no idea,” you lied.

“Yes, you do!” Mark yelled.

“No, I don’t,” you shook your head. “If I knew, wouldn’t you think I would tell you? Plus, what do you even want from him?”

Mark crouched down to be at eye level with you since you were sitting down on a random couch that was in the shed that you were being held in, “I want him to pay for what he did to my brother and me.”

“And what is that?” you croaked.

“He arrested us,” Mark stated. “Then he sent us up to Pelican Bay,” Mark said as he stood back up.

“So? You want to get revenge for that then?” you asked Marked.

“Exactly,” He nodded. “So? Let’s try this again, where is Tim?”

You know that these two kidnappers aren’t gonna stop until you officially give them an answer that they wanna hear, so it’s gonna be a very long night for you. You just wanted someone to rescue you, your husband to rescue you, to be exact, and put these two men back in prison.

———

It has been over three hours since this whole incident occurred. Tim still hasn’t heard anything from either Nyla, Angela, or Lieutenant Grey. He was hoping that maybe towards the end of the night, he would get some news from them. If he does, he probably won’t have a hard time sleeping tonight, because he won’t be so worried and stressed out about the whole thing. If he doesn’t get any sort of news, then it's gonna be a very long night for him.

Tim was finally able to put Vanessa back to sleep. It only took her about ten minutes for her to fall back asleep which was kinda shocking to Tim since sometimes it takes at least thirty minutes for her to fall asleep. Once Vanessa was settled into the crib Genny kept for old time's sake. Tim quietly exited the guest room and headed to the front room. When he entered the front room, he saw Genny reading a book by one of her favorite authors. She must have heard him since she looked up at him, put the bookmark into her book, and set it on the coffee table.

“How are you feeling?” She asked her older brother when he sat down on the other side of the couch.

Tim sighed, “Horrible. This whole case is just making my heart shatter. Y/N is missing and there aren't any leads on who could have done something like this to her. I just keep on thinking about how scared she probably was when she was taken and how she was probably scared about whether this person or the people were gonna take Vanessa too, or even worse, hurt her. I just feel like this whole thing is my fault. If I were home instead of finishing up paperwork back at the station. I could have prevented this from happening. I could have protected Y/N and Vanessa, but it’s too late for that.” Tim had tears running down his face now. Tim wasn’t a person who showed his vulnerability to anyone else, besides Y/N, but at the moment. He didn’t care. He just had to get his feelings out. He couldn’t keep bottled up any longer. Plus, Tim knew that his sister wouldn’t think any less of him since he was showing his vulnerable side.

“Tim. Don’t do that,” Genny begged. “Don’t beat yourself up and blame yourself for this. You had no idea that this would happen,” Genny said. “Everyone back at the station is putting all of their focus on Y/N. They are going to find her.”

“Thanks,” was all Tim could say. He was glad that his sister was by his side during this hard time. He has been there for her when she needed it the most. So, of course, she’s doing the same thing for him.

“Of course,” she gave him a light smile.

———

Nyla and Angela weren’t getting anywhere on the case files. It felt like they were hitting dead ends. It was starting to get frustrating for both of them.

“Hey, since it’s approaching midnight, do you want to pick this up in the morning? I feel like with possibly a good night's sleep, we can focus better on going through the case files,” Angela suggested to Nyla.

“I thought you would never suggest that. I feel like I’m gonna fall asleep at any moment.”

Angela chuckled, “Well, let’s both head home then.”

Nyla closed the case file that she was looking at and put it back in the pile with the rest of them. Angela and Nyla both tidied up their desks and then got up from them. Both of them headed out of the station to the parking lot where their cars were parked.

“I’ll see you back here in the morning,” Angela said to Nyla.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Nyla said back to her.

———

You were woken up by the sunlight coming through the window. You were glad that it was daytime now because maybe you could now figure out where the two kidnappers were holding you.

“Oh! Look who is finally awake,” Jason said. “How did you sleep?” he asked.

“Horrible,” you spat out. “Sleeping on this random couch that’s in this random shed that you’re currently holding me isn’t comfortable at all.”

“Well, that’s too bad. Sucks for you then,” Mark spoke up.

“What are you gonna do to me today? Slap me? Torture me? Kill me even? Or better yet, how about you two just let me go?” you said to the brothers. What you said was so random, but after what you went through last night, you felt the need to say that to them.

“If we let you go, you’re just gonna run to your lovely husband and tell him everything that happened to you. Then we will just go back to prison and spend the rest of our lives there.”

“You kidnapped me, a Sergeant’s wife, and an Army veteran's wife, for Christ's sake. Don’t you think that isn’t going to come with consequences?” you asked them. “Plus, I bet Tim and the whole Mid-Wilshire Police Department are trying to find me right now,” you said.

“Well, let them,” Mark shrugged his shoulders. “They aren’t going to find you anyway.”

———

Tim has been up for the past two hours now. So has Vanessa. She slept a little past eight which doesn’t happen often. Usually, she wakes up around the time that Tim is getting ready for work, but of course, that didn’t happen this morning. Before Vanessa woke up, Tim was able to shower, so he was able to get that out of the way. So then his main focus could be on his daughter. Tim just finished changing Vanessa into a new set of clothes. After he did that, Tim picked her up from the bed and exited the guest bedroom to head to the kitchen.

Genny was in the kitchen when Tim entered it. She was making some coffee and breakfast too. “How did you sleep last night?” She asked him.

“Pretty decent,” Tim answered. “I think talking to you last night about how I’m feeling about what’s currently going on really helped. So, thank you.”

“Of course. That’s what siblings are for,” Genny gave Tim a comforting smile. “Have you gotten any updates about Y/N’s kidnapping?” She asked him.

“No,” Tim shook his head. “But I am hoping that I get some sort of update soon though,” Tim hoped.

———

“I think I got something,” Angela jumped out of her seat.

“What is it?” Nyla looked up from the case file that she was currently canvassing through.

“This case file that I’m looking at shows when Tim made two arrests of these two brothers whose last name is ‘Lawrence.’ He made this arrest when he first got promoted to Sergeant.”

“What did they get arrested for?” Nyla questioned Angela.

Angela read over the file until she could get an answer for why they were arrested. “They both got arrested for armed robbery and assaulting an officer,” She said. “Most likely one of them assaulted Tim when he was making the arrest.”

“Does it say anything else? Maybe one of them said something to Tim about getting revenge or even something along the lines of them threatening him.”

“Let me check,” Angela said. Angela went through the pages of the case file until she could find something, and luckily, she did. “You’re right,” Angela stated. “Tim wrote that the older brother, ‘Mark,’ kept on threatening him about when he and his brother, Jason, would get out of prison. They will try to find Tim, and when they do, they will hurt him, and hurt the people whom he loves the most.”

“It has to be those two brothers who are behind all of this,” Nyla said. “Does it say anywhere that they are out of prison? Or what?” She asked Angela.

“Let me see,” Angela said as she started to type into her computer. “Got something.”

“What?” Nyla asked.

“Reports say that they got released on probation two weeks ago,” Angela shared.

“Does it say anything about where they could be staying? Maybe a halfway house or some sort of shelter?” Nyla questioned her work partner.

“No,” Angela frowned. Angela was upset that she didn’t get an answer about where the Lawrence brothers could be. Or, the location where they could be holding you captive.

“Now, what?” Nyla asked.

“I have no idea,” Angela shrugged her shoulders. “I’m going to call Tim though to give him an update about what’s going on.”

“Okay,” Nyla nodded her head.

Angela got up from her seat and walked over to one of the interrogation rooms that wasn’t too preoccupied to call Tim.

———

Tim was in the middle of a conversation with Genny when it was interrupted by his phone ringing. They were sitting at the dining room table while Vanessa went down for her afternoon nap not too long ago. His phone was on the kitchen counter. Tim got up from his seat at the dining room table and looked at the caller ID to see who was calling him. It was Angela.

“It’s Angela. I gotta answer it,” he said quickly to Genny before he answered Angela’s call.

Genny nodded her head.

“Hello?” Tim said to Angela who was on the other end of the phone.

“Hey. You got a minute?” She asked Tim.

“Yes,” He answered.

“Okay. First off, this is off the record since you’re not technically on the case since it’s personal, but secondly, I think Nyla and I found something that could lead us to Y/N.”

The moment that Angela said those words, Tim felt his heart drop.

“What is it?” He asked Angela.

“Do you remember those two brothers you arrested around five years ago? It was around the time when you first got promoted to Sergeant,” She said.

“The Lawrence brothers?” Tim asked.

“Yes,” Angela answered. “So, I was reading over the arrest file that you made on both of them. In the file, it said that Mark kept threatening you, and he said to you that when he and his brother, Jason, get out of prison. They are going to find you and hurt you, and hurt the people you love the most. Plus, reports in the system say that they got released on probation two weeks ago.”

“What do you mean they got released two weeks ago, Lopez?” Tim scolded. Tim wasn't happy with what he just heard. The older brother assaulted me before I could have arrested him. I got a black eye because of him,” Tim said over the phone to Angela.

When those words came out of Tim’s mouth. Genny looked over where he was standing in the kitchen. She couldn’t believe what she just heard from her older brother.

“It was either because of good behavior or they started to get overcrowded, or some shit like that. Honestly, it’s wrong what the older brother did to you, but my gut is saying that the brothers have to be the ones behind the kidnapping. And, also if they are the ones behind the kidnapping, records aren’t showing where they could be, so we have to keep on digging into where they could be holding Y/N,” Angela explained over the phone.

“Trust your gut, Lopez. If you truly think that the Lawrence brothers took Y/N, then try to find out where they are keeping her,” Tim demanded.

“Okay, I’ll keep on looking to see if I can find where they are keeping her,” Angela said.

“Okay. Keep me posted.”

“I will. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Tim ended the call with Angela and put his phone down on the kitchen counter, walked back to the dining room table, and sat down. Tim ran his hands over his face. Tim was starting to have so many emotions run through him. He wasn’t sure if he should be sad. Happy? or angry?

“Hey, if you don’t mind me asking, what was that all about?” Genny asked Tim when he sat back down at the dining room table with her.

Tim turned his attention to his sister, “It was Angela,” he sighed. “She told me that she might have a lead on Y/N’s kidnapping.”

“Oh my goodness,” Genny gasped.

“Yeah,” Tim nodded his head. “Angela said that she will keep me posted.”

“Well, hopefully, she gets some information on Y/N’s kidnapping.”

“I hope so too,” Tim agreed.

———

You don’t know how it happened, but it did. You were able to escape from Jason and Mark. The reason you were probably able to escape was that for some reason Jason and Mark left the abandoned shed that they were keeping you in, so you took the risk and escaped from them.

When you got out of the abandoned shed. You noticed that the sun was starting to set, which was a good thing, because with what was left of the sunlight, you could see where you were getting held. You immediately noticed that you were getting held at the Old LA Zoo which is located in Griffith Park. You were questioning why Jason and Mark kept you captive at the Old LA Zoo, but that didn’t matter because now what only matters is whether you could run somewhere to get help.

When you got out of the shed, you could tell that you were off to the side of a dirt trail, perhaps a hiking trail. For a split second, you weren’t sure if you should head left of the trail and start running, or head right, but then you remembered that Tim had mentioned to you to always head right if you're trying to escape any sort of danger, so that's what you did. You started running in the right direction. You were hoping that maybe running down this trail, you would come across someone and they could get help for you. As you continued to run down this trail, you came across the rest of the cages that were a part of the Old LA Zoo, and where the picnic tables were too. You then ran towards the small parking lot that wasn’t too far from where you are now.

When you reached the small parking lot, you saw a couple around the same age as you and Tim. You were about to approach and ask for help, but then all of a sudden, you felt someone grab your waist from behind. It was one of the brothers. You were assuming that when they went back to the shed they were keeping you in, they saw that you had escaped from them.

“Let me go!” you screamed. You screamed as loud as you could. You were hoping that maybe the young couple would look in the direction of where your screams were coming from. Or even someone who would be hiking off to the distance where you were.

Your wish came true because when you were screaming, the young couple heard you screaming. They both noticed that you were distressed. You saw the young woman get her phone out of her pocket and by the looks of it, she looks like she’s calling for help.

———

Lieutenant Grey just got off the phone with the Watch Commander at the Northeast Division station. He was informed about the 911 call that came in, explaining how a woman who was with her husband, getting into their car after taking an evening hike saw a woman a few yards away, and the woman looked like she was in distress and was trying to escape from someone, but she wasn’t able to. Plus, the woman whom she saw trying to escape fit Y/N’s description.

“Listen up, everyone,” Grey yelled out when he walked out of his office to get everyone’s attention. “I just got off the phone with the Watch Commander at the Northeast Division station. They informed me about a 911 call that one of their dispatchers received not too long ago. This phone call was about how some lady who was with her husband in the area of the Old LA Zoo in Griffith Park saw some other lady who fit Y/N’s description running away from someone and was in distress, and by the sound of it, I’m pretty sure that it was Y/N trying to escape the Lawrence brothers, but it was too late because the lady who made the phone call said that some man grabbed her by waist and pulled her back towards him and took her somewhere in Griffith Park,” He explained. “So, with that being said, I have notified S.W.A.T., LAFD, and local Airship. They are heading out there at this moment. I want everyone in this room right now to drive as quickly as you can to get out there. I’ll notify Tim about what’s happening. Then I’ll head out and meet everyone over there.”

Not even a second after Lieutenant Grey explained what was currently happening. Everyone in the room immediately headed out to the patrol cars and headed to the location. Grey went back to his office, closed the door behind him, sat in his desk chair, and dialed Tim’s number to call him.

———

Tim was watching TV in the living room of Genny’s house while Vanessa was playing with her toys on her playmat on the floor. While he was watching TV, his phone on the coffee table started ringing. He reached over to grab it, he looked to see who was calling him, and it was Grey’s office phone who was calling him.

“Hello?” He said into the phone.

“Bradford, I got some news for you.”

When Lieutenant Grey said those words. Tim felt his heart starting to beat fast. He was wondering what news Lieutenant Grey was about to give him.

“What is it?” Tim asked.

“We found your wife.”

Tim was shocked at what he just heard. He couldn’t believe it. He can’t believe that you were finally found. He felt like he could cry happy tears because of it.

“Where is she? How did they find her? “Is she alright?” Tim frantically asked.

“She’s in Griffith Park in the area of the Old LA Zoo. The Northeast Division got a call from a woman who saw some women running towards their direction, screaming, and possibly running away from someone to escape them, and the woman was able to describe what the women looked like, and the description fits perfectly with your wife. Plus, since you’re asking if she’s alright. Truly I don’t think so, she was held captive for the past few days. She’s gonna need you, Bradford. I know I technically sat you out for this since it’s personal, but that doesn’t matter right now. I’ll radio Sergeant Chen to stop by your sister’s house to pick you up, and you both can head over there,” Lieutenant Grey explained over the phone to Tim.

Tim couldn’t believe what his boss just explained to him. Tim was starting to feel so many emotions at once, especially anger. He was angry that the Lawrence brothers dared to break into your and Tim’s shared house, kidnap you, and hold you captive for a few days.

“Okay. I’ll be waiting in the front yard for her,” Tim said.

“Okay, perfect. I’ll meet both of you out there.”

“Alright,” Tim said. Tim ended the phone call, then he immediately got up from his spot on the couch and walked over to the dining room table to tell Genny about the news.

“They found Y/N,” He said when he approached her.

“Oh my gosh,” Genny said as she closed her laptop and looked up to Tim. “Is she in stable condition? Do you know?” She asked.

“I have no idea,” Tim shook his head. “Most likely she isn’t. Grey even informed me that Lucy is on her way over here, so then we can head over to where Y/N was held captive. So, would you mind watching Vanessa for now? Tim asked.

“I don’t mind at all. Of course, I can watch her,” Genny nodded her head.

Tim sighs in relief, “Thank you so much.”

“Of course.”

Tim quickly walked away and went to the guest bedroom to grab his gun holster and his badge. Tim then rushed out of Genny’s house. When he exited her house, right on time, Lucy pulled up in her shop. Tim entered the passenger door, got in, and then they headed off.

———

Lucy and Tim pulled up to the area where the Old LA Zoo is located in Griffith Park. There were so many other officers on the scene, including the Northeast Division, S.W.A.T., LAFD, and local airship. The local airship was flying around the area with its searchlight on to see if they could find you since Griffith Park is over 4,000 acres, because there's no way that it could be all covered on foot. That would take days to do that.

Tim and Lucy quickly got out of the squad car. Tim walked to the back of the shop and opened it to get a bulletproof vest. Once Tim was ready, he closed the back of the squad car. Lucy and Tim immediately walked over to the trail that leads to the Old LA Zoo. The moment Tim and Lucy arrived on the scene, everyone went their separate ways in the park to find you.

Tim and Lucy were sweeping everything on the trail. Both were shining their lights on everything they came across on the trail. Trees, bushes, the old cages from the Zoo, basically anywhere the Lawrence brothers could be hiding you. So far, they haven’t had any luck. Until they heard Angela in the distance, yelling at someone or something to put the weapon down.

“That’s gotta be the brothers or at least one of them,” Tim said.

Tim and Lucy ran towards where Angela was. When they arrived, they saw Jason holding a knife to your throat. While Mark had a gun pointed towards Angela. Tim's heart immediately dropped, he didn’t like the scene that was happening right in front of him. Tim had to act professionally though. These situations are something that Tim deals with from time to time. He’s trained on what to do in situations like this. You were scared, you looked like you were about to start crying, and by the looks of it, it looked like you had some marks on your face. That made Tim feel so angry that the two brothers were most likely the cause of the marks on your face.

“L.A.P.D.,” Lucy yelled. “Drop your weapons now, or we will shoot,” She warned.

Surprisingly, the brothers dropped their weapons, but then they decided to run off the other way and left you standing there. You were shaken up by what just happened. Tim quickly put his gun back in his holster and ran up to you. While Angela and Lucy ran past you to catch the brothers. Tim wrapped his arms around your waist when he walked up to you, the moment he did, he started crying. You started crying too. You can’t believe that you are back in your husband’s arms.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” you sniffed. You pulled back and looked at Tim. “I thought I wasn’t gonna make it. Where’s Vanessa? Is she okay?” you started to ramble.

“Shhh everything is okay now,” Tim reassured you. “I’m here now. You’re safe. Vanessa is safe, Genny is watching her right now. Let’s get you transported to the hospital to get you checked out, yeah?”

You nodded your head.

———

You had to stay overnight in the hospital. The nurses wanted to keep an eye on you since you were severely dehydrated and lacked nutrition. You just wanted to be back home already with Tim and your daughter, but you knew that it was for safety precautions.

“May we come in?” Angela knocked lightly on the door of your room. Wesley was with her. They brought a bouquet of your favorite flowers for you.

“Of course,” Tim answered.

“How are you feeling?” Angela asked as she put the bouquet next to the bed and then sat down in the empty chair that was next to your hospital bed.

“Okay, I guess,” you nodded. “And thank you for the flowers, it means so much to me.”

“Of course,” Angela smiled.

“Did you catch them?” you then decided to ask her.

Angela looked at Tim. She was hesitant to answer your question. Angela wanted you not to focus on the brothers anymore and not focus on the consequences that they are going to face. You should just focus on healing from the terrible situation that they put you through, but you know you will start to heal once you get an answer from Angela.

“They caught the brothers,” Wesley spoke up for Angela. “They are going back to prison. Both of them ended up confessing to everything, so they aren't going to see the outside world ever again,” He said.

Tim’s eyes widened, “Wait. You’re serious?”

“Yeah,” Wesley nodded his head.

“Well, that’s great news for me,” you slightly grinned. You were relieved that the Lawrence brothers ended up confessing about everything. You were relieved that they are going back to prison and that they are most likely going to spend the rest of their lives there.

“Yes, it is,” Angela gave you a comforting smile. “Get some sleep now,” she said. “You have been through so much for the past few days.”

“I will,” you promised.

Angela got up from the edge of your bed and walked out of the room with Wesley.

———

Throughout the very late evening, Lucy, John, Aaron, Celina, Nyla, Grey, and many others from Mid-Wilshire stopped by to visit you and a few of them dropped off flowers for you too. It felt very heartwarming to see how many people wished you a fast recovery and that they have your back if you need anything. You couldn't ask for any better people to be in your corner. You appreciate them all very much.

go follow @bradleybeachbabe-library to be notified when i post any new fics!

[alicewritezz]

Lost and Found - Aaron Hotchner

word count: 1019

summary: after losing your engagement ring during a particularly exhausting case, you’re determined to find the symbol of one of the happiest moments of your life. As the search leaves you increasingly distraught, Aaron reminds you that his love was never tied to a ring —but that doesn’t stop him from finding a way to make everything right

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

authors note: I am in desperate need of some ideas for more fics. I’m running out of things to write so any ideas or help would be much appreciated. Enjoy reading!! 💗💗

The case had been dragging on for four days.

Four long, exhausting days of too little sleep, too much coffee, and leads that seemed to disappear the second they appeared. The bullpen felt heavier than usual, the fluorescent lights harsher, the air thick with frustration and fatigue.

You were tired.

Everyone was.

But right now, the serial offender currently consuming the BAU’s attention wasn’t what occupied your mind.

It was your left hand.

Or rather, what was missing from it.

Your engagement ring.

The plain gold wedding band still sat securely on your finger, but the diamond ring Aaron had slipped onto your hand years ago was gone.

Gone.

You’d noticed it halfway through reviewing witness statements.

One glance down.

One second of confusion.

Then panic.

You had searched your desk three times. Your go-bag twice. Every pocket in every jacket you owned.

Nothing.

The ring was simply gone.

And the longer it stayed missing, the worse you felt.

Because it wasn’t about the diamond.

It never had been.

It was about that night.

Aaron standing in your apartment doorway looking more nervous than you’d ever seen him.

The tiny velvet box.

His rare, beautiful smile when you’d immediately burst into tears before he could even finish asking.

One of the happiest moments of your life.

And now the ring that represented it had vanished.

You were staring at your bare finger again when a familiar voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Honey.”

You looked up.

Aaron stood beside your desk, tie slightly loosened, exhaustion visible around his eyes.

Still handsome.

Still steady.

Still Aaron.

“You haven’t eaten.”

You sighed.

“I’m not hungry.”

His eyebrow lifted.

“You skipped breakfast too.”

“I’ll survive.”

“No,” he said simply. “You won’t function.”

Despite everything, a tiny smile pulled at your lips.

Aaron reached down and squeezed your shoulder.

Only then did his gaze flick toward your hand.

His expression softened immediately.

The missing ring hadn’t escaped his notice.

Of course it hadn’t.

“I’m still looking,” you said quietly.

“I know.”

“What if it’s gone?”

“It isn’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

The certainty in his voice made you blink.

Aaron crouched beside your chair.

The position felt oddly intimate in the middle of the busy bullpen.

“Honey,” he said gently, “if the ring is lost, we’ll deal with it.”

You shook your head.

“It’s not the same.”

His thumb brushed across your knuckles.

“I know.”

Your throat tightened.

“It was the ring.”

“The ring isn’t why I proposed.”

You laughed weakly.

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.”

His eyes softened further.

“But that moment didn’t disappear because a piece of jewelry did.”

The words should have comforted you.

Instead they nearly made you cry.

Aaron noticed immediately.

Because he always noticed.

His hand tightened around yours.

“We’ll find it.”

You nodded.

You wanted to believe him.

You really did.

⸻

Another twelve hours passed.

The team finally caught a break in the case.

A witness came forward.

A location was identified.

The unsub was arrested before midnight.

Everyone should have felt relieved.

Instead, exhaustion settled over the team like a blanket.

You barely remembered getting back to Quantico.

The bullpen was nearly empty when you dropped into your chair.

Your engagement ring was still missing.

And now that the case was over, you had nothing distracting you from it.

You rested your forehead against the desk.

Maybe it was really gone.

Maybe—

“Honey?”

Aaron’s voice echoed from somewhere nearby.

You lifted your head.

“What?”

“Come here.”

His tone was strange.

You frowned and stood.

Aaron was kneeling beside one of the conference room chairs.

For a terrifying second, your brain assumed the worst.

Then you saw what he was holding.

A diamond ring.

Your diamond ring.

Your breath caught.

“Oh my God.”

Aaron smiled.

A real smile.

The kind that rarely appeared at work.

“It fell between the cushions.”

You stared.

“What?”

“Conference room chair.”

You rushed forward.

“You’re kidding.”

“I checked while everyone was finishing paperwork.”

You nearly snatched it from his hand.

Relief flooded through you so fast it made your eyes sting.

“You found it.”

“I found it.”

You laughed.

Then immediately burst into tears.

Which only made you laugh harder.

Aaron stood and wrapped his arms around you without hesitation.

The bullpen was empty enough that neither of you cared.

You buried your face against his shoulder.

“I thought it was gone.”

“I know.”

“I was so upset.”

“I know that too.”

You pulled back enough to look at him.

The ring sparkled under the fluorescent lights.

Perfect.

Safe.

Home.

Aaron gently took your hand and slid it back onto your finger.

Exactly where it belonged.

The motion felt strangely familiar.

Like a memory repeating itself.

For a moment, you were standing in that apartment again.

Seeing that nervous smile.

Hearing the question.

Feeling your heart race.

When the ring settled into place, Aaron pressed a kiss against your forehead.

“There.”

You smiled.

“There.”

His gaze lingered on your hand.

Then he looked back at you.

“You know,” he said, “if we’d never found it, it wouldn’t have mattered,” he pauses, “because I’m still married to you.”

You laughed.

“Good thing.”

A hint of amusement flickered across his face.

“Sweetheart, I would’ve married you if I’d proposed with a paper clip.”

The laugh that escaped you echoed through the room.

Aaron looked pleased with himself.

Which somehow made it funnier.

You reached for his hand.

His fingers immediately intertwined with yours.

The engagement ring felt comforting against your skin once more.

But as Aaron squeezed your hand and guided you toward the elevator, you realized something.

The ring mattered.

Of course it did.

It held memories.

Promises.

Love.

But it had never been the most important part.

The most important part was the man walking beside you.

The one who never stopped searching.

Never stopped caring.

Never stopped calling you honey and sweetheart with that quiet affection that made your heart flutter every single time.

And judging by the small smile Aaron sent your way as the elevator doors closed, he wasn’t planning to stop anytime soon.

[navybrat817]

Love Stands Guard

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Pregnant!Female Reader

Summary: During a fun and relaxing afternoon, Bucky overhears someone making fun of your body. He doesn’t take too kindly to that.

Word Count: Over 2.9k

Warnings: Established relationship, pregnancy, pet name (sweetheart for you, baby nicknamed Sprout), mention of stretch marks (they are beautiful), pregnant body shaming, threat of violence (not against reader), fluff, feels, domestic life, Steve and Sam are good friends, protective vibes, putting a jerk in his place (sorry if your name is Chet), Bucky Barnes (he's down bad and a warning, okay?).

A/N: What can I say, lovelies? I love a Bucky down bad and sticking up for you. Part of Soft Echoes, Strong Roots AU. ❤️ Beta read by the wonderful @mumbles411, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divided by the talented @saradika-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was meant to be a relaxing and fun afternoon.

Nothing major. Just a small gathering with a few familiar faces, some friends and agents, and good food. Maybe a few games, some music and conversations. Bucky only agreed because you batted your eyes and promised that you wouldn’t overdo it. 

As if he could ever say “no” to you. 

“You could smile a bit more, you know,” Steve teased, handing him a beer. 

He scoffed, the bottle cool against his warm hand. “I am smiling,” he argued.

His general demeanor had improved since you came into his life. He liked to think he smiled more than he scowled most days. Well, at least he smiled more when you were around. Or when he thought of you, which was all the time.

So, yeah, his demeanor was much better. 

“You only smile like that when you look at or think about your wife,” Steve pointed out, like he knew exactly what he was on his mind.

Bucky’s gaze softened immediately when he heard you laughing, watching you from where you stood a few feet away. 

You were glowing.

A pregnancy glow, yes, combined with something warmer. The dress you picked somehow flowed while showing off the shape of your body perfectly. Your smile lit up your face and you had a hand on your belly like you’d done for weeks now without thinking. It was beautiful. 

You were beautiful. 

“Can you blame me for having a smile just for her?” Bucky asked.

“Not at all,” his best friend replied. 

You shifted your weight before you took a seat, your smile brighter when you spotted Bucky watching you. He never strayed far from you. Didn’t even sip the drink in his hand. He had his eyes on you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. 

You and Sprout. 

Pride flickered through his chest when his gaze dropped to your belly. His wife and his baby. His family. 

Everyone was waiting on you hand and foot. At least, they tried to. The moment someone tried to bring you a drink or food, he stepped in. He couldn’t help himself. Once you were taken care of, he went back to his spot. The perfect place to keep an eye on his surroundings since some old habits died hard.

And you just smiled, soft and bright. 

Steve nudged him with his shoulder. “You deserve this, you know.”

Bucky swallowed hard. It didn’t always feel like he did. The past liked to seep into his mind at unexpected moments and make the world look a little darker. Depending on the day, he’d either hug you close or take you to bed to drown out the noise. Sometimes both.

And no matter what, you made the world look brighter again.

“So, you’re saying I deserved to knock up my wife?” he joked to deflect. 

The blonde snorted. “Yeah, that’s what I’m saying,” he said, giving him a small smile. “Also saying you deserve this life.”

His chest tightened when you laughed at a joke Sam made, your head tipping back slightly and your hand going back to your belly. There was no fight to worry about. No past to haunt him. Just small precious moments like this. 

His lips twitched upward when you found his gaze again, your love for him burning bright in your eyes.

He did deserve this kind of life.

“Thanks, punk,” he mumbled, clinking their bottles together.

“Jerk.”

You turned your attention back to Sam and Bucky pushed off the wall to move closer before a voice stopped him.

Something low and careless.

“Is that chair gonna break? Jesus Christ, she’s fucking huge. How many are in there?”

The thought of domesticity and peace left Bucky’s mind, replaced by something cold and dangerous. 

You were blissfully unaware that some prick had just insulted your beautiful body, still smiling and enjoying yourself. As you should be. You only deserved good things. No one else around you seemed to notice the change in the atmosphere either.

But Steve stiffened out of the corner of his eye. He heard it. They both heard it. 

Super soldier senses really were handy at times.

Ice took over the blue of his eyes, his head slowly turning to look at the fucker stupid enough to open his mouth and even breath the same oxygen as you. A new agent with a very punchable face who wore too much cologne. There was a good chance that you kept your distance for that very reason since some smells still overwhelmed you. The snickering prick certainly wasn’t a friend of his or yours. He was only “invited” because someone else thought it would be good for him to hang out outside of work. 

That wouldn’t happen again. 

“Better snag a brownie before she stuffs her face with the whole tray.”

My wife can have all the fucking brownies she wants, you fucking piece of shit.

The bottle in his hand began to crack. It would shatter if he kept squeezing. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself.

Not yet.

“You know that’s Barnes’s wife, right?” The asshole’s friend shifted uncomfortably. “She’s really nice, and he’s… well, he’s pretty protective of her.”

Bucky’s gaze flicked back to you, much softer, before looking at the soon-to-be-dead fucker again.

No. Can’t kill the guy. I have a wife and kid to think about.

The prick had the nerve to laugh. “So? Does that give her a pass to look like a whale?”

…He’s fucking dead.

Steve took the cracked bottle from his hand. “Want me to handle him?” he asked, his voice low. 

He exhaled through his nose. Steve didn’t like bullies. Never had. But he knew why he was asking instead of just stepping in and taking care of it.

Because you were his wife. His to defend. His to love and care for. 

This was his fight.

“I got this,” he replied, subtly nodding to where you were sitting. “Just keep an eye out for a minute?”

Steve nodded in understanding, positioning himself to block your line of sight without looking too obvious. 

Bucky took deliberate steps toward the table, his movements controlled and measured. His jaw tightened the closer he got, his fingers itching to toss the guy out with his bare hands. He wouldn’t cause a scene out of respect for you. 

But he wasn’t going to stay silent. 

The atmosphere shifted the second he got to the table, the chatter ceasing immediately. 

The prick, of course, had the nerve to smile. 

“Hey, man! You-”

“You got something to say about my wife?” he asked, his voice as cold as his stare. 

The man’s eyes widened, maybe from shock that he was overheard or that he was being confronted. “I… What?”

Had no problem using your words seconds ago, asshole. 

“You were talking about her.” Bucky tilted his head slightly, his eyes flat and unreadable. “My wife.”

The air shifted more, something cold settling over the surroundings as the guy sputtered to come up with an excuse. 

“Say it again,” he ordered, placing his hands on the table and leaning down to his eye level. He made sure there was no warmth in his expression. “Where I can really hear you.”

The idiot swallowed and looked to his friend for help and found none; his friend was suddenly very interested in the beer in his hand. “Um… Barnes, I-”

“My wife, the love of my life, is carrying my child. Our child.” His lip raised in a small snarl and he leaned in enough that Agent Asshole had to back up. “And you think you can sit here and make fun of her? You think I won’t do something about it?”

“I-It was a bad joke,” he tried to reason.

Reasoning only worked with people when they were in a forgiving mood. 

He wasn’t. 

“Oh, now it’s a joke? You think you’re funny?” He smiled with no trace of friendliness behind it. It was likely how a wolf looked baring their teeth before sinking them into their prey. “You think I’ll laugh while you crack ‘jokes’ about my wife?”

The prick looked like he was a heartbeat away from pissing himself, which made Bucky question the hiring process for agents. This sort of “interrogation” was nothing. Child’s play. 

Then again, how many agents could say they had the former Winter Soldier in their space?

“I-I really didn’t mean-”

“Don’t.” His voice dropped even lower. “Don’t insult my intelligence.”

He glanced back and saw Sam looking his way, his eyes narrowing when he sensed the tension. Steve subtly shook his head. There was no reason to intervene. He was still in control.

Barely.

But you were still smiling, which was the important thing.

“You know what I see when I look at her?” he asked rhetorically, his chest tight. “I see the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

He smacked his hand on the table hard enough to make the bottles rattle and the guys flinch. 

Sam, thankfully, chose to tell another joke at the same time and Steve cackled so the noise at the table wouldn’t draw your attention.

I really do have good friends. 

“I’ll say it again. She’s carrying our baby. She’s uncomfortable and exhausted and guess what? She still walks into a room smiling and thinks of others first. And you sit here and act like she’s something to mock when she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” His jaw clenched even as his heart swelled with pride. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

The guy shrank lower as every word washed over him.

Good.

Bucky stared at him for another long moment before something colder settled into place behind his eyes.

“Get up, Chet,” he ordered.

“Chet’s” mouth fell open. “That’s not my-”

“I know what your name is, and I don’t care,” he cut him off, straightening up. “Because you don’t respect my wife, so I refuse to respect you.”

A bright shade of red passed through his cheeks before he paled. 

As someone who was stripped of his own agency for years, identity mattered to Bucky. Basic decency mattered. So, maybe it was a little petty to call him by the wrong name, but it was also a good way to put him in his place by letting him know he didn’t matter.

Chet, as his name was Chet to him now, got to his feet on shaky legs. “Sorry.”

“I’m sure you are sorry now, but it’s a little too late for that.” 

Bucky clamped a hand on the back of his neck. To just about anyone looking over, it would’ve looked casual. Almost friendly. But they would’ve missed the firm squeeze. 

“Move.”

The prick didn’t need to be told twice.

He guided him away from the table and made sure to smile as he did so. He shot his friend a quick glare for good measure, but at least he stuck up for you. That was the only reason he didn’t make him leave, too. 

The chatter continued behind him, but he barely noticed it over the sound of Chet’s pounding heart and his own blood roaring loudly in his ears. But then he heard your laughter and he took a deep breath, picturing your loving smile and hand on your belly. 

It kept him from snapping completely.

Once they were in the driveway, Bucky shoved him forward. Hard. He stumbled, but somehow managed to stay on his feet. He wished he could punch him for good measure, but he seemed like the type of coward who would cry and call the cops. 

Even if they let him off with a warning, he didn’t want to add any stress to your plate.

“Christ, man,” Chet muttered.

“You stay the fuck out of my house and never come back,” Bucky said, his voice low and lethal as he stepped forward. “And don’t you ever disrespect my wife again.”

Chet nodded quickly. Too quickly. “I won’t.”

Bucky looked every bit like the Winter Soldier wrapped in civilian clothing when he added, “You’ll never speak about her like that again. You’ll never look at her like that again. And you sure as hell will never come near my family again.”

“I understand,” he swore, his voice cracking.

“Good.” Bucky’s nostrils flared as he looked him over one last time, disgust curling in his stomach. “And the next time you come across someone pregnant, maybe try showing them some goddamn respect.”

He looked down at his feet, avoiding his gaze and swallowing any excuse he had left to give.

Fucking coward. 

Bucky pointed toward the street. “Get the fuck out of my sight.”

The idiot practically ran to his car. 

Bucky glared as he drove down the street, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck once he disappeared. He exhaled the remainder of his anger through his mouth, his hand moving through his hair. There was nothing to be upset about anymore. Agent Asshole was gone and now he could get back to you.

Where he belonged. 

The second he walked back to the yard, his eyes found you automatically. 

Still smiling, safe, and his.

He grabbed a couple of brownies from the tray before he walked over, giving Steve and Sam two nods. One to let them know everything was fine. The other to thank them for shielding you from that display.

They nodded in return. 

You were his wife and family, but you were their family, too. 

“There’s my handsome husband. I wondered where you went off to for a minute.” You smiled up at him when he approached, his heart skipping a beat. “You okay?”

Bucky stared at you in awe. 

God, she’s so fucking beautiful it makes my chest ache.

Up close, your glow was even brighter. You looked at him like he put the sun in the sky just for you. He would if he could. And your belly moved slightly under your hands, and he wanted to feel Sprout move, too. 

“I should be asking you that,” he replied, his brows furrowing. “Are you okay? Are you thirsty? Hungry?”

He observed you carefully, looking for signs of discomfort or fatigue. The conversation with Chet and kicking him out didn’t take very long, but it felt like hours now being apart from you. Steve and Sam had been watching over you, but it wasn’t the same. 

“I’m just fine,” you assured him, and he knew you weren’t just saying that for his benefit. “But you didn’t answer my question,” you added teasingly. 

Always thinking of me. 

“Yeah,” he murmured, gentler than he had spoken all day. “Everything’s fine now.”

You studied him for a moment, sensing something underneath the surface. He didn’t falter under your gaze. There was no need to. 

“Everything’s fine now, which means it wasn’t fine before,” you guessed. 

Bucky sighed. He should’ve known you’d feel that something was off. You were too intuitive for your own good. That was one of the things he loved about you. And part of him loving you was trying to protect you from harm, physically, mentally, or verbally. 

But there was also no hiding from you, even when he did his best to shield you. 

“Just… needed to throw some trash out,” he said carefully. 

It was true. 

Chet was trash. 

“That’s one way of putting it,” Steve muttered into his drink, making Sam snort. 

Before you could question him further, he set the brownies down and crouched slightly in front of your chair so he could rest a hand gently over your belly. He didn’t chastise Sam for snapping a photo, and he didn’t care who saw him like this. The two of you were his world and he wasn’t going to pretend otherwise. 

“Hey, Sprout,” he murmured, his entire expression softening. “You behaving for your mama?”

The baby kicked almost immediately beneath his palm.

He smiled wide, making him temporarily forget about the dickhead he just  threw out. 

“Sprout’s just fine, too,” you promised, placing your hand on his, your gaze thoughtful. “You sure you’re okay?”

He leaned up slowly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He remembered sitting on the couch and comforting you after the mean voice in your head made you doubt that you’d be a good mom. And how you didn’t think your stretch marks were pretty but he thought they were so beautiful. You were so strong and inspiring. His wife. The mother of his child. 

He wasn’t about to ruin your fun and relaxing afternoon by telling you what happened. 

But as much as he wanted to protect you, he would tell you later once everyone left because he refused to keep secrets from you. There was a good chance you’d cry. Not because of the cruel words spoken or hormones, but because he stuck up for you so fiercely. He would always stick up for his family. 

And if you wanted him to punish Chet even more, he’d do it without question.

That was how much he loved you. 

And he’d take you to bed later, kissing and touching every inch of you he could. He’d make you feel beautiful and cherished if any of your insecurities began to surface. He’d silence any mean voice in your head, hopefully for good, the same way you drowned out the horrors he experienced and made him feel loved. 

I love you both so much. 

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he whispered, glancing down at your stomach with so much love. “I’m better than okay.”

We all deserve to have someone in our corner. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor]

Come See About Me Masterlist

Status: In progess

Character: Lloyd Hansen, Steve Rogers

Summary: Your new neighbour has no shame, but you find more than you can handle.

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[sammy-bryant]

SHAWN HATOSY as SAMMY BRYANT Southland S03E10 | Graduation

[aceinthetrap]

Dynasty Flowchart (Extended) – Nüwa Hanfu

An ultra extended flowchart for identifying dynasties! Even identifying sub-periods of each dynasty. As always, this is a general guide ther

does the makeup look sad or happy? >>> goth & sad >>> middle tang dynasty [lmao]

[nodded]

THE PITT 1.01 / 1.15

[guzhuangheaven]

pursuit of jade :

Don't be afraid.

[dazzlingkai]

PURSUIT OF JADE 逐玉 (2026) dir. Zeng Qingjie "In this life, the next life and every life after, we are tied together."

[rybacanu]

Zhang Ling He as Xie Zheng

PURSUIT OF JADE ⁃ 逐玉 (2026), Episode 28.

[pistolblondie]

go cowboys!

18+ only. minors dni.

pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you finally get your chance with joel at your father's annual football cookout.

warnings: sexual acts, cunnilingus, large age gap, oral fem!receiving, sexual acts while drinking (they are both fine though, and consent) mentions of alchohal, mentions of masturbations, pussy pronouns, joel's a little pervy, reader is FOR SURE pervy, uhhhh lmk if i missed anything.

wc: 4,070

The Texas air tended to acquire a little breeze towards the end of October.

You love this time of year. It wasn’t every too cold to be a problem, but just enough to be able to wear a sweatshirt or some fuzzy socks and still be cozy under the autumn stars. 

Your old Tecovas helped you announce your entrance when each boot heel slammed down the stairs of your childhood home. You were wearing an oversized Diggs jersey and shorts that pretty much disappeared underneath.

You got distracted upstairs for about ten minutes, which meant in no time your father would probably come in barreling questions about what’s taking you so long with the beers he asked you to grab.

Your father– God bless him, prided himself on his annual Sunday Football Bonfire. It happened every year on the day the Cowboys were scheduled to play the Chiefs.

You weren’t really sure why your father picked Kansas City as the opposing team, but it almost didn’t matter because almost every eye during that bonfire was focused on the navy starred team, true Texan pride spilling from mouths and beer cans as the day would drag on.

Going to UT made it easy to come home for this type of stuff. No way you were going to let college get in the way of seeing your family, and all the lovely people in your neighborhood. 

Like, Joel.

The thought of him always made a mischievous smile come to your face. He was your biggest conquest, one thing you couldn't fumble.

Joel was your dad’s friend.

zhe used to live a few towns over before residing across the street from you about three years ago. He was around long enough for you to be interested, but not long enough for it to be a problem.

He was always lingering around, you think he liked to keep busy. You’d usually find him over helping your dad fix something around the house or on the couch nursing a beer. He was classic. That’s what you liked about him– Just a traditional, hardworking man with big arms and a soft smile. 

He seemed peaceful. Apart of you wanted to be apart of that peace, but other, more stronger part of you wanted to drag him into the dark. You knew he wouldn’t be able to resist you by the way his eyes linger on your bent over figure, when he sees you washing your old Silverado from across the street. 

That’s why when you saw him perched on the coach early that Sunday morning– the ball was being passed to you. All you had to do was run with it. 

Your hand brushed along the back of the couch, lightly grazing his shoulder while you made your way into the kitchen. It was a simple gesture. But It got what you wanted, his attention.

He looked over his right shoulder and your eyes locked as you reached for the handle on the fridge. He then lifted his right arm to rest alongside the back of the couch, and turned his body almost completely around so he could face you more.

His eyes were easy to get lost in. They were deep brown and the way he looked at you like he always had the upper hand made you melt. 

“How ya’ been doin’, Sweetheart.” 

And there it was– that classic Joel Miller twang. You’ve lived here all your life but Joel was still way more Texas than you'll ever be. That drawl and the way he cuts off the ends of his words does it for you every time. You imagine how he would sound calling you all sorts of names when your hand creeps between your thighs on lonely nights.

“I’ve been doing good Joel, I was doing sorority stuff like all summer.”

He asks you more about that and you ramble on about being at school while continuing to finally do what your father asked from earlier. But to be fair, everyone in that house knows that listening and being timely wasn't your strong suit.

The refrigerator pops open and you reach inside to grab the two packs of Miller Lite, which takes up almost all of your fridge space. Accompanied the hot dogs, hamburgers, and array of condiments that fill the rest.

You grab one pack with both hands and harshly plop it on the ground before standing back up–needing to take a breath.

You go still as you feel a large hand brush across the small of your back. You turn to look at the culprit and low and behold.

The Miller boys have always been there to help.

Joel’s well Joel. Any broken faucet, pipe, hairdryer, he’s across the street in a second with a toolbox and a dream. Even when Tommy comes to visit, he tries to make himself as useful as he can. They’re just gentlemen, you decide. Good men.

“I’ve got it Honey, why don’t you bring the vegetables out to your old man.” Joel brushed by you and reached into the fridge to grab the case of beer with ease and almost simultaneously reached down with his other hand to grab the one you already aggressively put on the floor.

You couldn’t find yourself doing anything but nodding at the older man in front of you and reaching for the platter filled with peppers and onions– topped with a pair of tongs. He made his way up to you as you both headed to the patio door. 

Joel cleared his throat before looked down at you for a moment. “I’m glad you’ve been having a good time with your friends at school, we’ll chat later–yeah?” He nodded at you while he was speaking, almost as if he was enticing you to already say yes.

You did anyway. “Yeah. we’ll chat later.”

He flashed you that sweet side smirk and grabbed the door for you to step outside. 

Maybe you’re plan to somehow seduce a man twice your age might have some faults to it.

Because unfortunately, sometimes Joel made you to forget how to flirt. 

And breathe too, you guess.

It was around four when everyone was scattered on your patio and in your backyard, neighbors and friends mostly gathered around the big outdoor flatscreen by the fireplace. 

The sun was shining into the backyard just right and it really was beautiful out. The big oak tree in your yard was already starting to change colors and some bright orange leaves had already laid to rest on the ground.

Your dad was busy flipping burgers while you were sat on a lawn chair nursing a beer. The chatter from your neighbors filled the sky along with old country radio and an aroma of barbecue.

It was everyone you loved about these parties. It was nostalgic, comforting, and Texan as hell.

Joel– who your eyes had been drifting to for the past hour, was leaning against the house aside the patio door chatting with Mrs. Greene. The ladies in this neighborhood had been pining after Joel since he moved here. Even the married ones. 

They weren’t big fans of you either. When you were in high school, they talked about your outfits and how you went out with one too many boys in the same friend group.

The jealously never vanished. But you don't mind because you live to see the snarl on Samantha Greene’s rotten little face when Joel abruptly stops his conversion with her, and makes his way over to you.

He towers over most people at the party as he strolls over to you. He looks like he usually does– dressed in worn jeans and work boots. Replacing his usual “Miller Contracting” t-shirt with a Cowboys jersey that fit all the right places. The sleeves were tight on his arms and you could see the veins of his biceps peaking out of-

“What ya’ doin’ over here all by yourself little miss?”

That sweet, Texan drawl snapped you out of your train of thought. He put his hand that wasn’t holding his beer on his knees and grunted as he sat down in the lawn chair next to you. You hated how that turned you on. Joel was old, like in his fifties old. You knew he could still pound your guts in though.

You took a swig of of your beer before gazing towards the older man next to you. He had a curious look on his face accompanied by something else you could only describe as Joel. He just was so manly.

“Just people watching– with my second favorite typa’ Miller.”

You gestured to the bottle of Miller lite in your hand and reached over to clink your beer against his. He half scoffed, half laughed at that. He really just seemed amused at the fact your have the balls to flirt with him at a family function.

Joel looked around at your dad before turning back to you. “Your dad told me when you were in high school, you used to steal beer from him all the time–whatever you could get your little hands ons’ what he told me.”

You rolled your eyes at both Joel–and your father. He had a habit of telling stories about you that he thought were cute, when they really weren’t whatsoever. 

“Yeah, I guess sometimes I like to take things i’m not supposed to.”

You looked Joel straight in the eyes as you hinted to him. His beer bottle froze in his hand mid sip and he brought it down to his lap gently. 

Joel watched you bat your lashes and him and bite your lip. He knew he was screwed. You had been a problem of his for a while. Forbidden fruit or whatever you want to call it.

He didn’t know how long he could keep his composure anymore, so he just nodded at you. “Yeah, I know you do, Sweetheart.”

A cheer came from a group of dads behind you and Joel, watching a Patriots game before the true event came on later. 

You broke the silence between you and Joel. “You think the Cowboys are gonna win?” 

Joel really laughed at that. The Cowboys aren’t notorious for being one of the top NFL teams. Joel looked at you and smiled, but there was a look in his eye that said something more.

“Yeah, I think the Cowboys might win tonight.”

The Cowboys game wasn’t even over by then time everyone was gone. Your dad trudged his way up the stairs, pretending he didn’t almost trip on one of the steps as he closed the night out.

For him, at least.

It was only eleven or so, there was about thirty minutes left on the game illuminating your living room. The only other light was coming from an apple cinnamon candle you had lit earlier, and the distant overhead from the kitchen. 

Joel– perched on the couch next to the empty spot your father just gave up– hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since the moment it was just the two of you left, and the only sounds were cheers on the screen in front of you.

You ended up on the loveseat next to the couch. Legs hanging over one armrest with you back leaning against the other– almost like the chair was holding you. You found yourself twirling a piece of your hair while trying to keep your eyes locked on the television. But the tension was unavoidable. 

“Come over here, honey. Don’t gotta’ be so far away now.”

Your head snapped over to Joel and his deep brown eyes quickly found yours. 

You thought you gained some sort of small control over him after what had happened outside, but your mask was truly falling now. And to be fair, he always had all the power when it came to you. 

You pushed yourself up from the one-person chair, and slowly walked over to Joel on the one made for two. You sat on the couch on your knees and turned directly to face him– abandoning the fact you seemed so interested in the game just a minute ago.

“It seems no one likes football like us Mr. Miller. I remember when these parties used to last till it was daytime. Everyone’s getting too old.” You smirked a little at him and tilted your head. You knew the little jab at his age would make him stir a bit– but you wanted him to snap. 

The space between you guys seemed to have shrunk an inch or two in the time you started talking. Joel didn’t think you noticed, but he did.

He was also sick of this. You were right, he was old. Too old to be playing these games. If you weren’t gonna speed this up, he would happily take the reins.

He reached out a little to brush his knuckles against your cheek. “You used to be such a good girl? What happened, sweetheart?”

That question caught you off guard– and you practically froze. Your breath had hitched the second he touched you, but you really didn’t know how to answer him. Maybe he was asking rhetorically. 

He waited for your answer, and raised a brow once it had been a second too long. "Not so tough now, huh?"

Okay, not asking rhetorically. His fingers never left your face though, and each gentle stroke was making you fall deeper and deeper.

“I’m still a good girl, Joel.”

Your eyes were all wide and all you could do was hope you said the right thing. He nodded at you slowly– as if he was deciding if your answer was acceptable.

His hand trailed down lower on your face so he was holding your face by your jaw. His big thumb lined up perfectly with your lips– he slowly reached out and tugged your bottom lip down.

You let your jaw drop just a little, giving him just enough space to put his fingers in your mouth if he wanted. As soon as you gave him enough of an opening, he made the move to rest his thumb on the base of your tongue. 

Your eyes blinked and you started sucking on lightly sucking on the intrusion in your mouth. You saw Joel’s eyes stay locked on his finger gently bobbing in and out between your lips. Your hand grabbed at his wrist, pulling it down to make his thumb pop from your mouth. 

You looked up at him with the most sweet, begging eyes he’s ever seen on such a pretty girl. All hopeful and lustful, and like he could give you everything you’ve ever wanted.

“Please Joel, I promise I won’t tel-”

The beginning of your plead was cut off by his large hand wrapping around your throat. His other hand reached under you and practically hauled you on top of him on the couch. He pulled your face towards him by your neck and leaned down to to whisper to you.

“Shhh. It’s okay sweetheart, I’ll give you what you want now.” He closed his statement by leaning down to place sloppy kisses all over your neck. You tilted your head to give him more access. You were facing the TV but your eyes were closed. 

One of his hands stayed wrapped around your neck while the other traveled to hold your waist. He was so big. He was barely touching you but you felt him everywhere. You tilted your head back upright to lean down and connect your lips.

Kissing Joel was fun. He was hungry for it. His hand left your neck to grab your face and tilt it in each and every direction he could to kiss you the way he wanted to.

Both your arms were wrapped around his neck while you were straddled on his lap. You could feel how broad his shoulders were even through his worn out Cowboys jersey. Everything about Joel was just so man.

“Fuck, we should not be doing this.” Joel disconnected your lips for a second to breathe and you swear you saw a string of saliva break as he pulled away. You let him think for not even a second before you were pulling him back into you. “Yes we should.”

The older man couldn’t bring himself to stop this time. He should he allowed to have this. He’s been watching you since you came back from college that summer of your freshman year. You were on your front porch swing playing your guitar in a short flowey skirt. You sat criss-crossed and he swore he could see the pink of your panties even from across the street. 

He was hooked then. He’s fucking hooked now.

It didn’t take long for Joel to work his tongue into your mouth and fully take over the kiss. Your hips starting moving on top of his in the rhythm you were kissing and you gasped into his mouth. He kissed you harder to swallow the noise before grabbing your hips. 

You felt your heart start to race as you assumed he was going to start grinding you onto him, but he grabbed harder on your waist and lifted you completely off his lap instead. He placed you onto the couch so you were sitting normally with your feet on the floor. 

He got up and crouched in front of you so you were pretty much face to face. He placed both of his hands on your thighs and started rubbing up and down for a moment before opening his mouth. He had such a condescending look on his face it made it hard for you to think.

“I’m not gonna fuck you sweet girl. You’ve had some beers– God knows I’ve had some beers.” Joel rambled on before fully locking your eyes together. His eyes held something you’ve never seen in him before. 

“But if you take your little shorts off right now I’ll shove my tongue so deep into your pussy that you’ll be begging me to fuck you every time you come home from your slutty school.”

His words were so filthy but he presented them to you like a promise. You couldn’t do anything but nod as you reached down and ripped your jean short down your thighs to your ankles. You already have them unbuttoned and folded over so your little orange panties patterned with footballs would peak out just a bit. 

Joel’s hands placed themselves back on your thighs– bare this time– and walked his fingers up to the waistband of your panties. “Can I take these off, baby?” All you seemed to be able to do was nod at him.

He grabbed your face with one hand and smushed your cheeks while the other still itched to shed your bottom half free.

“Now honey, where did that big mouth go? You were so confident earlier, I wanna hear your words.”

You whined at him before complying. “Yes Joel, please touch me. I want you to take them off.” A smile formed at his lips from your words and he gave you a quick kiss before fully focusing on your lower half. 

Your panties were being dragged down your legs and he pulled them off completely with your itty bitty jean shorts. You completely bare aside from the jersey dawned upon the upper half of your frame. You had tied the bottom of it into a knot at some point in the night so Joel had access to the entirety of your stomach.

He started kissing where your jersey ended– a an inch or so above your belly button. His kisses were wet and with each one he seemed to trailing faster down your body to where he promised he’d venture from the start. 

He reached wear your panties would start before skipping your pussy completely and bending down to kiss your inner thighs. You knew the more he worked you up the harder rit would be for you to stay quiet. 

As much as you wanted this to happen, Joel was right– it was a bad idea. Your dad and Joel were close. But God, did he look good on his knees in front of you.

Joel sucked hickies into the meat of your thighs and his hands gripped them as far as part as he could. Your legs made their way over his shoulders– trying to draw him in where you wanted him. He liked hearing you huff and puff with the need for him though. You could handle waiting a second longer.

You couldn’t take it anymore, your clit felt like it was on fire. You needed him to touch you. “Joel please, I need you so bad, please.”

He raised his head up from your thighs and and cooed at you. “Poor baby, you don’t have to beg. I’ll give you what you want.”

You barely had time to process his words before his head sank back down. Joel licked one long stripe up the length of your pussy and he moaned at the taste.

He gathered a glob of saliva in his mouth and spit it directly on the enchanting scene in front of him. He brought his thumb up to your clit and rubbed gently as he looked up at you.

“You taste so good baby, I knew I was right when I called you my sweet girl.” You whimpered at his words and he replaced his thumb with his mouth. He lolled your clit between his tongue and suck on it until he had your back arching off the couch.

One of your hands made it’s way down to his hair, while other latched onto the arm of the couch– like you needed to brace yourself. You couldn’t believe this was happening, and he was sooo good at it.

“Oh my god Joel, that feels so good.” You felt him smile against your clit and your words seemed to egg him on. He shifted on his knees and somehow shoved his face impossibly deeper into your pussy. 

You moaned a little too loud at the position change and Joel slapped your thigh as a warning before pulling away for a second. “Moan like again and next time I’m slapping your pussy, you can be loud for me another time. okay?”

“Yes, yes.” You replied immediately. You wanted him back on you so bad and you knew he wouldn't made you use your words if you didn’t in the first place.

“Good girl.” 

He let you push his head back into your pussy and he started making out with her again. It was like he was trying to lick up everything you had to give him, he couldn’t get enough.

“Joel, I’m getting really close.” He glanced up at your blissed out face for a glimpse before licking faster at your clit. Your breath hitched and you started squirming way too much for Joel to focus the way he should be.

Joel than grabbed the undersides of your thighs and pulled you down more on the couch.  Your back was against the seat and your legs were in the air– you were practically laying down. This gave Joel a whole new angle. He dipped his head down so his face completely covered your pussy and he sucked.

“Joel, please, fuck, Joel, don’t stop, don’t stop.” The knot you felt deep in your belly started to unravel and the only thing on your mind was Joel, Joel, Joel.”

Your hand covered your mouth to stop and obscenities that could disturb anyone but you and Joel. Meanwhile the man beneath you kept his mouth occupied even when your legs stopped shaking. 

Your breath started to calm and Joel placed one final kiss to your– now swollen– pussy and reached up to brush the hair off of your forehead. 

He came up to sit with you back on the couch and pulled you into him. He kept running his fingers through your hair and telling you how good you were.

You let your eyes remain shut for a few moments as Joel pet your head and face. Through your post orgasmic daze, you heard a loud roar of cheers erupt from the screen in front of you. You forgot the game was on the whole time.

“Open your eyes baby, I told you the Cowboys were gonna win.”

an: happy kinktober :) hope you guys enjoy.

[beeewee]

HAWAII SOLUTIONS

Dbf Joel Miller × Reader

Summary: If your dad can fuck someone younger, so can you, maybe his hot best friend?

warnings: dirt, sex in public but without public, age gap, smut, I'm not fluent in English so I apologize for mistakes,

♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧

Vacation. My dad said I needed a vacation when I decided to drop out of business school. That’s how I ended up here. In Hawaii.

The beach was stunning, the food was amazing, and nothing beats sleeping in hotel beds—but then there was them. My dad, his girlfriend—Addison, who was disgustingly just two years older than me—and, of course, his best friend, Joel. Fucking Joel Miller.

He was a problem, but not the kind that made me want to rip my hair out—or his.

Addison, now she was a problem. Everywhere. At home—loud, at college—loud, on the plane—loud. That bitch is loud everywhere, trust me. I was always sure she was with my dad for the money, the Gucci bags, and the tuition he paid for. Which was ridiculous. And yet, here she was in Hawaii.

‘You’re too tense.’

Joel said it as he lay back on the lounge chair next to mine on the beach.

He’d been my problem since I was fifteen. Seven years later, I was still here, looking at him like he was some Greek god. Well, I’d be damned if he wasn’t, lounging there while I sat stiffly, watching the way-too-happy couple by the water.

‘I’m not,’

I mumbled.

‘You should hate her less. And him too—he’s trying.’

‘Come on, Joel. Don’t do this.’

‘Do what?’

‘Say that crap. He’s a hypocrite. I could never be with someone the way he’s with her.’

I huffed and rolled my eyes.

‘She makes him happy.’

He said, and I just stayed quiet. ‘Why’d you drop out of college?’

I shrugged without looking at him. That bastard reached over, his thick fingers pressing into my cheeks, forcing me to look at him.

‘Look at me and stop acting like a child.’

‘I’m not,’ I hissed through gritted teeth. He was shirtless under an open blue dress shirt, chest hair trailing down into those red swim trunks, and god, I could ride that nose for hours.

‘There she is, looking at me,’

he teased, and my cheeks flushed. He smiled.

‘Now tell me.’

‘She distracts me.’

I kept it short, especially since his hand was now grazing my collarbone and neck, back and forth in the sweetest little touch.

‘How does she distract you? I thought you liked men ’

' Shut up old man ' I teased him and saw his jaw tighten

' I'm fucking 45 you brat '

' Oh, so you can still get an erection to fuck me?'

' Continue where you were'

‘Everyone knows about him. They talk. She flaunts being with one of us and spending all our money. It bothers me.’

‘You should tell him.’

‘Like he’d believe me. You know him, you know exactly what he’d say.’

‘Unfortunately, I do, sweetheart.’

Joel looked down for a second, then back at me. ‘But you know… you could flip the script.’

‘What do you mean?’

Now it was him who shrugged. I laughed.

‘I mean, you’re 22. Want revenge? Take it. You’re in Hawaii.’

‘He’d kill me if I slept with someone.’

‘ Put the blame on daddy issues,’ Joel said playfully, and I laughed louder.

‘Fuck you.’

‘Watch your mouth, young lady.’

He scolded me, and I stuck out my tongue. He smiled at me.

Oh, I was seeing something all right—or maybe just fantasizing about him naked again.

‘Hey, you two! Come back to the room, let’s reserve dinner. You joining us?’

My dad called out as he walked toward us with his way-too-young girlfriend.

‘Sure,’ Joel answered, removing his hands from me and sitting up.

As they left the beach, I smiled at Joel and stood up, squinting down at him.

‘What?’

‘You shouldn’t wear a shirt at the beach.’ I put my hands on my hips.

‘I do what I want, I’m a grown man, doll.’

‘Well, so am I—grown, I mean.’

With that, I walked over and sat on his lap like I had no damn filter. Joel grunted, not touching me until I rolled my eyes and pulled his hands to my body.

‘You shouldn’t wear a dress to the beach either.’

‘It’s a cover-up,’ I muttered, but smiled right after. ‘But since you insist…’

I pulled it over my head, silently thanking myself for choosing my smallest bikini today. Joel’s eyes dropped to my chest, and I slowly unbuttoned his shirt until he was bare-chested.

‘We should go for a swim’

I suggested.

‘It’s getting dark.’

‘Even better.’

I stood, swaying my hips as I headed toward the water and the setting sun. I heard Joel mutter a fuck’s sake before he ran after me, grabbing me by the waist and tossing me over his shoulder.

‘Joel! Don’t you dare throw me, are you listening—'

‘Too late, sweetheart.’

The cold water shocked my skin, and I screamed. Then screamed again when strong arms wrapped around my waist from behind.

‘I think I want my revenge,’

I whispered, as Joel pressed wet kisses to my salty skin.His tongue circled my neck like I was some kind of delicious ice cream. As my body warmed up, I turned to face him, wrapping my legs around his waist and feeling his hard-on through my bikini.

‘I can’t fuck you. Fuck,’

he groaned, running his hands along my body.

‘Then why’d you say that?’

I whined, clinging to him.

‘Baby girl…’

‘Let’s just… do something. I just want to feel you.’

I pulled his cock out of his shorts, stroked him a few times, and then sank down on him.

‘What are you doing?’

His voice was low, breathless.

‘Mmm.’

I moaned with my eyes closed, clenching around him.

‘I just wanted to feel you inside me.’

‘Ah, baby. We can’t do this here.’

He shifted slightly, which made his cock slide deeper into my slick pussy. Fuck, I wanted him to wreck me right there.

‘Fuck, you’re so tight. Your sweet little pussy. Fuck my life.’

He groaned, eyes closed. Then a shout broke the spell.

‘Hey! What are you two still doing out there?’

My dad’s voice from the shore.

‘Why are you clinging to him?’

Because your best friend’s cock is buried in your little girl’s pussy.

‘I think there are crabs out here!’ I yelled.

‘She got scared,’ Joel added. And just then, a small wave hit us, and his hips bucked forward, driving his cock deeper inside me. The first wave of the night.

‘Alright, better come back, it’s getting dark.’

My dad called again. Joel thrust one more time, stealing my breath with a quiet moan.

‘Ahh…’

I moaned softly, and Joel smiled.

‘Add and I will be up on the deck!’

My dad pointed to the wooden deck overlooking the beach.

‘We’ll be right up!’ Joel shouted, and pulled out, hiding himself quickly. He dragged us out of the water before Dad could see. The cave-like spot beneath the deck was perfect—no view, just the sound of waves.Joel grabbed my ass again and slid inside me as he sat down. I bounced on his dick while he sucked on my nipples.

‘Riding my dick so good, baby.’

‘Oh Joel, I love your dick. Thank you,’

I whimpered, and he laughed in bliss.

‘Yeah, baby, you’re such a filthy little thing, always craving my dick.’

‘I am. Fuck me, Joel. I’m yours.’

He flipped me over, and I arched my ass up for him. Joel slammed back inside me. fucking my ass hard, the sound of his balls slapping against my skin made me shiver with the hard feeling of him.

‘Fuck, you feel so good.’ His hands pulled me to the air to rest my back against his chest and his hand massaged my swollen clitoris, rubbing my wet pussy for it.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’

I moaned as my climax hit, and three more deep thrusts had his balls smacking my ass before he emptied himself inside me.

‘You think he heard us?’

‘Probably,’

Joel said, breathless.

‘Good.’

If this was what vacation meant, I had zero complaints.

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[joelspeach]

to call you mine - series masterlist

Pairing: dbf!joel x reader

MDNI* this series contains mature and explicit themes

How is it that in one simple, fleeting moment, the dynamic with the constant in your life, your dad’s best buddy, old, gruff Joel Miller.. shifts into the most thrilling, turbulent secret you’re forced to keep under wraps?

If only you knew where it was always doomed to lead.

1: kindling

2: upper hand

3: combing through the wreckage

4: something’s got to give

5: broken parts

6: to you, i surrender

7: there it blooms