Thieving Touch (Steven Grant X Reader, Marc Spector X Reader) [Part 1]

Oscar Isaac is so pretty bro I’m cryinggg

A PROFESSIONAL INTERVIEW -- sebastian vettel

part 4/5, previous l l next (coming soon!)

pairings! redbull!sebastian vettel x fem!journalist!reader

In which, Sebastian Vettel has always been a cocky, and an annoying f1 driver to interview, but suddenly his tendencies seem more flirtatious than annoying.

note: hopefully this isn't too bad, trying to do character developement! i really enjoyed writing this chapter, even if it was a bit rushed!

taglist! @viennakarma, @chiliwhore, @i-wish-this-was-me, @gcldtom, @sugyomama, @bladestark, @queenofmanydreams, @bb-swift, @leclerking, @fanboyluvr, @killjoynotes

You let out a loud scream the second you woke up and took in your surroundings. 

You had a good night's sleep, opening your eyes, surprised by the lack of a hangover. An arm wrapped around your waist, face buried in the man's chest. He was warm, perhaps a Mongasque from the club. You turned around, and could not contain your scream of horror, surely waking up all surrounding people in the hotel.

What the hell was Sebastian Vettel doing in your bed

And what the hell was he doing naked!

He covered his ears with his hand, and rolled over, once you finally came to clarity and covered your mouth with your hand. Seb turned back over, about to say something before noticing you sitting up against the wall, tits out, and Seb's face dropping in shock. Seb exclaimed something in German that you could only assume was an obscenity as you tumbled out of the bed, fully naked and filled with anger. You pulled on your underwear first, suddenly mad that it was a thong, but you were trying not to panic.

“You better be turned around!” You exclaimed over your shoulder, pulling on your bra. Seb turned back, his face pressed against the pillow.

“I obviously saw you naked last night!” He called out. He looked out of the corner of his eyes as you rummaged through the drawer, trying to find something that could fit you and wouldn’t exactly look like it belonged to Seb. “Can I look back now?” “Whatever, you’re right, it doesn’t matter.” You said, you held up a pair of grey sweatpants. “I’m going to take them.” “Those are my favorite sweatpants.” Seb said.

“I don’t care!” You said, pulling them up, and cinching the waist in.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Seb asked, he seemed slightly frustrated at you. You had assumed his flirting would result in nothing, that was not nothing. Sure, you imagined he didn’t want it to end like a drunk hook up. A few memories returned to you, his confession, your instigation. You had instigated it, why had you instigated it? 

“Maybe if you had your pants on.” You said, tossing a pair of plaid boxers to Seb, he pulled them on, throwing off his sheets and walking closer to you. You moved out of the way, still searching for a top, not planning on leaving in a push up bra. Seb pulled on another pair of sweats. You picked up a hoodie off the floor, it was a plain gray color, matching the sweats, you pulled it on. 

“So, what do you want to talk about?” You asked, not wanting to talk about it at all.

“You know, we hooked up.” “Yeah.” “What are we gonna do about it?” “I’m on the pill.” “But what about how we interact, does this change anything, should it change anything?” Seb said, leaning on the counter. “It doesn’t have to change anything. We were crazy drunk. There’s an explanation.” You said, looking over at the door, considering making a run for it, quitting your job, and moving in with your parents, or Y/B/F, if you could pay enough rent she’d let you stay.

“I meant what I said, I remember that, at least.” Seb told you, making eye contact with you. You squirmed away from his gaze. “I would like to be more than just-”

“Seb, I can’t do this right now.” You interrupted him, holding up your hand as if to push him away with some sort of telepathic ability. “I’m going to chase Jenson down, get my key, and I’ll see you in Silverstone.” You smiled awkwardly, trying to give him some sort of sense of peace from your words. Seb frowned, giving you a response you didn't expect.

“You’re skipping three races?” “Yeah.” “I won’t see you for a month.” “I always go on breaks during the season. Usually around this time because it makes me feel like I just have some massive summer break. They don’t need me, so I’m not going.” You said with a shrug. Seb mumbled something you couldn’t hear. He looked down at the ground as you said your goodbyes, you felt bad. You wanted to give him a hug, wish him luck on the championship, have a nice time with him in Monaco, but no, you left.

You weren’t quite sure what you did at your parents house. You spent a lot of time thinking too much about your decisions, acknowledged the fact that you had little to no life outside of formula one, and had a good time with your family. You felt somewhat numb, just mulling over your thoughts and rejecting guys in the grocery store. You didn’t even know why you rejected them. You supposed that covered your break.

But now it was time to get back to formula one, and face your suppressed thoughts and actions from the country of luxury, Monaco. You had attempted to keep Seb out of your mind, but he managed to sneak in during late nights and cold mornings. You wish you remembered everything from that night, but you didn’t, and you couldn’t do anything about it. You could hook up with him again, your brain offered, and you let out an annoyed groan, slamming your hands over your face. The mother daughter pair next to you gave you a side eye, but you didn’t care. You pulled on an eye mask, just wanting to sleep.

You woke up in London, the plane landing with a slight jolt. You checked how you looked in a pocket mirror, mascara smeared, bronzer splotchy. You wiped it all off in the airport bathroom, before going out to collect your luggage. You were thankful for the bright colors as you made your way to the parking garage, planning on taking a taxi that usually crowded the garage for people without cars.

“Y/N, over here!” Shouted a voice, you turned around, brows furrowed as Lewis Hamilton waved over to you, jogging over.

“Do you know the work I had to do to get here?” He said, sighing slightly. “To find out about when your flight was landing.”

You hugged him briefly. “You could’ve texted me.”

“You didn’t text back.”

“Did you text me when I was in the air?”

“Probably.” Lewis replied with a shrug. “Anyway, I’m here to take you to the hotel. Figured I’d show up all your other driver servants.”

“You didn’t have to.” You told Lewis, smiling as he rolled your suitcase to the garage, you in tow.

“I kind of did, and you still have to drive.”

“Oh no, I have to drive a beautiful car, whatever will I do.” You said, you pressed your hands over your face to resemble comedic fear. 

“Don’t break any traffic rules.” Lewis told you, chucking your suitcase in the back with no mind for fragilities. “Also, we need to talk.”

You pulled out of the garage. It was a luxury one, and so easy to exit and make your way into the highway, unlike most airport garages.

“What do we need to talk about?” You asked. “Your terrible haircut.”

You didn’t think baldmilton was a look, but Lewis looked serious. “I know about you and Seb in Monaco.”

You froze, turning toward him slowly.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh my god, it's true! I mean the photo looked incriminating, and then the other one of the two of you the day after.” Lewis said slowly, in shock. He examined your expression, certain it reflected your thoughts clearly. “Holy shut, you hooked up with Seb!”

“What photo?” You asked. “Lewis, was there a photo of me going into his hotel room?”

“You didn’t know about it?” Lewis asked. “Have you been under a rock these past weeks?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed. “Where is Seb staying? We’re going there.”

You pounded against the door of Seb’s airbnb, shouting into the wood for Seb to open the door. Lewis placed one hand high on the doorway, ready for Seb to open the door.

“I’m coming, Ficken!” Seb shouts, you heard him jogging to the door, and tried to decide what expression to put on your face. Seb swung open the door, seeing Lewis before you. “Hey, Lewis.”

“Good afternoon.” Lewis said with a smile.

“Hey, Seb,” You said, interrupting their friendship. He looked over at you, a smile appearing on his face before he switched it to a “cool guy” look. “Um, we need to talk.” “You were serious when you said you’d tak in the UK?” Seb asked, placing his hands on his waist.

“Yeah, I was, but we also need to talk about the photo.” You said, pursing your lips together. Seb nodded, gesturing for the two of you to come inside.

“Are you sure you guys want me here?” Lewis asked, crossing his arms. “Yes.” You and Seb replied at the same time. You sat down on the small kitchen table, Seb taking the seat across from you, and Lewis taking the comfortable loveseat in the corner.

“So, what about it do you want to discuss? We can’t take it down, everyone’s seen it, and we did exactly what they’re saying.” Seb told you.

“Well I don’t want to get fired.” You said, you hated that Seb was right. You couldn’t do anything to make it better. “You aren’t going to get fired.” Lewis reassured you.

“You really aren’t, I checked with your boss.” Seb added on.

“Seb! You told my boss we hooked up!” You exclaimed, wanting to slam your head against the table.

“No, I didn’t! I told her you slept in the guest bedroom.” Seb shouted in defense. You let out a sigh of relief.

“So now you just deny deny deny to the other journalists.” You said, and Seb nodded. 

“Or we could just say we’re dating.” Seb offered, and you frowned.

“I don’t want to lie about things like that, Seb.” You admitted. Call yourself a romantic, but you only had a few relationships, and you didn’t want to lie about one, especially not when feelings were starting to sneak in for the person who offered it.

“Okay,” Seb replied. The three of you sat in silence for a bit, before Lewis finally spoke,

“Y/N, what interviews are you doing this week?”

“Mark, Seb you got left out, Alonso, and your best friend, Nico!” You told Lewis, counting off the names on your hands. “Also Micheal, which I’m super excited for.” “Have you met Nico and Micheal before?” Seb asked, playing with a napkin on the table between his fingers. You felt the sudden urge to take his hands in yours, but suppressed it.

“Yeah, I’ve interviewed them both a few times, and last year Nico and I sat next to each other on a flight from Japan to Monaco because first class had no seats.” “I feel like you and Nico would get along.” Seb commented, you raised an eyebrow. “Why?” You asked. Sure, you and Nico had gotten along fine during the flight, but you weren’t sure what they were talking about and Seb appeared to ont want to explain it to you, but Lewis jumped in.

“You two are drama queens, and I’m allowed to say this because Nico is my best friend and I think you and I are close enough for me to say that.” “I’m not dramatic!”

“You screamed when you realized we had hooked up, actually screamed.” “You don’t need to remember that, and Lewis doesn’t need to know it.” You told Seb. You picked up your bag, and turned to Lewis. “I’m exhausted. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You bid him a small smile, waving to Seb, and grabbing your bag as Lewis trailed behind you.

Silverstone would turn out to be boring, Mark won, and the Mercedes boys were nice. You would be kind to Seb in Germany, as it was his home race, and in Hungary you would frown, and try to avoid attention. You suppose you would have had a better time if it hadn’t been for the lasting effects of the stupid photo. You hadn’t been fired, which you were endlessly grateful for, but the gripes and comments were enough to ruin whole weekends. Your dear friend Y/B/F obviously noticed this over calls, and so all the sudden you were invited to a villa in Ibiza.

How she made this happen? You had no idea. How the two of you didn’t have to pay a cent? Again, a wonder. She made magic happen, and you loved it. You were glad you didn’t have any summer plans, and had packed various bikinis and adorable summer outfits in case some sort of miracle happened.

Now you were landing in Ibiza, ready to party it up, swim in the ocean, and get drunk off your mind. In any order.

Seb didn’t know why he had decided on Ibiza. Peer pressure, maybe? Jenson was, Lewis was, Nico was, even Fernando and Mark were going. Seb had spent the first four days on the beach. Despite his young rouge persona he had cultivated, he wasn’t the biggest fan of parties and the whole playboy life every other formula one driver had. Seb could flirt around, it was almost like his second job, but at the end of the day he wanted a girl to go home with. He lay in his bed in the dead of night, the sound of waves crashing against rocks rushing through his window, and the sound of Lewis and some model fucking sneaking through the walls. Seb pressed his hands to his ears, and sat up.

A run, he should go for a run. Seb walked over to his drawers, pulling on sweat shorts and a black crewneck. He grabbed his phone, and headed downstairs. Certainly he couldn’t wake anyone more than the driver sleeping in the room on the far right. His phone rang loudly and suddenly. Seb rushed outside, that could have woken somebody asleep on the bottom level.

“Who is it?” Seb asked, not prepared at all for the next conversation. “Seb!” A voice gleefully called through the phone. “You picked up!” “Y/N?” Seb asked, in genuine confusion, what were you doing calling him at one in the morning.

“Yeah, it’s me, so I know you’re in Ibiza.” You told Seb, lowering your voice to a whisper.

“I am, are you?” Seb asked, confused. “Why are you calling me at one in the morning?”

“Why are you up this early in the morning? Okay, so these people my friend and I are staying with say I need to get a ride home because I can't handle my alcohol or something.” You complained, slurring your words. You couldn’t handle your alcohol. “I don’t know, so I called you. Is there any chance you can pick me up?” Dead silence over the line.

“Yeah, I can.” He told you, going inside and grabbing the keys to the rental car. Fate must really have wanted him and Y/N to get together, or his delusions. “What bar are you at?” “You’re an actual savior, Seb.” You said, sounding genuinely grateful as you told him the name of the bar. “Okay, I’ll be sitting on a chair against the wall when you get here.”

You hung up before Seb could offer to stay on call. He thought he was supposed to be the blunt one. He drove easily through Ibiza, enjoying the convertible porsche. It was hot in Ibiza, but slightly colder in the night, and the warm wind made it much more enjoyable. The club he arrived at was massive, and when he bypassed the bouncer – pulling the driver card, he found that it was even bigger inside. Neon lights blasting from the dj booth, and fake plants covering the walls.

A chair against the wall, Seb wondered, this place is massive, and is there even a chair in here?“Yo! Yo!” Someone called out. Seb looked up, furrowing his brows as a girl pushed past people to get to him. “Yeah, you! Blondie!” “Blondie?” Seb asked, pointing at himself. She nodded, stumbling over and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, you’re Sebastian Vettel right?” She asked, 

“Listen, I’m looking for someone, it’s kind of late, I don’t really want to sign anything right now.” Seb told her, looking around the massive room for any sign of a fucking chair.

“Ugh, you are a jerk.” She said, an image of disgust on her face. “I’m the girl you’re looking for’s best friend! Yeah, Y/N, do you know her?”

“Y/N said I was a jerk?” Seb asked, of course this girl was your best friend, and he managed to seem like a total asshole.

“Yeah, anyway follow me.” Y/B/F said, grabbing Seb’s shoulder and dragging him through a massive crowd. You were not in fact sitting on a chair, but a bucket, and essentially jumped into Y/B/F’s arms the second you noticed her.

“Hey babe.” Y/B/F said, handing you over to Seb with slight ease. She whispered into his ear, “She’s on eight drinks Y/N, so about to be possibly sick, and have many epiphanies.” Seb placed his hands on your shoulders as you first noticed him.

“Oh! Seb, this is my best friend in the whole world.” You said, smiling at Y/B/F. “And also the person who ruined Ibiza.” “You wouldn’t have Ibiza without me.” Y/B/F said, sliding a massive tote bag over to Seb. “Also, I hope you can crash on his couch because . . . ,”

With the smile the two of you exchanged, Seb assumed Y/B/F was going to be doing the same activity as Lewis was occupying himself with that very night. “Okay know get the fuck out of here before you throw up or pass out on top of somebody.” Y/B/F said playfully. “Love you!!” “Love you too!” You called back, latching onto Seb’s arm and immediately putting your entire body weight on him. “Thank you so much, Seb.” “Yeah, anytime.” Seb said, pretty sure he actually meant it. He pushed open the door, taking in a breath of actual fresh air.

“Let me guess, the porsche-uh.” You said, slurring your words heavily. Seb nodded, opening the convertible door for you and dropping you in the seat as he took his place at the driver's seat. You wore a tube top and a sarong, the sunburn around the halter bikini top and bottoms indicating a day spent at the beach.

“Did you have an eventful day?” Seb asked, you nodded, leaning across the central console to press your cheek against his shoulder. “Yeah, but I think I should quit clubbing.” You told him honestly. “I always do stupid things.”

“Mhm, like hook up with me.” Seb commented. He could feel your frown through his shirt.

“I think if I hadn’t been drunk it wouldn’t have been too much of a mistake.” You told him. “I would’ve been sneakier.” 

“Sneakier?” Seb asked, smiling despite himself. He had to remember, you weren’t you after eight drinks of whatever alcohol you had consumed that night. Most likely some Spanish drink the bartender made up to scam tourists. You suddenly sat up straight, hand covering your mouth.

“Pull over.” You said, dead seriousness.

“What?”

“Pull over right now!” You shouted, clutching the door of the convertible. He swerved to the edge of the road. You essentially fell out of the car, he jumped out, rushing over to you and managing to pull your hair out of your face just in time as you threw up, not once, not twice, but three times on the concrete sidewalk. “Ugh, sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Seb said, lifting you up slightly and seating you on the passenger's seat once more. “Do you feel okay?”

“Yeah, less drunk I think.” You said, grabbing the massive tote bag Y/B/F had handed Seb. “Luckily I actually packed everything I’d need in case every terrible thing occurred tonight.”

You then pulled out a toothbrush and a toothpaste stored in a small plastic bag, and efficiently began brushing your teeth. Seb glimpsed the driver’s villa in the distance, and turned over to you.

“You’re okay with sleeping on the couch, right?”

“I’m fine as long as I can sleep.” You said, spitting the toothpaste out over the side, and collapsing back in the seat. You were slurring your words less now, but it was still there. “I’m just so fucking tired.”

“You’ll be able to go to sleep in a second, don’t worry.” Seb said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as well. Exhaustion was supposed to be contagious, wasn’t it? Who knew, it seemed like whatever you felt affected Seb.

“Okay.” You said, clutching your bag like a pillow. He pulled to a stop in the driveway, helping you out of the car, essentially being half-carried the entire way through the door.

The massive windows facing the beach illuminated the living and kitchen, exposing a sight Seb wasn’t sure he was ready to see. Lewis and his hookup nude filling up two separate bowls of cereal.

“Hey Seb.” Lewis said with a nod. His face changed expressions instantly to surprise and slightly happy when he noticed who you were with. “Look who you found!”

“Hey, Lewis.” Seb said, resisting the urge to cover your eyes.

“Hey.” You said with a smile. You turned to the model next to him, and smiled at her. The woman smiled back. “You have very nice boobs.”

“Thank you.” She replied with a wide smile. “You have nice ones too!”

You smiled, and the model girl waved you a farewell as she and Lewis returned, Lewis holding two bowls of cereal. They covered his nipples at least.

“Are they going to eat cereal while having sex?” You asked, mouth slightly agape. 

“You can go and ask if you want.” Seb offered.

“I’m good.” You said, laying down on the couch, and rummaging through your massive tote bag.

“Do you want me to grab you blankets?” Seb asked.

“Duh.” You replied, pulling out a pair of black shorts from your bag. Seb turned around and essentially sprinted up the stairs to grab a handful of blankets from the closet. When he came back. You had changed into a gray baby tee, and black cotton shorts, face squished into a pillow. Seb smiled at the image of you asleep, memories brought back to the days he had been an absolute asshole, and you hated him. Developement? He placed the two blankets on your resting form, slightly surprised at how quickly you had managed to change and fall asleep. 

“Good night.” Seb whispered.

“Are you leaving?” You mumbled.

“What?” Seb asked, slightly frozen above you. “Why aren’t you staying?” You asked, grabbing his hand tightly and pulling him closer. “You want me to sleep on the couch with you?” “Mhm, you’re warm. Like a human heater.” You mumbled, wrapping your arm around his forearm. Seb frowned slightly, not quite sure what the right move would be, choosing to sit down on the edge of the couch. He leaned his back against the pillow. You adjusted your sleeping position, resting your head on Seb’s chest and wrapping your arms around his waist in a way that made Seb nervous to move too much. “My not so sweet human heater.”

You woke up later in the night, maybe four or five am. Slightly hungover, and intending on closing your eyes once more as you looked up at Seb. His eyes were fixated on the wide windows overlooking the beautiful ocean. You wished you could know what he was thinking behind those baby blues.

next (coming soon)

Could I get prompt 14 with Osferth pretty please

Osferth x Reader

Prompt 14. "Would you like me to whisper it in your ear?"

Thank you to the other people who also requested this. I had a lot of fun writing it

"I knew we shouldn't have left so late" Osferth's voice was horse as you slung off your bow and arrow, dropping it by the door of the Inn you'd found halfway between Rumcofa and Eoforwic.

Uhtred had sent you to meet with his daughter before the winter snow closed travel and for some reason he'd sent Osferth with you. Your relationship was strange to say the least. It began with you as the teasing dane from the North who took every chance to make Osferth's cheeks grow red. Then one day he turned it on you. Suddenly he knew how to hold a sword and talk back. He would meet your remarks with something as easily flirty, presuming he picked it up from Finan. There was a tension between you and yet neither of you had quite as much bravery to cross that line.

Osferth shut the door behind you. He had wanted to leave Eoforwic earlier in the day to miss the winter storm but you'd insisted snow wouldn't fall for a other few days.

You hated to admit you were wrong but the damp of snow sodden clothes and freezing fingers begged to differ.

"There were no snow clouds when we left"

"And yet the skies opened on us didn't they"

You both had your backs turned until you heard Osferth groan. Looking back, you did the same when you looked over your shoulder.

One bed.

Your stomach flipped. Osferth cleared his throat.

Trying to ignore the feeling, you started to peel off your outerwear. Osferth reached for your cloak as you did and the rhythm you fell so often in began unfolding. You handed your cloak, he gave you his weapons. You noted the click of metal unlatching and dared not to turn as the man behind you took off his fighting leathers and sword.

After a while the Inn keeper brought you both soup and you sat in silence on the bed, sipping quietly. It was killing you.

"You're mad?" You broke the quiet.

He didn't look your way, sat on the bed in his trousers and a loose white shirt.

"I'm not"

Neither of you were convinced.

"Is it not a sin to lie?"

He raised a brow at you.

"I'm sure I'll repent in time"

As the night grew dark, you slid under the covers. You weren't one to talk so often but his cold shoulder was killing you and as he wondered the room, repositioning your drying clothes by the fire, you sat up in your bed.

"If I apologise will you speak to me?"

"I have spoken to you"

He got under the covers beside you rolling over to face away, the orange glow for the fire wrapping you in warmth.

"Properly I mean"

You rolled your eyes as you remained sitting, the blankets at your waist.

"I'm sorry okay"

He didn't respond. You huffed.

"Osferth?"

More silence.

"I'm sorry for not listening to you and getting us caught in that storm"

He hummed. It wasn't good enough for you.

"What more do you want?"

He rolled over to face you, eyes still closed and face emotionless.

"Would you like me to whisper it in your ear?"

You took the step and lent over him, your lips hovering over his ear as you spoke.

"I'm sorry. You were right"

He tilted his head, his lips inches from yours.

"Do you forgive me?"

"I-"

You rose your hand and ran your fingers through his hair. His eyes shut as you did.

"Baby monk?"

As if a spark had been lit within him, his hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled your hand out from his hair. With a force you weren't expecting he flipped you over, pinning your arm above your head into the pillow as he straddled you. Osferth looked down from above you and lent in. You raised your chin as he did, trying not to to appear as phased as you were.

"You don't call me that"

You struggled but he was stronger than you anticipated, grabbing your other hand when you reached for him. He swapped both your wrists into one hand as he balanced himself with his other, leaning down.

"Finan can call me that. You cannot"

You lent up as much as you could.

"And why not?"

He smirked. "You know why"

Osferth was good at fighting, Uhtred and his men teaching him well over the years. But you were a dane and had be born kicking and clawing. With a huff of energy you managed to shift your weight and pull him under, hands on his chest as you sat back on him. Somewhere along the way his hands had found your hips, holding you still.

"What now?"

It felt like a shift had begun. A new layer of the game you played had been revealed as you moved your mark forward, testing his limits.

"Now you're going to kiss me"

It wasn't a question but you responded. Your lips met his in a fury while his hands capture your waist, holding you down against him. The years worth of teasing, of testing his patients finally flooding down on you as he kissed your lips.

Despite the cold chill your body had only just escaped, it was a welcome cool down when Oseferth finally slid your shirt off your back and let his hands map your body.

You smiled knowing Uhtred would pin your sleepless appearance on the challenging wit of his daughters tongue the next day. However you didn't consider, Osferth's company on your mission that of the last piece of Uhtreds plan for you to finally confess your attraction.

idk about you but joaquin drunk confessing that he's been in love w you since he first saw you is so personal to me

Enamorado

summary: Joaquín’s drunken love confession. 

relationship: Joaquín Torres x gn!reader

warnings: alcohol, drunk behaviour, established relationship

word count: ~760

A/N: i’m honestly not even sure if this was meant as a request or not but it was too good not to write something for 😩💕 you're so right anon,, have this lil blurb mwah (be safe when drinking, kids)

[all masterlists] 🪶 [mcu masterlist] 🪶 [ao3]

(title means "in love" in spanish)

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Usually, you don’t go to bars much, but this time it was a special occasion, so you went out with Joaquín and Sam. Even Bucky joined you, but now that he's a proper citizen and all, he left early. 

You glance at the time on your phone, it’s 2:46 am. Looking over your shoulder from where you sit at the bar, you see Sam on the dance floor, and smile to yourself. He’s having a good time, it seems. Joaquín is next to you, and as your eyes go back to him, he’s putting down his drink he just emptied. He looks at you with a goofy grin. 

“Alright, then, that’s enough for you,” you say with a gentle smile, pushing his glass a little farther away from his hands. “Let’s take a break, yeah?”

You’re fairly tipsy yourself, but Joaquín is proper drunk now. He doesn’t let himself get to this point often. Luckily he doesn’t get angry or physical when intoxicated, instead he turns to absolute mush, incoherent mumblings about how much he loves you and Sam leaving his lips incessantly, muttering about how glad he is to be part of the group, how badly he wants to meet the Avengers. He also gets a little clingy, not that you mind. His hands will always be on you somewhere, your leg, your back, your face. 

Right now, he’s leaning his forehead on your shoulder, grumbling under his breath, but you can’t make out what he’s saying.

“Wanna go take some fresh air?,” you offer.

Joaquín nods, getting off his stool, and he lets you pull him to the back, where you exit to a small patio. You breathe in the cool night air, the buzzing in your ears starting to dissipate. You lean onto the wooden fence and look out to the city below, the lights moving and dancing in the distance like a painting. Or maybe you just can’t focus your eyes right now.

You feel something warm coming up behind you, and Joaquín’s arms snake around your middle as he hugs you into his chest. He hums, swaying you both lightly from side to side, and you laugh, turning within his hold to face him, and you cup his face. His skin feels hot, and you can see the redness on his cheeks even in the dim light.

“You need to learn to pace yourself,” you say.

“Ssshuddup. Sam’s fault,” he retorts, and he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck.

“Right,” you chuckle. Sam and Joaquín did make some bet or other about how many drinks they could have before losing the ability to walk a straight line.

When he pulls back, his chocolate eyes find yours, albeit slightly out of focus, but his gaze holds so much warmth and affection, you can’t help but get lost in them. He hums again, a smile spreading on his lips. You tilt your head.

“Whatcha thinking about?” you ask.

“You.”

“Yeah?” Your heart flutters.

“Always,” he confirms.

“Anything specific?”

“I, when you…” he starts, struggling to form real words. “Desde el primer momento en que te vi…”

You chuckle, softly pinching his cheek, then cup his face again.

“English, please.”

“You, it’s always been you,” he speaks more clearly this time, and quickly turns his head to place a kiss to your inner wrist. “From the very moment I first saw you, I’ve been in love with you.”

You swallow, tears stinging behind your eyes as you smooth over his cheekbones with your thumbs. Joaquín’s hands slide from your waist to your back to push you closer into him.

“Madly,” he says, and places a kiss on your forehead. “Entirely.” Another on the tip of your nose. “Desperately.” His speech is a bit more slurred on that one, and he kisses the corner of your mouth, giggling goofily as he pulls back to look at you.

You mirror his love struck gaze, softly running your fingers through his curls before you hold the back of his head to pull him close, capturing his lips. It’s not as elegant as it could have been, kissing somewhat sloppily in the dark of night, but you can feel how earnest his words are in the way he holds you, breathes you in. And with every wet kiss he places wherever he can reach, he whispers ‘I love you’s into your skin, the press of his lips leaving a trail of fire, burning his words into your body, to remind you that you’re his and he’s yours. Madly, entirely, desperately. 

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] @f1-tennisgirlie @magikdarkholme @tsunchani @Chuchu8293 @bitchy-bi-trash @guynamedaurel @crumbledcastle28 @sarahskywalker-amidala @crazy4lyricb

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

Break Me Down - Part 2

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: Surprise Sunday update! I was able to put the finishing touches on Part 2 a bit early. 😉

Song used in this chapter is “If I Didn’t Care” by The Ink Spots (but more like Amy Adams' version). Song inspiration for this chapter (and the song title) is “All My Livin Time” by Radio Company (Jensen’s band with Steve Carlson).

Word Count: 4,500 Warnings: 18+ only! Willful seduction, kidnapping, SB being himself lol.

Part 2: You Move Me, Baby

This next mission was going to be a bit more…hands on. 

It was a gentlemen’s club, styled like a 1920s speakeasy, of all things. If nothing else, Soldier Boy was predictable.

But through a crack in the dressing room door, you didn’t see any gentlemen here. You saw a bunch of skeevy bastards. 

For the record, you didn’t like this plan. But as Butcher once again pointed out, Soldier Boy’s less likely to fuckin’ recognize you than any of us. 

And you certainly couldn’t (wouldn’t) imagine Butcher in rhinestone nipple tassels. 

Right now, you were waiting to be assigned an outfit. Hopefully, you could just blend into the background of whatever performance act the stage manager wanted to slip you into. And you really hoped you wouldn’t have to striptease on stage.

In the meantime, you sat on a stool in a black lace bra, matching panties, and sheer pantyhose, while Annie was helping you with your stage makeup. Years as a pageant child had taught her well. But you felt like Sandra Bullock in Miss Congeniality, fending off getting hairspray up her ass. 

Sure, you had gone undercover several times, but this was slightly out of your wheelhouse. You bit your lip, forgetting that you were already wearing several coats of scarlet red lipstick. 

Annie slapped your hand. “Stop it. You’re smudging my paint job.”

You had Butcher and M.M. to thank for arranging this little detail. 

May they both rot in hell, you silently simmered. 

“Oh, stop pouting. You look great,” Annie said. You caught the little smirk she was trying to taper down. 

Then the manager’s head popped into the dressing room. When he verified that all the young women had at least their underwear on, he stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

“All right, listen up,” he said in Spanish. You understood just enough to follow what he was saying. “Angelica got food poisoning.”

You grimaced. Angelica was the main act. She had a whole burlesque-style routine with the rest of the women—for which you were meant to step in for one of the girls in the ensemble. Hopefully in the back. 

“Daniela, you’re filling in,” said the manager, pointing to a busty brunette. 

“What about the second act?” asked another girl. If you remembered right, her name was Raquel. “Dani can’t sing like Angelica to save her fucking life.”

“Excuse me, bitch. I sing better than you,” Daniela snapped back.

The manager rolled his eyes and clapped his hands harshly to end the bickering. 

“Okay. Which one of you bitches can actually sing?” he asked, first in Spanish, then in English, you noticed as he glanced at you.

Annie looked at you with raised brows. You glared back at her. 

Damn you for telling her about your childhood church choir days. You were sure your religious mother never thought you’d be using those talents like this.  

“No,” you said firmly. Annie just smiled and waved the manager over.

That was how the two of them ended up all but pushing you on stage—after Annie had wrangled you into a shimmering red gown over your underwear and pantyhose. It was overlayed with delicate beading in intricate patterns. And it was easily the most beautiful thing you’d ever had on your body.

However, you did take issue with how long the slit was, running all the way up to your hip bone.

Not really ‘20s style, now is it? you thought sourly.

But Annie just slapped your ass and guided you forward.

You shot back one last look at her—one that swore you’d have your revenge.

Then the curtain slid open. 

Fuck me, you thought nervously. This was really happening!

The lights blinded you for a moment, and you blinked the glare out of your eyes. But they soon adjusted as you forced yourself to move towards the microphone at the right-hand side of the stage, close to the live band. The pianist shot you a smile and a wink as he started to play in dulcet tones.

Steeling yourself, you grabbed the microphone with a slight tremor in your hands. You stared out into the crowd as the rest of the band joined in, slow and jazzy. 

You’d informed the manager that you really only knew one song by heart.

“Eh, that is too slow,” he’d replied to you in English.

“It’s that, or Dani belts out in her best soprano,” you informed him. He sighed and waved a resigned hand. 

“Get her the red one,” he told Raquel. She then handed you the dress on a hanger. 

Now, you held the microphone between both hands and started the song your grandmother used to sing to you when you were a kid.

“If I didn’t care, more than words can say,” you began. “If I didn’t care, would I feel this way?”

You took in an unsteady breath. But with each note, your voice was getting stronger, more confident. 

“If this isn’t love, then why do I thrill? And what makes my head go round and round, while my heart…stands…still…”

As you eased into the rest of the song, you remembered your mission. 

You scanned the dark room, rows of men of all ages, women serving drinks and food and their own bodies. You weren’t finding your target.

But this intel was good. The source was the girl you’d replaced in the show, and M.M. had already worked out her safe exit out of the city for a while. 

There. You finally saw it. 

Or rather, you saw him.

Towards the back, Soldier Boy sat at a large exclusive booth. He had a long joint propped between his fingers, and a working woman from the club already propositioning to service him. Her manicured hand eased down his chest. 

He also seemed to have hired men sitting at a table nearby. 

Your voice nearly hitched at the sight of him, but you forced yourself to take a calming breath during a musical interlude. 

You knew Annie and the rest of the team were here in the club somewhere, to back you up. But Soldier Boy knew Butcher and his team were onto him. the bastard would recognize them. You were the distraction here.

And if he went away with that escort, he could easily disappear upstairs and hop out the window again, gone like a coil of weed smoke.

Somehow, you needed to keep his ass in his seat.

So your voice came back in strong for the final verse.

“If I didn’t care, would it be the same? Would my every prayer begin and end…with just your name?” 

You watched Soldier Boy’s gaze drift toward the stage. Your lips curved as you held his eyes for a moment…but then, you coyly slid your gaze away. 

Okay, what’s going to grab his attention…

You shifted on the stage, letting the curve of your hip and ass sway to one side. You raised your other foot on the tips of your toes. And the slit running up your leg slid open, revealing your tall silver heels and a smooth leg, all the way up to the inside of your thigh.  

Unfortunately, you hadn’t been able to fit your gun holster this time.

“And would I be sure that this is love beyond compare…” Your voice rang out on the high note; at that climactic point, the music reached a crescendo.

You turned your head and looked directly into Soldier Boy’s eyes, and his mouth slid into a grin. 

He was watching you. 

Good.

“Would all this be true,” you sang, “if I didn’t care for you…”

As the final notes reverberated from the piano, applause and male whoops erupted from the crowd. 

You slowly released the microphone, breaking off eye contact with your target. 

Then you turned around, trying to hide the nervous tremor in your legs. You pressed a discreet hand to the communicator in your ear after the curtain fell behind you, and you told the team. 

“He’s here.” 

Annie was no longer backstage. 

“Good job, crooner,” M.M. said on the comm. 

“Watch him ‘til he’s ready to leave,” Butcher said to everyone.

You agreed and dodged the manager so you could slip to the back room within the dressing room. 

You were about to change into your real clothes (and grab your gun), when you were stopped by a Latino man. Though he clearly wasn’t a local or a tourist. He looked ex-military, complete with a crew cut and dark beard. 

“Soldier Boy would like to meet you,” he said in lightly accented English. You affected some doe-eyed shock, even though some of your surprise was genuine. 

You’d just wanted to keep him watching the show. You hadn’t expected him to take the bait this much. 

“Oh, wow…where? Now?” you asked.

“Now,” he confirmed. “Upstairs.”

He couldn’t even pick me up himself? Lazy, you wanted to tsk. But you spied the stage manager over by the doorway. He gave you a stern nod that told you that you had no choice but to accept. 

Not that you ever intended to decline. Though of fucking course the manager had known Soldier Boy was here. He was probably a damn regular. 

You gave Soldier Boy’s man a charming smile. “Lead the way.”

This wasn’t the plan, exactly. But you decided it was even better. Just infinitely more dangerous. 

Even though you had years of training, honing your body and your mind in a fight, you weren’t a supe. You were, in fact, exceedingly breakable.

“Are you crazy, cherie?” Frenchie said on the comm. 

You also thought you heard M.M. mutter an, “Aw shit.”

“She don’t got a choice now,” Butcher said. “But it’s a good play to get him alone. Slip her one of them hockey pucks.”

You heard M.M., Annie, Butcher, and Frenchie’s continued twittering back and forth about the change of plan. Meanwhile, you were being escorted upstairs.

But Kimiko managed to maneuver into your path from the opposite direction, and she slipped a small disk into your hand as she passed you. 

You gave her a grateful wink and discreetly placed the device into your bra while your escort wasn’t looking. 

It wasn’t a dose of Novichok, but it was something that might keep Soldier Boy occupied for a moment. You intended to use it if he got too fucking handsy.

You were let into a room on the third floor. With the lavish way it was furnished, complete with a king-sized bed, it almost looked like a hotel room. 

Yeah, Hotel California, you thought wryly, as the door shut behind you. 

Soldier Boy sat at a table by the far wall, gazing out the window with yet another joint (or perhaps the same one?) and a generous pour of whiskey in his hand. 

Even you could admit, he cut an attractive figure. He was dressed in light brown slacks, a matching suit jacket and a white dress shirt with the top buttons left open. A simple ensemble, but well-tailored and suited to the golden tan he’d developed here in South America. His beard was neatly trimmed, his short hair styled back in its familiar sweep on both sides. 

Even seated, his posture was casual, yet controlled as his head turned to meet your gaze. A smile started to curve his lips. 

Show time, you told yourself. 

“You’re new,” he said. You tilted your head, a bit of flirtation in your smile.

“What makes you say that?” you asked.

He gave you an oh please look. With the hand that held his whiskey, he gestured with a curling finger. 

“Come ‘ere. Don’t be shy,” he said. It was an order rather than a request, but you hid your instinctive annoyance.

You subtly took in a steadying breath. And you moved farther into the room. You didn’t stop until you were sitting opposite him at the window, crossing your legs beneath the table. 

You could tell he’d expected you to take a seat in his lap, but to a degree, you didn’t want to do what he expected. He was likely paying the club well for this time. You didn’t want to make it easy.

You wanted him to be enticed. Invested in this moment. 

And distracted, for as long as he let you. 

You watched him glance down with interest at your bare leg peeking out. At your strappy silver heel shining along with your dress in the soft lamplight, which casted shadows across his profile. 

“Want a drink?” he asked. 

You were surprised he was offering you anything. You’d half-expected him to order you onto your knees already. Upon which, he would’ve received the gift currently residing in your bra a bit early. 

You didn't want to take any drink you hadn't poured yourself, but you also needed to keep this act going...

"I'm not gonna fucking drug you," he said, reading the look in your eyes. "What would be the fucking point of that?"

Hmph. smart-ass motherfucker, you thought. But you didn't detect a lie.

You quirked your head and took the proffered sip from his glass. You wanted to play it cool, but maybe you also needed a little liquid courage. 

“All right, easy on the booze. Get his guard down,” Butcher said in your ear. You resisted the urge to frown.

Could Butcher see you somehow too? Or was he just hearing the ice clinking in the glass as you gulped it down. 

“Did you enjoy my performance?” you asked Soldier Boy.

“Still am, doll face,” he said with a smirk. You raised a brow. 

“I’m not that new,” you replied, biting indelicately on a dark cherry. But your heeled foot slowly slid against the inside of his thigh. 

It was his turn to raise brow. His head tilted with his smirk. 

You didn’t know if he was more amused than turned on, but his gaze roamed openly over your legs, the cleavage on display, your dark red lips. 

“Are you enjoying your stay in Medellin?” you asked, trying to keep the conversation going. 

“Oh, yeah. I’m having a fuckin’ ball,” he said wryly. He dabbed some ash off his blunt with a finger. 

There was something off there, and you didn’t miss it.

“You sound bored,” you said. Soldier Boy considered you with a lustful, challenging gaze. 

“Maybe. You gonna help me with that, sweetheart?”

A flutter of nerves churned in your belly, but you used it, letting the feeling prickle awareness across your skin. 

“Depends,” you said coyly. 

Both his brows rose this time, as if he was surprised you were actually pretending to resist him. 

“On?”

You subtly leaned forward when you gave him back his glass, allowing him to spy a bit more down your dress. You stared into his deep green eyes, and tried not to get lost yourself. He was an attractive motherfucker, but he was also your target. A job you intended to finish. 

A smile played at your lips.

“On what excites you,” you replied. 

By the way his eyes darkened, his smile curving, you thought he liked that answer. 

Then his hand extended toward you, a silent command in his gaze. Steeling yourself, you tried your best to be graceful and sensuous when you took his hand. He playfully jerked you forward, making you fall into his lap. 

You waved some dank weed smoke out of your face as you looked down at his amused one. 

He was nearly down to the roach on his joint. Meanwhile, his free heavy hand slid up your bare leg, disappearing beneath your dress and making goosebumps spread across your skin. Your breath hitched, though you disguised it with a smile. 

“You afraid of me, sweetheart?” he cooed. 

Yes, if you were honest with yourself. 

There was a false sense of security in his deep voice. You looked down into his eyes, very green and intensely focused on you, despite his air of nonchalance. 

“Not really,” you replied. “Only that you might get ash on my dress.”

He chuckled, smoke blowing out his nose. He put out the joint in the ashtray and took another sip of his whiskey, likely to drown out the cotton taste in his mouth. You laid a hand on his chest, fingers spreading between the open buttons, and felt his warm skin. 

He glanced up at you with another challenging tilt to his head. What are you gonna do now?

You met that challenge, boldly leaning down to press a kiss against his lips. You held his face, delving your fingers into his soft hair. 

Soldier Boy grabbed your hips with a bruising force. It made you wince, instinctively biting into his lower lip. He uttered a pleased sound, guttural in this throat. You braced yourself against the wall behind him for leverage as his chair started to tip back. 

But before either of you could fall, he lifted you effortlessly by the waist and pivoted, pinning you against that wall. Your legs wrapped around his waist as his tongue invaded your mouth, devouring you with hot and heavy hands holding you in place.

His fingers pressed into the flesh of your thighs, and you knew you couldn’t easily escape if you needed to.

This is getting out of hand… 

He was busy kissing a wet and sloppy line down your neck, his beard scraping against your skin. It actually felt so fucking good to be touched. You hadn’t experienced it in so long, it almost startled you when your heated core pulsed with the friction you were feeling against the hardness in his slacks. 

You would never admit it, but it wasn’t an act when you moaned into his ear. Fuck…

But when his hand again slipped under your dress and crept up your inner thigh, alarm bells triggered in your mind as panic started to set in. You panted for breath. 

With him seemingly distracted, you reached down into your bra and grabbed the metal disk. 

But you gasped as Soldier Boy grabbed your wrist, tight as a vice. He looked down at you with a sly grin. 

“You were fuckable in black, but red’s my favorite so far,” he said. 

Your eyes widened. When the hell did he see me in black?

And then you remembered. You’d worn a black dress at the last club, where you got groped on the dance floor and found Soldier Boy’s latest note…

Had he hung around after all, watching you and the team pick up his clues?

And you realized, he knew exactly who you were. 

Soldier Boy glanced down at your lips, then at the tops of your breasts heaving as you caught your breath. His eyes shone with mischief and lust. 

“It’s a real shame. You’re probably a good fuck too,” he remarked. It sparked your irate disgust like a wildfire.

But then you smirked. “You can fuck this.” 

You activated the disk in your hand and flicked it at him. He instinctively grabbed at his face, releasing you. The device attached to his cheek and electrified enough volts through his body to drop an elephant. 

Maybe five. The CIA weapons specialist hadn’t been too sure.

And a star bolt shot Soldier Boy in the chest, shoving him away before he could grab at you. 

You jumped back and continued to put several feet of distance between you and Soldier Boy, while Annie and the rest of your team poured into the room. They were poised for a fight, once Soldier Boy ripped the device off his face with a grunt. It probably hadn’t hurt him much, but he looked pissed now. 

He rolled the kinks out of his neck and surveyed the room with a slow gait. He spared you a fleeting glance. You were now at the safety of Kimiko’s side, and Frenchie handed you a gun. 

“Ah, the Scooby Gang,” Soldier Boy remarked. He nodded at Butcher. “This is how you repay me for taking care of Homelander? My own son.”

“He weren’t your fucking son,” Butcher replied. “I’d reckon you know that best of all.”

Soldier Boy’s lips twitched. Whether at a smile or a frown, you couldn’t tell. 

“You found me, remember? So what, you got buyer’s remorse?” he said.

“See, the problem is, supes like you are what we call,” said Butcher, “a menace to fucking society.” 

Soldier Boy’s lips pulled down into a frown. He looked a cross between annoyed and impatient. 

“I fought for my country. I saved lives—”

“You took just as many as you might’ve saved,” M.M. interrupted. “And not just that building you burnt the fuck up last year.” 

Soldier Boy hesitated at that. “You really wanna do this?” 

You all really want to die? his eyes said. He got determined silence from all of you. He rolled his shoulders and adjusted his blazer. 

“All right,” he shrugged. 

Then all hell broke loose. You ducked for cover as Soldier Boy deflected the giant flare gun M.M. shot at him. With his bare hand. 

Hired security then poured into the room—you assumed hired by Soldier Boy. And you protected Hughie from getting his neck snapped by shooting a man between the eyes.

You and M.M. continued to fight them off. Meanwhile, Kimiko and Annie tried to give Butcher and Frenchie a chance to get close with the Novichok gas on Soldier Boy. 

You took care of three more men before you heard a low buzzing sound. You turned around, and a gasp fell from your lips when you saw Soldier Boy’s chest lighting up. 

You knew what came next. 

And so did Annie. She poured her all into her next star bolt—which managed to shove Soldier Boy through the window. She and Kimiko flew or otherwise ran out the window to follow him. While Butcher, Frenchie, and M.M. helped you fight off the last of the hired guns. 

Finally, you covered Hughie as the five of you left the normal, human way, and ran down the stairs to exit the club. By the time you were able to join Annie and Kimiko, however, Soldier Boy had disappeared.

You glared down the dark, busy streets of Medellin. 

Damn it!

You returned to the hotel disappointed and angry beyond fucking belief. But mostly at yourself.

After all the work you did, having to seduce and make out with that bastard, only to discover he’d made you long before you took the stage at the club.

Fucking hell, you thought angrily as you kicked at your suitcase. It sent your clothes tumbling across the dirty carpet, but right now you didn’t give a fuck. Damn cocky bastard. 

In the bathroom, you kicked off your heels in relief. You looked yourself over in the mirror and found various cuts and bruises from the fight. Your softly curled hair was a shambles, along with your makeup. 

Parts of your dress were torn, along with your pantyhose. Which was probably Soldier Boy’s doing, if you thought about it. You sighed. 

You were about to start undressing, but then you heard something. A small sound, like a thump. 

Your gun was on the table in the main room. Frowning in suspicion, you left the bathroom cautiously. But before your hand could close around your gun, a gloved hand grabbed your wrist. 

You aimed a punch with your free one and caught a man directly in the jaw. He reeled back, but was quick to recover and try to grab you again. 

While the guy was strong, you could feel that he wasn’t a supe. A human, you could deal with. He wore a mask over his face, but you could see he had shoulder-length brown hair. He was tall and lean, and one of his boots was strangely larger than the other.

But you didn’t have time to focus on it. You redirected his following blow and used his strength against him, flipping him over your shoulder. Unfortunately, he landed on the table that held your poor laptop. 

“Aw, shit,” you snapped with a grimace. But you searched for your gun in the wreckage. 

While you were somewhat distracted, he aimed a kick that caught you in the face, sending you onto your back with a pained cry. You quickly rolled over and got to your feet, just as your attacker threw out fist after fist.

You dodged and shoved away most of them, until he grabbed your arm and managed to crack his elbow into your temple.

You went down and hit your head hard against the bedframe.

And it was lights out.

You slowly, painfully woke up in a moving car. 

You were suffering the cottony taste of a gag in your mouth and a musty bag over your head. Your wrists were tied in front of you, and it felt like you were shoved into the backseat. The car was quiet, save for the radio playing Latin pop on low volume. 

You never would’ve thought Shakira would be the background track of your kidnapping, but here you were. 

The car eventually stopped and you were dragged out, forced onto your feet on a cobblestone driveway. Then into a house. 

…Well, this fucking sucks.

The thought rattled through your mind as you were led down a hallway, across a cold expanse of tile floor. You couldn’t see where you were going with this stuffy bag over your head, but you knew it was tile. Your bare feet all but scraped across it as they dragged you. 

Whoever held your arms in a vice grip eventually forced you to sit in a rickety wooden chair. They pulled your wrists behind the chair and bound them together with a zip tie. 

You felt the slit on your dress sliding open, so you crossed your legs, for whatever good that would do you. At the very least, it would give the impression that you were sitting here casually, and not (figuratively) shitting yourself with fear.  

“What the hell is this?” a deep, familiar voice asked.

“A gift.” You knew this voice as well. Neither one instilled you with calm.

But then the bag finally came off your head. The gag did not, however. You knew your red dress was in unfortunate tatters. You knew you were bruised and scratched, and overall worse for wear.

But when your gaze found your kidnapper, you glared up at him with a stubborn tilt to your chin. Antonio, Señor Groping Bastard from the club, was smirking back at you. 

What the fuck.

But then you noticed him.

Soldier Boy stared back at you with raised brows, and instant recognition in his eyes. His lips curved into a smirk.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

AN: 😬 So we finally made it to the prologue opener! Was it everything you thought it would be? How did you like her attempt at "undercover?" 🤭

And are you ready for what's coming next?

To keep reading: Part 3

Soldier Boy Masterlist

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Go Slow

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: SMUT! p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), riding, (brief) dry humping

Summary: it's your first time and Logan tries to go slow, he really does, but some things just can't be helped

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: i'm not too practiced in smut so sorry if it's shit 😭

Logan knew you were on the shy side of things. During the start of your relationship he’d had to coax words from you, feelings and opinions you held until you felt comfortable enough to share them without being asked. You’d be nervous and fidgety when asking to see him, acting like he was an attractive stranger when he was your boyfriend. 

In all honesty though Logan didn’t mind. He enjoyed your shy, almost naive personality, and was more than happy to wait for you to be comfortable with him before suggesting going any further. 

Sure, it was difficult for him to wait, but not impossible. If his pants tightened slightly when you walked in the room with ridiculously short shorts and practically sat in his lap with them, you didn’t notice. When you were sleeping in bed together and would unconsciously rub yourself against him, causing him to have to leave the bed for a bit lest he did something he'd regret, you remained blissfully unaware. And if he was putting away your laundry and came across a pair of lacy black panties with bows adorning it, you wouldn’t even notice they went missing.

Logan was more than okay to wait.

You, on the other hand, were not.

It started with small changes in you and your actions, though Logan couldn’t quite place his finger on what it was. You were more flustered around him than usual, jumpier and shier than you’d been before. You were quieter too, staring at him with more intensity than before, as if trying to read his mind. Yet it wasn’t as if you were pulling away from him, because you were much more touchy and clingy than usual, always needing to hold him and often being the initiator of any make out session you two might have- which is as far as you’d gone.

It was during one of these sessions, having started when you both grew bored of the movie playing on the screen, that you started straddling Logan, kissing him with more fevor than you usually did. Surprised, though certainly not disappointed, Logan kissed you back, hands resting on your thighs and occasionally running up and down them when his control slipped.

When he felt you rock against him slightly he knew something was up. You were never this forward with him, and was always the one to stop Logan when he got a bit carried away. Yet there you were, gently rocking against him while you kissed, moving against his jeans almost desperately, rubbing against him until there was a rock hard bulge for you to move against and Logan had to gently push you off him.

Immediately you started apologising, looking at your hands nervously fidgeting with your t-shirt, refusing to so much as glance at Logan.

“Hey, hey, you’re alright Bub,” Logan said gently. “I just don’t want to do anything before talking about it first.”

You risked a glance at him, trying to find any lie in his face. “You’re not angry at me?”

Logan would have laughed if he wasn’t worried about upsetting you further. “‘Course not. I fucking loved that, actually, but we can’t do it, or anything like that, without talking about it first. I gotta make sure you’re okay with it.”

You nodded your head with such eagerness Logan’s cock twitched in his pants. “I’m okay with it.”

He smiled at your needy demeanour and had to hold himself back from gladly going along with it. “What exactly do you want, Sweetheart? I gotta know that.”

You bit your lips shyly, glancing up at him from your lashes in such a way Logan was tempted to be fucked with all of this and just take you. He’d been waiting for months, however, so he could certainly wait a few more minutes, and restrained himself as such.

“I want to feel good,” you mumbled quietly. “Want you to make me feel good.”

Oh fuck.

Logan wasn’t sure he could handle this. Desire was coursing through his veins, his cock was throbbing almost painfully against his pants as he watched you, shy and naive but so wanting for him.

“Alright Bub, we can do that,” he eventually said, because fuck he wanted to make you feel good too. He wanted you moaning and whimpering his name, whining and panting underneath him because of him.

Yet as soon as he had you undressed and under him he could tell it wasn’t what you wanted. You looked petrified, eyes squeezed shut as you waited for Logan to enter you, and that just wouldn’t do.

“I’m not doing this Sweetheart,” he said, moving away.

You opened your eyes, seeming both relieved and disappointed at the same time. “What? Why?”

Logan sighed, wrapping you up in his arms and kissing your neck. Even with both of you naked it was surprisingly not desire filled and simply comforting. “Because you obviously don’t want it.”

You shook your head and turned around to face him, straddling him in a similar position as before. “I do want it. Just… it felt a bit scary like that.”

Logan thought about her words for a moment before inspiration struck him. “Do you want to ride me instead?”

You actually gasped, your eyes widening at the suggestion, yet he could also see the desire radiating off of you- he could smell it too- and feel the slick coming from your cunt at the thought. He smirked, taking that as a yes.

“I’m going to lift you up and slowly place you down on me. You can stop me at any moment, okay?” he asked you, wanting to make sure you were comfortable with this.

You nodded your head, looking apprehensive but also excited, as you glanced down at his hard on, licking your lips slightly. “I don’t know if it will fit.”

Logan nearly groaned then and there. “It will.”

Hesitant but sure, you let Logan’s hands wrap around your waist and lift you up, positioning his cock at your entrance. He gave you a few seconds to back out, and when you didn’t, staring at him confidently, Logan sunk you down on his cock.

Fuck even just his tip inside you felt like heaven, your cunt squeezing against him. You let out a gasp and he hesitated, waiting, and you slowly nodded your head, giving him the go ahead to continue. He did so gently, making you take him inch by inch, stopping every so often for you to get used to the feeling of him until you’d finally taken all of him inside you.

The feeling of your walls squeezing his cock was heavenly. He could barely think, and all he wanted to do was fuck you hard and fast, chase the release he so desperately wanted. Yet he waited for it to feel comfortable for you, waiting for the pain to ease before he did anything.

“Okay… what now?” you asked in a timid voice.

Logan had to muffle the sound threatening to escape him at the sight of you blinking bashfully at him while he was inside you. It was too good to be true.

“Now you move,” Logan said roughly, because he didn’t trust himself to move and not fuck you viciously like he wanted to.

You thought for a moment before giving an experimental rock, gasping at the pleasure accompanying the action. You repeated the rock again, then again, creating a slow but sure movement that was slowly killing Logan.

Every sway of your hips, the way you rode his cock eagerly if not skillfully, was pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

“That’s it baby,” he rasped. “Just like that, you’re doing so good for me baby.”

You rolled your hips, whining at the praise and closing your eyes but only increasing your motions, one hand moving up to cup your breast. You grounded onto him, gasping when he hit that perfect spot, whispering Logan’s name like a prayer

He swore at the sight, and couldn’t help the jerk his hips made, a small gasp escaping you. It felt so good, the spike of pleasure overwhelming and your readily response too much, and he did it again.

You moaned this time, a dirty, high pitched sound that was ringing in Logan’s ears, urging him on as he took your hips in his hand and lifted you up, only to slam you down on his cock again. Your moan was delicious, and you placed both your hands on his chest, moving forward to make him go deeper.

Logan did groan this time, and used your hips to continue moving you on his dick, his large hands squeezing the soft flesh of your hips. You were a whining mess, eyes glazed and body limp above him.

“Feel so good,” Logan grunted, thrusting into you. “So fucking good for me.”

You whimpered, gasping as your eyes fluttered closed again. Logan grinned.

“You like that baby? You like me telling you what a good girl you’re being, riding my cock so prettily.”

Your moans came more frequent, panting every second, and Logan could tell you were close. He increased his pace, wanting to see you fall apart in front of him, and wasn’t disappointed by the result.

“Come on baby, cum for me.”

With a cry you threw your head back, ecstasy painting your face as you came, your walls tightening. The feeling of them squeezing Logan’s dick, your cunt milking it for all its worth was too much and he felt himself fall after you, his load of cum shooting into your already stuffed hole.

“Fuck baby,” he cursed, helping you ride out both your highs, moving your hips over him.

You were still panting as you slowly came down from your high, boneless as you laid against Logan’s chest.

“You did so good for me darling,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head.

You let out a sound, nuzzling his neck, and he happily held you against him, pressing kisses to your face and neck till you were ready to move.

I love this!! Like r u kidding me😭😭

𝐊𝐀𝐙 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐊𝐊𝐄𝐑 | 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗍

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | kaz brekker x fem!ravkan!healer!reader.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | cursing, also don’t google what schat means if u want the full experience i’ll have it explained in the fic <3

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | after learning y/n does not speak kerch, kaz gives her a nickname in his native language that makes her want to pull her hair out - without ever knowing its real meaning. 

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 | schat is the only dutch nickname someone can call me without seeing me cringe, i will not change my mind, ever. like, ‘liefje??’ or ‘mop??’ or ‘schatje??’ ATROCIOUS. 

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 2.4k.

Czytaj dalej

Deadpool & Wolverine Honda Odyssey fight slowed gifset

THE MANDALORIAN | Season 3 Teaser Trailer

𝐏𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐀 𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐊: 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 — smut, semi-plot, afab!reader, blowjobs & riding, p in v, creampie, face-fucking, slight breeding kink, switch!peeta, overstimulation, squirting, fingering

peeta mellark is a loser.

you often wonder how your boyfriend always radiates charisma whenever he’s in public. infront of cameras, he’s charming, confident, keeps himself composed.

he’ll always keep things professional—even with you. the most you’ll get out of him during a social event is a chaste kiss or a soft peck on the cheek, denying you of anything more.

it amuses you, the way he puts up such an outgoing front—how he treats you like a coworker playing pretend lovers because he can’t keep his dick in his pants whenever you get too touchy.

just imagine the capitol’s reaction if they found out the ‘charming prince’ from district twelve was also just a whining bitch.

—

“what the hell was that?” peeta sighs as he drags you into the guest bedroom and locks the door behind you.

"i have no idea what you're on about." you whisper, a hint of mischief in your eyes.

“oh, so you just feeling up on me back there was nothing?” he scoffs.

“it was a light touch. it isn’t my fault you’re sensitive.” you hum, a grin tugging at your lips as you watch his breath hitch.

“the sponsers could’ve seen you.”

“but they didn’t.”

“they could’ve.”

“so what if they did? what’s so wrong with giving them a show? it’s what they want.” you refute, walking closer towards him.

“you—can't just wait till we get back, huh?” he sighs, gulping as you inch closer towards him.

“what did you expect, peeta? how can i keep my hands to myself when you just look so good tonight?” you mock, palming the evident bulge in his pants.

“we can’t—not now.” he sighs.

"we aren't even tonight's centre of attention. nobody will notice that we've left." you smile. your hands run up and down his tense thighs as you slowly place your knees on the carpet, gazing up at him with those doll-like eyes that you know drives him crazy.

“you don’t have to do this.” he whispers, his hand making his way down to your cheek as his fingers curled around your jaw—the pad of his thumb rubbing small, gentle circles across your skin.

“you know you won't make it through the night without my help.” you hum, unzipping his pants and pulling his member out. it’s already red and hard, precum leaking out the minute you palm it.

“aren’t you a little excited tonight?” you tease, placing soft kisses over its veins and along the sides.

“well you aren’t the only one that’s had to hold back all day.” he sighs, his hand finding a place around the top of your head.

he didn't do anything but watch as the end of your tongue slowly licked up the precum from his tip’s slit. he holds back a moan as you feel his grip tighten ever so slightly around your hair.

“fuck, you’re—ah—mmhph” he whimpered.

his words were shortly cut off the moment you take him into your mouth. never will he get used to just how warm you are when he's inside you. his cock pushes at the back of your throat as you swallow him whole, struggling to resist the urge to buck his hips into your wet mouth.

thankful for the lively crowd in the room next door, you listened to his quiet whimpers and moans. his eyebrows furrowed together in pleasure as he his puppy eyes stared down at you. more, is what his expression begged, and who were you to deny him of his need?

his hips slowly jerked and twitched as you bobbed your mouth up and down along his length, your moans vibrated onto him. it was cute, how he tried his best to keep his composure and not fuck your mouth dumb—but you wanted more. so, you gave him a reassuring look, pushing yourself as deep as you could go as he stared into your lustful eyes.

peeta had always been able to read you like a book, so it wasn't hard to understand your expression. if you were to so generously invite him to not hold back, who was he to refuse?

he experimentally rolls his hips into you, letting out a shuddering breath when he feels you swallow around him—his free hand laced into your hair. when you gag around him but still try to take him further, he thrusts deeper, his cock twitching. "fuck, you feel so—good—shit." he moans, quickening his pace.

"wait a minute—hah—don't want to—cum yet." you slowly pull back as he stops rolling his hips, trying to catch your breath.

as soon as you stood back up, he pulled you into a sloppy kiss, sliding his tongue slipping into your wet mouth as he tasted the flavour of your spit and his precum mixed with his own saliva. the two of you moaned and whined as your mouths pressed together. once the kiss had been going on for a while longer, he finally broke it and pulled you towards the bed.

"on the bed," he simply stated. you climbed onto the mattress and sat on your knees, waiting for his next instruction. instead of words, he drew you into his lap, your thighs on either side of his waist.

"lift yourself a little." he whispered, watching as you silently raised your hips. you sighed as your short dress was completely unzipped and thrown to the floor, your panties pushed down to your knees, completely exposing you to him.

“gotta make you feel good too.” he mumbles, his large hands rubbing up and down your inner thighs. you softly moan as he continues to tease you, rubbing right near your cunt but trailing his hand back down before actually touching you. you sigh in relief once his hand finally makes it's way up, softly rubbing against your clit and the folds of your cunt.

it’s embarrassing, how you’re already soaking wet and so welcoming to his fingers as they slowly enter you. you sigh as you feel his hand slowly fill you up, bottoming out. the moment his fingers started curling deep inside of you, your silent whimpers turned into growing moans.

“peeta—fuck, you’re so deep, oh my god—” you slurred, your thighs trembling as he picks up his pace. you begin to burst into loud moans the moment he begins thrusting them at an unspeakable pace. feeling so full, you cried out as his fingers plowed into you mercilessly.  his hand snaked up to your mouth, muffling your sounds as he went faster.

“don’t be too loud unless you want everyone out there to hear us.” he whispers, replacing his hand with his mouth. you whimpered and cried, trying your best to keep all those pretty sounds inside as his fingers curled inside you, ramming your cunt at an unfathomable speed.

you could feel your climax as heat started to build up in your stomach. you were so, so close. and then, just as you were about to cum, there was nothing. he pulled out, denying you your release.

“don’t look at me like that, i’ll make sure to fill you up real good.” he whispers, taking off his top and removing his bottoms.

your bodies pressed against each other as you strattled yourself back onto him, the folds of your wet cunt rubbing against his leaking member.

“fuck, i’ll never get used to seeing this.” he hitched, placing his hands at your hips as the two of you grinded into each other.

“let me give you want you need, peeta.” you whisper, placing a soft kiss onto his cheek before pulling back. he only watches, his half-lidded puppy eyes following your every move as you palm his shaft, positioning yourself over him. you spread your legs and took your time pushing into him, burrying yourself deep inside, inch by inch.

“fuck—you're so wet.” he moans.

when you finally bottomed out, your hips took control and began painfully slowly riding him out while gradually increasing your pace. you wanted to watch his desperation escalate.

but it didn’t take long for his whimpers to turn into loud moans as he began whining your name. he started rolling his hips with yours, picking up the pace, and you weren't sure you could hold yourself up much longer.

his sloppy rolls turned into intense ramming as you continued to ride him. he thrusted into you, hitting that deep spot over and over again. you writhed in pleasure, letting out a loud moan. the unrelenting rhythm was everything, the feeling taking you to your peak.

“fuck, peeta! you’re too—mmph’—fast! fuck! oh my god—ah!” you cried, your legs shaking as you bobbed up and down his cock.

“you’re so tight, i need you so bad—i’m gonna—fuck—“ before he could finish his sentence, he pulled you down, suddenly flipping you over. your back was pressed against the mattress as he continued his thrusts.

“fuck—i think i need you for keeps.” he moaned, whimpering as he rammed into you.

“i’m gonna cum—peeta, wait—fuck!” you cried, suddenly feeling his hand press against your overstimulated clit, his fingers pressing down as he plowed into you. your hands pushed at his abs as you were on the verge of cumming.

“fuck, i need to—inside—ah—“ he slurred, his thrusts reaching the fastest he could possibly go. “let me cum inside you—give you my babies.”

“let’s give the capitol what they want—“ he moaned, applying more pressure onto your clit as he rammed into you.

“peeta! i'm—holy shit—fuck!" you could only scream as as you felt a giant gush of heat pool in your stomach. your entire body trembled as you began squirting on his dick—but peeta wouldn’t pull out, he only thrusted himself further into you as you continued your spasm.

“it feels so good!” you whined, feeling so full from his dick filling your cunt as you continued squirting.

"fuck." he moaned, feeling the juices of your cunt squelch inside and around him.

“don’t—don’t pull out—“ you cried, shaking as you gradually came down from your high, your juices slowly leaking out and soaking the mattress as his cock was still buried deep inside you.

your sighs were only interrupted by shrieks the moment peeta started thrusting into you again, overstimulating you after such a short rest.

“wait—ah—fuck! i can’t—it's too much!” you slurred, watching as your juices continued to squirt out every time he thrusted into you.

“i’m—i’m gonna cum—mmph—ah—come on, please, cum with me again, please—” he whined, rutting into you like an animal. as he felt you tighten onto him once again, he pulled you into a kiss, his tongue swirling around yours as his hand pushed your back up, your whole bodies fully pressed against each other as he fucked you stupid.

you whimpered against his mouth as the heat began to build up once more, but his lips muffling your moans as you squirted around him for the second time. his cock stuffed you, slowly grinding but never fully leaving your cunt as the squelches of your wetness slowly squirted out everytime he thrusted.

peeta only let out a long moan as he came inside you, followed by whines and whimpers as the two of you riding your highs together.

once the two of you finally relaxed, peeta pulled out. you watched as a gush of your liquid spilled out of you, his semen slowly seeping out and dripping down your cunt.

“i should provoke you more often.” you weakly sigh, brushing the hair out out of your face with your fingers. he only scoffs as he pulls you into a soft kiss that felt both pure and gentle.

you wondered how long the two of you were gone for from the event, but you had bigger things to worry about—like how in the world you’ll possibly be able to even walk back home.

a/n: i don’t use this blog regularly, just had to post this because there is an INSANE lack of peeta smut it’s disrespectful. there’s probably some typos since it’s not proofread hehehe