#bother me for the most part. though maybe it would be different if i was actually playing. and i realize they get worse as they go on i | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dollfacefantasy · 8 months

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Hold My Calls

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: you teasing leon about his flip phone leads to some fun

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), fucking during a phone call, age gap, daddy kink, praise/degradation, over-stimulation

word count: 2.9k

a/n: hey everyone school is kicking my ass rn, but i am back with another one. thank you so much for the support on my last post that meant the world to me. i don't care if this is not technologically accurate or whatever just let me be delusional in peace. as always comments and reblogs are appreciated and i will give you special smooches in return <3 also thank you too my loves @tosuckmyweenis @kaitkatme @chasingkennedy @explorevenus @sleepyluxe @death-paint @petitecolibri for helping me come up with ideas for this one and/or beta reading - ily all sm :)

When you started dating Leon Kennedy, obviously you knew there was an age gap. You figured it wasn’t a big deal. He’s only thirty-six. That isn’t that much older. And for the most part, that was true. The difference in years never seemed to play a huge part in how you loved each other. But there was one thing that reminded you of this man’s age.

He had a fucking flip phone.

Honestly, it didn’t even say much about his age. It highlighted his stubbornness. He was not incompetent. His job had him working with all kinds of shit that you didn’t even try to understand, so it’s not like he can’t work a smartphone. He just doesn’t want to.

It didn’t really matter. If anything, it was kind of cute. The way he fumbled with the buttons that were too small for his fingers. The loud chiming ringtone that he would grumble about yet never turn down. The sight of him trying to find the right distance to hold the phone away from his face so he could read the font. You had heart eyes on your first date when this man popped in a CD because he couldn’t use the aux with his flip phone. They were simple quirks, but they were just so endearing to you. You’d tease him about being outdated, and he’d put up with it cause it was you.

“Why do I need anything more? This thing can call you, and that’s all I really need,” he’d say with a teasing expression when you’d crack a joke.

You’d roll your eyes at the excessive charm, but you couldn’t help smiling. “Yeah, but-”

And he’d cut you off with a kiss. “Trust me. I like it. It’s simple. Plus it’s like indestructible. But if I ever want an upgrade, you’ll be the first to know.”

The only time Leon ever considered ditching his trusty flip phone and upgrading to something more advanced was when you would send him nudes. Seeing the masterpiece that is your body reduced to a handful of pixels on the tiny screen drove him fucking wild. Upon hearing the chime of his phone and seeing the small image of you gracing his screen, he’d find a moment alone to try and see the details. He’d hold the phone two inches away from his face trying to make out every last curve. Days when he got those pictures ended with nights where you got fucked on every surface in the house.

He’d come home from work, his eyes full of lust before he even saw you. You’d glide into the room with a knowing smile on your face. You wanted him just as bad as he wanted you.

“Hi, baby. How was work?” you ask, feigning innocence. You close the distance between the two of you and wrap your arms around him.

“Oh, you care about my work now, huh?” he asks, a smirk creeping onto his face as his arms return your embrace, “Doesn’t seem like it when you send me those cute pictures during the day, distracting me, making me think about you when I should be focused.”

Your lips part and your eyebrows raise in mock offense. “I only send those to help you, motivate you,” you tease as your fingers coast along his biceps, “Maybe if you had a real phone they wouldn’t bother you so much. You’d be able to see everything clearly and not be left imagining.”

“I don’t need to stress about pictures though when I got the real thing waiting at home for me every night,” he purrs as he leans in and starts kissing you.

You return the kiss with the same level of passion, lips moving with his as the two of you stumble over to the couch. You fall back onto the cushions with Leon on top of you. His hands already roam your body and begin removing articles of clothing. He wasn’t in the mood to take his time after having that grainy image of you gnawing at his mind all day.

“Fuck, baby. Every time… I can never get enough,” he grunts as he yanks your top over your head and tosses it to the side. His hands rub up and down your sides, the rough pads of his fingers dragging over your sensitive skin and making you squirm. In no time though, they’re on your breasts. He kneads the plump flesh as his lips trail down to your neck and collarbone, leaving a trail of saliva-coated skin in their wake.

He’s all over you all at once it seems. It’s overwhelming in the best way. You’re moaning and writhing on the couch, nearly trying to hump his leg while one of your hands tugs at his hair. You bite your lip and whimper as his lips move down over the swell of your chest.

He grabs your hips firmly and presses them down to the couch. His half-lidded eyes look up at you momentarily. “Quit squirming,” he breathes. He gives your chest a few more kisses while keeping his eyes locked with yours. “Need time with my pretty girl after I’ve been aching for her all day.”

You give a weak nod and focus on controlling your movements as he tugs your shorts off and drops them.

“Good girl,” he mutters before attaching his lips to one of your nipples and swirling his tongue around the peak. He hums in satisfaction as he feels the bud in his mouth. His fingers lazily stroke up and down your folds over your panties. He disconnects his mouth momentarily and looks up at you again with a smirk on his face.

“So wet already?” he teases, now being his turn to look smug, “You want me just as bad, don’t you? That’s why you send those pictures right? You’re missing Daddy while he’s at work?”

“Mhm, miss you so bad. It drives me crazy,” you say. A whimper escapes you as his fingers apply more pressure and his movements more strategically target your clit.

“I can tell. Makes you act like a little slut, huh?” he asks before he kisses down your stomach to the hem of your panties.

You feel your face getting hot at his comment, but you nod anyway. You bite your lip and keep your eyes locked with his.

He chuckles at your timid confirmation. “That’s ok, honey. Daddy’s here now. I’m gonna make sure you get all the attention you need. Can’t have my girl left wanting,” he says, pulling down your panties and putting them with your other discarded clothes.

He loops his arms around your thighs and pulls you closer so that you’re angled in a way he can reach you from his position on his knees. Your back is flat on the couch, and your legs are held over his shoulders. He doesn’t waste time, licking a stripe up your cunt and then delving his tongue inside of you.

Your head falls back onto the cushion in response. A moan escapes your throat at the sensation. Your sounds only increase in frequency and volume as he grips you tighter and fucks his tongue in and out of you. He watches you, relishing how he can pleasure you with so few touches. His tongue laps up your wetness and his mouth finds your clit again, sucking and flicking against the bundle of nerves just how you like.

His name and a variety of expletives leave your mouth while your hand slides into his hair and holds the blonde locks. Your hips twitch from the rising feelings of ecstasy in your tummy, but Leon’s hands keep you firmly in place. He devours you like a starved man, the hours of torture that little picture inflicted on him all paying off right now.

He’s skillfully swirling patterns onto your clit and occasionally exploring your insides. He knows you’re close because he can feel the way you’re pulsing and hear the way your moans and whines reach that slightly higher pitch. It only makes him work with more dedication.

“That’s right, sweetheart. C’mon, give it to Daddy. Let me taste it,” he grunts as he continues working you to the edge.

You cry out, your thighs quivering and your hips bucking as you succumb to release. You’re moaning with abandon, fingers clutching his hair as tight as possible. He groans into you from the sight in front of him.

You ride the high and he continues with his mouth throughout. When you reach the seeming conclusion, your chest is heaving and your limbs feel heavy, but Leon doesn’t stop. He continues on as if you were still on the way to your climax instead of coming down.

“Too much,” you whimper as your hips jerk and your hands make a weak attempt to push his head away, “Daddy, please.”

“Daddy, please?” he mocks with a laugh, “But this is what you wanted, babydoll. You wanted my attention, didn’t you?”

You whine, hips still squirming as your retort dies in your throat. It felt euphoric, it was just so much. This was what you wanted though.

“That’s what I thought,” he says before burying his face between your thighs again.

He continues eating you out until you’re an absolute mess. Your eyes are rolling back, nonstop whimpers fall from your lips, and your twitching thighs are clamped around Leon’s head. It was what he’d been wanting to see since he’d heard that chime in his back pocket.

“I’m gonna cum,” you slur. Your head felt cloudy from the numerous orgasms he’d brought you. A strangled cry tears through you as your body moves like it’s possessed. You convulse on the couch while his mouth makes you see stars for the umpteenth time.

Tears prick at your eyes from the intensity of your release, and finally, he starts easing off of you. He pulls your thighs off of his head and leans back. He wipes his chin that’s coated in your slick and licks his fingers. Seeing that alone has you clench around nothing which in turn spreads a smirk on his face.

“Good girl, baby,” he coos, planting a kiss on your inner thigh, “You did so well. I’m proud of you.”

He stands up from his knees, grunting as he gets to his feet and taking a moment to stretch. You can tell the extended amount of time in the position put some strain on him. Your lips curl into a small smile while adoration fills your hazy eyes.

“Your joints locking up on you, old man?” you tease with a quiet laugh.

“Don’t start,” he says, trying to sound stern, but you can see him suppressing his own smile, “Especially since I know you want more.”

That shuts you up because he’s right. He shakes his head and makes a mock sound of disappointment.

“I know you, baby. My dirty girl. Made you cum how many times, and you still want more,” he says. He begins stripping off his clothes into a pile next to yours. “My little whore would never turn down a chance to take my cock.”

Once his clothes are off, he languidly strokes himself a few times and climbs on top of you. He peppers some kisses on your face and starts to slide inside you. You were more than ready but still sensitive from the recent series of highs.

“Don’t worry, sweet girl. I’ll get you full of my cum in no time. Fuck all that neediness right out,” he murmurs into your ear, his breath on you sending chills down your spine.

You mewl and tighten around him in more ways than one. Your arms cling to his torso that hovers above you while your walls squeeze around him to take him deeper. He grunts and his head falls forward a little as he feels sparks of pleasure in his abdomen.

“There you go, angel. Taking me so perfect. My pretty girl. Made for me,” he says into your ear as he sinks into you completely.

You nod mindlessly, your head fogging up again as he fills you. He presses sloppy kisses to your neck as he starts pumping in and out. You’re both breathing heavily and allowing the pleasure to take over. One of your hands slides to his hair to rub his head while his hips snap against you.

He’s falling into the perfect rhythm with you, one that’s driving you both toward the goal line, when suddenly you hear a muffled guitar strum coming from the floor. Leon groans and you burst into laughter as you hear the ringtone you had set for him as a joke.

His movements get weaker as his focus is drawn elsewhere, but he doesn’t stop rocking his hips. He reaches down to the floor where his phone is ringing in the pocket of his crumpled pants. He fishes it out and shifts so he’s kneeling while drilling into you.

He holds the phone up and squints to read the tiny caller ID on the flip phone which makes you laugh harder through moans. He smirks at your laughter and clamps a hand over your mouth. “Shut up, I gotta take this,” he says teasingly.

He whips open the phone, the maneuver causing you to moan and squeeze around him again. He winces at the sensation, nearly unable to restrain himself from giving into his carnal urges to groan and slam into you harder.

Your eyes widen as he brings the phone to his ear without stopping his hips and in the most monotonous voice says “Kennedy here.”

It’s good that his hand is over your mouth to keep you quiet. The contrast of his movements and that voice have the sparks of pleasure igniting into flames in your belly. Seeing how he handles his dumbass flip phone so smoothly has your arousal nearly pooling on the couch.

He listens to the call while grinning at you struggling to keep yourself somewhat under control. “Uh-huh. Yeah. Sounds about right,” he drones as the person on the other end goes on and on.

His strokes are just as deep as before, nudging you in the perfect spots repeatedly. Your eyes roll back as you feel yourself getting near the peak. A soft whimper escapes you, loud enough to pierce the barrier of Leon’s hand. His hips sputter at the noise and his face contorts. He lets out a quiet grunt but quickly catches himself before losing it further.

“What? Yeah, I’m listening,” he says, his tone growing a little impatient, “Look, I’m just wrapped up in something right now. Could you not have just told me this before I left?”

You know he’s getting closer himself and struggling to hold back. You can tell from the way his jaw is clenched and his eyes are projecting his rising frustration he has for the person who made this call.

“Yes, I understand. I’ll deal with it tomorrow,” he says, effectively ending the conversation.

Then, to hang up, he doesn’t press a button. Instead, he flicks his wrist and shuts the flip phone with a clack.

You throw your head back against the couch cushion and a loud moan rips through your throat. You shudder as a wave of pleasure courses through you after witnessing something so unexplainably hot.

His eyebrows raise in amusement, noticing how much you enjoyed that. “Hmm, I’m not hearing any complaints about the phone now,” he says. He’s trying to tease, but his voice is husky with arousal. He maintains his grin as he drops the phone to the floor again and returns to his previous position which was closer to you.

“Careful, you’re gonna break it,” you whimper.

“Nah baby, I told you that thing is indestructible,” he breathes and starts pounding you into the couch mercilessly.

You bite your lip and resume clinging to him, your fingers digging into his back. You both are panting, expressions going lax as you focus on chasing the high.

“Daddy, ‘m gonna cum,” you mewl, unable to contain yourself for much longer.

“Go ahead, sweetheart,” he says into your ear, his voice taking on more of a growl, “Daddy’s right there with you. You deserve it for being so good for me. Being nice and quiet while I was on the phone.”

As soon as you have permission, you give into another release. Your legs shake and your arms cling to him tighter as the euphoria shoots through you. You’re gasping for air and whining while squirming beneath him. Soon it’s just too much for Leon. He tightens his grip on you and slams deep before groaning and draining himself inside of you.

He rocks in and out a few more times before slowly pulling out. He then sits up on the couch and sinks back into the cushions. You follow by sitting up as well and curling up against his side. He pulls you into his lap, stroking your hair away from your face and kissing your forehead. The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a while until he gazes down at you with a smug look in his eyes.

“I knew the flip phone was a turn-on,” he says, clearly pleased with himself.

You scoff. “It is not. It was just… it was the situation,” you defend.

“Sure, but you were tightest when I was messing with the phone,” he says knowingly.

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

He laughs at your stubbornness and gives you another kiss. “You can admit it, baby. I won’t judge. Really, if you like it that much, maybe I’ll show you how strong it can vibrate later.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #resident evil imagines #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #smut

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yuutx · 2 months

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ೀ ׅ ۫ . 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐋 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 ! ! (𝒮𝒞𝒜𝑅𝒜𝑀𝒪𝒰𝒞𝐻𝐸)

student council president! scaramouche x f!reader ﾉ 18+ content. ﾉ nsfw + unprotected sex / raw sex ﾉ modern au / school au ﾉ creampie ﾉ blowjob ﾉ fingering ﾉ clit play ﾉ dirty talk ﾉ biting ﾉ public sex (sex in school) ﾉ praise kink ﾉ hate sex (?) ﾉ mdom + fsub ﾉ not proofread !꒰๑´ᗜ`꒱*›◡‹꒱꒱

i loveee school au's . . . scara strikes me as one of those cocky, super smart student council presidents who thinks he knows everything ,, however, he also gives me delinquent always getting in 2 fight vibes ! ♡ + ↻ are rlly appreciated ! !

The snarky bastard. You couldn't help but glare at him, the smirk on his face only further fueling the fire that raged within you. Scaramouche, the student council president and the biggest, nastiest bitch you had ever met. He flaunted his status as the council president, his influence and wealth. Everyone loved him, and it infuriated you to no end. Even if his words had a way of cutting through you, a barb hidden within every statement, the way he made your heart race was what got you the most.

Your hatred for him was palpable, the tension between the two of you nearly suffocating. And he loved it. He lived for it, the way you would sneer at him, the way you'd bite back. Getting you in trouble was the best part. Watching as you fumed, as you glared, as you were reprimanded and scolded was a high like no other. It was addicting, watching you suffer, watching as you fell from grace, the power dynamic between the two of you skewed in his favor. You were always looking for a fight, and he was always willing to give you one.

Today was no different.

You sat in the empty classroom, accompanied by your oh so favorite person. Detention, again. It seemed as though he was the only one who had a knack for getting you in trouble. He knew exactly how to press your buttons, exactly which buttons to push. Your temper was your greatest weakness, and he exploited it to his benefit. It was the same shit, day after day. You were both so caught up in your hatred of each other that you hadn't realized the mutual pining. But that was besides the point.

"Well, well, well. Looks like someone's been naughty," he taunted, a grin curling the edges of his lips, his gaze boring holes into the side of your face. You didn't bother responding, your teeth gnawing at the inside of your cheek. You couldn't deny that he was attractive, no, he was downright gorgeous, and it only served to piss you off even more. He was an asshole, through and through, and his looks only made him that much more appealing. The urge to smack the look off his face was almost too much, but you had a feeling that would only earn you a harsher punishment.

He stood up, slowly making his way towards you. You refused to make eye contact, knowing full well that the look he was giving you was absolutely predatory. His fingers gripped your chin, the touch light, and your eyes snapped up to his. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, slut." The words were hissed, and the nickname stung, even if it caused a small thrill to go through you. He had called you so many things, but that was a new one. His voice was a low rumble, the look on his face downright evil. "You know, I would really hate to have to punish you. Again."

"Maybe if you would stop harassing me, I wouldn't be here." You were quick to retort, glaring up at him with a scowl. His eyes widened for a moment before he laughed, the sound mocking.

"Oh? And yet you were the one who threw the first punch. Who started this, huh?" You had a smart remark on the tip of your tongue, but his grip tightened, and he tugged your head back, leaning down to whisper against your ear. "I could tell the principal. That would look awful on your permanent record. Or…" his tone was suggestive, the offer clear. He had been trying to get under your skin since the first day, and you were beginning to realize that it had been in more ways than one.

You knew what he was implying, and the idea didn't sound bad. But, the thought of him thinking that he could get away with doing whatever he wanted was even worse.

"Or, what? You're gonna fuck me into submission?" Your words were a challenge, and his smirk turned into a full blown grin, his teeth glinting in the light.

"Is that what you want, pretty girl?" The pet name sent a shiver down your spine, and the look on his face let you know he was more than aware of the effect it had on you.

"Don't call me that." Your words were more breathless than angry, and he chuckled, releasing your chin, only to slide his hand down your body. You were wearing a skirt, something that had been a mistake, the fabric bunching up around your waist. You couldn't help but squirm as his fingers danced along the inside of your thigh, his touch featherlight, teasing.

"What? Pretty girl?" You hated the way he spoke, the way his voice was so low and sensual, his words practically dripping with sex. It was driving you crazy, and you were sure he knew it. His fingers moved closer to your cunt, your panties damp, the fabric clinging to your pussy. His fingers grazed over your clit, the contact minimal, but enough to make you jump, the noise you made a strangled groan.

"Yes.." you moaned, your hips grinding down against his hand, seeking out more friction.

"What's the magic word?" His lips brushed against the shell of your ear, and you swallowed, trying to collect your thoughts, trying to get a handle on yourself. He wasn't allowed to do this. He wasn't supposed to have this kind of effect on you. And yet…

"Please.." the word was a whisper, the desperation clear, and he hummed, pleased, his fingers rubbing over your cunt, the fabric of your panties doing little to nothing to muffle the pleasure.

"Good girl." He practically purred, the praise making you shudder. It felt so good, having his hands on you. It was as if your brain was short circuiting, the feeling of his fingers on your cunt overwhelming.

His fingers hooked around your panties, and he tugged them to the side, his finger sliding between your folds.

"God, you're so wet. Are you sure this isn't what you've been wanting? Huh? Me fucking you? Filling you up?"

"Shut up.." you muttered, the flush on your cheeks spreading down to your neck. He was right, though. You had thought about him. Imagined him bending you over, his cock buried deep inside you, his hands leaving bruises on your hips. His words were filthy, the filthier the better. You didn't want him to stop.

"You're so sensitive." He mused, his thumb pressing against your clit, rubbing the bud in slow circles, his finger moving up to prod at your entrance. "I can feel how bad you want this. You're practically dripping.." he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, his warm breath fanning over the shell of your ear.

"F-Fuck you..!" You gasped, the sensation overwhelming, his words making the heat in the pit of your stomach burn even hotter.

"Such a mouth on you. I bet I could find something to put in it." He teased, his teeth scraping against the side of your neck, biting down, hard enough to leave a mark. You groaned, the noise echoing throughout the room, and his fingers pressed against your hole, pushing the digit into your tight cunt. Your walls squeezed around the digit, the feeling strange, but not unwelcome. His finger felt amazing, his pace slow and torturous, but it was more than enough to have you panting.

"You're doing so well. Such a good girl, taking my fingers like this.." he crooned, and you whined, his words going straight to your core. "How about I give you another one, hm?" You nodded, the movement jerky, desperate.

"Y-Yes.." you mumbled, your hands reaching to cling onto him, your fingers gripping the front of his shirt. He hummed, adding a second finger, your walls stretching around him. He scissored his fingers, slowly fucking you with them, his thumb continuing to rub at your clit. It felt incredible, the way he was filling you up, the stretch almost too much. You were moaning, unable to keep quiet, and you heard him laugh.

"Awww, you like this, huh? You're so loud, baby. You love me that much?"

"F-fucking hate you.. t-this- this isn't-" he cut you off, curling his fingers, the tips of his digits pressing against your sweet spot. The moan that left you was embarrassingly loud, and his free hand grabbed your hair, tugging on the locks, forcing your head back. He forced his tongue into your mouth, kissing you roughly, swallowing all the noises that escaped you.

"You talk too much." He breathed, the words coming out muffled against your lips, and you tried to bite back the whine that was building up in the back of your throat, the coil in the pit of your stomach wound up so tightly, your body tense.

"I-I'm close, fuck- I-I'm so-" you couldn't think, his fingers still pounding into you, his thumb pressing down on your clit, the pressure just the right amount. You felt him smirk, his fingers moving faster, his free hand moving to grip your hip, his hold bruising. "C-cumm-ing!" You managed, the word getting caught in the back of your throat, and the coil snapped, your body jerking as you came, his fingers still working inside of you.

"There you go. Come for me. Cum all over my fingers, just like that. Good girl." His praise only made the orgasm even more intense, and you whined, the feeling too much. You could feel his gaze on you, watching you as you came undone, his fingers working you through it. He pulled his fingers out, bringing the digits to his lips, sucking them clean, his tongue flicking out to lick the digits clean. "Y-you- you won't tell the orin-the principal about my-my detention record, right?"

You couldn't form a coherent sentence, the pleasure fogging up your brain. Scaramouche chuckled, a wide grin on his face, his gaze heated, and you realized just how much you enjoyed his attention on you. "You'll.. get ride of all thedetentions on m..my record a-and make sure I don't have anymore?"

He grinned, his fingers gripping the hem of his pants, undoing the belt, pulling his zipper down, pulling his cock out, the tip already glistening with pearly liquid.

"Only if you make it worth my while." You knew exactly what he meant, and you were more than willing to comply. You dropped to your knees, the cold tile digging into your skin. You reached out, wrapping your fingers around his cock, the heat from his member nearly searing. You leaned forward, flicking your tongue against the tip, the taste of his precum salty, but delicious.

"M-mhm, mhm.. deal." You agreed, your hand moving up and down his length, trying to get him wet enough so that your movements wouldn't be too rough. His eyes were trained on your movements, his hand reaching out, tangling in your hair.

"Good girl. Now, open wide." You parted your lips, opening your mouth, sticking your tongue out. He gripped the back of your head, his fingers digging into your scalp, and he thrusted his hips forward, the head of his cock sliding past your lips. The feeling of his cock in your mouth was unlike anything you had ever felt before, the weight heavy on your tongue. He slowly pushed himself further into your mouth, the tip hitting the back of your throat, your gag reflex kicking in, making your throat contract around his length. He moaned, the sound making your cunt throb, and he held himself there, waiting for a few seconds before he started thrusting.

"Fuck- so- so fucking tight- you're doing so well.." he grunted, his eyes shut, the pleasure washing over him. His words had you moaning, the vibrations of your voice around his cock making him thrust harder. Your hand was pumping what wasn't in your mouth, your spit making the movements slick, his cock glistening. You were struggling to breathe, but the feeling of him filling you up, the feeling of him using your throat like this was amazing, and you couldn't get enough.

His hips were stuttering, his thrusts becoming more erratic, and he pulled out, his fingers wrapping around his length, pumping the digits, the tip of his cock pressed against your lips, your tongue darting out to lap at the head.

"Ahh- shit, here- come here.." he breathed, tugging at the strands of your hair, and you stood, your legs trembling, and he pushed you back against the wall, his hand slipping between your bodies, his fingers tugging your panties down, throwing them across the room. "Still so wet, hm? You really enjoyed that, didn't you?" He breathed, lifting you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, the position putting him in perfect alignment with your cunt. You could feel his cock rubbing between your folds, the tip brushing against your clit, the contact making you moan, your hips bucking.

"Not so tough now, are you?" He chuckled, the sound deep and low, his eyes trained on your face. You were too out of it to come up with a response, the heat pooling in the pit of your stomach, the pleasure threatening to drown you.

"F-fuck me, please.." the words left you before you could stop them, and his eyes widened, the look on his face a cocky tone.

"Oh? I didn't know you could beg, pretty girl."

"J-just.. I need you.." you pleaded, the feeling of his cock brushing against your cunt driving you crazy, the friction not nearly enough.

"You'll have me." He promised, and he pushed his hips forward, his cock sinking into you, his hands holding onto your thighs, keeping you steady. The feeling of him inside of you was like nothing you had ever felt before, his cock stretching your cunt, filling you up so well, his size almost too much. A high-pitched whine escaped you, and his grip tightened, his fingers leaving bruises on your skin.

"H-holy shit.. fuck, you're so fucking tight, fuck-" his words were cut off, a low groan escaping him, and he didn't bother waiting for you to adjust. He didn't give you a chance to recover. His hips were pistoning, his thrusts rough, his cock slamming into you over and over again. "You feel so fucking good." He grunted, his eyes squeezed shut, his jaw clenched. He was gorgeous, the sounds escaping him like music to your ears, and the pleasure was making your brain short circuit.

"Fuck..haah.. fuck, take it, baby, take all of me, you're so- so fucking perfect, shit, I'm not gonna last long, god, you feel amazing.." he rambled, his pace brutal, and you cried out, pathetic noises leaving you. You felt like a bitch in heat, a sexdoll, his to use however he saw fit, and as much as it pissed you off, the thought only served to turn you on even more.

"M-mh.. ha-harder! Fuck- fuck me- harder, ple-please-" you managed, the words coming out choked, and his eyes shot open, his gaze wild, the look on his face pure animal. He moved even faster, the sound of his hips slapping against yours echoing throughout the room.

"Shit, y-you want it that bad? Huh? Y-you like being fucked this hard? T-talk to me, baby, tell me how much you like it." His words were punctuated with moans, and you gasped, your nails scratching at the fabric of his shirt, the material wrinkling under your grip. You were shaking, your cunt squeezing around his cock, the feeling of him inside of you driving you absolutely crazy. The coil in the pit of your stomach was growing tighter, and the pleasure was making it difficult to breathe, his cock filling you up so well. You could feel the tears pricking the corners of your eyes, and he chuckled, the sound dark and deep, the noise making your cunt throb.

"F-feels good, f-fuck..a-so good.. i l-love your c-cock.. ahh, p-please, f-fill me up..! W-want it so bad- ah! M-more!" Your words were barely coherent, a babble of broken sentences, but they seemed to be enough, his cock driving into you with enough force to push the air from your lungs, his cock bottoming out, the tip pushing against the entrance of your womb. You were crying out, your noises almost deafening, the tears rolling down your cheeks. Your vision was blurry, the pleasure so intense, and you felt his thrusts begin to stutter, his breathing labored. "Mmph!! Y-yes, yes, fuck, fuck.. c-cum with me p-please.. i w-wanna feel it, n-need it..!" You cried, and he groaned, his head falling back, his hair sticking to his forehead, his bangs damp.

"Dirty- haah, dirty girl. F-fuck, here- cum with me, t-together.." his fingers moved between your bodies, his thumb pressing down on your clit. The pressure was the last straw, the pleasure snapping, and your body seized, your mouth falling open, a pornographic scream eliciting from you as you synced up, cumming with him, your release washing over you in waves. Your gummy walls were clamping down on his cock, and he moaned, the noise sounding more like a growl, his seed shooting out, painting the walls of your cunt, his cock pulsating. It was a sensation unlike anything you had ever felt, and you shuddered, the pleasure so intense you couldn't help but sob.

Scaramouche grunted, his head buried in the crook of your neck, his teeth digging into the side of your neck, biting down, his hips jerking, the aftershocks of his orgasm making him tremble. You were shaking, the two of you panting, your bodies pressed together. "Fuck.." he breathed, the word muffled against your skin, and you whined, the feeling of him pulling out making you squirm. His release began to seep out of your cunt, dribbling down your thighs, and he watched with a pleased expression, his cock twitching. You couldn't form a coherent sentence, too overwhelmed, but he seemed to understand. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving, and his hand moved to brush the sweat soaked strands of hair from your forehead, a small smirk on his lips. "So, about those detentions slips.."

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toast-on-dandelioms · 5 months

Text

Just Another Neglected Story

Part 3

You can find part 1 and part 2 here!

(For this part I am using they/them to talk about reader/you, but if you know a way to talk about reader without using you or they/them please tell me!)

Months passed and Spider was now famous amongst Gotham, known for stopping small gangs that bothered the neighbourhood but also helped them go back to school or find a job.

Spider was mostly famous for not immediately sending people to jail like most vigilantes, they helped if they could and didn't immediately fight and hurt people.

And Batman liked it, he wanted to know who was the person behind the mask, and to finally meet the famous Spider so his kids will stop fangirl over them.

Plus, by the video footage found by Oracle, it seemed like Spider was very good at fighting and quickly capturing with a type of web shooter, with the webs that dissolved in an hour or two.

Bruce was more interested as days passed by but his information about Spider didn't increase, since Oracle could only find so much by asking and no one knew much about the vigilante except generic stuff that almost anyone knew.

His sons were also interested in Spider, as they saw the vigilante as someone similar to them by seeing them fight to their moves when swinging by with a web shooter.

It was like a mini version of them and it amazed them.

Dick was amazed at how good Spider was in gymnastics like him, giving him the need to go with them and just practice together since his brothers were flexible but not like him.

But Spider was, they were almost similar to Dick which fueled his interest even more. He wanted to practice tricks that he did in the circus with them.

He could finally bond with a shared interest with someone and not seem weird.

Jason was interested at how good they were at fighting and sometimes using a gun if the enemy had one.

He saw how quick they were at disarming someone with a gun and using it against them, even if they were slightly injured to which he would always pay a visit to the person who hurt them in prison.

After all, they don't deserve to live if they dare to hurt Spider, even if it was just a scratch.

Tim was interested to their gadgets and especially how they could walk on walls, wanting to know everything about them and see if they use gadgets like them and Batman or if they're a metahuman.

He saw how strong they were, especially when they held a bus full of children that was almost falling off a bridge, while Superman was fighting a supervillain and couldn't come to their aid immediately.

Even though he found out who was Batman as a kid, Spider was a cryptic for him. Even with the help of Oracle he couldn't find anything useful.

And it was starting to drive him insane from the need of knowing everything about them.

And last, but not least.

Damian saw them being an inexperienced fighter but a resourceful one, seeing how they used the walls and everything they could find as a weapon if it helped.

He wanted to spar with them once, having the strange need to help them improve and also show off how good he was at fighting, wanting to be praised by them.

He didn't even know why since he never needed any praise from any of his brothers or his father, but he desired to be praised by that person.

The funny thing is that not one of them knew the real voice of Spider, as the vigilante used a voice modulator to sound different and distorted in the recordings that Oracle sent them regularly.

But even without knowing their real voice, the obsession that all of the batfam had just kept growing.

All of them wanted two to three things when they're gonna finally meet Spider for the first time:

• wanting to hear their real voice

• seeing who is hiding behind the mask

• recruit them to work with them as a vigilante and maybe even live with them at the Mansion.

But alas, whenever they tried to get to them, when they were done dealing with anything, the vigilante was always gone or immediately walked away using the walls.

To which Batman and all his sons tried different methods but the vigilante was always ready, avoiding their attemps to talk and never even giving them a word.

Usually small vigilantes, in the eyes of Batman, were always so eager to be acknowledged by such famous vigilante like him, but Spider was different.

Spider hated the attention they were getting and it was obvious, even though the mask didn't really make it see but their movements clearly showed frustration.

Or at least, they hated the attention they got from the batfam. Especially Batman and Damian, they avoided them the most.

Plus the middle finger they always did whenever they knew a security camera was on them was the cherry on top. It's like they knew that Batman was watching them and wanted to told him to fuck off.

But spiders can't hide forever can they? After some time, everything gets found.

And that's what happened that fateful night for the Batfamily, as they finally managed to locate where Spider usually hang out.

It was a bit difficult since Spider always moves after a week or two, maybe less if found out but this time they made sure to be more ninja-like.

They also got the help from Duke with his ability, just to make sure it was the right spot from seeing what happened in the past hours of the day.

Batman, even though he didn't want to, also asked for Superman's help, just to make sure he could catch Spider if they tried to escape.

He preferred to have all bases covered, just to be safe than sorry. Even though it did hurt his pride to ask Superman for help.

They all waited in the dark, knowing Spider usually comes to relax after a few hours of patrolling and helping around the streets.

Batman made the signal to stay silent when he heard the noise of the webs sticking to something and slinging around, waiting in silence with everyone with anticipation.

He stared in silence when Spider landed on the roof of the building, making a small noise when he saw Spider starting to take off the mask.

(Now it's reader/your pov now)

You stopped when your spider senses tingled, making you look around suspiciously and letting go of the hem of your mask.

You noticed many figures on the dark parts of the rooftop thanks to your heightened sight (?) and sighed, activating the voice modulator in your mask, doing that just to not give them any leads to your civilian identity.

You didn't know if they were enemies that were mad that you sent them to prison or someone they knew, so your guard was already high.

You stared at the dark parts before using your webs to capture one, thinking it was gonna be a criminal wrapped around your webs but just imagine the surprise when you saw that it was Red Robin.

You immediately knew what was going on, especially when you saw Superman flying towards you so you raised your hands in defeat, knowing you couldn't possibly fight against trained vigilantes, plus Batman and Superman.

You got down and freed Red Robin from your webs, using a pair of scissors you had in your bag pack that you always carry around in case you accidentally hit someone innocent with your webs.

You got up after finally finishing freeing Red Robin from the webs you wrapped him into, patting him on the hair out of habit of doing that with small kids you accidentally wrap in your webs.

You never hurt any kids, it's just that they accidentally got trapped in the webs and you had to free them and calm them down.

You looked up to see Batman in front of you, a bit creeped out at how silent he was since even your heightened hearing couldn't hear him. It was like he floated like Superman, but you knew that didn't happen.

You glared at him, a bit glad that your mask couldn't show your expressions, so they couldn't read them and use your own emotions against you.

You refused to give him or any of his sons something to use as leverage to manipulate you or making you think they actually wanted to spend time with you.

You started to get annoyed at the silence, especially since you just wanted them to go away, so you just started the annoying conversation that you hoped to avoid.

You also knew what they wanted, it was obvious since not one of them even called out your name so you knew they didn't know who you were behind the mask.

They were interested in Spider, the formidable vigilante and not interested in (Y/N), the forgotten child of Bruce Wayne.

"What do you want Batman? I don't think I am a criminal, so why are you bothering me?" you ask annoyed, the voice modulator making your voice distorted, so that it didn't even sound close to your real voice.

It was a nice add that you had to make, knowing that people would try to find out your real identity and usually voices are a clue, so modifying your voice with a device was the best thing to do.

Even though you never talked much when you were in your civilian clothes, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

Batman stared at you with the usual scowl that Batman always has, also showing no emotions.

He then started talking in his gruff, you don't really know how to describe his voice, but you knew it sounded completely different from when he's Bruce Wayne.

But the hatred and annoyance that bubbled up when you heard his voice was immense, having to take all your control to not punch him in the face.

The only thing you were glad about is that he was someone that immediately gets to the point, not wanting to stay even five more minutes with him and his so called 'batfamily'.

"I want you to join me and the Robins, your strenght, fighting skills and your intelligence when you use the objects and space as an advantage would be extremely helpful when fighting villains like Joker" he started, stopping with a confused expression when he heard laughter.

He looked down and saw you laughing, even though it sounded wrong and distorted thanks to the modulator. You almost kneeled down from how much you were laughing at his proposal.

He didn't know what he said to make you laugh so he waited for you to calm down, looking at Nightwing and Red Hood to see if they knew why you were laughing.

You stopped after a bit and just looked at Batman with no emotion, not that the mask showed it.

Your voice also came out with no emotion, like you didn't even care about Batman and his proposal. "I shall refuse this proposal Batman, I am not strong enough to fight villains like the Joker. I am more interested in helping people with small problems and small thefts since the police will do nothing to help them."

You grabbed your backpack that you left on the ground and got ready to leave, stopping to look at Batman and the other robins/vigilantes with him.

"Please don't follow me, I do not want to be bothered by you trying to convince me to join a team. I work alone" and left, using the buildings to swing around the city to get to another rooftop to use as a place to relax.

(End of your pov)

What you didn't know was that when you left, the other vigilantes glared at Batman, since he didn't try to butter you up and manipulate you.

Plus, Damian was glaring at Tim for having the privilege of being patted on the head by Spider in person. He wanted to be petted too, he wanted to be acknowledged by Spider.

Dick was glaring at Bruce and actually started an argument with him, trying to understand why he didn't even try to use one of his many manipulation tactics to have Spider join them.

Superman just stayed on the sidelines, a bit surprised that someone hated Batman, since he always saw people admiring the man.

Except Hal, usually he says it without anyone asking that he hates Batman. But he doesn't count.

Well he left after a bit of watching Dick, Jason and Bruce arguing, following Spider and finding them on another rooftop.

He looked away when he saw that Spider didn't have their mask on, not wanting to see their real identity without their permission.

He also made a loud noise so Spider could notice him and put their mask back on. He looked after a bit and was glad that he didn't accidentally had a face reveal without permission.

He landed next to Spider and stayed silent for a bit, noticing how smaller and skinnier Spider was compared to Red Robin or even just Robin.

He hummed when he understood that Spider wouldn't start the conversation and looked at them with a smile.

"Sorry to bother you, I'm not here to ask you to join Batman or even the Justice League" he started, a bit surprised when he saw Spider relax a bit.

It was a strange sight, seeing that someone doesn't want to join the Justice League but he wouldn't judge. Everyone has their reasons and he can't change everyone's mind.

Spider looked at him, curious about what he wanted if not to scout them in the Justice League. They were also amazed at how Superman looked in real life, since Spider always saw him on TV or on the newspaper and never met him face to face.

Superman smiled at Spider, floating down and standing next to them on the rooftop of the building "want to grab something to eat and talk? I just want to know why you want to be a vigilante".

Spider just kept looking at him before nodding and walking on the side of the building nonchalantly, knowing Superman was following them.

They stopped at a hotdog stand, still walking on the side of another building and tapped the shoulder of the worker, scaring the poor man that was working there.

Superman immediately apologized about scaring the poor man when the man shrieked and let a hotdog fall from his hands, glaring at Spider who was obviously laughing silently by the way they trembled with their hands over their mouth.

He quickly paid for the food and apologised again for how he and Spider scared the poor man, wishing a good evening before following Spider to the rooftop while holding two hotdogs.

He stood on the rooftop and gave one to Spider, turning away to let them eat without worrying about their identity. He ate and waited until Spider gave him the ok, not wanting to lose their trust and make himself hated like Batman.

He turned around when he heard Spider tell him it was ok to do so, sitting down next to them and staying silent before starting the conversation.

(Red: Superman; Purple: Spider/You)

"Why don't you want to join the Justice League or Batman's team?"

"I work alone, having someone helping me is bothersome and a nuisance"

Superman just looked at the teen, a bit in shock by the way the voice modulator changed their voice so much but especially by how similar they were to Batman in his early days in the Justice League.

It was like seeing a teen clone of Batman, but wearing a more bright suit than the original one. But this time, the theme was spiders and not bats.

He didn't say anything about it tho, not wanting Spider to also hate him. He got up after a bit of them being in silence, knowing he had to go home.

"Well, it was nice to talk to you , hope we can do this again kid" he said, patting Spider on the head before flying away and going back to his family.

(Now it's going back to reader/you pov)

You stared at where Superman left, a bit confused as to why he was interested in you.

You did know that you started to get popular in Gotham, especially when you saw merch of you in small stores.

And yes, you bought something small. It was adorable and you couldn't resist it. No one would judge you, you saw Bruce wearing his own merch or having something with the signature bat symbol.

You shook your head and grabbed your backpack, making one last round to check that everyone was ok before leaving to go back to the manor.

You walked on the side of the villa, making sure to avoid any windows before sneaking inside your room.

You did have a close call when someone suddenly opened their window and smacked your arm, making you give out a small noise since it hurt a bit.

But you thanked whoever was out there that didn't hate you because the one who opened the window was a sleep deprived Tim Drake that just ignored the noise and went back to work.

You sighed in relief when you finally got in your room and took off the voice modulator since it covered most of your mouth and nose, making it a bit annoying to wear at times but you didn't complain.

You almost let out a scream when you finally noticed Alfred sitting on your bed but managed to contain yourself, not wanting to attract anyone to your room and see you wearing Spider's suit.

You took off your mask, knowing it was useless to try and hide your vigilante persona to him, a bit embarrassed that you followed the same path that your legal guardian currently walks on.

You looked down, thinking that Alfred was disappointed or angry that you were also a vigilante, waiting in silence for one of his lectures before flinching when you suddenly felt his hand on your head.

You looked up at him, confused as to why he wasn't angry but just his look of love and adoration he had for you, something you only saw in your mother eyes made you start to shake.

Years of neglect and loneliness just surfaced, making you start to slowly cry and cover your face, trying to hide the fact that you were crying.

But just by hearing Alfred whisper "it's ok, it's just me here, you can let it out" made you break down in tears, full on sobbing and bawling on his chest as you just couldn't hold it in anymore.

You didn't even know why you were crying, but after years of being ignored or hurt by the people you were supposed to call family, watching them enjoy a nice dinner all together without you and especially seeing them being a family while you were just left in the sidelines to never be acknowledged made you finally break.

You cried until you fell asleep in Alfred's arms, you didn't even move when he picked you up like it was nothing and put you in bed.

You also didn't know about the grim look in his face that he had while looking at you, and after he silently left the room you possibly couldn't know the next word he said.

What were those words?

"Maybe it's time I should get involved in this matter, I'm sorry (Y/N) but I can't stand by and watch you become your father. I shall help this family see your worth."

And this is the end for part 3! I managed to finish it in time for new year! If you have questions just ask and I will answer them!

Oh and please stop asking me to tag you, just comment it on the posts and I will tag you! (Oh and if I didn't tag you, it's not because I forgot but because sometimes it doesn't let me tag people)

Tag list

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@dreamsarenicer

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#yandere imagines #male yandere #platonic yandere #yandere batman #yandere #yandere aesthetic #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfamily #yandere dc #yandere dc x reader #gn reader

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sugawarassoulmate · 1 year

Text

someone else tries to get with them

feat: bully!osamu, best friend!iwa, and rich bf!sakusa inspired by

part 2

cw: fem!reader

bully!osamu

you wanted to be anywhere but here right now, listening to this girl act as if she was your friend. you'd much rather be home, or at work, or at the library—quite literally anywhere but in front of this person you barely knew.

"i just think that osamu is a bit more extroverted and you might be too shy for him!" she said in a shrill, condescending voice. "he's always going to all these parties and i always see him talking to people...maybe he should date someone that's a more like him, you know?"

she must not know osamu all that well. he only goes to those parties because his brother or one of his friends drags him there and he spends the entire night blowing up your phone. as for talking to people, osamu can barely remember the name of his own lab partner, so it wouldn't surprise you if he got into meaningless conversations with people just to pass the time.

but on the surface, it looks as if one of the most popular guys on campus decided to date his weird, quiet childhood best friend and some people appeared to have a problem with that.

you tried to walk away from the conversation but the girl was persistent, not letting you leave until you vowed to leave osamu alone.

"don't you think it's selfish to stay with him when the two of you are so different?"

before you could respond—what you were going to say, you still had no idea—you were yanked into a solid figure, one you immediately recognized as your boyfriend already huffing in annoyance.

"been lookin' everywhere fer ya, jesus christ," he chastises, planting a quick kiss on the side of your head. "c'mon, let's go home—"

"samu! hiiii, i was actually just talking about y—"

osamu doesn't pay the girl any mind, rolling his eyes as he continues talking to you. "who the fuck is that? this is why i can't leave ya alone, babe. yer always talkin' to weirdos, let's go."

osamu pulls you away to talk about plans for dinner, leaving the strange girl dumbfounded by what she just witnessed.

best friend!iwa

"do you know if iwaizumi is seeing anyone?" the girl asked as she approached you on campus. it wasn't uncommon for random girls to come out of the woodwork to ask you about your best friend—he's a sweet, respectful, incredibly handsome man.

most of these girls figured that if they could get on your sweet side, they could get closer to their dream man. little did they know you were judging them every second they spoke to you.

when was the last time she even bothered washing her hair? or ew, her voice is annoying, haji would hate that. you let them get through their whole spiel, how they've liked iwa for ages but didn't know how to approach him and how they have a whole date planned, only for you to throw down the proverbial hammer.

"i'm sorry, haji isn't actually interested in dating anyone right now. he's really focused on his studies," you said confidently, watching the light in their eyes die.

"oh, but—"

"yeah, i would really give up if i were you," you shrugged, walking away before she could get another word in.

if anything, you were doing iwa a favor. there was no way he'd be interested in a girl like that. besides, if he got into a relationship now, he'd be too distracted to spend time with you.

"who were you talking you?" iwaizumi asks a bit later, noticing the weird interaction you had with a girl he didn't recognize.

"ugh, just another bimbo asking me about oikawa again," you lied so easily, throwing your legs over iwaizumi's lap as the two of you sat in the campus lounge. "you'd think they'd give it a break already."

iwaizumi doesn't question it. why would he? as far as he knew, you had nothing to gain by lying to him.

rich bf!sakusa

sakusa told you he had to take an important phone call and stepped away, leaving you in the shop. though, you weren't left alone for long. a few moments later you could hear incessant giggling behind you and after a while, you got the feeling it was about you.

turning around, you see a face that you're sure you've seen before but couldn't exactly place where. she must have known you, though, as she had no issue judging you with her eyes. "so kiyoomi does leave his little pet unattended. it's hard to recognize you when you're not in his shadow."

she was flanked on either side by one of her equally pompous, identical-looking friends, who both laughed at her cruel joke.

"excuse me?" fully turning around, you finally got a good look at the woman and realized that she was the daughter of a colleague that sakusa's father knew. you vaguely remembered your boyfriend complaining about having to entertain his father's guests during a boring gala a few weeks ago.

it wasn't uncommon for women to flaunt themselves at sakusa. he was the son of a prominent ceo, the heir to a successful company, and is absolutely breathtaking when he bothers to put his face mask down.

"it's just cute that kiyoomi still bothers to keep you around but he's always loved doing charity work." you weren't sure what was worse, her pathetic attempts to get a rise out of you or the shrill laughter of her air-headed friends. "our fathers are very close so don't be surprised when i'm the one on his arm whenever he gets tired of you."

"i'll be sure to remember that," you shrug your shoulders, turning your attention back to the rack of stupid clothes sakusa wanted you to try on. another day, another stupid business dinner with more spoiled brats of his father's stupid colleagues.

you tried to ignore the constant snicker, how they loudly wondered if you could even afford the clothes you were looking at—of course, you couldn't but sakusa loved to spoil you despite your attempts to dissuade him.

the teasing gets the better of you and you're about to snap back at them when the noises finally stop. you weren't sure when sakusa walked back into the store but he's by your side, staring daggers at the girl and her clique.

"and you shouldn't be surprised if my father never does business with yours again," he says curtly. his features soften the second he locks eyes with you. "here, babe. this gown will look perfect on you. go try it on for me."

the other girl tries to get a word in but she's stopped dead in her tracks by sakusa's harsh gaze returning to her. "you can go. i don't associate with trash."

the trio of mean girls drop the pieces they were looking at and scurry out of the store before they could embarrass themselves yet again. "do we still have to do this dumb business dinner?"

sakusa snorts, pushing you towards the dressing room. "of course, love, don't be foolish. you're going to be the most beautiful woman there.”

#haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #osamu x reader #iwaizumi x reader #sakusa x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyu headcanons #🥀#🥀osamu #🥀iwaizumi #🥀sakusa #bully!osamu #best friend!iwaizumi #rich bf!sakusa

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thisismeracing · 2 months

Text

Your time | LH44

― Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x singer!reader ― Warnings: mentions of cheating; lots of rumors about lewis being an a*hole; mentions of juliana nalu and shakira, but all fictional. ― Summary: A couple months after the biggest breakup in the F1 paddock, your song gets leaked and the internet uproars about your relationship again. This time they have more ammunition than ever to feed the narrative that Lewis Hamilton cheated on you. Are they right though? (based on this request).

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

September, 2023

paddockgossip

liked by ynfan, haileybieber, and others

paddockgossip how would you guys feel if your man goes out with another singer and looks this cozy while you’re out there on tour working your ass off? 👀

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sunshineyn you know shits real when her friend hailey likes the post…

⤷ pinterestyln I thought the same

leclercnation you guys forgot to add that yn and shakira aren’t friends, were never seem together, couldnt bother to talk about one another, yet this is the second time we see her around lewis this week…

randuser @ yourusername bestie come get your man!

schumakatchau this looks oddly like a double date

raintyres GUYS HIS HAND PLACEMENT!!! HES HOLDING SHAKIRAS WAIST 😭😭😭😭

tomdayastan my girl Yn doesn’t deserve this

evansnature are you guys really that surprised? He’s a man, I expect anything from a man

January, 2024

February, 2024

f1wagsupdate

liked by pierregasly, mbappeworld, and others

f1wagsupdate According to our sources Yn Yln and Lewis Hamilton broke up ealier this month. There is not an official reason yet, but most fans believe that cheating was the cause of the downfall of the four-years-long relationship.

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user44 is true love even real?

gomezracing I hate it in here

drugobitch what if its because of the cheating rumors?

⤷ rand32 but why would she wait weeks after it?

likedbypgasly and so it goes the best wag of the paddock :(

mclarenmason did you guys see that thread someone made about Yn's looks on the paddock and her cheering for lew, and them matching sometimes *sobs into my hands*

yourusername

liked by roscoelovescoco, k.mbappe, and others

yourusername making music and enjoying some free time after touring 💞

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mbappeworld I wish Lewis and Kyllian weren’t friends bc I kinda ship him with Yn 😭

hailyebieber 😍😍😍😍

sza waiting for our collabbbbb! ❤️

⤷ ynfan the day these two write a song together is the day I’ll be stuck in my room crying for a week straight

ynnation She looks so relaxed, more than when she was with Lewis

hardtyres_ I wish I could be like this after being cheated on, when my ex did this to me I had to go to therapy for at least a year before going back on social media

⤷ agoradoja there’s no proof he cheated on her

⤷ winteryln sure, except for the hundreds of pics of him with singers and models 😍 but y’all taking it too serious, he was just friendly with them

⤷ agoradoja maybe he was just friendly, Lewis is famous, dare I say even more than Yn, so being friends with different famous people is part of his life.

⤷ bonoschumi I’ll have to agree with agoradoja, there’s nothing too incriminatinf, maybe we’re just trying to find a reason because we don’t accept that they fell out of love

⤷ leclercmcqueen she literally wrote “its just us against the world” for him, wdym they fell out of love????

bieberfantasy yeah but how about roscoe liking the post????? It's making me hopeful

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7s3ven · 4 months

Text

UR MY LOVER. luke (pjo)

( master list )

IN WHICH… Camp Half-Blood has its very own band to entertain themselves. Most of the campers aren’t sure where they get their electricity for their instruments but one thing they are certain about is that the substitute lead singer and lead guitarist definitely have a thing for each other.

“Look in my eyes, they will tell you the truth. The girl in my story has always been you.”

A/N : Luke seems like he’d be in a band

Warning : sex references, some details differ from the og books, modern references

—

Y/N has been lounging in the sun on her rickety front porch when something, or rather someone, blocked the rays of warmth. She groaned, lowering her sunglasses to get a better look at who was bothering her.

“What?” She grumbled to the mischievous son of Hermes, Luke. It’s not like she hated him, quite the opposite to be honest. His presence was a breath of fresh air in her stressful days at Camp Half-Blood. But she was sleep-deprived and in desperate need of a rest. Luke merely smiled down at her, unthreatened by her hostile tone.

“Hey, little bolt.” He uttered, crouching down beside her to almost match her height. Y/N rolled her eyes, pushing her glasses back up with her middle finger. “So as you know, Chiron is letting us form a band. The only problem is I have an electric guitar and, you know, it needs electricity. And there’s not enough ‘round here. Personally, I think we’re lucky to have a daughter of Zeus.”

Y/N scoffed. “No.” She quickly retorted, already guessing what he was going to ask her. “I won’t power your stupid performances.”

“What? Why would I ask that? I was going to ask you if you wanted a quicky backstage.” Luke sarcastically joked, his lips curving into a cheeky smirk. Y/N’s lips curled into an unamused sneer as she set her sharp gaze on the boy beside her. “Help me out this one time, babe.”

“Ew,” She furrowed her eyebrows in disgust, “Don’t call me that.”

“Come on, sweetheart. I ain’t gonna stop until you agree. I won’t ever ask for this favor again, pudding.” His nicknames were becoming increasingly worse and Y/N's ears were practically bleeding. Y/N cringed and covered her ears, desperately wanting to bang her head into a wall to drown his voice out. Her last thread was Luke calling her kitty.

“Okay!” She sat up, flinging her glasses at him. Luke effortlessly caught them, looking down at the intricate rims. He traced his fingers over the gems embedded in the sides. They shined in the light and small rainbows reflected off them. “Just stop calling me those horrid names!” She exclaimed, slapping his shoulder.

He grinned, “Deal. Practice is tonight, 8 pm sharp. Don’t be late.” He tossed Y/N’s glasses back at her and quickly stood up. “See ya, princess.”

Y/N wanted to hurl a rock at him for that stupid pet name but Luke was already running away, bellowing out a laugh as he tilted his head back in amusement. “I’m going to electrocute you, Luke! I hope your guitar backfires!” She screamed, earning another chuckle from Luke.

“Yo, guys.” He burst into his cabin, grinning at Chris and Charles who were positioned on his bed, lazily lying down. “Y/N’s in. Now we just need a lead singer. Charles, how’s convincing Silena going?”

Charles pressed his lips into a thin line. “You know she has stage fright.” He uttered, referring to his girlfriend, “Maybe if I mentioned that Y/N will be there then she’ll go? I think she has a girl crush on Y/N.” Charles let out a low chortle.

Everyone liked Y/N, apart from when she was deprived of sleep and grumpy. She was like a fire ready to flare up, stalking its way through the high grass.

“So, how did you convince Y/N? I heard from Annabeth that she was in a particularly bad mood today.” Chris uttered, chuckling. "Did you promise her sex or something?" Luke shrugged as Charles chucked a can of Sprite his way.

He pulled back the tab and the can opened with a pop and fizz. “Nah. A part of me wishes, though. I might get some if I did. But, I have my ways.” He retorted, grinning. “Band practice is at eight. Charles, do your best to get Silena on board because I can’t deal with Clarisse as lead singer.” Luke sighed, taking a huge gulp from his can. Chris chuckled while Charles silently nodded in agreement.

“She is rather hard to deal with.” Charles muttered, his voice almost a whisper in fear that Clarisse would overhear him.

Luke would have asked Y/N to be the band’s lead singer but he knew she wasn’t happy with having to power up his guitar. She’d rather jump in water than agree to sing and she hated water. It probably had something to do with the fact that she could create electricity with her bare hands.

Water and lightning never went well together.

Luke was buzzing with excitement as he jogged towards an abandoned cabin Chiron had agreed to let them use for practice. He opened the creaky door, surprised to see Y/N already sitting on a dusty couch.

“I already hate it here.” She said, turning to face him. He cracked a grin.

“Not enough sleep last night, huh?”

Y/N scoffed, shaking her head. “I barely got any. Some idiots were up all night, singing their hearts out to Olivia Rodrigo.” Luke was ashamed to admit that those idiots were him, Chris, and the Stoll brothers. “I mean, how much of a loser do you have to be to scream your heart out to jealousy?”

“I don’t know.” Luke shrugged, sitting next to her. Dust surrounded the air around him and he coughed, fanning it away with his hand. His actions made Y/N lightly chuckle. “Maybe they related to the lyrics. Unlike you, perfect girl.”

Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I’m not perfect. I’m far from it.” Luke quickly turned to face her, resting his arm on the back of the couch.

“How come? You’re pretty and smart and you’ve got Zeus as your dad. Come on, you hit the jackpot on that one.” Luke grinned and the corners of Y/N’s lips twitched.

“You think I’m perfect?” She asked, confused. She quietly laughed, giving Luke an almost judging stare. “I don’t even have my life together. How can I be perfect?”

“Most of us don’t have our lives together. Look at me, I’m well over sixteen now and I’m starting a band at camp because there’s nothing to do ‘round here. And I’m also sitting in a dodgy looking cabin with dust everywhere. But hey, at least I have a pretty girl with me.”

Y/N stared at Luke for a second before she huffed in amusement. “You’re a no-good flirt, Luke.” She playfully shoved him.

“You seem in a better mood.” He smiled, proud of himself.

“You had nothing to do with it, I can assure you.” She rolled her eyes and turned her head, spotting Chris, Silena, and Charles walking towards the cabin. “Looks like your band mates are here.” She uttered, sitting up.

“Hey man, what’s up!” Chris joyfully greeted Luke while Charles’ approach was more quiet. Silena smiled at Luke and waved at Y/N with a bright smile.

“Alright, so everybody’s here. We got Charles on drums, Chris as back up guitar, me as lead and sub vocals, and Silena as vocals.” Luke loudly clapped his hands as away to earn everybody’s attention.

“Does that make me your back-up generator then?” Y/N butted in.

“Yeah. Hold this, darling.” Luke handed her a cord that connected to his guitar and she begrudgingly took it.

“No more names.” She warned, sending a small current to shock Luke. He yelped, taken aback, all while Y/N smirked. She stayed true to her words to electrocute Luke if he ever annoyed her.

Y/N lay on the couch, clutching onto the cord and aimlessly staring at the ceiling. The sound of Charles’ loud drums and Silena’s soft voice merged with the loud ringing in Y/N’s ears. She kept her eyes fixed on a certain spot, completely dazed until Luke pressed a cold can to her face.

“We’re taking a break.” He said, offering her a drink. She arched an eyebrow.

“Why are you giving me one?” She questioned, sitting up and taking it away.

Luke shrugged. “I mean, you are powering up my guitar. You deserve a little thanks.”

Y/N merely stared at Luke before cracking open the can, taking a small sip. “I trust you haven’t drugged this?”

Luke lightly snorted. “I have no purpose to put coke in your drink.” He held out his hand, silently asking for sip. Y/N shoved the can into his arms.

“So, when did you get the idea of forming a band?” She questioned, tapping her foot against the wooden floor. She glanced at Luke who smiled, a strange wishful look in his gaze.

“I’ve always loved music.” He admitted, “And being a demigod, you don’t exactly have a lot of chances. I did play at one festival, though… and it was amazing. But then I got attacked by a monster.” Luke chuckled under his breath, shaking his head in amusement. “It was still the best moment of my life. And I want that kind of joy back.”

“I’m sure you’ll get it back. What’s it like playing the guitar?” She quirked an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side. Luke grinned, his tongue peeking out from between his teeth.

“Amazing. You wanna learn?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, “I can hardly hold a guitar correctly, let alone play it, Luke.”

“Come on, pretty. I’ll show ya.”

“I need two hands to play. But I also need to power up the guitar. How do you suppose that’ll work?”

“You’ll figure out a way. You always do.”

That’s how Y/N ended up holding the plug with Luke sitting almost directly behind her, guiding her hands. He smiled as Y/N struggled, her fingers never quite reaching the right chords.

A twig snapped and Chris walked into the cabin, wiping away sweat with the back of his hand. “Man, it is hot outside- Oh, sorry. Did I interrupt something?” Chris paused, staring the pair.

“No.” Y/N quickly answered. They practically jumped away from each other. She handed Luke his guitar, clearing her throat.

“I should get going.” She announced to nobody in particular. She briefly smiled at the two boys before spinning around on her heels, quickly walking away.

“Hey, pretty, wait!” Luke stood up in a hurry but Y/N was already out the door and walking past the tall trees.

Y/N rubbed her tired eyes as she waltzed out of her cabin, almost screaming when she saw Luke leaned up against the wall.

He grinned and greeted her, tipping an imaginary hat. “Hey, pretty. You up for charging my guitar today? I need to practice my riffs.”

Y/N thickly gulped, looking for any sign of Chris or Charles or even Silena, who she knew was busy with teaching kids archery. “… Alone?” She questioned after a long pause.

“Yeah. Does that bother you? I can practice another time.” Luke offered.

The warm sun bore down on Y/N as she stared at Luke. “No… it’s not a problem. When do you want to practice?”

Luke stood up straight, folding his arms over his chest. He grinned down at Y/N. “Right now if you’re free, pretty. But it looks like you just woke up. Bad sleep?”

“Hardly any at all. Again.” Y/N retorted, sour and harsh. She silently followed Luke to the cabin, raising her eyes in surprise when she saw the lack of dust. “You cleaned it?” She questioned, craning her head to get a better look.

“Yup. The dust was getting to my eyes.” Luke uttered. Y/N hummed in quiet approval.

“You’d make a good house husband. You can clean, you can charm your way through everything, and you can play guitar. What’s next? Cooking?”

Luke smugly smirked, “I’m actually great with a pan, pretty. I��ll make you cinnamon toast someday. Or do you prefer pancakes?”

“Food is food.” She shrugged. “So, how’s the guitar going?” She fiddled with the cord, “I always wanted to learn piano. I tried it a few times but it never stuck.”

“I think you’d look charming playing the piano, pretty.” He flirtatiously smiled, twirling a strand of Y/N’s H/C hair around his finger. Y/N stiffened, her cheeks practically glowing red.

“Are you going to practice or stare at me until we grow eighty?” Y/N muttered, leaning away from Luke.

“I think I’m going to continue staring.” He retorted, winking at her. Y/N looked away, lightly frowning.

“So, what songs are you going to sing?”

“Silena’s gonna be doing most of the vocal work but there’s one song I’ll be singing.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, silently telling him to continue because as much as she tried to dislike being here with Luke, she was curious. Luke plucked at the guitar strings, humming out a quiet melody.

“Wait.” Y/N articulated, “You aren’t going to sing to me, right? I don’t want a Barbie moment.”

“Too bad.” Luke replied, already getting ready to sing. Y/N softly groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. She was expecting Luke’s voice to be like nails on a chalkboard, a horrible sound overall, but the lyrics slipped past his lips and Y/N found herself not entirely hating it.

“Are you seriously singing Elvis Presley?” She said over the sound of Luke’s voice and guitar. He merely grinned, nodding his head.

“Shall I stay? Would it be a sin? If I can't help falling in love with you?” Luke smiled, his gaze never faltering. He was staring straight at Y/N as he meticulously played complicated chords. She felt uncomfortable under his eyes and a part of her wanted to sink into the couch. “This is one of your favourite songs, is it not?” Luke asked as he continued strumming.

“How would you know that, Luke?”

“Trust me, pretty. I hear you singing with the Apollo kids. As grumpy as you are without sleep sometimes, you sure sound cheerful when you’re singing Elvis. Join in on the singing, won’t ya?”

“Like a river flows. Surely to the sea. Darling, so it goes. Some things are meant to be.” Luke swayed, waiting for Y/N to join. She begrudgingly did.

“Take my hand. Take my whole life, too. For I can't help…falling in love with you.” They sang in unison. Y/N’s eyes were focused straight ahead of her while Luke’s ran over her soft features and lips that had been tinted with lipstick.

“Like a river flows. Surely to the sea. Darling, so it goes. Some things are meant to be.”

Luke couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face as Y/N’s voice drowned out his own and he stopped singing. She was far too lost in the music to notice.

“Take my hand. Take my whole life, too. For I can't help falling in love with you.” Y/N turned back to Luke, faltering when she saw how he was staring at her. Like she was his whole world or like she had planted the beautiful stars in the sky.

“For I can't help… falling in love with you.” Luke sang the iconic last line, grinning. His face was much closer to Y/N’s than he anticipated, causing her to flinch. She didn’t shuffle away, though.

“Have I ever told you how pretty you look… pretty?” Luke chuckled at how his sentence and his nickname for Y/N clashed. The apples of her cheeks turned bright pink and she didn’t sneer at him this time. She only stared at him with eyes that were vulnerable lest Luke give her another compliment.

The door to the haughty shack slammed open, Charles entering. He spluttered in surprise when he saw Y/N and Luke. “Sorry… I can leave and come back… if you want…”

Y/N stood up, brushing the non-existent dust off her shirt. “It’s fine. I was just leaving.” She didn’t spare Luke another glance as she hurried out, flustered.

“Were you two about to kiss?” Charles questioned. Luke frustratingly groaned, holding his face in his head.

“I liked to think we were going to.”

Y/N stood in the side lines of the stage, holding Luke’s cord while staring at a clipboard she held in her other hand. It was the list of songs Luke had given her to keep her occupied.

i, Lovesick by Laufey - sung by Silena

ii, Venus by Regina Song - sung by Silena

iii, Can’t help falling in love by Elvis - sung by Luke

The second song fit the daughter of Aphrodite. Y/N glanced at the stage, her eyes immediately finding Luke. He was helping Charles set up his drums. Luke seemed to sense her eyes on him and he lifted his head, smirking.

Y/N quickly diverted her gaze as she heard Luke jog towards her. “Hey, pretty.” He greeted her, “Silena’s vocals can only take so much singing so are you good taking over the last song?”

“No.” Y/N answered but Luke didn’t hear her, or he chose to ignore her.

“Thanks, pretty. I owe you one. Love ya!” He ran off while Y/N mentally cursed at him. She angrily looked at the list, her eyes slightly softening when she saw the song.

iv, Lover (remix) by Taylor Swift + Shawn Mendes

It was one of her favourite songs. She could remember listening to it when she wasn’t aware of her demigod status, always wishing for a love as pure as Jack and Rose’s. Despite being swamped by complicated emotions, she was still a teenage girl secretly wishing for a teen romance like the books and movies and songs suggested.

The makeshift concert started with a short light show conducted by an Iris kid and that’s when the band finally stepped out. The demigod crowd cheered, clapping their hands. The Aphrodite girls were holding signs up for Silena and Luke quietly chuckled as his Hermes brothers yelled a little too loudly.

Silena’s voice was beautiful as she sang and Y/N found herself shrinking back. How could she compete with that? She didn’t even want to sing. She was fine sitting backstage with nothing but a clipboard to stare at.

At least Luke seemed to be enjoying himself and all the attention he was gaining from the girls. Y/N felt her chest tighten. It’s not like she had feelings for Luke… did she? In this moment, Y/N wanted nothing more than to be an Aphrodite kid because at least they could sense love.

Luke sang the melody to the Elvis Presley song with as much tenderness as he did in the cabin, occasionally glancing over at Y/N to see her mouthing the words.

“Pretty, you’re up.” Luke said as the band hurried back stage for a small break. He took the guitar cord from Y/N, plugging it into some sort of machine that she didn’t recognise. “Drink some water so you don’t get dehydrated. You know the words, don’t ya?”

Y/N could only nod, too confused to process everything at once. “What about your guitar?” She asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

“It’ll be fine. Don’t ya worry.” Luke ushered her up the steps onto the brightly lit stage. “Alright guys, we’re back. Did ya miss us? Of course you did. Anyway, Silena’s swamped so we’ve got Y/N singing. Don’t worry, folks, she has a great voice when she’s feeling nice.”

Luke cheekily grinned as he adjusted his headset microphone while Y/N glared at him.

“Anyway, this song will be a duet between me and Y/N. Last song for the night, hope you guys enjoy!”

The music started playing immediately, causing Y/N to stiffen. She locked eyes with Luke, who was standing a meter away from her, nodding his head to the beat.

“We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January. And this is our place, we make the rules.” She hesitatingly sang, earning a few hollers from the Apollo cabin. “And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear. Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?”

“Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close forever and ever? And ah, take me out, and take me home. You're my, my, my, my…” The vivid image of Y/N and Luke singing together, their faces millimetres apart, haunted Y/N. She could feel her cheeks heat up as she glanced at Luke once more only to see that he was already smiling at her.

“Lover.” Luke mouthed as Y/N sang.

Luke tapped his foot, slowly playing his guitar. “We could light a bunch of candles and dance around the kitchen, baby. Pictures of when we were young would hang on the wall. We would sit on the stoop. I'll sing love songs to you when we're eighty.”

“See, I finally got you now, honey, I won't let you fall.” They lulled out in unison. “Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close? Forever and ever, ah. Take me out, and take me home. You're my, my, my, my lover.” Their voices blended together perfectly and the crowd found themselves swaying to the music, clearly noticing the romantic tension between Luke and Y/N.

“Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand? With every guitar string scar on my hand. I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover.” Y/N nervously clasped her hands around her mic, her breath shuddering when Luke beamed at her.

“Look in my eyes, they will tell you the truth. The girl in my story has always been you.” Luke strummed the guitar cords as he walked towards Y/N, “I’d go down with the Titanic, it’s true. For you, lover.”

The music ended there, despite the song still having another chorus left. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows at Luke. “You had enough electricity this whole time?” She whispered away from the mic.

“Yeah. I just wanted to spend time with you, pretty. I like you, Y/N. More than I should admit because my fan girls will be a little upset.” Luke chuckled as he jogged off stage, Y/N following close behind.

“So I used my electricity for nothing? You could’ve just asked me to accompany you!” Y/N slapped his shoulder.

“Oh, come on, pretty. Be realistic. You wouldn’t have come if I merely asked. Even if I confessed to you then and there.”

“And what exactly do you like about me?”

“Everything, Y/N. The way your eyes shine when you read, the way you smile when you sing Elvis songs, and the way you have freckles that line up in a square, like constellations on your face. The truth is, you could break my heart into tiny little pieces and I’d still pick them up for you to hold. You like rainbows, don’t you?”

“Doesn’t everybody?”

“I adore you, Y/N. And it doesn’t matter that sometimes our worlds are coloured with different hues. Because when the colours bleed into each other, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Apart from your face and soul, of course.”

“What if the colour turns out to be an ugly yellow?”

“You’re ruining the mood, pretty.”

Y/N clicked her tongue as she tilted forward, gingerly pressed a soft kiss to Luke’s lips. He gently gasped.

“Your mics is on, by the way.” She whispered, “Just thought you’d like to know.”

PJO TAG LIST : @lostinhisworld @julielightwood @outerbanks-stuff @jennapancake @csifandom @evrybodydies1 @kkrenae @s0ulsniper @annispamz @justanotherkpopstanlol @soraya-09 @simpforeveyone @papichulo120627 @corpsebridenightamare @lilacspider @prettylilsimp @urmomsbananabread @ur-lacol-dsylexic @hottiewifeyyyy @kamiliora @be-bap @finnickodaddy @th0tblckgrl @shoyofroyoyoyo @uniquely-her @imafrkinsimp @syraxesrevenge @ahh-chickens @dracoslovergirl @midnightstar-90 @8812-342 @liv1104 @krkiiz @arialikestea @ch16rles @lizziesliz @maryclx01 @lukecastellandefender @yuminako @coryoskywalker @julielightwood @crybabysbakery @jsbabyyy @liviessun @p3pperm1nttea @angie-esc @purplerose291 @prettylilsimp @10ava01 @froggiesstalks @happy-jj @czennieszn @gisellesprettylies @loveyava @csifandom @luvvfromme @mashiromochi @kamiliora @yorksyree @mqg125 @jamesmackreideswife @niktwazny303 @2hiigh2cry @user021099 @living-in-my-imagination88 @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @randomgurl2326 @niktwazny303

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muchosbesitos · 3 months

Text

after hours

pairing: professor miguel o’hara x fem reader

contents: age gap, reader’s kinda clumsy 😭, reader mentioned having glasses, oral fixation, oral (m receiving), intercourse

author’s note: sry this took so long to get out, hope y’all enjoy though <3 (i do not condone student/teacher relationships irl, pls keep it within fiction 😖)

word count: 4.6k

The falling of the leaves and the chilly temperatures seemed to fade away with the stress of your upcoming finals week, the end of the fall semester nearing with each day that passed. While you'd done your part and studied the course material over and over again until you could recite it while making your morning cereal, you were just as panicked as any student would be. The exams proved to be easier than you'd expected, your studying proving effective when you got all positive scores back. Your winter break was mostly full of rewatching Elf and Home Alone with your roommate before she had to go back home, not wanting her to spend the season alone.

You went back to your family's house for winter break, spending the holidays watching corny Hallmark movies and catching up on the sleep that you'd been deprived of for the last couple weeks. It seemed like the stress you'd adjusted yourself to living to had finally disappeared, every fiber of your being just enjoying the feeling of being in the moment without worrying about what comes tomorrow or the day after that. Even your family had noted the change in your behavior after a couple short days, noting that you were much more approachable after you'd had a couple days to relax.

You couldn't help but feel like something still lingered over you despite living in that bliss, like you had still had something left to do. On the last day of your break, you'd realized that in the midst of the chaos that was studying and preparing for finals, you'd completely forgotten about registering for the fall semester. (despite the constant reminders from your counselor) You grabbed your laptop off your desk, rushing to open your school's website to get that done. You managed to get decent professors this semester along with a schedule that wasn't too straining, stacking your classes for two days so you'd be able to have the rest of the week to study/do homework.

You'd selected a couple decent professors after checking their reviews on 'Rate my Professor', only having to select a professor for the genetics course that you had to take. You let out a small groan when you realized that only one professor was available in the building for that course at the moment, all the other professors not even bothering to show up in the search results. You switched to the 'Rate my Professor' tab on your computer, typing in the name 'Miguel O'Hara' in the search bar. his review wasn't too bad at first glimpse, a 2.9 out of a five stars. Okay, maybe not the best, but definitely better than the last professor you had last semester at 2.5 stars.

It was only then that you realized what you were getting yourself involved in, most of the positive reviews being on the basis that he was an attractive professor. Different variations of "his class is so hard but he's so hot!" popped on your screen the longer that you scrolled, the few useful reviews being a couple pages after the obvious thirst. "Made me cry myself to sleep, would not recommend" was one of the reviews that popped out to you, your fingers coming up to your temples as you resisted the urge to let out a groan. Even if you wanted to pick a different professor, the only course that had spots open for this semester was this one. What the hell were you getting yourself into?

You were sleeping peacefully, the warmth of your blanket enveloping you the way that a tight hug would when you felt someone shaking your shoulder. "What's up?" Your voice came out groggy as you woke up, eyes struggling to get adjusted to the rays of sunshine coming through the window. "Don't you have an eight am class? It's already 7:30," your roommate's words served to wake you up from your slumber, your back practically shooting up like an arrow as you sat up. "Ah fuck, thanks," you muttered, your feet intertwining between your bedsheets as you went to go get up. Your butt landed against the floor after you tried to get out of the mess that you were in, an indication of how this day was going to go.

You discarded of the blanket after figuring out the mess you'd gotten enveloped in, your feet matching the agility of an Olympic athlete as you rushed into the bathroom. While you knew that you were most likely going to be late, you wanted to reduce the amount of time which you were late by. You made quick work of brushing your teeth, the minty taste of your toothpaste filling up your nostrils as it got rid of your morning breath. Your hands couldn't work fast enough to rub in your body wash, your rag almost slipping from your fingers a couple times just from the sheer velocity. You’d even resorted to begging with the shower head, prompting it to rinse you off faster than it was doing.

You got out of the shower to see that the clock on your nightstand read 7:50, confirming your thoughts that you were going to be late. You peeled the towel from your body once you felt that you were dry enough, rushing over to your closet to pick out something to wear. You figured that those comments underneath the website were exaggerating, almost like you wanted to validate your decision for picking out a pair of grey sweatpants. After putting the bottoms on, you settled for putting a black hoodie on along with the first shoes that you found in your closet. In your rushed attempts to get dressed, you didn't notice that you'd grabbed two different sets of shoes, the two of them coming out to be a left.

You had to resist the urge to groan out at your situation, keeping the shoe that you had on before going back to your closet to find the matching pair. Almost as if the shoe could sense your despair, it managed to vanish into thin air when you needed it most. The floor of your closet looked like the aftermath of a hurricane, clothes scattered all over the floor with some shoes landing next to them in your search. You gave up on looking for the other shoe after you made sure to check in what seemed to be every inch of your closet, only to find it under your bed where you'd just been a couple minutes beforehand. While you wanted to reprimand yourself for not bothering to look there first, it could wait with the time crunch that you were running in.

Not only were you late, but you had managed to get lost in the first couple minutes of stepping into the building. Your feet make quick work of going up and down the stairs, your eyes darting across the different classrooms in attempt to find the room number that you were looking for. You were a panting mess by the end of it, and not only that, but it was now 8:15 and you were nowhere near where you had to be. You let out a small resigned sigh and decided to make your way downstairs to the information desk, your foot impatiently tapping on the floor as you waited for the line to disappear in front of you. Your eyes kept darting over to the clock nervously, like with the sheer power of your mind, you'd be able to stop time for the moment.

"Hi, what can i help you with?" The woman at the desk asked you as you approached, your hands almost dropping your phone as you took it out so you could tell her the room number. "Hi, I'm looking for room A143, do you know where I could find that?" You asked her, taking a couple seconds to catch as your breath as your eyes followed the direction she was pointing in. The stupid classroom had been in the hallway behind you. "Thank you," you managed to get out before collecting yourself, pushing your backpack over your shoulders as you retreated back to the hallway she pointed at. Most of your professors had been pretty cool with their late policy so you weren't stressing out too much about what their reaction would be.

The noises in the classroom came to a halt, the only thing that could be heard was the door closing behind you. You could feel everyone's eyes on you as you walked in, their gazes following you as you walked to find a seat. You felt like the newest spectacle at the circus, even the teacher had stopped what he was doing as you made your way through the vast amount of seats. What the fuck is so interesting that they can't stop looking? The class continued with what was being discussed after you found your seat, the subject on the board being about how crucial it is to show up to class.

"Before we were rudely interrupted, I was going over how important it is to be attending class. On time. While the lessons are recorded online, there are some pop quizzes in this course and I do not offer any sort of retakes for those," the professor spoke, his words almost seeming to be directed towards you after the unceremonious entrance you'd made. Well, that and the glare that he wore on his face after you'd come in. Your eyes darted down to his front row, already noticing his adoring group of fans nodding and smiling at his every word like he was a form of a god. You resisted the urge to laugh at the fact, looking back up at the Powerpoint he was explaining in heavy detail.

"Excuse me, can I talk to you for minute?" You heard from behind you, your professor resting his hand on your shoulder just as you were trying to leave. "Yes, professor? My apologies about being late, I got lost on my way her-" you started off, trying to offer him some kind of explanation but he was quick to stop that notion before you had the chance to finish speaking. "Save me your excuses. You'll be quick to learn that the world isn't accommodating to your every need and desire. Now, what I just wanted to say is that I expect you to act like you at least want to be in my class. I don't have time to deal with slackers like you, and if you thought this was going to be an easy A, I would recommend dropping out immediately," his tone came out cold as he spoke, the grip on your shoulder loosening to let you know you'd been dismissed.

You weren't even sure if anything you would've said to him would've been able to change his mind so you chose to leave while your pride was still intact. While you weren't an overachiever in your academic career by any means, you wanted him to swallow the words that you knew he was thinking. The words that he was implying when he told you he wouldn't stand for you being a waste of his time, wanting to prove him wrong and show that you were more than capable of being in his classroom. So you decided to make yourself focus more on his textbook, of studying his material more often so you'd have an easier time understanding what the lectures were about.

In that process, you'd also started making an attempt to dress up a bit for the days which you'd have class for. You'd asked your roommate to borrow some of her shirts, never touching the skirts she kept at the back of her closet. You figured that the shirts in enough themselves were enough to push you out of your boundaries, the cropped material a stark difference to the band graphic tees that you often chose to wear. You wanted to excuse it as it being that you wanted to appear more professional in front of Miguel, but the truth was that you just didn't want him to see you in clothes you'd probably go to bed in after coming home from campus.

You'd been rigorously studying for a days now, your under eyes starting to turn black with how much time you're spending in the library. Your eyes strained as you read the textbook underneath you, having stayed up until four in the morning the day prior to get an assignment done. The desk wasn't something that you deemed particularly comfortable in the moment, but you figured that it would at least be comfortable for your nap. As soon as you let your head make contact with the table underneath you, you could've sworn that thing turned into the best memory foam mattress. You turned on your alarm for a couple minutes, wanting to just close your eyes for a bit before going back to studying.

While you had been alert enough to turn off your alarm when you heard the screeching app on your phone wail for your attention, you weren't alert enough to keep your eyes open after you did. So much for staying awake. Your arms proved to be the most comfortable mattress at the moment as you laid your head down, your glasses making their way down to the tip of your nose. Your break was starting to be longer than you expected it to be, but you figured you'd just spend more hours awake afterwards to make up for the fact. For now, though, the least you could do was enjoy the serene atmosphere of the library and the comfortability of the desk underneath you.

You felt someone's touch against your face, a finger pushing your glasses up to the bridge of your nose. While the gesture felt nice at first, the person's voice you heard speaking to you was anything but. "Wake up, it's already nine," your genetics professor's voice called out to you, your eyes fluttering open in a frenzy as his words sunk in. "Ah, thank you," you muttered, still half asleep as you sat up to face him. You looked up at him in your dazed state, noticing the way that he was already looking down at you like he wanted to make sure you were okay. Or maybe that you weren't high, considering who you were standing in front of.

"I was printing some papers out when I saw you all slouched over the table, wanna tell me what you're doing here after hours?" He asked, setting down the stack of papers as he kept his firm gaze on your own. "Didn't mean to stay here so late, I was planning on taking a break from my studying but my alarm didn't really wake me up," you spoke up, rubbing your eyes as you got adjusted to the library's harsh lighting. You stretched out your arms, sitting up straight before fixing the scattered papers underneath you. You were expecting him to leave afterwards, but he surprised you by picking up the textbook you'd been annotating on.

"I can tutor you if that's something you'd like," he suggested, the string of surprises only continuing with how nonchalant he was being with his offer. "You don't have to do that," you muttered, starting to put your stuff away before you embarrassed yourself any further. "I wouldn't offer if I didn't want to do it, it seems i misunderstood your lateness as disinterest and I apologize. Please let me make it up to you," he told you, his fingertips barely grazing yours as he handed your textbook back to you. "Alright. I'll send you an email just to confirm and ask what days work for you, professor. Thanks for waking me up and the whole thing," you finally conceded, knowing that this was more of an advantage for you than him.

Your tutoring sessions with Miguel were on Mondays and Fridays which coincided with your schedule, so you could at least give him some kudos for his consideration. "Here, you're gonna mess up your teeth if you keep it up with those damn pens," he spoke out of the blue one day while you were in the middle of reading, his hand extended to offer you a cherry lollipop. "Thanks, I didn't think I was being too obvious with the pen thing though," you responded, taking the lollipop out of its wrapper before sticking it in your mouth. "My hearing's somewhat sensitive, thought it was a mouse in the walls or something," he explained, bringing in a lollipop everytime the two of you would meet up.

"Yeah, there you go. That's it, complete that thought princess," you heard from behind you, Miguel’s praise shooting down to your core as soon as you heard it. You weren't sure what it was about him that made you seek out his approval so much, the need to have him approve the work that you did. You could admit that you didn't understand the copious amounts of thirsty comments left under his Rate my Professor page at first, but with the way that he was talking to you now, it was definitely much more easier to understand their perspective. "You're improving so much in my class, I always knew you were a smart one. Nomas era de ponerte las pilas," his feedback was surprisingly positive as he read through your work, only a couple red markings on grammatical errors in your paper. (it was just about getting your act together)

You found yourself participating in class more and more often just to hear the little "good job's" that he would give you as a result, his attention locked on you as you explained the material based on what you believed it to be. You couldn't help but seek out the way that he looked at you more and more, growing enamored with the way he just maintained eye contact while you spoke like you were the most interest person in the room. You hated to admit, especially to yourself, but you were slowly starting to feel like those girls that just took his course for the fact that Miguel was the professor. Not only would his praise be consistent throughout the lectures, but he made sure to provide you with positive feedback throughout your tutoring sessions.

Your thoughts kept going back to what it would be like to have your mouth wrapped around his cock instead of the stupid pen you'd settled for, your drool leaking out of the corners of your mouth. You would settle for just warming his cock with your mouth, having him use you as some form of relief while he harshly annotated on students' papers. And maybe, just maybe, when he was done with that, he'd let you suck his cock the way that you wanted to. Your tongue swirling around the tip of his cock the way you'd sucked on lollipops, your mouth eagerly taking his cock. You could practically feel your mouth salivate at the image of him cum painting your face white, your tongue catching a few of the drops as you looked up at him.

Your fantasies seemed to come to life when he tapped on your shoulder after he was finished passing out the exam papers, his stare almost seeming to know what lewd thoughts you'd been having about him. "Stay after class for me, will you?" Miguel asked you after passing you the paper, making sure nobody was looking around as he spoke to you. You nodded along to his request, your mind taking you to the filthiest of places as you wondered just what exactly he'd want to do with you when you were alone. You could barely focus on the test that your grade depended on, the fruition of the work that you'd been putting in these last couple sessions with Miguel at the library. You nibbled down on the tip of you pen, your concentration regarding the test at an all time low.

Miguel wasted no time on getting you on your knees after everyone had left, your mouth eager to take anything that he'd give you at the moment. Your spit ran down the sides of his cock as he egged you on, his praise making the wetness inside of your legs grow. "Tan bien que lo tomas, princesa. Least you're good for something other than coming late to my class," his praise had the slightest bit of a condescending tone underneath it, but with his balls in your mouth, you were willing to overlook that small detail. (you take it so well, princess) Your nails raked down his muscular thighs, shivers running down his spine as a result from your overwhelmingly soft touch. It felt like a juxtaposition, your throat roughly taking his cock as your nails gently scratched down on his thighs before one of your hands wrapped around the base of his cock.

His cock pummeled from behind you as you were bent over the desk, tears coating all over the assignments that he'd just graded. "Sigue llorando y you're gonna be the one explaining why everyone's paper has tear marks on it, nena," he grunted from behind you, your pussy squeezing his cock like you wanted to milk all the cum he could give you. (keep crying) You wanted to feel some form of shame as you looked down at the papers, but even that was short lived as you felt his cock push deeper into you.

His hand rested on your lower tummy, the tip of his cock hitting that spot inside of you. "Pussy's practically sucking me in, I'll give you anything you want," he murmured, his hand pressing down on the bulge that had formed with every thrust that he made. Your hand wrapped around his wrist as you tried to push him off you, all while simultaneously fucking yourself back into his dick. "Trying to push me off con lo mojada que estas? Let me please you, just wanna stay like this a little longer," his grip on your hips didn't falter, slapping sounds echoing all throughout the empty lecture hall. (with how wet you are)

You turned to look at him behind your shoulder, the sight in itself almost enough to make you cum right then and there. Sweat beaded across his forehead, black locks framing his face as they stuck onto the sides. the white button down that he'd chosen to wear today had a few of the buttons undone, his black tie loosened as the end hung by his shoulder. You let out a loud moan as you felt his hips snapping into yours, his large hand coming down to muffle your sounds.

"Shh, gotta be quiet for me. don't want anyone coming in and seeing how good you're gripping my cock," he whispered in your ear, your pussy clenching at the way his voice dropped an octave when he spoke to you. A reaction that wasn't missed by Miguel. "That get you off, hermosa? ¿Qué todos vean lo que haces despues de clase? ¿Lo sucia que eres para mí?" His words almost served to mock you despite the decadence that his voice took. While you shook your head to try to deny the claims that he was making, your pussy spoke in higher volumes than your mouth ever could. You clenched around him tightly, a new wave of arousal coating his cock completely. (that everyone sees what you do after class? how dirty you are for me?)

His thrusts were unrelenting as he fucked into you, the need seeping out of his every pore with every kiss that he laid on the crook of your neck. "Could never get tired of this pretty pussy," he babbled on like a mad man, his words coming out as broken sentences as your pussy gripped around his dick like a vice. "Fucking milking my cock, i'm gonna give it to you though. Wanna see my cum running down your legs as you stumble back into your dorm," his voice came out strained, his thrusts starting to lose the steady rhythm that he'd been working towards. You were eagerly awaiting for that release that never came, chatter in the background bringing you back to the present.

Fuck, even your fantasies were having fantasies at this point. Your thighs were practically clenching together at the picture, your slick coating the panties you'd chosen to wear for today. "Are you paying attention?" The same voice that had been in your fantasies had been the one to break you out of them, his fingers snapping in front of you. While you didn't want to add more fuel to the fire that was your delusions, you couldn't help but notice that you were the only student that he'd called out. Hell, someone was playing Cool Math Games right in front of you. "Sorry, I got distracted," you muttered, trying to pretend like you weren't just thinking of those two fingers he was snapping fucking you dumb, his thick digits opening you up as your slick coated them.

"Remember what we talked about," he spoke just low enough for you to hear, the threatening tone in his voice losing all it's power with the images ingrained into your brain now. However, you could at least manage to give him a feeble nod to avoid making a bigger fool out of yourself in his class. He didn't seem satisfied with the response that he got but he let the matter go, going back to the lecture about how cell reproduction and mutation works. You couldn't help but notice that he kept looking over at you, his way of making sure that your attention remained on the lecture that he was giving. You were about to nibble on the tip of your pen subconsciously, only dropping it when you remembered what Miguel had told you about your little habit.

You made your way out of his class before he had the chance to stop you and ask what was going on, blending into the mass of students that were rushing to get out. You were already running through the different excuses that you could use as to why you missed today's study session, maybe that you fell down the stairs? While the lie was plausible, he had a strange way of reading you like the words of his favorite book. Nothing that you said or did went unnoticed by him, little ticks that you weren't even sure you had until he pointed them out. You decided to discard the idea of lying to him, simply settling with 'i couldn't make it' if he asked about it.

You could hardly face Miguel after the thoughts that were running through your mind, your eyes drifting to his lips everytime that he spoke. Not only was the way that he spoke so eloquent, but his lips just looked so damn inviting. You'd tried to get him out of your mind after the first couple times that it happened, eventually just giving up on the mission as a whole. While the dreams that you had started to become something normal that you faced everytime you fell asleep, the impact that they left on you was still the same. Little did you know that while your thoughts were running rampant, Miguel’s thoughts mirrored yours.

You were so close to him, your lips almost barely grazing his at this angle. It would be so easy for him to indulge in a taste of something so forbidden, your lipgloss just begging to be smudged by his own lips. It would be so easy for him to forget the position of power he was in, so easy for him to pretend like he's just Miguel for a moment and you're just you. So, he did and he leaned in to press his lips against yours. The taste of the all too familiar cherry lipgloss overwhelmed his senses the moment that his lips made contact with yours, his mouth eagerly savoring this moment. It was easy for him to forget about anything other than the way that you taste, the way that you feel. Well, that was until he ended up waking up by the sound of his alarm.

taglist: @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @lazyjellyfish300 @pxtched @nympholove @ifiwasaguybrickedup @yournextbimbogf @nixinluv02

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cadavercowboy · 1 year

Text

In Too Deep — Part One

Pairing: Stepfather!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky’s marriage is falling apart and he’s desperate for something familiar to cling to. He knows you’re the wrong thing, but you don’t exactly make it easy for him to keep his distance.

Word Count: 6.9k+

Warnings: Explicit content (18+ only). Allusions to emotional abuse. Inappropriate relationship. Implied cheating & cheating. Age difference (reader is over 18!). Brief/vague description of reader’s hair. Moral dilemma. Coercion. Daddy kink. Size kink. Innocence kink (if you squint). Mutual masturbation. Fingering. Handjob. Unprotected sex. Minor degradation. Creampie. Cum play. Cum eating.

A/N: This has been collecting dust in my docs and then this post reminded me of it so I had no choice but to finish ‘er.

Shutting the front door as gently as you can, you wince when your keys clatter loudly against the hardwood floor. You curse under your breath, though the sound of tinny voices floats towards you from the next room and you realize you don’t need to worry about the noise. Bucky is still awake, up late for what seems like the hundredth night in a row. You pick up your dropped keys and toss them on the counter as you pass by, padding quietly down the hall towards the blue glow which reflects off the walls.

You poke your head into the living room and there you find him; slumped into the couch and bathed in the light from the screen in front of him. Even from this distance you can sense the air of defeat in Bucky’s posture and the slight pouting of his full lower lip. A pang of sympathy twinges in your chest as you observe your poor stepfather. All you’ve done lately is go on dates in search of a relationship and all Bucky has done is try desperately to maintain a hold on his; neither one of you seem to be having much success.

While you’re accustomed to your mother’s mistreatment of those around her, he’d innocently and unsuspectedly married his way into what is likely to be the most toxic relationship he’ll ever be a part of. Night after night, Bucky sits there waiting for her to return from her shift at work. Whether or not he truly believes that’s where she is, you’ve yet to determine. Unbelievably — though he deserves much better — Bucky hasn’t left her. Though the man is kind and sweet and has never treated your mother with anything but love, he is too kind or perhaps too stupid and oblivious to stand up for himself.

“Late night?”

Bucky’s rough voice draws you from your musings and you sigh airily as you step around the wall to shuffle towards the couch he sits upon. While you’d much rather head upstairs and take care of that which your date hadn't bothered to, it would be rude not to at least talk to Bucky. You throw your bag onto the unoccupied armchair, rounding the piece of furniture to join him.

“You too,” you observe as you plop down beside him. “Can’t sleep?”

He offers a half-smile as he leans forward and the bottle of beer he’d been nursing thunks onto the coffee table. When he turns your way, his smirk falters; his cerulean irises flicker briefly down the plunging cleavage of the skimpy shirt you’re wearing. Your lips seem a bit swollen, though he can’t be sure the light flashing across your face isn’t just playing tricks on him. Bucky shifts against the cushions and sits up a little straighter, his arm stretching along the back of the couch.

“Never can these days,” he admits, the laugh that follows is weighted with bitterness.

His tone is soft, yet ice cold. You meet his eyes and behind them simmers an ember of pain, the gaze that meets yours is that of a man lost. Maybe Bucky is aware after all. He sees the understanding in your expression and smiles sadly before his lips flatten into a gesture of acknowledgement, of knowing. As you sink into the couch, so too does your heart. You felt bad when you thought Bucky didn't know the truth, though now you feel worse knowing that he does. He turns back to the television with a sad sigh.

“How did your date go?” he queries.

It’s just like Bucky to put aside his own troubles and be curious about your life. You smile fondly as you observe him, shadows dance across his handsome features and the screen illuminates the glassy shine that coats his distant eyes.

While not your father, he’d certainly taken well to filling the role; being supportive and loving and present in a way your own dad never could. You love Bucky like family and that only makes it more difficult to rectify the unspoken and unidentifiable feelings that simmer just under the surface. Something you’ve never once explored, but you’re almost certain Bucky has taken notice of, too. It would be too dangerous, too wrong for either of you to ever acknowledge; though it’s simultaneously impossible to ignore. Good looking and attentive as he is, any woman would be liable to fall victim to Bucky’s charm.

You continue to observe Bucky, noting the distinct heat which rises in your cheeks. You study the way his thick lashes flutter when he blinks slowly, the way his full lips glisten when he licks them, the way his Adam’s apple bobs enticingly along the thick column of his throat. Bucky turns your way and clears his throat expectantly, smiling when you chuckle guiltily and apologize.

“That bad, huh?” he jokes, referring to your lack of a response.

“No, it was…fine I guess,” you offer unconvincingly. “I don’t know. He was kind of boring, actually. There was just no spark. No fire. No passion.”

His teeth sparkle even in the dimness of the room when Bucky laughs at the dramatic way you haughtily enunciate the end of your declaration, extending your arm forlornly towards the ceiling. You laugh along with him, though the sound stops short when the warmth of his hand circles the curve of your knee where your bent leg nearly touches his thigh.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he consoles. “Plenty of fish in the sea though, right?”

“No worries,” you assure him as you flop sideways and prop your head on the back of the couch, pouting sadly. “I’ll just die a lonely and horny old spinster.”

You regret the words almost instantly, blaming your loose lips on the three drinks it had taken for you to soldier through your date. There’s no other explanation for why you would say such a thing to your stepdad.

Although Bucky snorts in surprise at your bold statement, he cannot deny the warm knot that begins to form low in his belly. He’d known your dates weren’t going well, but the confession about your sexual frustration sends his mind reeling down a road he’s well aware he should actively avoid traveling. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes when he pats your thigh in a gesture you suppose is meant to be soothing but only makes you painfully aware of how keyed up you are tonight.

“That’s alright,” he consoles. “Some guys just suck.”

“Some women, too,” you breathe.

Your proclamation elicits a tense moment between the two of you, not a sound in the room beyond the dialogue droning from the tv and the apropos ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. Bucky’s eyes search yours in the interim, your own mimicking the action as you look for some sort of sign or indication that his mind is careening in the same treacherous direction as yours. You’re certain yours is spinning more wildly out of control than Bucky’s ever could.

His hand remains on your thigh, igniting an unbearable blaze of impermissible desire in your veins that makes you squirm. The only sign of life from Bucky is the gentle flexing of his strong fingers. When the silence grows suffocating, Bucky’s tongue flicks out between his lips and his eyes finally leave yours to instead journey towards your slightly parted mouth. He leans in almost imperceptibly and as he does, his palm slips higher up your thigh until his pinkie finger draws perilously close to the seam of your jeans. Your pulse thrums in your neck and between your legs and the spell is broken by your own startled gasp.

Without a word, you spring to your feet, Bucky’s hand sliding down your leg as you all but leap from his grasp. Your feet thump loudly as you flee from the room, thudding their way up the stairs. You barrel through your bedroom doorway and swing the door behind you, not bothering to make sure it shuts all the way.

You’re inside the safety of your room no more than a few seconds by the time you’ve shed your shoes, socks, and pants; tossing the garments aside while you pace at the foot of your bed and drag your fingers through your hair. Your cheeks puff and you breathe a rush of air as your palms slap against the bare skin of your thighs.

The tight shirt you were certain would show off your body just enough to tempt your date is shed in haste as well, leaving you in only your underwear; sexy and lacy and regrettably unappreciated. In your head, you’re chiding yourself for what an insanely inappropriate notion it is to be so turned on at the touch of your own stepfather. Still, your heartbeat pounds demandingly between your thighs and your need refuses to be ignored.

Climbing clumsily into your bed, your bare skin burns against the coolness of your mussed sheets. Your control is crumbling as you gnaw anxiously at your lower lip. There’s no point in delaying the inevitable any further so you delve a hand beneath the elastic of your panties and sigh contentedly at the immediate relief of your warm fingers. Already surprisingly wet, your fingertips slip easily along your slick and puffy lips.

“You left your—”

Bucky’s presence is preceded neither by a knock nor an announcement; he simply eases the door open, his shocked face disrupting the shadows in the doorway. Your bag tumbles from his hand and thuds dully against the carpeted floor of your bedroom, Bucky’s jaw falling with it. His eyes burn hot and dilate without delay, nostrils flaring as he tips back on his heels; knocked off balance by the depravity of what he’s accidentally happened upon. He knows he should say something, anything; he should apologize, most certainly. But his lips won’t move. His lungs won’t inflate. His throat won’t dare release the words he knows should come.

You scramble frantically, grabbing the small decorative pillow you’d crushed beneath your shoulder blade and pointlessly use the satin square to maintain even a bit of modesty. Speech evades you as well and you’re left staring dumbly at your unmoving stepfather, eyes wide and doe-like in a way that is making this situation much, much worse for him.

Bucky’s lungs finally release the imprisoned oxygen trapped among his ribs and he nearly chokes as he swallows shakily. He tells himself to look away, but his eyes refuse to obey. How could they when they are so graciously being given the privilege of caressing such excess of your beautiful skin; the perfection of your bra-clad breasts swaying with each rise and fall of your chest, the slope of your waist and hips beckoning him to traverse the ethereal lines of your body, the nervous shifting of your shapely legs as you shrink behind your pillow and prudishly attempt to hide yourself from him?

Every part of Bucky’s body screams at him, beseeching and begging for him to turn away; to leave you alone before he steps past a point from which he can’t truly return. Every part aside from one. He cannot ignore the rush of blood that swells his cock beneath the constricting fabric of his jeans. He should, but it is all too overwhelming. Too tempting.

His knees threaten to buckle as he mentally pleads with his booted feet not to move from where they’ve planted themselves in your doorway. The place where the wooden floors of the hall meet the plush carpet of your room serve as an all too literal line he knows should never be crossed. Two little words is all it takes to drag him willingly across that moral divide.

“I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t know if it’s the breathy, wavering voice or the diffident way you bat your big eyes at him, but your tiny utterance draws him in like a moth to a forbidden flame; the inferno of your taboo light prepared to singe his malleable wings. Your next words further erode his dwindling ability to bite back his most loathsome desires.

“I didn’t mean for you to see that,” you murmur, eyes growing teary with apparent embarrassment at having been caught in such a vulnerable position.

Bucky wants to ask, but he knows precisely what you mean. Even if he longs to hear you say the words and admit that you had scurried away to your room to get yourself off, he will spare you the humiliation. At least for now. The quiver of your lip — chewed raw and plump with irritation — and the needy hunger which still clouds your eyes nearly crumbles Bucky to the floor; where he knows he’d find reverence at your feet, clinging to you like a man lost at sea.

His legs carry him trance-like until he stands mere inches from your bed, practically within arm’s reach of your restless and rigid frame. Bucky knows what you need — can read it boldly written in every nuanced flutter of your distraught visage — and he’s willing to dive headfirst into the illicit debauchery to provide. He only hopes you’ll fall with him.

“Can I help you out?” he prompts, knuckles popping as he curls his fists at his sides. “Let me help you, baby.”

Bucky’s own desperation is woven like an intricate tapestry within the inflection of his beseeching words, your stomach tightens at the prospect that he may be just as troubled as you are by the oppressive yearning that has been silently establishing itself between the two of you.

As if attached to a string beyond your control, your head nods disjointedly. Your heart pounds with deafening force in your ears and the rush of blood drowns out all other sound around you. Bucky exhales sharply and you worry for a moment that he’s changed his mind, that he may have come to his senses and might dare to leave you here in this wanton state.

Much to your relief, he kicks off his boots then lifts one knee and presses it into the mattress near your shaking legs, his eyes glued to yours as he looks for any sign of distress. He finds none, instead only able to identify the blazing want that swirls in the blackened pools of your pupils as he settles in and kneels at the foot of your bed.

The warmth of a palm grasping your leg just above your calf makes you flinch and you gasp as if you’ve been burnt. Bucky is quick to hush you, holding your gaze as he gently pulls your legs up and directs your tensed body until you’re eased onto your back, your feet flat and situated between his parted thighs. Bucky’s body is considerably larger than yours, but in this position, his broad frame is even more powerful and formidable than ever. You clutch firmly to the pillow that barely covers your body, your little fingers aching from the force of your grip.

“You’re okay,” Bucky assures you, his voice dipping low and vibrating like a ricocheting shot through each of your nerve endings. “It’s just us. Let me see you, sweetheart.”

He senses your hesitation, though he can see how eager you are to please him as well. The corner of his mouth quirks knowingly and he caresses each of your knees, sliding his calloused palms over your skin in gentle circles before he scoots closer so he can reach the soft plushness of your thighs. His touch settles there for a moment, then moves inward and upward until your legs are forced to part to make room for his sizable hands. Your breath hitches as Bucky inches closer and closer to the apex of your thighs, then changes direction until his hands find your ankles and pull your feet out to bracket either side of his own thighs.

Bucky asks again, tenderly requesting for you to open up for him. And you do; unfurling yourself like a blooming flower, your petals fragile and delicate as you reveal the softest parts of yourself to him. Uncertain what sort of grasp he has on his waning restraint, Bucky defies the ever-present voice that calls out in the back of his head and allows his eyes to fall to the space he’s opened between your legs.

Tucked amid the velvety flesh of your thighs, he finds a light-colored portion of fabric; the gusset of your panties peeking out and undeniably damp. The thin material clings to you like a second skin and he can make out the distinct seam of your cunt through the moist spot that stains it. Bucky swears he could cum from that obscene sight alone. He stares unabashedly at your wet panties and the mere suggestion of what lies just beneath them as if it’s the last sight his eyes will ever have the honor of seeing; devouring each and every detail of the ripe fruit he longs to know the flavor of.

Although he’s done nothing irredeemable just yet, Bucky knows what has already happened will forever change your relationship regardless. For God’s sake, he’s perched at the end of his half-naked stepdaughter’s bed like a lascivious demon of lust, claws prepared to dig deep into her as he fights the urge to drag her off to Hell with him. He gratefully consumes every bit of your nubile body that you present to him, a sacrifice on an altar which he can only hope will be enough to sate the beast inside him. Deep down, he knows it isn’t.

“Do you want to touch yourself for me?” Bucky implores, offering you the option to accept or deny his indecorous solicitation.

Without much further thought, the relentless throbbing in your core prompts you to extract one hand from the pillow still held tightly in your arms. Though the fingers of one hand still hold tight to the silky fabric, the others trail delicately across your lower belly and over your pelvis. Your touch stutters when your fingertips reach the soft cotton of your plain panties, but the flash of triumph in Bucky’s azure eyes encourages you to keep going.

You’re unsure and arrhythmic at first contact with your sensitive folds, fingers pressing apprehensively through the thin barrier of your underwear. When Bucky’s lips part on a heated sigh and his fingers knead your thighs, you swirl your digits more confidently, breath catching in your throat as pleasure prickles under your skin. Your hips twitch upwards into your own touch and Bucky’s jaw tightens, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of the hand between your gorgeous thighs, much as he wants to look up and see the veil of gratification he knows must grace your face.

Bucky takes all you offer with greed and haste, praying that he possesses the strength not to take more. But more is all he wants. He craves it, he needs it. Palming himself through the detestable material of his jeans, Bucky absorbs every precise flick of your wrist, his mind cataloging each little sound and simper you make beneath the ministration of your own hand. Just as he feared, it isn’t enough.

“Pull your panties to the side,” he demands, his voice sharp and commanding. “I wanna see all of you.”

You both know if you do this — if you allow yourselves to get carried away in such a manner — then there is no going back. As it stands, you can still change your minds and salvage some semblance of a normal relationship; show some discipline and save yourselves from the bitter reality of the betrayal and sin you’re so painfully close to the precipice of.

“I won’t touch you,” Bucky says, as if he senses the source of your worry and his promise might serve to assuage your fears.

And perhaps it would have if your doubts were borne from a place of morality. But they aren’t. You need him to touch you because — loathe as you are to admit the ignominious truth — you want more, too. You want anything and everything he’s willing to give you and then some. So you heed his order and curl your damp fingers around the even damper material of your panties, slowly easing them to the side to reveal your slick center to his ravenous stare. Bucky growls at the sight.

“You’re already so fuckin’ wet, baby,” he grunts, teeth clenched so hard they could crack. “Rub yourself.”

His voice takes on a tone of impatience as he squeezes the girth of his painfully swollen cock through his pants. You obey his request without hesitation this time, gently dragging your fingertips through the juices that have spilled from your core as you rub them up and down. Bucky is keenly aware of the way your fingers seem to avoid your clit. Pushing your legs wider, he settles deeper into his haunches to unlatch his belt and lower his zipper to relieve some of the steadily growing pressure.

“Touch yourself here,” Bucky demands, one hand reaching for your wrist and drawing your hand higher. “Show me how you’d do it if I wasn’t here. Make yourself feel good.”

Admittedly, you’d been avoiding direct stimulation of the bundle of nerves. You’re terrified of losing yourself completely and falling apart beneath Bucky’s scrutinous and watchful eye. It’s obvious from the way he licks his lips and stares you down with intensity that this is exactly what he wants. Even more obvious when you do as he asks and he shoves a hand behind the open zipper of his pants, burrowing under the tight elastic of his underwear to grasp his swelling length.

You begin to wriggle as you touch yourself, your toes curling restlessly into your sheets as your fingers swirl around your sensitive clit. Bucky’s eyes are glued to the motions of your hand, entranced by the subtle sounds of your slick folds as you massage them intermittently. His heart slams against the walls of his chest, beating to the same rhythm of your frantic little breaths and feminine sighs. Your eyes had shut as you slipped into ecstasy, but they fly open when you hear the jingling of Bucky’s dangling belt.

“Gotta touch myself, baby,” he confesses as he pulls his cock free, the weight of it making it bob between his thighs as a fresh rush of blood flows through his veins. “You got me so goddamn hard.”

As he wraps a fist around the thick base of his cock and begins to stroke it firmly, Bucky can’t help the loud and raspy moan that bounces off the walls. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes light up and you lick your lips at the sight of him fondling his impressive manhood; can’t help wondering how little it would take for you to let him have you. When he shifts closer and slides between your parted thighs, he sees the flash of apprehension.

“We can touch ourselves together, right?” he states softly. “I won’t do anything to you.”

He wants to add ‘unless you want me to’, although he allows the amending words to remain unspoken. Your doleful eyes tell him everything he needs to know: you need him — are desperate for him, even — and you’re so deliciously close to breaking. Your whispered request only assures him of that.

“W-will you kiss me?” you peep nervously.

At first, Bucky isn’t sure. You’ve already come this far, but he worries making physical contact with you will rip his shaky control of this situation right out of his hands. Still, he can’t say no when you’ve asked him so sweetly in that innocent little voice of yours and he ultimately gives in.

Leaning over you, Bucky brushes a strand of hair out of your face and tucks it behind your ear; ghosting his fingers along the edge of your jaw until his hand hovers over your mouth and his thumb hooks over your lower lip. You accept it easily, swirling your tongue and suckling gratefully at the long digit as Bucky presses it shallowly in and out of your mouth.

“Is that what you need?” Bucky breathes. “You promise you’ll keep being good for me if I kiss you?”

Nodding both dumbly and eagerly, you pout when his spit-soaked thumb slips free and leaves a trail of saliva down your chin. Though your disappointment is quickly forgotten as Bucky braces a hand on either side of your head and lowers his torso close to yours. His lips part and his warm breath washes over you as his face settles an inch from yours.

He kisses you chastely at first. Several short and slow pecks which you gladly accept are pressed to your soft mouth and you moan against him as you continue to work your fingers over your pulsing center. When he tries to pull back, you chase his lips; your teeth nipping at the plush flesh until he ceases the retreat. Your earnestness causes Bucky to grow impossibly harder and he mashes his mouth against yours. Unsure how you pluck up the courage, you force his lips apart and plunge your tongue into his mouth the second you have the opportunity to do so.

Bucky sinks further into the heated kiss and as he does, the leaking tip of his heavy cock brushes along your thigh, leaving a sticky trail of pre-cum in its wake. He groans brokenly into your mouth at the contact with the silky warmth of your flesh, his abs clenching as he gnashes his teeth against the unexpected stimulation. He looks down at you, nearly snapping when you peer up at him as if you’ve done something wrong.

“Is this okay?” he wonders, steadily pushing his hips forward so his dick grinds against your thigh more firmly. “Feels so fucking good, honey.”

Bucky doesn’t wait for a response or permission, rather he kisses you again and continues to use your soft skin to pleasure himself. It doesn’t matter to you, you’re more than happy to acquiesce in the interest of Bucky’s satisfaction. He assaults your mouth, leaving you panting and breathless as he shifts his hips and his cock moves lower until the crease of your thigh cradles the mass of the thick appendage. Your shocked inhale prompts him to back off only because he knows he’ll have more success if he eases you into it.

You nod your approval when Bucky asks if he can take off your panties, watching with rapt attention as he eases the dampened fabric along the curve of your legs; he lifts them and pushes your knees towards your chest to drag your underwear over your ankles and discard the crumpled material. Heat rises in your face when your legs fall open again and you’re bared entirely to Bucky.

“Wanna see you fuck yourself with those little fingers,” he breathes, barely managing to stop himself from exploding when you nervously bite your lip and wither slightly as you divert your wide eyes. “You gettin’ shy on me, baby girl?”

“A little,” you manage to giggle.

The urge to cover your bare body flees when Bucky swirls his thumb over the head of his cock and curses under his breath. His unflinching stare beckons you to continue obeying him and the way he looks at you as if he wants nothing more than to devour you whole is incentive enough for you to slip your fingers down low and circle your dripping entrance.

Bucky jerks himself with vigor as your delicate digits bury themselves in your pussy, pornographic sounds emanating from your center as you slowly fuck yourself. He burrows a hand under your hips and draws your body closer to his. Heat pulses off of your flesh and he angles his cock so close to your core that he swears he can feel the humidity of your pussy. As you rub yourself more frantically, your knuckles occasionally brush his swollen head, leaving behind slippery beads of pre-cum that seep between your fingers.

You’re dripping wet by now and Bucky notices the tumescence of your flooding arousal shining in the pale moonlight that splashes across your squirming body. He’s so enthralled by the beautifully naughty picture you make that he doesn’t even protest when he feels your curious fingers dancing along the firm ridge of his cockhead. Both of you are too far gone, too torqued up to consider the consequences or even the immorality of what you’re doing.

When you gather some of your slick and smear it over the spongy tip of his dick, Bucky swears he could see sound and taste colors. His ears ring and his head swims, frozen in place by the ineffable sensation of your timid touch. A shiver wracks his body when you begin to wrap a hand around him, pushing his fist out of the way to stroke his cock for him. Your juices smooth the way and the distinct veins that decorate his length pulse angrily beneath your palm.

Feeling bold, you lift your hips slightly upwards and swirl the turgid flesh through your folds, twitching when Bucky’s tip hits your swollen clit. The stimulation paired with your audacity to behave so rakishly pushes him uncomfortably close to a premature release, prompting him to grab your wrist and wrench your hand away from his aching erection. You whine unhappily, but he’s quick to soothe your disapproval.

“You have such a pretty pussy, baby,” he praises. “I’m just gonna rub on you like this.”

Buck demonstrates by sliding his cock through your folds, you slick coating the underside of his length and squelching audibly when he draws his hips back again. He keeps grinding himself along your needy pussy until you grow dizzy and frantic with need. The friction of his hot flesh is driving you insane and the pressure of his hardened, bulbous head rutting against your clit nearly sends you over the edge.

“Bucky, I—” you choke out, unable to voice the inconceivable appeal you want to make.

Your moaning and wriggling sets his teeth on edge and his muscles twitch with the restraint he forces himself to exert. He coos over you — smug and condescending — watching the rapturous way in which your eyes roll as you bite your lip until it bleeds. Bucky can see the words you want to spit out as if to rid your mouth of the acrid taste of them, but you fight it. He’s determined to hear you voice them.

“What is it, little one?” he whispers. “Do you want more?”

Suddenly unsure, you smile shyly and shake your head, though Bucky can still see the indecision burning in your eyes. It won’t be long before you change your mind. In fact, he intends to make certain that you do. He needs to touch you, to give you what he knows you need. He wants to make you fall apart. You’ll beg for release, from his fingers or his mouth...and he tells himself that that’s okay. That’s acceptable. He wouldn’t really be doing something wrong if he gets you off without burying himself in your young, willing body...would he?

When the blunt head of his cock catches on your neglected hole, your pussy spasms and your brain short circuits, prompting you to blurt out without thinking about or considering the impact of your words.

“Please fuck me, Daddy,” you whine, your plea shaky with unshed tears.

“Don’t,” Bucky barks instantaneously.

His sharp tone surprises you as Bucky has never once raised his voice, let alone been stern with you. You cower beneath his unexpected firmness, your eyes growing wetter.

“We can’t do that,” he insists, his resolve even weaker than his flimsy voice. “I can’t fuck you, baby girl.”

The forlorn way you whimper immediately has him questioning his own convictions and when you reach for his cock and mash it even more firmly against your drippy cunt to force your sodden lips to separate and hug the girth of him, he’s never believed in something less. And when you wrap your fingers around the base of him to guide the shiny, reddened tip to the entrance of your pussy where you just barely breach yourself and cry out at the tight feeling, he knows then and there that he is going to fuck you.

“Is that what you really want?” he bites harshly, taking his weight on one hand so he can press the palm of the other against your throat, finger curling around your esophagus until he’s sure he has your full attention. “You need your daddy inside you, huh?”

“I…I want you,” you blubber.

The tears that finally trickle from the corners of your eyes snaps what little sanity Bucky has left, he surrenders any desire to uphold some level of propriety with you. He picks up where you left off, guiding the tip of his cock to your weeping, wanting cunt and drives his hips slightly forward. Offering only a few short and shallow strokes, Bucky fucks you with just the first inch or so of his cock; the stretch is dizzying nonetheless.

You’re satisfied with the initial drags of his cock only for a moment before you writhe beneath him and try to take him deeper with all the subtlety of a brick. But Bucky pulls away, denying you the satisfaction of feeling more than just the tip of his fat cock. Somehow, he manages yet again to convince himself that if he doesn’t fuck you any deeper than this, he’s still done nothing wrong. If it’s just the tip, he isn’t truly fucking you; he isn’t cheating on his wife or corrupting his sweet, young stepdaughter.

He maintains his composure for significantly longer than he thought possible before he can resist no longer. You gasp and moan in a way befitting of the filthiest of whores and your back arches when he dares to slip you another inch.

The heat of your tight cunt swallowing him up and hugging his cock snugly seeps so deep into him that he feels the warmth in his bones. You squeal loudly in surprise when Bucky lurches forward and impales you, his thickness splits you open and stretches your pussy with almost unbearable yet fulfilling pressure. He places a hand on each of your hips, stilling your fidgeting and wiggling as you endeavor to ease away from the overwhelming sensation of his cock sliding all the way to the hilt. Bucky keeps you in place, reveling in the way your slick walls ripple and squeeze as he makes sure you go nowhere.

“I’m so sorry, sweet girl,” he soothes with slight condescension, curling his body over yours to capture your lips in a fervid kiss. “You felt too good, I had to feel all of you.”

You can only whimper in response, altogether unaccustomed to feeling so full. Bucky carefully cradles your head, pressing his forehead to yours as he begins to fuck you with deep and steady strokes. His cock feels indescribable as it drives into you, coated in your slippery cream and hard as steel. With each plunge into your clenching pussy, Bucky grunts deeply in your ear. His fingers thread more tightly in your hair, harshly yanking the strands as he pumps his hips with more and more force.

The head of his cock bumps your cervix on each downstroke and it knocks a wavering cry from your lungs with precise reliability, Bucky becoming more and more certain that you utter the pathetic noises with the intention of taunting him and egging him on. He turns his head, swallowing your salacious cries as they grow in volume.

You’re caged in by his muscular arms as he presses your chest to his, ensuring that you take every inch he’s forcing into your pliant body. He just about loses his mind when he can feel you using your feet for leverage to drop your hips and meet his every thrust, extending his arms so he can look down and watch you greedily engulf his cock.

“Tight little cunt…feel so much better than your mother. You’re being so good for me, baby. My nasty little girl, huh?” he encourages. “Just like that, I’m so fucking close. Gonna cum on these pretty tits.”

To drive the point home, Bucky claws at the cups of your bra to release the bouncing globes. He palms the flesh, grinding his palms into your sensitive nipples and adoring the way your pussy constricts in kind. Your arms had pulled up and come to rest against your ribs and your little hands curl and unfurl atop your torso, blindly searching for something to grasp.

Bucky snatches up the pillow you’d tossed aside earlier and presses it to your belly, encouraging you to grab hold of the plush object. You do so gratefully, fingers digging forcefully into it to hold it tight as Bucky shoves your knees towards your chest and his cock slides in and out of you with ease.

While Bucky did have every intention of pulling out and blowing his load on your breasts as promised, the feral sound that rattles deep in your throat like an animal in heat makes him rethink the option. The sight of you powerless and tiny beneath him — pathetically clutching your pillow with both your eyes and lips opened wide with ecstasy as he watches the thickness of his cock disappearing within your little pussy, spreading and stretching you out with each swivel of his hips — leaves him without much choice.

“Don’t stop,” you beg. “Please don’t stop.”

He can’t hold back now, can’t deny either one of you the delectation of him leaving you completely full and sated. Especially not when he feels you grind your hips to sink further down onto him until the thatch of hair at the base of his cock tickles your clit and your legs pull tight around his hips.

The weight of Bucky’s body crushes the pillow between your bodies as he leans in to bite your neck, growling in response to your lamenting wail. The room is filled with the sound of raucous slapping as your skin makes sharp and consistent contact, the backs of your thighs slamming into Bucky’s hips with every violent thrust he imparts on you. You’re practically screaming by the time your orgasm overtakes you and the constriction of your pussy relentlessly gripping his cock flings Bucky over his own precipice.

“Ohhh, fuck…that’s it, honey. Just like that. Such a good fuckin’ slut,” Bucky hisses, beginning to ramble as the first spurt of cum spills, his balls pulsing with force. “Stay right there. Daddy’s gonna fill you up so good.”

You know you should refuse, push Bucky off and stop him from burying his seed in your pussy. But you cannot deny the fact that somewhere deep down, this is what you’ve wanted all along. To be his and to be marked as such. When you feel his cock jump inside you and the noticeable warmth of his cum seeps into your womb, you do exactly as he requests and you stay put as he pumps his hips shallowly and fucks his spurting cum even deeper.

Tipping your head, you latch your teeth into the collar of Bucky’s shirt as his body spasms above you, muscles twitching and rippling with his powerful release. He pins you in place with his body, focusing his weight against your wiggling hips until he’s positive you’ve milked every last drop of cum from his slick-soaked dick. You squeak in discomfort when he presses his pelvis flush to yours, the depth of his cock making your insides ache.

Bucky remains there — buried as deep as he can physically get — until he can catch his breath and his dick begins to soften. When he pulls out, the thick white trickle of cream begins to spill out immediately. You’re vaguely aware of the sound of a car outside and while you know you should be rushing to cover up and Bucky should be slipping away unnoticed from your bedroom, he seems to have other ideas.

Thick fingers sweep through the stickiness of Bucky’s spend, smearing it all over your puffy folds and coating your swollen clit in a layer of cum. He spends a dizzying amount of time focusing his touch on the over-stimulated bundle of nerves, only stopping when you begin to flinch and whine beneath his touch. Once you do, he chooses instead to gather the rest of what drips from your wrecked pussy on his fingers before slowly and methodically stuffing the long digits inside of you, shoving his cum back inside.

Satisfied with how his cum is now smeared over every inch of your pussy — both inside and out — Bucky brings his slippery fingers to his mouth, lewdly sucking your combined juices from his skin. He licks his lips for good measure, then hops gingerly from your bed to tug his boots back onto his feet. Bucky turns to you, proudly observing your limp, satiated body and the look on your tear-streaked face as he lovingly caresses the inside of your right thigh where some of your fluids have smeared. He fights the urge to bury his fingers knuckle-deep in your leaking pussy when he spies the cum that starts to seep out again.

“Come say goodnight to your mother,” he directs as he carefully stuffs his softened length back into his pants before looming over you to speak against your parted lips. “Be a good girl and I’ll come back later to tuck you in.”

With that, Bucky kisses you sloppily then exits your room without another word. You’re left lying there, alone and exhausted; legs shaking and your stepfather’s cum oozing from your sore pussy as you hear the distant sound of your mother’s voice downstairs.

Part Two

• Series Masterlist •

Sebastian Stan Masterlist ✦ Writing Masterpost

#i used the word cock 24 times i'm so sorry #barely edited this so i'm sorry for that too #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader fanfic #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #stepfather au #stepfather!bucky barnes #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan

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ur-dad-satan · 3 months

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Hello! Can I plz request where the Obey Me brothers react to their s/o getting turned on by their fangs? The s/o is like: plz bite me~ And if the brothers ever get angry and snarl or show off their fangs the s/o just gets turned on. It's ok of no tho! 🥰

Anon, bestie, I got you <3

*.*.*.*.*.

MC was what most would consider a trouble maker. They loved getting on people's nerves. Despite now being constantly surrounded by beings that could kill them in many different ways in the snap of a finger, this habit persisted. But now, they had a reward. Their partner's fangs. It was just something about those sharp little teeth that seemingly flipped a switch in the horny human whenever they saw them. MC had a daily goal of annoying the brothers just to see their fangs; the brothers didn't know that was the reason for MC's behavior at times though. But when they found out?? It went a little like this.

!!Suggestive but not explicit!!

Luci

Making Lucifer mad was one of the easiest things MC could do

They knew just how annoyed he got when his work was disrupted

All MC wanted was a little attention (allegedly)

Somehow, the human ended up in Lucifer's office bothering him while he tried to work

They squeezed themselves between the eldest and his desk.

He sighed and tried to tell them to move but they would refuse

He'd get annoyed quickly and flash his fangs but he would notice how MC's eyes lit up

Being as smart as he was, he finally caught on

"You like my fangs, don't you, MC?"

"Obviously."

His lips and sharp fangs would graze across MC's neck causing their breath to catch

"You should have said so earlier, Darling."

"Please bite me."

"Maybe just a little..."

Ooh MC will be marked for a week straight and everyone will see it

Mam

The silly little simp would be flashing his fangs all the time

And MC would take advantage of it all the time.

Throw him a complement or two and he's flashing a goofy little crooked grin; showing off his fangs

Tell a joke? He'll laugh his ass off and his fangs will be on full display

The poor man would be clueless until...

The second born would be watching a movie with MC and they wouldn't stop looking at him

Eventually he'd notice and want to know why his precious little human can't take their eyes off him

"Not that I'm complainin', but you've been starin' at me for the last ten minutes. What gives?"

"You're just so damn cute. From your pretty hair to your pretty blue eyes, and especially your fangs."

Oh the butterflies he would feel. But he wouldn't let them see it (they know)

"W-well if ya like 'em so much, how about I just bite ya!" It was supposed to be a joke, but...

"Please do."

And he will. Only for his human. After he stops malfunctioning

Levi

Leviathan always celebrated a win audibly whenever he gamed.

He always had something to say followed by a giant toothy grin showing off his fangs.

He never noticed how MC would sometimes throw a match to see his teeth when he celebrated.

He never noticed how their tone changed after seeing him celebrate.

And he certainly never noticed how MC liked to look at his fangs, not his smile when he went on and on about one of his interests.

But MC would throw a match and he'd notice this time.

And the next. And two more times before he decided to speak up

"MC, why do you keep looking at my mouth? Do you... like... like my smile... or something?"

Not quite, love

"Yes, but I'm looking at your fangs. They look so hot."

He'd blush and blabber but that just made them more visible

MC knew that this next part would almost kill him, but it seemed to slip out of their mouth anyway...

"Please, bite me Levia-chan."

He'd be broken for a bit, (poor boy) but he would build up the courage and bite them ever so gently

Sat

Satan's poor temper was one MC never pushed too much on

They could calm him, but usually for a price...

That didn't mean that they didn't love the way he scowled and grimaced in annoyance at just about anything

Lucifer said something? How dare he

Solomon was mentioned? Why would you do that?

MC loved to do teeny tiny things to make Satan mildly annoyed just to see his scrunched-up scowl and those sharp fangs

They bothered him just a little bit while he was reading a book

They mentioned something "funny" Lucifer said

Now his fangs were on full display

"MC, why must you annoy me like this?"

The answer was obvious, and they didn't even need to reply as he realized what they were looking at

"This is about my fangs, isn't it?"

MC would nod and get close so close they were almost touching

"Bite me, Tan?"

If he didn't, they would mumble something about how Lucifer would if they asked him too

Then, he had to make sure he didn't draw (too much) blood

Asmo

Asmodeus wasn't really one to lose his temper so easily, so MC really had to play dirty to annoy him

Yeah, his fangs would sometimes show if he was smiling wide enough

But that wasn't enough for MC

They did a lot of little petty stuff like get in Asmo's way or hint that his outfit isn't his color

There was only one time MC pushed the demon just a little too far...

MC had put on their absolute favorite outfit and all their favorite accessories like they were about to go out

Asmo had asked where they were going looking so good

But the demon was ignored... MC talked to everyone else, but pretended he didn't exist

Asmo had enough and finally pinned them to some wall where no one else was

"Why the hell are you ignoring me, MC? Did I do something?"

They smirked. They were quiet until Asmo was scowling and about to say something else

"I love when you're mad at me. I can see your fangs."

"That's what this is about?! You could have just asked!" He was pretty upset

"You should bite me."

Asmo would take them to his room and MC would need an icepack and maybe even a wheelchair

Beel

Beelzebub doesn't smile very often but when he did, his fangs would show just a bit.

They would also show whenever he opened his mouth to eat

That's why MC liked to watch him eat

However, his fangs showed the most when he was lifting

MC would always watch beel work out or work out with him just to see him grit his teeth and flash his fangs

They loved the sight of the big string demon all sweaty and straining

Sometimes they would push him a little too much to see him grimace with effort

But he started to notice how much they stared in his face when they worked out together.

"Do I have food or something in my teeth? You keep staring at them."

"No, no... I just want you to bite me." It came out more dreamily then they intended but they didn't care

"Bite you?" He continues on the squat rack, gritting his teeth and showing his fangs

"Yes please." Oh would MC get an after workout snack

The dumbass is definitely going to need a wheelchair now

Belphie

Belphegor was the one who's fangs were most difficult to see

He was always so tired that it was rare MC got to see his fangs

He liked to cuddle into MC's neck when they napped together so they couldn't see

It was a struggle for MC to turn around in Belphie's arms as he slept like a log

But sometimes they could wiggle free enough to turn and place their hands on Belphie's sleeping face

They just wanted to see his fangs. Nothing else

They tried to move his lips but he somehow woke up

"Stop. Sleep." His voice still low and gruff and he would cuddle back into the human

MC loved it almost as much as his fangs. Might as well ask

"But I want to see your fangs." MC almost whined

Now he's more awake

"Why?" He's not moving from his spot without good reason

"They're hot." The youngest brother would think about it before showing off his fangs

"Please bite me."

He would leave lazy bite marks and hickeys all over anywhere he can reach without moving too much

Sorry this took so long anon, but it's done!! I hope you like it!! <3

#obey me!#obey me mc #obey me brothers #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me luci #obey me mam #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #anon ask #obey me ask #obey me smut

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lola-bunn1 · 1 year

Note

Hey! please could you write a Neteyam x reader?

The reader has always been seen as ‘one of the boys’ and Neteyam treats her as a friend. She becomes fed up of Neteyam not noticing her as a woman so she decides to act feminine or flirty. Neteyam notices her change in demeanour and how she attracts attention of another male which causes him to be jealous. This causes an argument which leads to a confession and maybe a little smut.

❥ a/n: i hope this turned out the way you wanted! im not good with smut so it was little ik im sorry !! also grace is alive here bc theres mentions of her school

Neteyam has always been apart of your life, you grew close to him and he grew close to you. Not in the way you think though, you grew close to him in the romantic sense, he grew close to you in the friendly sense.

You've always been with him, when he'd go hang out with the boys, you'd come as well and nobody ever minded. After all, you weren't a girl. You were part of them.

You actually hated it.

You hated that everyone including Neteyam thought of you as one of the boys.

You weren't.

You didn't care if everyone thought that, what really mattered was Neteyam. And it angered you how he didn't think of you as an actual girl.

You were sick of it, and you noticed things about yourself. You always wore something over your tops, you never really did anything to make yourself look better.

So you changed that, you made new tops, tops that really focused on your features, you braided your hair differently, and changed the way you spoke, you began speaking in a soft and feminine voice.

The only reason you really wore a long top was because of the one time you didn't, where Neteyam made fun of you and the fact that you looked like a girl, and you stopped wearing it so he can stop

But this time, you didn't care, you didn't even know why he used it as an insult.

When you first left your home looking the way you did after you changed yourself, you didn't notice the amount of eyes that were set on you.

Neteyam was with his friends, talking and waiting for you before they all went quiet

"Damn" One of them said before you approached them

"Hey guys" You smiled, talking in a soft voice

"Why do you sound like that" Neteyam said

"You look like an actual girl" Another guy said

"Uh, thanks?" You said and they all laughed, Neteyam didn't though since there wasn't anything funny

Were they laughing to please you or something?

"Uh, y/n, wanna walk with me to school?" Al'oktan asked

"Alright" You said, and everyone stared as you walked with him, Neteyam just glared and went quiet

It started becoming like this all the time, boys would talk to you, walk you home, try to impress you. But what bothered Neteyam the most was what you were doing.

Why the sudden change? You were fine the way you were before.

You completely changed, and it annoyed him.

What really snapped him, was when he was with his friends

"Neteyam" Al'oktan said

"What" Neteyam answered

"Do you think anyone asked to court y/n?"

Neteyam froze, was he going to court you?

The other boys answered for Neteyam, and he just made up some excuse and left them.

He went to find you and rolled his eyes when he saw you with another guy

"y/n" He said, and they both turned to him, "we need to talk"

"Um, okay...I'll see you later" You told the guy, he just glared at Neteyam and walked away

It was quiet for some time, he just kept staring at you

"What's going on?" You asked

"What are you doing." He said

"What?" You responded, confused

"Why are you acting like this"

"Like what, exactly?" You nervously chuckled

"Like this, y/n!" He yelled, "The weird change in voice, the revealing outfits, the hair, everything!"

You rolled your eyes at him, "What do you expect, Neteyam. I'm a girl" You said and were about to walk away until he pulled you back

"Don't you think I know that?" he asked

"No actually, you don't. You always see me as one of the guys and it's annoying! I'm not, Neteyam! I'm not some guy friend you can make fun of. I actually have feelings yknow" You yelled

"You know I don't actually make fun of you"

"I don't care. Why are you so mad anyway!" you rolled your eyes again

"Because I don't like it!"

"Don't like what!"

"Everything! I don't like seeing others with what's mine." He yelled and you went quiet, he held your hand, "You are what's mine."

"What are you saying?" You said

He gently held your face, "I'm saying what you're hearing, y/n." He whispered, slowly leaning in and pressing his lips against yours

You slowly pushed him away, "Why now, Neteyam?"

"Because I planned on telling you before, but you suddenly changed and all these boys were after you and I didn't like it." He said

"Why not? I think it's sweet" You teased

"Very funny" He rolled his eyes

You smiled and leaned in to kiss him again, he melted into the kiss, your hands roamed around his hair, his slid down to your top, gently untying it

"I'll show you what's really funny, y/n" He whispered as his hands roamed down your body

man were you in for a night.

#avatar fanficiton #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #avatar x reader #avatar #neteyam x you #neteyam sully #neteyam #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x reader

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idksmtms · 4 months

Text

The Only Way... (District Mentor!Aemond Targaryen x Tribute!reader)

(first Aemond pic was found on tumblr and edited by @kyloremus)

AN: Huge shoutout to @valeskafics for inspiring my HoTD x Hunger Games stories. Without her, I would never even have thought to connect the two. Highly HIGHLY recommend her writing! - Also, yes, I did pick a random HoTD name for the male tribute, sue me -

Summary: There were only two past winners from your district, and one of them didn’t even bother with his mentor duties anymore. But this year, for one last time, Aemond decides to attempt to mentor one of the tributes, not expecting how it would change his life.

Word count: 6.5k

Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, innuendo, slight age gap (I made the reader a couple years younger than him for story purposes), vague p in v s*x, oral f receiving, mentions of blood, discussions of death, discussions of trauma, discussions of disfigurement, (please let me know if I missed any)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim to own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so.

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

Aemond Targaryen was reaped for the Hunger Games in his first year of eligibility. At 12 years old he had been shipped into the arena, and he had won. Though he had lost an eye in the process, he deemed it a worthy sacrifice for getting out alive. He had been responsible for half the cannons that sounded in the arena, had gotten his revenge for the eye taken from him, and had emerged the victor. He strongly believed the world was against him at every turn, (how else does one explain getting reaped and losing an eye?) but he knew that he was strong enough to fight back against fate.

The first couple of years after his victory, he had attempted to mentor tributes alongside his own mentor, Rhaenys Velaryon. But each one had met their own gruesome end in the arena and eventually he had given up on his duties altogether, much preferring to stay in his home at the victor’s village with his family.

It’s not that he wasn’t a good mentor, he truly believed he taught them a decent amount in the short time he had with them, and that allowed them to live longer than they would have without him, but they all lacked his ruthlessness. He had a certain cold-hearted quality that allowed him to kill without batting an eye in the arena, and he could happily admit to it. Every single victor had either gone in with that quality already bred in their veins or they had built it in the arena. He wasn’t sure which side he fell on, but he knew he possessed it. After two or three years of watching kids he had gotten to know, most older than him, die at the hands of others who had been just like him, he had gotten tired and decided to step away. He knew Rhaenys could handle it, she had been doing it much longer than him anyway.

But this year, something felt different. Maybe it was the long speech his mother had given him about doing his duty, regardless of his own feelings. Maybe it was the thought that it was the last year of eligibility for his brother Daeron and he wanted to be there to ensure that if he was reaped he would at least have a mentor he knew. Whatever it was, he decided he would attempt mentoring one last time and do his utmost to make his tribute a victor.

A part of him was worried to start showing his face in public again. Though he was used to his eyepatch and he didn’t shy away from venturing out of the house if need be, this would put him directly in the limelight once more after many years. Everyone in Panem knew he wore an eyepatch, everyone in Panem had seen the initial wound he had been dealt, but he had kept away from the scene for so long that he felt self-conscious about his appearance. People would stare, people would be horrified, and- and he would just have to deal with it anyway.

On reaping day he put on his best suit, a beautiful two-piece made of fabrics of black and dark green and ventured into the square with his mother on his right arm and his sister on his left. He didn’t say a word to either as they entered the space and he left them to go stand near the back of the stage. Old memories of his own reaping day were flooding back in. The nervous energy that had thrummed through him, the sudden stillness of his body when they had called his name, his mother screaming and sobbing, pleading for it to be anybody else. Aemond closed his eyes and swallowed, ignoring the sudden pain that throbbed where his eye should be. He clasped his hands behind his back and looked across to where Rhaenys stood on the other side of the stage.

She was staring out at the gathering crowd with a blank face. Her hair was neatly braided at the top then flowed down her back in a white similar to his own. They were relatives, somehow, he could never quite remember the relation. He could see the signs of age on her face now, the wrinkles around her mouth had multiplied since she had last been here with him. Her dress was a deep blue, matching her eyes, and covered her arms until her wrists. He knew she bore scars on those arms from her own fight in the arena, but he felt a bitter pang of jealousy at how easily she was able to hide them. He would never have that luxury.

Aemond waited as the bustling died down and everyone was gathered in the square. He could see the lines of peacekeepers all over, their guns shining in the watery sunlight. He could see his brother standing among the men, a shock of white hair in a sea of brunettes and blondes. He wanted to smile at Daeron, to try and reassure him somehow that everything would be alright, but that was a lie and he would never be able to promise him that. Instead he looked away and began searching for his mother’s and sister’s faces as the anthem played and the formalities ensued. They were harder to find, but eventually he spotted his mother standing next to a girl in an emerald green dress. It was you.

Aemond was shocked for a moment to see that colour in the crowd. Everyone else was dressed in varying shades of grey, with the odd yellow popping out from somewhere in the crowd. Even his mother was more unique than most by wearing a completely black outfit, but you stood out like a flare. The dress was made of some satiny material and shined in the light. It was a relatively modest dress, with a collared neckline and short sleeves, the hem falling below the knee, but it was so… green.

Aemond stared at you, at your pretty hair and apprehensive eyes, posture straight but so tense he was sure your muscles must hurt. This must have been your last year of eligibility as well, he thought, you looked to be about Daeron’s age. Your name was populating that bowl, just as Daeron’s was, and he could understand the dread. You were so close to freedom, but if fate decided to be against you today, there was nothing you could do but face it.

“Alright! It’s now time to pick one young man and woman for the honour of representing this district in the next annual hunger games! Our courageous young man will be…” the brightly dressed capitol man reached his hand into the bowl and began mixing it around. Aemond silently prayed to the seven that he would accept anything, even his name being pulled again, as long as it wasn’t Daeron. He didn’t want to see the pain on his mother’s face if her youngest child was reaped. He didn’t think he could stand idly by if they picked Daeron. “Jasper Wylde! Come on up!” There was a moment of commotion as people looked around to try and find the unfortunate boy and eventually he stepped warily out onto the path made for the tributes. The capitol attendant clapped happily but no one joined in, watching with morose faces as he walked up to the stage and stood beside the bowl full of male names.

First Aemond breathed a sigh of relief. He truly did feel like smiling this time because Daeron was free. His family was finally free. They could live in their house in the victor’s village on his salary and die peacefully, a luxury. Then a wave of solemnity washed over him once more and he bowed his head slightly. He knew what it felt like to be reaped, he knew with what hatred that boy now stared at the bowl full of names, wondering why it was him and not the thousands of other names piled in there. No one should celebrate at this moment, a child was still being sent to his death.

“And now, last but not least, the ladies…” the representative hopped across the stage and shoved his hand into the other bowl. He swirled it around a few more times than he did for the boys, then picked a piece of paper right from the bottom. He slowly peeled it open and you could hear the way the paper stuck together slightly in the silence. “Y/n L/n!” Murmurs again filled the crowd but Aemond knew exactly who it was. You were the only one that didn’t move. People began turning and looking but you stood still. His mother gently rested a hand on your shoulder, whispering something in your ear. You turned to look at Alicent then tipped your head down in a swift nod. Then, back straight and head held high, you stepped through the crowd and onto the path.

You were a sight to behold. A girl in green striding down the path. A bright spot of paint on a white background. Aemond hadn’t realised his breath was held in his chest. Somewhere in the distance he could hear weeping, but you didn’t turn back. You stared at the stage and kept walking until you stood beside the capitol representative. It was only when you had gotten near that Aemond realised he could see your lip wobbling, that your hands shook like trees in a storm and tears made silent, shiny, tracks down your cheeks.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, here are our district’s tributes! Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour…”

In the time the tributes were given to say their goodbyes to their families, Aemond took the opportunity to make his own farewells. He had already said goodbye to his father and Aegon who had stayed behind at the house during the reaping ceremony. His father was too ill to leave the house and it was Aegon’s turn to stay behind in case peacekeepers came asking for the health declaration. Though Aemond knew this wouldn’t happen as they were all here, and it gave Aegon a good excuse to laze around the house.

Helaena, Daeron, and his mother had been sad to see him go, though they took comfort in the knowledge that if no one else, at least he would return. Helaena shed a tear as she hugged him, making him promise to eat well and stay strong. Daeron’s goodbye was quicker, and he couldn’t tell if it was because he didn’t want Aemond to see him upset or because he wanted to go celebrate his newfound freedom. He hugged Aemond quickly then dragged Helaena off to home, chattering to her about something or other.

Aemond watched his siblings walk away then turned to his mother who watched him with sombre eyes. She was silent for a moment, then reached out and gently folded his hands between hers. She looked down at them then back up at him with a sniff and he wondered if she was about to start crying.

“Take care of her, Aemond,” she finally said, voice quiet but firm. “Until the end, you must take care of her.” Alicent looked him in the eyes until he nodded before squeezing his hands lightly. She pulled him into a hug and gently rubbed his back. “She needs you, Aemond, and if anyone can help her, it will be you. Leave that boy to Rhaenys, hm? She can handle him, and he will do what he will regardless. But Y/n has potential to win. People may not see it, but I believe, and only you can get her there.” Alicent let him go and stepped back, blowing a kiss to her son and beginning to walk away.

“Wait, mother-”

“Time to go,” the capitol representative came up beside him and clasped his shoulder but Aemond was quick to shove him off. He couldn’t threaten a capitol citizen, but gosh was he close.

Aemond still had so many questions for his mother but he was being herded toward the train and she had disappeared among the buildings. He let out a sigh of dejection and allowed himself to be brought onto the train, sitting down in the lavish room and pressing his head into his hands. The eyepatch was digging into his skin and he just wanted to rip it off and itch at his scars. But he couldn’t, because he didn’t want to look at what was underneath, and he didn’t want anyone else to walk in while his face was completely bare. So he pulled the leather away just slightly and scratched at the edges then let it snap back into place. He stared at the floor as he tried to sort out the pieces in his head and come up with a plan. He always had to have a plan. That’s how he survived his first games, and that’s how he would survive his last.

The doors to the compartment opened and Rhaenys walked in, her dress swishing around her ankles. He stood to greet her and she smiled, a small dejected thing that was as pathetic as he felt. She walked over to the bar and poured herself a glass of sweet alcohol. He remembered the taste from his first train ride, sickly sweet to the point of pain then fiery as it slipped down your throat. One taste had been enough for his whole life.

“I see you’ve returned to your duties,” Rhaenys said, voice full of mirth as she sipped from her glass. Aemond nodded, watching as she sat down on a plush velvet chair. He followed suit, sitting opposite her across an ornate glass coffee table.

“Yes, one last time,” Aemond replied simply, turning away from her to stare out the window as the train began to move. “I have a request, concerning the tributes.”

“Oh?” Rhaenys raised an eyebrow, lips pulling up into a smirk as she brought the glass to her lips to drain the rest of her drink. “Do tell.”

“I will solely mentor Y/n, and you can take charge of the boy,” Aemond said, lacing his fingers together in his lap.

“Why?” Rhaenys furrowed her brows and put the glass down on the coffee table.

“It will be easier on everyone, focus all your energy on one tribute and do what you can to get them to win.,” he shrugged, as if the answer had been there all along.

“Yes I know that, but why do you want to mentor her?” Rhaenys asked, and he went quiet, staring at her as he tried to think of his answer. All his mind conjured was the image of you walking to the stage, the green dress and the tear tracks.

“I’m sure you see the potential in the boy. He has muscle, he has experience from the mines which means he already has the brute strength that can be honed with skill, but I see potential in her. I’d like to see what I can do with it.” He stared directly into Rhaenys’ eyes and sat up straight.

Aemond believed what he said. If his mother saw potential in you, then so did he. He would do what he could to get you ready for the games, then he would do whatever he could to help you survive in the arena. The world was always against him, but if there was one thing he knew, it was how to survive. Now, he would make sure you did too.

“Alright, have it your way,” Rhaenys shrugged, and this time Aemond allowed himself to smile.

Aemond and Rhaenys walked through three train compartments before they found the tributes. You were sitting at the right wall on a purple velvet sofa, legs curled up under you, staring out of the window. Jasper was busying himself at the bar and the air was heavy with silence. Both of you refused to acknowledge the other, and Aemond cleared his throat to draw your eyes to him. You merely raised your eyes to them while Jasper made to rush around the bar as if they had caught him doing something he shouldn’t.

“Oh don’t stop on our account, it’s only right you drink what you will before you die,” Rhaenys smiled genially, and Jasper had enough sense to look sheepish. “Alright, you come with me, I’ll be your mentor,” she pointed to Jasper then motioned for him to follow her before walking back out of the room. Jasper hesitated, looking around as if he was unsure what the protocol was, but Aemond just motioned his head to where Rhaenys had disappeared and Jasper jogged after her.

The room was quiet again. You had returned to staring out of the window, and Aemond slowly made his way over to the sofa you were sitting on. He left a seat between you and sat down, only turned slightly toward you. You finally tore your eyes away from the landscape and looked at him and he could see how red and puffy they were. Red veins crawled over the whites of your eyes and your nose was shiny and a pang of something painful hit his chest.

“Did you get to say goodbye?” He asked quietly, lacing his hands together in his lap. You nodded, gulping and opening your mouth once, twice, before a croaking voice spoke.

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat before speaking again, “I only have my parents so… it was a quick goodbye.” Your lower lip began trembling and your whole face crumpled as you began to sob once more.

Aemond had seen tributes cry before, it was normal, but not this much. By the time they got on the train they usually gathered themselves up and began trying to concoct a plan. But you, you seemed to be completely lost to despair. Your face was the picture of pain, and you brought your knees up to your chest and rocked yourself slightly. His mouth turned down in pity.

“My mother bought me this dress,” you finally said through the tears, voice slightly blubbery and high-pitched as you began breathing in to calm yourself. You looked up to meet his eyes and he could barely make out your irises through your crinkled lids and the heaps of water pouring over your lashes. “She wanted to get me something special for my last year in the reaping and she spent a whole salary on the fabric. She toiled night after night, coming home from work to painstakingly stitch every piece together.” You gently caressed the fabric and smiled through the tears and somehow this sight was so much worse than the frown. Aemond’s chest clenched so tight he thought his heart might stop beating altogether. You let out a huff of a chuckle, a watery sound that was quickly followed by a sniffle as you pressed your hands to the fabric before looking up at him and directly into his eyes. Your own were open now, wide as they could go, serious as they could be.

“I know I can’t win. You know I can’t win. Everyone who watched the reaping knows I can’t win. I’m a girl who’s only skill is dressing pretty. So, Aemond Targaryen, tell me what to do?” You looked at him in earnest, as if he held all the answers, and for a moment Aemond began to question what his mother saw in you. What was this potential she spoke of? All he saw was a weak little girl who couldn’t even be bothered to believe in herself. But then he remembered your walk up to the stage, the strength with which you had held yourself even while you had cried. Now he understood what his mother wanted him to do.

“You think you can’t win.” He turned to fully face you and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “There’s more to the games than just surviving the arena. You’re good at looking pretty? Then you’ll survive the parade, you’ll excel at the interview, you’ll get sponsors and I’ll be able to help you for longer in the games with that. Not everything is about brute force and murderous intent. You’ll have some time to train before going into the arena, we can use it to teach you a few things. Don’t think about winning, just try surviving,” he watched you as he spoke, noting the way you seemed to breathe easier and your eyes seemed to lighten slightly. Your hands stopped trembling and you uncurled from around your knees, instead spreading your toes out over the plush fabric.

“Ok,” you breathed out, “I can try,” you affirmed, nodding to yourself, and he allowed you a small smile before becoming sombre again.

“I won’t lie to you, you will have to do things in the arena that will haunt you if you manage to make it out. The games are designed to turn you into an animal. Even if you go in there without the intention of killing, no one comes out unscathed. So, the real question isn’t about if people believe you can win. Are you willing to do what it takes?”

Aemond had thought about all the people he had killed for a long time. He remembered every detail about them, from district and family history to what they had looked like the moment life had finally drained from their eyes. He often thought about his final victim, the only person he had gotten along with before they had entered the arena. He thought of the way she had grabbed his wrist and forced the knife into her own stomach, the way she had smiled as she fell to the floor, the eternal smile as the cannon sounded and her blood warmed his hand. The realisation that he was alone in the arena.

When he saw the smile on your face as you wiped at your tears and brought your feet off the couch, nodding your head and repeating the word yes until you seemed to believe yourself, he thought of the final girl.

When you reached the capitol, you were separated and attendants led you off to… somewhere. You were stripped bare and forced into a roiling bath filled with all sorts of serums and scents and oils. Your scalp was scrubbed until you could feel each individual hair follicle growing and your skin was pink. They cut and polished your fingernails and toenails and waxed you all over until your skin burned. You were moved onto your stylist who greeted you with kisses on your cheeks before whirling you around to scrutinise your body. He had a gentle smile, and conversed with you all the while you stood on a pedestal in the middle of his room. He told you about the dress he had made for you, all the jewellery available to you and how you had the next few hours to prepare yourself for the parade.

You allowed yourself to revel in this one luxury. You loved to dress up, to wear fancy clothes and beautify yourself whenever you could. The opportunities had been few and far between back home, despite your parents doing their best to provide you with them. Even if you were going to die in a few weeks time, at least you could enjoy the luxuries offered until then.

Ursa brought out a garment bag and one of his attendants rolled in three carts covered in jewellery one by one. Ursa hung the bag up right in front of you and zipped it open, to reveal the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. “I watched the reaping and just knew what I would make,” he whispered as both of you stared at it. You brought your hand to your mouth and stepped forward to touch the fabric.

The dress was dark green, like leaves in the deepest, darkest, part of a forest. A sweetheart neckline with off the shoulder straps that led into long swaths of tulle that would flow behind your arms. Rhinestones were sewn into the fabric almost at random to look like sunlight falling onto the fabric. It had a long train that you knew would drag behind you on the ground and force the carriage behind you to keep at a distance. You realised how he wanted to single you out. The organisers would keep everything symmetrical, so the long gap behind you would mean there was a long gap ahead of you too. Spectators would be drawn to the sight of you two taking up so much space. You would be the centre of attention.

Ursa helped you into the dress and set the sleeves for you as you gazed at yourself in the mirror. It truly was made for you, each measurement perfect. All the effort Ursa had put into this… you began to tear up but he just hushed you and began fussing over the jewellery carts. He suggested putting a tiara on you but you were hesitant. It felt presumptuous to already wear a crown at the tribute parade.

“Darling,” he held your chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced you to look into his eyes. “Act like you’ve already won. Nothing else will make it easier, and nothing else will grab their attention more.” He slid the comb of the tiara into your hair and forced you to hold your head up high.

In the next few hours, you were draped with necklaces and bracelets and rings. Just before you were helped up onto the carriage, Aemond appeared at your side. You looked up at him and for a moment he didn’t say a word. He just stared at you, at the dress and the crown and the whole picture of finery. You couldn’t read what was in his eyes and you looked down nervously, trying not to shuffle back out of embarrassment.

“You look like a winner,” he finally said.

When training started, your confidence began to wane. You watched all the other tributes heft axes, shoot arrows, slice swords or destroy dummies with their bare hands. You watched other tributes practice building traps or gain strength in their legs for running. It felt like you were the only one starting from rock bottom. You wanted to yell at Aemond, to say “look! Look at my glaring lack of ability! Whatever belief you had in me must be dead!” But everyday he came back, dressed in black athletic wear ready to teach you something new.

He didn’t bother with any weapon bigger than a dagger, telling you it would only weigh you down. He made you run until you were sick for the first half of every day, then run some more. The second half was spent learning how to use the simplest of supplies to make traps or alarms. He would use rope or wire with a handful of leaves he had gathered from outside the facility. He taught you about plants and water sources and made you list every possible terrain and the best possible strategy to handle it before you could leave for the day.

Despite the intense rigour with which he attacked your training, he was endlessly patient. He listened to every complaint before forcing you back onto the treadmill. He rubbed ointment on your fingertips after you cut them on the wire but made you rebuild the trap. He made sure you ate a full meal but quizzed you about everything he taught you while you sat together. And on the nights when you missed home, when the world felt like it was ending and your mind could only play the sight of your mother’s face crumpled with tears, the sound of your father crying, he held you and whispered stories of history long past into your ears until you slept.

He had so quickly become everything to you. At times you thought about how only a little while ago he had been nothing but an image on a screen, a name whispered around town, and now he was your comfort, your nourishment, your whole life, your very soul. You tried to imagine doing this without him, and you simply couldn’t. You knew you would have given up a long time ago if he had not been there to carry you through.

As the time to enter the arena crept closer and closer, the training got harder and harder. It was on a particularly difficult day that you returned from the facility and began rummaging in your closet for your reaping day dress. You hugged it as you slept sometimes, imagining that you could still smell the faint scent of your mother’s perfume on it. But it wasn’t there. You threw out every scrap of cloth that the capitol had provided for you, opened every drawer and pawed through every nook and cranny like a desperate mouse searching for food. It was nowhere to be found.

Aemond heard all the noise coming from your room and decided to venture in to figure out what was wrong. He found you sitting on the floor in a pile of underwear and training gear, hair still wet from the shower and tears streaming down your face. You were sobbing quietly, shoulders hunched forward and body bobbing slightly with every hiccuped breath. Your hands were clenched in the clothes you were surrounded by and he could see the chaos that had occurred. Aemond knelt down beside you and gently unclasped one of your hands from the clothes.

“What’s happened?” He asked quietly, softly touching each one of your fingertips where they were still red from working with the metal wire.

“My dress is gone,” you whispered hoarsely, looking up at him with big teary eyes. You looked like a child then, the way Daeron had when he used to fall down outside the house and cry until mother soothed his cuts and bruises. Aemond reached up and collected a tear with his thumb.

“They must have taken it for a wash, I’ll call down and find it,” he soothed, wiping the tear on his pants before repeating the gesture on your other cheek.

You continued to stare up into his eyes, and he let go of your hand to cup your cheek. He moved closer until his nose gently touched yours. You closed your eyes and waited, feeling his breaths brush over your lips. You waited and waited but he still didn’t kiss you. You opened your eyes again and he was staring at your face with such pain, such sadness that it crushed something in your chest.

Aemond had never felt such guilt for loving someone. He had happily loved his family and happily loved the one girl who had kissed him while they were still in school (though that had ended quickly). But here, with you, he felt the crushing weight of helplessness as he looked upon your face. He loved you, yet he could do nothing to get you out of this. He loved you, yet all he could give you were a few days, a few kisses, mere moments before everything was thrown into the air.

You leaned forward and slid your hands into Aemond’s hair. You pressed your lips to his mouth and gently kissed him then pulled away. You did it once more, staying just longer than a peck then pulling back. Then he was kissing you, pressing his tongue into your mouth and leaning over you so your neck tilted back. The tip of his nose pressed into your cheek and he kissed your lips like they should be cherished.

You pulled away and caressed his cheek, smiling then gently bumping his nose with yours. He smiled back, huffing out a sad little chuckle. You pressed your nose and mouth to his cheek and kissed him before mumbling against his skin.

“Thank you, for everything.”

It was your final night. Tomorrow you would be tossed in the arena and expected to survive for the entertainment of the capitol citizens. While you had done well with the parade, and people had immensely enjoyed your interview, you had scored appallingly low on your assessment. Aemond told you not to worry, that it was a good thing for people to underestimate you, they wouldn’t worry about killing you first because they believed you would end up dying on your own. You at least had cover for now.

You had eaten in silence, all four of you gathered for your last supper. Jasper had talked and talked, asking last-minute advice and making commentary about the other tributes, but you felt like any energy you might have had before had been completely zapped away. You drank three glasses of water, then walked to your room without a glance back, sitting in your bed to wait for Aemond to come to you.

It was as you began to doze off that he stepped into your room, the lights dimmed and casting shadows over his face. He walked over and sat in front of you on the bed, reaching over and gently caressing your head for a moment. You didn’t speak for the first few moments, what could you really say? Aemond cleared his throat.

“Don’t run for the cornucopia, just run for cove-”

“No advice please,” you interrupted, “not tonight. Tell me everything you can tomorrow morning, speak to me even as I’m being lifted away, but not tonight.” He nodded and shifted closer to you, watching as you reached out to hold his hands. “Will you show me?” You finally asked, and his heart stopped in his chest.

He knew what you were asking for, but somehow this still terrified him. It was… grotesque, horrifying, and a million other gruesome words. What would you say after seeing it? Aemond gulped and turned away from you to sit on the edge of the bed.

“When he slashed my eye, that was the most pain I had ever felt in my eye,” he began, voice rough. “Rhaenys sent me bandages and I was able to keep it wrapped up until the end of the games, but after I was lifted out, they took me straight to the hospital. I was delirious, but I remember the medics said there were a million things that could have gone wrong. I was lucky it wasn’t infected, and I was lucky they could perform surgery quickly.” Aemond closed his eye as he spoke but his fists were clenched on his knees. “When I finally woke up, blind in one eye, they brought me a mirror to show me their work. They said they were so proud, that not only had I been given the best care but they had made me seem truly capitol. You know what they did to my eye?” He snapped in your direction and you jumped. He stared at you with his one blue eye, unforgiving as steel. “They shoved a huge chunk of sapphire into the empty socket. There’s no eye in there, no cavity, not even scarred over skin. Every time I take off this eyepatch, the evidence of the games stares back at me. The thought that I have been forever changed by the capitol, disfigured by them in the name of beauty…” his chest was heaving and he had gone deathly pale. You reached over but he swiftly grabbed your hand, grip tight. He stared at your face, at the look of earnest care and pure love in your eyes, and slowly peeled away his fingers.

You didn’t make a sound as you gripped the strap of his eyepatch and lifted it over his head. You didn’t say a word as you looked upon the rough cut sapphire that sat where his eye should have been. All you did was lean over and kiss him, smiling against his lips and kissing him again. He pushed you onto your back and kissed you until you were breathless. He kissed over your neck, and after removing your nightgown, he kissed down your chest and over your stomach. He pulled down your pants and kissed you between your thighs until you could only call out his name. He kissed your thighs, your stomach, your breasts, and back up to your lips. He pressed into you for the first time, and you whined into his mouth. You dug your nails into his shoulders and he pressed into you once more. He did it again and again and again until you were overcome with pleasure. Then he did it again.

You stood beside the tube that would take you up into the arena. You couldn’t explain how you felt. Your entire body felt like it was thrumming but your mind was quiet. There were a million things you wanted to say, but not one word passed your lips.

Aemond had come down with you even though he wasn’t supposed to. You held tight to his hand and he didn’t say a word. He had spent the morning rapidly telling you things you were sure you would forget the moment the horn went off. He had stopped occasionally to kiss you, to caress your hair and hold you until he started breathing normally again. But he could do no more. The countdown had started, and you had a minute before you had to get into the tube.

“You know what you’re doing, you can survive,” he said simply, holding onto your hands. But you only shook your head and hushed him.

“Aemond, if I don’t make it out-”

“Don’t say that,” he spat out, gripping your face in his hands, but you just shook your head as much as you could in his grip.

“If I don’t make it out, I want you to know how much I love you. I need you to know. It’s the only thing that will let me die peacefully in the arena. I’ll fight, and I’ll try and make my way back to you, but if it should happen that I can’t… I need you to know.” Your lip trembled and you smiled at him, nodding as if everything was fine and you would be back in a minute.

“I know, I know, of course I know,” he whispered, pressing his lips so tightly to yours that when you pulled away they throbbed. “But you…” he gulped and shook his head and you saw the tears begin to collect in his eyes. “You just make it out,” was all he whispered, and kissed you again.

He kissed you until you had to rush to get into the tube. He stood by the glass as the final countdown began, ten seconds ticking by faster than they ever had before. And just as you began to rise, hands slipping against the glass, he mouthed ‘I love you,’ but he didn’t know if you had seen it.

Endnote: I truly believe Rhaenys would win the shit out of the hunger games

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strwbrryeyes · 4 months

Text

𖦹°｡⋆ haikyuu boys as my breakup playlist

⟡ featuring: suna, oikawa, tsukishima, atsumu

⟡ cw: angst, idk still bad at these

⟡ an: i found my old breakup playlist from three years ago and took inspiration from that so these songs are old lol. writing this was silly because im in a loving relationship but it was like i felt all the pain of a breakup again </3

⟡ part two, part three

⟡ suna rintarou: you broke me first - tate mcrae

suna would be the one to break things off with you. when you first started dating he genuinely thought he loved you but as time went on and he became more distant, you started to feel like he was losing feelings for you so you asked him about it. in his words, "i think you were just the first girl to give me attention after my last relationship" and "im not ready for a relationship". a week later, he starts talking about all the girls that have come to him after the breakup and started talking about his hookups to you. this bothered you and hurt you deeply so you decided to cut things off with him completely and he was not a fan of this. so he tried everything to try to get you to talk to him again saying that he misses you and that he wants to get back together. you couldn't care less though, he's already broken your heart too many times for you not to notice his pattern of wanting your attention just to make you jealous or upset. in the end, it actually did end up hurting him and made him realize what he lost. he knew he fucked up but there's no going back anymore.

⟡ oikawa tooru: over breakfast - ellise

it's been a few months since oikawa left for argentina. it's been hard for the both of to be apart for so long and in completely different timezones. you could feel the connection fading but neither of you wanted to admit it because you both loved each other so much. but the longer you guys try to keep the relationship afloat, the more frequent you end up arguing over text or facetime. but you both decided that it could be something to figure out when oikawa visits for the holidays. well, the holidays come around and you finally have time to see each other and talk in person. from the moment oikawa entered your apartment, you both knew it was over. you could tell so many things have changed over the course of the last few months but instead of facing it, you just decide to spend one more night together just to have one final time to say that you tried. it was bittersweet and it hurt a lot but you didn't want the night to end. maybe you could fix this over night? in the morning everything will be better and you can set aside your differences! unfortunately, that morning, nothing had changed and you and oikawa finally came to terms with the fact that maybe you two just maybe weren't meant to be.

⟡ tsukishima kei: high definition - waterparks

when tsukishima was still part of the sendai frogs, he traveled a lot. it's not like he was off in another country like some of his old teammates and rivals, no, you lived with him. even though you two had been dating for quite some time by this point, tsukishima still had trouble expressing his love for you. he tended to push you away whenever he was stressed even though the one thing he wanted the most was your comfort and loving. he was just worried he would end up snapping at you and making you hate him. he didn't know that you'd end up upset with him regardless. you loved him so much but you don't know how long you could going on like this. i mean come on! tsukishima was always away for volleyball matches and even when he's home...it's like he's still not even there. tsukishima knew that you were starting to slip away from him so one day he sat you down and explained how he was feeling and it was finally then that you understood why he acted the way he did. you tried protesting his decision to break up with you but he kept insisting it was for the better. by the next week tsukishima had moved out leaving you alone in the once shared apartment, wishing and hoping he'd come back one day.

⟡ miya atsumu: better off - ariana grande

everyone knew that atsumu could be hot headed most of the time when it came to volleyball but what they didn't know is that it would sometimes affect your relationship with him. much like tsukishima, he would close himself off from you whenever he was mad at the world or whatever else there is that could make him upset. it was starting to get tiring for you. you felt like you had to walk on egg shells around him just so he wouldn't snap at you (wether he meant to or not- his mind would always fog up). towards the end of your relationship, you could feel yourself start to get numb in regards to your feelings towards atsumu. atsumu couldn't really tell at this point that you were losing hope for the relationship. if anything he thought everything was normal but that was only because half of the time he was too much into his own thoughts to notice any flaws between the two of you. it wasn't until he came home one day after an away game on the other side of japan and found that all of your stuff was gone along with you, that he realized nothing is what it used to be. he found a note from you that explained that you weren't happy in the relationship anymore and that you felt trapped. you also stated that you hope he figures out his issues and that you'll always be there for him if he needs but that right now you just needed space. atsumu spent that night crying and angry at himself for letting your relationship get to this point.

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cosmicbucky · 6 months

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A chubby reader who's super self conscious of her belly and bust? Like she's strong and stuff, comes with the higher weight, but just....

Cant really wear anything unless it's sweats and a sweater, or a t-shirt. Almost never goes out.

And one day Bucky comes to the compound. Reader immediately gets a crush, and has major anxiety over it, like "leaving the room when he comes near" anxiety. Bucky thinks it's his fault, that he's done something wrong and talks to you about it.

He decides to talk to you about it, crying ensues because insecurities, and then the fluff.

Sorry this ask is so long, I'm kinda scrambled XP

hi, lovely! 💫

first of all, don't apologize for bringing this beautiful request into my world! i was beyond excited to have the chance to bring this idea to life, and i hope the direction i took with it does justice to what you had in mind!

second of all, i am so sorry this took me so long to put out, this request is so lovely and i really wanted to make it the best i could.

i hope you enjoy!

matches

pairing: bucky barnes x midsize!reader

word count: 3974

warnings: insecurities and self consciousness, mild body image issues, brief self depreciating thoughts, angst, mutual pining, fluff, swearing, allusions to mature themes, let me know if i missed anything!

please do not read this if you're not comfortable with any of the above topics. while they are not heavily focused on, they are the main theme of this fic

a/n: big thanks to @buckylattes for reading this and catching some of the dumb ass mistakes i made lmao

《《《《 ♡ 》》》》

Being part of the Rescue and Reconnaissance division of Stark Industries wasn't the most glamorous job, but you loved it. You got to work nearly hand in hand with field agents every day, formulating plans for raids, rescues, infiltrations, or general takedown missions to make sure all those involved worked as safely and efficiently as possible.

You were the one they turned to when a new plan was needed; when they were at risk. There were a few agents who refused to listen to anyone other than you when it came to these times - specifically asking for you to help them through.

Agent Barnes was one of these people, and though you could never voice it, he was your favourite to deal with. He was always kind and courteous, understanding in the fact that despite not being in the same rankings as him, you damn well knew what you were doing. And, well, it didn't hurt that he always found a moment to be a charming little flirt.

You have no idea why he had such faith in you. Maybe it was because you always took what he suggested into consideration when calculating next steps. Maybe it was because your ideas were as crazy as his sometimes. Maybe it was simply because he liked the sound of your voice.

You never knew.

You never actually met him.

All your dealings with field agents were done from the safety of your control room. You never minded it, though. It was nice, in a way. You absolutely loved doing what you do, but you would never be able to handle being around field agents all the time. Not when they look the way they do, and you…. well, you're you.

Your thighs touch when you walk, your belly shakes when you laugh, your arms jiggle when you move. You have to painstakingly pick out the right kinds of shirts, otherwise your chest will make it seem like you're three times as big as you really are.

You were the chubby girl who always hid in the shadows, too afraid to let the world see how bright you truly shine - you were a flame ready to ignite, but no one around you ever offered you a match.

You were used to it. You made peace with it a long time ago, finding solace in your own company instead of relying on other people to enjoy your time with. It still bothered you from time to time, and you let yourself have days where you wallowed in it, wishing things were different, wishing you looked different. Though, for the most part, it stopped bothering you so much the older you got.

Until the day you finally met Bucky.

It was a strange day, being sent to the compound. You've never been sent anywhere before, always planted in your seat while talking to field agents across the world. Yet here you were, being requested by Tony Stark himself.

You must have spent hours trying to find the right outfit. One that showed off your curves without accentuating the extra pudge around your middle. One that complimented your chest without highlighting the size. One that showed off your ass without making it look massive. One that carefully hid your arms. One that you felt comfortable in.

It felt like your heart was in your throat the whole time. The butterflies in your stomach turned into a full on frenzy, and you had to take deep breaths every few seconds to stay calm; and to not throw up.

You barely heard it when Tony said he wanted you working under him. You could hardly process it when he said he created a job just for you. You didn't quite understand it when he told you there was space for you at the compound, and he wanted you here full time.

All you could do was dumbly nod your head, trying to focus on what he was saying instead of the fact that Bucky Barnes was just outside the conference room.

By the time the meeting was over, you felt lightheaded. You clutched the contract you were given against your chest and took a final deep breath before leaving the room, hoping to get by unnoticed. It's not like he even knew who you really were, right?

A gentle calling of your name told you that you were very, very wrong.

Your feet became rooted in place as you squeezed your eyes shut, focusing all you could on calming your nerves before turning around. And jesus christ, nothing could have prepared you for how beautiful this man actually was in person.

"Hi," you breathed out, a tiny shy smile gracing your lips.

"Hi," he said, unintentionally mimicking you.

His eyes travelled over your face before taking their time roaming your body; you shifted uncomfortably and clutched the contract a little tighter as he stayed fixed on you. A smirk graced his lips, but it was gone before you could really focus on it.

"It's, uh-... it's nice to finally meet you, Agent Barnes," you muttered sheepishly, hesitantly offering him your hand.

"You can call me Bucky," he said, smiling warmly as he took your hand in his, sending fire throughout your whole body. "I'd like to say thank you for saving my ass as often as you do, but thank you doesn't seem like enough."

You chuckled, feeling your face flush under his gaze. "'Thank you' suffices just fine, Bucky. I've only been doing my job."

"Speaking of," he started, tilting his head a little as he eyed the contract you held. "You gonna take it?" he asked curiously, his eyes snapping back to yours.

"What?" you asked, caught off guard by his question.

"The job," he said, gesturing between the contract in your hands and the conference room you just occupied. "You gonna say yes?"

"How do you know about that?" you asked curiously.

"I know things," he said passively, shrugging his shoulders. "How 'bout I show you around? You can see the place before you decide anything."

You wanted to say no. You wanted to run away and retreat into yourself once more. Though something about the way he was looking at you made it hard to do so.

So, you agreed.

And that's how everything started.

You took the job, moving into the compound a few days after that. You quickly made friends with the girls, and they became your support group; they would help you when it came to shopping for clothes or finding the right outfit for events. They offered to go for walks with you or do yoga - anything you felt like doing, really. You still felt inferior to them from time to time, but not because they made you feel that way; no one at the compound did.

Only yourself.

When it came to the boys, it was more or less the same thing. You felt comfortable around them, and you never minded close contact or them seeing you in tighter fitting clothes.

Everyone was family, and it never felt awkward or uncomfortable around them.

Except for when it came to Bucky.

You still grew closer to him over the months of you living at the compound so far, but it hasn't been easy. It was a constant challenge, and it grew harder for you day after day.

When it came to you working alongside him on his missions, everything was great. Nothing with him changed, aside from him throwing out a few more flirty comments. And, since you still had the safety net of being behind comms, you threw some right back at him.

Once the missions were over, though, it was hard to be around him. You wanted to be around him, but it was nearly impossible. Your feelings for him grew, and the stronger your feelings were, the more distant you became.

You were careful to only wear sweaters or loose tees paired with sweatpants around him, making sure he would never catch sight of the extra weight you carried around. You quit eating around him; it's not like you had bad eating habits, but you couldn't shake the panic that he would somehow be disgusted, that he would think the reason you're so chubby was because of your diet. You stopped sitting near him during movie nights, and you never hugged him. No matter how much you itched to wrap your arms around him when he came home safe from missions, you couldn't risk him feeling the rolls your body carried, or how soft and pudgy you were.

It was driving Bucky crazy.

From the minute he finally set his eyes on you, he couldn't get you out of his head. He was beyond thrilled when you agreed to Stark's offer, and he couldn't wait to take the opportunity to get to know you - which was a massive step for him. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling he did something to upset you.

He grew more confused every day. When it came to conversing over the comms during missions, you two were like a well oiled machine; giggles and flirting and jokes of previous missions. No one would ever know something was amiss.

Yet when everyone would return home, it was like a switch was flipped. You greeted everyone with hugs and smiles and affection, and Bucky always waited patiently for his turn: but it never came. Instead, you turned to him with an awkward smile and shining eyes and gave him the traditional "welcome home, soldier" that, despite everything, always pulled a smile from his lips.

He racked his brain every night trying to figure out if he did something, if he said something, but he could never come up with anything. He could never find a reason for the way you would some days leave the room as soon as he entered, for why you always hid away from him when he would catch you off guard in workout clothes or formal attire. He could never come up with an explanation and it was eating him alive.

The final straw came for him on the night of Pepper’s birthday party.

He didn’t want to go, he never wanted to go to these things, but ever since you came around he found himself more willing to at least make an appearance; if only to see you. However, he wasn’t even positive if you were going to show up this time, given the way you’ve been so distant lately - and that made him not want to go at all. So he was biding his time, sitting in the kitchen and emptying a bottle of whiskey, trying to not make it obvious that he was waiting to see if you’d wander out of your room before he slipped away to the party.

You stood in front of your mirror for what felt like hours, never before feeling more diffident as you assessed your reflection. You’ve been to some of Tony’s parties before, but this was for Pepper - it was the most grandiose one you’ve attended to date. You weren’t left much choice but to dress your fanciest, and you felt so unfamiliar with your own body as your hands trailed down the fabric of your dress. It was form fitting, hugging every curve you had and accentuating your figure in a way you weren’t used to seeing. The straps were small and the cut was low, it travelled midcalf and had a small slit up the side, showing way more of your leg than you wanted. You had a burning desire to change, but Nat insisted you looked incredible, and Wanda already applied a touch of makeup to match the dress - not to mention you were already running late as it was.

With one last heavy sigh, you steeled yourself before slipping on your heels and marching out of your room. You thought of anything and everything you could as you marched down the hall, doing your best to pay no mind to the way you felt the fabric clinging to your body with every move you made. God, you really should have put on shapewear.

Bucky heard you before he saw you, your footfalls echoing through the floor in the same pattern he came to memorize in the months you’ve been here. He took a deep breath, prepared for the fact that you would most likely brush him off once more. He was not prepared, though, for the sight of you as you rounded the corner.

You were not prepared to see him sitting there, clad in a pressed suit, or for him to quite literally choke on the drink he was nursing as he took in your presence.

“Jesus, Bucky. Are you alright?” you inquired, conflicted between staying where you stood and approaching him.

A dismissive wave of his hand had you staying in place, your arms wrapping around your middle as you began to feel exposed to him.

“I’m fine, I’m good,” he coughed out, refilling his glass as if nothing happened.

You stood there quietly, completely unsure of what to do next. The silence was becoming louder and louder but you didn’t want to draw his attention to you. Not when you were looking like this. Not when he’d be able to see every curve and divot of your body, the protrusion of your stomach, the ample raise of your chest. You were really starting to regret not changing.

“Are you gonna stand there and stare all night or head to the party?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the glass before him. His tone was playful, but his voice had a rasp to it that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Oh, uh - sorry,” you muttered, clearing your throat as you slowly advanced in his direction. “Are, um-… are you gonna join the party?”

He huffed a small laugh, his eyes finally raising to meet yours only to find that you were looking almost everywhere but at him, effectively wiping the small smile from his face.

“I’m not so sure,” he said lowly, downing the contents of his glass as he kept his eyes on you.

You hummed, looking down at your hands before chancing a glance at him; his gaze on you so intense that you immediately looked away again.

“Well, I- I hope to see you there,” you said sincerely, wringing your fingers together. “You look really nice, Buck” you added quietly, looking up at him just long enough to flash him a warm smile before continuing through the kitchen.

“Did I do something wrong?” he called after you, the hurt in his voice impossible to miss.

“What?” you asked in confusion, turning to glance in his direction.

“Did I do something wrong?” he repeated, leaning back in his chair. “Because ever since you moved in here, it’s like you can’t stand the sight of me.”

You couldn’t help the nervous chuckle that left you, shaking your head in disbelief. “That’s not true.”

“No?” he asked, his tone taking on a new edge. “Are you sure? ‘Cause you can’t even fucking look at me right now. You practically run from me when I enter the same room, you do everything you can to avoid me, and let’s not forget the fact that I’m the only one around here who you don’t hug after getting back from missions.”

“Bucky-” you tried to explain, but the lump forming in your throat stopped you short.

“I just wanna know what I did,” he carried on, voice softer this time. “I don’t know if you’re angry with me or- or if you’re scared of me-”

“I am not scared of you,” you interrupted, finally meeting his gaze. “Please don’t think that.”

“What else am I supposed to think?” he asked quietly. “Everything is fine when I’m out on the field, we- I get along with you better than anyone. But then I come home, and it’s not the same.”

“It’s not-... it’s not like that, Bucky,” you whispered sadly, unintentionally looking away from him again.

“Yeah, if you say so,” he said curtly, sighing in defeat as he filled his glass again. “Just enjoy the party, okay?”

“You’re not coming?” you asked, unable to keep the disappointment from your voice.

“Well, you’re just gonna avoid me anyway. Might as well make it easier for you and stay here,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the twirling glass in his hands.

“I don’t want you to think like that,” you admitted softly. “I- I don’t mean to do the things I do.”

“Then why do they happen?” he inquired, his eyes meeting yours and displaying a painful mix of hurt and confusion.

“Because,” you started, feeling your bottom lip quiver. “I mean, look at me, Buck,” you finished, as if that was explanation enough.

“Believe me, I’m looking,” he said gently. “And you look-... well, I wanna say you look beautiful, but that implies you don’t always look beautiful, so, I- I don’t know what I’m supposed to say,” he added, his voice so low he may as well have been speaking to himself, but you heard every word he muttered.

“...What?” you breathed out, staring over at him.

“What?” he questioned, glancing up to catch your eye.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat but it just kept on growing, forcing you to choke on your words.

“Hey, wait, don’t-... okay, now I really said something wrong, right?” he asked quickly, starting to panic as he watched your eyes fill with tears.

Shaking your head vehemently, you delicately wiped your eyes, hoping not to smudge the work that Wanda did for you. “No, you- I just didn’t expect you to say that. I-... I'm not used to hearing that."

"You're not?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

You almost laughed, and you probably would have if it wasn't such an embarrassing thing to admit. "No. I'm… guys don't really call girls who look like me beautiful."

He fell silent for a minute, eyeing you carefully before shifting in his seat, resting his arms on the table.

"You know, I've been alive for a pretty long time now," he said conversationally, as if you weren't on the cusp of a breakdown. "And I've also been quite literally around the whole world in that time. Some of it I remember, some of it… not so much. But even so, do you know what the one thing I can say with complete certainty is?"

You waited for him to go on for a moment before realizing he was actually looking for an answer. "No, what?" you manage to croak out.

He smiled softly, relaxing in his seat again. "I have, quite literally, never met anyone as beautiful as you. And I mean in both appearance and personality."

"But I- I'm not… I don't have the kind of body like the other women around here," you murmured, casting your gaze downwards as if you were ashamed of your words.

"So?" he asked incredulously. "Do you seriously think that you're automatically not beautiful just because you aren't the same size as them?"

"No, it- you can't- I'm not-" you tried to argue, but all you could get out were a few utterances before you had to choke back a sob, completely lost on how to express yourself.

"Is this why you've been avoiding me? Have I done something to make you uncomfortable?" he asked anxiously, fighting the urge to approach you.

"Yes. I mean no, I-" you cut yourself off with a sigh, taking a moment to consider your answer. "I've been too embarrassed to be around you. I-... I was afraid you'd be repulsed by me and that I'd lose you."

"Repulsed by you? A woman who puts fucking goddesses to shame?" he asked in disbelief. "Did me choking on my drink earlier not prove how taken by you I am?"

"Is that what that was?" you wondered, letting out a watery laugh.

"Yeah, that's what that was," he confirmed with a soft chuckle. "A guy does a real life spit take when he sees the girl of his dreams looking like the focus of a goddamn renaissance painting and she doesn't even realize it," he mumbled in exasperation, yet his eyes carried a playful sparkle.

"The girl of your dreams?" you repeated in shock, your voice a nervous whisper.

"Was that too cliché?" he questioned, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Maybe a little," you said playfully, sniffling quietly.

"I know how it feels, you know," he said softly. "To feel uncomfortable in your own body. But if you'd let me, I'll spend every day proving to you that I see you as nothing short of perfect."

You could only nod, giving him a weak smile as you fought back a wave of tears. "Yeah, I-... I could do that, too," you agreed quietly.

He grinned softly, greedily taking in your appearance once more before tearing his eyes away. "Come on," he urged, downing his drink before standing up. "You owe me about seven dances."

"Where does that number come from?" you asked with a laugh, watching as he approached you.

"For how many parties you snubbed me at so far," he replied casually, stopping as he stood before you.

"I never snubbed you," you grumbled, peering up at him.

"Sure you didn't," he teased, carefully wiping the tears from your face.

"Do I still look okay?" you asked nervously, fidgiting slightly under his touch.

"Gorgeous as ever," he replied sincerely.

You couldn't help but grin, laughing a little anxiously. "Okay. Come on, or else we won't have enough time for all those dances."

Bucky laughed happily, taking your hand and rushing to join the party, having you giggling in his wake as you did your best to keep up.

You let him whisk you away for the rest of the night, leading you through all the dances you owed him; and a few more, for good measure, as Bucky put it.

He stayed true to his word, and there wasn't a second that you spent with him where you didn't feel like the most ravishing woman to walk the earth.

Especially when he took his precious time in the dark of the night to memorize and worship every inch of your body over and over again.

So as you sat here now, watching from across the room as he danced with the crowd, you couldn't help but feel foolish. Foolish for letting your thoughts take away the extra time you could have had with him, foolish for ever thinking this incredible man would ever judge you for something so trivial. Foolish, foolish, foolish.

"Penny for your thoughts?" you heard from beside you, ripping you from your reverie.

You turned your head, grinning as you saw the very man himself had taken up the seat to your left. "What, get tired of dancing already, old man?"

He gasped, feigning offense as he took in your words. "I'd watch who you're calling old, sweetheart," he warned playfully.

"I'd watch who you're calling sweetheart. I happen to be a married woman now, you know," you replied jovially.

"Married, huh? Should've known I didn't stand a chance," he lamented, shaking his head. "How about a pity dance?" he suggested with a grin, holding his hand out to you.

You giggled softly, taking his hand with a grin of your own. "Lead the way, Mr. Barnes."

"Anything for you, Mrs. Barnes," he replied with a wink, leading you to the dance floor.

And just like he did three years ago, he whisked you away and led you through a whole seven dances; and a few more, for good measure.

You were a flame, finally ignited, and Bucky was your match.

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bratphilia · 6 months

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Heyyyy so I was the person that requested more fics like the flip side (it’s 6 am and I can’t remember if that’s what it’s actually called atm) but I was thinking about possibly a situation where reader has a history with William possibly when they worked at Freddy’s before they shut down and were younger (still of age though; I’m thinking probably when they like reopened for a little bit in the early 90s). Now in the I guess present day they aren’t exactly going out with mike but maybe they are a babysitter and mike and reader are pining over each other?? But him working there brings up bad past memories of your time there but you don’t really want to tell mike.

Honestly looking for lots of tension, slow burn, pining, and angst but not too much angst yk and ofc nsfw

Sorry if this is like too specific or whatever but this has been on my mind for sure

note: i did some age calculating to fit with the timeline so reader is 18 in 1993 and 25 (the same age as mike) in 2000. creds to michy for convincing me this was actually post-worthy.

pairing: steve raglan / william afton x reader x mike schmidt

tags: threesome, rough sex, dub/con, age difference

taglist: @dilfity

triangle (w. afton x reader x m. schmidt)

(in november, 1993, you're a fresh hire at freddy's and the youngest adult on the staff at eighteen years old. it's not an ideal workplace by any means, but it's decent compared to other jobs that you most definitely didn't qualify for. and the people at freddy's are nice! maybe a little too nice, but the motto for the employees was "remember to smile, you're the face of the company" after all.

you work mainly as a waitress. you would say you're pretty good at your job. you're nice to the customers and work surprisingly well with the kids. the uniform is admittedly cute, too. red vest and a black pencil skirt. your skirt, for some reason, came in a bit too small prompting a few lingering glances from employees and patrons, but besides that you don't really mind.

it's a cold, rainy day in autumn. you wish you were wearing pants, but for once you're thankful for the lack of air conditioning in the restaurant. it's closing time and you're heading back to the employees room to grab your jacket and umbrella. you sit on the red, metal bench waiting for your sister expectantly. you never bothered to get your own license because she's always been a reliable source for rides everywhere. tonight was not one of those days. it's been at least an hour. your leg bounces up and down.

you hear the doors shut and a jingle of keys, and the distant scent of cigarette smoke lingers. you turn to see your boss, mr. afton, locking up the restaurant. he turns to you too, clearly confused why you're still here. "shouldn't you be home by now?"

you swing your legs and sigh. "my ride never showed."

he clicks his tongue and looks out to the parking lot, then looks back at you. "why don't i take you home?" you realize in this moment you and mr. afton have never quite really spoke. he's one of the thirty-something-year old owners of freddy's. he wears the springbonnie suit sometimes and performs with the co-owner, mr. emily, for the kids on fridays and saturdays. he's very charismatic and sociable, but mainly with the older crowd of the employees at freddy's. you hear some of your colleagues whispering about him, how he's such a kind and handsome man, which, as you're getting a good look at him right now, the latter is definitely true.

"are you sure?" you ask. mr. afton smiles down at you.

"sure thing. follow me." it's a huge upgrade to what you were previously considering before his offer: walking home in the pouring rain and chancing ruining your uniform.

you follow close behind him. so close that your umbrellas slightly bump into each other. a deep purple-paint-detailed mercedes-benz comes into view. judging by mr. afton's clear affinity for the color purple, as he includes it in at least one part of his daily attire, you assume it's his. he opens the car door on the passenger's side for you.

"thanks," you say politely.

in december, 1993, mr afton — who you've come to know as william — has become a frequent presence in your life. it started when he actually asked you if you wanted another ride home. you had phoned your sister, letting her know there was a change of plans. this became an everyday thing until you no longer needed to call home.

you would be lying if you said you hadn't started to develop feelings for him somewhere along the way. how could you not? he was just such a nice man! so charismatic, not just with you, but with the customers. always asking everyone how their day is going and dropping whatever he's doing to help out. there's was something special about your connection with him. he made you feel special.

it was one rainy day, just like the day back in november, when he stopped you and leaned in and kissed you. it was the most unexpected thing that happened to you in awhile. you don't know what possessed him to do it, but you found yourself eagerly kissing him back. so much that he chuckled and commented on it before sending you off. you spent the rest of the night lying awake in bed, touching yourself to every possibility you could think of.

the next day he avoided you, much to your dismay. you couldn't stop thinking about it. it slowed down your performance, making you distracted. the time just dragged on.

it wasn't until he called you in his office after your shift that you felt any kind of relief. he asked you to lock the door behind you, just like how one of those fantasies you daydreamed of started. with a fast-beating heart, you did what he said and turned to face him. and then his mouth was on yours again. it was much more sensual and yet there was an anxious component to it that made your stomach tingle with excitement.

"why don't you sit on my lap?" he suggested once he pulled away from you.

you froze. you've never actually done this sort of thing before. something delicious curls inside of you. gingerly, you sit on the thigh he patted on and he bounces his leg slightly, the fabric of his pants hitting just the right spot. he laughs at the yelp you give.

"just relax, baby. 's just you and me."

in january, 1994, is when kids go missing. everyone is on edge and patrons are frequenting freddy's less and less. on top of that, the animatronics are malfunctioning more and more, so there are even less customers due to the amount of maintenance that needs to be done.

you and william continue your routine: you fuck and he drives you home afterwards. but lately, something's been weird with william. he's been more... erratic? is that the right word? or just elated. he seems so gleeful, but more violent during sex. he's never showed any masochism until now. he even put a knife to your throat as he pounded into you, threatening to "fucking kill you" if you scream. you took it as just one of those things he says during sex, like when he calls you "slut" and "whore" but it's starting to scare you as it becomes a frequent thing.

it gets worse. you're taking the trash out to the alley when you see the security puppet laying limp. you go and investigate only to find charlie emily, the other owner's daughter, dead and badly hurt. like she's been stabbed repeatedly. you scream in shock and run in to find william, but he's long gone. instead you went to your co-worker, who called the police.

you were asked to stay at the restaurant until you after you were questioned and you told them everything you saw. you looked but william was still nowhere in sight. you walked home that night.

catching the killer was never something you were interested in. in fact, you hoped to do the opposite of some of your vigilant co-workers, who openly investigated the restaurant. some of them ended up missing too. the police had been called at freddy's on multiple occasions.

on one particular occasion, the last one before freddy's closed, actually, you went to the backrooms to catch a breather. what you found? william pouring bleach to bloodied clothes, bloody knife laying on a nearby table. you drop your keys in shock, alerting him. Turning on your heel to break for it, he grabbed the knife and your arm.

"tell anyone and i'll fucking gut you right here, right now," he threatened in a low voice.

you jostle your arm, desperate to break free. "please!" you whisper-shout. "i won't tell anyone, please let me go!"

and for some reason, he trusted you.

freddy's closed after that, and you swore to yourself you would take what happened to the grave. maybe you were a coward, but you had no solid evidence it was him behind the murders. it would all just be hearsay. no one would believe you anyways. william had such a high reputation, not just at fredy's, but within the community.)

mike hangs up the phone with a sigh. "so...?" you say, leaning towards his direction in anticipation.

"i took the job," he grumbles. his head is in his hands, running through his hair anxiously.

you throw your hands up in the air in excitement. "yay! we get to keep abby!" mike immediately snaps out of his sulking to bust out laughing. as he shakes his hand, he mentally adds your twisted sense of humor to the endless list of things he loves about you. and your distantly maternal role in abby's life. we get to keep abby.

you snap him out of his thoughts with a question. "who's the lucky employer?"

he laughs again in disbelief. "freddy fazbear's pizza. working in security. they need someone to watch the place and make sure no one breaks in and stuff."

you frown and furrow your brow. freddy's. william. "something wrong?" he muses, noticing your change in demeanor. you shake your head.

"no, nothing. i'm happy for you. sounds.. just peachy." mike shoots you a half-smile.

it's nighttime when it's almost time for mike's shift. your head is in your hands as you sit on the couch. it's one of those times when abby's off in her room, scribbling away with a crayon. you feel sick to your stomach. why did it have to be freddy's? who even gave him this job? why is it still there?

you hear a slew of curses coming from mike's room and decide to investigate. he's struggling with the loop of his belt and you can't help but smile. "need some help?"

he looks at you, face turning red. "you don't have to—"

"oh, come on," you sigh, moving to help him. "it's okay to need help sometimes." mike doesn't say anything, but from the way he's looking at you, he wants to.

"what?" you ask, but mike just shakes his head. you wouldn't understand. you decide to just leave it alone — mike's always been a distant guy.

"you need to be careful," you tell him with a much more serious tone than intended.

"why?" he asks, confused.

you try to relax your face and give him a lighthearted smile. "you should always be careful, mike! you never know what kinds of people you can encounter."

he has no idea.

two days go by. mike comes back home, surprisingly well-rested, until before his third shift when he casually mentions to you that he mainly just sleeps on the job. you freeze at that, worry forming inside of you in the pit of your stomach. "wh-what do you mean you just sleep there?! are you fucking crazy?!"

mike looks bewildered at your outburst. "i told you about this. i'm doing that dream stuff still..."

"okay, but do you have to do it on the job? do you have any idea how dangerous that is, when you're supposed to be looking out for any suspicious behavior." you're poking a finger into his chest, scolding him like he's a child.

"jeez, what's the matter with you?" he sighs in frustration. "if it bothers you that much then why don't you come with me and make sure i stay awake? i'm tired all the fucking time, and you know that!"

you know you shouldn't, for your own safety, but you have to think about mike. besides, if there's two people there, one can call the police. you let your paranoia, and your overwhelming care for mike, get the better of you. "fine. i'll come with you. put on your vest, grab abby, and i'll be in the car."

mike looks at you with sad eyes. you really didn't mean to be so harsh but it doesn't matter; he's more important. the drive over is silent, not that mike is really a talker anyways, but there's a thick tension in the air. your jaw and your fists are clenched anxiously, and you try not to look at him. when he parks the car he sighs and says your name.

the three of you set up camp in mike's office. abby sets up her tent and shortly falls asleep. you pace around the room while mike stares at the cameras, head in his hands with his eyes barely open. you walk over and snap your fingers in front of his face with a huff.

then something goes wrong. mike calls you over. "uh, i think i just saw something move? towards the offices." if it's potential danger, you decide it should be you who goes. not in a heroine sort of way, more of a need for closure.

you make your way slowly towards the offices. the dead silent halls make room for the only sound being your quickened breathing. you can practically hear your heartbeat thrumming in your ears. something rustles and, of course, it comes from wiliam's old office. you pray it's a rat.

as you push the door open, you breath a sigh of relief when the room is empty. that is, when someone slaps a hand over your mouth. "how truly lucky i am that you were the one to find me, lovely."

you struggle instantly but he wraps his other arm around your neck and pushes you further into the office. you land on the ground, hitting your head on the chair. looking up at him in horror, you cling onto the chair for dear life and get a good look at him. he admittedly aged well. salt and pepper hair and beard and all, it looks ridiculously good on him. "don't be afraid. i only want to make amends. i saw you were here and—"

"fuck you!" you spit venomously. "i don't want anything to do with you!"

william looks dumbstruck, then he scowls. the look on his face scares you as it contorts horribly. "what is it? is that boy? you realize i'm the one that gave him this job, right?"

"i don't know what the fuck you're talking about, but—"

suddenly, william lunges towards you and grasps you by your cheeks, holding your face tightly. "stop acting like such a fucking brat. remember when you were such an obedient little girl for me? let's go back to that, yeah?"

before you know it, you're being shoved against the desk facing forward. "i'm gonna teach you some fucking manners." you scramble in his grasp but his strength is unmatched. you know what's coming next and it makes you feel something burning in your stomach that you try to convince yourself desperately is sickness.

he pulls down your pants and you begin to sob. "please!"

"look at you, begging for me already," he laughs. he's undoing his belt and you already feel his dick prodding at your entrance. if this was back in the 90s, before all of this bullshit, he would've had the decency to engage in some foreplay, but there's a sense of urgency that makes it all the more—

god, what the hell is wrong with you. you're so fucked.

he undresses your bottom half, leaving you just in your sweatshirt. "gorgeous," he comments. "just as i remember."

you feel his dick prodding at your entrance, and you squeeze your eyes shut as he pushes in. it still feels as good as it did back then. he fucks you nice and slow, emphasizing each thrust with a slap from his hips onto yours. how does he still fuck this well at his age?

instead of picking up his pace gradually, like he used to, he continues to fuck you slowly. you're moaning uncontrollably now, clawing behind you at his chest, hoping he'll get the message and pick up the pace. he doesn't and just laughs darkly. "he doesn't fuck you as good as i do, huh, baby? you needed my dick to satisfy you all those years ago, and still need it now the way you're gushing on my cock."

you want to tell him mike doesn't fuck you at all, and that you're just friends, and that you only belong to him—

someone calls your name from the doorway. you and william both snap your heads towards the direction, only to find a shocked mike with his mouth agape. "mr. raglan? what the fuck is going on?"

"michael schmidt!" william practically exclaims, excited. he stops fucking you, purposefully burying himself to the hilt inside of you so you groan and squirm at the loss of stimulation. "come! come join us! your girl and i were just getting re-acquainted."

"she's not my..." mike trails off, finding himself moving closer without thinking. he takes in your appearance: bottom naked and bent over the desk with a fucked out expression. god, you're so pretty. you're always so pretty, but this is just...

no, this is wrong, he tries to tell himself. it's almost like william reads his mind when he sing-songs, "join us, or i'll kill the both of you."

like there was a devil and angel on mike's shoulder, the devil was winning. he's always wanted to fuck you and he doesn't necessarily have a death wish, either. "what, uh, what do you want me to do?"

your face falls and your mouth goes dry. william speaks with a grin, "why don't we trade places?"

mike scrambles to undo his belt and you practically drool when he pulls his cock out. fuck, you've wanted mike for awhile now. all that pent up tension between you two is finally spilling over the edge. all those lingering glances and long-lasting touches leading up this

especially like this, with your former fling and the guy you babysit for, makes it — and fuck it, you'll say it — all the more hotter. he replaces william's spot behind you and thrusts in quicker than the latter. he's practically humping you, fucking you desperately like he's running after something. his hands grip onto your hips tightly. "yes," william hisses, pumping himself while sitting dowqn in his chair. when you glance at him, he has the audacity to fucking wink at you. "'attaboy, keep goin.'"

that only encourages mike as he moans your name. "fuck, your pussy feels so good — hah!"

"mmm, mike!" you moan back.

"look at you two," william says breathlessly, "what a lovely fuckin' sight." mike begins to plunge in and out, reaching your cervix with each thrust, and you're close already. he senses that, and you can tell he is too by the way his thrusts gradually become more unbalanced. william's grunts are getting louder.

you're the first one to come, then william, and mike is still desperately pushing out of you. for good measure, he lands an uncharacteristic smack on your ass and then buries himself to the hilt becoming coming inside. the feeling of him filling you up is absolutely delicious. when he pulls out he studies the way that his cum drips out of your pussy. he's enamored with you, by the way.

#fnaf #asks #fnaf x reader #five nights at freddy's #fnaf smut #william afton #steve raglan #william afton x reader #william afton smut #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt smut

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