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gutsby · 3 months

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License to Kill

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Marital bliss becomes a bloody massacre within hours of your wedding. Bucky has run the gamut of organized crime from gunrunning to public extortion, but an attempt on your life is a whole different ballgame. A honeymoon-turned-manhunt has Bucky out for blood.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Semi-public sex. Beefy, mob boss Bucky really wants to give you a baby. Praise kink. Size kink. Facefucking. Sex on a private jet. Attempted murder. Arms trafficking. Guerrilla warfare.

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4

Any postnuptial banquet was bound to be the talk of Santorini when a groom arrived beaten half to death.

At least that was what you’d told yourself, what had plagued your mind for hours before the start of brunch, and what Bucky presently refused to acknowledge with so much as a bat of his eye or a word spoken in between.

“You worry too much,” he said as he sheathed himself inside you for the third time that morning.

Bucky seized your throat in one hand and tilted your chin to make sure you were capable of eye contact while he fucked you in front of the mirror. It didn’t seem to bother him at all that the face in his own reflection was bruised, bloodied, and sewn up like a patchwork quilt behind you.

Hazards of the job, he’d said.

Three masked assailants breaking into your villa the first night of honeymooning? Customary. Being yanked out of bed and made to kneel as your husband took the beating of a lifetime just minutes after consummating your marriage? More common than you would think.

Bucky hadn’t even blinked when he got pistol whipped by a gold-plated Beretta. Didn’t flinch when he was held to a wall and pummeled like a freestanding punch bag.

Almost smiled when he took a hard right hook to the nose and felt a torrent of blood flood out of his nostrils.

If anyone were to be accused of behaving too calmly in a home invasion, it would be Bucky Barnes. It seemed as though he’d seen this all before and had no qualms about getting the shit kicked out of him every now and then. Why he hadn’t so much as lifted a finger to fight back was still beyond your comprehension, though.

At length, he tightened his grip on your neck and tried to smile, his upper lip slashed in two and bruised a grim, violet hue.

“Who’s my girl?” he murmured an inch from your ear.

You whined when he delivered a particularly hard thrust, both of your hands flying to the mirror to steady yourself as he pounded you from behind.

“I-I am,” you whimpered.

The stretch was still something you were getting used to, but now Bucky knew just how to spread you open without making it hurt. He’d glide a thick finger between your folds, slide it down to your clit, and leave it there as long as you’d let him, rubbing quick circles while you bucked and moaned under his touch. And, in spite of all his cuts and bruises, your husband made sure to kiss your shoulder every now and then to let you know he still loved you—even if he was fucking you like he didn’t.

Bucky trailed his lips behind your ear and watched you writhe in time with every stroke he gave. Pressed his face close to yours, watched a desperate, fucked-out expression take over your features, and smiled to himself knowing that no one but him got to see you like this.

“Who likes getting stuffed full of this cock?” he taunted.

“I do.”

“Who loves making daddy feel this good?”

“I do.”

He never thought the sound of your vows could be repeated out loud in such an obscene way—his sweet bride bent in half with a thick, throbbing cock wedged between her legs—but he loved it nonetheless.

Bucky was rutting his hips at a breakneck pace and holding your head to the mirror like he’d never let go. Your climax was quickly coming close into view, and you felt your toes curl in the hardwood floor beneath them.

Suddenly, the chirp of a ringtone diverted your attention.

Bucky brought his phone to his ear as he continued to pound you mercilessly.

“Yeah, Steve?”

The mob boss’s business never took a break, it seemed.

“So what?”

“Yeah, no, I heard you the first time.”

“Well, I’m plowing my wife right now, can it wait?”

Your cheeks warmed with embarrassment at Bucky’s blunt choice of words. You saw his brow pinch behind you, his thrusts getting faster and sloppier, and in spite of the distraction, you sensed he was getting close too.

You yourself were right on the brink. Your gaze met Bucky’s in the mirror with a soft, pleading look, and before you knew it, your husband was bidding an abrupt farewell to his friend and chucking his phone to the side.

“Ready to cum for me, honey?”

You whimpered and nodded.

“Alright then,” Bucky said with a near-expectant look, weaving the fingers of one hand into your hair and pulling it back, tight, “Cum all over daddy’s cock.”

With a shriek you feared might carry throughout the whole banquet hall, you finally reached your peak and released around Bucky’s length, tears springing to your eyes as you closed them tight and moaned his name.

And, ever the cheeky fuck, Bucky leaned right in and kissed the sides of your face to collect all the moisture he could—‘Shit, honey, you taste as good as you look’—while he smirked. Would’ve grinned even bigger if he wasn’t so overcome with pleasure; but, as it was, he couldn’t keep from blowing his load just seconds after the last spasms of your orgasm. Bucky leaned over your torso and squeezed your body tight to his, fucking his cum deep inside you as far as it could possibly go.

For a few, dizzying moments, the man’s mind wandered to more primal thoughts of making it stick, knocking you up, and Bucky had to clench his jaw hard to suppress the groans that were threatening to spill through his teeth. Every time he fucked you, it was like something just clicked; he couldn’t rid the thought of giving you a baby.

But no, for now, the two of you were still on wedding time; before you could jet off to your real honeymoon destination—someplace in the Caribbean, if Bucky remembered correctly—your mother had insisted that you host one post-wedding event that day: a brunch.

Naturally, that meant you were obliged to serve a four-course meal on the terrace of the Canaves Oia Hotel.

The mother of the bride had been one hell of a staunch advocate for keeping this wedding party going as long as possible, and who was Bucky to tell her no? He reasoned he would have plenty of time to get you pregnant after all the wedding festivities had ended, so he didn’t mind.

At present, you tugged your panties and your dress back into place with a wince.

“I think you displaced my cervix, James.”

Bucky couldn’t deny he felt the smallest twinge of pride seeing you walk a little funny to collect the rest of your belongings and attempt to freshen up. It also gave him the perfect excuse to scoop you back up in his arms and pretend to be apologetic about your present dilemma.

“Did I really?” he asked as you giggled and tried to swat him away, “I’m awfully sorry, Mrs. Barnes.”

“Like hell you are.”

With Bucky still draped over your body, proffering his apologies again and again as he assailed your face with tiny kisses, you’d barely made it two feet toward the door before you collapsed against a table and almost toppled a centerpiece. The pair of you would be expected outside any minute now, where the rest of your post-wedding party was likely trickling in and wondering where the hell the bride and groom had gone, but Bucky seemed adamant on keeping you to himself a little while longer.

That was until the back exit swung on its hinges and a familiar, frazzled groomsman stumbled in.

“Can you horndogs hurry the hell up?!”

So Sam had heard you after all.

You just might’ve blushed if you weren’t being pushed out the door a second later, the hurried, chiding tone of your husband’s friend ringing low in your ears.

“Your old man’s ready to hit the roof,” he mumbled to Bucky, “Won’t start drinking until you two show face.”

“Probably still thinks my bride escaped in the middle of the night,” Bucky mused, flitting a look to you.

The man behind rolled his eyes and continued to usher you both outside. Sam Wilson knew exactly what had happened last night; he’d been the one to bring in the cavalry to save you both from imminent death, after all.

As you had come to find out, Sam wasn’t just a friend of your husband’s but also a close associate of sorts—the kind that would wait in the wings and do whatever it took to keep Bucky safe. When the wait staff at the villa hadn’t been able to reach you for room service delivery last night, reporting some ‘strange sounds’ inside, Mr. Wilson had sprung into action. Called the rest of your husband’s entourage and was up to your room in minutes, where they’d dealt a swift, and final, blow to your attackers. You hadn’t asked many questions after—just thanked him. Profusely.

“You look like hell,” the man observed with a sidelong glance in his friend’s direction.

“Really? I feel great,” Bucky replied.

The three of you weaved through a crowd of partygoers—every single one of whom, without exception, stopped and stared at your husband’s mangled face as he passed—and you started to chew the inside of your cheek. People were gawking, talking amongst themselves as they wondered aloud what the hell could’ve happened to the groom overnight. You felt their stares turn to you in a mixture of pity and reproach, and you wanted to hide.

“Ja-ames!” a sing-song voice trilled across the way.

You, Bucky, and Sam all stopped in your tracks to regard the duo that was making their swift approach over.

Bucky’s mom and dad.

As the older couple drew near, you half-expected to see them take on the same wan, horror-stricken look worn by all those around you, but to your surprise, they didn’t.

In fact, they didn’t bat an eyelid. Seeing their son’s face all gnarled and bloody barely even registered.

“Good, you’re here! The photographers just arrived.” Bucky’s mother swept you into her arms for a brief embrace before shooting her son a frown. Your husband, in turn, offered her an apologetic peck on the cheek.

“Sorry, ma. We got caught up,” he said.

“Sure looks like it.”

That came from the elder Mr. Barnes, who had stopped to give his son a quick once-over. He looked amused.

“Get in a fight with a grizzly last night?” he quipped.

“Three, actually,” Sam answered for Bucky, who was already grinning from ear-to-ear—or as much as his facial lacerations would allow him.

You saw father and son exchange a brief, knowing look, before it was extinguished just as fast as it had come. Clearly, some sort of understanding had passed between them, and the old patriarch seemed pleased. Proud, even. You couldn’t begin to imagine why.

“The bruising shouldn’t be too hard to edit out of the wedding pictures,” Bucky’s mother turned to you as she started to lead the group away, speaking in a matter-of-fact tone, “It’s those damn lesions on his face that always give us trouble.”

She spoke so coolly about the trauma done to her son it damn near chilled you to the bone. You never thought the wife of a mobster would be oblivious to all the violence, but to talk as though this were just another day in the life as far as brutal beatings went was a little unnerving.

You strolled along and silently wondered what the fuck was wrong with this family. Then you realized, slowly, that this was your family now. Your stomach twisted.

When you got to the garden where the photographers were stationed, you saw your parents waiting, enrapt.

And, in a matter of seconds, you watched their expressions morph from exuberance to confusion to outright trepidation. Your father was quick to look away, but your mother clearly couldn’t be bothered to stop ogling Bucky’s gruesome appearance. She forced a tight-lipped smile at the very last second and stretched her arms out to you as the five of you approached.

“You’re glowing, my dear.”

She hugged you and, over your shoulder, tried to mask a discomfited look.

Your mother and father exchanged pleasantries with the rest of the group but seemed loath to linger on Bucky for more than a minute. Like they couldn’t quite tell whether the honeymoon beatdown was fair game for discussion.

“Places, people!”

The photographers were lined up like a flock of paparazzi. Each standing, crouching, squatting with their cameras in their hands, trying to get just the right angle.

The person in charge quickly busied herself with directing and adjusting every one of your positions before the pictures were taken. Telling Bucky’s father to straighten his tie, your mother to brighten her smile, the bride to tilt her shoulders just a little bit more, and Bucky, would you please stop groping your wife?

That last command had come from his mother, actually. Bucky had been palming your ass above your dress, and his mom couldn’t stand the thought of one camera capturing such crude behavior.

“My hand slipped,” Bucky retorted, much to the amusement of a few photographers.

You and his mother gave him identical admonitory looks, but it was you who was close enough to say something.

Just when you opened your mouth to speak, though, an odd sense stopped you on a dime.

There was a warmth. In your panties. Then a slow and silent oozing sensation. You squeezed your thighs tight together and, instinctively, lowered your hand to your stomach, as if that would have any chance of stopping it.

A smirk tugged at Bucky’s lips just as the lead photographer told you all to smile and hold it.

“My cum dripping out already?” he whispered, low as he’d ever spoken but still too loud for you to bear. His parents were literally standing right there.

“Shut. Up.” You replied through gritted, smiling teeth.

“Chin to me, Mrs. Barnes,” the lady in charge called out.

You did as you were told, and Bucky’s hand on your side pressed the flesh ever so slightly.

A series of shuttering sounds, then another directive.

“Think it’ll stay in your panties?” Bucky managed delicately under his breath.

You didn’t respond. At length, his seed was seeping out of your underwear. You bared an even brighter smile for the cameras and tried not to flinch when he squeezed you again.

“Feel it sliding down your thighs?”

“Eyes forward, Mr. Barnes. Head up, and—here, please.”

The man could barely peel his gaze, much less his hands, from your body. He stroked your hip with his thumb. Then, without warning, that same hand slid down to your rear and pushed into the fabric. You sucked in a breath.

“Bucky.”

“What?”

“Behave,” you hissed, and from the corner of your eye you could’ve sworn you saw your mother turn her head.

Unfortunately for you, your husband would do no such thing. He just moved his hand even lower down your back and brushed the space around that spot with the tips of his fingers. You felt a shiver pass over you, along with a whole legion of goosebumps spreading fast across the skin.

If you weren’t on camera and surrounded by family, you probably would’ve liked to smack him upside the head.

As the cameras continued to fire away, Bucky’s touch trailed down to the outline of your panties through your dress and started rubbing small circles over the area.

“Now just the bride and groom!”

The rest of your family members stepped to the side, and it was only you and Bucky before the cameras now. Still smiling like bright, shiny dolls and communicating like ventriloquists, your lips barely moved as you spoke.

“How ‘bout I push it back in?”

“Barnes, I will kill you.”

“Now kiss!”

At the direction of the lead photographer, you kissed your husband and felt a mixture of lust, hate, and love swell up inside of you. When you pulled apart, it was the latter of these three that was searing hot in your veins.

“I love you,” Bucky murmured with a grin.

“I love you, too.”

The rest of the morning passed away in much the same fashion—being pulled from place to place, person to person, while your filthy-minded husband kept whispering in your ear all the depraved things he was planning to do to you once he got you alone. It was romantic, in a way; just terrible for your poor panties.

You reluctantly mingled and laughed with some of the most boring people you thought you’d ever met in your life—though perhaps you were a touch too horny to make a fair appraisal—and gradually, family and friends pulled you and Bucky further and further apart until you were just being carted around like show dogs and forced to hold the same conversation over and over again.

“You look stunning.”

“Buck’s a lucky guy, I’ll tell you that.”

“Are you planning on having kids any time soon?”

You just smiled, nodded, and didn’t have the guts to tell them that Bucky’s baby batter was baking inside you right now. That would’ve been a fun one to watch the reactions from your uptight, intrusive relatives, though.

And speaking of Bucky, where the fuck had he gone?

Just twenty minutes ago he’d sworn he would have you bent over one of the hotel balconies overlooking the Aegean Sea, and now he was nowhere to be found.

Your parents were currently preoccupied with their second helpings of spanakopita, your in-laws draining mojitos like water, and Sam, like Bucky, completely MIA. No one else had seen hide nor hair of your husband in a little while, and frankly, your legs were growing tired of looking.

You let out a small sigh of relief when you saw Bucky sitting a ways away on the terrace with Sam and Steve huddled on either side of him. They looked to be deep in discussion.

Steve, Stevie, Rogers, or, simply, your husband’s second in command, seemed strangely out of sorts as he clenched a fist and said something close to Bucky’s face.

You decided to let the three of them hash it out and to take a rain check on that balcony rendezvous for now.

At any rate, a pack of Pall Malls was calling your name.

You would fully concede this was a filthy habit you never should have started—like most fun things in life—but the reprieve of a nicotine buzz was too tempting to refuse. You grabbed your clutch and took off toward the far end of the lawn, set for a small alcove apart from the party.

You slipped the lighter and cigarettes from your bag as you walked. The scent of pure salt and sea foam greeted your senses as soon as you drew close to the spot—less than a stone’s throw away from the ocean.

Your hands had jammed the cancer stick in your mouth before your mind could make a single word of protest. You brought the lighter to life in your right palm and raised the flame to your cigarette until the end was lit.

Then you inhaled. Exhaled. Hoped no one would see you. You fanned the smoke from your face every so often.

You’d taken up residence on a bench just shy of the beach, and finally, you could stretch your legs and rest.

Maybe indulge in some disgusting thoughts about your husband while you were at it.

If you’d told yourself just twenty-four hours ago that your mind and body would be on the fritz craving Bucky’s touch, you wouldn’t have believed it. If someone had said sex, and cumming around someone you loved, was a worthwhile experience, you probably would’ve told them they were full of shit. But here you were, splayed out on a bench by the shoreline thinking of nothing but the way your husband’s cock felt inside you. Feeling his seed dried on your thigh and aching for a fourth helping.

You felt pathetic. Maybe you were.

In any case, you didn’t really care.

You brought the near-spent cigarette up to your lips for the last couple puffs. When you’d plucked it back out, you heard someone clear their throat behind you.

Bucky! Your lust-addled brain all but squealed.

You turned much quicker than you meant and nearly jumped in your skin to see who was standing there.

A grinning, bright-eyed blond.

In a panic, you flicked your cigarette over your shoulder and forced a smile.

“Hi.”

“Howdy.”

Okay, John Wayne, what the fuck? The man sounded, and looked, like something straight out of a western film.

“No need to stop on my account,” he tipped his chin toward the cigarette on the ground, “I won’t snitch.”

His smile took on a shade of condescension, but the face seemed friendly enough. Then, to your surprise, he reached into his back pocket and retrieved something small and silver from it. He held it out to you.

“Courtesy of your husband,” he said.

You frowned. A flask?

“It’s not even noon,” you answered.

“Bucky wanted me to relay the message that your mom invited a boatload more folks, and it don’t seem they’re fixin’ to leave anytime soon. Said you might need this.”

Gingerly, you accepted the gift and unscrewed the cap. You almost gagged when you got a whiff of pure vodka.

“Fuckin’ A,” you coughed, “What’s this, nail polish remover?”

“Stolichnaya. Can’t talk shit until you’ve tried it.”

Your eyes were still watering from the pungent stench of 80 proof spirits when you saw the man’s outstretched arm again—this time, to shake your hand.

“Joey, by the way.”

You shook his hand and introduced yourself as well, blinking back a few tears.

“You’re a friend of my husband’s?” you asked.

“From the service, yeah. We go way back.”

You couldn’t help but raise both brows in question.

“The service,” you repeated.

“Russian Armed Forces,” Joey smiled.

And when the hell did Bucky plan on telling you he was a former foreign operative? You stared at the man before you in a medley of confusion and disbelief. Surely the thick Southern drawl had to mean he was joking.

“Sorry—I thought you knew,” he said sheepishly.

Your husband’s old comrade seemed genuinely contrite, blushing a shade of pink as he turned his gaze from you. You quickly regained your composure and flashed him a smile, insisting it was fine, just surprising to you is all.

“Perks of arranged marriage,” you said, “We’re wed for life and I don’t even know the guy’s job title.”

That earned a laugh from the tall, gaunt figure in front of you. His features visibly relaxed, and he wasn’t smiling so smugly anymore. He motioned toward the bench.

“You mind?”

“Not at all.”

You fished for a cigarette as Joey sat down beside you. When he’d taken a seat, you offered it to him, and he politely accepted.

With time, the two of you got to smoking and joking around with a little more ease. You didn’t normally get to see that happen—rarely seizing the opportunity to make friends of near-strangers—but this weekend had already presented a bevy of firsts. What harm could a quick smoke break with Bucky’s old friend possibly do?

You found the man to be quick-witted and charming, if not marred by the slightest stain of conceit under the surface. He was objectively handsome: all cool, clean features with an unblemished demeanor and a set of brown eyes so light they almost appeared the color of honey in the sun. The only imperfection to be detected was a skewed, razor-thin scar on his chin. You weren’t ashamed to admit he might’ve been your type maybe four or five years, and several degrees of naïveté, earlier. But you had Bucky now; not even the most sublime, finely-chiseled Adonis could set your sights off of him.

You continued to smoke and shoot the shit.

“So you’re a Puritan, then?” Joey said at length.

“Huh?” You leaned back to stretch.

“You haven’t touched that flask.”

You glanced down at the silver canteen between you. You picked it up.

“Haven’t been into straight liquor since college,” you shrugged.

“But it’s your wedding weekend,” Joey smirked, “Think it says somewhere in the rule book you’ve gotta be hammered the whole time.”

“Does it? I must’ve missed that one,” you hummed.

Rather than answer you verbally, Bucky’s old friend opted to snag the flask from your fingers and unscrew the top himself. Made an unusually bold move and took your chin in his other hand.

“Open.”

“No!”

You bared a tight smile to be polite, but inside, you were more than a little put off by his behavior. Maybe this was some stupid rite of passage into their ‘brotherhood.’ You had to assume he was just being friendly.

“C’mon. Quit bitchin’ and open up,” he chuckled, pinching your face even tighter.

That left an even more sour taste in your mouth. You jerked your head to the left and were just about to inform the man it’d cost him nothing to fuck off and stay off, when a voice broke out through the foliage behind you.

“Honey? Hon, you there?”

Immediate relief at hearing your husband’s voice.

You craned your neck to look around.

“I’m here, Bucky!” You waved an arm to try and get his attention, wherever he was.

It took him a second, but shortly, he appeared on the other side of some trees. He had a stern, if not slightly sallow, look on his face as he made his way over.

You turned back to Joey but found that he’d vanished. Your eyes scanned the beach, the lawn, even the bushes behind you and couldn’t find a trace of him anywhere. All that was left was the flask.

“Bucky, I just—”

“We need to go,” your husband cut in.

His narrowed, steely gaze sent a jolt of apprehension through you.

“Go wh—”

“Now, baby, please. I’ll tell you in the car.”

Your face dropped.

“We’re leaving?”

Shortly, Steve trotted over. Bleak as you’d ever seen him with his hands balled in fists at his sides. And a deep-set scowl.

“Whole fuckin’ swarm of ‘em now,” he pronounced.

Bucky didn’t wait to hear another word. He just grabbed your hand and joined his friend sprinting back up the lawn. You could barely keep apace with their steps and, still clinging to Bucky, almost tripped and stumbled.

“Get the fuck up,” Steve spat.

You tensed. For a second, your feet scarcely moved of their own accord as you trailed behind Bucky and felt a stabbing feeling in your gut. Bucky’s best man had surely been a little rough around the edges before, but never this needlessly cruel. What did you do?

Your husband delivered an uncharacteristically gruff shove to the man’s shoulder and made sure he felt it.

“Don’t you start this shit again,” he said, “Lay off.”

Steve ignored him entirely and took the lead around the hotel’s perimeter. You glanced to the throngs of partygoers still scattered along the veranda and saw similar looks of disquiet and alarm all around.

Just when a dozen different questions of what was going on, where were they taking you, and why the fuck did everyone look so afraid bubbled to the tip of your tongue, a thunderous sound brought you to a standstill.

At the opposite end of the plaza, a cluster of tents, tables, and catering stations all splintered apart in a single, headlong explosion. A bright red column of fire shot up toward the sky, and following its ascent rose a wave of shrill and horrified screams alongside it. A barrage of gunfire rained over the crowd, and before you could even spare a look toward its source, Bucky yanked you flat on the ground. Your hands and knees were shredded across pavement, had less than a second to register the pain, and were shortly made to snake along concrete and glass toward the garden down below.

You crawled, then crouched, then bounded down the lawn following Bucky and Steve like a bat out of hell. Another explosion sounded nearby—this time much closer, sending a shower of flames sailing through the air and all over—and whole droves of people just dropped. Facedown in the grass and covered in glass. Bucky clamped your hand in his own with a force that could’ve snapped it in two, but you didn’t blink. All of your senses were kicked into overdrive and focalized, unflinching, on the sight of more carnage than you could comprehend.

“Here!” Steve called presently.

He caught sight of a jet black sedan at the edge of the lawn and held a hand up to Bucky. A set of keys were promptly pelted into his grasp, and the three of you closed in on the car, quick, without another word.

Bucky tore the back door open and practically flung you inside. He primed himself to climb in right after, when a set of footsteps and a shout held him locked in place.

“Hangar’s clear.”

Sam, by the sound of it.

He jumped in shotgun while Steve seized the wheel. Bucky hadn’t gotten the back door so much as halfway shut before the engine roared to life and the car lurched ahead. Not thinking, you grabbed hold of a seatbelt, but Bucky was quick to pull you in and jerk you down.

You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting then, but it certainly wasn’t your husband’s weight crushing you from above as he pinned you to the floor of the car.

This wasn’t the seamless, smart exit that the heroes of the action-packed stories always had. Bucky didn’t hold you tight in his arms or cradle your head to his chest. He just draped the weight of his whole body over yours and begged you strenuously not to move or make a sound. By the looks of it, too, the car was tearing up the turf of the lawn and anything else that happened to cross its path; there was no rhyme or reason to Steve’s driving, it seemed, just frantic desperation and a will not to die.

Minutes, seconds, sights, and sounds—or what little of the world you could grasp from your cowered position—all bled together in a haze. Your pulse leapt and throbbed between your ears, and little more could be heard above that sound apart from the thrum of Bucky’s own heart, the thunder of gunfire, and the wail of sirens, coming low and faint and far too late to make much difference now.

You pressed your nose to the floor and got a dizzying whiff of nylon and bleach. Would’ve like to retch but gritted your teeth instead, lying in silence and wondering without humor if the splinters, the soot, or the blood would be hardest to wash out of your white satin dress.

The price of admission to board Bucky’s Boeing 787 came surprisingly cheap: just sit back and be ‘pregnant.’

You’d been flanked by medics as soon as you arrived at the hangar—a place tucked away just a few short miles from the hotel, where Bucky kept his aircraft for speedy escapes, apparently—and had been carried onto a jet. You didn’t squirm or protest, just hung limply in their arms and let them tend to you however they needed.

After all, you looked like fucking Carrie White on prom night: coated in blood and stiff as a board. Sitting with a thousand-yard stare and a frozen, muted expression as you tried, and failed, to process what had just happened.

You watched Bucky kneel down in front of you and hardly saw him at all. You sensed him stroke your hair but felt it from a place somewhere far outside your body. Bizarre was an understatement. All you could do was blink.

“It’s not— not her blood, is it?” your husband stammered, gesturing toward your dress.

“Some of it,” one nurse answered quietly.

Aw, hell. Bucky squatted on the floor and slotted himself between your knees, trying to get as close as possible so he could make you say something, even just see him. One of the attendants raised a warning look and placed a hand on his shoulder, which he shrugged off in a second.

“She’s not looking at me,” Bucky’s lip visibly trembled as he drew you closer, “Honey, I’m here— I’m right h—”

“She’s in shock.” Another voice came flatly.

Sure, shock works. In truth, your mind was floating somewhere even higher than the 43,000 feet the plane had ascended, and your brain had gone as soft as a clump of cotton candy in the rain. You couldn’t speak, but you could think in bits and pieces. You blinked again.

“She looks like death warmed over.”

Thank you, Steve.

Off to the side in a plush, leather seat of his own, the man nursed a scotch on the rocks and frowned. Bucky didn’t have the strength to throw a punch or a pillow at his head and instead said only to shut the fuck up, man.

Your husband turned to the nurses again.

“She’s pregnant.”

I beg your finest pardon? You blinked a bit harder.

“No, she’s not, Buck,” Sam said from down the aisle.

“Well, she could be,” Bucky chided, “We’ve been going at it like rabbits since the—”

“Fuck’s sake,” Steve slapped a palm over his forehead. If you weren’t currently balls-deep in a state of mental disarray you probably would’ve done the same.

Bucky had made sure to tell all medical personnel aboard the plane that you were—or very well could be—carrying his child, so would you please take all precautionary measures possible? She’s my wife. You suspected if the doctors and nurses weren’t all on Bucky’s payroll they probably would’ve rolled their eyes and reminded him that all you needed were stitches, dressings, and extra fluids. And no, Mr. Barnes, your wife probably isn’t pregnant, even if you think your sperm is ‘built different’ than most.

“She’ll be fine either way,” the medic on your left said, stifling a chuckle. Wondering if the man had ever taken a sex ed class in his years of prudish, private education.

Bucky wasn’t convinced. Against all physicians’ wishes, he climbed up beside you in the seat and pulled you into his lap with both arms wrapped around your waist.

By turns, the world was coming back into focus for you. You met Bucky’s gaze for the first time, and the man looked overjoyed.

“See? See? She’s back.” Bucky squeezed your hip—and immediately released it when you winced.

“Mind the bandages, Mr. Barnes.”

Your caregivers pro tempore shot your husband a couple wry looks as they packed their supplies and started to leave, getting the sense that their boss wasn’t going to stop badgering them, or you, anytime soon. That worked just fine for Bucky, because then he would get to hold you any way that he liked, as long as you’d let him.

Steve, on the other hand, didn’t seem quite as thrilled.

Sam watched the medics’ departure with a wary look.

“She probably needs to rest, Bucky,” the latter said, careful with his words.

Bucky’s eyes never strayed from yours.

“She’s okay, Sam. She’s good.” Perhaps speaking more to himself than anyone else. Steve shifted in his seat.

In your periphery, Mr. Wilson was approaching with a glass in his hand. You turned your head, and Bucky accepted the cup of water for you.

“Feelin’ alright?” Sam asked.

You tried to nod, but your husband was already cradling your head like a baby, urging you to take your first sip.

A spate of water splashed down the front of your dress. You shot Bucky a look as he hastily tried to dry it.

“She’s not a child, Barnes,” Steve muttered.

“Should probably keep that elevated,” Sam cut in, nodding toward your swollen ankle, “We’ll get some ice.”

Sam tilted his head again, this time to motion to Steve. His friend pretended not to see him, and then Bucky was back on his feet, keen as ever,

“I’ll go.”

He kissed the top of your head and assured you he’d be right back. He’d just started off toward the door, when Sam hesitated. He flitted a quick look between you and Steve and looked like he wanted to say something, but Bucky was already ushering him out of the room.

When you turned to Steve, you understood why.

The man had you pinned with a stare that could’ve killed you ten times over, fisting his drink in a white-knuckled grip.

You watched him right back. Tried hard not to blink.

“Something wrong?”

You weren’t sure how you’d even mustered the strength to speak. Steve just brought it out of you, you figured.

“You tell me.” Tone dripping with disdain.

You raked your gaze over the man for a second, finding him dressed head-to-toe in his three piece suit—muddied with blood here and there, but still no worse for wear than you’d seen him an hour or two ago. It was that frown you couldn’t shake.

What had you done to piss him off so much? Shit in his cornflakes? Step on his toe? Had he seen you with Joey and jumped to the worst possible conclusion? You sincerely couldn’t make sense of the man’s indignation, so you wanted to ask him directly; before you could, though, Steve was interjecting, at length,

“We should’ve left you to die with the rest of your family.”

Your jaw slackened a bit.

“What?”

“You, your mother, your two-timing shitstain of a father. Every one of you should’ve stayed there to rot.”

Never mind the fact that he’d just wished you dead to your face—what did he mean about your parents?

“But they’re coming with us. Bucky said,” you managed.

“He did?” Steve grinned humorlessly, “He lied, doll. Your folks are probably bound and gagged at the bottom of the ocean right now.”

That sent the first real wave of fear pulsing through you. You slowly rose to your feet but, feeling yourself restrained by the makeshift IV line stuck in your skin, you stopped. You plucked the needle out of your arm.

“What are you talking about?”

You drew closer to Steve, who only sat back and sipped his scotch with amusement.

“What? That wasn’t part of the plan?” he quirked a brow, “Didn’t think anyone would dare lay a finger on your precious, self-righteous fucking family—”

You hardly even noticed you’d swatted Steve’s drink out of his hand until the glass went shattering on the floor. You blinked and raised a shaky, bruised finger about an inch from his face.

“The fuck did you just say to me?” Your jaw was clenched so tight you had to speak through your teeth.

Steve was beaming.

The door to the room flew open, and Bucky and Sam strolled in with their ice packs and pillows. They stopped when they saw the glass on the floor and your figure looming over Steve.

“You picked a real spitfire, Buck,” the blond called out, his hands raised in surrender as he smiled up at you.

Bucky seemed more surprised that you were able to stand, much less take that menacing stance over his friend, and he quickly tried to guide you back to your seat. You wouldn’t budge.

“What the fuck are you talking about?! Where are my parents?” You tried to shake your husband off as Steve’s grin grew even bigger.

“They’re fine, honey. Sit down, please,” Bucky mumbled.

“No! He said they were dead!” you shot back, eyes never leaving the smug, smirking face that seemed to be enthralled by the spectacle in front of him.

“Why don’t you tell her, Buck? Girl deserves to know.”

“Shut the fuck up, Rogers,” Sam uttered quietly.

“Tell me what?”

“It’s nothing, your parents are fine,” Bucky seemed pensive now, gaze scanning the ceiling for a second as he tried to collect his thoughts. You shoved his hands off.

“Don’t you fucking lie to me, James,” you said, diverting your attention to glare up at him, “What’s going on?”

“Either she’s a world-class actress or she really doesn’t have the first clue about this. Enlighten her.” Steve seemed a little more serene as he unscrewed a bottle of Talisker and reached for a second glass. You would’ve liked to knock back one or two—or ten—yourself.

You turned on your heels to face Bucky. At the moment, he seemed torn between imparting a death black stare on Steve and a placating, apologetic one to you. The tips of his ears were tinged pink.

“Baby—” He reached for you, but you pulled back.

“No.”

You wouldn’t ask him again. Your husband was wounded by the sight of your recoil—and perhaps by some painful truths he’d be compelled to share as well—and he wrung his hands. Started to chew the inside of his cheek.

Sam snagged the scotch and made a heavy pour.

“Why’d you marry him?” Steve said suddenly.

Bucky’s face dropped; you raised a brow in question. Before your husband could stop you, you answered,

“Because my dad was in debt.”

“For what?”

You paused.

“Real estate. Gambling. Fuck if I know.”

Steve nodded. Ignored Bucky’s sharp, reproachful gaze.

“And how much money did he owe?” he asked.

“Steve,” Sam warned.

“Four, five million—more than he could ever repay.”

This time, it was Steve to raise both brows as he mulled over your response. He almost looked surprised.

“You’re forced to marry a man just to settle a debt and you don’t even know the price that tight little body’s paying?” he scoffed.

His words hadn’t hung in the air for much longer than a second before Bucky decked him, shoving him square in the chest and sending him stumbling back a couple steps. A splash of whiskey was quick to join the bloodstains adorning Steve’s tux, and the pile of broken glass on the floor grew even bigger. The man hardly flinched when Bucky shoved his head to the end table.

“Say it again.” Your husband sounded dispassionate as ever. Like this was something he was used to doing.

“She should’ve known!” Steve snapped anyway.

You shared a brief look with Sam but found his expression inscrutable. He kicked a few shards of glass with the toe of his shoe.

“I wasn’t exactly in a place to negotiate,” you grumbled, “They were going to kill my father if we didn’t settle it, so I wasn’t all that interested in knowing how much money my A1 cunt was gonna cost Bucky. Personally.”

If he could go low, you would go lower. Fuck him.

You saw Steve grin through a freshly busted lip and straighten himself back into a seated position. He wiped the blood with the pad of his thumb while Bucky seemed to contemplate swinging again. The look in your eye cautioned him against it.

“Fair enough,” Steve conceded. He stopped to consider his words—ones that wouldn’t prompt Bucky to punch him directly in the throat—and looked to you, curious,

“Why would the mob kill him over a few million dollars?”

You shrugged.

“He’s a real estate broker. They probably knew he couldn’t fork over that kind of cash.”

Something akin to a stifled chuckle and a cough sounded from Sam, while Steve outright broke out laughing. Even Bucky’s expression softened a little as he rubbed his knuckles and paced closer to you.

“What?” you spat, “Did I say something funny?”

Sam shook his head slowly, starting, “I don’t think—”

“Your daddy’s a fucking gunrunner, sugar,” Steve wheezed, “Head of a multinational arms trafficking syndicate—motherfucker is not selling houses.”

Your insides churned with a mixture of disbelief and revulsion, but you couldn’t let them see that. When Bucky reached for your hand, you yanked it back again.

“And how the fuck would you know?” you said to Steve.

“We work with him. Used to work for him, at one point,” Sam answered.

“And the man is horseshit at business”—Steve paused to see if Bucky had shot him a warning look but found your husband far too concerned with capturing your attention—“He was $90 million in the hole when Bucky came to the rescue.”

“James?” You finally turned to him.

“And your daddy didn’t even owe the money to Bucky, he owed it to HYDRA,” Steve sneered.

“James,” you pressed again.

You couldn’t understand why your husband refused to speak—going as deadpan and radio silent as the night before. He stood there and watched you with a rigid, inflexible gaze.

“HYDRA as in— the Russian mob?” you asked him.

“No, the Girl Scouts,” Steve huffed, “Yes, the mob.”

“Schröder’s boys. Your dad’s been in business with them for years—owed them a lot of money,” Sam added.

“And your dad and Bucky’s dad have been friends even longer. So Bucky figured he’d do yours a favor and pay the debt himself.” Steve seemed eager to tell this story.

All the while, the hue of Bucky’s cheeks grew even deeper—like he didn’t want this coming to light. He sensed you wouldn’t stand down until you’d heard the whole ugly truth, though, so he held your gaze and watched you grow more repulsed by the second.

“Then why’d he need me? Just another bartering chip?” Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, “A pawn?”

“A peace offering,” Bucky said quietly.

Steve and Sam finally clammed up long enough to let him speak, but your husband seemed taciturn as ever.

“Your father didn’t owe me anything. I would’ve paid his debt and left it at that, but he insisted I— that we marry. He wanted an alliance no subsequent financial incentive could disrupt. He would take the money I gave him, pay HYDRA, and bow out of any future dealings with them. Our marriage was supposed to guarantee that.”

Bucky spoke slow, like every word was a labored breath. Hardly the same could be said for his friends.

“That was until your dipshit weapons dealer daddy decided he’d have his cake and eat it too. Struck an even sweeter deal with HYDRA and played in our faces,” Steve said.

“At the direction of Mr. Schröder, your father tried to intercept a shipment bound for one of Bucky’s warehouses in Brooklyn,” Sam continued, “Only problem is he fucked up the execution and cost Schröder a dozen men and tens of millions of dollars in artillery and blow.”

“So Schröder paid him a visit today,” Bucky muttered.

Without realizing it, you found yourself sinking into the nearest seat and bringing a hand to lay flat on your stomach. You felt sick. More than woozy, truthfully. Your head was spinning and your stomach was twisting something terrible, as if you’d just ingested cyanide.

Fuck, did you need a drink.

You couldn’t look at Bucky or Steve or Sam any longer.

You reached for your clutch and pulled out Joey’s flask.

And, bloodlusting mobsters and outlaws be damned, the Russians knew how to make the hell out of some vodka. A single sniff of the stuff told you this was exactly what you would need to cope with your current situation.

“So you think I had something to do with the new HYDRA deal?” you asked, “You honestly th—FUCK!”

Bucky lunged for the flask in your hand before you could take a single pull. He snatched it away in the blink of an eye and shot you a look.

“Liquor? For our baby?” he barked.

You audibly groaned and were just about to tell him that his understanding of human reproduction was a crock of shit when you stopped. You saw his expression change.

“Where did you get this?” Bucky asked, suddenly pale.

“You, dumbass!”

“Me?”

Bucky was presently passing the flask around to his friends, who were eyeing a spot on the bottom of the container with shared looks of alarm.

“Your friend gave it to me earlier saying that you wanted me to have it,” you said.

All three men looked up at once.

“What friend?” Sam asked.

“Joey,” you answered, “Bucky’s friend from the army.”

If it were possible for your husband to get any paler his skin might’ve turned the color of cottage cheese. His eyes were wide with fear.

Then he was hurrying to your side. Taking your hand.

“What friend from the army? What’d he look like?”

You were still scanning Bucky’s face, trying to make sense of the apprehension etched into his features, when you managed,

“I-I dunno. Blond. Light brown eyes.”

“Tall fella?” Steve asked.

“Very.”

“Have a German accent?” Sam pressed.

“No, a real thick Southern accent,” you shook your head. It didn’t occur to you then that it could’ve been fake.

You were about to turn your attention back to Bucky, brow still knit in confusion, when a vague memory crossed your mind. You looked up at Sam and Steve.

“He had a—” You tapped your chin lightly, “—a little scar right here.”

You would’ve thought you’d just announced you had a bomb strapped to your ass the way the three men reacted. Each wore identical looks of disbelief and muted horror, exchanging looks between themselves as if they’d just discovered the Atlantic Ocean—and found the Loch Ness Monster lurking somewhere underneath.

Bucky looked the worst out of all of them. His face had drained of all expression and color as he stared at you.

“Joey?” he intoned feebly.

“Yes,” you answered—feeling ineffectual, even dense, for not catching on to what the rest of them had discovered.

Fortunately, Sam wouldn’t let you wallow in ignorance.

“Johann Schröder,” he supplied in a second, “The man you were talking to was Mr. Schröder, head of HYDRA.”

Steve held the flask in his grasp for you to see the bottom, where a skull with six tentacles was engraved. Then he tipped the canister into a glass he’d taken in his other hand and watched a frothy pink liquid spill out.

“Looks to be a serum of his,” Steve said, hollow as you’d ever heard him, “Kind of like…roofies.”

“You didn’t drink any of it, did you?” Sam asked.

“Nuh-uh. Bucky showed up right as he was trying to, uh— to pour it in my mouth.”

A beat of silence gripped the room.

Bucky looked like he might burst a blood vessel, or someone’s skull. Or both.

Still, he wouldn’t speak to you.

The inside of your head was throbbing.

You almost preferred the ruthless, irate glint in Steve’s eye when he’d suspected you of being a traitor the first time around; this cloyingly sympathetic gaze he was giving you now had to be the most maddening thing. He and Sam both looked on at you like you were a victim. Like you were something to be pitied, or coddled, or left to the capable hands of your husband—a motherfucker who couldn’t even speak so much as a syllable to you.

You felt a pressure build, then swell, then peak between your temples, and you wanted to wince but couldn’t stand the thought of looking weak in front of them.

Then your nose started to bleed.

That, at least, woke Bucky from his reverie as he fumbled around for a napkin and helped you to your feet. He looped an arm around your waist and led you off to the bathroom, his grip tightening on your frame with every step you took.

In two minutes flat, you were flooded with fifteen feet of toilet paper and tissues. Bucky cupped the back of your head in one of his broad, warm palms and kept it plastered there as he instructed you to hold it, honey, hang on, I can grab a few extra rolls right here and guided you toward a private area at the back of the plane.

You could scarcely see above the bunched up wads of Charmin Ultra Strong pressed close to your nose, but you trusted Bucky wouldn’t lead you astray. You felt the welcome touch of a bed underneath you, and then your husband was helping you settle in amongst the pillows and the blankets and the rose petals that had been scattered around before—not entirely appropriate now, but a nice touch nonetheless—and slipping your shoes off your feet. You felt his hand graze your ankle, and then he was saying he’d be right back with those ice packs.

You reached for his hand before he could leave.

“I don’t want it,” you said, your voice slightly muffled by the tissues, “Want you to talk to me, James.”

Bucky’s brow pinched inward. He kneeled down in front of you, where you were sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I am— I’m talking to you right now, honey, I—”

“You know what I mean.”

Bucky wiped his hand down his face and shook his head. Like he was trying to rid himself of a thought.

“I don’t want to talk about HYDRA. Or your father,” he said simply.

“Why not?”

“You’re not in the right place to hear it.”

You plucked the toilet paper away from your face long enough to give him a stern glare.

“We’re on a plane. Fleeing Greece. After you got curb-stomped in our honeymoon suite, our post-wedding brunch was bombed by the Russian mob, I was almost drugged by their leader, and my parents are probably as good as dead, if not being held for ransom, as we speak. Please tell me a better place to have this conversation.”

Bucky was left stumped for a second. Then he slowly rose back to his feet.

“Okay.”

Infuriating.

“Okay?” you snapped, “We could’ve died five times today and all you can say is okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

Fuck this guy. You wiped your nose and stood up too.

Bucky tried to nudge you back onto the bed, wary of the ever-growing number of bumps, bruises, and nosebleeds afflicting your body. He tensed when you nudged him right back.

“I need to see my family,” You stood firm, “As soon as we land wherever it is we’re going, I’m on the first flight back to New York—or wherever they are.”

You dabbed at your nose once more and looked up at him.

“No, you’re not,” Bucky returned.

“What? You’re gonna stop me?”

“Yes, I will.”

The worst part was he wasn’t even smug about it. Just calm and self-assured. You flung your tissues to the side and threw your hands up in exasperation, feeling the need to step away from him and start pacing the room. The man’s reticence was grating on your nerves.

“Why bother, Buck?” you snorted, “It’s not like I’m even your wife, really. I’m just a peace offering that you get to bend over and fuck every now and then, right?”

You turned to make your first circuit around the foot of the bed but were shortly met with the expanse of Bucky’s chest. You looked up to find him frowning.

“Don’t say that again,” he glowered down at you.

Unlike most times before, you didn’t flinch. When he reached for your wrists, you didn’t let him win.

“I’m not your wife,” you repeated, “We may be playing the most fucked up game of mob charades, but this is not a real marriage.”

You ignored Bucky’s evident desire to grab hold of something of yours and side-stepped easily, expanding the gap between you two as much as you could. It was almost amusing to see him not in control for once, and floundering to recover what semblance of it he could.

“You are my wife,” he insisted, frown growing deeper as you crept along the edge of the room, “Everything I do now is for you—it’s not a goddamn game to me.”

“You used me for some Machiavellian marriage ploy! That is the definition of a game, James!”

“I don’t even know what the fuck that means,” Bucky said, “But I love you.”

“You met me yesterday, motherfucker!”

You could feel another bloody nose rising in your bones. You turned around, swiped your lip with the back of your hand and were surprised to see nothing there. You waited for the bleeding to start back up again. When you turned, Bucky had closed the distance between you and was holding something in his hand.

Before you could protest, he was smoothing the thing over your face—apparently he’d grabbed a washcloth and dampened it—and laced his fingers through the hair at the back of your head. He held you firmly as he blotted the blood.

“Is it so hard to believe that I love you?” he asked quietly.

He was trying hard to placate you, but his actions were having just the opposite effect. You let him wipe the blood from your face but watched him begrudgingly.

“You want someone to control, Bucky,” you said, “Love is not a power play that you get to manipulate at will.”

Bucky blinked, trying to conjure up a response as he daubed the skin with a little more force. You weren’t finished.

“You look at me and see a victim. Someone you need to watch over— who can’t take care of themse—”

“That’s not true.”

“Really? That’s not what a ‘good little wife’ is to you?” you retorted.

At last, Bucky tossed the hand towel to the side and ran a hand through his hair. He stepped toward the dresser, shrugging off his suit jacket.

“That’s a— a bit I do when I’m horny. I don’t actually want you subservient to me,” he muttered as he looked around for a hanger. Finally, he just draped the coat over the back of a chair and sighed.

“So holding me hostage from my family is a bit, too?” you quizzed.

“To keep you safe from the people who tried to kill them. I’m sorry I don’t want to see you butchered because of me,” Bucky returned with just as much biting sarcasm.

“That’s rich coming from you.” You despised the indignation in your tone but couldn’t help it. These thoughts had been brewing inside your skull for hours. You watched Bucky struggle to undo his bow tie—just like the night before—and, again, your brain barely registered the action before you were reaching for the garment and tugging at the fabric to loosen it yourself.

“What are you talking about?” Bucky asked, brow furrowed.

“Last night,” you yanked harder than you meant to. The knot just got tighter, “And today. Tonight. You’re as still as the fucking grave and won’t say a word when something bad is happening. You just let it happen.”

You tried to pry your fingers through the tie but found it stiff as ever. You groaned inwardly.

“No, I don’t,” Bucky objected.

“You’re doing it right now! You wouldn’t tell me about HYDRA, or my father, or the guy who could’ve— hurt me. You didn’t say a word of that to me, and you expect me to believe we’re in this together? That you’re trying to keep me safe? You couldn’t even—” you paused to pull at that stupid tie your husband had tangled about four times over, finally feeling it give way a little—“couldn’t even pretend to give a fuck when those men broke in last night and almost killed us!”

Just as you freed the silk from its knot, Bucky seized your wrist. Shoved your hand off of his collar.

“I had to do that,” he snapped.

He threw his tie to the floor and started to unbutton the cuffs of his sleeves. The sight of his broad, veiny forearms were only visible to you for a second before he headed toward the closet, peeling off bits and pieces of his ensemble as he walked.

“You didn’t do anything, Bucky! You just sat there and got the shit beat out of you for no fucking reason! You didn’t even try to fight back.”

Bucky had just muscled his way out of the confines of his dress shirt, leaving him in a tight, plain white tee. He turned to you with what seemed like the most pointed look of disdain.

“You think I wanted to do that?!” he barked. Suddenly facing you head-on, skin flushed a shade just shy of crimson.

“You were too chickenshit. Didn’t wanna get your hands dirty, so you let Sam do it for you,” you seethed.

Your husband looked as though he wanted to put his fist through a wall and pummel it several times over. Seemed like he did, anyway. In truth, he didn’t move—just watched you with the most cruel, unflinching gaze as he clenched his jaw.

“I’m chickenshit?” he repeated.

“Yeah. Coward,” you spat.

“Too much of a coward to keep you safe?”

“Precisely.”

At long last, you saw Bucky smile. It was the tightest, most humorless grin that had ever crossed his lips, but it was a smile nonetheless. He raised a hand over your head and bracketed his arm against the wall so he was leaning over you. Not meant to intimidate per se, but the sight of that smirk was unnerving, to say the least.

“Did you hear what language they spoke?” he asked, voice unbearably low as he drew his face closer to yours.

“It sounded like—”

“Russian, that’s right,” Bucky cut in, “Do you know what they said to me when they pulled us to the floor?”

You swallowed and said nothing. Bucky’s breaths were fanning hot across your cheeks, sending waves of a strange sensation all throughout your body—you weren’t sure if you were meant to be aroused or scared shitless.

“They told me, ‘If you move, we’ll kill her,’” Bucky deadpanned as he began to trace the wallpaper beside your head with a single, bloodied finger, “‘If you fight, we’ll dismember her and set fire to every piece of her body in front of you.’ Or something to that effect.”

The repetition of their words seared your veins like a legion of flames. You could picture them saying it. Grabbing hold of Bucky’s head by the roots of his hair and beating him over and over and over, threatening your life if he made a single move to stop it.

“Bucky—” you started.

“I know they meant it, too. HYDRA operatives make good on their promises if they really set out to harm someone.”

Your husband’s grin had transformed into something more of a crooked, downcast grimace, just baring his teeth as he tried not to lose his composure. Guilt flooded his face.

“I know I should’ve told you then. And after. I should’ve told you about your father as soon as Steve’s informant told us. I just—” Bucky stopped to swallow; he couldn’t meet your gaze—“I didn’t want that hanging over your head. Not after everything that happened last night.”

It was like a blade had just twisted in your stomach. Your throat ached. You wanted to touch him but were almost too scared to ask. He looked so fragile.

“I am a coward. And controlling. Probably the most chickenshit, overbearing son of a bitch you could’ve been unfortunate enough to marry.” For a moment, Bucky’s gaze flickered to yours, and you saw a blooming red hue around the blues of his irises, “But that’s not how I’m supposed to love you—or going to love you.”

You weren’t sure how to reply; you tried raising a hand to his cheek, just to touch the skin, but decided against it.

“I’ve been a shit husband, fake or not. I’m sorry.”

Fake husband maybe, but the look on his face was intractably authentic. Palpable. He blinked as though trying to clear the warm and heady feelings from his expression—suddenly not wanting you to see the shades of his emotions painted there—and focused instead on a few stray strands of hair that had blown over your face. He got very invested in those, all of a sudden.

While your husband stroked the corners of your face and fixed his gaze away from yours, you felt the smallest prick of warmth spark within you. Bucky looked soft and serene and sincere in his apology, defenseless now as he grazed his knuckles over your cheek and said it again,

“I’m sorry, honey. I’m so sorry.”

He paired his apology with a rapid succession of little kisses pressed to your forehead, moving his hand to the nape of your neck to pull you closer to him.

You wanted to touch him, too. You almost felt as though you didn’t know how.

So you stood there and accepted his affections and tried to nod your head when he asked if you were alright, were you hurting any, baby? You leaned into the gentle pressure of his fingertips taking stock of every cut and bruise you’d sustained over the course of that day, watched Bucky’s brow furrow with each new discovery, and tried not to let his touch stray far down your body.

You wanted to be the one with your hands on him—now more than ever.

When Bucky’s hand trailed over your chin, you tilted your head just slightly to kiss it. Your husband didn’t think much of it, just smiling down as tender as he always did, when your lips really grazed over the skin. You pressed a kiss to his finger and wordlessly urged him to move it further. Now it was Bucky’s turn to be at a loss for what to do as you took the tip of his thumb between your lips and suckled it, gently.

“Honey,” he let out a sigh, half-encouragement and half-warning—what were you trying to do?

You glided your mouth down his finger so half of his thumb was enveloped inside. You sucked it again.

“You can’t…” Bucky maintained feebly, eyes briefly scouring all the cuts and bruises across your skin. He didn’t want to see you strain yourself any further.

But whatever pain this might cause was ancillary to you; you curled your tongue around the digit and moaned lightly.

The taste of one finger alone was enough to send you into a frenzy. That and the fact that he had been so open and honest and attentive to your needs made every bone in your body want to jump his. Something about a man taking accountability for his actions and communicating them in a way that didn’t intimidate or belittle you was refreshing. Sexy, almost. Admittedly, the bar for mob boss husbands was hovering somewhere deep in hell, but you admired Bucky’s efforts all the same.

You popped his thumb out of your mouth and smiled.

“You worry too much, Mr. Barnes.”

The echo of his words from earlier—the ones he’d said as he was railing you against a mirror—made Bucky’s cock twitch. His gaze trailed down to the sheen of saliva on your lip, and he almost folded on the spot. He swallowed.

“Don’t wanna hurt you, bunny,” he murmured as you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth and peered up at him.

“Hurt me how?”

You really hadn’t meant to sound like such a tease when you’d said it, but it was hard not to come across that way when you were watching him like that.

And sinking to your knees, with your eyes glued on his.

Bucky sucked in a breath as you kneeled between his feet and nudged the seam of his pants with your nose. He felt so big against your face, you almost couldn’t fathom how he’d fit inside of you the night before. You were amazed how quickly he’d gotten hard—as if the two of you weren’t just having a heart-to-heart a second ago—and you felt your own arousal pool in your panties.

“You know I don’t mind if it hurts. Love the way you stretch me out anyhow,” you continued, and tried not to smirk as you imagined a dozen filthy images from last night flash before Bucky’s mind.

You heard him stifle a groan when you ghosted your lips over the bulge in his pants and felt him swell even more. Your mouth watered at the sound, the sensation, the raw anticipation of what was to come and knowing that you got to dictate what happened. You undid the button and the zip of his pants and damn near drooled at the sight.

Even confined to his boxers, Bucky looked fucking huge.

Suddenly, you began to understand how needy he had been the night before when he’d first wedged his face between your legs and gotten a taste of you. You hadn’t so much as sampled an inch of his cock, and you were already aching to swallow him whole.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” Bucky grunted as he planted a hand on the wall in front of him. You kissed the outline of his clothed erection and earned a full-throated groan.

Well, that makes two of us, you wanted to say but were too busy palming him through his boxers to utter a word. Soaking in the sight of him with every sweet, soft groan he made and wanting to be the reason for even more.

“Can I take you in my mouth, daddy?” you asked softly.

Bucky flattened his palm against the wall and nodded. Beyond words as you worked him out of his boxers.

For one, fleeting moment, you almost wanted to walk back your big talk when his cock sprung out of the fabric. You really hadn’t seen his length at all last night—too busy having it stuffed inside your cunt to get a good look—but holy shit was it an intimidating sight. You weren’t sure if it was just the nerves of this being your first time giving head or if Bucky truly was that massive, but you felt your courage start to crumble before your eyes.

My husband is hung like a fucking horse and I’ve never fit anything bigger than a couple fingers in my mouth. This should go well.

Bucky was evidently so turned on that he didn’t notice the apprehension in your expression. After all, you were moving your lips down his cock and seizing the base of him with what looked like excitement.

Should I…lick it first?

It seemed you would have to learn all of this on the job. You stuck your tongue out and ran it up the length of his shaft.

When Bucky groaned in response, you sensed that that was okay. You pressed a few kisses on the underside of his member and scrambled to think of what else to do.

“Fuck, baby,” your husband let out the most guttural sound as you squeezed his length in your hand. Then, to your surprise, he seized a fistful of your hair between his fingers and rutted his hips, pushing the head of himself against your lips, “Take me in your mouth.”

You heard the Kill Bill sirens blare between your ears but said nothing. You could do this—you’d be fine.

Your lips wrapped around the head of his cock, and Bucky gripped your hair even tighter. Let out a deep, satisfied moan like this was exactly what he needed. You liked that noise and wanted to take him even further.

What you didn’t expect was four more inches shoved inside your mouth before you could stop to take a breath.

The whole girth of his cock made a sharp intrusion, causing your cheeks to stretch and hollow out around him. The head of his member barely grazed the back of your throat, and still, you gagged. And not only gagged but choked, as though someone had just tried to scrub your tonsils with a fine-bristle toothbrush. Unfortunately for you, Bucky’s dick did not taste like spearmint.

He pulled his cock out as quickly as he’d pushed it in.

“Sorry. Shit, sorry.” Bucky blinked twice to get out of that blissed-out headspace and shot you a sheepish look.

The man had rarely been obliged to slow down or take five when his old, ever-changing flavors of the night sucked him off before—most blew him without trouble. But you, kneeling there batting your lashes through a few more tears than expected, seemed uncertain. Even half of his shaft made for a tight fit in your mouth, Bucky thought with some guilty feelings of arousal. He watched you wipe your chin with the back of your hand and frown.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, baby,” Bucky said, stroking the top of your head.

Suddenly, the frown was turned in his direction.

You raised a brow.

“Why? That all you got, Barnes?”

Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle—and grunt, a little—when you grabbed the base of his cock and brought it down to your swollen pout. His hand instinctively moved back to the wall.

“Honey, are you s—”

He stopped the second you rubbed him up and down and pressed a kiss on the most sensitive skin.

“My mouth isn’t made of paper mâché. You can fuck it a little harder than that,” you said, running your touch down his length while holding his gaze. You looked eager.

Before Bucky could respond, you took the tip of his cock between your lips. Flattened your tongue and glided your mouth down as far as it could go before your cheeks started to hurt—then bobbed your head even further. One of your husband’s hands made a fist in your hair while the other scraped the wall, and you could tell it was taking some serious effort not to rut his hips out of habit.

Be gentle, be gentle, your dick barely fits in her mouth—

“—fucking hell you feel good,” he groaned.

Bucky took one look and could have cum on the spot.

It was one thing to feel you licking and sucking and stretching to accommodate his length, and another thing entirely to see you knelt in front of him with the world’s sweetest gaze, mouth stuffed full of his cock and eyes all but rolling back at the overwhelming sensation. You’d nearly made it all the way to the short tufts of hair on his lower abdomen—and looked so pretty doing it.

Bucky fucking loved it. And you. And fucking you, your face, any place he could fit himself, quite frankly. He stared down at you struggling to take his cock and felt a strange new wave of desire pulsing through his body.

“You like that, doll? Like when daddy fucks that slutty little mouth of yours?”

“Barely fits but you take it so well, bunny.”

“My good little wife and her pretty fucking mouth—likes sucking daddy’s cock however deep he needs it, huh?”

You liked it more than the air in your lungs, to be honest. Only problem was you couldn’t quite speak your mind with your mouth full of Bucky, so you had only to nod. Your husband groaned when you hummed along his length and bobbed your head to answer ‘yes.’ He saw you try not to gag and decided to thrust a little deeper.

He watched his cock drag back and forth along your tongue and took hold of your hair like a vice, fucking your face until your chin and cheeks were drenched with spit. Every now and then he’d pull his cock out just long enough to ask how bad you wanted him in your mouth, how desperate you were to taste him again, and every time you’d answer a little more sweetly and incoherently than before, eyes glazed with desire and mouth open for more.

You were amazed you’d lasted as long as you had—how quickly you’d devolved into this pliable, doe-eyed cocksleeve for Bucky and how keenly you desired to please him even more. It felt pornographic and lewd and somehow still loving as he plowed in and out of your mouth and sang your praises like no man had before.

Above you, Bucky was aching for release but adamant that he wouldn’t cum down your throat—not yet, at least.

His mind was alight with those pesky, primal thoughts again, and every time he watched you swallow him whole, he just wanted to fuck his cum someplace else.

Bucky wasn’t sure if he was smitten or simply dominated by carnal desire; all he knew was that he wanted to give you his babies.

Lots and lots of babies.

A hundred or more, if he had it his way.

Again, you barely had a chance to take a fresh breath before Bucky threw you onto the bed. You’d just tried to steady yourself in a semi-seated position when the man shoved you back in the pillows and slotted himself between your legs, pupils blown wide with hunger.

In a blink, you were flipped onto your stomach with your ass yanked high in the air. Back made to arch, toes about to curl, you closed your eyes and sank your teeth into the sheets, moments away from begging your husband to fuck you right then and there, but Bucky had other plans. He seized the hair at the crown of your head and jerked your head to face forward.

The first thing to greet you was your own reflection—in a floor-to-ceiling mirror at the foot of the bed—followed by Bucky’s broad form steadying behind you. You watched him wet his lips, furrow his brow, and use one careful hand to guide the head of his cock to your entrance. Completely piqued with arousal as you were, weeping beads of desire from that place between your legs, you almost wanted to buck your hips and fuck him yourself.

You refrained.

Bucky pressed the tip of himself to your clit and met your gaze in the mirror when you let out a whimper.

“You didn’t mean it, did you?” he asked, tone suddenly dropped to that of a stoic.

“Mean what?”

It took an unbelievable amount of willpower to fight the moan in your throat when Bucky dragged his cock down the seam of your cunt and rubbed every hot, throbbing inch of himself in the slickness between your folds. You were quick to take the sheets in your hands and squeeze as tight as you could—you wouldn’t let him win that easy.

“When you said you weren’t my wife. Did you mean it?” Bucky was coating himself now, rolling his hips back and forth while you seized the white linens for dear life.

“No. I didn’t,” you said through your teeth. Your eyelids fluttered with the feel of him circling your sensitive hole.

“Do you want to be my wife?” Bucky had to have known it was an asinine question, but he asked it all the same.

“Yes.”

“You do?”

“I do. I do. Now will you just fuck me already?”

In response, and as if to make a mockery of your request, Bucky just pressed the head of his cock inside you and watched you close in the mirror—daring your hips to move back another inch.

“What else do you want to be, doll?”

To say your mind was an empty slate bare of anything but the desire to be fucked was an understatement. You fumbled to find words.

“Your wife, your girl— that’s it, Bucky.”

Your husband nudged his cock a little deeper.

“A good girl?” he hummed.

“Yes, daddy,” you cried and clenched around him.

Bucky stayed where he was and stretched your wet, aching hole with just his tip, making the world’s most shallow thrusts as he flattened his hand on your back and made sure it stayed arched while he teased you.

At this point, you didn’t care what the man saw or heard. You fought with your hips and whined into the sheets.

“Bucky!”

“Wanna be my obedient little cockslut?” he asked.

“Uh-huh.”

“My bunny?”

“Yes, James.” Your cheeks were enflamed, almost hot to the touch.

Bucky suddenly drove himself inside you all the way to the hilt. He squeezed your hip in one hand and with the other slipped a finger between your folds to rub vicious, tight circles against your clit as you bucked and moaned beneath his touch.

“How about a momma?” he pressed, almost too low to be heard, “Wanna be that, too?”

His hips fell into a quick and easy rhythm against your ass, stretching you wide and filling you up almost seamlessly. Your mind was too consumed with pleasure and him to think much else, but barely, you managed,

“W-what?”

Bucky delivered a thrust that knocked the breath from your chest, leaning down to rub your clit even harder.

“Do you want to be a mommy? Have me fill you up and put my baby inside you?”

Oh, fuck. Fucking—what the fuck? Your toes curled as a new jolt of pleasure shot through you, and your gaze locked with Bucky’s in the mirror. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“No— James, we’re not, shit—” you stopped to take a breath as he fucked you rough from behind, smirking the whole time, “We’re not ready for that.”

“Look pretty…ready to me,” Bucky stifled a groan when you squeezed around him and made obscene little noises sliding up and down his cock. He watched the way your pretty, wet pussy stretched and swallowed him down to the base and imagined it dripping with his cum. He snapped his hips against your ass even faster.

It wasn’t clear just who was more overcome with desire—both of you blissed out and fuckdrunk as you’d ever been—and then Bucky flipped you onto your back.

He wanted to see your face as he fucked you slow this time, lips hovering mere inches from your own as he dragged his cock gently in and out of you.

“James,” you breathed, digging your heels in his back with a wordless plea to speed up, baby, please.

In truth, you just knew what would happen if Bucky had the advantage of slow and soft sex with a mouth lowered close to your ear. How he’d shower you with kisses and bring you right to the edge, rolling his hips against your body with strings of sweet praises flowing fast off his tongue.

“Just one, honey,” he mumbled, lips grazing the edge of your jaw, “One baby and I promise we’ll be done.”

Yeah fucking right, you wanted to return with a roll of your eyes but felt your insides churn as he grazed that spot.

“Can you do that for me, doll?” he eased his dick back and forth and snaked a hand between your bodies until his palm was laying flat on your stomach, “Fit my baby in there?”

You couldn’t deny the feelings of pleasure were heightened to no end when he rubbed the heel of his palm into your tummy and continued to rut into you. That feeling of fullness, the delicate nudge against your most sensitive place, paired with the warmth of Bucky’s hand on your lower abdomen, was as close to euphoric as you’d ever felt before orgasm, and it wasn’t hard to tell from the way your body responded. Bucky worked his touch even deeper and watched you writhe beneath him.

“My sweet girl,” he cooed, rubbing that spot, “You’d look so pretty all swole up down here, don’t you think?”

Fucking hell, this guy was good. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to shake your head.

“Someone…tried to kill us…twice in the last twenty four hours,” you managed between labored breaths. Trying not to whimper when the head of Bucky’s cock kissed your cervix and you felt him bottom out inside you.

Balls deep and enamored with the expression on your face, Bucky laid a kiss on your forehead and smiled.

“I’ll take Schröder’s life with my own two hands if it means keeping you—” he paused to press his palm even firmer on your stomach, “—and our child safe, honey.”

You wanted to believe him. You sincerely hoped your husband could make good on his promise—even if it meant delivering an agonizing, bloody death to a man you barely knew—but you sensed deep down that there were no guarantees in the world Bucky Barnes inhabited. From what little you’d seen in the last day and a half, it had become clear as ever that there were no certainties; no promise of tomorrow, much less a probability that things would pan out exactly as you planned. Add to that a living, breathing child between you two, and the prospects for a safe, secure, and peaceful future were small. Infinitesimally so, in the grand scheme of things.

“No, Bucky,” you finally opened your eyes to find his tender gaze watching over you. Still moving his hips gently, still blanketing your body with his own, “That’s entirely just— just irresponsible. You know it would be.”

“Making a child together?” Bucky seemed wounded saying the words.

And, in spite of the serious turn your conversation had taken, you could see and feel with the growing pace of your breaths that both of you were close. You wanted more than anything to repair that muted, injured look in his eyes, but then Bucky was blinking it away, to the best of his abilities, and lowering his head back down to yours to impart a soft barrage of kisses along your skin. He resumed before you could even think to speak again.

“Okay. No, you’re right. It’s your choice, my love,” he murmured against your cheek, getting back into the more deliberate rhythm of his thrusts before. He stayed there holding his body and his lips as close to yours as possible, and when you felt tempted to say something again, you found the sound drowned by a cresting wave of pleasure.

Your legs tightened around Bucky’s sides, and your head fell back on the bed. You felt Bucky’s drop right beside you, turned just slightly to graze his lips against your ear.

“Gonna cum for me, doll?”

You nodded.

“So close, Bucky,” you breathed, a tremor passing over your thighs as they squeezed him even tighter.

You felt your husband’s hand move from your belly to a place just below it—taking care to bring the pad of his thumb to that wet, aching bundle of nerves—and started drawing circles. Your back arched from the bed, into him, and the coil of pleasure in your lower half swelled.

“Good girl,” Bucky growled, “Good fuckin’ girl, taking me so well.”

The praises and gentle circuits of his thumb continued as he fucked you harder into the bed and panted against your skin. Increasing the speed of his thrusts before catching your mouth in a sloppy kiss, body sinking into yours.

“Gonna make a mess of this cock, huh? Show daddy just how much you love it?”

You whined in response, feeling your muscles start to ache from how hard your legs were wrapped around him. Bucky invaded your mouth with his tongue, kissing and licking and craving your taste as he fucked you stupid—and begged for your release.

“Cum for daddy, honey, I know you got it. Let daddy feel it, baby, please.”

A couple more snaps of his hips and you gave him just that: a hot, cascading ripple of bliss spreading all throughout your body, sending your mind in spirals and every muscle under your command a tense, throbbing mess. You swallowed a scream and took a bite of Bucky’s shoulder instead, causing the man above you to grin and fuck you harder.

“That’s my girl,” he mumbled with an audible hint of pride.

The smile only started to waver when his own release was coming close. Suddenly, his grip was moving to your hip and pinning you down to the bed, brows pinching in and breaths starting to hitch.

“Honey— honey,” he said, voice strained, “Baby, you— you gotta let go of your— ah, fuck.”

Still riding out the highs of your orgasm, you hardly even noticed how tight you were holding him with your legs, and shortly, this raised issues for Bucky, who was trying like hell to heed your wishes and not cum inside you.

“Baby, let go, I gotta—”

He probably could’ve fought to shake you off a little harder, been a bit more adamant about his efforts, but you looked so comfortable and lithe and sweet beneath his frame, so blissed out and happy to be taking his strokes, Bucky almost had to pinch himself to rouse his lust-addled brain to action and remind himself that this was how babies are made, man, get the fuck off of her.

Bucky let out a long, strangled groan as the ropes of cum left his body before he could think, or move, fast enough.

He hastily pushed your legs away and pulled out, but not before painting your walls with a good portion of his load. His hand fell to his cock and started jerking the rest of it out over your stomach, body washing with pleasure.

Vaguely, thoughts of babies and ballgames and neat white picket fences crossed his mind, but those views were fleeting; he remembered what you’d told him and forced himself back to earth, dropping a quick, apologetic kiss to the side of your face.

“I’m sorry. Should’ve pulled out quicker,” Bucky panted against your neck.

You stroked his bicep and shook your head.

“You’re fine. I kinda had you down like a boa constrictor for a second,” you breathed and shared a weary laugh.

Before you knew it, Bucky was sliding off the bed and shuffling toward the bathroom in search of a towel. You prodded the warm, gooey mess on your belly with your finger and raised an eyebrow. Curious, and only slightly worried.

Bucky had been hitting it raw for a day now—surely one more half-load of his wouldn’t get you pregnant, right?

Fortunately, you didn’t have much longer to ponder that thought because a trill of a ringtone sounded from the nightstand.

A phone call? At 45,000 feet?

“Just the intercom,” Bucky called out, “Probably Steve about to start complaining that we fuck too loud.”

Huh. You stared at the trimline-looking telephone on the table and let it ring. Then the sound stopped.

“You think they could hear us?” you asked.

Bucky had just wet a washcloth under the sink and was rifling through the cabinets for something else.

“Hope so,” he said with a shrug, “You know I’d never miss a chance to let ‘em know I took a trip to poundtown—”

“Please never say that again,” you groaned, closing your eyes in sudden fear of what Steve and Sam may or may not have just been made privy to outside of the room.

You were just about to speak up again—perhaps to tell your husband there would be an indefinite travel ban to poundtown if he didn’t hurry the fuck up with that towel—when the intercom’s jarring peal started up once more.

Fuck this. Ignoring the sticky-sweet puddle of love still painted on your stomach, you sat up and crawled over to the phone and ripped it off the hook.

“Barnes residence,” you announced without ceremony. Then, imagining how smug Steve was probably looking on the other end of that line, you decided to be crass and add, “Bucky Barnes is very busy laying pipe on his wife right now, but if you could leave your name and number, he’ll be sure to call you back as soon as possible!”

You heard the caller burst out laughing, and you smiled to yourself. Pleased to have made an otherwise moody and brooding Steve Rogers crack at one of your jokes, you were just about to hang up when the caller cut in.

Bucky was returning with your towel in hand, lips curled in the faintest of smirks at hearing your crude declaration, when he stopped at the foot of the bed.

He saw the smile fall from your face, and his did, too.

From the other end of the line, a soft and familiar Southern drawl crawled out of the phone’s receiver.

“Sure thing, doll. Tell him it’s Joey Schröder calling.”

Taglist: @vicmc624, @she-could-never, @mcira, @kentokaze, @identity2212, @unaxv, @buchi91, @ordelixx, @stinkerbelle007, @opibarnes, @wilsons-striped-ties, @desigirlxx, @pono-pura-vida, @geminiflanagansblog, @fandomsfeminismandme, @buggy14, @sky-full-0f-fl0wers, @buckysdoll1520, @armystay89, @minimarvelingmarvel, @kunakizen, @ghostiebby06, @blackhawkfanatic, @dameron-grant-spector, @sushiseoks, @deansapplepie, @mrsjoequinn, @lunaroserites, @first-edition, @kaybaby2494, @jaggedsi, @excusememrbarnes, @daisychainsoflove, @mostlymarvelgirl, @diannana, @shawnberry, @yujyujj, @urmomsalex, @mrs-bucky-barnes-73, @athenabarnes, @christinabae, @wintrsoldrluvr, @bethbunnyy, @i-heart-smut

(If I missed anyone or tagged improperly, please let me know! This is my first rodeo taglist)

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #marvel #mcu #mob bucky barnes #marvel smut #marvel x reader #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes

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horrorartsworld · 3 months

Text

all work & no play

lucifer morningstar/clingy in heat f!reader

warnings: 18+ nsfw content, breeding kink, daddy kink

a/n: i’m not kidding the brain rot is real with this man…

(pic creds: @/AncestralSinner on twt!!)

Lucifer was off on a business meeting with the angels which left you all alone bored and lonesome.

Of course you were missing him…

and of course it was your time of season.

You went back and forth one whether or not you should call him, checking the time almost every second until finally his meeting would be over in the next 5 minutes.

It wouldn’t hurt to call before it ended right?

Hitting his caller id number without a second thought and clicking facetime waiting patiently as you let it ring.

After the third or fourth ring you hear his sweet voice come through, “Hi my pretty girl…what’ve you been up to!”

Your thighs instantly coming together as you nibbled at your bottom lip at how just by seeing him your body temperature skyrocketed.

“I’ve been missing you daddy~” you pout at the screen using a baby voice as you watch his attention avert from you for a moment making your heart practically ache.

“Aww I miss you too honey…i’ll be home in a little bit okay!” his attention still elsewhere but on you. Who could possibly be having all his attention right now besides his baby?

You huff a little at this knowing you were in heat and he wasn’t here to help you.

Then a lightbulb goes off above your head as you held the phone out in front of you, starting to tease yourself a little. Rubbing your hand over your tits, grabbing and squeezing at them and then letting a hand slip under skirt to tease your pussy through your panties letting out a soft whimper causing Lucifer to put his attention back onto you in bewilderment.

Seeing you all desperate and needy that you had to call him on the phone finally put the thought in his mind that you were in heat. His eyes darkening instantly and his forked tongue darting out to lick his lips as he felt like he was practically drooling at the sight of you.

“Oh my sweet baby is in heat huh?” he coos softly as he started making his way out of the building hastily and back onto the streets of Hell.

You nod with still a pout playing at your lips as you start rubbing small circles against your clothed clit.

“Let me see~” his voice dropping an octave loosing it’s usual bubbly like nature.

Shifting the phone down to your skirt you move your panties to the side showing your already soaking entrance. Delicate fingers spreading yourself open to show off your sweet little hole to him that was aching to be filled.

“Fuuuuuck baby~” Lucifer moans on the other side of the phone not caring what sinner saw their overlord in such a primal and vulnerable state with his little girl begging him to breed her on the phone.

His hard-on straining so painful against his pants, which a couple whores on the street gave a whistle to and made him offers to come back with them, but he was so infatuated with you in heat right now he could careless, with your guys shared home being only two more blocks away.

“Just be a good girl and wait for daddy okay? I’ll be right there~” nodding obediently as Lucifer unexpectedly hangs up the phone making you huff once more.

You weren’t sure what to do with yourself for those few minutes, but before you could think about it there was a sound of keys jiggling at the door making you perk up within an instant.

The door swung open revealing Lucifer with his chest rising and falling rather quickly as his wings had been flared out now slowly going away in a ‘poof’ Seeming as though he flew here in a hurry just to please you.

“Oh come to daddy~” he purred with his arms outstretched and a hungry look dancing in his eye.

You didn’t hesitate as you walked over to him swaying your hips in a saucy manner which he quite liked as his eyes bounced with each movement. Wrapping your arms around his neck as you gave him a sweet kiss.

Lucifer hummed against your lips pleased as his hands started to slowly glide from down your waist to grab up under your thighs, hoisting you up to carry you back over to the sofa you were sitting on earlier.

Sitting himself down with you nestled in his lap facing him. His hands feeling how warm your skin was against his fingertips as just his touch was making you squirm against him, innocent lap sitting turned into you desperately grinding against him just to get off some how.

“W-woah slow down princess” he massages your hips pulling away from the kiss as he was starting to get more hot himself.

His hard-on from before still very much erect as it was nestled between your thighs igniting the heat deep in your core. You feel a little embarrassed and shy now that he was in front of you, but you just couldn’t stop humping him.

“I-I can’t” you sniffle, needing to feel relief so badly it hurts.

“Oh my sweet girl, it’s okay, shh.” he tries to calm you down as he gives a soft kiss to your forehead and squeezes your hips a little.

"You want daddy to make you feel nice and full. Is that right?" feeling a blush creep onto your cheeks as you nod, but you still can't control the way your hips are moving.

"Maybe claim you completely…Would you like that?"

Hearing his warm words in your ear was driving you up the wall, kneading your hands against his shoulders as a more pleading look decorated your features.

“Tell daddy baby~..” kissing your ear gently then peppering wet kisses down your neck.

Your mind so full of your arousal like this you had a hard time with forming your words.

“I w-want yo-ou~” you muster out softly as you then got up from your spot on his lap turning yourself around to present yourself to him.

Lucifer is nearly at a loss for words, too, seeing your cute little behind and the obvious wet patch on your panties where your skirt had been hiked up.

"Y-you want me in there?”

You nod gingerly as he then rubs a thumb over the wet patch lightly grazing your clit against your panties making you whine. He cruses under his breath as he doesn’t hesitate pulling you back down against his lap after making that noise showing how eager he was getting himself.

"You wanna come sit on my cock?" he offers, tugging your panties aside with a moan, seeing how your dripping down your thighs for him.

"Right here, angel" he pulls his angry erection out from his nice dress pants, lining himself up and stretching you open.

You feel the spread of his tip that could satisfy you alone with the width and thickness, but he couldn’t hold back anymore as he pulled you down onto him with a groan, "S-sweetheart…you’re soo tight~”

You whimper as that ache in your tummy was finally being satisfied with ease and loving. Looking back to see Lucifer completely entranced with you going up and down his length with his guide, his lower lip sucked in between his teeth.

"Fuck that's it, baby- you’re doing such a good job for daddy," he coos then pulling your body closer, pressing kisses to the back of your neck in his warm embrace.

He fucks away your embarrassment of being in such incredible need, with that fiery heat inside you. It all starts melting away, dripping down his cock until you feel him start to pulse and throb inside you.

"I-I’m s-so m fucking close-"

"P-please cum daddy" You mewl, hearing him growl behind you as you egged him on making him grab your hips a little firmer as he brought you down on him harder. Turning back at him once more to see that gorgeous, pleasured look on his face as he gets his first orgasm.

Breathing heavily now, you go to stand up to let him rest, but his hands grab onto your waist once more and he keeps you seated on his length.

"You wanna go again?"

He feels you clenching on him already with that surprised look on your face.

"Haha, why should we stop there?..I don’t got any meetings tommorrow- so i can give you allllll the attention you want”

He knows that when his sweet girl is in heat that she needs all the attention she can get…Not only with lots of love, but a nice long dick that’ll keep her filled with it’s cum.

He just wanted to make you happy.

Hearing this almost had you to the point of crying tears a pure joy that it was almost overwhelming that he wanted to take care of you like this.

So you let him do just that all night long, till he had you resting against his bare chest completely spent letting out soft sighs as you slept. He couldn’t help but smile down at his pretty girl cuddled up against him, pulling a blanket over the two of you before whispering, “i love you”, giving you a soft kiss amongst your head and then settling him self down for a much needed rest.

#☆⋆｡𖦹 my writings #☆⋆｡𖦹 lucifer #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin imagine #hazbin #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer smut #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar smut

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s1m0nth3swag · 30 days

Text

Francis Mosses x GN!Reader

AUTHORS NOTE; Haven't written in a while, but thanks to Arlo, a friend (Hi Arlo, I know you're reading this), Inspiration about Francis Mosses struck (he bought me That's not my neighbor and then continued to freak out about Francis with me) so I wrote this. I have so many thoughts about Francis, so... tell me if you want more because i will deliver ngl. Enjoy (or don't, I don't dictate your feelings)

WARNINGS/ CONTENT INFO; Porn with little to no plot, Submissive Francis, a little non-consensual at the start (but not in a super weird way, imo?), Gender neutral reader (no pronouns used, tried to write as GN as possible with the compliments and thoughts about Readers appearance), not proofread nor have I thought about this much, more a drabble than an actual thoughtful story (not apologising because I had such a long break from writing anything and obviously it's gonna suck a little when I come back)

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!

The first time Francis had realised that he hadn't gotten any touch from another human being was when someone brushed up against him on his way home from work. He had felt like a creep afterwards because he hadn't stopped thinking about what could've happened if the person hadn't moved away and had just stayed pressed against him. That was a week before you started your job as a doorman.

The second time Francis had noticed was when a friend of his had spoken to him on the phone, talking about his new girlfriend. Said friend gave too much intel on their sex life. Francis had wondered if he could have someone the way his friend explained - he quickly brushed the thought off. That was two days before you started working as a doorman.

The third time, he noticed when you had smiled at him. It was your first day, and he was tired from work. You had repeated his name after reading it off of his ID, and he had looked at you for the first time since his eyes kept falling closed, and you smiled so brightly. You had told him his name was nice, and you said it again. Francis swore that the way his name rolled off your tongue was the most beautiful thing he's ever heard. Not even an angel could sound more wonderful. Suddenly, he was a lot more energised. Totally not thanks to the fact that he had immediately grown hard the second he had seen your smile. He had gone to his apartment that night and had jerked off for the first time in probably months. He had always been too tired to previously, but now he couldn't stop thinking about how you'd sound moaning his name. Maybe you were more of a groaner, or you'd whimper and whine. He came as he imagined how you'd look sucking his dick.

Since then, Francis has always looked forward to entry checks. What had normally kept him away from his bed and a good night's sleep was now the best experience of his day. He loved the way you spoke to him even though he was too nervous to respond. Sometimes, he deliberately didn't show his ID at first, just so you'd ask about it, and he could listen to you talk a little more. He felt guilty about it. He knew you had never agreed to feed into this weird little obsession of his. It was awful of him to do this - have you talk to him enough to give him more scenarios to think about that night.

A few weeks after all this had started, Francis had built up the courage to finally ask you out. Just something simple, dinner at his place. He had to cook for himself all the time. Cooking for you as well wouldn't be too different, right?

Francis was wrong. He was anxious that the food wouldn't taste good and kept tasting it just so he could make sure it hadn't mysteriously switched tastes in the last 20 seconds. When you knocked on his door, he took a minute to make sure he didn't look like a mess - though you wouldn't mind either way since he always looked like a mess when he came through during your shifts.

You looked so good when he opened the door. Your hair fell perfectly, your lips looked a little too kissable, and Francis had to stop his train of thought just so he wouldn't embarrass himself by having yet another boner caused by just the way you looked. You were a little shorter than him, smiling up as he let you inside.

"You look good." He mumbled, his cheeks flushing. He seriously had to lay off thinking like a high-schooler. His nervousness and awkwardness were getting really annoying - to him, at least. You grinned, chuckling softly as you took off your shoes. "Thank you. You do as well." His heart for sure burst at that - he knew something else would burst as well if he didn't stop thinking right this second.

Throughout the evening, ignoring his thoughts came easier and easier. The two of you had eaten, you had told him he was a good cook, he had almost excused himself to the bathroom because of it. Now you were sitting on the couch, drinking wine and talking casually.

"You know, when you first walked through, I swore I would die." You giggled, looking at him with a mischievous look. Francis was confused by that statement. "How come?" He asked, tilting his head at you in question. "I was sure you were a doppelganger. You looked too handsome to be real." You cheekily answered, cheeks slightly flushed as you downed your wine. Francis blushed heavily, looked away from you, and thought about your words for a moment. The silence was loud as he wondered what to answer. "..you think I'm handsome?" He questioned while looking at the floor. If he had looked at you, he'd have seen the way you stared at him, your own cheeks coloured a deep red. "Extremely." You muttered. It took him a minute before he could look at you, but when he did, his lips pressed against yours in a desperate kiss.

When you reciprocated, Francis groaned and pulled you closer until you sat on his lap. He was just a tiny bit embarrassed when you gasped and felt his dick press against you. In all honesty, he had held back the entire night, and he was allowed a little selfishness. "Sorry. Can't help it." He muttered between kisses. You just grinned against his lips before grinding against him. A whimper fell from his lips - that was the moment he was actually embarrassed. "That's cute.." You had mumbled, a cheeky grin on your face as you started placing kisses against his jaw and neck. One of your hands trailed down his body to rest right over his crotch, Francis unconsciously bucked his hips up against your hand, whining. He didn't notice anything else as you caught the skin of his neck with your teeth carefully, leaving the softest bite mark on him. He shuddered at the feeling and gasped before realising that you had meanwhile unzipped his pants. A groan slipped from his lips as you ran a finger over his dick, still hidden from sight by his boxers, but god knows he would cum the second you'd touch it without. "Is this okay?" You asked him, and he nodded faster than he even knew he could. "Yes. God, yes. Please, please continue.." he muttered, his breathing heavy as he watched you slide off his lap, settling in front of him and between his legs. His dick twitched at the sight, and he let out a heavy sigh. Minutes later, his pants and boxers were discarded, and the way you looked up at him, his dick so close to your face, made Francis feel the way his orgasm was approaching way too quick. The second you wrapped your hand around him he whined pathetically, bucked up into your hand and knew that he'd definitely cum too soon. Your hand was so soft, cool against his hot flesh, and you worked his dick so good he almost thought you were a professional. He looked down at you through lidded eyes, watched the way you bit your lip, and grinned knowingly. "Such a pretty boy, huh?" You chuckled, and that definitely sealed the deal for Francis. He came, probably ruining his shirt as he dirtied both it and your hand. His heart stopped for a second when you licked your hand while looking up at him. "You didn't give me enough time to taste you properly. Don't look at me like that." You huffed, rolling your eyes at him. "You should probably take off your shirt so you can clean it later." You then winked. He swiftly shed the piece of clothing, entranced by your voice and the way you looked. "Sorry, didn't mean to cum that fast.." he mutters, his voice out of breath. "Jus'.. unused to... this.." he added, clearing his throat awkwardly. You laughed and shook your head. "Don't worry about it. We have all the time in the world to make you last longer. I'm gonna give you a real reason to be tired tomorrow." You winked.

Francis didn't even mind that he was in for a long night.

Your honour I am gnawing at the bars of my enclosure.

#francis mosses #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #x reader #gn reader #thats not my neighbor #milkman x reader

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midnightcrw · 2 months

Text

Provocative

Pairing: Alastor x fem!reader

Summary: Lucifer visits the Hazbin Hotel because his daughter called him, but there he sees a good friend he hasn't seen in a long time.

Warnings: Swearing, mention of discrimination (this is fluff, by the way)

a/n: This is my first time writing for Alastor and anything related to the Hazbin Hotel, so I hope you all will like it. Please tell me if there's anything in this one shot that might offend anyone, and I'll do my best to change it or clarify my thought process.

Charlie was walking around in circles because of the fact that her dad was going to come over to the hazbin hotel for the first time.

And while everyone seemed quite unbothered, she couldn't calm down while Vaggie was currently helping Sir Pentious put up the decorations.

"You have been walking around in circles for the last fifteen minutes, darling," your voice was heard as you put a hand on Charlie's shoulder.

She stopped abruptly as she felt the weight on her shoulder and turned her head slightly to look into your eyes, "It's just been a while since I've seen him and I really want this to go well."

Her usual optimistic tone was much less energetic and confident as she started to look around, clearly avoiding your eyes.

You let out a sigh, a small smile finding its way to your lips as you cupped her chin between your thumb and forefinger, "There's nothing to panic about. I'm sure everything will go perfectly."

Your words seemed to calm the blonde down a bit as she gave you a slight nod, "I hope you're right," she muttered as you let go of her chin.

With that, Charlie made her way over to Vaggie to look at the decorations she had put up with Sir Pentious.

You just smiled at the sight when you suddenly heard a low static behind you, "She's been all over the place since the call," Alastor mused, his sharp grin never leaving his face.

Rolling your eyes at him, you opened your mouth to speak, "Let her be, she's trying her best."

"Oh, I know, my dear. I want the best for Charlie too," Alastor's words made you shake your head, knowing there was more to it, but even with you, he wasn't eager to share that information.

If you had known that you would be bound to him even in hell, you would have run as fast as you could in your mortal life.

But your 'lovely' husband had a way with words even then. Even if the two of you didn't marry for love, there was definitely something there.

Back in New Orleans, Alastor had a hard time because he was half Creole. He was always at a disadvantage because he did not fit into the standard, even though he tried his best to somehow blend in.

But radio was really the perfect solution and a passion of his. It even helped him because no one saw his face and only had to listen to his voice, which even he had forced to sound different, his usual deep tone becoming much higher to fit into the society.

And once he became famous, he even started to change his appearance. His usually dark brown wavy hair was straightened by him, while he also started to dress like the rest of the crowd.

But even then it never seemed to be enough. His tan complexion was still striking to some, as people began to gossip about him from time to time.

The prejudices against him never stopped, as people even started to question him because he wasn't married, making him out to be a cruel man who couldn't even find love, and that's where you came in, to get rid of at least one of the many talked about topics about him. At least then the people of New Orleans would know that Alastor really was a lovable man.

You really couldn't have cared less about the standards and the gossip that had made its way when Alastor started to pursue you back then. Even though he did not even reveal his intentions at first, you could still tell that there was more to it than just love in itself.

And even after he revealed his true intention behind a marriage, you accepted it. You didn't really have anything to lose anyway, and his charming words seemed to sway you somehow.

However, getting married and playing the role of a happily married couple had been a struggle. Both of you being at each other's throats, but never really being able to truly hate each other, was definitely odd.

But leaving that aside for now, there were more important matters at hand as you let go of your thoughts of the past.

"Just don't ruin this for her," your stern tone was obvious and with that you went over to help Niffty with cleaning up.

A few minutes passed and everything seemed to be perfect now, but not for Charlie.

"What if he hates the way the hotel looks?" She asked herself, her hands pulling tightly on her hair.

"He won't. You don't have to worry. I'm sure he'll be happy to see you at all," Vaggie said in a reassuring voice as she put an arm around her girlfriend's shoulder and gave her a small kiss on the forehead.

That little gesture made Charlie blush as she leaned against Vaggie, trying to calm herself, and when she felt ready, she made her way to the door.

"Okay everyone, it's showtime!" She said with a smile on her face, looking at everyone as the door was suddenly flung open by Lucifer, who said his daughters name and hugged her tightly.

Standing near the door, Alastor looked at the two of them with a crazy glint in his eyes and his never-ending smile showing his teeth.

And that's when you knew that this wasn't going to end well.

As Lucifer looked around the hotel, Alastor didn't seem happy at all, angry at the fact that he was being ignored.

"It's got a lot of character... What in the unholy hell is that?" Lucifer asked in a disbelieving tone, as a frown made its way onto his face.

Already knowing that Alastor wasn't going to hold back now, you let out a heavy sigh as you rubbed your temple.

"Just some of the renovations we had done. Adds a bit of color, don't you think?" Your husband's voice was heard as Lucifer then proceeded to ask who he even was.

And with the blink of an eye, Alastor is now at Lucifer's side. "I'm Alastor. Pleasure to be meeting you, sir. Quite a pleasure," he replied as he wiped his hand on his coat.

You were about to slam your head against the wall when you felt someone tugging at your dress. "He's a bad boy," Niffty said in an excited tone, staring at the King of Hell while you just felt a shiver run down your spine in disgust at your friend being lusted upon.

"You might have heard of me from my radio broadcast," Alastor said with a sinister grin on his face as he held his microphone. Knowing him, he loves to be acknowledged and it didn't look like Lucifer was going to give him any of that.

"Nope, I guess that's why Charlie called it the Hazbin Hotel," Lucifer said, emphasizing the 'haz'.

"Hahaha! It was actually my idea!"

"Hahaha! Well, it's not very clever!"

"Haha! Fuck you!"

Hearing that, you immediately made your way to Alastor as you and Charlie interrupted them, earning a look of shock from Lucifer.

"Is it really you?" Lucifer asked, his eyes wide as he looked at you. And before you could even answer, he threw himself at you, nearly crushing you to a second death and leaving you breathless.

"It's been years!" The King of Hell shouted as he let go of you to examine your face. You let out a chuckle, "It has indeed been a long time."

The interaction between the two of you naturally caught everyone's attention, as they all had a confused look on their faces, except for Alastor, who seemed to be losing his patience by the second.

Not even letting you two continue reminiscing, Alastor put an arm around your waist, causing you to gasp in surprise, as he wasn't usually the one to show off your relationship, especially to Overlords and anyone above that position.

"From where do you know him, my love?" Alastor's static-like voice was heard loud and clear as he pulled you even closer.

Before you could answer, Lucifer interrupted. "My love?!" He asked in disbelief and disgust.

"Oh, yes. 'My love,' the beautiful woman I'm so smitten by," Alastor was really putting on a show as he even planted a small kiss on your temple.

Your arm made its way around your husband's back as you pinched his waist in annoyance, eliciting a small static screech from Alastor.

"You really have some nerve, don't you?" you whispered in a caustic tone as your face came closer to his, wanting only him to hear it.

But even with that, the man dressed in red didn't shy away to take it completely somewhere else, "Just a few minutes, my darling. Then we'll have some time alone. Oh, and how she loves it, almost shameless, isn't she?" Alastor went on talking while you cursed him in your head.

You knew he was only doing it to rile Lucifer up, but of course the rest of them didn't know that.

"So Freaky Face does fuck," Angel Dust mused with a grin on his face as Husk slapped him on the back of the head.

"You sleep with that?" Lucifer asked in a disgusted tone as he ran towards you, pulling you out of Alastor's tight grip as he took a few steps away from your husband.

"Are you sure this is what you want for your future? Are you even sure it is worth of dating?" The short man asked you, almost even praying for you.

You apparently forgot to mention that you and Alastor have been married for decades, but you definitely wouldn't tell him that right now.

"It's a he," you simply replied.

"Well, I couldn't care less about it."

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor imagine #alastor fanfiction #alastor fluff #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel oneshots #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fluff

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prettyfastcars · 2 months

Text

triggered | Mob!Lando

Summary: The two of you had broken up just weeks ago, and it was mainly his fault. But no matter how hard he tried to win you back, you never gave him the opportunity to. Lando hadn’t heard from you or seen you at all in those weeks. And when he did finally catch a glimpse of you, it almost made his heart stop. He hoped he’d find you at a club, or walking down the city streets. He didn’t expect to find a suggestive photograph of you on another man’s phone. And that triggered his anger and jealousy in a way that nothing ever had before.

Themes: exes-to-lovers, jealous!lando, smut, cam girl!reader, lowkey toxic ex!lando, degrading kink, brief aftercare, mild gun play, mild daddy kink

All he saw was pure red.

Earlier this evening, Lando walked into one of the clubs he owned in this city to hopefully drink enough to forget all about the torturous day he’d had. It seemed like ever since the two of you broke up, he had only been having bad days. Mainly because half the time he was busy thinking about you and his brain wasn’t functioning well.

So tonight, after a long day and the longest week ever, he just wanted some drinks and some peace. But of course, life had to torture him some more.

Lando was lounging in one of the couches in the VIP area, constantly having to turn down all the girls who wanted his attention. He barely even saw their faces, they all seemed blurry and since they weren’t you, he didn’t care. So there he was, chilling when he heard a group of men nearby, over on the next couch, laughing and ‘ooh’ ing while looking down at one of their friends’ phone.

As much as he wanted to have them kicked out for their loud, annoying voices, he couldn’t because they were some of the regulars. The group was here almost every weekend. And part of him was also curious to know what had their attention like that. So he listened intently as the guys proceeded to make vulgar comments on pictures that a woman sent one of them apparently. The club was loud, but he was close enough to be able to hear part of their conversation.

“So did you like, ask for this?” One of them asked.

Then the one on whose phone the video was sent, he assumed, answered, “She’s like a cam girl who also does like a private chat thing if you send her enough money. So I requested pictures and she sent these.”

The men laughed, slapping the guy who received the video on the back like he was a hero.

Another asked, “So what’s her name?”

“I don’t know. She always wears hot bunny costumes and she...”

The rest of what he said did even register in Lando’s brain. He totally froze on the couch for a second there.

Bunny costumes? Surely not…

Lando knew of your past as a cam girl. You used to be quite a successful one too. But you stopped when you and Lando started dating about a year ago. Not because he wanted you to, but because you didn’t need the extra money anymore since Lando spoiled you rotten.

His heart raced faster than the cars he liked to drive when he realised how many bunny costumes you owned. It was your go to Halloween costume each year. Plus during your cam girl days, you were known for them.

It can’t be you, right? You wouldn’t… right? Not when he couldn’t even breathe right whenever he thought about how you had ‘broken up’ with him.

He felt hot and cold at the same time, and something, like a twisted gut feeling told him something wasn’t right. So Lando quietly signalled one of his guards over and asked him to bring him that phone that was currently being passed around within that group of men, and also asked him to kick that whole group out.

Within a minute or two, the group was gone and that damn phone was in his hand. And Lando lost it for a moment. All he saw was red, his heartbeats echoed in his ears, his hands shook. He had never felt this level of rage before.

On the screen was a picture of a woman, scantily dressed. Black fishnets, black bodysuit, black bunny ears, black high knee socks. He tightened his grip around the phone so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if the screen cracked. The woman’s face was turned away, but Lando would recognise that body anywhere. A body he had touched, tasted, fucked too many times to count.

It was you. And the red neon sign behind you only served as more proof that this picture was taken in your bedroom. A bedroom he was in just weeks ago, arguing with you before you two broke up.

He was breathing heavily as if he’d run a marathon. He checked the date and time of the picture and turned out you had sent it that evening itself, and that only fueled whatever murderous rage had taken over him.

Lando pocketed the stranger’s phone, and pulled out his own and called you. Of course you didn’t pick up and that only pissed him off even more.

Within the next minute, Lando was out of the club, in his car and speeding towards your penthouse. He could barely think straight. He could barely function, it was a miracle he was still able to drive properly.

His heart raced as he surpassed the speed limit like the law meant nothing to him. It rarely ever did but right now, all he cared about was finding you and fuck, he didn’t even know what the fuck to say to you. But he would remind you that you still belonged to him.

He knew it would only piss him off even more but he pulled out that guy’s phone again, and with a few taps he found that damn picture again. He kept an eye on the mostly empty road as he swiped left and right to see if there were more pictures.

There were a couple more. Same outfit, different angles. Always with your face hidden. Lando nearly threw the phone out the window but he knew he’d need it when he would confront you. So he tossed the phone aside, and punched his steering wheel instead. He hoped the pain would maybe take his focus away from the rage he felt, but he barely even felt the punch.

He was shaking by the time he reached your penthouse. His entire being focused on only getting to your floor and knocking on your door. He barely even remembered if he had parked his car in the right spot.

He took deep breaths in the elevator, trying to talk himself out of breaking down your front door the moment he got to it. It was late at night, so even if he did break down the door your neighbours would surely hear it and come investigate.

And for what he had planned for you, he didn’t want an audience. Fuck, he was barely able to think straight after finding a picture of you in another man’s phone. He was certain he would commit heinous crimes if ever someone saw you half naked like that in real life.

He banged loudly on your door. He could hear nothing but silence on the other end. But he knew you’d be home. Since less than an hour ago you sent pictures to a random man.

He called out. “Open up, babygirl.” Lando growled, banging both of his fists onto the wooden door. The sound was loud enough that he could hear it echoing inside the spacious penthouse. He waited to hear something, and he did. Some kind of movement from the other side of the door, but the door remained locked. He yelled louder, “I will break down this door if I have to, baby. Is that what you want? Want me to cause a scene?”

Apparently you didn’t because the moment those words left his mouth, he heard a familiar click. The door unlocked, but remained shut. He would’ve smirked and felt triumphant if it wasn’t for the fiery anger inside him which tried to claw its way out.

Lando opened the door, rushed inside and slammed it shut behind him. At that point, he didn’t care who heard the commotion he caused. The moment his eyes met yours, he stopped giving a fuck about anything else.

You stood near the entrance. Back against the wall like it would protect you from him. And what pissed him off even more was that you were still wearing that damn costume, minus the bunny ears, from the picture. Something in him snapped as he nearly pounced on you like an actual predator in the wild.

Grabbing you by the neck, he pinned you to the wall. Ignoring your pleas, he pulled out that guy’s phone, found that damn picture and shoved it in your face.

“Care to explain what the fuck this is?!” He snarled, squeezing your throat just a little.

You didn’t have to look at the screen to know what he had found. You didn’t know what kind of twisted invisible string this was, that even after breaking up brought Lando back into your life. Like this no less. You’d been ignoring him for weeks, but somehow he found his way to you now.

“That is none of your business.” You said, causing him to tighten his grip around your neck. Still, you whispered, “What I do is none of your problems anymore. We’re–”

Lando cut you off by throwing the phone to the ground with enough force that it broke and bounced off the floor and hit the front door. Then he leaned closer to you, his eyes quickly scanning your barely dressed body.

Your body reacted the same way it did back when you were together. All Lando ever had to do was give you those bedroom eyes and you’d be dragging him to bed no matter the time of day.

His other hand reached into his pocket and he pulled out the shiny gun he always carried. It had his name engraved on it and everything. He used to let you play with back when–

Your thoughts came to an immediate halt when he carefully pressed the cold barrel of the gun to your parted lips, his eyes staring into yours. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little scared of him at that moment. After all, he hadn’t earned the reputation he had for nothing.

“Keep talking, come on.” He whispered, dangerously calm now. “Tell me more about how you’re not my problem anymore.”

He scoffed when you shivered, trailing the barrel of the gun down your body. Leaving your lips, down your chin, down in between your breasts. The almost see-through bodysuit didn’t leave much to the imagination and it both pissed him off and turned him on. He dragged the gun across your stomach, and further down until he pressed the barrel in between your legs, making you whimper like an actual bunny.

He rubbed it in between your legs briefly before dragging it back up your body. “You wanted to be a slutty, little bunny so bad, didn’t you?” He cooed in that voice that sent shivers all over your body. “Go on then, run and hide. Hide as best you can.” He tapped the barrel of the gun on your lower lip a couple of times before saying, “And when I find you, I will remind you exactly who you belong to.”

With that he pulled away, took a few steps back and gave you room to run. It was cruel, whatever game he was playing. But it was messing with your head, turning you on.

Seeing you weren’t moving, he added, “I’ll count till ten. Better get moving, little bunny.”

You ran, hearing him count in the background as your heart raced. The penthouse was spacious, with many nooks and corners to hide in. Like the wine cellar for instance. But Lando knew each and everyone of those hiding spots. He was the one who gifted you the penthouse after all. Besides, no matter how well you hid he would end up finding you anyway.

Still, you ran deep into your walk-in closet and hid behind your thich coats. Crouched down in a corner, you waited to hear if he was coming. His voice reached you before he did.

“I’m coming to find you.” Followed by a deep, scary chuckle. “And when I do, I show you exactly what happens to bad little bunnies who misbehave.”

Time felt like it went by in slow motion as you listened intently for his footsteps. You heard it approaching. Then you heard your bedroom door opening and shutting.

“You’re so predictable,” He sounded disappointed. Yet his voice made you clench your thighs together all the same.

And you were too busy trying to process how your body was reacting to the fear, the sound of his voice, the anticipation of what was to come, that you didn’t hear him enter the closet.

“I know you’re in here,” He called out in a voice that was so calm it made your heart pound even harder. “I can hear you trembling behind those coats, babygirl.”

Shit.

You barely processed it all when his hand reached in and grabbed you by the arm, dragging you out of your pathetic hiding spot.

“Lando, please–,”

He cut you off by glaring at you and said, “On your knees.”

You quickly sank down to your knees in front of him, looking up to find a wild hunger in those pretty eyes of his.

He spoke up again. “Now come on, we both know what that pretty mouth is good at. Show me.” He grabbed you by the back of your neck. “You wanted so desperately to be a little slut, right? Sending pictures to random men, huh? Come on then, make it good for me like a slut would.”

His words put you under a spell. Your hands reached up to undo his belt, unzip his trousers and lower his underwear to free his erected cock.

“Come on, little bunny.” He hissed, watching you as you wrapped your hands around his cock and placed your mouth on him, your tongue slowly circling his tip.

Lando pushed himself deeper into your mouth. “Take all of me. This is all you’re good for, isn’t it bunny?” He threw his head back and let out a strained moan. “All you’re good for is sucking daddy’s cock…”

You kept your eyes on his handsome face as you sucked on his cock. Lips parted and gasping as he tilted his head back. He looked every bit the powerful man he was. He groaned as he took over, pushing deeper into your mouth, fucking it like he owned it.

“This is all you needed, isn’t it you little brat?” He taunted, as you gagged a little, taking him perfectly. “You wanted attention that bad, huh?” He hissed, fucking your mouth harder until your jaws hurt. “Isn’t that why you broke up with me? Because according to you I didn’t give you enough attention?” He thought back to that night you two ‘broke up’.

That menacing tone of his made you squirm and it only added to the dampness which was forming in between your legs.

He quickened the pace at which he moved in and out of your mouth. “All the trips, the cars, the penthouse, that beach house you threw a bratty fit for, all the shit I bought you. None of it was enough for your attention-seeking, bratty self, was it? Hmm?” When you didn’t respond, you earned yourself a smack on your cheek. “You still had to go look for more from another man, is that it?”

You glared at him upon hearing the insinuation in his words.

“Did you think anyone else could treat you like I do? Did you think another man would spoil you like I do?” His stare intensified when you dragged your tongue lazily over the slit on his tip, tasting some of his come and moaning as you did. Smirking, and just to push your buttons he asked, “Did you suck him off like this too?”

That did it. You pulled away, snarling at him, “Fuck you!”

You stood up fast, shoving at his chest. But he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer, his eyes focusing on your swollen lips. “So you cheat, and then you have the audacity to–,”

You cut him off by raising your voice and saying firmly, “I didn’t cheat! We broke up, remember?”

“And you are mine!” He hissed. “Remember that?”

Before you answered, his mouth was on yours. His kiss was rough and it hurt in the best way. Lando pulled away for a brief moment, squeezed your cheeks so you couldn’t close your mouth. Glaring at you, he spat in your mouth before kissing you again.

It was hot. And messy. And you were too lost in him to think straight, so much that you didn’t realise he was dragging you towards your bed until he pushed you down on it.

Then he pointed at the red neon sign above your bed with a lethal look in his eyes. “This is where you took the picture, isn’t it?” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, “Like a needy little slut.”

You were quiet. Your brain was too foggy with lust to function.

“Why’d you do it?” He asked, sliding his rough hands up and down your parted thighs. You spread them even more the moment he touched you and he smirked when he noticed it. “Was it for money?” He taunted, knowing full well he’d put enough money in your account for it to last a lifetime.

All you did was whimper as he crawled on top of you, looking down at you like he couldn’t decide what to do with you. He knelt in between your legs, his hands toyed with the thin material of your body suit, his fingers tracing the outline of it along your inner thighs, then he abruptly tore it, the fabric giving in to his strong hands.

His fingers tore at the fishnets as well, now exposing your wet folds to his dangerous stare. He touched you mindlessly, sliding his fingers up and down your slit, spreading your wetness around.

“You’re not gonna show off this body from now on, you hear me?”

“Now you have a problem with it?” You couldn’t help but scoff. “Isn’t that how we met?”

That earned you a slap on the thigh. You yelped in pain before glaring at him.

“Yeah we did. And now you’re mine so no one gets to see you like–,”

“But we broke up.”

Lando hated being cut off. But what he hated more than that was when you argued over stupid shit like this. “Say that bullshit again. I dare you.”

You gulped at the sound of his voice. Cold, bitter, threatening. He was getting on your nerves, and perhaps that’s why you whispered sassily, “We broke up.”

And that did it. His hand pinned you down on the bed by wrapping around your neck to keep you in place, while his other hand wrapped around his cock. Pumping it once, twice while holding your stare.

You could cry that’s how badly you needed him inside you. Lando wasted no time sliding inside of you. Giving you no time to even think, he moved in and out of you in a way that had you crying out loud.

He held your stare as he fucked you hard and fast, barely giving you time to breathe right. He leaned in again, whispering against the corner of your open mouth, “We broke up, huh? You think we’re done, babygirl? Is that why your pussy is strangling my cock?”

You could feel your face getting hotter as your walls clenched around him over and over again, as he sped up and pounded into you. You felt all of him stretching you out, filling you up, moving rapidly in and out of you until he was all you could focus on.

“Is this what you wanted, little bunny?” He whispered, pounding into you relentlessly as he bent down to bite your lower lip and tug on it. “Is this enough attention, baby?”

You moaned at how perfect his warm body felt on top of yours, his weight pressing down on you. He couldn’t even bother to get you properly undressed, but something about being so dishevelled as he fucked you, fishnets torn, bodysuit in tatters, it only made it hotter.

His slight stubble tickled your skin as he kissed your face and bit on your lip. Your legs trembled as his thrusts, relentless and unbearably good. The pressure around your lower body was familiar, tight and hot.

Lando looked at you as you tightened around his cock. He smirked, looking down to where his cock disappeared into you each time he thrust in. “See?” He whispered, “You’re all mine again. Only mine.” The possessiveness in his voice only made you clench around him again.

His hand squeezed your throat, making you moan even louder. “My dirty little slut. Look at you, all cock drunk.” He scoffed, giving you yet another messy kiss. “Are you gonna be good from now on? When you want something, you open that slutty little mouth and ask me for it, you understand? Be it attention, money, or some cock to fill you up.” He growled. “You come to me!”

You whimpered, unable to say anything because of how good he felt sliding in and out of you. Fuck, you had missed this. So much. You whined again when his hand let go of your throat, fingers trailing down your squirming body until his fingers found your clit, toying with it while he pounded into you mercilessly.

“Are you gonna be good from now on?” He stared deep into your eyes as he spoke. “You’re mine, and you’re damn lucky that guy didn’t touch you otherwise I would’ve fucking killed him.” He spoke in a fit of rage again, fueled by his lust.

“Please…” You whimpered, squirming and unable to hold back anymore. You needed to come so bad, you could feel your eyes tearing up. Your thoughts were a mess.

Lando leaned in to kiss your exposed shoulder while he fucked you. “Answer me first.” He whispered, his warm breath tickling your ear. “Are you going to fucking behave or not?”

“I will!” You squealed when he bit down on your shoulder.

“Good girl.”

And you couldn’t hold back anymore. You came undone all around him. Moaning and back arching off the bed as you came hard around his cock, tightening around him even harder than earlier.

Lando kept pounding into you as your orgasm washed over you, your walls squeezing him violently. Your body trembling under him. “That’s it, babygirl. Come for me.”

You could hear the untamed hunger in his deep, growly voice. He groaned until he came undone as well. You whined and whimpered as you felt him filling you up, his thrusts slowing down, his cum dripping down your thighs.

—

You didn’t remember when he cleaned you up and changed you into your favourite onesie before getting in bed with you. All you remember is waking up at some point during the night, cuddled up with him, safe and warm in his arms.

Lando was awake still, his fingers lazily tracing shapes over your back. You cleared your throat awkwardly and waited for him to say something.

“Why'd you do it?” He asked.

You were silent for a moment. Then answered, “I thought it was time I move on and earn my own money.”

“Your own money.” Lando scoffed. “You have money.”

“It's yours. I'm not gonna use your money when I'm not with you.” A pause. “I've started looking for an apartment, I'll move–,”

He cut you off by twisting his body, and yours, so you laid on your sides facing each other. Even in the dark you could feel the intensity of his stare. He grabbed your chin roughly and spoke in that low, menacing voice. “You are gonna stop with this nonsense.”

“But–”

“Shut the fuck up, baby. Don't piss me off.”

You frowned but kept quiet for a few moments. Having him be this close to you reminded you of how addicting he could be. His handsome face. His pretty eyes. His touch. The way he couldn’t help but order you around. He was infuriating. But he made your heart flutter.

“So,” You mumbled, “Now what?”

Lando let go of your chin and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into him. He ignored your question, and instead asked, “Are you in pain?”

You quickly assessed your body and replied, “Just a little sore. That bite on my shoulder hurts though. It's gonna leave behind a mark.” You wrapped an arm around his lean waist too.

“Good.” He said arrogantly. “It'll remind you that you belong to me.”

#lando norris x reader #mob!lando #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris #lando norris smut #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine

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ryukatters · 5 months

Text

it's your fault for loving me — y. okkotsu ⁺˚⋆｡°✩

⟡ pairing: yuuta okkotsu x fem!reader

⟡ cw: /DARK CONTENT, /yandere! yuuta, /dubcon, /NONCON, ex-bf!yuuta, stalking, he breaks into your apartment, he /manhandles you (he’s strong), /implied babytrapping, /possessiveness, MINORS DNI

⟡ wc: 2.9k (someone sedate me)

⟡ song inspo: language by brent faiyaz

⟡ summary: Your ex boyfriend breaks into your apartment. What do you mean he needs to leave? He’s staying right here.

The slow, muffled drag of your feet ricochet off the hallway walls as you trudge along to your apartment. You fumble with your keys for a little bit, but find no resistance as you insert it into the slot.

“Huh, that’s odd…I could’ve sworn I locked it.”

You chalk it up to exhaustion. You're only practically ever home to sleep due to the way you've been throwing yourself onto mission after mission. Even now, sleep is a luxury you can barely afford. You kick off your shoes lazily, not bothering putting them in their rightful place on the shoe rack.

Maybe before, you would have cared more about keeping the house tidy. Or maybe before, your loving boyfriend would pamper and coddle you the minute you opened the front door, so you never had to worry about the little details like putting your shoes in the right place.

You were exhausted.

You wanted nothing more than to wash up and plop down onto your soft, soft bed. You don’t even make it to your bedroom door before you pause, anxiety prickling your nerves.

You sense him before you see him. Yuuta’s cursed energy has always had a tendency to seep out whenever he was around you. Whether it’s a testament to how he’s able to fully relax in your presence or a display of raw power, you’re not sure.

"You're home," a certain black-haired sorcerer chirps. "How was your mission?"

In the past, simply hearing Yuuta’s voice would be enough to melt away the pent up stress from a hard day of exorcizing curses. It’d soothe your aching muscles and tired soul as you let yourself be enveloped by the weight of his affection. But right now, it did everything except that.

The shiver of excitement that used to run down your spine is replaced by trepidation caused by the only person who used to be able to comfort you.

You know better than to ask how he knew you were on a mission, much less ask how he managed to break into your apartment. It seems he's been in here for a while, with the way he seems to have made himself at home on your bed, much like the way he used to before.

"Why are you here?"

The question makes him sit up.

“Because I missed you. Is that so bad?”

You want to laugh. The whole situation is all sorts of fucked up, and the two of you are talking about it the same way one would the weather.

“Yuuta, we broke up 2 months ago,” you press, vexation lacing your words. You could never imagine yourself using that tone on him. Yuuta’s always been so meticulous in loving you, in making sure you were happy. He’s never given you a reason to be upset with him. But that was then, and this was now.

You could say whatever you wanted to say. You were tired and definitely not in the mood to deal with a supposed burglar that happens to be in the form of your ex-boyfriend.

“I don’t remember agreeing to that,” he says simply.

“You walked out on me!”

“Because I thought you needed some space. And now I’m back. But I never said we were breaking up.”

Space was an extremely generous term for what Yuuta gave you. If you could consider watching your every move from a distance, keeping tabs on who you talk to, and making sure you stay out of trouble secretly, “space.” He would never let you know that though. It’s too much, too soon.

He couldn't help it, not when his precious baby could get hurt. He’d never forgive himself if that happened.

“Come and sit, my love. You look so tired.” He pats the space next to him. You will your heart not to flutter at the familiar nickname.

Your body moves before your brain can catch up. It’s almost like listening to him was muscle memory. You pause in your step, cross your arms, and glare at him.

“Leave, Yuuta. I don’t want to see you.” The words rise from the very depths of your soul and spill out of your mouth like bile, burning and spiteful. It hurts to speak to him like this, even after he’d abandoned you with no hopes of return.

“Sit, love.” A little more demanding this time. “I’m not repeating myself again.”

The tension in the air is palpable, so thick you can cut it with a knife.

You take a seat. Yuuta doesn’t miss a beat before he has his hands on you.

“Missed you,” his hand reaches out to cup your jaw, thumb rubbing against the plushness of your cheek.

You’ve always been so soft, it’s one of the things Yuuta loves the most about you.

You flinch. Blame it on the adrenaline coursing through your body like wildfire. Your fight or flight response is shot. Yuuta’s touch seems to rewrite everything that’s been hardwired into your brain.

He presses a chaste kiss to your temple, before moving down to kiss the tip of your nose, and both of your cheeks. Each press of his lips leaves feels like it’s being seared into your flesh, a metaphorical branding iron of sorts— to show that you’re Yuuta’s and Yuuta’s only.

Your mind goes blank when he sucks a kiss into the side of your neck, whimpering pathetically as he grazes his teeth along the sensitive skin.

“We can’t do this,” you assert, but the words get stuck in your throat, so it comes out more as a whiny sigh. Your body seems to have a tendency to betray you when it comes to him.

“But we can,” Yuuta coos, pushing you down until your back is flat against the mattress. He takes both of your hands in his, lifting them up until they’re above your head, effectively pinning you in place. “We’re doing it right now, aren’t we?”

Yuuta can appear pretty unassuming to outsiders. He’s quiet, reserved, almost meek. If one were to take a closer look, however, they’d realize that beneath that unostentatious front was a more commanding aura, one that forces you to submit to his whims with his sweet tongue and sensuous touches. Perfectly calculated, perfectly executed.

"I fucking hate you,” you spit, thrashing against his hold, but to no avail.

"No you don't,” Yuuta shuts you down with conviction. Like it’s the absolute truth— the kind that can’t be twisted or broken. It almost feels like he’s chastising you for thinking otherwise. “Take that back right now.”

To be honest, hearing those words stung more than any physical blow you could have ever landed on him. Has he not shown you enough love? Or have you already forgotten?

Isn’t what you have pure love?

A hand wraps around your neck, lithe fingers inching up before they grip your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “I said,” blunt fingernails digging into your skin, “take it back.”

You sputter out an apology with teary eyes, an odd mix of humiliation and regret seeping into your bones, stomach swirling with shame and to your horror, a tinge of anticipation.

It’s pathetic, really, how easily you give in.

“Now give me a kiss, sweetheart.” Yuuta bridges the gap between the two of you. He presses his already throbbing bulge against your clothed pussy, moaning into your mouth appreciatively.

You feel so dizzy you think you might explode.

Yuuta makes quick work of the buttons on your uniform, releasing your wrists so he can throw the offending garment and all your underthings beneath it to some random corner of the room.

Calloused hands roam your body, squeezing and groping, as if to map out the cartography of your flesh, committing each peak and valley to memory. He watches in fascination how your skin bristles with goosebumps in the wake of his touch.

He ignores your pleading cries and attempts to push him off. Yuuta is being driven by pure instinct alone. That sick, twisted voice in his head that he’s always tried to suppress whispers. It goads him on to take what he wants, to make sure you remember that you’re his, and his alone.

He knows that you haven’t been seeing anyone. You were always so loyal, even when you were upset with him. Anyone who did try was taken care of the minute they left your sight.

It’s been far too long since he’s had you. His desire fills him with a sort of quiet rage, one that metamorphoses into something darker, more sinister and morose the longer he goes without you. Almost like a curse that’s gone far too long without feeding.

Yuuta Okkotsu loves you to the point of madness.

He thinks he might literally implode in on himself any second longer without you.

It’s almost laughable how different the two of you are. An ethereal beauty too good for this world, yet here you were in between the legs of a cursed man with too much love than he knows what to do with.

“Yuuta, please,” you cry out. You flail your legs in an attempt to kick Yuuta off. He catches both with ease, throwing them over his shoulder to slide your bottoms off, leaving you completely bare.

He can’t suppress the groan that tumbles past his lips. You’re even more beautiful than he remembers.

You’re dewy eyed and gasping, nails clawing at his forearms and beating at his chest in a last ditch effort to stand your ground. Nothing can deter him.

Yuuta could easily heal himself if he wanted to. But the angry red welts and blossoming hues of purple on his pale skin are a badge of honor of the utmost prestige. It’s undeniable proof that you’re real, that his love for you isn’t just a fragment of his imagination, and that none of this was just some pipe dream. He could take a little pain if that meant you got to be his.

He’s always been yours without any reservations.

“You can cry if you want, if it helps,” he says genuinely, but the gleam in his eyes shifts into something predatory. “But you should know you’re really fucking wet.” As if to prove a point, he slowly fucks his middle finger into your weeping hole, then his index, then his ring. They curl up to rub against that spongy spot just the way you like.

You let out a sharp gasp, spine arching off the mattress.

You tried to ignore him—detach yourself from the whole situation, let him get his fill, and be done with this whole ordeal. But it’s Yuuta— the man has a grasp on both the corporal and spiritual parts of you that you can’t bring yourself to understand. It seems like he knows you better than you know yourself sometimes. And right now, he’s managed to make a home in all five of your senses. There’s no escape. He's made sure of that.

He pulls out his fingers with a lewd squelch. A clear sheen of liquid coats every digit, stringy as he parts them to show you. He smiles knowingly.

“You keep fighting me, but it turns out you want it after all, sweetheart.”

Your cheeks burn in humiliation. Whether it’s from the situation at hand or the truth behind his words, you’re not too sure.

“Don’t you know?” Yuuta rasps, fingers going back to work their way inside you rhythmically, bringing you closer and closer to the precipice, paying special attention to how you try to mask how your face contorts in pleasure.

He presses his forehead against yours, willing you to look at him wordlessly. “I know what’s best for you. I know what you want. And right now, this little pussy wants to be fucked. Isn’t that right, my love?”

He’s met with a breathless moan. You’re so close. Tears threaten to fall as your chest heaves in exertion, trying not to teeter off the edge too soon.

You look so pathetic it’s insane. Yuuta swears he can feel his mouth water in anticipation for what’s bound to come next. He thrusts his fingers with calculating speed and precision, the heel of his palm slapping against your neglected clit just right.

He leans down right when you cum, lips catching yours as you moan into his mouth. Satisfaction swells in his chest as your slick drips down his wrist.

“You’re ready.”

Yuuta unbuttons his pants, pulling it down just enough for his cock to spring free, tip slapping his abdomen as it leaks with precum. He fists it, jerking his hand up and down his length. He slaps it against your clit once, twice, and a third time before he slips it inside your weeping hole.

Your walls spasm around his cock to accommodate his sheer size and girth, struggling a bit more than usual. You feel so full. It’s been far too long since he’s fucked you. You claw at his lower abdomen, trying to make space between the two of you. It’s all too much, all at once. Yuuta won’t have it. He slips his hands under your sweaty thighs, pinning your ankles on either side of your head, effectively folding you in half. You cry out at the stretch.

“Always take me so well, angel.”

He sets a steady pace, dragging his cock in, pulling out, and then back in with an absurd amount of force. The sound of skin on skin ricochets against your bedroom walls like a sort of cacophonous symphony. You don’t get the luxury of the sweet, slow thrusts he usually blesses you with, while he coos about how good you are for him.

“Where’s all that attitude from earlier? Am I making you feel that good?”

You glower, refusing to acknowledge the fact that your body betrays your mind— that Yuuta’s bringing you closer and closer to nirvana the further he drags you down into hell.

He slides his hand down your tummy, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts.

“Yuuta—!” You clench around his length, hurtling towards your second orgasm quickly.

“You’re so greedy. Cumming again already?”

He’s met with silence. He’ll forgive your transgressions this time around. He’ll just have to teach you how to be his good girl again.

A particularly rough thrust has you choking back a moan.

“Thought so. Cum for me, sweetheart.”

Your peak hits you like a crashing wave. Your body tenses, leaving you gasping for air as you clench around Yuuta’s cock. You cry out deliriously, falling apart as Yuuta continues to pound into you. It’s too much, but you can’t pull away even if you tried. You’re stuck.

“I’m the only one that can make you feel this way, understand?” He grits his teeth, staving off his release just a little longer. He fucks you through your orgasm thoroughly as he chases his own.

He presses all of his body weight on top of you, your legs on either side of his head as he folds you into a mating press. He groans at the change in position, allowing him to fuck into you even deeper.

Realization cuts through your cloudy judgment like a sword.

“Yuuta— Yuuta, please. Pull out–!”

Your pleas fall on deaf ears. He’s rambling now, intoxicated by all you have to offer, yet you’re the one paying the price. The effects of overstimulation are taking over now, your body twitching involuntarily with each thrust.

“I’m not leaving you, ever. It’s just you and me.”

You shake your head in objection, mind too hazy to voice out any resistance. Tears well up, threatening to spill from your lash line.

Yuuta nods with a grin, canines glinting, just like a predator that’s caught its prey. “It’s true, sweetheart. I’ll make sure of it. Say I’m it for you. That I’m the only one.”

“Say it.”

“You’re it for me, Yu. The only one.” You babble, tears streaming freely now.

You feel the moment he reaches his plateau— the way his dick twitches inside of you right before your walls are being painted white with splashes of Yuuta’s hot cum.

Your fate’s been sealed.

He fucks into you a few more times, heavy balls slapping against your ass as he rides out his orgasm. A white ring wraps around the base of his cock, the copious amounts of seed he’s poured into you threatening to leak out.

Yuuta doesn’t bother pulling out. In a quick show of dexterity and freak strength, he manages to flip the both of you so that your positions are switched, with you lying on top of Yuuta’s chest. The steady beat of his heart fills your mind.

Your entire body is on fire. You feel numb. You let yourself be carried away by the prospect of sleep, hoping that you’ll wake up to find that this was all just some wild fragment of your imagination.

He presses a hand against your head, like he was afraid you’d pull away and ruin whatever fantasy he’s deluded himself into believing.

The simple truth is– Yuuta Okkotsu loves you. And he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that no one else gets in the way of that.

He runs his hand up and down your bare back lovingly, admiring your spent form. You’ve always been so soft. So pliant, so willing to give in to his desires.

It’s the thing that Yuuta loves most about you.

a/n: i had to reupload bc this hellsite sucks. hopefully this shows up in the tags now

tagging @princess-okkotsu again hehe

#i do not wish to be perceived #yuuta x reader #yuuta x you #yuuta x y/n #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu x you #yuta x reader #yuta x you #yuta x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #/dubcon tw #/noncon tw #/babytrapping tw #/yandere tw #/stalking tw #/possessiveness tw #kat’s writing #kat’s demon time

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snowsinterlude · 4 months

Text

stuffed.

(coriolanus snow x f. reader)

summary: what better way to show your affection towards one than trapping them by your side forever? well, if there was one, president snow didn't knew about it.

c.w: forced breeding, baby trapping, president snow, cnc, slapping, forced creampie, possessiveness, stockholm syndrome at the end, fem. reader, reader is (was) a opera singer

singing like there was no tomorrow was something you did quite often, being a opera singer to the capitol was the best thing that could've happened to you before. especially since you were from the districts.

so now, knowing the president is your fan (something you didn't expected, not even in a thousand years), you were singing your heart out at his parties. every bouquet of white roses he gave you always hid something. pearls, diamonds, earrings of white colored jews. he seemed to like white very much- even though his suit was always the red ones.

then, there was money.

the motive for him to give so many things was revealed when he was pinning you on the wall, the posca he drank seemed to have took control over his brain. somehow, you didn't mind it. maybe because the idea of being the president's favorite girl was something quite appealing- something your stupid self seemed to like very much.

feeling so desired, feeling so loved was something adorable, lovely. especially when he woupd promise you so many things.

you didn't believe any of them. you always made sure to be on the pill, always made sure to put a condom on his dick, always made sure to tell him to pull out when you didn't had a condom.

he was tired of it. he wanted you to be pregnant for him, wanted to see your belly showing through your clothes and the fantasies you used when performing. he wanted you closed on his room with your legs open and your pussy wet- he wanted to kill all of those who were thirsting over you, over the way your corset hugged your body so nicely and made your boobs bounce.

with that in his mind, you noticed just how rude he was tonight.

"i want you to be my wife," he said, midfucking. he would always say things like that while pounding inside you. it was crystal clear to you that he didn’t really wanted it, or so you thought, because his intention ever since he saw you was to fuck his babies into you and make you bear all of them.

"c-cory, let's talk about it later- oh, fuck!" you moaned, fucking yourself on him as his dick entered you so nicely, hitting all the right spots. as always.

you recieved a slap on your ass, accompanied by a thick, strong grab. "not later," he pounded inside you, hand on your waist, grabbing you so tightly you felt like you'd simply die at his touch. maybe it was a good thing. "now. 'wanna talk about it now."

you mewled as he thrusted inside your cunt again, his dick hitting all the right spots, from your cervix to your sweet g spot. "n-no, later, mm, truly."

he slapped your clit. it was getting rough now. you could notice from how hard he bit your nipple, it's not that you don't like it- it's just because you weren't ready for it.

"i'm serious, dove. i want you to be my wife." you didn't listen, too caught up in the pleasure, in the painful bites on your nipple, on the angry soft slaps on your swollen clit.

"s-stop it, you know i can't- i'm a performer, i-"

"i don't fucking care," he grunted, his nails buried into your skin "you're mine. from the moment i layed my eyes on you you were mine." he said, looking at your mewling melted state. "you're so wet, so tight on me, and yet you claim you don't want to be my wife?"

he laughed, as if telling a joke to himself, as if that was the biggest joke on the world. each two thrusts made you squirm, you already came some minutes ago. there were two condoms filled to the brim with his seed by your side on the bed of his guest room.

trying your best not to cum again, he took himself out of you, taking the condom of your side into his hands. he hated the texture. if it depended on him he would fuck you raw everytime. and yet there he was, obediently following your rules just to fuck you senseless.

"w-wait, what are you doing? stop. stop it! ah, fuck!" you squirmed at the hot feeling of his cum entering you, being poured inside of you, it felt so good you couldn't help but want more, for your own surprise. "p-president snow-"

"now is president? until some seconds ago it was coryo." he said, fingering his own cum inside you, making sure nothing would spill.

"p-please stop, i can't be pregnant-"

"you can." he stuffed you with it again, spilled all the cum of he other condom inside you "you will. i'll make sure of that"

taking the condom out of his dick again, the blonde introduced his dick into you again, smiling at the sight and the feeling of your wet cunt.

"fuck- look at you. so wet and still trying to say you don't want it." he smiled, nibbling on your nipple.

"n-no- i dont want to be pregnant, i can't- i have to sing!" you moaned, your hips meeting his with every thrust. you bucked your hips on him, did your best not to like it, but you couldn't lie to yourself, it was wonderful.

"if you don't want this then why are you fucking yourself on me?" his answer was a long moan you gave him, your nails scratching his back, burying themselves deep inside him. "god, you're a whore."

"p-pills. i-i need to find my pills!" you squirmed, your cunt tightening around him so deliciously god that you had to bite your bottom lip as to not let anything out- not to let him know you liked it, from his dick inside you to his cum stuffed into you.

"you wont find them," he smiled. "threw them away"

"oh fuck- pull out, p-pull out!!" you squirmed, but it was too leste already, you were cumming on his dick and he was laughing at you while pinching your clit.

"you said you didn't want that"

"i-i don't. i can't, i sing. my entire life revolves around singing"

"not anymore" he came inside you, dick throbbing into your cunt as you squirmed. "just for nome months, you'll be a caged bird."

the idea he pictured to you was terrible. a wife, always in white, drained out from taking care of two babies. even if the feeling of his cum inside you was terribly good, the thought of being a mother was your worse nightmare.

he proposed to you again the next night. and of course you had to accept. being a single mother is never good to a girl who were originally from the districts. a lot of the capitol's people were running their mouth already, saying you seduced him, manipulated him, or whatever it was.

it was the contrary.

but of course they wouldn't know that, not with your wings clipped together for you to not sing your way out.

not with your round belly showing up. not with the two babies on his arm and his. both looked like you both. your nose, his eyes. his mouth, your hair. you loved them.

maybe it wasn't so bad.

#young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #young president snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #tbosas smut #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #x reader #president snow

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ellabscrush · 2 months

Text

— play with my pussy, not my heart.

a/n; this has been an idea in my head for awhile but kept scrapping it, hopefully this is alr. btw my requests are opennn.

𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫!𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

cw; smut, mdni, fingering, reader has a nervous habit that might triggering, dom!reader, flirting, language, slap kink once, arguing, abby is a dick here lol, trust issues, angst?? lmk if i missed any!!

sypnosis; your well known girlfriend who has a reputation of being a player finally decides to settle into a serious relationship with you. aware of your girlfriend’s past, abby’s project partner comes to intervene with your thoughts & worries. back and forth arguing isn’t going anywhere, you had to show her other ways on who not to mess with.

— ˚ෆ ⋅˚ —

“it’s just a small study sesh baby, nat even agreed to do it at our apartment!” abby walks towards you as she hovers over, “so no need to worry, ‘kay?”

she caresses your face and pecked your lips.

nat, aka natasha ferreira, is apart of western university’s dance team. you’ve seen her around before wearing white flowy skirts and layered jewelry. you once heard her talking about how her parents got a brand new bmw for her quinceañera.

i guess there was nothing to hate about her, other than the fact she is gorgeous and very talented with her dancing. this was just another one of your stupid overthinking.. right?

“okay abs.. thank you,” you gave her a soft smile.

“that’s my best girl.”

besides, trust was the thing you both had been working on these past months. dating abby was going to be a challenge. you knew it and your friends knew it. though they weren’t too supportive with her intentions at first, you were convinced abby could change her acts if she reallyy tried.

three knocks suddenly interrupted your little conversation. abby sprinted to the door and opens it to find a joyful figure in front of her.

nat gasps, “abby! this is my first time seeing you outside of uni,” she smiles with excitement.

abby smiled back and leaned for a hug, leaving you to stare at them with a lump of jealousy in your throat.

— ˚ෆ ⋅˚ —

one minute you were next to abby, and then the second the brunette is touching forearms besides her with those stupid doe eyes, glossed lips, and weirdly seductive black platform heels. god she’s annoying.

“your handwriting is shit!” the brunette teased, giggling as she leans to abby.

“yeah?” your girlfriend chuckles, “this is what you get for choosing me as your partner.”

nat shrugs, “well then i can deal with it.”

you tried so hard to not be bitter. really you did. but each time you glance at the two across the kitchen island, you swore the both of them were doing this shit on purpose.

sudden eye contacts with you everytime they laughed together, unrelated conversations, and some flirty remarks. oh, and not to mention the obvious footsies that was happening under the table. like you can literally see it.

“fuck me..” you muttered.

“what’s that princess?” abby asks you, the nickname made nat changed her demeanor quickly.

you turned back to meet nat’s eyes, then to abby, and back to nat.

“nothin’ love,” you put a convincing smile.

three hours long night full of giggling and jokes you didn’t even get later on.. you find yourself yelling back and forth in your shared bedroom with abby who literally couldn’t understand where you were coming from.

abby groans, “goddamnit we talked about this!”

“i never did anything to her, you were literally infront of us,” she raised her voice.

“abs, she deadass rubbed her foot on your leg multiple times and leaned to you everytime you both laughed..”you went on, getting more frustrated by the minute.

“well.. we’re just having a little fun, is that romantic to you?” abby asks with her hand crossed to her chest, her facial expression screams ‘you’re being crazy.’

you were exhausted trying to find ways to communicate without bringing up abby’s past, like you both agreed to. however, your concerns shouldn’t supposed to end in argument. you shook your head, letting out a long sigh and sat on the edge of the bed.

“i- i don’t know abby,” you stammered, “i guess it is romantic when they do the things i do to you.. since i am yours.”

you gazed down at your feet with teary eyes while unaware as you were digging your nails into your thighs. this was a nervous habit of yours in which you don’t realize you have been doing it for so long. your girlfriend, however, does.

she slowly walks closer to the edge of the bed and kneeled down to your eye level.

“you are mine.” her voice sounding more reassuring and softer like you could faint at that moment.

“i thought you could’ve been better for me..” you sniffled

abby panicks once she realizes you were crying, “baby no.. fuck i’m trying..”

“trying?” you looked up.

the blonde sighs, “will. i will be better.”

she moved your hands from your thighs with one hand, while other pushes your head closer to hers for a deep kiss. more so, a sloppy one. she wipes your cheeks and the kisses started from sweet, to mean in a heartbeat. abby stroked you waist, making you clench you thighs together.

abby smirks, “you turned on princess?” she asks and you just whimpered in response, “fuck.. i gotta wake up early tomorrow.”

knowing your girlfriend has plans tomorrow morning, this sparked an idea in your head. abby can become a submissive mess when you’re in charge. so you decide to show her other ways who not to play with, and whose pussy she can only play with!

“so?” you replied in between kisses, “don’t want me to scream your name tonight?”

.. besides, making her miss out a big free brunch with her friends the next day will be an added punishment you thought.

the blonde smiles and throws you to the middle of the bed, causing you to squeal from the unexpected move. abby aggressively pulls down your shorts and underwear. your wet slick was ready for her.

“look at you all ready for me,” she circles her thumb on your lips slowly, “gotta fuck that jealousy out quick or else i’ll be late tomorrow, princess.”

you smiled maliciously in response as you bite your lip. abby then shoves her two fingers inside your mouth, “open.”

she pumps her ring and middle finger in and out. being all soaked in your drool making it wet enough to fit in your pussy. the sounds of your whimpers made her go crazy. you shut your eyes feeling abby’s cold, drenched fingers sliding inside.

your body shuttered, “s-shit baby..”

the sounds of your wet pussy is practically making abby drool.

“feels so fuckin’ good, keep going,” you ordered keeping a strong eye contact with the blonde, “just like that..”

“that fucking pussy,” abby whispers, you licked your lips looking down at her fat fingers going in and out, “you needy whore,” she degrades.

her words were like fire and heaven at the same time. you wouldn’t be so pissed off at her if she hadn’t let nat be all over her for three hours straight. now it’s your job to remind her whose pussy she can fuck. and the only one.

you let out an airy laugh, “i’m the whore hm? atleast i wasn’t flirting with another bitch,” she looks up at your face. you were trying to keep your composure while being mercilessly fucked.

you sat yourself up with elbows on the mattress, “you proud of yourself huh?” just inches away from her stupid smirk.

“faster,” you demanded.

she curled her fingers inside of you, hitting your g spot like a pro. you can help but let out a moan and rocked your hips in rhythm. that smirk of hets turned to an amazed expression once she hears your juices sloshing around.

“fuck baby,” abby was practically drenched under her pjs wanting to taste you, “p-please need to taste you.”

“nuh uh, you’re being mean all day. you don’t, f-fuck, deserve me.”

abby was desperate just by hearing you speak like this. you’re such an angel around her normally, like when she first met you, you were different than the other girls she had met before. she fell for you. but damn that mouth of yours was killer in bed.

the rare times you controlled her was only when you were pissed off at your girlfriend for the amount of disrespectful flirting that was happening in front of you, or not giving you updates on what she’s doing with her girl friends. however, you can’t blame yourself for having mixed trust issues knowing how many girlfriends abby has had.

maybe you’ve been too patient with her? letting shit go so easily?

“shit- c’mere” you groaned and kissed her viciously at the thought of her fucking another girl. one hand around her neck while the other grips her loose hair.

“mmm, keep going..” you moaned in her mouth.

abby rubs your clit, feeling your juices squirting all over her thighs, “p-please baby.. lemme clean you up” she begs to lick your folds but you resisted.

you slapped her cheek, her needy face turning red.

“shut up,” you growled, “better stop messing around.. i deserve fuckin’ better.”

abby whimpers, putting her head back in frustration. she then looks down to see you, a dripping pussy drunk mess. her fingers were sticky and all tired. however, she’s not stopping until she screams your name.

“atleast say my name when you cum,” she pleaded, “please.”

her voice made you feel every type of way. your thighs starting to heat up, a familiar feeling as you have had fucked yourself with the thought of her in the past. pounding noises as you thrust your hips on to her fingers harder puts many heated scenes in your head.

“abby.. oh my god- m’ fucking cumming..”

“that’s my girl, ride daddy’s dick,” she encourages you.

an orgasm was washing over you, “abby you’re mine. fuck- ah-“ you burried your face in the crooks of her neck.

“all yours baby, i’m sorry.” she kissed all over your shoulder, genuinely feeling bad that she didn’t give you the reassurance you wanted earlier.

“abs- fuckfuckfuck,” you screamed out, screaming her name loud enough the apartment below could hear you, “i hate you so much..”

“i love you princess.. love it when i make you cum..” she admits. your legs shaking like crazy, feeling overstimulated.

you know how that goes..

once you orgasmed, you let abby suck her fingers, tasting every bit of yourself. and just like that, you were laying down with a fast pounding in your chest. she caresses your stomach and kissed all over your body, still needing to feel you more. but knew you needed her the most.

“hey, you okay?” she asked softly, looking at your sleepy eyes. she just wanted the both of you to be good. “i’m fine.. just a little tired. i feel like you don’t know how badly it hurts me to see you purposely being all over people like that.”

abby sighs, knowing she fucked up. she didn’t want to be that person anymore. she loved you, really, but her actions just aren’t the thinkable. you both sleep skin to skin while she stays up to watch you fall deep in your sleep.

“i love you, angel.” she whispers. feeling all the guilt in her chest, your girlfriend pulls you in closer.

of course, she had to make it up to you the next day so she cancelled all plans. it’s not like she got up in time anyway.

well now you both know she won’t ever be doing that shit again.

— ˚ෆ ⋅˚ —

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sp0o0kylights · 23 days

Text

Wayne takes in a Beat to Shit Steve Harrington after Starcourt as n Owed Favor to Hopper Part 4

Part Three: link

First Chapter (parts 1-3 on tumblr) on A03: Link

The kid was madder than a wet hen.

Just as slippery as one too, when he got like this--music pulsing like a living thing to signal all his rage and upset.

Not like Wayne hadn’t expected it.

He just wished it wasn’t quite so damn loud.

The music had started up almost immediately after Eddie had stormed to his room, startling Steve awake and nearly making Wayne curse for it.

Normally it was a good thing--music meant Eds was willing to listen instead of heading for the hills.

Normally, they didn't have a house guest who looked like he'd gone ten rounds with a bear.

They had a routine for this, was the thing and the music was a key part of it. It worked all the edges off for Wayne, and he'd long figured out that about thirty minutes was a the perfect length of time for Eddie to stew before he could actually talk things through.

Given the hand Harrington put to his forehead, Wayne wasn't eager to give him that thirty minutes.

Not when Steve deserved little peace he could have.

Unfortunately, so did Eds.

Still.

Strutting through the door and demanding to talk right now was a bad move and so, with a sympathetic look given to Steve, Wayne did what he did best

Gave space.

Let Eddie rage, as Wayne got up and shuffled about the kitchen.

Pulled out the soft earplugs he pretended weren’t there for Eds to steal (playing that damn loud guitar all the time could not be good for his ears) and offered them to Steve, before making two cups of what Wayne privately thought was the Munson “chitchat” drink.

One cup of hot water, one packet swiss miss, a small amount of maple syrup drizzled in, topped with little marshmallows they reserved for these types of situations.

Wayne took his time with it, thinking through what he wanted to say.

‘I understand that this is a screen door on a submarine kind of situation...’

Nope.

‘Son I know you hate listening to anyone for anything but this is serious...’

Absolutely not--that would end up with the boy bolting for sure.

‘Ed’s, I love you but could we please turn Ozzy off while we talk? That man wails louder than any damn cat I have ever met.’

That one was purely self indulgent, mostly because the wall was starting to shake.

Wayne put the finishing touches on the cocoa before staring at both of them.

Perhaps if he stared the Garfield mug in its eyes hard enough, the right words would come through.

They did not.

He kept trying, standing there long enough for the cocoa to reasonably have cooled and for Eddie’s song to flip over to something with more screaming in it than singing.

Wayne supposed that this was the hardest part of being a parent. You just didn’t get to have the magical one liner. The right thing to say at just the right time.

The joke that would ease all the tension and let things progress forward nice and easy.

Instead, you got to fumble your way through the dark with a flashlight up your ass and hope you were going in the right-ish direction. Ideally without making things worse.

Wayne was here though, and that had to count for something.

(Knew it counted for something--because Eddie was still here.

They had cleared hurdles far higher than this when it came to trust. They’d get through this too, come what may.

Steve too.)

“Can I just ask,” Eddie started, aggressive as always when Wayne finally gave in and entered his room, feeling all sorts of awful for the migraine Steve had to have, “what the absolute fuck is happening?”

Sure as fire he was sitting on his bed, leg bouncing a mile a minute.

An unlit cigarette hung between two fingers, looking a little chewed on, but otherwise undisturbed--as it should be, because one of Wayne’s few rules was that smoke stayed outside the house.

“You could.” Wayne said loudly but agreeably, as he turned himself around and dropped down next to his kid.

Held out the Garfield mug, and was happy when it was taken from him.

“Figured you might have other things to say, though.”

Likely a lot of things.

It was as good an opening as any, and his kid didn’t disappoint, launching right to it.

“Why is he here and not at a hospital?”

‘Here’ was punctuated by Ed’s hand winging towards the door, and while it wasn’t the righteous fury Wayne expected, it was at least, an easy answer to give.

“Steve has some people looking for him. Bad people. Hospital makes him an easy target.”

Wayne was still talking loud. Could only hear Eddie himself because he was looking at the kid’s lips more than he was actually hearing his voice.

Eddie took that in, swallowing it about as well as he’d swallowed anything he hadn’t liked.

And thank the stars above, he finally reached a hand out and turned the music down. Not a lot--Steve wouldn’t be able to hear them over all this--but enough that Wayne didn’t have to struggle.

“We’re hiding him from the cops now?!” Ed’s spat.

“Cops know he’s here. Hopper’s the one who asked me to take him.” Wayne reminded him, because it was the truth.

Not the full truth, but given how Ed’s pissed off half the local PD on a good day, Wayne absolutely did not want to see his nephew take on Federal Agents.

(Particularly not the kind who were going ‘round killing kids.)

“So--what?” Eddie yanked hard on his hair, a gesture that looked less intentional and more like he was trying to fight his own anger down. “Hopper just called you up and said ‘Hey, we had a whoopsie with the rich kid, the hospital’s not safe anymore. Can we stash him with you for a few days?”

Wayne nodded once, slow-like.

Always remembered how too fast movements had made Eddie flinch and jerk back when was littler, and given the way Steve was looking, figured it was a good time to be cautious again.

“He did.”

“And you just--agreed? Just like that!?”

“I did.”

He pretended not to see Eddie boggle at him at the simple admission, so furious that he seemed to struggle for words when he normally had too many to say.

Wayne took advantage.

“We did talk a bit more than that, I’ll admit.”

Ed’s scoffed. “About the weather I’m sure.”

“‘Bout trust.”

Eddie blinked at that.

“Trust.” He echoed flatly.

“What have I always told you? People like to ask you to trust them, but you they don’t get to have it until--”

“They provide proof or a reason.” Eddie finished with an eyeroll. “So which did Hopper provide then?”

Wayne took a noisy sip of his coca. Smacked his lips a little before saying: “Both.”

Didn’t bother to say anything else, because he knew Eddie would finish the thought for him.

“One of them was me, wasn’t it.”

Eds didn’t say it like a question, but Wayne hummed in agreement anyway.

He wasn’t gonna shame his boy, but he wasn’t gonna sugar coat Eddie’s involvement in this either. Not when he’d already admitted that was half the reason Hopper had gone to Wayne to begin with.

“No one is expecting Steve to be here.” He said, seeing the chance to hammer home the most important part of this entire shitshow. “So long as no one finds out he’s here, he’ll be safe. Everyone will be safe.”

Steve from the Feds who were hunting him for while he was busy being involved in shit he couldn’t control and Eddie because he had a mouth that most people didn’t like.

Not small town people anyway, and absolutely not authority figures with guns.

“Who’s even after him?” Eddie was theatrical as always, hands waving away as he talked. “Did he make a deal with the mob? Piss off some other rich guy? I know it’s not anything drug related, I’d have heard about it by now.”

After years of experience, Wayne knew exactly how far to lean away to stay out of range, too used to his nephew talking with his entire body.

“That’s his story to tell ya, Ed’s. It ain’t mine. Same way it ain’t my place to tell him your story.”

That at least got the boy to think for a minute. Put down that frustration he carried with him all the time, and use the brain they both knew he had.

“How long is he staying here?”

Wayne shrugged. “Don’t know.”

Eddie sighed and mockingly mimicked Wayne, taking an obnoxious slurp of his cocoa. “The neighbors are going to notice if he’s here more than a few days. The trailer park isn’t exactly big.”

“They didn’t notice that time you decided to make fireballs with the cooking spray and about blew up half the driveway. Don’t think they’re gonna notice someone being quiet in the house.”

Eddie snorted, and probably rolled his eyes again, not that Wayne could see it given the kid was looking into his own mug as he thought it all through.

Wayne sat with him as he processed.

Eds worked at his own pace with things, and while life at large might be against that, Wayne was happy to let him do it. Found it easier that way, then trying to poke and prod and force him like so many father figures did.

Wayne’s patience was rewarded not even a full minute later, when Eddie turned to him and asked;

“What if he finds out?”

This in a quieter voice. An unsure one--words and body hunching in a way unlike the Eddie the world outside knew, but very much like the little boy Wayne had brought inside his home.

It took Wayne a moment to connect the dots--he’d been speaking out of the place parents and authority figures often do, and in doing so hadn’t thought much of the fact his nephew had a real secret.

The kind small town minds didn’t like--and would kill him over.

This all wasn’t about Wayne taking in Steve, he realized abruptly. It was that Steve being here meant Eddie couldn’t be himself.

Could not relax in a place he was accepted for who he was, because Wayne knew and made sure Eddie understood he was wanted here, had a place here, regardless of who he loved.

Now, Wayne had gone and removed it.

‘Shit.’

“He won’t.” Wayne said.

Knew that wasn’t enough, and so, promised: “But if he does, I’ll make sure he understands his safety here relies on your own.”

Ed’s chin jerked in a nod, the two of them sitting in silence for a moment before the boy did as he often did when he wanted a hug but felt too awkward to ask for one, and tipped himself into Wayne’s side.

“Thanks old man.” Eddie whispered into his shoulder and not for the first time, Wayne wished things were easier for the poor kid as he put his mug in one hand and hugged his kid with the other.

Hoped that in the future, it would be.

Even if he had to force everyone and everything coming after him--and now Steve--to do it.

(Wondered vaguely, how bad it was that he was already getting as protective as Steve as he was of his own kid.

Probably very, given his kid clearly hated Harrington.)

xXx

Wayne took the first night of Steve’s stay off.

He wasn’t the type to use his PTO lightly. Was used to rationing it for any possible thing Eddie might need him for.

A night up sick when he was younger, to a night spent chasing him down during some of their bad spots--but the last year or so Wayne had slowly realized he hadn’t had to use it much.

He was still careful with it though, precious as it was, and was thankful for it now as it ensured his nephew didn’t murder their house guest.

Or at the very least, didn't sit there pecking at him.

The kid might've failed English a few times, but he had a real gift with words and an even better one with insults.

(Wayne wasn't quite clear on what all the "King" jabs were about, and absolutely did not get why Steve looked far more hurt at the comment about his "sad ass floppy hair" but given the increasingly flat look Steve was throwing Eddie's way, Wayne figured it couldn't be anything good.)

Thankfully a pointed reminder about Steve's injuries had finally gotten them all some peace, enough for Harrington to drop back to sleep--and for Wayne to realize he looked a little too dead while he did it to be comfortable getting any sleep himself.

The kids chest barely moved, and that it ate at Wayne’s until he got up and shoved a hand under his nose.

Felt his breath, and told himself the poor sod was fine.

Hurt, absolutely, but alive.

Over and over again, until the sun had made its rotation in the sky, bringing the morning with it.

‘Better than nightmares, I suppose.’ Wayne figured, as exhaustion scraped at his eyelids.

Those Wayne knew, would come later. When Steve’s brain caught up to the rest of him, and stopping dumping survival chemicals through his battered body.

He'd given up on sleep entirely sometime around 1 am, and now he sat at his small kitchen table, writing out a medication schedule for Harrington so he and the kid both knew when he could have his next Tylenol.

Wasn’t even halfway through it before Eddie made his typically late appearance and blew through his door.

Had his back up from the moment he’d stepped a foot in the kitchen and it didn’t take a genius to see he’d worked himself into a snit again.

Unfortunately for him, whatever scenario that imaginative brain of his had cooked up fell flat to the reality that was the poor kid on the couch.

Steve Harrington was one a hell of a sight.

Didn’t help that he was doing his level best to make himself as small as possible, curled deep into Wayne's ancient couch.

The blankets covered the ribs and hid away most of the damage, but there wasn’t much Steve could do to hide the shiners on his face--or the marks around his neck.

Not when they’d grown worse overnight, practically inviting questions.

It was almost laughable how quickly Eddie ate whatever words he’d prepared, mouth awkwardly chewing around them as if they were tangible.

The less-than-sneaky looks he threw at the younger teen were equally amusing, and if Wayne wasn’t trying to peace keep, he’d have given in and chuckled when Eds split attention caused him to pour half his coffee into the sink rather than a cup.

Looked utterly lost when, after finishing putting his coffee together and grabbing some junk food thing that absolutely was not a breakfast item, he came to stand awkwardly at Wayne's shoulder, openly staring as Steve blatantly ignored him.

Eds didn’t know what to do, and Wayne couldn't blame him.

Seemed to keep thinking he was going to encounter a boy that likely no longer existed, and whose blood tinged specter just made things sad.

Shit like this, Wayne knew, took a man’s ego and warped it, shaping it to something else entirely.

At least for Steve, it seemed that getting wrapped up in whatever mess he had had shaped him for the better, instead of pretzeling him into something worse. That, Wayne thought, spoke to the boy's character more than anything he’d done prior.

(It helped to know what Hopper tolerated and what he didn’t. That he’d vouched for Steve in the same way Wayne knew he’d vouched for Eddie, even if Eddie didn’t yet realize the cop he antagonized so much would do that for him.)

That didn't erase the history his kid had with Harrington, though.

Wouldn't stop him from seeing the old Steve, first.

‘Don’t you got school?” Wayne asked when he decided Ed had stared enough.

“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie waved him off, trotting out the door. “Bye old man, house parasite!”

It was clearly a jab, meant to nettle, but Steve barely acted like he heard it.

Wayne rolled his eyes.

“Goodbye, Eds.” He said firmly, much of a warning as he ever gave, and fondly watched his nephew scuttle out the door.

Turned to see how Steve was taking things, and was once again given a reminder that Steve wasn’t doing a hell of a lot other than feeling his injuries.

“I think I promised you a game, son.” Wayne said gently, startling Steve out of the distant, dim look he had trained on the wall.

It wasn’t a lot to offer in terms of a distraction, but it would have to do.

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retroellie · 1 year

Text

Twisted Game

Summary: After the prison collapses, you and Daryl are stuck on the road. After chugging down some moonshine a game of "Never have i ever" turns into a night you'll never forget.

A/N: I've had this in my drafts for weeks, i finished it up all today so it might be choppy. But this shit was the horniess thing i have ever written God damn. Also, the way this gif has a choke hold on me, HIS TUMMY, i simply cannot.

Warnings: NSFW, Loss of virginity, unprotected sex, Oral sex, dirty talk and squirting

Word count: 6.9K

“So you understand the game now?” You asked the man sitting across from you.

He gave you a look, blue eyes boring into your skin as you raised your brow to him. You had butterflies in your stomach, whether that was because you were sitting across from a beautiful man or it was the moonshine kicking In. He hesitated, knowing this game could end up in hurt feelings or you being completely grossed out about his redneck life. Opening up to people wasn’t Daryl’s strong suit.

“Fine…” he mumbled.

You guys had been on the road for days, only stopping to set up camp to rest and cook your squirrels or whatever Daryl had hunted for y’all. You missed your family, your family that you wouldn’t even look at twice before all this but yet they were the closest people to you. Daryl was unfortunately a part of that little family but he made you feel like a burden, he was never your favorite person ever but at this moment he was.

He was the only one left to you, he was the only person left of your entire fucked up family you had. You had broken down so many times, crying at night hoping Daryl didn’t hear… he always did. He wasn’t too good at feelings so he never said anything but he wanted to. But here y’all were now, sipping on moonshine after Daryl had picked it out for you. He thought maybe it would take your mind off things… if it ever will be taken off your mind.

“Okay great!! I’ll start!” You said, smiling wildly as you thought about what you’d say.

You were usually well reserved, never really opening up to anyone but carol and maybe Rick at times. But you were tipsy, the moonshine burning low into your stomach and you were let loose. If someone were to tell you that you would be in an abandoned trailer with moonshine in your hand next to a pretty redneck?? You’d laugh in their face.

“I’ve never…. Drank before… I mean besides this.” You said, smirking over at Daryl.

Daryl rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his moonshine before putting it back down. It amazed you how he didn’t even make a face when he downed it, he’s definitely used to drinking you thought.

“Okay… it’s your turn!” You said

Daryl thought, there’s not much he hasn’t done so this is trying to rack his brain to find out something you have done that he hasn’t… It was hard.

“I never read a book and enjoyed it…” he said

This caused you to chuckle lightly, it was silly that he’d hadn’t enjoyed a book ever… completely opposite of you, books helped you get through the day sometimes.

“Really?? Like never?” You asked

He nodded, letting a smirk on his face at your reaction. He didn’t like you too much but he can’t deny your beauty, especially your smile.. You brought your cup up to your lips and took a swig. You tried to not make a face, trying to mimic what Daryl did but you couldn’t… this shit tasted awful.

“Yuck.. I’ve never liked drinking…” you joked, sticking your tongue out and shivering.

“It ain’t for everyone… I just like the buzz.” He said, sipping on his moonshine willingly. You gagged jokingly.

“Yeah… I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this shit.” You said, trying to swallow down the burning sensation as it creeped down your throat.

You guys went back and forth for a bit, Daryl saying something he hasn’t done which caused you to drink and then you saying something you haven’t done causing Daryl to drink. It’s funny how a simple game could bring you two closer together which honestly allowed you to ease up and just sit back for a minute. You weren’t thinking any thoughts but what you haven’t done in your life, it really made you think about how you honestly haven’t really lived.

You liked seeing Daryl smile, you’ve never really been able to see that smile of his but now you were addicted to it. You found yourself cracking stupid jokes just go see it and honestly, this might be the moonshine talking, you couldn’t help the dull ache that it created deep within you.

“Okay hmmm I’ve never…” you thought once again… thinking of any embarrassing thing you haven’t done.

You don’t know what came over you but you just blurted the first thing that came into your head, it was strange… like the moonshine was taking over. Your lips had become loose, not able to control them because you were far too gone for that now.

“I’ve never had sex” you were surprised you even said it and it kinda grossed you out.

You were definitely not yourself right now, you would never willingly say that to anyone. You weren’t ashamed of it but it can be a little embarrassing due to the fact you’re in your 20s and still a virgin. It’s not that you didn’t want to or you were actively trying to not have sex, it’s just something that never crossed your mind ever when you were with a person. You’ve had boyfriends and girlfriends, all of them have tried but you always told them you weren’t ready for it.

You looked up at Daryl, seeing that his facial expression never changed… but instead he lifted his cup to his lips and chugged down his moonshine.

“Sorry I…” you started, not able to finish before Daryl asked a hard hitting question.

“Why not?” He asked, setting his cup down.

You were surprised Daryl even continued the game after that, it was all fun and games… no gross shit until you brought that up. You were embarrassed, wishing you never said anything but honestly intrigued about what Daryl would say about the subject.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, staring down into your moonshine glass. “I've just never been interested enough in someone to do it…”

You looked up at Daryl, making sure he was paying attention to you before you went on. He was staring at you with a different look in his eyes than usual, it wasn’t his usual hard stare he gave everyone. It was softer but still with the same hardness, his pupils were bigger… almost black as he bore them into your skin. When you say you weren’t yourself right now, you meant it. Without even having to rack out your courage from your brain, you looked daryl right in the eyes.

“Until now…” you confessed which created an even deeper ache within you.

Daryl’s eyes stayed on you, not flinching or moving off of you… not even once. You thought maybe he didn’t hear you at first and honestly deep down you wish he didn’t, you were embarrassed at your sudden neediness. Then you thought maybe he didn’t get your hint, maybe you were being too subtle about it. You hoped maybe he would be able to drop it so it would save the embarrassment but what you didn’t know was it lit something inside Daryl.

His blood ran cold when you said that, he watched as you gave him a clueless, innocent look as those filth covered words slipped out of your mouth. Daryl hated how childish you were, how cheery and how you were so optimistic about the world ending… yet he couldn’t shake the thought of you below him as you sucked his dick, he imagined you would be so sloppy with it. He could imagine your drool spill over his cock, making a mess out of yourself. His favorite day dream was you on your hands and knees in front of him as he rammed himself so deep inside you, his hands shoving you down into the pillow as you took his length like the whore you are… or the whore he thought you were.

You being a virgin struck a different feeling into Daryl, you had never been touched before and you never even wanted to be touched… except by Daryl. It was almost as if you waited for him, waited for him to take what was his. He just hates how it had to be this way, after losing everyone and getting drunk on moonshine but Daryl didn’t mind. Daryl had been waiting for this moment since he met you and knowing you’re a virgin was enough to send him off the edge.

“Take your shirt off…” was the only thing he said, suddenly you sobered up.

You were now hyper aware of everything happening in this moment. You could hear the walker outside, you could feel the carpet underneath you and how filthy it was, you could hear every breath that came out of Daryl… they were much deeper than before. You took a moment to let his words linger, making sure you heard him right but after a moment… you did what you were told.

You slowly unbuttoned your shirt, each button showing more and more skin to Daryl causing his breath to hitch. You heated up with every button, finally getting to the final one and then allowing your shirt to slide down your arms. You sat tall, watching Daryl’s eyes scan over your breast. Daryl sat there for a minute, just staring as your face began to heat up more than it already had been.

Then after a moment of hesitation, Daryl stood up and made his way over to where you sat on the floor. You could see how hard he was through his pants, his big cock standing to attention causing your mouth to water slightly.

“You really want this?” He asked, staring down at you as you sat on your knees like an obedient whore you thought you’d never become

You nodded violently, hands scratching at your thighs as you held back the need to touch him. Daryl just chuckled at your actions, running a hand through your hair, getting a good look at your innocence before he completely destroyed you.

“Then you're gonna have to work for it…” he grinned, taking his other hand so he could undo his belt slowly.

You were nervous to say the least, you had dreamed about this for months but it finally freaked you out. Not to mention you’ve never done anything like this, what if you weren’t good enough for him. You watched as he slowly undid his pants, watching as he went teasingly slow. When his pants were successfully undone, he pulled them down so they were down to his knees. You could see his cock straining against his boxers, you couldn’t help but squeeze your legs together for some kind of friction.

Then Daryl shed the last piece of clothing that covered himself, pulling down his underwear which allowed his cock to spring free. You felt a whole world wind of emotions, excitement, nervousness and pleasure all running deep within your bones. He was much bigger than you expected, causing everything wrong to go through your brain. Will it fit? Is it going to rip you open? Will you be able to take him? Daryl saw your nervousness, giving you a reassuring scratch on the head.

“We don’t have to… we can stop now.” He said, lifting your head to look up at him.

He gave you the softest look you had ever seen him give anyone, his fingers danced along your chin as you looked up at him with puppy dog eyes. You shook your head, readjusting yourself on your knees but really… you were trying to silence the ache that was affecting your entire body at this point.

“No… I mean, yes I want this I just..” you paused, biting your lip nervously. “I’ve never done this before… like any of it… I don’t know how.”

You tried to explain it the best you could, you thought you sounded stupid but Daryl knew what you meant. Daryl gave you a smirk, setting his hand on his dick as he slowly pumped it… you saw it twitch out of the corner of your eye. Daryl placed his hand back in your hair, not roughly, not trying to force your head down on him but it was comforting. His hand lightly scratched your scalp, trying to ease your nervousness.

“I’ll teach ya, ya can’t really mess it up so don’t worry.” He joked, even despite your nervousness you let out a chuckle.

You stood taller on your knees, coming face to face with his throbbing cock. You watched as Daryl thrusted his cock into his hand, watching as he set a slow pace for it. He engulfed his entire length in his hand, making sure to slide his fingers along the tip at times.

“Since you are a beginner, go ahead and start at the tip.” He spoke, watching as you looked up at him and then down at his cock once more.

You nodded, getting your lips wet as you opened your mouth and attached it to the pink flush tip. You saw a porno or two, seeing how the girls would give the tip kisses and tiny licks to tease the man. You started off making circles with your tongue on the tip, pulling off to set small kisses to it before going back. Daryl’s groans caused you to go a bit deeper, doing the same thing with the top of his cock.

“Good girl…” he groaned out, his hand in your hair giving you a reassuring scratch once again. “Now when ya think yer ready… hollow your cheeks and take as much as you can of me.”

You moaned at the pet name, loving the way he was talking you through it all. You started small once again, taking in small amounts of him. Your tongue went crazy on him, you weren’t quite sure what to do with it but it made his cock twitch in your mouth so you thought maybe you were doing it right. You bobbed your head up and down, each time you took more and more of him in your mouth.

You could feel Daryl tense up, you could see how hard he was trying to stop his hips from bucking… oh how he wanted to watch you choke and slobber all over his cock, but Daryl wasn’t that mean. Your first time was already going to be in a piss stained trailer, he might as well let you take your time with it. Daryl’s hand was now grabbing at your hair, which part of it was to help you bob your head up and down at a good pace, the other part was because your mouth just felt too good on him… he needed to grab something.

“Fuck… y/n, your doing so fucking good.” He moaned, you would have never guessed Daryl Dixon had such pretty moans.

You smiled on his cock, the praise was getting to your head slightly, you would even say it was causing you to get too big of a head. You attempted to take all of him all at once, you just wanted to make him feel good but you completely forgot about the fact you hadn’t done this before, you were still so new to it. You took your mouth almost all the way off before shoving his cock right down your throat, you gagged causing you to retract back from it.

“Woah there…” Daryl said, seeing how your eyes started to water slightly and your lips were rubbed raw from his cock. “Ya can’t take all of me… not yet at least, you have to start slow bunny.”

“I’m sorry…” you said pathetically, you had become so needy and the only thing you wanted to do was make Daryl feel good.

“ ‘s okay, you can try again if you want or we can stop.” He said, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You looked down at Daryl’s spit covered cock, the ache in your cunt was too much to bear now. You didn’t want to continue but you needed to, it felt like you were out of oxygen in the stuffy room you had been in and the only thing that could ease that feeling was Daryl. Even through your embarrassment you wanted to make it up to Daryl and suck the life out of him.

You looked up into Daryl’s eyes, placing your mouth on his cock once more. You bobbed your head at the same pace you had been before, making sure to not take your eyes off Daryl as his eyes closed slightly. You were much slower this time, taking in as much as you could, licking up the small vein that laid on the back of his cock. You tried this time to have a small head about it, not get too cocky so as to not embarrass yourself again.

You had gotten to the point where you couldn’t take anymore, Daryl’s hand in your hair wouldn’t let you go that far anymore. Although seeing you choke on his cock gave him a power rush, he would never make you do it if you couldn’t.

“If you can’t take much more, you can use your hands on the rest.” He stated, reaching for your hand and you gave it to him. He placed your hand on the base of his cock, the small section you could not fit in your mouth. “Keep it at the pace yer mouth is going… there ya go.”

You were doing great so far or at least you thought. His cock felt comfortable in your mouth, although you wanted to go deeper, you wanted him all in your mouth but you knew what happened then. You watched as Daryl gripped into the table behind him, knuckles turning white as he had a violent grip on it. His head was thrown back, his nostrils flared as he tried to control his breathing. You liked what you were doing to him, how hard he had to keep himself contained. Who knew that you could do this to someone like Daryl Dixon.

“Doing so good y/n… fuck ‘m gonna cum..” he groaned, hand gripping harder at your scalp. “Gonna cum all over those tits…”

The idea excited you, the idea of you covered in Daryl’s cum, watching as he covered your tits with his seed. You picked up the already fast pace on his cock, taking him further into your mouth. He had gotten quite good at it, a little over half of his cock was fitted deep within your mouth and you could probably take in more if you really tried.

You could feel Daryl’s cock twitch more and more, his hips starting to buck into your mouth slightly, not enough to gag you on him but enough to feel in the back of your throat. You sucked harder, wanting to see how pretty he looked as he came especially when he came from you sucking his cock.

“Shit.. gonna cum…” he said once more, pulling you off of him with his hand and then placing his hand on his cock. “Pull your bra down… lemme see those pretty tits hm?”

You did as you were told, pulling your bra down so your tits were exposed to him. He gripped his cock harshly, starting his thrust at a fast pace as he looked down at you. Your eyes were lust blown and slightly teary, your mouth was wet with your own spit which had dribbled down onto your tits, your tits heaved up and down as you tried to catch your breath. Daryl grunted as he thrusted into his hand, his hand that was in your hair reached down to grab one of your breasts.

He fondled it in his hand, he was delicate with it though. Pinching the skin softly as not to hurt you, but his hips snapped violently against his own hand. You watched as his face was engulfed by pleasure, watching as his orgasm took over his body. Daryl thrusted a few more times into his hands as his cock spilled his cum all over your tits, exactly where he said he was. He pumped himself through his orgasm, the ropes of cum landing perfectly on your tits. You were too busy watching as his face looked so angelic as he came on you, doing the most disgusting thing but still looking so pretty while doing it.

Daryl milked himself onto you, almost completely covering you with himself. Daryl slowly came down from his high, cock still throbbing as it became hard again. You could do nothing but watch, watch as Daryl literally lost his mind for 20 seconds and then became his composed self after.

“Good girl… you did good for me.” He breathed out, moving strands of your hair from your face so he can get a good look at you once again. You were so obedient to him, it turned Daryl on to the max. “You still want me to fuck you?”

You nodded, pressing your thighs together once again. The ache just wouldn’t go away without him fucking you, you couldn’t keep yourself contained anymore. If you had to beg Daryl to fuck you, you would in a heart beat. Daryl nodded down at you, looking around the trailer… for something.

“I’m not gonna fuck you on a dirty floor, I’ll go get a sheet for the couch.” He said, walking back into the trailer. Leaving you there with his cum coating your tits.

You were so ready, you didn’t think you could be this ready for anything but you were. You tried to sit still but you couldn’t, you fidgeted on your knees trying to keep yourself from touching yourself then and there. Your nervousness nowhere to be seen, you were suddenly sober and ready for the pretty redneck to go ram you into the floor.

“You ready?” Daryl said from behind you, you were so in your own head you didn’t even realize Daryl had sprawled and put a sheet on the couch already. You looked up at him, seeing him hold out his hand for you to grab.

You looked down at his hand and then back up at him, with a smile, you took his hand in yours. He helped you up onto your feet but that didn’t last long before you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss. Daryl couldn’t help but chuckle at your eagerness but he didn’t try to stop you, no he just grabbed onto your hips and pulled you closer to him.

You slipped your tongue within his mouth, feeling every crevice of his mouth as his tongue fought with yours. As you were too busy trying to tongue fuck his mouth Daryl had walked you back onto the couch, knocking things off of tables as he did so. He laid you on the couch, your legs wrapped around him tightly. He supported himself with his arms but you pulled him down on top of you fully, wanting to feel his warmth in you as much as you could.

Daryl let it happen, letting you do whatever you needed to make yourself comfortable. Daryl snaked a hand down your body, creeping them into your pants and underwear as he slipped a finger through your slit. The sudden touch on your bundle of nerves caused you to gasp, no one had ever touched you there before and his rough hands had felt they were made for it. After Daryl had collected a good amount of slick on his fingers, he pulled it out of your pants and placed his fingers in his mouth.

“So wet… god can’t wait to fuck you.” He said, pulling you in for another kiss so you could taste yourself.

The makeout session didn’t take too long because as you were too lost in Daryl’s lips, he was pulling the rest of your clothing off along with his. When you had finally pulled away from his lips, you both were completely naked and your bodies were pressed together in one sticky and sweaty mess. Daryl looked down at you as he rubbed his cock between your slit, allowing himself to get as wet as possible.

“Are you ready for me bunny?” He asked, brushing your hair with his hands comfortably so you were feeling as safe as he could.

“I’m ready Daryl…” you whispered, pecking his lips softly.

Daryl loved how soft and sweet you were but he knew what came next, the sting of him stretching you out and the pain of your experience. Daryl wanted this probably as much as you but he hated being the one to take your virginity, he didn’t want to pain you in any way especially if he couldn’t control the pain. Down the road he’d show you good types of pain, how pain can make you feel good but this isn’t one of the pains he would want you to experience.

“It’s gonna hurt but only for a minute okay? You tell me when you want me to stop.” He stated, watching as you nodded.

You were too lust driven to understand the meaning of his words, you weren’t expecting to hurt that bad. Daryl nodded, grabbing onto your hand so you could squeeze it if needed. He lined himself up with your entrance before pushing himself in slightly. He watched as your brows furrowed and your eyes closed, he could tell you were already starting to feel the sting. He went in deeper, hoping it didn’t feel too much different but your yelp proved differently.

“ ‘m sorry..” he whispered, leaving soft kisses on your neck and jaw.

Daryl could feel your hand squeeze his harshly, you took in a harsh breath as the sting continued as he pushed more of himself in. He once again dragged his fingers down your body so he could rub the bundle of nerves, hoping that would take your mind off the pain for maybe a moment so he could push more of himself in you.

You felt like being ripped open but it was a weird good way, it wasn’t something you would like to feel any longer but it felt nice to know It was Daryl Dixon's pretty cock that was causing you this pain. Daryl tried to be quick with it, trying to shove himself in without causing too much pain. His quick work on your clit made it a little less painful, now the pain and pleasure mixing together to make a beautiful feeling deep in your stomach. It was complete hell for Daryl, he was only seconds away from going completely feral and his patients were wearing thin. He kept composure, trying to just focus on the way your face scrunched in pain.

“Are you almost in…” you gasped as he continued to ever so slowly inch into you.

He was almost half way in, he took moments to allow you to adjust to his size here and there but he was trying to make this go as fast as possible so you were able to feel our pleasure. You were soaked to say the least so Daryl was slipping right in, it’s just the pain and your contracting walls that caused his speed.

“Almost there… just a little more bunny.” He said, suddenly liking the pet name he’d given to you.

He continued to slide himself in slowly, only picking up the speed on your clit to make it easier for you all the while he peppered your neck with love bites. Daryl wasn’t a very affectionate man but right now he had a mission to make you feel as safe as he could make you and if he had to break down all his walls, he would. You had started to get a little fidgety, wanting to reject his cock out of you but also wanting him inside you fully… you craved it. Your body was heating up, your eyes filled with tears as the sting became so much and moans had slipped your lips like water out of a faucet.

You had never felt quite like this before, sure you’d touch yourself at night and one time you had dry humped one of your exes but it was nothing like this. You felt so full yet so empty all at the same time, you needed and wanted more even throughout the pain that coursed through your body. When you thought you were going inside, you felt Daryl’s hips fully against yours. You swear you could feel him inside your guts, it was such a beautiful feeling… being stretched out by his cock, the cock you had made cum no more than 10 minutes ago. You were in heaven…

“ ‘m in… just tell me when to move.” He whispered, landing a kiss on your tear streaked face.

You dug your nails into Daryl, trying to wait till the dull sting had stopped. It wasn’t too bad now, after a bit it had become nothing but an annoying ache but you weren’t ready for him to pound you yet. You stayed there, allowing your walls to get used to him. Daryl held back with everything he had, your velvet walls took his cock so well and he couldn’t wait to fuck them until they were worn down. Daryl couldn’t even day dream how good this feeling would feel, not even his hand could mimic the feeling of it.

You had completely molded to him, causing your walls to twitch slightly and your hips to buck into him. You could hear Daryl grunt into your ear as you teased him with your hips, you knew how hard he was trying to not hurt you… you thought it was sweet, so sweet that you wanted him to feel your appreciation.

“ You… can move now..” you said through a strangled moan.

That’s all Daryl needed, he started slow… teasingly slow even though he wanted nothing more than to slam into you. You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge already, with the way his hand had taken a slow speed to your clit and how his cock was slowly bucking in and out of you… you could cum in seconds. Daryl kept his pace, his hand still in yours as he so softly pecked your lips.

Your moans filled the room, the annoying ache, the sting, the stretching no longer paining you anymore, it was now just pure pleasure. You were needing Daryl to speed up, you tried to buck your hips into his but your hips were sore and you couldn’t quite keep a good pace before exhausting yourself out. Daryl knew what you wanted though, he saw your face contort from pain to pleasure in a matter of seconds, he knew you were ready for a good pounding.

“I’m gonna move ya okay?” He said, asking for consent before he did pretty much anything.

“I don’t care… just go faster please!” You whined, causing Daryl to chuckle at your needy behavior.

Daryl sat up, seeing you pout as he took himself out. You asked for more but he gave you less, you were shitty but you weren’t upset for long. Daryl manhandled you basically, smacking your butt lightly to give you the hint to turn around. You did what he wanted, turning around in your hands and knees before Daryl pushed you down until only your front was pushed down into the sheets.

You shivered as the cold air hit your exposed cunt, you slightly whined due to the fact you couldn’t see Daryl. You never even thought the situation of you not seeing Daryl would give you any type of distress but here you were, ass up and waiting for Daryl to fuck you. Daryl got himself comfortable behind you, placing his hands on your hips as he looked down at your face pushed into the pillows.

“You okay? Need another pillow or a blanket?” He asked, watching you get frustrated with him.

“Jesus Christ! Daryl just fuck me!!” You yelled, loud enough for the walker outside to hear.

Daryl just chuckled, lining his throbbing cock up with your cunt once more before he pushed himself in again. You were still very much adjusted to his size, it felt like a hole inside you was filled as he did so… which literally happened but felt more hypothetical in the moment. Daryl started with his slow pace once again, this time only staying with it for mere seconds before he sped up. You twisted your hands in the sheets as his cock hit your g-spot every single thrust.

You were already on the edge before, the knot in your stomach had become annoyingly unbearable as Daryl sped his thrusts up. You couldn’t handle it, you felt like a hungry mad man who had just come across water for the first time in years. You could do much to stop yourself from coming up, you could only scream Daryl’s name at the top of your lungs as your cunt fluttered violently on his cock. Your vision went out, then your hearing and then you felt Daryl’s hands in your hair once again.

He pulled you back to earth with a single pull of your hair as he fucked you through your first orgasm. He spread your cunt apart with one hand as he continued his fast pace, his hips slapping against your ass every single time. You didn’t want him to stop, not even if your sensitive clit was begging for the abuse on it to stop.

“Fuck your so tight for me bunny ain’t ya? You needed to be fucked by my cock huh?” His words cause a deep desire within you, causing a wave of wetness to pour out of you once more.

Daryl was now at an animalistic pace, his hands now bruisingly gripped onto your hips as he thrusted you back into his cock. You moaned out a few “yes”’s and “need you.”’s as a reply to him but really it was the only thing you could say right now. Your mind was too clouded with his cock to be able to think any coherent thoughts, you had quite literally became a fuck toy for him.

His abuse on your cunt continued, feeling your cunt contract on his cock as your second orgasm within the last 5 minutes started to stir up within your stomach. It only took a few thrusts from Daryl before it came undone again, he felt your cunt spasm once again on his cock. Daryl was close, so fucking close but he needed you to cum again before he could cum deep inside you.

“Just one more time bunny… need you to cum on my cock one more time…” he groaned, not stopping his hips as you came once again on his cock.

His words made yet another knot form within your belly, not waiting for your second orgasm to stop before moving onto the next. You were legit on fire, every one of your senses tingling, your throat burned from the screams that erupted deep down inside of you, your eyes were wet with your salty tears, your skin laced with a small sheet of sweat that seemed to pour out of your. Every inch of your body screamed at you to stop but also all at the same time wanted more, mixing pleasure and pain together as you got higher and higher to your third orgasm.

Daryl grabbed onto your shoulders, lifted you up off the couch so you were unbelievably close to him. Your back was flush against his chest, he held you there, locking your hips in place as he thrusted deeper and harder into your cunt. Your body was screaming for release at this point, wanting nothing more than to explode under the pressure but you couldn’t get the push you needed to send yourself off the edge.

“I c-can’t…. Fuck Daryl!” You whined, the knot in your stomach so unbelievably tight.

You felt you were going to explode, you shook violently in the hands of Daryl as he thrusted relentlessly into you. Daryl slid his hand down to your clit, giving you an overwhelming amount of pleasure as you let out strangled moans and probably every curse word possible in this moment.

“You can bunny… your doing so fucking good for me, just cum on my cock one more time…” he whispered in your ear, lightly biting the lobe of it.

His words were exactly what you needed, that was the push that sent you over the edge. Suddenly the knot snapped, it didn’t feel anything like it did before though. It sent intense shocks through your body, every inch of your body screaming as it did so. You let out a scream, scratching at Daryl’s arm that was still placed roughly on your hips. You threw your head back over his shoulder, feeling your cunt shoot out fluids.

“God damn… fuck y/n!” Daryl moaned, thrusting only once more before spilling himself inside you.

Daryl’s cum filled you up to the brim, shoving his cock deep inside you so it can coat every inch of your insides. You watched as Daryl came, peaking at him through half closed eyes and seeing his face once again light up with pleasure. Daryl fucked not only you but himself through your orgasms, allowing you both to come down from your highs before he slid his now soft cock out of you.

Daryl held you for a minute, allowing you to go limp in his arms. Daryl wouldn’t say he was in love with you, he didn’t quite know what that felt like but the way he grabbed onto him now, half conscious as he held you softly, he would say you meant something to him. This moment all he wanted to do was protect you, he would kill anyone or anything that even tried to harm you… that terrified him.

“Uh… I’ll go check to see if that shower still works, so you can get cleaned up.” Daryl said, delicately placing you down on the couch.

You were still out of it, you could feel the moonshine creeping back up on you as your head pounded and your stomach twisted. You were plain exhausted as you watched Daryl get up and start collecting his clothes, pulling up his underwear and pants back onto his legs.

“Wait… Daryl?” You called out to him, sitting up so you could see him clearer.

“Yeah?” He answered, not even looking at you as he collected his clothes.

The thought saddened you but the only thing you thought was about how this was a one night stand to Daryl, his efforts to leave, to make you clean up after him, to be by yourself after you gave yourself to him. Daryl didn’t mean to make you feel like that but he didn’t do feelings, so when an ounce of feeling for you creeped up on him… he freaked. He suddenly felt like the world was collapsing under him and if that’s what love felt like, he didn’t want it.

“What does this mean for us?” You asked, seeing how the question left him frozen.

“What do you mean?” He tried to play dumb so hopefully you would just drop it, he begged of you to let him fuck you and leave so he wouldn’t have to deal with his feelings.

“I mean… I told you I haven’t felt this way about anyone before, I didn’t just give you my virginity just because..” you stated, eyes slightly watering as you could see yourself alone already.

Daryl didn’t mean to make you cry, he didn’t want to make you cry ever. God damn he just wanted to be alone now, he thought about you all the time, there wasn’t a single day he didn’t. He told himself that he hated you, you and your stupid optimism but it was just a way to trick himself because he knew he loved that about you. You were so happy and so hopeful, he was the complete opposite of that, and what do they say about the opposite? How do they attract each other?

“I ain’t good with labels” was all he said, not explaining what he meant by that.

It made your heart break slightly, you felt the same way about Daryl but you saw the way he pushed you away. He almost never allowed you to get close to him, ever. So you tried to push down the thoughts you had of him, even the dirty ones you would get at night. Hearing how maybe the man you had fallen in love with was willing to fuck you and than leave, it broke your heart. Daryl picked up on your change of posture, fuck he really didn’t mean it to come out like that.

“But this ain’t a one night stand if that’s what yer thinking.” He reassured me, hoping to get you to stop being so sad. “I do care about you…”

The confession made your heart flutter, you weren’t there what this meant, if this’ll be the start of something or you’ll just remain each other’s fuck buddies. What you did know was what the world meant to you, every word that left his mouth meant something to you. You knew that was his way of confessing he did have feelings for you, causing a big smile to appear on your face.

“You know what,” you started, wrapping yourself up in the sheet. “I’ll take it…”

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