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imarvelatthestars · 7 months

Text

Essence

Pairings: Clone Veteran (from Kenobi) Tai x f!Reader

Warnings: hoooo boy, there's some spice at the end of this one, but also some hurt/comfort feelings mixed in! oral (m receiving) and lots of dirty talk, hint of voyeurism and possible dom/sub vibes?

Notes: I really loved this chapter and I had fun playing around with their dynamic again. As for the filthy part, I don't have much real world experience with this particular act, so I hope it came out okay 💀

[previous chapter]

The marshal is wicked clever. She’s arranges for a tent for the two of you to share until morning, which isn’t far away but at least you’ll be able to get some rest before journeying back to town, and she spends the rest of the night making peace and special arrangements with the Tuskens.

Tuskens. Not Sand People. They are the stewards of the planet, according to Tilelli, the original people who cultivated the land and grew into a civilization. Not monsters, not a people to be feared but simply to be respected. And several nearby tribes all have peace with Mos Nefta thanks to her, this happened to be a desperate time and a special case of drought that has prevented their usual water sources from manifesting this season. The tribe is sick. That’s why they stole, that’s why Tai was endangered and Nej was injured. Not because of savage bloodlust, but because of desperate fear. You can understand this, but you’re still wary of them.

You do appreciate the tent, though. There are blankets and robes, and the walls of the tent are substantial enough to keep yours and Tai’s body heat in. It’s the first time in well over a week that you’ve both been able to be alone, although it feels like so much longer, and you’ve managed to worm yourself under his clothes and against his skin, a whisper of normalcy in the chaos that has become your life of late.

“Missed you,” you whisper into his sternum. It’s punctuated with a feather-light kiss to his skin.

His voice rumbles deep in his chest. “I’m here now, my love.”

There’s so much you want to say and it’s been weighing on you for a while now, but this doesn’t feel like the time or place to say it. You’re hesitant to shatter the beauty of the moment, to say anything that would even slightly push him away. You need him pressed against the entire length of you because you need to know for certain that he’s here with you.

“Don’t ever leave me again.”

You can feel his smile against the top of your head. “Couldn’t get rid of me if you tried, mesh’la.”

Another kiss to his chest, this one somewhere above his heart. “What’s that mean?”

“Beautiful.”

Oh, you like that. You gift him with another kiss in response, slightly higher than the last and more prolonged. The tent is too dark to make out his face, but that doesn’t matter. You have his face committed to memory already. “Should use that on you sometime, old man.”

“That’s the wrong word,” he chuckles. “Not meant for the likes of me.”

“Shut up.” Your fingers map out the approximate shape of his cheek and then lightly swat him there. “You’re beautiful to me. Your eyes, your smile.” Are you imagining it or is your chest literally aching with love for him? “I love the way your cheeks dimple. I love you, the way you smell.” Your nose drags up his chest to his neck where you bury yourself in him. Warm and sturdy. Safe. Home. “Mesh’la.” The word is strange on your tongue, but you love the way it sounds.

The dunes are quiet and the Tuskens have mellowed into assorted snoring patterns. You think you catch a hint of Tilelli’s voice at one point, but it’s too faint to be sure.

“You were brave today.”

And it makes you laugh because you felt anything but. “Well, you didn’t see me before. I wasn’t so brave then.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says. “You’ve been brave for so many days. Too many.” He prompts your head back so he can kiss you properly. “I’m proud of you.”

Don’t be, you could say. Or, it was nothing. Let’s talk about something different. You could say a dozen different things to dismiss him in the wake of your embarrassment, and you almost do, but ultimately you don’t. It’s been a lot and you’ve had no choice but to be brave or lose him. So you accept the compliment for what it is.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t ever do it again, though,” and you’re sure he’s only half serious. “Scared the life out of me, girl.”

“You scared me. I was worried sick!” Skin meets skin as you slap your hand on his chest and push. “Maybe if you weren’t getting yourself into trouble all the time.”

He’s as quiet as the desert then, and it hits you that he’s taken your light-hearted barb as something infinitely more serious than first intended. Your hands find his face and you swear you can just the glinting of light in his eyes if you tilt your head just so.

“Not like that, Tai. Honey, no. Don’t… don’t do that.”

“You’re right, though,” he says after a moment. “This is all my fault.”

No no no no no no no, how can he even think that? Is he serious? Everything that’s happened and he’s blaming himself? You start to protest it because how could you possibly continue to let him blame himself for things beyond his control when he shushes you, runs his hands over your shoulders to calm you, a cue to wait. So you do.

The rough edges of his accent have become guttural after this pause, and the evidence of his guilt is there in the way his voice cracks and drops at the end. “I don’t deserve you. Never have. I’ve tried, but I’ll always be a soldier.”

“I don’t care.”

“You should. I’ve killed people.”

The time before the Empire’s rise is hazy at best. The history holos tell one story and those who actually lived say nothing at all, but you have glimpses of memories that don’t match the propaganda you’ve been fed. You know there were Jedi once, a great and powerful race of magicians, but you’d never known much about them before they were wiped out. You know the clones were an army that served at the Jedi’s side, and you know that they helped to quell their rebellion. You don’t understand the politics of it, you weren’t paying that much attention. You were too busy trying to stay afloat in Daiyu’s constant waves of crime and chaos.

You’ve never pressed him for it. What happened in the past is just that – it’s over and done with. You love him for who he is now and for the joy he’s brought to your life. But ever since that night, it’s become more and more obvious that his past still seeps into his present and yours.

You swallow. “I know. It comes with the job. I, I don’t hate you for that, Tai. You know that, right?” He shifts beneath you and you can feel his agitation bubbling up on his tongue, eager to spill out and pin everything on his own shoulders, and you’re not letting that happen. “Stop. I don’t care what you did in the past, it doesn’t define you. I don’t define you by what you were. You’re not a killer to me, you’re not some homeless guy on the streets to me. You’re my person. I’d give up everything for you, okay? I did. And I don’t regret it. If this is anyone’s fault, it’s mine. I shouldn’t have done what I did, I shouldn’t have put my hands on that trooper, but I did. I… I saw them hurt you and, I don’t know, I snapped. We’re here because of me and it kills me every day.”

This wasn’t how you wanted the night to go. You wanted to bask in his presence, bathe in his warmth for a handful of moments before reality came crashing back in and you had to return to Ilo’s front room, to that stupid bar and its stupid patrons. You wanted to pretend for a single second that things were quasi-normal. How foolish you’d been to think that reality wouldn’t force its way back into your little fantasy.

Everything is suddenly too hot. His skin grates on yours, not because of him but because of you. Because you’re ashamed and he’s touching you and he shouldn’t. Fuck. You go swinging up into a sitting position, curling in on yourself as the blanket pools in your lap and his hands falls away.

“I’m sorry,” and it’s little more than a broken sigh. “You work so kriffing hard every day and it breaks my heart. You were tired on Daiyu and you’re more tired here, you’re exhausted, and it’s all my fault!”

One of Tai’s hands lands on your wrist. It burns you up inside. “What are you talking about?”

“This. Don’t you hate me for this? For having to come here?”

“I could never hate you-“

“And I could never hate you!”

Why are you angry? Why is it suddenly rushing over you like a storm, eating you up, charging your body with its electricity? Why is it so damn dark when all you want is to see his beautiful, beautiful face and hold him forever?

“I just hate this. I hate that stupid name I have to go by, I hate that I can’t just be me. I hate that we had to run because of me being an idiot. I hate that we can’t live together on our own, alone. I hate that I can’t touch you because Ilo might hear, or because maybe you’re angry with me, because I disappointed you. I hate that I’m not strong like you and Cody are. And I hate those stormtroopers and I hate the Empire, and I hate what they did to you.”

“Sweetheart,” he starts to chant, a gentle, pleading thing that urges you onto your side again, back in his arms and flush against his chest. He does his best to calm you and you do your best to let him, even though you feel like shit. “This wasn’t your fault.”

You sniffle. “And it wasn’t yours.”

His breath fans out across your face. “Then it isn’t either of ours.”

And you’re okay with that. The guilt still lingers in your belly and you can still feel it tight in his chest, but it’s a step toward self-forgiveness for both of you and that’s enough for now. It has to be. It will be.

He guides you both onto your backs with the blanket pulled up over your shoulders and under your chin. The weight of his hand is gentle on your cheek, a reminder not to let yourself drift too far away, just like the palm of your hand on his sternum does the same to him. You fall asleep like that, alone for the first time in forever and almost content.

The way back to town isn’t nearly as arduous as the way out of it was. This time Tai is being carried on the back of a bantha instead of dragged behind it. This time he has a blaster tucked into his waistband, taken off his love’s hip so you needn’t carry that burden for him; he’ll protect you both. This time the marshal is with them and she’s a remarkable negotiator, so he feels safer, a hair more at ease. It’s a bit like having a CO again. She knows more about these people and this land than he does, she has the tactical and intellectual advantage, but he trusts her and he’ll follow her orders. It’s oddly comforting to fall into that pattern again, and only mildly disconcerting if he allows it to be.

The war is over, he reminds himself, this is different.

And different it is because he never had you around back then. He wonders how his life would have been different, how he would have been different. Not that it changes anything. He’d rather have you now after it’s all over than to have you and potentially lose you back then. Still, it’s curious.

His hand settles at the arm draped around his ribcage and it tightens almost immediately. He smiles. There’s a lot on his mind right now, but it feels so small in comparison to this, to the simplicity of your touch, your cheek on his shoulder. It’s hard to see what’s going on back there, but he swivels his head around anyway and is happy to see you awake. Your eyes flicker to him and dank farrik, he could melt right then and there.

You’re so beautiful.

Perhaps that’s just his heart talking, perhaps he’s incredibly biased, but he doesn’t care. You’re beautiful and you’re his.

“We there yet?” you croak. Your voice has been scratchy since you woke up, likely due to the night air, but he can still pick up on your sarcasm. There you are.

“Getting bored, are you?”

“Mm, bored of the bantha, love, not you.”

“Shame,” he sighs, “I like it. I was thinking I might keep it.”

You snicker and rub your cheek into his shoulder blade. “Oh yeah? We gonna keep it in the bathroom or the kitchen?”

He scratches his chin thoughtfully. “Could share the room with Ilo.”

“Oh Maker, I’d rather live outside than with the two of them.”

Tatooine is not his favorite place in the galaxy, in fact it’s pretty low on the list, but it is in this one moment because it’s where your laughter is. It’s where you are. It’s where your arms wrap around him and your body heat seeps into his skin, miserable though it is at midday, but he’ll never complain about it so long as you’re with him.

The rest of the ride home passes slowly – he’d never really realized just how much sand there was until then – and Tai’s grateful when the party halts at Nej’s dwelling, a structure very similar to the one you, he, and Cody had stayed the night in in Mos Eisley. He slides off first to help you down, but he never lets you stray far; he keeps your hand tight in his. It’s here that Tilelli thanks the Tusken guides that had accompanied them and they amble sluggishly back the way they came.

She flicks the brim of her hat so the entire thing shifts to rests at her hairline. It’s more of her hair than he’s ever seen and even so, it’s just a few dark, wispy strands. “Right then, you two. ‘fore we head down there, I wanna make sure we’re all clear.”

You frown, but nod. Tai inclines his head a bit.

“I’ll explain everythin’ – how we found ya, the deal I struck, you two don’t hafta say a word. Probably be better comin’ from me since y’all are newcomers. Don’t wanna stir the pot much.”

“Thank you.”

Tilelli takes his offered hand and shakes it, smiling. “My pleasure, Tai.”

It doesn’t register with him for a minute because that’s his name, why shouldn’t she call him by it? But then he remembers where he and who he’s supposed to be. And he looks to you when he realizes that she must have heard you say it the previous night. Panic burns down his esophagus as he suddenly starts to spiral. Where can you both go? How quickly will you be able to leave? What if, what if, what if-

“We all got secrets ‘round here. Yours are safe with me.” She tilts the brim of her hat toward the rim of the canyon, just a few paces away from the dwelling’s foundation. “Shall we?”

By the time night falls again some hours later, you’re so tired you can barely keep your eyes open, but you’re determined to stay awake for as long as you can. You have so much work to do. There’s still shattered glass on the floor and all kinds of scuff marks from work boots and metal scraping on stone, and there’s the food that was left out, and that’s not even considering all the things you have to unpack and sort through in the-

“’s late.”

The sudden depth of his voice startles you enough that you nearly drop your broom. You rest one hand on your hip while you catch your breath, one brow quirked up and the other dropping down as you catch a glimpse of Tai passing into the main room.

“I’m just trying to-“

“I know,” he says as his hands come to pluck the broom out of yours. “I know, sweet girl.” It clatters on the edge of the counter when he sets it down very purposefully beyond your reach. “But you need rest.”

You shake your head. “I have work to do.”

“It can wait.” His nose brushes yours as he leans in for a whisper of a kiss, something that pulls you from the duties you’ve assigned yourself and begs you to fall into him. “It’ll be here in the morning. Come to bed.”

You want to dig your heels in and fight him on this, pretend you’re not nearly as tired as you really are. You want to get as much done now as you possibly can so that tomorrow is easier. You want to make a good first impression, you want to show Nej that you’re every bit the hard and capable worker that Tai promised you’d be, and if you don’t get this clean up job done then you’ll fall short of all those expectations. And you can’t do that, you won’t.

“Nej will understand. He’s not like Ilo.”

“But Tai-“

“No,” he rumbles. A shiver runs down your spine when his thumb traces the slope of your nose. “Sleep. If not for yourself, then for me.”

Low blow. You could never deny him anything and certainly not when he asks you like that. Your eyelids flicker for a moment, dipping low as they’re tempted by the sudden idea of sleep, resting beside him, drifting off in his presence. It’s so tempting. So… nice… Maybe if you just lean on him for a second, yes, that’s okay. That’s nice.

You’re vaguely aware of his voice continuing on, but it’s hazy and difficult to understand. All you can understand is his tone, soothing, deep, gentle, everything that he already is to you conveyed in the pitch of his words, whatever they may be.

Sleep. Sleep sounds good. It sounds cozy. It sounds like him. Wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, that’s where you also want to be, so you follow the darkness luring you to sleep and you curl up in the sounds of him until you’re surrounded by it. You don’t dream that night, but you rest better than you have in a very, very long time.

And when you wake in the morning, your skin already warm and covered a thin layer of sweat from the boiling heat of the desert, you find for the first time in a week that you have awakened in Mos Nefta and your lover is still at your side. He hasn’t risen before the sun to shower and hike to the canyon’s surface, he hasn’t left his side of the bed lukewarm-cool and empty. He’s there, asleep, snoring, and with all the little anxieties that usually crease his forehead notably absent. And he’s just barely touching you with his one hand stretched in your direction so his little finger can brush your arm.

Mesh’la. You think it over and over again. You’re not sure what language it is that he never dares to speak, not where it comes from or why he keeps it hidden, but this one word is overflowing with truth. He is beautiful. He’s not perfect in the way that the galaxy says he should be and he’s a man half haunted, but all his imperfections and all the love he gives you, all the love you feel for him, adds up to mesh’la.

He deserves to sleep a little longer, but you’re a selfish woman and you crave him more in this moment than ever before. Your palm finds his cheek as you awkwardly shift above him, trying not to jostle him too much while also trying to get as close as you can. His brow furrows a bit when you tilt his head, likely moments away from stirring, but it’s okay, he’ll understand. You just need to…

“Sweetheart- mmh!”

It’s clear that the kiss takes him by surprise. His limbs go stiff for a moment, then limp, and then finally, his hands are on you, pressing you to him with the slightest pressure, exhaling into your mouth (his morning breath is awful, but he’s cute so you’ll allow it), and sighing so prettily.

“Missed you,” is the murmur left on his lips when you finally pull away. “Love you,” is scattered repeatedly between the following round of pecks across his face. “You’re so handsome, baby. So mesh’la.”

A gargling sort of sound comes sputtering out of him in response, somewhere between a choke and a laugh maybe? “What’s gotten into you?” he hums with a lazy smile.

Ah, yes. You were wondering when he’d notice just how far your hands have wandered. But what’s so wrong with admiring your lover’s body when it’s been so long since the last time either of you felt safe enough or comfortable enough (or alone enough) to do so?

“Getting out of Ilo’s house, for starters.”

He laughs properly this time, all rumbly and gruff with his early morning voice that makes your stomach drop. “That all?” he asks as he curls his fingers around the shell of your ear and down your jaw.

“Is that not enough?”

You suppose there’s more to it than just moving into a proper room, although you feel so much better cocooned into Nej’s only spare room than you ever did in the more sprawling space of Ilo’s front room. At least here there’s a proper bed. And a door. Real privacy. You already feel more like yourself here, but there’s also the fact that despite all the fear and stress of the Tusken’s raid and the hours that Tai was missing, the two of you rediscovered your equilibrium in that tent. Alone in the Dune Sea. Finally able to give the apology you’d been too afraid to voice and to receive his understanding. Finally able to understand that he'd been blaming himself as much as you’d been blaming yourself.

Leaving Daiyu had hurt. Leaving behind your home and everything extra that you’d collected over the years, everything that couldn’t fit into a pack. And nothing about Tatooine has been easy. But he’s here with you and he’s alive, and isn’t that enough?

“Just feel more like myself, I suppose,” you finally explain after a few moments. “And after almost losing you, it’s like I never want to stop touching you. Just to make sure you’re still here with me.”

Tai nods. “I am here. Always. And I’m alright.”

“I know.” One of your hands slips under his sleep shirt and his breath stutters. He tries to play it off and act as though it doesn’t phase him, but you know him and you know his tells. The sudden stillness of his chest, the pulse leaping out from his throat, the crinkle of his brows. “Still. Should probably check everything, make sure you’re in peak condition.”

The smoky chuckle he gives you is so delicious. “Is that right?”

Karking shit, you want him bad. The craving that’s been building up and up in your blood suddenly boils over into desire, hot and sticky and utterly carnal. It thunders through you like a storm, drives your body on instinct rather than conscious thought. You know your way around him better than you know anything else. All you want is to touch him and hear him shudder and make love to him until your body gives out and neither of you can remember your names. So you put your hand around the base of his head and pull him in for another kiss before he can stop you.

Your tongue slips into his mouth and past his teeth, seeking, taking, sucking, tasting every inch of him that he can give. You hope to drown in him, let his essence soak into yours until it's impossible to tell you two apart. And when he moans into your mouth and grips harder at your waist, it only spurs you on even more. You start nipping at his tongue, then retreat and latch onto his lower lip, drawing it between your own as you dig your canines in.

His eyes burn so molten hot that you're almost afraid he'll snap, but truth be told, you wouldn't mind if he did. Tai could bend you over right now and take you, and you'd kriffing beg him for it. Your body has been silently craving his for so long that you're not even sure you'll last once he starts putting his hands inside your clothes.

"Don't. Tease."

"Or what?" Your arms slide up and over his shoulders to trace over the veins in his neck, the thick cords of muscle that are now straining under his skin. "You'll fuck me?"

He shakes his head. "No, sweet girl. I'll make love to you." You open your mouth to fire back some smart retort when he yanks you hard against him by the waist and your mind goes completely blank as limbs slot into place and you find yourself half on top of him, half melting into the mattress. "Build you up and break you down to make up for all the time we lost."

Fuck, you can't breathe. "Promise?"

One of his cheeks dimples when he smirks. "I'm a man of my word."

He always has been. Your loyal soldier, the man who's made his home in the chambers of your heart.

You kiss him again, slower this time, while you snake a hand down his chest, over the swell of his tummy to the hem of his boxers. You’re salivating by the time you retreat from the warmth of his mouth. You need to taste him. It’s never been such a strong need before, not like this, and if you don’t get your mouth on him in the next minute, you’re surely going to explode.

It's at the exact moment that you slip under the fabric and wrap your hand around him, of course, that there’s a knock at the door. You don’t mean to, but your hand tightens on instinct and it’s everything Tai can do not to shout out at how alarmingly good it must feel because you can feel the vibrations of his withheld moan all the way in his gut.

“Yes?” you call. Tai seems otherwise occupied at the moment.

“Suns are up.” It’s Nej. “I was hopin’ Nax’d be able to get to work on the equipment early today.”

A very wicked idea comes to mind. You run your thumb over the head of Tai’s cock just as you reply, “He just woke up, but he’ll be ready in a few minutes.” It’s projected just loud enough that it hopefully muffles the grunt he lets out.

The look he sends your way is absolutely foul. Oh, he looks like he could kill you. Or maybe he looks like he could fuck your brains out. Perhaps that’s why his eyes are glinting so dangerously. You smile as sweetly as you can manage, but it quickly devolves into a smirk. You’re not fooling anyone.

Nej gives his thanks and you can just make out the sound of his crutches as he hobbles back down the hall. Good. The moment he’s out of earshot, you’re going to town on your man. If you live that long, of course, because with the way he’s looking at you, it’s entirely possible he’ll smother you to death. Not a bad way to go so long as it’s between his thighs.

“Minx,” he growls, still quiet enough to not be heard beyond the door but with all the venom and fierce arousal you see in his eyes.

You squeeze him again. “I’ll be quick, mesh’la.”

And the sound he makes must rewrite the chemistry of your brain. “Kriff, don’t- don’t say things like that,” he huffs, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut.

“Oh, I don’t know.” There’s nothing casual about the way you slowly wet your lips and flicker your eyelids so your lashes flutter. There’s nothing casual about the way you fix him with the exact same “fuck me” eyes you gave him in that bar so long ago. “You look like you’re enjoying it,” and you’re sure to quicken the pace of your strokes as you say it. “Now lay back, old man. Let me wake you up properly.”

He almost certainly has some witty remark on the tip of his tongue, but he keeps it to himself. Or maybe he doesn’t. Maybe that glazed over shine in his eyes really means he’s too far gone to even notice or care that you just called him an old geezer. Maybe he wants you just as badly as you want him, so this little barb doesn’t rile him up like it normally would. Instead, he watches you settle onto your stomach between his thighs, soft and warm and ready, and he lets you take him into the damp heat of your mouth, run your tongue along his length until he's shuddering and sighing. He sounds like the prettiest, sweetest symphony.

Tai settles a hand on the crown of your head. Its weight is firm and heavy, but hesitant. He's probably holding back. Doesn't want to hurt you. No time for that. Nej is waiting and you have a mission to complete – you need to taste him and it needs to be fast. But being fast doesn’t mean you don’t tease. You still run the tip of your tongue along the dip in his head, still take a moment to lick a long, slow strip from his base to the top, and you do make sure that you never look away. Want him to see how deep your desire runs. Want to see him unfold for you.

“C-Can’t. Hold out. Much longer.” Oh, and his teeth are bared, shining in the dim slivers of light coming in through the window shade. “Mesh’la.”

His legs are starting to shake and you manage a smile around his fullness, just for a breath, just long enough for him to see it and moan.

“Fuck, your mouth. Dangerous little thing.”

You hum cheerily in response. Take a deep breath, unlock your jaw as far as you can and lower yourself until you’re taking more than you usually can. Then you swallow.

It all happens so fast. His legs tense up and the tips of his nails dig into your scalp, hold you on him until you’re choking and sputtering just like you wanted to be, and he’s coming and coming and coming. Every noise he makes goes straight to your cunt, floods your senses until the creases of your thighs feel slick and your stomach is twisting. Every jerk of his hips and desperate, breathy whimper that comes out of him is so fucking intoxicating that even though he’s finished and made a complete mess of you, you don’t want to stop. You just need a second to breathe and then-

Then he’s pulling you off, gasping for air as you resettle beside him. There’s something about the way his eyes are going in and out of focus, how his chest is rising and falling so rapidly, how unbelievably sexy he looks all fucked out, Maker, this man is going to be the death of you.

He relays the same sentiment once his breathing has settled.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t like it?”

He makes a big show of rolling his eyes and huffing as if he’s genuinely annoyed, but you know he’s just flustered. Big old softie.

“I think you liked it a little too much,” he murmurs. His nails scratch over the back of your neck as he kisses you, prompting you to mewl softly into his tongue. “Shame I have work to do. Guess I won’t be able to make love to you like I promised.”

“That’s alright,” you start to say. I can wait, you want to say. I had fun teasing you, you almost say. You’ll make it up to me later. But he cuts you off with a swift nibble on your earlobe and all you can get out is a lewd little whine.

There’s a moment between his tongue swirling under your jawbone and his teeth nipping at your neck where your brain blacks out and you swear you can feel him between your legs, but that can’t be right. He has to get ready for work. You’re just not thinking clearly from the arousal and the early hour and, and… And the fingers gliding through your slick are definitely real and he’s definitely trying to distract you from it or rile you up with all the attention lavished on your throat, and now you can’t even think clearly because all there is is him and his fingers and his tongue, and, “Right there, right there, fuck, baby. Tai, Tai-“

And just like that, his fingers are gone and your body is flashing hot and cold in his absence. Hell, he’s already climbing off the bed as if he didn’t just wipe your brain of all cognitive thought with a single touch. “Like I said, my love, I have work to do.”

No, wait. Hang on. This wasn’t supposed to go like this. “But-“

“Shame, really.” He’s already pulled on his trousers and started on his belt. “But duty calls.”

Now he’s just being mean. You crawl out of bed like some long-legged, newborn bug who hasn’t learned to walk just yet. “Tease.”

The dimple in his cheek returns when he smiles at you. “Minx.”

“You’re just gonna leave me like this?” As if you weren’t okay with that just 10 seconds ago. But then he’d touched you and that went screaming out the window.

Tai’s quiet at first. He slips on his undershirt, lips pursed as he thinks. Then he pulls on his work shirt and starts working on the buttons. It’s a dangerous game you’re playing, but he’s the only flame you’ll ever burn yourself with; you reach out and snag one of the buttons, slip it through the loop, and let your fingers linger after. There’s a beat, a breath, then two. The tension in the room is so thick that the air feels humid.

Just as you withdraw, his hands lock around your wrists. His head tilts up and his eyes catch yours. Oh. Your stomach drops to the floor the moment before he crowds you in against the wall. Danger danger danger goes the alert in the back of your head, but it’s him, it’s Tai. The only danger is the possibility of you coming on the spot if he says something dirty enough.

“You’ll work hard today, won’t you?”

Confusion creases your brow. “Yes?”

Something rumbles deep in his chest when he leans in and pins you to the wall. “You’ll be good, cyar’ika?”

You don’t know this word, but you love the way he makes it sound, so you nod eagerly. “Yes, baby, I’ll be good.” Whatever good means.

“And when the suns set.” His breath warms your still damp skin, a chill runs down your spine. “When our work is done, when Nej has gone to sleep and the desert is quiet.” Fuck. Fuck, he’s so close, he’s so riled up, and he’s so, so close, you can feel him everywhere. But you still can’t touch him, not with your hands pinned to the stone. “I’ll make good on my promise.”

"Build you up and break you down to make up for all the time we lost."

Your eyes very nearly roll back into your head. “You, you promise?”

He leaves you with a chaste, tender kiss and a nip at your throat. “Always.” And then he’s gone.

tai taglist: @dystopicjumpsuit @clonemedickix @multi-fan-dom-madness @deejadabbles @moodymisty @rain-on-kamino @temple-elder @wanderer-six @jambolska-grozdova @bambambunny @andrakass2 @wings-and-beskar @arandomnerdsblog578 @roadara23 @wizardofrozz @kakashibabe02

please let me know if you would like to be added to or taken from this list!

#clone trooper tai x reader #tai x reader #clone veteran reader #daiyu veteran x reader #clone trooper veteran x reader #clone trooper nax x reader #nax x reader #tai #the tai saga #star wars #lmfao this chapter is for the tai girlies AND the tilelli girlies #for my tilelli girlies i am potentially thinking of a cute little oneshot or two of her and a theoretical reader or oc girlfriend👀#anyways. will the next chapter be pure smut and minimal plot? absolutely yes thanks for asking

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windhamsrotunda · 1 year

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Office Sex with James (Jagger) (NXT) Headcannon!

Pairing: James Drake (Jagger Reid) x Female! Reader

Prompt: Office!Sex with James (aka Jagger Reid of Schism)

Warnings: Desk sex (with consent) oral (female! receiving and male! receiving / throat!fucking) jealously, blindfold play, pet names (bunny and dove), "master", aftercare / smut 18+ only minors dni!

Word Count: 500+

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

• In his office, he always welcomes you with his charismatic embrace

• He is always wearing that black dress shirt that you admire on him that hugs on his body

• He's like something off of 50 Shades of Grey but better

• His mesmerizing green orbs are what gets you into trouble

• "How's my dove doing today?" He would ask with a tugged smile on his lips

• He has looks that could kill

• Also a heavy British accent that's purely lustful

• Not only that, but his lips are like saccharine

• James would instantly put you in your place

• Why?

• Because you intend to flirt with your other co-worker.

• And oh boy does he get jealous quick

• "If only you knew how I could treat you better than any other guy in this workplace. Only if you knew."

• A light tap on your ass from James would send you hot on his tails

• "Thank you master." You thank him before leaving out of his office space

—-----

• The next day, something was a bit different than expected

• Despite him being on the flirty side with you

• And that slight contact on your ass every now and then makes you want to be fucked into oblivion by James

• He had something up his sleeve just by looking at him

• A silky black blindfold was clutched in one of his fists

• He turned his attention toward you

• "Fuck it" You heard him curse

• "You have been making me feel some type of way, and now I'm going to make your dreams come into reality,"

• He hoisted you up off of the ground where you were standing and gave you a poisonous kiss

• A kiss you'll never forget

• Within seconds you were naked in front of him

• Unfastening his dress shirt and pants, he placed the blind fold to cover your eyes

• You were on a cold surface, known as his desk where he has done his papers

• His long tongue made contact across your slick folds

• Eating you out and slapping your core with the palm of his hand was top tier

• Moans drowned the conversations out behind the closed office doors

• Making sure he licked up every last drop of your climax

• No warning

• No sudden warning, he slid himself into your mouth

• Loving the sight of you gagging around him

• "I never knew you could make me feel this good, bunny."

• He fucked your mouth in anticipation

• Your tears streaming down your face, softly gagging on him

• "It's okay, bunny. We're almost done."

• Holding the back of your head like his prized possession, he moaned out

• His seed shot in your mouth

• And you swallowed his every last drop in return

• "Thank you, my master."

• He helped you off of the desk and undid your blindfold

• "Don't ever share upon what we did. This is our little secret, dove."

A/N: Likes and Reblogs are appreciated ❤️‍🔥

#jagger reid #jagger reid nxt #jagger reid x you #grizzled young veterans #windhamsrotunda #nxt smut #wwe smut #wwe x you #james drake #wwe fanfiction #wwe #wwe one shot #smut #smut headcanons #nxt imagine #nxt one shot

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moonwreathe · 4 months

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being 15 in the fairy tail rp community and running a Cana blog was such an interesting time. I was blissfully unaware of inflation anons. People would kill your muse in a thread with no warning. I didn’t even have a rules page.

#this was 11 years ago and I was so helplessly naive #I remember this one anon kept gradually sending me inflation prompts #and I just kept answering them until one of the veterans sent me an IM and was like ‘hey you’re being preyed on please block inflation anon #and I was like IS THAT WHATS HAPPENING #anyway I don’t remember who reached out but they were so real for doing that #fairy tail rp #fairy tail rp nostalgia #that was like 2012 #back when we were all on Skype instead of discord #don’t mind me I have been drinking #anyway I think this is why I haven’t run a fem rp blog since #because there was more than just that one anon #like I got a bunch of really weird asks #also that’s why I won’t rp privately #had another person continually try to initiate smut in private rp despite repeatedly refusing #I’m sure this is not a novel experience and is in no way limited to FT #anyway #inflation tw

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seraphdreams · 6 months

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JJK MEN AS YOUR PERSONAL TRAINER. | TOJI FUSHIGURO, GOJO SATORU, CHOSO KAMO, SUGURU GETO.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — synopsis. having private sessions with the men prove to be an experience. what type of trainer are each of them?

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — cw. smut, edging, degradation, praise, dry humping, fellatio, switch!choso, overstimulation, emo boy!choso, cervix fucking, unprotected sex, they are all whores. mdni <3

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — word count. 3.1k

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — dolled up! oh em gee ?? headcanon format ? yup! i originally wrote this as a little joke since i started pilates but then my mind wandered and it wasn’t a joke anymore. other than that, ino was supposed to be on the list but he couldn’t make it :( something about being busy .. regardless, comment / reblog if u like ! it would make my day, thank u ♡

TOJI — THE CORRUPT TRAINER.

there must’ve been a clear distinction as to why your trainer only allowed sessions from 9pm up until midnight, but your desperation when it came to relentlessly searching for a personal trainer didn’t leave enough room in your mind to think deeper about the true nature of its shadiness. all you needed was a spotter, and toji’s services claimed to provide just that.

and what happens when you combine height, a monsterous build, superhuman stamina, and a handsome face? well, you get toji fushiguro in all his abhorrent glory.

his chiseled body virtually doubled your frame with biceps the size of your head, shoulders wide enough to emphasize the narrowness of his waist, and veins crawling up his limbs even when the muscles weren’t flexed. a mean looking man with a scar over his mouth like some battered veteran. whatever he got into during the day was truly nothing you’d want to take part in.

inviting him over to your home gym was one thing, but it was looking to be another when his “help” took the form of sensuality; his large hands running along the back of your thighs when he’d seemingly fold you over with your legs on either side of your head for warm-up stretches, or even the occasional groping of your ass when it came down to squats, he was barely doing his job, what you paid a hefty price for, and yet you loved every bit of it.

“c’mon, you can take more of it, cant’cha?” toji’s gruff voice goads, watching the way your tiny cunt struggles with swallowing the head of his wrist-thick, bulbous cock. you were put in the awkward position of doggy, yet another one of his sessions derailed and he deemed this new workout could help you build up some much needed endurance. you were going to need it if you planned on keeping him around.

it surely seems that way when you’re practically running from the pleasure he pistons into you, thick cock kissing your cervix with each skillful, angled thrust of his. large hands were wrapped around your waist, keeping you in place for him — because if there was one thing your personal trainer was strict about, it was form. and your form was beyond perfect.

“‘s just too good.” you mindlessly whined, attempting your hardest to grip onto the thin cushion of the yoga mat beneath you. toji lets out a deep scoff at your vocables, driving his hips against your ass once more, this time a bit sharper with a hint of fervor as its aftertaste. “and you’ve been training with me for how long now?” his question came out in a mocking tone as his lips stretched wide in a crooked smile, that of a statement rather than a query.

“t-two weeks .. fuck.” you respond, mind going hazy from the gaining intensity of his potent movements. the feeling was all too much, it came as no surprise when pleasure began to surge from your spine to coil at your core, building up that high you've been chasing for the past hour, that grumpy ol’ toji continued to rip away from you.

pressing a heavy hand to the small of your back, he arches you forward, groaning at the sight of how swiftly you position yourself for him, your face pushed against the mat.

maybe his training has paid off. . “two weeks and you’re still struggling to take my cock?” he pulled your hips back against his, leaving you defenseless in the ministrations. “guess i need to train this pretty little hole of yours more often.”

with the end of his sentence, he snakes his thick arm around your waist, the pad of his thumb finding your achy, puffy clit, rubbing the nub in tight, harsh circles. if your moans weren’t already loud enough, you were sure the whole town could hear you by now, crying out his name like no tomorrow while your legs trembled with your impending orgasm. “‘m cumming! so hard!” you cry, drooling into the mat as he fucks you through your orgasm.

it wasn’t until soon after that he finally reached his high, sending hot and sticky ropes of cum into your womb. not once had a session with toji ended with him shooting his cum in a more responsible way, with a rubber. it was clear to you since the very first time you allowed his fantasies to come to fruition — toji didn’t believe in condoms.

your body went lax as soon as he pulled out, and he tucked his cock back into his pants, hovering over your sad frame with an amused smirk on his scarred lips.

“good session. i expect $800 wired to my account by the mornin’.”

GOJO — THE ENABLING TRAINER.

when you first showed up to the private room of your local gym in search of your assigned instructor for the night a.k.a “the strongest,” you were expecting some big burly man with a cocky attitude — someone you didn’t particularly get along with. but much to your surprise, instead, he was handsome; fluffy white strands of hair that strayed upwards and a million dollar smile with just the charisma, the charm to back it up.

gojo stood over 6 feet tall, and although he was on the lankier side, there was no denying the lean muscles that peeked through his skintight black top. he smiled, throwing a loose cloth over his broad shoulders.

“you ready to get started?”

your eyes greedily took him in, scanning over the finer details of his gorgeous build. it wasn’t until about thirty seconds of daydreaming about what he’d look like unclothed that you finally gave him a response in the form of a nod and hum.

of course satoru wasn’t an idiot, he could tell from how dazed you were during the first few minutes of instruction that you were focused on something else, not that he minds though, it’s truly an honor that a girl as pretty as you is capable of fawning over him, just as many others do.

after having to shake your thoughts whenever it came to watching him take a large swig from his water, droplets of the liquid streaming down his chin to graze his prominent adam's apple, or the soft appraises he’d coo when you finally got the hang of his workouts, it was the end of yet another vigorous session with him, sweat dripping from your chin down to your chest that was scantily clad in a baby pink sports bra. you held on taut to your water bottle as satoru carried conversation with you.

“you improved so much in just an hour. i’m proud.”

his praises barely reached your ears before you looked at him with adoration glossed over those pretty eyes — there was something about him that you just couldn’t get over, but you knew you needed him badly. you dabbed perspiration from your forehead with a matching pink towel, soft smile forming on your doll-like features.

“thank you,”

he nods his head slightly before starting, “you seemed a bit distracted today, though. something on your mind?” his query pulled you from your gojo-induced hypnosis, causing you to blink away the embarrassment pooling up within you. were you truly that obvious?

“hm? there’s nothing, i’m fine,” your reply came out low and sheepish while your eyes struggled to find anywhere else to settle besides those bright baby blues. he took it upon himself to inch closer to you, studying your features until you gasped softly once your back hit the wall. “nothing?” he asks for confirmation, and you affirm. “nothing.”

“all you gotta do is use your words if you need me.”

gojo’s hands found their way at your thighs, creeping them upwards underneath the thin spandex of your shorts. his touch felt hot against your skin, each brush of his fingertips along the expanse of your inner thigh causing shivers to trickle down your spine while he watched with mirth at your pitiful attempt to keep your whines at bay.

“i think .. i think i need you.”

with that, satoru smirked and lifted your leg up just enough so that it fell over his arm. his lips met yours with a salacious that only the whorest of whores could possess, skilled tongue angling its way inside your mouth to gently clash with yours in the sweetest harmony that had you buckling underneath the frame of his body.

it must’ve been a spur of the moment when you found yourself rutting your hips up in search for satoru’s, a pitchy moan sounded into the kiss when he matches your ministrations, grinding his sweatpant clad and half-hard, leaking length into the seat of your shorts; creating the most delicious sensation as the tip nudged against your clit.

his free hand took purchase at your cheek, his thumb rubbing ever so gently against the heated skin while his movements increased in greediness. your mind’s too hazy to make out anything besides the pleasure and build up of your orgasm — so much so, that it pulled you back to reality as soon as it hit, your sloppy kisses coating gojo’s soft lips in a thin sheen and the seat of your shorts sopping wet from the release of your high.

yet, gojo kept at it until he too came to a falter, cumming an ample amount in his sweats while groaning deep into your mouth. he separated from the kiss for just a split second before he took it upon him to goad,

“we can add 30 more minutes and i’ll give you more than just a taste.”

CHOSO — THE INTIMIDATING TRAINER.

a pierced tongue, some tattoos running along both veined arms, and a deep, monotonous voice were a recipe for your timidness when it came to the kamo, who you’d invited over for your very first home training session. it didn’t help that he was on the quieter side, responding to whatever small talk you’d make with one or two words while his intense eyes would follow every move you’d make as he’d help with your form.

he truly wasn’t a bad guy, or so you thought. even now, during your session with him, his praises were appropriate, he wasn’t too handsy nor did he seem to have any ill intent; being with him felt surprisingly comfortable and refreshing just as the crisp, cold water you two were currently drinking, made fresh from your refrigerator’s tap.

“was it too intense?” he’d asked in regard to the exercises you had just completed. intense was an understatement, you didn’t know how you could move your body in such ways that you did, which wouldn’t have been possible without his expertise. choso set the chilled glass of water down onto your coffee table, feeling coy from sitting on your couch, something he’d never done even with his regulars, and in response, you shook your head at the query, settling yourself by his side.

there was truly no denying how absolutely stunning you were, like some angelic being brought to him from the heavens up above in the form of the sweetest thing he’s ever met. he was afraid that if he blinked too hard, you’d vanish.

the more his eyes focused on your lips when you talked, how you’d massage the sore muscles of your thighs and even let out cute whines because of the fact, the more he found it harder to contain his thoughts, rapidfire in his mind. those perverted thoughts that only some horny teenager could have, not a well off adult like him.

yet, it wasn’t enough to stop him from getting hard in his sweats, a dark grey patch spreading at the crotch, what he’d hoped you’d mistake as spilt water.

“shit,” with that of a husky sigh, he ran his hand over his face, tinges of pink battering the tattooed scar across his nose and cheeks. “i’m sorry.”

oblivious to his situation, you were quick to express your inquiry. “sorry about wh- oh.” the head of his cock practically peeked through the barrier of the hem of his sweats while he made a futile effort to cover himself with one of your pillows once you had realized.

he looked cute like that, embarrassed by something so natural that it even spurred on your arousal, the thought of him getting worked up over you doing virtually nothing. “i-it’s okay.. i can help you if you want.” you offer, moving your position to sit between his thighs.

violet hued eyes widened from your newfound boldness, the clearing of his throat being the only true source of sound he could make in that moment.

“nah, nah. it’s-“ before he could inch out the words, you were drawing featherlight circles at his tip over the fabric, causing his breath to hitch and resolve to falter.

choso wasn’t someone who’d allow himself to be in such a pathetic situation, yet the thought of you carrying out his perfect porn plot fantasy was all he needed for that internal morality to fly straight out the window.

you chuckled at the way he hiked himself up when you finally took him from his bottoms and into your hot, wet mouth. just the sight of his cock disappearing past soft, glossy pink lips has his temperature rising, feeling as though he could pass out.

it’s hazy for him — your hand at the base, the rhythmic bobbing of your head slowly while gradually picking up speed. he never would’ve thought the job he took on for extra cash to fund his college textbooks would end up with someone as gorgeous as you giving him a chance. every pump of your hand around what couldn’t fit into your mouth had him groaning, bucking his hips up as gently as he could without battering the back of your throat.

though, he wouldn’t mind if he did.

staving off a gag, you ultimately increased your pace, determined to get him off while your other hand fondled his plump balls.

from the faint touches alone, he could feel his high approaching, embarrassingly quicker than usual. yet, he couldn’t help it when you started to grow sloppy, a mix of spit and precum dribbling down his shaft.

“w-wait, fuck.. ‘m gonna.”

it took no time for him to shoot his seed into your awaiting throat, his head thrown back against the headrest while he bucked his hips to jettison every last drop. you swallowed all he had to offer before pulling away, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

maybe he wasn’t as intimidating after all.

GETO — THE CHARMING TRAINER.

you were his favorite. you had to be. even in the long line of women waiting to have their own turn with him, you were always a top contender. he had always made time for you, and you alone.

geto’s popularity made perfect sense in your mind. he was tall, handsome with narrow features and dragon tattoos strung along both arms, a man ahead of his time. not to mention, his docile, gentle demeanor. he was charming as all get out and you were beyond aware of your superstar status of being the only one he wanted.

“are we actually going to get some training done or is there something else you want to do?” he straps his fingerless gloves around his palm, tank top tight around his torso, carving out each and every trace of his abs while looking over you, a pleasant smile quirked at his lips.

you felt sheepish under his sharp gaze, a feeling that comes all too natural with expert trainer, suguru geto. “i’m fine with whatever you have in mind, sugu.”

if you didn’t know any better, you’d swore you saw his cheeks dust in the lightest shade of pink at the endearing nickname. you were cute, too fucking cute and perhaps, that was the reason he kept you around.

“i’m thinking we test that stamina ‘nd see if you can hold up riding me?” he hooks his finger under your chin, tilting your head up just slightly. “no help, all on your own.” in all honesty, you could definitely take up his challenge. how hard could it be to take some dick?

or so you thought.

“fuck, sugu! ‘s too much!”

you wouldn’t want to be caught dead in the miserable state that you were in but it ultimately did seem as though geto’s lessons had gotten you nowhere. the tip of his cock wasn’t even an inch past your cunt while you rested your hands on his broad shoulders, pathetically trying to take what was the easiest part.

he smirked at you, resting his hands behind his head. “i’m not helping, princess. i meant it.”

you continued to try and sink yourself down onto his unreasonably thick cock, a soft crack of a whine tumbling past parted lips when your pussy engulfed another half inch of him. “but-“

“if i have to help you, we’re not finishing until you’re a mess.” he grits, not harsh enough to come off as daunting but stern enough to warn you. yet, the warning fell to deaf ears when you began to whorishly beg pleas of “help me, sugu. help me.”

from that, he let out a low groan, his hands on your waist sinking you all the way down to the base before he gained stability, flattening his feet onto the floor and fucking his cock into your fluttering cunt.

with the way he moves, you were almost positive you had the wind knocked out of you from those first few thrusts alone. soft babbles resonated throughout the room while you clung to his body like it’d comfort you in the hell that was his potent ministrations.

you felt far more sensitive than you ever felt, white hot pleasure coiling within you in no time, your pussy tightening around his shaft in such a suffocating way, geto felt as though he couldn’t breathe either. “s-so tight, princess. i know you wanna cum, cum for me, baby.” he goads through a strained voice, his thumb now working between your folds to find purchase at your clit, rubbing the puffy nub in moderate circles.

“if you do t-that, i might—“

and before you knew it, you were gushing around his pretty cock, face twisted in the prettiest picture of pleasure. the aftershocks of your orgasm were way more intense as you were fucked to overstimulation, a sly grin on his lips.

“told you we weren’t stopping, darling.”

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yarpiebrit · 1 year

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3.2.1....You're IN! MOTH Jan Smuts

3.2.1….You’re IN! MOTH Jan Smuts

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#British Empire Service League #CMVO #Council of Military Veteran Organisations #Jan Smuts #Memorable Order of Tin Hats #MOTH #Royal Commonwealth Ex Services League #South African Legion

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vivwritesfics · 2 months

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Padawan Learner

Mrs Vettel, ex Williams driver, current McLaren driver, can't drive while pregnant. Although she's contracted until 2026, she can't drive while she's with child. But she can't stay away from racing, and can't help but take the Williams rookie under her wing.

Sebastian Vettel x Reader, (Platonic) Logan Sargeant x Reader

Warnings: Brief description of smut

She wasn't supposed to retire at the same time as her husband. He felt as if he was at the end of his career and there was nothing more he could offer to the sport, so he retired. He'd had his glory years in Red Bull, moved to Ferrari, every racers dream, and ended things in Aston Martin, alongside his wife's old teammate.

She still had more race left in her. She'd been with Williams for years, racing alongside Valteri Bottas, Lance Stroll, George Russell, and, later, Alex Albon. But then she moved to McLaren, a team she felt would help her fight for wins.

Her husband very thoroughly celebrated the beginning of his retirement. She found herself stuffed full of cum almost every day of winter break.

It shouldn't have been a surprise when they got pregnant. But she wanted to murder Sebastian. For all of five seconds she wanted to drown him in their pool. But, after that five seconds passed, she was overjoyed, wrapping her arms around Sebastians neck and pulling him in for a kiss.

She told McLaren and they pulled Oscar Piastri in for the year. That was how he got his first drive in F1. All because Sebastian Vettel was incredibly horny, but he didn't need to know this.

She might not have been able to drive, but she still wanted to be trackside whenever she could. Her old team gave her this opportunity. She didn't hang around the McLaren garage, as she had half expected.

No, it was Williams and the new team Principle, James Vowles, who gave her somewhere to be during the season. Even in preseason testing, she was there, watching the Williams.

It was great to be in the garage with Lily again. She'd always liked Lily, thought she was great for Alex when they first met. After her move to McLaren she rarely got to see Lily, and as much as she hated sitting in the garage, it was nice to be sat in the garage with her.

Alex was a great driver. Any advice a veteran like her could have offered him, he already knew.

But then there was his teammate.

She watched Logan from his very first race weekend. She had known about the rookie for a couple of years now and had watched him succeed in Formula Two.

But now, in the Williams tractor, he was struggling. Week after week after week he was finishing outside of the points, or he wasn't finishing at all. She really felt for him.

"Hey," she said after the Hungarian Grand Prix.

Logan hadn't spoken to anybody since he got out of the car and did all that he needed to do. Clearly he was struggling. He didn't say anything, just looked up.

She stood beside him. At her stage of pregnancy she could have gotten down to the floor to sit with him, but she wouldn't have been able to get up without help. Her hand rested on her bump as she looked down at him.

"I still remember my first season in Formula One," she said as she looked at the retired car. "It was 2013 and Seb was set to win the championship. I was in my first year in Williams and I think I only finished maybe ten races," she said with a laugh.

"Wait, seriously?" Asked Logan as he looked up.

She nodded her head. "I crashed out of most, or the car fell apart on me. Most people wondered why I had a seat for the next year, but Williams saw potential in me. I know they see it in you, too."

Every time Logan didn't finish a race, every time he came dead last, she was there. Nobody could comfort her like she did. Sometimes Seb joked that they might as well adopt him, and Logan agreed. Most up and down paddock called Logan her padawan learner, which was very fitting.

Logan began being the person she spent the most time with when Sebastian wasn't there. He'd looked up to her for many years and having her support meant the world to him. He was there for her too, making sure she had somewhere to sit and something to drink whenever she needed it.

In September, a month before her due date, Sebastian begged her to stop travelling. Just in case he wanted her home with him, where he could take care of her. They still watched every race together and she made sure to send Logan a good luck text before every practice session, qualifying, and race.

When Logan got his first points, nobody celebrated more than Sebastian Vettels wife. She was so proud of him, even if those points were because of two disqualifications. She posted a picture of him and her from a previous race on Instagram like a proud mum. Funnily enough, Logan comments 'thanks mom' on the post.

Just two weeks after this, her water broke. Sebastian got her to the hospital. He stayed by her side, holding her hand through the hours of excruciating labour.

Leon Vettel didn't cry when he was born. He was so quiet, that it actually scared his mother. But the doctors and nurses assured the new parents that he was perfectly healthy.

He was their perfect little man.

She insisted on asking Logan to be Leons godfather. They had grown so close over the last few months that it seemed fitting.

Logan accepted. As soon as the Vettels could, they were taking Leon to races. Or, Sebastian took Leon to races, to watch his mother race. Of course he was wearing a Williams hat and McLaren shirt.

"Papa," Leon said at four years old after watching the Australian Grand Prix qualifying session.

"What is it, my little man?" Asked Sebastian as he sat Leon on his lap.

"I wanna be like mama and Uncle Logan," he said, and Sebastian couldn't stop himself from grinning.

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salaciousdoll · 5 months

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✩˚｡⋆ ⋆ ⋆ Shawty Want The Whole Team ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡✩

･˳ . ⋆ Team Starring Reiner Braun, Eren Yeager, Armin Arlert, Jean Kirstein, Porco Galliard, Colt Grice, Connie Springer, And Floch Forster x Fem!reader ･˳ . ⋆

Synopsis: you and Reiner make your desires merge into one on this special night

୨୧ ⁺⁎˚ ⋆━━ Be advised to the warnings of smut, Gangbang/group sex, 8some, bodily fluids( squirting, cum, spit, etc.), dark content!!!, dubcon!!!, Somnophilia( just a little bit, it’s consensual), marking body with marker , knife play but minor, cam recording, picture taking, reader is an gothic Bimbo who loves leopard( I heard that’s one characteristics goth bimbos have, may be incorrect though), pet names( nymph, pretty angel, strawberry whore, strawberry, bunny, doll, Bambi, etc.), dirty talking, deep throating, face fuck, getting used and you love it, all them wear ski mask which mask kink, voice kink, lipstick/lipliner meshed with lipgloss kink, triple penetration, double penetration( one or both holes), anal play( butt plugs, anal, etc.), creampies, breeding kink implied, messy face fuck( I mean it), nipple play, eren is obsessed with your boobs( small or big, doesn’t matter), let me know if I missed something!!! Wc: 7k

Minors do not interact, 18+

ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇ ┈•ﾟNote from Salaciousdoll: Happy No Nut November everyone. I hope you all been lasting so far because I’m hoping to break it with this fic, I hope you all have a great time reading this long waited fic and I want to apologize to the people who were really looking forward to the aot Veterans fic like this one, but I plan on doing something else for them. Anyways I’m talking too much, so thank you all for tuning in and reading my kinktober/nnn fics, much love and this is the end <33

ﾟ•┈୨ Salaciousber Masterlist ୧┈•ﾟ｡

Staying to yourself has always been your memo. It keeps people away from you, or so you thought. You always walked throughout the hallways of your apartment with your head held high, black/brown lip liner or black lipstick on your lips with a salacious shadow attached to you. Salacious to Armin that is. Armin thought you were fucking perfect as he stared at you walking past him to get to your apartment door opposite side of his.

He stood right there with his door open for a minute as he eyed you up and down. You had your headphones on your head, listening to your music. Despite your appearance, you listened to all kinds of music. Normally people expected you to listen to only rock, metal, or alternative music. Armin smiled to himself when he heard your keys drop. He hurried to pick them up and hand them to you.

You smiled and took off your headphones, greeting him, “ Hi Armin, didn’t know you were right there, I thought you were with the others at Eren’s house for game night.”

He watched your plump lips move and nothing you said registered in his mind. He tried so hard not to lower his eyes to your pushed up boobs in your choice of clothing with black as the main color of the outfit. You had a splash of a leopard print pattern with your outfit as well. His eyes stayed on the little knife necklace in between your boobs— he noticed the knife had a vial of red liquid in the middle of it and was fascinated by it, more like making himself fascinated just so he could stare a little longer. He gave up on trying and decided to trail his eyes further down to your pudgy stomach showing through your outfit.

You were still talking and not even noticing his big blue eyes tracing your body curves/ lumps in your leopard and black outfit with a bullet belt over your lower tummy and across your hips—slanted. Your legs were covered in fishnets with stars covered over them and you had on black platform boots. You looked gorgeous in his eyes, if only Reiner hadn't gotten to you first.

You cleared your throat once you noticed him looking and giggled in your hand, “ Oh Armin, you’re gonna get in trouble with Eren for missing his game night ~” the way you stretched the word night should be considered a sinful purr. Your voice went straight to his dick and at the point in time he needed you especially as he watched you walk inside your apartment— outfit hugging your voluptuous frame. Your hips or love handles were on his mind as he imagined squeezing them into his slender fingers . He didn’t like to think of women like this, but the temptation was taking over him. He shook his head and walked ahead with nothing but you on his mind. His thoughts lasted a long time even while he was at the game night with his boys.

A few hours later, Reiner was sitting on the couch sipping his beer between his pretty ring-filled hands. He was watching Jean, Floch, and Eren argue with one another over who lost in MK1. Reiner soon felt a vibration in his pants pocket due to his phone. He took it out and looked at it— instantly turning it over on his lap and looking around to see if anyone noticed his actions and someone did: Colt.

“ What’s wrong Reiner?”, Colt said on the stool at the bar where the snacks and drinks were. Reiner looked at him and debated inside of his head if he wanted to tell him what’s actually up or make an excuse.

Reiner sighs and rubs his big, veiny hand down his face, “ Just my girl, she’s been fussing at me more than usual”.

Colt took that excuse but Porco didn’t, “ He’s lying to you, see how his ears are twitching, he’s lying. Can’t believe I know this excuse of a human better than you, Colt.” Porco had a love and hate relationship with Reiner. He thinks Reiner is tolerable sometimes and that’s enough for him to still be friends with the man.

“ Can we just drop it.”, Reiner says, unknowingly picking up his phone again to unlock and see the picture. He kept his eyes trained on the way your body sat on the bed in a doll-like position with your knees placed on the bed, legs folded behind you, and your feet connected to the fat of your ass. The lingerie you had on was totally different from what you always wear. You just had on satin black bikini underwear with a leopard-print bow on the front, your pussy outline was visible and he was thirsty for it. Gosh, he loved how fat your pussy was.

You then had on a leopard print see-through robe with black fur on the outline and as he lifted his eyes on the phone, he placed a hand over his growing bulge. Your boobs were out and your nipples were pierced as usual but this time the nipple ring was different, it was his favorite color.

Reiner was too busy admiring the picture that he didn’t hear or feel any of the men behind him. They were looking at the photo as well, instantly getting hard, each for different reasons.

Eren because of your pierced nipples and how beautiful your boobs look. Jean for how full and lucious your lips looked. The other wanted to know what they were looking at, so Armin spoke up, “ What are you guys staring at?”

Reiner suddenly snapped his head up and shut off his phone to look behind him, gasping at Eren and Jean standing behind him with Connie trying to see from behind the two.

Eren was the first to speak between the three, “ So when are you gonna share? I’ve been wanting a piece of her since lik—”

“ She’s not meat, Eren. Have some decency for once.”, Jean says, rolling his eyes with a shake of his head following.

“ Let me see dammit.”, Connie declares with a flow of desperation seeping through his voice. He wanted to see you so badly since he had a crush on you way before Reiner even got with you. Connie looked at Eren and Jean, “ one word… Selfish”.

Jean turned back to him and they started arguing with Eren joining in to say that he knows you’re not meat and how he didn’t mean it that way.

Reiner didn’t pay their bickering no mind as he thought about the conversation you had last night courtesy of Eren asking that question.

Reiner was rubbing the middle of your back as you two laid naked against each other, “ Darkest desire I have, hmm… seeing you get pounded by my friends. Every last one of us uses you, of course still pleasuring you”.

You took in a sharp inhale before looking up at him since your head was on his meaty chest, “ same desire I have but with a few kinks involved, you’re down to hear them?” Reiner looked down at you and smirked with a nod of his head in sequence.

Reiner stood up and looked around at his boys, “ Anyone know where to get a ski mask from?” The men either tilted their heads in confusion or had a glow in their eyes signifying curiosity dancing her way in the pools of color each of their eyes held.

This only led to you sleeping as you get split open in your dream. Your dream was so beautiful and hot that you wanted to sleep longer, courtesy of Reiner bullying his cock into your wet pussy in missionary style as you whisper sweet words to each other inside of your dream. You two were making love in your dream and you never wanted it to end.

Yet it ended as soon as you felt a sharp thrust inside of your already hot cunt making you scream into the cloth covering your mouth. Your eyes snapped open and you saw gold irises swimming with the intensity of salacious intent as he bullied his cock past your tight slit, “ Mmmf, ahhhn.” Your moans were muffled and Reiner loved it, but he loved the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his thick cock even more.

He bit his lips as the ski mask was starting to soak into his skin because of the sweat clouding up as he fucked you and been fucking you for 15 minutes already, more like edging himself for 15 minutes, “ oh fuck! Such a good little pussy you have. Always need you whenever I come home.”

Your eyes widened once you recognized that voice, it was your man. Reiner. Big and buff with a ski masked on his face. This was your biggest desire, too bad you couldn’t get your other desire, or so you thought.

You felt the bed dip beside you and looked around to find two other masked men, one with deep green-blue eyes and another one with big blue eyes. You started to squirm around when Reiner thrusts became more powerful, “ Mmmph. I cwnttt. Pleishhh.” Every word you tried to say came out muffled and they all loved the feeling they got. The feeling of PDI: Power, Dominance, and Imbalance.

The man with the green-blue eyes grabbed your hand and placed your long acrylic nails on his dick wrapping his hand around to guide your hand up and down his cock. Eren couldn’t believe he was finally getting a taste or feeling of you, “ Her fuckhole is taking you so well, can’t say I’m impressed though since this is what all whores do right?” Eren lips formed into a pretty smile as you looked at him with squinted eyes. “ Take cocks like this.” Eren snapped his fingers to appoint the end of his statement.

You recognized that voice and you got wetter and tightened around Reiner to which you got a slap on your pussy, “ She’s indeed a slut… tightin’ around me at the sound of - ghahh Fuck!- your v-voice”. Your clit was shaking because of that action and you were pretty sure if his big hand slapped your pussy again you were gonna squirt on this man.

Armin trailed his hands down your arm to your hand to lace his fingers with them and lifted your hand to his cock, so now there were two hands on his pulsing cock with a girth that seemed even wider than Reiner’s. He had length, but his girth was a monster.

Your panties wasn’t even torn off so that’s how you knew Reiner stood on business because he usually slides your panties off, hell he usually wakes you up as well. Hated that feeling but you loved this one. Waking up to his cock already inside of you was a dream and reality now.

Armin threw his head back as he let out a low moan, “ Fuck pretty girl, y-your hands feels so good around my cock.” You were about to cum because Armin’s words cut through you like you were a tomato. Calling you a pretty girl was your weakness.

Your pussy quivered and another guy came beside Armin with light brown eyes with gold specks in them, at least that’s what it seemed when you peered at him as you kept stroking Armin and Eren dicks with different paces for each. Eren’s cock stroked in a fast pace; straight and up and down as in comparison to Armin’s cock being stroked in a slow-twist combo.

The guy put his thumb on your clit as Reiner kissed your cervix with his cock deep inside of you. The guy rubbed in slow circles causing you to try to squeeze your legs around Reiner’s hips but two other pairs of hands snatched each leg back and out of Reiner’s reach. Your moans were louder now as you try to move up and off Reiner’s dick so your pussy can catch a break. Your pussy was so fucking wet and you heard the pussy squelching noises along with his balls slapping against your other hole. The hole you now noticed has something attached to it. It was a butt plug, specifically a bunny tail butt plug inside of you, warming you up to take their cocks in your ass. You fucking loved this feeling so damn much. The feeling of being filled in both holes.

“ Cum f’me, Baby. Let Reiner feel your first orgasm for this night. Let us hear the sweet muffled moans spilling from you like a good little slut. Tonight you’re our performer so keep us entertained baby.”, The guy with specks of gold in his light brown eyes says as he leaned over to look you directly in the eye while still thumbing your clit.

“ Fuck that! Take the blindfold off her mouth so we can really hear her. Need to hear our pretty girl moan like a brain fucked bitch in heat”., Another man holding your thighs says in a matter of fact tone. You noticed that voice as well, Porco Galliard. A man you didn’t get along with but you secretly wanted to destroy or he destroyed you. Either way, you get something out of him.

A fifth man came to plant his knees on both sides of your head, slowly taking the blind fold off. He watched your eyes closed in bliss and your mouth open in a small o. Beautiful Melodies flew out of your mouth as he stared at you with his brown eyes and face covered with a ski mask just like the rest, “ She’s a true beauty, how the fuck did Reiner score with her?”

Porco's voice was heard next as you moaned at Reiner now drilling into your pussy, “ We all ask the same question, ginger. It’s confusing but from the way he’s fucking her, you could see why.”

Colt laughed as he peered over Reiner’s shoulder to watch you just like Porco was doing, “ I never thought there will be a day you compliment Reiner, Poc.”

Reiner couldn’t listen to them when his eyes were zoomed in on the way your whimpers were growing more rapidly and the way your body shook as he was still plunging into your sobbing pussy. “ Shit, I could feel myself cumming but I need you to cum before I do baby, so cum for me. Cum for us.”

“ Ahhn, I think I’m gonn- I think I’m gonna cum. Fuck!”, Your moans were beautiful to all of their ears and as some of them watch you lift your upper body up while Reiner fucked you through your orgasm, they realize that you were perfect for Reiner, one of his types.

Connie was holding off on jerking his cock because of how in awe he was at your body and how your hands, after dropping them from stroking Eren and Armin off, were trying to push reiner away because of the overstimulation you were getting.

Reiner wanted to stop fucking you so badly so he could hold off his orgasm but he couldn’t, not when your pussy is milking his cock as she sucked him in a vice grip. You were hungry for his dick. Reiner looked down at where the two of you were connected and saw your pussy was squirting a bit on his cock whilst also creaming on his dick, still having his ski mask on with sweat overlapping on his hair and face.

“ Reiner pl-please, s’ too much for me. Ahhnnn.”, Your moans were almost pornograhic and that pushed Reiner over the edge as he snapped his hips one more time with his balls landing on the fur ball attached to your butt plug.

His dick pumped inside of you as you felt your cervix get filled with his cum. “ Shit baby! So fucking good. S’ fucking good. She’s, ughhh!” They couldn’t even make fun of him as he tried to cradle all of your body inside of his big arms with his body sweat rolling onto your body because of him holding you— pumping you full. It’s like the others were watching a porn video from the way you two were fucking each other.

Reiner was seeing stars even as he laid his head on your chest. Your hand made its way into his hair calming him down from his orgasm. You knew he was probably at his limit since average men could only cum once, but you needed more.

So, you lifted your hips up with his cock still inside of you— fucking him back to full on hard since he was beginning to get semi soft inside of your pussy. “ Need more, Rei. Need you.” You looked around at the men staring in shock and mewled out, “ need all of you.”

Reiner lifted his head up and kissed you on your lips, “ Whatever my strawberry wants, she gets. Use her how she wants guys.” He slowly pulled out of you with a full hard on now and moved out of the way for the other men to surround you now.

“ what a pretty pair of tits you have, can’t wait to suck on em’, doll.”, Eren says as he twisted your right nipple making you whimper. Most would know that Eren is a tits man. He loved boobs of all sizes and colors—yours were no different from those he loved. In fact, he would have to say they’re more beautiful to stare at instead of fucking or sucking, so he brought his phone out of his pocket and you panicked, well your eyes showed slight panic. Eren looked at Reiner, “ you wouldn’t mind if I captured her essence for later right?”

Reiner looked at you before looking back at Eren, “ Ask her, it’s her body.” It was the bare minimum but Reiner always gave you butterflies when he said anything like that. Eren clicked, “ You are so right, how could I forget that you can speak for yourself right. So I ask you, may I capture these pretty tits for later, doll?”

You gulped and slowly nodded your head. Eren smiled and whispered a sweet to himself before taking a photo of your tits but as he was doing that your eyes connected with bright hazel eyes that belonged to Connie Springer. Connie leaned down to smash his lips onto yours, tasting your spit so lovingly. His tongue inserted inside of your mouth and you moaned from that feeling alone. You reached to pump his red flushed cock causing him to hiss into your kiss, “ fuck, pretty Angel.”

You heard other belt buckles and pants unzip and knew you were about to be fucked into oblivion. Some of them kept their cargo pants on and some didn’t. Eren, Porco, and Jean kept their cargo pants or jeans on and the rest took their style of pants off, leaving them in nothing but their tattoos or piercings.

You soon felt Connie’s lips detach from yours and another pair was placed on your lips, these ones were more rougher and somehow you loved how rough they kissed you. Floch needed to see how your lips tasted and felt but it didn’t last long because Jean snatched him back to lift you up and your legs and arms wrapped around his waist and neck so tightly in fear of him dropping up.

No matter how much you weighed Jean was gonna fuck you in the air or on the wall, he didn’t care he needed to bounce you on his dick, “ You’re such a bunny. A pretty bunny. A fuck bunny so I need you to bounce on me like one, okay.” You would’ve thought it was corny if you weren’t so horny. Jean’s eyes were on you as he pushed his cock inside of your warm pussy.

You couldn’t take how long his cock was so you squeezed your eyes shut. It’s like you could feel every vein on his cock sliding inside your pussy and it felt too good, so good that tears were beginning to develop in your eyes. Jean's eyes widened and he instantly stopped himself from going in further, “ What’s wrong? Did I hurt you? Do you wanna st-”

“ No.” you interrupt as he bombard you with questions of concern. “ It’s just so good, please fuck me, Jeanyy. I promise I can take it. Please.” You felt another pair of hands from behind you as they helped you take all of Jean’s cock into your wet cunt by placing hands on your shoulders to guide you down.

“ Come on, strawberry, is that all you can take, I feel like your hole is wet enough to take Jean boy. I would’ve thought a slut like you would do better than this, I’m disappointed in you, princess?”, Porco says as he wiggles the bunny tail around making you moan with your head thrown back against his body.

“ Fuck off, Porco. You’re gonna help or what?, if not get the hell out of our space.”, Jean says as he grabs your ass in between his fingers, some of the fat spilling over his fingers. Jean hated when people called him his mother’s nickname, it’s annoying when she says it even as he’s a grown adult so it was double annoying when his friends say it, especially in front of his crush he’s about to pound in a moment.

Porco knew Jean was irritated, so he smirked at him and put his head in between your shoulders to stare at Jean, “ Let me show you how to properly fuck a slut like her. You too Reiner.” Reiner scoffed and rolled his eyes at his friend.

Porco slowly took out the butt plug as he watched how your body wiggled against Jean’s dick causing him to still himself inside of your pussy in fear of cumming before you. Once the plug was out of you, Porco stroked his cock a solid two times before lining his tip against the opening of your ass. Your ass puckered in desperation of emptiness and you needed something to fill it up after being plugged up for you don’t know how long.

Porco pushed himself inside of your hole causing you to cry with more tears pouring down your eyes, your mascara falling down your eyes. You knew you should’ve taken off the remaining of your makeup but you fell asleep right after masturbating to Reiner because of his reaction to the picture you sent.

Once Porco got himself past the tight ring of muscle, he slowly felt you relax as he gave you time to adjust to him and Jean being inside of you at the same time.

You whined as your hands were placed on Jean’s chest, “ Wan’ more. Please treat me like a slut, fuck me like a whore.” Jean smashed his lips onto yours as both him and Porco began to move in sync. Both hissing at the feeling of your pussy and ass welcoming them in like it’s a home for them.

“ Fuck princess, you’re sucking my dick into this precious little hole of yours, wish we can- fuck!- take as long as we want but we can’t when you have other wolves to feed as well.”, Porco says as he slides more of himself inside of you as he was still fucking into you, getting you to take all of his thick dick inside of your ass.

When Jean moved in, Porco moved out and you were in heaven because the feeling of being stuffed in both ends was a beautiful feeling to you, so beautiful that you couldn’t help but to babble, “ mmph, mmm, keep fucking me like this.” They both sped up with Louis pants and groans following. The sound of balls slapping against your skin and their each other balls were heard as they quickened their pace.

“ Shit bunny, you’re bouncing on my cock so well, fuck! Such a good little bunny for me.”, Jean moans into your neck prior to sucking on it as he rolls his hips into your pelvis. The loud smacks from their bodies were addictive to the rest of the men who stroked themselves to the scene in front of them.

Crazily enough, Porco liked the feeling of being inside of your ass, especially when his cock rubbed against Jean’s adding more pleasure to his fuck. Jean felt the same, only a wall stopping them from being in the same hole.

“ M’gonna, Uhhnnn, Je-annnn. Por-coooo.” The moans that came out of your mouth set them ablaze and so they fucked your even harder chasing their own orgasms not knowing that you already came onto their dicks with no hesitation, “ Yesssss, fuck me. Fuck me. You're fuc-ckingg me sooo goodd.” Your legs were tightly gripping onto jeans waist causing him to stiffen himself and cum deep into your pussy with a loud moan of your name. Reiner watched the whole thing with envy and lust. Specifically envy when Jean came inside of you and Porco followed after with a loud groan of your name.

When your body went limp inside of their arms, they both pant before sliding out of you with their cum dripping out of you and onto the floor. The others watched and whispered different things.

Porco slapped your ass and kissed your ear, “ Thank you for the ride, slut. Gotta use that mouth next time since that’s what you’re best at running.”

Your legs were still shaking and you couldn’t even register his words, but you felt the slap on your ass and you moaned. Jean had to take the ski mask off because he was sweating nonstop, he threw it behind him and took your mouth against his in hunger. In between the kisses he muttered a thank you prior to walking you to the bed with his arms around your body. Jean turned you around to place you on a body laying on the bed already, “ You took them like a champ, doll. And you looked so pretty while they took you, so will you be able to handle me, Armin, and Connie as well?”

Your pussy visibly clenched in Armin’s view as he stood behind you and when you did it, a little cum dripped down your pussy to land on Eren’s pants. Armin let out a shaken breath and placed his hands on your ass to spread you apart. You were about to look back to see who it was, but Connie took your hair and yanked back on whatever hairstyle you had making you wince, “ Ah ah Ah, nope, nuh uh, focus only on me, pretty Angel. Need all of your attention on me as I fuck your pretty face. Couldn’t wait to have you like this so I’m not gonna waste any more.” Connie slammed his cock inside of your mouth making you take all of his cock in his mouth, “ Shit! time.” He finished off his sentence at the same time your choking was heard.

Your black lip liner meshed into your lipgloss or black lipstick was starting to have marks on Connie’s dick and he loved the little black rings forming on his cock as he drove his dick back and forth in your mouth. Eren sucked on one of your boobs swinging in his face at the same time he felt Armin grab his dick to help him inside of your tight and warm pussy. Eren let out a moan with your nipple in his mouth and the vibrations went straight to your core allowing him to push himself more inside because of you opening up to him just a little bit.

Once Armin slid inside of your pussy, he let out a loud whimper shocking himself and everyone around him. Colt patted his back as he stood on the side of him wanting to feel you wrapped around his dick as well.

Feeling both of their cocks inside of the same hole was too much for you but it felt good, a weird good. “ mmmpfff, mmmm!” Your moans were vibrating on Connie’s cock which now just sat inside of your mouth, he was giving you time to adjust to both Armin and Eren inside of you at once.

Tears were escaping your eyes even more due to the pain of the stretch happening by Armin’s cock slowly moving in and out of your pussy. He finally had the chance to move more when you started to get wetter and a bit loose for him and Eren. Doesn’t mean your pussy didn’t still take the shape of his and his best friend's cocks. “ You’re doing so well, Pretty Bambi. So well for me and Eren. Now will you allow one more?”

You squirmed in anticipation at the feeling of being filled by four cocks whether they were in the same hole or not. You felt feet positioned themselves on the side of your body as you desperately heard Eren slurping sounds on your tits just as much as you felt his warm saliva covering your nipples like icing on a cake. It was like he was trying to suck some milk out of them from how hard the sucking sounds were heard.

“ Not being nice with her like you three are, so take this you pretty nymph.”, Floch says with his dick moving inside of your asshole, making you take all of his dick which was surprisingly big enough to fill your greedy hole. Once they saw your head snap back after popping Connie’s dick out of your mouth with a moan following they knew they were gonna have so much fun.

Connie looked down at you as he tried to balance himself on the moving bed that was moving back and forth. He looked at your face and his eyes brightened up at the image of you taking dicks after dicks inside of you, so bad he needed to capture this moment forever, “ Reiner, give me your camera. Need everyone to know this pretty succubus name.”

Reiner stood up with the camera that always sat on the book shelf and handed it to Connie before kissing your cheek, “ Having fun, strawberry?” You couldn’t form words at the moment because you were too fucked out. Nothing but small cries and they’re groaning and moans synced into one were heard. Some grunts were heard around the room.

Reiner chuckled as Connie angled the camera at your face with his ski mask still on, in fact all of them except Jean had theirs still on. Connie pressed record and recorded your moans as you looked down into Eren’s eyes, “ Fuck she’s taking all three of them so fucking well, a true Nymph.”

Jean chimed in, “ Slut.”

Porco next, “ Whore.”

And finally Colt was next, “ She’s incredible, insatiable.”

“ Dude can’t you be mean for once in your life, you’re fucking up the video.”, Connie says as he looks at Colt off the video. You could hear Reiner chuckling at the comment.

“ Leave Colt alone, Connie. He’s a sweetheart. A lover boy.”, Reiner says as he tweaked your nipples while he had one knee on the bed studying you as you took three cocks inside of you at the same time.

“ nnghhh, I don’t think.. hahh. I don’t think I’m gonna hold awnnn.”, You moaned as Armin’s and Eren’s cocks synced into you with rhythm, as Eren moved in, Armin swirled his hips to move out and this repeated. You had no idea Armin could fuck like this but he’s fucking you with much more rhythm than you expect.

Meanwhile Floch was on top of you and Eren drilling into your ass until he had to cum and he pulled out before that to get down, “ Fuck, she’s so fucking… ughhh I was about to cum but that’s not where I want to cum.”

Once Floch moved out the way Armin could move how he wanted. He held your hips and started to speed his thrusting up, fluently and rapidly. His thrust was matching Eren’s. “ Shit, Bambi, I can’t hold on either. Wanna cum deep inside of you. Hahhh!” Armin’s nickname and moans were getting to you and you needed to put something in your mouth before you suddenly start babbling out things you don’t mean.

Eren told Armin to stop for a second and positioned both of you down a bit off the bed and after that, he signaled Armin to go. They both started to thrust inside of your now stretched out hole and you latched your lips around Connie’s tip making him shudder and stagger a bit, he was caught off guard and anyone who watched the video back would see how he was caught off guard due to the shaking of the camera.

Eren’s balls were slapping against Armins and it added onto him pounding into your soft spot over and over “Fuck, doll. Fuck! Fuck! I swear to God I’m gonna cum inside of her Reiner, I don’t care about anything but cumming inside of this amazing pussy. How does she feels Armin? I know you’re close as well, I can feel you pumping against me.”

Armin couldn’t even think or talk, your pussy was too good to even form sentences so he let out a low moan followed by a yeah. Eren knew his friend was pussy drunk, hell he was too if he’s talking about practically putting a baby in her.

The squelching sounds became louder and soon they both felt liquid squirting on their cocks as you tried so desperately to get away from everyone because the pleasure was becoming too much but at the same time you didn’t want it to end.

“ She’s fucking squirting on us, fuck it. M’cummin.”, Eren says as he pushes more of himself into you to cum inside of your pussy. Your eyes were rolled to the back of your head as Connie recorded your mouth swallowing his dick all the way down your throat with loud gags following.

Armin was next and he came a bit inside of you by accident before pulling out and finishing on your ass with sweat covering his body just as much as sweat was covering Eren’s. “ Shit. I can- I can’t Bambi, you are taking us so well and allowing me to finish on this perfect ass of yours like a good girl.”

Connie's head snapped up since his head was thrown back because of the head you were giving him. He suddenly snatched your head down to the base of his dick with your nose pressed into his semi-shaved grey hair. He tried to ignore the sounds of you choking and sucking on his dick so good and pointed the camera to Armin, “ Woah, little Armi…” Connie got sidetracked, “ hahhh~ fuck pretty Angel, your throat is amazing. Can’t believe you kept this all to yourself Reiner. Anyways, back to you Armin, you grew up.” Your hands came up to Connie’s thighs to tap him so you could breathe since you have been swallowing his dick so long, “ Oh sorry, pretty Angel, let me let you breathe.” He snatched your hair back to let you breathe again and you let out a loud sigh, coughs were in sequence.

Spit dripped down his cock, your chin, and tits. Eren thankfully moved his head to the right when he saw spit was dripping down your body and was about to move to his ski mask. You felt so messy and full as Eren slid out of you with his cum dripping down your pussy. “ Mmmgh, I feel so full.”

“ Good, you’re about to be even fuller and messier.”, Floch says as he grabs you off Eren to drag you by the arm to the couch in the room. He pushed you down and ripped the remaining of your clothes off and you swore you were never turned on by Floch before, but you are now. He snatched half of your body off the small couch and turned to Connie and then turned to Colt, “ You two are gonna fuck her or should I?”

Reiner wanted to say that you had enough but the way you were staring at Connie’s dick told him to shut the hell up. It’s your desire and his desire coming together as one in this night so of course both of you are gonna enjoy it even more.

Connie stalked over to you like a predator, he needed to feel your pussy around his cock, so he positioned himself in between your legs and tapped his now moist dick on your cream filled pussy, “ Fuck, you’re such a pretty slut man, it’s scary to know that I won’t find someone like you. A dedicated slut. Let me give you a reward for swallowing my dick. That’s cool with you right?”

You whimpered as you sat up on your elbows, “ fuck me, con’. Want you to make me a mess, messier than I already am. All three of you.” As you end that last sentence, you stare at the other two men standing around you. You then stared at the camera, licking your messy lips, your lipstick or lipgloss was over the area your lips were and your mascara ran down your face. You actually looked like a whore, a pretty and classic whore.

Connie had enough and shoved the camera in Reiner’s hands before properly laying you down on the couch, “ Let’s give the pretty slut what she wants. You two could take anything but her pussy. That’s all mine for now.”

Reiner recorded all three of you whilst stroking his dick just like the rest. They watched as Floch got on top of you to grab your tits to fuck them with his cock, something Eren would gladly do if they got this opportunity again. One of their phones was ringing but they could care less because all of their focus was on you being used like a slut. Colt had put his body a little bit up toward your neck to fuck into your mouth, so he wasn’t that far from Floch as he lifted your tits up and down on his cock.

“ Shit, this bitch tits are fucking amazing. Fuck!”, Floch moaned as his spit coated his cock and in between your tits so wonderfully. It caused him to move with speed.

Connie gripped your hips and thrusted into your pussy like you were his flesh light. He was in love with your pussy because it was still tight around his dick, “ shit, her pussy is amazing. Tits as well but her pussy is- uughnn- even more amazing. It’s still so tight after taking so much cock. It’s not too tight but it’s just- mmmph- right.”

You were too busy getting your throat fucked by Colt to say thank you. His cock was so long and a bit skinny but it was still long. So when he thrusted in your mouth you automatically choke because it’s too much for your throat. You were in love with how gentle he was fucking your throat, “ Ahhn, she’s swirling her tongue under my cock e-e-everytime it goes in. It feels so fucking good. So this and her prettiness and personality is amazing.”

“ Relax Colt, it seems like you’re tryna take my girl.”, Reiner says behind the camera, getting chuckles and laughs from the guys.

Colt panicked and you saw he was about to apologize, so you locked your jaws around his cock causing him to throw his head back. He now started to thrust in your mouth like there’s no tomorrow. Spit was forming around his dick and around the base of his cock. Snot was beginning form when your tears poured down your eyes from how his dick was going in and out of your throat creating throat bulges he couldn’t see, but you could feel them.

You squirm when you feel something cold and pointy near your stomach. You felt another presence and heard Reiner’s voice, “ My strawberry loves the thought of being used by men in ski masks. She liked to be fucked senseless and treated like a flashlight by men in ski mask.. tsk.. tsk… tsk, what a dirty slut you are. She especially likes when you threaten her with a good time and her special tools. Isn’t that right, my little strawberry whore?” You tried to lift your head to talk but Colt wasn’t letting up as he wiped the sweat off your forehead as an apology.

You didn’t mind but Reiner still wanted to taunt you as he circled the sharp silver knife he got from the table next to the couch around your navel, “ My bad, I forgot you couldn’t speak.”

You moaned against Colts cock when you felt the knife lowering to your vagina but not touching it at all. Connie didn’t know how to take this new information, yet he knew one thing, he was turned on. So Connie placed a thumb over your clit and as soon as he did one rub, you squirted on him which made him cum inside you unintentionally, or was it?

Connie grunted out his moans, “ fucking shit, this fucking ahahhhhh.” He couldn’t form a sentence and he never couldn’t form a sentence, not even when he was inside of his ex-girlfriend's pussy. You were what he wanted and needed, he’s sure all of them felt the same.

Floch was now fucking roughly into your tits and he soon came on your chest and neck since he was a long cum shooter. “ Perfect. Fucking perfect!”

Reiner recorded everything and came on the open space on your tummy with a loud groan. “ Such a pretty baby doll you are, letting my friends use you and get off to you. Ohhhh.” He stroked his cock even more to free himself of all the cum that needed to come out.

Colt was last and when he came inside of your mouth your tears and snot was running down your face. Colt didn’t even mind that, if anything he thinks you looked more beautiful because in his mind he caused this and he was a proud man, “ So- Aah- so pretty.”

Reiner captured everything and when Colt pulled out he positioned the camera in your face at the same time Eren gave him the marker he picked up from your dresser. Reiner let Colt get up and positioned the camera on your body and then your face. He took the cap off the marker with his mouth and threw it behind him. He then wrote “ Pretty Bambi”, “ Angel face”, “ Strawberry whore”, “ Pretty girl”, “ Whore”, and “ Doll” on your upper body.

Once he was done writing it, you finally calmed down from your high and looked at the camera. Reiner wiped the snot off your nose and onto a towel they brought out the bathroom to wipe you down, “ Tell the camera who the pretty slut of the night is.”

You smiled and gargled around Colt’s cum into your mouth before finally swallowing it and letting out a loud breath, “ I’m { reader’s name}, nice to meet ya.”

Reiner smiled and pecked your lips, “ Let’s get you cleaned up, baby.”

ෆ ̟ ̇ ┈•ﾟ Tagging: @chosoist @honeybleed @simpingfor-wakasa @angelshub @bleach-your-panties @savagemickey30 and anyone else who would like to be tagged <33 ( please let me know if any of you don’t want to be tagged in my fics like that anymore, it’s not gonna stir up no hard feelings<33)

#aot smut #aot x reader #reiner braun smut #reiner braun x reader #eren yeager smut #armin arlert smut #jean kirstein smut #attack on titan smut #connie springer smut #floch forster smut #porco galliard smut #chubby reader #x black reader #smut #anime smut #anime x reader #angelshubnetwork #plus size reader #colt grice smut

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buckrecs · 1 year

Text

2022 Bucky Barnes Fic Rec 1

masterlist | req masterlist

All of them are COMPLETE Series.

✨ - fav fics

Status - Completed

✨sunrise from @wkemeup

Veteran!Bucky x Librarian!Reader

After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is discharged from active duty and sent back to civilian life. Left with a storm of unchecked guilt, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU)

parent-teacher conference by @coffeecatsandcandles

Single Dad!Bucky x Teacher!Reader

James Barnes, a widowed single dad, had forgotten what love felt like and let it crush him, taking his daughter, Rebecca, with him. He was cold, rude, and arrogant, being one of the few teachers at Westview High School the students seemed to absolutely despise. But when you show up, a hopeful math teacher who’d previously taught Rebecca’s kindergarten class, and are adored by your students and colleagues- James’s attitude starts to change.

whatever it takes by @wienerbarnes

Bucky x Doctor!Reader Doctor AU

The Avengers recruit you, a medical genius of sorts, to help solve the case of an agent who is dying from an unknown illness. You seem to catch Bucky Barnes’ attention.

seven thirty by @nacho-bucky

Single Dad!Bucky x Reader

You were planning on a productive — if lonely — weekend, but the little girl across the hall has different ideas about how you and Bucky Barnes should be spending your time.

call me when you want by @bonky-n-steeb

Bucky x Reader

When you call a sex hotline with a need to be dominated you don’t expect to meet (or hear) someone as wonderful as James. but your life becomes a complicated mess as you already love your coworker, Bucky Barnes. however, you are unaware that they are actually the same person.

steel blue by @youlightmeupfinn

Professor!Bucky Barnes x Reader

When you experience the most intense night of the summer alongside Bucky, who you nickname Steel Blue, you weren't expecting to fall pregnant. When a positive pregnancy test meets your eyes a few days before school starts, you know it belongs to the man who you'd never see again. Until you walk into your Romanian Linguistics class and he's your professor.

✨heart and soul by @all1e23

Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader

Alphas only brought trouble. The only thing they are good for is bringing their Omega’s pain and forced submission. They were dangerous, reckless and cruel. There wasn’t an ounce of kindness in any of them. She didn’t need an Alpha, and she certainly didn’t believe in that True Mates fairytale. That was just some fabricated fable Alphas made up to trick innocent doe-eyed Omegas. She wasn’t going to fall for that. Not again.No Alpha would ever get her to believe that love truly exists. And then, James Buchanan Barnes walked into her life.

✨astrophile by @all1e23

Firefighter!Bucky x Reader Single Dad AU

Orion Rebecca Barnes's favorite thing in the whole world (besides her daddy of course) is spending hours after school in the bookstore by her house and the owner GIVES her any book she wants; she’s the coolest girl Orion has ever met.

✨swallow by @all1e23

Biker!Bucky x Reader

Since he was fifteen years old, Bucky Barnes has only been sure of two things; the club should be the most essential thing in his life, and he’d burn it all down for you.

between the star by @all1e23

Bucky x Reader Past Steve x Reader Military AU

Struggling with the death of your husband, you find comfort in someone unexpected

the slip up by @justkending

Bucky x Single Mom!Reader

After a last hurrah to graduating college with a future to be a family practitioner, a little slip up happens… Seven years down the road, just when things just now seem to be going smoothly, Y/N approaches that slip up from all those years ago. She’s not looking for anything right now. She is just where she wants to be in life. It seems the universe has a different idea though. One called James Barnes.

✨the love club by @slyyywriting

Bucky x Mob!Reader

Bucky gets initiated into the mob life by accident. He wants out but only the owner can revoke his club membership.

the number one rule by @justkending

Bucky x Rogers!Reader

Y/N has always been seen as “Steve’s rambunctious sister.” However, she grew up, graduated, and moved to London to study abroad for 4 years and get her bachelor's degree. The girl that returns looks nothing like the teenager that left. But don’t worry, the attitude is still there and stronger than ever. What’s to come of the two grown adults that used to push each other's buttons, but now have a lot more in common than they’ve ever realized?

✨delicate edges by @wkemeup

Biker!Bucky x Florist!Reader

Your family’s beloved flower shop was not the only thing you inherited when your parents passed. Trapped under a mountain of debt to the Hydra club, you bear the cost of your father’s desperate bargain. It’s only in moments when the charming Bucky Barnes walks into your shop that you can forget the cruelty of the biker clubs of this town. But a war is brewing. The border is crumbling. You're trapped in the middle. And Bucky will stop at nothing to keep you safe.

not me by @simsadventures

CEO!Bucky x Wife!Reader

Billionaire/entrepreneur Bucky is married to seemingly timid and meek wife, the reader. While he hates her with all he has, she tried to act her part as the wife of the big CEO. And while their relationship falls apart more and more, they both realised there might be more to the story than they previously believed. Will they be able to repair the damage that’s been done, or will they find happiness in somebody else’s arms?

✨the perfect fit by @mypoisonedvine

Bucky x Tailor!Reader

bucky needs a new suit (or two) and gets a recommendation from his best frenemy, tony stark. of course it would turn out that you were his tailor, and further, that bucky would be an awkward stumbling mess as soon as he’s anywhere near you.

seeing red by @mypoisonedvine

Bodyguard!Bucky x Celebrity!Reader

bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself. except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.

the new recruit by @angstysebfan

Bucky x Reader

You and Bucky have a best friends with benefits relationship, since he is not the “relationship” type. Things go crazy when the new recruit shows up.

✨one last job by @sunriserose1023

Bodyguard!Bucky x Celebrity!Reader

Bucky Barnes is retired. He did a stint in the Army, did a stint as a Secret Service agent, even dabbled in the private sector, but that’s over. Now, he just wants to rest in the solitude he’s found in a cabin in the Adirondacks, with only his memories to get him through the sleepless nights.

✨pride and privacy by @adrinktostopyourthirst

Roommate!Bucky x Reader

Bucky works on himself as he gets used to a roommate. Turns out, she has a much better room than him and he crossed the line.

the right for you by @real-jane

Bucky x Reader Past Steve x Reader

steve leaves you to pursue a life with peggy. bucky is there to pick up the pieces, and build a life you never could've imagined in order to dream of it.

✨for the love of the game by @pellucid-constellations

College Athlete!Bucky x Reader

Bucky Barnes was a menace. NYU’s top baseball player, he was used to girls falling at his feet and could smooth talk his way out of just about anything. You hated him. He couldn’t figure out why. So when the novelty of weekend parties and quick hookups finally wore off—and his feelings for you began to grow—he made it his mission to fix it.

✨undisclosed by @pellucid-constellations

Lumberjack!Bucky x Reader

Desperate to outrun a secret that could cost you your life, you seek refuge in a small mountain town. Its deep forests and small cabins make it the perfect place to hide, but the travel website hadn’t mentioned anything about the quiet, burly lumberjack that wouldn’t leave your thoughts. No one had warned Bucky about you either.

fragments by @subwaysurf45

Bucky x Reader

You always had a soft spot for innocent people who were viewed as monsters, must have been something in your blood. Nothing changed when you were assigned as the new handler for the Winter Soldier, he had just killed his previous one and you happened to be there at the right time to fill in. But what happens when you meet him years later?

wrong choice right places by @mvtthewmurdvck

Mob!Bodyguard!Bucky x Reader

never wanting to work for him or protect his fiancé, falling for you was the last thing he should do—especially when his boss was zemo, who now ran most of the city.

✨mess is mine by @scrumptious-delusion

Boxer!Bucky x Reader

as a date night surprise, your boyfriend takes you to a boxing match. little does he know, one of the competitors is responsible for breaking your heart five years ago and an accidental encounter is about to send your whole world spinning.

no day but today by @buckysfaveplum

Bucky x Reader

He’s more than content to lock himself away from everyone in the cold emptiness of his apartment. However, the girl in the apartment above him seems to have other plans. The girl who paints on the fire escape and climbs down through his window. The girl who he can’t seem to get enough of.

✨southpaw by @gogolucky13

Boxer!Bucky x Reader

Tied up in the criminal world your godfather has built, you have no reason to leave, until you find one in the man they call Southpaw.

✨ghost of you by @gogolucky13

Bucky x Reader

Bucky has worked hard to come to terms with his past and enjoy the new life he’s been given. But his mind is still plagued by nightmares of what he’s done and by the face of an unknown woman. What happens when the team is tasked with recovering another Winter Solider, causing Bucky’s past and present to collide in the form of the woman from his dreams?

nostalgia for the new by @real-jane

Bucky x Agent!Reader

bucky meets you because of your exquisite taste in music, and he finds in you a solace he didn't realize was possible. you create for bucky something he's never found before: nostalgia for a time that hasn't happened yet, and hope for a future where he might be loved.

✨to have & to hold by @slyyywriting

Single Dad!Bucky x Mob!Reader

Bucky is trying his best to provide and care for his daughter who just entered first grade. Everything was alright until she asks why everyone else seems to have a mom except for her. You’re just a plain mob boss who wants to turn a new leaf. Challenges arise when the world refuses to let you take a softer, non-violent route. A little girl helps you navigate a compromise.(Single Dad!Bucky)

safe with me by @bitsandbobsandstuff

Bodyguard!Bucky x Reader

When an unknown threat enters your life, protection is offered at the highest level. As Bucky Barnes comes into your life, the game changes, and you realise falling for the man tasked with keeping you safe is the last thing you expected.

teacher’s favorite by @suitk0via

Single Dad!Bucky x Teacher!Reader

You are first grade teacher and Bucky is a single dad who wants to be involved with everything his little girl - Elaine - does. He’s the dad all the parent’s and faculty drool over. You quickly become Elaine's favorite teacher and Bucky's just gotta meet you.

✨stuck wit u by @slyyywriting

Bucky x Avenger!Reader

You and Bucky don’t get along. Your fights have become too destructive so Tony and Steve decide that enough is enough.

touch of ink by @deamstellarus

Tattoo Artist!Bucky x Reader

After a breakup with your ex, you decided to move to the small town where your long-time friend Sam lives, hoping for a change of pace and starting a new chapter in your life. You were prepared for a slower paced lifestyle, quaint diners, and a change of scenery. However, you didn't expect to be swept off your feet by two stunning pairs of blue-grey eyes.

✨paper walls by @writingcroissant

Neighbor!Bucky x Reader

Your apartment happens to be right next to Bucky's, heads only separated by a paper-thin wall, leading to you witnessing every second of his nightmares. Although, bonding over your late night conversations, you seem to forget that you never even saw him before.

✨leave this town by @avengerofyourheart

Mechanic!Bucky x Reader

Your dreams of kissing your small town life goodbye are about to come true when an unexpected detour leaves you stranded. Meeting the handsome local mechanic has you rethinking your plans. Perhaps happiness is less about where you’re headed and more about the people you meet along the way.

✨the world of our own by @shreddedparchment

Bucky x Reader Castaway AU

You and a man named Bucky crash land on a deserted island. Can the two of you come together and make it until rescue comes? After you begin to fall for the mysterious Bucky Barnes, will you even want to be rescued?

yours, mine, ours by @coffeecatsandcandles

Single Dad!Bucky x Single Mom!Reader

Bucky Barnes has been raising his girls, Rebecca and Winnie, for the last two years. He'd lost all hope of falling in love again until he met you, a pediatrician with two children of your own- Elliot and Willow. He falls in love and he falls hard, but the challenges of being single parents still weigh on you both at times. Luckily, you'll always have each other.

we’ll meet again by @coffeecatsandcandles

Bucky x Reader

You fell in love with Bucky Barnes in 1940. He was your everything, until he was taken from you. You’ll meet him again, just not in the way either of you expected…

✨run to me by @sgtjbuccky

Mob!Bucky x Reader

In where you’ve always had a habit of ending up in situations you shouldn’t, and when you caught the eye of the man who ran New York, Bucky Barnes, your life changed. They warned you about him, but the one thing they never warned you about was how you’d always want to run to him.

trick question by @nacho-bucky

Bucky x Reader Modern AU

It’s a weekly battle of wills for Bucky and the Reader, as they navigate the stunning pressure that is pub trivia. Can these obdurate opponents find any middle-ground?

the diner by @bolontiku

Bucky x Reader Modern AU

Working at a diner as a waitress, struggling to make bills and take care of the kid your sister left you, one night you meet James.

relax by @kinanabinks

Bucky x Reader

Things with Bucky are easy, and he's the sweetest guy you've been with. But when you throw in a bitter roommate and untold secrets, things get real hard, real fast.

old souls @thedevilwearsvibranium

Bucky x Reader

Your aunt runs an antique shop in the lower parts of Manhattan, and asks you to work in her shop once a week. You happily take the job, but then on your first day you have a strange encounter with an unusual customer - Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier. Things ensue as the two of you end up becoming friends - and maybe even more - as you reminisce about the old things that you love as well as your mysterious pasts.

breaking the rules by @redgillan

Bucky x Reader Modern AU

You hate James Barnes with a burning passion and the feeling is entirely mutual. Just when you think things can’t get any worse, you are tricked into attending his sister’s wedding as his girlfriend. Stuck with a bunch of strangers, you come up with a set of rules that are not going to last long.

time after time by @justsomebucky

Neighbor!Bucky x Reader

AU. When the reader’s parents divorce, her mother moves her to a new town, right next door to Bucky Barnes. This is their love story.

just a touch by @buckychrist

Bucky x Enhanced!Reader

Your powers? Controlling any feeling a human can have, from emotions to pain, with a simple brush of your fingertips. Your mission? The traumatized soldier with sad stricken eyes and scream filled nightmares.

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imarvelatthestars · 1 year

Text

Loveliness

Pairings: Clone Trooper Tai (from Kenobi) x f!Reader

Warnings: sex. That's right, beloveds, this is the chapter where they finally fuck! Porn with feelings, grinding, nipple play, fingering, finger sucking, love bites, hickies, unprotected p in v (bad form, I know), multiple orgasms, light hair pulling, squirting, a good mix of cute sex & sexy sex

Notes: I really just needed an excuse to use this gif. 🤷🏻‍♀️ Also, I accidentally posted it mid-edit, had to private to finish it, then public it, it was a whole fiasco. Apologies for any confusion!

@moodymisty - come get your Tai juice ;)

[previous chapter] [next chapter]

It's been two weeks; two amazing, beautiful, wonderful weeks. Tai has somehow managed to lift the doom and gloom of this miserable old planet just by being himself, by simply existing around you. From the moment you first kissed him, it's been one continuous high of giddy laughter and lazy afternoon snuggles turned into hot, heady make out sessions that turn your brain to mush.

It's been bliss, he's been bliss, and you wouldn't change any of it. But you want more. That's just the problem, though. You want all of him and you can tell he wants all of you, but you're a right pair, the two of you, and you're at an impasse because you're both too nervous to go much further.

The memory of two evenings ago is still fresh in your mind, even now on your way home from work. His broad chest under your splayed hands, your legs draped over his thighs where you'd straddled him, his scruff scratching pleasantly over your skin as you'd pressed kisses to chin, his neck, the lobe of his ear. The way he'd run his hands up the length of your spine, half dragging your shirt up with it, grunting softly into your hair, Maker, it was making you wet just thinking about it.

But then he'd bucked up into the apex of your thighs and you'd practically collapsed onto him, moaning so loudly that it took you both by surprise.

"Fuck, Tai," you breathed against his shoulder.

He'd gone still under you. You could still feel the vague shape of him hard on the inside of your thigh and ghosting against your warmth, and it sent a thrill through your entire body. Half drunk on pleasure, you dropped your hips just so and ground yourself into him. It was all you could think about, chasing after his body, after the arousal that was building so steadily in your stomach that you felt sure it would swallow you whole. You just wanted him and nothing else, just-

Tai's hands on your hips, firmly guiding you to stop moving, drew you from your reverie. Something was wrong, you immediately sensed it in the way his entire body had turned stiff. You drew back enough to look him in the eyes and frowned.

"What is it?"

He shook his head. Entirely unhelpful. So you watched him for a moment, studied the crease in his brow and the purse of his lips, noted the rising and falling of his chest and the pulse leaping out at his throat. He was still firm and warm under your thighs, but he'd shifted his groin away from you at some point.

Something awful began growing in your stomach in place of your arousal. Why was he pulling away? Had you touched or kissed him somewhere he hadn't wanted? Was he overwhelmed, maybe? Your chest felt like it was about to split open as an ugly monster reared its head in the back of your mind. Was he suddenly repulsed by you, by some part of your body?

Your throat threatened to close up on you. "Tai?" you whispered. "Talk to me."

"I just need a moment."

"Did I do something?"

His gaze was on you in an instant as a hand came up to cup your chin. "No. No, my love." There was that smile you loved so dearly, peeking out at the corners of his mouth. "It's me. There's too much going on in this old head of mine."

You wanted to press for more, maybe just enough to clarify that the problem wasn't you, that he wasn't stuck in his head thinking about how much he didn't want to touch you, but you were worried how the question might come across and you didn't want to bother him more than he already seemed to be. Maybe it was silly to feel so startlingly insecure, you reasoned, but Tai had never reacted to you like that before. You didn't understand it.

And so the two of you had settled for cuddling instead, his arm around your shoulders while you lounged for the last hour before he headed out for work.

Now, though, you're bordering on becoming a nervous wreck. You can see your apartment building through the neon haze of the street and it sends your heart leaping into your throat. Because he'll be there when you open the door. He'll most likely greet you with a kiss, ask you about work, and you'll spend some time together on the sofa before he's gone again. And then you'll go to bed alone, miserable, confused, and just a bit unsatisfied. You already did that last night, you're not keen to try it again today. Which means you'll have to have a discussion.

٠ ¤ ٠ ¤ ٠ ¤ ٠

He can't keep this going for much longer and he knows it, but neither can he quiet that voice that haunts him every time he touches you. The voice that tells him he's a lecherous old creep, a fool too old and too used up to be good enough for you, that tells him he's nothing more than cannon fodder, than a pair of bloodstained hands too red to ever deserve to touch you. That kriffing voice that makes him want to crawl into a hole and hide until you finally come to your senses and leave him.

But then he thinks about the first time you ever spoke to him. You were so stupidly nervous that you'd said nearly all the wrong things, but through his damaged pride and your embarrassment he'd managed to catch a glimpse of something, something that made you different from every other civvy who'd thrown credits his way. You'd been kind to him, been a friend when he had no one, offered up your home and then your heart. And now that things are progressing, you've offered him the rest of you.

Dank farrik, he's not sure he's ever wanted someone the way he wants you. Not a one of the cute civvies he met at 79's ever captivated him the way you do now. He wants to treat you right, romance you, lay you back on your bed and bury himself in you forever. Anywhere, any way you want him, for however long you desire. He just- fucking hells, he needs help getting there. He needs to get out of his own head.

The keypad at the entry chimes and his back goes ramrod straight. He runs a hand over his freshly buzzed head and sighs. He needs to talk to you.

There's a glassy look to your eyes. Tai's not sure if you're about to cry or not, but you look anxious at the very least. And you're not meeting his gaze properly, shifting about as you toe off your shoes and set your things down on the table.

"Hi." Your voice is timid, uncertain.

He nods. "Hi." Normally this is where he'd shuffle over and give you a shy, awkward kiss. But he can't find the courage to do that now, not with his stomach full of flutter-bys and his mouth full of cotton. "Good day at work?"

You head into the kitchen. "Long day." And he can tell that your voice is strained. "Might just go to bed early."

No, that's exactly what he doesn't want. He can't stand another night of this horrible tension and he doesn't want another night of fighting his desire to touch you the way you need. So he summons all of his GAR training, all the bravery and strength he once had on the battlefield, and he forces himself to stand. He can almost feel the ghost of his bucket under his arm, as if he's about to give a briefing. But you're not a soldier. You're you. His stance softens a bit.

"Can we talk?"

Your eyes are wide with panic. Shit, he's kriffing this up already?

"Sure," you nod with the worst attempt at a smile he's ever seen. "What's up?"

He can picture it now, the way Rex would be looking at him with that one raised eyebrow. Spit it out, trooper, he imagines he'd say. Fives would probably be laughing his ass off.

"I'm sorry. About the other night." It's easier to get the words out if he doesn't look at you head on, but it makes his heart beat double time. "It's difficult for me sometimes." Even as he's saying it, he knows it's coming out wrong and he wants to smack himself upside the head for it. He feels like a shiny all over again. "Not because of you. I get lost inside my head. I'm a soldier, born and bred, and my hands are covered in more blood than I'd care to admit. It doesn't feel right to touch you."

And while he does breathe a sigh of relief at finally admitting it out loud, it doesn't make him feel much better. Because now you know. Maybe you even agree with him. Maybe this is it.

The floor creaks as you shift in place. "I won't break, you know. If you touch me?"

Tai huffs a rough, humorless laugh and the truth stumbles out of him before he can take it back. "Like you'd want an old geezer like me to touch you."

Your tongue clicks disapprovingly. "Do you seriously still think you're some creepy old guy?" And there's some of that spark that was missing when you first came in. "I'd kick you out if I wanted to. If I was uncomfortable. For fuck's sake, Tai, I want you! I thought that was obvious!"

It was, he was just too drenched in his own pity to really see it. He knows he's a fool. He remembers how perfectly you fit against him that night in the bar, he remembers every breath and moan and aching sigh you've given him since your first kiss. He knows you want him for some unimaginable reason he'll never be able to grasp. And he knows that he wants you too.

He's across the room before he realizes he's even taken a step. He crowds you into the counter, one hand on the lip by your hip and the other boldly seeking out the curve of your waist. It goes straight to his pride (and straight to his groin) when he sees the way your jaw goes slack and your eyes go unfocused, all flustered by his proximity. He likes it when you do that. He likes that you like it. He likes that just being near you makes his mouth water.

Your breath stutters and fans out across his face as he dips his head down to yours. "Forgive me?" he asks.

You nod as if in a daze, tongue darting across your lips. "Yeah."

He claims your mouth tongue first, searing his heat across its seam until you part for him and he tumbles in with something guttural in his throat. Stars above, you're always so warm. Even if he never went further than this with you, he'd still crave your kisses like a man starved. He'd still take your face in his hands and prompt you to open up for him, still dive into the welcoming warmth of your tongue and your breath until there was nothing left in his lungs.

"I was worried," you gasp when he pulls away for a moment. You're looking up at him with wide, lust-blown eyes, but there's something vulnerable underneath it all. "I thought I'd done something wrong, or maybe you didn't want me anymore, I-."

His forehead falls against yours. "No. I want you." He traces a hand up your arm and can't help smirking when you shiver. "The things I want to do to you, girl. You'd run me off planet."

Your entire body shakes. Your eyes flutter shut and he feels your thighs shift against his as they press together. Oh, you liked that, didn't you?

"Shall I show you?"

٠ ¤ ٠ ¤ ٠ ¤ ٠

The path from the kitchen to your bed is a blur of clothes and bruising kisses. Tai's hands are everywhere, seeking out your skin and setting your whole body aflame in the process. Then his shirt is on the floor - yours is somewhere in the hallway with his pants, you think - and his hand is skimming the hem of your bottoms, and your head is spinning with desire. You need this man so desperately that it hurts.

You're still a little nervous, though. You shouldn't be. It's just Tai, after all. You trust him. You love him. It's still terrifying, still nerve wracking to expose yourself like this.

"Hey." Your hand presses into his chest to slow his descent to your collarbone and he immediately stops, eyes wide and flashing, waiting. You smile to reassure him. "I'm okay, we're okay, okay? I just. It's been a while."

His head bobs in understanding. "It's been a long time for me, too." Then his eyes dance away and you catch a glimmer of shame in the downward slant of his shoulders. "I'm not a young man anymore."

You know what he means. You feel similarly about your own body, it's not quite what you want it to be. "That's okay. I like you as you are."

Tai's nose rubs gingerly over yours. "Funny, was gonna say the same about you."

One of his large hands brushes over the upper swell of your stomach where his fingertips brush the bottom of your binder. You can feel yourself clench around nothing at this one simple touch. Already, he's breaking you down into a whimpering mess and he's not even properly touched any of your erogenous spots.

"This alright?"

Your response is the arching of your chest into his waiting hand. He grins and then your binder is rolled up. Your nipple is bare to him for a single second before he takes it between his fingers and rubs. Softly, reverently. And then he takes it into his mouth and you're done for.

One of your knees gives out as your brain short circuits, so you throw an arm around his neck to keep from collapsing. It just brings you further into his mouth and Maker, the sound of his tongue lapping at your skin, the smack of saliva - you're not sure if you'll last very long at this rate. He suckles, bites down just hard enough to make you jump, then laves his tongue over the bite before finally pulling back with a pop!

He doesn't say anything, but he's more smug than you've ever seen him. There's a flame burning in his eyes that threatens to burn you up and you've never been so willing to walk through fire. Whatever he wants, however he wants you. You'd sell your soul for him to touch you like this every waking moment of the rest of your life.

"Nngh, Tai." He's moved to your other breast, but kept a hand at the first one to continue tracing the shape of your areola. "Baby, just like that."

You've never called him that before. You can see the way his forehead wrinkles in surprise as he peeks up at you, your nipple still caught between his teeth. You're both frozen, assessing each other, hesitantly curious, until-

"Say that again," he rumbles.

A hand settles quick between your thighs and starts seeking out your clit, and for a long moment, your entire existence is blacked out by sheer pleasure. You shriek, head thrown back, and tremble into him.

"Baby...," you whine. You don't even recognize your voice. Surely that needy, pitched up mewl isn't you? "Please."

The pair of your drop unceremoniously onto the mattress with Tai's body caging you in. He's so big, he's everywhere, taking up every corner of your vision, his warmth spread out across the entire length of you. And then he's inside your clothes, pulling at them, yanking them off you while you try as best as your arousal muddled brain can to assist him. It's all a fog for a moment as you both struggle with your underwear, until suddenly they're gone and his bare skin is on yours and it's pure euphoria.

Your legs part for him on instinct and wrap around his waist. He fits in the empty space of you just right. His fingers are slipping down to the base of your opening to gather your slick and he teases your entrance for a moment, just enough to make you start to clench around the idea of him, before swiftly moving up and the moment he touches your clit is like entering another reality. Electricity jolts up your spine so you're arching into him, your mouth falls open, and the sound you attempt to make is so wrecked that it only comes out as a half-choked inhalation.

Tai shifts so his other arm is braced by your shoulder. "You sound incredible."

White hot fire spreads across your belly and the tension between your thighs starts to wind up. He thinks you sound good? He likes hearing you? You have to close your eyes to keep them from rolling back. Fuck. Fucking fuck.

You reach up for the back of his neck and press a sloppy kiss to his lips. "Wanna... wanna hear you too," you pant as he circles your clit. He's taking his time. "Bet you sound so sexy. When you're... you're fucking me."

Tai's head drops into your neck and his fingers falter, just for the briefest of seconds, before suddenly flicking twice as fast. Something akin to a yelp drags itself out of you as your orgasm suddenly starts barreling toward you like a freight transport.

"How d'you want me to fuck you?" and his voice is all gravel. The depths of his accent are somehow deeper now, rougher.

You wrap yourself around him as your body starts tightening, winding up more and more. You're so close, you can feel the explosion about to burst somewhere deep in your belly.

Your brain's so keyed up that you have no filter anymore, you say the first thing you can think of, and it's brutally honest. "However you want." The tension's about to snap. "However. Take what you want, Tai, I don't care, I don't care, please, 'msoclose-."

His finger curls across your clit just right, at just the right angle, and you shatter in his arms, mouth frozen in a silent scream as your orgasm rips its way through you. He just keeps moving, keeps caressing your clit through each wave like it's what he was born to do, keeps rumbling low in his chest as you keen and rock into him.

"How many of those are you gonna give me?" His mouth is right at your ear, his breath hot on your neck, and then he sucks on your earlobe and you can't even breathe.

It takes you a second to find the words, let alone remember how to speak them. "As many as you want."

He slips two of his fingers inside you with enough ease that it only takes him a few thrusts before he can add a third. Without the direct stimulation on your clit, this is manageable, it's not too much, which is truly a blessing in disguise because you want to feel the whole of his length inside you before you tap out. You want him to fuck himself into you until you can't tell where starts and you end. You can't do that if he wears you out too fast, so this casual pace, the thickness of his fingers stretching you open for him, it's just about right.

"Want all of you," you murmur against his open mouth. The bulk of his shoulder muscle moves under your hand as he finger fucks you. "Forever. Never want you to stop touching me."

The serious shake of his head is oddly endearing. "Could never leave you alone. Not after this."

You smile. "Besides," you sigh as he curls his fingers inside you and whispers against the perfect spot, "you have to show me all the- oh, fuck, right there. Kriffing fuck, Tai, right there." He's grinning and you want to kiss it right off him. "Hafta show me, uh, all the horrible things you want to do to me-!"

He's angled your leg further up his torso, opening you up a little more for him, and now his fingers are hitting you deeper than anything you can remember. Shit, you're gonna come again and he's not even inside you yet.

"That's it," he hums when your legs start shaking.

You're meeting every thrust with a roll of your hips, desperate, breathy, whining, absolutely falling apart. "Want you inside me, baby. Tai, Tai, fuck, I wanna... wanna..."

Lips on the curve of your jaw, sucking what you know is going to be a beautiful mark into your skin. "Shh. Give me one more. One more, my love. Then I'll fuck you right."

You give him two. He licks his fingers clean while you watch on, little more than a boneless lump of flesh after three climaxes. Your slick has started to seep onto your thighs. It's probably wetting the sheets by now and you honestly couldn't care less. You'd let this man ruin your bed in every way, sheets to frame, and you'd thank him for it. He could ruin your kriffing life and you'd still look at him like he was the galaxy itself.

Tai is gentle when he slips his length along the seam of you, gathering a bit of your arousal before he finally, blessedly pushes into you exactly where you've been aching for him for two blasted weeks. He doesn't hold back any of himself, doesn't hide the way he groans as you shudder around him, doesn't shy away from the obscene grunt that wrenches out of him when he bottoms out. He takes each of your legs in hand, grasping right behind your knees, and spreads them as far as you can stand.

"Take me so well," he hisses, his face all wrinkled with pleasure.

Your mouth lands on the tendon between his neck and his shoulder and in the haze of orgasms and fullness and the very scent of him, you can't decide if you want to kiss him or lick the sweat off him or bite him just to see what the fuck he'll do. You settle for all three. And it sends his hips bucking into yours with enough force to make your teeth rattle.

"Could live. Between your thighs." He's punctuating every thrust with something beautiful and profane. "Don't. Don't deserve you, sweet girl."

Even now though, blissed out as you are, you aren't going to let that slide. You fix him with the stubbornest little stink eye you can conjure up and grab hold of his shoulders as he fucks into you, strong and steady.

"Don't you dare. You have me, idiot. Willingly."

He raises an eyebrow in mock seriousness. "That so?"

Maker, he's so ornery. You find yourself wondering if he's always been this much of a shit. But with the way he's taking you right now, you can't recall what you had for lunch, let alone the past month and a half. But your irritation sneaks out anyway.

"Wouldn't let you fuck my cunt if I didn't want you."

His hand is in your hair faster than you can blink and suddenly your head is snapped back, your neck arched up as Tai growls, fucking growls into it. Your legs are almost pinned to your chest. The edge of his pubic pone is ghosting over your clit. Pleasure-pain is blossoming up the inside of your thighs, all the way to your cervix where his head is pressing into you, and he's muttering filth in your ear like there's no tomorrow.

"...to take you on every surface in this apartment. Bend you over the sofa. Eat you out on the table. Pin you to the wall and have my fucking way with you." And when you shudder against him so violently that your jaw hurts, he sucks another mark into your throat. "You like that, my love? Huh? You want a beat up old veteran that bad?"

You're grasping at the back of his head like it's your lifeline. You won't last much longer, you probably have less than a minute before your body completely breaks down. You're borderline delirious, but you manage to get your tongue working again.

"My old veteran." Right now in this otherworldly dimension of Tai and heat and skin on skin, you find it so stupidly funny that he thinks he's not worthy of you. He's such an idiot in this one respect. Doesn't he realize you're his now? "Favorite stupid old veteran."

"Watch it," he teases, but there's no bite. You can hear the laughter in it.

You laugh too. "What... 're you gonna do? Fuck me?"

One of his hands sneaks down between you and rolls your clit between his forefinger and his thumb, and you break with a caterwaul. There's a wet warmth seeping out underneath you and it should probably gross you out, but in the moment you think it's kinda nice. It's an intense, numbing, cozy sort of climax that renders you speechless by its end. And Tai's still buried in you, thrusting and thrusting until he finally whimpers and releases into you, and it feels right.

He's just right. You tell him so.

He smiles and kisses your cheek, then your lips, then the tip of your nose. "I love you, too."

#clone trooper x reader #clone veteran x reader #clone trooper veteran x reader #clone trooper tai x reader #kenobi clone trooper #clone trooper tai #star wars #i know i know my smut needs work. but i had fun and hopefully so did the rest of you!

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precious-little-scoundrel · 3 months

Text

Masters of the Air Fanfic

As requested by sweet @arianatheangel-girl and the subsequent poll for a “Buck Cleven Fic before the series comes out” -and I, being a madwoman with no impulse control and a faint recollection of the book, have delivered…this…whatever this is

Song Challenge: i was challenged by dear @the-ugly-swan for a twenty favored songs challenge and I’m gonna go ahead and make this part of it. August by Taylor Swift informed some of the bittersweet timeline here, with infidelity not being the enemy but rather the lack of possessing oneself fully during wartime to give to another

Spoilers: historical accuracy and inaccuracy abound here so, beware there are some biographical facts about Cleven in here that might count as spoilers to those who wish to watch the series with a blank slate. While to the history purists I must beg for a substantial amount of artistic license to be granted me, and obviously I’ve not seen the show yet and I crunched the timeline to my own will

Reader insert but without the use of “y/n” -I’m utterly fudging a bit on the likelihood of a WAAF lady being part of the American ground crew, however, I had in my minds eye the vision of a greasy mechanic and a glamorous flyboy and it wouldn’t budge, so shhh, go with the vibe

Warnings: mature, 18+. Fluffy smut was requested and while it is very brief and mild in here, not very explicit in phrasing, it’s quite present and a plot point so beware. Also, Virgin!Gale has my heart so we went with that. No shade to dear Marjorie irl, I’ll probably end up writing fics about her once the show gives me Inspo. Some angst due to war, POW’s, etc, mild language

Word count: a monstrous 12k

They came in like locusts at the height of summer, long prayed for, oft cursed in moments of perilous isolation, those ever so intriguingly shiny Americans.

Swarming with a metal buzz over the flatlands of East Anglia, big hulking beasts touched down on fresh tarmacs with more grace than anything that size ought to have, flashing the most bizarre and suggestive paintings on their gleaming fuselages. Flying Fortresses, they were called, and deserved the name. Nothing but the biggest, the loudest, the most alarming machinery would do for the American war effort, and now all this mighty strength was Britain’s too, no longer alone, no longer enduring.

Now the fight could be taken to the enemy in earnest. Out of their flying ships poured the most alarmingly young looking faces, jaunty hats and leather jackets, they looked every bit the sort of fellows war was advertised to.

Farmers in their tractors, mothers with daughters still under their command and RAF veterans all looked askance at such pristine warriors. Had their fertile fields been paved into airfields just for this? Were these gum chewing boys the long expected aid? It wasn’t anti-climactic, nothing American could ever be, it was all just alarmingly fresh. It was understandable then, the initial tentativeness the locals felt towards their new occupants, the way the boys took up such space in the rural villages, made such a racket in the pubs, chased every skirt that swished in the rainy summer breeze, stuck hands out for a shake no matter the introduction. They were a warm, boisterous and confident lot, all much needed attributes in wartime Britain, and soon, the initial distrust of the citizenry thawed, hands were shaken in return and invitations made. An amiable amalgamation eventually occurred, Norfolk never to recover or return to whatever placidity had been her’s before the arrival of the 100th.

Personally, you couldn’t wait to get your hands on them. The planes, that is.

Amalgamation was less a choice for yourself and your service members than a duty. It was abnormal, having a mixed ground crew, British and American servicemen too often clashing in hierarchy disputes for it to be standard, but with deployment rates so high and casualties mounting, ground crew became a case of whichever skilled individuals could be called upon to keep the operation running, the pilots up and the enemy bombed.

You were just glad to be near home, first time back since ‘39 when you’d signed up in the Women's Auxiliary Air Force -even if your rural hometown was now overrun with Americans. They weren’t a bad lot at all, at least not the ones you’d encountered so far on base. Amiable and unexpectedly eager, undeterred by veterans’ grim looks and tales of the woodchipper across the channel, that line of anti-aircraft that shredded anything trying to penetrate the continent.

“Better get crackin’ then.” Was the common response followed by a grin.

Your crew chief sergeant, Ken Lemmons, an American with a forelock of sandy ringlets and the patience of a saint, made the job easier even as every ounce of expertise was exacted from each man -or woman- under him. Feeding a fiery chain of bullets into the turret gun under a hot July sun, you thought your papa may have had the right of it when he tried to dissuade you from choosing the harsher duties of the Auxiliary Force. You could’ve been pouring over a map in the cool of the boardroom right now, or passing on radio messages, even shuttling planes would’ve been more relaxing, but no, you’d spent your life passing him tools in his garage, your papa had been building flying machines when most for these boys were still in diapers, and that path called to you, too. So for you it was grueling maintenance work and the ever present grime of grease on your hands and the awkward reach of twisted metal repairs. Gratefully, after their first mission, there were plenty of them back safe, however riddled their fortresses might’ve been.

It was interesting, the way certain of the flight crew treated the ships. Some were endeared but indifferent to their repairs while others hovered at each hole and tear, like over protective mothers, while you and your mates tried to do your jobs.

Why, one plane in the five assigned to your care was even named “Our Baby”. With such a moniker it made sense that its porcelain faced pilot would caress the shredded wing with a misty eyed frown at each wound, like it were a breathing thing, a race horse, a friend. You didn’t judge it, and he didn’t seem aware of his audience, he’d be back out there doing his own check up after debriefing. Never interrupting your work, always quick to step aside or duck out of the way of a ground crewman’s path, it wasn’t time to chatter or make introductions, although sometimes when the work took long and his reports longer, he’d be there to bid goodnight to you all, soft, American drawl saying “Goodnight, thank ya, goodnight, good work, thank ya” again and again to each.

You grew to recognize them, the ones each mission spared, there were so many and under hats and bundled in leather jackets they tended to blend together, but there were those who made their mark, if not on you then on Dorace in cartography and Eileen at the Red Cross. There was much tittering and speculation, after all, spread thin as their time was, there was also plenty of off time, made all the more charged and anxious as it came in the form of waiting for new orders. The men would be vibrating with nervous energy and generous in the flush of a recent victory and they took it out on the little villagers who in good British fashion took it on the chin and challenged them to a contest of good spirits.

Those were happy days, less anxious than the preceding ones and less heavy than those making up the year after. You dared be roped into the multiple pub crawls, often choosing the most sensible and quiet of the group as your victim and attaching yourself to their side for the evening. This tactic had its fallibility, sometimes those moderates were such a bore as to be unsupportable or hadn’t enough verve to make a full night of it and retired early like respectable, curfew-abiding saps. That’s how you found yourself one night ensconced in a beer pungent corner of Flaggen’s, green leather seats sticky under your palms, with Major Egan fanning out a wad of cash in front of you. It was a blatant attempt to bribe you to clear his aircraft sooner than the last inspection suggested.

“Suggestions” was Egan’s term for regulations.

If you were less tipsy you wouldn’t have giggled at the man’s idiocy, but his arm was heavy around your shoulders and this very cash had bought you one too many gin and tonics. “These regulations keep you alive!” You chided him, shaking your head and feeling the room tip as you did. Truly these Americans could hold their liquor, almost as well as the Polish Squadron when it came to a binge.

“A little flack isn’t gonna keep her down.” he scoffed, “I’ve been grounded for a week now-“

“-I don’t have the authority-“

“-and I’m not gonna sit here while Buck goes up and racks up his number!” Eagen was vehemently slurring and your drunken mind tried to process who Buck was, if not Egan himself.

“Aren’t you Bucky?” you asked, bewildered.

-Americans and their nicknames.

“Yeah.”

“So who’s Buck?” you concentrated very hard on the ancient coaster beneath your latest pint.

“It’s Buck! It’s Gale, Cleven, Major Gale Cleven!” Egan waxed louder and more dramatic with each addition. “You keep clearing his plane! But not mine! Why’s that, huh?”

“How do you know that?” you asked, dubious and only in the raucous of this little pub would his loud voice go unheeded. Compared to the ongoing dart game to the left behind the half wall, an elephant’s trumpeting would be considered bashful.

“ ‘Cause he tells me?” he replied, bewildered at your slowness, “Says you and your crew are little fairies, crawlin’ all over his plane and patching it up better than ever after each mission. And then you clear him. Simple as that.”

“I don’t have authority to clear anyone.” you repeated.

“Huh,” Egan grunted, “how’does he mean then?”

“I don’t know.” you replied firmly, “I doubt I’ve even got your plane, i don’t see you around.”

“I don’t stay around, that’s your job, patching up. I just fly the damn thing.”

“Oh, well.” you shrugged, “I’ve had five, it’s down to three after last mission.” Three years ago the mention of that ratio of losses would’ve sank your mood to the floorboards, by now it’s horrifically routine. “What’s yours called?”

“Mugwump.” he grinned proudly, a flash of white beneath his dark mustache, the man’s face positively shimmered with sweat.

“Serial?” you asked demurely, just to be difficult.

He squinted his eyes shut briefly, head tilted back as if to ask the heavens for help and the recited in a drill master’s staccato “42-30066, ma’am, yes ma’am.”

You giggled again and Egan’s arm jostled your shoulders, smushing you further into him. They were good fun, these boys, didn’t even mind your horrifyingly unflattering uniform with its bulging pockets adding bulk where your curves should take center stage and your stupid pleated cap making you look to be half baker, half doll. You preferred your plain navy coveralls but you’d hardly be let into an establishment in them. Egan’s warm arm didn’t seem to mind the excess poof of the material, he smashed it right down with his hand’s firm grip, he was fun, you decided, no harm in good fun. “Alas, not one of mine.” you sighed, focusing hard on the serial number.

“Damn.” he swore, playing at dejection.

“No,” you went on, “but I’ve got this one, a very spoiled one, maybe you know whose it is. They named it ‘Our Baby’!”

Poor manners and personnel etiquette though it was, you couldn’t say it without tittering.

Egan didn’t laugh, he just looked at you like you’d proved his point. “Yeah,” he replied vehemently, “That’s Buck Cleven’s!”

“Oooh.” -So it was him, the fighting cherub, the walking doughboy, toothpick, baby at wings: there were a dozen or more nicknames you and the ground crew gave the wing-petting Major behind his back. “He always says goodnight to us.” you said instead.

“Is that where he is when I wanna go for a drink?” Egan exclaimed, “Ha! You’d think he was married to the ole ship.”

“He handles her beautifully.” You feel oddly compelled to defend, he’s a master at flight and as someone who must repair each fault of his landings and his leavings and his missions, you feel some loyalty to his finesse. “He handles her so well.” you repeat in the tone of a woman who’s seen some aviation in her time, young though you may be.

“Well let me let you into a lil secret,” Egan smirks and you brace without knowing why, he is, after all, not the respectable and dull men you choose to go out with, he is the dangerous sort you bring those dullards along to deter, “shes the only ‘she’ that boy has ever ‘handled’ -if ya get my drift.”

The sleazy wag of his eyebrows leaves no room for ignorance, you feel your face heat up, wether in prudery for the topic or second hand embarrassment for his friend’s sake, you don’t know.

“Nothing wrong with that.” you reply coldy, only to distance yourself from the road his body language seemed to be hurtling you both down.

“Quite right. Nothin’ at all!” Egan agrees vehemently, his smile easy and his eyes clever “But I’d be a poor friend if I didn't try to remedy his predicament.”

“Telling me is somehow part of this remedy?” you were suspicious, rightfully so.

“Maybe.” Egan drawls it out, shifting in his seat to no longer corner you, his attention drawn to the nearby dart game. The man of the moment, the subject, the handler of planes and none else, was not here. He had such a luminous head of golden hair, it would be a beacon amongst the muddy haired crowd flinging darts. “The thing of it is, dear,” Egan confided, “I've had an absolutely marvelous time since I got here. And I think that’s rather essential, for sanity and for international relations, don’t you? I’ve gotten to know all sorts of wonderful people, lovely people like yourself-“

“-word is, you’ve known them a little too biblically, no wonder Cleven avoids your outings.” You could not help but temper him. “Half of Great Britain has had the privilege, if some are to be believed.”

“And so what if I have? I love dancin’!” he laughed quite happily at your barb and you didn’t have it in you to pull down any further a man who was sacrificing so much day in and out. “Getting to know Great Britain is a better occupation than pettin’ plane wings under the moonlight.”

You tittered again at his words and the oddly endearing memories you had of watching Major Ceven petting and whispering to his plane like she was his long-standing beloved, loitering ground crew unheeded. “He does do that.” you agreed.

“Hey, everyone’s got their method.” Egan insisted in his friend’s defense, “But I have told him, it’s good for the morale to mingle, even if he hates drinkin’.“

You pucker your face at that. “I know he mingles, Violet says he’s a doll when he goes to market.” you point out, small town chatter gets around and while you can’t say you know Cleven, you know he’s mild mannered and precious. And a terribly pretty face too, which isn’t fair, he oughta be an ass which a face that cute. “And he got a tan from somewhere last week.“

“Oh, so ya noticed!” Egan is triumphant, “A bunch of us used our day passes to go messin’ around in boats on the canals.”

“Good for you.” you didn’t know what else to say. “Why are we talking about him? What’s your point? I can ask for your plane to be transferred to my crew, but it won’t get you a sloppy clearance. And if your friend is so socially awkward he can’t even manage a pub night, you can hardly expect me to be flattered that you consider me prime material to throw at him.”

“He’s not awkward.” Egan cut to the chase quite serious, in mission mode, “Buck just had his hopes tangled up back home, and now he’s here he’s finding it hard to accept that hopes were all they were. She’s real moved on.” Well that had hurt, you winced in sympathy. “I warned him, everything during this war has got to be taken as a bit inpermanent. Don’t fall in love with Texas girls when you’re headed to England -via: Louisiana, Indiana, hell, by New York she’d stopped writing.”

“And now the texas girl has-“

“-found a Texan, I guess.” He shrugged and chugged the last of his pint. “She’s gettin’ married, it's really over. So, -“ he made a broad gesture as if to explain his reasoning for this entire segue. “-you like projects, you wouldn’t be in the line of work you’re in if ya didn’t, so whaddya say?”

You looked around the dimly lit pub in search of two things, sunny blonde hair and a clock to tell you how badly you were going to regret this night, come morning. “He’s not even here.” you balked.

“Well, no-“

“-what I say is,” you grinned at him disbelieving, “you owe me another gin and tonic for subjecting me to such inane chatter.”

His grin should have served as warning enough that he would neither drop the subject nor let you off free this evening. In fact, the ticking clock and its late curfew breaking hours became the least of your concerns come morning. The cool wash of bitter juniper blended into the pungent flow of beer, it blurred everything, soon there was a great swelling of pride for your native village, a pub crawl was on, all three visited and drank from, an army Jeep was requisitioned without authority, there was some incident regarding a policeman‘s helmet. The latter being the reason why you found yourself in “jail” the next morning, nursing a raging headache and questioning life decisions while glaring at John Egan’s polished boots.

There was very little talk about bail or Air Force hours being exceptioned, the more pressing concern to the Bobbies who had nabbed you was the coed holding cell. Thorpe Abbotts was a small place, after all, and you liked it that way. If this overly indulgent night could be kept away from the military police, all would be well.

You had one hope: Harry Crosby was sensibly absent from the holding cell, having a keen sense of when to depart from the raucous joyride at the precise moment to save himself a demerit. It was an extreme embarrassment to you that you’d not had the same sense. In fact, fond as you were of a bit of a knees up, you couldn’t quite credit the fact you had allowed yourself such free reign, or accomplished such foolishness. Glowering at Major Egan’s face now, animated with delighted chagrin at your shared plight as it was, you vowed to never again hook your fortunes to his, as it were.

Your resolve, and humiliation, was about to be compounded, exponentially.

There was a bustle of a visitor entering the precinct, easily heard in the small space, followed by the low hum of mild mannered conversation. It went on for sometime, and no amount of straining at the bars and cocking of ears would allow you, Egan or your fellow misfortunates to ascertain the gist of it. Violet’s husband was the main constable, and you were quite certain he’d be moderate in his sentence, he had his helmet back, after all. It was the Air Force penalty of not being on base in time this morning that you feared, a growing nausea that compounded the misery of your aching head. They’d not discharge Egan, they’d probably not even demote him, he was too crucial and he’d done this one too many times for it to be grace alone saving him. When he was needed, really needed, he was there. That’s what counted. The same could be said of you, but that hardly mattered given your low rank.

Violet’s husband, also known as constable Herbert, came in sight and with a jangle of keys and a tap to the side of his nose, swung open the bars of infamy and gestured for you and your fellow inmates to file out.

“All sorted.” He declared. His gaze lingered on you as it had many times in your life when you’d been caught jumping in puddles after church, “Let this be a lesson and a warning to you.”

You tried your best at both obeisance and penitence, both of which were rather natural feelings at the present time, while hurrying past as fast as was respectful, your approaching shift hours making your heart thump in panic.

On the steps outside, your savior was loitering against the wrought iron fence, thumbing at the petunias in the nearby window box. Gale Cleven was a mile long of lanky body in perfectly pressed and tailored Air Force greens, fresh faced as the good conscienced are, hair combed without his cap and a smile on his soft face that was composedly long suffering, rather than endeared, as he watched you miscreants pour out of the modest brick building.

You stumbled to a halt on the first step at the sight of him and allowed your instincts to take over, hands smoothing down hair and skirt with frantic self consciousness. You must’ve looked a rumple.

“I hope last night was worth it.” Cleven drawled in that voice of his, so oddly deep for so fresh a face, his placid smile growing into something more genuinely mirthful as Egan smooched at him in gratitude and swore that he knew his Buck wouldn’t abandon them, that his Buck would pull through for them. “I order a round of toothpaste for everyone and cold showers, you stink.” Gale shied away without any real effort, nodding in greeting to the boys he recognized.

Then, as if in the most painfully slow motion with all the strong string accompaniment of a silver screen scene, his eyes landed on you and an odd ache formed in your chest at the anticipation of his disapproval.

It made you tense and draw yourself up to your full height, looking about as regal as a drenched bantam in your disheveled dignity, but you weren’t about to be relegated to another tier than these boys he so amusedly indulged.

“Y’all know what time it is?” he asked mildy, those azure orbs with their batting dark fringe didn’t waver and you realized he indeed had more guts than you’d given him credit for.

There was a chorus of “no”s and various guesses based on the fast evaporating fog and the lightening sky.

“Zero five thirty.” he ended the suspense with the cock of an eyebrow at you.

“Shit!” Egan was suddenly animated, “Shit, shit-“

“Hey, you keep your swearin’ away from my sweet lil corporal.” Cleven chided, and it took you a brief moment to startle upon realizing he meant you. And he thought you sweet? “C’mon Miss,” he waved you down the steps and for some inexplicable reason you felt very compelled to obey and suddenly stood beneath his gaze like a dutiful child awaiting deliverance or censure, “I’ve only got this bike, petrol allotment ran out when we went to the canals last week. But it’ll get ya back faster than this lot. Reckon you can manage on the handlebar?”

“Wha-?“ you glanced sideways at the bike with its large, sweeping handlebars and second guessed his meaning until he himself was straddling it. His legs required the seat to be hiked up impossibly high and the narrow nip of his waist was accentuated by the posture. Those padded, fleece puffed jackets you had seen him in had done no credit to his form, a toothpick he may have been with how terribly lean he was, but he was firm in all the right places. He was also waiting on you to answer while you ogled him.

“Gosh yes, I can, if you’re sure? Awfully kind of you.” you blathered and moved in a hurry to make up for your stalling, keenly conscious of his eyes on your back as you shimmied your backside up onto his handlebars, feeling the warm press of his hand as he helped steady you from tipping all the way back. You wiggled on the thin metal bar, spreading your legs on either side of the front wheel and doing your best to ignore the raucous commentary of the still tipsy audience of your fellow inmates swaying on the precinct steps. “Y’all just be glad there’s no mission scheduled today.” he snarked to them instead and they chimed up that last night’s idiocy was calculated with that in mind.

“Huh.” Cleven uttered, unimpressed, behind you and it made you shiver, worse than if your father caught wind of this stunt. “Darlin’ put your hands over mine, s’gonna get wobbly takin’ off.” he directed next and you did as you were told, looking back over your shoulder at him with a grateful smile that you were relieved to see returned, pink lips stretching and a freckled nose bunching up sweetly when all of the sudden a rush caught you by surprise and the bike was in motion and you whipped your head back to view the street as it rushed up ahead of you. “See ya boys!” he hollered out as a mutinous babble rose from his friends at being left to jog back.

The young man could put some speed on a bike, uphill too. Or, as much of a hill as could be found this far East. You could hear him chuckle when you squeaked at the first jolt of a pothole, your thumbs hooking under his hands and curling into his palms. They were warm and calloused, dry from the cool breeze and you may have imagined the way he squeezed them in assaurance but you did not imagine the way his voice piped up again, smooth and conversational: “Harry told me if I was quick I could get you out in time, I think we’re gonna make it. S’dont worry, even if Sergeant Lemmons gives ya trouble, I’ll insist.”

“That’s really too kind of you.” The chill of windburn and a substantial amount of remorse made your cheeks glow scarlet. “All of it is. I’m rather ashamed.”

“I didn’t take you for an all nighter sort.” he agreed but followed it with a soothing compliment, “You’ve always been nothin’ but perfect. P-p-perfectly punctual, I mean, and there’s no reason to let Egan’s idea of fun ruin your record.”

“Wasn’t his fault. Not wholly.” you sighed, giving Violet a bashful wave as you passed her opening the shop, a wave which Cleven mirrored behind you and between the two of you letting go the bike, it nearly dumped you both. It was luck and sheer persistence that righted you and kept your balance. “I’m afraid it’s a bit of a bad habit, picked it up at Northolt.”

“Where’s that?” he asked.

“South, by the coast.” you said, unsure why you felt the need to explain your debauchery away, “I was working a ground crew down there for a bunch of Polish Pilots. Spitfires mainly. That squadron nabbed the most kills of any in the RAF back in ‘40. Why, even Churchill visited more times than I can count, he found them good fun. Too much fun, they never went to bed without downing half a barrel. There was dice built into the bottom of the pints at the Black Bull, rather addictive, rolling to see who would buy the next round. —There was always a next.” You added upon reflection.

That was also the year you had lost your brother. The correlation between the habit and the loss wasn’t to be dwelt on.

“Huh,” Cleven let out one of him contemplative hums, “and how do we compare?” he asked surprisingly.

“How?” you laughed, daring to crane your neck back to see him in the early morning sunshine, pretty and sweet and arch in his expression. Dusk had not done his mama’s work on his face any justice, it made you want to pant he was so pretty.

“I dunno, in any way,” he laughed in turn, not even breathless as he sped the bike over the cobblestones, the village barely awake and mostly quiet, “how do we compare?”

“To the Poles?”

“Or the French. Or your own, the RAF ain’t no joke.” he amended, “Whoever is our competition.”

“So it is a competition.” you smirked -how very American of him. “Depends,” you hedged playfully, “Our boys are so very nice, familiar, they never run out the right coinage during a date either. But the French are better flirts while the Dutch are better dancers. But the Poles, they know how to romance. Lots of hand kissing and flowers, so many flowers there had to be rules made for overstocking the billet.”

“Sounds like we gotta step up our game.” he decided.

“Is that what you meant? How you compare? First impressions?”

“I-I- guess, yeah.” he now sounded confused, “I mean, what else? You got scores for aircraft?”

“I do.” you replied, as it was true, “But that’s unfair, you’ve only just arrived. I thought maybe you wanted to know something more -salacious.”

“Like?” His tone behind you was guarded and you doubted if the alcohol of last night were not still buzzing and fortifying your brazenness, that you’d ever go through with what you said next.

“Other performances. For instance, in bed.”

You felt his fingers flutter around the bars beneath your own, you gripped them tighter, not just because the stretch of old road before the air base was ancient and pitted but because you were in an agony of suspense as to how he’d take your forwardness.

“There’s a record of that somewhere?” he asked at last, a beat too long, too delayed for casualness, too morose for flippancy.

“In fact there is.” you responded carefully. “A little diary of rankings, actually, there’s multiple and whenever there’s a grand assembly of the WAAF or the WACs, they’re passed about and tallied.”

“Sweet Jesus.” he swore behind you, “And here I’ve been chalkin’ up railways and munition dump targets like they’re some achievement.”

“Oh it’s all a bit of silliness.” You assured, not intending to make him glum.

“Do-“ he hesitated and you prayed for strength for him to spit it out as the airfield came in sight on the flat plain ahead. He didn’t.

“-Do I what?” you prodded softly.

“Are one of these little tallies yours?” he asked miserably.

You grinned to yourself and felt the sunshine seemed brighter and the air crisper than ever before as it rushed in your face with the slowing speed of his bike. “No, not in the least. I merely keep track of Sally’s ledger. It’s all a bit too -messy, for me.”

You dared peak behind you again and he looked relieved, then blushed furiously at your observance of him. “Well, who does Sally say is winning?” he dared.

“Romania.” you chortled and he did too, in shock if nothing else. “But Egan’s caught wind of it, he’s quite determined to save your country’s dominance, you don’t need to sweat it.”

His frown was back and you had to focus on not falling off as he slowed the bike to a halt, momentum precarious as his long legs kicked out and walked it the last yard to the segregated barracks, you felt his hand again on your waist to steady you. “Does that bother you?” he asked earnestly, sorrow in his blue eyes.

He offered a hand for you as you hopped down and it was you who held onto it long after it was needed. “Bother me?”

“Yeah, him -consortin’…with Sally?” he pressed, hands quite engulfing your one, “Does it hurt you? Bucky, see, he doesn’t mean to hurt, he’s just so-“

“-Blimey, you are a dear.” you marveled and then amended your interruption as your amusement only further creased that sweet face, “If I am ever again in Major Egan’s company, it will only be to escape it just as quickly. I’ve had quite enough of…consorting.”

“That so?” The lackadaisical confidence he exhibited outside of the precinct was back again, a not unattractive smirk plastered on his vulnerable face, a scheme in his guileless eyes. “Had enough of holding cells?”

“Quite.” you smirked back. “A quiet family dinner is more my style, the occasional picnic, even a zip round Oxford as one must show the foreigners about.” you paused and squeezed his hand once more, “And I do enjoy a bike ride.”

You did not know if he cataloged your preferences for an ideal date or not, life was busy, after all, and the momentary frolics in the July sunshine and banter on the tarmac and evenings in the pub were the exception. Time went on. Most of life was spent in the air, in his case, and in yours, beneath the belly of his beast, wrench in hand. But ever after his gallant rescue of you, there was more than the passing “goodnight” paid to you, there were cheerful smiles on his exhausted face when he returned from a mission, as if you were the one face he was coming back to. With an old familiar dread you noticed the way you begin to take each hole and dent and damage to his plane personally, as if it had been exacted on something precious to you. You have begun to care, for him and for his men, and your tired heart could barely do more than dread what that might lead to.

Good fun. That’s what these boys were supposed to be.

Gale Cleven hadn’t proven much fun. And somehow that was worse. It was worse and also unbearably honoring to be the last face he saw before taking it off, flags in your hands waving in front of his hulking bomber, giving the old familiar directions for a perfect takeoff, one he executed sublimely time and again. His sober, purposeful nods to you before he engaged and taxied out for a mission of death was more intense and intimate than any bouquet or even, your thought, a kiss. It was true the donut dollies on the sidelines were often the last faces of home that many of those boys would see. But in the his cockpit, looking down at your shrimp sized figure on the tarmac, both Major Cleven and you knew that for him, it was yours.

Once, there was a scare, in the first days of august. More than a scare if you were being honest, your heartbeat about stopped and didn’t pick back up for a few hours until word came in. The rest of the base wasn’t much better.

Ten planes had not come back. -Among them, Our Baby. And Mugwump. For two officers, so crucial, so senior, idolized and beloved as they were, to not return, was a blow like none other. You weren’t alone in hovering around the control shack, taking license of your friendship with Dorace to get a play by play of any news. When news came, such as it was, it was both relieving and exasperating.

It would seem there was some problem, a defect or too great of a hit. Orders to land in enemy territory were ignored, however, by Cleven no less. He had doggedly pushed on, safely landing them in allied Africa, of all places. It took almost a day for this information to finally be pasted together, by the end of it you were sad, haggard and half useless in your coveralls, stupendously relieved for a man you were supposed to feel professionally about.

Instead, that night, tucked in your own bed after a meal with your parents and little brother, you thanked God for keeping him -them, all of them- safe. And found yourself pondering the tan on him when he got back from his African foray. Some jealous part of you feared he might be kept there but a week later the thunderous hum of approaching bombers buzzed the air overhead of Thorpe Abbotts and the satisfying thwump of wheels touching down brought them back. There was a frenzy of greetings, flight and ground crew eager to welcome them back, the radio operators, too, and even the civilians who’d managed to get on base.

Your little brother among them. Donald wanted to see them back safe and it wasn’t dangerous, and it wasn’t dire, not returning from a mission the planes wouldn’t be in such poor shape. They’d been repaired in Africa, enough to fly them all the way back to England. So little Donald was nearby and when the crowd parted and a bee-line for Cleven became apparent, he took advantage and gave the young man a firm handshake in greeting.

“Hey buddy, thank ya, who do you belong to?” Buck laughed while returning the firm grip.

“I’m her brother.” Donald pointed you out proudly among the dispersing crowd and you rolled your eyes at his expectancy for Gale to know or care about you, more than your most pertinent work on base.

“Oh are ya now, hers, huh?” he grinned at you, “Been talkin’ about me?” he greeted, there was a still healing scrape on his left temple that your fingers itched to soothe. How badly had he hit his head?

“Of course I have.” you defended, happiness bubbling under your lips and threatening to make you smile more than was professional, you could see Sergeant Lemmons observing you from the side and tried to keep some decorum. “We thought you’d died.” You stated plainly, it wasn’t any secret to Donald, as soon as the plane had gone missing and before radio contact had been reestablished, you’d rushed home and made the family pray over supper.

“We’ve been praying for you.” Donald agreed, and you saw Cleven startle, a gasped intake of breath between those lush lips and his eyes seemed to water as he searched first your brother’s face and then your own.

“You have?” he choked out, raspy and touched.

“Yes.” you whispered, mouth twisting in a ugly grimace to hold back your own emotion. It was of little use, something beyond War Effort investment in his well being had been admitted. “We thought you might be dea-“

-you didn’t finish your reiteration of your dread. Your face, a greasy and mist spattered face, was suddenly smushed into the padded leather of his bomber jacket, nose tucked right into the fleece apex where his pale blue scarf always rested on his throat.

He was hugging you, you realized with delayed surprise.

“-even though it made the potatoes cold, Da insisted on prayin’ every night after she told us-“ Donald was waxing eloquent on his own sacrifices of having one added prayer request lengthening his mealtime but you were oblivious to more than the firm press of Cleven’s still gloved hand to the back of your scarf wrapped head, some strong emotion shuddering through his body against your own. A tremor of terror and pain, you suspected, emotions he’d been suppressing all week.

After all, the saved weren’t supposed to be shaken up. They’d been saved, what was there to be off about? You’d seen enough pilots after a close call to know it was every bit as bad or worse than actual disaster. They’d send him right back up again in days, and that was what was expected, demanded, required. He was tremoring against you and you gripped him tighter, sympathetic and aching to cure it somehow. Even for a moment.

“We’ll keep praying.” you assured, and you heard him clear his throat, snotty and rough. “Oh, blast, I’ve positively greased your jacket.” you mourned as he let you go, finally, and you caught sight of the mess your filthy hands and face had imprinted on it during the embrace.

He chuckled as he looked down at the imprint, “S’fine.”

After such an exchange of emotion the air felt charged between you two, without privacy or precedence, it felt unthinkable to linger in that mood. You turned to his plane and pet the fuselage with unstudied fondness, it had been horrid having the old bird absent. You were not above having favorites and the love he poured into his ship, somehow, like some old fairytale truism, made the hulking metal beast lovable, in turn. “How’s our baby, hmm?” you asked him, giving him a sly smile and he took your proffered out seamlessly, joining you in cataloging the damage that had not been deemed severe enough to hamper his return.

“Don’t crawl under here, sir!” you protested as you wiggled under the belly only to find him beside you in the plane’s shadow, “You’ll be a mess!”

“I’ve already got stains.” he brushed your worries off, and you knew it was true. Bloodstains in fact. He had lost a man, the report said, and apparently, judging by his trousers, Buck had held the poor fellow as he bled out. “And I wanna show you the spot I’m worried ‘bout.”

“Alright.” you conceded, allowing him to direct you to the nose. “Watch it Donald!” you had to reprimand your little brother who predictably followed after, “You’ll burn yourself if you touch that, this thing was just running.”

“Careful buddy.” Gale echoed gently beside you and pushed his little head down, more into a crawl. You refused to allow the gentle way he treated the brat to warm you, you refused. Or at least, you refused to let it show, the tingle and heat you felt being all too consuming to be denied.

He was lovely. But you already knew that. He was even more lovely when, upon crawling out from under Our Baby, he took his scarf from around his neck, silk decadently soft, flesh warmed and smelling strongly of his exertions, and swiped it across your greased cheek.

“You’ve got just a lil more…” he practically mumbled and wiped down to your chin, firm, gentle little rubs of the silk which required his other hand to grasp your chin to steady you. You weren’t sure when he’d taken off his gloves, but the feel of his skin on yours was heady.

“It’ll take a couple days.” You predicted regarding the repairs, “Which means you’ll have a few days free, if they don’t drown you in reports.”

“Oh they will.” he laughed, “But s’long as my days are free, means yours aren’t.” he pointed out.

“I guess that’s true.”

“We shoulda thought of that when we chose this line of work.” he joked and your cheeks flamed at the realization he wished to spend time with you. “But you’ll have your nights still, yeah?”

Coming from anyone else, the request for your nights to be reserved would strike you as suggestive indeed. But this was Buck, and when he mentioned nights you imagined nothing but taking him home for a tepid potato and rationed powdered milk supper and the warm reception of your family. His weary eyes suggested how badly he needed that. You could give it to him, and it made your heart glow.

“Yes, I’ll have my nights.” you agreed, “And you can have them, too.”

Sergeant Lemmons agreed with your estimation of Our Baby’s damage the following day and four long days after were spent patching up damage that suggested what a hellish ride that must’ve been. Someone else hosed the blood out of the bay but it turned the puddle on the concrete beside you sickly pink.

To and fro from office to barracks to observation tower, Cleven would stop by to see his ‘baby’ on these occasions. The heckling the ground crew gave you regarding this potential double meaning was agonizing and almost made his attentions not worth it. But then he’d be dropping to a squat to chat with you as you soldered metal, heedless of the sparks, or else bringing scones from the mess to refresh you and, again, wiping your face often with his fancy scarves despite your protests that it was futile.

And at night, on the second day, you made good on yours and Donald’s word and brought him to dinner. It was a quiet walk from the base to the end of the long main road, right to the outskirts of the village, where your family’s unassuming little thatched cottage nestled amongst mama’s victory garden, daddy’s aeroplane hanger and repair shop loomed ugly and dark behind.

The look on Buck’s face when you met him outside the base’s gate at seven in the evening in a dress and heels was worth capturing. But you hadn’t a camera with you and it wasn’t like you were liable to forget. His pure look of awe and appreciation for your cleaned up and girlish state was nearly comic if it weren’t so flattering.

“Darlin-“ he began in a rush but did not finish, only taking you lightly by the fingertips and spinning you slowly, his eyes wide like he was seeing a marvel, which, maybe he was, -your womanly form finally liberated from puffy uniforms and ugly coveralls. Wholesome as your intentions were for the evening, and indeed for him in general, it was some relief and delight to know he was capable of getting hot under the collar. His mama’s well drilled manners soon caught up to his unbridled appreciation and a deluge of charmingly proper compliments rained down on you next until you had to put a stop to his babble by tugging him down the road with the reminder of dinner as incentive.

“You’re sure they won’t mind?” he began his worries again, nervous to meet your parents.

If he’d been like the rest of the boys he’d know just how much mingling was already common. It wasn’t remotely odd to bring him home, not when you lived so near. “Don’t be silly, they’ve been begging to meet you and Donald has plans of torturing you with his plane models and Papa wants to show you his shop and mama thinks you're much too skinny, I’m sure she’s gone to the black market to grab something to fatten you-“

“-how’s she know that?” he interrupted in shock.

“Oh,” you flushed, realizing your misstep, “I’ve talked of you. And she recognized you, she and Violet are thick as thieves and -it’s not like you’re unremarkable. A physical description is rather easy to give when you, well, when you look like…you.”

“What do I look like?” he cried out but his cheeks were smiling despite his outrage, “Malnourished?”

“Like a lanky cherub.” you refuted and were pleased that the late summer sun was still bright enough at this long hour to show his pretty blush.

“A cherub.” he repeated in disbelief.

“Yes.” you were firm, both in tone and the press of your hand in the crook of his offered elbow, “And as we’ve been commended to entertain angels unaware, how much more when we are certain of one?”

“Oh shut up.” he begged you and you two staggered into each other as you laughed your hearts out. It felt good to laugh, for the both of you, and a little too foreign, as well. It left a hollow melancholy in its wake that was soothed by the near and swaying proximity of each other’s body.

“They’ll be glad to have you at the table.” you dared go on, feeling you should prepare him, should the subject arise, “I’ve a brother, you see, an older brother. Rafe, he was stationed in Burma. We’ve not heard of him in over two years. There’s an empty seat at our table, it takes a certain sort of soul to fill it without it feeling like a sacrilege. But you fit the bill nicely, I think.”

“Burma.” he repeated with all the gravity of a man who understood, who knew the ache of almost hoping a dear brother, a beloved son, was dead rather than enduring the slow hell of a Japanese internment camp. How awful to almost wish for a decisive end for one so loved. “No word at all?”

“None.”

“I’m terribly sorry.”

“Thank you.” you whispered, “And thanks for making it back, yourself.” you squeezed his arm jovially and felt his other hand fall atop yours there in the crook of his elbow and a sweetness filled you at the gesture, such as you’d never known before. It was peaceful and lovely and your little village suddenly looked as pretty and idyllic again as it was always supposed to, the routine route home was seen through his eyes, the eyes of a homesick boy with a soft girl on his arm, bound to meet her parents and inspect Donald’s plane models.

Your mother and father loved him, little surprise there, he was a darling and homesick and yours was a happy home, humble and wounded though it may be. Your mother was obnoxious in her delight the moment father took him out back to see where your expertise for welding first began, the little aerodrome, no longer fitted with pleasure craft but now fitted to scrap the more useless casualties. Mother pestered you as you helped clear the table, asking after him and whatever this thing was between you. When you assured her it was only dinner to fill that chair and some unfathomable knowledge that had grown each time you stood before his propeller and waved him off to death, she knew it for what it is.

War and the urgency of living that goes with it, shrinks long emotions into fast passion and steady hearts into foolish daring. Neither of you were the sort to tumble into the passing vogue passions that had seized hold of your friends and comrades. Yours was a quieter path. Even so, after the fourth evening of dinner rations and quiet fireside chatter and the patter of late summer rain on the roof, there was a kiss as he walked you back to base, his jacket over your shoulders, his shirt clinging to him and the sweetest intent etched on his misted features as his lips descended to yours.

“Thank you,” he had said so passionately yet so subdued, a wall of wisteria at your back and his honey blonde hair dripping into his eyes, “I’ve needed this bad.”

His words suggested the family dinners, his scorching lips suggested the molded flesh of your body in his large palms.

“So you’ve wanted this?” your breathed mixed, a hazy little cloud between you in the damp evening air, your little alcove of shelter from the rain under old Mosley’s shed was like another little world entirely, fauna filled and peaceful, even the ever present drone of machinery was drowned out by the downpour.

Your mother had been right, you should've waited longer till the clouds passed but you had both cited curfew -and maybe even subconsciously sought just such a predicament as the one that had you necking Gale Cleven in a wisteria claimed tool shed.

“I’ve wanted you.” he clarified, firm grip on the base of your neck punctuating his turmoil, his lips met yours again and whatever oath of abstinence he had chosen, it did not seem to include kissing. He was soft and persistent and all consuming, those restless hands migrating in an ever mapping caress, making every part of you thrum with butterflies. “Wanted you for a long while.” he spoke into your lips, “I think you’re just great.” And there was happiness then, untinged with anything temporal beyond the feel of warm flesh beneath cold, rain soaked cloth and lips that tasted of honeyed biscuits.

It was impossible to maintain the stoic propriety of behavior you’d once managed before, on base, after that. You knew now how he sounded when he moaned into your mouth and he his stare alone could make you blush, you had spoken to his mother on the phone and he had seen your childhood bedroom. He learned once, laying amongst sea grass on the beach during a cloudy Sunday, the silky moist feel of you beneath your swimsuit, his long, bashful fingers that were ever so fond of petting anything and everything, finally finding a place that responded to his swipes with jolts and gasps and sighs and pleasure. You peaked three times on that sand dune, Buck none the wiser as he had nothing to compare your little deaths to, you kept a firm grip on his forearm and told him he was doing marvelous and that’s all it took for him to be persistent. Persistent beyond what you imagined any other man could be due to cramp. He was getting freckles from so much sunshine, but it was well, the rains would be here soon come autumn.

These happy days had you risking your life to pause your work and watch his pretty form swagger across the asphalt to his next destination and he, ever so right and proper and by the book, became devil enough to lie in wait for you and catch you by the waist when you least suspected it and drag you into some abandoned corner.

Only to kiss you.

To kiss and to ask after your day, as if your evening was not to be spent sat beside him at table or the movies, lying on a picnic blanket with him near or in the back of a jeep on top of Mayberry Rise, the tallest point around where the stars ran into the sea on the horizon.

One of the first days of September, you made good on your promise to Harry and drove with him to muck about Oxford for a day and see the college, the library, too. It was a long ride and as you were at the wheel, Harry was gem enough to allow Gale along, too, and by the end of it, driving back late and in a rush before the headlights would be needed, you were quoting favorite literary passages to each other. As if you were all students, not misplaced youths in the business of killing.

You said as much and in the burgeoning gloom Gale’s rich voice asked if you knew any Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

“Not Wordsworth!” Harry clarified.

“No, I don’t.” You admitted, for all your chiding today of their not being cultured enough, you didn’t know your American writers as you should.

“He’s got a poem for that.” Gale said, “For what you said. Or at least, it makes me think of today -that verse, ‘member Crosby?- the one it goes:

-I remember the gleams and glooms that dart across the school-boy's brain; The song and the silence in the heart, That in part are prophecies, and in part, Are longings wild and vain. And the voice of that fitful song, Sings on, and is never still: "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

The deafening silence for the rest of the car ride was filled with truth and your own heart was heavy when you bid them both goodnight that evening, headed to your seperate billets. You paused in you departure to turn back once more at the door and holler to Buck in the chilled September air, “That poem, is there more of it?”

“Lots more.” he’d spun round on his heel, pleasantly surprised at your inquiry.

“What’s it called?” you intended to search it out, though it was doubtful that a copy would be found near this remote place.

“How about I write it out for ya?” he suggested as if thinking the same.

“You’ve got a whole damn poem memorized?” you balked, incredulity warring with amusement that you should’ve guessed he’d be the sort.

“I-I-I might.” he stuttered before laughing.

“Then please do.” you grinned and threw him a kiss across the distance which he jumped up and caught from the air in a grand show of dedication. “Goodnight, cherub.” you wished him, “Sleep tight.” He had a mission in the morning, a daylight one.

“Goodnight old Bean.” He teased your accent and the door swung shut behind you blocking out the cold and the retreating sound of his footsteps.

If you’d have known that was the last time you’d hear them you’d have stayed an age out in the cold night listening to him go, memorizing the cadence of his gait, the sway of his shoulders disappearing into the twilight, the turn of his head as he’d throw a glance back at you, sweet and handsome and cheerful despite his ominous itinerary.

If you’d have only known.

It wasn’t like last time, like Africa. There had been no loss of contact. Dorace had heard every awful minute until the clock ran out. They’d been shredded, their precious ship turned into a raging inferno and Major Cleven’s gritted and garbled transmissions left only one hope that some at least had jumped out. Jumped out only to land in Nazi occupied Europe, it was a faint mercy to cling to.

The empty chair sat next to you again at the table and mocked you all. Mocked your hope and your resilience to dare love again. How foolish to bring home a man who belonged to a group they were calling “Bloody”, and not as a curse but an epithet.

The losses had been staggering all summer and now in September they hit close. You were confident that Crosby and Egan were every bit as dismal inside as you felt, Egan’s warm hand had clasped your shoulder like you were a fellow officer and told you he was sorry. You took the condolences and gave them back, a stupid little exchange that only highlighted how unspeakable some pain is.

Three weeks later, Egan’s plane didn’t come back either.

In your more fanciful moments you allowed yourself to imagine Egan and Cleven alive, somewhat whole and reunited. You could almost hear Cleven’s joking welcome, “What took you so long, Bucky?”

You’d indulged these fancies for Rafe, too, until years of silence suggested the worst.

However, this time, well into October and with an entirely new set of planes under your care, word came at last through the Red Cross, and the truth was exactly as you’d dreamed. There was only the paltriest letter back to command but it said they were well, they were alive, together indeed and being moved to the Polish border. Away from their own comrades' bombs. It was more than most ever got, and your family celebrated the news with the gratitude it deserved.

As October turned to November and your gloved fingertips froze as you worked, every sharp needle of chill reminded you of him, how much more awful it must be that far north, snow piled deep and muck everywhere and lice covered blankets and illness left untreated. As the holidays hurtled nearer, days of peace and goodwill you had planned to be spent with him, you were consumed by the dread of losing him to the elements since war had proven too clement. At night you lay abed and reread the one bit of handwriting you had from him, that damned poem he had written out, left under your door in the early dawn that had taken him from you.

My lost youth. That was the title of the thing. It cut like glass every time you read it, but Buck had touched that paper and looped those letters and dotted those i’s and it was precious to you. It became a prayer of sorts.

“There are things of which I may not speak;

There are dreams that cannot die;

There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak,

And bring a pallor into the cheek,

And a mist before the eye.

And the words of that fatal song

Come over me like a chill:—

“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”

Strange to me now are the forms I meet

When I visit the dear old town;

But the native air is pure and sweet,

And the trees that o’ershadow each well-known street,

As they balance up and down,

Are singing the beautiful song,

Are sighing and whispering still:—

“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”

Then, in January, as if prayers got heard, the most unexpected happened.

Major Gale Cleven, what was left of him after cold, starvation, murder and a treck across Europe, had returned. Things like this, seeing your lost beloved ride up to your workplace in the shotgun seat of a jeep, was the stuff of movies, hopeful propaganda or a woman’s mind that had finally cracked. You just stood there, welding helmet in hand, frozen rain spitting down at you, watching him jump out, watching Harry tear down from the observation tower to embrace him.

Dully, you could hear behind you Segreant Lemmons kind cheer of “so it was true, he got away from the bastards!” and a congratulatory thump between your shoulder blades. It was a moment of truth, to realize how far your faith had dwindled when the very answer to your prayers stood steaming with life in the cold air and yet you still could not accept it as reality.

“Baby.” his hands were warm compared to your damp cheeks and the span of them, so familiar and large, cupping your jaw with the calloused thumbs swiping at your temples, that was reminiscent of August and of happier days. Yet still, you had dreamed of him doing this, dreamed of a million different embraces and each time you woke up. “Baby, I’m back, I came to ya.” his voice was wrecked, from disuse and illness and whatever misery that had subjected him to. That, that was real enough, the rattling cough more so, you’d imagined his suffering in your worst nightmares too, this was something you could believe.

Familiar flesh was gaunt under your touch, gray cheeks where once there’d been freckles and the sinful pout of his once ruby red mouth was a dull violet, as if the vitality had been leached out of him. “What’d they do to my cherub?” you mourned, worst nightmares and wildest hopes blending into this one moment.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry f’me, I’m back. I came back.” he cooed to you, rough and sad himself, and your face was buried again in the placard of his coat, a great woolen overcoat this time, no fleece or any vestige of the swanky finery that got the flyboys ribbed for being soft, fancy, spoiled.

Nothing soft about these men, nothing gentle about their lot, nothing glamorous about being hurled down from the skies in a ball of fire.

“We kept praying for you.” you realized, it seemed important to tell him that however hopeless you all had felt, you’d gone through the motions anyway.

That was faith, wasn’t it? The hope of things not seen?

“I felt ‘em.” he said. “How else you think I managed it?”

It. -had managed it, that tiny word represented a host of terrors and miseries and unforgettable incidents that ricocheted in his brain like the lead fired into his boys head’s when they couldn’t manage a forced march, barefoot and underfed, in the snow.

Christmas had passed but January was not so very advanced, that evening your family turned back the clock and it was a matter of guessing as to who was celebrated more, baby Jesus or Buck Cleven. The two seemed intertwined at this point and in the warm glow of gas lamps and rationed toddy, with Buck’s hollow cheeks beginning to bloom and his dull eyes starting to animate, some part of you finally understood why so many felt worshipful on the holiday. The shit war rations felt like a feast, mama’s canned vegetables being the freshest thing he’d eaten in ages and with him sat at table again, empty chair filled, his hand creeping into your lap to lace with your own, there was peace.

Even the airforce, hard driving and high demanding though it was, took one look at his battered condition and admitted a period of conveyance was due. It wouldn’t do to send up a shoddy pilot, lose another plane, yet another crew or a hero of the hundredth. It’s not every day one of your squadron leaders escapes a POW camp and marches over occupied Europe and fordes the Channel to get back home.

A month was set aside. And you took as many weekday passes as you could during that month, happier than anything that he had been permitted to stay in town, to lodge with one of the locals. Rafe’s room was now occupied by him and mama’s broth was poured down Gale’s throat twice daily and his days kept busy with paperwork and Donald’s math problems. The ticking clock, the passing days, like the evil crocodile gobbling up time, was politely and britishly ignored in favor of enjoying what was. You no longer slept with the tear stained and crumpled poem clasped to your throat but his head lay there often enough instead. The thump of your heart helping him sleep, because exhausted and sick as he was, sleep and solitude were not comforts.

He was wracked with guilt for leaving Egan and his men behind, it had been every man for himself during that brutal forced march, he knew that and yet he’d left a friend behind. Buck waited for news of Egan like you’d waited for news of him. Nameless and senseless guilt ruining much of his own success and peace.

“He’d have expected nothing less of you.” you had taken to reminding him, “He’d be angry if you hadn’t taken the opportunity like you did.”

“I know.” he agreed miserably.

You admitted to him then, the horrid guilt of feeling that somehow, some missed defect or some lousy flaw had been the reason he’d been downed. Your work somehow not sufficient to keep him in the skies. When you’d admitted as much, Sergeant Lemmons had looked at you with all the censure such moronic introspection deserved: “Cleven got bombed to hell. He expected it, daytime raid and all. Blame the Nazis.”

“Blame the Nazis.” you suggested now to Gale as he lay sprawled in your arms, sweaty and feverish but his color was back and he looked pretty as anything so alive and near.

He looked ready to dare something, his face hovering nearer yours and the heavy weight of his limbs suddenly feeling full of intent but then his sparkling eye caught sight of something in the doorway and his lips quirked and his body shifted away.

“Whatcha doin’ sulkin’ out there Donny?” he addressed your brother and sure enough the little scamp emerged from the shadow of the doorway and joined you two on the bed, comic book clutched in his hands. They had a routine, apparently, Papa was no longer the chosen one for bedtime stories. It made you want to wince in anticipation for when Buck would move back to base and things would become full of dread again.

That day came sooner than you’d counted on. A month is not so very long, after all, and it was filled with so much work and business, stolen moments at home hardly being the norm.

“It’s an easy mission.” he’d said at dinner, as if arguing the point to you all. You knew he was trying to convince himself more than anything and so you all let him specify just how easy, how routine, how utterly unworrying tomorrow's flight would -should- be.

If it’s hard to get back into the saddle after being bucked off, how much worse to climb back into a plane after being tossed from the skies.

That evening he lounged on your bed instead of Rafe’s, the house emptied as your mother and father took Donny to the movies, the appeal of a new film finally showing cited as being too alluring to resist. He was lost in his thoughts, watching you go about your little evening routines that you tried to maintain when at home. It was domestic and cozy, warm where the world outside was cold and then there was Buck, golden as anything in the low lamp light, utterly unaware of the figure he cut lying on his side.

“I’ve missed it.” he told you, “Flying, I’ve missed it.”

“Of course you have. You were born for it.” you murmured.

“Ya know,” he reflected, “I signed up for the Air Force before it all got hot, before Pearl Harbor. I was gonna fly no matter what. I remember grittin’ my teeth durin’ training and tellin’ myself it would all be worth it. Just hang in there and it would pay off. I just felt something important would need me. Hell, guess I got more than I ever bargained for, didn’t I?”

“I guess you did.” you agreed.

“I couldn’t do this if I didn’t believe in it.” He insisted and you knew he was talking to himself again, until his face turned towards yours and the softest look of fondness crossed features turning them almost pained when he said next, “I couldn’t do it, get back up there, if it weren’t for love. The rightness of it but -love, for my boys, my family. For you.”

“I know, and we’re terribly lucky to have your devotion. -And…and I love you, too.” you vowed earnestly, then giggled at the absurdity of this being the first time to admit it.

“I’d had my suspicions.” he grinned back, some of that old cockiness returning along with his vigor as he snagged your wrist and pulled you down beside him.

“Do you know why my parents have gone?” you asked him pointedly, turning on your side to face him.

“To see a movie.” His face was so innocently perplexed you almost lost control of yourself and ruined the game right then with something terribly forward.

“My parents aren’t in the habit of seeing movies.” you corrected him soberly.

“No?”

“No.”

“So where’d they go?” Buck asked.

“Oh they’re at the movies.” you smirked, “But they’ve gone for us.”

Gale’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, if not of you then of his own naïveté. “For us.” he repeated and his voice had dropped an octave in the interim.

“Yes. Something about wanting us to have a goodbye.” you quoted.

“I’m not dying tomorrow.” he pointed his finger firmly in your face and it made you smile to see him so fiesty again.

“No,” you agreed with his prophecy, “but I wanted to give you some incentive to hurry back.”

“Oh?” those lips of his puckered again in confusion before his smarts caught up with him and the pink corner tugged up in mischief, “Ooooh.” he repeated, suddenly very close, his energy, his body, his heart, inches from being one with you. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, oh yes.” you confirmed, slotting your lips against his gently only to be met with eager, desperate need in his own kisses.

Your childhood bed was narrow and the counterpane below you familiar and dear, stitched by your mother in colors you’d once wished to update upon entering maturity. Now, laid out in perfect security and familiarity, you watched Buck Cleven dangle a toe off the abyss before diving in, pausing to caress the blanket beside your hip, smiling to himself.

“What?” you were breathless to know every thought in that dear head.

“My mama made me one, looks lots like this.” his eyes were watery soft yet his smile was glad, his hips narrow and sharp in the cradle of your own, stark hipbones not yet padded by your mother’s cooking pressed you down into the bedding, grounded and right. “You’ve made me real at home here.” he whispered and it pleased you ever so much. “Do I dare take this last liberty?” he muttered as if to himself, even as those blue orbs bore into your own, his fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt and you ached from need long deferred and the weight of remedy lying heavy between your thighs.

“It’s no liberty,” you whispered, catching his dog tags and bringing his face to yours, the size of the man so very apparent now he was hovering above you, “it’s yours.” you watched his pupils blow out at the statement, his ragged breath fanned minty across your face, even angels wield swords. “I’m yours.”

“And I’m yours.” he concluded.

With that exchange of truths something snapped between you, like a ribbon cut, gone was the hesitant cordiality and deference that had marked your courtship. Here now was fierce possession and the gloated satisfaction of those who possess something cherished and are no longer kept from partaking of it, buckles and garters snapped in the quiet room and the rustle of sheets and shirts wafting to the floor made your breaths hitch with anticipation. Precious flesh came into touch with every brush and it was enough for many minutes merely to cling and grasp, imprinting desire into the back and the arms and the throat of each other, like an armor of love against the decay of death.

“Yours, yours.” you swore as his finger played you once more, his breathing hard and rough in your ear, harsh commands for you to say it again and again, reminding you he was fearsome when he wanted to be.

“Don’t look,” he begged when you realized through a haze of joy what he was about, pressing in with all the finesse of a cricket bat knocking at the wicket, hoarse and doe eyed above you, there was only the whine, “please, darlin’ don’t look, just, my eyes, please.”

It was a fumbling entry but nature and pleasure prevailed, as it had since the first couple. And dear boy that he was, he knew you had indulged in a leg up, one or two at least, before he came along but still, he could not bear it for you to see more, not this time. He wanted it just to be the kisses and the sight of your precious face contorting at the fullness of your belly and the force of his hunger for you. All the rest were vulgar details left somewhere under your skirts, and, unbeknownst to him, reflected in your childhood mirror situated on the wall behind his plump arse.

“Oh god.” he had choked out, winded and in awe as his body shook at the feel of you accepting him deep, “You’re a slice of heaven, heaven that’s-that’s what you fee- oh god, oh god.”

He had giggled at the absurdity of this dance and then broke off with a moan that made you giggle in turn and back and forth it went as his body jerked into yours as if he’d no control over it, led quite literally by the part of himself buried inside you. He knew it was foal-like and a poor showing as a lover and he also knew you didn’t care a bit, your eyes wide at the size of the intrusion and captivated by the sight of his newly enlightened face.

“You alright?” he asked urgently, as a sudden and familiar feeling took over his body. The feeling of his brakes giving out, his flaps malfunctioning, the hydraulics failing -it took over him, his spine tingling and his vision beginning to blur and only your punched out gasps and sweet smile wavering on his horizon as the frantic, masculine, natural need to drive in deep enough to puncture your heart seized him and propelled him in you, against you, above you with such force you forgot to breath. For all Egan’s teasing of Buck’s hatred for athletics, the man wasn’t shabby when it came down to it, even after months of internment, or maybe due to that stolen time, his life force seemed to pour out in a torrent and your belly buzzed at the sweet abuse.

“I’m perfect.” you managed at some point, “You’re perfect, so perfect.”

He shuddered at the praise and as if terror struck him then, he was suddenly pulling away and moaning “I should- I shouldn’t -I’m gonna, darlin, I’m gonna lose it-“ and young and sweet and clumsy as anything he rutted against your slick frantically, mouth pressed to yours until the hot gush of his satisfaction spilled out and added to the mind fuzzing feel of him sliding against your little pearl.

You encouraged his shaky limbs to collapse on you, the lanky frame of him a sweet weight, sweaty cheek pressed to your breast, you could feel the dopey curve of his smile against your plump flesh. His hair curled at the nape from the sweat of his exertions, all winter chill forgotten in this bed. War and missions and bombs, too. You petted each other for a while before he raised his head and, gazing at you adoringly, he murmured “thank you.” his nose nudging yours and the steadiest of kisses lingering in the tingly aftermath.

“Darlin?” he broached the subject a while later, cheek again pressed to your chest and his fingers sliding in a hypnotic caress over your thigh.

“Yeah, Buck?”

“Later,” he prefaced, tentative and raw, “when -when the war’s over, and when, well, when I can make my own promises…”

Your heart hammered beneath his ear and you squeezed your legs around him, as if to shore him up enough to say what you wanted him to say so very badly. “Yes?”

“Would you marry me then?” he begged and somehow you knew this, what you had just indulged in, was never going to happen without that hope for him.

Perhaps that’s why it felt so strong, like a communion of souls more than anything else. “I’ve half a mind to make you wait and get my answer when you come back tomorrow.” you teased and his head reared up with a dangerous glint in his eye.

“Don’t you dare.” he warned, grin breaking out despite himself.

The sound of the front latch grating on the door startled you both but he pressed you down when you went to scamper and clothe yourself. “The door’s closed anyway,” he argued in a whisper but you knew he felt as nervous as you at being caught, if not more so, yet still he was a stubborn one. His hand was firm and large clasping your cheek, expression arch and expectant. “Promise you’ll be a good little girl and say yes when I do ask.”

You laughed at his gall, to make you wait, to make you promise when he wasn’t even proposing. But then again -you had said you were his, and he was yours. It had already been done. Sometimes life was as simple as Gale Cleven made it out to be.

“I promise.” you whispered happily, bringing him back down to your embrace and willing away thoughts of tomorrow and flagging him out to danger.

One day he’d come back for good. One you could make promises again. Until then, there was hope.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed. Feedback is a writers lifeblood, I’d adore hearing your thoughts. 💋

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janeyseymour · 2 months

Note

Hi, I feel like there’s not enough jealous Melissa fics, so I wanted to request one where reader is a new librarian, and because she dresses really nice Ava immediately takes a liking to her, and Melissa gets jealous because she takes a liking to her too. But obviously at the end Melissa x reader end up together. Can have smut or not, your choice. Thank you!

ask and you shall receive! i hope you enjoy!

Love In the Library

WC: ~3.9k

Your interview at Abbott had gone well- perfect, even. The principal of the school was full of life, and you could tell that you were going to absolutely love it here as librarian. She seemed just as thrilled that you were joining their team- apparently they haven’t had a librarian for a good chunk of time.

You walk into the school on the first day of professional development dressed well- you figured it would be a good idea since Ava dressed so nicely, and you were aware that the students wore their light blue uniforms.

As you enter, you’re greeted by the principal, who tells you that the first meeting of the year will indeed be held in your space, which is entirely fine with you. Hopefully, you’ll be able to meet a few of your coworkers and find the group that you’ll find yourself a part of- that would be nice. First days, even first weeks and months can be daunting, and it’s always a bit easier when you find people who might be in your corner.

You’re seated at your desk and looking over the catalogue of books you have- seeing how you can begin to organize everything (most things weren’t very organized) when the rest of the faculty starts to trickle in. You smile at the few who walk in first, but it immediately becomes a bit overwhelming when more and more people start to make their way in. You find yourself to be grateful that you have your own assigned spot at your desk. They all converse and catch up on what they had done over their summers, and you don’t really know how to insert yourself into any of those conversations, so you just look around and try to find anybody who might be kind to you.

As you’re people watching, a small group of teachers come in. In that group is a short younger woman, a taller black man conversing with a slightly shorter white man, and two teachers who are clearly veterans. The one is absolutely captivating with her pleather pants, heeled doc martens, and the way that her hair is curled softly and falls over her shoulders beautifully. The light pink shirt that she wears compliments her hair beautifully. You catch her take a glance over at you, and you feel a shiver run through your body as her emerald green eyes sparkle in your direction. She’s absolutely gorgeous.

It looks as though she’s going to make her way over to you, but Ava cuts her off by entering the room in what you can always assume is true Ava fashion, what with the mixed groans from the rest of the staff. You stay seated at your desk and watch as the redhead takes a seat at the front table with her friends. Her eyes linger on you though throughout most of the meeting- you can feel her staring at you.

You snap out of your trance when you hear your name come out of the principal’s mouth. You blush bright red, but you give a gentle wave of your hand.

Ava really hypes you up, explaining that you’re the best thing that’s come around to Abbott in quite a long time- that you’re a bad bitch with good fashion, fashion that almost competes with hers.

You see the way that the redhead rolls her eyes at that comment before looking you up and down.

The meeting drones on for a while longer before the staff is able to participate in a few different seminars or set up their classrooms.

You have your head down as everyone mills around, mingling and heading out. That is until you see a hand on your desk. When you glance up, there are those striking green eyes that were staring at you through the entirety of the meeting.

“Hi?” you squeak out.

“You the new librarian?” the redhead asks.

You nod and swallow before introducing yourself, although you know she already knows your name. “And you?” you ask politely.

“Melissa Schemmenti, second grade teacher,” she tells you, and you shake her hand firmly. “I’m gonna need one of the copies of the book, The Name Jar.”

You nod and smile. “I can definitely find that for you. It’s for a beginning of the year lesson, I assume?”

“It is,” she says shortly.

“I’ll have it for you by the end of the day.”

“Thank you,” the second grade teacher smiles at you.

You’re able to locate the book relatively easily, and with a bit of exploring the school, you’re able to find the classroom that has her name on it. She’s in the process of writing out name tags for her students and putting them at the desks when you knock on the door gently.

She glances up at you before pushing her glasses up and off her face, resting them on the top of her head.

“Just dropping off the book you requested,” you say softly. “Is there anywhere specific you want me to put it?”

She stands up straight, rights her shirt, and gives you a genuine smile. You love to see that smile of hers.

“I can take it,” she says softly, and she makes her way over to you. Her hand brushes yours for about half of a second before she actually takes the book from out of your hands, and you swear you feel a rush of electricity between the two of you. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” you smile right back, and she immediately wants to always see that beaming look on your face. “If you need any other books, let me know. I’m going to try to have the library organized by the end of September.”

When you go to get your lunch, the redhead is there, and so is your boss.

“There’s our sexy new librarian,” Ava winks at you. You turn bright red. You know you’re… not the ugliest women in the world, but this is a lot. “Girl, don’t act like you don’t know you look like a Philly eleven in that sexy dress of yours.”

You chuckle nervously as you glance down at the dress you were done up in. You look at the other teachers, and maybe you were a bit overdressed. “Have a nice lunch, guys,” you say as you go to head back to your room.

“I ain’t stayin’ in here to listen to your boring teacher talk,” Ava sighs dramatically. “But I’ll see you all later, losers!” She winks at you again, and you can feel the blush that had begun to diminish come back in full force.

“Oi,” you hear Melissa call out as you’re at the threshold of the door. “Come eat lunch with us.”

You don’t notice the strange looks that your coworkers give the second grade teacher, but you smile softly.

“Really?” Janine asks, jaw dropped.

“Oh, it’s… okay,” you say softly. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“You ain’t intruding,” the second grade teacher is adamant, so you sit down next to her.

Barbara looks confused, but she doesn’t say anything at all. The teachers take their time getting to know you, and Melissa’s eyes find yours quite a few times, giving you reassuring looks and smiles.

You head out a few minutes before everyone else, and once you’re gone, Melissa’s friends look at her like she’s got three heads.

“What?” the redhead asks as she sips her iced tea.

“When did you get all friendly to newbies?” Barbara asks.

“Seriously,” Gregory puts in. “When I first started, you refused to learn my name for the first month I was here.”

The second grade teacher rolls her eyes. “And look where we are now… might as well give it a shot being nice to the newcomers.”

Barbara eyes her warily, but she doesn’t say anything in front of the full group. When the two of them are walking out though, they see you.

You wave quietly as you stack your things into your car to continue working on your organization, and the gorgeous teacher waves back with a smile.

You climb into your car, pull on your sunglasses, and head out.

“Girl, you like her,” Barbara nudges hr best friend.

Melissa rolls those green eyes of her. “Yeah. I’m the queen of England too.”

The kindergarten teacher hums, and while she doesn’t say anything, she knows that her work wife has a thing for you. It’s clear in her eyes and the way that she invited you in so sweetly.

“Well, maybe this will be good,” Barb states. “We have a new librarian, she seems like a sweet girl, and Ava isn’t making fun of her.”

“No,” the redhead frowns. “She’s flirting with her instead.”

“That a problem for you?”

“Shut up. I’ll see you tomorrow,” the redhead rolls her eyes as she climbs into her car.

The next few days of development go the same for you, organizing the many books, going through the catalogue to see what books you might be able to add to the collection

(whether that be from home or you can try to scrounge up the money to buy them at a thrift store). Melissa often appears in the library, claiming to look for a book, but most of the time she just ends up chatting with you- you don’t mind one bit. You sit with them at lunch, and you quite enjoy getting to hear Melissa laugh and listen to her talk.

Ava still flirts with you everyday, and while her compliments are appreciated, you never fail to turn as red as a tomato.

When the kids start to come into the school the following week, a few of the older ones are shocked to actually have a librarian. Furthermore, they can’t believe that they’ll actually have library as a special.

You begin to learn the children, and they absolutely adore you. You have quickly become one of the kids’ favorite teachers. In the first month alone, you’ve been given a ream of papers’ worth of drawings- it melts your heart. The older ones come and talk to you in the mornings before they actually have to head to class, and the little ones flock to you for hugs whenever they can. It’s safe to say you love being here at Abbott with these kids.

It’s also safe to say that you like most of the staff that you’re with, although you’ve found yourself a part of a certain group; one with the most attractive teacher in the school: Melissa Schemmenti.

You find yourself being drawn to her presence, and she’s drawn to you too. You spend your time with her and Barbara as often as possible, more than happy to listen to whatever the two of them are up to.

But with being friends with them also brings Ava around quite a bit. She is constantly looking for the two of them for advice on how to discipline and run the school. It also gives her an excuse to come flirt with you. Her comments are starting to get more and more scandalous, and she’s practically taking off your clothes with her eyes any time she’s talking to the three of you. You notice the way that the redhead seated next to you almost always scowls.

You almost wonder if you should go to HR for her looks and words.

“Melissa,” Barbara singsongs as the two of them are leaving lunch that day. Ava had come in and shamelessly flirted with you. “Turn that frown upside down!”

“I ain’t in a mood, Barb,” the second grade teacher grumbles.

“That face says otherwise,” the kindergarten teacher clicks her tongue. “When are you just going to admit the fact that you hate that Ava flirts with Y/N because you like her?!”

“I do not,” Melissa rolls her eyes. “I just think Ava needs to stop eye-fucking her anytime she sees her.”

“While I agree with that,” Barb sighs. “No one gets nearly as upset with that as you do, and I think it’s because you genuinely do have feelings for her.”

Melissa bites her lip. “So what if I do? It don’t matter. She’s young, I’m me. And we’re coworkers.”

“Being her boss isn’t stopping Ava from flirting with her,” Barbara points out. “C’mon. Just give it some thought.’

The redhead groans. She knows her best friend knows about her little crush on you now.

The next day, Barbara waltzes into Ava’s office.

“Girl, I wouldn’t usually condone this, but you need to continue to flirt with Y/N as much as possible.”

“That won’t be hard,” the principal laughs. “She’s a fine piece of ass. But why?”

“Melissa has a huge thing for Y/N, and I can just tell that our little librarian has a thing for Melissa too. You know the best way to get her to confess her feelings is to make her so jealous she can’t bite her tongue any longer.”

“Damn, you don’t think I got a shot?”

“Ava,” Barbara rubs her temples. “Might I remind you that you are in a relationship.”

“And?”

“Ava!”

“What?” Ava raises her brows. “You think I don’t want to-”

“You know what? Nevermind,” the kindergarten teacher goes to turn on her heels.

“Wait!” Ava calls. “But you really don’t think I have a chance?”

“What I think is that Y/N is a respectful, young woman who would not want to… partake in the activities that you are alluding to.”

“You never know,” the principal shrugs. “What’s in it for me?”

“A nice bottle of wine, and I’ll go out to the club with you the next time you tell us we’re all getting together for dinner but inevitably end up going somewhere else.”

“Oh, hell yeah. But I get to pick the bottle.”

“Only if my plan works, and Melissa and Y/N get their heads out of their asses and date.”

“You have yourself a deal, Barb,” the principal grins before going back to scrolling through Instagram.

Ava’s flirting only gets worse from here, and she purposely does it in front of Melissa whenever she gets the chance. While Barb is naturally appalled at the things that the principal is saying to you, she knows its worth it when she can practically see the steam pouring out of her work wife’s ears.

It’s picture day at school, and you know you’re going to be forced to get your picture taken as much as you don’t want to. So, you apply some light makeup and dress yourself in a white body suit and a flowered skirt that has a rather high slit up the side. It shows off some skin, but you know that you can always adjust the skirt if necessary so it’s not too revealing.

That was a mistake though- or at least you think it is when Ava starts commenting about you having a body that ‘challenges Beyoncé’. Her eyes linger on your still sun kissed thighs as you make your way into the building. You thank her for her compliment, but you don’t play into it any further than that. You make your way to the break room to drop off your lunch and make yourself another cup of coffee when you run into the redhead.

She looks absolutely stunning. Melissa really hasn’t done anything special for picture day- she just always looks gorgeous to you.

“Hey, good morning,” you say as you fall into step with her. Her eyes rake you up and down, and you feel a blush creep into your cheeks when she subconsciously licks her lips.

The two of you walk into the break room together and are sipping your coffees when the principal comes in again.

She makes an absolutely obscene comment about you and the way that your chest is comparable to that of the redhead’s, despite the fact that you hardly have any cleavage showing. That makes Melissa almost as red as her hair, but she puffs out her own chest. But then… she says something about the slit in your skirt and something about it looks stunning on you, but it would look better on her bedroom floor with her boyfriend.

At that comment, you suck a deep breath in and try to cover how embarrassed your feeling.

“Ava!” Barbara nearly shouts.

“Well,” the principal shrugs at the deafening silence in the room. “I have to go do principal things, y’all.”

As Ava leaves the room, the kindergarten teacher gives Ava a look, but it’s almost a mildly impressed look.

You can’t look at anyone, so you practically rush out of the room with your coffee.

At your sudden exit, Melissa looks furious. “I have to go do some work.” She storms off, and out of the room in order to go yell at her boss for embarrassing you in front of everyone.

“I should check on Y/N,” Barbara says softly before following your direction. She knows that those comments made you more uncomfortable than any of her others, and she knows she has to stop you from making a complaint to the HR department about the conversation that just took place.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Barb says softly as she enters the library.

Your hands are in your head, and the red in your cheeks hasn’t disappeared in the slightest.

“H-hey,” you mumble.

“Don’t mind Ava,” she tells you softly. “She used to say stuff like that to Gregory all the time, and eventually she’ll move on to someone else.”

“Does she always do this? Shouldn’t she get into trouble for that?” you ask quietly.

The kindergarten teacher waves a hand. “Our HR department never does anything but bounce the emails back to the principal of the person who sent them… the last time someone did that, we had a ‘bonding session’ because Janine emailed them. It’s not even worth your time.”

“But… that was…”

“A lot,” Barbara sets a gentle hand on your shoulder. “I know. But trust me on this one: it isn’t worth it. And she likes you, so she’ll be willing to help you out when you need it. If you report her, she’ll only make your life that much harder. Just let her flirting die out, honey.”

You frown. “I guess… I need this job.”

“I know.”

“And I love this job.”

“We love having you here,” the older teacher squeezes your shoulder gently. “And the kids- they absolutely adore you. We hope you’ll decide to stay with us for a long time.”

“Y-yeah.”

“Are you okay other than all of that?”

“Yeah,” you say softly. “Thanks for checking on me.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Barbara smiles at you charmingly.

She exits, and you sigh. You should probably talk to your boss about the things that she says to and about you… how it makes you uncomfortable. So, with your head down and cheeks still burning, you make your way down to the office. You stop just short of the principal’s when you hear a familiar voice shouting at the woman you were going to talk to.

“Ava!” the redhead storms into the office. “What the fuck?!”

The principal laughs. “What, girl?”

“What the hell was that? The shit you were sayin’ to Y/N in the break room? I know you usually say stuff you shouldn’t, but God dammit, that was over the line!”

“And? Why do you care so much?” Ava asks nonchalantly. “You jealous?”

“Jealous?” Melissa glares, looking utterly confused. “Why the hell would I be jealous of saying absolutely deplorable things to the sweet girl? Why on God’s green Earth would I be jealous of saying the absolute truth that she’s hot as hell?”

Ava smirks. “You think she’s hot?”

Fuck. Melissa’s been caught.

“You think Y/N’s hot?” Ava grins.

“No!” the redhead rolls her eyes. “I just don’t think you should be sayin’ shit like that to her!”

“You think she’s hot!” the principal singsongs. “Girl, just admit it!”

“Okay,” the redhead sighs. “If I admit that I think she’s hot, you can’t keep saying stuff about her like this.”

“Say it,” Ava teases.

“Ava,” Melissa groans.

“Say it!”

“Okay,” the second grade teacher huffs. “I think she’s hot. I like her, and not just for her looks. Now stop talking to her and about her the way that you have been.”

“Girl,” Ava grins. “You want me to flirt with her for you?”

“No,” Melissa rolls her eyes. “If and when I decide to make a move on her, I can do it on my own terms. Remember, I am a Philly eleven.”

With that, she turns on her heel and exits the office… only to bump into you.

Your eyes are wide, your cheeks and ears are burning, and… did she just admit she thinks you’re hot? The woman that you’ve developed a small crush on actually has a thing for you too?

“Shit.”

“Uh…” you nervously tuck a loose hair behind your ear.

“How much of that did you hear?” she asks you quietly.

“I uh, have to talk to Ava,” you evade her question.

You don’t give Melissa a chance to say anything else before you knock on the door and enter before closing it behind you.

By the time you’re finished with your conversation with Ava, you barely have time to run down to the library before you know the kiddos will start trickling in… and you’re not entirely sure you even know how to approach the situation you’ve found yourself in with the redheaded teacher.

That’ll have to wait.

But when you get to the library doors, Melissa is standing there waiting for you. She looks incredibly nervous as she taps her foot.

“Melissa,” you say softly.

She just takes your hand and pulls you into the library before taking you to your desk- which remains just out of sight from the door.

“Shouldn’t you be in your classroom to wait for your kids?”

“I got Janine to watch them for arrival,” she tells you. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough,” you say softly. “You are a Philly eleven, you know.”

And then you press your lips gently to hers. She kisses you back just as softly, and you can’t help but pull her in a bit closer.

But then you have to pull away. You know the older kids that come to your room will be there far too quickly, and you really don’t want them to catch you kissing their old second grade teacher.

“Y/N,” Melissa whispers.

“Go back to your classroom,” you say softly. “The kids that come to me in the morning will be here soon, and I don’t need rumors about the two of us going around.”

“Yeah,” the redhead agrees. “That probably wouldn’t be too great.”

You hum.

“So…” she says quietly though. “I’ll see you at my house tonight for dinner?”

You nod.

“It’s a date,” she promises as she squeezes your hand gently. With those words, she leaves your room just as one of your kiddos is coming in.

“Hey, Serena,” you smile softly. You immediately turn on your warm teacher voice, and Melissa can’t help but turn around and watch as the student comes over and embraces you.

The sunlight through the window hits you perfectly, and you look angelic.

While Melissa had initially taken a liking to you because of your looks (you might just be a Philly twelve), the heart of gold that you have is what made her really fall for you.

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary

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soupslxt · 2 years

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I miss being able to casually see porn on the tl

middle school was wild

#tumblr veteran #so much smut #i miss middle school #2014 aesthetic

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ohworm-writes · 5 months

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「✰」 ━━ AS GOOD AS I DO

RATING R - Restricted [ Content warnings : 18+ mdni, smut, dom!Nikolai, fem!sub!virgin!reader, alcohol consumption, strong language, thigh riding, heavy make-out session, praise with heavier degradation, oral fixation, fingering, size difference, loss of virginity, corruption kink, p in v sex, mirror sex, hair pulling, spanking ]

SYNOPSIS You didn't know that it was a military bar, so you had no warning about all of the pent up soldiers that have their eyes on you and your friends. As most of them leave to have fun of their own, you don't. Why? Because you're a virgin. To your luck (or loss), a particular Russian pilot has his eyes set on you, and he intends to make the most of your first time that will have you crawling back for more.

WORD COUNT 11.3k (Too fucking much.)

The cold air bites harshly at your exposed skin, sinking its fangs in deep, forcing a shiver up your spine that makes you tense and makes way for goosebumps to break out all across your skin, the hairs on your body standing on edge as you roughly rub at the areas in hopes that the friction will do its job properly in warming you up.

It does, if only momentarily, give you a small sliver of reprieve and the opportunity to bask in the warmth before it’s cruelly yanked away the very second you halt your movements, letting that frigid cold seep right back in and settle deep into your bones, comfortably making a home for itself there.

From the exterior, the bar hardly looks... appealing, should we say? The exterior reeks of piss, stomach acid, and sex—a combination of scents that makes you scrunch up your nose in disgust and discomfort—and the building itself is hardly any better, the paint chipping and cracking all over the place with the brick looking as if it’ll crumble with so much as a gust of wind.

So, with a deep, heavy breath, you push open the old, creaky wooden door and take a step inside, immediately being greeted with a rush of warmth and the smell of fresh food and liquor. Lively, half-drunken chatter fills the air from the bar’s patrons, with some groups seated along the bar and others at tables scattered across the hardwood floor; nearly everyone within the establishment has one or more people to be paired with, leaving nobody alone.

The people, though, aren't exactly who you expected to see. When your group of close friends initially invited you to come out with them for a night of drinking near one of their flats, far off along the outskirts of the bustling city, you really had no reason to refuse the extended offer. After all, you hadn’t seen some of them in months, so this would be the perfect opportunity to catch up, no?

Well, it is. But nobody thought to tell you that you’d be walking right into a military bar.

Apparently, according to one of your friends, there’s a base just a few kilometers down the road, and, given that this is the closet bar in the vicinity of it, it’s where every active-duty soldier and veteran comes. They make up ninety percent of the bar’s patrons, too, so you and your friends are some of the few groups that aren’t associated with the military. Well… yet.

And not that there’s any issue with it being a military bar, of course! It’s just that… you aren’t exactly accustomed to dealing with such… bold personalities.

While your friend group does, in fact, consist of a few colorful characters and then some, the other patrons at the bar are a little too much for your taste. You’re used to your friends making crude jokes, being loud and rowdy, and playfully flirting with you and everyone else, but when it comes to others? You aren’t exactly prepared.

You and your friends are sat around a large wooden table near the very center of the bar, a number of large splits cracking down the length of it, with one of the legs being propped up by a book due to it not being long enough to reach the floor. At least the chairs are somewhat comfortable, even if they’re nothing more than metal barstools with a bit of cushion on them.

The alcohol is fairly cheap, to everyone’s delight, especially when it’s actually good. You’d think, with the state that the bar’s interior and exterior are in, that the drinks and food would be equally as abhorrent with mold or bugs or something disgusting, but no! The food is cooked through and seasoned well, and the drinks are as they should be. So, none of you can really complain when the main attraction is enjoyable.

You all talk about anything and everything: who is sleeping with whom, what co-worker or boss got exposed for something or other, whatever celebrity drama is happening at the moment, what show or movie someone saw recently that you just have to watch. It’s a mixture of small talk and deep discussion, with the conversation flowing smoothly as everyone enjoys their food, drinks, and the company that surrounds them.

Until the first soldier approaches.

He’s young, no older than twenty-two—even that might be a bit of a stretch—dressed fully in uniform, the green camo pants he wears tucked neatly into a pair of black boots with a fitted shirt clinging tightly to his skin, emphasizing his physique. He isn’t bad-looking per se, but he definitely isn’t your type.

He walks over by himself with a smug, self-assured grin plastered on his face as he approaches one of your friends who sits directly across from you, giving you a perfect view and earful of the interaction as you take a sip of your liquor, watching as he puts his hand on the back of her chair, speaking in a hushed whisper.

“Hey there, pretty girl. You look bored over ‘ere with all of y’r friends. I could make y’r night more interestin’, y’know. You interested?”

Okay. Wow. Starting off strong.

And before you even know it, she’s giving a sheepish smile to the rest of you, apologizing and excusing herself from the table as she grabs her coat and purse from the back of her chair, waving you and everyone off before turning and hurriedly trailing behind the man like a lost puppy and out towards the car lot outside, no doubt ready and willing to get in some action of her own before the night is through.

And that’s just the beginning. After another half hour, all of your friends have either grabbed their things and said their goodbyes to go home with the soldier of their choice for the night, or they left to the bathroom or back alley, only to come back with a limp to their gait, bruised lips, marks, tousled hair, and fucked-out eyes. And if it’s the latter, it only takes them a few minutes before they leave, just like their formers.

It’s not like you haven’t had your fair share of men and women alike trying to court you, either. In fact, there have been four different people who have come up to you throughout the night and have tried their hand at seducing you, whether it be shitty pick-up lines that they use or bold flirtatious remarks, some even trying to trail an eager hand across your shoulder or back as a means to further entice you.

But you haven’t failed to turn each and every single one of them down, polite as you may try to be. It’s for two separate reasons, you deduce. One is that the people who are coming up to you aren’t exactly your type, be it in terms of the way that they look or their personality, while the other reason is… slightly more straightforward.

You’re a virgin.

So, to you, it’s no surprise that you’re adamant on turning down everyone that comes up to you to try and, for lack of better wording, try to get into your pants. Your other friends who have already been approached and taken up their offers for a good fuck, be it bent over the bathroom sink, pressed up against the brick wall in the alley outside, or going home to enjoy that ecstasy in a bed, intend to spend their nights well.

They’ll be having more of a “good night” than you will, even though they’ve all wished you well with some variation of that phrase.

So, here you sit at an empty table, nursing your drink with a soft sigh, bored out of your mind as you trail your pointer finger around the rim of the glassware in a slow, calculated manner. You can’t help but feel a bit left out. Again, not as if you haven’t already been given a multitude of chances and offers that you could have taken up hours ago, but none of them—to you, at least—seem to be someone worthy of taking something as intimate as your virginity away from you.

To hold it in their palms like a trophy or medal to display with smug, overzealous pride. To flaunt, to brag about, and then to ultimately forget, because to them, your virginity doesn’t matter. It’s something that can boost their ego for a momentary period of time before shrugging off and away because it didn’t matter and wasn’t important.

So, no, you decide. None of the overconfident, liquid courage-fueled bastards are worthy of taking your virginity away from you. Thus, you only have yourself to blame for your “lack of action," so you can’t complain about it any longer when you’ve dug in your heels and chosen to stick firmly by your decision, now can you?

That is, until a particular Russian man donning aviators and a brown leather flight jacket downs his shot in one go and stands, beginning to take slow, confident strides in your direction from his previous seat positioned at a small table in the far back corner of the bar from behind you, with four men urging him on with a few whistles and cheers.

Not that he has any need for encouragement or prayers, of course.

You don’t even notice him as he approaches, because you’d assume with a man of his size and stature that you’d at the very least be able to hear his footsteps, but no. He’s completely silent until he’s right behind you, one hand holding onto the back of your chair in a casual manner while the other splays out right beside your drink as he leans into it, both next to you and behind you all at once.

You can feel his hot, vodka-soaked breath fall heavy against the exposed skin of your spine even when his mouth isn’t anywhere near you yet, still maintaining some level of control over himself and his actions. You’re unable to see the way he catches his bottom lip between his teeth as he grins, thoroughly amused with the way a shiver crawls up your spine, right to where you had felt the ghost of his breath just moments ago.

That, and the flames of desire that flare up and burn behind his eyes.

“I cannot help but notice that your friends left you behind all by yourself. So cruel to do that to someone like yourself.”

You can only assume that sarcasm laces his tone with the way he puts emphasis on certain words or the way he speaks with a specific lilt, but that couldn’t be the furthest thing from the truth. He means every word he says, so, if anything, it’s pure and unbridled amusement and honesty that lace his words and the way that he speaks.

Because he does think that it’s cruel that all of your friends have left you alone with nothing more than a quick, uncaring, departing word or phrase before they rush out to follow behind and fuck some other mindless soldier who, more than likely, has already had their fair share of the bar’s civilian patrons. Your friends don’t mean anything special to those soldiers, as unfortunate as it is, but that fact in and of itself is what separates him from those men.

Even if, yes, he’s in just as much of a desperate need to get off as they are.

You have to fight against the urge to roll your eyes at his words, your pointer finger continuing to drag lazily along the rim of your glass as you work to ignore him, not exactly up for trying to craft another excuse as a means to reject whatever proposal of having sex you assume he’s come up with, content with picking up your drink and finishing it off with a slow, steady breath, letting the liquor burn down your throat with indifference.

But, unfortunately for you, that only furthers his intrigue. So, with a smirk that slowly begins to spread out wider across his lips, even if you still don’t turn to see it, he chooses to take his shot and make a move. Or, rather and more accurately put, he makes an executive decision that he won’t allow you to refuse.

“Let me buy you a drink, да? Keep you company.”

And, just as stated, he doesn’t allow you to refuse him or turn down his offer like you had done with the others, already waving and making a few hand gestures at one of the servers, calling out to them for a refill of whatever you had been drinking and to place whatever your tab had been under his card, pulling out an empty chair, and taking his place in the seat beside you, getting to see that smug smirk for yourself for the first time.

And now your in it.

He’s… surprisingly pleasant to be around, you come to find out as you begrudgingly begin to converse with him. At first, you still try to ignore him, not even touching the new drink as it’s set in front of you just yet, keeping your eyes trained on and tracing the different rings in the wood table, but, in coming to the conclusion that he isn’t going to leave you alone, you start talking.

The conversation is forced when it begins, consisting of quick responses from you that lack any emotion or indication that you want to keep speaking. But he’s patient, and he waits, and he shifts his approach to asking questions that you can’t just give one to two word responses to, forcing the conversation into something of value. And only then does it begin to flow, slowly blending into something smoother—something that you can enjoy.

You learn his name, Nikolai, tasting it on your tongue with a sip of your drink, letting the flavors and tastes seep into your palette and glide down your throat until you feel it pool and fester in the depths of your stomach. The way you say his name makes his own cheshire-esque grin wifey further, his eyes crinkling with a flicker of undeniable mischief. It’s dangerous, but it draws you in just like a siren to a sailor.

He keeps the conversation civil at first, not wanting to scare you off just yet when he’s barely captured your attention, asking a few generic questions and molding them into something of substance, giving a few answers of his own and straying away from keeping them vague, trying to be as specific as he can afford to allow as a means to keep your attention drawn in on him.

But after you finish your drink and he moves to order you another without question, he gets bolder.

Brushes of his fingers against your bare skin, remarks and words heavy with innuendo, heavy heated breaths that fan across the space between you both, and purrs that make your head spin in the best ways possible. It’s equally overwhelming as it is underwhelming. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and he’s doing it better than you could have ever anticipated, drawing you in like a moth to a flame.

You’re in over your head before you can even comprehend what’s happening.

“Come on, лапушка … let me give you a better night than your friends could ever even dream of having.”

His voice is heavy, as is his accent, his body turned to look at you with his face no more than a few centimeters away from your own, one of his hands busied with trailing his fingertips lazily up and down the exposed skin of your forearm, barely even touching it at all, while the other rests atop your thigh, the warmth from his skin seeping through the fabric of your pants as his thumb brushes back and forth in a methodic motion.

Nikolai’s staring down at you with these half-lidded eyes that you can barely even make out through his dark aviators, his breathing coming out in slow, shallow exhales, weighing heavy in his chest as he drags his tongue across his bottom lip, gently cocking his head to the side with that same smug look that hasn’t left his face or lips since he first started to speak with you, danger dancing behind his eyes.

A warning and a question wrapped into one, questioning if you’re ready for a man like him.

You look up at him, searching for as much as a flicker of that same cocktail of overzealousness and egotism that you so easily caught in every other person’s eyes as they presented you with a similar offer, seeing you as nothing more than a warm body to accompany and please them for the evening. To be able to decline him, turn down his offer, and go home for the night… to be able to forget about him and this before you let it get out of hand.

But you can’t find it. He wants you, yes, that much you can tell, but not in the same way that they did.

“Okay. Yeah… sure. Yes.” You tell him, stumbling over your words messily, but he doesn’t seem to care about it in the slightest. That smile of his edges with danger as he effortlessly moves his hand, grasping onto his aviators, taking them off and hooking them onto his shirt, his other hand leaving your thigh as he moves you in front of him, moving his hand to the small of your back to guide you around the bar towards one of the bathrooms near the back.

He stands tall from behind you, confidence radiating from his very being as he casually walks, uncaring of all the eyes that stare down at the two of you from all across the establishment as the watch, knowing full and well exactly what’s about to transpire, even if you don’t. His friends, the four, sat at the table just a few feet away from the bathroom door, sending him sly smiles and nods of approval. One of them, a bearded man wearing a bucket hat, holds up his wrist and taps at his watch, sending Nikolai a knowing look even as he grins just like the rest. You don’t exactly know what it means, but it doesn’t seem to phase the Russian in the slightest, rolling his eyes as he opens up the bathroom door, the hinges creaking loudly as it arches open, ushering you inside as he follows suit, letting it close with a groan, the lock clicking.

He’s on you in a second.

He turns you around, pressing you back roughly against the door as he crowds you against it, one of his knees wedging itself in between your thighs, shifting them apart, and one of his forearms moving to lie against the door above your head so that he can lean over and look down on you, giving you a crystal clear idea of how much bigger he truly is than you, bucking his knee up against your cunt.

A moan threatens to spill past your lips at the action, eyelids fluttering as the noise bubbles up… but he’s quick to catch it. Before it can boil over, Nikolai presses a bruising kiss to your lips, groaning into it, the sound rumbling like an earthquake from deep within his chest. A long, drawn-out “fuck” passes through his lips as he pulls away momentarily, trying desperately to catch his breath, his actions filled with lust.

His eyebrows knit together, and he bucks up his knee once more as he looks down at you, watching and relishing in the way your lips part and allowing for another sweet moan to drip past your lips, breathing stuttering, catching in your throat as he brings one of his big hands up to hold at your hip, urging you to grind against his knee, a high-pitched keen from you filling the empty space, occupied only by his heavy breaths.

“Look at you." Nikolai mumbles out, almost mockingly, taking in the sight before him of your parted lips, your shoes just barely touching the floor as he supports you on his knee, guiding you to grind along the length of it, the half-liddedness of your eyes. The sight is intoxicating, one that he desperately wants to photograph, frame, and keep to himself for as long as time allows, because, God, you’re a vision.

Nikolai dives back in for another kiss, this one lasting far longer and being much heavier—nothing short of tongue and teeth—as he loses himself in the taste of you. You aren’t much better. If anything, you’re in so much worse of a state than he is right now. You can feel your own composure crumbling apart in his hands, held together only by the taste of his lips. You can’t even fight it—not that you’d even want to in the first place.

You bring your hands up, letting them glide across his shoulders, fingers splayed, taking in the expanse of them before they go up further, tangling into his hair. The sensation forces another groan out of him, the sound trickling down your throat without a single ounce of shame, freely showing to you just how deep his need and desperation are to have you run within his bones.

“Have to… have to have you… You understand, да? You’ll let me?”

Nikolai breathes out between kisses, unable to decide whether he wants to lose himself in the feeling of your lips against his and nothing more, or if he wants to map and memorize every part of the inside of your mouth with his tongue. It’s a tough decision to make, so he opts simply to alternate between the two. It’s the best he can get of both worlds, he decides.

And your mind is finally allowed the space it’s ached for to remind you of exactly what this entire situation will lead to.

He didn’t intend to bring you to the bathroom just to have a quick, hot and heavy make-out session with you, as nice as that would be. No! That’s not what you signed up for, dummy! The second you agreed to be led back here by him, you were giving him permission and consent to fuck you, and you know it!

“Imavirgin!”

The words come flowing out past your lips like water as you pull away from him, the back of your head falling back against the wooden door as you gasp desperately for air, breathing in quickly and out brokenly before you can even process what you’ve said, trying to regulate your breathing from the way he had taken the oxygen straight out of your lungs. And when it does catch up to what you’ve said, you feel your face burn white hot, completely flushed.

You’re looking at him with wide eyes, something akin to a deer in headlights, while he looks back at you, now in the process of catching his own breath, with nothing more than a slightly confused expression as he works to pick apart your hurried, panicked words. And when it dawns on him as to what you’ve said, his pupils blow wide just a fraction, minutely, and just barely noticeable.

He doesn’t look disgusted or weirded out by your words, to your surprise, having expected that exact response from him and being wildly confused when you can’t find an inkling of that expression on his face. “That wasn’t what I asked, лапушка.”

Nikolai mumbles out to you, pressing his forehead against your own as he allows his breathing to slowly but surely level out, his dazed, lust-filled eyes boring into your own, fingers loosening gently around your hip as he watches you intently.

He doesn’t care that you’re a virgin. It doesn’t bother him in the slightest, and, if anything, it turns him on. But what he's saying now is that he wants you, but he’s asking at the same time if you’ll let him, allowing for that decision to lie completely within your control. He isn’t forcing himself upon you, still giving you the ability to say no and withdraw your consent before he pushes anything further, simply asking if you understand what he means and if you’ll let him.

So, now you’re faced with a decision.

Do you withdraw your consent and tell him that, no, you won’t let him go any further with this? Because, quite frankly, you aren’t ready. Not ready to have sex for the first time in your life, not ready to lose your virginity, and certainly not ready to give up such an intimate part of yourself to a man you only met less than an hour ago.

Or... do you take a leap of faith without sparing a single glance beforehand and tell him that, yes, you do understand what he means, very clearly comprehending it and recognizing what’s to come with the acceptance of his proposal, and that, yes, you will let him have you and your body? That you’ll let him do whatever he wants to you, to be the one to take your virginity from you… and maybe then some.

It’s an important decision for you to make, one whose answer determines whether or not you lose your last sense of innocence. And, for better or for worse, far beyond your better judgement, you don’t spend too much time weighing the pros and cons before making your decision.

“I… ah… I understand. And… yeah, yes. Please.” Just like before, your answer comes out laced with hesitation and apprehension, both emotions undeniable, especially with the way your voice cracks and strains, leaving you to stumble and stutter over your words as you give him your answer with a shaky voice. Your hands are still tangled into his hair, albeit much looser now, but still present, the tremors that wrack through them gently tousling the dark strands.

And, after a moment, allowing his space to process what you said, Nikolai’s fingers resume their tight grip on your hip, the thick fingers bruising the skin, no doubt, even through the layers of your clothes. Never breaking eye contact with you, he pulls his head back, removing his forehead from its spot pressed against yours, his eyes shamelessly looking you up and down, his tongue gliding over the skin of his teeth.

“Умница.”

Nikolai mumbles out with praise, his voice barely louder than a whisper, though gruff and gravely beyond belief, a testament to his desire, moving his hand down for your hip to cup and grope at your ass through your pants, the other quickly following suit as he hoists you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his hips so as not to fall. Even if he wouldn’t ever let that happen in the first place, of course.

With your legs wrapped so tightly around his hips, you can very easily feel the hardness of his cock, even through all of the layers of clothing that separate you. You feel your breath hitch and stutter as it comes out shakily, your eyes boring into his own with parted lips and an open mouth, so unaware of what he has in store for you.

Oh, sweetheart, he’s going to fucking ruin you.

Unlike before, his footsteps are heavy as they move against the tiled floor of the bathroom, the thuds filling the space between the two of you, mixed with your own shared heavy breaths as he moves to, rather unceremoniously, drop you onto the long sink that lines one of the walls. Your legs dangle over the edge of it, and your thighs spread apart so far that you can feel your pants straining to accommodate them and the burn of your thighs as he stands between them.

He brings you back in for another kiss, his body towering over your own as he forces you to lean back against the cold mirror behind you, a shiver crawling up the length of your spine as you moan into his mouth, earning a pleased groan from him, just like before. His hands move, hooking into the loops of your pants as he forces them down, not even requesting for you to lift up your ass to make it easier, doing all the work for himself.

Nikolai’s tongue glides along your bottom lip, teasing its way into your mouth. His teeth clink against your own, and the kiss is sloppy and messy in a way that makes you moan out, whining softly. They’re two sounds that he eagerly swallows from your lips and drinks in like wine. He roughly shoves your pants the rest of the way down, moving them around and off of one foot so they dangle off of the other, the leg dragging against the floor.

Pulling back, Nikolai chuckles darkly at the way you try to cling to him, gently and desperately tugging at his hair with a whimper, trying to urge him back down for another kiss. He clicks his tongue, tutting at you with disapproval, shaking his head as he does so, giving you a warning look that quickly makes you remove your hands from their position, letting them come to fist at his shirt, gripping onto it with desperation.

“Нет. None of that. You're so eager for something that you have never even had. You don’t know how to act. We have to fix that, да?” It’s condescending that the way Nikolai speaks, mocking you and making fun of you for how desperate you are when he hasn’t even done anything of real substance yet—nothing more than a bit of making out and thigh grinding—has you acting out of line. Granted, you don’t really know where that line stands, given that you haven’t ever done this before, but he’s here to show you. To teach you and ingrain into you the role that you play beneath him.

Nikolai brings one of his hands up, cupping your chin and holding it tightly and firmly between his thumb and forefinger, the others pressed against the side of your throat, tilting it upwards as you strain your neck to keep up with the action. He inches his thumb up further, looking down at and watching you with narrowed eyes, cold and calculating as he presses them against your lips, feeling the way you exhale shakily out of your nose.

“Open.” It’s not a request, as you can tell, so you don’t waste any time looking at him with confusion, simply parting your lips for him and opening your mouth, just as he’s requested. He doesn’t even give you a moment to fully comprehend what's happening as he pushes his thumb past your lips, presses the rough pad down onto your tongue, and hooks it behind your teeth as he pulls you closer to him.

Drool begins to pool inside your mouth as you look up at him with wide eyes, trying to speak, to whine, and to say something, but he tightens his grip in response, growling lowly. It’s your second warning.

“I thought you were a smart girl? Didn’t I say that? Умница, Да? Act like one.”

His other hand, the one currently positioned near your calf, not having moved since pulling your pants roughly down your legs, inches its way upwards, brushing against the exposed skin and leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Teasing, maybe, but it further ingrains his point into your head that, if you don’t start to behave and let him do the work, you won’t be getting any satisfaction or pleasure out of this.

He doesn’t care if this is your first time or not, and it’s not in a dismissive or cruel way. He’s simply treating you like he would any other person that he was going to have sex with, so it’s a mixture of equal rights and equal opportunity, you suppose. Whether or not that’s a good or a bad thing is… undetermined.

His palm presses against your thigh, fingers splayed as they continue to inch upward, branding your skin with the heat they exude, and, as much as you want to buck your thigh up into his palm and beg for him to rush and hurry up, you don’t. Because, lucky for you, that critical thinking skill is starting to work, the gears in your head are turning and allowing you the space to think. You have to be patient and good if you want what he can give you.

So, rather hesitantly, you wrap your lips around his thumb, gently gliding and swirling your tongue around his thumb, covering it in the slick, sticky saliva that pools in your mouth, looking up at him as you wait, playing that role of the smart girl that he wants you to be. Not rushing, not hurrying, and not begging.

And, oh, are you rewarded for it.

Nikolai lets out another deep and heavy "fuck," but this time it’s shaky and strained, the heat and movement of your tongue against his skin lighting up fireworks in his body that go straight down to his cock. His composure slips, if only momentarily, before he picks it right back up, catching his bottom lip between his teeth and biting down onto it roughly, shakily breathing as he watches you with half-lidded eyes and a twitching grin.

“There you go. Much better.”

Nikolai’s fingers brush against the fabric of your panties, his eyes breaking away from your face as he looks down and leans his body back slightly, watching his own actions as, with one finger, he moves them to the side, exposing your glistening cunt to his wanting eyes, pushing it until it touches your other thigh, using his fingers to spread out your folds, listening to the squelching sounds they make.

He gently presses his thumb to your entrance, not yet pushing inwards, simply moving it around the area with purpose, listening to the sounds that it makes—a perfect symphony, if you were to ask him. He drags the pad of it upwards just as slowly, letting it glide and trail over the length of your pussy until he reaches your clit, his eyes flickering up at you as he presses down against it, making slow, gentle circles around it, watching you.

Even with your mouth wrapped around his thumb, you let out the prettiest moan, muffled into a hum as your hips jerk upwards unintentionally at his actions. Your eyelids flutter, twitching and arching your back in a quick spasmed motion, and he drinks in the sight of it with greed, his breaths so hot and heavy as he watches.

You’re going to put him in an early grave, Nikolai thinks to himself. How is he going to survive when you’re so good and so eager for him? Letting him play with your pretty pussy like this, toying and playing with it as if the action were innocent in nature without arguing, whining, and begging for more?

He’s being so mean to you when it’s your first time. He should be treating you so sweetly and nicely, shouldn't he? He should’ve sunk his cock into you a while ago, broken you in, and given you the soft lovemaking you deserve to have. He should’ve made you cum already; feel you squeeze him and listen to you make more of those pretty sounds that he’s starting to crave like a drug.

But that isn’t the man Nikolai is. But, then again, he can still recognize and appreciate your actions. He can still praise you and give you something of substance before he lets himself take away your innocence and let his most perverse thoughts run wild.

Taking his thumb out of your mouth and watching the drool drip down from it, Nikolai places it into his own mouth, sucking your taste from it until it’s clean. Only then does he bring his middle and ring fingers to your lips. And now, you know exactly what to do without instruction, leaning forward and taking them into your mouth, gagging softly as you take them as far back as you can, your tongue drooling and licking all over them, wetting them thoroughly.

And this time when he removes them, he quickly moves on to shift them to your other set of lips, smearing the saliva all over your cunt, right near your entrance. He teases the tip of one of his fingers around it, pressing in gently and slowly, taking his sweet time. His fingers are so much thicker than your own; one of them is akin to the width of two of your own.

It doesn’t hurt, nor does it strain too much. It’s bearable—something you can handle. That is, until he works to ease the second finger in, letting you get used to the feeling of one of his fingers inside of you for only a few moments before pressing the second one in. And this time, instead of your breath simply catching in your throat, it’s as if the wind has been knocked out of you, leaving you gaping and gasping. "O-oh, fuck, please."

You whisper out softly, your voice breaking into a whimper as your back fully arches against the mirror, your jaw slack as you moan out pathetically, closing it only to swallow the saliva in your mouth down harshly, making an audible gulp, before opening it once more, breathing out heavily with whimpers falling from your lips as he eases it in further. The burn from the stretch has you dizzy in the head—a mixture of pain from the sting of it and the pleasure of being filled so well.

Nikolai smiles slyly, pushing in all the way until his fingertip brushes against your cervix, cooing to you in a degrading manner as you cry out, your thighs instinctively squeezing together, trying to urge him away.

“What? Do you want me to stop?” Nikolai muses with a smug grin spread out across his lips, taunting you with the way he spreads his fingers out into a v-shape. He struggles against the tightness of your cunt, feeling your walls gripping onto him like a vice, but not stopping either way. He’s pushing you to your limits, maybe even far beyond them at this point, but everything he’s doing is sending your mind into a blurry haze of pleasure.

So much as him mentioning stopping makes you want to sob.

“No! No, no no no, please no. Please don’t stop. Please.”

You beg him with your breathing bordering on hyperventilation from how quickly you’re inhaling and exhaling, with a tone raw with emotion and desperation, just as it was before, but the contexts feel so different this time. You spread your legs impossibly wider, that burn from before feeling like nothing in comparison to the way he’s stretching you out right now, his fingers knuckle deep into you.

Nikolai lets out an amused hum in response, slowly closing his fingers, feeling the way you squeeze him and force them back together, before spreading them out wide once more, his thumb creeping its way up towards your clit. You can barely notice it, too busy moaning for him and trying your best to keep your legs spread as much as your body tries to fight it. Unshed tears brim at your eyes, a testament to how good it all feels.

And when his thumb eventually makes its way to your clit, applying pressure as it moves in slow circles, you swear on everything you hold dear that you could cum then and there. Your eyes roll back into your head the second he presses his fingers back together and starts to curl them upwards, hitting that gummy spot that makes your body go rigid with tension.

“Good. I need to get you ready for me, after all. It will not do either of us any good if you cannot take all of me.”

If you had even half of your brain working, you might be able to formulate some kind of response to his words, but, with your mind so overwhelmed with pleasure, all you can do is squeeze his fingers tighter and moan like a whore. He continues his motions of pumping and curling his fingers inside of you, his thumb gradually picking up its pace, swirling tighter, quicker circles around your clit.

You’re mouth is perpetually open, and all the sounds that rise up deep within your throat are bubbling up without a single barrier to block them, your hands gripping tightly onto his shirt with no intention of letting go. Nikolai takes them all in with pride, every sound fueling his ego and his desires, only encouraging him further to quicken his motions. With the way your whines get higher in pitch and the way your body tenses, he can practically taste how close you are.

His free hand moves up your chest, slipping underneath the fabric of your shirt and hooking his thumb beneath your bra, pushing both upwards. He stuffs the fabric of your shirt into your mouth, muffling your moans, and, while it isn’t necessarily his intention to do so, he just has to get a look at your tits.

He can see how hard your nipples are and the way your tits jerk and bounce softly with every catch and stutter of your breath, and the sight drives him just as wild as the picture of his fingers stuffed inside of you with a mixture of your drool and slick smeared messily around your cunt and all over his knuckles.

Nikolai can’t stop himself as he leans forward, ensuring that you meet his eyes with a gentle tap of his fingers against your cheek when he wraps his lips around one of your nipples, his tongue swirling around it and his teeth gently grazing against it with a teasing bite. That sight and those sensations, combined with the way he’s been abusing your poor, puffy clit and pussy with his fingers, are all it takes to push you over the edge.

Your orgasm hits you with the force of a truck, completely knocking the wind out of you. Your breathing catches in your throat before stopping altogether for a moment, all of the blood in your body seemingly rushing to your ears. Your thighs snap shut, squeezing tightly around his wrist, and your eyes roll back into your head as far as they can go as you cum around his fingers, gushing and leaving them covered in your essence.

He lets you ride it out without saying a word, simply watching with a grin as you lose yourself in ecstasy—the pleasure that’s thrumming through your veins like nothing else you’ve ever experienced, and he knows it. The very sight of you like that has him gritting his teeth, growling out a low “yeah, there you go" against your chest as he detaches his mouth from your nipple, watching as you come undone, slowing down the movements of his fingers and thumb to let you ride out the waves of your orgasm undisturbed.

Your breathing stutters, that familiar glossy haze covering your eyes as you come back down to earth, blinking up dumbly at him as you regain your sense of awareness, opening and closing your jaw. All of that tension dissipates from your body with ease, fizzing out, leaving you practically boneless atop the bathroom sink, working on catching your breath as you try to remember how to think.

As you do that, looking down, Nikolai slowly pulls his fingers out of you, his eyes completely blown out as he watches the way your body tremors with aftershocks, shivering once he’s completely pulled out. Just like he knew they would be, his knuckles are covered in a ring on white, and the length of his fingers smeared with your cum and slick, soaked.

He wants to taste it; truly, he does, but that would just ruin what comes next.

Blinking, slowly coming out of the fog that the afterglow of your orgasm covers you in, you watch as Nikolai pulls back, bringing his hand away from your face as he brings it down towards his lower half, mumbling under his breath in Russian as he makes work of his belt singlehandedly, loosening it just enough that he can unbutton and unzip his pants. He doesn’t even shove them down his legs to kick them off fully, simply maneuvering the waistband of his boxers beneath his balls to free his cock.

And the sight of it sobers you up quickly.

How the fuck does he expect you to fit him inside of you?

“You’ll take it.” He tells you without missing a beat, confident, practically reading your mind because he’s become well acquainted with that very look that crossed over your features when you saw it. It makes him chuckle, if anything, using his hand covered in your juices and smearing it all across his length, and you can’t help but watch greedily at the sight, understanding exactly why he’s so obsessed with sound with the way the smearing of your slick and cum fills the air between you.

Nikolai takes a step back, not yet bringing his eyes away from the sight of his cock as he mixes your juices with his own pre-cum, eyebrows knitting as he loses himself in his own thoughts. After a moment, he clicks his tongue. The sound immediately catches your attention, effortlessly making you perk up and shift your eyes from his cock to his face.

“Get down from there and turn around. I want you bent over this sink.”

Oh, fuck. This is really happening.

You nod at him, gulping down harshly as you shuffle your body towards the edge of the sink until your ass is to the very edge of it, pressing the tips of your toes against the floor as you hop off of it. Granted, you nearly collapse, not having anticipated the force of your orgasm to leave you incapable of standing on your own, but, thankfully, your tight grip on the rim keeps you standing.

Nikolai lets out a huff of amusement at the sight, making no move to assist you as you awkwardly turn yourself around while still holding onto the edge, legs wobbling and shaking as you stand in front of the sink. Now, with the change in position, you can truly see just how fucked-out you look in the mirror, just like your friends had been once before on the chance that you saw them before they left tonight.

Your hair’s a mess, strands stringing out in every direction, fuzzy with static, and your lips are completely swollen and bruised from how hard Nikolai kissed you. Drool dribbles past the side of your mouth and down your chin, eyes red from unshed tears, pupils blown out and darker than you ever would have imagined they would be. You look like an entirely different person in some ways, but in others, you look exactly the same.

But Nikolai doesn’t exactly have time for you to admire yourself in the mirror, so, with a grumble, he takes a step forward, moving his hand to your upper back, seemingly sweet and intimate with his actions, before roughly pressing you down against the sink, your nipples coming into contact with the cold surface of it, making you moan out and shiver. With his free hand, he pulls your panties down to your thighs, ensuring they won’t be in the way or an issue, before moving his hand back to hold onto his cock.

“You can admire yourself when you’re wrapped around me, лапушка. I gave you a command, so… I expect you to listen to it. Поняла?”

He kicks your feet further apart with his boots, gliding his hand down the expanse of your back and moving your shirt up the slightest bit so he can admire your ass. He taps his cock against the curve of your ass, obsessed with the wet sound it makes, letting out a deep, gutteral groan as he trails his tip along it lazily, tilting his head to the side. His thumb gently caresses the skin, rubbing up and down in a small area before suddenly removing it, only to bring it down with a harsh smack against it.

The sensation makes you lurch forward, yelping out loudly, completely caught off guard, not having expected it in the slightest. As much as you want to say that you don’t like it… the way that your cunt clenches around nothing in anticipation combined with the breathless moan you let out is undeniable. It’s an easy indication of your desires and how much you truly enjoy the sting it leaves behind on your ass.

“I said поняла?”

Nikolai growls out, breath fanning along your neck as you hear his voice right next to your ear, his hand pressing down into your lower back to support himself as he lines himself up with your entrance, bringing his tip to glide up and down through your folds, the squelching sound it makes causing you both to shutter in anticipation. You let out a pitiful whine at the feeling, one that earns you another harsh smack against your other cheek, forcing tears to your eyes.

“I don’t know Rus-”

He doesn’t even let you finish your words before he’s plunging his cock into you, pressing through your entrance and bottoming out in one swift thrust, enveloping himself in your soaked heat.

“Ебена мать!”

Nikolai curses out, muffling himself as he bites down hard enough on his bottom lip to taste blood. The squeeze of your tight pussy around him is enough to make him feel lightheaded and dizzy, gasping as he takes in a shuttering breath and pressing his forehead between your shoulderblades as he pants.

He fills you up completely with his cock, stretching your already sore cunt far past its limits as his tip presses against your cervix. Your eyes are forced to screw shut tightly as you try to grasp onto anything, but, alas, the countertop that spreads out along the edge of the sink is completely smooth, leaving you helpless.

You dig your fingers into your palms as a solution, your knuckles turning white as you press your forehead against the cool surface, trying desperately to ground yourself as a means to combat the stinging pain that comes with the stretch. The sensation is overwhelming, with all of your nerves feeling as if they’ve been lit ablaze.

It makes you want to writhe—to wriggle yourself out of his hold and scramble away from just how much it aches and burns. But, as you wait, your breath coming out in strained, stuttered breaths, you realize that he isn’t moving whatsoever. He keeps himself buried inside of you, completely still, his chest pressed against your back, as he breathes in with considerable effort and breathes out with just as much strain.

So, as the both of you lay there waiting for the pain to subside, you’re able to focus on and enjoy the feeling and be completely and utterly full. When Nikolai had his fingers inside of you earlier, you thought that that sensation was the most full you were going to feel. But, with the way that his cock leaves no extra space inside of you, filling you to the brim in a way where you can feel him bulging out against your tummy, you realize how enjoyable the sensation is.

It’s intimate and almost comforting, in a way, to have someone fill you up completely.

So, as you lie there, focusing on that sensation, you can feel that initial discomfort and overwhelmingness dissipate, leaving you solely with that fullness. It feels good, you come to find out, much better than anything you’ve ever felt before, and all you can think about is how much better you know that Nikolai can make it. So, you choose to gently press your ass back into him, taking him in impossibly deeper and giving him the subtle indication that you’re ready.

You feel him suck in a sharp breath that fands out against your skin. In a slow, fluid motion, he draws his hips back, pulling his cock out far enough that only the tip of it is left inside of you, before giving a gentle thrust to his hips and plunging himself back into you. The two of you moan out simultaneously, the sound he makes being more of a groan in nature and yours more of a whine, feeling the way he moves his hand to hold at your waist.

“Nik…” You whine out to him, your voice cracking into breathlessness as you feel him thrust slowly in and out of, the desire to beg for more threatening to pass through your lips, but the harsh squeeze he gives to either of your hips shuts you up instantly, listening to the way he strains to breathe and speak, rolling his hips with each thrust, ensuring he can get as deep inside of you as he can, his tip brushing against your cervix each time without fail.

Nikolai lets out a particularly heavy breath, grunting as he snaps his hips with a bit more force into you. Steadily, he begins to pick up speed with each in and out of his cock, much to your delight, losing himself in the wet, squishy noises it makes with the motion.

“I am going to fucking ruin you. Mold you to my cock so that nobody will ever be able to make you feel as good as I do.”

He mumbles it out, primarily to himself, even though you can clearly hear it, standing up and leaning back slightly. He lazily turns his head to the side, eyes focused on the sight of his cock disappearing and reappearing with each thrust he makes, trailing up the length of your back and looking into the mirror, getting to witness it from a different perspective. The vision makes his cock twitch inside of you, forcing another groan out of him.

Taking one of his hands away from your hip, Nikolai reaches it upwards, finding the base of your neck, fingers splaying out as they cup the back of your head, before reaching forwards, tangling themselves into the strands of your hair, and pulling. The motion forces your back to arch, your head lifting away from the expanse of the sink, your eyes boring into… your own, the mirror giving you a perfect view of yourself.

Jaw slack, drool dripping past your lips, tongue out, eyes blown wide, hair a mess of strands, tits out, bent over with the prettiest sounds freely falling from your lips as you get fucked from behind in a shitty bar bathroom by a man you’ve barely met an hour ago. Nikolai takes in the same scene, his eyes watching yours as you focus on yourself, grunting out with each thrust, shamelessly making noise to properly translate just how much he’s enjoying this.

“But you would like that, да? To be unable to enjoy anyone else fucking you because I’m the one who took you first.”

Another slap to your ass leaves you reeling, your eyes rolling back into your head as he thrusts himself in deep, snapping his hips with a roughness that forces the air out of your lungs before you can even take in another breath. You feel him readjust his grip on your hair, forcing your back to arch even further as he growls, bouncing you along the length of his cock as he fucks into you with vigor.

The coil that resides in your lower stomach begins to slowly but surely tighten with each thrust, accompanied by your own pathetic moaning, whining, and keening—those beautiful tears falling down the length of your face without anything to hold them back. Your eyes glisten, flickering away from your own expression as you opt to watch his own, seeing the way he bites onto his bottom lip to hold back his moans and whines, even as he fails to do so without any resistance.

“Such a desperate whore for my cock, aren’t you? It is amusing how you’ve never had sex yet act like a slut.” Nikolai coos out cruelly, emphasizing his words with a particular harsh thrust that has you drooling, letting his own hand grip at your waist as he pulls you back into each thrust, ensuring he bottoms out each and every time without fail. The obscene sound of his balls slapping against your soaked, sticky cunt fills the air. You can feel his tip slam against that spongey spot on your inner walls—the one that makes your toes curl and leaves you feeling boneless—and when he hears the sound you make, he’s relentless in focusing all of his attention right there.

God, it makes you see stars. You feel so unbelievably full in a way you’ve never felt before, each thrust of his thick, fat cock ripping the air from your lungs, leaving you sweaty and breathless. It’s overwhelming, yet in a way that makes you never want it to stop. Drool drips onto the counter from your tongue, hanging off in stringy globs, flicking back and forth with each thrust. You can feel yourself getting close, your walls closing in on him with a grip that leaves him groaning and growling, completely pussydrunk off of you as his eyes catch on to all of the different telltale signs he’s coming to learn from you.

The way your eyelids twitch when your eyes roll back, the way your whole body tenses up with anticipation, and the way your noises get so much higher pitched

He’s never letting you go after this, he decides. Nobody is going to get to have you once he’s done with you—once he’s claimed you. He was your first, and he’d be damned if he let anyone other than himself be your second, your third, and so on and so forth.

“Come on, красивая вещь. Cum on my cock. You can do it.”

Nikolai growls out, his fingers bruising against the flesh of your waist as he holds on to tightly, as if you’d slip through his fingers if he were to loosen it, if only by a fraction. And you’ve learned from your lesson before that, being a smart girl and knowing to do what he says when he says it, so your body instinctively reacts to his command. Blinding, white-hot pleasure courses through your veins, ever nerve ending in your body, feeling like it’s on fire when you gush around him. You feel your entire body go rigid with tension,your, heart stopping for a moment, unable to breathe or see from just how hard you cum.

Oh, you feel like jelly. If you thought you were boneless before, the way his grip on your hair is the only thing keeping you up right now really shows you what “bonelessness” feels like.

Your entire body convulses, spasming and twitching and jerking you as you fight the overstimulation of him still ruthlessly pounding into your pussy, whining and keening as you babble out incoherently at him, everything making you so dizzy with pleasure. Nikolai himself isn’t that much farther behind you, the squeeze of your pussy bringing him teetering over the edge, barely able to pull out in time with a strained grunt of your name as hot, thick cum spurts from his twitching cock.

Ropes of it leak from his cock, painting pretty white lines against your ass as he groans out gutturally, leaning his head back as he basks in his own pleasure. He pants out heavy, each breath strained with effort as he blinks, chest heaving as he struggles to regain control over his own breathing, letting his eyes drop back down to admire the scene before him. There’s this dazed, lopsided smile that’s spread out across your lips, your eyes glazed over with ecstasy, just like before, but the difference in seeing your fucked-out face cockdrunk off of him. Oh, that just makes it all the better.

He blinks a few times, his jaw slack as he swallows down his own saliva and pants, his hand moving to smear his cum messily along your ass, rubbing it into your skin as if it were lotion. He knows it’ll stick to his own clothes if he does, but he can’t help himself nor care as he leans himself against you, bending over you, allowing himself to rest his forehead between your shoulder blades as his body comes down from such an intense high.

Seeing you like this, having you like this… it’s something he doubts he could ever leave.

His breaths come into sync with your own; the steady breathing, lungs filling with air, and breathing out, expelling all of that air, is an action that the both of you focus on as one, uncaring about anything else but this moment. You feel him mumble something against your back, unable to make it out through the haze of your afterglow, unable to hear all the whispers of praise he allocates to you, pressing gentle kisses against your shirt.

The moment is undeniably intimate, something you may not suspect from him, especially given the way that he treated you. But it makes sense, the way he has this imposing and overwhelmingly dominating persona that he leans on, yet can be equally caring and loving when the situation requires it. It’s a delicate balance that he maintains, further proving the extents of his own control, both over his partners and himself, and you can’t help but appreciate and admire it.

But unfortunately, the calm atmosphere that begins to settle between the two of you is so rudely interrupted by the sound of multiple harsh, sharp poundings against the door to the bathroom. Even though the door remains locked, which, thank God, Nikolai had done, the handle still gets jiggled with haste. Muffled, barely audible conversation can be heard happening from beyond the door, but it doesn’t seem like, according to your actions, that each of you cares all that much.

“Nikolai! Hurry up in there. If you don’t come out soon, we’re taking your truck back and leaving you here.”

A gruff, deep Scouse accent barks out, muffled only by the barrier of the wooden bathroom door that continues to shake from the sheer force of the pounding the knocks have been making against it. Nikolai groans out with a mixture of frustration and annoyance against the fabric of your shirt, still working to catch his breath as his pants begin to slow down, the heat of them seeping through the fabric and sticking to your skin.

“Maybe I should let him…” He mumbles out for only you to hear, his palm gently rubbing up and down the curve of your ass, working to soothe that ache that lingers from his harsh, sharp smacks. He presses a gentle kiss between your shoulder blades, trailing his lips upwards as he follows your spine and the curve of your neck, leading him to make his way to press them along the edge of your jawline. The sensation makes you let out a shuttering breath, which is uneven and shaky in nature.

The afterglow of your orgasm still lingers, mixing in with the dull ache left behind by the rough way he treated your cunt, your mind hazy as it swirls with pleasure, focusing on those sensations and nothing else, not even his words. You let out a soft hum in response, still fucked out and dumb without a single thought occupying the space in your head, not even knowing what it is exactly that you’re acknowledging. It makes him chuckle.

“Good first time; I take it, then?” He muses smugly, knowing full well that you won’t be able to give him a proper answer. But, with the look that shines behind your eyes and the state that he’s left you in, he doesn’t even have to ask that question to know the answer to it.

So, with a heavy and reluctant sigh, pressing one last kiss to your jawline, he pulls himself back. Gently, he moves to rest your head back down against the sink, turning his gaze downward as he tucks his softening cock back into his boxers. He pulls back up his pants, re-buttoning and zipping them, and fastening his belt through the loops. He composes himself after doing so, smoothing down his clothes and checking himself in the mirror.

Well, as composed as a man who just fucked can, you guess. Then he moves on to you. He presses gently kisses along your exposed skin, helping your boneless form readjust your bra and pull down your shirt, pulling back up your panties and pants, ensuring they’re all situated as he gives you a once-over from behind, pulling you against him as he checks you out in the mirror in front of you. A kiss is pressed to the side of your neck as he looks at you in the mirror, his eyes still half-lidded and a smirk adorning his lips.

“Come on, лапушка. Focus. It will be hard to walk if your legs don’t work, да?”

He teases lightheartedly, helping bring you back to reality as he helps you stand, your knees buckling instantly, but he never lets go of you once, remaining patient as the pins and needles slowly but surely dissipate, and you’re able to stand on your own, finally able to string a sentence together and cultivate coherent thoughts Still leaning into him, even if you don’t need his support anymore, you let out a soft whine laced with disapproval.

He hums, wordlessly acknowledging you.

"I don't want you to go." You complain, drawing out the last syllable as you voice out your thoughts to him, not at all ready to depart and go back by yourself. To, quite possibly and realistically, never see him again once he leaves. You aren’t ready for that, as selfish as it might be to admit. He chuckles at your words, not out of malice but out of loving amusement, gently turning you around so that you’re facing him, tilting your head up with one of his fingers curled under your chin.

“Well… I suppose my comrades can find their own way home, don’t you think? They’re capable enough. You, however…”

He trails off with a chuckle, wordlessly acknowledging your state with raised eyebrows and a shit-eating grin, to which you can only whine out into the air between you both, clearly not amused as he is by his words. But once you’re actually able to register what he means by that, you look up at him with parted lips, that dumb expression still on your face, but now it’s more endearing than anything.

He leans forward, the scruff of his facial hair scratching gently against your skin as he presses a kiss to your forehead, letting his lips linger around the area for a few moments before ultimately pulling back.

“Let me take you home. You might have lost your virginity, but… that was only in one position. I think it’s only fair I help you lose it in all of them, don’t you think?”

It’s cocky and overwhelmingly confident—exactly what made you turn down the others who had tried their luck convincing you to have sex with them earlier in the night—but, coming from Nikolai, it’s a trait of his that has you hooked. Be it good or bad, you can’t find any part of yourself that’s inclined to refuse his open offer. So, with a dopey, lopsided smile that spreads out across your lips, you nod, accepting.

Because he’s right: it’s only fair.

Умница - smart girl

апушка - sweetheart

Нет - no

Да - yes

Поняла - understand

Ебена мать - holy shit

Красивая вещь - beautiful thing

#originally this was just a small idea #i just need him 😔#so now it's... a lot more #i love him so much #if you couldn't already tell that #(my past written posts all being Nikolai related staring at me like: 🧍‍♂️)#your honor - i'm a whore. I CONFESS IT!#nikolai x reader #nikolai cod x reader #cod nikolai x reader #nikolai #cod nikolai #nikolai cod #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #modern warfare x reader #modern warfare 2 x reader #modern warfare 3 x reader #mw x reader #mw2 x reader #mw3 x reader #i genuinely became enemies with this fic bc i put off all of the things i've needed to do these past few days to finish it #i don't even care if it's good anymore like i'm so tired #ELEVEN FUCKING THOUSAND WORDS #i need to shut the fuck up oh my gods #it's like... i don't even know what i wrote anymore so- enjoy???#edited for Russian corrections. thank you!

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