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fandoms-writings · 2 months ago
Text
Sundaes and Barbecues
Pairing: Modern!Bucky x female!reader
Word Count: 9.3K (sorryyy)
Summary: After moving back to your home town, you run into the one person you weren’t prepared for. 
Warnings: Angst, mentions of past abuse (mental, manipulation), fluff. 
Read part 2 here: This is Home
Bucky Masterlist || Main Masterpost
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The multiple piles of boxes stared you down, daring to unpack them — to unpack your life, to re-setup your life — but all you could do was stare back. It didn't help that the box truck of furniture was staring at you from its spot in the driveway, mocking you for not hiring a moving company to unload it for you. 
You didn't think you'd ever end back up in the tiny lake town you grew up in, but here you are, standing in the small house you bought with most of the money you kept hidden from your ex-husband. It was halfway across the country away from him, and you would've gone further if you could have, but your little town was always safe when you were younger. No tourists, not too much crime, other than the crimes from the big city just twenty minutes down the highway. Not even your ex-husband knew it was your home. You figured it'd be the best spot to restart. 
Sighing, you decided not to unpack just yet, and grabbed your car keys. Your car was already unhooked from the trailer and you needed groceries, and what better time to go get them than when you don't want to do what really needs to be done. 
Driving down to the local store, you were able to see how not much had changed. Most of the houses you walked by when you were in high-school still looked the same, save for the new paint jobs or new fences, you even recognized most of the people working out in their yards or sitting on their porches. It was a sense of familiarity you didn't know you needed until a hint of a smile had found its way on your cheeks.
The grocery store was set up the same too, with most of the same people working the registers and setting out produce. You pulled your hat down as you walked past people you recognized, hoping they didn't see you. It was not a day you wanted to spend playing catch up with anyone. You just wanted to grab what you needed to make a semi-decent dinner and you'd come back tomorrow after a good night's rest. 
You were pushing the sad cart that had one wheel who just couldn't get with the program and was squeaking at every rotation, looking at different packages of noodles when you heard the thud of a set of heavy boots coming up behind you. Glancing at the ground behind you, you stepped out of the way with a small apology for being in the man's way before looking back at your options - elbow or penne. 
You noticed the boots were frozen behind you, unmoving, and it made a knot of worry form in your chest. It was when your name fell on your ears in a whisper that you almost jumped out of your own skin. 
Spinning on your heel with a slight gasp, your eyes followed up the floor from black boots and dark jeans to a light grey shirt paired with a leather jacket. You looked up to see those familiar slate blue eyes surrounded by dark lashes. He had the same scruff on his cheeks, but his hair was shorter now - no longer down to his shoulders, it was cut, cropped and short with a small bit of length on the top. He seemed leaner, no longer large and bulky. His eyebrows were arched, creasing his forehead as he looked over you. 
"Is that really you?" His voice was soft, but it held a roughness to it that was unfamiliar. He looked the same, but yet so different. 
"Uh, ye - yeah," You glanced down at your leggings and hoodie, stained with dust and paint, and you immediately wished you were anywhere but there, "Hi, Buck. . . I didn't think anyone would recognize me." Glancing back up at him from under the brim of your baseball cap, you caught the small smile that played on the corners of his lips. 
"I'll always recognize you. What are you doing here anyways?" He asked in a breathy laugh, "I thought you moved away?" 
"I did," You started, shoving your hands in your hoodie pocket and pulling at the tips of your fingers, "I just moved back." 
"Really? Where at?" he gave you one of his show stopping smiles and you couldn't help the part of your heart that still yearned for him after all these years. 
"Like a block or two away from the highschool, a small house," You grinned tightly at him, silently letting him know he wasn't going to be getting more information than that. 
"Oh so not too far from here then," A silence fell between you after you nodded. He was just watching you with a sort of adoration that you couldn't quite explain. He noticed you shift on your feet, clearly uncomfortable, and cleared his throat. 
"Well, if you need any help, I'm down at that mechanic shop every day. You know the one Steve's dad owned?" Your eyes widened as you nodded. "Steve and I took over so his old man could retire." 
"Thanks, but I think I'll be okay," You grabbed your empty cart and went to push it to the next aisle, "It was good to see you though." You noticed his smile falter before an understanding filled his eyes. 
"Yeah, you too," He nodded at you, the happy tone in his voice slipping away, "Have a goodnight." You gave him a short smile before turning down the next aisle, the corners of your lips falling immediately. You waited there for a few minutes until you were sure you heard his boots thud off to another aisle. Taking the empty cart to the front, you put it back with the others and made your way to your car. You'd decided on just ordering take out. 
Out of everyone you had wanted to run into, you wished it was anyone but him. Anyone but your ex-boyfriend. 
You were a firm believer that it had just been the wrong timing for you two, you broke up on good terms and agreed to stay friends. You had received a job offer of your dreams, just on the other side of the country. You wanted to leave the small town, and he wanted to stay. It was as simple as just two different people wanting different things, and that was okay — until it wasn't. 
You moved out to your new city, leaving the town behind. You tried to reach out to keep in contact, and it was fine at first, but his replies started coming in far and few between -- and when he did bother to get back to you, it was never the same. He had grown short in his replies, he didn't tell you much of what was going on, and he stopped reaching out. It had grown exhausting trying to get ahold of him, so you let him go. 
You stopped calling, stopped texting. Your friendship dwindled down to following each other on social media, and that was it. You were fine with it though, once you got married. Your ex-husband wasn't too keen on you having male friends anyways, or really any friends for that matter — one of his many insecurities that would turn out to be your life's downfall. 
You didn't even consider that Bucky would still be here after all these years, but really, where else would he be? He told you he didn't want to leave, that he liked living in a small town where everyone knew each other and everyone knew what was going on in everyone else's life. He loved it for the exact reason you wanted to leave. 
After picking up some subpar Chinese food and heading home, you were sat at your kitchen counter, eating, when your phone lit up next to you. You set your cheap wooden chopsticks down and picked up your phone, unlocking it to a new message. 
~•~
"She just left after that?" Steve asked from under a truck, the only truck they had to work on at the moment, Bucky handing him tools as he told him about how he saw you at the grocery store the night before. 
He couldn't get you out of his head after he saw you. You were still as gorgeous as the last time, but there was a caution in your movements and a sadness in your eyes that was new to him. It worried him. 
"Yeah, man. I saw her put her cart back and walk out. I don't know if it was something I said, but I could tell she was super uncomfortable." He replied, handing over another tool.
"Well, she just moved back. Maybe she was just exhausted? She was probably moving stuff before you saw her." Bucky sighed. Steve was probably right, you weren't someone to ask for help so he knew you'd probably moved most of your stuff on your own, if not all of it. 
"I don't know, she seemed. . . different. I don't know how to put it," He glanced at his phone on the other end of the garage, sitting on one of the tool boxes. He had messaged you last night, having to pull up your social profile, he'd deleted your number years ago. He was still waiting for a reply. 
"Well, you're different than you were back then too." Steve muttered, but Bucky wasn't paying attention. 
"Do you think she's still mad at me?" Steve froze, the sound of the wrench twisting turning to silence. He peaked out from under the car.
"She could be," He went back to work, "You did just drop her when she moved away. I'd be mad too." 
Bucky sighed, grabbing tools back from Steve, placing them in the tool box, "It seemed like the right thing to do at the time." He backed up to let Steve out from under the truck, his blond hair tinted with grease and his blue eyes squinting at Bucky. Once Steve was up, he was wiping his hands on his already too dirty rag. 
"Well, if she's mad, apologize. Hell, even if she's not mad, you should give her an apology." He turned to lower the truck, "She deserves one."
Steve's words continued to repeat in Bucky’s head all day as he not so patiently waited for you to reply to his late night courage. Steve was right. You did deserve an apology, and he wished you'd give him the chance to give it to you. 
He knew he had done you dirty, leaving you in the dust like that. Not explaining that he couldn't take hearing how good it was in your new city. How you were already making friends and going out. How you loved it so much. 
He knew he was the one who didn't agree on moving out of the town, but he didn't expect you to love it the way you did. He thought that you'd go for a couple months and come back, bored of the busy streets and light pollution; but you never did. 
He knew it was wrong to stop replying — knowing it was working when your messages became less frequent. They thinned from once a day, to once a week, to once a month. And one day, he had received the last call from you that he'd ever get. He could still remember it, clear as day. 
He watched as his phone rang on the cushion next to him, the slight vibrations crawling into his skin and the shrill ringtone piercing his ears. 
He watched the picture of you - one he'd taken of you after you'd gone for ice cream, you carrying the biggest sundae with an even bigger smile on your face - displayed across the screen before it faded to black as the time ran out. You had moved out to the city a year ago - you were supposed to come visit but you had been offered the opportunity to work on a huge project and you couldn't say no. 
His eyes were glued to the screen when he saw your voicemail come through. Grasping his phone, he pulled it to his ear, listening to your voice coming through crackling static. Your voice was emotionless, numb. 
"Hey James," His heart hammered in his chest — you never called him James, "I don't know if you're even gonna listen to this, but, uh. . . I'm sorry if I ever offended you or upset you. But, it's pretty clear you don't wanna talk, and that's fine. Um, I guess if you ever wanna talk again, you know how to reach me. . ." The line fell silent. 
He didn't know how to feel, his heart fell to the bottom of the pit in his stomach and all the air in chest vacated his lungs in a single huff. Pulling his phone from his ear, he looked down, the small screen bright in the darkness of his living room. He wanted to call you back, to tell you he was sorry for avoiding you, for giving you the silent treatment you didn't deserve. He so desperately wanted to hear you laugh and to hear you call him 'Bucky' again. 
But he figured it was already too late for that. You called him James - that meant you were mad at him, it had to. Clicking to your contact info, he clicked 'edit' and scrolled to the bottom. 
I'll just hold her back, he thought to himself as he clicked 'delete,' a confirmation message taking the screen, I have to let her go. 
He clicked 'yes.'
~•~
"Thank you, Miss Potts, I really appreciate the offer. I'll see you in the office on Monday?" You asked. Your interview for an editing company was coming to an end, and it had gone incredibly well and you were to start in the next week. 
"Yes! We will see you then!" Pepper Pots, the small business's acting CEO, was more than excited when you had accepted her offer. She said she took one look at your transcripts and your resume and she just had to have you on the team. 
You bid your goodbyes before hanging up and sighing, a small smile on your face. Things were starting to look up, it had been years since things had gone your way and you were just hoping it would stay that way. 
The smile on your lips faltered as you remembered the message that sat in your inbox, waiting for a reply. Bucky had sent it after your run-in with each other at the grocery store two days ago, and you still didn’t know what to say. 
Hey, I know some of our friends would love to know your back. We’re holding a small bbq at the shop on Saturday if you wanna come along? No pressure :)
It was Thursday, you’d have two days to get your life unpacked — at least partially — before going out and then one more day before you started for Miss Potts. But did you want to go? 
You hadn’t seen, let alone talked to, any of your old friends since you left. Bucky was the only one to keep in touch with you and even that dwindled away from you. 
You sighed as you typed a reply — finally. If anything, you could just leave and it wouldn’t matter. There’s no harm in going, right? 
Just a small bbq? Not really in the mood for a crowd. 
You knew your response came off short, but you hadn’t talked with him in so long, it felt awkward. His response came just minutes later, like he’d been waiting for you to get back to him. 
Yeah just a couple friends. We’d love it if you came by. 
You couldn’t stop the small smile that lifted on your cheeks before you replied. 
I’ll swing by for a little while, I’ve got some more unpacking though so I can’t stay long. 
His response was immediate, not even giving you a chance to lock your screen. 
I’ll save a plate for you ;)
Sighing, you locked your phone and looked at your pile of boxes. It was smaller than it was two days ago, most of the boxes moved to their appropriate rooms, but most of them remained unopened, the tape uncut. 
You hadn’t had much motivation to open anything, not wanting to revisit harmful memories as you pulled things out of boxes, one by one coming back to haunt you. But now you have a reason to unpack — at least enough of a reason to find a decent outfit, a nice pair of shoes, and your makeup. So, you stood from your old couch — the one that took way too long to move into your house without help — and got to work. 
~~~
There was quiet music playing from the old stereo in the corner, Steve’s old man’s stereo from when he still owned the shop. All the tools were put in their respective places in the toolboxes, locked away. The grill was already going, Bruce flipping burgers and rotating skewers while Natasha kept him company. 
Wanda and her husband Vis were with Steve catching up with the brothers Thor and Loki — polar opposites whose parents liked Norse mythology a bit too much. 
Bucky was waiting, standing with Sam while he rambled on about his adventures in the Air Force — he was only in town for the week. It didn’t take long for Sam to figure out that Bucky wasn’t listening as he stared at the open garage door like he was expecting something to happen. 
His attention was torn from the door when a jab met his ribs and he whipped his head to his friend who had that knowing look in his eyes. 
“What, Sam?” He grumbled before lifting his beer to his lips and taking a sip. 
“Man, who are you waiting for? Your eyes have been glued to the road outside that door for the past ten minutes,” Sam laughed.
“She’ll show, she always does,” he mumbled, “She always did.” Sam’s brows creased at the last addition.
“Did? Who did?” 
Bucky let his eyes drift back to the empty road just outside the large door, mumbling your name, making Sam’s eyes narrow. 
“Wait — Didn’t she move away?” Bucky nodded before explaining how he ran into you at the grocery store. 
“You’re telling me, your ex-girlfriend, who you stopped talking to, moved back and is coming by tonight?” He asked, eyes wide in amusement, “After what you did, I’m surprised she said she’d come.”
“Yeah me too,” Bucky muttered, “Somethings different about her, man. She used to be so upbeat, happy, always dancing to a tune in her head. When I saw her, she was just as gorgeous as she was seven years ago, but there was a sadness to her. She was hiding behind a hat, she hardly smiled, and when she did it was so small, it was barely noticeable. She seemed… broken.” 
Bucky stated at the road as Sam weighed what he said, a silence settling between them. The sun was setting, filling the sky with pastel pinks and purples. When Sam finally responded, his tone was quiet, softer than it usually was. 
“Buck, a lot can change for a person in that time. You may not know her as well as you used to. Just be ready for that. But you also need to remember that you've changed too,” He rested a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, giving it a nudge and drawing his attention back, “Just be patient, give her some time, and be honest with her." There was a knowing glint in his chocolate eyes — he knew Bucky better than most, even if he never said the words that his friend was picking up on. 
Bucky nodded with a small smile, “Yeah. . . Thanks.” 
Just as he smiled at Sam, he heard the closing of a car door followed by a jingle of keys and his head whipped to the door. There you were, walking through the open doorway, arms wrapped around yourself. You were wearing a pair of light skinny jeans and a loose black blouse, a pair of black flats on your feet. He could feel his heart lift at the sight of you. 
He excused himself from Sam’s side, and made his way to you, smiling when he caught your attention. 
“You made it,” He smiled, nudging your arm with his elbow. 
“Yeah, though it seems I’m a little late,” you mumbled as you peaked around him to see who was there. 
“Hey, I’m the one who never told you a time, that’s on me,” he laughed as he led you over to Sam. “You remember Sam right?” He watched as your eyes widened and sparkled as you saw Sam. 
“Yes! Oh my god, hi,” you laughed as you went in for a hug with your old friend — Bucky wanting to take Sam’s place. 
The three of you stood there for what felt like forever, catching up on the lost years. Sam telling you the same stories Bucky had already heard about his deployments. You telling them both stories about the city you went to work in for two years and the next city you eventually lived in for the past five. It was just like old times, as if you hadn’t gone almost a decade with radio silence. That was until Sam asked a question that appeared to strike a nerve in you. 
“I saw you got married, is your husband coming too?” The moment the word ‘husband’ left Sam’s mouth, Bucky noticed your shoulders tense. The spark left your eyes as they fell to the floor and it was as if you were closing in on yourself. This was the way he saw you at the store and his heart clenched at the sight. 
“I did get married, but we’re not… together anymore,” you whispered, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. 
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Sam caught on to your discomfort and switched the subject, making fun of Bucky for something he did back when they were in school, pulling a small laugh out of you. 
It went on like that for a few hours, catching up with more people as they recognized you and came to say hello. There were only a few instances where you’d start to close off — people asking too personal a question or asking about your husband — but Bucky would pick up on your nervous ticks and take over the conversation for you. 
That was something that hadn’t changed in him, he was always trying to make sure you were comfortable and okay. 
Eventually, he caught you checking the delicate wine red watch that wrapped around your wrist and he remembered you saying you still had stuff to unpack. He wanted to offer to help, but he didn’t know if you’d accept it. If you’d just let him walk into your home to unpack the years of your life he didn’t know about. But just as he was about to open his mouth, a shrill ringtone cut through the music from your back pocket. 
Bucky watched as your shoulders tensed and you scrambled to pull your phone out, eyes widening as you saw who was calling. 
“I — I’ll be right back, sorry,” you mumbled as you scurried off out of the door, phone to your ear. 
Bucky watched you pace back and forth next to your car as you actively chatted — more like argued — with whoever was on the other side. He wanted to know who could call you and cause that kind of a reaction. You looked scared as if the person on the other end was going to reach through the screen and hurt you. 
Your phone call lasted longer than either of you thought it would, and people started to pick up their things and head home. They'd wave to you as they walked by — you quieted down so they didn't hear your frustrations — and you'd wave back with a small smile. When the phone call was finally over, you returned to the garage, the quiet tune of music filling the air of silence. 
"Everything okay?" Bucky asked from his seat against the wall. You walked over to him, standing a few feet away, arms crossed. 
"Yeah, I'm-uh-I'm gonna head home though. It's getting late and I gotta get up early tomorrow to get some stuff done around the house before Monday," You glanced to the floor, staring at your shoes as he leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. 
"Do you need any help? I'm free all day tomorrow." You glanced up at him and shook your head. 
"No, I should be fine. Thank you though," You smiled, it not quite reaching your eyes, "I'm gonna go." He quickly jumped up from his seat with a mumble of agreement and walked you to your car. He held the door open for you and shut it once you were seated comfortably in your driver's seat. He watched as you pulled out from the driveway and took off down the road, still wondering who called you and upset you. 
He had known you'd gotten married, he'd seen it on your profile. But other than the occasional recipe or holiday post, there wasn't much to your profile. But, the way you didn't want to talk about it, and the way you closed in on yourself when it was brought up made him wonder. What happened to you? 
~•~
You weren't fine like you told Bucky last night. Your phone call with Billy had sent a huge wave of anxiety over you and you hardly slept. Every time you had to speak to him, a wave of anxiety would take over you for at least a day. Because you didn't sleep much, you couldn't clear your head enough to unpack. The pile of boxes was smaller, only a few remaining sealed. But your box truck of furniture still sat outside, daring you to open it. 
If you were going to be well rested for your first day at your new job, you'd need your actual bed, not just the couch that was covered in blankets and pillows — a sad attempt to make it comfortable enough. 
After the long debate in your head and Bucky's offer echoing in your ears, you shakily reached for your phone. It had been years since you had asked for his help with anything, but you knew he would help, he would keep his word. Scrolling through your contacts, the butterflies in your stomach erupting, you found his name, took a breath, and hit 'call.'
The phone rang for a few moments, the monotone ring filling your ear as you paced the kitchen, a habit you couldn't seem to break no matter who it was you were talking with. Just as you were about to hang up and figure something else out, the ring was cut off and it was followed by a grunted, "Hello?"
"Hey, Buck, it's me," Your voice was hardly there, but you knew he heard it when you heard his shuffling on the other end stop and the distant sound of revving engines became distant. 
"Hey! What's going on?" He sounded concerned, and you couldn't blame him. Your voice was shaky and quiet and you were about two seconds away from hanging up the phone and just giving your furniture to the place you rented the truck from. 
"I was wondering if I could take you up on that offer?" The line fell quiet for a moment and you stomach started to sink as your nerves rose, "I got all the boxes moved and mostly unpacked, but I have some furniture I can't move on my own and I don't have anyone else's number anymore so—“
"Send me your address, plum," The old pet name rolled off his tongue as if he never stopped using it, making your heart skip a beat, "I can get Steve and Sam to help out too if you think we'll need it?" 
"Um no, just you should be fine, I think," You heard him chuckle followed by keys jingling. 
"Alright, I'll see you soon." 
Bucky was surprised you had called him, happy, but surprised nonetheless. He almost didn't pick up, he still didn't have your number saved in his phone, but something had told him to answer it, and he was glad he did. Though, you sounded so timid over the speaker, your voice quiet and nervous, it made that ball of worry settle in his chest again as he revved up his bike and pulled out of the shop. 
He made his way to your house once you sent over your address — you were only a couple blocks away from the shop — and he pulled up to find you sitting on the porch with a mug of what he assumed was coffee in your hands as you stared at the truck in your driveway. He shut off the bike, taking his helmet off and swinging his leg over the side to walk to you. You were still staring at the truck, slowly blinking, as he made his way up the driveway. You were zoned out and hadn’t really noticed him yet, giving him the time to take you in. 
You looked exhausted, in a pair of pajama shorts and a loose short sleeve with beat-up tennis shoes on your feet. You had bags under your eyes, and your lips were chapped and picked at, something you used to do when you were younger when you were nervous. 
"Hey," He announced himself, trying his best not to startle you, though it hardly worked. Your eyes snapped to him, wide, and you quickly stood from your spot on the small porch. 
"Sorry, I wasn't paying attention," You mumbled, "Ready to get to work?" 
~~~
Having Bucky help you unload the truck was one of the better decisions you had made. You were able to get everything unpacked in just a couple of hours and he even helped put your bed frame together and reattach the mirror to your dresser. You were able to spend the rest of that day unpacking everything else. Nothing was perfect, but it was starting to come together. He even returned the truck for you so you wouldn't have to lose time doing what you needed to do. 
After that, the awkwardness between the two of you faded, not all of the way, but you didn't feel weird texting him or calling him. You weren't necessarily close yet, but your friendship really just picked up where it left off — including your heart and stomach doing flips when he would call you 'plum' or 'doll' or any of the pet names he'd call you when you were together. You were sure it was just a habit, something he didn't even realize he was doing, so you didn't ask him about it, but you couldn't deny how it made you feel. And that scared you. 
You couldn't drag him into your life, no matter how you felt about him. You knew you were safe, but there was that nagging voice in the back of your head that made you question how long your safety would last — being married to a narcissistic manipulative asshole did that to you. So you kept him at an arm's distance over the next few weeks. 
He would come help you with simple home repairs, like the light fixture in your kitchen that wouldn't turn on and ended up needing a new wire soldered to it. He fixed the broken pipe in your kitchen sink, and even fixed the chipped grout in the laundry room. He became your go to when things went wrong in the house. He would immediately drop what he was doing — a perk of being part owner to the shop, you supposed — and when he'd come to fix it, you'd supply him with a hot meal, but that was really all you would let him have — let yourself have. 
The dinners with him were always calm as he'd relive memories with you from your late teens and very early twenties when you were friends. He didn't dare bring up memories from when you were together, he was scared that talking about that alone would make you close yourself off from him again. It was nice though, being domestic with you even in a platonic sense. He liked seeing you relaxed around him again, even if he wanted more. 
Your job was going well, you were helping Pepper Potts directly with editing for her larger projects for the company's owner, Tony Stark. You loved it there and you hoped that after they made their move to the city not too far away, you could stay with them, even if you stayed in the town. 
It was two months after you moved back that Bucky asked you over again. He had been respecting your space, but was holding another barbeque before summer ended, and it was supposed to be more of a party. He asked you to come, to get you out and socialize with old friends again, and you agreed. You hadn't heard from Billy since the last time you were at the garage, and you felt like you deserved a night out. 
The day came for the party, and you picked out a pair of skinny jeans and a white blouse, one that's neck didn't plunge too deep but didn't leave too much to the imagination. Your makeup was simple, but it accentuated your eyes and when you were ready, you took a look in the mirror. You were starting to look like yourself — your ex-husband would be furious if he saw you, and that thought made a smile crawl up your cheeks as you walked out to your car and made your way to the shop. 
~•~
Bucky was waiting for you, just like last time. He wanted to spend the night at your side, trying to make you laugh and get you to shine your radiant smile his way. The music rang through the air, the bass of whatever was playing shaking his ribs, he wasn't paying attention to lyrics though as he spotted your car pull up and park along the curb. He pushed his way through the sea of people, most of them moving out of his way, and out to the curb to wait for you to climb out of your car. When you did, he couldn't help staring at you. Every time he saw you, it was like seeing you for the first time again — his heart would stutter and his stomach would do flips as everything in his head silenced. 
He walked in with you, grabbing you a drink after you told him you wanted to have a good time and that it had been too long since you'd let yourself drink and have fun. The night was filled with laughter, drinks, and good food. Near the end of the night, they had set up a small bonfire behind the shop and set up camping chairs where you wrapped yourself in a blanket and made yourself comfortable. 
Most of the people had gone home, leaving a few stragglers inside playing cards or darts, or having one last bite to eat before they left. Bucky had joined you, sitting just a few steps away, but it was just the two of you by the fire. Silence blanketed you in a comfortable embrace, but the alcohol in your veins pushed for conversation. 
“I missed this place,” you started, glancing at the small gathering of people watching Nat throw darts, not missing a single shot at the bullseye. 
“Then why’d you leave?” Bucky's voice dragged your eyes to him. He had that look in his eyes that said he had more to say, but just couldn’t get the words out. 
“You know why I left,” you mumbled, staring back into the flames, “I got my dream job, and it was amazing. I loved it there…” The memories of your old life were bittersweet, and they left a sour taste in your mouth — or was that the lime from earlier?
“Then why’d you come back?” It was a simple question, but the answer was so much more complicated than you wanted him to know. But the alcohol in your head had reduced your inner filter to almost nonexistent. 
“It’s safe here. Things didn’t really work out for me, and I’d rather be here where I know most of the town, than be completely alone in a new city. Even if it feels like I’m alone here,” you pulled the blanket tighter around yourself as you huffed out a sigh. 
“You’re not alone, plum,” Bucky uttered, thinking you’d miss it, but when you let out a sad laugh his eyes widened. 
“I am. These people don’t know me, not anymore.” He tore his eyes from the dancing flames and turned to face you. 
“I know you.” 
You peaked at him from the corner of your eyes before looking down at your lap, “You used to, you don’t know who I am. I’m not who I used to be, Buck. We went so long without talking, I can't expect you to know me anymore.” 
Bucky's chest tightened at your words. You had said them so casually, as if you weren’t calling him out on ditching you, on ghosting you for so long. 
“Doll, I’m sorry,” he started, noticing the way your hands stilled under the blanket, “I’m so sorry I hurt you.” 
A moment of silence fell between you, the only noises coming from the crackling of the fire and the subtle tune of soft music from inside. Finally, your head lifted as you looked over the fire. 
“I don’t know why you’re apologizing, it’s fine, things happen. I get it,” you turned to him, and he could see the sadness in your eyes, in the unshed tears that were slowly gathering along your lower lashes, “People grow apart and it’s okay.” 
He didn’t know what to say, he didn’t expect you to have that reaction to his words, he was bracing for anger or accusation, not tears and acceptance. All he could do was watch you as you rambled on, unable to stop yourself. 
“I didn’t want to grow apart. I wanted to stay friends. I wanted to have a reason to come back and visit. Or a reason to get you to spend some time out of this damn town. I was gonna ask if you wanted to come spend a weekend with me. I wanted to show you the city, all the cool little bars and small restaurants and the parks. But you wouldn’t pick up,” your voice wavered and he was able to see the first tear fall, the light from the fire reflecting off of it. 
“Y/N…” 
“But I guess it’s okay, Billy wouldn’t have liked us being friends. He didn't like a lot of things." Bucky watched as you sniffed and wiped your face before sitting up, "I should get going." You pulled the blanket off of yourself, messily folding it as you stood, setting it on the chair. 
"Hey, you're still drunk," He stood to steady you as you rocked on your feet, grabbing both of your forearms, "Let me help you home." His voice held a sternness he didn't intend, but he wasn't about to let you wander home when you could barely walk straight or keep your eyes open more than half way. 
You simply nodded and let him wrap an arm around your waist to guide you through the garage and out to the sidewalk — your house was just a couple blocks, and he'd carry you if he had to.
And he did, about halfway there your knees started to shake. Before you could become good friends with the ground, he caught you, steadying you on your feet long enough to get you on his back. Your nose buried in the side of his neck as your arms wrapped around his shoulders, and his hands held you up under your thighs, your feet dangling beside his legs. It reminded him of when you two were younger, when you’d trip in your heels and he’d have to carry you because one of them snapped. He teased you about it for weeks, but he never told you how much he loved it — or how quickly he would do it all again. 
Once you reached the familiar little house and you were both safely inside, he helped you up to your bed and got you seated before he knelt on the ground and removed your shoes. He helped you lay back and went to grab you a glass of water and some ibuprofen to set on your nightstand. Taking one more glance at you, the light from the hallway catching your cheeks and the tips of your lashes, he sighed before turning to make his way out when there was a grip on his wrist. 
"I'm sorry. . ." Your soft voice, though slurred and muffled by the pillow, cut through the silence and pulled his eyes to your half lidded ones, "I'm sorry I left." Every muscle in Bucky's body relaxed — the tension in his jaw, in his shoulders, even in his clenched fists, dissipated as he sank to sit next to you, gently placing a calloused hand on your soft cheek. 
"You don't need to apologize for that, plum," He stroked your cheek with his thumb, a sigh leaving your lips. "We were young, we wanted different things. It's okay." A small smile took over your features as you drifted off. He stood from your bed, pulling your hand from his wrist and gently setting it on the blanket before he leaned over you and placed a ghost of a kiss on your forehead. 
~•~
When you woke the next morning, a pounding in your skull and your stomach in knots, you groaned and turned over. A glass of water and a small pill were on your nightstand and your brows pulled together as you tried to remember what happened. It only took a moment, but once all the memories flooded your head, you groaned. 
You had gotten emotional and Bucky walked you home. You remembered him trying to apologize for not talking to you, and you apologizing to him for leaving. You remembered the way he carried you home, his hands under your thighs and his thumbs rubbing circles in your skin. Your skin got heated thinking about it, you always loved his hands and the feel of his skin on yours. 
"Oh god. . ." You sat up, rubbing your temples before reaching for the water and the pill, quickly swallowing both before swinging your legs over the side of the bed. You stood, making your way to the hallway when a smell hit your nose. You inhaled, the scent of breakfast filling your senses. Your stomach growled, but your mind was racing. Bucky went home last night, didn't he?
You reached for the baseball bat by your door, the one that Bucky had bought for you when you were teenagers, before you even dated each other. He had asked you to help him with his pitching for the school baseball team and you soon learned you had a mean swing. 
Slowly descending the stairs, you avoided all the spots that creaked and held the bat at the ready when you nervously peaked into the kitchen. You stared at the muscled back and the short cropped hair that was messy and sticking out in all different directions. He was humming along to a tune in his head as he pulled the bacon off of the pan on the stove. When he turned the slightest, his tattooed arm reaching for the pancake batter, he saw you from the corner of his eye and froze. 
"Bucky?" Your arms relaxed as you dropped the bat to your side. 
"I didn't wanna leave and have the door unlocked, so I slept on the couch. I hope that's okay?" You nodded as you watched him eye the bat in your hand, "Were you going to hit me with that?"
You shrugged, "If I needed to." He chuckled at that as you set the bat against the wall and made your way to his side, glancing down at the cooking pancakes. "You cook now?"
His eyes squinted at your teasing tone, "I do, if you want some though you'll have to be nice to me." You scrunched your nose at him before turning to walk around the counter, taking a seat and watching him finish breakfast. When he was done with the stove and had it turned off, he made you each a plate — he knew his way around your kitchen like it was the back of his hand.
"I'm sorry you had to help me home last night," you started as he slid your plate in front of you, "And I'm sorry I got emotional." His shoulders tensed slightly before they sagged. 
"I didn't think you'd remember." He uttered as he grabbed you a fork and a glass of orange juice.
"I remember most of it." You whispered before shoving a bite in your mouth. 
"Do you remember me apologizing? Well, trying to apologize?" He wouldn't look at you, and was just pushing the cut off bite of fluffy goodness around his plate with his fork. You thought hard about what exactly he had said to you, only remembering the words 'I'm sorry.' 
"Kind of. I don't remember exactly the words you used." He set his fork down and placed both hands on the counter, sighing before lifting his eyes to yours. Those slate blues held a sense of sorrow and regret that you hadn't seen before, and you definitely didn't have a sober enough gaze to notice it last night. 
"I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry for not keeping in contact, and I'm so sorry that I never explained why I stopped responding." His voice was tense, like he was fighting to say more but didn't want to dump everything on you at once. 
You set down your fork and folded your hands together in your lap. "Do you want to explain it to me? Or is that something you'd rather keep to yourself?"
He sighed, dropping his head, and was silent for a moment, "I want to, but it might make you change your mind about me. You might hate me." 
"I don't think I could ever hate you, Buck," He looked up at you, a small flash of hope crossing his face. "Don't get me wrong, I can get mad, and I have been mad at you before. But I could never hate you. Not truly."
"I was. . ." He paused, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, worrying the skin before starting again, "It hurt knowing you loved the city so much," He looked up at you, with a sad smile on his face, "That you had gone so far and you were so happy about it. I was happy for you, don't get me wrong. I was so happy you got to have your dream job come true. I was happy you loved the city — hell, I was so worried you would regret it," He huffed out a harsh breath as he carded his fingers through his short hair and scratched the back of his head before continuing, "I was so proud of you," He smiled at the floor, pulling his hand away from his head and crossing his arms again. His eyes were glued to the floor, refusing to move from the tiniest crack in the tile, "But, it was hard hearing about it, because. . . Because I was still in love with you," Your brows knitted together as your heart flipped, ". . . I still am."  
Your jaw slacked slightly as you processed his words. I still am. It echoed in your head as he watched you, gauging you for a reaction. He was still in love with you? Even after all this time? You thought about the weeks you'd spent with him, having him come over and help, how he was so fast to pick up the phone when you called. How he would drop everything to come over and fix the stair railing or the chipped grout. You thought about how he would stay by your side at the two barbecues and how he was so willing to make sure you got home safe. And how he even spent the night on the couch and cooked you breakfast in the morning. It was something you should've picked up on by now you realized. 
"It's okay if you don't feel the same way. I just couldn't not tell you," He uttered, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the edge of the now cold stove. 
Did you feel the same way? You knew the answer, you always have. You knew you would always love him, no matter where life took you, no matter the distance between you, no matter the years you'd gone with silence between you. 
"Bucky, I. . ." Your voice trailed off as you searched for the right words. You looked to him to see nothing but worry and patience. He wasn't going to cut you off until you said what you needed to say. He was looking at you with so much love and adoration — something you haven't been on the receiving end of in years — and it brought tears to your eyes. "You don't know me anymore," Your voice was quiet and wavered as you tried to keep the unexpected emotions at bay, "I don't even know me anymore." 
"What does that mean?" He stepped forward, placing his hands on the counter, outstretched to you. Watching his fingers lightly tap on the counter, you knew it was an open invitation that you didn't have to take — it was just there if you needed it. 
Pulling your gaze from his hand that pushed a little further across the table than his other, you looked down to your own fingers, fiddling with the fabric of your shirt. "I don't know who I am anymore, Buck. I  married a man who drained everything from me. He convinced me to leave my dream job. To move out of the city I loved. . . to forget who I am as a person. . ." You glanced up to him, "The only thing he couldn't take from me, was my love for you." You gave him a watery smile as your voice cracked and the first tear fell. 
You could tell he wanted to smile, wanted to be joyful that you still felt the same way about him, but the concern at your tears and the uncertainty in your words kept his smile at bay. He wanted to ask you what you meant, to forget who you were. How could your husband do that to you? What would he want to change about you? You were perfect in Bucky's eyes, he didn't understand, but he kept his questions to himself because he could tell you weren't done talking yet. 
"I don't know if I can be the person you fell in love with," You reached for his hand, his fingers immediately reacting to yours and squeezing them, "I want to be. I want to be that happy, go-lucky person you asked out after years of being friends. I want to be the same person who went with you to your first tattoo appointment, who you used to take star gazing at the lake," He gave your hand another squeeze as his eyes became glossy, waiting for you to finish, "I want to be her. But, I don't know if I can be. A lot's happened and I'm not that girl anymore. And I love you, I always have. But I don't think you'd love who I've become." You swallowed the nerves in your throat itching you to say more, knowing if you kept talking you'd start sobbing. 
You knew the toll your marriage had on you, you weren't blind to it. You just didn't notice it until you were in too deep. When you had married him. Had moved for him. Had changed who you were. For him. Bucky had fallen in love with the girl with the big dreams. The girl who could find a tune in the most annoying of sounds and make a dance to it or hum a song in response. He fell for the girl who hadn't been broken yet. The feel of his hand pulling away from yours broke you out of your head by making your heart drop. It wasn't the reaction you wanted, but you had expected it. You couldn't expect him to want to stay to re-learn you. 
The shuffling of his feet on the tile drew your eyes up to watch as he rounded the counter and pulled up the second bar stool to sit next to you. He turned you to face him, tucking your knees in between his own as he held your hands again. 
"If you feel like I don't know you anymore, will you let me?" Your brows pinched together at that, the anxiety trickling slowly away. 
"What?" 
"Let me re-get to know you? Let me take you out — we can start as friends if you want — but let me learn who you are again," He brought your knuckles to his lips as he smiled softly, "Let me show you that no matter who you become, I'll always love you." 
You didn't know what to say, those weren't the words you had prepared yourself for. This wasn't what you had thought would happen. You didn't think he'd want to have to re-learn who you were now. You didn't think anyone would. But the way he was looking at you, like you were the most important thing in the world, how could you doubt his words?
"Okay," You whispered, giving his fingers a squeeze. 
"Let me take you to dinner tonight?" His voice matching the volume of your own. He was inching closer, hardly noticeable but you caught it — and you didn't stop it. You nodded, eyes flicking down to his lips as one of his hands reached to wipe your tears before cupping your cheek. "I'll take you to the diner with the sundaes you used to love."
You giggled as you remembered the too large sundaes that nearly made you sick with how sweet they were. You never could finish a whole one by yourself, but you always tried. Bucky stopped ordering anything after the first couple of times, offering to finish yours when you were too full to even think about taking another bite. You nodded again with a smile, one you didn't have to force. 
Before you knew it, he was so close, his nose was brushing up against yours. His eyes shot to your lips once before looking back up at you. Waiting for you to close the gap, he stopped just a breath away. He was waiting for you to make the decision, giving you time to say no. Watching your eyes for a sign that he needed to back up, but you gave him none. Instead, you closed the gap, slotting your lips over his. 
It started soft, just a couple of kisses against his lips before you pulled back and glanced up to his eyes, before closing the space again. This time in a more frantic, needy way. There were years of emotion, years of yearning, of loving from a distance behind the way your lips danced, his tongue tangling with yours.
 It was full of the love you wished had never stopped between you. The type of love you remembered having with him, and had always wished to find again. Full of the pain that filled your heart when he stopped talking to you, when you became nothing more than strangers. And the love he’d been showing you the past two months. All of it came pouring out in a single action.
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divine-mistake · 5 months ago
Text
this was a premonition, i think
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Summary: Sometimes you wish you had never fallen in love with Bucky. Screw that “it’s better to have loved and lost” bullshit. You wish you had never fallen in love with Bucky Barnes.
Characters: TFATWS!Bucky Barnes/(f)Reader
Warnings: 18+ (no smut), possible TFATWS SPOILERS, strong language, enemies to lovers, past relationship, past death and grieving, canon typical violence, some angst with a happy ending, idiots in love, wound metaphors, poorly translated Italian
Word Count: 6083
A/N: Thanks for reading! This is a commissioned fic for @blackberrybucky! Thank you so much for your commission, Rebecca! I hope you enjoy! If you would like to commission a fic from me, please visit my commission post to find out more. The beautiful header for this fic was made by @elijahs-wife my dearest love! 💖
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“What is she doing here?”
You glance over your shoulder to look at Sam, ignoring the familiar outline of a man standing in the doorway, shocked still.
“I see you haven’t managed to teach him any manners these last few years,” you address Sam, who barks out a laugh with his head thrown back and a smile stretched wide over his mouth.
“Hey,” he says, shrugging. “If you couldn’t do it, who am I to even try?”
You giggle, hiding it behind your hand. “Guess that’s fair.”
“Sam,” the silhouette of black, outlined in the sunny rays of Genoa, calls out. “What is she doing here?”
Before Sam can answer, you spring up from the loveseat and clasp your hands together, stretching your arms over your head with a groan of stiff joints as all the disks in your back crack with realignment. Then, you spin on your heel to face him down—the man you haven’t seen in nearly two years since the day he left you.
And you can still remember that day, where your knees hit the wooden floor of your apartment like they wanted to break themselves, your palms scraping the grooves, fingers scratching to get under the floorboards as if you could hide beneath them. Tears dripped from your eyes like the burn of salt in a wound as you dared yourself to watch him walk away, heavy boots leaving a trail of dirt through the entryway as he opened the door and locked it behind him, the promise of not coming back.
Bucky takes a step inside the house, jaw clenched, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat when his eyes meet yours and he has to swallow.
He looks different, now that he isn’t shadowed by the daylight streaming through the door. The long, curling locks you remember braiding bedside after he awoke from a nightmare are now gone, replaced by a short, cropped style that shows the severity of his cheekbones. The thick beard your fingers wove into has been trimmed, kept to a neat five o’clock shadow that makes his lips look fuller somehow. Dressed simply in a black t-shirt beneath a gray, unzipped hoodie with jeans and a pair of boots, you can tell he’s lost a little weight, more lean muscle than bulk these days.
The one thing that hasn’t changed is his face—all grievous angles, strict and tight, eyes hardened as he stares ahead. He’s still beautiful.
You want to bring him to his knees and stomp on his throat until he suffocates the way you thought you might the day he left, crushing his windpipe beneath your foot until he can’t even wheeze out an apology for the way he broke you.
Your tongue runs over your pearly teeth, bared in a vicious grin. “Hey Barnes.”
His eyes narrow almost imperceptibly, but you know better. “Thought you were in Bordeaux.”
“I was ‘till Sam called me. Funny how a guy called U.S. Agent can cause so many issues overseas.” You inspect your nails, knowing the simple act will serve to piss him off further. “I guess you just got good at slacking, huh, what with all that time off?”
“Time off?” You can practically hear his teeth grind. He marches over to you, leaving only two steps between your bodies. “What time off do you think I got? Or are you still delusional?”
“Excuse me?” The words leave your lips like a song, high-pitched and astounded.
Before you two can get much further, Sam slips between you and places his large, warm hands on your shoulders, steering you away.
“Okay,” he says calmly, glancing back at Bucky who hasn’t moved an inch. “I think that’s enough of a warm welcome. Why don’t you sit with me—” he gently guides you back down onto the sofa, “—and Buck can sit over there.”
Arms crossed over your chest, you let Sam seat you and promptly sink back into the pillows like an irritated child. Bucky, still grumbling about something under his breath, throws himself into the armchair that Sam pointed at, knees spread wide as he stares across the sitting room at you. Sam falls in place beside you, like he said he would, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
“I know you haven’t worked together in two years—”
“Seven,” you interrupt coolly. “Or did you forget that the two of you died for five of ‘em?”
If possible, Bucky’s jaw tightens even more at your words, tendon in his neck jumping as his cheek flexes with annoyance. His gloved fingers encase the arms of the chair, finding purchase in the cushions. And if looks could kill, you aren’t sure who would be buried first—you or Sam.
“No one’s forgetting that, sugar,” Sam says, hands raised. His eyes are wounded when he looks at you, an apology swimming in their dark depths. “Bottom line is it’s been a while, but I need you both on this mission. Can you please be civil for five minutes?”
From across the coffee table, Bucky mumbles, “You didn’t tell me she’d be here.”
You simply toss your hair away from your face and look anywhere but at him.
“Great,” Sam says, and his lips ease back in a knowing smile. “Let’s talk John Walker.”
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“This is a bad idea,” you hear Bucky seethe under his breath. “What are you thinkin’?”
“I’m thinking that Walker is a man who loves his country, loves being a hero, and isn’t working alone,” Sam hisses back. “Whatever he’s planning—whoever he’s planning it with—it’s gonna be bad. Call it intuition or call it being cautious, but I’m not taking any chances with him.”
“Why couldn’t it have been just you and me?”
Sam pauses. Your back is pressed against a wall just around the corner from the hallway where they speak lowly, hidden from their view, and all the muscles in your body tense in fear. But there’s no sound of movement, and then Sam lets out a sigh.
“Because we can’t keep doing it alone, Buck. You and me and Torres. She’s the best free agent we have connections to. And you and her need to get over whatever happened because with Walker taking on this U.S. Agent bullshit, we’re gonna need her. So kiss and make up or, hell, ignore each other for all I care, but find a way to work together.”
The sound of heavy, quick footsteps ignites anxiety in your bones. Silently, you slip back into the room you’ve been given in the Genoa complex, closing the door behind you slowly so you don’t chance it alerting the others. But as soon as you’re enclosed in darkness, heavy curtains blocking out the natural light of the Italian coast that threatens to burst through the cracks, your legs give way beneath you and you slide down the door until your bottom hits the tile.
“You’ll take care of him, won’t you?”
“Only if you promise to come get ‘em, Rogers.”
Are you still allowed to be mad? Almost a decade later, are you still allowed to be fucking mad?
Because Steven Grant Rogers is dead now and you’ve got no one to be pissed at anymore. Nobody but Bucky. And Bucky’s got nobody to be pissed at now, either. Except for you.
When Steve dropped you off in Wakanda, a brainwashed assassin in one hand and a fleeting promise to be back soon in the other, you didn’t expect much. Well, you expected to babysit Barnes for a couple of months—not two years. And you expected Steve to come back and get him—not to come back with a war on the horizon. And you expected—
Well, you didn’t expect to fall in love.
And when you fell in love, you never could have expected that the love of your life would turn to dust in front of your very eyes, leaving you shattered on a battlefield of shrapnel and blood.
But it’s been almost a decade. You shouldn’t be mad anymore. Steve’s dead. Things have changed.
Things have changed but Bucky Barnes is still the same.
A knock on your door pulls you from the reel of memories, playing like a soundless movie in your mind, and you push yourself off the floor and to your feet to open it. Sam’s standing behind it, a grin wide enough to show the cute little gap in his teeth. It’s a familiar smile—one that makes you want to throw yourself into his arms now that you’re finally alone.
So you do.
“Woah,” Sam huffs a laugh as he catches you, arms sliding around your waist as you loop your arms around his neck and press your face into his chest. “What’s gotten into you, sugar?”
“Missed you,” you murmur against his soft shirt. “Can’t believe you didn’t—didn’t call me when Karli got out of hand, y’know.”
In the before days—before the snap, when you were running with Steve—Sam was your rock. The one who kept you sane. You loved Steve, and you loved fighting with him, but Sam was the one to remind you why you were fighting. Bucky Barnes wasn’t even in your equation until Steve took you to Wakanda and asked you to be Bucky’s “ambassador.”
A cheap, fancy word for babysitter.
Sam kept you grounded. Always said you reminded him of Sarah, his sister. And when Sam died in the snap too, you went and found Sarah and you grieved together. She grieved for her brother and her world as she knew it, grieved for her sons who wouldn’t know their uncle. You grieved for your brother and your lover and cursed Steve Roger’s name to the wind and to whoever might listen.
It stung like a bitch when they all magically came back and you—
Sam was the only one who visited you after Steve’s funeral. Said Bucky—Bucky couldn’t fly all the way to France. Too skittish.
Not even six months later they were flying all the way to Madripoor and hunting down Flag Smashers and no one even bothered to pick up the phone and call you. And when you finally swallowed your own pride and called, no one answered.
“Missed you too, honey.” Sam’s hand rubs wide paths up and down your back, soothing you. “I didn’t wanna get you all swept up in it. Too dangerous.”
“Liar,” you accuse, but your voice is soft. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have called me to come to Italy.”
You feel Sam inhale against you, warm breath leaving him in a sigh.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, squeezing you tighter.
“S’okay,” you tell him. “How’s Sarah and the boys? I haven’t seen ‘em in almost a year now.”
“Good.” His voice is all clipped, like he wants to say something else. And when you pull away from his embrace to peer up at him, you know you’ve caught him, a frown marring his face.
“What?” you ask, searching the depths of his dark eyes.
“Are you and Barnes gonna be okay?”
You push off him immediately, breaking his hold on you to stalk further into your room.
“Dunno,” you say nonchalantly. “Maybe you should have called me to help out with all the Flag Smashers bullshit. But I get it. Bucky’s more fragile than me, right? So I’m the one who has to stay away. I’m the one who had to move to France so he could stay in Brooklyn. I’m the one—”
“You’re hurt,” Sam interrupts. You whirl on him.
“I’m angry.”
“You’re hurt,” he repeats. “And you need to talk to him about it, not me.”
“Whatever.” Your fingers fiddle with the hem of your shirt. “He doesn’t want to talk to me.”
Sam laughs at this. “When does Barnes ever want to talk?”
But you remember the long nights and early mornings that you sat outside in the fields of Wakanda, watching as the stars faded into the black of the sky and how the horizon would birth the sun anew each day, and you remember the sound of Bucky’s voice as he told you stories from the forties—the trouble him and Steve always got into together—and you remember how there were times you would listen until his voice was hoarse from use and you would soothe his throat with open-mouthed kisses, bruises painting his skin until he was confident enough to paint yours back.
You smile, and keep that memory tucked close to your heart.
“Never,” you lie, fingers curling into a fist like you can keep your hold on that Bucky forever.
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You avoid talking to Bucky completely for about three days, communicating in glares and grunts to get by. Sam constantly looks like he wants to strangle you both, but never mentions it, content to let you both work out what you need to work out on your own. Torres, when he stops by to check in, he takes one step inside, announces that there’s a lot of tension in the room, and takes one step back outside.
Sam follows him and they have their little meeting far away from you and Bucky.
It’s the fourth day when the problem begins, really. On the fourth day, Sam finds you both in the kitchen of the complex, pointedly ignoring one another, and crosses his arms over his chest.
“I’m sending you two to do surveillance out on the Amalfi coast.”
Your phone, on which you’ve been scrolling down some social media app, slips from your grasp and clatters to the floor. Bucky chokes on the orange juice he was drinking, sending him into a coughing fit. Sam reams him on the back, looking all too gleeful about doing it.
“What are you talking about?” you hear yourself ask. “We’ve been on surveillance.”
“And what’s in Amalfi that’s so important?” Bucky adds. “It’s a tourist trap.”
“The perfect place for a guy like Walker to hide,” Sam says. “Tall, blond, goofy-looking. He’ll blend right in. Torres has intel that says he’s there—or he’s been there recently—and that’s enough of a lead to send you two out.”
“You don’t need us both for that,” you say, crouching down to pick up your phone. “Just send Barnes out there.”
“No way,” Bucky scoffs. “Why don’t you go, princess?”
“Because I’m a data analyst, not a recon expert.”
“Sounds perfect for surveillance.”
“I’m not an assassin trained in stealth, Barnes.”
“Yeah, but you can do all the work onsite.”
“Enough!” Sam barks, a command. Immediately, both you and Bucky stiffen in place. “I don’t care what either of you think. Both of you are going. Walker is an extremely dangerous agent, and if either of you are caught alone, it’s not gonna end pretty. Especially when the rest of your team is in Palermo, which is miles away.”
“You and Joaquin are going to Palermo?” you ask, brows pulled together. Sam begins to shrug his jacket on, slipping his things into his pants pocket.
“Another ping on the map that Torres picked up. Dunno what Walker’s doing coastal, but we need to figure it out. Now I’m going into town for a couple last minute supplies. Can you guys be adults long enough to pack your shit and get a move on?”
It’s quiet in the Genoa complex, the melody of birds and wind chimes and everything Italian that you love. And then you glance over at Bucky, hoping to catch his attention, but he’s already staring at you and you hold his gaze for a second too long, a shiver crawling up your spine.
“Yeah,” you say. “We’ll be fine.”
So on the fourth day, you and Bucky pack your things and pack yourselves into a tiny little Italian car and pack your feelings up along with everything else. The only thing said between the two of you, all day long, is when you fight over who gets to drive. Barnes wins out of sheer stubbornness and a promise that you get to listen to whatever you want.
You retaliate, like a child, by blasting the most obnoxious rock playlist you have, grinning every time he winces.
The Amalfi house is much smaller than you expected—a family room, a small kitchen space with a breakfast nook, one bedroom and one bathroom. Immediately, you throw your bag on the one bed, leaning against the doorframe with your hands on your hips as Bucky comes through, a glare on your visage that almost dares him to try you.
Bucky throws his bag on the couch, rubs his eyes, and groans.
The Italian coast has felt warm the entire time you’ve been there. Even while Bucky sped down the winding roads, you rolled the windows down and let the sun beat down on your skin, heating you from the outside in as the wind blew your hair back from your face. You swear you even saw him smiling at the feeling.
But once the sun finishes sinking beneath the earth, as the two of you rush through a silent dinner and darkness sets in, the house grows cold. Colder than you could have expected. The sleep shorts you brought to wear aren’t going to cut it, especially with the thin sheets pulled over the old mattress.
You search through the hall closet, shivering as the chill sets into the safehouse, rummaging through baskets of old, threadbare linens to find some thicker blankets. In the very back, with the rest of the winter quilts and comforters, there are some woolen things that you grab and drag out, pressing the material to your face to make sure they’re fresh enough to use. You can always wash them tomorrow, but tonight, you’re freezing.
Without thinking, you grab one for Bucky too, knowing that he hates the cold. He told you that once, when you were in Wakanda, how even the barest chill could make him shiver uncontrollably and spring tears from his eyes. Muscle memory, like how his muscles all tense and his mouth opens to bite into a guard whenever a hand gets close to his face. How his teeth clench down when he’s caught in the rain, remembering how it felt to be hosed down.
And, of course, when you creep into the living room where he’s stretched over the tiny couch, legs hanging over the arm, he’s shivering under the two thin sheets you gave him. Your heart breaks, just a little, and you carefully shake the blanket out to drape over him.
Until his hand shoots out, like a bullet, and grabs your wrist. You gasp.
“Bucky,” you whisper, even though his blue eyes are wide and staring at you. “It’s just me.”
He blinks the sleep away, gaze darting between your face and the blanket that’s now covering his body, and then relaxes back onto the couch. His fingers loosen around your hand, but don’t pull away, and you don’t mind. You sit on your knees beside the sofa as he stares up at the ceiling, still gaining his bearings, and in your own tiredness, you lay your head on his stomach in a familiar gesture.
“That’s the first time you’ve said my name,” Bucky murmurs.
You sigh, but you can’t come up with an answer. There’s no excuse. No mystery. No nothing. He may not know it, but you know it far too well.
You’re still in love with Bucky Barnes.
His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t look at you. “Why’d you do this?”
“You were cold,” you tell him.
“No. Why did you agree to come on the mission when you knew I’d be here?”
His face turns to you, all sharp, hard angles and hardened looks but soft, such soft lips. You know, firsthand, just how soft they are as they travel over your skin like they’re your personal cartographer, mapping out pleasure points and ticklish vistas and sweet, sugary stops. Your eyes flutter closed as you remember, and you press to your feet, pulling the blanket further up Bucky’s body and to his chin.
But when you move to walk away, his grip on your wrist tightens again. This time, without looking back, you tug your arm away from him and feel the burn of his calloused fingers as they fall, and you disappear down the hallway of the little Amalfi house.
In the lonely cell of your room, you wonder if this is how he felt when he left you.
“Steve’s gone, sweetheart.”
“Everyone’s fucking gone! What do you mean, Bucky? What do you mean?”
“I think—I just think it’s better this way.”
“To disappear like the rest of them?”
“It’s better this way, baby.”
“Don’t you dare call me that.”
At least when Steve was alive, you think, tucked under the wool blanket and crying, you had someone to be pissed at. Because you could never bring yourself to be pissed at Bucky. Not when he would cry at night, just like this, and tell you that his brain was no better than baby food and that he couldn’t think straight sometimes and that it wasn’t about the words anymore, it was about the shattering of memories and the sharp edges that sliced into his mind, cut the backs of his eyes, severed his spine. You could never be mad at that.
But now you can’t be mad at a dead man, either. And there’s so much mad inside of you.
As the sun rises, dawning a new day, you think Sam might’ve been right. Maybe it’s not mad. Maybe it’s hurt, all rotten and oozing, producing a heat that you can’t help but mistake for the heat of anger. Maybe it’s hurt. Maybe it’ll just keep festering along.
Sometimes you wish you had never fallen in love with Bucky. Screw that “it’s better to have loved and lost” bullshit. You wish you had never fallen in love with Bucky Barnes.
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It might be your lack of sleep, or it might be what happened last night, but the tension is thick in the Amalfi house as you and Bucky start setting up your surveillance equipment. It’s not much, and it shouldn’t be that hard, but there’s an argument at every single turn.
“The computers shouldn’t be that close to the window,” Bucky points out as he’s tweaking the comms units you’ll both be using.
“I like the view,” you say with a shrug.
“Yeah, and the view—” he gestures at the rolling sea just past a crumbling stone wall, “—is what’ll ruin the tech. Sea salt’s bad for tech. You should know this, princess.” Bucky smirks back at you.
“You should know that I’m gonna shove my foot up your ass if you don’t shut up, Barnes,” you seethe.
Not even twenty minutes later, there’s another argument.
“I don’t see why you’re even fighting me on this! You’re the one who didn’t want to come with me in the first place.”
“‘Cause it’s too dangerous,” Bucky grits through clenched teeth. “You can’t just go walkin’ the streets alone. If anyone’s gonna go lookin’ for trouble, it’s gonna be me, princess.”
“Fine,” you huff. “Then you go do surveillance and transfer the data here, and I’ll stay and analyze it in real time.”
“No, ‘cause m’not leaving you here by yourself either. That’s askin’ for an ambush.”
“You’re being ridiculous!” You throw your arms up in frustration. “You didn’t even want to come to Amalfi with me!”
“And you’re being a brat,” he snaps back. “This discussion is over.”
“Fine!” you shout again, shoving away from the table and grabbing your keys.
“Where the hell are you going?” he calls after you, trailing two steps behind you as you head for the door.
“To get some lunch, ‘cause you’re pissing me off.”
“You can’t go alone—”
You turn on your heel so quickly Bucky almost slams right into you. When he reaches out to grab your arm, you slap his hand away.
“If you had any concern for me, you wouldn’t have left in the first place,” you snarl, losing control of your mouth. “You would’ve cared that I just lost Steve, too. And if you cared, you would’ve come with Sam to visit me after his funeral. But you didn’t.”
Bucky’s eyes are wide. Afraid.
“I’m sorry your best friend left you. I’m sorry you felt the weight of the world on your shoulders. I’m sorry you had to make amends.” Your voice has dropped lower and lower and lower, now barely a whisper. “But you had one person who loved you and who was never going to leave you. And you let Steve’s choice destroy that. So don’t act like you’re concerned about my wellbeing, because if you were, you would’ve at least picked up the goddamn phone.”
You leave before he has a chance to make words, locking the door behind you. It reminds you of the sound he made when he left, Steve’s betrayal still fresh in the hot tears that stained his palms.
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The market is busy. Just like Sam said, it’s full of big, blond, goofy-looking tourists. You try to act like a regular person, not an ex-SHIELD agent. But it’s second-nature, the sweeping of your eyes over the crowd, looking for Walker. Taking well-walked paths and keeping aware of your surroundings. It helps a little, to concentrate on surveying the area instead of the racing beat of your heart.
But there’s something about the market’s energy, the sea breeze in your hair, the smell of fresh fruit and salt and sunlight that relaxes you. You browse through the stalls, greeting the vendors with a grin splitting your lips. It’s the first time you’ve really smiled since your plane landed in Italy at all, and it feels like a breath of fresh air. Quite literally.
In a hand-woven bag you bought from a kind-eyed woman, you’re already hauling two loaves of fresh bread, some heirloom tomatoes you picked up from an old farmer and his son, and a few jars of pesto, jam, and infused oils that have caught your eye as you’ve walked through. You’re already excited to go home and share it with Bucky, knowing he’ll ease up on being a grump if you feed him well. And you’re already planning to swing by the butcher you saw near town. Super soldiers need protein.
It feels like the old days, you realize, and you try to shake the thought. But you pass by a stall selling little bronze trinkets and jewelry made of shells and you almost turn around to show Bucky, to give him your puppy dog eyes and ask if you could get one.
But this isn’t New York. And it isn’t your usual Sunday farmer’s market trip. And Bucky isn’t—He isn’t yours anymore.
You swallow that realization and smile at the vendor, fingers passing over the jewelry, and walk away.
There’s a stall not three stops away that you nearly breeze by until you realize it’s full of fat, juicy plums, all ripe and needing a home. You head there, promising yourself it’ll be your last stop, and start to look through the box. They’re Bucky’s favorites, you know. He used to beg for a whole bag of them every Sunday, and you’d roll your eyes, but you’d help him pick out the perfect ones.
Now, you do the same, hand passing over bruised ones, small ones, imperfect ones. It’s like a ritual. The woman behind the stall smiles at you, and you smile back.
“Quanto costa?” you ask her.
“Quanto costa l'amore?” she answers, grin widening. How much does love cost?
“Troppo,” you say with a laugh, but you hand her a twenty Euro banknote. “Questo lo coprirà?”
She waves her hands, gesturing that it’s too much for a couple of plums, but you slide it toward her anyway, picking your perfect plums and putting them in your bag, excited to take them home to Bucky.
‘Cause even if he isn’t yours, even if his smile doesn’t belong to you anymore, you still fucking love to see it. Love costs so much, yeah, but god it’s worth it.
And when you get back to that little Amalfi house, carrying your offerings inside with a fat grin on your visage, Bucky is standing at the door to greet you with a scowl on his face.
“You shouldn’t have left without me.” He talks as you move past him, sliding your bag off your shoulder.
“Brought you lunch,” you say, flashing him a smile. ‘Cause at this point, you’ve accepted it. You’ve accepted the pain. The hurt. The anger. You’ve swallowed it and you’ve accepted that Bucky’s not yours. And all you can do, at this point, is try to get along with him.
Otherwise, you’ll continue to fester.
And you’d rather remember how much you loved him instead of how much you hate him.
“You’re lucky Walker wasn’t out there! You didn’t even have an earpiece, or a gun, or anything. What’re you trying to prove, princess?”
You shrug. “Nothing anymore. Why don’t you come eat lunch?”
“Why—” Suddenly, Bucky stops, jaw shutting with a click of teeth as you pull the plums out one by one and place them on the counter to be washed. “Are those… You bought… plums?”
Glancing over your shoulder, you see him staring at the plums like he’s horrified. You almost laugh.
“They’re your favorite,” you say nonchalantly. “Of course I did.”
“But you hate me,” Bucky says quietly.
“I don’t hate you.” Your teeth sink into your bottom lip. “I was hurt. Or I am hurt, or whatever. But I could never—I don’t hate you.”
The silence balloons like someone forcing helium down your throat. You feel like you might float away, lose consciousness, like you aren’t real and the room is changing and moving and Bucky is just a vision, like the ones you had after he left. The ones that made you question whose brain was more fucked up.
It feels like you’re about to pop from the inside out.
“You hate going to the market alone,” Bucky says with a smile. You can hear it in the words. “You hate carrying the bag.”
“Makes my shoulder ache,” you say.
“You always buy too much, princess.”
You shrug. “Always feeding a super soldier.”
When you turn away from the counter to face him, he’s moved forward in the silence, damned assassin. Bucky is close enough to touch, now. Close enough that you can smell him, the unique blend of leather and mint and sage, a metallic tang, mixed with the sea and salt of the coast. It’s familiar and yet different, fitting for this new Bucky who stands before you with cropped hair and a thin smile.
“I used to dream of this,” Bucky admits suddenly, his face sobering. “Dream of you and me moving outta Brooklyn. Somewhere near the ocean. You always talked about moving to Bordeaux and I thought—” his voice breaks, “—I thought I’d take you there one day.”
“Bucky,” you warn, feeling a rush of emotion choking you.
“And you ‘n me, we’d go to the market like this, like we did in New York. You’d buy me plums and I’d sneak somethin’ sweet in the bag for you.” He reaches around you to take a plum from the counter in his vibranium hand, holding it up to the light that streams through the kitchen window.
You swallow, tears stinging the backs of your eyes.
“We’d be happy,” he whispers. “We were happy and I ruined it, didn’t I, sweetheart?”
“I thought we were,” you say, so quietly. “I wondered what I did wrong when you left.”
“Oh baby,” Bucky breathes out. He takes your cheek in his flesh palm and you press further into his touch. “I’m sorry I made you think it was your fault.”
You almost think Bucky is magic at this point, the way he so easily tears your heart into pieces and puts it back together, filling all the broken veins with pretty words. For someone who has spilled so much blood, he sure knows how to stitch you back together, to cleanse the wounds he’s left within you. You never bothered to heal yourself when he left. You just wallowed in the pain of loving and losing him.
“Why’d you leave?” A tear slips down your face and is caught by Bucky’s roaming thumb. “You—Bucky, you died and I grieved you. And then when I had you back, you left me again.”
“Because I thought you would move on,” he says, blue eyes all depthless and sad. “I thought you had moved on after I found out I was gone for five years, baby. And when Steve left, when he chose to go back, I thought it would be better if you moved on anyway. I was broken, baby. I’m a broken man. You knew this. You know this.”
“And you know that I fell in love with you anyway,” you whisper. “Are you fixed now? Did it fix you when you left me?”
Bucky falls silent. Your heart cracks once again by his own hand, his own words, and you feel like you never should have come on this mission. You should’ve told Sam no. Should’ve made an excuse. Shouldn’t have opened your heart up to Bucky again.
It hurts. How much does love cost? Troppo. Too much.
But Bucky simply cradles your face in both hands and makes you look up at him, into his eyes, and he holds you so gently and so familiarly that you sink into the touch. Even if brief, you want to enjoy it before he pulls away again.
“You are the only thing that makes me whole,” Bucky says. “You don’t fix me. You can’t fix a broken man. But you make me fuckin’ whole.”
“I love you, Bucky. I do. I love you.”
“You shouldn’t love someone like me.”
“You can’t decide that for me, Bucky. Only we get to decide who makes us happy. Who makes us whole. Who we love.”
“Then… Then I love you, too.”
In the here and now, on the Amalfi Coast instead of sitting by the lake in Wakanda, hot tears coursing down your cheeks, your hand runs up the length of Bucky’s chest, up his throat, and cups his jaw the way he’s holding yours.
“Do you still love me?” you ask, lips trembling.
“Never stopped, princess,” he says with a lopsided grin, but his eyes are wet with unshed tears.
“Then I think you should kiss me,” you say, and it makes him laugh. “Can’t let an old man like you get rusty.”
“Alright, sweetheart,” Bucky huffs. “Whatever you say.”
His lips meet yours like a magnet seeking out its mate, slow at first, and then his tongue finds the seam of your lips and breaks them apart like he’s tearing through all the bandages you tried to wrap your wounds in. Bucky kisses you like he’s trying to heal all the damage he’s caused, teeth grazing over your bottom lip and tongue tracing the patterns he’s left. He steals all your breath, pulls your body against him until he’s squeezing you like he’s never gonna let you go. His mouth is stitching your heart back together, you swear.
And when he pulls away to let you catch your breath, your chests heaving in a rhythm with one another, you can’t help but laugh. Bucky frowns.
“Was it that bad?” he asks, the seriousness on his brow making you giggle even harder.
“No, I was just thinking…” you trail off, burying your nose in his neck.
“What?” His arms wrap around you, somehow tighter than before.
“I love you, Bucky.” You smile up at him. One kiss, two kisses, a hundred kisses won’t fix you. And it won’t fix him. “I love you so much.”
But one kiss, two kisses, a hundred kisses might start to soothe the scar, and you think that’s worth the pain.
Bucky grins a boyish grin that you’ve never seen before, looking more like the man from the black and white photos you have stashed away in a box collecting dust—a box full of things that you haven't had the courage to sift through just yet. Until now.
“I love you,” Bucky says against your lips. “So fuckin’ much.”
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littlefreya · 7 months ago
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Whiskers and wet silk
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Summary: August comes home to find his princess watching Shadow and Bone and simping for the General and gets a bit insecure and jealous...
Prompt: 
Freyaaa! What do you think Daddy August would react to his girl simping so hard over Ben Barnes (ikr new daddy in the house i mean who wouldn't simp)
Pairing: Soft!August Walker x Reader (No description of body type or ethnicity)
Words: 932
Warnings: 18+, smut to fluff, oral - female receiving, soft possessive August, bodily fluids, August being a bit insecure and jelly.
*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts of it.
N/A: I went with a lusty soft August because I need tenderness. And let’s just say there is only one daddy(!) but we accept the occasional visits of one General Kirigan 👀. Not Beta’d we die like Clark, flying with a Kryptonian spear to kill Doomsday and getting impaled in the chest.
Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed my work. 🖤
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Whiskers and wet silk.
“What are you watching, princess?..."
That voice; dark, sensual. Ribbons of black silk could not compete with the beguiling smoothness of its timbre, it seeped into your consciousness, wrapping around your thoughts. You were bound to August in such manner that the hold of these invisible ties was unbreakable.
But he was just as yours as you were his.
"Just a silly thing on Netflix," you answered and waved the remote without pausing or turning to look at him.
August raised an eyebrow, unimpressed and sauntered toward the couch. His penetrative glare studied carefully. A thin rose-gold robe he gifted you quite recently was tied loosely around your torso, the hint of your naked skin winking back at his ravenous stare.
With a profound inhale, his nostrils flared, a low growl then soared from his throat. A wolf in a gentleman's attire was still a wolf, one who could trace the sweet scent of your arousal from miles away.
It wasn't for him this time, was it?
Grazing your bottom lip by your fangs, you gave a coy stare. The heat of unbidden lust laced with guilt rose between your thighs.
August turned his head to the large screen tv, catching a glimpse of a handsome man with chocolate-brown eyes and a neatly cropped beard. Even Walker himself couldn't deny the resemblance and though he was confident in his looks, he couldn’t bear the thought of his woman having eyes for another.
Sapphires turned to emerald as his glare found you once again, offering a knowing grin. "Are you wet for another man, princess?"
Further, you pressed into your seat, your knees folded into your chest with playful shame.
"Am I in trouble?..." You wondered, though August's face suggested no rebuke, but a glint of hurt sparked his eyes. Carefully he moved to kneel before you, his long fingers wrapping around your knees to spread you open before him.
"Hmm..." His warm breath ghosted upon your naked flesh, caressing your dripping petals to invoke a flutter in your heart. Immediately your little cavern twitched for him.
"This nectar, is it not for your king?"
You watched as he loomed dangerously close, wetting his plump lips and humming with intoxication as if he was striding into the hall of the gods to face their offering.
"You wound me, love," he murmured and nuzzled your precious little pearl. The remote fell from your shaky digits at the coarse bristle of his moustache, your lips parted with a cry of pleasure.
"Am I not worthy?"
You wished to answer, but the ability to speak has abandoned you as your loving man held open your thighs and scattered soft butterfly kissed at the seams of your cunt. Gently, tenderly, he grazed his warm mouth at the soft pillows, leaving no inch untouched before his tongue lapped around your swollen clit.
"August..." you finally managed to whine out.
His hand stalked up your body. Tainting your flesh by his possession, he grasped onto your collarbone and the edge of your throat while further, he suckled your clit. Desperate to be tasted, to be prodded by his skilful tongue, your little hole dripped honey to seduce him for more, but August loved to take his time with his meal and right now, he was not done playing.
"Take me already, I need you..." you whined and squirmed in his grip, oh so pliable to fulfil this desires that you were a yip away from tearing, "August, I want only you."
Revelling in your dedication, he laved his tongue between your lips making you howl at the slippery stroke. To the symphony of your helpless cries and the clutch of your fingernails into the armrest, his wet silky muscle finally dipped into your succulent heaven.
In August’s hands, you were nothing and everything at once, your spine arched so much you felt as if you were made out of liquid. Savouring on your taste, he licked inside with both skill and such relish one was to think you were an ethereal feast served on a golden platter.
Between the ascension of your ecstasy and August's hums of delight, it dawned upon you that no man ever made you feel this beautiful and delicious the way August did and now the guilt dimmed your joy.
Pouting, you reached your hand to weave through his soft curls and sought for his eyes. "I'm sorry..." you panted as he did not stop, all whiskers and wet silk, he delved his tongue back and forth into your tremoring cunt, kissing your petals in an amorous mien.
With his hand still latched close to your throat, he reached for your chin and pressed his index finger into your mouth. Disapproving of your guilt, he shook his head and with a smile on his blue eyes, he thrust his tongue so deep and vigorously, you imploded into a destructive chain of ecstasies with his name quivering on your lips.
August groaned as you came around his velvety serpent; still lost in your depth, he greedily lapped each drop of your elixir and finished with one last kiss. The sight of your eyes tinted with a pink gloss of delirium, your bare chest heaving all covered with sweat made him want to devour you whole.
Wiping his moustache with his fingers and sucking his lips dry, he climbed onto the sofa and then raked you into his lap.
“This man over there,” he pointed at the tv dismissively without looking away from you, “doesn’t get to eat the pussy of an angel for dinner like I do.”
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Disclaimer: I don’t own August Walker or Mission Impossible
Credits: Beautiful dividers by @firefly-graphics​
Thanks for reading!
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quitesins · a month ago
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Halloween Hcs
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Masterlist
Katsuki | Izuku | Shouto
Fem!reader
Tags: 16+, DARK CONTENT, Nsfw/ Smut, aged up! Characters, dubcon, monster fucking, ooc, little bit violent, Wolf!Bakugou: Abo elements, threats, degradation. Incubus!Izuku: college au, incel-ish, bordering noncon, drugging, aphrodisiac. Demon!Shouto: implied dubcon? Actually relatively Sfw tho.
Just some monster-ish au’s with tha boys before the night is over! First DC post as I got a little dark with Deku’s so I had to tag. Very rushed and not my best but hope you enjoy! Happy Halloween!
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Little Red
Ft. Katsuki Bakugou
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He’s fucking huge.
Towering over you, body that encased you in shadows, teeth sharp, bared, enough for his canines to glint in the dark.
You should have be scared, feeling lingering stares of a creature from behind the path you walked on, trying to get home.
But when your eyes caught onto the mysterious embers, you couldn’t help but melt.
He noticed that, as he stalked closer to the path, making himself known past the sea of trees.
“Pretty girls like you shouldn’t be out so late.”
The gruffness of his voice made you shiver but it surprised you how much you wished to hear it again.
Your lack of response seemed to tick him off, inching further into your space, till you could feel the heat of his skin against yours.
“Not one to talk? Meek little thing…”
Mustering up some confidence, you squeaked out,
“I’m on my way home! Mister!”
The wolf scoffed at the title, breath fanning against your neck.
“Why don’t I take you to mine instead, sweetheart?”
-
Hardly through the door, he had you hoisted onto his cock, slamming into you with an unrelenting force.
You mewled at the way his nails scratched at you, dragging you back down onto his length, etching marks into your thighs, light trails of blood mixing with the mess of slick and sweat.
He was bigger than any man you’d ever taken before and the telling swell at the base almost had you stilling, but with the way he filled you, it felt to good to worry.
There was no skill, no care, just the ravaging of your body, the carnal pounding as he chased his own pleasure, unbothered by your own.
“Fucking take it.” The wolf’s voice was hoarse. “My knot.”
Your eyes widened at the confirmation and you quickly shook your head, silently pleading for him to stop.
“Hah? You think I give a shit about what you want.” His hips stuttered at the feeling of you clenching so mercilessly around him. “Gonna fill you, fuck-, make you my mate.”
A sudden burn made you cry out, his teeth sinking into the side of your neck, holding you in place as he continued his thrusts.
“And if you let a drop spill…” You felt the smirk against your throbbing shoulder. “I’ll kill you.”
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Lusting for You
Ft. Izuku Midoriya
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He was your friend, a sweet classmate you came to cherish over the months of knowing him.
A little shy at times, but you found it cute the way he flustered so easily, it was refreshing.
Of course, you knew nothing of the dirty thoughts that plagued his mind.
Just watching you saunter into class, hips swinging in the tight jeans that defined your curves, eyelashes batting as you waved at him, had his desires brewing.
Wanting to bend you over just there, take you in front of all the pathetic men who looked at you the way he did, brand you as his own.
It wasn’t his fault, you just had to wear those outfits to class. Small little tops that hardly kept your breasts in, skirts that seemed like scraps of fabric over anything decent, makeup effortlessly done but left you glowing like a doll.
But still, he fought against every impulse, making sure he could remain your friend for as long as possible…
Well that was, of course, until he saw you on Halloween.
Dressed like a slut, tiny shorts that rode up with each step, the black latex crop top that did nothing to hide your peeking nipples, horns atop your head, lips glossed and shimmering in the night.
Fuck. He couldn’t wait.
Not on the night his true form was at its peak, growling to come out.
So he took you, swooped you up in his arms, as you flailed and screamed, only to simmer down when a sudden sweetness started to take over your senses.
Izuku had started to transform, eyes darkening, the white of them turning black, teeth sharpening, horns emerging from the curls of his hair.
He’d arrived at his apartment by the time he’d fully transfigured. Now bigger, wings sprouting from his unclothed form, ebony tail slinking around to ur legs.
The image of him should have frightened you but the painful throbbing between your legs, lust having taken over your being, all you could do was reach for more.
“Please.” Your body was in pain, panties damp, slick leaking from your hole. Each brush of air against you had you keening for him. “Help me.”
Izuku simply smirked, lowering himself to the bed he placed you on, voice sacharine.
“Of course, my darling.”
His fingers, now sharp and ink, sliced through your shorts with ease, peeling them off you.
The cold air against your leaking core made you whine, rocking your hips forward, blindly searching for his touch
“Hurts, so much.”
There was a faux layer of concern in his words, almost mocking you as he spoke,
“I know baby, I know, let me take care of you.”
Snaking up your side, his tail wrapped around you, stabilising you in place. All for him to bite down violently onto your shoulder, his hold making your thrashing nothing but a mere struggle.
“But first, let me get a taste of my meal.”
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Prince of Hell
Ft. Shouto Todoroki
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Little mortal like you had the nerve to summon him? The Prince of Hell?
His eyebrows raised as you stood there, mouth agape, eyes wide. He had seen fear in humans before but there was something about the way you shook, that said more than trepidation.
“What have you summoned me, future king of Hell, here for?”
You didn’t mean to, well not exactly anyways. It was a joke between your friends, that led you to become curious, on whether or not you could summon an actual demon.
And you certainly did not mean to summon someone so important, even if you did end up calling upon a creature of hell.
“I- it was.” You stumbled with both your words and your balance, taking in the of the demon in front of you.
Hair split in the middle, one part bloody red and one part ghostly white, eyes following the colouration with ash and cerulean. He would have looked human, if it weren’t for the spiking horns piercing through his hair, the swinging tail, a deep shade of black looming behind him. Cladded in layers of clothes, reminiscent of the Victorian era, he tapped his foot, awaiting a response.
“It was for- just- for fun.”
The demon laughed and you nearly lowered your guard before a scowl replaced his gaiety.
There was no time to gasp as you found him only inches away from your being, grip on your cheeks, forcing you to stare into his heterochromatic eyes.
“You mean to tell me, you summoned me, merely to ways my time?”
Trying to shake your head in his grasp, you muffled out an apology, making Shouto’s eyebrows raise in amusement.
“Sorry isn’t going to cut it, pathetic human.”
It was rapid, the shred of your clothes, the crash of his body against yours, weight of him pinning down.
“I’ll show you what we do to silly girls like you in hell.”
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This was so rushed and I clearly had more fun with Deku’s portion, but I hope the rest aren’t too terrible. Again, my first post containing dark content, so that’s nerve-wracking, didn’t get too dark but tagged to be safe. Anyways, thanks for reading!!
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hongism · 2 months ago
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04 - s.mingi + degradation (18+)
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» s.mingi x gn!reader » 18+ dni if minor » language, explicit smut, cock caging, degradation, praise, ruined orgasms, overstimulation, manual stimulation, anal fingering, use of sex toys/dildos, use of a riding crop, oral sex: m receiving (but not really), some impact play/cock slapping, use of gendered slurs (directed at mingi), dacryphilia, subspace, dominant reader, submissive mingi » wc 2.7k » link to masterlist
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today you have mingi on his knees, skin pressing into the pale carpet in a way that looks more comfortable than it really is. it’s deceptively innocent, even without an ounce of clothing on his body and feet tucked under his ass like he’s trying to seem smaller than he actually is. it won’t work in his favor; such behavior never does when he’s already gone this far. 
instead, it earns him a light smack over the top of his thigh with the riding crop in your hand, and the impact draws a whimper from his full lips seconds later. a slight bit of saliva trickles out the corner of his mouth, enough to catch on his chin and stop there before falling further. the visual is intoxicating in a lot of ways, things you don’t like to admit outside the bedroom out of fear of ruining the pretty, picture-perfect innocence you seem to bear there. some part of your brain does wonder what those people would think seeing you dominate mingi in this way when they always assume him to hold that position in your relationship.
on his knees, drooling and whimpering with a solid metal cage around his big useless cock, and you over him with a smile on your lips.
it’s intoxicating.
“you enjoy this, don’t you?” you inquire. the edge to your tone feigns true curiosity but your gaze says otherwise, something borderline sadistic to the way you look down at the man on his knees. “must be so hard having such a nice big cock only to have it locked up right now.”
the riding crop pushes under his chin. you raise his head to look more clearly at his face slowly, admiring the glisten on his brow and in his eyes. something twists in your brain. 
you want to see him cry.
“i asked you a question, baby boy.” 
mingi’s thighs twitch at that nickname, a blatant cue to how much he enjoys it, and his watery gaze flits up to look you in the eye.
“there’s my pretty baby, looking all good and needy for me,” you coo. there’s a faux innocence in your words, lacing some easy praise in to heighten the blow you’re about to deliver. “what a pathetic slut.”
if he could crumple to the floor, you don’t doubt that he would do so now, but he has enough sense to stay put despite how the words send a shudder through his spine. he tucks his hands further under his legs, pressing between where his calves and thighs squeeze together and make his skin splay like the perfect canvas for you to paint on. the red streaks across his pale skin, the sheen of sweat over them, and the way his muscles tremble from the effort of keeping still — he’s a masterpiece, one of your own creation, and you don’t plan on letting anyone else see him.
for now, though, you wish for those crystalline tears to fall, you want to see spit smeared over his neck and chest, and you want to hear him gag prettily for you. 
“what do you want, baby?” you take a moment to squat down to his height, head tilting to the side as you look him in the eye. “want me to touch you?”
mingi offers his first weak nod of the night as his cheeks flush a pretty red and he ducks his chin to the side. 
“good boy.” perhaps it’s a bit too cruel, the way you lower the riding crop further and slip the tip between the small gap in his cock cage. the leather digs into his dick, teasing his slit enough to make mingi writhe under your touch. he’s still good though — still stays put and doesn’t try bringing his hands out from where they’re losing feeling between his legs. it’s going to result in his first ruined orgasm, and you count the seconds in your head before he cries out and a weak trail of cum spills through the slit of metal encasing. “must be hard having to cum like that, baby. can’t even put your big dick to good use, huh?”
“n-no,” mingi whimpers as you pull the riding crop back and hold it to his face.
“clean it for me.”
his tongue slips out like he’s putting it on display. you give him a sweet smile that’s deceptively innocent again. the first slap of the leather on his tongue is a shock to him. it’s almost enough for him to lose his position and grab for his crotch, and you’re nearly tempted to take the cage off for him so he can cum properly. he has to earn that right though. you only give him two more sharp hits to the tongue before turning away and stepping over to the edge of the bed. mingi pants behind you, almost dog-like in how hard he’s breathing.
“need a break, princess? what’s your color?”
“green…. ‘m okay, ‘m okay, p-promise,” mingi huffs out in response, lifting his gaze to you as you look back at him over your shoulder. 
“my pretty baby, you’re so good for me,” you singsong back through a tight-lipped grin. “made to be my perfect little toy… made for me, yeah?”
“y-yes.” 
you exhale a breathy laugh despite his affirmation not being funny in the slightest.
“you aren’t being so chatty tonight, love, are you sure you want me that badly?”
“i do!” mingi almost stumbles over his words in the rush he makes to affirm them, and another laugh slips free, one that comes from your chest with more force. “i do, please, i want you.”
“please?” you echo, arching a brow at the collection of toys before you. you settle on one in particular and pick it up with delicate fingers and a smirk. 
“please, please, i’ll beg, i’ve been good. i’m still in position! i’m being so good for you, y/n, i really am, right?”
“you are…” you turn back towards mingi, letting a genuine smile of adoration come over your lips. “you’re being my perfect little princess, baby. the perfect toy for me. you’re always so good, aren’t you?”
mingi nods like a man possessed, motions erratic in his rush to affirm your words. you press the head of the dildo in your hand further into your palm. 
“do you wish this were you?” the stroke you give to the shaft is long and obnoxious, emphasizing the twist of your wrist and how you squeeze the base lightly. mingi goes dumb for a moment; his gaze flits over the silicone then up to your face then back down to your hand that repeats the rhythmic motions. “can’t even use your stupid cock to please me right now, but that’s okay, right? you can get off if i fuck myself with this in front of you, no?”
the whimper that leaves mingi is borderline pathetic.
“don’t worry, my love. i won’t do that to you. you’ve been so good for me tonight… there’s no need for punishment, okay?”
“promise?” he asks, lashes growing wetter by the second. your gut twists and turns, the desire to see those tears fall over the balls of his cheeks rising up only for you to squash it a second later.
“promise, baby boy.” you step closer to him again, and rather than kneeling down to his height, you merely stop before him and lower the flesh-toned dildo to his lips. “won’t you be a good cockslut and suck for me?”
it’s a lewd mimicry of an actual blowjob — the visual of him taking the dildo that’s settled in your palm right beside your hip almost makes it look real. his lips stretch around the girth, the size of it almost akin to how his own erection would look if not for the metal keeping him locked up right now. there’s a certain haziness to the way mingi blinks up at you, the motions slower than normal like he’s thinking too hard about it or approaching a different mindset that will leave him needy and clingy for hours to come. not that you mind — taking care of him afterward is almost as good as taking care of him during, and you’d rather die than be a bad dom for him. 
you push the dildo to the back of his mouth, hitting his throat in one easy thrust, and the tears overflow. they stream over his skin with ease, and you see his shoulders begin to cave in a bit with each passing second. his hips jut in little staggered motions that betray his intentions, but you simply let him strive for a friction that will never really come. not the way he wants at least. 
he’s drooling around the cock between his lips and wetting it more and more with each thrust. you can't resist the urge to take your free hand to his chin, catching a dribble of saliva and smearing down towards his chest. you cross the planes of his flat chest with a wet path in your wake before reaching one of his budded nipples. just brushing over it with the slightest amount of pressure has him groaning out a low moan. like music to your ears, he repeats the sound when you tweak his nipple a little harder. 
“you can cum, baby boy. think your pathetic cock can squirt for me?” you pull the dildo from his mouth to let him speak, obviously waiting for an answer with the way you dangle the fake cock just out of his reach. his voice comes out gravelly and low when he manages to squeak out a response. 
“good whores can.”
“is that what you are, my love?”
“please,” he whispers, an edge of desperation to his tone, and you can’t deny him what he wants.
“yes, my baby, you’re a good whore for me. all mine.” you nudge the dildo back to his waiting mouth, putting more pressure into your push this time around. mingi takes it almost greedily like it can’t get in his throat fast enough, and he all but leans into it seconds later. you squat down to his level, at last, keeping one arm up to thrust the silicone between his plump lips that have long since swollen up from the overuse. you don’t have your key on hand — it’s over on the bed along with your other supplies — but you won’t be needing it quite yet, reaching down to grip the little bit of his shaft that isn’t trapped within the metal cage. 
mingi gags around the dildo once more, but this time you aren’t nearly as deep in his throat, so you withdraw the toy to let him choke out a few words. 
“c-can you finger me? please?” 
your mind goes blank for half a second, hand reaching up to sweep away some of the leftover tears on his cheeks before you recover and remember your place in the scene. 
“mm, keep sucking.” you push the dildo down to the floor then go to pull mingi’s hands out from under his thighs. the freedom has him flexing his probably numb fingers as best he can, but he doesn’t waste any time in sitting up on his knees and bending in half to reach the fake cock once more. you get to your feet, eyes taking in the pretty expanse of his back and ass, the red marks on his hamstrings that indicate how much pressure he was putting on his hands. even as you retrieve the lube from the bed, mingi doesn’t budge and continues to follow your gentle orders without complaint.
you announce your arrival behind him with a sharp backhand slap to one side of his ass, delighting in the way he jolts and clenches around nothing. his noises are muffled by the dildo, but still music to your ears as always. his cock dangles uselessly between his legs, and the metal encasing jingles with his sporadic movements. 
your first finger is cold when it slips into the heat of mingi’s ass, no effort put into trying to warm up the lube when you know how much mingi enjoys that first chill a little more every time. your fingers aren’t nearly as long as mingi’s so the effort that goes into searching for his sweet spot is far greater than it would be the other way around. he seems to content to wait, dick still dribbling strings of translucent cum like he never stopped cumming in the first place. you know by now he’s surely bordering the brink of overstimulation, the limit where it starts to become too much, but he keeps whining each time you threaten to pull your fingers out of him.
“one more, baby boy, then we’ll be done for the night and get you cleaned up,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him at this point because of how far gone he is. it’s endearing in a way, at least in your eyes it is, and it turns intoxicating once more with the first brush of your fingers over his prostate. 
“hngh, o-oh… y/n, ah, i’ll cum early!” his mouth pops off the dildo to spew the words, and spit pools on the wood floor with his motions. 
“the sooner you finish, the sooner we can get you in the bath, love.” you dig your fingers as deep as they can go, crooking them midway to repeat the same brush over his sweet spot. it garners you the reaction you were after — mingi cries out louder than he has so far in this session, legs going weak as he threatens to topple over. you grab for his hip with your free hand and try your best to steady his big body before he fully falls. all his cock can do at this point is give a few more weak spurts of the same translucent cum that pools on the floor between his legs. “good job, baby, look at you. you did so well for me.”
“y/n, i-i, fuck, i—”
“shh, baby, you’re okay, i’ve got you, okay?” you turn him to the side as gently as you can, trying to avoid any of the bodily fluids that are now spread over the wood, and help him lay flat against the floor on his back. you won’t make him stay there long, only enough for him to catch his breath and get some feeling back in his legs. you’ll get the key to his cage later too; you can’t risk leaving him right as he’s coming down from an orgasm even if it’s just a few feet away. so you drag yourself up his lanky body and settle over his waist with hands planted on his shoulders and a smile on your lips. “you with me still?”
“y-yeah,” he pants, eyes squeezed shut so tightly that there are wrinkles around his temples. you shift your hands up to brush over those spots, and the man under you relaxes into the touch. 
it’s a slow process, bringing him down from the intensity of the orgasm and overstimulation, but it’s comfortable as well if you ignore the sweat sticking to your bodies. 
“mm, okay, ‘m back, i’m back. fuckin’ drowsy as hell,” he murmurs some time later. the way his words slur is indication enough of his exhaustion, but you aren’t about to let him pass out on the floor like this.
“okay, big boy, up we go then. let’s take a bath and let me get everything cleaned up then you can pass out.” you move to climb off mingi and get to work, but he catches hold of your waist and tugs you back down to his face momentarily.
“love you, baby.”
you smile into his lips, pressing a chaste kiss there.
“i love you too.”
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depressedweebtrash · 6 months ago
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All in the Family
(I would very much like to stress that this is the first ever X Reader story i have ever made. And of course I had to choose probably one of the hardest ones to write for but I don't care. I love Lady D like the rest of the internet. Please let me know what you guys think and how it turns out!! 
Also id like to mention now that I intended to write this with a female reader in mind. I have no warnings yet but I will list them when we get to them.) 
Part 2  Part 3 
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Several months ago you had stumbled upon the village after getting lost after a bus had dropped you off at the end of a trail that was supposed to lead you into the nearby city. However, many of the signs that directed you in the correct way were old and worn down, making it much harder to find your way through the dense forest. You were supposed to be on a “spiritual journey” backpacking through the wilderness of Europe. 
It was something that your friends had suggested after having a rough college semester and like a fool, you agreed to it. Packing up your clothes, and the necessary items and funds to go backpacking through the mountains of Europe. After emerging from the thick trees of the forest you found yourself on the outskirts of a village, hidden away in the mountains and kept away from the world. If anything the entire area was like a hidden city of its own with industry, crops, and everything. Relatively untouched by the modern world save for the few tractors and things that were being used, presumably to help with farming. Perhaps even some other minor mechanical things but that wasn’t the most important thing that you remembered about first arriving at the village. Rather, what held your attention most was the towering castle that at directly beside the village center. 
A castle you would soon call home as you had wandered onto the grounds after talking to a few of the townsfolk about the village and the goings-on here. The Castle, as you were told by some of the locals, belonged to Lady Dimitrescu, and from what you were able to piece together, the locals here didn’t seem keen on going inside the grounds. As if something dangerous lay behind the castle gates. You had quickly found out what exactly lay within after reaching the Vinyard. You had only wanted to see what lay beyond the front gates before moving on and going back to the Village but were caught by an unbelievably tall woman wearing a long creme dress. 
Her beauty was unlike any other woman that you had seen before on your travels. Not to mention the pure power and strength that radiated from her. The wide-brimmed black hat that rested upon her head, obscured her face just enough to leave her face hidden and leave you guessing. 
“Care to explain why you are trespassing here Little one?” Her voice commanding respect and sent a chill down your spine. 
You turned to look up to the woman, not having realized that you had been caught. Upon first laying eyes upon the woman your first initial thought was acknowledging her massive height. 
All I wanna do is see you turn into… a giant woman...
The small song was stuck in your head for a good while after initially meeting the Mistress of the castle. Clearing your throat you brushed some hair out of your face. Whether you actually had hair in your face or not was irrelevant, you had been caught and you had to think up an excuse to get away unharmed. 
“Im so sorry Miss, I don’t mean to trespass or anything. It’s just that the front gate was open and I was curious was all. I swear I wasn’t going to go any further, I was actually about to leave and go back to the village.” You explained, trying and desperately hoping that your excuse was enough to let you go scot-free. 
The powerful woman standing before you was smoking a cigarette from one of those vintage cigarette holders from old movies. It gave her a sort of Audrey Hepburn vibe while she stared you down, making you feel so much smaller than her with just her gaze alone. 
 “You arent from the village are you little one?” She asked, turning toward you and finally showing her face to you. 
Shaking your head you tried your best not to show how nervous you were standing before her. Her beauty and grace showed in her face even more so as you can now see her fully. The hat she had on covered just enough of her face to cast a shadow, making her pale complexion all the more noticeable. 
“No I’m not, I’m supposed to be backpacking across Europe…” 
A small smile appeared on her crimson red lips, the lipstick that the towering lady wore made it look as if she had been drinking wine before coming outside. Then again if you thought about it for a moment, she seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. As if she had known you’d be in the vineyard of the castle and was watching your every move. Looking up to the gorgeous woman before you, you saw how her eyes seemed to be scanning every inch of you without even moving. Studying you and trying to determine something about you. A shiver ran down your spine as you took notice of this, prompting the giantess to gesture toward the grand doors of the castle, just a few yards away from where you two were currently standing. 
“Come, night approaches and it will get colder if you stand out here.” 
The Lady of the castle had welcomed you into the grand building without a moment’s hesitation, from that night on you had remained in the castle by her side. Learning the ins and outs of how the Castle worked as well as all that lived in it. 
That was two months ago. 
You were supposed to head back home after two weeks of being in Europe, but that flew out of the window after Lady Dimitrescu had invited you inside the Castle.  You were seen as the Lady’s pet upon first entering the Castle. What staff she had employed there were told of your status as a guest and her three daughters were made very aware of that as well. You weren’t allowed to go into certain areas as you had been told by Lady Dimitrescu. 
“Since you find it entertaining to trespass here, feel free to explore the castle as you wish. However, doors that are locked will remain that way, and the corridor past the kitchen is off-limits as well. Should you wander anywhere you are not welcome, I will know and I will show you how we normally treat trespassers little one.” 
Her voice still echoed in your head as you walked past certain doors and areas of the Castle. 
 The hardest part of adapting to the Castle you had found was navigating the Lady’s three daughters. Daniela, Cassandra, and Bela, not only was it difficult for you to tell them apart outside of their hair color, but their seemingly endless want for violence was… interesting to say the least. 
While you had little doubt that something was happening in the village and that extended to the castle as well, what that was you had no idea. But it influenced the Lady’s daughters greatly as you had heard them in the hallways giggling maniacally while tormenting a maid. Backing her into a corner and threatening to drain the poor girl dry. Terrorizing other maids during the night as they went about their duties. One night while exploring the books that were stacked in the wine room, you could have sworn you heard a high-pitched scream echo through the castle. 
However, upon investigating the sound you only found the halls of the castle leading down to the main atrium devoid of anyone. It was almost as if someone had been taken away somewhere or the screams had come from another area of the Castle altogether. Perhaps the castle was haunted with the disgruntled spirits of the past? Even for you, that was a long shot. There really was something going on in this castle and you couldn’t shake that feeling no matter how many times you searched the rooms and walked the halls. There was something that Lady Dimistrecu and her Daughters were hiding, and it bugged you to no end that you couldn’t figure it out. But it would soon click together later on. 
After having spent two full months in the Castle you were currently sat in Lady Dimistrescu’s private office with her as she toiled away on some papers. Her desk sat before two large windows, allowing plenty of natural light into the room so she could work without any candles around or needing to light the fireplace. The entire room was similar to the other areas of the castle. Embellished with gold fur elise on the walls and the rugs on the floors as well. The desk that Lady D was working at was a creme color similar to her dress, embellished with gold to match the room. Her black hat rested on the desk and allowed her short curled hair to be seen to all. A crimson red wine glass rested beside her as well along with a matching bottle. Both had silver flowers adorning the outside of both items. 
You had been engrossed in a book about the area, trying to learn about the village and the surrounding areas given that you were now fully convinced you were either seen as a prisoner or a pet to the Mistress of the Castle. All because you wandered onto the grounds at the wrong time. Nevertheless, when you looked up from your book you had noticed the glass and bottle, taking note of how… possessive Lady Dimitrescu seemed to be with those items. The book in your hands long forgotten as you curled up in one of the two plush chairs in the room to watch as the pale beauty went about her work. Not realizing that you were staring while trying to figure out what exactly she was drinking. 
“It’s quite rude to stare little one.” 
The sound of Lady Dimitrescu’s refined voice broke you out of your thoughts and theories as to what was truly going on in the castle. Sitting up properly you fixed your (Favorite color) top and turned to fully face the voluminous woman who was still working at her desk. Marking the page you had stopped reading in your book, you tucked it into your lap before trying to find a way to ask the regal woman before you about the bottle and what was in it. 
“Im sorry my Lady. I was just trying to figure out what exactly it is that you are drinking.” You say honestly. 
You weren’t one to voice yourself like this but you had learned rather quickly that with Lady Dimitrescu, honesty and getting straight to the point was the best thing. Getting right to the point and speaking your mind was enough to break her attention away from the papers on her desk. The fountain pen in her hand pausing on the page as her golden eyes glanced toward the glass beside her then back to you. For a moment you could have sworn that you saw hesitation in them but it was quickly replaced with mild amusement. Placing the pen down on the desk, Lady D stood up and took up the bottle in her black leather gloved hand and bringing it over to you so you can take a look for yourself. 
“I highly doubt that you are a fool little one. So tell me, what you think it is. I’ve seen how you’ve been reading about the Castle and speaking to the maids.” Her voice was calm but had an edge that made it clear that she wasn’t teasing you. 
She knew exactly what you had been doing the past few days after hearing the screams that had echoed in the Castle. Your nose was almost constantly buried in books about the castle, the logs and different notes that Lady Dimitrescu had made about the vineyard and the particular vintage that she was holding out to you now.
 Sanguis Virginis. 
Swallowing down the ball of anxiety that had started to rise in the back of your throat, you reached out and gently took the bottle in your hands. It was larger than most other bottles of wine that you had seen around the Castle, especially given that the silver flowers that adorned the outside added to the size. However, you felt as though the bottle was specially made for the Mistress to accommodate for her size. Typically when smelling the bottles of wine you could tell that it was wine, fermented grapes in a bottle. It wasn’t your favorite choice of drink, but you could tell that there was a major difference with the smell of whatever was in the bottle compared to others in the Castle. 
It smelled like a bottle of coins, the pure metallic scent hit you like a wave as you carefully lifted the open end of the bottle to your nose. Scrunching your nose up you handed the bottle back to Lady Dimitrescu who still had a small smile on her face. Smirking as if she knew something that you didn’t. 
“It definitely doesn’t smell like wine, if I could say freely my Lady… it smells like blood.” You paused after having said that. 
It all had begun to click together in your head especially given the fact that the evidence was in front of your face the entire time. You just didn’t realize it until now. Thankfully, by the grace of anything and anyone that was holy, Lady Dimitrescu had chosen not to drink you if she actually was what you thought she was. You felt all color drain from your face as you began to realize just what was going on. The screaming that you had heard in the Castle, the reason there were very few members of staff, and that they were primarily women. You seemed to be the only one to eat as well. Often sitting in the kitchen with the staff while they ate rather than with Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters who didn’t eat around you. 
Better yet… you recall having seen blood on the daughter’s faces, running down from their mouths as if they had just eaten something or rather drank something. As the realization hit you, Lady Dimitrescu’s smirk grew larger before she returned the bottle to its place on her desk. 
“Again, I do not believe you are a fool little one. So allow me to confirm your suspicions.” She sat back down at her desk to return to her work. “I and my daughters are what your modern culture would call vampires. However, it is much more than that. We obviously arent like those written in books or in other fairy tales, and no I have no intentions of feeding on you just yet. Perhaps… at a later time.” 
Looking over to her, you were able to confirm several things. The most important being that you weren’t a prisoner here but truly a pet for the Lady of the house who had just told you that she was a vampire. So now you had to truly be on your best behavior around her or else… you’ll become dinner for her and her daughters. 
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katsukikitten · 9 months ago
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Rapacious - rə-ˈpā-shəs- excessively grasping or covetous, living on prey,  ravenous
(A rapacious appetite only for you my doll)
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Hello and welcome to my first formal collab with the lovely @lady-bakuhoe Our thirsty dms finally turned into a full blown collab where our writing melds into one. I hope y'all enjoy reading it as much as we did writing it! (。•̀ᴗ-)✧
✧Triggers and Warnings ✧
Pro Hero Dynamight, aged up AU, adult themes, such as intense sexual interaction, yandere behavior, mind break (?), branding, and dub con. If any of these topics make you uncomfortable please do not read any further. Thank you.
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The snow comes down heavily, beautifully as it sticks and clings to anything it can. Blanketing the outside world in an unsullied shimmer bringing a smile to your face as you watch the sun dip low over the horizon. The light painting the world in stunning reds and pinks as it filters in through your bay window that faces the street. A small shiver runs through your spine as you wait impatiently for your warm tea, convincing yourself that the chill has nothing to do with your outfit. An oversized Red Riot t-shirt, a pair of black dolphin shorts and black thigh high socks, it was comfortable and you felt cute. Even if it was just for yourself, besides what else would one wear to their solo Netflix binging? Surely not pants. 
A rapid knock comes at the door. Harsh, precise as you jump out of your skin, nearly dropping your mug. 
Lifting your cell phone to check the time, wondering who could be knocking at this hour, it was far too late for any visitors and it surely wasn't the post. The icy snow ensured that most people would be snuggled into their couches with a warm cup of tea, tucked away from the harsh weather. Much like you were trying to do, maybe if you ignored it the unsuspecting visitor would move on. 
But another sharp knock echoes around your living room, urging your feet to move. You pad through your small townhouse, trying to get a glimpse through the window only for the unwanted guest to be standing just out of view. Your heart pounds in your chest as you stare at the thick oak door, debating on whether to open it or not as another knock sounded from the other side. Curiosity with a hint of fear compels your fingers as you click your door onto the chain latch. Opening it slightly, looking out between the crack in the door to see who it was.
“H-hi.” Your eyes caught sight of the man outside your house, pupils widening in surprise at the sight of him. Messy ash blond spikes on top of his head as his hair faded to a low buzz cut at the sides, “Dynamight?” 
The man's scowl morphed into a smirk at your recognition, obviously proud that you knew who he was, his vermilion eyes glistening in the light gleaming from your house as you moved to take the door off the security latch, opening it fully so you could see him properly. His gaze immediately drank you in, glancing at the thigh high socks that hugged your thighs as he made his way up to the hem of your shirt, cherishing the exposed skin of your upper thighs until he noticed the shirt you were wearing. His nostrils flaring slightly at the sight of his best friend's face across your chest. It should be his. 
“My car broke down.” He motioned to the car that now sat motionless at the end of your drive, fresh snow already falling and covering its windscreen, “Can I come inside?” 
"Oh, um…" You're hesitant, technically you didn't know Dynamight but he was a pro hero. That meant he could be trusted right? Snow sticks to his blonde strands and shoulders. His hands and nose were a little red making it seem as if he had been in the cold a touch too long. Swallowing your fear you take a step back from the door, arm gesturing for him to come in. Silently elated he steps in as if he owns the place. What were the odds he would end up at your doorstep? 
"Um, can I offer you some coffee? Coco? Tea?" Your voice sounds small, stupid. Nervousness prickles over your skin as he sinks into your couch. 
"Tea is fine." His voice is silky and foreign in your warm home. He watches you with sharp eyes as you reach for a mug. Your short shorts ride up just a bit as your shirt gives him a tease of your back. 
Meanwhile you're buzzing from head to toe, THE one and ONLY Dynamight, the man you'd been dreaming of since his debut, the only face and voice that you ever imagined when your hands ventured into your soaked panties, was here. In your home, sitting on your couch and oh Gods...Which blanket did you have out? Was it his that you sprayed with his line of cologne so you would feel less lonely in your apartment? 
The kettle howls pulling you violently back to the task at hand. Should you ask him how he'd like his tea? You already know how he likes it, having read it in a magazine once committing it to memory in case you ever met him. But would that come off too strong? You settle on making it perfectly  in hopes it would paint you in the light of a "great hostess."  You grab onto the cup and turn to face the ill tempered hero head on. 
He turns away in time, relaxed on your couch as you offer him his cup. He takes it from your hands, his cool fingers brushing against yours. He takes a sip, peering at you over the rim. His vermillion eyes cause your stomach to flip as you nervously twist the hem of your shirt. His eyes rake over you with a smirk before they land on your worrying hands and that damned Red Riot shirt. Suddenly you're hyper aware of your inappropriate outfit, tugging your shirt over your exposed skin. 
His large palm settles on your thigh, starling you. 
"The outfit isn't the problem. I just think you look much better in my shirt." He tugs at the hem, "Maybe you should take this one off." 
“W-what?” You stammered, your body instinctively shrinking away from his touch.
“There’s just something about the way my face looks stretched against those tits.” He smirked, taking a sip of the warm mug before slipping it into your coffee table.
“What do you mean?” Confusion evident in your tone. What was he talking about? Your Dynamight merchandise? How would he have any idea about how much of a fan you were of him, just how many of his shirts sat in your closet right now. 
“Don’t act all coy.” Bakugou continued, turning his body to face yours on the couch, a dark look in his vermillion eyes as his fingers danced higher up your exposed thigh, feeling a warmth begin to seep from his palm as his cool calloused fingertips dig into your skin, “You know exactly what you’re doing.” 
“I assure you, Dynamight.” Bakugou groaned at the way his hero name sounded spilling from your lips, “I don’t know what you’re talking about?”
“Every day you’re out there being a fuckin’ tease.” He growled, biting your lip as you felt his blunt fingernails digging into the plush of your thigh, “Prancing around in these short fuckin’ shorts and my shirts.” 
Wait, had he seen you wearing his merch before? Had he seen you in his clothes? How? You were certain he’d never seen the multiple selfies you’d take of yourself to upload onto social media, always too scared to tag your favourite Hero. Instead proclaiming your love for him shamelessly on your socials, gushing about how he was the perfect hero. Still, even if he was lurking on your accounts, he couldn't possibly remember someone as lowly as you. 
“You knew I was watching you, didn’t you?” He snarled, his other hand moving up to palm your breast through your shirt, the action catching you by surprise as you gasped, “You wanted me to see you acting like such a slut.”
“N-no, Dynamight. I wasn’t-” You stammer as you think back, trying to remember all of the times you thought you felt a weighted gaze on you. Only to look over your shoulder to find nothing before submerging yourself back into your mundane world.
"Wasn't what? You mean you weren't trying to show the whole neighborhood your ass when you bent over 'pulling weeds'?" His palm becomes uncomfortably hot as his voice dips lower, lips brushing your ear as you drown in his spiced caramel scent. 
"Maybe you heard about your new neighbor Pro Hero Red Riot, wanted to show off for him? Or maybe you're just a slut who loves the attention?" 
Your blood runs cold, icy despite his burning palm, you swallow thickly as he continues to recite your summer as if reading from a list. 
"You know exactly what you're doing don'tchya? So many men have changed their jogging route to include your street, even if it is well out of their way. They slow their pace in front of your house when you're outside. Bent over, head lost in your garden and your skin tight shorts show your plump lips, your thick thighs and that supple, soft ass. Tits almost falling out from your crop tops as you must refuse to wear a bra. But you're such a good girl, reminding everyone who you belong to when you wear those shorts with my name across the ass." 
He leans away from you to hold your gaze. A shiver runs up your spine, you had never posted those shorts. The fan made ones that say "Bakugou's" across the ass, fuck how did he-?
He reads the question across your face, a nasty smirk dances on his cruel lips as he takes delight in the fear that blows your pupils wide. 
"I've been watching you Princess." You feel your heart beating out of your chest at the realisation, “But you knew that already, didn’t you?”
You didn’t.
“That’s why you put on such a show for me every time, isn’t it?” 
 You hadn’t noticed your favourite Pro-Hero had been watching you all this time. You were beyond excited when Red Riot had moved into the neighbourhood, wishing you’d catch a glimpse of him each time you left your house. Getting up early some mornings just to see the red head stretching for his morning run, his muscles taut across his thick frame. But not once had Bakugou been anywhere in sight. You were sure you'd remember the ash blonde standing next to your second favorite hero. 
“You do it on purpose.” Bakugou growled, his hand moving to your exposed waist, stroking against your naked skin as his fingers dipped underneath your top, “It turns you on doesn’t it? Everyone looking at your slutty little body.”
“No, please. It doesn’t- I’m not.” You tried to move away from him, but he already had your body trapped between the arm of the couch and his large, muscular frame. 
“All those eyes on you and you don’t give a fuck.” Bakugou’s large palm grasps your round breast, groaning when he feels your nipple pebbled underneath his touch, “You want everyone to see you.”
Before you have a moment to object, to tell him how wrong he is, his lips are already against yours in a sultry kiss. Your mind hazy as he immediately prods your lips with his tongue, desperate for entrance as he invades your mouth. You couldn’t believe what was happening, The Dynamight was inside your house. Your entire body burning as his heat engulfed you, this was something you’d dreamed about more than you could recollect. The amount of nights you’d touched yourself to the thought of his hands dancing across your body. Trying to imagine how it would feel to be completely ravaged by him, but now that he was here in the flesh you were nervous. The reality of the situation slowly consumes your body as your heart beats with more intensity. 
“God, you’re fuckin’ perfect.” Bakugou rasps huskily as he tugs your shirt up and over your breasts, his vermilion eyes taking in the sight of your exposed chest to his prying eyes, “Even better than I imagined.”
You nervously tried to move your arms to your chest, trying to hide your body from his burning gaze, but his hand was quick to grab your wrist, tugging your arm away with a glare, “Don’t.”
You averted your eyes from his own, biting your bottom lip as he lowered his face to your chest. His tongue tentatively coming out to lap around your darkened areola, closing his lips around your hardened nipple as he began to suck on the tender skin. Your head falling onto the back of the couch as you let out a low whine, one of your hands coming up to brush through his buzzed undercut, stroking against the spiky hair as you arched your back into his touch. 
“You’ve no idea how long I’ve been thinking about this, sweetheart.” He murmured around your nipple, his warm breath fanning against your skin as his teeth grazed against the sensitive skin. An airy gasp leaving your parted lips at the sensation as you involuntarily arched your back into his touch, “Every fuckin’ time I saw you-”
Wait? Every time he saw you? How often did he seek out your address? How many times did his crimson eyes burn into your skin without your noticing? 
Your eyes dart to the large bay window, holding eye contact with yourself as you stare at your reflection. A pitiful and clear sight as the blonde's hands groped your exposed tits. If the pro hero was brazen enough to peer through your unobstructed window, just how many other eyes fall onto you? 
“When I saw you in my signed debut Dynamight shirt, I knew I had to have you.” His lips curving into a grin against your skin as his tongue lapped at your hardened nipple, rolling the other one between his thumb and forefinger, “There’s just something about the sight of you in my clothes.”
At the mention of your rare signed shirt your body goes rigid, numb. If he had seen you in the shirt you mostly kept tucked away for safekeeping, he had seen everything hadn't he? 
“Don’t go all shy on me now, Princess.” He released your nipple with a pop, palming your breast with a grin as he pressed his lips against your own, “Weren’t shy when you were putting on a show for everyone, were you?”
Your bottom lip trembled at the suggestion, worrying it between your teeth as you felt Bakugou lean forward to grab your wrist in a large hand, the scent of his quirk filling the air as you felt the heat radiating from his palm. Vermilion eyes glancing down at your half-lidded ones, a glazed expression over your features as you focused on his touch.
“Look at what you fuckin’ do to me, sweetheart.” Bakugou tightened his grip on your wrist, moving your hand towards his crotch. His cock bulging against his pants, desperate to be released as he lay your palm against him. Gasping at the sensation as your palm made contact with the fabric, feeling just how hard he was for you underneath the denim.
All the while his thoughts are consumed by you, your smell, the look of surprise on your face. The feel of your skin against his and the heat of your breath tickling his ear when he pins you to the couch. 
All of the things he'd been imagining for the last few months. Your small hand against his large, twitching cock. Even through the fabric your warmth is hypnotizing, drawing him in and captivating him with every inch of you.
Bakugou's problem is that he can be greedy, hungry for more. Wanting nothing but the best and much like his sun sign, once he had his eyes set on something nothing could overcome his stubborn ambition. Not even the small look of fear in your eyes but even he can see that it is fading, melding into desire. He watches your fingers flutter, teasingly trying to figure out just how big and girthy he really was. Your heart races as you stare into his clouded vermillion eyes. Blood running hot as your mouth salivates, imagining the same thing he is. 
How does it taste? 
You let out a soft whine, fingers prodding at the head earning you a borderline feral growl. 
"Quit being a fucking tease and take it out, Princess." He groans, you freeze at his bold request.
"B..but…" He crowds you as your protests die in your throat. His lips brushing against your ear as he breathes in your sweet shampoo. 
"But what Princess? Scared I'll fuck you stupid?" He nips at the shell of your ear, chuckling darkly when you shiver, "Or are you scared you'll get addicted to how I taste?" 
"T-taste?" 
"Aw look at you acting all fuckin shy?" He squeezes your thighs with a deadly grip, fingers creeping between them, "You weren't so shy last week sitting in this spot were you?" 
You freeze as you think back to last week, knowing exactly what you were doing, eyes glancing over his broad shoulder to see the snow coming down in sheets through the large bay windows. You thought you were high enough and far enough away from the road, there, there was no way he saw right? 
His fingers press against your clothed sex, rubbing rough circles unable to keep the deadly smirk off of his lips. 
"Your phone in one hand and your other right here. Or maybe," He moves the dark fabric to the side, sliding his fingers to your clit, "It was here." 
You bite back your moans as the rough pad of his fingers circle your clit, just barely grazing over it in an agonizing purposeful fashion. 
"What were you watching again? Amateur porn right? POV with the guy's face hidden but he was in a knock off Dynamight suit wasn't he?" He pulls back to watch your face, twisting with pleasure and horror, body arching towards his touch as your head swims. Cunt clenching as he dips closer to your core for slick. 
"And what did that slutty mouth say?" His smile is cocky, holding eye contact. Silence sits between the two of you as your eyes flutter. He pulls his hand away from your throbbing clit, squeezing against your pulse point.
"I asked a question, Kitten. Now answer it." His voice is dark. 
"Dy-Dynamight." You gasp out, he ruts his hips against your leg. 
"Again." His free hand slips back between your folds, fingers setting a rapid pace that already has you teetering on the edge already. 
"Dynamight!" 
"Again. Say my name again." His fingers work you over as the coil unexpectedly snaps in your stomach. 
"Katuskiiii." You gasp and whine, shamefully cumming all over his thick digits. He groans, shoving his fingers into your cunt to feel you grip onto him, he cannot wait to feel that pretty pussy molding to his aching cock. 
But he would wait, for now. 
"Good girl." He praises, pulling his fingers from your core, licking up them. Savoring your essence as you watch his eyes flutter paying you a high compliment. In quick motions he throws a pillow onto the solid hardwood floor, pulling the hair at the nape of your neck as he pulls you onto the plush cushion. His free hand undoing his belt with deft fingers before he pulls his pants and boxers down. His cock springs free, the head leaking precum as you lick your lips. 
"You're gonna keep being a good girl for me right, Princess?" He coos, dragging his cock across your lips, smearing his sweet and salty pre from cheek to cheek. 
"Fuck do you know how long I've been dreaming of your lips around my cock?" He groans, pulling your hair back to force eye contact. 
"How, how long?" Your question prompts that nasty smile as his crimson eyes gleam with cruelty and lust.
"Months." 
And with that he pulls your hair back hard enough that you cry out in pain. Bakugou takes the opportunity to shove his cock into your mouth. Bottoming out at the back of your throat causing you to gag, your spit eases the roughness of his slow harsh thrusts as your eyes water. 
Nothing could have prepared you for feeling Bakugou inside you for the first time, your wildest fantasies didn’t equate to this. The sheer size of his thick, bulging cock made it difficult for you to take him inside your mouth. The prominent veins that forked along the side dragging against your cheek as he eased you down on his length. Fingers stroking through your hair sweetly, a stark contrast to his previous movements. His husky voice cooing down at you, gentle praises that had you keening, desperate to hear more. The red, swollen tip prodding against the back of your throat as you gagged around him, a mixture of spit and pre dribbling down your chin as you tried to fit more of him inside your mouth hungrily. 
“So fuckin’ greedy.” Bakugou grunted, his fingers carding into your messy hair and tugging harshly against the root, pressing you further down his aching cock. Watching the way your cheeks hollowed around him as you tried to adjust to his size. The movement causing fresh tears to clump in your lashes as you tried desperately to breathe through your nose. His coarse blond pubic hairs tickling your skin as he held your head down on his cock. 
Struggling for oxygen as your tongue lashed against the underside of his length, the salty sweet taste of his cum mixed with the lack of oxygen making you light headed as you felt yourself falling deeper into him. Teeth grazing his sensitive skin as you tried to relax your throat, innocent eyes gazing up at him. The sight almost had him cumming on the spot, it was something he’d thought about for months, stroking himself raw to the thought of your lips wrapped around him. You felt gentle tremors flowing through your body as he finally allowed you a moment of respite, tugging you off his length roughly as you gasped for air.
“So pretty for me,” His warm palm stroked against your cheek, dipping his thumb between your parted lips as he felt you instinctively close your mouth around it. Your tongue swirling around the calloused pad of his thumb as you heard him groan above you, “Look at you.”
“How many times have you played with that slutty little pussy to the thought of me, hah?” Bakugou mused, his thumb slipping from your mouth as he pulled down your lower lip, watching the way your face followed after his hand to try and pull him back in.
“P-please.” You trembled, already feeling your clit throbbing painfully between your thighs, already feeling unsatiated as crimson eyes glared down at you.
“I bet you’ve never had anything this big inside you,” He wrapped his palm around his cock, smirking when he noticed your eyes hyper focused on him, “Have you?”
You shook your head nervously, even the toys you’d experimented before didn’t equate to his sheer size, “N-no, Dynamight.”
“I’m gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good, Princess.” Bakugou’s thoughts already flooding to how your tight little cunt would feel being split around his cock. Moulding it to his size so you’d never be satisfied with anything or anyone else. You were going to be his and his alone, and he’d do anything to ensure that happened, “Wanna feel that tight little pussy wrapped around my cock, yeah?”
His words sending more pleasurable jolts to your core, rubbing your thighs together in anticipation as he helped you to your feet, his large palms keeping against your hips as he dipped his fingers beneath the hem of your shorts. Sliding the material down your thighs with one rough tug, exposing your naked body to his prying eyes. The sight of you completely bare in front of him had his cock twitching almost painfully, you were even more perfect than he had imagined.
“C’mere, Princess.” He cooed gently, a stark contrast to his earlier actions. You keened as you slid onto his lap, feeling his thick cock pressed snugly between your folds as you placed your hands on his broad shoulders to steady yourself. Your fingertips digging into his shirt as you tried feebly to get him to take it off.
“So needy,” He smirked, leaning forward to tug his shirt up and over his head. His chiselled abs now on full display as you focused in on each sharp ridge. He was even more perfect in person, and you couldn’t quite believe that the Dynamight was now in front of you.
Bakugou’s large palms moved back to your hips, pressing you down against his cock as you felt the length stroke against your slit, involuntarily grinding down against him as you tried to give your clit some much needed stimulation. The action did not go unnoticed by Bakugou who smirked at your desperation, digging his fingertips into your skin as he began to circle your hips against his cock. 
“You’re soaking my cock and I haven’t even put it in yet,” He smirked as he felt your slick coating his length, watching in amusement as you continued to grind yourself against him, trying to give yourself some relief, “Bet you could get yourself off just like this, hah?”
“No,” You whined, “Please,”
“Please, what?” He coaxed, his fingers slipping between your bodies to tease your puffy clit, a harsh laugh leaving his lips when he felt the way your body jerked at his touch.
“Please,” You trailed off, suddenly feeling incredibly nervous and self-conscious that you were now very much naked in front of your favourite Pro-Hero.
“You don’t seem to want it enough, Princess.” Bakugou teased, moving you away from his cock as you groaned in displeasure. Your eyes looking down at his shaft that was now coated in a layer of your slick. Fresh pre spilling from the tip as you reached out to grab him between your fingers. Bakugou’s reflexes were quicker as he caught your wrist in his large palm, giving you a warning look as his nostrils flared. 
“So fuckin’ greedy.” He moved his hands back to grab your ass, kneading the round mounds as he moved you to hover over his cock, vermilion eyes gazing up at you as he waited for you to speak, “You want my cock?”
“Yeah-” You felt your head nodding before you’d even had a chance to think, desperate to feel him sliding inside your warmth, splitting you open as he buried himself deep inside you. 
“Yeah?” He mocked, tilting his head to the side as he pressed a kiss against your pebbled nipple, “Then fuckin’ beg for it.”
“Please, Dynamight.” You rolled your hips again, grinding against nothing as you tried to create some friction between your thighs, “Want your cock.”
A groan spilled from his lips at such blunt words leaving your pouty lips, calloused fingertips digging into your supple flesh as he pressed you down on the head of his cock. The tip stretching you out slightly as you tried to drop your hips down on him, wanting to feel him deep inside you.
“You want Dynamight to fuck this slutty pussy?” He pulled you away from his cock which caused a needy whine to spill from your lips, trying to angle your hips back towards his length.
Bakugou’s palm wrapping around his cock to drag the swollen, reddened tip along your sopping folds. Feeling your slick coat his skin as it mingled with his pre, watching the way your eyes fluttered at the sensation of his cockhead brushing against your clit.
“Yes.” You hissed, already anticipating the pleasurable stretch his girth would create inside you. The thick head already back at your tight entrance as he watched you shamelessly try and drop your hips down onto him. 
"Yes what?" His voice is dark with pleasure as he glares up at you, a pitiful mess. He's toying with you, as a cat does a mouse and you feel utterly embarrassed. This was Pro hero Dynamight damn it, you wanted to make a good impression. You wanted to be sexy, not some whiny bitch in heat. 
Little did you know how much Bakugou loved it, lived for it as he gently bounced you on just the tip. Driving you wild as you whined, all the while he smirked. 
"Please Katsuki-sama." Your nails rake down his forearms, "Please, please fuck me." 
"That's my good girl." He slams you down on his cock in one swift motion causing your vision to spot. He relishes the way you flutter around him, adjusting as a shiver runs up your spine. 
"Now fuck yourself on my cock, Princess." 
"But-" He wraps his hand around your throat, malice and lust dance in his eyes as his free hand travels to your thigh. Palm heating with each pound of your heart until it begins to become too much, too hot.
"Ride me like you did your fingers last week. You were thinking of me then weren't you, pervert?” You gasped at his crude words, the idea that he had been watching you while you dipped your fingers inside your tight cunt had embarrassment ebbing in your core. Your body trembling as the object of your affections degraded you, “Wishing it was me finger fuckin’ that pretty pussy, yeah?”
Unable to stop the shameless moan that left your parted lips, the sound restricted to a strangled gasp as he kept his palm wrapped tightly around your jugular. 
“Or were you thinking of Red Riot since you love wearing his merch so much, hah.” Bakugou goaded, you could feel his grip against you tightening as his palms heated up dangerously, “Wishing he’d come in and bend you over like the little slut you are.”
“N-no,” You tried to gasp out, feeling lightheaded from the lack of oxygen that flowed through your body.
Bakugou loosened his grip around your neck, keeping his palm against your skin as he leaned his head closer to yours, his warm breath fanning your face as vermilion eyes bored into your own, “What was that?”
“J-just you, Dynamight.” You rasped, a rush of air filling your lungs as your chest heaved against him, “Only for you-”
“Yeah?” His lips curled into a cocky grin, immediately tightening his grip around your throat once more, “That’s fuckin’ right, you should be thinking about me when you play with that sloppy pussy.”
He squeezes both your throat and thigh harder. You rock your hips, fucking yourself on his fat cock as you gasp for air, hands desperately holding onto toned arms for support as the coil in your stomach begins to snap. 
“Now I want you to fuckin' show me how much of a Dynamight fan you really are." He groans at the way you grip around him, tongue lulling past his smirk for just as second. 
If you had to try and describe this feeling it would be something akin to euphoria, a constant throb ebbing through your cunt at the dull stretch his cock caused around your core. His cock moulding you to his shape as he bounced you on his lap, the thick jutting veins along his girth dragging against your inner walls with each pronounced thrust. Desperate cries of pleasure spilling from your lips as he fucked himself into you, hungrily searching to pull more of those sweet sounds from your pretty lips. You felt pearly tears begin to clump in your lashes as he fucked into your tight cunt with vigour, uncaring for giving you a moment of respite as he hungrily used you for his own pleasure. 
“Aw, you gonna cry, Princess?” He sneered, vermilion eyes gazing down at your own as he kept his pace, “I know you fuckin’ love it. I can feel you squeezing my cock.”
“Please-” You couldn’t think of the words, your mind foggy with the juxtaposition of pleasure and pain overwhelming you as he continued to fuck you with reckless abandon. 
“Don’t tell me I’ve already fucked you stupid, dumbass.” He grunted, the calloused pads of his fingers digging into the plush skin of your thighs, crude noising filling the air as you could hear just how wet you were for him, “That sloppy pussy is drooling all over my cock.”
"Who do you belong to?" His husky voice wraps around you like a vice, pulling your heart into your stomach. 
"You." You gasp as the heat of his palm on your leg begins to burn, skin warping beneath his touch. Hand glowing golden as if he were a God while his quirk begins to really activate. The smell of spiced caramel, smoke and scalded flesh cling to the couch and invade your senses as a crude whimper leaves your parted lips. The skin that he’d just burned throbbing under his touch, as heat surged through your body. His sharp thrusts helping to morph the pain you felt into a pure, unabashed pleasure as he watched you worry your bottom lip between your teeth.
"Good girl. Now everyone will know exactly who you belong to." Your eyes flicker away from his face before he uses his finger behind your jaw to meet his gaze, "Look at your King when you cum."
The combination of pleasure and pain paired with the thought of being his makes that delicate coil snap. Your body tenses and freezes as you shake atop his lap, biting nails drawing blood on his arms. He smirks, fucking up into you as another mind numbing orgasim washes over your body. Without withdrawing himself he flips the two of you against the couch. 
“Fuck, look at you.” Your back presses into the cushions as he towers over you. Gazing down and into your eyes as he slowly thrusts into you, switching hands to place one on your unburnt thigh, “So fuckin’ pretty.”
The telltale sounds of his quirk sound in the room as his hands crackle, heating his other palm, readying himself to repeat the action. To mark your body and claim you as his own, so if anyone dared to look at you they would know exactly who you belonged. Permanent hand prints marking you as his. No one else was allowed to have you, not that you had a choice, at least not anymore. 
Bakugou hissed as he felt your cunt continue to flutter around him in the aftershocks of your climax, snapping his hips as his pelvis hits against your puffy clit, head swimming from both pleasure and your primal need to breathe that was being wholly denied.
Bakugou was going to ruin you and you'd let him. 
"Who owns this pretty pussy?" Another possessive question that rockets you to the edge, body hoping for another mark, to make you symmetrical. 
Whole. 
"You." Another raspy breath but it's enough for Bakugou to hear. A silent moan tears from your throat as you try to keep your eyes locked with his. Pain blooming on your thigh with a delicious bite. 
 “What was that?” He snarled, pressing your thigh up against your chest as his arm slid underneath your knee, resting your calf over his shoulder as he changed the angle of his thrusts, his cock delving deeper between your folds as you felt the swollen tip bruising your cervix with each hard rut of his hips, “Say my name.”
“Dynamight.” You called out, already feeling your body throbbing in the telltale signs of another orgasm, your thighs quivering as you felt Bakugou fuck your body into the couch hard before using his grip on your thigh to drag you back into him. 
The crude sound of skin against skin vibrated around the room as his meaty balls slapped against the swell of your ass, Bakugou’s muscular frame dwarfing your own as he used you for his own pleasure. His own little cocksleeve that would succumb to his every request, you would be his and his alone to use as he pleased. 
“Again.” A low growl sounded from the back of his throat, a possessive undertone to it as he urged you on, “Say it again.”
“Dynamight.” You managed to whimper through sobs, tears trickling down your temples now and soaking into your messy hair. The sound of his name spilling from your lips made him readjust his thrusts with newfound intensity. 
“That’s fuckin’ right. Red Riot would never fuck you this good, hah?” He provoked, a clear sign of dominance over you, “You’re fuckin’ made for my cock.”
A cry slipping from your lips as he gave a particularly hard thrust inside your aching cunt, the tip of his length pounding against your cervix as he worked to claim your body as his own, trying to wipe thoughts of anyone else from your mind so all you could think about in this moment was his fat cock buried deep inside your tight heat.
“God, you’re fuckin’ perfect.” He grunted, his eyes mapping out your body as he worked himself against you, “Feel so good.”
Your breasts bounced with the intensity of his thrusts as he felt your inner walls quivering around his cock, already feeling another orgasm creeping up on you, the coil inside you impossibly tight as you tried to remember to breathe. Your vision hazy as you felt yourself becoming lightheaded, white dots blanking your vision as you shook beneath him.
“You gonna cum again already? Greedy fuckin’ bitch.” Bakugou’s lips curved into a grin as he felt your fingernails dig into his forearms, leaving crescent shapes in their wake as a dull ache tingled against his skin at the sensation, “My cock’s better than your fuckin’ fingers, yeah?”
“Yes,” You hissed, your toes curling as you felt yourself succumb to the pleasure. Your tight heat clenching around Bakugou’s cock as an usual sensation flowed through you, an intense throb in your core as you felt the unwavering urge to pee. Tightening your thighs around Bakugou’s firm body in an attempt to stop it from happening as wracked sobs left your body, your lower lip trembling as the sensation became too much. Too intense, too overwhelming as you allowed it to take over, your body crying out as you came. A clear stream of liquid gushing from between your thighs and soaking Bakugou’s crotch, his pace never once faltering as he fucked you through the sensation.
“Look at you, you messy fuckin’ slut” He howled in pleasure as he watched the liquid seep from your folds, “Look at your sloppy little pussy soakin’ my cock.”
“I’m sorry-” You cried out in embarrassment, feeling your heart pound in your chest as you saw his abdomen glistening with your release, “I didn’t mean-”
“What? You never fuckin’ squirted before?” Bakugou’s lips curled into a sly smile, his chest puffed out in pride, “Let’s see if you can do it again.”
Bakugou slipped a hand between your connected bodies to press four fingers against your clit, rubbing it frantically side to side as he tried to prolong the sensation, watching to see more of the clear liquid escape your heat. 
"I can make this pretty little cunt do what I want. Wanna know why?" He leans in with a deadly grin on his lips,  "Cause I own it." 
You cried out as you felt the sensation flowing through you once more, a dull ache in your lower body as more of the clear liquid gushed from your folds. The sight made Bakugou smirk with glee, his fingers relentless against your sensitive nub.
“Couldn’t help yourself, could you?” He goaded, feeling your body trying to shy away from him as you withered beneath him, the pleasure becoming overwhelming, “That fuckin’ desperate.”
“P-please,” You whimpered, your entire body felt unbearably hot. Unable to think coherently as Bakugou continued pounding his thick girth into your core, his warm breath fanning your face as he hovered above you.
“P-please,” He mocked, tilting his head as he glanced down at you, “Please, what?”
“‘S too much,” You stammered, your hand reaching down to wrap around his wrist, trying to tug his fingers away from their assault against your clit.
The movement made him growl, baring his teeth as his hand moved from your clit, reaching up to wrap around the curve of your neck instead as he instantly tightened his grip against your jugular. The action caused your eyes to widen in surprise before your soft whines turned into hungry pants as you tried to gasp for air. Bakugou’s consistent thrusts into your sloppy hole made it difficult to think straight, your body fully focused on the sight of him above you while his hand wrapped tightly around your neck. 
“Gonna fill that sloppy little pussy with cum, yeah?” You flushed at the suggestion, already feeling your inner walls fluttering around his cock at the thought, squeezing his girth as it created more friction as he dragged his cock along your velvety walls, his grip on your neck tightening as you felt your cunt clench around his cock in response, “You’re gonna look so pretty for me all full of my cum, Princess.”
A guttural groan spilled from his parted lips as you watched his eyes roll back, his thrusts stuttering as he came, bottoming out inside you as white hot spurts of cum splashed against your inner walls. His palms stroking along your exposed skin, sliding against the thin sheen of sweat that coated your body as he came down from his climax, humping a few more sloppy thrusts into your cunt as he cherished the sweet way your walls continued to flutter around him. 
You whined as Bakugou slowly eased his hips back, slipping his softening cock out of your quivering folds. His eyes immediately focused on your abused hole as he watched his cum begin to trickle out of you as it dribbled down towards your ass. Unable to resist reaching a finger out to collect the mixture, scooping it up as he slowly pushed it back inside you. Smirking at the way you tried to bat his hand away from your overstimulated folds, this only making him want to tease you more as he moved his finger to press against your inner walls. Swallowing thickly as he felt your body involuntarily clamping down around him in an attempt to pull him back inside you. 
“Such a good girl for me, Princess.” He moved his fingers up to stroke against your puffy clit, laughing at the way you arched your hips away from his touch, trying to stop him from teasing your satiated clit, “Took my cock so well.” 
You mewl in response, clutching your arms to yourself as you shake from the previous events. You looked so small and scared causing a sharp pain to bolt through Bakugou's chest. God he wanted you in his care even more now.
“You were even more perfect than I imagined.” He pulls you to him, trapping you in his embrace as he presses your face into his chest. Hand smoothing your damp hair as he hums lightly. His eyes catching sight of the Red Riot shirt he’d discarded to the floor, a thought occurred to him, one he cannot keep to himself, as another sadistic smile settled on his lips. 
“Kirishima told me not to come over here, said to leave you alone-” He pulls you back so you can look at him, and gods the look you're giving him. Eyes soft and submissive, hazed over in mind numbing pleasure as you float off somewhere far away. Only Bakugou's arms are keeping you bound to Earth. “But I was right wasn’t I, Princess?”
You'll never be able to escape his gravity now. 
“He just wanted you for himself.” His fingers feather over your body before he stands, guessing where the first aid could be. You clutch onto his shirt, eyes desperately glued to your new God as the fading sun washes him over in deep hues of red. The way you look at him makes his cock twitch, feeling the intense power he already holds over you. 
"You'll let your King go." A growl as his fingers find your throat, you nod with fresh tears catching on long lashes as he steps away. Sobbing from his absence before he returns. 
"Don't be a baby, I wasn't that far Princess." His voice all bite while his hands speak the truth. Calloused and scared fingers pressing ointment into the fresh burns tenderly. 
“But you’re mine now aren’t you Princess?” He dots over the burns, rubbing the salve in gently, “All mine.”
He leans away from you, cruelty ever plastered on his smirking lips. 
“Maybe I should show Red Riot what you look like right now, hah?” He pulls out his phone, going to snap a picture. You're hesitant at first but then move to strike a pose, wide eyes looking into the lens of the camera as Bakugou angles it to get the dark bruises and scars that now marr your perfect skin. "Fuck, I think showing him what a good girl you are in person would be much better." 
“W-we shouldn’t-“ You mumble, your heart hammering in your chest at the thought of your sweet neighbour seeing you like this, utterly debauched because of Pro-Hero Dynamight. 
“Don’t be shy, pretty girl.” He coos uncharacteristically, almost mocking you as he watches your lower lip tremble, “I’m sure Red Riot would love to see you like this. Probably jerks himself raw to the thought of you.”
He eases you to your feet, sliding your shorts over your thighs as you hiss when they get to the fresh brand. Your mouth waters from pain as you look down at them. His perfect palm prints etched into your skin forever. You bite your bottom lip, wanting more from Bakugou who slips his jacket over your shoulders before putting your snow boots onto your feet. He makes his way to the door.
"Comin' pervert?" He asks before you rush to your feet,  “Shall we show Red Riot what a desperate little slut his neighbour is?” 
He wraps his arm around your shoulders, engulfing you in his mesmerizing scent and heat. You nod slowly, wanting nothing more than to please your new caretaker. 
“Gotta remind that asshole who the fuck you belong to.”
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stardewtales · 7 months ago
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Your shane x reader are some of the first I read when i got into sdv, and they still hold a li special place in my heart <3 I love the way you wrote shane, jas, and the farmer (you kept the farmer rather neutral, but you still gave her moments of personality, rlly great stuff!), anyway, I'd love any shane related stuff you would do, but if your looking for a request, the reader teaching him abt farming/gardening (planting hot peppers together eee) i think would be rlly cute-ok bye lysm!!!
A/N: hey lovely!! If you're still around, thank you so much for this. I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to get to your request, but here it is! Hope it lives up to your expectations xx
Shane can feel you hovering behind him.
"What is it," he groans, not bothering to turn around.
"Sorry," he hears you say. "Just, be careful with the roots, please? I don't want all your work to be for nothing."
Well, he can't exactly fault you for that. If anything, he's ashamed because he was distracted while you showed him the whole thing about the roots.
He turns to look at you. "Would you, uh... mind showing me again?"
His stomach twists as you smile at him, thoroughly amused. "Sure thing. Here, let me get in there..."
You kneel beside him, knees firmly planted in the dirt beside his. You proceed to show him how to dig around the roots instead of into them for a second time that afternoon. For a second time, he finds it hard to focus with you so close, but he fights that a little harder this time.
"Here," you hand him back the trowel, "give it another shot."
He can't miss the way the look you give him is so damn encouraging. You've given him plenty of variations on that look by now, with various degrees of concern thrown into the mix. He proceeds to try digging up the pepper plant again, the sun boring down on the back of his neck as he does it.
"Am I getting it right, now?" he asks, glancing up at you quickly.
"Couldn't do it better myself," you nod exaggeratedly, and he fakes throwing dirt at you in retaliation.
It gets a laugh out of you, clear and joyful. It stirs something inside him, the feeling that's been nagging at him sort of often these days. It hits him like a ton of bricks in that moment that this is the feeling he used to chase all the way down the bottles, the sort of rush he used to think would make up for everything else.
He must've made a face when he realized it, because your brows furrow in concern.
"Are you o-" you start, but you're cut off short by a girlish squeal further down the field.
Him and you both shoot up, surveying the surroundings.
"Jas?" you half-shout, concerned.
"I think I need some help," her voice pipes up sheepishly, and the two of you finally spot her, fallen on her butt among the sunflowers.
You huff, relieved, and tell him you've got it with a brief touch on his arm before you leave in Jas's direction. Now that he knows she's not hurt, he can go back to making sense of his thoughts, yet he barely registers the lingering feeling of your fingers on his forearm.
He kneels and gets back to work, distraught. His first instinct is to worry. The therapist Harvey connected him with cautioned him pretty early on about the way some addicts replaced one addiction with another, and that all good things should perhaps be enjoyed in moderation while he was on the road to recovery.
You're the best thing in his life by far, but he failed to keep you at arm's length a long time ago now. He's not dense enough to be unaware that he's developed some pretty strong feelings for you. But this particular feeling is new-ish, and he doesn't quite know what to make of it. As his fingers dig up the pepper plant out of the ground and he gently removes chunks of dirt from the roots, Shane hopes really hard this doesn't mean he's allowed himself to veer all the way of the right path he's been trying so hard to stick to.
He hates to think about it, but maybe he needs to cool off on seeing you so often so he can at least get a grip. He can't even recall the last time he went a day without seeing you. Sometime in the spring, probably? It's the very end of summer now.
After he's transferred the plant to the wheelbarrow, Shane stands up and looks around. You're still helping Jas uproot some sunflowers, even though her initial job was just to collect the stray seeds. Officially, he and her were there to help you wrap up the summer crops so you could transfer some to your greenhouse. In reality, he was helping you; Jas was causing more trouble than she was helping, but you didn't seem to mind at all, more than happy to show her over and over how to handle things properly.
He didn't know how you did it. It's like you had an endless well of patience, and he knew he ought to have reached the pit of it by now. And yet, he had not. There were depths to your kindness that reached far enough that even after dealing with him through his recovery, you still had plenty left for Jas in all her fumblings and ill-advised adventures.
For the rest of the afternoon Shane managed to clear his mind and just keep working somewhat efficiently. Marnie came around just before dinnertime to get Jas, who was too exhausted from running around by then to protest. Marnie had also let him know she'd save him a portion of dinner for when he came home, but to take his time, which he'd made sure to thank her for.
It wasn't long until Jas left before you and him moved on to replanting the uprooted plants into the greenhouse. He liked that part more than the digging up; liked the hazy warmth of the greenhouse more than the blaring heat of the field. The two of you worked mostly in silence, both exhausted, him perhaps more than you.
After you planted the last of yours and he was halfway through his own last plant, he heard you clap your hands together to shake the dirt off your gloves, before you fully shrieked.
"What's wrong?" he quickly turned towards you.
"Your neck!" you replied, walking over to him. "Did you not put on sunscreen like I told you to?"
Shane instinctively reaches for the back of his neck, and while the sunburn doesn't hurt yet, he can feel the tell-tale heat coming off of it.
"Ah, shit. Think I missed a spot."
You tut at him, shooing his hand off so you can take a better look.
"You big idiot," you chastise him affectionately. "You're lucky I have an infinite amount of aloe in the house from last summer."
**************
As Shane steps out of the shower and into your steam-filled bathroom, he can already tell he'll be sore from all this work. He doesn't know how you do this every day. He tries to get a look at himself in the mirror, but it's too fogged up. Probably better that way, he thinks.
He's used your shower plenty of times before, and he's glad that at the very least it doesn't feel as awkward as it used to. While he was still in the pits of getting sober, you'd graciously let him stay over on your couch so Jas didn't have to see him struggle when it got too hard. He still doesn't know why you did that, or how to repay you for it.
After putting on his clothes, he steps out into your living room, where you're waiting for him with a huge tub of the goo you intend to smear on his sunburn. You've showered too, and made him do it after you because otherwise you claimed he'd just wash off the aloe later, which was probably right.
"C'mere," you beckon him over to sit on the arm of your couch.
He chuckles. It's funny to him, how bossy you get when you're trying to take care of him. Nevertheless, he does as he's told and dutifully sits down like you instruct him. And waits.
Nothing happens.
"You okay back there?" he asks, looking over his shoulder.
You raise a brow. "Aren't you gonna take off your shirt? How am I supposed to get this on you otherwise?"
He feels a bubble of panic rush up. He's in better shape than he used to be, but he's still not much to look at, and he doesn't like the idea of you finding that out like this. "Is that really necessary?"
You sigh, and he knows there will be no convincing you. He feels the tips of his ears burn as he lifts his shirt over his head, dropping it at his feet and taking precious care not to look back at you. "Happy?" he mumbles.
"Hmhm," you hum quietly behind him.
You bring your aloe-coated fingers to his burning skin, and instantly he feels consumed by ice-cold flames. He was not prepared for you to touch him quite so gently, to work the gel into his skin in tiny, careful circles. His throat runs dry as he's reminded of his earlier conclusion that he needs to take some time away from you, for both of your sakes. If the way his body is reacting to this isn't proof, he doesn't know what would be.
You let him know you're done, and he promptly puts his shirt back on. He wishes he hadn't when the stickiness gets a hold of the collar.
"So, just a heads up," you start, screwing the jar of aloe vera shut, "I'm gonna be really busy tomorrow I think. So maybe hanging out in the evening when I'm done would be better?"
He's taken aback by the way this is coming up faster than he anticipated. Still, No time like the present I guess, he thinks to himself.
"About that," he clears his throat, "I think it might be better if I spend some alone time for a while."
He watches you still. You look up at him slowly, visibly confused. "Have I done something wrong?" you ask, and it kills him. "I'm sorry if I have, I know I can be a little overbearing sometimes," you start to ramble, but he cuts you off.
"No, no, none of that," he tries to reassure you. "It's just, uh, how do I say this," he scratches at his head, genuinely at a loss. "Remember how I told you my therapist said I should, like, maybe be careful about things I enjoy a lot? And about... strong emotions?"
You nod, but he can tell from your slight frown you're still confused.
"Well, it's kinda like that. I feel really good when I'm with you. Maybe a little too good. Strong stuff. But I don't wanna depend on you to feel... good. I wanna keep this healthy, yeah?"
You ponder his words, and he can tell he hasn't really gotten his point across. "I mean, I think I get where you're coming from, maybe? But Shane, I think it's okay for you to have a support system. Is it really so bad if being with a friend makes you feel good? I think that's how most people feel."
He shakes his head, huffing. "No, it's not like that."
"Then what is it like?"
His eyes meet yours, and he feels weak. "Please don't make me say it," he whispers.
"Shane," you reach out to touch his shoulder, "You're worrying me."
He swallows. Before he knows it, it tumbles out of him. "I have feelings for you. I have for a while. And lately it's gotten a little out of control. So I need some time away from you to get over it, okay? I don't want things to be weird. I need you too much to have things be weird. So I need to figure it out before it gets there."
You stare at him, and he sees so many emotions run across your face that he gets dizzy.
"You... what?" you say quietly after a while.
He feels heat rise from his chest all the way to his ears, like some twisted type of nausea. "Forget it, alright? That's not the point I'm trying to make. I just..." he breathes, "I'll see you in a few days, yeah?"
He doesn't wait for a response. He goes for the door right away, in a real hurry to leave this place where everything is so blatantly yours, down to the smell of your lotion lingering in the air from your bare legs.
But you don't let him leave. He feels your hand on his arm, a real grip this time, and the next thing he knows you're reaching for his neck and bringing his mouth to meet yours. Shane thinks he's forgotten how to make his blood run, how to make his lungs breathe, how to make his limbs move. You're pressing your lips on his with a fervor he didn't even know you had in you. Then, with an instinct of its own, his body kicks back into gear, and he feels himself wrapping his arms around you, bringing you closer yet as he pours all the energy he has left into kissing you back.
It's desperation that compels him, because he never imagined this would ever happen outside of his mind, outside of his daydreams. He's not even convinced he'll ever get to do it again, so he's making this one count.
He genuinely has no idea how much time has passed when you break away from him, panting. You're not saying anything, just searching his eyes with yours.
"Please say something," he eventually breathes.
He watches as you swallow, then exhale loudly. "I don't want to see you in a few days only. I wanna see you now and in the middle of the night and every moment of every day. I don't want you to go and get over me, because I don't think I'll be able to get over you if you do, Shane. So don't leave me. Stay. Please."
Your words fluster him a great deal more than he already is. "Okay," he nods, in a half-daze.
"Yeah?" you make sure, still catching your breath.
"Yeah," he confirms. "Anything for you. Of course."
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hobidreams · 6 months ago
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trivia: june 1870.
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a hastily scribbled letter the sender wishes he did not have to write.
pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader words: 406 contains: our favorite eunuch returns!
moonlit throne index. this is drabble 32. start from the beginning?
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My beloved wife,
I miss you and our son more than words can say. Not a day slips by without my thinking of your warm smiles and delicious cooking, but I am afraid I must stay here at the palace for some time longer. There is trouble.
The advisors are never ones to take perceived grievances to their pride easily. If their lobbying for jeonha to increase taxes again proves fruitless, then they will find a new method to force him to behave in a way they find reasonable, if only to even the scales of slight between them. And this new method… It is cruel indeed.
Those of us that work and live in the palace are all aware of the precious, shall we say, connection between jeonha and our dear uinyeo-nim. The ministers, those left over from the previous king’s court that have disagreed with all of jeonha’s decisions, understand her importance to him as well. Even if jeonha has never formally addressed the situation, and has no plans to… They have long been aware of what they see as a heavy transgression.
They have begun to urge jeonha to marry. Very insistently.
At every daily meeting, they have long lists of reasons why a marriage could only benefit the people, who require further faith in the king after all the difficulties they have had with the weather and the ailing crops. The ministers have even begun to produce names of candidates from prestigious families to leave jeonha as little room for denial as is possible. Still, jeonha is trying his utmost to reject such thoughts and further his plans for reform and survival but they are incredibly persistent.
…To be entirely truthful, I no longer know how much further he can resist their words, as they carry truth. It pains me to witness, as I still remember what occurred the last time a marriage was arranged. How jeonha grew so much… colder. Older. But this time, the circumstances are different, and I can only hope that the consequences might be as well. So, please, try not to worry too much, my love, though I know you cannot resist from a little fretting. I will do my best to take care of our friend. I truly wish for her happiness as much as I do jeonha’s.
I hope I can come home soon. Or at least write with better news.
Thinking of you,
Namjoon.
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a/n: well. the calm times couldn’t last forever, now could they?
chat with me | support me on kofi ♡
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drysdale-barnes · 7 months ago
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I have 2 fic requests (but I’ll send them separately). The first one is that the reader works at the bar, but (reader - female?, Bucky’s 40’s fiancée) she’s helping her niece get ready for her wedding. The way I saw it was that they were in the bar during the day... but Sam gives her advice when he sees her crying against a wall. (Tells Bucky and spends most of the day trying to reunite with the woman he long thought was dead). Imagine, Slipping Through My Fingers (the part in Mamma Mia).
flowers | b.barnes
w/c: 1.7k
pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader
warnings: some crying but nothing else rlly
summary: bucky’s reunited with his fiancée from the 40’s
a/n: i’ve actually never seen mamma mia so i don’t know what you’re referring to there but i hope this is okay🥲 hope you enjoy it haha
masterlist - requests are open :)
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“I don’t want you to go.” you whisper into his neck as you lay in the bed together, tangled limbs and soft words filling the empty space.
“I know, doll. I’ll be back before you know it.” He strokes your cheeks lovingly, placing feather light kisses to every inch of your face. You’ve been dreading this day for weeks, but you knew it would come.
“I love you.” You card your fingers through his cropped hair and he lets out a soft sigh.
“I love you too.” He tenderly wipes the glistening tears from your face, enveloping you in his embrace until he’s the only thing you know; nothing else matters because you have him. Except you don’t anymore. Not for long.
“Promise you’ll come back. And we can get married.”
“I promise. We’re gonna have the best wedding. And I can’t wait to call you my wife.” You giggle at that, moulding your body against his own.
Shortly after that conversation, you fall asleep wrapped in each other’s arms. You press yourself as close as humanly possible to him, trying to imprint every detail about him into your mind. You need to remember.
When you wake, you’re alone and cold, and the ghost of him lingers on your bedsheets, his scent plaguing you with memories.
You never see him again. You learn of his death through Steve and it shatters you. Your heart is ripped out of your chest, still beating, and obliterated on the ground in front of you. A choked sob tears through your body as your knees buckle and Steve has to hold you up to stop you from hitting the floor.
You cry for weeks. And you never really recover from losing him.
-
Many, many years later, you’re helping your niece with her own wedding.
She’s hanging out at the bar with you for the day so you can help with planning whilst you work your shift. You’re chattering away to her when a customer walks in and seats himself at the bar.
“Hi, sir. How are you today?” you flash him a toothy grin which he returns with equal vigour.
“I’m okay, and yourself?”
“I’m not too bad, thank you. What can I get you?”
“A beer, please.”
“Comin’ right up.” you smile and hand him his drink as he pays.
At that moment, your niece asks a question about the wedding.
“What flowers should we have?”
-
“What are your favourite flowers?” Bucky asks you sweetly, resting his chin in the crook of your neck. You mull over the question for a moment before coming to a decision.
“I love... daisies.”
“Then we’ll have daisies at our wedding.” He spins you around to face him and loops your arms around his neck, holding onto your waist. “Dance with me, pretty girl.”
He sways you both in time to the music and you lose yourself in his steel blue eyes.
“Whatcha thinkin’ about, sweetheart?”
“Just you.” you smile.
“What about me?”
“How much I love you ‘s all.” He envelops you in a hug and you lean against his chest as he rocks you back and forth.
“I love you too, my pretty flower.”
-
“Y/N!” she snaps, ripping you from your memory. You clench your jaw as you try desperately not to cry.
“Hm?”
“I said, what flowers should we have?”
“Oh, um.” You clear your throat, “hold that thought. I need a minute.” You choke the words out as you stumble through the bar and out the back door. Once you reach the wall, you slide down it as sobs rack your body, your mouth agape in a silent scream.
-
“Is she okay?” Sam asks your niece, concerned.
“She will be. She gets like this sometimes.”
“Do you know why?”
“It’s about her fiancé. It was a long time ago. He died before they could get married. Sometimes she still gets upset about it. Misses him, you know?”
“Oh. How long ago?”
“Like 80 years or something. It’s a long story. She’s like that Captain America guy who got frozen.” He sets his beer down on the bar in front of him and slides out of the back door quietly.
Once you see him approaching, you take a deep breath in and wipe at your eyes furiously.
“You okay?” He sits next to you hesitantly and you nod.
“‘M fine. It’s stupid.”
“It doesn’t sound stupid to me. You loved him a lot. That takes time to get over.”
“She told you, huh?” You sigh, slumping further against the wall and twiddling your fingers anxiously. He wraps his arm around you gently - comfortingly - and you lean against him.
“He sounds pretty special. What was his name?”
“James. But he didn’t like being called James.” you chuckle at the memory, “He said it made him feel like he was being told off. So we all called him Bucky.”
“No shit.” Sam’s eyes widen to the size of plates and he stands abruptly. It has to be him. It couldn’t be anybody else, but what are the odds?
“What?”
“Will you be here later?”
“Yeah, I’m here until 7.”
“Please don’t leave until I come back.”
And with that, Sam bolts out of the bar in a rampage.
You stand, wiping your eyes, and head back into the bar, Bucky once more on your mind. As he always is.
-
“Bucky!” Sam raps on the door furiously, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Bucky trudges to the door, a scowl painted on his face.
“What?”
“You had a fiancée, right?”
“Who told you that?” He pulls Sam into the apartment abruptly, slamming the door behind him.
“She’s alive.” Bucky’s hands start to tremble and he sits down on the couch.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not. I met her. She told me about you. She works at the bar down the street.”
“Are you fucking with me? She should be dead.”
“She’s not. She’s like you and Steve.”
“Where is she?”
“Working.”
“I’m going.” Bucky grabs his car keys and rushes to the door, completely running off of adrenaline.
“I’m coming with you.”
They slide into the car and Bucky speeds off, not stopping at anything to get to you. Memories of you flash before his eyes: dancing together, your smile that he loved so much, your tears and how you cried before he left - he was always so gentle, wiping away your tears and holding you close. That isn’t him anymore, no matter how much he wishes it is.
-
You’re closing up at the bar, cleaning glasses and wiping down surfaces. Your niece has headed home to get a start on her errands. Just as you finish cleaning, Sam bursts back through the door, wincing sheepishly when it shakes on its hinges.
“Woah, what’s going on?” you ask him cautiously.
“Bucky.” You gape at him.
“What about him?”
The door swings open with a crash and your eyes fall on the disheveled figure running towards you. Your eyes brim with tears and you step back in shock.
“James?” He nods, panting and out of breath.
“Hi, sweetheart.” A sob forces its way out of your chest and you hop over the bar, throwing yourself into his arms.
“Oh my god, is this real life?” You bury your face into his neck, basking in the familiarity of him. Being a woman out of time, it feels nice to have something that feels like home. Sam watches in utter shock, not used to seeing Bucky being so gentle; he touches you like you’re fragile and made of glass, but he can’t get close enough; he craves your touch.
“It’s real.” Grabbing his face in your hands, you caress his cheeks just as he did to you decades earlier.
“I thought you were dead.”
“I thought you were dead.” He sniffles quietly and you press a bruising kiss to his lips, salty tears dripping down both of your faces and into your mouths. For the first time in nearly 80 years, you feel whole again, like the missing piece inside your heart has finally been filled.
“Missed you so much. Didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
“I told you I’d be back.”
“Took you a damn long time, baby.”
“I know, I’m so sorry.” A tear trickles down his face and you wipe it away as soon as it falls, kissing his cheek tenderly. You’re holding him together - his cracked and broken form yearns for you - he needs you. You need each other.
“It’s okay. You’re here now.” You untangle yourself from him and walk to the door, him trailing after you like a lost puppy. You flip the open sign to closed before turning back around to face him.
“No one comes in here on weekdays anyway. There’s no point staying open.” you chuckle, lacing your fingers with Bucky’s. You frown as a whirring sound erupts from his other side and you take his hand inquisitively, only to find it’s made of metal. “What happened to your arm?”
“An accident. It was a long time ago.”
“Oh, baby.” you whisper brokenly. “I think we have a lot of catching up to do.”
“Can we save that for tomorrow? I don’t want to talk right now.”
“Okay.” You step towards him, shaking, and he steadies you, his eyes concerned. Everything hits you at once as your brain processes and you stagger to the nearest chair, collapsing into it. Bucky crouches in front of you and takes your hands in his, rubbing soothing circles into them.
“Woah, doll. You’re okay. It’s okay.” You try to breathe but your lungs feel constricted and you panic. “Shit, Y/N. Come on, sweetheart.” He pulls you onto the ground, encapsulating you in his arms as you struggle to process what’s happening. You’re terrified that he’s going to leave again.
“Please don’t go.” you whimper softly. “Please. I can’t do it again.” His heart shatters at your quiet pleas; he’s distraught at the former shell of yourself you’ve become, no longer vibrant and full of life.
“I’m not going anywhere.” he coos. “I’m here.”
You stay there for another few minutes, letting his heartbeat calm you, until you glance at your watch and curse.
“Shit! I should be going. I need to get home.”
“Come home with me.” he whispers to you.
“Buck-,”
“Please. Just for tonight.” he brushes your hair out of your face, pressing your foreheads together.
“Okay.”
“I’m not letting you go again.”
“You better not.”
639 notes · View notes
dulceateez · 3 months ago
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𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐞 (𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲!𝐬𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐮)
𝘤𝘸: 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨
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◌ you’re not sure how you ended up here…
◌ squatting while holding onto your own shivering body, tears freely stream down your face as you look at the ground with a blank expression.
◌ your tight mini skirt with lacy tights and small tight crop top did not do well in brining you heat—that’s why the tip of your nose is so red.
◌ the party became too much too fast
◌ perhaps it wasn’t the party that made you spiral into contemplation
◌ maybe it’s the fact that you’re bully, san, was there
◌ no, you’ve gotten used to him, gotten used to the words he spewed with venom.
◌ it was him. a face you never wanted to see again.
◌ but you saw him...and now you’re re-living all of your worst events with a burning cigarette in between your fingers.
◌ “well well well, who do we have here?”
◌ you look up at san that snickers at your vulnerable state.
◌ “fucked too hard? sure dressed like a whore that did.” he shames.
◌ “san…not tonight.”
◌ “ah! you didn’t get any dick tonight…are you saying the sweet and innocent y/n has gotten fucked before?”
◌ “san…I meant not tonight.”
◌ you silently begged him with your teary eyes.
◌ not tonight.
◌ please give me a break until tomorrow.
◌ you can’t handle more humiliation tonight.
◌ he scoffs, “you think you can tell me what to do?”
◌ he steps closer to you and finally sees your breakdown.
◌ his heart aches at the sight of your dirty knees, puffy eyes, quivering lip, and shivering body.
◌ and that damn red tipped nose.
◌ wait—
◌ why is his heart aching? why does he feel this sensation in his chest?
◌ a tight squeeze around his heart.
◌ and…for you?!
◌ “ever heard of a jacket?” he removes his own leather blazer and throws it in your direction.
◌ when he noticed you’re not reaching for it, he steps closer to place it around your own shoulders.
◌ “get up,” he nudges you, “c’mon dumbass, stand up!”
◌ you stand to your feet and coward away from san, opting to step closer to peer over the bridge.
◌ “what’s wrong?” he tried his best to sound annoyed with you,
◌ but his tone came off anything but.
◌ actual concern is all heard from him.
◌ you can rely on him, no?
◌ he may have been your bully for years but…
◌ he does care about you now?
◌ noticing you aren’t answering him, he takes a step closer to you, also looking down at the river as he side eyes you.
◌ “i wish it were you…” you let your voice die out before explaining further to the confused boy, “i wish it were you that hurt me tonight instead of him.”
◌ his blood always boils whenever another man is mentioned with you
◌ but knowing another guy hurt you?
◌ now that’s crossing several lines with him.
◌ “who hurt you?”
◌ he’s not jealous like he is usually.
◌ no, how could he be jealous over another boy hurting you?
◌ that’s his “job” after all.
◌ he’s fuming at the thought of you being hurt so much to the point of turning to the cancer stick in your mouth.
◌ you despise the smell of cigarettes, that’s all he smelled like.
◌ dan bought a whole wardrobe for you so you wouldn’t smell anything when he would shove you into lockers or threaten you.
◌ “it doesn’t matter…nobody will do anything.” you face the sad reality.
◌ san didn’t want to let the topic go, but he acknowledges that it’s too soon right now.
◌ and again
◌ he made the poor decision of looking at your red tipped nose.
◌ “i’m cold.”
◌ “you can have your jacket back.”
◌ “no, i don’t want that.”
◌ “i’m not having sex with you.”
◌ “no, i don’t want that from you either.”
◌ “what do you want then?” you prepare yourself to get slapped or pushed or kicked by him.
◌ instead, he hunches over in front of you, patting his back for you to get on.
◌ you comply to make life easy.
◌ “the blue lines takes us back to my apartment,” he traces the train tracks on the big board, “the yellow leads to yours.”
◌ you want to ask him how he knows where you live.
◌ “okay.” you decide not to.
◌ the train stops and the doors open, he gently sets you down and grabs your wrist.
◌ there’s something different in the way he’s acting tonight.
◌ his fingers aren’t tough against your skin
◌ they aren’t cutting you like knives
◌ but they’re gentle
◌ like butterfly wings fluttering in the sky
◌ gentle. slow. soft.
◌ “sit.” you do as he says.
◌ the ride is silent.
◌ still, he keeps looking at your blushy nose.
◌ “your stop should be soon,” he gets up from his seat, “that lady is also getting off your stop, just follow her.”
◌ you didn’t realize he’s leaving until the doors shut.
◌ you get up and press the button to open alert the conductor to open the door.
◌ as soon as it opens, you wonder why you bother to follow the man behind your torment each school year.
◌ but your feet don’t seem to be thinking the same way as you.
◌ they mindlessly walked some distance away from San.
◌ too embarrassed to tell him the truth
◌ that he made you feel safe tonight
◌ and you can’t seem to think straight on your own
◌ Need him to help you.
◌ You need him to make sense of anything.
◌ You need him to protect you.
◌ “how twisted,” san turns around and confused at why you’re here, “how fucking twisted.”
◌ “y/n this isn’t your stop—“
◌ “how unbelievably twisted of me to only find safety in the guy that fucking despises me. who hurts me everyday at school and makes my life a living hell in those walls…how sick.”
◌ “let’s get one this straight, I don’t despise you—“
◌ “i’m beyond stupid. so fucking dumb. maybe it’s true that i have no brain. would anyone with a brain be looking for their bully for comfort?” you scoff at yourself, “so stupid.”
◌ he steps closer to you, tugging his own blazer on your shoulders closer together to cover up your chest.
◌ only I can see this, he thought.
◌ “you are a dumb one, y/n, i’ve been telling you this for ages.”
◌ you lean into his touch, wanting to drown yourself in his cologne.
◌ “i know...please just hold me once.”
◌ he does just that.
◌ “i like you y/n.”
◌ “i hate you.”
◌ no you don’t.
◌ “a lot?”
◌ “a fuck ton.”
◌ you don’t hate him at all.
◌ “you’re cold.”
◌ “and you’re warm.”
◌ you nuzzle yourself further into his body, clinging onto him tighter.
◌ your words contrasting the feeling of your actions:
◌ desperate and loving.
◌ the two worst combinations.
◌ “come home with me.”
◌ “yes please.”
◌ now, how did you end up here?
◌ laying in the arms of your bully as he kisses your crimson nose.
◌ he just smells so welcoming and his body is so inviting.
◌ perhaps in the midst of your crying and the world seemingly crumbling around you,
◌ you found safety in him.
◌ you know he can protect you.
◌ you’ve seen and heard of it before.
◌ “no one will hurt you, i promise.”
◌ that damn red tipped nose.
◌ so inviting to kiss over and over again.
◌ “except you.”
◌ “except me.” he hates to admit.
◌ it’s twisted how much you enjoy his loving stare and buttery kisses. Absolutely twisted of you to be seeking his love despite the harassment.
◌ when you wake tomorrow, he knows you’ll despise him further.
◌ you’ll hate him more after tonight.
◌ he wants to stay like this forever.
◌ kissing your nose until the pain goes away,
◌ wrapping your body to shield you from the misery that awaits you,
◌ he wants to protect you.
◌ maybe that’s why he hurts you.
◌ he can wait for the sunrise.
◌ he wants to keep loving you all night.
◌ but, he’s going to lose you once the sun brights up the sky.
◌ he’s going to lose his own sun.
◌ “i’ll always protect you.”
◌ “and you’ll always hurt me too.”
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𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 [ 𝟐 ]
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reidgraygubler · 10 months ago
Text
carolina (spencer reid/reader
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Title: Carolina
Request: no, but it was written for @spencerreidbingo​
Couple: spencer reid/fem!reader
Category: smut/angst, with a tiny bit of fluff
Content Warning: SEXUAL CONTENT (praise kink, mild-innocence kink, daddy kink, fingering, oral (male & female), penetrative sex, unprotected sex/cream pie, grinding/petting, hairpulling, breathplay, multiple orgasms, possessive kink, orgasm denial), partying, drinking, swearing, large age gap (between two consenting adults), professor/student, post prison!reid, quick mentions of drinks being drugged (but not actually happening) (if I missed anything, please let me know)
Word Count: 9,064
Summary: Spencer thinks his peer is innocent. But little does he not, she’s not as innocent as he thinks.
A/N: it’s based on carolina by harry styles, bc im a sucker for a good harry song. This was written for @spencerreidbingo​ (i’ll have a separate post with more about that). this takes up the breathplay square on my card (pictured below). This is also the first time im writing a blowjob scene, so im really sorry if it’s not good. i also didn’t have a beta for this, so im kinda blindly posting this. and, lastly, this is a lot longer than i intended. i didn’t mean for it to get this long… it’s just a bunch of words my brain wouldn’t stop saying until i wrote it... i seriously hope you all enjoy this. thank you all for the love and support! check out my masterlist!
~*~* THIS DOES CONTAIN 18+ CONTENT!! *~*~
{***}{***}{***}
I kept my eyes low as I stepped into the lecture hall 5 minutes before anyone else. The professor was writing something on the chalkboard, so his back was facing the room. 
“Uh, hello,” I spoked, stepping closer to his desk. He jumped slightly and dropped his chalk at the sound of my voice. I would have expected him to know students would be showing up earlier, considering it was the start of a new semester. And, I honestly would have assumed he was told a new student was coming. That’s not my job. 
“Oh, sorry,” he turned around to face me. I smiled softly, watching
as he bent down to pick up the chalk. I cocked my head to the side, watching his backside as he stood back up. He pushed his hair away from his face. “You must be the new transfer,” he asked, resting the chalk on his desk, beside a pile of pens.
“Yep. That’s me…” I smiled, looking up at his face, keeping myself from further checking him out. I quickly offered my hand and gave him my name. “I know I’m early. I figured I’d get the syllabus from you now instead of after class,” I nodded as I adjusted my grip on my bag. He stared at me for a moment, his eyes lingering on my face and then down my body, and that moment felt like an eternity. I shouldn’t be mad or frustrated with him. I basically did the same thing to him moments ago.
 I cleared my throat to get his attention once again. “The, uh… The syllabus?” I asked as my smile faltered slightly. He looked at me before looking at the pile of papers on his desk before quickly moving.
“Right, right, sorry,” he muttered as he began shuffling through the piles of paper on his desk. “Um, here you are,” he looked back up at me as he handed me a small packet. I looked at it for a moment before looking back up at the teacher.
“Perfect, thank you,” I spoke, my words kind of lingering because he never actually gave me his name. 
“Right, sorry, Spencer. Spencer Reid. I won’t be a drill sergeant about the whole Mr., Dr., Professor. You can call me whatever you want,” he smiled as he placed his hands on the back of his chair. I held back my laughter and the wildly inappropriate joke that I wanted to make.
“Well, Professor Reid,” I smiled as I looked down at my watch, “I better go find a seat before your class starts. I can’t wait to be in your class,” I looked up at him before turning to find a spot. When I sat down, Spencer looked at me with a smile, before going back to writing on the chalkboard. 
I quickly and quietly pulled out my books and pens as the other people in the class filed in and took their seats. Spencer quickly finished writing on the board before turning around to greet the class. And, even as he spoke to the class, and looked around at each of the other students, his eyes always landed on me, lingering for a moment before going elsewhere.
{***}{***}{***}
Five months. Five months into being in Spencer Reid’s class, and I have been suffering. I’m not a new student anymore. But the only friendship I’ve made is with my fucking professor, and there’s a certain level of tension between us. That tension was probably thanks to him staring at me during lectures, and me teasing him while he taught. It wasn’t too bothersome, but I definitely wanted something to happen. Unfortunately for me, I don’t think anything will happen. 
So, can someone please tell me why I invited Spencer over to help me study for a test? It’s a stupid question too, that I already figured out the answer to… I even finished studying for the day, and I’m going to a stupid party. Maybe I could get him to go with… And maybe, just maybe, something could happen.
I nearly jumped when there was a knock on the door. It’s not that I forgot he was coming over. It’s that I was so wrapped up in doing my makeup and forgot what time it was. My mascara almost smudged when I jumped back. Thank God it didn’t smudge too terribly. 
I grabbed my shirt off the counter and threw it on (not bothering to zip it), before running to the front door. I smoothed out my skirt before pulling the door open. And, there stood Spencer. 
“Hope I’m not too late,” he looked down at me and smiled. Although, his smile didn’t stay for too long when he saw what I was wearing. He wasn’t disappointed though, no. He was… He clearly liked what he saw, I’ll just put it that way.
“Oh! Thanks for coming over, but I actually figured it out. I should’ve called you,” I looked up at Spencer as he stepped into my apartment. I struggled to zip the back of my blouse as I walked towards my room. I looked back over my shoulder and noted that Spencer was, indeed, still following me. “Can you zip me up,” I stopped in my tracks before giving up on zipping my blouse. It was a black crop top that paired well with the pale pink tennis skirt. 
“Where… Where exactly are you going tonight? It’s a, uh, it’s a school night,” he asked as he lifted his hands. The cool metal of the zipper pressed against my back, causing a shiver to go through my spine.
“Uh, there’s this party,” I answered, stepping away from him and towards the bathroom, “Thought I’d go,” I looked at him in the mirror. Spencer looked around the bathroom, at the messy mess I had made on my counter. Different pallets of makeup and tools were strewn about, a varying amount of hair care products tossed here and there. It honestly looked like a bathroom of a pageant queen, and not a 20-something-year-old. In my defense, I had to dress to impress someone here in this stupid university. 
“Is that, uh… Is that smart?” Spencer asked, leaning against the door jamb. I looked up at him as I put on some luxurious red lipstick. I smiled as I looked at him.
“I think it is,” I laughed as I picked up something else and turned to look at him, “You wanna come? I wasn’t invited,” I smiled wickedly as I looked at him. His face paled two shades as he looked at me. “Oh, c’mon, Professor, no one will know us there, and I can assure you, no one will even see us,” I looked up at him as I readjusted his tie. He looked down at me before swallowing roughly. 
“I don-”
“I do need a designated driver,” I spoke before cutting him off. I walked past him and towards my room. Part of me wondered what he was thinking as I so rudely rushed past him, or cut him off, or whatever I was doing. I wished I could hear his thoughts. I wondered if they consisted of “The mouth on that girl,” or, “I should punish her for the way she’s acting,” or, my personal favorite, “I should put that mouth to good use,” 
“How old are you again?” Spencer asked once I sat down on my bed. I looked up at him as I slipped my shoes on.
“22,” I smiled and stood up, “Why, is that important?” I smiled as I grabbed my coat and purse.
“Couldn’t remember,” he lied. We both knew he was lying. He even knew that too. Freaking walking computer is what he is. There's no way he conveniently forgot how old I was. “Are you going to be out late?”
“Why? It’s not like you’re my dad or anything?” I laughed, leading him back to the front door of the house. “I don’t plan on being out too late. I know there’s class tomorrow,” I shrugged as I walked towards his car. 
We both stayed silent as he drove with the directions I was quietly giving him. I was pleasantly happy that we were both quiet, but what I hated was the sudden awkward sexual tension that was between us. If he didn’t have this… domineering personality over me there probably wouldn’t be this tension between us.
“Are you going to come with me?” I looked up at him as I unbuckled. He glanced over at me with slight disappointment in his eye. I felt a little bad, but I really wanted to go to this party, I wasn’t going to let my professor’s disappointment stop me. “Please,” I whispered. He sighed before unbuckling himself. I had to force myself to not verbally giggle with excitement before slipping out of the car. Spencer looked down at me as I twisted my hips to swish my skirt. I smiled as I entertained myself. I'm sure if I wasn't watching my skirt, I would have been staring at him, giving myself away. 
“Steps,” Spencer muttered as we got closer to the porch. I looked up at him before looking towards the small staircase. I looked up at Spencer with a smile. He glanced back down at me, a worried crease in his brow. I looked down at my skirt and smoothed it out. I looked at the door as we stood close to it, I contemplated knocking.
  “So, you weren’t invited to this party?” Spencer asked, looking down at me. His voice stopped me from knocking. Instead, I looked up at him and smiled back up at him. He raised an eyebrow as he waited for an answer from me. My smile grew playful as I looked back at the door, raising my fist to knock on it. “No answer?” he asked, still waiting for my answer.
“Oh, please, Professor Reid, I can get into the hottest parties in LA without an invitation,” I smiled at him. That was a little bit of an over-exaggeration. Most college parties I could get into. But not LA parties. Someday though… 
The door swung open, and we were instantly met with loud music blaring through a speaker somewhere in the house. People’s voices and chatter carried all throughout the house, coming through the various rooms and clusters around. “Are you coming in to babysit me? Or, are you going to go back to your car to read the science of the mathematical phenomenon,” I looked up at him, offering my hand to him. I wasn’t exactly sure if that was a real book or not, but I wouldn’t put it past Spencer to read. 
“I’m not babysitting you,” he corrected as he looked down at me with a disappointed look in his eye. I smiled and rolled my eyes. 
“Are you going to come in and watch me drink and party and have fun, Professor… Or, are you going to go back to your car and read your silly little book,” I looked down at my hand, silently telling him to take my hand and come in with me. 
“I, uh, I don’t think it’s exactly in the rules for a professor to party, let alone drink, with their students,” Spencer spoke before looking down at my hand. I dropped my shoulders and looked up at him.
“Fine then… Suit yourself,” I turned around and basically skipped into the house, leaving the door open for him. I made my way towards the loud kitchen and grabbed for a cup and bottle of whatever booze was nearby. I blindly grabbed for a bottle of Grey Goose and dumped it into the cup, no mixer, no chaser. 
“First off,” Spencer’s voice came from beside me. I looked up at him and took a long sip of vodka. “You shouldn’t be taking drinks from people at a party,” he spoke, taking the cup from me. I looked up at him, then the bottle and a new cup. I was only a little annoyed that he took my drink. 
“I… I’m young. I’m not dumb,” I grabbed a new cup and poured more vodka. I looked up at him and offered him a sip. “I know not to drink something given to me by someone I don’t know.” I scoffed before taking another long sip. I cringed a bit at how strong it was.
“Even then someone could slip something into a drink! Even if you did know them!” Spencer exclaimed, causing the surrounding people to turn and look at us. I dropped my shoulders as I looked up at him. 
“If you look around, Spencer, you’re the only person that I know. So unless you’re the one slipping something into my drink… And, as an FBI agent… I don’t think you would,” I cocked my head to my shoulder. Spencer looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “You have more to say,” I added before taking a sip of my drink.
"And, secondly, you're not as innocent as I had originally thought you were," he watched as I brought the cup of straight vodka to my lips. He looked rather unamused with my talent for drinking straight vodka.
"You thought I was innocent?" I asked, nearly sputtering the liquid with my laughter. "Please! I've never been innocent in my entire life!" I shouted over the music. He raised an eyebrow at my statement, and suddenly I had the greatest idea in the world. "But maybe, just for you, I'll be a good girl," I smiled before drinking the rest of my drink in one go. Spencer looked down at me, his lips pressed into a fine as he stared down at me. Ohh, that definitely awoken something in him. I bit back my smile with my offer. Innocent… He thinks I’m innocent. Ha! I honestly don’t remember the last time I was innocent. And, honestly, just for him… I’d be an innocent, good, little girl for Spencer Reid any day, every day even. “I can be your good, innocent little girl,” I smiled at him and cocked my head.
"I don't… I don't think that'd be… appropriate," he spoke, his words very quiet. We both knew that even though it was inappropriate, we both wanted it. We both knew what we wanted to. 
I glanced at him before pouring more drink for myself. "You should learn to pace yourself," he stated and changed the subject. He nervously looked at the bottle of vodka and then around the room at all the other people drinking. Or, he was just looking for a drink that wasn’t booze. Did he actually want to keep me safe, or was I just overreading him?     
"It's a college party, Professor! I'm not going to pace myself!" I shouted just to get his attention back to me. His head shot back down to me. The level of concern on his face only made me feel a little bad, mostly because he was concerned for me. But, he should know… This is a college party.  “Do you want some?” I asked, offering my drink to him again. I held it up to him, close to his lips. His face twisted up as soon as the scent of pure vodka hit his nose.
“No, no thanks,” he held up at hand to block the cup from his face. I pouted before bringing it to my lips. “Do you usually come to parties,” he asked, his eyes darting around the room. Part of me wondered if he wanted to continue that question with “Like this?” But,  I was too busy keeping my eyes on his face, rather than looking around the room like he was. Although, I’m sure he was used to keeping an eye on his surroundings. I’ve never been too worried about it, I probably should… But hey, you only live once. Going to college parties with your 38-year-old professor, and drinking straight vodka, and not really caring about your surroundings proves my point of YOLO.
“If I don’t have class or anything to study for… Yep,” I looked up at him with a sneaky smile. The joke with that was his particular class had a test coming up soon, and I should be studying for it. He knew that too because he just announced the test this morning. Although, he did come to my home, to help me with said test. “But, I wouldn't show up to his class hungover. It’d disappoint him too much. And, he’d care too much about me to even focus on the rest of the class,” I spoke, answering the questions he was thinking. It’s not like I’ve shown up to classes hungover before. Granted, I’ve never shown up to his class drunk or hungover. Mostly because I didn’t want to disappoint him, and only him. Anyone and everyone else can go blow themselves.
“How do you know that?” Spencer asked, looking back at me with furrowed eyebrows. I smiled and stepped closer to him.  
“How do I know what?” I cocked my head to my shoulder. I already knew what he meant by his question, but… I think teasing him and messing with him is fun. And, he knew that too.
“How do you know that you’d disappoint him?” he looked down at me, pressing his chin to his chest to get a better look at me. His hands were away from me, even though I really wanted his hands anywhere on me. I looked over at my hand and the cup I held before bringing it to my lips. I took a long sip, trying to finish the contents in one go. I tossed the cup over my shoulder and looked up at him with a lazy smile.
“Because being hungover, with the slight possibility of still being drunk, would totally disappoint him… And I would hate to disappoint him.” I whispered and shook my head. Spencer looked down at me with something in his eyes, and I loved the way he looked at me. “I told you, Professor, I’d be a good girl for you,” I cocked my head to my shoulder and smiled, “And only for you,”
“You’re drunk,” he pointed out an obvious fake statement. So, I cackled and shook my head.
“I had one drink,” I scoffed and waved off my in the air, “Most definitely not enough to get me drunk,” I flattened his tie out before gripping it tightly, “Like I said, I wouldn’t want to disappoint you,” I smiled before dropping my hand from his tie, “So, why would I show up to your class… Hungover…? I know you’d care… And I know it’d disappoint you. That’s the last thing I want to do to you,”  
Spencer’s adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed roughly. He quickly looked between me and the room, then back at me, then around the room. I faked a yawn before looking away from him.
“I’m gonna go to the bathroom, okay, Professor?” I smoothed out his jacket before turning and leaving him alone in the kitchen. I smiled as I skipped away from him, my skirt swishing with my movement. I secretly hoped he’d follow me. But, a quick glance over my shoulder told me he was still in the kitchen.
However, when I finished my business and left the bathroom, Spencer was leaning against the wall right beside the door. I looked up at him and smiled. 
“Follow me,” he muttered, grasping my wrist and pulling me down the various halls and past multiple groups of people. I giggled the harder his grasp grew on me and the faster he moved. I’m happy people were too busy with themselves to notice a 30-something-year-old man was dragging a 20-something-year-old girl down the hall, to which I can assume was one of the only open bedrooms. Fuck… I hope it's a bedroom. 
He was a man on a mission. Not letting anyone get in his way. The smile that grew on my lips was pure excitement. I couldn’t help it. I’m sure we’re both getting what we wanted… I hope.
I let out an excited yelp when he shoved me into, exactly what I thought, an empty bedroom. I’m surprised he knew that there’d be an empty room. Most of them are occupied, with couples (or more) doing exactly what I hope we’re about to do. Which was fuck each other.
Spencer slammed the door shut, and quickly locked it before pushing me against it. I looked up at him and giggled like a fucking kid in a candy store. Again, I couldn’t help it. 
Spencer was quiet, which led me to be quiet. The air in between us quickly grew hot and tense and thick. I really wanted this to move faster, but I wanted him to be the one in charge. I was willing to let this be slow and let him be in charge. So, when he grabbed both my wrists and held them above my head, I smiled so hard my cheeks began to hurt.
“Tell me what you want,” Spencer’s voice was low and deep as he moved close to me. There was little to no space between us. Which left little to the imagination, for me anyway. 
I looked up at him, with the biggest doe eyes I could muster, silently telling him that I wanted the most, in the entire world, was to be on my knees, with his hand tangled in my hair, and his cock down my throat, or to be fucked so hard that I won’t be able to sit properly for several days. But, I couldn’t be that blunt. You gotta play up to that moment before you get it. I’m sure in the end though, I’ll get both things.
I swallowed roughly, trying to think of what to say, because, like I said, I can’t just be blunt yet. So, when I opened my mouth and words just came out, I was pleasantly surprised with what was said. “You’re old enough to be my father, Professor,” I smiled at him as he pinned me against the door. He pressed his hips against mine to keep me against the surface. I could feel a large bulge against my inner thigh, causing me to shiver. “Does that mean I get to call you daddy,” I whispered as I looked up at him through my eyelashes. He is the one who said I could call him whatever I wanted… And he did just ask me what I wanted, and I guess I wanted to call him ‘Daddy’. There was no guessing about him.
Okay, he wasn't exactly old enough to be my father. But he was a lot older than me. Most 20-something-year-olds aren't sleeping with men 15 years older than them… and most 20-something-year-olds aren't sleeping with their professor… I just wanted an excuse to call him 'Daddy'. And he knew that too. So, if we gave each other an excuse for that to happen, then that was all I needed.
I dropped my head to my shoulder to allow him to attack the space on my neck. He dragged his nose across my jawbone before stilling. His lips were just over my neck. As his breathing got heavier, it tickled across my skin. 
“That does have a nice ring to it,” Spencer hummed as he dropped my hands and stepped away from me. I swallowed roughly as I stared at him. I missed having his body pressed against mine, and he knew that. 
I looked at him as I brought my hands to his belt. "I thought you said this wasn't appropriate, Daddy," I whispered as I quickly undid the belt buckle, without looking. I almost couldn’t move fast enough to unbutton and zip his pants. If he wanted me to stop, he would have stopped me by now. “Can I?” I looked up at him, a plea in my eyes.
"You've changed my mind," he muttered, watching me with such close intent, “God, please keep going,” he spoke like if I did stop now he’d probably die. I looked up at him as I slipped my hand into the waistband of his boxers. He hissed as my fingers brushed against his cock. A small smile grew on my lips. 
“Didn’t take much convincing,” I smiled as my fingers wrapped around him. A small groan fell from his lips as I looked up at him. When I pulled my hand away from him not even a moment later, he looked down at me with an alarmed expression on his face. I quickly spat on my palm before sticking my hand down his pants. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this?” I whispered as I slowly stroked up and down his length. I couldn’t believe it was actually happening. 
“I’ve wanted this since you stepped foot in my classroom,” his voice was low and gravely as he spoke. My breathing picked up a little bit as I looked up at him. 
Okay… Maybe he did know how long I’ve wanted this. Because I also wanted this the second I stepped into his lecture hall. I wanted his cock in my hands and his hand around my throat. It only took-what, five months for this? I’ll make it worth the wait. 
“Does that feel good,” I whispered, carefully picking up speed and adding the slightest bit of pressure in my grip. Spencer’s eyes fluttered shut as he swallowed roughly and nodded. I smiled before pulling my hand away from him, again. I slowly lowered to my knees and kept my eyes on his face. 
Spencer looked down at him as he gently pushed his fingers through my hair. His fingers gripping hard on my roots before pulling hard. I smiled before very slowly pulling down his slacks and boxers in one go. I was only a little bit intimidated by his size, but the excitement I felt went straight to my core. 
I took a deep breath and swallowed roughly before looking up at him. My mouth fell open, and my tongue stuck out, silently telling him that it was okay. Although I don’t really know why I was telling him that it was okay, we both knew what we wanted, and it was only going to take me doing one thing.
I made eye contact with him as I ran my tongue on the side of his cock. Our eye contact didn’t last long, mostly because he let out a moan and dropped his head back. I smiled as I licked across his tip. A sweet and salty taste was on my tongue. 
My jaw fell slack as I carefully took his length into my mouth. I closed my lips around him before slowly bobbing my head, with my tongue swirling around the underside of his cock. I wrapped a hand around what wouldn’t fit into my mouth. And wrapped my free arm around his leg for support.
The sounds of his moans and grunts filled the mostly quiet room. Music, although muffled through the walls and door, could still be heard from outside of our own world behind the door and four walls.
“You were right,” he struggled to speak through groans, “You aren’t as innocent as I thought,” Spencer's hand had a rough hold in my hair as he held me against him. His cock was penetrating my throat, and breathing was beginning to get difficult. My eyes grew wet and tears grew in the corners of my eyes. 
“You’re such a good girl,” he looked down at me as the tears started to roll down my cheeks. I wouldn’t be surprised if my makeup started smudging and I looked like an adolescent raccoon. “You look so pretty with my cock down your throat,” he struggled to let out a coo, before moving his hips closer to my face. 
Everything about this moment, his hand in my hair, the sounds he was making, the way he smelled, being here… Was intoxicating. I’d give anything to be in this moment again. And I’d give anything to get this moment sooner.
 My knees would hate me in the morning, I just know it. I could already sense the dreaded carpet burn before he even started. But, in all honesty, it’d be worth it. Walking into class tomorrow morning, with bruises and day-old wounds on my knees, just to see his expression.
As I began to pick up pace, the sounds Spencer was making started to become more urgent, easily telling me he was close. But, before he could finish, I pulled away from him, crashing into the wall to get away from his grasp. He looked down at me with a mild frustration on his face. I smiled before wiping my chin clean of spit. 
“I guess chivalry is dead. Whatever happened to ladies first?” I asked, my voice a rasp from how raw my throat was. I looked up at him, feeling a certain level of sass grow in my smile. Spencer quickly tucked himself back into his pants before grabbing my hand. 
“Come on, on your feet,” he muttered as he pulled me back up to a standing position. I nearly toppled over into him if he didn’t hold me upright. I looked up at him and smiled. 
“Bed… Now?” I whispered, my tone showing how urgent I was. It’s not that I wanted this over with, it's that I wanted everything to happen to me all at once, and I wanted it to last for a long time. 
Spencer nodded before cupping my face in his hands. He was harsh when he pressed his lips to mine, like his life depended on it, if he did kiss me now the world would end. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he started guiding me towards the bed. And when the edge of the bed hit the back of my legs, he pushed me back onto it. I quickly moved so my head was resting on the pillows. Spencer was quick to take his cardigan off and be over me. 
“You’re not going to fail me, are you,” I joked as he quickly started leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses on my neck. He lifted his head and looked down at me with confusion on his face. “If I’m a bad fuck,”
“If you ask that again, or bring up class while we’re doing this… Then yes,” he muttered as he looked at me. I laughed as I pushed my fingers through his hair. 
“Oh, shut up,” I laughed as I pulled him down to kiss him, again. One of his hands landed on top of my breast, carefully kneading it, causing me to moan into his mouth. 
His hand slowly drifted away from my chest. I pressed my head into the pillow and looked up at him with a smirk. He carefully dragged his fingers up from my chest to the base of my neck, causing me to let out a shaky gasp. I wanted fingers and a hand around my neck, carefully cutting off my airway just right. Suddenly, I never wanted something so badly in my life. Something dark flashed in his eyes as he looked down at me like he knew what I was about to say. 
“Do it… I fucking dare you,” I muttered, placing both my hands around his wrist. My nose twitched as I stared at him. “I said fucking do it,” I spat, pushing his hand down more onto my neck. My words slowly got cut off as the pressure in his hand and fingers tightened around my neck. A moan struggled to escape me, but did eventually fall from my lips. He seemed pretty happy with that.
“Is that good,” his voice was a growl. I looked at him and moaned.
“Harder,” I begged, my voice growing raspier the more I spoke. He smirked before allowing his grip to tighten. His other hand was still sitting on top of my hips, and I could tell where he wanted to put it. I’d be a dirty, rotten liar if I didn’t want his hand up my skirt. In fact, I’d love it if he did more than just his hand. 
Spencer swallowed roughly before finally sneaking a hand up my skirt and resting it on my underwear. My grip around his wrist got tighter as he pushed past my underwear and past my folds. My eyes fluttered closed as another moan was strangled in my throat. 
“You’re so wet,” he purred as he slowly moved a finger around my clit. I looked up at him, as I struggled to swallow roughly. A dark smirk grew on his lips as he watched me struggle for a moment. “Does that feel good,” he asked, mildly mocking me from earlier. His movements picked up speed just a little bit, and my body reacted, well tried to react. 
“Oh, you’re such a good girl,” he looked down at me. His pupils were so blown I could nearly see my reflection in them. “Another thing you were right about,” he whispered as he slipped a finger into my entrance, and curled it just right. My vision slowly blurred before my eyes rolled into the back of my head. Another moan struggled to escape my throat as Spencer added a second finger. 
My body was on autopilot as I lifted my hand and hit his wrist a few times, telling him that I desperately needed to breathe. When I reopened my eyes, I looked up at him a moment before he removed his hand from my neck. Worry and concern flashed in his eyes as I breathed. Air burned like fire in my lungs as I took a deep breath. As I exhaled a loud moan followed behind, easily telling Spencer and I that I had reached my first orgasm of the night. I just hope there will be more... 
“You did such a good job, Princess,” Spencer whispered as he looked down at me. With his free hand, he brushed the tears away from my cheeks. He carefully withdrew his hand from between my legs and held them up to his face. He looked at them for a moment before placing them in his mouth, sucking and licking them clean. I took a shaky breath and nodded. 
He very sloppily pressed his lips to mine, then on the corner of my lips, and down my jaw, and neck. With one quick movement, a loud rip filled the room, as he tore my shirt off my body. I looked up at him with shock in my eyes. To be fair, that shirt was flimsy, to begin with. I was more worried about leaving my chest so exposed as we left the party. 
“Oh, I’ll give you my sweater,” Spencer muttered before attacking my neck and then down to my collarbones, and over my breasts. I gasped as he wrapped his lips around a nipple.
“Mmm, Daddy,” I whimpered as I shifted under him. I brought my hands back up to his hair, tangling my fingers in the hairs on his neck. When he sensed that I was growing restless (even though he just started), he quickly left wet kisses down the rest of my body
“I like the way that sounds coming from your mouth,” he whispered once he was in between my legs. I looked down at him just as he looked up at me. “Good on your end for wearing such a short skirt,” he smiled before pressing his lips to my inner thigh. A shaky breath tumbled from my lips as I looked at him. “Makes for easier access,” he added before going higher up on my leg.
“You’re not going fast enough,” I whined as he just kept kissing, or licking, or rubbing my inner thighs. It was honestly getting annoying. I kind of felt bad for him. Considering I’ve already cum once, and I got him close but didn’t let him finish. 
“I’m not going fast enough?” Spencer looked up at me. I shot him a scowl as I shifted slightly on the bed. Spencer looked back down the apex of my legs before looping two fingers around the band of my underwear. As soon as I lifted my hips, he pulled my underwear off my body and chucked them to the ground beside the bed. “How’s this for fast enough,” he muttered, mostly to himself, before licking between my folds. A breath of air got caught in my lungs as my hands found their way to his hair, my fingers getting knotted up in his roots. 
“Mhm, Spencer,” I gasped, rolling my hips up at him. He hummed, sending vibrations straight to my core. My legs wrapped around him, my heels digging into his back as my own back arched. 
“Ohh, Daddy, please don’t stop,” I cried, pressing my head into the pillow beneath my head. My fingers pulled hard on his hair, pulling him closer to me. He hummed again as he pushed two fingers back into my entrance. My grip in his hair tightened, and I could feel my grip wanting to loosen. 
My breathing picked up as a familiar feeling grew in my stomach. And all I could say was his name, and the suddenly loved nickname I had for him. He seemed to appreciate my reaction too, because he worked faster. Messy and wet sounds, mixed with my breathy moans and calls of his name filled the room, and my end was near. 
“Fuck,” I shouted as I finally came undone. I could sense if I didn’t pull him away, he’d keep going, and going till I couldn’t take it anymore. And, honestly, that sounds great, but I think that’s for next time. I wanted him in me now. “Spencer, Spencer,” I cried as I tried to pull his head away, but failed so hard.
“Nuh huh,” he hummed, looking up at me. I took a deep breath and pressed my head into the pillow beneath me and threw an arm over my face. “Please, Spencer,” I cried as I bucked my hips at him, “Fuck me, please, fuck me, Daddy,” I moaned. He was going faster than before and was clearly trying to work me to the end faster too. It was hard to breathe, and speak because my words would just get stuck in my throat.  
Although, when I did cum, again, for the third time tonight, Spencer did move away from my legs. He knelt between them, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. My body was shaking lightly as I tried to come down from my high.
“Please,” I whispered, lifting a hand up, trying to reach for his tie. He looked down at me with a smile and raised an eyebrow.
“Please what?”
“Please, Daddy,” I furrowed my eyebrows as I spoke. I could feel my voice becoming a little whiney. Spencer moved so he was hovering over me, his fingers gently brushing hair away from my face.
“Tell me what you want, Princess,” he whispered cupping my face in his hand. I looked up at his face, admiring his lips, and eyes, and nose, and the way his lips had a sheen from when he licked them clean and whatever was leftover from when he was eating me out. 
“Please fuck me, Daddy,” I begged, begged. Spencer smiled before pressing his lips to mine for a moment. He sat up away from me to remove his sweater and shirt. My head was spinning from excitement, I didn’t even notice that he was totally undressed.
Spencer was back between my legs, looking down at me like I truly belonged right here. Or, like I was his to fuck with. Either way it was a good feeling. 
“Ready?” He asked, his voice so low that I could hardly hear it over the bass of the loud music. I rapidly nodded my head, worried my answer was the wrong one. But it wasn’t. I desperately wanted this. Needed. I needed this. 
Spencer hovered over me before putting an opened mouth kiss on my lips. I could hardly breathe as he rubbed the tip of his cock against my clit and entrance. I could feel a moan getting caught in the middle of my throat, my body not being about to handle anymore teasing. Until, he very slowly pushed into me.
“Oh, good girl,” he repeated. Those two words, constantly coming off his tongue. Making me feel good. The praise that I hadn’t heard in such a long time, that I longed for. Part of me wondered if he knew I wanted it. “Has someone not been taking care of you?” he asked, looking down at me. I stared at him, not trusting my own voice. My mind was too distracted with the way I felt, light and airy but at the same time full. So I shook my head.
“No, Daddy,” I whimpered and kept shaking my head. Spencer smiled before pressing his lips to mine. 
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you now. I’ll take care of you,” he mumbled before moving his hips. It took him a moment to get a perfect rhythm. He lips attached to different spots on my neck, leaving hickies in his wake.
“Spencer,” I whispered as I moved my head closer to my shoulder to let him have more space.
“You feel so good,” he grunted as he moved his hips so he was deeper in me, “You feel so good, and you’re all mine,” he pressed his forehead to mine as he wrapped his arms around my lower back, pulling me closer up to him. My breathing got deep, my chest heaving with each breath I took. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down, closer to my face. 
“Oh, be quiet,” I whispered before putting my lips on his. He smiled before passing his tongue between my lips. A moan fell from my lips, which he seemed to enjoy… Considering it was probably just music to his ears. 
“I’ll only be quiet if you keep making those little noises,” he muttered against my lips. I opened my eyes and looked up at him. He smiled again as I knotted my fingers in the hair on the back of his head. 
“Faster,” I breathed out, keeping my eyes on him. Spencer laughed lightly as he picked up the speed. My hips bucked with his, meeting at the right points. “Please,” I whimpered as I threw my head back more into the pillow. He pulled his arm away from my back and brought his hand between our legs, where we met. 
“It’s okay, Little Girl,” Spencer whispered before pressing his lips to the side of my face. I let out a shaky breah and arched my body into his. I couldn’t believe how good I felt. I almost wasn’t sure if it was fair that my professor was better in bed than other men my age. He was more experienced, to be fair. “You can finish, it’s okay,” he kept his voice low. It almost sounded like he was giving me permission.
I nodded my head, breathing heavily through my nose. “Mmm, Spencer,” I moaned, loudy, as my walls fluttered around him and my release came. And a few moments later, Spencer thrusted deep into me with a grunt, filling me with his essence. His body collapsed on top of me whence he finished.
“Fuck,” I muttered, my fingers still tangled in his hair. My limbs were sore and shaking slightly from the rough movements. Spencer laughed lightly, agreeing with my statement. “We can’t sleep here,” I whispered, keeping my eyes on the ceiling above us. I wished we could just sleep here, mostly because I was exhausted after everything we did.
“I know,” Spencer replied as he slowly moved off and away from me. I looked up at him with wide eyes. “You’re messy now,” he muttered as he basically tumbled off the bed. I quickly sat up, just to make sure he was okay. Although I was happy he was okay, I quickly regretted moving as fast as I did. 
“Your sweater,” I mumbled, reaching out towards where his sweater was lying. He looked down at it before picking it up to hand to me. He also grabbed a fistful of tissues and moved to between my legs, again. “Just give me your boxers,” I looked at him as he wiped the insides of my thighs clean. He looked back up at me, still cleaning my legs. 
“I’ll give you a ride home,” he spoke as he tossed the dirty tissues to the trash. He grabbed his slacks and boxers, tossing me his boxers. I slipped them on under my skirt, and then slipped his sweater on. 
“I’d hope so,” I whispered as I stood up. My body wobbled for a second, nearly falling over, before I caught my balance. Spencer looked back at me, looking at how fucked I looked. I mean, I probably looked about the same as him. 
“I’d given you a ride home either way,” he said as he redressed. I looked at him with confusion on my face. Either way? So even if we hadn’t had sex, he would have given me a ride. I asked him and he said yes. So I would hope he’d given me a ride, even if we didn’t fuck.
Once we were both ready to leave this stupid party, that I didn’t even enjoy (well, I did, I was just in a different world), or was even invited to, we walked out. It was as easy as pie. And, since no one really knew either of us were here, I won’t be known as the girl who fucked the professor.
The drive home was quiet. Like, even quieter than the drive here. He didn’t even have the music playing. I wondered if it was my fault, if he was regretting what we had done. If I had known he’d be so regretful, I wouldn’t have wanted to fuck him. But, I guess its too late now. 
When I looked out the window, I realized we were parked outside my apartment building. I looked down at my attire and looked back at Spencer.
“Thanks… Thanks for the ride… And thanks for the sweater. I’ll be sure to give it back to you… Eventually,” I looked up at Spencer as I pulled the door open to leave.
“See you Thursday,” he nodded at me. I looked at him before slamming the door shut. I scoffed before turning to walk up to my home. I couldn’t want to sleep.
{***}{***}{***}
Two weeks. Two weeks since Spencer and I fucked. Okay, not too bad. I don’t regret it, and I’m not afraid to say that. However, I think he might be regretting it. Considering he’d been nothing but ignoring me since the night of the par-Well, I wouldn’t say ignoring me since then. He did fuck me in his office the following Thursday. But, it’s still been two weeks since he last said anything to me. Fuck, I’ve never been so mad.
“Good morning, Professor Reid,” I looked at him as I skipped into his lecture hall. I heard his words begin to greet me back, but fail when he saw what I was wearing. “Best get to my seat. Excited for today’s lesson,” I readjusted the cardigan that hung off my shoulders before turning to go to my seat. 
I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my skull as I walked away from him. Or, was he staring at my ass. Most likely my ass. It was my ass he was staring at. I was wearing a fairly short skirt, so that’s on me. But, I’d do anything to get his attention today. And it would appear I have gotten it. 
His lesson wasn’t actually anything important. It was just revision for the test coming up soon. But, it was obvious he had other things on his mind, and I was very clearly one of them. It was honestly a little distracting if I’m going to be honest.
So, I was happy when he called the end of class 5 minutes early. Although that excitement was gone the second he called my name to the front to talk. I looked at the ground as I stood by his desk, waiting for the very last person to leave so Spencer and I could have our moment alone.
“What are you doing wearing that?” Spencer asked as soon as it was just us. I tried to ignore the fact that he was trying to take the sweater off me, and made my shoulders drop.
“What? This old thing?” I asked, pulling the cardigan that he let me wear around my body. I looked back at him and smiled. He was not smiling. “You gave it to me,” I scoffed, letting him take it off me without a fight. I watched as he folded it over the back of the chair before turning to face me. 
“I gave it to you so your,” his words began to get jumbled up as he gestured to my boobs, “So you weren’t exposed in front of any-”
“So no one would see what belonged to you?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest. Spencer looked down at me, a flabbergasted look on his face. I smiled and cocked my head to my shoulder.
“I… I never said that,” Spencer shook his head.
“Yeah, but you thought it,” I scoffed and rolled my eyes. Spencer looked down at me. I could tell that he was trying to be the one in charge, kinda like how he was the other night. But it was so, so clear that he couldn’t be in charge. That he wouldn’t be in charge now. That this was just embarrassing to him. Maybe that’s just how our dynamic would work. Out in public, I was the loud one, the one who made everyone think that I was in charge in the bedroom. And, Spencer, in public, was the quiet, shy, nervous one, who was clearly submissive in bed. But in actuality, he was telling me what to do, when and when I can’t cum.
 “Why were you wearing that?” he asked again, his voice pulling me from my very dirty thoughts. I looked up at him and smiled.
“Because you were ignoring me! I needed to get your attention somehow! And then I remembered I still had that,” I smiled at him. I wished I still had his sweater on, because it was actually quite cozy and warm. The look he gave me made me drop my shoulders, suddenly feeling ashamed about the current situation. So, I stared at him, feeling annoyed. More annoyed than I have over the last two weeks. “Do you regret it?” I finally asked, not really knowing if he’d be mad with my question. 
“Pardon me?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked at me. I shook my head and looked down at the ground. “It’s not that I regret it-”
“So you do,” I looked back up at him and dropped my shoulders again. Before Spencer got the chance to say anything, I cut him off, “Oh please, you loved shoving your tongue, and cock, down my throat,” I scoffed before looking at him. The expression on his face flinched slightly as he looked back at me from behind the desk. “I get to… I get to be your good, little girl, your princess for, what, a week? A day? 12 hours? Whenever the fuck you want... And I’m supposed to go back to normal life the next day? And… And pretend that nothing happened!” I stared at him and shook my head. Spencer looked over at the door and back at me. “Thinking it’ll never happen again!” I shouted. I didn’t mean to shout, honest. But I was starting to get angry. He made me feel something like I belonged to someone. And now I don’t feel like that. 
“Will you stop talking for a second,” he muttered before stepping away from me and his desk. He walked over to the door and shut it. I crossed my arms over my chest and watched as he walked back over to me. “I never said you had to pretend as if nothing happened. And I never said that I regret it,” he spoke in a harsh whisper. I looked at him with mild irritation on my face.
“It sure fucking felt like it,” I spat at him. 
“You’re all I think about… Christ, I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you that. I never said you had to forget everything… Because I’ve been having a hard time forgetting it myself.” He looked up at me. I almost refused to look at him, but his voice was so soft that I had to look at him. “I never expected you to forget,” he added. 
“Then why are you acting like it didn’t happen,” I stared at him before swallowing roughly, “You made me feel like I was wanted, that I belonged somewhere, with someone,” I spoke as I stepped closer to him. It was only a little bit closer to him, not as much as I wanted. But he stepped closer to me, making it so we were the closest we had been all day, in one large step. "You remind me of home," I added in a whisper. Spencer smiled and cocked his head to his shoulder.
“You do belong somewhere,” he whispered, resting his hands on my shoulders. I looked up at him, feeling my heart pick up speed, and butterflies appear in my tummy. “And that somewhere is with me,” he brought at hand to my cheek, allowing his thumb to rest on my lower lip. I looked up at him before he pressed his lips to mine. 
I was honestly expecting him to say something else. I don’t know what. But I liked what he said, it made me feel really good. Like, I belonged with him, and nothing could change that.
taglist: @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto​, @thebluetint​
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writing-in-april · 8 months ago
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April Fools
Spencer Reid x Female Reader
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Summary: Spencer needs to one up Reader just as he’s about to loose a prank war
A/N: I’m kicking things off for my 30 fics in 30 days for April with this fic inspired by April Fools day- lol this is a much better version compared to what I have experienced in the past with this holiday 😂 @90spumkin there’s a few specific lines in here that are totally inspired by your cowboy Spencer fic lol 😂 I’d like to hear all y’all’s thoughts so far or just drop me any type of anon here- ask me anything -my requests are also open!! Hope y’all enjoy reading ☺️
Warnings: 18+, Dom Spencer (not as harsh as in other fics of mine), Fingering, Edging, Public Sex, Sex with a hidden motive (there are some real feelings there 😉 plus reader acknowledges and knows the hidden motives)
Main Masterlist Word count: 2.4K
When you walked into the bullpen it was dead silent. If you dropped a pin you’d be able to hear it, even with the carpeted floors. You crept as quietly as you could, afraid that someone might jump out to scare you. It was not as if you had gotten in late today, you were actually cutting it rather close this morning.
Your fear of being submitted to a jump scare so early in the morning wasn’t as irrational. Today was the day that everything was going to come to an either a glorious defeat or a momentous victory. A two week long bet was tipping heavily in your favor at the final hours, you had to be careful to not let your hold over Spencer weaken in these last moments.
Today was April 1st- a day like any other to most people, but not to you and not to Spencer. It had all started when you both had begun trying to do little pranks on each other in the months leading up to the bet. If you asked anyone on the team they’d say it started when you replaced his normal standard deck of playing cards with a new set that had awkward pictures of Spencer you had accumulated over the years taped on them to represent each of the numbers and faces. Your personal favorite was the photos you had chosen for the Queens- one of Spencer looking rather regal, eyes cast downwards and with his hands crossed and a big lip pout while sitting at his desk obviously disproving of whatever Derek had said (who was also in the picture)
The team would’ve definitely said it had started there, but that was the first one that they had seen. The first one had actually been when Spencer had switched around the contacts in your phone while you weren’t looking while you had been hanging out with him. To be fair it had been in retaliation to you playfully teasing him about being a technophobe, all’s fair in love and war you had to admit.
And, whether you admitted to him or not, you did love him. This little bet that you set a few weeks ago had only strengthened your feelings. It involved setting a prank for each other, alternating every other day for two weeks until April Fools day, then the team would judge and figure out who one. You can definitely thank Morgan for that brilliant idea as he had spontaneously suggested it after your card prank on Spencer, though you bet he had been thinking about it for a while. Over the course of two weeks you had to delve into the mind of Spencer, really getting to know what would get under his skin, what would be the perfect prank for him.
“I hope you know what you got yourself into Spencer.” He had smirked back at me when you said that right after confirming your bet. You had delved into researching stuff, trying to figure out pranks that would be more personalized to Spencer rather than the ones everyone would see passed around. Eventually you landed on an idea for your last prank that was simple, yet the perfect way to get under Spencer’s skin. It was so easy you kicked yourself a little for not figuring it out before.
Apparently replacing the sugar Spencer specifically brought in for himself with salt was a step too far according to him. The glare that he had fixed on you after he had spit out his coffee onto his cardigan made you shiver, you knew you were going to be in for something big today.
Plus today was the aforementioned holiday that inspired the bet in the first place, you kind of wished you had gotten the chance to have the last laugh. You were still crossing your fingers and toes in hopes that it wouldn’t compare to your coffee prank.
Your eyes locked on the lone figure standing in the maze of desks, Spencer. It felt as if you were both ready at high noon for a duel to see who drew their gun fastest. Though, comparatively there was a distinct lack of cowboy hats and the sun was down to low for a proper duel. That didn’t stop your mind from wandering to thinking about him in a cowboy hat, he’d definitely look good. you’d have to get him one some day or maybe put a snake in a cowboy boot if another prank war was to ever crop up.
“Where is everybody?” You asked, though you knew that Spencer had probably sent them off elsewhere, you had done the same thing earlier when you needed to convince him that he had come in on his day off.
“I may have bribed them a bit to be elsewhere right now.” He spoke with a smirk that would have seemed foreign to you until you guys had started this. Now it was a staple for him whenever you saw him, going right along with his cardigan and tie to complete his look. There was no complaint from you, Spencer acting slightly cocky just before you were about to get pranked on oddly made you get hot and bothered easier than you’d like to admit.
Pushing those thoughts aside, you crossed your arms in front of you, probably a vain attempt to protect yourself from whatever was coming. Your voice came out a little shaky, “What for?”
“Just wanted to talk to you- privately…” He skated around your question, not really giving you any definitive answer. Though, you hadn’t really expected him to lay out his whole plan, that would just be counterproductive. There was a slight pause in conversation, you were about to break it with your own response when he added,“You know I’ve always found you desirable, Y/N…”
The simple teasing conversation that you had been having with him suddenly pivoted. The air in the room felt like it had been sucked out, leaving you gasping. Even if some part of this led to a prank, you knew Spencer wouldn’t play with your feelings like that. What was most likely happening is that he was using this confession to also pull a fast one on you. His deep brown eyes piercing into your own told you that he was telling the truth in that regard, plus if earlier in the bet was any indication, he wasn’t that good of a liar.
“This wasn’t what I thought you’d be talking to me in private about but- I’ve always found you desirable too...” You admitted with a gulp, pressing your weight into the edge of your desk almost sitting on it.
Your full weight pushed to sit fully on top of your desk, undoubtedly crinkling some important papers underneath when he stepped forward to close the large gap between the two of you. The tension was thick around you now with only two sentences spoken, both full of truth.
“Do you want me as much as I want you?” His lips were now so close to yours his breath was projected onto your lips.
“Yes.” You confirmed, with no hesitation. Honestly, you wouldn’t care if there was some sort of prank he was going to play on you soon, you knew that what he had said didn’t just apply to now. That was the part that mattered to you.
His lips surged forward to meet yours, letting all the tension that had been rising boil over. It was everything you had imagined and more, his lips just as soft and pillowy as they had been in your dreams.
When he pulled your skirt up roughly to expose your bottom half to him you came up off of the edge of the desk slightly, then being pushed back down once you were partially exposed before him. You squeaked into his mouth in shock of how fast this was escalating, but didn’t protest any further, wanting to see where he was going with this. You were so glad that he had gotten the team to leave the bullpen for a while, this would be a hard situation to explain. Being out in the open didn’t make you more nervous though, it excited you to know that someone could be around the corner with only the desk dividers hiding your exposed bottom half.
He didn’t even bother to push your panties down to your knees or ankles. He just pulled them aside to gain access to your now positively dripping hole. You hadn’t even thought to question how this tied into his prank, like it inevitably did, yet. You just wanted more of him, in any way you could get him.
His eyes were fixated on your dripping entrance, seemingly mesmerized by finally being able to see it. The awe in his eyes certainly did make you feel adored by him, but your desire made you feel impatient, “Spencer, do something or I’ll take care of it myself.”
A growl was all you were going to get in response to your desperate snarky comment. He then brought his hand up to suck on two of his fingers, his pointer and his middle. But, instead of then putting them to good use to help you reach a peak he stalled some more by bringing them up to your own mouth.
“I want you to suck too.” A little whine was all you could give in response before letting his fingers inside your mouth. You sucked diligently, making sure to get them wet enough for you.
Once he was finally satisfied with your efforts he removed them, a slight popping noise escaping. Bringing his hand down slowly was just another attempt to tease some more, but you knew that he’d reach there eventually. No matter how hard it was to be patient, you did so, though with a bit of squirming.
Your hips bucked up immediately in response to his fingers coming into content with your clit, Spencer’s other hand came down to press your hips back down again. He spent his sweet time playing with patterns, circling your clit a few times slowly before switching to a faster figure 8 pattern, seemingly just to get you more desperate.
“Spencer- again if you don’t do more I’ll take care of it myself!” You snapped harder with more venom this time, patience wearing dangerously thin. You thought you heard a small whisper of the word brat underneath his breath, but you decided to table it when he finally did oblige you.
You had to bite down on your lip hard when he stopped circling your entrance to plunge two of his fingers inside of you. The pressure on your lip was most certainly almost enough to break the skin while he began thrusting his fingers inside you in a steady rhythm, crooking them perfectly to make you see stars. You had to bite your lip so hard to combat the raging moans that wanted to escape from you due to the pressure he was putting on your gspot.
He brought his thumb up to circle your clit again once he saw that you were getting close, helping push you closer towards the edge. Your lungs were heaving in gasping breaths mixed with desperate moans as he continued to add stimulation to your most sensitive spots, hitting them perfectly with each crook of his fingers and circling of your clit.
Just as your orgasm was about to wash over you, all of his movements stopped abruptly. The euphoric stimulation you had been feeling was ripped away from you, his thumb on your clit halted, the curling of his fingers ceased, and his mouth that had been pressing kisses and hidden hickies to my collarbone had concluded its actions.
“April fools.” He then removed his fingers from me and promptly sauntered off to his own desk with no other words for you. Your legs were still shaking, more now from being edged to the point that you fully had to sit down onto your desk to try and regain your composure. Your jaw also was hanging slack in shock in contrast to how hard you had been biting your lips earlier while his fingers had been inside you.
A little glance from Spencer was thrown your way that was probably to gage your reaction,
you spotted even in your disheveled and distraught state. You had to admit, it was not what you were expecting and he had got you good. Your plan paled in comparison by far considering you were just going to have the entire office call him Stanley all day- and of course steal the coffee grounds to see if you could provoke an even bigger reaction out of him.
A deep sigh came from you, an non verbal admission of your glorious defeat. He had well and truly got you, it wasn’t as if you could exactly defend yourself and your pranks to the team during judging. Not that you really wanted to defend them, there was no reason to, he had well and truly beaten you. You could accept when you had been beaten, you’d accept defeat with grace. Though you definitely still feared the idea Spencer would come up with as a consolation prize for his win.
Reaching down with your hands to a stack of files on your desk you absentmindedly straightened them, then sitting down in your desk chair. You wriggled around a bit, feeling the dampness in your parties, already regretting sitting down. With another sigh you nodded towards Spencer, an acknowledgement of his momentous victory before getting up again to go clean yourself up in the bathroom to clean up- and maybe splash some cold water on your face. Though by the smirk on his face, there was no way this wasn’t going to happen again. And, maybe with him actually letting you finish or not, the thrill was sometimes in the chase of one. You’d also have to think of your own way of retaliation in the future of course, just because you accepted defeat just now doesn’t mean there wasn't a longer war to be won. Plus perhaps you will admit your deeper feelings for him that you could now see lying beneath his eyes as well, feelings much deeper than desire.
Safe to say you just told the team that you lost fair and square, not divulging why no matter how much Penelope pried. It was without a doubt, a glorious defeat.
Tag list (message me if you want to be added):
All works: @shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @takeyourleap-of-faith
All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99
Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes @onlyhereforthefanfics
Dom Spencer: @rainsong01 @evlfknb
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queensynderella · a year ago
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Kinktober - Day 9: Carved - Keigo Takami (Hawks)
A/N: My first (finished) day of Kinktober is here! And its literally just some self-indulgent filth to go with my obsession of Keigo’s feather swords. Sorry not sorry! ;) I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it. <3
Inspo Credit also goes to the queen herself, Yagami Yato, for the line in the audio “Thief” on her Patreon: “Real men know where the clit is, they carve their name into with their tongue.” 
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Day 9: Knife Play, Begging - Keigo Takami (Hawks)
Bonus Kinks: Light D/s dynamics, slight degradation, praise kink, a dash of dumbification? 
Warnings: 18+ content, if you’re not of age, do not interact. (Oral sex (receiving); dirty talk & rough sex.)
Word Count: 5.5k
~*~
It was one of those rare days where you and your Pro-Hero boyfriend had managed to align your days off. Though, despite his protests that morning as the pair of you woke up, you had to run a few errands before you could spend the day with him. Promising you’d be back in an hour or two, you kissed the pouting blonde goodbye, and he decided to clean up your shared apartment a bit before doing some training. You weren’t surprised by the mirror selfie that made its way to your phone at some point—the blonde was smirking, holding his phone with wrapped hands as he bit the bottom of his beater between his teeth to show off his glistening abs.
Typical Keigo, you thought as you shamelessly zoomed in on the photo for a moment, he knew what he was doing. He adored riling you up when you were out, his bratty little way of getting you to dump your to-do list and put him on the top of it instead. You shook your head and tapped out a quick reply before going back about your business.
‘Nice try, pretty bird.’
You could feel your phone buzzing away in your pocket, knowing a stream of pouting emojis were likely the culprit. Still, you focused on your tasks—because the sooner you finished, the sooner you could get home to him. Even though you had seen he would be training, the sight that met your eyes when you quietly let yourself in the apartment had shocked you. Having clearly moved on from just working out, you couldn’t stop yourself from gawking at this new activity. Keigo had pushed the living room furniture aside, opening up the space and now he seemed to be working on his swordmanship.
You had often found yourself replaying bits of news clips where the Number Two used his brilliant red feather swords in battle, something about it just enchanted you. And now that he was only a few feet away, in nothing more than a pair of joggers and a beater, you could see the way his muscular arms flexed and rippled with each careful, calculated movement. You weren’t sure when you had ended up leaning back into the door, arms crossed with your eyes glued to the way his wrists rolled fluidly or how the soft but intimidating swooshes met your ears every time he would swing.
Sure, Keigo had caught you staring at his feathers, and wings in general, plenty of times. He loved the amazed look that would flash through your eyes when he would ruffle them or send some off to do simple tasks for him. But as he caught your shameless staring reflected in the TV, he would arch a brow as that infamous little smirk settled on his lips. Suddenly he was sheathing one of the longer feathers back into his wings and plucking a smaller one out before letting it harden to a fine point and continuing on.
Now that he knew you were watching, every movement he made became twice as calculated—once for the sake of his training and the second merely to get reactions out of you. You couldn’t explain just why the sight of his lithe body moving with precision had your stomach fluttering. Or why the way he would toy and flip the smaller feather blade had heat pooling between your thighs as you unconsciously rubbed them together. But even such a tiny gesture wasn’t missed by those sharp golden hues of the hero as he glanced at your reflection. He waited patiently, wanting to confirm his suspicions before he acted, and when your legs shifted together again—this time producing an almost inaudible groan—he would act.
You had been so lost in his training, his soft grunts filling your head as it swarmed with other ways to make him produce such noises; you never noticed the streak of red zooming across the living room. A gasp parting your lips as the sharp point of the smaller feather just grazed your throat, traveling slowly up the slope until your chin tilted up and your head lay flat against the wood of the door. As Keigo turned to face you, the hand that still held a sword would jut the blade behind him, and with that stupid smirk etched into his pretty features, he would reach up with his free hand to retrieve the other.
“Caught you, baby bird~” He cooed in sing-song, though his tone was laced with the same hint of darkness that was clouding his amber gaze as it raked over you.
You gulped, the tip of the feather scratching lightly into your skin as it bobbed with the action. Your eyes had widened to something more resembling a doe as the blonde sauntered towards you, his hands twirling the blades at his sides as he tilted his head. The action had caused some of his dampened bangs to fall in front of his face, and paired with the predator-like aura that was surrounding him, you couldn’t help the tiny whimper that escaped your throat. 
“I knew you were kinky,” Keigo drawled as he stopped a foot away from you and you could feel your heart beat start to quicken, as did he through the feather resting against your neck, “but getting turned the fuck on by my blades, angel? Tsk, tsk…” 
“I-I was not!” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest and staring back at him as you pretended to be unphased.  
“Oh? So…you weren’t rubbing these thighs together while you gawked at me training, huh?” He asked coolly, taking advantage of the slight gap between your legs in your current stance to trail the end of one sword up along your inseam. 
“N-no, wasn’t…” You blurted as you shuddered at the sensation, lashes fluttering as your breathing came a tad more raggedly. “Don’t know what you’re t-talkin’ about, love.” 
“Mmhmm, so if I were to say…cut these pesky clothes off, I wouldn’t find a nice damp spot right here?” He demanded, his tone a bit gruffer this time as he slide the point of the blade up towards your clothed cunt, digging it in ever so lightly against where he knew your entrance was hidden. 
“No, Kei…st-stop!” You whined as you felt your whole body start to heat up, his words worming their way into your mind. 
“As you wish, dove.” Keigo murmured as he took a step back, his expression softening as he moved to sheath his feathers away again. 
“Wait!” You choked out breathily, eyes frantically searching his own, trying to figure out what he was thinking but it was never easy—he knew how to keep his guard up when he wanted. “D-don’t…” 
“Well which is it?” He questioned with a fluffy brow arched high as his smirk cropped up again and he took a step forward, leaning in so you could feel his hot breath cascade against your face. “Stop or continue?” 
“Continue!” You replied instantly, and the blonde stayed silent for a few moments, simply studying the way your chest rose and fell with your soft pants, the way your thighs rubbed of their own accord again. 
“Nah, I don’t think you could handle it, dove.” He finally responded, shaking his head at you before turning his back to hide the way his lips moved as he mentally counted down, waiting for your outburst. 
“Kei…that’s, that’s not fair!” You pouted and he rolled his eyes at your lame comeback before composing his face as he glanced back at you over his shoulder—the little red feather still pressed into the soft underside of your chin.  
“Not fair, huh? Well, angel, ya want it so bad?” He asked, gaze darkening once more as he watched you nod enthusiastically. “Then beg.” 
“Wha—?!” You muttered, brows knitting together, he had to be joking right? But the sharp glint in his amber eyes told you he wasn’t, that he was dead serious. 
“Oh, you heard me right…I said beg. Tell me what it is you want so bad, and just maybe, I’ll oblige.” Keigo purred as he faced you again, sheathing the feather swords much to your chagrin, before crossing his arms over his toned chest and tapping his foot. “I’m waitin’, baby bird…” 
“I—” You breathed, pausing as you swallowed hard, washing down the lump in your throat as well as your pride because you knew you certainly wouldn’t be needing it for the rest of the day. “I…want you to use your blades on me, cut my clothes to shreds with them and…and fuck me, fuck me stupid, until I—ask you to, no, beg you to carve your name into my skin.” 
The more you rambled on, seemingly with no filter between your lustful thoughts and your running mouth, the higher his brow quirked up. Shredding your clothes? Not a big deal. Fucking you delirious? Bet, that was his favorite pastime, but you really wanted him to cut you? To carve his name into your flesh with one of his feathers? He could vaguely hear you babbling your desire-riddled pleas but there was a struggle taking place in his head right now, his own desires tempting him towards giving into you. 
“Please, Keigo, please!…please Master~” You cooed, ripping the blonde from his thoughts as his breath hitched hard in his throat at the title, his feathers puffing slightly which made his wings seem larger as he stared at your pouting face, your blown eyes that were becoming glossy with wetness. 
It wasn’t as though you hadn’t uttered that word before, but in this moment? Something switched on in his little bird brain and before you could blink, let alone part your lips to plead further—your vision would see only blurred flashes of red. Keigo had re-drawn his feather swords, a simple but quick flick of his wrists had them slicing through your clothing with such precision that you hadn’t even felt it. Almost comically, you would glance down to see your clothes seemingly still intact but then they would slip into a pool of torn fabric at your feet. 
“F-fuck.” You mumbled as your gaze trailed back up to meet his own, sheathing the feathers as he closed the gap between you and snatched up the feather at your neck. 
“This was what you wanted, right angel?” He demanded darkly and you were quick to nod, another swift jerk of his wrist and another and another until even your bra and panties were cut from your slightly trembling frame. He clicked his tongue as the light caught on the slick that had begun coating your upper thighs from just those small acts. “Such a nasty lil’ bird, look at you drippin’…” 
“D-don’t stare like that, Kei…” You whined softly, bottom lip jutting out just enough for his keen eyes to pick up on, even from a few inches away, he could feel the heat radiating from your body as you averted your gaze.
“Aww, gettin’ shy on me now, baby bird?” He taunted with a honey coated chuckle as he used the point of the small feather to tilt your gaze back to his own, a haughty smirk curling up the corners of his lips. “But you were just starin’ at me...can’t handle my eyes on you?”
You began to nod but before you could even complete such a miniscule motion, Keigo’s face was in your own--nose to nose as he looked at you from beneath his long lashes. You felt your breath hitch as he nudged his nose against yours, lips just barely grazing and you were being overwhelmed by the scent of his post-workout musk. You wanted so badly to close that last little space between until your lips were pressed tight together, but once again before you could even think to move, the blonde already had. His feathery locks tickling your cheek as his soft lips dragged against your ear.
“Or is it that you can’t handle when I catch you being a lewd little brat?” His voice rumbled in your ear, drawing a whimper from your throat as you felt yourself squirming against the wood--your mind conflicted between wanting to press up against the winged hero and move away from his incessant teasing. “Look at you, squirmin’ already? I haven’t laid a finger on you…”
You tried your best to glare at him when he moved his face again, locking his golden gaze onto your own. But the soft snort echoing in your head told you that you were failing, as usual. You hated this; how fucking easy it was for him to get to you, to let his words worm their way into your mind until he had you whipped into a fogged up frenzy. You were so lost in it already that you failed to realize he had even asked you a question.
The next thing you were able to register was being thrown half over his shoulder and the hallway to your shared bedroom zipping by. The sharp smack laid against the plush surface of your bare ass seemed to be enough to wake you back up, a soft cry ripping from your throat.
“I asked you a question.” Keigo stated in an even tone as you waltzed through the bedroom door and he easily tossed you down onto the bed. Giving you no time to get away, he would quickly kneel on the end of the bed and crawl up to hover above you, his beater somehow already shed as a muscular arm planted either side of your fanned out tresses. “What is it you want, dove? And you better answer me this time…”
“You know what I want, Kei….please?” You replied in a tiny voice that had him furrowing his brows in faux confusion as he maneuvered himself between your thighs before leaning back on his heels, tapping a slender finger against the stubble on his chin.
“Oh! That’s right…” He exclaimed, that little ‘aha!’ expression taking over his features as his calloused hands found the backs of your knees, quickly hauling them up until you were nearly folded in half. 
He had shifted up so his knees rested against your back and smirked down at you as you realized what he was doing--giving you the perfect view of your own drooling cunt.  You gulped as he angled your legs further apart, dragging his nose along the tender skin of your inner thigh. His amber eyes never leaving your face as he skipped over your spread pussy to repeat the action on the other thigh, ending with a nip up near the apex of your thigh that made you whimper. With his firm hold on your pretzled body, you had no room to even squirm now, all you could do was pout up at him and wait with baited breath.
“You wanted me to carve my name into that sweet lil’ body of yours, didn’t you angel?” Keigo purred as he pressed a soft kiss to the spot just above where your lower lips split making you shudder.
“Please….Ke--” You breathed only to have him cock a brow to stop you in your tracks, licking your lips before you tried again. “Please...Master~” 
“Aw, you can be a good little slut for me, hm?” His mocking tone should’ve pissed you off but it just added to the haze in your head at this point. Without warning, he would lean down and flick out his tongue, dragging the tip of it across your bundle of nerves in slow, meticulous strokes before speaking again, the movement of his lips buzzing against your clit. “K…”
You let out a sharp gasp this time as his tongue traced the next letter, repeating the murmuring of it after. Once he got to the ‘i’ is when you’d whine lowly and shake your head at him.
“That’s n-not what I meant...and you know it.” You panted out, and again he would quirk up a fluffy brow and stare down at you with that dark, mischievous glint in his eyes.
“You mean...with one of these, then?” He demanded evenly, one of his smaller feathers plucking itself from his wings and moving to hover in front of your face, teasingly tracing along your parted lips. “Are you sure about that, angel? It’s gonna hurt…”
“Y-yes! Just please fuckin’ do it...please!” You whined, inhaling sharply as the feather hardened to a fine point right before your blown out eyes.
“How could I deny you when you beg so pretty for your Master, hm?” He purred as he dipped his head between your legs once more, and for a second you worried he still wasn’t taking your request seriously. 
But his sharp golden gaze would stay locked on yours as he flicked his tongue against your clit again, drinking in the way your half-lidded eyes snapped open wide and began to flutter almost simultaneously. Because as his wet muscle went back to tracing another ‘k’ against your throbbing bundle, the feather that had been staring you down, now had its sharp tip dragging against the soft flesh of your inner thigh--scratching the same letter, at the same exact time. 
It was exactly what you wanted--just enough pressure to dig through the first few layers of skin, a fine red line cropping up in its wake as a quick pulse of pain lit up your nerves. As it and Keigo moved on to the ‘e’, you were able to spot one or two tiny little crimson beads bloom along the ‘K’ before your eyes began to roll back as you cried out.
“K...E...I--” He hummed against your clit as his calloused hands kept a firm grip on the backs of your knees as you tried to writhe at the pain-spiked pleasure coursing through your body.
“F-fuck. Yes.” You mumbled between moans and ragged breaths as your head tossed further back into the pillows.
“G...O…” He purred, pressing a kiss against your clit before pulling back to study the blissed out look on your face as you stared down at him with your lip caught between your teeth. 
"Wa-want...more." You whimpered out, eyes pleading when you couldn't muster up any more words.
"Look at you, half fucked out and clenching around nothing," Keigo drawled, licking at his teeth as he shook his head at you, "pussy soaked, I bet you almost came, and you want more?"
"Mmhm, please!" You whined, your gaze moving between his heavily arched brow and the feather just hovering over your trembling thigh.
"What a cute little pain slut!" He mused as he pursed his lips and blew a stream of cool air across the still stinging scratches, your leg and your cunt twitching at the sensation as another pathetic whimper escaped your throat. "Alright, baby bird, but you better cum on my tongue this time…"
You were prepared this time, for his tongue to trace along your aching clit as the sharpened feather moved to follow the same path along your other thigh. What you were not expecting, however, was as he carved the letter 't' into the two separate spots, another feather would move to take over for one of his hands at the back of your knee. And while those dark amber eyes bore into your own, two slender fingers would plunge deep within your slick hole. A soft scream ripping from your throat at the surprise intrusion, a devious chuckle buzzing against your folds at your reaction.
"T...A...K…" He murmured, his husky tone barely audible anymore above the deep moans and choked mewls pouring past your lips as he curled his fingers expertly against that spongy spot along your walls. "Yeah? I feel you fuckin' clenching around my fingers...you gonna cum for me, angel? Cum from feeling me etch my name into that gorgeous fuckin' skin of yours, huh?"
"Uh-huh!" You breathed, his fingers never slowing their rapid pumping into your pussy even as he taunted you.
"A...M...I--fuck yeah, good fuckin' girl!" Keigo growled into your cunt as that knot in your stomach snapped, your juices slipping down his palm and then his wrist as he pulled them out and quickly replaced them with his tongue.
You could feel the sweat starting to bead along your neck as he tongue fucked you through your high, groaning at the feeling of your velvety walls pulsing around his tongue. He didn't bother to wait for the spasms to stop before he was greedily lapping and slurping up your release with soft moans rumbling from his throat. One of your hands reaching down to run through his messy blonde locks lazily as your thighs quaked against his head at the overstimulation. As he pulled away finally, you could still see traces of your essence smeared along his chin as he licked his lips while holding your gaze.
"Mmn, so goddamn sweet that pussy of mine is." He hummed as he straightened up until he was leering down at you, his cock pressing against your lower back as it strained against his joggers. "Ready to have this fat cock buried in that lil' pussy, huh, angel?"
"Wha…?" You panted out, brows knitting as he clicked his teeth before smirking down at you haughtily. 
"Did you cum so hard you forgot what else you asked me for?" He asked but his question only made your brows furrow further as you stared at him blankly. "Oh, maybe you did...well I guess you probably couldn't handle me fucking your brains out then, hm?"
As he spoke, he moved to settle your ass back down against the sheets, only pausing when you whined lowly and shook your head. A hurried chant of no's and please's flying past your lips as your eyes brimmed with wetness. You could feel his cock twitch against your lower back as he groaned out a low 'fuck' and his eyes fluttered closed for a moment to soak in the sound of your desperate pleading. The second they opened again, his free hand was shoving his joggers and boxers to his knees, grasping his cock with a hiss before angling your hips down just enough to slide his length between your drenched lips.
"C'mon, dove, use your words now. What is it you want? Tell Master…" He commanded, slowly rolling his hips to drag his cock along your slick folds as you whined. 
"Want your cock, please, so badly, f-fuck me please!" You managed as you stared at where your bodies met, bucking your hips in hopes of making his cockhead catch on your dripping hole. 
"Good girl, beggin' so fuckin' earnestly for your cunt to be stuffed full of my cock." Keigo growled softly, unable to hold himself back any longer, he would plunge his entire cock into the depths of your pussy with a low moan. "Shit, always so tight after you cum for me."
If it hadn't already been close enough, feeling his throbbing cock buried balls deep inside you had your mind going blissfully blank. As he savored the feeling of your silky walls gripping against him snugly, you whimpered and writhed, demanding friction of any kind. But now that he had your warmth around him, he took the time to rake his gaze along the scratched letters littering your thighs, his thumbs stroking just beneath the marked flesh as he admired his name scrawled along your skin.
"All mine~" He purred darkly, rearing his hips back before slamming them forward again. "All fuckin' mine...isn't that right, angel?"
"Nngh, y-yours…" You cried out, tears breaking free of your waterline and slipping down your heated cheeks.
Keigo couldn’t keep his eyes off those scarlet letters or the way his cock pistoned in and out of your squelching pussy. It was a beautiful sight to behold, and your eyes were too busy rolling back into your skull as that tension stirred in the pit of your stomach to catch the look of pure desire and adoration that took over his handsome face. Your hands white knuckle gripping into the sheets beneath you, you didn’t care about the sting in your hips from having them spread wide for so long or the ache in your upper back from being folded up in such a manner.
“Look at me, baby bird~” Keigo demanded in a gravelly purr, laying a light smack to the outside of your thigh to get you to open up your heavily lidded eyes. “You see how well your lil’ pussy takes my cock, huh? Hear it begging for more?”
His hips slowed to an exaggerated roll as you whimpered, gaze flicking down to watch the way his cock disappeared, stretching your walls out inch by inch. The way when he dragged it back out, it was coated in your slick, puffy folds clinging to it as you groaned at the sight. The lewd squelching, though less pronounced with his slowed pace, still brought more heat to your cheeks and pulled a whine from your throat as your eyes flicked back to meet his. But he was once more lost in the sight of the way his length spread your cunt apart, lip tucked between his pearly whites as he rolled his neck until his head hung back--just enjoying the feeling of your pussy stroking his cock so perfectly. Though his head would snap back up as a slight shift in his hips had his engorged head dragging along that sweet spot, making your jaw fall slack in a low moan that had a hint of drool seeping from the corner of your mouth.
“Oh? Right there, angel?” Keigo demanded as he roughly snapped his hips into yours, smirking as another choked moan ripped from you as his cockhead slammed into that spongy spot.
“Yes! Puh-lease...wanna c-cu--” You struggled to slur out as he continued to abuse that spot with rough, calculated strokes, more drool leaking down your chin as your eyes began to roll back.
“Aww, did I find your stupid button, baby bird?” He mocked in an overly sweet tone but you were quick to nod fervently in reply, too focused on the way the knot in your belly tightened further and further, walls already starting to pulse around his throbbing cock as it plowed into you. “Yeah? Look at what a mess you are, I can’t tell what’s drooling more--your pretty lil’ mouth or this sweet pussy of mine.”
You could barely register his taunts anymore, you were too far gone and entirely zoned in on how every rut of his hips had that fire burning higher and higher.  You swore you could feel the chain reaction your nerves lighting up as he pounded into your sloppy cunt, and a low groan told you he was feeling the small clenches just the same as you as that knot began to fray again. 
“Fuck yeah, you gonna cum for me, angel? Gonna cum all over your Master’s cock, huh?” Keigo demanded, and if your mind hadn’t been so fucking fogged over, you would’ve recognized that familiar roughness in his voice that signaled he wasn’t far behind.
You did your best to respond, but even you could hear how slurred your words were as they poured off your tongue, swallowed up in a mixture of your panting whimpers and his grunts. His sharp golden eyes fixated completely on your poor pussy getting pummeled, hoping to see the way your walls gripped onto him as your stomach tensed and your legs began to quake in his grasp. 
“C’mon, cum for me….hell fuckin’ yeah--just like that…” He choked out, his own eyes threatening to flutter shut at the way your silky walls clamped down on his throbbing cock like a vice, gritting his teeth as he forced through the slight resistance. “You ready for me to fill you up, angel? Stuff your poor lil’ pussy to the brim with my cum, yeah?”
You weren’t sure when you had let go of the sheets in favor of tangling your fingers into your own tresses, only noticing as you tugged at your roots while you whined out at the overstimulation of his cock still driving hard and fast into you. Slowly forcing your eyes to blink open, though even as you tossed your head against the pillows, you couldn’t shake the blurriness in your vision--casting a ethereal haze over the blonde looming over you. Your eyes drawn to the way his wings ruffled behind him in anticipation, his head thrown back as a deep growl rumbled up from his chest.
You shuddered at the contrast of the cool breeze made by the small flaps of his wings tickling the salty beads of moisture dewing up your skin paired with the undeniable warmth spreading through your lower half as he painted your walls a sticky white. He didn’t even bother to lazily thrust through his high, opting to keep his twitching cock buried as deep as possible in your still fluttering pussy instead and as the last drop seemed to trickle out, his head would hang as he fought to even out his ragged breathing. 
All you could think in that moment, still deep in your own blissful headspace, was how gorgeous he looked--bangs falling into his eyes as the orange glow of the setting sun seeped through his wings and made every drop of sweat on his body seem to glow. He caught that look of utter awe on your tired looking face when he finally brought his head back up, pulling out of you slowly as he hissed under his breath and you let out a drawn out whimper. He stared for a moment at your combined releases dripping out of your twitching hole as you pouted at the sudden emptiness.
“Such a good girl~” Keigo cooed down at you as he lowered your ass back down to the bed finally, wincing as he heard the pained groan slip past your lips. “Goddamn you’re fuckin’ gorgeous, all fucked out with my name on you…”
His eyes flicked between your face and your thighs as his large hands caressed up the outsides, bending down to pepper kisses around the marked flesh tenderly. He was careful, making sure not to touch them directly, and he was quick to send some of his feathers off to do his bidding while he kept his focus on you. Soon he was murmuring praise between each press of his lips, only pausing as one of his feathers returned with a warm, wet washcloth.
“This might sting a bit, baby bird, but we gotta make sure they stay clean so they heal without scarring okay?” He hummed, and you nodded tiredly, tempted to protest and state you wouldn’t mind if they were permanent. “We’ll put some of that good cream on it tomorrow, hmm?”
“Mmkay, lovebird.” You muttered meekly, flashing him a small smile as your hands untangled from your own messy hair to reach for him, making him chuckle softly. 
“C’mere, angel…” He whispered as he crawled up alongside you, easily scooping you up to sit between his legs as he held you tight to his chest, his chin on your shoulder. “You did so good, didn’t even flinch, weirdo…nah, you’re my perfect little angel.”
You giggled at his light teasing, melting into his embrace as you let your heavy eyes wander to stare at the letters peeking out from between your thighs with a satisfied hum. Keigo pressed more soft kisses against your shoulder as his other feathers finally returned--some with your favorite post-session snacks and another with a cold bottle of water that you were quick to grab. You weren’t sure how long the two of you stayed like that, but the sun had definitely set in that time and you found yourself trailing your fingers over the scratches to ‘read’ them even in the dark with a little smirk on your lips.
“Kei…?” You asked softly, and he hummed in response, face buried in the crook of your neck. “I think you spelled your own name wrong…”
“No fuckin’ way…” He muttered, snapping his head up and sending a feather to hit the light switch as he pried your thighs apart, growling softly as you began to snicker. “Ohhh….you little fuckin’ brat!”
And just like that you were on your back again, grinning up at him as his arms caged you in and quieted your snickers by roughly capturing your lips.
~*~
2K notes · View notes
sweetaesuga · a year ago
Text
in your eyes | m
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pairing: jungkook x female reader!
genre: smut, fluff, angst, college au, fratboy jk! ex-fuckboy jk! bookworm reader! friends to lovers!
warnings: language, insecurity, drinking, dom jungkook! fingering in public, exhibitionism, female masturbation, grinding, oral (m), dirty talk, light choking, degrading (slut/whore), squirting, creampie, unprotected sex (both are clean but stay safe), bathroom sex, riding, pinning.
word count: 10.6k+
synopsis: jungkook always sees you like the only girl in the world, and you just see him as a fuckboy. OR jungkook just wants a chance🥺
↳ a/n: first time i ever write a fic or smut please enjoy🤧 
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You were only sixteen when you met him. He stepped into the classroom in all dark baggy clothes in an uneasy walk. At first glance you would of thought he was a timid person. Wrong, under all of that bullshit you see an egoistic and self-assured asshole that you're somehow happy to call your friend. You even learned that it was facade. Jungkook was a boy with a good heart who always remained loyal to all of his friends.
Jungkook just turned seventeen when he met you, noticing you straight away when you had a nice sense of fashion. You always had on an accessory that matched with the color of your shirt or jeans. You also always wore a bit of bright colors in your outfits. The bright unique makeup is what caught his attention too. He was proud to call you his friend.
When you both happily entered the same college along with your best friend Hayoon, everything changed. He began hanging out with a new group of friends, they were all older than them and deeply influenced him. He joined a fraternity then and began spending less time with you. He only came over to study or celebrate your birthday. His busyness merely reminded you how he preferred to spend his time hooking up with random girls every week rather than play board games with you or rant to him about your new book you were reading.
You don't exactly remember when he started but you do remember all the girls that talked about how amazing he was in bed which solely added more uncertainty on you. You even walked in on him and a freshman girl going at it in one of the sorority’s room at a party you were both attending.
The memory of when he started crushing on you was foggy to you but he always remembered it in a flash. It was when he had a taekwondo match, where circumstantially Jungkook's girlfriend, who wasn't really his girlfriend, at the time couldn't make it. His hopes were put down by the thought of someone not supporting him, since he always tried his best with his own cheerleader being there.
In the middle of the match, his eyes scanned the bleachers, wishing for someone to be there. His wishes were granted as he saw you there. Standing awkwardly, you gave him a little wave with a smile. His chest heaved in glee, sending you a quick smile before he returned to his match.
The sound of you screaming his name when he won, put a enormous smile on his face. Jungkook watched you run down the bleachers, apologizing to all the people you were bumping through. You leaped into his arms easily.
Your next words to him were a blur since Jungkook was too focused on just having you in his arms. He was grinning happily at you, hair sticking to his forehead. His heart heaved with warmth as you hugged him tightly.
He was twenty-one and you were twenty when he realized he had a crush on you.
You were seventeen when you realized you liked him.
But you were nineteen when you realized you would never be good enough for him.
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"He then had the audacity to ask me if I slept with anyone else! The nerve of that guy," you felt like your ear was going to bleed out just by listening to your best friend blabber about her ex-boyfriend.
"Why don't you just stop talking to him? I don't know...block his number or something?" you suggested, very uninterested in this conversation about her ex-boyfriend contacting her. She could simply just block him out her life and be done with him. 
You stared at the worn out rubber of the tip of your black converse. She popped the gum in her mouth, the sound became annoying to you. Hayoon squinted her eyes at you, trying to find something to say to argue back to you. She instead changed the subject. "Where were you on Saturday?"
"Studying like the rest of the students here," you moved to rest your weight onto your right leg. "I just can't seem to understand how finals are coming up and some people are out here partying? The library was packed when I got there."
"Yeah well I wouldn't know because I didn't go," she grinned at you. "Instead I went to a party because I'm not a loser like you!" Hayoon giggled to herself and you rolled your eyes. "Also," she popped the gum loudly. "Jungkook was asking for you. Calling for his dream girl. . .or something like that—I don't know can't remember—too drunk you know?"
Your ears perked up to that. "Really?" you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear that got in the way and leaned forward. "Did you remember why he was looking for me?"
Hayoon grinned again. "Even if I do know why would you care? Don't you hate him or something?" she smiled evilly and threw her head back.
You froze and leaned back to your seat. You know what she was trying to do and it was never going to happen.
You were never going to give Jeon Jungkook a chance.
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Jungkook stumbled into the library, eyes searching for you immediately. There was nearly a crowd of students that were preparing for finals. "Hey have you guys seen Y/N?" he asked a study group. A girl in your class answered him, telling him that you were somewhere by the windows.
Of course you were, he thought to himself. You would be seated at your usual spot. He walked over to the windows and spotted you straight away. Watching your figure become closer as he walked further, he took the sandwich out of his bag. "Hey Y/N!" you already knew that voice. You looked up at Jungkook. As usual he looked drop-dead gorgeous. He wore his usual dark baggy outfit, a black cargo jogger and a much darker hoodie with some black combat boots. He was showing off his helix piercing and his fresh new haircut.
"Nice haircut," you referred to his undercut and the fact that he was showing forehead. "Seems like you spent a lot of time on it."
"Yeah! Just for you," he smiled, his cheeks being pushed up. You let out a heavy sigh, clearly not in the mood for his flirtatiousness. "Got you a sandwich, by the way," he laid it in front of you.
You let out a small smile and took it from him, trying not to show how your mouth got watery so quickly. "Thanks, you didn't have to though," he shook his head.
"I don't want you starving to death," he sat down next to you, shoulder pressing against yours. "What are you studying for?" his nose nuzzled your ear. You rolled your eyes and shoved him away, ignoring the goosebumps his warm breath caused.
"Just getting my notes ready. Wanna highlight or color code it but feel like it's going to fuck up everything. Also don't wanna be those fucking girls that always have to make their fucking notes pretty. Also, do I look tired?" he studied your face for any features that made you seem exhausted. "I was up till two in morning watching these two Indian guys build a pool."
His eyes lit up. "Oh my god, I come across from those too."
"I know they came up all over my fucking Youtube recommendations. I got sucked into binge watching them. It makes me feel fucking lazy to be honest, the amount of fucking water they carry back and forth. I wouldn’t be able to do that.”
Jungkook snickered and made a note of how much you swore. "I need to make a swear jar for you. You swear too much."
"Not even," you laughed back at him and nudged his shoulder. "I'm just a little frustrated and stressed right now," his gaze dropped on the purple pins in your hair, holding each side of your hair. "I called my mom and she said to not stress over this, but you know how I get," you frowned and turned to him. He finally took in your appearance. Your bright purple eyeshadow with purple gems adorning the top of it. You wore a purple flare pants and a white long sleeved, deep v-line crop top. His eyes dropped down to your cleavage, trying to see if you had a bra on.
"Holy shit Y/N!" the students around him shushed him. He burned up and muttered a sorry to them, you giggled at how embarrassed he looked. "You look amazing. What's the special occasion?"
"Nothing," you shook your head, a smile still on your face. "Can't I dress up once in awhile?" Jungkook raised an eyebrow at you, knowing that you normally only wear outfits like this when they’re new or it’s the first week of school. "Okay," you dragged your word out. "I got this outfit last week and really wanted to use it today. It's cute right?"
"Yeah, really cute," he toyed with your hair pins, messing up your hair.
Neglecting his comment, you carried on. "I even got up in early in the morning to do my makeup. If I'm gonna show up wearing a new outfit, I might as well have a cute ass face to go with it," you frowned when you remembered something. "And I realized I don't have different color hair pins, they're all purple so thank fuck the fucking pants are purple."
"Well I think you look very cute, Y/N. Boop!" he poked your nose gently. You swatted his hand away, warning him to stop but all you're given is a large bunny smile. "Come on, eat your sandwich. I didn't just come all the way over here searching for you just to talk to you."
"Actually you did bitch."
"Oof, swear jar," he rested his palm out in front you. You took a bite out of the sandwich, placing a quarter on his palm. "No a dollar, Y/N."
"No! What the fuck—wait!" he held out his palm again. "That's not fucki—hold up, you can't just say a dollar," you whined and grabbed your bag. "I don't have money growing out of my ass."
"I don't know that yet. I'm gonna have to check to make sure," you threw a dollar at him. He laughed and picked it up.
"I know your kind," you spatted at him and tossed the other two dollars at him which he easily caught. "Wanna drain my f-freaking bank account."
"Oh come on, I want you to be my sugar mama," he jested, leaning forward to give you a huge smug.
"Sucks to be you actually. I'm looking to be a sugar baby, not a sugar mama," you glanced over your shoulder towards him. His laugh echoed and you watched as students gave him a dirty look from how loud it was.
"Of course. You're the brokest bitch in the city no one actually wants you to be their sugar mama," you gasped at his words.
"Am not!"
"Are so!" you both laughed at each other. His hand searched for yours underneath the table. He must've noticed how tensed up you had gotten when he found it, managing to wrap your smaller fingers into his. "I've been meaning to talk to you by the way."
You groaned, knowing where this will be going. "Jungkook, stop I'm not in the mood," you caught a quick glimpse of the time. "Look, I have to go, my bus will be coming soon." You don't let him mention anything else. Bolting out of the library, you leave a crestfallen Jungkook behind.
He shook his head and took the half eaten sandwich you also left behind. He trailed behind you, backpack threatening to fall down his arm. You proceeded to walk to the bus stop, Jungkook just close behind. "Didn't see you at the party on Saturday?" the voice came from behind you. You opt to ignore it but by the sound of his voice it was easy to tell that he has been dying to ask this question. When you didn't answer him, he tried again. "Seriously where were you on Saturday?"
You sunk down on the bench. "None of your business."
"Well, I was kind of worried about you. I thought you were going to be there so that's why I came," he took a seat right besides you. "Once I saw you weren't there, I left."
"I was at the library studying for finals," you weren't sure why you were telling him this.  After his little confession your heart felt weird. If you hadn't told him though, he probably would've guessed it. Still, he needed confirmation.
"What? Why didn't you tell me? We could’ve studied together!" he complained, nudging his shoulder with yours.
"Jungkook stop, I know what you're doing," you glared at him, wanting to get away. He frowned and reached over to hold you. "I already told you no," you hissed, disregarding the way his eyes appeared sunken at your response.
"Why not? I already told you, I'm not messing around anymore. I genuinely want to settle down with someone," he stared into your eyes with such intensity you felt like your brain was going to explode. Your ears took in his words slowly. "I want to be with you."
"Jungkook, please—"
"Come on, one date. I swear to god I've changed," he ranted. He's always been very keen on having a chance with you, but with all those girls that he used to take home you felt otherwise. You would listen to the girls on how good Jungkook was. How good he looked at night in the dark moonlight. How he would manhandle them in random places. How his muscles would appear every time he flexed them. How those hips of his were a miracle. You would be lying to yourself if you said you didn't ever want to see him that way too.
"I'm flattered, I really am—I just really don't want to be with someone like you. I'm sorry," you apologized, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear.
He blinked then squinted his eyes at you. "What do you mean someone like me?" He sounded somewhat offended at your words.
"You used to fuck around!" you fumed and threw your hands up. The bus was coming down the road towards the two of you. "I don't like that."
"Why not?" He's way too stubborn to let you go, you forgot.
"Because...I just don't okay? Lets leave it there," you stood up and walked over to the bus once it opened its doors. He followed close behind. Before you can enter your dollar into the machine, he does it for you.
The bus driver smiled at him while you glared at him. You walked to the back of the bus, smiling to all the other passengers but secretly upset. Jungkook still followed you like a lost puppy. You slid down in the seat. Your left arm feeling the side of the bus once you properly sat down. "Here, I'll pay you back," you hold out the dollar bill but he sat still in his seat.
"Well shit, sugar mama not right now," You sighed and put it back in your bag. You heard him snort.
"Come on, tell me why you won't give me a chance and I'll leave you alone," he offered. He held your eyes for a moment before you let out a breath of air and looked away.
If he’ll leave you alone, then you must have to say why you won’t grant him a chance with you, a chance for him to become your boyfriend.
"I'm too insecure for you," he opened his mouth but you shushed him. "I'm not...how do I put this? I'm not like them?" you questioned and glanced over at him. He had a look of worry washed all over his face. "The girls that you were with are those who are all popular, party all day, and are very attractive. They all do casual sex, and I don't want be that type of person, I want something serious. Like you have dated Soojin! She's really pretty, makes me gay even," you chuckled at yourself. "That's not the point though. If I'm with you, all I could ever think about is the girls you were with and how different I am from them. I just can't be with someone when all I'll ever think about are my insecurities with them. So how could I possibly ever be good enough for you?" you don't look at him after that.
He sighed and gripped your small hand into his. You almost cringed when you remembered how sweaty your hands were. "That's why I'm after you though. You're not like them. I wanted a change. You are good enough, you'll always be good enough for me. Hell, I feel like I’m not good enough for you. And I really don't care if you're any of that other stuff. I still want to have a shot with you." you don't realize how long you both were holding eye contact. The two of you don't look away from each other however. You don’t even comprehend how close you two have gotten. He reached over to push back a strand of your hair behind your ear. Your breath hitched.
"I don't know Jungkook, I'm just really unsure," you admitted and leaned back in your seat to create some distance between you two. "My mind isn't clear right now but I highly doubt I would want to give you a chance."
"Really? You don't want me?" he bit his lip and glanced over at you. "How can I change your mind?" you stopped functioning when he reached over to press up against your thigh. His fingers travelled over to your inner thigh. He kept rubbing circles around there for a few minutes, hand drawing closer each time. Your cheeks grew crimson once you wrapped your mind around on how wet you become so quickly, and he barely even touched you what an embarrassment.
You were only getting aroused quickly because of how long your dry spell was. You haven’t being touched in so long that you craved it so much, no matter who it was with.
"What are you doing?" you hated how you felt so hot under his eyes at the moment. He brushed you aside until you repeated your question again.
"Nothing," his lips curved upwards. He faced forward, ignoring the fact that his hand was practically between your legs.
"Jungkook, stop that!" you hissed and whacked his hand away. He withdrew his hand from your inner thigh but still kept it at the top of your thigh. His thumb gently tracing circles into your skin.
"Bet you're fucking wet under that," he commented. You caught his stare, watching his eyes fixed on your cleavage. A smile forms across his face when he takes notice of how you're rubbing your thighs together. "Don't be scared, I'll go easy on you. You wearing those pink panties that I love on you?"
You knew what he was referring to. Leaving your laundry on your bed wasn't a good idea especially when an excited Jungkook was coming over to watch a new episode of You, but he didn't give you time to pick it up so your baby pink lace underwear was out on the sheets. "Shut up. I'm not going to let you do shit," you furiously crossed your arms over your chest. His eyes flickered back down to your breasts that were shoved up into a tighter position.
"Really? You say that but you're on the verge of asking me to touch you. I know it, Y/N," you bit your lip hard to avoid saying something. You heard him laugh. "It's okay, no one will notice, if you're a good slut and keep your mouth shut." Your eyes widened at his words.
You’ve never been called a degrading name in bed. With the two boyfriends you’ve been with, they always called you loving names that had gotten boring quick as well as their vanilla sex. Yet somehow it stirred you up at the thought of being called a slut, especially Jungkook calling you that.
But it was almost like a completely different Jungkook had surfaced. You knew he was some sort of sex god but didn't expect him to have such a dirty mouth. You decided to test the waters. A little fun wouldn’t hurt.
You spread your legs a little wider, inviting him to get closer. He stared into your eyes as you stared down at his hand. "Unbutton your pants," he demanded. Your eyes expanded even more at his words. You were just thinking of getting him eager not to do something here.
You looked around to see if anyone could see or hear you two but they were all facing forward and minding their own business. Your hands went to unbutton your pants, pushing your zipper down. "Open your legs," you did as you were told. "Wider, wider," your right leg rested on top of his muscular thigh. "You wet enough?" he asked, reaching down to your core. You shivered when his hand entered your underwear. He sinks his two fingers in and you whined. He took his fingers out, gazing on the glistening wetness on it.
"Dirty fucking slut," he murmured and dig his fingers back into you. You gripped his wrist harshly but encouraged him to add more fingers. He complied and proceeded to finger you in the back of the bus. "Never thought I would finger the girl of my dreams in the back of the bus," he chuckled as he heard you calling out his name. "You gotta be quiet if you don't wanna get caught." he teased softly. He pounded his fingers into you faster. His eyes laying upon your furrowed eyebrows and bitten lip. You began to nudge into his fingers, meeting him halfway with the movement of your hips. Your grip on his wrist tightened as he touched your clit with the tip of his finger. He snorted and proceeded to move against you, ignoring his hardness that was forming in his pants. You threw your head back and stared up at the ceiling. You bit your lip hard, almost drawing blood.
Jungkook clutched your knee, forcing you to open wider. You raked over the passengers in the seat, who are still unaware of you getting fingered at the back of the bus. You moaned into his hoodie. You let go of his wrist to hold his bicep. He looked down at you. He reached over to cup your face, bringing your lips to meet his. You’re taken back a little but nonetheless you open your mouth to tempt him to slid his mouth in. He fulfilled your craving. The two of you looked like random teenagers making out in the back but what they couldn't see was his fingers stuck up your wet core.
"Jesus fucking Christ," you said under your breath, pulling away from his redden lips. His fingers pounded brutally into you. He showed no sign of slowing down.
"You make a fucking noise and I swear to god I will take you on this bus full of people. I don't give a fuck, Y/N," your pussy quenched around him at that. Your wetness glimmered on his fingers.
"Oh my god, Jungkook, oh my god," you moaned against his neck. Hiding your face from him, you picked up the pace of your hips. "Uh—fuck, holy shit do that again," you referred to him touching your clit. He does that again. "Oh fuck," you whimpered when you felt an uneasy feeling building up within you. "I'm gonna fucking cum."
"Yeah? That fucking early? I knew your little pussy wouldn't be able to take it," Jungkook's lips formed a smirk. "And this is just with my fingers babe. Bet you can't handle my dick," you ignored him. You sobbed into his neck and leaned up to kiss him in efforts to silence your moans, cumming hard all over his fingers. It takes two minutes before you released Jungkook from the kiss. He drew his hand away from your skirt and made sure you were holding eye contact with him when he cleaned his fingers with his tongue.
You gulped. Reality finally hit you. You had let Jungkook finger you in the back of the bus. 
You pushed back against your seat and looked around to see if anyone was looking. Everyone on the bus was still unaware and you felt like you can breathe again. "Holy shit I can not believe we just did that," you brushed your hair back, somewhat disappointed at yourself for not stopping him.
Jungkook's smile surfaced. "I can't believe you just let me do that. Wanna return the favor?" he asks jokingly but watched your face to see if you were willing to suck him off. His hopes are put down when a frown appeared on your face and he could tell you wouldn't feel comfortable with that. "Joking babe."
"Don't call me that, please," you stressed. "This was a mistake, seriously don't ever speak of this with any of your friends. We're not going to speak of it either."
"I wasn't even going to," he muttered and looked away. "Funny how it's a mistake, Y/N, when you were over here telling me to keep going."
You fanned yourself, flapping your hand back and forth in front of your face. Jungkook looked at the layer of sweat near your hairline that glistened under the sunlight. "Stop, it was in the heat of the moment. It seriously was a mistake," he opened his mouth but you carried on. "Especially in the back of the bus, oh god, I'm really disappointed in myself," you zipped up your flare pants, not minding that your underwear is sticking to you.
"And I'm really disappointed in you too, for not giving me a chance," Jungkook said with knitted eyebrows. You sit away from him, making sure there was a good amount of space between the two of you. "Oh are you just going to ignore me now?" he isn't given a response, your tongue knotted together in your mouth. "So that's how it's gonna be now?"
You gathered your bag. The bus curving towards the upcoming bus stop. "This is my stop," you disclosed. He captured your forearm which quickly caught your attention.
"Don't be like this, Y/N." You shrug him off and walked out of the bus, leaving Jungkook and his gloomy thoughts behind.
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"Shut up, stop playing with me!" Hayoon exclaimed, her eyes glimmered with interest as you filled her in on the day before. "You did not let Jungkook finger you on the back of the bus," she laughed out loud at her sentence, still not believing the words coming out of your mouth. You groaned and sunk your head back down on the table. "I mean gross, but hey, you're catching dick."
"I'm not catching dick, and stop saying it's gross it makes me even more disappointed in myself."
"I just don't understand how you can tell him you don't want him and tell him the reasons why and then let him finger you at the back of the bus?!" your face scrunched up at her words. "I seriously don't get it Y/N. It's like you're provoking the guy that's going after you and that's pretty fucked up. Play with his dick, not his emotions, oh wait—”
"I told him no multiple times."
"Then why the fuck would you let him finger you in the back of a bus?" Hayoon rubbed her temple before munching on a fry. "I think you do have a crush on him, you just don't want to date him because of all the girls he’s been with.”
You let her words settle in your mind for a moment, not even realizing that she held your hand in hers. "But baby, that's called the past. It's the least thing you got to worry about since you already know it. Take a risk, go out with him. He's ready to be in a serious relationship with you, he's been telling me this since Friday."
You sighed, lips forming a pout. "I don't know."
"Well make up your mind quick cause' he's coming this way," her words are rushed as she glanced over at Jungkook, who's heading over your way.
"What?!" you're just about to turn your head his direction when Hayoon grabbed your jaw.
"What are you doing you stupid bitch?! Don't look—okay, pretend like I'm not here, pretend like I'm not here!" she turned away from you and placed her earbuds in her ears.
"Wait does my hair look good?!" you caught her by the arm before she can leave.
"For who?"
You snapped her head towards Jungkook, who's already smiling at you. His black cap floated over his eyes as he dug his fingers into the pockets of his jogger pants. You coughed when you perceived that you were checking him out. "Um, no one. Just wanted to see if it's messy," you don't know why but your cheeks burned so hard, maybe at the fact that you know it is messy.
His hand came in contact with your head before he moved a strand of your hair that looked out of place before pushing your baby hairs down. You swatted his hands away, ignoring how your warm ears were tingling. "There, it's not that messy anymore. I brought something."
He sat down besides you. You eyes fluttered over to Hayoon. She spread a smirk out on her lips. While Jungkook continued finding the item he wanted to show you, something along the words that it was a jar. Her fist comes up besides her mouth, opening it slightly. Your cheeks become crimson when she began to push her left fist towards her mouth while her tongue kept knocking into her right cheek.
"Here," Jungkook placed a jar in front of you, the bright glittery letters mocking you. Swear Jar, it read at the front. "Every time you cuss, it's more money to my bank account."
Your lips loop downwards into a frown. Your eyebrows furrowed together in the progress. "Not fair, I told you I didn't want to be a sugar mama."
"Fine, this is both of our swear jar."
"Deal."
"Okay, now that that's out of the way, we can talk about yesterday," he put the glittery jar, he decorated last night for you, back in his backpack. A sudden weight pressed down on your shoulders at the thought of him bringing up what happened yesterday.
"Jesus Christ, what do you carry in there?" Hayoon added unintentionally and you're thankful for that. As much as she wanted to know about the encounter between the two of you, she also wanted to know what Jungkook carried in that big bag of his.
"Dildos."
"Wait, deadass?" she jumped up in her seat. I snorted at her, earning a glare. Jungkook's lips formed a line, specifying that he was joking. "Well fuck, it just looks like it's gonna break your back. Dude you know what that reminds me of?" she asked you. Your mind doesn't come across anything so you shook your head. "The Rosie girl? She was giving dildos out at this campus cause' she wanted to, quote, fight absurdity with absurdity. All over Twitter. Wish I could be there to get one."
Jungkook's eyes crinkled up as he laughed at her. The sound ringing through your ears, only to devaste you even more. "Can we talk about yesterday?" he leaned over and whispered to you.
You swore you felt his lips brushing against your ear. It stirred up your brain. "What about yesterday?" your hands started shaking and you hoped he didn't see how anxious you have become.
Luck wasn't on your side today however, his upcoming question boosting your anxiety even more. "Why are your hands shaking so much?" he grasped his bigger hand in yours.
You are quick to take it out of his. "We agreed that we wouldn't talk about what happened yesterday. It was a mistake I didn't—"
"No, you agreed that we wouldn't talk about it," his voice raised slightly to get your attention. Your mouth snapped shut. "We need to talk about it. How the fuck can you be playing with my feelings like this?" Hayoon whistled, mentally seeing eye to eye with Jungkook. "I want to have a chance with you, a shot at us. You give me all these mixed signals and then when I try to make a move on you, all of the sudden you act like a bitch Y/N."
"Well what do you want me to say? That I fucking like you back too?" you challenged and stood up from your chair. The students around you turned their heads over to you, watching the scene in front of them unfold. "How the fuck am I even playing with your feelings? I said I wanted to just be friends! I'm sorry that you're misinterpreted our friendship but that's not my problem!" you wished you could've shut your mouth but all you could see was red. Perhaps you were letting go of all the rage you’ve ever resented over him for the past months.
For ditching you to attend parties or being with other girls. For not always being there for you.
"What the fuck do you mean that's not my problem?!" he mimicked you, staring up at you. "You let me finger you and you expect me to believe that you just wanna be friends? Are you even listening to yourself?! You felt something back there."
Hayoon stepped in, walking over to the two of you. "Okay, I think you guys should just shut up," your eyes wandered around the room, where everyone was watching your interaction.
"Whatever," Jungkook's chair scraped the floor harshly as he pushed it back. He dug into his backpack before placing the jar in front of you. "You can keep that and this," he put down a package full of glittery hair pins, all different colors. Your heart wrenched as you watched him walk away, sullen. His steps are quick so he can take the attention off of him.
You turned the jar and saw that the top had words on it. Splattered in messy pink glitter, Sugar Mama's Swear Jar :D.
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Jungkook was avoiding you. You could tell because he stopped coming after school to study with you, which was okay at first until you found yourself yearning for him.
It was stupid, really. After all that debate on how you two should just stay friends, you can't just tell him how much you miss him. That'll make you seem like an ass.
And trust me that's the last thing you want.
Your day was going bad, your professor yelled at you for not paying attention and put you in the spot, embarrassing you in front of the class. You were okay until a girl gave you a look of pity and you had a breakdown in the bathroom right after.
When you went to go meet up with Hayoon, it'll only got worse. She cancelled on you after forcing you to wait for her for thirty minutes. Just as you're leaving a group of middle schoolers thought it would be funny to step on a ketchup packet and let splatter everywhere, resulting in the back of your white top covered in dots of ketchup.
You swore you almost hit the kid who came up with it, even thought about running him over when you saw that the stains were everywhere and even in your hair.
After showering and getting the ketchup out of your hair, you went to work that ensued in you coming home with mascara practically running down your eyes, that were ready to pour out tears if something else happened to you, due to you wrongly mixing up orders and getting yelled out by a customer.
Now here you were, sitting on the living room floor with wet hair after taking another shower which mainly just involved you sitting on the tile floor and crying. You ate the Chinese takeout you have gotten during the way, ignoring the way people were staring at you, with sympathy.
It was the last thing you needed. Maybe karma was coming to get you for saying those things to Jungkook. But at this point all you wanted was some reassurance, a shoulder to cry on, someone to be there for you.
Jungkook.
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You couldn't sleep. No matter how hard you tried you just couldn't. Hell, you even closed your eyes for a solid thirty minutes yet you were not able to drift off into slumber. Maybe it had to due with the weather? It was freezing, if you stepped a foot outside you would become an ice sculpture in an instant.
Or maybe, the most logical one compared to all the others, was Jungkook fingering you on the bus. You can't seem to get that scene off your mind. Your brain kept drifting over on how stunning he appeared, his dark eyes staring straight at yours as he watched your mouth form an O shape. He only ever broke eye contact when he snuck a look of how his fingers vanished into your pants.
Then your mind would stumble onto the memory of you yelling at him, telling him how his feelings for you were not your fault. You despised yourself at that moment. You sighed and laid back into your pillow, staring up into the ceiling. "I can't believe I am even having these types of thoughts," you slowly opened your legs while shutting your eyes. As long as you don't think about him, it'll be okay.
But you do. Sliding off your underwear, the first thing you thought about was Jungkook. His bunny smile rested on his face. You opened your eyes to get him off your mind and closed them again. You let out a gentle moan when you feel how wet you are.
He came back again. This time he settled right besides you on the bed. His hand is shoved between your legs. You moaned when he buried his head in your neck and kissed your skin there. "You like that, princess?"
You frowned immediately, he didn't call you any pet names. From what you can remember, he called you a degrading name.
"You like that dirty slut?" you mewled at him. He moved his fingers ceaselessly inside of you whilst breathing down your neck.
The sound of a zipper being undone makes your eyes crack open. You took a glimpse of Jungkook, his hand disappearing inside his jeans that displayed his muscular thighs.
You whined at him and he hovered on top of you. Your breathing got heavier as his cock sprung out of his jeans. "Oh god," you moaned as he slid himself inside of you so effortlessly. Your hands moved quicker inside of you. Feeling your wetness spill out of you and onto the mattress underneath you, you imagined him pounding into you. Your hands clamped on his long hair with your legs in the air as his hips furiously snapping into you.
It doesn't take you long to cum, given the fact at Jungkook's pace it seemed like he wasn't going to stop. He disappeared, leaving you sweaty and tired on the bed with your fingers stuck inside you. "Holy shit, I can not believe I just did that.
Recalling your words that were thrown at Jungkook, a heavy weight on your shoulder returned heavier as ever, reminding you how you practically lost your shot with him.
Shame on you for not giving Jeon Jungkook a chance.
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"I think I was too harsh on him."
"You think? Don't lie to me bitch, you know you were fucking harsh on him," Hayoon stood in the middle of your room, scanning your closet for a dress she can wear to a party.
It was almost three days since your argument with Jungkook in front of everyone. You expected to make up with him on Thursday but Jungkook avoided you like you were the plague. He didn't text you for any notes he needed to borrow, nor did he usually come to study with you or leave you a sandwich. You never realized how apart of your life he became, especially when he didn't sit next to you for one of your shared classes. Instead, he chose to sit next to Taehyung, his best friend. It was Friday now and to be quite honest, you missed him.
"Don't trip about it. He could be at the party tonight, getting over you and possibly getting himself a girlfriend so you don't have to worry about him pinning over you. Now what the fuck should I wear?"
You didn't like the sound of that. Jungkook possibly finding another girl. Your consciousness settled back in your mind. How can you even say shit like that? You rejected him, you have no right to tell him not to move on. You sighed to yourself and laid back into the bed. "Maybe I shouldn't go. I don't wanna see him."
"I don't wanna see him." she dragged the straps of your orange dress up her figure. "Shut up because on Wednesday you kept asking why he wouldn't talk to you, like bitch I wouldn't talk to you either with that shit you pulled back there."
"Why not?"
"You're not serious right?" she turned back to you. She raised her eyebrow, challenging you. You groaned and followed her out of the room when she didn't receive an answer. "That's what I thought," you heard her under her breath.
"Not gonna lie, I think I'm gonna break my ankle with these bitches," you pointed down at your high heels, slowing down. You stopped to fix them. Hayoon carried on walking to her car, leaving you behind.
"You wanted to wear them. Now get in," she honked her horn. You hissed at her, reminding her that the neighbors are going to complain. "Don't give a fuck, get in loser we're going to party!" she honked her horn longer.
You ran to her car when you realized she wasn't going to stop. "You need the swear jar, you stupid bitch."
"Not even," before you could say something back, her music blasts through the car. She screamed out the lyrics, encouraging you to join along. "In your eyes! You lie but I don't let it define you—oh define you!"
"You sound like a dying cat."
"I tried to find—fuck you then."
Along the way you started to wonder how she even got her driver's license. Hayoon almost went on the sidewalk when she was tried to park which forced you to get out of the car and direct her.
"Keep going, keep going."
"Fuck, bitch you sure? I don't want another ticket for being on the red line," her head stuck out to make sure she wasn't going to hit the car behind her.
"Yes I'm sure—okay stop!" Hayoon shuts off the engine, stumbling out of the car. She laughed to herself before walking up to the fraternity house with you. "Okay, I forgot what it was like coming here."
The first smell that filled your nostrils was vomit. You glanced down towards the ground and saw a distraught girl on the front lawn throwing up while her friend rubbed her back. Hayoon advised you not to look, to give the poor girl some pity. Reluctantly, you entered the house with a clumsy walk. Hayoon noticed and suggested that you go have a drink. You at first declined but once your eyes scanned the room and landed on Jungkook leaning against a wall with a redhead clinging onto him. You made your way to the open kitchen. Unknown to you, jealousy boiled in your stomach.
So that's how you end up on your first shot of a tequila with a cup of vodka already resting in your liver. You weren't drunk, still you were not far from being tipsy. Conscious enough to see that Jungkook's eyes were on you while you downed the shot. Eyes focused on your throat as you swallowed. He exhaled, watching you pull out your phone and tap away. The red head girl right besides him, tried calling his name out to hook his attention. He brushed her off, muttering something to her that he didn't sleep around anymore.
His frustration grew even more when he saw you wandering over to the middle of the room where sweaty bodies were grinding on each other. Your flimsy black silky dress was not doing him justice either, seeing how tight it was on your figure. It showed off your curves well; he hated how good you looked. There was a big opening in the back that stopped near your hips. Should be a crime to look that good, he thought to himself while trying to keep his eyes on you.
Your hips swayed to the music blasting throughout the house. You opened your eyes, landing on Jungkook immediately. His eyes devouring you as he took a sip of his beer, eyes locked on your hips. You tried not to look at him again but still wondered what was going in that mind of his. You raised your hands up in the air, dress threatening to rise up.
Your curiosity got the best of you. Squinting one eye open to take a peek of Jungkook but you failed to locate him.
A gasp left your mouth as someone pressed their front on your back, rubbing their crotch on your ass. A whiff of the sweet scented Victoria Secret perfume gave the identity away. You tilted your head so that it laid on his chest. Confirming your thought, Jungkook stared down at you with dark eyes. His arm muffled around your waist to press you further into his chest. He felt his body go ease when he saw your lips bunch up into a smile. Your hips rocked from side to side on him. Jungkook held his hand on your waist, encouraging you to continue. You willingly do so arms flinging on his neck as you dragged yourself down his chest. His growing bulge poked your ass as you grind yourself on him. Your head laid back on him. Jungkook leaned down to meet your lips. His mouth entwined with yours, lip gloss rubbing off onto his mouth. You moaned into his mouth and sensed that his hand was harshly holding one of your ass cheeks.
"You wanna go upstairs?" He was somewhat taken back at your suggestion but agreed nonetheless. With his fingers keeping a firm grip on yours, the two of you went upstairs.
He guided you towards the room, which all winded up preoccupied due to freshman trying to lose their virginities. You cringed when you come face to face with someone's bare ass pushing against the lanky girl. Jungkook pushed you into the bathroom, telling a man to fuck off when he tried getting in.
"Hey," you glanced up from the floor onto Jungkook's eyes. He offered you a small awkward smile, warming your heart as if he wasn't rubbing his dick on your ass a few minutes ago.
"Hi," your voice sounded very small and Jungkook wanted to reach out and reassure you that he only came up to you to apologize, not to have you grind on him in the middle of the room. "I'm sorry," you began, eyes fixed to the ground. "Everything I said on that day was really fucked up. I care about your feelings. I care about you and I was giving you mixed signals and it's not okay."
"I'll be fine," his hand held your arm, rubbing it slightly. "It's okay if you don't return my feelings, I'll get over it—"
"But that's the thing I don't want you to get over it."
Jungkook blinked once, twice, and then another third time. Trying to comprehend your words while also trying to figure out what he was going to say was hard.
Your glossy lips moved. "I'm really willing to give you a chance and I'm so sorry for being such a cunt about it. I just—I needed some realization to understand my feelings. Truth is I've had a crush on you, but every time I saw you with these girls I always told myself I'm not good enough for you and that I'll never be. I’m also mad at the fact that you’re barely realizing your feelings towards me just now.”
He doesn't say anything which doesn't help your anxious state at the moment. Your gut scolded you, reminding you that you probably lost your chance and now you look like an idiot to him right now, confessing your feelings.
Jungkook sighed before embracing you. You stand still in shock from his sudden movements but chose to hug him back. His chin dropped down onto your head. "You're good enough for me, Y/N. You always have been and I'm sorry that it took me all these years for me to realize that."
"I couldn't stop thinking of you and all the shit I said. I'm really sorry from the bottom of my heart," you admitted.
His bulge pushed against you and your cheeks flushed warm. Jungkook didn't say anything but bent down to kiss you. His lips moved roughly against yours. Your fingers coming up towards his hair to run through them. His hands digging harshly into your ass, possibly leaving small bruises behind but you're unbothered by it.
You pulled away, enough to stare up at his eyes. "I seriously couldn't stop thinking about you. I fucking masturbated to you, just by thinking of the bus shit," you confessed, watching his face lit up in surprise.
"Yeah? What was going on in that head of yours?" he encouraged you. You giggled at him, his thigh coming between your thighs.
"Your fingers in my pussy," your cheeks burned pink as he coaxed you to go on. "Your big dick pounding in me."
The look on his face is priceless but it just stayed there for a mere second as Jungkook recollected himself. He couldn't believe what was coming out of your mouth, never in a million years would he ever imagine you of all people saying this. The warmth travelled towards his crotch as he hardened at your words. His friend of seven years, his crush for almost two years was here in front of him, revealing that she touched herself to the thought of him. A blissful comfort spread all over his body.
"Don't you want that to happen?" he didn't even realize how close you were, he was too caught up in his thoughts. "You don't want to fuck my brains out?"
Your thighs closed around his thick ones. You reached up to kiss his neck, pecking his soft skin. Jungkook grunted as you left open mouth kisses behind, gripping his hand and directing it near your hips.
"I can't do it here," Jungkook whispered to you once he grasped the circumstances. In a fraternity bathroom with people out there that can possibly hear you two? Jungkook would never allow himself to touch you here the first time you two have sex. You whined against him, rubbing your crotch on his thigh. "Shit, seriously Y/N? You're making this hard for me."
"What your dick? Why? I don't care where we do it. I just—I need it to happen—come on Jungkook fuck me," if your mind wasn't clouded by lust you would been very disappointed at yourself for what you were saying, but you could care less. He closed his eyes and tilted his head towards the ceiling. He was fighting with himself.
The only sound in the bathroom was the loud heavy bass music playing and the two of you heavily breathing. "Do you want me to go find another guy out there that can do the job for you or what?" you tried riling him up and it worked cause Jungkook was staring at you with dark hooded eyes. "Cause' I could walk out there and take any guy home with me do you want that?" you both know deep down you wouldn’t be able to do that. You’re too shy.
Jungkook came across as if something possessed him suddenly. His hair falling over his eyes slightly. His tongue came out of his mouth to moisten his lips. "Get on your fucking knees," Jungkook snapped, a hand going back to get tangled in your hair. You dropped down to the ground. "I wanna see your pretty tits," you pulled down the straps of your dress and got rid of your strapless bra, throwing it aside. "Well aren't you a desperate cock sucking whore?" you whined at him with your dress bunched up around your waist. "What don't tell me you like being called that?" he chuckled. Your cheeks flushed in humiliation.
You reached over to unzip his jeans. He merely let out a chuckle, extremely satisfied with your avidity. As you rolled down his boxers, his hand wrapped around your hair. "Look up at me, whore," your eyes jerked up to him. "Open your mouth," you gulped at the size, wondering if it was even going to fit in your poor mouth. He teased, rubbing the head of his cock on your lips when you did. Your jaw ached as you tried opening as wide as you can to please him. You looked up at him as he slid his cock in your mouth. He groaned, loving the warmth and wetness of your mouth surrounding him. He maintained the eye contact between you two whilst he carried on shoving his dick in your throat. You moaned and moved back once it hit your throat. But before you can, he gripped the back of your hair firmly and thrusted his hips forward. You gagged around him, tears brewing and ready to burst out. You extended your hands out to his thighs. He held your head in place, his cock shoving down your throat at an animalistic speed. "What a good little slut," he eventually praised you. "Letting me fuck her throat hard and shit," you shut your eyes.
You regret doing so. Feeling a tug to your hair, your eyes snap open and look up. "You get praised like a good bitch once and you think you can be a bad girl? I don't think so, whore," he stared straight into your eyes with his dark orbs devouring you. Your drool slithering down your chin. You peer up at him with desperation written all over your face. Your fingers glided down to your dress. You kept your gaze on him when your fingers entered your pussy, feeling how wet you are. "Are you seriously touching yourself?" he sounded thrilled at the idea. Jungkook stopped moving for a second, allowing you to suck on the head of his cock. He watched mascara run down your cheeks, feeling some sort of ego boost that he was making you look this way.
You nodded frantically, moving your fingers faster. You sucked him harder, your jaw throbbing as you attempted to deep throat him. He forced your head deeper so that your nose was touching his pubic hair. "I didn't give you permission, disobedient slut. You got three seconds to finish," he finished with a sullen laugh, knowing you weren't. "One, two–" Jungkook watched your eyes become watery as you hopelessly tried to get yourself to cum in just three seconds. "—three, take your fingers out whore."
You obeyed and showed him your fingers, glittering under the bathroom light, even though on the inside you were begging to be touched again. You thought of going against him. Jungkook let a cackle escape from his mouth. "Fuck, you're so fucking wet I bet you're fucking leaking out onto the floor."
You mewled, bobbing your head up and down. Releasing his cock out of your mouth with a lewd pop, you batted your eyelashes up at him. "I'm so fucking wet for you," he flashed you a quick grin, obviously content with your answer. He brought your fingers up to his mouth, sucking them off while maintaining eye contact with you. His tongue swirled around your finger as you repeat the same motion on his cock. He released your finger.
"You can use your hands," you pull away right after he said that. You pumped him rapidly, your hand moving back and forth. Your ears took in his grunts, feeling some pride for causing him to make those noises. He almost came when he felt your warm, wet mouth around one of his balls.
"I want you to cum on my tits." he agreed, staring down at you. Tension builds within his stomach as he groaned out loud. You gaped at him when his cum shoots towards your neck, aiming towards your breasts.
Jungkook's breathing became heavier as he came back down from his blissful state that he was in. He grew hard in a instant when he saw how fucked you looked. Your mascara running down your eyes, leaving a trail of black ink behind. Your hair was tangled together into a mess due to him gripping it so tightly. With saliva dripping down your red swollen smeared lips, his eyes drifted further down. The straps of the dress you were wearing were rolled out into your stomach, exhibiting your perky breasts that are smeared with his cum.
"You look like a fucked whore," he smiled at you with satisfaction resting in his mind.
You giggled at him, tucking your hair behind your ear. "Yeah, not just for you," you gazed up at him, a small smile on your lips.
He helped you get off the floor. His facial expression is now serious, indicating that he wasn't happy with your answer. Jungkook's fingers tapped the cold surface of the sink, indicating to sit down on it. You do so, opening your legs slowly.
He watched, eyes strictly locked in between your legs. "Who are you so wet for?" he asked.
You snorted and shrugged which only grew him more frustrated.
Jungkook growled and flipped you over. He bended you over the bathroom sink and bore his eyes into you by the mirror. "You wanna keep acting like a slut, you're might as well be fucked like one," you silently squealed in excitement. Jungkook lifted your dress up in one go. He pulled your underwear down, making you step out of them. "Put your leg on the counter," he commanded and you do as you're told. Lifting your right leg on the counter while the other one remained on the ground. You heard him frantically pull down his jeans. You gasped when you feel the tip on your entrance. He reached over for the condom on the counter.
"No!" you exclaimed. Jungkook stopped and looked down at your worriedly, wondering if you wanted to stop now. You gulped, feeling your cheeks burned in embarrassment. "Don't use one please." you whined. "I want to feel you raw."
You heard Jungkook chuckle from behind you. He felt like he was on cloud nine, he was fucking thriving. "Yeah? My fucking slut wants me to do her raw?" he started pushing himself. You held your breath as your walls allowed him to enter, tightening around his big shaft. His cock rimmed inside of you
"Y-yeah," you manage to choke out, staring at him through the mirror. He maintained eye contact to where your bodies connected, watching his cock sink into you as he held your hips in place. 
"Has any other guy fucked you raw, slut?" Jungkook brought his hand around your throat. You sensed that you could orgasm right there. You shook your head as he finally is inside of you fully. "What was that? Use your words, come on you're a big girl," he gripped your inner right thigh with so much strength, he could break it off if he tried. I mean those biceps.
"N-no only you. Just for you," he grinned at that.
"Good," you let out a loud moan when he started finally moving. His hips rutted into yours at an animalistic speed. He stared at you through the mirror, watching how your mouth opens and your breasts jiggle. He pressed your throat a little harder. "Bet no guy ever made you feel this way."
"Only you, Jungkook! Only you!" you manage to breath out. Your knuckles are almost white by how hard you're holding onto the counter. He lowers himself so his face is near your ear.
"Yeah? Look at you, telling me how I'll never have you yet you're over here drooling over my dick. Fucking whore." you whined harder as he breathed down your neck. You feel yourself began getting more wetter at his words. "Imagine what your family and friends will say when they find out you're letting me fuck you in the ass in a dirty bathroom at a frat party."
You shut your eyes, your pussy swallowing him back in. His hand squeezed your throat a little tighter. "Fucking slut," he snapped his hips at you. You moaned out loud, shamelessly. "On the dance floor dancing like one."
"Because I am one," he chuckled at that, fingers coming up to pinch your nipple.
"Yeah? Who do you belong to? Whose slut are you?" the grip on your throat tightened, not enough to block your airway however. Jungkook kept his eye on you through the mirror, your lips molding into an oval shape. His palm came down to meet one of your asscheeks. You jumped forward, Jungkook pulling you back onto his cock. He stopped moving to lock eyes with you through the mirror, his lips hovering over your ear. "When I ask you a question, I expect a fucking answer," you tried to move your hips a bit but he caught you before you can. "Now," his voice deepened. "Whose slut are you?"
"Your slut! I'm your slut! Jungkook, please—"
"Yeah? Scream when I fuck you so that everyone knows who your pussy belongs to," his hips rammed into you again. You swore you can feel him fucking into your cervix. You let a loud moan break free from your mouth, his hot breath fanned your ear.
A roaring pounding on the door snapped his head away. You whimpered and become aware that his pace was reducing as his attention was now on the other man trying to get in. Jungkook yelled out words that sounded fuzzy to your ears considering all you could hear is your heartbeat.
"No, no, Jungkook don't stop," you pleaded with him, twisting yourself to look at his lust filled eyes. "I'm almost there please!"
You almost screamed at him when he pulled out. He sat on the toilet lid, tapping his thighs that were spread out in front of him. "Ride me," he demanded. You're somehow quick on your wobbly legs, getting on top of him. You grasped his swollen red cock, lining it up with your entrance before sinking down.
Jungkook's hand went towards your hip to support you while the other one went further down to touch your swollen clit. His mouth came near your ear as you cried out his name. "If you don't come in the next minute, you're not cumming tonight, got it slut?" you panted but nonetheless nodded frantically.
And with that Jungkook sat back, watching you fuck yourself on his cock, you were basically using him as a toy and Jungkook loved that. The desperation look on your face was amusing and Jungkook stored in in his memories.
"Oh shit! Fuck I'm almost there," his palm travelled further down to rub your ass.
"Time's almost up," he wasn't actually keeping track but your determination to cum on such a short amount of time was adorable to him. Your thighs smacked his, bouncing on his cock faster. Jungkook's finger carried on rubbing against your clit, his eyes trailing down from your face to your bouncing breasts.
Your eyes rolled back as you heaved up. Your mouth opened wide, feeling your orgasm wash over you. Jungkook heard his name leave your mouth, panting. He almost came when he felt something warm soak into his jeans. Looking down, he became aware of what just happened.
"Fucking dirty slut," he hissed and allowed you to relax your head on his shoulder as your whole weight sunk down on him. His ears took in your sniffles. "Look what you did, squirted all over me slut."
Your cheeks burned in humiliation, nuzzling your nose into his shoulder.
You gasped when he lifted his hips up to meet yours. You cried out to him to stop but Jungkook's quick to silence you with his fingers stuffed in your mouth. Your tears threatened to spill. "You're so tight, fuck! Need to fuck you more, whore,"
It doesn't take long for him to sprout into you, judging the way you tightened around him and how fucked your face look when he looked down to meet your eyes. With his cum coating your walls, he slid out of you. A bit of cum came out and dropped down to his black pants leaving a white stain behind.
You attempted to stand out on your own but failed due to you not being able to feel your legs for a second. Luckily, Jungkook is there to help you. He bent down to help you put on your underwear.
"Are you on birth control?" he asked while zipping up his pants. You checked your face in the mirror, noticing the hickeys all over your neck and the mascara smothered down your cheeks.
You turned to look at him, pulling your dress down."Are you really asking me after we just had sex? Where's my bra by the way?" your face is met with your bra when he flung it at you.
He laughed, watching you put it on. "Yeah, seriously though are you?"
"Why? If I'm going to be your sugar mama I might as well be your baby mama." Jungkook looked stricken and you snickered, bringing your hand up to hide your mouth. "I'm joking," you wiped your face with some wet wipes you found in the drawers.
"Not funny, was ready to fucking make a run for it."
It was your turn to look stricken as Jungkook laughed. You frowned and slapped his chest.
It goes quiet, the loud bass music now coming back to fill your ears instead of Jungkook's moans. He stood awkwardly near the corner while you threw away the wipes you used to remove your makeup. Running your fingers through your hair, you turned towards him.
"So, does this mean that you're going to give me a chance?" the man in front of you standing like an anime character asked, as if he wasn't calling you degrading names a few minutes ago.
You smiled at him and lunged forward to kiss him. "Yes, I'll give you a chance Jungkook."
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↳ in your heart; drabble collection
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rebrandedbard · 8 months ago
Note
could I get 49 for the prompts pleaseeee? (:
*weeping* Em, I love you, defending my honour, giving me a way out. You’ve spared me my dignity.
49. “Well this is awkward ...”
WC:  2106
Tidings and Tarradiddles
Jaskier returns to Posada and his path crosses with Geralt’s once more after the unfortunate affair on The Mountain™
-
How was it? Truly, how was it that of all places on the great, wide Continent, Geralt should come to take a contract in Posada, at the farthest of reaches, after months and months of separation, on the one day Jaskier should be in town? And how was it that he’d come the only hour Jaskier had lingered for a drink? It was too great a coincidence, and Jaskier would not give Destiny the credit. She’d not earned the right to claim it. Jaskier scorned her and had stripped her of the right to interfere in any of his further adventures. After all, Geralt had blamed him for her follies—follies which, by rights, Geralt had brought upon himself in the first place.
Even so, he could feel Destiny’s audaciously long and twitchy nose poking about his business the moment Geralt walked through the tavern door. Jaskier huddled in his corner, hoping the shadows were darker than they had been the day he’d found Geralt hunched beneath them. He ought to have known better than to come in the first place. There had been a whole flock of magpies in the middle of the bridge leading into town—a tiding of magpies. Detestable harbinger of tidings, foul and fair. They’d startled at the sight of him and alighted once more on the tavern roof. But he’d ignored their superstitious warning.
Of course the shadows were of no use to him. The moment Geralt stepped inside, Jaskier saw him twitch, cocking an ear his direction. Probably heard the familiar grinding of his teeth: an annoying habit he so often complained of. Jaskier curled up against the wall, trying to make himself smaller to blend in with his surroundings.
For once, it was not so difficult. He’d grown out his hair, had even maintained a healthy bit of scruff on his face in keeping with the stylings of his fellow tavern-goers. He was tired and worn, but above all, he was plain. He no longer wore bright colors, standing out like a beacon in the dark of night. He wore his linen dyed a plain, sensible, muted green. The jerkin on his back was brown and of a practical fit. Altogether, it did not so much scream of sensibility as it mumbled. If he kept his head low enough, he might pass as just another local come in for a pint.
But he was not just another local.
Geralt stopped before his table, standing at Jaskier’s elbow. The click of metal upon the table made Jaskier look up from his drink. It was a coin, spinning round and round. It wobbled and fell on its face, the etching of a worn coat of arms before him.
“Will … will you sing for us, bard?” Geralt asked.
Jaskier stared at the coin. His ears began to fill with cotton, a faint ringing in them. A flash of hot blood coursed through him and he ground his teeth to a halt. He knew this was Geralt’s way of easing into things, working towards something, whether or not an apology was waiting at the end. He knew this was Geralt offering him an out. It was distant. Impersonal. But even in the depths of his rage, Geralt had called him by name. To call him bard and toss a coin to him like some stranger now … it flamed something red and barbaric to life under his skin. He was so deafened by the blood in his ears, he did not hear the approach of the figure standing at Geralt’s side.
“Well, this is awkward,” Jaskier sneered. He picked up the coin, twiddling it between his fingers. Putting up an impassive mask, he juggled the coin over his knuckles in his best impressive manner, as if it were nothing but a worthless toy. “You see,” he said, “I’m not a bard.”
Geralt was quiet a moment. Jaskier could feel his eyes roaming over him. It raised his hackles to know what Geralt must see: the dark circles under his eyes, the lines of age now more pronounced with exhaustion, crow’s feet so defined they might as well have been dug by the claws of vultures. And then, Geralt must have taken notice at last. Gone were the bold silhouettes and blinding colors, gone were the perfumes and oils—but there was one thing more important than all the rest that was missing.
“Your lute,” Geralt said.
There it was. “Gave it up this very afternoon,” Jaskier replied. He slapped the coin down on the table and leaned back, snatching up his half-empty mug. “I travelled a long way to return it home; Filavandrel has it now.”
He took a drink, still avoiding eyes contact. He continued, mumbling over the rim of his mug. “Had a visit. They’re doing better than they were when last we met. I helped them dig rocks from their crop fields for an hour or two. Figured as long as I was shovelling things, I might as well master the art. Use it productively.”
He was being petty. He knew he was, but by the gods, he’d earned it.
When at last he looked up, he did so because he saw a hint of blue beside the table. The potmaid had been wearing a blue dress, and he thought he now saw his escape. He slid his mug to the edge of the table and lifted his head to ask for it to be taken away when he saw a familiar pair of green eyes looking back at him.
“Cirilla?” he asked, surprised. He blinked at the princess, who looked down at the table as his eyes fell upon her. He remembered her as someone taller, regal head held high, smiling, her hair half up in decorative braids and twists. This was not a princess before him, but a girl: her hood casting shadows upon her hollow face. It seemed wrong. She had always been a girl, but a girl with a name. This creature before him stood as a reflection of himself, a thing wishing to hide away, nothing more than a shell.
She glanced up at him, then down once more. Slowly she raised her hand to the table and placed it over the coin. She pushed it towards him with a quiet slide, then dropped her hand once more. “He said you sing wonderful,” she muttered, as if she had not heard him singing in Cintra’s court nearly every midsummer since birth.
Jaskier’s voice stuck in his throat. The memory of a song sat heavy on his tongue. “I … I don’t sing anymore,” he grit out. He turned to look away again, staring at the crack between his bench and the wall. “Can’t sing without music anyway. Might as well be poetry.”
Having no music left him exposed. There was nothing to lift him up, nor anything to hide behind. He could sing among the crowd and raise his voice to join a drinking song, but there was something vulnerable about singing alone. Who sang among bar patrons without some barrier? Even the drunks had their drink to shield them.
He saw Geralt shift out of the corner of his eye. Something new slid across the table, stopping just short of his hand. He looked and saw one of his old notebooks.
“You write good poetry,” Geralt said.
Jaskier scoffed and picked up the notebook. “If there were anything in this worth keeping, I would have remembered to bring it with me when I went down the mountain.” He flipped through the pages, then let the notebook flop back on the table. “You obviously have poor taste,” he huffed.
Without warning, Geralt picked up the notebook and thwacked him on top of his head with the cover.
“Gah! Hey!” Jaskier shouted. He stood up and snatched the book back, smacking Geralt’s arm with it. “What in fuck’s name did you do that for, you brute!”
But he’d looked at Geralt, forgetting to snub him if only a moment. And Geralt plucked the book from his hand with an upward quirk of the lips. “It’s worth keeping,” he said. He handed the book to Ciri, who clutched it tight to her chest in agreement, but still, she looked at Geralt with a stern expression.
“That wasn’t what you were supposed to say,” she scolded.
Geralt’s eyes rolled back and he pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“Not to me.”
Geralt opened his eyes. He looked at Jaskier, opening his mouth to speak once more. But the look on Jaskier’s face stopped him. Instead, he turned to the door, stalking quickly across the room, words aborted on his tongue.
Jaskier gaped.
“Geralt!” Ciri called. “Where are you going?”
“Just wait here.”
“Geralt!”
“Dinner. I’ll be back in the hour.”
Ciri threw up her hands and dropped onto the opposite bench. She slammed Jaskier’s notebook down on the table and crossed her arms over it. She groaned in frustration, then turned her head to look out at the tavern floor.
“Have you had dinner yet?” she grumbled.
Jaskier looked between her and the door, feeling quite at a loss. “No,” he replied.
“Then you can eat Geralt’s share.” She rummaged in her cloak and pushed a little drawstring bag into his hands. “Here, he left me his purse.”
“And left you from the look of things. Shall I charge him for babysitting?”
“Do. And order another drink.”
Jaskier snorted. “Trying to get me to stay?” He wasn’t so irresponsible as to leave a child alone, even with the threat of Geralt’s return. He didn’t need to be persuaded.
“No. Punishing him for running out; you get his drink into the bargain. Think of it as sending him to bed without supper.”
“I’ll drink to that. It’s the least of the punishments I could inflict.”
They both chuckled mildly at that. A bit of the dense atmosphere lifted and they shared a look. Jaskier cleared his throat and waved for the potmaid. He ordered fare for the two of them, a mug of ale for himself, and a cup of small beer for Ciri. Once they’d both had a bite, they began talking. They traded stories: how Ciri came to Geralt’s care, and what Jaskier had been doing since the separation. Though the conversation was tense, it felt … good … to have a bit of company. He’d been worried since word of the fall of Cintra had reached him. At least Destiny had brought Ciri to Geralt safely. He hoped Destiny would be kind to her where it had failed him.
Jaskier startled when Geralt returned. He’d crept up so silently. Jaskier had been listening to Ciri describe her most recent success in outdoor cooking and hadn’t noticed the movement beside him. Geralt set the lute on the table in front of Jaskier’s empty plate with a sudden thunk, not a word of explanation. He stood there silently, holding the lute upright by its neck.
No one spoke.
Jaskier simply stared at it, felt Geralt stare at him. But this time, he refused to look up. Slowly, Geralt lay the lute down on the table, then slipped away. A minute passed, everything still and quiet. Then, Jaskier peeked out of the corner of his eye and saw Geralt nudge Ciri, nodding his head toward the door.
Ciri looked at Jaskier, her brow anxious and furrowed. She clutched her cup, nearly finished, her plate barren. He could see her mind at work, trying to find an excuse to stay. But she set her cup down obediently. As she turned to stand, she left the notebook behind. Eyes downcast, she slumped to her feet. Geralt held out his hand for her, no longer looking at Jaskier. The moment Geralt’s back was turned, Jaskier felt a cold panic run through him.
“Wait!” he said, fumbling to his feet.
Geralt froze, turning his head back slightly to listen.
But for what? Jaskier reached out, hesitating. He picked up his lute, finding the coin beneath it. The noise made Geralt turn back and Jaskier met his eye. He’d never seen Geralt look so blank, completely unreadable.
Jaskier slung the strap of the lute over his head. He pushed the coin deliberately into his pocket and braced his hands on the strings. When he looked at Geralt again, there was the barest crack in his armour, and hope shined dimly through. Jaskier smiled. It was a timid thing, but he still remembered how it was done.
“You asked for a song,” he said.
-
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mrs-gucci · 6 months ago
Text
Fuckin’ (A) Fed {Flip Zimmerman x FBI agent!Reader}
author’s notes: hellooo! I’ve been itching to write for Flip, but I didn’t have any good ideas until I came up with this. 
warnings: smut. mentions of the KKK (no racist language or themes, though). an undercover operation. heavy PDA. implied consent. public/semi-public sex. masturbation. 
(possible) tw’s: tobacco use (as is canon for the character).
word count: 2.9k
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Flip couldn’t believe he was here, undercover, with a fuckin’ Fed.
You couldn’t believe you were here, stuck in Colorado Springs, with Detective Zimmerman.
It happened by accident, really. The Bureau got wind of the Klan infiltration investigation in Colorado and sent you out to supervise the case and assist wherever you could. 
Naturally, Flip was unhappy with your, really just the Bureau’s, presence. The two of you butted heads quite a bit in the office. He absolutely reeked of alpha male energy, and you didn’t put up with his dominant attitude and bullshit. 
You couldn’t deny that he was attractive, probably one of the most handsome men you’d ever met, but you hated his guts and he hated yours, which presented an issue. 
Even if he did like you, there was the damning fact that he tried to alpha male your ass at every turn, even though you were the superior officer, technically speaking. A fact you often reminded him of, taking great pleasure in his comical pissy reactions.
At one of his first meetings with the Klan members, unknown to you at the time, the two of you ended up at the same bar. Flip, absolutely refusing to blow his cover, told them that you were his wife. 
You could’ve killed him when he muttered that damn excuse, and not only did he effectively tie you to the case for the rest of the time it was active, he also secured plenty of time together, much of which you had to pretend you were a couple. 
Tonight was the first time you were going with him to a Klan meeting, since he’d run out of plausible excuses for your absence from the rest of the meetings. You had to borrow your friend’s wedding band to wear, and you put on a full face of makeup, along with a low-cut crop top and some high-waisted bell bottoms. 
Arriving at the station a half hour before the meeting, you walked in with your usual confident air, and half the station’s jaws went slack when they drank in the sight of you. Even Flip’s eyes roamed your figure, which brought a smirk to your face.
Smiling cheekily, you walk up to him, arms open.
“Honey!”
He rolls his eyes. 
“Cutting it awfully close, aren’t you, Fed?”
“Always the first to criticize, detective prettyboy. At least I’m actually putting my best acting foot forward, unlike some people.”
You look him up and down, unamused.
“Is your wardrobe exclusively flannels? C’mon, invest in a fuckin’ button-down or something, spice it up for once.”
Ron snickered as both of you quarrel further, heading to the back room to be mic'd up and briefed before departure. 
The Chief talks to you both, reviewing the goals of this particular meeting, and then you both clip each other’s mics on. Flip’s jaw clenches as he tries to figure out where to put the lave, eyes having no choice but to give your breasts a thorough investigation. 
“Just give me that, you fuckin’ wimp.”
You say, clipping it onto the edge of your bra.
“Can’t even grow the balls to brush a woman’s breast for like five seconds. What, worried you’ll get hard?”
He grunts, annoyed, buttoning his shirt back up.
“No. I just respect women and I don’t like touching without a good reason.”
“Ha!”
You laugh sarcastically.
“You, Detective Phillip Zimmerman, respect women? That’s hilarious, coming from the biggest man whore-alpha male I’ve ever met.”
When you turn to walk away, he quickly grabs your arm, holding you still as he steps up behind you. His breath is hot on your skin.
“Don’t go throwing around accusations like that about someone you barely know, Fed. Especially someone you wish whored around with you.”
He smirks, planting a kiss on your bare shoulder.
“Let’s go, honey, or we’ll be late.”
Your skin erupts in goosebumps at the feeling of his beard tickling your skin, and the tender kiss from his lips. 
Both of you hop in his truck and begin the journey over to the bar. Flip slips the fake wedding band onto his thick digit, then pulls a cigarette out, lighting it once he stops at a stop sign.
You quickly roll down the window, gasping for air dramatically. Flip knows you don’t like when he smokes (even though you secretly like it), and he huffs in annoyance.
“Quit the theatrics, Y/N.”
“Maybe you should take a damn lesson from me.”
You look over at him.
“You need to make our cover seem more believable. I know you hate me, and I’m not your biggest fan either, but you dug this fucking grave for yourself, so you might as well lay in it.”
He’s silent, unable to rebut. You’re right, this is all his fault, and a part of him feels bad for dragging you into it. Although he'd never actually admit it out loud, he does actually care for you quite a bit. He might even...like you, like you, as in a ‘more-than-friends’ kinda way.
Before he can give it anymore thought, he pulls into the parking lot of the bar and shuts the engine off with a sigh.
“Just try and act like you aren’t repulsed by me, alright?”
Flip nods, sliding in his earpiece as you put yours in. Both of you started wearing them just in case the other was in trouble when they were out of the room or something happened and you need help.
You and the handsome detective hop down from the cab of his truck, walking in together. He wraps his arm around you, hand resting on your hip, keeping you close to his side.
The Klan members greet both of you.
“Ron! Danielle!”
You plaster on a smile as you shake everyone’s hands, using every bit of your willpower not to cringe or gag at their disgusting, grubby hands, their sexist comments, or their way-too-long glances at your cleavage. 
Felix took a particularly long look, and you feel Flip pull you closer into his side, his jaw clenching.
Was detective prettyboy a little jealous?
You smirk at the thought. 
The night was off to a pretty smooth start so far, both you and Flip maintaining cover quite well. You were impressed by his acting skills; you honestly weren’t sure he would be able to pull this off, based on what you’d seen before.
At some point, about twenty minutes in, Flip pulls you onto his lap and kisses the spot behind your ear. 
“We gotta step up our game a little bit, make this all a little more convincing. Try not to get too turned on, Fed.”
He smirks as his lips travel down to your neck, mouthing and kissing the taut skin there while his hands explore your hips, fingers teasing the waistband of your daisy dukes. 
You’re chewing your lip hard, trying to pretend like this wasn’t super arousing. Flip’s lips feel incredible against your skin, surprisingly soft, and his beard created a gentle scratch that made you shudder. 
He starts talking to one of the Klan members, taking every single opportunity to plant a kiss on your neck or shoulder. You were getting wetter by the minute, especially when you began to shift on top of him, getting a bit uncomfortable, and he grunts softly. 
Your eyes widen when you settle on top of him and feel the beginnings of an erection pressing against the inner seam of his Levi’s. You lean back against his chest, chest pushing out as your head rests on his shoulder. His eyes focus down your shirt, on your breasts that were now so, so close to his mouth.
You nibble at his earlobe, feeling his hands tighten on your waist.
“And you told me not to get turned on, prettyboy…seems like you should take your own advice.”
“Any guy would be turned on when a woman’s sitting on their lap.”
His teeth grit and he huffs through his nose.
Your hips suddenly grind down on top of him, and he presses up against you, inhaling sharply.
“Oh, I’m not so sure about that, detective. A professional alpha male like yourself should be immune to such things. You wouldn’t wanna seem too desperate or eager, right?”
Flip growls.
“Cut it out, you’re gonna blow our fuckin’ cover.”
Your teeth scrape against his bulging neck vein.
“It’s perfectly normal for newly married couples to be handsy, detective. And, I think your perverted friends are enjoying the show. Wouldn’t wanna disappoint them.”
“Fine.”
His hand opens on your inner thigh, pushing your legs apart before his fingers walk over to the crotch of your jeans.
“Let’s give ‘em a fuckin’ show, then.”
You sit up immediately, eyes wide as you look back at him with a partially concerned expression. He just reaches up and presses a kiss to your lips while his finger applies pressure on your clit through your jeans, causing you to gasp into his mouth and pull away from the kiss.
“Stop it.”
You mutter.
He grins deviously, trailing his other hand up to run along the underwire of your bra. His fingers begin tracing circles over the seam, moving it around your clit.
“I don’t think you really want me to, Fed. I can feel the heat through your jeans. You put on a good little act with your tough woman ‘I don’t need a man’ bullshit, but I know what you want, what you need, Y/N.”
You’re grinding against his finger gently, whining under your breath. Suddenly, and much to his surprise, you pull away and hop down from the stool, making a beeline straight for the port-a-john out back behind the building. 
Once the door is locked, you slip your hand down under your jeans, tilting your head down to speak right into the mic.
“I know you can hear this, detective.”
You gasp as your finger swirls over the sensitive nub.
Flip tenses up in the middle of talking with Ivanhoe, breath catching in his throat. That gasp was unmistakable: you were touching yourself. His cock twitches in his pants, and he groans under his breath. 
You hear his obvious reaction through your earpiece and it only spurs you on, rubbing yourself faster.
“You’re gonna s-sit there and listen to me get off without you, and you’re gonna enjoy every g-goddamn second of it.”
He lights a cigarette, thinking it’ll take some of the edge off, as he’s forced to listen to you. Your noises are so soft, so innocent, and Flip thinks he’s gonna bust in his pants when you slip your fingers inside.
“Yeah, oh fuck, yeah!”
You moan into the mic.
“I’ve got three f-fucking fingers stuffed up into me, detective, and they feel amazing. I’m gonna make myself cum right here, right now, while you listen.”
His teeth almost bite the cigarette in half, fists clenching as his cock presses desperately against the denim.
“Mmmmm, yeah, yeah, fuck detective!”
Flip leaps up from the stool, almost knocking it over as he marches out of the bar, leaving Ivanhoe and the rest of the Klan members in shock. 
You’re so close, hips bouncing up and down on your fingers…
“LET ME THE FUCK IN!”
He pounds on the door, making you jump.
“LET ME IN NOW!”
You pull your hand out of your pants and suck on your fingers as you unlock the door and push it open. Flip grabs the handle and swings it open, almost taking it off its hinges, stepping into the small wooden structure with a cloud of smoke surrounding him. He locks it behind him again and yanks your fingers out of your mouth, walking behind you, hands grabbing your hips roughly.
He shoves you forward, pressing you flush against the door as you hear the button and zipper of his jeans being undone. His foot kicks your inner ankle, forcing your legs apart before yanking his jeans down. 
“Take your fucking pants off, Fed.”
His voice is little more than a growl.
You’re on fire at this point, obeying his instruction, tugging your jeans down off your hips. He groans from behind you, hand bouncing up and down on his leaking cock, but you don’t dare turn around. 
“You’ll learn better than to tease me.”
His hand comes down on your ass, smacking it before tearing the flimsy lace thong down your legs and shoving his digits through your slick folds. He starts rubbing your clit in lazy circles, tugging his cock harder.
“You think you’re so fuckin’ cute, playing with me like that.”
He pulls them away suddenly, bringing them up to your mouth, smearing the substance over your sore lips. Then, he quickly pulls you back off the door and digs his chin into your shoulder as he lines up with your entrance, collecting some slick on his tip.
Your eyes roll into the back of your head when he presses his hips forward, entering you with one swift motion. He groans around the cigarette wedged between his teeth, fingers digging into your hips as he pushes you forward and pulls you back down on his cock, almost like he’s using you to fuck himself.
The simple idea makes your insides clench.
“Goddamn tight fuckin’…”
He trails off, back hunching as he bends his knees and tucks his hips up under you. This new angle has him nudging your cervix while also rubbing along your g-spot. 
“Yeahhhhh that’s it, there it is.” 
He holds your hips as he fucks up into you, grunting audibly with each thrust. You think you’ve died and gone to heaven, the immense feelings of pleasure spreading from your toes to your head.
“F-Flip--”
“Quiet, filthy brat. I’m fuckin’ tired of hearing your goddamn voice.”
His hands move up to grip your ribcage as he fucks you harder, skin slapping together roughly. 
“God, why did they send you, out of all the fuckin’ Feds, why did they have to send you?”
He hisses.
“Torturing me from day one with your fuckin’ attitude. Oh, there were so many times I wanted to just bend your tight ass over my desk and fuck you stupid, show you your fucking place.”
Your thighs tremble as he rails you from behind, and your noises only seem to spur him on more.
“Ahh, ohh s-shit.”
“Knew you’d have a tight little cunt--fuuuck--knew I’d like splitting you in half, forcing my big fat cock into your slutty pussy.”
He crushes his cigarette out against the wall, hips not missing a beat.
You bite your lip hard, holding back the screams and cries that want to come out. You’re impossibly close now, the entire situation turning you on more than anything else before it.
“Do you like this, Fed? Does my big cock feel good stuffed into you?”
“I...I...yes.”
You breathe, pushing your hips back against him.
Flip growls.
“Yeah you do, of course you do. You like this cock, wrapped around it like a sleeve, taking it like it’s your life’s purpose.”
The tears stream down your cheeks, the sweet burn of orgasm overwhelming as you teeter on the edge. You can’t hold back anymore, you can’t. 
You let out a soft sob as your walls clench.
“P-Please, please, I’m s- c-close. Let me cum.”
“No.”
He growls, forcing you to bend over.
“Touch your toes, hold your ankles, whatever the fuck you want.”
Your hands grip onto your lower calves for dear life as Flip digs his fingers into your hips to hold you in place, hips pounding desperately.
“Yeah, oh shit, how did you get tighter?”
He moans, clearly losing himself more and more with each thrust.
“I’m gonna fucking cum, gonna stuff all my seed into this tiny little cunt, and you’re gonna have to walk back into the bar with it dripping down your legs.”
This new angle lets him hit every single sensitive spot inside you, ones you didn’t even know existed, and you’re consistently crying out for him.
“Wanna hear your noises, don’t hold back.”
He breathes.
“C’mon, cry on this big cock, Fed whore. Moan like a fuckin’ pornstar for me.”
Your walls grip him as tight as they can.
“Yeah, y-yeah, oh detective!”
His hips are moving at lightning speed, legs spreading wider as his orgasm builds.
“Keep going!”
“Fuck me harder, detective, oh yes! Yeah baby, fuck me harder, harder please!”
You cry out, choking on sobs.
“God you’re such a s-stupid disgusting little slut!”
He yells.
“Gonna stuff this cunt--AH!”
Flip’s entire body freezes as his orgasm suddenly hits, hips pressed inside you as his seed paints your walls. His eyes squeeze shut and his jaw hangs open as a loud, guttural groan accompanies his release.
“Fuck!”
His hips mock thrust as he rides out his high, rutting into you, making sure every drop lands inside you.
Once he’s finished, he pulls out, groaning when a glob of the pearly liquid literally drops out of your abused entrance. He tucks himself back into his pants and bends over, grabbing your hair, pulling you until you’re standing up straight.
He reaches down and pats your folds while his lips plant a single, open-mouthed kiss on your shoulder. You’re almost lethargic at this point, head spinning and body trembling at the lost orgasm.
“Never, ever tease me again, Fed.”
You simply nod, and he smirks.
“Good girl.”
Flip gives you one final smack on the folds before stepping back out into the warm Colorado night.
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tamlinsbedroom · 2 months ago
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Calanmai
Tamlin x reader smut
warning(s): breeding kink, risky sex, dom!tamlin sub!reader, tamlin being absolutely feral, degrading
It was Calanmai. The festival where all the High Lords gathered for the rutting magic of spring. My High Lord, Tamlin, would soon be finding a maiden to mate with for the sake of this years crops. I was simply part of his staff, but it would be a lie to say that I hadn’t been aching for him since I started my work at his manor. I would even go as far to say that I developed a crush on the male, his predatory personality and muscular body made me week at the knees.
But on Calanmai, I stayed in the house. I couldn’t bare to watch Tamlin choose a maiden right in front of me, knowing that she would get to him between her legs, him kissing her lips, him releasing his magic inside of her. So I cooked, swept, and washed my lord’s clothes as the ceremony began.
I was in the middle of sweeping when I heard footsteps. Not just any old footsteps, but the ones i’d grown accustomed to belonging to my master. And so there he stood, in the doorway of his bedroom. My sweeping took a halt as I met his hungry haze.
“It wasn’t hard to find you, Y/N. In fact, it was quite easy. I knew you would be here, wishing in the back of your mind that I would come breed you like the whore I know you can be.” He spoke deeply, and he chuckled sinisterly as I looked up at him in shock at his words.
“Oh, sweetheart, don’t act so surprised. Don’t think that I don’t hear you at night in your bedroom, desperate for release while you moan my name.” He was now pressing me against the wall, his muscular arms on either side of my face. The lord was a good bit taller than me, as he stood well over six feet tall. I felt like his prey as he breathed in my scent.
“You’re fucking intoxicating.” He groaned, licking my neck languidly before biting harshly, making me yelp more in surprise than pain. His tongue once again licked, soothing his feral bite.
“M-master—“
“Begging now, are we? Go on. Beg me then.”
“P-please sir…”
“What do you need? Hmm?” He teased, the tent in his pants getting obviously painful.
“I need you. I need you to fuck me—please.” That was all it took evidently, as the faery lifted me up and pressed into my crotch.
His length was indeed large, as I suspected. It felt so right, pressing right against my clit as he began to grind on me.
“Fuck Y/N…” He moaned, his breath against my neck drawing me further into him.
“I’m going to fill you up to the brim with my seed.”
That was all he said before throwing me on the bed, stripping me bare of clothing. He grabbed my ankles, spreading my legs oh so far apart as his mouth immediately connected to my core.
He ate me out like a starved animal, slurping and fucking me with his long tongue. He wasted no time of putting two thick, long fingers inside of me, finding my g-spot with ease. His tongue flicked at my little bundle of nerves as my panting grew louder.
“Cum, that’s right, cum.” My pants became soft screams as I climaxed on my lords fingers, his tongue sloppily licking my mess.
His trousers came off, revealing a very, very pretty cock. 8 inches, veins along the shaft, round heavy balls, and a perfect angry pink tip, oozing his waiting arousal. I could have sworn I drooled as he spread my thighs once more, positing himself between my legs.
“Yeah, I’m fucking you.” He shoved two fingers down my throat before pushing the bulbous tip of his manhood inside of me.
I screamed around his fingers as he shushed me, rubbing my clit to ease the pain. But once I locked eyes with him, he went full throttle.
Tamlin slammed inside of me, balls slapping my ass over and over again as he milked me dry. His growls and groans were music to my ears as I fell into a state of existence beyond one I’ve ever been in.
“You. Feel. So. Fucking. Good.” He thrusted upon each word, making me squeeze like a vice around his heavy length. He reached down to pop one of my nipples in his mouth, biting and sucking, alternating to the other.
“I’m going to cum deep inside you’re whorish cunt. Going to paint your insides with my seed. Are you ready whore? Hmm? You better be ready.” He went at an all time fast pace now, pounding me so hard that his headboard began to hit the wall with a loud banging sound. His grip on my thighs would surely leave bruises. I began crying, literally crying from the intense amount of pleasure as he rubbed my clit to orgasm, triggering his own.
It was the most pleasurable thing I had ever felt—Tamlin exploding inside me. His cum kept coming, his balls clenching against my back side as he pumped me full. Once he pulled out, his hot liquid came with him. He took immediate notice and was quick to push his half/hard length back into me, plugging me up.
He simply turned me on my side, doing the same as he pressed up against me from behind. Meanwhile, his cock was still inside me, keeping me stretched around him.
“Are you alright?” He asked sympathetically, running his fingers up and down my arm as he pressed a kiss to my shoulder.
“Y-yeah.” I mumbled, still coming down from my high.
I wondered what it would be like to wake up naked next to him as I drifted off to sleep. I was sure that the magic we produced would mean a bountiful crop season.
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chasing-starlights · 19 days ago
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My Girlfriend is a Werewolf
A/N: I just now realized I never posted this. This was I wrote for the big bang event that went with this BANGER art by @ghostorbconnoisseur ​ (CHECK IT OUT RN ITS SO GOOD) Anyways Gwen is a werewolf :)
__________________
“Gwen, you know I won’t judge you. If you wanted to try something...different you could have just asked–”
“What? N–no! It’s not that Viv, I swear.” Gwen sputtered, the chains in her hands clanging as she frantically flailed. She and Vivian were standing in an abandoned barn, the cool summer air smelling of wood and hay. Since they were young they’d always hidden out here, away from the small little town they lived in. It was a secret hide out of sorts, with snacks, books, and board games scattered about. Gwen had brought Vivian here, like the two had many times before, yet this time she was anxious–and Vivian couldn’t fathom why. 
“I...I have something to tell you. I should have told you ages ago. But I...I didn’t want to lose you.” Despite the letterman jacket she wore, Gwen trembled as she spoke, voice not nearly as loud and confident as it usually was. Lose? Vivian didn’t understand–they were graduating and had already committed to attend the same college in the fall–neither were going to lose the other any time soon.
Yet as Vivian blinked, taking in Gwen’s fiddling hands and fretful eyes, her own confidence dwindled. Gwen’s shaking all over...whatever this is must be important. What happened? Had...Gwen done something wrong? Regardless of what it was Vivian was sure they could work it out, gently stepping forward to place a hand over Gwen’s own trembling ones. Green eyes automatically snapped down to look into her brown ones, wide with surprise. Vivian smiled softly, tilting her head as she spoke.
“Gwen, whatever this is, you can trust me okay? Tell me...what’s going on with you? I’ve never seen you like this before–it scares me.” Though she meant to reassure Gwen, Vivian was met with an even worse expression in response, a pained and conflicted gaze only serving to confuse her further. Gwen’s eyebrows knotted upwards together, lips pressed into a thin line. She looked away from Vivian’s searching eyes, taking in a shaky breath.
“If I’m scaring you now, it’ll only be worse later…” Alarm struck through Vivian, but she didn’t speak, sensing that Gwen would continue. Her girlfriend did, moving away from her grasp to set the chains down on a cube of hay. She gazed down at them for a moment, hands gripping the opening of her jacket. She seemed to struggle with herself–an inner battle Vivian wished she could help her with–roughly sighing before she quickly stripped it off. She turned back to Vivian, gripping it tightly in her hand, but Vivian wasn’t looking at the jacket at all. Rather, she was staring at Gwen’s bare shoulders–having never seen her with anything less than long sleeves before. 
Gwen wore a sleeveless crop top, the kind Vivian assumed was some sort of sportswear, considering it was skin tight to her body. I mean...of course she works out, being a part of the volleyball team and all...but I never expected this. Vivian gulped, eyeing Gwen’s arms–remarkably toned and completely covered with tattoos. Goodness... Vivian could only stare when Gwen came forward, mouth dry and heart skipping a beat.
“I…” Gwen gulped once she stood before Vivian, completely oblivious to her girlfriend’s rapidly growing panicked state of mind, “I have a curse Viv, and it makes me–um–it makes me turn into...a werewolf.” Huh?
Vivian blinked, eyes reluctantly ripping away from observing Gwen’s almost hypnotically moving arms to pin her girlfriend with the most incredulous look she could muster. A what and a whom? She snorted, a half smile awkwardly rising at the mere thought of Gwen’s claim...only for it to slowly fade once she realized Gwen was serious. 
“A...baby, I don’t know who played a prank on you again but werewolves aren’t real. No matter how much you want to be one, you can’t.” Gwen sucked in a breath, wiping a hand down her face. She pinched the bridge of her nose for a moment, as though contemplating something. Finally she moved, placing her jacket on Vivian’s shoulders. Instinctively Vivian slipped it on, the armholes too long for her and fingers only barely peeking out. She watched Gwen move, going over to an old and rusty tractor in the corner of the barn. She stared at it for a while, chest heaving as she stood.
“Gwen...what, oh my God.” Vivian gasped, taking a step back when Gwen squatted down, gripping the bottom of the machine and proceeded to lift it up. She gritted her teeth but otherwise didn’t seem to break a sweat, lifting it high above her head before chucking it back onto the ground.
The force caused the ground to shake, and Vivian couldn’t help but flinch. Did Gwen...really just do that? She froze when emerald eyes focused on her, Gwen’s gaze somber. Gwen didn’t make a move towards Vivian. Arms simply hanging by her side. She opened her mouth to speak, then appeared to think better of it, lips tightening together. Silence ensued, and it took Vivian a while to realize she was holding her breath, taking in a breath of oxygen just as Gwen finally spoke.
“Please...don’t be scared of me Viv.” Her voice, a faint and soft feeble plea, was missing the usual spark that made Gwen her Gwen, and Vivian felt an ache in her heart. Though Gwen had just done something undoubtedly terrifying, she seemed...small, vulnerable–lonely–and Vivian found herself coming forward.
She swallowed, coming close until she stood before her girlfriend. She reached out, hesitantly brushing her hand against one of Gwen’s arms, feeling the skin under her touch tremble. Vivian looked up, meeting a quivering and uncertain gaze, a smile gracing her lips at the sight.
“I’m not. No matter who or what you are, whatever you need help with...I’m here, I’ll always be here.” She stood on the tips of her toes, planting a small kiss against Gwen’s cheek. She pulled back to meet Gwen’s wide eyes, a dopey grin already on her face. Honestly, how can anyone be scared of such a dumb smile?
“So...what do you need me to do?”
_______________
“Are you sure this is necessary? Why didn’t you think of something like...a sedative?”
“Those don’t work on me Viv. But please if you have a better idea, shoot.”
“No–sadly I don’t. But this?” Vivian stood before Gwen, hands full of the chains. They clinked and clattered in her hands, and she gulped nervously. The first time I get to tie my girlfriend up...and it’s like this? Gwen sat, legs sprawled out before her and back against one of the wooden pillars of the barn. She faced Vivian with a raised eyebrow and a lopsided grin, clearly entertained by Vivian’s predicament. Vivian let out a breathless laugh at Gwen’s amused stare, shifting her gaze away to the floor. “This just feels like a crime.” 
“C’mon Viv...we both know that’s not really what it feels like to you, now does it? Honestly...at a time like this? Talk about priorities–ah! Okay, okay, I’m kidding!” Gwen cackled when Vivian let out a frustrated noise, cheeks twinged pink as she lightly smacked her on the head. Vivian rolled her eyes but couldn't stop a smile from spreading across her lips, moving to get started.
“So...how did you find out about all this? The tattoos being a pack crest–that’s what they are, right?” Vivian murmured as she began to walk around Gwen, working to wrap her up in the chains. “I mean...Gwen I thought you were adopted, so aren't your parents human?” Her girlfriend nodded at the statement, tilting her head as she answered.
“Dunno if you’ll believe me, but you know my English teacher? Mr. Hale? He’s a werewolf too. He was able to tell I was one the moment we entered high school, and he’s been helping me out these past four years. My pack crest...he told me he knew about what happened to them all…” Gwen grimaced for a moment before continuing, “He couldn’t be here for this, so he told me to get you to do it instead.” Vivian blinked at that, pausing to stare down at Gwen.
“Me? Why? I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to him before.” Gwen smirked at that, jerking her head for Vivian to come closer. Her girlfriend complied, kneeling down and shivering when she felt Gwen’s hot breath against her ear. 
“He told me he was sure you'd never let anything happen to me.” Gwen snorted as she quoted him, “Vivian's a keeper, though really she’s the one that’s keeping you.” Vivian blushed at that, rising without a word to continue working the chains around Gwen. 
“So–um–this is your first time? You’ve never turned before this?” Vivian quickly changed the subject, voice slightly higher than usual. Gwen hummed, deciding to let Vivian go and simply respond.
“Yeah, you see the tattoos?” Gwen jerked her head toward the tattoos on her arm, “they start out on the backs of your shoulders and spread out down your arms. Once the tattoos finally mature–reaching your wrists–and the next full moon passes? You shift–ding ding! You're officially a werewolf.” Gwen let out a shaky breath, knees bouncing up and down as she wiggled her legs.
“I just–I mean I’ve been waiting for this, you know? Feels like a part of myself I could never connect to is finally here...does that make sense?” Gwen let her voice trail off, awkwardly muttering them at the end. She gets embarrassed over the most random things. Vivian grinned, locking the chains together before coming to squat down before Gwen.
“Perfect sense–for once. I’m excited for you, too. It’ll be like...meeting a special part of you? I hope your wolf approves of me–uh–it won’t be like one of those horror movies right?” Vivian fiddled with her hands, suddenly realizing she was so focused on making sure Gwen didn’t think she was afraid that she hadn’t even thought she might have a good reason to be. Her question only earned a bark of a laugh from Gwen, clinking noises echoing through the barn as she shook. 
“Like the–no, no Vivian it won’t be. Mr. Hale said the movies were nothing like the real deal, and uh...well I wasn’t really listening, but I’m pretty sure he said that the whole danger part wasn’t represented properly.” Vivian nodded at that, smiling with relief. So she won’t turn into some bloodthirsty monster, maybe she’ll just...turn into a furball. That might even be cute, right?
___________________
Movies certainly didn’t do justice to what werewolves really looked like after turning, though Vivian would argue the real deal was much, much worse. 
It was by the third hour that Vivian started to notice Gwen acted differently. Small changes in her voice made her slowly sound rough and gravelly, and she breathed harder as time went on, occasionally breaking out in a sweat. Vivian didn't know what to expect, but it wasn't this, frantically patting all the sweat away with a towel.
“S’okay...it’s okay…” It wasn’t–fangs had begun to grow, peaking past Gwen’s lips. Her eyes were changing, green irises at first appearing to have mere freckles of red in them before the crimson shade quickly took over the rest of her eyes. I'd admire them if I had the chance–Vivian flinched when Gwen groaned, the sound eerie as though something distinctly human was missing. 
“Vivian? Vivian where…?” Gwen kept going in and out of consciousness, each time jolting awake to wildly glance around for her girlfriend. She always easily found her–with Vivian sitting by her side. Vivian leaned against Gwen as best she could with the chains in the way, intertwining her fingers with her own. Though they weren't simply fingers anymore, having turned into terrifying claws. Vivian didn't mind–willed herself not to for Gwen's sake–humming softly to help calm Gwen down each time she woke.
“I’m here, I promised I’d be here, didn’t I?” Every time Gwen woke Vivian would repeat the words slowly, delicately brushing a hand against Gwen’s burning cheeks. Gwen would let out a whine, the sound becoming more animalistic as time went on, and eventually Gwen fell into a deep sleep. 
This is different from the last. She won’t wake up for a while, will she?  Vivian took a moment to observe Gwen’s new features–bobbed red hair now reaching to her waist, a set of teeth clearly sharper than before. She looked...thicker, as though she’d gotten larger, and Vivian furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. The change was so subtle Vivian wondered if she was imagining things, in the end deciding that it didn’t really matter. 
Well...if werewolves are a little larger than humans it wouldn’t be absurd. She hummed, tracing a hand down Gwen’s cheek. Even with the new, clearly otherworldly features gracing her face and the knowledge that Gwen was much stronger than she seemed...Vivian still felt giddy watching her softly snore. She was still her Gwen–just with fangs, claws, and glowy red eyes. Mr. Hale was right, the movies totally exaggerated. She supposed Mr. Hale was also right about her–Vivian didn’t want anything bad to happen to Gwen, and she was happy she had been here to help.
Rising, she ruffled through the barn’s supplies, pulling out a flashlight, an old book, and a pack of gummy worms. She settled down a little ways from Gwen, checking her phone's battery and plugging in her earphones. She assumed that Gwen was out for the night, or perhaps would wake up hours later. Regardless, she'd stay. Besides, it wasn’t like it was the first time they’d hanged out in the barn overnight anyway.
___________________
Vivian had been nose deep in her book when she’d finally heard it–set of deep, animalistic growls that ran her blood cold.
What was that? She removed her earbuds–stuffing them in her pocket as she shut her book. Another low and threatening grunt rumbled through the barn, causing her to jolt in alarm.  Is Gwen awake? Sharply she looked up, breath caught in her throat when she realized two things. First, Gwen was awake. Her piercing scarlet eyes focused on Vivian's own wide ones,  and she snarled, fangs glistening under the beam of the flashlight. 
Second, and arguably worse of all, Gwen was growing. 
Vivian scrambled back as she watched, horrified that Gwen’s features were changing again. Bones cracked, sick popping noises that echoed through the walls of the barn. Gwen was becoming gigantic–limbs stretching out to lengths Vivian could hardly believe. The chains groaned, straining under Gwen's expanding flesh. Oh gods...
“G–gwen? Can you recognize me–?” Vivian yelped when Gwen snarled, violently jerking at the chains. Her eyes glowed brighter than ever, a haunting, predatory glare that told Vivian she was nothing but a stranger now. No, this can't be happening. Though her legs felt like jello Vivian forced herself to rise, the beam of her flashlight shaking as she focused it on Gwen.
“B–baby it's me, Viv remember? We've been together since forever, I mean our parents used to joke that we were so close we'd marry each other–though in hindsight perhaps they're right...” Nothing but more grunts and growls came from Gwen, drool dripping past her lips as she thrashed. Clank. The sound of metal loops stretching under her evolving size made Vivian take an instinctive step back, swallowing nervously. Is staying here really the smartest choice? Perhaps it wasn’t...but she'd promised Gwen she'd stay, so she had to at least try.
Maybe Gwen just needed something to remind her of who she was–that was what always happened in the movies, right? Something important, a fond memory that would bring her humanity back. Vivian could talk about something like that, couldn’t she? Cautiously Vivian came forward, book clenched in her hand and flashlight shining upwards–softly illuminating the entire barn.
“Gwen...do you remember when you confessed to me? We were walking on eggshells before then...neither of us wanted to fuck up our friendship.” Vivian stuttered, flinching as the chains continued to break. Gwen's body was becoming utterly massive, causing the wooden leg she was chained against to groan loudly. 
One arm is at least as long as I am tall. It wasn’t just her size that was changing, Gwen's human ears were replaced with tall red ones that looked exactly like a wolf’s, twitching on the top of her head. Vivian could see a similar red fur tail peeking out from behind the werewolf, and if not for Vivian's fear she would have thought both additions to Gwen were...honestly cute. Gosh Vivian, priorities?
“W-we were here, and it was summer. A-and I said I thought your hair was pretty–new cut and all–and then you asked if that was all I thought was pretty about you.” Vivian took several steps back when Gwen howled, the sound completely animalistic and devoid of anything human. Okay, definitely not human anymore. “I told you of course not, that to me everything about you was beautiful… Then you held my face in your hands after that–did that loud, dumb laugh you do when it's like you've won the lottery–!” 
Vivian winced at the sound of wood ripping apart–Gwen’s weight too much for the wooden pillar. Gwen made no indication that she understood what Vivian was saying, continuing to roughly jerk at her chains. It was working–metal loops snapping like twigs against her chest, and Vivian swallowed fearfully. I...maybe I should get going now. Just as the thought crossed her mind Vivian yelped, rushing back until her back pressed against the door of the barn. The dreadful sound of chains falling to the floor made Vivian's heart stop, and with little thought she pinned her flashlight on Gwen.
Perhaps the movies were onto something, yet could never quite replicate the size of it all. I can see now why Mr. Hale said the representation was incorrect. It had never occurred to either Gwen or Vivian that the teacher might have meant the movies failed to represent how dangerous werewolves actually were, rather than exaggerating the danger already. She’s like a literal giant… Vivian had pointed the flashlight directly across from her, light shining on a pair of legs. Slowly, Vivian shifted her hand, light hesitantly trailing upwards.
Thighs, a waist, a set of arms… Vivian felt as though Gwen’s body simply did not end, continuing to raise the beam of the flashlight and find a heaving chest, a set of fangs...and finally a pair of gleaming red eyes focused on her own frozen body. Holy… Vivian couldn’t help but hiccup with surprise at the daunting stare, her free hand frantically moving behind her to unlock the latches of the barn. C’mon, c’mon, c’mon...  
“G-Gwen? Okay, maybe you don’t want to hear a story–!” Vivian shrunk back as Gwen took a menacing step forward, the ground trembling under the force it caused. She didn’t look interested in Vivian’s words, nose twitching as she sniffed the air–oh ew that’s like an actual dog–Vivian trembled when Gwen’s eyes shifted back to her, nose sniffling a final time. Her blood ran cold, palms clammy as Gwen’s lips slowly lifted up, an eerie, unnerving smirk spreading across her voice.
She spoke, voice a dense, booming noise almost layered with...multiple people. It rocked through the autumn air, an uneven mix of human language and animalistic growls making the hair on the back of Vivian’s neck stand straight. However, nothing horrified Vivian more than what Gwen said, a single word assuring that the night was only just beginning for her.
“Mine.” 
___________________
Vivian was breathless, heart beating wildly in her chest as she raced through the trees. Her skirt was torn, white go go boots completely spoiled beyond repair. Her skin stung, the sharp ends of bushes cutting at her exposed legs. Vivian’s frozen fingers gripped the edge of her jacket’s sleeves–as though hanging onto the last reminiscents of Gwen she had left–and she pumped her legs harder, forcefully sucking in the cool autumn air.
She could hear it not far behind her, frightening snarls and howls. They were so deep and bellowing that it seemed to come from an entire pack of wolves rather than one. Each terrible, panic inducing sound made her legs grow weak–fear so strong it almost commanded her to stop in her tracks. She couldn’t afford to, knowing the monster behind her wouldn’t give Vivian another chance to escape if she did.  
Gwen wasn’t herself–hadn’t been since the moment she’d woken up–and Vivian guessed that it was her wolf rather than her girlfriend chasing after her. Safety, I just need to get to safety. But where was that? Vivian had sprinted out the barn the moment it had unlocked, not bothering to look back. She took a sharp, mindless turn, shivers running down her back as she heard the wolf behind her skid and follow. I gotta figure something out… Despite her own life on the line she knew she couldn’t completely abandon Gwen. What if her wolf accidentally went into town and people decided violence would be their first response? What would happen then? Vivian shook her head, not wanting to think about it. She ducked under a tree branch as she ran, head throbbing as she searched for an answer.
A boom, followed by crunch and tremors in the earth told Vivian Gwen had broken down another tree and she shuddered at the thought. The trees were massive here, having grown for decades. Yet Gwen pushed them down as though they were twigs, making the path she took reminiscent of a devastating hurricane. Duck, turn, pump your legs harder. It seemed endless, and Vivian felt her chest burn as she heaved. She couldn’t keep this up longer, and she needed to make sure Gwen was safe…
The barn. If she could lore Gwen back there, shut them both inside...she could figure out the rest, right? Even if it doesn’t end well for me… With a deep breath Vivian fumbled with the flashlight in her hand, knowing she had to find out where she was. The light of her flashlight was turned back on, and Vivian immediately recognized how much she’d run. Luckily she’d made a few turns and she wasn’t too far from the barn. But that wasn’t the main obstacle in her plan.
Turning on the light meant that Gwen knew where Vivian was as well, and for the werewolf she wasn’t too far away either. Though Vivian hadn’t dared to look back before, the low, almost jeering growl emitting from Gwen’s throat had her turning–and hating what she saw.
A figure, unfathomably tall and vast pushed down the trees, claws ripping through the forest as she trudged towards Vivian. Her red eyes glowing in the midst of the dark, like a pair of stoplights focused on Vivian. Only the moonlight shone through the branches of the trees, shining down on Gwen’s fangs. A beast, a monster you’d only see in your nightmares–Gwen was otherworldly, stalking through the forest with her prey now in sight. 
Everything in Vivian’s body was blaring, screaming at her to get away as soon as possible. The hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stood up, body stiff as she stumbled. Fuck, fuck, fuck–Vivian run. Robotically she turned back towards the barn, gritting her teeth as she made one last effort to sprint for her life. Though the light was turned off once again Gwen was quickly upon her–and Vivian screamed when the tree just behind her split in two.
Holy shit. She lept over fallen twigs, heart practically tearing out of her chest as she ran. Her entire body was drenched in sweat–both from pure terror and exhaustion–hair sticking to the side of her face. But it didn’t matter, none of it did, because the barn was right there. If she could get inside, lock it behind Gwen, then no one would ever hurt her baby–
Vivian cried out, seething as pain suddenly erupted in her right foot. She stumbled and fell, receiving a mouthful of mud and grass. She spat, frantically looking back to see the shard of a broken beer glass lodged into the back of her boot. No...nonono not now– 
Vivian whimpered when a shadow fell over her, looking up to see a frosty grin spread across Gwen's face. The werewolf reached down, wrapping a massive hand around Vivian’s shin. Gwen growled–a thundering noise that echoed throughout the forest–easily dragging Vivian towards her. At this the human cried out, flailing and twisting as she tried to get away. Vivian wept, desperate sobs turning into sputters as dead leaves fell into her mouth. She didn’t care–nails clawing into the ground as she desperately tried to pull away from the monster. 
She’s going to rip me apart, just like those chains. Oh gods–I’m dead. I’m going to die in this stupid forest all because my girlfriend is a werewolf...
“Ugh–no please! Gwen, let me go...I–I don’t want to die!” Her begging was ignored, and Vivian let out a hopeless groan as Gwen pulled her back again. She’s too far gone… In an act of pure frustration, Vivian clicked her flashlight back on. With the last of her strength chucked it through the air, letting out a little grunt as she did. The tool flew, light twirling erratically as it passed by the final stretch of dirt into the barn. Vivian took a deep breath, and screeched at the top of her lungs.
“If you want to catch something so bad–go fetch you stupid mutt!” A heavy sob raked through her immediately afterward, and she let her head sink into the ground, body overwhelmed with hopelessness. It was over–Gwen wasn’t going to let her go and...huh?
The weight over her back lifted, and the ground shook as Gwen lept over her. Vivian gasped, looking up to see the werewolf bounding off, heading towards the flashlight before delicately scooping up the little tool into her paw.
...What the hell? 
Is she actually some kind of dog–wait, wait, the door, the door!  Vivian scrambled up, hissing from the pain in her leg. Hastily she wobbled, limping across the final distance to the doors of the barn. She stiffened, cautiously watching Gwen sniffing at the flashlight in her palm. Careful… as discreetly as she could, Vivian pulled the doors of the barn shut. Frantically she pulled the latches closed, letting out a shaky sigh of relief as she took a step back. I...actually did it. Gwen was safe–she was alive–and nothing more that a few cuts and scrapes had come out of it–
Vivian flinched when the doors of the barn suddenly jolted, with Gwen banging against them. Panic sparked through Vivian’s chest, and for a moment she held her breath, worried that the doors wouldn’t be strong enough to hold the werewolf back. However, no other bang came, and the lack of resistance made Vivian confused. What was going on? Slowly she crept back forward, getting closer to the doors before pressing her right ear against the wood. Oh baby…
She could hear whimpers and soft scuttling noises as Gwen pawed at the door. Low, anguished whines rang through her ears, and Vivian felt her heart shatter at the sound. She sounds so sad… Vivian felt tears fill at the corner of her eyes once again, and she balled her fists in anger. It wasn’t fair–why did Gwen have to turn into some giant, man eating beast? She didn’t want to do this, locking up her girlfriend being the last thing on Vivian’s list of cute, romantic things to do together. 
“Gwen...just hang in there. This’ll only be for a little while okay? Just until you stop being all...murdery.” All she received in return was a set of yearning howls and grunts, and Vivian shrunk back when the door was gently nudged again. Yet this felt...different, as though Gwen was trying to simply reach her rather than catch her, and Vivian softly gasped when she heard Gwen murmur through the door.
“Mine...come…” the plea was feebly spoken, so full of despair that Vivian knew she’d soon make a terrible, horrible decision. Gwen would surely be the death of her, and Vivian found herself taking a deep breath before firmly speaking.
“If...if you want me to come in, you have to promise to stay away. Don’t touch me...and don’t try to run out. Do you hear me Gwen? Stay away from me.” She received a sharp, yet excited bark on the other side. Vivian could feel the earthquake as Gwen moved deeper into the barn, heart skipping a beat at the sensation.
“Come!” A single word was growled out in glee, and Vivian could hear continuous, small thumps from inside. Am I really going to open this? After everything I just went through? For a moment Vivian paused, trying to logically make a decision. No matter how much she wanted to open the doors, the smartest move would be to simply wait until morning. To lock myself inside with something that big...Vivian what are you thinking–
“Come…?” Gwen’s voice wavered, doubt seeping out and stabbing Vivian straight through the heart. Without another thought Vivian ripped the latches of the door off, and she cracked it open just enough to slip herself through, sucking in a breath when she was swallowed up by darkness. Oh gods, this was a bad idea. She locked the doors again, turning with her back pressed against the barn. Shit. 
She could see nothing but a pair of red eyes gazing down at her, hear nothing but Gwen’s powerful breaths and her own frantic ones. Vivian opened her mouth to speak but found she couldn’t, having to wait and build up courage before she did.
“Gwen...give me the flashlight.” Loud, thundering shuffling ensued, though Vivian couldn’t make any of it out–letting out a faint yelp when the flashlight suddenly rolled by her feet. Oh yeah...it was in her hand. Gwen could have simply handed it to her, but the werewolf instead rolled it over–respecting Vivian's wish to keep her distance. Maybe she couldn’t understand me before because the wolf hadn’t fully taken over? Vivian still didn’t want to risk it, slowly crouching down to grab the flashlight. She switched it on, aiming it up at the giant before her...and for once all but melting at what she saw.
Gwen had an excited, dopey smile on her face, and Vivian felt butterflies flutter in her stomach when she realized the soft thud she’d heard earlier was from Gwen’s tail thumping against the floor. Her girlfriend knelt before her, knees on the floor and hands rested flat before her. She sat on her feet, slightly leaning forward to intensely stare down at Vivian.
“Mine.” Again, the voice was layered, as though a crowd of people had just spoken and only Gwen held a microphone, causing a shiver to run through Vivian’s spine. She offered a faulty smile to match the massive, toothy grin Gwen had, swallowing heavily.
“Yes. Yours...so there’s no need to chase me down anymore, okay? I’m right here Gwen, just like I promised.” Vivian’s voice wavered, but she spoke anyway, watching Gwen nod in agreement. How much can she understand now? Vivian licked her lips, deciding to test her curiosity.
“Gwen you um, like this you’re kinda...looming. Would you mind coming down–!” She barely finished the request before suddenly Gwen was on her stomach, looking at Vivian eagerly. The human blinked, surprised by Gwen’s immediate response. Slowly her lips formed into a small smile, eventually blooming into a full on grin. Vivian laughed, full of relief as she watched Gwen lie on the floor.
“You–do you know how scared I was? I thought you were going to hurt me...why run after me like that, huh?” She pushed herself off the door, inching a bit closer to the werewolf. She didn’t move far, still somewhat terrified of Gwen. Her girlfriend whimpered, a sound clearly full of regret,  shaking her head against the floor.
“You run...didn’t come.” The forlorn look in Gwen’s red eyes made Vivian’s heart throb, and she let out a sigh. How was I supposed to know such a threatening look wasn’t dangerous? She shook her head, limping forward with little hesitation now. Immediately Gwen’s eyes sparkled, and she tensed, tail wagging back and forth as she anticipated Vivian’s movements.
“You...are such an idiot. I should have known your wolf would have been one too. Next time don’t look at me like you want to rip me apart, okay?” Vivian couldn’t help but giggle, reaching forward once Gwen was close enough to pet her cheek. She received a resounding growl in response, weight growing in her palm as Gwen leaned into it.
So cute...Mr. Hale had been right–just not in the way she’d believed. The movies didn’t do werewolves justice–unable to show their true, adoring nature. Gwen had just wanted Vivian close, and as Vivian sank to the ground she let her. Gwen gently moved, delicate claws drawing Vivian closer until she could nuzzle her girlfriend's waist. A deep, content purr rang throughout the barn, and Vivian gasped as tremors raked through Vivian’s entire body. Gosh…
Scratch that...maybe they are dangerous after all.
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