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unholyhelbig · 5 months

Note

request: single mom reader decides to loan shark from natasha’s mob. when reader can’t pay back the loan, natasha’s men capture and beat her. natasha sees reader among the criminals and drug dealers who also haven’t payed back their loans, and excuses her, forgiving her debt.

Title: The Oversight

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Wordcount: 2799

Warnings: Drug use, kidnapping, guns, choking, threats, blood, horrible grammar.

[a/n: Yeah, I kind of feel like this needs a part two. Let me know what you guys think and if you're interested]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Each breath you drew in spurred a sharp stitch in your side. They came in rapid succession, even as you struggled to recall the fuzzy details that usually calmed you down. Your first street name. What you called your first pet. The name of your second-grade teacher. They all swirled foggily, unable to recall.

Your mouth tasted metallic cotton and your heartbeat was pulsing through your entire body. Counting the thrums hadn’t helped either, you gave up as you rolled your neck in a snow circle. The dried blood that hardened against the side of your face, your cheek, and down the expanse of your collarbone crackled at the soft movement.

The room that housed you was pitch black. It was hard to tell when you opened your eyes, tears welling up and dripping down your face onto your uniform. Your arms were bound behind your back, shoulders screaming in protest and fingers going numb from the cold. Your small noises echoed. Wherever you were was impossibly vast.

The next breath that escaped you was deeper than the rest. Not necessarily calm, but enough for you to take stock of the situation; there were flashes of you leaving the diner where you worked nothing short of twelves. It had just rained, and the air was humid. You dropped your keys and bent down to pick them up.

Before you could insert them into the lock, something hard had come down on your temple. There was a rush of heat sloshing down your face and a moment later, as you looked up at the sky, the steel tip of a boot took the rest of your consciousness.

That didn’t bother you. You were fine, a little banged up, but fine. Your daughter was left with the sitter. It could have been hours, maybe even a day. Your stomach clenched in hunger, and you drifted in and out of lucidity. They’d left you un-gagged but you didn’t have it in you to scream. You had a sinking feeling that no one would hear you anyway.

You’d flinched when the first 500-volt lamp let out a sharp hiss before flipping on. You shrunk into yourself, blinking away the sudden burst of white light that filled the room. It was directed towards you, and the rest of the space was still a frustratingly thick darkness. You couldn’t see who had turned them on, but they could see you.

The boots that walked across the floor were loud. They echoed like your earlier sobs. A metal chair was being dragged, and the sound was piercing. It did nothing to aide your aching head. You were thankful to see something other than pitch black, however big the danger.

You recognized the man who was in front of you. His outline flickered solidly. He looked rougher than you did; dirty-blonde hair, and stubble. There was a bandage across the center of his nose, on his fingertips, as if he’d fisted the razor while shaving. His purple T-shirt was covered by a dusty-brown leather jacket. His stare was hard, emotionless.

“You’re awfully quiet for a hostage.” He said, straddling the chair he had dragged over. His chest rested against the metal backing. “You can scream if you want. Wear yourself down. It’ll make this a lot easier.”

“What is this?” You asked instead of taking him up on his offer.

He was familiar to you. Clint. He came into the diner every Wednesday and Friday night like clockwork. He’d order a roast beef on rye with Swiss cheese and extra dressing on the side. He’d suck down two beers with his meal and tipped generously.

Sometimes he was with the man they called ‘The Winter Soldier’. You’d always found the name laughable, but the rumors about him were enough for you to hold your tongue. He never ate but would sometimes order a diet coke and sip it while Clint spoke through large bites of food.

Law enforcement wouldn’t’ touch Bucky Barnes, and your boss would typically comp whatever he ordered. A few months ago, you had shared your first words with him behind the diner. The air stunk of rotted food and hardly counted as fresh air. However, it was a few degrees cooler than the kitchen.

He had offered you a cigarette, one already perched between his lips, a zippo lighter at the ready in his other hand. You declined with the shake of your head, and a quiet ‘no thank you’. There was an uncomfortable silence, but it was better than the damp warmth of the kitchen. A sweet, burning scent filled your nose when he lit his cigarette and let the smoke curl around the two of you like a slack rope.

“You work hard in there.” Bucky said, taking a long inhale. He held it within his lungs, voice pinched. “Harder than anyone else I’ve seen in a while.”

You weren’t about to tell him about your daughter, not with his reputation, or the small smattering of pink scars across his chiseled features. So, you nodded instead. The number of tips you got in the broken down, greasy diner was the difference between two meals and one. So, you smiled sweetly and laid on the southern accent even though you’d only spent a short stint in Georgia when you were eighteen. It was easy to perfect.

“I bet you could name my order right now.”

“You don’t order.”

“I don’t trust the food.” He shrugged listlessly, a lazy smile against his lips. You couldn’t help but smile back.

“That’s a good call.”

He laughed at your honesty, and it was a nice sound. He disarmed you and that was worrying. Bucky let the cigarette sizzle out in a puddle at his feet. He used the tip of his steel-toed boot to grind the paper into damp ash.

“You wouldn’t’ have to work so hard if you had some extra cash, would you?”

The question caught you off guard and you couldn’t stifle the vicious glare that you gave him. Your break was almost over, and you could have, should have, walked back into the restaurant to finish the rest of your shift. Bucky lifted his hands up as a peace offering.

“Look, lady, I didn’t mean to offend you or anything. All I’m saying is, you’re not blind to what happens in there, the type of people that frequent this place. You’ve always turned a blind eye and that’s something my boss appreciates. Something she trusts.”

“And who exactly is your boss?”

He tsked “I can’t tell you that, sweetheart. But she wants to make you an offer, she wants to offer you a loan. You’re what? Three months behind on rent? She’ll front that for you and the following two.”

You took a deep breath of stale air. It was a tempting offer, even if it came in the form of a seedy enforcer in an even seedier alleyway. You were three days from getting evicted. Three days from ending up on the streets in a neighborhood that didn’t’ have a single safe one.

“What’s the catch?” You asked.

“Catch? There’s no catch. This is a friendly loan. All you’ve gotta do is pay it back when you’re on your feet again.”

It was an oversight, not asking for a concrete timeline. You hadn’t paid Bucky’s boss back yet, and over the next few months, there were stifled threats, and both Bucky and Clint watched you carefully at the job that you still worked like nothing had changed. The feeling of being indebted lingered, but this time, it was to an unknown entity instead of a landlord that was ultimately harmless.

Everything needed to be paid back in full. These were thousands you didn’t have. And now, two weeks after the initial threat, you were strapped to a metal chair with blood dripping down the sound of your face, in despite need of a drink of water.

Clint was harmless compared to The Winter Soldier, but his muscles still flexed under his shirt as he pulled his jacket off and let it fall to the dusty floor illuminated in blue light. “I would prefer not to get that dirty. It’s genuine leather, you know?”

You glowered at him as he stood and took a few more steps towards you. He looked relatively harmless each time you’d seen him in the diner. Sometimes he had a girl with him, a slight thing that was just as littered in scars as he was. She would order a plate of bacon that was cooked to a crisp and split it with a golden retriever that laid at their feet.

When his wrapped knuckles made contact with your cheek, your head clocked in the opposite direction. There was a sharp pain in your jaw, a ringing in your ear. He had slammed into the same side of your face as earlier, and you lost vision for a second.

Blood filled your mouth, and you spit the mix of saliva, bile, and blood onto the floor. There was a drain in the center and that worried you more than anything else. Your breathing came fast and hard and you glared at him, teeth stained pink.

“Is that all?” You asked him.

It was stupid, you knew it was stupid. But it bothered you more than anything that you had gotten yourself wrapped up in this. Your father was no stranger to the mob, and you should have seen it from a mile away. The fear he lived with. Until the day he died, he would look over his shoulder and you refused to do the same.

Clint grabbed your face, squeezing hard enough to bring tears to your eyes. “You’re a tough chick, huh? I think we both know why you’re here. All you have to do is get the money and all of this vanishes.”

“I don’t have the money.” Your words were garbled between his fingers. “You’re sure as fuck not going to get it if you kill me.”

“Kill you?” Clint unhanded you and let out a laugh. “Kill you, she says. No, we’re not going to kill you, she would never get her money that way… your daughter on the other hand.”

You pulled against the ropes, and they dug painfully into you. The chair was liable to break, but it had been bolted to the floor. It was much stronger than the one he’d dragged over. The mix of anger and fear that had rushed over you pulled away any thought of lingering aches and pains. Be damned to the head trauma.

Your teeth were gritted, voice a low hiss “Leave her the fuck out of this.”

“Did I strike a nerve?”

“I swear to you, I will get your money, I just need time. I’m not… You can keep me under surveillance as collateral, take my car, my apartment- just leave her out of this.”

Clint gripped your throat with his calloused hand, your ability to breathe became more difficult, half-moon nails digging into your flesh. It stung fiercely, and you let out a gurgle in response. “Or she could be our collateral. I think she’d make a great enforcer, with the proper education, that is.”

Is that what happened to the girl that ate lunch with Clint at the diner? She didn’t looked like she was there against her will, but there was an immense sadness to her eyes. Clint hadn’t released you yet and your vison was growing fuzzy at the edges.

“Let her go,”

Your chest was burning at this point and when he pulled his hand back you tried desperately to regain your sense of lucidity. You coughed, nearly vomiting as he took a long stride backwards, seemingly put into his place with a simple sentence.

Over the ringing of your ears, you heard the sharp click of heels. They were confident, and your chin dropped to your chest as you panted in succession, spit dripping in strings from your lips. You didn’t have the strength to look up, your head was pounding.

“I think that’s enough,” Her voice was smooth, just the smallest bit of an accent in her words. You couldn’t place it, but you couldn’t tell which way was up at this point. “You’re dismissed.”

“Oh, come on Natasha, I was just having a little fun.”

“Dismissed, Clint.”

There was a labored sigh and the sound of his footsteps retreating. It brought little relief to you, however. You felt as if you had traded one evil for another. Eventually, you lifted your head to stare at the ceiling. The stranger hadn’t said anything, and the pitch dark above was more desirable to the unknown.

You heard her sit down and felt her eyes watching you. The swimming in your head started to dissipate so you clocked her with a stare. The woman in front of you was angelic, in such a way that you figured Clint’s choking stunt had actually done you in.

Her stare was an unripe green rimmed in gold, her cheekbones carved from marble. There was a beautiful softness to her expression, and her deep red hair flowed over her shoulders in a waterfall of color. She was studying you, not phased by the cold of the room.

The woman wore a black t-shirt, deep slashes of ink peaking from the dip of the V-neck. You didn’t’ let your eyes linger long. It was a marking that you’d seen on Clints bicep and on Buckey’s hand. You hadn’t gotten a chance to clock it on the girl that was kept in their company.

“Is this the part where you come in with your good cop schtick?” You mumbled.

“Darling, Clint is the good cop.”

“Nice, I like it.” You rolled your shoulders back, fighting the stiffness “Bad cop and worse cop is much more effective.”

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you for someone in your position. Thousands of dollars in debt and seemingly no way to pay back my money. It’s not a good spot to be in, Y/n.”

Natasha stood from the chair, her muscles straining at the action. In a fluid motion, she pulled a black standard issue handgun from the space between her skin and her jeans. She pumped the shaft, the sound echoed more than your quickened breathing.

She used the tip to push your chin up, forcing you to look into her unblinking eyes. You were a dead man, you knew that from her cold stare. You couldn’t look away, even if the option was given.

“Baby, I’ve been in this business for a long time.” Her breath was hot on your collarbone, a mix of mint and tobacco. “I know exactly the type that you are. I cater to your kind. More often than not, my clientele need a little bit of encouragement.”

The tip of her gun traced your jaw, her finger loosely on the trigger. It was cold against your collarbone, down the center of your breasts. She held it there, jaw set in stone.

“We’ll keep you here for a few days. Once you dry out a little, I’m sure you’ll suddenly come into the cash.”

“Dry out? You think I’m on drugs?”

The tip pushed hard enough into your sternum to make you let out a grunt of pain. “You hide it quite well, pet. I’m sure it won’t be as simple when you start to feel those withdraw symptoms. Money flows simple in this town when those cravings kick in.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her, despite the weapon that she was packing. A frown creased between her eyebrows, but she held it in place. “The hardest thing I’ve ever hit is a blunt in a high school rotation. That was your brilliant plan? Dry me out and then what? Search my backyard for jars filled with money. I don’t have it. I make 2.50 an hour at a diner.”

Natasha scrutinized you, eyes hard. She righted herself and pulled the gun away from your center before flipping on the safety and shoving it back into her jeans. She started to pace the length of the light.

“Bucky, he offered me a loan and I took it so I could pay the rent on an apartment for me and my daughter.” You said, voice quiet “I work thirteen hour shifts six days a week, and it’s still not enough. I’m not… I don’t know who you cater to, but I have a feeling it’s not someone like me.”

“No.” she crossed her arms over her chest, “It seems as if you’re an oversight.”

“Great,” you flexed your numbing fingers, “An oversight you’ll let go?”

Natasha shook her head, clenching and unclenching her jaw. “No, I’m afraid not.”

#Natasha Romanoff #Natasha Romanoff x y/n #Natasha Romanoff x you #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Mafia Boss Natasha Romanoff #Marvel #Marvel Fanfiction #Clint Barton #Kate Bishop #Bucky Barnes #Mafia au #request

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fridayth13 · 2 months

Note

Could I request Zhongli reuniting with his wife after the two had a falling out 500 years ago?

crushed cor lapis.

↳ zhongli × gn!immortal!artist!reader

↳ part one, part two

↳ genre: soft angst at the beginning, but it's mostly bittersweet | wordcount: 1.6k | warnings: none

↳ notes: i ended up with less angst than i thought i would have. but i did want to explore the thought of time passage and fighting for people who are going to live forever, even if it's subtle; reader is immortal and implied to be an adeptus or a god, but the kind isn't very important; ive had an idea for zhongli and an artist reader for a long time so i tried to combine it i hope you don't mind; as with the gender. i did write with a fem!reader in mind as per the request but in the end, the gender didn't need to be specified for anything so i left it gender neutral; i tried to give reader a more divine disposition about them so the writing ended up really flowery, but in any case i hope you enjoy! i really did have fun writing this one

You were a painter.

In your old life, as you liked to call it, however, you were a god. Your domain of influence laid in artistry and beauty.

Or rather, that was what Morax used to tell you. Archons like him were the only beings in Teyvat with real domains of influence. But you wouldn't really stop him if that was his way of calling you pretty.

That was about five hundred years ago. Nowadays was a very different story.

You crushed the yellow berries in your mortar and pestle to turn into paint for tomorrow's commission.

You liked your job in Liyue Harbor. As quaint and.. human as it was, you thought there was divinity to be found in the painstaking recreation of the things around you. Though a painting couldn't rival a Kamera in terms of accuracy, you were certain it completely surpassed the device in most other things.

You slowed your movements, surveying the consistency of the paint and the color. That would probably do. You'd collected quite a lot, so you supposed it was time to head back. All you were really lacking earlier was yellow.

And so you trekked on home from the terraces, skipping over stumps of cor lapis and sunset-painted grass along your way.

As you finally reached your home in the harbor, the sun had fully gone down. The lanterns lit, casting the entire city in a soft, warm glow. The neighboring waters reflected the deep blue of the sky and the speckles of rust and gold adorning every building in sight.

You opened your door and you thought of Morax, wondering if he knew five hundred years ago what beauty would settle upon his previously war torn nation. Leaning on the doorframe, you watched over it for a while. Children playing, kites flying, dinner being prepared, laughter and joy running amok.

You don't like to think about him too much, or how his silence is present in every part of the city that was all him, despite having nothing to do with him any longer. No matter how much time had passed, you seemed stuck in the first night he decided not to apologize.

Still, five hundred years was a long time. Although it felt like the blink of an eye, even immortals had to move on eventually.

You gathered your materials inside and closed the door behind you.

—

The mountains may erode, but they will always be mountains.

You recalled his own words as you saw him again for the first time in five hundred years.

A human-sized Rex Lapis stood before you, hands behind his back, dressed to the nines, pristine, and put together, and perfect, and not at all like he ought to have seemed like at your first meeting in several centuries. Though at the very same time, you couldn't imagine him looking any other way.

You bitterly savored the way he avoided your eyes in front of his boss.

"So this is him!" She said. The lively Director Hu Tao of the local funeral parlor was Rex Lapis's boss. You tried not to laugh. "Our new consultant, Mr. Zhongli."

You set your canvas down onto its easel, then the bulk of your dyes and paints on the floor. You did this without averting your eyes, as if trying to burn him if he ever had the nerve to look back at you.

He did not. And to her credit, it seemed Hu Tao noticed it as well. So as not to make your client too uncomfortable, you decided to take a step towards them.

"Mr. Zhongli." You said. With the proximity you put between you, he had no choice but to look back at you. Not a lot changed about him in human form, but by far, his eyes were the most the same. Down to the hard, intense stare, and the set of his brows. You wondered how many other people in Liyue he'd enchanted with them while he was busy avoiding you.

"Mr. Zhongli?" You repeated, a little less amused. Though you somewhat enjoyed how stupefied he looked at your appearance, you'd endured his silence long enough. "My name is Y/N. It's an honor to meet you here."

This seemed to regain him his senses. That, or Hu Tao's suspicious back and forth glances between the two of you.

Zhongli cleared his throat.

"..The honor is mine."

Hu Tao nodded, seeming satisfied for now. She clapped her hands together in excitement, turning to you.

"Alright! I suppose I'll leave you to it then. I have complete faith that you'll be able to depict the poise and elegance of my esteemed consultant."

You gave her your best half smile.

"Well, I'll try."

"No need to be modest! I've seen your work before. You're one of, if not the best, painter in Liyue. Just ask Mr. Zhongli! He's been very taken with your paintings even before we first met. He speaks very highly of you."

You crossed your arms. "You don't say?"

Five hundred years or the blink of an eye, you could still see his embarrassment without him having to say a word.

—

Director Hu Tao had business to take care of for the funeral parlor, and so left with a flourish, and a "Make sure to get his good side!" as she ran off.

You both continued to speak as civilians for a little while. He sat down at a table on the porch, a steaming pot of tea on said table between you. Your face was obscured to him through the thick white canvas.

Avoiding conversation was easy, but not. Comfortable, but not. Natural, but not. It shouldn't have been. As such was the nature of a marriage to the Geo Archon, you supposed. Or rather, the current lack thereof. But even that was up in airs.

"How.. How have you been?"

Your responding glare was unseen to him, but he heard it in the vitreous tone of your reply.

"Fine." You said. "Something must've happened to you though. Your eloquence seems to have disappeared into thin air."

"..You are still upset. I see."

"In what world would I be upset, Mr. Zhongli?" Your use of his mortal name created a crease in his brow. You gently brushed over it on his painting.

"I didn't think you'd want to see me."

"You still could've asked." You muttered, momentarily leaning sideways to look him in the eye. "For someone so revered for his wisdom, your brain still seems to be as hard as rocks."

You caught his surprised expression as you turned back to the canvas. You didn't allow him another word.

"Honestly, who ghosts their own spouse after an argument like that? You'd think the best time would be after.. five hours. Five days. Maybe five weeks after. Not five centuries—"

You caught him mumble, "Well, it's not as if you tried to talk to me either."

"I didn't think I needed to. You made it very clear you wanted me to leave you to die in the Archon War all on your heroic lonesome."

When he didn't respond, you snuck a glance.

The sun's rays were at the precipice of turning gold in its descent into the sea. The glow smeared his porcelain cheeks in amber, his eyes in glitter, the metallic components of his suit in light. He looked like a monument. Tall, statuesque, and lonely. Almost like his mountainous true form. More beautiful than even his numerous statues across Liyue could capture. More than you could capture. Though you did certainly try.

Annoyed and angrily pining as you were, you still tried to get his eyes right. The little flecks of rust against gold. Like cuts of cor lapis crushed to shimmering powder in the Archon's hand. A man of his own making.

You looked at Zhongli as the golden hour faded, slowly turning dusky pink. His eyes swam in wistfulness as he stared out at the harbor. You couldn't help the dull twinge of sorrow deep in the pit of your stomach.

"I'm sorry."

You didn't know how to follow up. You weren't entirely sure what you were apologizing for. But it felt nice to hear it back from him.

When he finally looked back at you, you were tracing the rich scarlet of his eyeliner onto the canvas.

At some point, he turned on the lamp and set it down beside you while you worked on the finishing touches.

"You're better than I remember." He whispered like he thought you couldn't hear him.

You weren't sure what to say to that either. You just kept painting.

—

"This doesn't change anything. I'm still angry with you."

"Of course."

Zhongli never seemed to run out of tea. Despite not having brewed a new pot throughout your stay, the one on the table continued to steam, its aroma wafting leisurely throughout the room. When he offered you a cup after you left the canvas out to dry, you let yourself take it. You allowed him a calmer response when he spoke.

"This may upset you a bit more, but I am also somewhat bothered you never tried to talk to me."

"So we are at an impasse."

Of course, it did occur to you that you were both being hardheaded and moronic. But you were comforted by a few things.

"It would seem so." Zhongli nodded.

"Or maybe not." You quipped, glancing pointedly at an old painting on the wall. "You seem to have been stalking me, Mr. Zhongli."

"I think stalking might be a slight exaggeration."

"Oh, really."

Even as the mountains erode over the centuries, from the dust, they are fated to reform anew.

dividers from @clutteredfun

#mine #my writing #fics #requests #long post #genshin impact x reader #zhongli #gi zhongli #zhongli x reader #gi zhongli x reader #¡

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 7 months

Text

Black Metal and Bourbon (II)

AU MASTERLIST || PART III

PAIRING: Biker/Mechanic!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Bartender!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 10.7k

WARNINGS: Alcohol consumption, smut, NSFW, sex & intimacy, praise kink, brief thoughts of exhibitionism, p-in-v, fingering, hand job, some sub/dom dynamics, sub!Simon for a bit, soft!Simon, property damage, bike crashes (wear helmets everyone), violence, past toxic relationship, sabotage, attempted murder, protective!Simon, etc. (18+ mini-series)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Your fingers tighten around Simon’s waist, the helmet you’d been given pressed into his shoulder as the both of you slice through wind—an engine roaring below you from the Honda Rebel 500. The fit was a tight one, Simon not having a proper second seat beside the passenger kit he’d been quick to install not a few hours before when you’d hesitantly asked for a ride into a neighboring town. Your body was directly above the back tire, and Simon had been firm in his words when he’d been adjusting the back suspension in the bustling shop.

“You’re not lettin’ go until we get there, copy? I feel your grip loosen, I’m pulling over.”

You had begrudgingly agreed, needing the high-quality art supplies a twenty-minute drive away. The stores here didn’t have what you needed, and, not owning a car as this town was entirely walkable if need be, this was your only option.

Once you’d gotten on that bike though, Simon hadn’t needed to reiterate himself about holding on—you did that all on your own. Yet, that wasn’t to say you weren’t enjoying this.

Lips peeled back into a smile, your eyes stare out across the unfolding hills and mountains in the distance; fields of verdant grasses and trees. The vibrations of the Rebel left your head jittering, but this view was the clearest you’d ever seen.

Chuckling, the driver under your rib-cranking hold blinked at the nearly missed sound, only able to tell from the movement of your chest at his spine. Simon’s sunglasses glinted over the thin sliver of flesh that would otherwise be the only piece of his face visible, and his fingers twitched as he stared ahead at the open road. The man had given you his leather jacket, taking a spare of black coloring like an all-dark cat, his boots and pants matching the theme that carries over.

You shout above the whipping of the airways.

“This is amazing!” Simon puffs a laugh at that, though his heart patters ever faster like a dog at the turn of a key. He doesn’t answer, even if his lips itch into a smirk to tell you he’s appreciating the spinal re-adjustment you’re giving him.

Your laugh echoes out through the scenery, and your heart has never been more full.

It had been a decent amount of time since Simon and the others had come into town—three weeks since you’d been hired on your off days to go and paint the mechanic’s shop. A base coat had already been applied, then the secondary and the final with the help of a very animated Soap saying that no one could get to the tops of the walls better. Gaz had seen him hit himself with the soggy paint roller not five minutes later after trying to flip it, and that had been the end of the interference on your work.

All that was left was to start the mural.

There hadn’t been a peep from Graham or his goons—they’d even left you alone on your walks back home. As much as you wanted to be elated about it, there was a brief stint of paranoia in the days that had followed the party. Graham Whitaker was a coward, but he didn’t…let things go.

But holding onto Simon Riley as he pulled into the nearby town made that sharpness at the back of your mind flee in an instant. The mountains and fields dissipate to tiny houses and long stretches of connected businesses—sun-washed bricks surround you as Simon shifts the tires to dodge potholes.

His head moves slightly to the side, and you hear the call through your borrowed helmet.

“Where am I headed?”

“East side!” You rest the bottom of the helmet on his shoulder, seeing a sliver of his October browns through his sunglasses as he rips his eyes back to the road. “Look for the rose bushes!”

“Makin’ me go deaf,” Simon mutters to himself, but he does as you instruct. Parking in the street outside of the art shop, he moves out the kickstand with one foot—the other resting on the ground so you don’t tip. He gives you a look over his shoulder to get off first as the engine cuts and the jungle of keys comes to silence inside of his pocket.

Giggling, you let go of his hard waist and step out to the concrete of the sidewalk, turning around and fixing the strap of your carry bag with a hidden grin.

“I think I just found a new form of transportation.”

“Then you can forget about it,” Simon smirks, taking off his sunglasses and sticking them to the neck of his compression shirt. “Helmet, Sunshine.” He reminds, looking around for a moment.

You slap your hands to the side of the item around your head as you continue to giggle like a child, elated and feeling the throws of wanderlust—you’d never felt so alive than when watching the world pass by at your sides. How quickly you can form a routine of boring days, one after the other. You felt…light again.

A finger grabs at the visor, flicking it up as your crinkled eyes come into view for the gruff man and his raised brow.

“You drunk?” Simon stares, tilting his head as he looms closer, studying you up and down.

“No, Brown-Eyes,” you roll your eyes teasingly, waving his hand away as you unclip and pop the helmet off before it’s leveled back to him. He takes it and holds it loosely in one grip, blinking at you slowly. “I’m excited. Can I not be excited, then, huh? Not happy seeing me enjoy your company?”

“Let's get this over with, yeah?” Simon shakes his head but his amusement is heard, slipping past as you eagerly follow after, expression airy.

You hum, leaning into him and smirking.

“C’mon Simon, you’re completely taken with me—I can see it.” There was no question that the two of you had become close. There was rarely a night when he didn’t come to visit you at the bar; had even taken up walking you back home too, though there was little need to. Simon had said it was because he had nothing else to do, but you doubted it. Since the shop had opened, there had been no shortage of work.

The man grunts as he opens the door for you with a shoulder, sending you a blank eye. “Taken aback.”

“Fucking jerk,” you grin at him as you slip inside, face loose with banter. Simon chuckles lowly and follows, standing behind you as his boots clop to polished tile floors.

This place was exactly how you remembered it—holding an old feel with the beams in the ceiling and the raw brick walls. There are tables with paints and brushes, all neat and orderly with unique looks and designs to them, even the wall has shelves of old wood holding hidden nicknacks and unique wonders.

Simon gazes around with a glint of interest in his eye, understanding now that the painting was better off in your hands. He has to wonder how you managed to find a place like this.

“Over here,” you say. Walking to the very back, your hands are already reaching for the quality brushes you’d need for the mural. Simon’s hands slip into his pockets, stance casual in a way he’d thought he’d lost a long time ago.

It was no secret that Simon trusted very few people. It wasn’t just because of his past military experience, it was his life in general—each turn led to something that could go wrong like a gun in the hands of a criminal. But you had been nearly sly in the way you’d grown on him.

The quick-witted comments, the way you spoke and carried yourself; your light and unapologetic attitude. He was ashamed to admit how many times he’d stared at the bar from his shop’s garage—under the body of some car with grease up to his elbows, legs dangling as his back was on top of the creeper. Brown eyes that can pinpoint your form before his mind blanks and sweat pools at his collarbone.

It was something that Simon was afraid to name.

“Bloody expensive,” the man mutters in the present, fingers pushing at the price tag of some paints nearby. “You sure you need this shit?”

“It’s not shit, Riley,” you scoff, grabbing two large brushes and three smaller ones from wall buckets, pointing one at him. “But I have to agree on the expensive part. You should see how much I would spend when I was really into art. You’d puke your blackened guts up.”

Simon hums, giving you his attention as you peer at a table of rich paints in smaller cans a few feet away.

“Why’d you stop?” He asks, the soft tinkling of piano music coming from somewhere in the back.

You pause, your back turned to him as you look at the label of a small aluminum container of enamel paint for vehicle detailing. Licking your lips, you clear your throat and ease out a nonchalant, “Graham,” and end the conversation there with less blood spilled.

Your Ex had almost sucked all of the individuality from you—you’d barely made it out as you are.

Simon’s eyes darken, clenching his jaw after a moment as looks away. It's only when you put back down the enamel paint can that he speaks again.

“He wasn’t worth your time,” he eases out, giving firm advice like orders. As if he wants you to believe what he’s saying to the fullest degree. “You know that?”

You snort, turning back around. “Yeah, I know it. Why do you think I threw the guy out? He ran through women like a damn kid with a stack of new playing cards.”

Simon blinks from over his mask as you walk to the counter, putting down your brushes and adding in a few containers of nice pigment. As your fingers ding the bell up front, your free hand digs for your wallet.

Before you can pull out the wads of cash that you’d need to pay, smelling of booze and all, a credit card hits the table. You stare at it in silence for a moment.

“Simon?”

“You’re putting it on my wall,” he rolls his shoulders to dispel tension from the previous conversion as the employee comes out from the back. “M’not going to make you pay for the tools to get the job done. Not a fuckin’ heartless bastard.”

“Heartless? No,” you tease, though your face burns and crashes with a fiery inferno of adoration. Inside of you, your stomach flips and your throat tightens. Oh, it was coming on bad, wasn't it? “A bastard…?”

“Shut it,” Simon glares from the corner of his eye as you raise your hands innocently.

“Alright, alright. A very handsome and generous bastard, better?” You hear a hum, a huff of breath.

“Getting there.”

The ride back was much the same, but it still filled you with awe. Your hands were looser now, even with the added weight from your filled bag, but that didn’t mean you weren’t aware of Simon’s presence. Once more your helmeted head was set at his shoulder blade, resting as your lungs pulled in fresh air even if it was a bit heated from the barrier. Simon had pushed the thing back onto your head the minute your leg was about to straddle the bike, firmly grabbing your chin and tilting your face forward as he shoved it on.

“Safety first, Sweetheart.” You had sworn you nearly went weak-kneed at that.

But the sturdy presence before you made a very comfortable headrest even if the longer ride was beginning to make your legs ache and give you a migraine from the noise.

Your hand was flat to the man’s covered flesh, the oversized jacket around your frame, and in that moment you discovered that you were almost entirely submerged in Simon Riley until it became impossible to remember who you’d been before him. You were drowned in his scent—his presence an ever-present weight of purpose and prospect.

Blinking over the view and feeling Simon’s pulse under your fingertips, you realize with a start that Graham had never made your stomach fill with butterflies over a simple word; never made you pause or have to re-think your thoughts because you’d entirely lost them when he entered a room.

With so much going on, and at the same time so little happening…what exactly were you supposed to make of it? There was no question you liked Simon—there was no question he liked you, either. It was obvious by the looks Price would give the two of you when you came by with lunch for them all; free drinks.

How the both of you would sit and talk, exchanging stories while Simon showed you the adjustments he had made to his bike. The issue was that you and Brown-Eyes were stubborn. Pigheaded.

Emotionally constipated.

Your eyes drag along the view, but they always shift back to the body that’s stuck in your grip; how his heat moved through his clothes, warming your wind-beaten hands. You’re right there at his back, hanging off him and you feel…good.

There just had to be something to make one of you snap.

Entering the garage, Simon once more parks his bike and lets you get off first, and you unclip your helmet and slip the object from your head with a puff of air.

“Thank you, Simon,” you breathe, watching him stand. “Drinks on me tonight, okay?”

“No need for that,” his brows pull in, confused. “If I didn’t want to, I would have told you.”

Your hands pass the helmet, which he takes as your fingers brush one another's lightly. You repress a sharp inhale, scoffing playfully at him as your eyes soften.

“I’m not going to leave without saying thank you and you taking it, Brown-Eyes.”

“Well, then I just took it, Sunshine.” Simon motions his head outside. “Now get going ‘fore I come to my senses.”

Laughing, you shrug and take your leave, all of your items safe in your bag for a time when you could use them next.

“I’m already gone,” you breathe, and a soft brown gaze sticks to your form as you cross the street and slip inside to clock in.

A truck parked down the street has its window glinting in the sunlight. It seems to agree.

—

Simon tipped back the last of his bourbon and sighed, putting it down on the bar top as you polished glasses.

“Anything happen today?” He asks you as you put the sparking material to the light, tipping it to try and find smudges before it passes your acute inspection.

“Nothing interesting,” you respond, humming. “Had to kick a few guys out, but it was nothing big.”

Simon’s interest makes his eyes shift to you like a wave, head tilting to stare as the warm light cascades over your figure. He waits for you to continue, but when you don’t, he prods with a slightly concerned undertone.

“Why?” Your lips twitch as you turn to look at him, exasperated.

“Put a cork in it, Big Guy, it was just a few who had too much to drink—I cut them off and sent ‘em home.”

Simon grunts, “That’s a girl.”

You ignore the way your heart jumps to your throat and the tingling of your arms. “Anything with you?” Your voice is higher than it should be. “Beat off any bartenders from your property?”

“Can only think ‘o one,” he speaks slowly, his voice wafting about as the both of you were the only people here. Your chuckle makes his heart constrict in on itself.

“Oh,” you tease, face pulling in with mock confusion. Your body moves closer as it leans into the wood. Simon’s lips twitch from where they're visible, the fabric of his balaclava pulled over his nose. “Tell me about her.”

“Yeah?” He speaks in a low murmur, eyes half-lidded in that dead-and-buried kind of way—only he could pull that off and still look so handsome. You had said once that he felt like danger, and you suppose that had to be true. Simon Riley was danger, and you had taken those snake fangs and put them directly in between the cross-hairs of your neck and your pulse, waiting, wanting for that fatal strike.

You had bet that the sting of those fangs might just be the best pain you’d ever felt.

Simon Riley was unabashed freedom.

“She likes to think that she’s the bloody boss o’ me,” Simon grunts, scars, and tattoos on full display; there’s blackened grease on his fingers, under his nails. You listen with bated breath. “Comes ‘round all the time now, hangs like she’s under a noose. I can’t figure her out. Not for the fuckin’ life of me.”

Simon doesn't know what he’s saying, but he can’t quite help himself when you’re looking at him like that. Your eyes going wider, your usually snappy and quick tongue silent as you take his words in like law. It was addictive to see you gobsmacked—the man has to stop himself from thanking Graham Whitaker for being such a fucking fool even if the thought of ever being near that man again made him want to clench his fists.

“And?” You push, trying to force your mouth into a playful smirk, but anyone can see it for what it is. Your faked emotion falls short, leaving behind only that which Simon can claim to be the sole owner of.

Astonishment. Admiration down to its base form—a woman gazing at something that should not be, and yet is here among the ashes and ruins of broken earth and open roads. A sliver of sky between the rain clouds.

“And?” Simon mirrors, that numb mock.

The both of you are closer now, puffs of air hitting the other. Everything in this bar became a backdrop, shifting colors and images like some dream. The dart in the ceiling was nothing to you—the tables that needed to be buffed, the bottles restocked; even the trash that you usually took out at this time was only a shape in the corner of your vision. It all blurred around him, and while you spoke again, Simon understood that he had left the city for something new; something that he could revel in and worship like he had his guns and his duty.

Your sentence is whispered.

“Why did you come here?” To this town? There was no answer for that. It was picked at random—even Price knew that. It was nothing special, not even to the bugs. But here…

Simon parts his lips and utters on the lightning of the air particles, all rushing past as if he was still on his motorcycle with you—your hands around his waist and your nails digging into his flesh.

“For a bartender that keeps making my damn head spin.”

For a long minute, there’s nothing that happens. The AC whirs and the lights outside flicker over the stretch of the empty street. In your chest, your heart hammers with the strength of the Titans. A mechanic, a veteran; a man with broken, October eyes.

How could he be the one thing you were looking for?

Your eyes stay locked, those shredded flecks of color holding secrets that you want to know instantly—you want to learn his tattoos and the way he thinks, know Simon's dreams and aspirations. To you, that was better than any physical destination or journey because it was one in and of itself.

Simon was an enigma.

“Keep talking,” you mutter, lips so close now that they brush the man’s own. He doesn’t blink as he watches you, his lungs unsteady in his chest as he takes down a deep breath.

“Why’s that, Sunshine?” His voice is raspy, and his accent makes you shiver.

Simon’s tongue comes out to lick at the corner of his mouth, sneaking back in as your gaze flickers down to watch pupils blown. “Because I like it when you speak to me like that,” you have to admit, a whine trapped in your throat that you won’t let out.

There’s a low chuckle that makes your legs close together, moving like honey through your veins.

“Can do more than talk.”

This is a game—a test—can either of you go this far? Is it more than lust, is it more than some strange attraction between two people who don’t belong here? A relationship of need rather than want?

You don’t care enough to test it, because if there’s one thing that this town taught you, it's that you don’t need to worry about the future so long as there’s something promising right in front of you.

And Simon Riley was as promising of a man as you had ever met.

Your lips meet his, and his hand is eager to snap to the back of your skull, pushing you into him as your eyes pull shut and the edge of the counter digs into your guts. Air is exhaled from your nose, mouth heavy, and skin hot as it digs and molds to the rough scrape of Simon’s stubble. His fingers pulse into your scalp, waves of something sawing you open as he stands quickly from his stool and pulls away only to push right back in.

Your hands move into fists on the counter, stuck in this dance of wet lips and shaky legs.

Simon groans into your mouth, shifting his head as a purr emanates from his chest and makes you respond with a silent gasp that he takes advantage of. A tongue slips to run over your own as the lights glint outside, pushing itself in before retreating just as swiftly before teeth nip at your swollen bottom lip. Your eyes snap open, locking with deep wells of brown that seem more endless than the depths of space.

You both breathe heavily, the bar silent to the two souls that seep into one another. Not once do either of you look away from one another.

The man seems hesitant, and before he speaks, the rasp in his voice is felt as he blinks.

“These parts in me have been shuttin’ down, Sunshine.” Your brows slightly pinch in for a moment, confused at this turn in tone—cocky had gone to still-stone as if Simon had laid eyes on Medusa herself.

But you know what he means. You’d seen it in his stature and how he spoke to others; you knew nothing much of his past beyond a handful of stories from his service and none of them had been pretty. And of his childhood, you knew nothing.

You know it can’t have been good.

Your head softly tilts, a small, delicate smile forming the words of some long-lost deity.

“I’m sure you have the tools to fix them, Simon.”

He blinks at you, fingers still stuck to your head. “Don’t know if I remember how to use ‘em.”

Simon’s giving you a way out of this if you want to take it; you know that he thinks you should.

“...Then you’ll just have to teach me, won’t you?” You whisper, stubborn as always. “I told you I was good at keeping secrets, right?” He hums, eyes the most open and soft you’d ever seen them as he melts—forehead connecting to yours as your smile grows wider, truer. “Then I’ll keep yours closest, Brown-Eyes.”

You both kiss once more, more delicate as the man takes a deep breath of you. Your smirk pulls along his flesh like a brand as he holds in a quiver.

“What’s a bartender without a bottle of Bourbon on her shelf?” He growls into you, and not wasting a moment rips his lips from yours and wipes at his face with the back of his arm.

“Such a mouth,” he mutters, moving as you stand there to push open the half-door to let him get to you. You stand waiting, pulse wild and lips tingling. “Cameras?”

Your head shakes without you knowing it, and a finger is hooked under your chin, maneuvering it as he sees fit. Another grabs onto your hip, kneading it slowly as you melt into him. Your hands grasp into the back of his belt and his eyes spark—hips canting instinctually.

There’s a hard prod at your inner thigh.

“Only one at the door.” You set your chin to his chest, gazing up. “Back room?”

“Won't have you on the floor,” Simon says bluntly, unphased. Your core pounds, stomach tightens as you have a sudden need to get rid of your pants and touch yourself as dampness pools through your underwear.

“Such a gentleman,” you’re breathless, voice airy. “Guess I’ll have to be on top.”

Simon’s breath gets caught as you slip past him, sauntering to the back door and pushing it open as you slip inside. You had already started fumbling with the zipped on your pants as the man pushed on the barrier just before it could close, coming in and letting it slam behind him as the click of a lock could be heard.

With your shoes off, you can feel Simon’s eyes burning into you as your fingers send the zipper down your navel, the sound of the metal teeth being separated from one another a call to action. When your thumbs hook the top, ready to send the fabric down, you let the man watch before your eyes shift back up to lock together.

Simon’s gaze was intense—unblinking and unmoving beyond the slam of his heart and the pulse of the erection in his pants, begging to be palmed as you stood only feet away. The man’s hands clenched, knuckles going white.

While holding eye contact, you let the pants—and your panties—drop to the ground with a whoosh of fabric. Simon tenses, but doesn’t look away.

You smirk, taking a few steps forward.

“I’m surprised.” Your hand captures his waist, one moving to stroke along the prominent v-line that’s hidden by his shirt. Simon’s heavy breath meets your head as his blown pupils make his eyes look black entirely. He’s almost in a trance. “Usually I’d be having to snap my fingers.”

“Better than that,” he grits out raggedly. You have to agree.

Your mouth finds his neck as he leans back against the door, letting you do what you wish as his hands settle on your hips once more, rubbing up and down as your own eagerness drips from you. Simon clenches his jaw as you bite down, taking and sucking on the skin as he hisses when you give him hickeys, eyes fluttering.

“‘Such a mouth’ you said,” you comment, hand falling lower to hear the jingle as you unclip his belt. He stares off as your hand rests and cups him, sharply inhaling when you rub your palm over the large tent. Simon fights the sway of his hips, but the widening of his legs is telling enough, pelvis knocking forward as you groan, a line of slick falling down your thigh. “I’d bet you’d like my mouth, Brown-Eyes, wouldn’t you?” Your joke and your teasing of his dick—your hickeys and your sly eyes—they all at once snap something inside of him.

You find yourself manhandled with a squeak of shock and a jump in your gut as your legs dangle, moved back, and pressed into the very door where Simon had been moments before. Your feet settle as his figure descends.

“Your mouth, Sunshine?” Brown eyes glint, staring you down from where he taps your legs open to the air, kneeling with an open belt and pre-cum staining his pants. “Want to see what mine can do?”

There’s no more than a dangerous smirk before his face slots itself into the clutch of your pussy.

You gasp, hands going down to his covered hair as his nose slides along your clit, making lightning go up your spine as you push down on him, grinding as a long stripe is licked, tongue flattening out at the nerve before a loud groan makes Simon’s mouth vibrate as it attaches itself to you.

Giving you your own medicine, teeth lightly bite, tongue flicking as your cunt clenches over nothing, fingers grasping guilty as your head knocks back with a loud whine.

“Fuck,” you gasp, toes curling as your hips move back and forth.

Your body can feel his smirk, your juices leaking out to drip at his chin, falling down his throat as this beast of a man sucks and mewls around your clit like he’s possessed. Hands grasped your thighs, holding them open. Well, one anyway.

Lost in the movements of his mouth, cursing and gasping as he keeps trying to build you up to the point of rapture with every hard flick and measured nip, there’s no way your dopamine-addled brain can comprehend the fingers at your cunt before they’re already inside and curling outward.

You moan out his name pleadingly, the pace of your hips instantly increasing as Simon’s chuckle makes your lungs constrict. A separate heart-beat lives in your navel, skin sweaty and slick making its way down his fingers.

“Being so good,” your voice breaks as Simon’s wide eyes from below meet you as your head lolls forward. He stutters, hearing the wet squelching of your pussy as his movements cease for a moment. You whimper, face pulling in, and he instantaneously gets back to it with increased fervor and ferocity as if he’d never just felt his cock twitch in his pants and his abdomen bunch up.

Your eyes widen, rapturous moans falling from your lips in blown-limpness as his mouth and fingers do sinful things to you.

The sounds coming from below were feral and animalistic at best, sopping wetness and loud groaning—it makes it all so much better.

“So thorough for me, Simon. Making me feel so good Brown-Eyes,” you babble, tightening your core and palming hands shoving him impossibly farther into you. “Such a fucking perfect mouth—perfect fingers, knew you could make me cum on ‘em, please, Simon, fuck, oh God right there,” you break off of the praise into desperate whines. Your quivering body shakes and ruts faster, Simon’s stubble making it all burn in such a way that leaves you gasping, back begging to arch as everything comes to a tipping point.

Simon can feel it by the way your walls flex and pull in, how their slipperiness gets so loose it’s not even a problem to finger-fuck you even as your cunt bares down like a noose. Your fluids drip past his elbow, falling to his pants as his pelvis involuntarily tries to get friction from his zipper by humping the air in broken intervals.

He’s breathing heavily, but not as much as you are, broken up by groans, grunts, and his open mouth licking of your engorged clit. He’d never admit to you how much your praise was making him want to bust in his own fucking pants.

“S-Simon,” you knock your head back into the wall, eyes going glassy as the knot in your navel goes painful, a vile itching so very close as your spine begins to arch for the man’s viewing pleasure. “So close, oh God, so fucking good. Need it, Simon, need it from—”

Your breath hitches, fingers twitching into tight fists of fabric and the hair underneath as your walls clamp down.

Orgasm ripping through you, your voice lets out broken, airy, moans of Simon’s name like a prayer, hips continuing to spasm and toes curling inwards. Not letting up his assault, the smug man’s tongue and fingers draw the entire experience out until your legs are too weak to hold you, having to be pressed back into the wall by white knuckles and fingers stained with your cum. You hear it drip to the floor and see it when your half-lidded eyes blurrily make out the ragged appearance of an arrogant Simon, clear beads falling off of his chin and his lower face decimated by your pleasures. The bottom of his balaclava is stained—sopping with absorbed juices.

You both stare—you, lust-blown, and Simon, ready to grasp at himself and stave off the near-painful erection that needs to be taken care of.

But you’re true to your words.

Not seconds after your release had flooded him, your hands pushed at his chest and shoved him to the floor. Simon grunts but lets your hands quickly fiddle with his zipper and send it down. Not a moment is wasted, and the man’s hands move your hips higher as you pull his pants and boxers down just enough to let his dick spring free and slap his abdomen.

Your hand curls around it and he groans long, pushing up into your hand as you stroke him quickly and mercilessly with the spread of his weeping tip. Simon’s words come out as a way to steady himself, but the work of your hand is easy to get lost in as his voice is a growl.

“Tase so bloody good, Sunshine, yeah? Be needin’ that every day,” his mouth is taken in a kiss, and you tase yourself on his tongue as he shakes and his fingers flex into your flesh. “Fuckin’ hell,” he says as you lick his lips, panting below you as he quickly loses himself. “Not gonna…”

Simon’s orgasm builds incredibly fast—and not once does your hand slow in its course. He blinks in a blind panic, mouth letting off soft sounds of confusion as he looks down to see his red cock and how you play with it like a toy. You chuckle at him as his sounds get louder, legs rising, and the slapping of skin on skin addictive.

“You are good with your mouth—and your hands. Should have guessed really, you are a mechanic after all. Got yourself all worked up.” Simon's hand comes up to your head pressing your lips back to his as his abdomen tightens and quivers, thighs shaking as his hips try to meet your break-neck pace but just can’t.

What were you doing to him? Why can’t he last longer than a few mere minutes?

You break off and connect your forehead to his, brown eyes fighting to not go blurry and his mouth open with fast breaths. You push out as you feel his tip twitch and spurt prematurely, “Be a good boy and cum, Simon.”

He groans loudly, eyes fluttering as they try to stay locked to yours before the wet splatter of his rapid ejaculation layers yours as well as his abdomen sticky and soaked. It keeps going, not stopping until Simon’s eyes have come back down from where they had fled to the back of his head and his small grunted whine lets you know you should stop pumping him so violently.

You release his member and go to rub along his abdomen, massaging the skin and laying kisses on his clothed chest slowly. His hands loosen on your hips, thumb pulling back to carefully run circles into the flesh as you hum in appreciation.

Simon's quivering slows to a stop.

“You sure you only work a bar, then? Bloody fuckin’ hell.” Simon hisses, looking down at himself. “Made a fuckin’ mess, yeah?”

“Only fair,” you mutter, moving up to press your lips together as you both sigh. Simon’s breath hitches as your stomach rubs him. “I like having you under me. It’s nice to see you look confused.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he mutters, and a red sheen comes to his flushed face. “Won’t happen again.”

Your face goes mischievous, head tilting. Simon growls a weak, “Don’t.” You chuckle and hide your face into his neck.

“Don’t test it?” You ask into his flesh, your body still pulsing and needy at the display you’d managed to pull from the stoic man. Your tongue licks over your placed hickey with a newfound appreciation for the black and blue mark, blowing on it as Simon feels himself harden again. “Or don’t acknowledge that Simon Riley has a praise kink and when a woman tells him what to do he—”

Your spine settles to the floor, hands stuck on either side of your head and digging into the wood. Simon’s eyes glint primarily, and you keen to him as your arms move to wrap around his neck as your cunt tightens.

“Thought you said you didn’t want me on the floor?” He grasps your chin, moving his face to be above yours so he can speak plainly and dead-like. A surge of power takes over his voice, and you yield with a rising of your legs and a shiver as his fluid-slick abdomen slides over top of yours.

“That was before you made me cum in a matter of fuckin’ minutes by just stroking my cock. Now,” he breathes, “now I’m going to fuck you how you deserve.”

He grasps your legs and pulls them around his waist, locking them as he lines up his half-hard dick and bullies it inside of you, your arching back bends into him, but your shocked moan is cut off as Simon starts to move. The pressure inside of your pussy is tight enough to feel like it could snap—your gummy walls taking the curve of his veins and the grate of his head as the tip curves upward. On girth and size, Simon is the largest you’d ever taken, and your face pulls in with a mix of pain and pleasure before the latter takes over completely.

“Get me to be your toy, eh, Sunshine?” Simon keeps your chin grasped, not letting you look away as you try to garble words over the heavy slap of wet skin. “Keep me ‘ere so you can play with me like you’ve been doin’ from the start?”

“So full,” you seem to have lost that edge, staring up into brown eyes as your spine digs into the wood below you, your cunt taking the fast slaps of Simon’s prod as it reaches every part of you that you could ever ask. Every trust makes your legs tighten, clamping down to keep him there and ring pleasure like water. “Such a big cock, Simon.”

He huffs, but his pace increases, panting at you as your lips meet for a sloppy and slobbering kiss of teeth and saliva. Sweat falls from both of you, coating your faces and lower halves with more liquid to make this dance easier—staining already ruined clothes.

“Splitting you open, am I? So tight,” Simon grumbles, grunting as his elbows shift to stay beside your head. “Gettin’ me off so easily, need ta return the favor for making me feel so good, Sunshine. Bloody perfect cunt, takes my cock like it was made for it. Hear that?” Your skull moves to push into the side of his face as he bites at your neck, ravishing you as the forward and backward motion of his body makes your mouth hold back mewls of raw need. So many sounds—so loud and wet it was lewd, borderline obscene with every pump of the man’s hips that more just spilled out of you, pooling with every back and forth spreading of your hole.

Simon bites a long whine back and angles himself higher, making you shout and cry as a burst of white light explodes in your eyes.

“Making me want to fill you full of myself. Over and over, make you drip with it—go until you can’t walk. You’d take it too, yeah? You’ve got such a good look on your face, you bloody love it when I stretch you open like this—takin’ my dick so well, Sweetheart.”

You were both animals trying to get fix after fix—drunk off scent and a biological urge.

At the words, your pussy tightens around him even more, Simon holding back a loud groan and letting your little puffs of air grace his ears along with the ravaging dig of his fucking.

“You like that?” You whine, face burning as a hand descends to play with your clit. You gasp loudly and moan, not hiding the way your hips jump and rut and fight to keep Simon’s cock taking you raw.

“Simon!” You call loudly. “I like it—fuck I love it, Brown-Eyes. Keep touching me, please, please keep going. Keep talking, love it when you talk like that.”

“Makin’ fun o’ me,” he scoffs, “but the little temptress has the same bastard kink, eh? It’s alright, then. I’ll just help me get you off—”

The front door of the bar opens from beyond the wall.

The both of you stop all carnal desires instantly, wide eyes snapping back and locking with each other. A pin could drop, fast breaths and fast hips held back even as you both quiver and your nerves plead to keep going. The need doesn’t last long. Simon's fat hand covers your mouth as your eyes glint with panic before getting right back to it.

You try to speak, to get the words out that you should go out there, but it’s all cut off by the way he rubs you every right way. Your hand anchors to his back as someone walks around the bar, their voice muffled just like yours is, but this person has no idea you’re getting railed in the back room by the mechanic from across the street.

Simon’s eyes are dark and urgent, but his hands can't as the slap of skin that’s still incredibly loud, and the wetness that follows all but telling. Your moans and whines are hidden, kept back by a tight palm as he smirks down at you. His hips are bruising yours and you can feel the hard bone of his pelvis as it slots itself fully into yours.

“Good girl,” he whispers, accepting the words with hard thrusts that make you whine like a dog, pawing at his gargantuan shoulder blades. “Keep quiet. I’ll make you feel good.”

Your heart hammers, walls flexing and clamping at the words. Outside the walking continues, searching for you, no doubt. Simon's hips increase, almost cruelly, and your cut-off cries spill from between his fingers.

The bastard chuckles and watches, letting your hips meet his as your release builds with the added need to finish quickly.

It was rabid now your back arched, how the person outside mattered so little to you now, in fact, maybe you even wanted them to hear you like this—being fucked so perfectly to the point where you had tears in your eyes and your body was growing numb; mind blanking to only pleasure and the grating press of a foreign entity all the way to where it digs at your cervix and makes you see starts with every addictive thrust.

You can’t hear anything over the previous sounds, that and rough breathing are the only things in this hot room—the air tense and ready; anticipation a drug of the highest order.

“C’mon,” Simon grunts into your ear, hand flexing as his lungs burn. He wasn’t far away either. “Let me see it—how your face screws up all nice and pretty for me.”

Struggling to keep your eyes open, you can only stare at the ceiling as the door of the bar slams shut once more, whoever there leaving. Simon releases your mouth and you fall apart with a spine-breaking arch and a high, feral, keen.

Your release is subsequently followed by Simon’s own, his body spasming as he gives three more violent pumps before the warmth of his cum seeps into your womb with a loud groan and a pound of his fist into the floor. He grinds you both through the aftershocks, the sparks of electricity that make both of your hips jerk just a few more times before you fall limp and useless.

Simon stays inside of you as he shifts to the side, hooking one of your hips over his thigh as you stay face-to-face as your bodies gasp and pant for air.

When the two of you come back to yourselves, some delirious minutes later, the first thing that you both notice is the tightness of your clothes and skin. Glancing down at the mess you’ve made of yourselves, you both slowly look back into each other's eyes, pausing.

You’re the first one to snort, before you have to hold your loud laughs back behind your hand.

“Well, I sure do have some more secrets to keep,” you say through your fit, knocking your head to Simon’s chin. The man is smiling, his eyes crinkled and mouth jerking in a series of chuckles.

“Proper few.” The laughter died down to a simmering emotion of amusement.

You smile at Simon, and he stares back, a hand coming up to touch your cheek delicately before it traces the lines of your face.

“You know I meant it, right?” You ask him, and those browns blink at you in question. “What I said before we decided to fuck. About keeping your secrets.” Simon’s face gets slightly more serious. Your hand cups his cheek, feeling the stubble on your fingertips.

“Simon,” you say, “I don’t want this to just be a one-time thing, okay?”

He watches you for any glint of hesitation—of a lie. But there is none.

“Why,” Simon asks. Your answer is simple as you smirk, recalling words from a while ago.

“You’re just going to have to stick around to find out.”

Simon shoves his lips to yours and drags you back on top of him.

—

You both exit the back room two hours later, clothes ruffled and bodies far dirtier than ever. You have a limp in your step, a pulsing ache between your bruised legs, and yet you’d never felt better.

Simon presses a kiss into your temple.

“Walking you home,” is what he says, and you sigh through an adoring look. You were tired, incredibly tired, and you hoped that Simon would share your bed tonight so he could hold you like he did back there.

“Deal,” you wink, and the man huffs a chuckle, back to that same stoic mechanic that you knew.

It’s only then that you realize that Celina had never shown up for her shift. Pausing behind the counter, you blink and look around, confused as you flatten out your clothes. Simon catches on quickly, brows pulling in with concern.

“Something wrong?”

“Celina,” you tell him, “she never showed up.”

A beat.

“...Probably kept away,” Simon tries to lightly say, implication enough to make you scowl.

“No,” you utter. “She would have tried to break the door down if she actually came in. She never would have walked away.”

The man hums, pulling down his balaclava and looking about.

“What do you want to do about it?” It wasn’t mocking—he was being honest. Your lips thinned out in thought.

“Well…I can’t leave the bar unattended, she needs to be here in order for me to go home.” You motion a hand helplessly, shaking your head and walking forward. Through a sigh you grumble, “I guess I have to call her or I’ll—” A shadow darts from across the street and your head snaps to the dark window.

Words coming to a swift stop, you gaze outside with blank eyes, mouth open in confusion. Simon stands taller, not having seen the strange event but not liking the shock on your face as he pivots to the view to study it.

Brown darts over the street lamps and the closed body of his shop, along the sliver of the obsidian street and the tops of bushes in the plant boxes. But there was nothing there and Simon glanced back at you from over his shoulder with furrowed brows.

“Thought I saw someone in a…” you frown, eyes not leaving the window as your heart tightens. “In a mask.”

“Mh,” Simon watches for a moment before he grunts and tension seeps into his muscles. “Mask?”

“Like yours,” you say quietly, suddenly very still. “Without the skeleton.”

Simon moves back slowly, one foot backing up before he’s behind the counter again and shifting nearer to you—your eyes flicker upward but swiftly return to the view. He pulled out his phone from his wrinkled pants, and no sooner had he put it to his ear that you saw the individual again. This time it wasn’t just one shadow, it was three, and there wasn’t just a flash of black mist and then poof gone again—it was worse than some schoolyard prank.

There was a bat. There was the swing of a strong arm. The glass explodes with a resounding shatter and the shrill yell falls from your mouth not milliseconds later.

Getting tackled down, Simon keeps your head to his chest as he shifts to hit the ground first, body sliding slightly before you’re forced under him and protected by his bulk. Grasping at him, you clench your eyes shut as large projectiles are hurled through the broken window and make contact with the bar shelf right above the two of you.

But Simon doesn't move for a second. Not as the bottles shatter and drown him in alcohol and colored glass, not as the bricks fall back from gravity and strike his spine with a loud thump. He holds you to him, curled over your body as if in reverent worship, grunting as he takes the beating without thought to anything else but your safety. Loud shouts and laughter echo in from outside, but your wide eyes only stay and focus on Simon, his fingers gripping across your back and creasing your shirt. You flinch as a spec of glass knicks your arm, slicing through it with a sharp drag of an uneven edge.

Simon growls into your scalp, but as he attempts to squish you farther into him, the barrage, just as it had come, entirely stops.

Staying there, breathing heavily and your mind panicked, you have no time to think before Simon shoves himself up and snaps his enraged eyes forward. Like a large beast, his hands are in shaking fists, alcohol dripping from his shirt and glass pinging against the wood. You can smell blood.

“Simon,” you say in concern, moving to stand up quickly as you try to get your breath back.

What the hell had just happened?!

“Stay there!” he barks, eyes tight as they dart back and forth to nothing until they find something.

No one was there anymore, but in that absence, the true damage was brought to light. You ignore Simon’s words and shift until you can peek over the top of the counter, fingers shaking and mouth dry. The man beside you is stone-still, his darkened eyes lighting like fire and brimstone as the anger can all but be tasted in the air.

The mechanic’s shop across the street. Seen through the broken remains of the bar as if a tornado had come through on the dusty air.

It had been ransacked.

—

The illumination of the police lights takes over everything, pushing the dark away as Sheriff Russel tries to get statements from the two of you. But your attention keeps getting brought back to the stiff-standing presence of Simon.

He hasn’t spoken beyond clipped sentences, even when he’d called Price, Johnny, and Gaz to explain the situation.

“Can you explain what you saw?” The Sheriff eases, and your attention is drawn back.

“It wasn’t much,” you stutter, shaken. “Shadows—men wearing masks. One had a bat and hit the window before they started throwing bricks.”

Simon’s eyes shift over the damage, numb gaze finding more broken glass, thrown paint, and dents in the garage door. The front had been trashed with garbage, and the lobby was ruined—it was by some miracle that the bikes had been left alone for whatever strange reason.

It didn’t make him any less full of wrath.

Your hands are still shaking, and your arm still leaking small droplets of blood down your flesh. Simon’s injuries were worse; he’d taken the brunt of it, but he didn’t seem to care at all, even as the crimson liquid stains his wet back.

“Simon needs medical attention,” you speak lowly to the Sheriff, head moving forward. “Can we do this later at the station?”

“I’m fine,” the man in question grunts, voice deep with anger before turning and walking back to the two of you. Not once do his eyes stop searching the area; on high alert even now and not eager to be out in the open. Those old instincts were creeping back over him, and he wanted to get you somewhere safe so he could handle this situation himself.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know who was responsible and while property was one thing, your comfort was another.

How dare anyone do something like that to you.

“You’re bleeding,” you explain, eyes tight. A hand brushes over your arm, taking it up and inspecting the small cut that you wear.

Feet shift, and through a clenched jaw Simon utters, “So are you.”

“You know what I mean, Brown-Eyes,” you try to make him listen, but it’s fruitless.

“Don’t worry about me,” the Sheriff walks to assess the damage, letting the two of you speak in hushed whispers and firm looks.

“You sound stupid,” you hiss, and Simon’s fingers rub your skin softly, his study of your body taking place in a slow sweep. “Of course I’m going to worry.”

“Need to stop shaking.” Your face creases at the comment.

“I’m not shaking.” Simon grabs your hand and puts his fingers through yours, raising it between you so you can look. Your eyes shift down, and your limb can clearly be seen vibrating like an engine in his hold; the fingers unable to close fully.

Not speaking, Simon cups it with his other hand and presses, grounding you as your lungs take a deep breath before you can clear your throat.

“I’m fine,” your words barely make it to the air.

“...Now who’s sounding like me?” The man mutters eyes creased as he stares. “Breathe.”

You listen, taking another deep breath and staring at Simon’s chest.

“Up ‘ere,” a finger moves out to tap under your jaw, making you tilt your head up to lock with his browns. “There we are, then. Focus. M’right here.”

“You’re good at this,” you grumble, put off by your own separation from your body.

Simon tilts his head. “Had to be.”

You spare a strangled huff at that.

How quickly things could go wrong—you had thought that tonight would be the best night of your life, but now it was just one single instant that things had made sense, the rest a stain on your memory.

“You know it was Graham and his friends?” Simon nods, still watching you and making sure you’re calming down properly, waiting for that adrenaline crash. He knows. “What are we going to do about it?”

“Right now?” The man pauses. “Nothing. You’re coming down with me to the Bed and Breakfast. Staying there.”

So that was how Simon shifted his priorities, walking you down the road as more and more police showed up—there would be more talking in the morning, you had given them everything you’d known so far. It was also how you were mobbed by three more concerned mechanics as you entered their temporary living situation until houses were purchased, blue and brown eyes blinking at the two of you quickly.

“What in the bloody hell is going on?” Gaz had asked, but you were much too tired to speak beyond leaning into Simon’s shoulder and grunting.

“Steamin’ Jesus,” Johnny had muttered, only in boxers as he’d shoved out of his room. “Heard the sirens—what’s been happenin’ without me?”

Price had been the one to finally settle everyone and push out a stiff order to leave Simon and you alone for the night. With various glances and tense looks, you were both allowed into your room with little more trouble.

It was tiny but clean, and Simon had locked the door with a grumble and moved you over to the bed so you could sit, moving off to run a bath.

You heard the pipes squeak—the whoosh of water as it entered the tub.

Your mind has still not entirely caught up to itself as Simon leads you forward and begins undressing you; taking off your top and letting you shift out of your own pants. The bathroom tile is cold, and you wrap your arms around yourself when you’re entirely bare as you can’t find the words to speak. That is, before Simon takes his shirt off and you see the damage that’s been done.

You gasp, hand reaching out but stopping above the cut skin surrounded by a million bruises and large welts.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, delicately touching the skin. None of the slices were deep, but the horror was still there. “Simon…”

Brown eyes soften, and the balaclava is removed as well before a kiss is dug into your forehead. The shade of his hair matched his eyelashes, and now with the full picture, he was as handsome as you imagined him to be, though to all others the scars and the crookedness of his nose might be a shock. You hadn’t expected anything different.

“Just bruises, Love,” he pets your neck, thumb running over your pulsepoint.

“You’re all cut up,” your eyes water, but your stubbornness holds them back as you try to take everything in from his willingness to show you his face to the events of tonight. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know that he would do something like this, really, he was always a jerk but he was never…never bold like this.”

Cupping his cheeks, you kiss his jaw, salty water tracking down your face as you hear Simon take in a breath. He pulls you closer and hugs you tightly, curling over you as if another barrage of bricks was imminent.

But there wasn’t going to be any danger here. Not with three other veterans down the hall.

“He ever…?” You shake your head, shakily uttering a quick response to Simon’s trialed-off question.

“No. No, I’d never stand for that.” The man’s broken body loosens, a long sigh exiting his nose in blatant relief.

“Good,” is all he says. “Deserve better.”

You sniffle, getting a reign on your emotions. “I’ve got better.”

During the shared bath, you clean the others’ wounds, your back to the wall as you run water over the stretch of Simon’s shoulders, washing away the blood. Your nails drag over his skin as he shivers, not looking back at you as he reaches behind and takes one of your hands into his. The black stain of his tattoos rubs along your bare arm as fingers intertwine, your limb moved and held to his abdomen as you kiss one of the knobs in his spine softly and hum to him.

“Thank you,” you whisper into his skin.

Simon doesn’t respond, only leaning back into you more.

—

Two days pass with no sign from Graham or his friends—Celine, either. Everyone in town was on edge, and in that time you’d been put on paid leave from the bar on account of your involvement and the potential involvement of your coworker. So, you spent most of the time at the shop with Simon, as he’d asked you to so he could keep an eye out.

You had thought that maybe this was a one-time event, and had believed it, as well. Graham had made a point, and being the idiot that he was, he’d pay for it. If he was smart, he’d be out of the country by now—there was no mistaking Simon’s vendetta now. Price had to reel him back in the day after the vandalism.

You’d woken up to an empty bed, having been fitted into one of Simon’s incredibly large shirts and sweatpants for pajamas, and heard arguing. Feet padding like a cat, you had pressed your ear to the door and listened with held-back breath, as if only a peep would make the heated conversation stop.

“He made her bleed, Price. He put her in danger!”

“Get your head on, Simon, you aren’t in the service anymore,” Price had hissed, shadows slinking along from under the door. “You can’t do anything about it.”

There had been a low growl, an aggravated breath.

“I can’t sit ‘ere when he’s waiting like a fucking robber. This is my responsibility— happened on my watch.”

“Since when did that fucking happen, Simon, eh? What’s been going on with you two?”

A pause. “...It’s complicated.”

“Then un-complicate it—you’re thinking like a damn soldier.”

So here you are, fixing the streaks of miscolored paint that had been spattered over the mechanic’s shop as Simon comes out, wiping his hands with a rag.

“Good thing I didn’t start on the mural yet,” you comment to him, stepping back and putting your roller down. The rag is offered and you take it with a small smile while you slide it over your fingers. “Else I would have tracked him down myself.”

“Would ‘ave helped.” October eyes flicker along the drying paint—the marks still visible. “M’sorry.”

“If you won’t let me apologize,” you raise a brow in challenge. “I won’t let you either.”

Simon’s eyes crinkle from behind a new balaclava, missing the skeleton details. “Cheeky.”

“It’s called being truthful, Riley.” You sigh through the tilt of your head. “But the bad news is that I had to use up the paint, and I’m not even halfway done with this. It didn’t help that they used a darker color than what I wanted as the backdrop.”

“Want to take a drive out, then?” The question is swift and honest as it's aimed at you like a distraction from the anxiety. Simon motions his head to the garage. “Got a bit before I’m needed, m’sure you could use a break, yeah?”

“You don’t have to,” you utter, moving to rest a hand on his bicep. He almost purrs at the touch, leaning in.

“Want to,” Simon grunts slowly. “Bikes are still good. Bastards knew I’d skin them if they touched ‘em.”

“I’m sure,” you chuckle, teasing him through a smirk. “Big Bad Simon Riley.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” he breathes at that, turning back around as you follow after, laughing.

You both get onto the Rebel, and the brown leather jacket moves your way along with the helmet, slipping it over your head not seconds later as Simon grabs his spare.

“Are you sure you shouldn't ask for another helmet?” You had brought it up the first time as well—the prospect of a crash.

“Only a small ride—I’ll go slow, Sunshine.” Knuckles tap the top of the helmet in reassurance. “Matters more that you’re the one wearing it.”

Your face creases up, but you sigh and nod, wrapping your hands around Simon’s waist and tightly holding on as the engine starts rumbling below you. Moving your feet up to the rests, you scoot closer as the man pushes off the ground, flipping the kickstand back up before he leans forward slightly and lets the bike do the work.

As before, the two of you get out of town and nature opens up—but as soon as you really start to let your worries slide away and focus on Simon’s pulse and the freedom he gives you, there’s a cold wind from the west. Coming up and dragging along with it, a dark rain cloud sits over you both about a seven-minute drive in.

“Should we pull over?!” You shout in question as raindrops begin to patter off your helmet. The bike makes a strange chirping sound, and you blink over Simon’s shoulder until your attention is taken away by his answer.

“Soon!” You nod, trusting him to know, and ease back. Your fingers trace the small bulge of scars at his waist, shivering.

One minute later, you’re about to say you can see the town ahead when that chirping starts again. Brows furrowing, you grunt in the back of your throat and yell, “What’s that sound, Simon?”

He glances back briefly, unable to hear you.

“The sound!” Simon’s fingers flicker, head moving down to the bike below him—the hum of the engine was too strong up here, he can’t hear anything out of the ordinary.

“What are you—?!”

There’s a great shriek of black metal, and the Honda Rebel 500’s front wheel breaks off from the motorcycle fork and the bike flips.

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buckys-wintersoldier · 6 months

Text

"It's okay to love me."

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: Bucky has been your enemy since your first meeting but something changed after a while.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, but none

Wordcount: 1.7k

Prompt: "It's okay to love me. Please love me."

A/N: The one-shot is written for the 500 Follower special hosted by @vase-of-lilies congratulations to the 500 and thank you for hosting this one. This was really fun to write and I like the prompts so much.

A/N²: Divider made by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Taglist: @nicoline1998enilocin @sergeantbarnessdoll @bucky-barnes-lover @felicitylemon @kandis-mom @ergle-barnes @sweater-bee @cjand10 @identity2212 (want to be tagged? Here)

"You are such a bitch," , you mumble and show him your middle finger. He just laughs and walks a few steps closer to you, his hand touching your shoulder, and you immediately take a step back.

"Come, doll. You love it, don't you?", he says with a wide smile, leaning closer to you. When you take another step back, your back touches the wall, and you shiver. "Aww, look how your body reacts; so perfect,", Bucky whispers, and he is suddenly just a few inches away from you.

"Shut up,", you mumble, your gaze down, and you fix the floor. Bucky uses his fingers under your chin, so you need to look up at him. His steel blue eyes are looking into yours, and you feel like he knows every thought in your head.

Bucky leans closer, and his breath brushes over the sensitive skin under your ear. You feel goosebumps all over your body. "Don't mess with me, slut,", he whispers and lets go of you. He takes a step back, and you slide down against the wall.

"I'm not a slut, James. And I fucking hate you,", you say, and try to stay as confident as possible. "I hate you too. You're nothing, just a fucking slut,", he says, laughing when he turns around and leaves the room.

You're still sitting on the floor, your back as well as your head resting against the wall. You hate him; you fucking hate him. No matter what you do, he is an ass.

"Hey, I'm Y/N,", you say and smile at the two super soldiers in the room. You're the new member of the Avengers, and you're so happy that everyone already likes you.

Steve Rogers, also known as Captain America, stands up from the couch and walks closer to you. He reaches for your hand to pull you closer into a short hug. And smiles widely. "Hey, I'm Steve, and welcome to our little family,", he says, and you smile at him with a short nod.

When he walks a few steps back, he points to Bucky. "That's Bucky; he is a bit grumpy sometimes, but otherwise he is really nice,", Steve explains, but Bucky looks annoyed at the two of you. "I'm James,", the brown-haired man says, standing up before he walks to another room.

You aren't sure what his problem is, but you don't mind anymore. He is an ass, and he shows you whenever he can. With your back against the wall, you run your fingers through your hair until you hear some footsteps coming closer.

"What's up?", Steve asks when he walks into the room and looks at you. "Nothin' just the bitch of a grumpy man,", you answer, pushing yourself up to walk to the kitchen counter. Steve sighs and follows you.

You prepare a sandwich for yourself, and Steve makes three for himself. "What did he do today?", he asks, biting into his sandwich. Steve's back leans against the counter, and he looks down at you. You push yourself up and sit on the counter. "He annoyed me until I said he was a bitch. Then he said, I'm a slut.", you shrug and bite into your sandwich as well.

"And why did he annoy you? You know you aren't a slut,", he says, standing in front of you now, his head just a few inches away from yours. "He came into the room and pushed me away from the counter. And when I asked what his problem was, he said, I'm his problem.", you answer, and you feel Steve's hand on your cheek.

"You're not a problem; he is just a grumpy one sometimes," , he says, kissing your forehead. Then you hear your 'favorite' person behind Steve. "Like I said, you're a fucking slut. Seducing my best friend now?", he asks with a sarcastic laugh.

You close your eyes, and you can feel Steve turning around. "Buck, she doesn't fuck me. We are just friends,", Steve says, but you hear the laugh of James. "I would say the same when I would be ashamed that my best friend sees me with that bitch,", he adds before Steve manages to push him out of the room.

You're not sure how he managed to be that fast at the door, but you're grateful that you don't need to listen to James anymore, at least for now.

It's one of the film nights with all of the Avengers, and you're really excited about it. Those days are your favorites, sitting on the couch with your family. Even when you need to watch horror movies, which you don't like that much, after watching them, you all sleep on the couch or floor because no one of you wants to sleep in their room then.

And James stopped the insults, not always, but often. But now he sometimes touches you, even when it's accidentally. Whenever he does, you feel a tingly feeling inside of you, but you try to avoid thinking about that too much. He is still the grumpy man, and maybe he just waits for you to come closer to make jokes about you then.

Now you're waiting for the others while you prepare some snacks. Some of them are still in a meeting, and the others help you prepare everything.

You place the bowls with the snacks on the little table in the living room and place some glasses there as well. The drinks stand around the table, and you take a seat on the couch.

Just a few moments later, you see Bucky walking into the room. His eyes are red, and he looks really exhausted while he slowly walks to the couch to sit down as well.

"Are you oke?", you mumble, and he looks at you. The first time since you knew him without the hate in his eyes. He nods, but you see that he is lying and that he isn't oke. "You don't look like that,", you whisper, and he smiles sadly.

"I don't think I deserve your pity or even your attention,", he says and turns around. "You shouldn't think like that about yourself. I don't know what your problem is with me, but that doesn't stop me from listening to you,", you say, turning your head away for a minute before you look back at him.

He clears his throat and sighs before he opens his mouth. "Those missions and my past aren't easy sometimes, but now I found a girl I really like. I mean, she will never like me that way because I wasn't nice to her,", he says, leaning his head back.

You immediately feel an uncomfortable feeling in your stomach when he says he likes a girl. It feels like jealousy, but you don't think much longer about it. You told him you would listen, so you do.

"Have you talked to her?", you ask, and it feels weird to talk about the person he likes when it could be you. You could be the one by his side, but he will never like you the way you like him. "Yes, a few times, but it wasn't a nice talk. I mean, she is beautiful and nice, but I always made the conversations shitty,", he explains, and you laugh lightly. "You're a grumpy man, but I'm sure she likes you,", you say, wanting to stand up to go into your room to change your pants into something comfortable.

But before you can walk a few steps, you feel Bucky's hand around your arm. When he touches you, you immediately feel the tingly feeling inside of you again, the warmth running through your body because of his touch.

You look at him, and you see the struggle on his face. "Do you like me?", he asks, and you blush, not sure what you want to answer, but you're sure he just asks to be sure if the one he likes could like him too.

"James, I-", you think for a moment about your next words. Do you want to tell him your true feelings or just answer his question with a 'yes'?

He looks around you, waiting for your answer, and you swallow hard. "Sorry, you don't need to answer,", he says, still holding your arm. "It's oke. I will answer that question,", you say, and look around before you look back at him, being sure you want to tell him your feelings.

"I like you; I really do. And that's the problem; you were an ass, and it makes me crazy. But when you stopped it, I missed it, because it was the time when I had at least a bit of time with you. I had the chance to inhale your scent, and it felt like home. Yes, you can laugh now, but your touches, no matter how small they are, make me feel warmth through my body and a tingly feeling,", you say while you see the small smile on his lips. "I want to love you because I love you. But you hated me, and you showed me so often,", you add, and he closes his eyes for a moment.

He looks at you a few moments later, and his smile changes into a sad one. His eyes show you all the love you have just imagined, and there is no hate in his eyes, just the love. "I'm sorry that I was the way I was. I was scared you could come closer to me, and then you would know all about me. But I love you; I always have and always will. You're the most adorable person in my life, and I just want to tell you and show you how much I love you. So it's okay to love me. Please love me,", he whispers, and you smile wide at his words.

You lean closer towards him, and he helps you sit on his lap. "I wished so much that you would love me too. I spend my nights thinking about telling you. And I love you so much, my doll,", he whispers before he presses his lips on yours, and you feel his hands roaming over your body. "I love you too, Buck,", you say against his lips. "I love that nickname,", he mumbles, and you see the wide smile on his lips, as big as the one on yours.

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yuyusboyfriend · 15 days

Text

WATER˚˖𓍢ִִ໋🌊˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚.

500 follower special!

pairing: bestfriend's brother!wooyoung x ftm reader [gn reader coming soon!]

wordcount: 6,7k

content: Your best friend's twin has been the bane of your existence for the last 10 years. That was, until, he decided to visit your dreams.

warnings: nsfw, drinking, weed - both joints and a bong, drinking games, cunnilingus, pool sex, sex without a condom (dont!) afab ftm reader, use of words like cunt, clit etc. lmk if I'm missing anything!

soundtrack: water + truth or dare - tyla, Water - Ten

a/n: Thank you so much for 500 followers😭😭 I hope this fic makes up for all of my breaks between fics I made this as long as I could bc I really wanted to do smth special <333 also shoutout to @zh0nggucc1 for being my bsf 🙏❤️ one more note, this is proofread but I always manage to make a 1000 mistakes so I apologise for any!! Happy reading!

Masterlist!˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

"Finally you're here! Took you long enough" your best friend shouts over the music, holding out a shot glass filled with a clear liquid, "Gotta do a shot before I let you in, Jongho's orders" she smirks as she salutes.

"Really? At-," you quickly glance at your phone," 5 pm? I thought drinking would start later?" you look over the girl's shoulder to see Jongho and Mingi already holding clear cups with some sort of concoction in them.

"Look I'm not arguing with Jongho, he'll throw me in the pool and I haven't changed into my swimsuit yet, so! Take the damn shot will you, pretty please?" she looked at you with big round eyes as if that would persuade your decision.

"I'll do it just stop looking at me like that, it's kind of scary…" you teased, grabbing the shot and throwing it back, hissing slightly at the burn.

"Atta boy! Now go say hi while I go get changed." she ran off before you could argue. As you stepped inside you were greeted by your two friends that you had just seen, Mingi throwing his arm over your shoulder pulling you close to him and offering you his cup. You took a sip out of curiosity about what they had been drinking, not surprised when it tasted of all the soju flavours mixed with a dash of some juice they'd found in the back of the cupboard.

"Mmm! That is awful! Best one yet Mingi I mean seriously they should get you making poison," you and Jongho laughed as Mingi shoved your shoulder and pouted.

You felt eyes on you from somewhere as you looked around the room, your vision landing on the one person you'd hoped you wouldn't have to see until at least 10 shots in. Wooyoung.

Wooyoung was the biggest pain in your ass, and what made it even worse was that he was your best friend's brother. You had been best friends with Vee since the rotten age of 12 years old. Since your first day at your new school, you had practically been attached at the hip, never being away from each other for more than a couple of days — the problem there was that her twin brother Wooyoung was also attached to your hip, and somehow knew how to get on your every last nerve. He never did anything inherently bad to you but you just found him irritating nonetheless, even as the years passed, the smirk on his face every time he said or did something that knew would rile you up irked you.

"Your little boyfriend is watching you again~" Mingi sang into your ear, obviously already tipsy because there was no way in hell you'd ever be with Wooyoung. Was he attractive? Objectively, you guessed so. Had he given you butterflies once or twice when he held your hips to pass you as you helped his mom with the dishes? Maybe? But that was just a natural reaction, it didn't mean anything. Did the clothes that he gave you after you came out smell like him and make you feel funny? … He uses a nice cologne, that's all— The point is he wouldn't date you with the way he acted and you wouldn't either. So it was fine. Totally. Fine.

You elbowed Mingi in the side causing him to double over dramatically and wail, making Jongho laugh even more. You laughed along but couldn't shake the feeling that Wooyoung was still staring at you, so you excused yourself from the boys to go see Hongjoong in the kitchen.

"Vee not with you?" He asked as he spotted you rounding the island to greet him.

"She's upstairs getting changed, Praying she won't be much longer, need her to swat Wooyoung away." Hongjoong laughed as he shook his head at your misery.

"Surely he's not that bad y/n, he's cool when he's with us, a yapper at most," you stared at him with disbelief.

"All of you. Traitors!" You sighed as Hongjoong began to laugh more.

"Who's a traitor?" Your muscles stiffened as you felt a familiar pair of hands on your sides, causing you to roll your eyes and ignore the dip in your stomach. One thing Wooyoung never seemed to understand was personal space, 'what's yours is mine' as he would say.

"We all think you're just the best Wooyoung but y/n doesn't agree," Hongjoong exclaims to the boy behind you. You shake your head at Hongjoong's words, they might be true but it was still rough he put you on the spot. Wooyoung's thumb massaged the flesh at your side as he placed his head on your shoulder.

"Impossible, y/n loves me, don't you?" He smirked as you looked down at him. That fucking smirk.

"yeah, about as much as the rock in my shoe right now," you huffed as you shrugged him off. "I'm getting in the pool, I'll see you lot there, yeah?" you announced, walking through the back door before hearing Vee's voice behind you.

"Wait for me!" She exclaimed slipping by her brother and joining your side, a cute and flowy bathing suit adorning her body as Hongjoong watched her flaunt past. As you got to the pool Vee turned to you, "What was happening with you and Woo back there?" you shook your head, already sick of hearing his name in such as short amount of time.

"Nothing was happening! He's just weird and clingy!" Vee looked at you with confusion, being able to read your thoughts and know them better than you do at this point.

"Then why are you being so defensive? He doesn't usually piss you off this bad, what happened?" She said in a soft tone, the tone that made you feel safe despite feeling so irritated. You knew the answer to her question, but your words fell short.

Last night you had a dream. About Wooyoung. Everything seemed normal until he sat down next to you on your best friend's bed and laid his hand against your thigh, his thumb circling the skin just as his hands would always do when they came into contact with you.

"You want me, don't you?" His big brown eyes stared into your own as he carried on massaging your flesh, tingles zipping up and down your spine as you sat there in utter shock. The close proximity forced you to take in all his features. His little moles under his eye and on his lip. His gorgeous jawline sculpted by god himself. The way his fresh out-of-the-shower hair was draped over his forehead and the way the water droplets rolled over his tanned skin. God, he really was pretty, wasn't he? Your eyes darted back and forth between his features before finally landing back on his lips. You felt yourself leaning forward, losing control of your muscles as you did.

"Yeah." Wooyoung's face moved towards yours and joined your lips together so gently you barely felt it as his free hand pressed to your neck to bring you closer, the warmth of his hands and lips sending you into overdrive-

And that's when you jolted up out of your sleep in a cold sweat.

"Hello? Earth to y/n?" Vee waved a hand in front of your face to try to gain your attention, "What you thinking about?

"I… I had a dream and it's freaking me out okay? No more questions." you mumbled out of embarrassment.

"About my brother!? That's definitely new…don't tell me if you had sex because that's gross but I'm gonna need details!" she looks at you with a look of curiosity and horror.

"Will you lower your voice? Good god, I'm about five seconds from drowning myself in your pool."

She sighs, "Fine, but just use protection, you'd be a great dad but I don't want to be an aunt yet, I'm already busy enough with Kyungmin." you mirror her look of horror from a minute ago.

"I'm not gonna have sex with him Jesus!" she laughs at your panicked expression before sitting down to dip her feet in the pool.

"You getting in or what? We've been standing around for long enough" she said before throwing herself into the pool, splashing you on the way in. You smile and set your stuff down on a chair before taking your shirt off and following suit.

You and Vee chilled in the pool as more guests arrived and began to fill the water around you with inflatables and games, music filling the air as the sky changed to purple and red hues, the fairy lights hung on the fence twinkling this the reflection of the water. After a while, you could feel your skin getting ready to shrivel in the water so you decided to get out and dry off and get a drink. Compared to earlier the kitchen was now filled with people, the majority you knew but there were still quite a few new faces, maybe Wooyoungs friends? you didn't really care to converse with people who associated with him, so you went straight to the drinks table.

Only to feel a stranger's hands around you, pulling you towards him, "Hey handsome, what are you drinking? I'll get it for you hm?" Great, some drunk asshole has already started making rounds but before you could even reply with a snide comment, Wooyoung had ripped the guy away from you and had a hand clutched onto the guy's shirt.

"Don't fucking touch him you asshole, if you're gonna act like this Minjun ill kick you out right fucking now." Woo hissed at.. minjun? so he must know him then. Minjun put his hands up in defeat and apologised to Wooyoung before walking to the living room. Wooyoung turned back to you looking you up and down with worry. He knew you weren't comfortable with that much physicality, especially with strangers, but it was still weird to see him so outwardly caring about the state you were in. Maybe he was always like this, but you opted to ignore him most of the time so you wouldn't know.

"Y/n you okay, he didn't hurt you right? do you want him out he can leave, I'm sorry I didn't think he'd be weird-" You cut off his rambling, just wanting to leave and put on a shirt to not feel so exposed for the time being.

"Woo, it's fine I'll survive." You were looking around until that moment, finally connecting with his eyes. You noticed that he had a rather surprised reaction, not understanding why until you replayed what you just said in your head.

You never called him Woo, that was only reserved for friends. You never considered yourself to be anything close to a friend to him so you refused to call him it, despite him telling you to the first time you met him. You didn't really want to discuss this with him any more than you already had, so you slid past him to go and grab your shirt.

"Seriously, what the fuck is happening with you two?" Vee laughed at her brother, "He's spoken to you more tonight than he has in the last 10 years and It's kind of freaking me out honestly." Wooyoung stood there still in a state of surprise, acknowledging his sister's words, before returning to his regular composure.

"Oh I'll figure it out, he can't keep a secret from me." He flashed a grin at his sister and sauntered to the living room, grabbing an empty bottle and calling everyone to sit down and play spin the bottle.

You reluctantly sat down in the fairly small circle after San linked arms with you and practically pulled you to it. Surprisingly most of the guests didn't want to play so most of them either sat down to spectate and cheer on the players or moved outside to relax in the warm summer night air.

"Who's going first then?" Seonghwa sighed looking around the circle, praying someone would volunteer so there wouldn't be an extensive game of rock paper scissors.

"One of the hosts should go first, it's courtesy" Yeosang chimed in, looking between Wooyoung and Vee.

"Ooh, I'll go then~" Vee chirped, leaning into the middle and giving the bottle a good spin. The circle of people watched the bottle circle round a few times before landing dead centre between Hongjoong and Mingi.

"That's pointing at me!" Mingi exclaimed to Hongjoong, only for Hongjoong to argue back that it was pointing at him.

Vee laughed at the bickering boys, "I'll kiss you both then, yeah?" She crawled over to where they were and gave them a quick peck each before moving back to her space. You rolled your eyes and laughed at the boys who were abashedly blushing next to you. They span the bottle a few more times before it finally landed on you. At this point the group was teetering on the edge of being buzzed and drunk, you being the former.

"Come on y/n spin it!~" Vee shouted not being able to register her volume now, obviously being the latter the way her cheeks were rosy. You reached over to the bottle and spun it, anticipation making your stomach churn. You watched it spin round and around, feeling as though it was taking hours to slow down. Finally, it came to a halt and your heart stopped, knowing damn well who was sitting in that direction. But as you looked up -

"Yunho! kiss! kiss! kiss!" the circle cheered and gawked at the two of you in excitement. You and Yunho met in the middle before pressing your lips together briefly, moving back to your designated spots. Yunhos cheeks were slightly flushed, mostly from the alcohol, but before you could think about it anymore, your eyes drifted to Wooyoung who was staring right back at you. His eyelids were lowered as he kept his gaze fixed on your lips. what the fuck? You would blame it on him drinking but he had drank less than you at the point, so it was kind of scaring your buzzed brain.

As you watched the bottle spin over and over again, it managed to keep narrowly avoiding you, making your stomach flip time and time again as it passed you. As the circle started to get bored, Vee suggested we amp up the tension by playing truth or dare.

"But if you decide not to do it you have to take a shot, okay?" The group nods in agreement and Vee spins the bottle once more to decide who the first victim is. As the bottle span once the tension rose in your chest, you could already feel who it was going to land on, and sure enough, it came to a halt pointing straight at the man across from you.

"Woo! Truth or dare?" He ponders for a second before deciding on his answer.

"Dare." Wooyoung looks at you before returning his line of sight to his sister. But, before she could answer with a dare, you chimed in first.

"I dare you to back Mingi's cup!" You looked at the growing horror on his face, as Mingi was famous for his awful attempts at being a mixologist, but Woo wasn't ready to lose a dare, even if the counterpart was only taking one shot instead. He wasn't really thinking at that moment since it was you who asked. You watched him stand up and walk over to Mingi, grabbing his cup and staring at it briefly while grimacing before bringing it to his soft lips and chugging it in one go. As he finished the drink he hissed at the taste and shook his head before giving Mingi a stinkeye and walking back to his seat.

"Okay, y/n, truth or dare" Wooyoung studied you, waiting for your answer.

"Uh, truth?" you stammered out trying to think about what Wooyoung would've made you do if you had picked dare, probably make you jump in the pool or-

"What was the last thing you touched yourself over?" what the fuck? the room filled with oohs and giggles while they waited for your answer. How the fuck could you tell them it was a dream about Wooyoung that had pushed you over the edge? you hadn't even told Vee because she still would have likely been horrified despite her interest

"um, a dream." The circle cheered and laughed again at your answer and you could feel your cheeks warming.

"what was it about y/n?" Wooyoung pushed more and the circle seemed to get more excited in anticipation of your reply.

You huffed at Wooyoung, "Not telling you weirdo, plus it's not 21 questions." feeling eyes on you at your small outburst. "I'm gonna get a drink, carry on without me, I'll be back." You smiled, putting on your best poker face before getting up and leaving the room. you could feel Wooyoungs eyes on the back of you as you walked out almost making you stumble. You walked through the kitchen, grabbed a fresh drink filled to the brim and walked out to the pool, slipping your shoes off once again and dipping your feet into the pool. You felt your body cool down in the summer night air as you swayed your legs in the water and sipped on your drink. Why was Wooyoung being so weird today? His gaze was making you feel dizzy, you'd never really felt this way about him so why was a silly dream affecting you so much? You felt as if he was reading your mind all night and it was starting to get to you honestly.

"You want to smoke?" The familiar voice nearly made you fall into the pool, Speak of the fucking devil. You turn your head to see the last person you would want to right now, holding a joint in one hand and a lighter in the other. Despite your need to be as far away as possible from this man right now, you couldn't pass up the one chance at relaxation being offered to you.

"…Sure." You reluctantly answered him. He took a seat way too close for your comfort at this moment, but you tried to shrug the weird feeling in your stomach off. You watched Wooyoung hold the joint between his fingers and light it, bringing it to his lips. He took a hit and handed it to you, smoke cascading out of his mouth while looking into your eyes.

"Your turn," He kept observing you as you took a hit from the joint, feeling it travel down into your lungs and relaxing you instantly. You took one more long puff before handing it back to the boy next to you and laid back to look up at the stars. You and Wooyoung kept passing it back and forth in silence till it was finished, him now laying back with you.

"Why do you hate me so much, y/n?" He said so quietly you barely caught it.

You sighed before formulating a reply, "You used to irritate me a lot when we were younger, you'd pushed my buttons too much and I started to dislike you more and more. Now though? I'm not really sure anymore." You tilted your head to look at Wooyoung only to see he was looking right back at you. He was always looking at you.

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to be your friend, but you pushed me away and the only way I knew how to get your attention was to do what I did, and eventually I didn't even realise what I was doing to you, to our relationship." His words felt sincere, and fuck you felt horrible. You knew Wooyoung only acted that way with you and you hadn't even noticed why, not even after ten years of fighting. You kept looking into his eyes, and you could see the sadness in them. Was that always there and you just never noticed?

"I never said thank you for the clothes you gave me when I came out, did I?…thank you."

"I knew you needed them, they were waiting in a stack for the day you would claim them." before you could even realise it, you felt a tear roll down your cheek. Wooyoung hesitantly lifted his palm to your face and wiped the wetness from your face, stroking his finger under your eye and cupping your face with his hand. His soft thumb swiped back and forth, gently caressing your face.

He looked so pretty in the moonlight. The way the light sat on his lashes and defined his jaw made you want to touch. You craved to feel the surface of his skin grazing against your palm right now you could hardly fight it. Instead, you leaned into his chest and rested your head on his collarbone, not daring to look into his eyes right now, not daring to reveal the emotions in the expression that was on your face. He stroked your hair rhythmically and you felt your whole body relaxed into his touch, god was this what you were missing out on all this time?

"Don't fall asleep on me now, my sister will kill me if she sees I let you sleep on the floor," You chuckled into the warmth of his chest before finally sitting up, Wooyoung following you.

"you wanna go for a swim?" You smiled at him, not waiting for an answer, taking your shirt off and sliding into the heated pool. You swam to the middle, hearing a splash behind you, and turned around to see a now wet-haired Wooyoung following suit. You tried to ignore the fact that now he really reminded you of your dream - hair soaked, droplets dripping down his shimmering skin as his smile spread wide at you. You tried to swim away but your battle was quickly lost when you felt a hand grab your ankle and pull you under the water.

Your body flipped underwater, turning around to feel Wooyoung right above you. His hands came to your face and begged you to look in his eyes. You opened them to see his face inches from yours, and how desperate his eyes were to close the short distance between the two of you, and you were only a weak man. You pulled him down by the nape of his neck and joined your lips together and good lord, even underwater, it was still better than you imagined. Wooyoung broke the kiss after a few seconds and brought you back to the surface for air, not giving you long till he dived back in to kiss you once more, his hands begging to feel every inch of your waist and pull you towards him. The way his skin felt against yours felt hot and you needed more of it everywhere so desperately.

"Woo I need you," you whispered, trying to communicate with your eyes and praying he would understand.

"You have me, baby." His body moved you backwards, out of sight from the living room and windows, until your back hit the side of the pool. His mouth made its way to your neck, nipping at the skin before running his tongue over it. "Can I touch you?" He whispered into your ear, biting your earlobe.

You nodded into his shoulder, hungry for the feeling of his fingers in you. His hand slipped passed the waistband of your swim shorts, giving him straight access to you. His fingertip grazed up and down your slit, teasing your aching clit.

"Wooyoung please" You whined into his ear, deciding to take some sort of initiative and fidget with the strings of his shorts, tugging at them till he permitted you to touch.

"You wanna touch me, baby?" He grabbed your hand in his and slipped it into his shorts, letting you get a feel of the bottom of his stomach, hand slowly inching down till you reached the base of his girth. His other hand was still teasing your cunt, finally allowing one digit to slide into your hole. You moaned softly into his shoulder, writhing at the pleasure of feeling him in you, while still beating yourself up from missing out on this for so long.

As you were about to start stroking his cock you heard the back door open. You and Wooyoung shot your heads around to see who it was, quickly separating yourselves to not get caught. You heard the loud music bouncing throughout the house as a hoard of people spread out onto the porch, all ready to go for another swim, Vee carrying another speaker with her to liven up the night.

"What are you guys doing out here?" Vee shouted over the music, looking between the two of you with a shocked expression.

You looked at Wooyoung trying to formulate an answer, but you answered for him instead, "Oh, we were just talking… about stuff…" You watched her face try to decipher what you meant, but she came up short with answers. She could tell that both of you were stoned though, and honestly? She was grateful you were getting along, even if it was just for one night. Wooyoung watched Vee walk away, far enough before he asked you,

"Do you wanna go upstairs?" He pressed his body against you slightly, and you could feel how hard he was against your leg. His eyes were begging for this not to end here, and you didn't feel the need to argue for once in your life, So you dragged him to the ladder and got out first, ready with a towel for him once he got out so he could hide what was going on his shorts. Once he was out he clutched your hand in his own, pulling you through the house and up the stairs to the safety of his room. Before you could even react Wooyoung had you pressed up against the closed door, lips back on the underside of your jaw. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness of his room. You had only been in here a handful of times, in which you'd never spent long enough to have a good look around the area. As you examined the room, your eyes zeroed in on the bong on his bedside table.

"You have a bong?" Your voice came out hoarse.

"Yeah, you ever..?" Wooyoung questioned.

You looked at him, "No… Can I?" He smiled at you and brought you over to his bed. The bong was already filled with fresh water, as Wooyoung packed the bowl, grabbed his lighter and held it to the bowl igniting it. He inhaled for a few seconds before pulling the bowl out, inhaling the rest of the smoke. He gave you a smug grin at your amazement and handed the bong over to you.

"So I'm gonna light it for you, and when I pull the bowl out, I'm gonna need you to inhale the rest of it or it'll leave stale smoke in the chamber, okay? now I'll let you do a little hit to get you started, just put your lips on it like I did, baby." His sugarcoated pet names had your stomach doing flips, but you stayed focused on the task at hand. Your lips met the mouthpiece and you waited for wooyoungs signal.

"Okay I'm lighting it, start inhaling gently…" You followed his instructions, feeling the water bubbling and the smoke enter your mouth. "Okay inhale fully," Wooyoung concentrated as he pulled the bowl out, you felt the fresh air clear the bong and go into your mouth. You took your mouth off of the bong and exhaled, feeling a cough climb out of your throat with the smoke - Wooyoungs hand instantly joined you to rub circles on your back, a little laugh coming from him at your suffering. After you laughed with him, "Let me try again, I won't cough this time-" Wooyoung suddenly kissed you quickly, making your body follow him as he pulled away.

"Sorry, I just wanted to kiss you again." He looked…Bashful? You had never seen this on him, and God it made him look hotter, I mean, really how did you not realise any of this? He brought the bong back to your mouth getting ready to light it once more. "You wanna do the same or a bigger hit?"

You tried to think through your already clouded mind, "Big." was all you were able to come out with, too busy staring at his pretty face. You put your lips to the bong and Wooyoung repeated the process, adding an extra second before pulling the bowl out for you. You felt slightly lightheaded from the lack of oxygen, laying back slowly to ground yourself, hearing Woo take a hit above you. As Wooyoung joined your side, Your mind started filling with all the dirty things you wanted to do with him, all the things you could do to make up for wasted time. Woo felt you sit up and throw a leg over his waist so you were straddling him.

"You know what you asked me earlier? About what my dream was about?" You leant down to his face and whispered in the shell of his ear. "It was about you. I was dreaming about you, looking all sexy fresh out of the shower, touching me." You looked at his face, hooded eyes but still surprised at your confession. You ground your hips down on his bulge, feeling his hard-on grow against you once again

"Y/n…" You halted your movements, shit, had you done too much? Before you could worry you felt his hips rise looking for the friction "Oh God please don't stop, y/n." His hands landed on your hips and pulled you back down, moving your hips with his own. He whimpered under you as you rolled your hips along him, thumbs massaging your flesh. His head tilted back and you took your chance to nip at the base of his throat, and began to suck, leaving a blooming mark in its wake. Your mouth needed to be busy, begging to have Woo in it any way you could have him. You left a trail of bites on his collarbone leading up to the underside of his jaw and ears, making him huff with each one.

"Mine," you whispered. He heard you. Your words sent him into overdrive as he sat up and flipped your bodies so you were now under him before he started tugging at your shorts.

"need these stupid things off," He mumbled finally getting them off you, leaving you completely exposed. "Can I eat you out? I really wanna taste you." He patiently waited for your response like a dog waiting for a treat. As soon as you nodded, cheeks blushed, He dived in and started to devour your aching cunt. His tongue was working magic against your hole, nose rubbing your clit deliciously as he moaned into you. You writhed against his mouth, hands gripping his hair to ground you because of the way he took you to cloud nine.

You could already feel the orgasm building as he greedily ate you out. His tongue worked against your clit as he added a digit to your soaked hole, moving it in and out in a steady rhythm, desperate to bring you over the edge before he finally fucked you senseless. He was barely taking breaks to breathe, ready to die if it meant he'd die face buried in your sweet cunt, the way you clenched around his finger was going to make him cum in his shorts at just the feeling. Both of your senses were heightened from the weed and the pleasure was a hundred times stronger than usual, you weren't sure you were gonna last long and Wooyoung could tell. "You gonna come on my fingers, baby?" He said, voice croaky as he added another finger, "Cum on my face pretty boy, I want to feel you on my tongue when you do."

Wooyoungs words sent your body over the edge, and you seized up as you let go, feeling Wooyoung sucking your clit while you rode it out on his fingers. He unlatched his mouth from you, feeling your body calm down, and slid his fingers out of you to see them soaked in your arousal. You watched him with hooded eyes as he licked the traces of you off of his fingers. Fuck, that sight alone could've brought you to an orgasm again.

"Gonna fuck your pretty hole now, baby" You moaned at his tone, pulling him to you so you could taste yourself in his mouth, tongues moving in unison. Once you had a good grip on him, you pulled him back onto the bed and stood up to pull his shorts down. You watch his hard cock spring out from them and licked your lips at the sight. You knew it was big, you could feel it but fuck, the way it glistened from the precum leaking out of his tip, made your desire to taste him grow one hundred times. You leaned down to his tip and gripped the base, before running your tongue across it and sinking down about halfway. He whined feeling your mouth around his hardness, it was heaven but, "I don't wanna cum in your mouth baby, want you on my cock now," He begged you, needing to feel you, to connect you.

You needed him just as badly, so you moved upwards so you could straddle him. You lifted your hips and hovered over his cock, holding it so you could get the angle right before slowly sinking down on him. You felt so full as he entered you, the stretch feeling the best you had ever felt. You knew nothing else would ever feel the way Wooyoung felt in you at that moment, you would never be able to take another cock that would feel as good as he did. His voice cracked as you finally bottomed out on him, staying there until you both adjusted to the feeling.

"Holy fuck, give me a second or I'll bust early" Wooyoung huffed out, his chest sinking and rising quickly as if he had forgotten to breathe, because well, he did. "Fuck baby, you feel so good, your boy cunt is mine, it's mine you're mine oh my god." Wooyoung babbled, his brain completely fried from how you clenched around him.

"You ready for me to move, baby?" You whispered to Wooyoung, receiving a nod from Wooyoung as you started slowly rocking your hips back and forth. The feeling of him reaching deep into you was pure bliss. Wooyoungs hands had a death grip on your hips, fingertips digging into your soft flesh, making you moan with each movement.

"Fuck Wooyoung, you feel so good, I don't know how long I can last," You could already feel yourself losing control of your sanity, but you weren't about to let this end so quickly. You lifted your hips to slam back down onto his cock, making him moan loudly. You kept this rhythm going and the pleasure was overwhelming, feeling the way he hit your g spot so nicely each time you bounced on him.

"Ah fuck, fuck you feel so fucking amazing holy fuck please don't stop," His praises kept fueling you to sink onto him deeper and deeper with each stroke. You both were losing your sanity together and it was fucking incredible, if Wooyoung was ready to die happy before, he was even more sure now that he was buried so deep in you that he wasn't sure if he ever wanted to leave you and the way you gripped his throbbing member. Your body ached to be filled by Wooyoungs cum, not ready to feel empty once he was done. You craved to feel full like this for as long as you were on this earth, while Wooyoung was by your side.

"Baby I'm not gonna last much longer, where do you want me to cum?" Wooyoung wheezed out between breaths.

"In me, please god please, I need you in me," You begged, speeding your pace up as Wooyoung reached to circle your clit.

"Are you sure?" He said worried.

"It's fine I'm on the pill, please Woo I need it." Wooyoung rocked his hips aggressively as his orgasm built up, yours ready to spill over the edge. His hand sped up on your clit and finally, your orgasm hit you like a truck, ripping a guttural moan from your chest. Wooyoung felt you clenching around him so hard that his own orgasm followed suit, His soul being snatched from him as you kept riding out yours.

Your body turned to jelly as you finished and you flopped down onto Woo's chest, hearing his heart racing against your ear.

"Fuck me." He gasped out, still trying to catch his breath, making you laugh.

"I literally just did Woo." He pinched your side in response, making you laugh more, your arms wrapping around him. You sat there until you had both calmed down, before sliding out of you. You could feel his cum leaking out of you and you whined at the loss as he moved you to the side of him so he could clean up.

"Sorry, baby I gotta clean you, and me up. I'll be two seconds." You watched him walk to his bathroom, damn he's got a nice ass, you thought to yourself, waiting for him to come back. Sure enough, he was quick, and back with a washcloth to clean you up. He was careful as he wiped you down, knowing you'd still be sensitive after two orgasms. He handed you some of his clothes to put on and excused himself to get the two of you some water.

"Where have you been? and where's y/n? I can't find him," Vee questioned Wooyoung as he reached the bottom of the stairs, noticing he had changed into sleep clothes despite the party still going.

"Don't tell me…" Vee thought about the circumstance, and the guilty look on Wooyoung's face.

"Did you fuck my best friend??" She watched the corners of Wooyoung's mouth curl up, and she knew she already had the answer.

"Sorry?" Wooyoung said very unapologetically as Vee punched him in the arm.

"If you ever hurt him I'll kill you, I do not care if you're my twin. I still have kyungmin, you hear me?" Vee said dead seriously, slightly scaring Wooyoung, but he couldn't help but make fun.

"I solemnly swear to never hurt y/n as long as I live, Seargent!" vee punched him one more getting ready to send a very long message to y/n.

Wooyoung arrived back upstairs, two bottles of water in his arms and a few munchies in the other.

"Oh you're a godsend Wooyoung- never thought I'd say that…" You laughed with Wooyoung as he plopped down next to you in bed, putting a movie on and cuddling up to you.

"Sorry, it took so long for us to be friends, Wooyoung. Woo." You sighed, avoiding eye contact with him now, guilt still eating away at you after everything.

"I don't want to be friends." Wooyoung declared, waiting for you to look at him. You shot your head around, confused and concerned.

"What? What do you mean?"

Wooyoung smiled before answering, " I've loved you too long just to be friends, y/n." Tears filled your eyes as you wrapped yourself around him, needing his warmth. "I love you y/n."

"Love you too."

AHHHH tysm if you made it to the end I hope you enjoyed!!! <33333333 thank you again for 500 followers !!!❤️

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goldenempyrean · 10 months

Note

For a small Drabble! Natasha x sick delirious reader. Nat keeps trying to put them back to bed. 🩷

Secret Agents of the Sea

〚 Notes - I thought this was super cute so enjoy some Natasha fluff. 〛

〚 Pairing - Natasha x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - You're delirious with fever, Nat's just trying to keep you in bed. 〛

〚 Wordcount - > 500 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

╚════════ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ════════╝

“Y/N you need to stay in bed.” Natasha groaned as she put you back down in bed for the forth time that day, “I cant have you stumbling around like a drunk octopus when you’re like this.”

The idea of an octopus seemed to amuse you in your feverish state as you babbled, “Ju’s so you know oct’puses are s’very misunderstood.”

Nat raised an eyebrow as she chuckled, “Oh really, why is that?” She asked, curious to see where you’d go with this.

You blinked up at Natasha, your glazed eyes struggling to focus on her face. A soft giggle escaped your lips, accompanied by a hint of delirium. "’because," you replied, your voice slightly slurred, "they're masters of disguise and they can wear masks and fight crime.”

To demonstrate you tried to pull yourself out of best and do a ninja pose but that was instantly stopped when Nat gently pulled you back down into the time, this time tucking the covers more tightly around you, “I think you’re talking about the Mutant Ninja Turtles love.”

You pouted, your lower lip jutting out in a childish manner. "No, no, Nat," you protested weakly, "I mean the octopuses. They're like the undercover agents of the seas. Nobody suspects them, but they're out there, solving underwater mysteries and fighting off evil creatures."

Natasha couldn't help but chuckle at your fever-induced ramblings. She sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching out to gently brush your hair away from your forehead. "You've got quite the imagination, don't you?" she said, a fond smile tugging at her lips.

You nodded, a little too vigorously, causing a wave of dizziness to wash over you. "Mhm, I do. But it's true, Nat. Octopuses are smart, like really smart. They can open jars and solve puzzles. They're like the secret agents of the sea, I'm telling you."

Natasha couldn't argue with your enthusiasm. She admired the way your eyes sparkled, even in your delirious state. "Alright, alright," she conceded playfully, "I won't argue with you. Octopuses are the secret agents of the sea, fighting crime and saving the day. But for now, you need to rest and let yourself be a superhero of getting better and just let me look after you.”

〖 Join My Taglist! 〗@sayah13 @mahalkitanova @romanoffskisser @scrambled-brain-eggs @natashamyl0ve @bloomingflowersthings @kathleenmikaelson @shamelessbearunknown @inluvwithfictionalwomen @citrussnz @fluffyblanketgecko @kljhsong @santana1437 @blackwidow-3 @asiangmrchk13 @lovelyy-moonlight @juiles @lots-of-pockets @sashawalker2 @natashamaximoff69 @observeowl @beholdagaywriter @widows201 @llovergirleraa @danveration @idkeithershawty @poison-blackheart @loveshineslikethesky @somber-sapphic

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff sickfic #natasha romanoff fluff #mcu #marvel #sickfic #natasha romanoff comfort

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darklyndivinely · 11 months

Text

Tender Familiarity • A.S x gn!reader

Fandom - Star Wars

Summary - Anakin comforts you after a bad day.

Warnings - Fluff.

Wordcount - 500+

A/N - Anakin and reader are lovely little babies, protect them at all costs. This one’s for the tired, touch-starved peeps that just need someone to hold them. Gif credit to @hayden-christensen. Hope y'all like it!

Masterlist • Leave a tip! • Taglist Form

The series of hushed knocks on your door were familiar. You looked up as Anakin stepped in.

“Hey,” he whispered, quickly catching sight of you and crossing the darkened room to the bed. You wondered how you looked to him. Messy perhaps, with an exhausted frown on your face and slumped shoulders, sitting alone on the edge of your bed. You raised your arms, and he obliged instantly, cocooning your head in the warmth of his body. You sighed, wounding your arms around his waist and burrowing into his tunic. After the disastrous day you had had, this was exactly what you needed—the comfort of tenderness.

You didn’t bother to track time. Sometime during your embrace, he had started feathering caresses over the shell of your ear. He hummed softly then, once, as if to probe the silence. Then a bit louder. It was a soft tune, lovely, melancholic, flowing deep from the throat and deeper from the heart. It didn’t have any words. Just dulcet notes twirling and falling like a leaf’s dance with the wind. When it ended, you pulled back from Anakin. There were tears caught in his lashes. You smiled at him and leaned up to press a delicate kiss to his lips. He let go of a shuddering breath against your skin before deepening the contact.

“Slaves don’t get solace often. But the few nights we used to be at peace, she would hum this for me.” He pressed his forehead against yours. “Then she would lay beside me and we would go to sleep curled into each other.”

You could imagine it. Anakin and his mother pressed close on a single cot, shaded by mellow lamplight, her fingers tapping away in his curls, her voice lulling him to sleep.

“Thank you for sharing it with me.”

He shook his head, wiping away his tears. You shifted to make space for him and he settled beside you, hand intertwining with yours. “Why were you sitting in the dark? Did something happen?”

“Just a bad day. First the Senate meeting went awry. Everybody wanted to talk but nobody wanted to listen. It’s as if they hear what you speak merely to retaliate. It’s so frustrating. Then the delegation from Murrat that were supposed to show didn’t come. It took us hours alone to establish contact with them and ask for updates. Then I went to my office to finish a bit of paperwork that is going to be due soon, but I kept messing up the words.”

You sighed, looking blearily at Anakin. “So then I came back here.”

“Did you have dinner?”

You shook your head. He nodded and pulled you upright. “Neither did I. Let’s go out.”

“We can’t. What if someone recognizes us?” you said, trudging behind him as he headed for the door.

“Trust me.” He winked and stepped out.

You knew better than to trust those two words of his. But his smirk was so tempting, promising a night of laughter and passion and trysts under night skies. However could you resist?

#star wars anakin #anakin skywalker x reader #clone wars anakin #anakin x reader #anakin fluff #star wars prequels #star wars #star wars x reader #anakin skywalker x you #hayden christensen #hayden christensen x reader #anakin skywalker #darkly and divinely written

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ddwcaph-game · 5 months

Text

Chapter 4 & 5 is finally out!

The wait is finally over. Grab your plot armor, Chapter 4 and 5 of Dear Diary, We Created a Plot Hole! is finally here!

🚌 Play it here! 🚌

To celebrate the release, a +50% ✨EXP Bonus Event will be running for the next couple of weeks!

The full change log is over 500 lines long, so here's an overview of all the new stuff:

🌈 UPDATE HIGHLIGHTS

~ 509,000 total wordcount (including code) ~ 278,000 additional words (including code) ~ New average playthrough of 115,000 words!

New Stuff to Discover!

52 New Secrets to discover, 8 New Trinkets to collect, 12 New Achievements

30 New Character Traits, 15 New Heritage Passives, 3 New Phobias, 16 New Status Effects

3 New Main Quests, 12 New Sidequests

and 1 New Song to sing along to!

New Scenes!

Introductions to Wayne, Lily, and JM's parents!

New exclusive bestfriend scenes!

Get a sneak peek into the story worlds you'll visit in future, in the Story Exchange!

Revamped crush confession scene with your twin!

Steal a kiss on the cheek from your crush!

Catch a preview of Chapter 6!

New Choices and Customization!

Choose the name of MC's dad!

Choose a second bestfriend, other than your twin (and give them a custom nickname)!

You can now choose to have two different pronoun sets!

Choose a mild swear word for your MC

Added B as a crush option

Tons of Diary and Stat Improvements!

New, updated, and expanded character diary entries!

New unlockable codex entries!

Write custom post-scripts in your diary!

Added new toggle settings for simple/detailed view of traits/passives, and background transitions

New trait option that reduces the frequency and gives additional context to Filipino expressions

Improved diary and stat notification layout

So Much More!

Added lots of new character art!

Added gameplay tips!

Lots of references to In Auctorem Credimus!

Roselyna is now approximately 20% more huggable!

---

I've also updated the Trinkets & Secrets Guide, as well as the Twin Character Templates!

If you encounter any errors, or have any questions or feedback, feel free to send me an ask! I'll go through my ask backlog after I have recovered from the update.

I hope it was worth the wait! 😊

#dear diary we created a plot hole #ddwcaph #ddwcaph updates #amare #amare game #amare dev #if #if wip #if game #interactive fiction #interactive novel #interactive story #choicescript #dashingdon #chapter 4 #chapter 5

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dottores · 2 years

Text

DANGEROUS GAMES | CYNO

pairing: cyno x fem!reader.

summary: your boyfriend finally comes home after being gone weeks for mahamatra duties and finds himself in a rather difficult position when you make it your goal to cause him to lose control while finishing up his mission report.

warnings: fem!reader, oral (f->m, m->f), brief manhandling, reader teasing cyno, pussy drunk!cyno.

notes: this was only supposed to be a 500 word drabble. sobs.

wordcount: 3.3k

“Mm, I told you that I had to get work done tonight,” Cyno murmured, gaze flickering down to the ground where you were leaning against his leg, head resting on his thigh as you blinked up at him, eyes wide and innocent as if you hadn’t just been dragging your lips up his skin, dangerously close to his cock.

He supposed he had known what he was getting into as soon as you had shot him that pouty, pleading expression, fingers digging into his forearm.

“I just want to be close to you,” you had said, and Cyno knew better than anyone that wanting to ‘be close to him’ always led to something more, but Cyno could never say no to you, especially when you looked at him like that. So even though he knew damn well that he had a report that he had to finish by dawn tomorrow, he still gave you the okay.

And if he hadn’t been certain already that your intentions were less than innocent, he absolutely was sure when instead of climbing onto his lap like you usually did when you were in a mood, you slipped beneath the desk, curling up at his feet and laying your head on his thigh, giving some half-assed excuse as to why you’d prefer to be down there instead of in his arms.

“I’m not stopping you,” you smiled, eyes alight with a sort of excitement that he hadn’t seen in a while. His blood ran hot, and he pressed his lips together tight--he couldn’t blame you, he mused to himself, Cyno had been away for weeks hunting down a rogue scholar, he had missed you just as much as you had him. “Or is the General Mahamatra’s grasp on his self control so weak that just a few kisses are enough to break his concentration?”

He eyed you, unamused at the challenge--if he were any other man, he was sure he would have broken there as your tongue darted out to swipe at his inner thigh, eyes bright and teasing as you watched his face for any crack in the hard exterior. But Cyno was not any other man, he was the General Mahamatra of Sumeru’s Akademiya and it would take more than just a few taunts to make him falter.

Cyno clicked his tongue gently, placing his pen down on his desk as he reached down to cup your cheek. His fingers danced along the soft skin of your cheekbone and he watched with lidded eyes as you instinctively leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering shut. Cyno’s breath caught, taking in your lax expression as you basked in his touch, a familiar, warm feeling enveloping his chest--one that he had missed severely over the past few weeks.

As if you could sense the moment of weakness, like a spinocrocodile drawn to blood, your gaze trained on his face again, teasing and playful, waiting for him to give in. The hand on your cheek slid to your chin, gripping it hard, the pads of his fingers digging into your skin.

“You’ll have to try harder than that,” he said firmly, dropping his hand to redirect his attention back to his document, picking up his pen to continue detailing what exactly had happened while he had been hunting the rogue scholar.

The giggle you let out nearly had him pause mid-stroke of his pen. “Yessir,” you said softly, breath ghosting over his bare thigh, and Cyno almost bit down on his tongue, teeth scraping against the muscle as the heat pooled down to his lower stomach immediately.

He forced himself to continue writing, brows furrowed at the clear interruption of the letter he had previously been writing--a stray line jagged off at the side, physical evidence of his momentary lapse of strength, one he prayed you didn’t catch. Your lips tugged up against his skin, and he knew that you hadn’t missed it.

The soft kisses you had been laying upon his skin turned heavier, wetter. He inhaled deeply as you sucked gently, certain that you were leaving a trail of bruises along his thigh in your wake. It took all of his inner strength to force himself to continue filling out the report, abdomen tensing as every movement you made dragged your lips further and further up his thigh.

You were playing a dangerous game, he noted as he let his free hand drop to the back of your head, fingers intertwining with your hair. It was another sign of surrender, he realized duly, but he supposed the way you let out a pleased hum against his skin made up for the internal disappointment he felt at himself.

You resumed your mission with a more intense fervor, and distantly, Cyno realized that he might have fucked up by giving you that brief yield. Give a step, take a mile, the old saying rang through his head, and Cyno barely suppressed the smile that itched at his lips as you, for the millionth time, proved the saying to be true.

He didn’t have much time to linger on the thought, a curse spilling from his lips as, without warning, you pressed your lips against the tip of his cock, tongue flicking out to drag along the slit. His hips jerked, his grip tightened on his pen--barely stopping himself from dragging a dark line across the whole paper, which would have forced him to restart.

His gaze darted down, shooting daggers at you, but he couldn’t hold the irritation when the sight of you sucking gently at his tip, pupils blown wide and eyes lidded and dancing with mischief, came into his field of vision. His jaw clenched, and a part of him debating on trying to finish the report just to make a point.

He decided against it, in the end--but solely because it would be more work to restart if he messed up than it would to just finish later or in the morning. Not because he had lost his sense of self control. He laid his pen back down on the desk, leaning back in his chair and spreading his legs just a bit more to give you more room.

He raised his eyebrows as you looked up at him, surprised, “Go on,” he said, voice low. “This is what you want, isn’t it?”

Your eyes lit up so bright that he really couldn’t stop the way his lips pulled up this time. You removed your lips from the tip of his cock with a soft pop, and Cyno nearly hissed at the loss of your touch. His thumb caressed the back of your head as you nuzzled your face up against his cock, giggling.

“Missed you s’much,” you breathed out, warm breath fanning across the sensitive skin. Cyno had a distinct feeling you were not talking to him, your eyes trained solely on his cock as you spoke. His throat bobbed as you began to lay slow, lingering kisses on the length of his cock, nails digging into his thighs as you pressed your body up against his leg.

Cyno let out a low grunt as you sucked lightly at the skin, hips bucking up. “Stop teasing.”

“‘m not teasin,” he could feel you pouting softly, but only for a moment, because a second later he could feel the way your lips tugged up again, the soft smile he loved so much hidden against his cock.

His grip on your hair tightened just enough to force you to look up at him, and Cyno bit back a sharp inhale when he caught the glossy sheen of his precum over your lips, caught how your eyes were half-glazed over as you looked at him--whatever words that had been lying on the tip of his tongue dissolved.

“I need to finish the report,” Cyno’s voice strained as you returned your attention to his cock again, licking a long stripe up his length before kissing the tip. He groaned, head tilting back as you finally sucked his tip back into your mouth. Letting out a low curse and taking in a shaky breath, he forced himself to look back down at you. “You hear me?”

You hummed around him, and the vibration sent a shudder through his whole body, one hand fisting your hair while the other gripped the arm of his chair so tight he swore it would break. You took him deep in your mouth, until his tip was nudging the back of your throat, lips sliding slowly up and down his cock, tongue swirling around it.

His blood burned, lips parted as you directed all of your attention to his cock. “Missed this,” he gasped, and he did. He had spent countless nights alone out in the desert missing the feel of your lips wrapped around his cock, your cunt squeezing tight around him--his hand wasn’t the same, didn’t feel as good even as he squeezed his eyes shut and imagined you were there with him.

You moved agonizingly slow, and the hand grasping your hair twitched with the need to push your face down, rock his hips up to chase the release he so desperately needed. He refrained, if only barely.

You pulled off, and Cyno barely stifled the complaint that rose to his lips, gaze dropping down once again. You rested your cheek back against his thigh, looking up at him, and Cyno just couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed at your blatant teasing when you looked at him with clear adoration on your face.

“I missed you,” you said softly, and this time you were talking to him, and he couldn’t help the brief pang in his chest as he let his hand slip from the back of your head to cup your cheek again, thumb tracing over your cheekbone. He knew the weeks away he spent were always hard on you but he also knew you couldn’t come with him for two reasons--one, you were still deep in your studies at the Akademiya, you couldn’t afford to leave the city yet; and two, his job was dangerous and he’d rather not put you in the line of fire, you were at risk enough from the people that were out to get him and would go to any lengths, including targeting the ones he cared about.

A part of him wondered why you even stayed, but he could never bring himself to ask--every time the question laid heavy on his tongue, he could never force it out. As commanding of a presence that the General Mahamatra was, confident and stoic and intimidating to those who come across him, ice-cold fear flooded his veins whenever he mulled over the prospect of you leaving him for someone more present in your life, anxious that if he’d voice the question out loud, it would make you second guess, realize that you did deserve better than a man that was more absent than present.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, once again unable to push the question out yet again.

You only smiled, nuzzling his thigh, “S’okay, I know you’re busy.”

Shouldn’t be too busy for you, he thought to himself, thumb running over your glistening, puffy lips. You kissed his palm once before batting his hand away, returning your attention to his cock.

There was no teasing this time as you took him into your mouth until your nose was flush against his pelvis, cheeks hollowing as you braced yourself on his thighs. Cyno’s eyes nearly knocked back, exhaling sharply, a low moan and a litany of curses spilling from his lips.

You didn’t give him any time to try to regain control over himself, bobbing your head on his cock, tongue swirling around him, flattening against his slit and flicking over it lightly every time you dragged your lips to his tip.

His hand shifted back behind your head, head thrown back as he guided your lips up and down his cock. “Just like that,” Cyno groaned, thighs tensing as he forced himself not to fuck his hips up against your face. Your throat spasmed around him as he pushed your head down just a bit too quickly but Cyno couldn’t bring himself to apologize, words catching over another moan.

He could feel your throat tightening against the intrusion, barely able to drag his lidded gaze down to you to catch your teary eyes as you struggled to take him all the way down your throat, as you struggled to breathe.

If it were any other time, Cyno would have loosened his grip on your hair, pulled his hand away from where it was laying heavy on the back of your head; his self-control had always been impeccable, even when he could feel himself on the brink of his orgasm, but this time was different. He had gone too long without your touch, without your lips, without your cunt--his body felt like it was on fire, aching for release, and you had been teasing him for far too long while he had been trying to finish the report. You really were the only one that could make the General Mahamatra lose control so easily, and he wasn’t sure if he hated it or loved it.

“Gonna cum,” he gasped, “I’m gonna-

It was the only warning you got before Cyno let out a loud moan, one that he was sure that his neighbors could hear and would know damn well what the two of you were doing, but Cyno just couldn’t bring himself to care at that moment. He spilled his release deep down your throat, and he could feel you choking on it, desperately trying to swallow it all.

After a few seconds, Cyno’s hand dropped from your head, and you pulled up, gasping for air, tears spilling down your cheeks as you looked up at him. Cyno’s chest heaved, reeling from the intense orgasm as he looked down at you. His cum dribbled down your chin and you were slumped against his leg, shoulders rising and falling rapidly as you tried to recover.

You gave him a small smile as you looked up at him. “Now you can go back to your report,” your voice was hoarse and scratchy, and Cyno studied you for a moment, still half hazy. You looked more than content, letting your eyes flutter shut as you rested against his leg and once again that heavy feeling settled over his chest--guilt.

Guilt because he was always making you wait for him, guilt because he was putting you off for finishing reports, for meetings with the Mahamata--when he was in the city, he was usually back home by the time you were already fast asleep in bed, face nuzzled into the pillow that only smelt faintly of him.

With that thought in mind, Cyno shook his head and stood up. You let out a surprised noise as you lost your balance when he moved, but Cyno was leaning down before you could topple over, large hands wrapping around your waist. He held your weight with one arm as he swiped his stuff off of the desk. And a part of him mourned the fact that he would have to rewrite the report and clean up the splattered ink.

He sat you down on the desk, kneeling on the ground in front of you and parting your legs. He could hear you inhale sharply, his name leaving your lips in a yelp but Cyno ignored you, tugging your underwear down.

He swallowed thickly, inhaling deeply as he took in your scent--drenched just from having your lips wrapped around his cock, he wondered when the last time you made yourself cum was, you always complained that you were never good enough to do it on your own, begging for his fingers and his tongue and his cock.

He didn’t hesitate as he hooked your legs around his shoulders. He let out a low groan against you, hands slipping beneath your skirt, fingers digging deep into the plush skin of your ass as he pressed his face into your cunt. You cried out his name loud, hips jerking up as his tongue glided between your folds--if his neighbors hadn’t known what the two of you were up to already, they certainly did now, but Cyno was far too drunk on the taste of you to care.

God, he had missed this, you were intoxicating to him--from the first time he had ever tasted you, he knew he was a goner. Cyno sucked gently on your clit, relishing in the way your body shuddered, in the way your thighs clamped down around his head. Your hand found his hair, fingers intertwining with the strands, tugging so hard that it had him moaning into your cunt.

Distantly, he realized he couldn’t breathe but he wasn’t sure he entirely cared--buried in your cunt, suffocating between your legs… Cyno figured there wasn’t a better way to go. You pushed him down harder, and Cyno hummed, nose pressed against your clit as he lapped at your release.

You had the prettiest pussy, Cyno was sure of that--heavenly to taste and even more heavenly wrapped tight around his cock. His grip on your ass tightened, pulling you impossibly closer as he pushed his tongue into you, eyes nearly rolled back at the feeling of your walls spasming around his tongue.

“Cyno,” you were pretty much sobbing his name as you tugged at his hair, “Cyno, feels s’good.”

Your words only spurred him on more, groaning as he fucked his tongue in and out of you, flicking it over your clit, tracing circles between your folds. You were squirming in his hold, hips grinding up against his face, back arching against his desk.

He had missed this, the words rang through his head on repeat, recalling all of the lonely nights he had spent out in the desert longing for your touch, your warmth, playing memories of you over and over again in his head as he fucked his fist, chanting your name like a prayer to the gods. He was certain he could spend forever buried between your thighs--damn the Akademiya, damn the Mahamata, damn all of his responsibilities as General Mahamatra, so long as he had his lips sealed around your clit or his tongue fucking in and out of your cunt, he would die a happy man.

“Cyno, ‘m gunna cum,'' you pulled hard at his hair, and he wasn’t sure if you were trying to push him off or pull him closer. His teeth grazed your clit lightly and that was all it took to have you crying out his name, body spasming against the desk as you came all over his face.

Cyno let out a muffled moan into your cunt as he lapped up your cum, sure not to let a single drop fall to the hardwood desk.

You were still trembling in the aftershocks of your orgasm and Cyno was still half-drunk off of the taste of you when he forced himself to his feet, only hesitating for a split second before he lifted you into his arms to bring you over to the bed.

Laying you down gently before following you onto the bed, he hovered above you, pressing his lips to your forehead and then to your nose.

You giggled softly. “What about your report?” you asked.

“I’ll finish it in the morning,” he murmured, nipping your cheek. “Right now, all I want is you.”

#cyno x reader #cyno smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #cyno x you #genshin x you

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