#I gibe him kisses | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gutsby · 10 months ago

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Wedded Bliss

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: The marriage was arranged, and the sex is deranged. Bucky is so obsessed with your pussy that he almost forgets he’s meant to be faking this whole thing—and hating it, like sworn enemies are supposed to do.

Warnings: 18+. Dubcon. Corruption kink. Virginity loss. Arranged marriage between enemies. Brat taming. Breeding kink. Beefy, mob boss Bucky devolving into a fall-to-his-knees-just-to-fuck-you kind of horny mess.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

You kissed him and wished him dead in the same breath. You said ‘I do’ and meant ‘I don’t,’ exchanged your vows like your own last rites, and felt him slip the ring on your finger as if he’d just tightened a noose around your neck.

You didn’t want to be a bride, and you sure as hell didn’t want to be the bride to Mr. James Buchanan Barnes.

Frankly, you were mortified.

And terrified, too, now that you knew your groom might actually kill you in the kitchen of your honeymoon suite.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?!”

“I walked down the aisle, didn’t I?”

Another plate went crashing on the wall behind your husband’s head just as he managed to duck. He side-stepped a spray of porcelain and glass and probably crushed several hundred shards beneath his polished black oxfords when he walked—stalked—over to you.

You’d just reared back to hurl a serving plate at his face when you found your speed swiftly outmatched. Bucky had your elbow gripped between his forefinger and thumb in less than a second, and, pinching the bone like he might readily break it, he said, even as always,

“Put it down.”

You did as he told you and dropped the platter to the floor with a crash.

Rather than berate you for the broken china—or the four other pieces before it—your husband only smiled.

“Are we done?”

Hell, you wanted to be. Slide over a pen and a one-way plane ticket to someplace in BFE, and you’d be signing those divorce papers in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, your dear husband was just referring to the temper tantrum.

You weren’t totally sure if you were finished on that front, so you looked him up and down and shrugged.

“Now darling—” he started.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Light of my life—”

“I’ll kill you.”

Your cool, level-headed groom took each gibe like it was his sworn duty, and only when he yanked your wrists behind your back and shoved you toward the bedroom door did you sense that he might not be too pleased with your behavior.

Your knees struck the edge of the California King at the center of the room, and before you could will yourself not to fall face-first, Bucky nudged you hard again.

Still pinning your hands behind you, he followed your collapse on the bed and leaned over your prone body.

His breaths were hot on your ear; you could tell he was smiling as he started to hike your dress up your legs.

“It’s all part of the deal, doll.”

You wriggled under his hold and tried to angle yourself better to see him, hoping he’d see your scowl.

“The deal was to get married,” you reminded him.

“Mhmm,” Bucky hummed, just then starting to trail a finger up the uncovered skin of your calf with his other hand, “And what is it that married people do?”

You kicked your foot reflexively, paused, then said,

“Fight. Constantly. Probably resent each other for the better part of two decades before we finally decide that ‘making it work’ for the kids isn’t worth it at all, and I claim half of everything you own in a bitter divorce.”

That earned a chuckle from Bucky. He kept his roaming hand brushing up the back of your thigh and squeezed the flesh just below the swell of your rear.

“Don’t worry, my lawyer drafted a pretty good prenup.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but then he was tracing the contour of your ass with his palm, and you cut yourself short. Bucky carried on, careless as ever.

“But the kids you mentioned,” he said, “How are we supposed to get those?”

You pursed your lips and tried hard not to move when his fingers drifted inward—you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm. The bottom of your dress was bunched around your hips now, leaving you sorely exposed. Had your bridesmaids not thrust that stupid white lingerie set upon you hours before the wedding, you probably would’ve chosen something a little more modest than a thong. But here you were.

At least the sight seemed appealing to your husband, whose eyes hadn’t left you once while his hands grew even hungrier to feel your warmth.

“I’m hoping a sperm donor or one of your double-crossing mobster friends will knock me up, honestly,” you said, feigning enthusiasm at the thought.

A tart slap delivered to your ass told you that Bucky hadn’t found that funny. After, he started kneading the skin a bit harder.

“No shot,” he shook his head, suddenly gliding his fingers down closer to your core and waiting for you to say something in protest, “Only one that’s gonna be pumping this thing full of babies is me, I promise.”

It was like he wanted your retaliation, whether that be by a thinly veiled look of disgust or a reactionary jab of your own. You weren’t keen on fulfilling any wish of his, but at this point, you felt you had no other choice. When you sensed he was distracted by the newly-discovered heat between your legs and had loosened his grip on your wrists, you flipped yourself over on the bed. Shoved at his chest before he knew what to do with himself.

Of course, the push didn’t send him far, but it was enough to get his attention—and his hands off of you.

“I’m not having your babies, Barnes! I am never going to fuck you, no matter how long we stay fake married,” you spat.

At that, Bucky just raised his eyebrows and wet his lips. You were cramming your wedding dress back into place, glaring at him the whole time, and were scarcely more aware of the bright, teeming city outside the window than you were of your husband’s own growing erection.

Finally, you’d said it. His new wife wouldn’t fuck him. The sound of your resistance was almost a pleasure unto itself, and the longer you stared at Bucky with growing contempt and resolve not to do that thing, the more determined he became to make it happen.

Cat-and-mouse games had long been a staple in his life, and he was pleased to see them carry into his marriage as well. Surely if he’d triumphed in every pursuit for the last twenty years—facing the likes of some seriously execrable bandits and racketeers—he could take on a bratty woman less than half his size. You said you didn’t want his babies now, but just wait until he’d fucked you full of his cum once or twice. You’d be begging him for it in no time at all, and shortly thereafter, he’d have you barefoot and pregnant as many times as he liked. Always swollen with one of his children and whining for more.

The woman before him now had a murderous glint in her eyes, but he could fuck that away easy. In fact, he would live to do it. He traced the outline of your thigh over your dress and smiled when you tried not to recoil.

“Surely you didn’t think we’d be finger-painting and reading poetry to each other on our wedding night, hm?” he asked, almost delicately.

“Thought you might have one of your other women lined up,” you snorted. When you tried to move away, Bucky pinched your leg to make you stay. You winced.

“That’s not funny,” he said, a little more consternation in his tone. Like he actually cared whether you thought him a profligate Lothario or not, “Now that we’re married, it’s only you and me. No mistresses, nothing.”

Yeah, and he was just as likely arriving to your marital bed a blushing virgin. You rolled onto your side and pretended not to feel him tighten his grip as you did.

“Try the carnal part of our marriage yourself and I’m sure you’ll find I’m an exceptional fuck,” Bucky continued, speaking low as he stroked the chiffon of your dress.

You didn’t doubt the man was good—certainly the extent of his sexual escapades as a twenty-something seemed to demand it—but exceptional? No fucking way. You knew men like Bucky, with the world and every walking pair of tits at their fingertips, and almost all were incurably selfish. Cocky. The kind to jackhammer a woman for three consecutive minutes, roll over, and say, ‘Did you cum?’

No, there was not a snowball’s chance in hell your husband’s sexual prowess was even half as good as he claimed it was. Deciding to bite your tongue for the first time that night, though, you just stared at him blankly.

What you didn’t know was that your silence only stoked the flames of his ego, prompting him to press the matter further.

“What? You think I can’t fuck?” he said, “Any woman lucky enough to bed me has cum at least twice. Every time.”

Sure they did, Bucky, you wanted to say, but were suddenly drawn into his lap before you could speak.

“But let’s pretend I can’t,” he said, heedless of the face you made as soon as you were straddling his hips, “You wouldn’t let your husband prove himself tonight?”

“I don’t fuck strangers.”

Bucky smiled at that.

“Everyone’s a stranger until you get to blow them, honey,” he teased, squeezing your hips when you didn’t seem amused at all. Then you let out a cry, feeling yourself thrown back on the mattress like a rag doll while Bucky moved off.

Before you knew it, he was tugging your ankles down the length of the bed and widening his stance just a bit. He stopped pulling once your knees were grazing his black dress pants and your feet were dangling off of the bed.

“You like skylines?” he asked.

You frowned and raised a brow that he was quick to interpret as a ‘yes.’ He hauled you onto your feet.

“‘Course you do. All pretty girls like pretty skies,” he rattled on, strolling with you step-by-step to the set of French doors at the end of the room.

Bucky led you out to the balcony. The air was warm as it ever was, dull gusts of the evening wind curling up from the coastline below. Just as your husband had promised, the skyline of Santorini greeted you on either side, and you had to admit, it was more than just pretty. The views from your villa were absolutely breathtaking.

You stood with your back to Bucky, hands resting on the marble balustrade, and you felt him there, behind you. You didn’t bother to tilt your head when he drew even closer.

“What do you like most about it?” The question was simple enough, punctuated with a kiss on your shoulder. Your eyes scanned the horizon, the sea, even the quiet little streets down beneath, and you racked your brain trying to think of an answer that might satisfy him.

Before you could, though, you sucked in a breath when you felt your dress start to come undone at your back.

Bucky was unzipping your gown, gentle as ever, and probably grinning from ear to ear as he watched you shift uncomfortably in place and try to hold the material above your breasts where it had been fastened all day. Presently, you kicked your heel backward and hoped it would land somewhere near his balls. You missed.

“James,” you hissed.

Bucky groaned at the sheer intonation of his name on your lips.

“Yes, dear?”

“Why are you undressing me?”

Bucky had successfully dragged the zipper all the way down to your ass, and it seemed he was trying to shimmy the dress off your frame. You held on tight.

“I’d like to fuck my bride over the balcony railing, if that’s alright with you,” he answered truthfully.

The man was nothing if not blunt and crass. You turned around to give him a look, yanking your gown even closer to your chest.

“I’ll— I’ll tell my mother, Barnes.”

You felt stupid as soon as you’d said it—using your go-to threat whenever you were in distress. What were you, eleven?

“Your mother?” Bucky repeated, words steeped in derision, “Last I recall, mommy dearest was practically begging me to get you pregnant at the reception.”

Your jaw clenched, and you internally cursed your whole family. Your parents were supposed to be on your side throughout all of this—it was bad enough they’d pawned you off to a mob boss of unrivaled infamy all to settle a debt, but this? Your mother had assured you just the day before that Mr. Barnes was bound to tire of you within the year. No mention of sex or babies whatsoever.

The same mother who had beat you over the head with the notion of your own virginity since you were old enough to read, the one who had underscored just how important it was to wait for the right man to give yourself body, mind, and soul to, turning around and telling this filthy criminal to have you any way he liked. And knock you up? The fucking nerve of that woman.

You were so preoccupied with thoughts of your own backstabbing family that you hardly felt Bucky drag your dress the rest of the way down your body. It was only when you were completely bare before him, and your husband had just started to skim his lips over your tummy that you tensed with surprise.

“I don’t have to fuck you just yet, doll,” he murmured, having sunk to his knees and only moving lower. Then the corners of his lips twitched, “Least not with my dick.”

You tried to pry his head from between your legs before he could stretch his tongue so much as an inch.

“James!”

Again with that name.

“You know, I love when you call me that, Mrs. Barnes.”

Bucky was peering up at you now, soaking in the sight of your body in a white lace bra, panties, and stockings.

“Is my bride feeling shy?” he teased, gently nipping at your inner thighs.

You weren’t sure what you were feeling in that moment, to be honest. Revulsion, betrayal, arousal, you name it—each crowned with an all-encompassing hatred for the man currently occupying the space between your legs—while a still stronger desire almost hoped he would stay.

“You can hate your husband all you want and still let him tonguefuck you,” Bucky growled against your skin.

Like he’d read your mind.

In reality, your husband hardly needed the powers of telepathy to tell him just how turned on you were; the sopping wet spot in your panties said as much. From his vantage point, Bucky saw the disgust in your eyes slowly eclipsed by lust, and with a single flick of his tongue, he knew he would have you exactly where he wanted you.

“Just let it happen, honey.”

He felt your fingers thread tight through his hair and the first stir of your hips in tandem. One small, delectable whimper crossed your lips, and it took everything in Bucky not to tear your panties straight off with his teeth.

Instead, the man opted for a soft, gentle lick over your clothed slit. Testing the waters.

Your whimper was quick to meld to a moan, and then, just as fast:

“N-no, Bucky.”

To your dismay, his tongue didn’t retreat, only making firmer laps against your centre while his lips grazed the lace. He gripped your thighs and wedged himself deeper, and again, you cursed the paper thin fabric of your panties for letting you feel everything his mouth was doing. He hadn’t even made proper contact with your cunt, and your knees were already starting to shake.

He pressed a kiss above your clit through the flimsy material, and you almost tore a clump of hair from his head.

“No. Please.” You hardly made sense to yourself; it was clear you wanted his touch, but something inside you wasn’t quite ready to submit to the idea that this was all okay. That your husband’s tongue and lips might be meant for something like this, and you didn’t have to feel so guilty for wanting it either. Fucking purity culture.

“My pretty girl,” Bucky presently murmured above the fabric, words sending a dozen little shockwaves in their wake, “My beautiful fucking wife.”

The man inhaled your scent and could’ve sworn he was in ecstasy. Blinded by desire as he was, he really wasn’t bullshitting in the slightest when he gathered you to him and said you were the best; he’d genuinely grown transfixed by the feel of you, in spite of every fibre of his being telling him not to. The marriage was arranged, fake, and fueled by hatred—and somehow, Bucky couldn’t get enough.

Nor could he wait any longer. One light swipe of his finger tugged your panties aside, and then he was latching on, no cover this time, to take your clit between his lips. Sucking hard, going fast, needing it bad.

A moan rang loud in his ears, and your hand on his head was instantly joined by the other. You yanked his hair like you never had before, pulling so tight at the roots as though your pleasure depended on it. Bucky smiled around the soft pearl in his mouth and flicked it gently with the tip of his tongue.

“Feel good, baby?” he breathed.

His head tilted up to you, and he could see you were struggling just to breathe, face painted with a medley of emotions.

You didn’t know if you could, or should, be feeling this good from a man so evil. Bucky flattened his tongue and licked a long stripe up your pussy to ensure that you would. Then he posed the question again, smirking.

“You like my tongue on this wet, needy cunt?”

His words were so damn obscene, but you nodded anyway. Feeling small and powerless beneath those big, broad hands as they pinned you back on the marble and spread you even wider for the taking.

He loved how innocent and lewd you looked at once, wincing with pleasure and still trying to keep your composure like you thought a good girl should.

Bucky wanted to break that resolve. He brought one hand closer to your entrance.

And, just as your breaths were starting to hitch and grow more ragged in your chest, he pushed two fingers inside. The act surprised your husband almost as much as it did you—not quite, but almost—upon feeling how tight you were, how resistant to even two digits you seemed to be. He hardly knew whether to shove them deeper or pull them out, so fast did your muscles contract around him.

When you whined a loud, protracted, ‘FUCK!’ he figured he would stick with the former. He grinned, having never heard you speak, much less swear, out of pleasure like this.

Your head lolled back and your body made an arch when his fingers curled inside you. You were panting, moaning, coating his hand with your juices, and Bucky knew you were close.

He started pumping his fingers in and out while his tongue worked your clit, chin practically doused in your arousal by now. A swell of pride rose within him: he could finally bring you home to that sweet release, have you a shaking, soaking mess above his face like you were wholly his and no one else’s. He moved his tongue even faster and sank his fingers straight down to the knuckle.

Then, unexpectedly, both were robbed of your touch.

Seized with fear, you shoved Bucky off and stumbled away from his glistening face. You took off toward the doors and fled the balcony before you could think.

“What the f— honey? Honey?!” Bucky sputtered. He bounded after you.

You’d thrown yourself in the master bathroom and locked the door behind you in the blink of an eye. Outside, your husband had only to stare in pure bewilderment and awe, mind reeling at what had just happened.

Fucking hell, he knows. He knows! You collapsed against the door and slid down a couple inches. Your hand reflexively flew to your mouth to stifle the sounds when Bucky began pounding the wood behind you.

“Baby, what’s wrong? What’s—what’s goin’ on?”

In truth, you’d rather chug bleach than divulge the thought that had just scared the everliving fuck out of you back there. It was stupid and senseless and should’ve been frightening you for weeks before it ever came to this, but here you were, panicked in the bathroom of your honeymoon suite because you’d never done this before—and you’d never reached climax in your life without bursting into tears.

Fuck, you felt stupid. How could you think this would be any different—or that Bucky’s tongue wouldn’t eventually attempt to wrest an orgasm out of you?

It’d just felt so good, you thought maybe a new climax brought by someone else’s fingers might free you from the same unsavory demise you’d met a hundred times before, but then it hit you, shortly after Bucky had plunged his fingers inside, you were going to cry.

You winced when Bucky’s knocks grew louder, his voice gaining more ire by the second, it seemed.

“Open the fucking door!”

He’d rake you over the coals for this. Getting so close to what he wanted, only to have his silly little bride snatch it all away and run hiding in the en-suite bathroom? Your stomach turned at the thought of what men in the mob were liable to do with women like you—what Bucky might conceivably do now that you’d sparked his rage.

Your eyes darted to the window just as his fist shook the doorframe behind you. You ran over to the tub, tucked squarely beneath the windowsill, and climbed onto it just to get a hold of the fastenings around the glass.

One click synchronized with the furious cadence being hammered on the door, and just as you started to slide the pane up the way, a heavy thud sounded outside. The weight of your husband’s body being thrust against the door, most likely.

You bit your lip and lifted one leg over the windowsill, shuffling your body even closer to the outside world.

Three floors up! Have you lost your mind? You could hear your father’s words ringing in your skull already. There was a ledge, you reasoned, no more than ten feet below, if you could just grab hold of the frame right there and slide down the cool stone you might—

“Fuck,” Bucky groaned.

You watched your husband heave through the busted door of the bathroom, wide eyes and a ‘Here’s Johnny’ flourish raging hot on his face. Your heart leapt to your throat, and you started to lower yourself out of the window, hoping desperately for that ledge below to be sturdy. But before you could make it even half of the way there, strong arms were circling your frame and yanking you back inside, hurtling straight into the bathtub with Bucky tumbling over you.

“What are you doing?!” he roared.

You wriggled under his weight, petrified of the fiery look in his eyes as he lurched over your frame.

He straightened up just enough to shake you by the shoulders—like a parent reprimanding a child.

“What the fuck was that?! Huh? You think that’s fucking funny, jumping out windows?”

No, no, not funny, you wanted to bite back, but found your mouth dry and unable to speak. When Bucky shook you again, you had only to whimper a pathetic sound.

The man was enraged. Stubble still damp with your juices and looking undeniably frazzled and spent, he drew closer to your face and demanded you look at him. When he took hold of your cheeks in both hands, the command couldn’t have reached you any more clearly.

“What— what was that for?” his voice lowered as he tried to catch his breath. You still couldn’t move.

“I-I don’t—” you stopped and hardly knew how to say it:

Sorry to cut our tonguefucking session short, I was just afraid I might burst into a fit of uncontrollable tears while you licked and sucked me through the best orgasm of my life. I’d rather jump off, or out of, a building than tell my mob boss husband that I can’t cum without crying. By the way, I’m a virgin!

Instead, you just blinked and stared back at him.

“Can’t…do it,” you murmured.

Bucky’s expression only grew more puzzled by the words out of your mouth. He squeezed your face tighter and leaned in even closer.

“Do what? Sex? Fuck, I— I didn’t mean to be that aggressive, hell, I’m sorry.” He stopped to run a hand through his hair, and for the first time, you could’ve sworn you saw the first glint of compunction in his eyes.

He looked away a few seconds, as if collecting what fragmented thoughts he could, then brought his head back down to your level and took your hands in his.

“Honey?” he tried getting your attention, just barely above a whisper now, “I know the whole thing’s fucked, I know.”

That was the understatement of the century. To your surprise, Bucky’s gaze softened when he saw a scowl cross your face.

“We don’t…have to do anything. I was just pushing your buttons earlier. Being a dick.”

His tongue moved to wet his lips once more, this time without the seductive, smug demeanor he usually wore and simply exhibiting discomfort. He swallowed. The bow tie around his neck appeared to him to be fastened far too tight all of a sudden, and then, haphazardly, he started clawing at the garment to get it off.

You didn’t know why you felt compelled to help. It was like all ten fingers just lifted of their own accord to join Bucky’s hands in trying to undo his tie.

The silk fabric wasn’t tied, but knotted, crudely and inflexibly, beneath the little black bow. You frowned. Still unable to meet his gaze as you worked your fingers under the tangled material and tried to pretend like the two of you weren’t still sweating profusely from the events that had just transpired—both the tonguefucking and the window-jumping.

“Who tied this, a five-year-old?” you muttered.

“I’m thirty-eight, thanks,” Bucky returned just as quietly.

Both of you indulged in a smile that lasted no longer than a second, but you felt the tension ease a little.

This was not where you thought your dreaded wedding night was headed before. Curled up in a bathtub with your hands around your husband’s neck—and not actually trying to kill him—while Bucky blinked almost nervously the longer your hands lingered on his collar. It seemed he’d found something especially tantalizing on the wall behind your head, because his stare remained fixed on that spot the whole time you fiddled with his tie.

Maybe that, along with the last ebb of alcoholic influence from the reception still coursing through your veins, had emboldened you to come right out and say it while Bucky was looking away. You couldn’t be sure.

“I’ve never had sex before.”

At last, the tie loosened a little.

Bucky flicked his gaze back to yours in a second.

“What?”

You lifted a brow, wondering if he really needed an explanation as to what it meant to have never gotten laid before, but you decided against indulging him any further. Bucky seemed keen on doing that all by himself.

“You’re a virgin?”

You nodded.

“Didn’t my overbearing mother make sure you knew?”

“Yeah, I thought she was full of shit,” Bucky answered bluntly. Then, catching sight of the semi-offended look in your eye, mixed with a tad more amusement than indignation, he added, “I mean— I didn’t think you’d, uh, wanna wait…twenty-five years for some action.”

He winced when he realized that sounded just as bad. His throat cleared shortly to make way for a new attempt at comity, but you cut him off, shaking your head as you finally got the knot to untangle.

“No, I get it. I don’t know why I waited this long either,” you shrugged.

As soon as you’d freed him from his bow tie, you started to stand from the bath tub. Bucky, too, straightened to his full height and started to close the window while you walked back to the bedroom.

You eyed the rose petals strewn across the duvet and felt a little more relaxed this time around. The weight of the V-word had been lifted from your shoulders, and now you had only to share the crying-while-cumming stuff to Bucky later on. Much later on, you hoped.

You crawled onto the bed and stretched out on your belly, playing with the soft red petals and wondering if room service was still offered at this hour.

Bucky had just stepped out of the bathroom when he halted at the threshold. Saw your body sprawled out on the bed, back arched and ass pointed in the air as you reached over for the phone on the nightstand. He stared for a second too long and felt a familiar stir in his pants.

Sonovabitch, he started to think, before chiding himself silently, Shut up, man, she’s a virgin. Be cool. Be cool—don’t make her jump out a window again.

He ducked back in the bathroom and eased the door to just a crack while you discovered a voice on the line:

“Hi! Hey, I’d like to order room service to, uh…” your voice trailed off. Then, covering the mouthpiece, “James, what’s our room number?”

Inside the bathroom, Bucky squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of his name. Already palming his erection through his dress pants as he leaned against the wall.

“We rented the whole building, dear,” he called back.

“Oh.” He could just imagine the slight pout on your lips as you spoke. Then you asked if he wanted anything to eat, Bucky thought only of the sweet nectar between your legs, and he answered aloud, no, he was fine, really.

For the first time in his life, the man felt positively ashamed he was about to rub one out in a bathroom, alone. It wasn’t like this was the first it had ever been done, but now there was you, innocent and oblivious in the next room over, while Bucky undid his belt and quietly freed his cock from his dress pants. It felt kind of perverted, in a way, but he knew he needed this release to put his mind at ease and not feel so affected by you.

While you scanned your phone for a menu and chatted with the concierge downstairs about various food items, Bucky was spitting in his hand and fumbling for his shaft. You talked American Wagyu sirloin, lobster thermidor, and seared Faroe Island salmon while he thought achingly about the way your cunt had tasted and how badly he wanted to try it again.

How did he feel about an artisan cheese platter? Bucky hardly had the wits about himself to answer beyond a strangled, ‘Whatever you want, honey’ and a tightened fist around his cock, stroking hard to get the filthy thoughts out of his head before the food arrived.

Ever sweet, soft, supple, and savory—his mind reeled with fresh memories of that place between your thighs, and he almost lurched forward in pleasure.

Your brute of a mob boss husband was irreparably pussy-whipped and hadn’t even fucked you yet. He gripped the bathroom sink beside him and sincerely wished it wasn’t his hand doing the work right now. But of course, he had to be patient, had to be kind—couldn’t force himself on a woman who clearly wasn’t ready.

Again, he spit in his palm and jerked himself fast.

Any minute now, he thought with some relief.

Your feet padded softly into the living room as the pleasure inside him was starting to crest. Still pining for your warmth and the way your legs trembled around his head, Bucky was all but fucking his hand at this point. He’d snagged his bottom lip between his teeth in a lopsided smile and groaned, too low to be heard, and pumped himself even faster for his impending orgasm.

A thought crossed your mind as you stopped ahead of the sofa. You pivoted.

Suddenly, you were skipping back to the bathroom, wanting to know Bucky’s wine preferences before you placed another order.

You barged in and froze.

“Sorry!” you squeaked, darting out just as fast.

Five seconds slower and you probably would’ve seen Bucky blow his load all over the sink. As it was, the man was left sorely at a loss for any form of release and heaving fast, ragged breaths from the colossal scare you’d just given him.

Good fucking going, Buck—your wife wants to cuddle and eat cheese and you’re out here beating your meat.

Bucky shoved himself back in his pants and waited an excruciating minute for the sound of your second window exit of the night. A slammed door, a frantic phone call, a few sobs into your pillow as you realized how dirty and depraved your husband was, anything.

He was only met with silence.

Taking one more shaky breath, Bucky reached for the doorknob and started back out. Cautiously.

The man took his slow, silent leave of the bathroom with his gaze trained toward the doors—half-expecting to see his bride rappelling from the balcony—but then quickly shifted to the bed. Finding you kneeling at the edge.

“James?”

Your voice almost pained.

A word was all it took. Bucky was back on his knees.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted it to go away, honey. I’m sorry.”

Go away? You quirked a brow and couldn’t hold his gaze much longer; just trailed your vision down his torso to his pants, then his erection, still standing prominent as ever.

Bucky struggled to decide whether you were ticked off or intrigued, seeing your eyes make their painful appraisal of his length beneath his pants. Your brow was pinched, but your head was cocked. Almost curious.

“Are you mad at me?” you asked, gaze fixed on the spot.

Immediately, Bucky rose to his feet and crawled back on the bed, seizing your body with both of his hands.

“No! No, not mad at all,” he mumbled as he sidled up beside you. Pleased to see you hadn’t recoiled, “I was just, uh…missing you, ‘s’all.”

If his men could see him now, Bucky was sure he’d be the laughing stock of all the town. Doting and kind, eyes softened beyond recognition, he just watched you and wanted nothing more than to repair the smile that had ebbed from your face. Come ridicule, hell, or high water, the man was infatuated with his bride—all broken plates and attempted window escapes be damned.

Presently, you brought your hand down to his bulge.

Bucky stiffened but didn’t speak. He wanted you to do this on your own, of your own volition.

“You seem kinda mad to me.” You hardly knew what you were doing. Just rubbing his length and hoping it was something he’d like.

Where Bucky had wanted to see you smile, you just wanted to hear him grunt and whine—maybe grab your hips and beg you to do something, please. You’d never felt any such degree of control, and you suspected Bucky had never not felt it himself. You wanted him desperate.

You were playing a dangerous game, you knew it, but something inside those baby blues said he wanted to do it, too. Do anything for you, quite frankly.

You watched the rise and fall of Bucky’s broad chest and stroked his length even softer.

“James.”

“Uh-huh?” His mouth hung open with a gentle grunt, fighting every instinct to buck into your touch.

At last, you squeezed his shaft and prodded him on. Let your head drift closer to his so his lips would graze the apple of your cheek, and just when you sensed he wanted a taste, you tilted your face toward his own,

“We haven’t even kissed since the ceremony.”

Bucky stared blankly at you, enrapt with the pulse of your fingers. You could tell he was aching to move.

“Oh yeah?” he murmured.

You nodded a wordless affirmation and slid sharply back in bed as Bucky lunged after you. Your hands flew from his pants to the plush mattress behind you as you shifted—or, rather, scrambled—back in place and felt your husband climb over you hungrily.

“That what my wife wants?” he murmured, frame slotting tight between your legs.

You nodded again, and had only to suck in a breath before Bucky was devouring your lips. The kind of flushed, frantic, filthy kiss that would’ve doubtlessly wrought looks of horror on every face at your wedding had he grabbed you that way after the declarations of ‘I do’ had been spoken.

You loved him like this, impassioned and a bit unhinged.

His tongue worked his way past your lips and scoured every soft, fleshy inch between the insides of your cheeks before he took your face in his hands, kissing you roughly.

Something hard and throbbing nudged your sex, and suddenly you were whining in his mouth. Wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Ah, honey, don’t,” Bucky groaned, visibly straining to contain himself. When you dug your heels even deeper in his back, the groan that followed from him was hoarse and guttural.

“I thought— I…fuck,” your husband turned his head to curse as you grinded your hips up to his. You had to bite back a smile.

“I just wanna do what married people do,” you murmured coyly, pretending not to see when Bucky shot you the most red-hot, wanton look he’d imparted all evening.

“Yeah?” Like a kid in a candy shop the size of Sears.

Bucky took your face in his hands once more and made sure to scan your expression for any shred of doubt. On finding nothing there, he sat panting, half-disbelieving and half-contemplating all the wretched things he wanted to do to you. You squeezed his sides with your thighs and just hoped your husband knew what to do, because, in truth, you didn’t have the first fucking idea.

A few dry, clinical terms flashed before your mind’s eye, along with your mother’s bleak depiction of what treatment lay in store for a woman on her wedding night, and as Bucky started to work his belt and his pants off, you just hoped he wouldn’t be cruel.

He couldn’t be, right? He’d only mowed down a hundred men and dismembered dozens more, you were told, but surely a set of eyes this soft, caring, and kind couldn’t belong to a monster. You let him lift your hips and shimmy your panties, garter belt, and stockings down your legs, and when he returned, you tried your best not to betray the thoughts in your head.

Bucky hadn’t been with a virgin for as long as he could remember—maybe ever. His own ‘deflowering’ an ancient relic of his boyhood and the multitude of partners since then a mere flurry of nameless faces, he sincerely couldn’t recall a time when he’d asked, or cared, whether the woman beneath him had her cherry intact. He didn’t suppose it could be too different, as he peeled the last pieces of your lingerie set off your body and saw you seemed perfectly ready. He ran a finger between your folds and felt you shiver with what looked like excitement. Piece of cake, he thought, smiling.

No doubt he would take great joy in making you his own. His bride, his wife, an unblemished beacon of light in a life as sordid as his, looked perfect spread before him. You would adjust to his size. Bucky trailed the head of his cock up your slit and coated himself in your juices, and just when he’d bracketed his other arm around your head on the pillow, you let out a small sound.

“Are you sure it’ll fit?”

Bucky fisted his length and pressed the tip to your entrance.

“Uh…yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

He hadn’t yet met a woman who wasn’t able to fit him.

“Okay.”

Somehow, your voice sounded even smaller, head lodged between pillows and the crook of Bucky’s elbow. You felt small. Frankly, it didn’t seem like your husband was quite computing the worries that were pervading your brain, but you decided he knew best—your mother had assured you that husbands always did—and when Bucky first pressed the head of himself to the seam of your cunt, you hardly even whimpered.

You watched his brow furrow above you. He tried to go further.

Your folds were as soaked as he’d ever seen a woman’s, your hole practically pulsing with desire, and somehow, he couldn’t push in.

Bucky snagged his lip between his teeth and braced himself with the aid of the headboard, taking your hip in his other hand. A breath sounded on your lips the second he adjusted, and shortly thereafter, he felt your gaze on the same place he was watching: the spot where your bodies were trying to connect.

His features darkened at the prospect of failing, or even appearing incompetent to you in the slightest. He’d done this hundreds of times before, why wouldn’t it work?

When he felt your eyes trail back up his body and study his face—maybe wondering why her new groom hadn’t gotten around to thrusting into her yet, he thought—he felt a swell of panic and pushed.

Against his better judgment and the feel of your body, he muscled his way through and forced his cock inside. Bottoming out in a single, stabbing thrust.

You seized in pain but wanted to be a good wife for him.

Bucky, too, felt his hips stutter at the resistance your walls were giving him, but then remembered how he’d sworn to be a dutiful husband, and kept going.

Together, you stared anywhere but the other’s face and gritted your teeth for two entirely different reasons—you, in agony, and Bucky, in ecstasy, the latter hoping with everything in him that you liked this as much as him.

Bucky took a tender, if not slightly awkward, rhythm rutting against your body and stared steady at the headboard like he always did.

You were in pain and faced with nothing but his hulking chest, moving up and down, back and forth, over and over again like a goddamn seesaw from hell while it felt like your insides were presently being torn to shreds.

Who fucking enjoys this? you wanted to wail, but feigned a moan instead, raking your nails down Bucky’s back, Why isn’t he looking at me? Why isn’t he touching me?

Your walls involuntarily clenched around him, and he swallowed a moan.

Just think of baseball, beer, math, the Roman Empire, anything to keep from busting right now, Bucky told himself as he clenched his jaw and fought to maintain his pace. Your pussy just felt so. fucking. good.

Beneath him, you had tried and failed to fight back tears. The burn was just too much; the longer he thrusted, the more your walls contracted, and confusingly, stupidly, it seemed like he was using you. Your mother was right, most likely, that sex was just a means to an end for men like Bucky, and your husband didn’t care about your pleasure at all. You fought hard to keep the waterworks at bay, that one thing you hadn’t wanted Bucky to see, but eventually, the tears were flowing freely.

You stifled a sob that your husband mistook for a moan.

He fucked you even faster and felt a grin start to twitch at the corners of his lips when you made a sound that seemed consistent with pleasure.

“Feel so fucking tight,” Bucky grunted, about to lower his gaze to your face for the first time since he’d entered you, “So nice and tight and w—hey, hey, baby?”

He stilled inside as soon as he saw that you were crying. Took your face in his hands and almost couldn’t believe the sight of your tear-stained cheeks beneath him.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” he asked, scanning your face for any signs of harm.

You just shook your head and tried to brush him off.

“Keep going, I’m good.”

Bucky seemed angered at the suggestion. He brought your face closer to his and stared almost reproachfully down at you. Then he paused a beat and swiped one of your cheeks with the pad of his thumb.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked.

“N—”

“Don’t lie.”

You squirmed a bit and winced. That was answer enough for Bucky, and he slowly pulled out of you.

“Aw hell.”

The two of you glanced down to see a blooming red spot on the comforter. Bucky rubbed the blood in disbelief.

He’d gone too far. Again. Hurt something inside of you that couldn’t be fixed with a kiss. While you struggled to sit up among the pillows, Bucky was running a hand through his hair and cursing himself up and down.

“Why didn’t you say something?” he scowled.

“I didn’t wanna interrup—”

“If I’m making you bleed, you stop me, for fuck’s sake.”

“Well you seemed to be having a pretty good time!”

Bucky didn’t need to tell you in words what was painted on his face; he was pissed off and probably bound to slip off the bed any second, when your tears started welling up again. Then he eased off, remembering he was more mad at himself than anyone else, and slid closer to you. He tried pulling you into his chest, but you didn’t budge.

“C’mon,” you said, grabbing his wrist, “Let’s keep going.”

Bucky eyed you incredulously.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh-huh,” you insisted. He shot you a glare but didn’t protest when you guided his hand between your legs.

You were spread back open for him in no time. Still stinging like hell and ready for another go. Bucky almost couldn’t believe it.

“My headstrong wife.” He managed a smile before kissing the crown of your head, and kept right on kissing that spot no matter how far his fingers were traveling.

“You owe me two orgasms, remember, Mr. Barnes?”

It seemed Bucky’s boastful claims of late were in fact the furthest thing from his mind as he crawled back over your body. He pried your knees apart and left just enough room for his frame, taking his fingers to your folds and rubbing in light, gentle circles.

The bleeding had stopped. What little remained was long forgotten, and duly, the pain from recent memory was slowly but surely purged with every flick of his thumb. Bucky planted an arm next to your head and kept touching you there until your face relaxed completely.

When he chanced a finger inside, he was careful not to rub so much as plunge in quick, shallow motions, and at the first signs of pleasure, press light and tender kisses on your skin.

“If it hurts at all, you tell me.”

He sounded stern as he inserted another finger, but really, the man was all putty in your hands, wanting to please you and tease you in any way that he could.

When you told him faster, he sped up; you gripped his hair and said slow down, he did the same. He curled his digits in time with every whimper and moan you made and took care not to be too harsh on your sweet spot.

The only time he paused was when you looked up and asked him point-blank: could he fuck you sweet and gentle now?

Bucky paused. Swallowed.

The man would’ve screwed you six ways to Sunday if you asked him; that wasn’t the problem. The only traces of hesitation remained where your eyes said something different. Even as he shuffled between your legs at your behest, aligned his cock with your entrance, and felt a wave of desire wash over him, he pressed his forehead to yours and searched your glossy gaze once more.

“You sure about this, bunny?” he murmured.

Your heart melted at the name. You couldn’t deny you were frightened, and perhaps a bit worse for the wear after your last attempt, but his words were a comfort, his hand on your cheek a welcome gesture. When his thumb grazed your lips, you kissed it and nodded.

“Alright sweet girl,” Bucky said, tone laced with affection.

This time, before pressing the head of himself inside, Bucky caught your lips and kissed you softly. Rubbed himself up and down your slit—paying extra attention to your clit—and coated himself completely before trying to penetrate you again.

Your cheeks flushed, and you kissed him harder.

“P-please, Bucky, fuck me,” you murmured against his mouth, eliciting a small grunt from him.

“Yeah? You want your husband’s cock inside you, doll?” He kept the pretense of teasing, but really, he was just trying to make sure you wanted this as badly as he did. By the blissed out look on your face and the soft, ceaseless squelching noises produced by your arousal, he got the message pretty quickly.

He breached your folds with just the tip at first. You both felt your muscles contract. Instead of blindly pushing ahead like he had before, Bucky trained his gaze on your face and watched for any signs of discomfort.

“Everything okay, bunny?” he hummed as he brushed a few strands of hair from your face.

You were half in awe of how attentive he was, and doubly impressed by the stretch that followed—like a pinch, but nothing like the pain you’d felt before. You peered up at your husband and squeezed his shoulders.

“It— it doesn’t hurt this time,” you said, breathless.

Bucky could’ve caved at the sweet, innocent expression alone—like you were pleasantly surprised this hadn’t caused excruciating pain—and his lips moved down to pepper your cheeks with kisses again.

“Doll, I’m so sorry.”

The sounds and sighs of your pleasure beneath him, along with the words telling him it was okay, really, he hadn’t meant to do it, all made him feel even guiltier for having hurt you in the first place. It took him some time assailing your face with tiny, apologetic kisses before he even thought to feed you another inch.

When he finally plunged himself deeper, it wasn’t without your express permission; even then, Bucky feared he might split you in two.

The whole time he eased himself inside, he was moving his gaze between your face and the place between your two bodies—watching you open for him and take him inch by inch. He rubbed his thumb over your clit when you whimpered.

“Doing so good for me.”

“Stretching so nice for this cock.”

“My beautiful, beautiful wife.”

Every syllable of his praises flooded your head like honey. Feeling him stretch you out, fill you up, and rock you softly with his first shallow thrusts, all while talking you through it, had your mind ablaze and near-euphoric.

Pleasure practically searing your veins, you didn’t even hear yourself, or really mean to say it, as soon as you did.

“This doesn’t feel dirty at all.”

An epiphany to you and a puzzle to Bucky.

“What’s’at, honey?” He was still rutting his hips and slowly picking up speed. Your husband groaned when you clenched around him and pulled him even deeper—before you realized what you’d said.

Your cheeks flushed.

“I— I was always told sex made you dirty. This feels—” you stopped to swallow a moan when Bucky grazed a particularly sensitive spot inside you, “pretty nice.”

‘Pretty nice.’ Your husband couldn’t help the smile twitching at the corners of his lips as he leaned down to kiss you. He wrapped his big, muscly arms around you and pulled you closer to his chest.

“Makes you dirty?” Bucky said, disbelief evident in his tone before his smile broke into a grin, “Baby, you’re the cleanest, sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He didn’t let you endeavor to protest, just buried his face in your neck and pressed teasing kisses all over the skin while he continued to pump in and out of you. He knew to keep hitting that spot, too.

You were drowning in whimpers and kisses when Bucky brought his lips to your ear.

“Doesn’t make you dirty at all,” he assured you, “Just makes you my wife.”

You clawed Bucky’s back when he sped up a little, and you felt the pleasure soar to even greater heights when he propped your legs above his shoulders—a brand new angle for him to bend you like a pretzel and fuck you good.

“You take this cock too nice to be dirty,” he gritted his teeth and continued to soothe you just how he knew you liked it, “Such a good little wife, sucking up every inch of me like you were made for it.”

Your lips parted in a soft ‘o,’ feeling him plunge the depths of your cunt like he never had before. Bucky slipped his thumb in your mouth while he held your face.

“That what you are, bunny? A good girl?”

You nodded your head and sucked his thumb, feeling yourself fucked dumb as you did. Bucky loved that blissed out look in your eyes.

“Good girl for daddy?” he cooed.

Your ankles trembled around his neck as soon as he said it. You nodded again, yes, you were, and felt a light coil start to form in your lower stomach as Bucky kept pounding you and pushing his thumb between your lips.

Then, with a pop, he plucked the digit from your mouth and brought it down to your clit. He started soft at first, but before long he was rubbing vicious circles on that little bundle of nerves, watching you come undone before his eyes and clench around him even tighter.

“B-Bucky,” you whined, fisting the sheets underneath you both as you squirmed.

“Mhmm?” Your husband pretended to be oblivious.

“I w— I’m gonna—” The words could scarcely leave your lips without finding themselves punctured with a whimper as soon as they were spoken. Bucky thrusted harder.

“Gonna what? Cum for daddy?” he grinned, “Make a mess all over this cock?”

Your moans of pleasure more than sufficed for an answer. You nodded and winced, felt your whole lower half seize with a warm and heady feeling, and before you knew it, Bucky’s thrusts were sending you spiraling over the edge, with a wave of bliss following shortly behind. Sounds of skin slapping skin hardly faltered, and Bucky kept rubbing and fucking you all throughout the waves of your high.

Tears sprung to your eyes, and you didn’t care. Your mind was alight with more bright, fervid feelings than you could count or comprehend, and your body washed over with pleasure.

You clung to Bucky and felt him keep fucking you, even as you shrieked against his skin.

“One more for me, honey.”

You didn’t think that was possible. You had just spilled all over him, squeezing his cock like a vice and screaming his name, and now he wanted it all over again? So soon?

Your fingernails sunk into his arms as he continued to rut into you, and you started to shake your head.

“C-Can’t Bucky, I can’t, I can’t,” you sobbed, tears still streaming down your cheeks.

“Sure you can.”

Your husband had his mouth at your ear again, panting as the pace of his thrusts grew faster. He tilted his body slightly forward so your legs were pushed even higher above you—damn near grazing either side of your head—and pounded you relentlessly.

His voice seemed so calm and assured as he spoke,

“Cum for daddy. Show me just how fucking good this cock makes you feel and cum again for me.”

With a command like that, how could you refuse?

You came a second time, hands seizing Bucky's forearms, and screams tearing through your chest as you rode your high impaled on his cock over and over again. The sights and sounds and repeated, pulsing spasms of your pussy on his shaft sent Bucky chasing his release not long after, and you felt a warmth spread inside you.

Your eyes were filled to the brim with tears, your cheeks practically drenched already. As you came down from your high, you started to blink.

But just as you lifted a hand to sop up the moisture, Bucky was leaning over you and into you with the brightest smile. Then he was kissing each wet, salty stain like it was the most natural thing in the world, sponging soft and gentle touches all over the spots your tears had overflown.

It seemed every nerve ending in your lower half was on the fritz, your body little more than mush underneath him, but somehow you managed to catch his mouth as he traversed the skin. You kissed him back, and Bucky drew you closer.

The two of you separated for a second, Bucky’s cock still resting comfortably inside you and his broad frame engulfing you in bed. He paused a beat. Seemed to consider something in his mind before speaking aloud.

“Honey,” he started, unsure of how he wanted to say this.

You peered up at him, curious. His seed had filled every contour and crevice of your aching walls and was just then starting to dribble out of you. Bucky seemed unfazed. He cupped both hands around your face.

“I love you.”

You blinked. No fucking way you were hearing those words.

“What?” You felt too awestruck to say anything else.

“I love you,” Bucky repeated. A smile was starting to tug at his lips, his thumb tracing your cheek while you stared at him in disbelief.

You would’ve liked to speak.

Would’ve loved to say those three little words right back.

In fact, you had just opened your mouth to tell him that, when a sound at the foot of the bed startled you both.

The warm glow of moonlight pouring in from the window panes was your only means to see it. But sight wasn’t worth much at all when a man appeared and pressed the barrel of a gun to Bucky’s temple, letting out a chuckle.

Another man, clad head-to-toe in polished black tactical gear approached from the far end of the room. Bucky gritted his teeth but remained motionless, hearing that man cock his firearm as well. You were surrounded on either side of the bed. Your blood ran cold.

“Sorry to interrupt the fun, Mr. Barnes,” the man on the left spoke so low and gruff he could scarcely be heard.

When Bucky started to stir, the man on the right raised his pistol as well. Curled his finger on the trigger.

“We haven’t even met your beautiful bride.” A set of cruel, glinting teeth turned in your direction. Suddenly, all eyes were trained on you—along with a third handgun, pointed at your head, as another man approached.

“Wedded bliss treating you well so far, Mrs. Barnes?”

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

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seungkw1 · 1 month ago

Text

love me right — ksy

♡ pairing: roommate!hoshi x afab!reader ♡ theme: smut [18+ mdni], humor ♡ wc: 4.1k ♡ warnings: oral (f. & m. receiving), unprotected piv sex (do not do this), multiple orgasms, a lil spit play, head pushing, thigh riding, somnophilia, cum eating/swallowing, cumming in pants, like 2 seconds of angst, praise kink, hs is down bad for reader, gendered pet names (baby, good girl, pretty girl, etc), bit of fluff at the end ♡ a/n: this is part 2 to make me !! finally got this written hope yall like <3

Ever since you sort-of-accidentally had sex with your roommate for the first time, he’s been nothing but a fucking menace.

Not in a bad way - no, despite the fact that he's kind of an actual insane person he's always been and continues to be a very considerate and agreeable roommate. There's no problem with your living arrangements.

The problem is how fucking insatiable he has become.

You previously never thought there could be such a thing as too many orgasms, but Soonyoung really is testing your limits. You've never had so much sex in your life - and you're not mad about it by any means. But your roommate-turned-friend with benefits is absolutely, utterly, wholeheartedly obsessed with having his entire face buried in your pussy at all possible times. And you love every second of it.

Sure, sometimes your clit kinda feels like it's gonna fall off. Most of the time you've barely recovered from the last set of two, three, four orgasms (the current record is six, a record he's determined to beat) before he’s back between your legs again. But the constant cunnilingus leaves you more sensitive than ever before - and the more you squirm beneath his tongue and scream and cry as he takes you to paradise, the more it gets him off. One time you were wailing his name so much that he actually came in his pants, fully hands-free. The man simply worships you.

You've had various kink-related conversations over the past couple months of nonstop boinking, as these things come up. You wouldn't necessarily say Soonyoung is into anything too crazy (besides the occasional burst of tiger roleplay, anyway), but so far he's been enthusiastically down for everything you've expressed interest in. He’s the very definition of matching one’s freak.

“You know what would be hot?” Soonyoung asks you one day, approximately two minutes after you woke up and emerged from your room.

“Good morning to you too,” you tell him through a sleepy yawn.

“What if,” he continues anyway, “hypothetically, I were to wake you up one day by eating you out?”

“Soonyoung is it nine in the morning,” you reply as you give him a dull glare. You go to make yourself a cup of coffee, but he extends a full mug to you. You take the cup - it’s fresh, piping hot.

“Oh, thanks,” you say, surprised by the kind gesture.

“So?” he prods, eagerly awaiting your reply.

“I mean, yeah, I wouldn’t be mad about that,” you answer with a small shrug.

“NOICE,” he exclaims, pumping his fist in the air.

“BUT-” you quickly add. “That cannot be an everyday thing.”

“Right, of course not,” he agrees with a nod. “Soooo, when can I try it?”

“Well, I can’t tell you that,” you reply straightforwardly. “It’s supposed to be a surprise, that would like, defeat the whole point.”

A wide grin spreads across his face, but he shakes it off right away, playing it cool.

“Okay cool, well I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, grabbing your hand and shaking it vigorously. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

You roll your eyes at him.

“You’re so fucking stupid,” you gibe, but your face cracks into a smile. He pulls you in and kisses you.

“Love you too.”

You freeze.

You may have been intimate with him more times than you can count, but your relationship is strictly casual. You only kiss when you're fucking, and the words I love you have never once been uttered by either of you. You know he probably was saying it facetiously, but the way he said it was so nonchalant. So… realistic. You stare at him for a second, not knowing how to respond. His smile slowly drops.

“Oh, sorry,” he apologizes. His ears immediately turn red with embarrassment.

“No no it’s fine,” you babble, trying to backtrack. “I just wasn't expecting…”

“I was just kidding,” he responds. Then his eyes widen. “I mean not like that, it's not that-”

“It’s fine!!” you quickly interject before he can say anything else. “I know what you mean.”

“Sorry,” he murmurs again. He suddenly realizes he's still holding onto your hand - he swiftly lets go.

“Thanks for the coffee,” you tell him politely with a smile, trying to change the subject.

“Of course,” he replies, trying to smile back at you, but you can tell he's still sulky. He departs from the kitchen without saying another word. He emerges from his room about a minute later in athletic gear, his gym bag slung over his shoulder.

“Off to workout already? I thought you were going this afternoon” you inquire, but he's already breezing past you.

“Yeah, Mingyu just texted me and wanted to meet earlier,” he answers as he grabs his keys.

It’s a bad lie, and you both know it. But you don't press him further.

“Okay, have fun!” you say cheerfully. But an air of tension remains.

“Thanks,” he replies, turning back to glance at you for only a brief second.

“Hey,” you say softly. “Soonyo-”

He's out the door before you have a chance to finish even saying his name.

You stand there for a few moments, staring at the front door, wondering if you've just fucked everything up. You didn't mean to, of course. You were just so taken aback by the stupid L word. It's not something you ever expected to hear coming from Soonyoung’s lips, not about you anyways. But now it has you thinking. Was he simply joking around? Or does he actually have… feelings for you?

A small blip of a thought enters your mind: and do you have feelings for him?

You push it away before you can think about it any further.

The next few days are undoubtedly a bit awkward. Soonyoung is clearly avoiding you - not in a malicious way, but he just so happens to have business elsewhere whenever you're at home.

You're mildly annoyed, but more so you're feeling gloomy about the whole situation. You never meant to do anything to push him away - near-constant fucking aside, Soonyoung truly is a good friend. And now you find yourself missing him.

After an entire week of this nonsense, you decide to confront him. You pretend to be going to sleep, anticipating that he’ll spend some time alone in the common area. A few minutes later your hunch is confirmed when you hear the tv come on, its volume low. You quietly open your door and sneak into the living room. You approach the couch slowly from behind - when you arrive at it, you jump around and plop down next to Soonyoung.

“FUCK,” he yelps, nearly jumping out of his seat. “You scared me!”

“I'm horny,” you tell him bluntly, scooting up next to him. “Let me suck your dick.”

Soonyoung stares at you, looking into your eyes that are now mere inches from his. You can tell he desperately wants to say yes, but he resists. You give him a flirty look, trying to entice him.

“Pleaseeeee?”

“Well, I was gonna watch a movie…” his sentence trails off, unfinished. He tries to shift his focus away from you, but his eyes keep flickering back to yours.

“Seriously?” you ask, crossing your arms. “Since when do you turn down head?”

“Y/n…”

You wait for him to continue, but he doesn't.

“Yes?”

He looks you in the eyes again, then sighs.

“I dunno, I’m just not in the mood right now,” he finally answers. He looks away sullenly.

“Are you okay?”

He looks back at you. He clearly wants to tell you something, but he hesitates.

“About the other day…” he finally speaks. He pauses, in case you have something to say. You don’t; he continues.

“I didn't mean to make things weird. When I said that I loved you.”

“You didn't,” you assure him. You note that he didn’t say anything about it not being true, but you try to ignore that right now.

You take his hand in yours, patting it softly. He looks at you, surprised by the gesture.

“I was being weird, that's on me.”

His mood cautiously lightens. “You sure?” he verifies.

“100%,” you say with a nod. He smiles at you.

“Now will you please put your dick in my mouth?” you request again, looking into his eyes seductively.

A smile creeps onto his face.

“I mean if you're gonna be this fucking hot…”

You give him a mischievous smirk. You tug at his tshirt; he immediately takes it off. He groans as you grab his dick through his sweatpants, his cock starting to harden instantly in response. One thing about Soonyoung - you can do the bare minimum and he’ll have a boner within five seconds. You lick your lips, stroking him slowly through the soft gray fabric. He lets out a deep exhale, relieved by your touch - it had only been a week, but he missed you badly. He craved your touch, craved how insane you make him feel. He drops his head back, his legs spreading as he settles into the couch, shifting his pelvis up so you have full access to his groin. You rub your hand over the thick bulge, squeezing and pulling lightly, causing him to let out a pathetic-sounding moan. He is putty in your hands.

About a minute more of your over-the-pants handjob and Soonyoung is rock fucking hard. You slide off the couch, taking to your knees between his spread thighs. You pull at the elastic waistband, tugging it down over the pulsating bulge in his underwear. You place your mouth on him through the fabric, letting him feel your lips, your hot breath on him.

“Stop teasing me,” he begs after you plant several more kisses on his clothed dick. “Please.”

You gaze up at him, your eyes filled with lust. You reach into his underwear, retrieving his cock, prompting further pathetic moaning. He is leaking with precum - you take him in your fist, stroking up and down at a pace that he finds painfully slow. You place your lips atop the head, lightly sucking up his juices. He cries out as you then swirl your tongue over his tip.

“Aaaah,” he groans, his voice turning gravelly.

You grab his balls and take the rest of the head into your mouth. You hollow your cheeks as you begin sucking on it slowly - each motion of your lips long and drawn out. Saliva accumulates in the back of your mouth - and an overwhelming wetness accumulates in your underwear.

You draw your head back, gazing up at Soonyoung submissively. You collect your saliva, spitting it onto his cock - it trickles downwards. Wrapping your hand around his girth you spread it over his full length, coating his cock with your spit.

“Oh wow,” he mutters, nearly going cross eyed. You take his cock in your mouth once more, swallowing more and more of him until his entire length is down your throat.

“Goddamn baby,” he growls as you bottom out. You begin to bob your head, sucking him off. The sounds being made right now are grotesque - slurping and gagging from you, moaning and grunting from him. But it's only turning you on even more.

“Ohh that's a good girl,” he grumbles as he pets your hair. You increase your pace - saliva coats your lips, dripping down your chin, spreading across your face. The utterly sloppy head has Soonyoung writhing beneath you, babbling unintelligibly as his orgasm draws near.

“Feels so good baby.”

“Fuck you’re so hot.”

“Pretty girl sucking my cock so good right now.”

His other hand ventures to your head, holding you down as his hips jerk and shake. Your throat aches from him fucking it, your eyes well with tears - but your clit throbbing against the stickiness that has flooded your panties proves how much you fucking love this.

“Ohhhhhmygoddddd,” he groans through gritted teeth. “Fuuuuck, y/n… I’m gonna cum…”

He pushes your head down as he releases, giving you several hard thrusts as his cum spurts down your throat. You let him fill you up, eagerly swallowing each burst of his load. His hips slow as his climax wanes. His arms plop onto the couch cushions, his body sinking into the sofa as his body relaxes. He drags one hand to your face, grasping your jaw gently as he slowly pulls you off of his sensitive throbbing cock. He wants to look at you so bad, see that pretty little face with those pretty swollen lips covered in both your juices - but his energy is too drained to even lift his head.

“C’mere,” he pleads softly.

You pull yourself back up onto the couch, pressing your body closely against his. You lay your head on his shoulder as your fingertips delicately trace up and down his cock - it pulsates at your touch.

He turns his head to face you, his nose brushing up against yours. He lifts one hand, tenderly cradling your cheek.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, his voice low and husky.

You feel a pang deep in your stomach. You've been scared to admit it this whole time, but at this point it's undeniable: you are falling in love with your roommate. And god do you want to kiss him.

“Yes,” you whisper, the word hot and breathy against his lips lingering before yours.

Soonyoung grabs your face with both hands, pulling you deep into his kiss. His lips hungrily lock onto yours, his body stilling except for his chest, rising and falling with slow, heaving breaths. He kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you, holding you tightly, refusing to allow any physical space between you two. You want to stay here for all of eternity.

Slowly, your mouths part - he gives your bottom lip a few more tugs before letting go. His forehead rests against yours, both of you exhaling deeply in tandem. His hands drop to your waist, touching you gently as the warmth of his breath greets your face. He looks into your eyes as he holds you.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?”

You nod. Quickly tucking his remaining erection back into his sweats, he takes your hands and pulls you up with him, kissing you with each step as you stumble together into your room. You plop onto your bed, pulling Soonyoung on top of you. He rolls over, holding you snugly against him, your legs tangling together as he starts making out with you again. Your aching cunt presses against his thigh as you wrap your legs around him; you begin to grind your hips slowly.

“Wait,” he pauses. He reaches for your shorts, sliding your pajamas and panties off of you. You kick them the rest of the way off, discarding them somewhere on the bed, your shirt quickly joining them. He yanks his own pants off; you straddle his thigh again, your soaked cunt greeting his skin.

“Oh my god,” he groans. “It’s so fucking wet.”

Your hips begin again, dragging your pussy up and down his thigh, your juices spreading everywhere. You whimper at the stimulation, riding Soonyoung’s thick muscular quads as he wraps his arms around your torso. You cling to him as he draws you in close, his mouth wandering to your neck to plant a string of small kisses on the delicate skin. Ceaseless moans escape you as a fire builds in your gut, the burning pleasure of your climax rapidly approaching.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum,” you cry out as you frantically get yourself off on Soonyoung’s thigh. You feel his cock growing hard again - it presses into your belly as it strains against the fabric of his underwear.

“Cum for me babe,” his low voice speaks softly into your ear.

Desperately grinding your pussy on his thigh, you finally release. You scream his name as you cum, legs trembling as your body shakes with vigor. Soonyoung holds you tight, kissing your cheek lovingly as you orgasm in his arms.

“That's my girl,” he murmurs as he kisses your lips. You begin to come down, but your head is still spinning from the overwhelming stimulation. You try to catch your breath, slowing your breathing as Soonyoung rubs your back - but his touch and the warmth of his body sends you into a deep state of relaxation. He whispers something else to you, but before you can even process what he's saying, you are fast asleep.

You’re awoken the next morning by loud, moaning cries.

Still half asleep, you begin to register a familiar bodily sensation. Only when you pry your eyes open and see Soonyoung situated between your legs, do you realize you’re the one moaning. His face is buried in your pussy, licking you slowly, tasting you, savoring every moment of having his tongue in your cunt.

He lifts his eyes, noticing that you’re now conscious.

“Soonyoung what the fu- ohhh,” you question, but are cut off by his lips attaching themselves to your clit.

“Good morning beautiful,” he mumbles into your cunt, refusing to take his mouth of you for a second.

“Oh my god,” you groan. “I forgot I told you you could do this.”

He pauses, looking up at you.

“Do you want me to stop-”

“NO,” you shout, louder than you meant. You lift your hips, putting your folds back in his mouth. He smiles into your cunt, eagerly resuming eating you out.

“Good,” he replies, barely audible as his tongue begins working into your hole again.

Your back arches as his nose presses into your clit, making it throb desperately. He flattens his tongue, licking you all the way up, then swirling around the sensitive bud.

“Ahhh,” you cry out involuntarily. “You’re gonna make me cum already.”

This only eggs him on further. He wraps his arms around your thighs, grasping you tightly as the tip of his tongue quickly flicks over your clit.

“How- fuck, how long have you been down there?”

He glances up at you again, sticking his tongue out exaggeratedly as he continues licking you.

“I dunno, like five minutes maybe.”

“Five?!” you proclaim as your head falls back onto the pillow. You run your fingers through his hair. “That’s it?”

Soonyoung smirks, planting several kisses on your pussy.

“You were already soaking wet when I got here,” he informs you. “Must’ve been dreaming about me.”

“Oh shut the fuck up,” you pretend to be annoyed with him, but the moans escaping from your lips undermine your facade.

“C’mon, you like it,” he teases.

“Yeah,” you admit. “I do.”

He grins widely. “Good girl.”

His praise and the way his tongue is now circling your clit send you over the edge. You whine as your orgasm approaches - loud, pathetic sounds filling the air as he sucks and slurps between your thighs.

“Don’t stop,” you beg.

The sensation builds and builds, making you squirm beneath him as every nerve in your body erupts with overwhelming delight.

“Oh fuck- I’m cumming,” you shriek as you reach your high. You cum on his tongue, long and hard - riding out your orgasm on his face accompanied by loud, unabashed cries of pleasure. As your body starts to relax, you release the tight grip you didn’t realize you had on his hair, stroking his head as he softly laps up your release.

“Come here,” you tell him softly, but he doesn’t move. He seems to be even more relaxed than you are right now.

“Just a second,” he responds through deep breaths, his body sinking into the bed.

“Oh my god, did you…”

“Cum in my pants again?” he finishes your question for you. “Yeah. I did.”

He lifts his head, his eyes glazed over in post-orgasm bliss.

“You’re so hot, I couldn’t help it,” he says with an amused grin.

Finally able to move, he rises - his underwear visibly filled with cum. He crawls back up to you, plopping onto his back right beside you. He peels the ruined underwear off, tossing them aside, then stares down at his own mess.

“Lemme just, um…”

He goes to get up, intending to go clean himself off, but you pull him back onto the bed.

“I got it.”

You scoot yourself down, positioning your face near his groin. Slowly you begin to lick his own cum off of him.

“Jesus fuck, y/n,” he groans, his voice deep and low. “You’re filthy.”

“Don’t act like you don’t think this is hot.”

“Oh I do,” he says proudly. “Very fucking hot.”

He strokes your hair as you clean him up. As you finish he pulls you back up, laying you on top of him as he wraps his arms around you once more. Both of you are sweaty, and the embrace is nearly too warm - but neither of you want to move.

You lay there in silence, your head tucked comfortably into his shoulder, peacefully listening to the songbirds chirping as warm morning sunlight filters into the room through the blinds. Soonyoung is breathing so steadily that you think he's fallen asleep underneath you, but eventually you hear your name softly muttered from his lips.

“Hey, y/n?”

“Hmm?” you reply sleepily without moving. Soonyoung caresses your back, dragging his fingertips gently up and down over the soft skin.

“What are we?”

You lift your head, propping yourself up by your elbow. You look down at Soonyoung - he gazes up at you, waiting for your response.

“I don’t know,” you answer after thinking for a moment. “What do you want us to be?”

He reaches for your face, stroking your cheek gently.

“I wasn’t lying the other day.” He stares into your eyes. Despite the fact that he literally just had his face buried in your pussy, it feels overwhelmingly intimate. Your stomach churns anxiously.

“I really do love you.”

You knew he was going to say it, but your heart skips a beat anyway. Hearing him say it out loud, hearing him confess his love to you - it’s a thought that previously scared you. But you no longer fear confronting this reality. Now that you’re here, it feels comfortable, it feels right.

“I’m sorry if that makes things weird between us, but it’s the truth,” he says timidly. “I just can’t deny it any longe-”

You cut him off with a kiss.

You kiss him for far too long - but it’s never long enough. When your lips part at last, you gaze at him lovingly, a big, cheesy grin growing upon your face.

“I love you too, dummy.”

He stares back at you, mouth agape. He finally processes your words, his face lighting up with excitement.

“Really??” he asks you in awe.

“Really really,” you nod.

He embraces you with explosive enthusiasm, making you yelp as he rolls over on top of you. You giggle as he gives you a series of rapidly-placed kisses all over your face.

“Stop itttt,” you cry through your laughter. “That tickles!”

“Sorry,” he says with a big goofy smile. “I’m just really excited.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” you say as you grab his boner that has quickly returned.

He beams at you. “What can I say, you make my dick happy.”

“God, you’re such a dork,” you tell him as you roll your eyes. But you guide his tip to your entrance, shifting your hips to take him inside you.

“Ohh fuuuuck,” he mumbles, his eyes rolling back into his head. He starts slowly sliding his overstimulated cock into you, grunting when his whole length is inside. He rests, unmoving.

“You good?” you ask him.

“Yeah, just trying not to cum immediately,” he says, grinning.

“Soonyoung, you are crazy.”

“Crazy for you,” he says with a kiss.

You spend the rest of the day in bed together, making out, fucking, napping - anything, so long as you don’t have to leave his side. Soonyoung, being Soonyoung, tells you he loves you no fewer than 12 more times.

“So,” he asks as you intertwine your fingers with his, holding hands after he goes down on you for probably the fourth time today. “Does this mean I can call you my girlfriend now?”

You try to answer, but you’re trying to catch your breath after your millionth orgasm.

“Hmmmm?” he pesters.

“Gimme a… fucking second…” you mumble, pushing him away playfully. He gets right back in your face.

“I’m not hearing no…” he says, kissing your nose.

“Oh my god, yes, Soonyoung. The answer is yes.”

He grins from ear to ear, then wraps his entire body around yours, clinging to you like a koala.

“Yayyyy!" he replies as he nuzzles his face into you.

“You know,” he says after a few moments of silence. “I’m pretty hungry…”

“You better mean real food this time,” you tell him sternly. “I don’t think I could handle any more orgasms today.”

“Yes, real food,” he chuckles. “Shall I order delivery from that Thai place you like?”

“Yes please, I’m fucking starving.”

“You got it, baby.”

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bagofshinyrocks · 10 months ago

Text

Period Comfort

Prompt: How the boys act when their S/O is on their period. [Requested by @weebumochi]

Featuring: TF141 and Los Vaqueros - John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, Alejandro Vargas, and Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra (separately) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: reader menstruates, but no mention of genitalia; menstruation discomfort; nothing else i can think of, but lemme know if there's more

John Price

Always gets you water and a fresh cup of tea once your cups looks a little low.

Finds out what meals are best for someone on their period and focuses on making those for the week.

You two would make food with beef, eggs, and fish (if you eat them); spinach, squash, and brussel sprouts. All the nutritious stuff.

And then he would make treats for you, especially dark chocolate on almonds or walnuts. Bring you bananas, berries, figs. You felt like ancient Mesopotamian royalty. All things that were also good for you, but were more traditional period comfort food of “sweet”.

If you really needed to eat half a family sized bag of barbeque potato chips, he would fetch them and put them in a bowl for you. No questions asked. No movement in the eyebrows. A loving smile as he asks what movie you two were going to watch.

But for dinner, he’s making something without so much… sodium.

Does everything he can to make your period easier on you.

Simon Riley

Doesn’t tell you that he knows you’re on your period, but that shit is on the calendar. Doesn’t want to make you feel like he’s all “oh is it that time of the month?”. So he pretends nothing is different.

He’s always so sweet to you, but he’s especially so when you’re on your period.

There are absolutely no gibes or pokes at the tender part of your heart. And whenever you’re most hormonal (which is also on the calendar), he might not tease you at all. Because one time he was a little snarky with you, and normally it would roll right off, but you were just a teensy bit too hormonal. And you got quiet. And your lip quivered. And he didn’t stop apologizing the whole day.

Any shows or movies he normally sighs about (but still sits down and watches… and gets invested in, the lying shit), there is no fussing.

“Alright, lovie, sounds good. Do you want another cuppa while I’m up?”

Need some quiet time by yourself? He has some errands to run, let him know what you want for dinner.

Just does his best to make sure you never feel crazy when you’re on your period.

Kyle Garrick

When the worst of your period comes in, it becomes the typical night in.

The dumbest movies that you two love. Dessert eaten before dinner. Favorite takeout and all the accoutrement available. A glass of wine or some other treat beverage. Matching pajama sets.

Kyle had almost fallen asleep when you massaged a yummy-smelling hair mask into his scalp, and then pulled a ‘oh I was just resting my eyes’. And then he returned the favor, painting a luxurious facial mask on you. Making hearts on your cheeks, then spreading them out. You were fairly sure he drew boobs on your forehead, but then smeared it out and insisted you were just imagining it.

You give each other manicures, and hand feed the other food whilst their nails dried. Kissing chocolate and strawberries off each others lips and chins.

Once his hair was wrapped up, he’s all snuggled up in your arms. The heat and weight of his body against your abdomen was soothing. And the gentle snoring of the love of your life.

Everything he can to make you feel comfortable and attractive in your own skin.

Johnny MacTavish

He gets up at the ass crack of dawn to go for a run (like a fucking psycho). Once you wake up, he wants to go to the gym with you. Whether or not you work out, or just poke his butt because it’s funny, he wants you there. But not today. Your cramps, or just the general yuckiness of menstruating, makes you want to not leave the house.

So he hops on the internet, and finds the workouts, stretches, and yoga poses that would help you feel better.

The most gentle workout he’s had in his life. Stretching with the speed of tai chi, leaning against your back and chatting quietly.

Kisses wherever he can reach as you two figure out the yoga poses. Sticks his ass out as far as he can so you’ll poke it. Whistles whenever you begin a pose that’s even marginally suggestive. Waggles his eyebrows and maybe even cops a feel.

Double checks that you aren’t overexerting yourself. Stops for water (and kiss) breaks and asks how you’re feeling. What’s helping, what’s not helping? Time to stop, or keep going?

Helping with the physical and visceral symptoms so you’re more comfortable.

Alejandro Vargas

If he can, he’s clearing the schedule for the worst day of the week. Does grocery shopping and laundry before, so there is essentially nothing to do that day when Mother Nature is curb-stomping you.

Spoils you with a long lie-in. The sun has long since come up by the time you wake up to massages and kisses.

You join him for breakfast and a quick rinse off shower, and then you two crawl right back into bed. Leaning against him as he kneads the skin and muscles of your abdomen or back, a movie or the radio as ambient noise.

Maybe you fall back asleep. Maybe you watch an entire TV show. Maybe you putter about and do some light home-making. The goal is that you are fully rested.

I bet science says that you can’t “catch up on sleep”, but it’s still nice to have a day where you sleep for most of it. Especially when it’s curled up in bed with your sweet lover. His hands on you for the entire day, closely followed by his lips.

His whole body squeezing you tight when you try to leave, and wrapping around you again once you return.

Just physically reminding you of how much he loves you.

Rodolfo Parra

Once he sees a menstrual product wrapper in the bathroom trash can, he’s off to make the most professional grocery run you’ve ever seen.

Knows exactly which products you use, and checks which are low. Buys the right medications or products. The snacks that you love (that won’t betray you later with a stomach ache), and the little drink treat that’s for special occasions.

You swear that he hears the crinkle of a wrapper in the bathroom and marches to the store.

Puts the groceries away while you’re finishing up the breakfast dishes and then offers you the little beverage and maybe a treat.

He guides you to the couch or back to bed, sidling up next to or behind you and kisses you deeply. Arms roaming and then settling in a way that keeps you as close as possible. Pressing against you as if you could become one.

Cuddles in the way that is most comfortable, whether you’re in his lap or laying down. Kisses you all over. Hand feeds you until you’re giggling too hard.

He never wants you to run out of the supplies you need, or feel any less sexy while menstruating. Because you are always so sexy to him.

Posted: 2024 January 7

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fushiguho · 4 months ago

Text

Sucking Professor!Kento’s cock during office hours… sorry in advance I’m ovulating :/

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･

“I just wanna see it.” You pur as you’re sinking to your knees before him, two curious hands reach forward to undo the silver buckle of his belt.

“You just wanna see it?” He echoes incredulously, a laugh of disbelief immediately following his words.

You only hum in response, fiddling with the clasp of his belt, nothing but your feverish urgency guiding you. Nanami does little to stop your advances. In fact, part of him can’t stop himself from helping you as his slender, manicured hands are sliding down to take the belt off for you. Soon, the zipper of his dark gray slacks is being tugged down, eventually revealing the prominent tent beneath the fabric of his Calvin Klein briefs.

Nanami’s breath nearly hitches when you pull at his waistband, unsheathing his swollen cock. The blushing tip drips with precum, kissing his head in a slick mess. His fruitless protests were long forgotten, somewhere so far gone, never to be seen again. And from the looks of it, Nanami’s body is working against him and he can’t find it within himself to stop it.

You definitely don’t miss the way he sucks in a tight breath, exhaling a shaky whimper as the cool draft of the lecture hall kisses the tip of his cock, his chest shuddering with each breath. Almost instinctively your hand is wrapping around the base before slowly dragging your fist up. “You… you said you just wanted to see it– fuck.” He breathes as his lips part, labored breaths falling from his open mouth.

“Did I?” You hum, feign confusion heavy in your tone as you loll out your tongue, allowing saliva to fall from it, coating the head of his cock in a lewd, glossy sheen. Nanami can only nod slightly, mouth wide as you begin to stroke him again with the slick of your saliva. He’s rolling his hips forward, chasing your fleeting touch.

You smile sweetly, “I must've forgotten.”

With your eyes boring holes into his, you inhale deeply before slowly lowering your head onto him, taking him into your mouth with a hum of satisfaction. He’s sweet, almost like a bitter honey. Your eyes flutter close as you swallow around him, gagging sweetly as the tip of his cock brushes the entrance to your throat.

He’s gasping, face contorting in overwhelming pleasure as you toy with his heavy balls, your other hand tugging at his pretty cock. “Mmph—you can’t just—fuck… w-what if someone sees?” Nanami protests while peering down at you through the fallen strands of blonde that adorn his forehead, his scrunched face blushing with crimson.

Your sweet lips drag along the warm skin of his swollen balls, sloppy kisses left in your wake. “No one comes to your office hours anyway.” You gibe, your hand steadily working at his stiff cock. Nanami gapes in response, his head slowly craning back to dangle over his shoulders, a choked whimper on the tip of his tongue.

He hardly even notices the subconscious spread of his legs as he accommodates to your keening sense of vehemence. Truthfully, he’d only be lying to himself if he said he hasn’t imagined you on your knees for him just like this. How can he not? Maybe it’s the way you saunter around campus in the skimpiest little outfits he’s ever seen, your soft breasts and plush thighs on display, practically spilling out of the fabric. Or even the way you ‘accidentally’ email him files of the most nasty and debauched images of yourself.

But Professor!Kento isn’t blameless. He definitely shouldn’t have saved those files so that he could slowly construct his own corrupt file of you—a handpicked selection of your most sacred parts, stored away on his work laptop. Between classes he finds himself growing hard at the fleeting thought of you tucked under his desk with his cock in your mouth, stifling his moans as he grades quizzes for his unsuspecting students.

Oh, and there were the videos too...

He can vividly describe them from memory. In fact, the video that made his cock the hardest was the one of you in your dorm room, slouched against your headboard, completely bare with your legs spread as you ran your slick fingers between your swollen lips. The camera's flashback even caught the subtle gleam of your arousal, gossamers of your essence stretching and snapping between your fingers like shiny cobwebs.

With your phone propped against a stuffed animal, you huffed out small breaths and moans as you shamelessly groped your tits. Mouth gaped as you tugged at your hardened nipples, rolling them between the pads of your fingers.

Over and over again, Nanami replayed the video, shamelessly zooming into your pussy to get a better view of the way your sloppy hole swallowed your fingers. He even synced his moans with yours as he fucked his hand that night, shiny beads of precum slipping from the head of his cock and dribbling down his nimble fingers.

And of course you claimed that you must’ve mistaken the file for your thesis. You’d think after the third time you’d learn not to keep your nudes in the same vicinity as your schoolwork, right?

Whoops.

“I see the way you look at me, Mr. Kento… you’re a smart man but not very discrete,” you taunt, twisting your wrist slightly as you near the head, eliciting a gasp from his lips, “wouldn’t be surprised if everyone knew.”

He’s whimpering wantonly as he bucks his hips toward your face, gaunt knuckles turning a pale white as he grips the armrests of his leather chair, “It’s not my f— fault, y’know that…” he breathes.

The smile that mars your face is almost sick, your sweet lips curling into the most bewitched grin he has ever seen. It nearly has him spilling cum all over your pretty face with a guttural groan and a stutter of his hips.

“Guess it’s also not your fault that you lecture a room full of students with this cock hard like that either, right? Don’t even care enough to cover yourself up when you teach… must want everyone to know.” You're not letting up, your fist tightens slightly as you’re slowly forcing precum from the swollen head of his cock. Warm, pearlescent beads drip in rivulets down your slick fingers.

You lean forward, darting your tongue out to chase his seed as he runs down your knuckles. The wet, hot muscle drags along your fist as you collect his arousal. “Mmm— my professor’s gettin’ soo wet for me… look at the mess you’re making,” you observe as you smear the remaining precum along his cock. “wonder what my friends’ll think when I tell them… they’ll be so mad at me. M’always talkin’ about ya y’know.” You giggle girlishly, admitting to your slight infatuation.

He throbs in your hand at your honeyed words, the vein that runs along the underside of his of his cock swollen and pulsating as you beckon him toward an inevitable orgasm. “Oh, fuuuck…” Nanami gasps, eyebrows furrowing as he struggles to engage in your repartee, “m’gonna cum if you keep talkin’ to me like that… knew you had a nasty little mouth.” he admits.

You can’t help the squeeze of your thighs at his comment as arousal seeps from your cunt, ruining your panties. As you take him back into your mouth with a soft moan, swallowing around him like it’s the last meal you’ll ever have, the subtle roll hips of your as you attempt to relieve yourself won’t go unnoticed.

Nanami thinks you’re the prettiest thing ever, like nothing he’s ever seen. He’s not entirely sure what it is about you that makes all the blood in his body rush for the head of his cock. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re so bright, sharp-witted, and unlike many of his other students, you care about your life beyond university. Or it could even be the simple fact that he’s so deeply infatuated with you. Almost to the point it physically pains him.

More often than not, he’ll catch himself scanning the classroom for you before his lessons, hoping to find you in a row close to the front. When he eventually spots you, shamelessly, his gaze envelops you, mind racing as he imagines all the depraved things he’d do if given half the chance. God, especially the days you’d come to class repping your school’s apparel in those godforsaken athletic shorts from the university bookstore, the curve of your ass peeking from beneath.

You don’t ever mind when he keeps you well after class is over, commending you for your hard work and impressive grades, accompanied by lingering glances and fleeting touches. It’s hard to ignore the sickening sense of attraction you feel toward him. Maybe because he’s the answer to your most impure fantasies.

Nanami’s stomach knots when you peer up at him from between his legs, your sweet eyes like daggers. “Want you to cum in my mouth… on my tongue,” you’re humming sweetly as you loll out you tongue, his tip resting snuggly against it, “I’ll swallow it all.” You’re gently tapping him on the plush center of your tongue now, encouraging his looming orgasm.

His hips stutter as you jerk his cock against your tongue, all of his pretty boy moans and sighs of pleasure like kindle to a flame. “Yeah–f— fuck, yes… want me to cum in that p-pretty mouth?” He groans.

You nod before sitting higher up on your knees, preparing yourself to swallow everything he has to offer. Nanami gasps when his cock begins to twitch against your tongue. The vibration of your pleasured hums and coos is what forces several warm, translucent spurts of cum into the back of your throat.

His mouth gapes as you swallow it all like you promised. You even stick out your clean tongue afterwards as proof. Nanami is bewildered as his chest heaves. “What the fuck.” he whispers, trying his hardest to make sense of the events that just unfolded.

He watches intently as you quickly clean yourself up, readjusting your disheveled hair and clothes before gathering your scattered textbooks and belongings. You sling your backpack over your shoulders before awkwardly looking down at your feet, “Uh, I’ll be late for physics… see you tomorrow?” You question.

He nods understandably. “What time are you done with classes today?”

“4:30.”

He grins wickedly. “Meet me back here at 4:45… wanna show you somethin’ else.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･

Hey, you! Did you like this? Click here for more!

#nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #nanami x you #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujustsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen

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arcielee · 11 months ago

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Zȳha lyks

Summary: You find an ally with the second son of King Viserys. Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Plus Size Reader Word Count: 2.4k+ Warnings: AFAB Reader, fat phobia, kissing, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, overstimulation, loss of virginity implied. Author's Note: This story is based on this request:

I definitely tweaked it a bit but I hope you enjoy it.💜 Thank you to my beloved beta reader @annikin-im-panicin for your insight with this peace and to @azperja for your emojis 💜 Valyrian translations: Zȳha lyks is his peace 💜 Dividers by @saradika-graphics 💜

It was your father’s ambition to weave himself in the inner circle of the crowned princess that pulled you away from Claw Isle, leaving your brother behind to step into the role vacant for House Celtigar. During your journey, your father would repeatedly impress the importance of absorbing the tutoring of the maesters, to learn of your ancestral history before it had been so diluted by the blood of Westeros…but he was also adamant that you were to take advantage of your social seating, to make worthwhile and lifelong allies while in King’s Landing.

You were quick to note the marionette strings that Prince Aegon held, allowing the Strong bastards to hold their heads high with their snide comments on how they found you, “pleasantly plump enough,” or so they supposed.

It cut through your skin and burrowed into your heart, but your face never betrayed your anger nor your hurt. Instead, you went to your father with your heartache but his response was almost flippant about your torment.

“Our blood stems from the veins of Old Valyria,” your father now spoke of this as a fact, as something without any room to argue against. “They are our kinfolk and we seem destined to intertwine our blood with the blood of the dragon.”

But on this day you pushed aside your father’s words the moment you saw Prince Aegon and his puppets shift their collective cruelty onto the second son of King Viserys, Prince Aemond Targaryen.

He was a quiet, sullen boy, who always seemed sunkissed and kept his large, lavender eyes downcast. You saw how his pain curved his posture, a hooded melancholy draped across his slouched shoulders. He blanched as the boys retrieved the Pink Dread, his freckles stark on his porcelain skin.

Their gibe laughter echoed within the Dragon Pit and it boiled your blood, urging your steps forward to push past the brunette pair of princes and towards the puppeteer. Aegon’s brow raised, amused with your flushed fury that was staining your features, quick to sneer his comment on how, “–perhaps this swine could be mounted in–” but it stopped once your balled fist cracked into his nose.

Your satisfaction trilled up and down your spine with the pop of cartilage, watching as he cupped his face and the crimson that poured between his fingers. His wounded howl called back the Dragonkeepers and the White Cloaks assigned to them, all horrified at the sight. You were in trouble, undoubtedly, feeling the large hand that curled around your wrist to drag you back to your father. You dared look at Aemond, catching the upturn quirk of his mouth, the glitter in his eyes that met with your own.

It began a bond with the foundation of a mutual disdain, a hatred that would be solidified with events at Driftmark.

The events that followed that fateful night were flurried: the crowned princess all but fled the capital with her new husband and children, while your father decided to uproot and follow after. This had been halted by the queen’s request, behest of her daughter Princess Helaena, asking if you would remain as one of her ladies and confidants.

It was something that could not be denied and you found yourself alone with Helaena, her first request was for you to bring a book to her brother, who had since been boarded up in his room to recover.

“Am I to read to him?” You peered up from the cover to Helaena. “What if he does not wish to see me?”

“I believe this book and its company would interest him,” she glowed with her sweet smile, “I believe he would enjoy the change in narration, as our maester is rather monotone,” was all that she offered.

At first, Aemond had been hesitant of your company, bashful of the bloodied bandages that required to be tended to, but you showed to be steadfast, unflinching, but with a sense of empathy without the effortful pity that came from everyone else. You saw how he warmed as your visitations turned habitual, with you joining with his lessons and remaining when the maesters left. Helaena would slyly dismiss you for the day and this allowed Aemond to help you practice your shared ancestral tongue, or listen to whatever tome caught your attention in the library, even delving into bits of gossip or updates that pertained to his dragon.

“Vhagar flies over once a day. I assume it is to check on you,” you informed him one afternoon, “and she rests on the outside of the city walls, overlooking the bay.”

His cheeks pinked with his shy admittance, “I can feel her.”

You could not help your smile in return. Whereas Helaena was always sweet and always kind to you, and even Aegon had a newfound respect in your regard, you found it was the second son of King Viserys that allowed you to find a sense of comfort that you thought had been left at home.

Aemond recovered, as you knew he would, and you still remained at his blindside as he reacclimated to his new depth perception. He began to wear an eyepatch over his scarred socket, its wrathful red line curling above and below, along with his apprehension to the whispers of the court about the marred Targaryen prince.

“You are the rider of Vhagar, with the blood of the dragon in your veins,” you reminded him, your own blood rising to the surface. “Pay them no mind.”

Aemond listened to you, as he always did, focusing his determination on relearning his world with his handicap. You watched as he grew tall, his sinewy frame becoming taut under his fitted tunic and slacks, a result of the countless hours he spent training with Ser Criston. He matured with a severity etched into the marble he seemed to be chiseled from, though you still would see a perpetual smirk that would play across his lips.

Your heart fluttered until it bruised against your breastbone when he shyly asked that you would walk on his right side. “I wish to be able to see you,” he murmured and you burned with his words. Aemond showed consideration to match his gait with your steps and you enjoyed the heat that seemed to permeate from him; his large palm would cover your own, tucking it into the crook of his arm to keep you close at his side.

Worthwhile and lifelong allies, your father’s mantra repeated in your mind, but on his eight and tenth nameday, you felt the thrum of an unknown emotion vibrating within you with his close proximity.

His mother had gifted him a sapphire stone that was carved to fit where his eye once been, and when he focused his bicolored gaze on you–how the blue was brought out in his lavender eye with the complement of the gemstone, its amber flecks in the shine from the candles lit–did you feel the air pull from your lungs.

You had never cared for the vicious tittering of the noblewomen and would find yourself arguing how Aemond was handsome still, as it seemed a quality trait that most Targaryen men possessed. But in that moment, as the warmth flooded your features from his steady stare that now bore through you, you began to grasp it to be so much more for you.

Aemond misread your reaction, flinching to pull on his eyepatch with his apology: “I would never want to offend you–”

Your hand reached with its own volition, touching his elbow to stop him. He paused and looked at you and you took a breath before you could manage to say, “Aemond, you are beautiful.”

You burned from your boldness that was spilling from your tongue, your realization of what began as a mutual hatred for his nephews was on the precipice of something you knew you could not ignore.

Aemond watched you, his eye flitting over, before he tucked his eyepatch into his pocket and then offered his elbow to you. “Come, Lady Celtigar, we should not keep them waiting,” his voice low, and only then did you notice the rose hue that touched his cheeks.

After his celebration, it would be romanticized how the prince disappeared, taking Vhagar to fly to Claw Isle and demand your hand in marriage, against the Lord Hand’s protest for a more strategic pairing. Aemond would not be deterred and he returned with the intention to have you as his wife, which you graciously accepted. The ceremony that followed was intimate, steeped in the tradition of Old Valyria and sealed with a kiss that tasted of iron.

It was then you felt a new shyness that swept through with your muted mortification of the intimacy that was now expected of you, that Aemond would see all of you. He always seemed to take pride with how you were dressed in your finery, gowns stitched to complement your buxom figure, but you soon learned that Aemond much preferred what was beneath the silk and lace.

That night he would show you. He relished to peel away your layers, his mouth ravenous to taste your skin, his tongue licking to follow the natural slopes of your breasts and to the valley between. Aemond was panting with his anticipation, placing hot, opened mouth kisses to cherish your every curve, with gentle nips of his teeth that left blooms of rose as he continued towards your soft stomach and lower. He savoured your taste and how your body responded, how you were breathless, flushed, writhing beneath him.

“Aemond,” you gasped as he nestled between your plush thighs.

He shushed you, his breath warm against your silken folds, and it tickled in a way that caused you to squeeze his head between. His pleasure spilled with a low, guttural groan that rattled your bones beneath, but he would never pull away, as you would learn.

Your fingers combed through his silver hair as he began to tease you, sparks licking the base of your spine as he drank your essence. His gentle touch fell in tandem with his tongue, a pacing that was harmonized with your sweet sighs, only quickening with the flutter of your walls. The sparks of pleasure flashed white with your peak shuddering throughout, pulsing around his digits that remained knuckle deep, coaxing you to completion.

When your breath finally returned, you felt him grinning against your cunt. You found the muscle strength to tilt your chin down and meet with his eye blown, the shine of you on his smug expression. “One more for me, pretty girl,” his tone was low, commanding, his lips feathering your now swollen bloom of nerves.

You were boneless and quivering from your second release and only then did Aemond shift to move on top of you, melting against the softness of your skin, fitting in a way that you never realized before was missing from you.

He captured your mouth, his gentle thrusts filled you, completed you, and he trembled with his own reserve until you finally begged, “Aemond, my love, please, I need you–” that he rolled his hips against you, burying to the hilt with a rhythm that grew desperate. The litany that spilled from your lips as you clung to his shoulders, the flashes returning but with color from this new pleasure rekindling deeper within you.

That night, Aemond showed you the dragon that you were always aware thrummed beneath his practiced poise, something insatiable and wanting. He played the perfect gentleman in court, though his large hands always reached to touch, to grab whenever eyes were turned. You were his peace personified, decorated with love bites of your passion shared, the lifeline to his sanity that balanced on the edge of the coin flipped by the gods.

And it was tested when the crowned princess returned to argue for the claimant of Driftmark.

That night, the dinner had a palpable tension that the minstrels tried to drown with their music. Aemond held his gaze, piercing, loathsome, waiting for a moment to lash out, and that moment came served on a platter: a suckling pig that crackled still from the flames it had been removed from.

You first noticed the crass snickering of Prince Lucerys that was followed by the swell of your husband’s anger, something you quickly abated with the gentle press of your hand to his forearm as you pushed to stand. The room halted, the attention trained to you as you made show to hold up your gilded cup. “Final tribute,” your sickly sweet tone began, “to the health of our nephews…”

You knew that Aemond was watching, his agitation holding him rigid in his seat, his curiosity browed as you continued your insincerity, stating all three of their names with emphasis, “...each of them handsome, wise,” and your lips, stained by the wine, curled upwards, “Strong.”

It was a rippled effect: the shock of the queen, the sharp eyes of the Lord Hand, the heated glare from the other end of the room, but it did not stop you. Instead you looked for the perpetual smirk that was now playing across your husband’s mouth.

“Come now,” you gestured again with your goblet and even Aegon, with a dark chuckle, raised his own, “let us drain our cups to these three Strong boys.”

“I dare you to say that again.”

Aemond pushed to stand, his ire returned with a force as he moved to wall you away from Jacaerys. “You dare raise your tone to my wife,” his wrath cut with each word, the fire in his blood pouring from him. “She only meant to compliment you… or do you not think yourself Strong?”

It ended as quick as it had begun with Jacaerys thrown across the floor and a throaty chuckle from the back of Aemond’s throat. The clash of dragons was split apart by the White Cloaks and you watched your husband with a pride blooming in your chest, knitting with the love you now realized you had always carried for him: he was truly beautiful, squared off and fearless, his severity now furrowed onto his features that showed golden from the candles lit.

You held your head high as you walked to grab his sleeve and his attention returned to you, to your touch, though his scowl remained splayed on the sharp edges of his face. You pulled him to leave, to return towards your bedchambers; Aemond brimmed with a passion that you knew needed a release and you would forever be willing to be that vessel for your husband.

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arcie's hotd masterlist

#aemond targaryen #aemond taragaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #aemond targaryen x plus size reader #plus size reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x reader #aemond x you #Zȳha lyks #his peace

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fieldofdaisiies · 8 months ago

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9…in public for Elucien, for the kiss prompts requested by @moonlightazriel

"Is this too scandalous?"

"Kissing your mate." The corner of Lucien’s mouth tips upwards.

"Snogging out here? On a bridge? Where everyone can see us?" Elain’s eyes are wide open, her cheeks a deep red.

But Lucien only laughs, the sound pure and wonderful. "Who still uses the word snogging, my love?"

Elain’s brows bunch. "I do."

"Then let us snog a little more." Lucien gibes her no chamce to answer, he chases her lips and Elain immediately relaxes into the kiss. Who cares if anyone can see them?

Maybe it would even be good if a few who the females always drooling over her mate see them, Elain thinks, and pushes up on her tip toes to have better access to her mate’s lips. She kisses him with new found vigour, until they are breathless and part with big smiles on their lips.

for the kiss prompts

#elain x lucien #elucien #acotar #acosf

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crazyunsexycool · 7 months ago

Text

My Little Love

Chapter 34

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 4.8k

Warning: fake medical scenario (you'll see), So much fluff, this is so fluffy!!!!!

A/N: If you haven't done so I suggest reading this ONE SHOT before you read the chapter because it will be referenced in the chapter. All I can say is that I hope you guys like this chapter...

Series masterlist

Bucky sat completely still. He only moved or answered questions when he was told he could do so. The people he was with were bossy and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Bucky had no choice but to comply.

“Deep breath.”

Bucky takes a deep slow breath.

“Say ‘aahh’”

“Aaahhhhh.”

“I’ve found the issue.”

“What is it doc?” Bucky asks worriedly.

“You have a cat in your belly.”

“A cat? That’s not possible.”

“We’re gonna have to remove it. Nurse, get the patient ready.”

“Kay.”

Bucky tried to not laugh as Henry and Lottie played doctor with him being their only patient.

“Be a good boy, dada.” Lottie pats Bucky’s cheek.

“Please lay down, sir.” Henry instructs and points at the couch. “Baby it’s not dada, it’s sir.” He whispers to Lottie.

Bucky does as he’s told and gets comfortable on the couch. Lottie stands by his head and takes the toy stethoscope that had been resting around her neck and checks his heart.

“Is stwong, dada.” She says, referring to his heartbeat.

“It’s sir.”

“It’s dada.” Lottie sends Henry a pointed look, hoping he would drop it.

Ever since you started working exclusively at the medbay the kids had been fascinated with the idea. They still didn’t like the actual hospital portion of the tower you worked on but they liked visiting your office. In an effort to show them what you did, you got a toy medical kit and explained what everything was. You even used Bucky as a patient and showed them what you did with each item. Now they loved playing hospital. Unfortunately for Bucky he was usually their patient and Henry and Lottie loved to play for hours. They even switched on who got to play doctor and nurse.

“Habe to gibe shot dada. Be bwave.” Lottie says before giving him a so-called shot with the fake syringe from the play kit.

“Wow nurse, you’re so good at that. I didn’t even feel it.”

Lottie smiles as she places a pink princess bandaid on Bucky’s metal arm. Then she leans in and places a kiss on top.

“Is bettuh.”

“Definitely but,” Bucky fakes a yawn. “I’m so sleepy now.”

“Quick nurse, we have to get the cat out now.”

Both kids ran around giggling and supposedly performing surgery. Bucky just laid back with a smile on his face as he listened to Henry and Lottie talk amongst themselves.

You walked in just as Henry was holding Alpine above Bucky’s belly. Lottie was pretending to listen to Bucky’s heart again.

“Is good.”

“Sir, everything was a success.” Henry informs Bucky.

“What is going on here?”

Both Henry and Lottie turn their heads to you. They start laughing when you narrow your eyes at them and then they run off.

“I had a cat in my belly, apparently.” Bucky explains. “They were removing it.”

“Oh. Well I’m glad they caught it on time, you know, before Alpine had kittens in there.”

Bucky rolls his eyes but chuckles. He opens his arms as you walk over to him, inviting you to cuddle with him on the couch. You gladly accept and lay over him. Bucky pulls you closer and you sigh once you’re comfortable.

“Bad shift?” He murmurs.

“Kind of.”

“I heard about the agents that came back.”

“Yeah, it was pretty bad. They’re hanging in there but it’s very touch and go at the moment.” You sigh as Bucky moves his hand up and down your back. His body heat and soothing movement are slowly lulling you to sleep.

“They’ll pull through. I mean they have you taking care of them.” Bucky says but doesn’t get a response. He shifts a little and realizes you’re already asleep.

Henry and Lottie walk back into the living room to find their parents cuddled up. When Bucky sees them he presses a finger to his mouth so they know to be quiet. Henry nods and runs off, coming back a few seconds later with a blanket he drapes over your sleeping form. He even places a gentle kiss on your cheek, which Lottie repeats. They leave the living room quietly and head to their shared room to continue playing.

Bucky kept his arms around you and couldn’t help but think that this was heaven. He could hear the kids playing and laughing in their room. He also enjoyed your weight on him as you napped. Lottie’s question kept playing in his mind over and over. Bucky already had a plan; he was just waiting for the right day to do it. But the more he thought about marrying you the more excited he got about finally asking you. So the moment you woke up he’d start actually planning the proposal. Everything would be perfect for you, it’s what you deserved.

For the past two weeks Bucky had been acting weird. He was secretive and jumpy whenever you walked into a room. He’d always give you a lopsided smile but his eyes looked slightly panicked. Like he was about to get caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing. Half of you found it funny but the other half was curious as to what was going on. Whenever you’d ask he acted like he had no clue what you were talking about. You wanted to laugh, he made the same face Charlotte and Henry did when they were caught doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing.

“You should never play poker.” You tell Bucky while stares at you like a deer caught in headlights. He had been in the living room typing away on his phone when you found him.

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’re being very secretive.”

“Again, no idea what you’re talking about.” Bucky shrugs.

“Alright then, keep your secrets.”

His eyes narrow and lips part slightly. “Did you just quote the Lord of the Rings?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Bucky chuckled. “Fine, I might be planning a surprise. But that’s all I’m saying.”

“A surprise? When do I get to see this surprise?”

“Soon. Now, I love you very much and I love being with you but you have to go.”

“Fine. I’ll go. I have plans with the kids anyways.”

Bucky gives you a kiss and gently pushes you out of the living room before grabbing his phone again. Everything was almost ready, he just had to finish writing out what he wanted to tell you.

It was time.

Bucky had chosen what he thought was the perfect date, the day Charlotte was found. He had help from everyone to get this right. There was nothing that made him more nervous in his life than this but it was the good kind.

With Wanda, Nat and Sofia’s help he bought you a red dress and accessories. The dress was similar to the one you’d worn on your first date. They’d also help you get ready. Molly and Luke had agreed to watch Lottie and Henry. Clint had advised Bucky to just speak from the heart. Steve had been so giddy that Bucky had to keep reminding him to not accidentally say anything. Sam wouldn’t stop teasing Bucky but it was all in good fun. Tony was of course Tony and said he had a surprise of his own if you’d say yes to Bucky. Bruce, Josh and Vision had congratulated him and kept Steve busy. Eddie was the last person Bucky spoke to right before the date. Eddie gave him some much needed fatherly advice.

And it would be, it had to be.

****

You’d taken his breath away when you walked out of your shared bedroom. The dress he’d chosen fit you like a glove but that shouldn’t have been a surprise, Bucky knew your body well. He looked just as handsome in his suit and white button up shirt. The top two buttons were open and his hair was styled to perfection. As soon as you were close enough Bucky pulled you into his arms.

“Absolutely beautiful. What did I do to get so lucky?” He asks before placing a kiss on your cheek.

“Me? What about you? You look very handsome.”

“Stop.” Bucky blushes but can’t hide his smile. “We should go or we’ll be late.”

“Ok. Lead the way.”

Bucky pulls away but takes your hand and heads out of the apartment. He was so nervous and as the elevator took you both down to the private garage he kept going over his plan. Bucky knew everyone was already where they needed to be. All he had to do now was get you there.

You were confused when Bucky pulled up to the compound. Tony had said that the renovations had been completed and that soon enough it would be up and running at full capacity. It still didn’t explain what you were doing there now when you should be on a date.

“I’m sorry Sugar, I should’ve told you I had to stop by before we went on our date.” Bucky says as he opens your door. “It’ll be quick I promise.”

“Ok.” You said softly as you looked around.

It felt like a lifetime ago the last time you were here. That last day at the compound started the three worst months of your life. Being back felt surreal. You decided to wait outside for Bucky. From where you stood you could make out the small playground the kids used daily, the training grounds you’d use with future agents and the area that Tony loved to use for outdoor events.

“Agent Y/L/N?” A security guard called you. “It’s good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you too, Smith.” You smile.

“This is for you.”

He hands you a piece of paper and walks off before you could ask him anything. Opening the note you saw Bucky’s handwriting asking you to meet him at the main hangar. You were growing more confused by the second. Still you headed into the main building to meet Bucky.

At the door you find a sign that says ‘wait here’. You do what you normally would and lean against the doorframe. Walking in from around the corner you see Steve and Bucky heading straight toward you. Steve looks way too excited to be here while Bucky gives you a coy smile.

“What’s going on? I thought you were on a mission.” You ask Steve.

“I am.”

“What are you talking about?”

“This is my mission.”

“This is where we were standing about three years ago.” Bucky starts as he looks between you and Steve. “Yeah, it’s just about right.”

“Ok?”

“This is where I truly met you for the first time.” Bucky admits. “It was the middle of the night and I was coming back from Wakanda. I was nervous and a bit scared that I wouldn’t be welcomed by the team. And there you were waiting to welcome me.”

“I think she was waiting for me, Buck.” Steve jokes.

“Don’t be a jerk.” Bucky elbows Steve playfully. “I’m doing something here.”

“Focus, I’m still not sure what’s going on.”

“As I was saying, you looked so beautiful that night. I thought that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to live here.”

“That night was the first time I saw a glimpse of my best friend for the first time.” Steve adds. “I was worried about him but when I saw the way he looked at you I knew there was something special going to happen.”

You smile at that. Bucky pulls out a piece of paper and hands it to you. It gives you instructions on where to go next.

“Go.”

“You’re not coming with me?”

“Nope.” Bucky smiles. “I’ll see you later.”

You narrow your eyes in his direction but turn around and head to the next location. When you get there, to Steve’s office, you’re surprised to see him sitting at his desk. He was acting as if he’d been working.

“How did you get up here before I did?”

“I ran.” He says coolly.

“Ok then. What is supposed to happen here?”

“I was sitting right here and,” Steve assesses where you’re standing. “Take two steps back.”

You do as he says and stop at the doorway.

“You were standing right there. It had been a few weeks since Bucky had been back. I was trying to keep him in and you were arguing that he should be going out.”

You smile, remembering that conversation.

“I think you also told me to go get laid.”

“I still stand by that.” You joke and Steve rolls his eyes.

“Anyways, even since then you’d been looking out for Bucky. I still stand by what I said, I knew something special was happening between the two of you.”

“And I was standing right here.” Bucky’s voice startles you.

You step out of Steve’s office to find Bucky leaning against the wall not too far from you.

“You heard?”

“I did. I was actually on my way to Steve’s office to tell him I needed to get out. You beat me to it. Always looking out for me.” Bucky holds his hand out. “Next stop, c’mon.”

You take his hand and he takes you down to one of the common areas. Girls just wanna have fun is playing but it’s Clint singing. When you turn the corner the living room is set up similar to the bar you’d been at that night. Bucky’s hand falls to your waist as you laugh at Clint’s dancing.

“That night at the bar, Steve told me you would have said yes if I asked you out on a date. I wanted too but I thought you deserved better. I still do. It was the first time I admitted to myself that I liked you and wondered what it would be like if we had a family.”

“Baby.” You felt a lump of emotion form in your throat. “Really?”

“Yeah, I was crazy about you then. I’m crazy about you now.” Bucky kisses your cheek. “We should keep moving, we have a few places to see.”

Bucky takes you to a few places across the compound and recounts all the memories he’s had with you. Along the way the team keeps popping up with their own little stories about watching you fall in love.

The next stop was the medbay. Specifically the room where Lottie stayed when she first arrived at the compound. Bucky opens the door and you step in. To your surprise the crib is still there and a special guest too.

“Hi mama.” Lottie greets you from inside the crib.

“My sweet Angel, what are you doing here?”

She looks over at her father who places a finger to his lips. Lottie nods as she sports a knowing smile. She waves you over so you lean in.

“Is suwpwise.” She says before covering her mouth with her hands and giggling.

“It has been exactly a year since we found Charlotte. This is where you spent a large part of your time once Lottie was found. You stepped up when she needed someone. It’s also where I heard you tell her what you thought about me.” Bucky says as he gets closer and picks Lottie out of the crib. He sets her down and she runs out of the room.

“Will you tell me what’s going on now?” You were starting to get suspicious but didn’t want to get your hopes up.

“We are almost done.” Bucky takes your hand and brings it up to place a kiss on your knuckles.

There were a few more stops. Like the waiting room where Bucky sat, desperately waiting for news when he thought he’d lost you. Twice. The conference rooms where you flirted and the staircase where you had full make out sessions. The last stop was your apartment. Well what was left of it. Bucky gently moved you so that you were standing with your back to the door. You looked up at him curiously as he placed his hands on your hips.

“This is where we shared our first kiss.”

Bucky leans in and gives you a quick kiss so as to not mess up your lipstick. He reaches around behind you and opens the door. The apartment was bare. It was completely redone but all of your belongings were missing. There wasn’t a single thing that reminded you that it was yours. Of course this had been the target for the missile so nothing would have survived the impact and subsequent fire.

You take a tentative step inside and a slew of emotions hit you square in the chest. This apartment had been a witness to the love you’d had for Bucky from the very start. It held many good memories and even some bad ones. Your eyes welled up with tears at the memory of your last time in the living room, it was the night Lottie had her vision. Still that didn’t diminish every happy moment.

“Hi mama.” Henry stood by the kitchen counter.

“My sweet boy.”

He smiles at you. “This is where you taught me how to bake. We had a lot of fun times here.”

“Yeah we did.”

“We habe tea pawties he-uh mama.” Lottie poked her head out of her room and smiled.

Henry ran past you and into his own room. You followed closely behind.

“You read me lots of bedtime stories here.”

“Me too mama.” Lottie adds. Henry leaves his room and takes his sister’s hand as you and Bucky follow.

“Habe seepovers.” Charlotte says when you get to your room.

“Yup. You would pick us up and lay us down right in the middle when we were having nightmares.”

“Mama and dada gibe us cuddles.”

You took a deep breath to try and keep the tears at bay then turned to look at Bucky. He only smiled before looking past you and toward the bathroom.

“I believe you were in this room when I called you once. You’d been back from a bad mission and had been hurt. I was ready to drive down here but you told me Bucky was taking care of you.” Eddie says from his spot.

“Dad?”

“You’d talked to me about him before but it had just been in passing. This time though, I knew something was either going on between you or something was about to happen.” He smiles at both of you. “And I was right. You sure do know how to choose them kitten, Buck here is one of the best men I’ve ever met.”

You smile and take Bucky’s hand, giving it a small squeeze.

“Go on ahead.” Your dad says and you look at him suspiciously.

When you walk out into the living room your siblings, Molly and Olivia are there. Luke is the one that speaks up.

“This is the first time we had an actual conversation with Bucky for the first time. You were still sleeping after Lottie’s birthday party. After he welcomed us in he sat us down. He warned us that he wouldn’t allow anyone to disrespect you in any way.” Luke looks between you too. “He protected you and I knew he was meant to be at your side.”

“It was low key hot.”

“So hot.”

Sofia and Molly agree and you laugh.

“Will you tell me now?” You turn to look at Bucky. Your family walked out quietly.

“One last stop.”

Henry takes Charlotte’s hand again and runs back out ahead of you. This felt like old times. The good memories outweigh the bad in this place. You let Bucky lead you out of the building and on to a golf cart. He drives past the training area and he admits he used to always check you out while you were training. The playground is next when he reminds you that it was where Henry first laughed. The jet where you watched Lottie take her first steps. You weren’t sure where he was taking you until you went further into the tree line. Bucky reminds you of the second date. One that you planned. It was just the two of you, the back of a pickup truck and music. That was the night you’d asked him to officially move into your apartment. It was also the night he asked you to adopt Lottie.

“When the hell was this built?”

“You know Tony.” Bucky replies as he stops the golf cart.

There was a huge two story house there. A dance floor took up the front yard. Fairy lights were strung up above and around the dance floor. There was a dj booth on one side, speakers surrounding the dance floor and your favorite flowers all around. You walked toward the center of the floor and looked around in awe.

“We haven’t had any memories here.”

“Not yet.” Bucky says from behind you.

When you turn to look at him he’s down on one knee. Your breath hitches as your hand rests on your chest. In one hand he holds a small box, the other reaches out to you. You take a step closer and put your hand in his.

“Everything that you saw before was just the start of us. It’s led us to this moment. Y/N, you mean so much to me. When I first left Wakanda I asked myself what reason did I have to keep fighting, to be better and there you were waiting at that door. For the first two years I tried to deny my feelings for you because I thought you deserved better, you do deserve better.” Bucky clears his throat, his eyes filling up with unshed tears. “You push me to be better, so that I can be the man you deserve. A better father and friend. You’ve been an amazing friend, girlfriend an even more incredible mother to our children and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

A few tears had already rolled down your cheeks as you waited with bated breath for what he would say next.

“Y/N will you marry me?”

“Bucky-“ you whispered, unable to get another word out you nod enthusiastically.

Bucky immediately shoots up and takes you in his arms, lifting and spinning you around as you both laugh. He sets you down and you pull him in for a hug. Bucky rests his forehead against yours.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

For just a moment you’re in your own little happy bubble soaking up the moment.

“Mama, did you say yes aweady?” Lottie called out from somewhere. You and Bucky laugh at her innocent impatience.

“Yes, I did.”

The door to the house flies open and Henry and Lottie run out. They both reach you as the rest of the team, better yet your family, walks out. You and Bucky each take turns hugging them before you turned to receive your congratulations from the group.

“Let’s see the ring.” Sofia asks as she holds your left hand only to find your finger bare.

“Oh right.”

Bucky opens the small box to reveal a beautiful gold ring. It had an oval diamond in the center with smaller stones around it, reminding you of a mosaic. Bucky takes it and slips it on your ring finger.

“Baby it’s beautiful, I love it.” You pull him in for a kiss before everyone is looking at the ring and complimenting Bucky on his choice.

“Actually I have to give credit to Charlotte. She was the one who picked it out.”

“You did?” You looked down at your daughter and she nodded excitedly.

“When did you even get this?”

“Towards the end of July. I snuck the kids out to the jewelry store in town.”

Your mouth dropped at the information.

“I was going to propose the night when we were at the restaurant on the roof of that hotel and got called back.” Bucky informs you.

“The night it happened?”

Bucky nods and you’re left speechless.

“I actually found the ring in my go bag a few days later, I’ve been holding on to it since.”

You hug him again and he holds on to you for dear life.

“Let’s celebrate the two love birds!” Tony announces as the music starts to play. He walks over to you and turns to look at the house.

“It’s lovely Tony. I didn’t know you were building yourself a separate place to live.”

“I am but this one isn’t mine. It is my engagement gift to the two of you.” Tony informs you. Both you Bucky turn to look at him better. Tony just shrugs. “I’ve been working on building houses on this land. You know, so that we can have somewhere outside of the main building to live. The apartments can be used for our most trusted agents or employees if they need it.”

“Tony, this is amazing, thank you so much.” You give him a quick hug and Bucky shakes his hand.

“Don’t mention it. I think the kiddos would love all the space to run around too don’t you think?”

“Definitely.”

Tony winks at you and walks away to find Pepper. Steve quickly takes his place.

“It was about damn time, you two.” Steve smiles brightly as he hugs first Bucky and then you.

“I’m surprised you kept it a secret.”

“Since July I might add. This is amazing, I’m so happy for you two, really.”

“Thank you Steve.”

You can’t stop smiling as your siblings and then the rest of the team come up. Eddie is the last person to congratulate you.

“My little girl is getting married, I can’t believe this.” He places a hand over his heart. “I’m so happy for you kitten. You have a good man. I don’t have to worry about you being happy.”

“Thank you daddy.” You hugged him and for a moment you felt like you were little again.

“And you,” Eddie points at Bucky. “Remember what he talked about. I won’t hesitate.”

“Yes sir. I’ll spend the rest of my life doing everything I can to make her happy.”

“And yourself, Buck. Your feelings are just as important.”

“As long as I have my Sugar and my kids are by my side I’ll be as happy as can be.” Bucky said as you tucked yourself under his arm. One arm around his back the other on his chest.

“That’s all a father can hope for. But how about a dance for the newly engaged couple.”

The music changed and it was slow. Those eyes by New West starts playing. Everyone steps off of the dance floor Bucky can’t stop smiling as he leads you in the dance. You can’t help but mirror his beaming smile. When the song comes to the end Bucky dips you and connects his lips to yours. There’s whooping and hollering from all around.

The music changes again to something more upbeat. Lottie and Henry come back and the four of you dance together. Then all the women pull you away as they gush about the ring and celebrate with you.

You however can’t stop looking over your shoulder at your fiancé. It was heart stopping to think about. You’d be getting married to the love of your life. By the twinkle in his eyes it seemed like Bucky was thinking the same thing.

“Wow.” You said as you walked into your new home.

Your new home wasn’t furnished, which was fine by you, but it was incredible. The wraparound porch alone was more than enough. Immediately when you walk in is the living room to the right. On the wall is a recreation of the collage of pictures you’d had in the apartment that Bucky had made for you for Mother’s Day. The kitchen was of course state of the art and had been equipped with every gadget you could only dream of. Henry was ecstatic when he saw all of the baking supplies. There was also a breakfast nook, a formal dining room, a half bathroom, an office space and what you knew would become a playroom.

Upstairs were the bedrooms and there were plenty to go around and just in case you wanted to have more kids, which you did. Henry and Lottie chose their rooms, right next to each other of course. Everything was perfect and you couldn’t wait to make it your own.

****

Standing on the porch, Bucky had his hands on your hips and his chin resting on your shoulder. You were leaning into him completely as you watched everyone dancing and talking. All of them coming together to celebrate you and Bucky. You sigh happily. Henry and Charlotte’s laugh draws your attention. They’re in the middle of the dance floor holding hands with Olivia as they jump and dance around. You smile, seeing the pure joy on their faces. The kids call out for both of you to join them. Bucky takes your hand and leads you down to the dance floor.

Raising Henry and Lottie together only brought you an overwhelming amount of happiness. The love and joy was there. Through the ups and downs you and Bucky were side by side. You had each other’s back and there was no one else you’d rather spend the rest of your life with.

Ch 35

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cryptidghostgirl · 9 months ago

Note

Hey hey! i have a third angsty silly idea teehee (yes same person who requested the one where wife reader gets teleported to the hotel and the one with the fake dating trope-)

Im at it again with my silly ideas i can’t quite get out of my head- so picture this RIGHT before the begging of the second fic (loved it btw if i could id kiss you on the mouth)

(this interaction is important) Reader is eyeing Alastor to subconsciously make him talk to her, he does of course it goes a bit like “Alastor dear, havent seen you before?” "Just moved in, thought of making some acquaintances” and they talk, reader tells him “a charmer too? should be careful around you not to break my heart” or smth smilar idk i suck at dialogue

And then the partnership happens and theyve been at it for a while (like at least 5 years id say)- until Readers twin brother dies in a planned house fire and she goes out for revenge, before that they have a fight like “youre going to be out numbered” “its suicide” blah blah blah- and eventually reader goes out alone

She does manage to to kill the criminals but because of the cold January weather and the exhaustion of it all- reader gets hypothermia and in the frenzy thats caused by it stumbles and falls into a fence spike of an abandoned farmhouse, gets impaled right below the ribs teehee, Alastor eventually finding her and goes out to bury her properly.

readers death happens in 1925 -8 years before alastor which gibes her enough time to take over half the pentagram with her blizzard/ice powers (cuz i think theyre. cool ;)) and is also important reader has a long tail with fluff (which can turn into a heart shaped fur or have happy/angry twitches) at the end because i think its cute and because her demon form has one so it matches (think the faceless room guardians by anyaboz on IG but fully white- with a void face from which emerges a dog skull at will). the normal form being overall relatively normal aside from the long ears and black limbs that symbolize the hypothermia part of the death (Yes this is an Oc but im making it a bit more generic for everyone :>)

When alastor does die in 1933 (when he got shot visiting readers grave) he hears of this blizzard overlord and goes a bit into her territory and into a bar where he sees a somewhat familiar person teehee and they have the same first conversation over again but in hell :D and then get reunited but possibly pull out their signature weapons on each other again for old times sake 😇

also i love you so much for taking the time to write my dreams it does mean quite a lot to me and if you want i can give more ideas because i have a lot more- 😇 (im tottaly not insane and or delusional i swear-)

A/N of course?? I’m obsessed with your requests. they’re always so fun. Also as a heads up, I decided not to do this as a part to for cover up because I got an earlier request asking to do a part two for that and I try to address requests in the order I receive them. I also made some other minor changes just to make it work a little smoother. Also, please keep sending in requests, yours are always so fun.

Frostbite (Alastor X Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Murder, death, gore, arson, a little bit of angst.

Word Count: 3,949

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Alastor sat at the bar of Mimzy's club drinking like he did every friday night. Normally the whirling dancers and loud music merely served to give him a headache, normally he ignored them and all the fans who somehow recognized him from the radio. Tonight was far from normal, tonight there was someone new.

Spinning on the dance floor, the fringe of her blood red dress spinning out from her legs. The woman was all smiles, all laughter, and she seemed never to turn down a partner. He watched her, entranced.

The woman wasn't a talented dancer, far from it in fact, but what she lacked in skill she made up for in enthusiasm and enjoyment. He had no intentions of doing anything other than watching her enchanting display until he made eye contact with her across the club. She blushed, turning away and quickly engaging a friend in conversation.

It was all the encouragement Alastor needed. In the dim light of the speakeasy, Alastor smiled to himself. He downed the rest of his drink and got to his feet. The crowed of dancers parted to make way for him like the red sea, waves of whispers following his path. He could hear the chatter, knew the rumors that he was a man uninterested in women, uninterested in love or romantic involvements of any type He knew that that was what everyone was speaking of as he approached the first new face the tired old place had seen in ages.

Coming to a stop behind the woman, her friend saw him first. It made sense, her back was turned to him after all, a result of her embarrassment at having been caught staring. He friend tapped her shoulder, indicating for the woman to turn around, and she spun. Alastor could feel the hem of her dress as it brushed against his leg through the fabric of his pants. His smile grew.

"Haven't seen you around here before Darling," he hummed, "new in town?"

"Just moved in, actually." the woman bashfully replied, clasping her hands behind her back and crossing one foot in front of the other.

The position it threw her body into sent Alastor's mind reeling. He hadn't expected that. Sure, she was pretty and different, new, but Alastor didn't feel things like that. At least, not normally.

"Well, I'd love to give you a tour sometime. The name is Alastor, Alastor Hartifelt."

This was the test: his name. How would she react? Was she just another one of his simpering fans, begging for his favor, for his attention, or would she do something interesting?

He held out a hand which she daintily rested her own in, a smile spreading across her face.

"Y/n L/n. I'm free tomorrow morning?"

Alastor was lucky, Saturday mornings were one of the few he had free. Gently, he leaned down and planted a soft kiss on the back of her hand. Y/n felt her heart flutter inside her chest.

"Ah, a charmer." she hummed as Alastor raised his head again and she took her hand from his, "I'll have to be careful around you."

Everything had snowballed from there. The tour around the city had spiraled into dinner which had further fallen into an attempt by Alastor to take her life. He had been curious, how it would feel when the life drained from her body at the force of his hands. Instead, she had met his advances by holding her own knife to his throat.

It became a game of sorts for the two, always trying to outwit one another, one up each other, land the other six feet under. The game ended when Alastor was chasing Y/n through the woods and she had stumbled, falling to the ground. He had grinned maniacally as he had advanced on her, as she had scrambled on the ground away from him. Knife raised, her back against a tree, she had breathlessly asked him out on a date. How could he say no? Especially when he looked up and saw that she had planned this all along. There was no other way their initials could be carved into the surface of the very thing that had stopped her escape. It was perfect, she was perfect.

Five years of bliss. Five years of feathery kisses and passion. Five years of waking up to her smiling face, of washing the blood off each other's hands, of nearly wedded bliss. Then there had been the fire.

Y/n had a twin brother, a brute of a thing who always seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Despite his flaws, Y/n loved him. This time, on a January morning in 1925, he had pissed off the wrong person and gotten himself killed. Y/n was inconsolable, spent every waking moment tracking the killer. It didn't take her long to get a lead.

She was halfway out the door when Alastor found her, shoving knives into her pockets and grabbing a gun. There was a wild, unfocused look in her eyes. Alastor turned his gaze momentarily to the setting sun as it sent rays of liquid golden light bouncing off the snow.

"Darling, what are you doing?"

"Going out." she gruffly replied, adjusting the laces on one of her shoes.

Alastor sighed. Y/n had mentioned to him just the day before that she had an idea of who was behind the murder and it wasn't pretty. The most controversial and strongest gang in the city had, according to her research, wielded the flames. Alastor took a step forward, placing a hand on Y/n's shoulder and she turned to him. Her eyes were hard and narrow, her face contorted by rage.

"Y/n, please." Alastor began, treading carefully, "Not tonight. It's awful out, and you just confirmed everything today."

"No." Y/n shook her head, "No, I can't wait to do this any longer, Al. It has already been nearly a month, I can't..."

She looked away, raising a fist to her heart, her shoulders hunching slightly.

"I can't."

"And I can't loose you." Alastor quickly replied, using his free hand to turn her face back to his.

"So come with me."

He hesitated. Y/n saw the look on his face, the doubt. She shook herself from his grip, turning back to the door.

"Alright. I'll go alone."

"Y/n," Alastor pleaded, taking another step towards her as she grabbed her coat off the hook on the wall, "it is too dangerous. I can't let you do this."

"Let me do this?" Y/n spun around, her coat in her hand and flames licking at the corners of her voice, "You can't let me do this?"

Alastor took a breath, trying desperately to keep his own anger at bay.

"There are too many of them." he tried to reason with her, "You can't do it on your own."

"So come with me!"

"I..."

Y/n scoffed, sliding her jacket onto her arms. Turning back to the door once again, she unlocked it. Her hand rested on the knob, she took a breath. Their eyes met over her shoulder.

"I'll be home later."

She swung the door open and stepped out into the night. Alastor trailed after her, the snow sinking into his socks. It was cold, a terrible night.

"Y/n, you'll die!"

"Do you truly have that little faith in me!?" she spun around, her rage radiating off of her, devouring everything in sight.

Alastor had never seen her like this before. He halted in his tracks.

"Please, I can't..." he took a deep breath, emotions had always been a struggle, "I can't loose you too."

"But I'm supposed to loose my brother and know who did it and do nothing?!" she screamed back at him.

"You will die!"

Y/n turned her back on him once again. She unlatched the gate to the garden and slipped through it, letting it fall shut behind her.

"So be it."

"Y/n!"

Alastor tried to run after her but, it was simply too cold. His limbs were numb, he stumbled.

"Y/n!" he yelled again but, she didn't turn around.

He could see her, in that red dress. She looked like she did the first time he had ever met her as she disappeared into the night. He knew it was his mind playing tricks on him, it felt like an omen.

Alastor stood in the cold for a few minutes longer before resigning himself to the truth of it all: Y/n was going to do what she was going to do. He just had to hope she would come back, that the damage he had done in refusing to back her up like that wouldn't be enough to have driven her away. That she was strong enough to make it out alive.

The fireplace crackled invitingly. No matter how warm and cheerful it made the room, Alastor couldn't stop the dread. He sat down on the couch before it, painfully aware of the empty spot beside him. He tried to read.

The hours ticked by, seconds dragging on for eternity. Still, Y/n was not yet home. Alastor couldn't focus on anything. He couldn't 't read, couldn't sleep, could barely sit still. He paced circles around the room as the sun rose, he called in sick to work, intent on being there should she return.

When it reached four pm, when it had been nearly twenty full hours since she had left, he decided to go out and look for her. Y/n had always been messy, always bad at putting things away. While normally it had irritated him to no end, he now found himself grateful. He swore to whatever gods were listening that if she was alright, he would never bother her about it again because right there on top of her desk were all her plans, including the exact location of the gang's hideout, the exact place she had disappeared to.

The sight that met Alastor when he reached the old warehouse on the outskirts of the city was one he would never forget. Blood stained the snow red and there were bodies everywhere, both outside and within. It was clearly, Y/n's handiwork and he couldn't help but feel a tad impressed, he had underestimated her yet again. His slight smile, a result of the realization, fell as he spotted the footprints leading out of the backdoor.

He had tracked Y/n enough times to know they were hers, they couldn't be anyone else's. A trail of blood accompanied them, one foot dragging more than the other. Alastor tried to keep his head clear, his mind cool. He gave chase.

The back yard to the warehouse was large, gave the impression of going right off into the woods. Alastor soon realized that was not the case as the rusted, wrought iron fence came in to view. Y/n wouldn't have been able to see it. Judging by the way the tracks were iced over, it had been a long time since she had walked this path. In the dead of night, surrounded by trees, the fence would have come as a surprise.

As he got closer, the lump that he had assumed was a fallen branch came into more detail. Alastor's heart stopped, he rushed to her.

If only he hadn't waited, if only the minute he had felt she'd been gone too long he had gone after her. He might have been able to save her, to stop her from this cruel fate.

What had happened was obvious. The fence was iced over, slippery to the touch. Y/n had evidently tried to climb over it and lost her grip, the force of her fall being enough to ram the sharpened edge of one of the fence's defensive points right through her temple. Wrong place, wrong time.

Alastor had never cried like that before, as he sat in the snow at her feet, her body stiff from the cold. Not even when his mother had died could he ever remember feeling such a grief. It ate away at him, pooling in the center of his chest and spreading out. She had been so integral to who he was, so much a part of his life and way of being. She had been his dream, his end goal. Alastor remembered the ring, sitting heavy in the drawer of his night table. His tears redoubled.

By the time he managed to calm himself, the early winter sun had long since sunk to its bed and been replaced by the moon. Moving completely on autopilot, not considering his actions, Alastor wrenched her body from the fence. Y/n deserved a proper burial, in a place that mattered. He made her final resting place at the base of the very same tree she had told him she loved him while sitting at. His fingers traced their carved initials, grown hard with the years. There was nothing to be done.

The guilt ate away at him, festered over the years. If only he had stopped her, had gone with her, had come to her rescue. If only he had told her that he loved her one last time.

When Y/n awoke in Hell, to say she was surprised would be an understatement. She had never been one to believe in the afterlife in any sort of way, let alone such a wonderful one with so many opportunities for mayhem.

The thing that had been the toughest to get used to was her new form. All the demons in Hell got them upon arrival and when she caught that first glimpse of herself in the glass of a shop window, she understood why everyone on the streets seemed to be eyeing her fearfully.

She looked like she was rotting, her fingertips and toes black from the cold she had lost herself in. It trailed up her limbs, mingling with her own natural skin color. Her hair, her eye lashes, her eyebrows even, looked perpetually frosted with snow, little particles of ice hanging delicately in them. Then there were the horns and the tail, those were by far the strangest. The horns were pure white and curving like a mountain goats, the tail was thin with a little heart shaped ball of fluff at the end. It wasn't until another demon attempted to attack her that she realized the full extent of the changes that had taken place.

Y/n had just tried to punch the man, that was all. He had made advances, she had said no. He had tried again and she had told him she was married. It wasn't entirely a lie, they had been planning on it after all. Still, the man refused to listen and so, she had resorted to brute strength. When she had pulled her fist away, it was to find the man encased in ice. That was when the anger had set in.

Y/n didn't blame Alastor, not really. She was mad at him but, in the end, he had been right. She had died. It was all so brutally unfair. The way they had left things, that final fight, weighed on her soul. She wondered if he even knew she was dead, if he just assumed she had up and left him. The guilt, the what if's of it all, were crushing.

The stronger Y/n's emotions, the more uncontrollable her power. She still attacked people for fun but, taking over half of Pentagram City with her storms had honestly been an accident. In retrospect, she would call it a happy one.

Y/n liked being respected, being feared. She liked the near worship with which the smaller, weaker demons began to treat her. She settled into her new life with surprising ease and soon, every demon and hellborn in the place knew her name: Frost.

Y/n would've liked something different, preferred something cooler but, when the people give someone a name, its hard to change it and so, she embraced the title. Stone cold, cruel, powerful and appearing at what others perceived as totally inopportune moments. She locked herself, her heart, away. She swore never to make the same mistakes again.

Alastor visited Y/n's grave at least once every year. Always on the anniversary of her death, sometimes more frequently. That was where he too had met his death. As he had stooped low to place the bouquet of flowers he had brought on the surface of the hard-packed earth, the hunter had shot him, thinking he was a deer.

His arrival in Hell had been uneventful and not all together shocking. Alastor had been raised in a Christian household and although he never truly had faith in the matter once he had been old enough to form his own opinions, he had still always assumed that if there was life after death he was going to end up in Hell. He also knew that if he had ended up down here, Y/n had too.

The search was all consuming and fruitless. Every demon he interrogated, every one he thought had the slightest spark of his love within them, never had a single clue what he was talking about. Half the city was a snow storm and before long, that half was the only part he hadn't searched. Allegedly it was the territory of some new overlord known only as Frost who had taken Hell by storm - literally - just a few years before. Alastor already had a distaste in his mouth for the overlords, a sort of hatred spawned from something close to envy. He figured that worst case scenario, he could just add this Frost character to the list over overlords he had already taken out in the year since his arrival.

The chill of the air as he stepped over the border was a cruel reminder of the truth of his life. Alastor welcomed the cold with open arms, wondered if Y/n had already been killed since arriving in Hell. He had heard of the exterminations, it wasn't too wild of an idea. The thought gnawed on his mind like a parasite, intent on seeing him dead. Alastor progressed.

The fact that in death he still felt such things as hunger had been a mystery to him. There was something poetic about it, something forlorn in the idea that hunger and touch were the only things that followed a person to their grave. He stepped into the restaurant, his stomach growling, and walked up to the bar.

"Do you have beignets?"

Alastor knew the answer before the barkeep even shook his head. He sighed, falling on to one of the stools.

"Sausage and grits."

"Coming right up."

Alastor tapped his fingers on the counter, watching the world around him. Hope was running thin, anxieties and hurt taking over. He didn't know how much longer he could keep this up, how much more disappointment he could take.

"Haven't seen you around before, Darling," a voice purred from behind him, sending shockwaves of pain through his chest, "new in town?"

He summoned his microphone into his hand, ready to fight. It didn't matter that the demon most likely had no idea the effect of their words, the connections they had to his own past life. All that mattered was that he felt like he was being mocked, the world was parroting his life back to him because Y/n was out of his reach and probably would be forever more. He turned to face the person, a sickening grin spread tight across his face.

The demon had a clearing around her, the crowd avoiding her at all costs and whispering to one another behind the cover of their hands. Her tail flicked back and forth, ice emanating from the place her feet hit the floor.

There was something oddly familiar about her, the cocky smirk, the confidence. Alastor got to his feet. He leered over her and the woman didn't flinch one bit.

"Who's asking?"

A threat. The smile on the smaller demon's face grew, snow beginning to pile up on the floor in the corners of the room.

"You know, it's really far too cruel of you to go around with a voice like that." she hummed thoughtfully, a finger to her chin, "Gets a girl's hopes up just to shatter 'em on the floor."

Alastor could feel it now, the cold nipping at his extremities. Wind picked up in the indoor space and demons began rushing out through the door as quickly as they could. Alastor stood his ground.

"Ah, so you're the one responsible for this little snow town?"

"Why yes, I am."

"You're rather cruel yourself, you know." he mused, "Using my own words against me, how did you know? Do you overlords have some way to read a person's mind? Find the center of their desire and turn it to a weapon?"

Only now did the woman's expression change. Her calm facade morphed into confusion as the winds died down.

"What do you mean?"

"'Haven't seen you around here before, Darling, new in town?'" Alastor scoffed.

Y/n's eyes widened with a sudden recognition. It only fueled Alastor's anger as he took a step forward, shadows rising from the ground at his feet.

"I-"

"Just moved in, actually." the demon cut him off, holding a hand out for him to take, palm to the floor.

Alastor looked at her, disgust etched into his features.

"How could you..." he trailed off.

Eyes flicking over her form, Alastor examined the demoness carefully. Sure, she was different. She looked half dead, frost bitten to the extreme but, there was certainly something familar.

"Who are..."

His eyes narrowed with suspicion. Slowly, he took her hand in his. It was icy to the touch, sent shivers down his spine. With a practiced grace, he leaned down and planted a feathery kiss on the back of her hand.

"Ah, a charmer." Y/n smiled as he raised his head to hers again, "I'll have to be careful around you."

"Y/n."

It wasn't a question, he knew the answer. Alastor could feel it in his bones.

"Alastor."

She threw her arms around his neck, pulling him close. Alastor watched her movements in astonishment. Disbelief laid thick on his body, too heavy to allow him to move.

"I'm so sorry." she whispered into his ear, her breath a cold breeze.

"I... why are you sorry?" he asked, pulling her away from him.

Alastor placed his hands on her shoulders, brushing off a bit of snow that had landed there with utmost care.

"I'm the one who's sorry. I should have come with you, I shouldn't have said the things I said, I sh-"

"I love you."

She couldn't hold the words in anymore. Icicles of tears tinkled like glass as they fell from her cheeks and landed on the floor.

"I... I love you, Alastor. I can't... I always regretted... I..."

"Me too."

He pulled her back into his arms, this time holding her body tightly to his. The cold burned but he didn't care. The whistling of the wind outside seemed to quiet.

"I love you so much, Y/n. I am so sorry."

"I'm so sorry."

Y/n pulled back, cupping Alastor's face in her hands.

"Never again."

"Never what, my love."

"Never again will I be parted from you."

"I thought I'd never see you again." Alastor admitted, "I was beginning to lose hope."

"Me too, me too."

"Never again."

----

Next Part -> Day Lilies (Alastor x Blizzard demon!Reader x Angel!OC)

A/N I am such a little slut for a good reunion scene.

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