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imawreck · 24 days ago

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Darkness

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Reader

Summary: You're left with flushed cheeks and a shared secret with the darkest part of Bucky Barnes... and you want more.

Author's Note: You guys fucking DEVOURED the last one so this is the sequel to the previous part, His. It makes more sense if you read the other first! If you like this content, drop a comment or an ask and I'll be sure to write more like it in the future! It gets a little feral and I won't apologize for it. Also, there is possibly a part three on the table if this ship sails like the last.

Warnings: Choking kink, metal arm kink, Cursing, mentions self loathing/guilt (it’s Bucky, kinda normal), Possessive!Winter Soldier, hair pulling, fingering, Dominant!Winter Soldier, hickeys, bruising, PnV, praise kink if you squint, licking, oral (fem receiving), knife play (?) and probably some more but those are the big ones.

Word Count: 6,899

It had been two days.

Two days since you’d tried and failed to lure the Winter Soldier into a cell. Two days since you’d felt his hands on your body.

Two days since he’d given you a taste of what you could have.

He’d left his mark on more than just your skin. Though bruises and love bites littered your neck, it was your mind that he’d left the most impact on.

There was hardly a moment you weren’t thinking about him, about Winter. About what would’ve happened if the agents hadn’t stormed the stairwell. If he’d been able to keep going.

And you wondered if you’d ever get another chance to see.

Bucky had recovered, his mind once more his own. You didn’t know if he remembered, or if he would say anything to you even if he did. It’d been radio silence from everyone in the tower other than Steve, who’d been checking in on you to make sure you were really alright. You were sure Thor would be here hounding you if he was on the planet too.

Apparently, the earpiece had fallen out a little after he’d cornered you. So Steve and whoever else that was watching over you didn’t hear much of the conversation you’d exchanged with the assassin. They’d had to rely on the cameras, which hadn’t been able to see you past the wall of a man caging you between his arms.

Which means none of them had seen what had happened, that this was something only you carried the knowledge of. A small part of you was relieved.

That still left one question unanswered: Did Bucky remember?

A sharp knock jolted you from your thoughts, dragging you back to the present.

Blowing out a breath, you got up and headed towards the door. “Steve, I told you I’m fine. I—“

But when you opened the door, it wasn’t Steve on the other side.

It was strange how different those blue eyes were when it was Bucky at the wheel instead of Winter. Lively, pooling with emotion where you’d seen cold calculation and unbridled lust just days before.

It was guilt swimming in those eyes now, red rimmed and bloodshot. His dark hair was disheveled like he’d been running his fingers through it all afternoon, and he wore a loose pair of sweats and a black long sleeve despite the summer heat.

He looked scared and out of place standing in the hall.

“I—uh, hey.” A poor attempted smile wobbled onto his face, and he brought his flesh hand up to run through his hair—a nervous habit he had when he was uncomfortable or anxious — just like you’d guessed. “Can we talk?”

You opened your mouth to answer him but no words left it. You could only stare up at him and nod, feet shuffling back to pull the door open further.

Bucky’s frame squeezed through the door and he padded further into your space with wandering eyes and furrowed brows.

It was impossible not to notice the changes you’d made in the last few months since your breakup. Bucky used to frequently stay with you, favoring your bright and comforting space over his own empty room. You liked your knick-knacks, and you were a sucker for creature comforts so you always had the softest blankets and the fluffiest pillows. And you’d always made sure Bucky had things he liked in your space.

You used to keep his favorite coffee stocked in the mini breakfast bar you’d made on a bar cart, and his favorite pillow and throw blanket was always neatly folded in the armchair by the window. You’d even set out copies of his favorite books in case he wanted to relax in your room instead of the commons area or his own space.

But now it was gone. The little pieces of him you’d made room for were removed along with the photos that used to line your walls and bookcase. Save for the one, of course.

And it stung to see the reality of what he’d done, the choice he’d made now reflected in the absence of everything he’d built with you.

He pried his eyes away from the empty shelves of your bookcase and glanced back at you, shuffling his feet awkwardly. “I… Steve said that I went after you when I got back.”

His statement hung in the air for a few seconds, silence crowding you both and making him tense his shoulders the longer it remained.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, “I can’t imagine how awful that was for you. I-I never wanted you to see me like that. That- He’s not me, okay? God, I’m so sorry.” His fingers scraped over his scalp as he clenched his teeth, turning away and pacing a few steps.

Bucky couldn’t look at you, not after what he’d done. What he’d forced you to witness. He’d never wanted you to see him like that. It was one of his worst nightmares when you had been dating, and now it was a brutal reality.

“Bucky,” you started, but he cut you off.

“Did I hurt you? Did… did I do something to you?”

It struck you then that he didn’t remember what he’d done. What Winter had done. And your room was too dark at the moment to see what remained painted on your skin from the encounter.

You were both relieved, and utterly frustrated. Now what do you do? ‘Oh yeah, Bucky! I let you finger me with your metal arm in a stairwell for shits and giggles while you were all killer mode. No biggie.’ And then what, ask for him to do it again?

Yeah, definitely not.

“You didn’t hurt me, Bucky.” Your legs moved on their own accord, drawn forward by his obvious distress and the instinctual need to sooth his worries. “I’m fine, really.”

Bucky finally turned to face you, his eyes filled with sorrow. He chewed his cheek, his eyes searching your face for any hint of a lie. “I can't remember what happened, there's just glimpses.” His voice lowered, softened by the weight of his words and the fear woven in his tone. “But I can feel him. Stronger than before. Something’s different this time.”

You stilled at that, eyes glued to the side of his face.

“I can feel what he felt. I-it's like he’s just behind a curtain.” His right arm came up, his index finger tapping his temple, “Waiting.”

The haunted look in his eyes twisted a knife of guilt in your gut. You didn’t want him to feel guilty for what had happened, but it was unfortunately normal for Bucky. You understood it, respected his boundaries and his need to do anything he could to keep you safe. But you wanted exactly what he was keeping from you.

You wanted it so badly.

Could you tell him? Could you confide in him this secret you’d kept from lovers in the past? Something so twisted that you’d only shared it with someone equally as sadistic as you were flawed? Bucky was so much more important to you than any of them had been. You… you felt deeply for him. And it was obvious that the unknown was weighing on him heavily.

One more look at his shattered expression gave you your answer.

With a frustrated huff, you reached for his hand. You tugged it from where it’d curled itself into his hair again, and led him to the edge of your bed. “Bucky,” you started, keeping your voice as gentle as you could. “I need to tell you something. It’s going to be hard to understand, and you’ll probably think very differently of me, but I think it might lessen the burden I can see you’re putting on yourself.”

Bucky’s eyes fixed on you. Those brows furrowed over confused and tortured eyes, but it was obvious that he would listen.

You bit your lip, beginning to sweat as the nerves rattled through you. “First of all, I… I haven’t told anyone this. It’s not something I’m proud of, but rather something that just is. And it didn’t start with you. I mean—,” you let out a sound of frustration, “Fuck, I mean I didn’t date you because of it. It just sort of grew more complicated as we got closer.”

Those brows furrowed more and twisted his face into more concern than anything.

You kept going. “When you came after me, I was scared. Of course I would be.” You winced at the hurt that flashed in his eyes, but continued on, “But I also… I liked it.”

A shaky, bitter laugh left you. “I liked the chase. I liked it when he cornered me against the wall, when he—,” you paused, a feeling akin to resignation and begrudging acceptance settling into your bones. Your eyes found his metal hand, gazing at the light bouncing off the silver metal. “When he choked me with that hand.”

You buried your face in your palms, tears of shame threatening to leak from your eyes. “You didn’t hurt me. He didn’t hurt me, Bucky. He just brought to light these things I thought I’d kept from you.”

With another breath, one that felt like needles sinking into your lungs, you went on. “He made me feel good, Buck, in all the ways I’d always hoped you would someday. I feel like the worst person in the world for thinking that, for feeling the way I do, but I can’t help it.”

You couldn’t meet his eyes. Shame was writhing in your stomach and threatening to consume you. Tears pricked your eyes and wet your palms that still remained pressed to your face.

Bucky didn’t say a word, and you just let the silence thicken the air. You’d already said everything there was to say.

Your sin was bared for his judgment. “I get that you don’t want to be with me anymore—“

“That’s a lie.”

Your head snapped up at that, teary eyes wide as you took in his surprised expression. An expression you watched morph into confusion, and then something else. Realization, maybe.

Bucky went on, “I never wanted to stop being with you, Y/N.”

A piece of you settled deep in your soul at that confession, and you leaned in to listen. Every word from his lips an answer to the question haunting your every thought for the past three months.

“On that mission, we came across intel that there might be a mole in the tower and that they were going to try and trigger the Winter Soldier. I… I was scared, Y/N.” Grief washed over his face as he folded his hands together, knuckles turning white. “I was so scared that you’d see me like that and be afraid of me. I was terrified of hurting you, of— of killing you, that I had to make it look like you didn’t matter to me. I had to make it real, so that whoever saw you and I would think you didn’t matter and leave you alone. I was trying to make you less of a target.”

Your heart thundered in your chest at his confession, at the thought that these past two months of utter disaster had been the result of Bucky trying to protect you from himself.

“You could’ve talked to me,” you muttered, sniffing and wiping your face in a poor attempt to rid it of the mascara you knew had run. “You could’ve told me what was going on.”

Bucky’s head shook, “There wasn’t time. You have to understand.”

You nodded, even if you didn’t truly understand. The guilt and remorse on his face told you he was on the edge of crumbling, and if agreeing with him kept him from breaking, you’d give it to him.

Another long silence blanketed the two of you. You watched his face, his eyes, as his mind mulled over the information you had exchanged with him.

Those blue eyes found your’s after a while, something steely in them that wasn’t there before. “Friday?”

The AI of Stark Tower answered politely, “Yes, Mr. Barnes?”

“Initiate Soldier Protocol in Y/N’s room and cut camera feed. Don’t alert anyone.”

Soldier Protocol.

Your eyes widened, and a chill ran over your skin. Soldier Protocol was something Bucky had come up with when you’d first started dating. It was a safety protocol installed into yours and his own room to ensure that if the Winter Soldier was triggered, it would keep whoever was in the room safe, or keep whoever was trying to get inside from entering. It was a double edged sword, really, because if you were trapped in the room with him, then you couldn’t get out. Bucky had made sure to teach you some basic self defense moves on the very slim chance that would ever happen and had shown you ways that you could use to evade and make an escape to the bathroom if needed. Even though you’d thought of all the holes in the protocol, you couldn’t bear to voice them if it helped ease Bucky’s nerves knowing that if something were to happen, that you’d have an extra wall to keep him from getting to you.

“Confirm Command; Soldier Protocol, Miss Y/N?”

You hesitated, voice wavering just the slightest as you whispered, “Are you sure?”

Bucky nodded slowly, giving you the confidence you needed to answer the AI.

“Confirm Soldier Protocol, Friday. No alerts or cameras.”

The calming voice answered once more. “Command Confirmed. Soldier Protocol initiated.”

Your eyes followed the windows as metal safety doors shut out the dim light of the day. One after another they locked out the outside world and left the two of you inside the confines of your bedroom.

You and Bucky, and your confessions.

“He wants out, Y/N.” It was barely a whisper, but the low timbre of Bucky’s voice reverberated in your bones. “He wants you.”

There was concern laced in his words, but there was also more. So much more that you knew you’d have to talk about later. You’d have time to unpack all of this, what it means for the two of you, later. Right now?

Right now you needed Winter as desperately as you needed air.

“What… How can I help you, Bucky?” Your hands shook at the thought of Winter's return. Of what it would bring.

Bucky pulled his lip between his teeth, his hands running through his hair before twisting themselves in his lap. His eyes were wide, as if he didn’t quite believe he would say the words spilling from his own mouth. “I want you to trigger the Winter Soldier. Feeling him there— it’s driving me mad. An-and now that we know he won’t hurt you and that you… you want him—.”

You reached for his hand, concerned that if he kept squeezing them as tight as he was that he’d break bone. “Bucky, it’s okay.” You tilted your head, smiling softly at him, “Take a breath. There’s a few things I want to set straight before we jump into this.”

His voice lowered, “Okay.”

Bucky was obviously torn up over this whole thing. And as excited as you were to repeat what went on in that stairwell, this was someone you cared about for more than just sex.

This was Bucky.

This was the man who’d apologized with the biggest bouquet of flowers you’d ever laid eyes on the day after your first encounter with Winter. The same man who’d apologized for months after with cute little notes and trinkets he knew you loved and still kept in that shoebox under your bed. The exact same man you’d opened your heart to one Saturday night over a tub of butterscotch ice cream and the third playthrough of your favorite movie. He didn’t complain that you’d watched it back to back either.

This was the man you’d fallen in love with in just a few short months.

The realization settled into your heart, and that warm tingly feeling swept over you as you tightened your hold on his flesh hand and reached for his metal one too.

Bucky hesitated, jerking it away for a moment before allowing you to tug it into your lap. “Buck,” you started, thumbs swiping over his hands in slow calming paths. “It isn’t just the Winter Soldier I like about you. You know that, right? Because if you don’t, I’ve failed as your lover. And as your friend.”

Those blue eyes darted between your own, searching there like a man searching for salvation. You gave his hands another squeeze, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I… I love you, Bucky. You. I think I’ve known for a while now. I was just too scared to admit it out loud. I haven’t had the best run with guys in the past, and you’re so good that I was afraid I’d ruin you somehow.”

Your eyes fell to your joined hands, and this time he was the one to squeeze back.

“I know it’s kind of shitty timing, but I need you to understand that I’m not with you for any other reason other than the simple fact that I adore you, Bucky Barnes. Everything about you.” You shook your head, frowning. “I meant it when I told you I wasn’t with you just because of Winter. I’ve always had this attraction to… well, you know. Dating you just made it more difficult to hide when you were obviously so uncomfortable with it. I didn’t want to make things hard for you. I just wanted you to be happy.”

“Doll,” he mumbled, the name drawing your eyes to him. You’d always loved it when he called you that. “Say it again.”

You frowned, confused for a moment, before a small smile drew itself onto your face. “I love you, Bucky.”

A choked sound fell from his lips before his arms circled around your waist and pulled you into his lap, his face inches from yours. “Again. Say it again,” he begged, his breath fanned over your face as his fingers fisted the back of your shirt. “Please, doll, say it again.”

You folded your legs around his hips, threading your fingers into his hair and peppering kisses on his face. “I love you.”

“Me?” It was the most broken sound you’d ever heard.

You grabbed his face, tilting it up to look at you and tried your best to pour every ounce of love into your expression. “You, James. I love you. I’ll say it a billion times if I have to until I get it through that ridiculously handsome head of yours.”

He laughed at that, broken as it sounded. “I love you too, Y/N. God, I fucking love you.”

Soft lips crashed into yours, dancing a familiar dance as his flesh hand slipped under your shirt and glided up your spine. Your breath caught as the cool sensation of his metal fingers followed after it, his arm wrapping around your back. You smiled against his lips, leaning into him more.

You nearly pouted when he pulled away.

“Y/N,” those eyes, less uncertain and more determined now, swept over your face. “I want you to trigger him.”

You frowned, “But Bucky, you—.”

“I need this.” His voice was surprisingly steady, “I need to do this otherwise it’ll drive me mad. Feeling him there— Jesus, it’s like someone’s scraping a knife against my skull.”

Metal fingers drew circles against your back, “Are you okay with… with seeing him again? I’m not confident enough to do what he did yet. I need more time to come to terms with the damage this hand has done.” He pulled the appendage away, looking it over before his eyes found you again. “But I… I can tell he won’t hurt you. I can feel it,” he pulled his flesh hand away and pressed it over his heart. “Right here.”

He laughed, almost incredulously. “Even the Winter Soldier has fallen in love with you.”

All you could hear was the pounding of your heart in your ears. He wanted you to trigger the Winter Soldier. He said that he loved you, and that Winter did too.

It would really fucking suck if you were dreaming.

“I don’t know your words,” you mumbled, suddenly shy in the light of his proclamation.

This time, the smile he gave was one that reminded you of those old photos from the 40s you’d seen in the history museum. The one where the left side crooks up a bit more than the right. He didn’t release you, but instead wrapped his left arm around your hips and leaned back to rifle through the top drawer of your nightstand for the notepad you always left in there.

He pulled it back to himself and released you only long enough to scribble down a few words and tear off the page. “You’ll have to memorize them. I don’t want them to leave this room.”

You nodded, because of course he wouldn’t and you’d rather swallow hot coals than ever betray him. Your eyes scanned the page a dozen times when he handed it to you, lips moving in silence as you played with the foreign vowels.

All the while those strong hands of his trailed along your back and hips, sometimes exploring your upper thigh.

It made your mind foggy, and you had to keep yourself from squinting to focus.

After you’d finally memorized them, you remove yourself from Bucky’s lap and padded over to your bookcase. You snagged the candle lighter from a shelf, and then removed the bag from your trash bin. It took a few tries, but once the lighter ignited, you let the flames eat away at the page before dropping it into the bin and watching until it was nothing but ash at the bottom.

You could hear a breath of relief leave the soldier from where he remained seated at the edge of your bed. He looked somewhat relaxed, but a tension still ran along his shoulders.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You returned to the bed, smiling a bit as his arms wrapped around the back of your thighs.

Bucky hummed, low and steady. “M’sure, Doll.” He leaned his head against your stomach, and your hands found his hair on instinct.

He hummed again at the touch, and his arms tightened around your legs before he lifted you. Bucky turned quickly, one knee coming up onto the bed before he laid you down with a thump on the mattress.

You smiled, laughing a little as you bounced from the sudden drop. Bucky grinned back, his eyes shining. “Missed you, you know. I’m sorry for not telling you.” He leaned over you, hands planting on either side of your head. Nothing but honesty shined in those blue eyes as he looked down at you. “I’m sorry for wasting three months, and I promise I won’t do that again.”

Butterflies stirred in your belly, and you could feel the flush of heat on your neck as you leaned up and planted a kiss on his lips, “Better not.”

Before you could think much of it, Bucky reached over and flicked the lamp on. You were too busy feeling fuzzy inside that you’d forgotten the very prominent marks littering the delicate flesh of your neck.

Marks that would always make Bucky drown in guilt.

“Fuck, doll.”

He stared at your neck, horror painting his face in the lamplight. His body lifted until he was sitting on his knees over you, hands resting on his lap like he didn’t know what to do with them as he took in the damage he’d left.

This is exactly what you didn’t want to happen. “Hey, no—,” you gripped the front of his shirt, the sudden motion catching him off guard as you pulled yourself up to his face, forcing him to look you in the eyes. You would’ve liked to yank him back over you, but you lacked the ability to battle his serum-enhanced strength. Sitting up did just fine.

“You don’t get to feel guilty for this. Not now, and not anytime after this if you… if we’re serious about doing this.” You stared him down, unwilling to allow him even a glance away. “I told you, I liked it. I told you that it didn’t hurt. You need to trust me as much as I trust you in this. That’s the only way this,” you motioned between you both, “is going to work.” You lowered your voice, nearly mumbling the last part. “I can’t take another step back, Buck. Not after three months, and definitely not after that.”

Bucky’s eyes danced between yours for a few moments. They darted down to your marred skin and back again several times before he blew out a breath and nodded reluctantly.

Your shoulders eased too.

“Now come back here and kiss me, soldier. Your girl’s in need.” You smiled, quirking a playful brow in an attempt to draw him back in.

It worked. That smile pulled at his lips, small at first but quickly blooming as you began peppering his jaw with kisses.

The kisses started gentle and exploring, and the touches soft and sweet. You hadn’t felt his skin against yours for three long months, save for two days ago, and you’d missed everything that made him Bucky.

You’d missed how the stubble of his chin brushed your cheeks when you kissed, and how he held your face like you were the most precious thing he’d ever touched. Delicate and worthy of worship.

You’d missed him so much it hurt.

��Bucky,” you panted, tugging his shirt as you kissed him. “I love you.”

A deep, rumbling groan left him, and his tongue swept across your bottom lip. “I love you, Y/N. So damn much.”

His flesh hand cupped the back of your neck and guided your head to the side so he could place the tenderest kisses over each hickey Winter had left. “He’s a brute,” Bucky mumbled against the column of your throat, stealing your breath. “If he hurts you–.”

“He won’t, James.” You pressed your forehead to his shoulder, biting your lip as his flesh hand trailed all the way from your neck to the base of your spine. “I know it.”

You only got a hum in response before his lips crashed into yours again. Bucky’s hands were everywhere, confident and warm on one side and tentative and gentle with the other, much colder one. The contrast sent delicious tingles along your skin wherever he touched and only served to heighten your anticipation.

This was the first time Bucky himself had allowed so much of a brush of his metal arm against you, let alone tender touch.

His palms mapped every dip and crest of your body, his touch growing more needy with each sweep of his skin against yours. His tongue slid over your lips again, a silent request that you were all too happy to accept.

You couldn’t help the satisfied sound that escaped you as the taste of him swept over you, familiar and strong. Things only hastened from there. It was like a switch had flipped and he couldn’t bear not to have his hands on you.

He kissed you hard, chasing you with lips and tongue like a man starved. The feather light touches of his hands turned more firm as he held your hips and pulled you closer. Bucky’s chest heaved, his breaths fanning over you between kisses in hot puffs.

You could tell he was still holding back. That he needed this as much as the burning need in your core told you that you did. “Bucky,” the sound was practically a whine, “Please.”

His fingers curled against your hips, “Fuck. Okay, okay.” Wet kisses were trailed down your neck as his hands slipped beneath your shirt to sweep calloused thumbs over your aching nipples. “Say them, doll. Say the words.”

You deserved a fucking gold metal for succeeding to pull your mind out of the fog he’d clouded your brain with. It always happened with him. Your mind just short circuited every time he cast you a heated glance, and this? Well, it was a miracle you could remember your own name.

You opened your mouth, the words you’d memorized tumbling out one after another.

“Longing.” Bucky grunted, but didn’t stop in his ministrations as you spoke the next.

“Rusted.” Another grunt, and a tremor through his shoulders, but his lips never left your skin. In fact, it just seemed to spur him further as his hands tugged your shirt down to reveal the delicate skin of your breasts.

“Furn-,” you gasped as his lips locked onto a nipple, tongue teasing expertly over the nub. “Furnace.”

The hum he released sent skittering tingles across your body in the most delicious way.

“Finish, baby.”

Fucking hell. What was the next word?

“Daybreak,” his hands lowered to your ass and held it firmly against him as he licked and sucked the sensitive skin of your breasts, never missing a beat. “Seventeen.”

Those devilish hands dragged lower, fingers trailing along the seam of your panties through your leggings and along the underside of your thighs where they met the curve of your ass. Inches from where you needed him most.

You could barely suck in a breath, utterly overwhelmed by the sensation of his mouth on your skin and those hands mapping your body in agonizingly slow strokes that sent waves of need straight to your core. “Benign,” his body arched over yours, easing you into the mattress, “Nine.”

Another shudder this time, and you could see the ripple of muscle beneath that tight black shirt. God did you want it off of him.

“Homecoming.”

A groan, and a shake of his head. It was the first indicator that he was uncomfortable.

You hesitated at the pained sound, but you didn’t have time to ask a thing though. Not when his head snapped up and those wide, wild blue eyes found yours. “Don’t stop,” he panted, cheeks flushed.

So you didn’t.

“One.”

Wet lips trailed kisses down the exposed skin of your stomach, the tips of his dark hair trailing down as he kissed past your naval and kept going. Lower, lower, lower…

“Freight Car.” The words sounded strangled in your throat through your labored breathing.

The kisses stopped abruptly, and Bucky’s body went stock still.

You weren’t even sure he was breathing until the even rush of an exhale swept against your stomach.

And then he chuckled.

It wasn’t the kind you’d normally hear from Bucky. It wasn’t filled with joy, or playfulness. This one sounded depraved and downright corrupt.

The hairs on your neck raised, and that sharp bite of panic jolted through you as you stared down at his large frame hovering over you. You couldn’t see his face from this angle, and the lack of any hint of what was going through his head only heightened the tension building in your body.

“Told you, didn’t I?” His voice was a rumble in the silence, and you gasped when his tongue swept a path up the center of your belly. “You fucking need me.”

Cold fingers hooked the waistband of your leggings and shucked them off in one quick motion, the cool air assaulting your exposed skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake. You simply stared up at him and tried to remember to breathe beneath the weight of his eyes on your body.

Those cold, lust-lidded eyes.

“Winter,” you breathed, a thrum of excitement mingling with the nerves tingling under your skin. The ache you felt was at the forefront of your mind. Bucky’s gentle touches had served to stir the need that was already brewing.

Now, Winter has come to finish the job.

He smiled, slow and sultry. “Needy little thing, aren't you, Dollface?”

You bit your lip as heat crept up your neck.

Winter’s body rose to his knees, his hands curling around your thighs in a bruising grip and lifting them over his shoulders. You yelped, but it didn’t stop him. Those thick corded forearms locked your legs in place over his shoulders, his face centimeters from your core and the stubble of his jaw tickling your thighs.

You were almost certain you'd soaked through the thin pair of panties you wore.

His hands dragged up your thighs, fingers slipping beneath the fabric at your hips as he held your eyes.

And then he ripped them at the seams. The puny fabric fell to the mattress in tatters, and all you could do was gawk at him.

“Don’t wear those when you’re with me.” Winter ordered against your thigh, his tongue swiping a path up the inner stripe of skin.

The action sent another wave of want through you, the anticipation of what he was going to do serving to build your nerves higher and higher.

He drew you closer by your hips, humming against your skin. The sweep of hot air over you was a welcome sensation and you arched into it. Your heart pounded, and the angle in which your body was held, your head still resting against the mattress along with your shoulders, made it hard to think.

Winter stopped just short of brushing his lips over your sensitive clit. You could’ve cried right then and there. Blinking up at him, you caught the wicked grin plastered on his face.

The soldier above you looked downright god-like bathed in the dim light of the room. His eyes gleamed, and that silver arm danced with every move he made. Every devious stroke of cool fingers against your body.

You knew this exact image would be carved into your mind for the rest of your life.

“Beg for it,” he ordered, his grip turning nearly bruising. “Tell me how badly you want it.” His lips brushed your core, just a whisper of scruff on your sensitive skin.

You squirmed in response, chasing the feeling. Normally, you would rather die than beg a man for anything. But Winter? He had a special way of breaking you down. “Please, Winter, please. I-I want you. I want you to–.”

He didn’t even let you finish before his tongue delved into your core.

You felt every sweep, every brush of that expert muscle laving over you. Desperate, needy sounds were echoing through your room, and a part of you knew they were yours. That they were spilling from your parted lips in broken sentences begging him for more. You were too focused on where his tongue toyed with you to care about anything else, though. Every pass of his tongue on your clit, or a sweep against your clenching walls made it harder and harder to ground yourself.

You were crawling closer and closer to the edge.

Your fingers were curled into the bedspread, and your hips ground into his face and bucked against the solid grip of his arms over your thighs. Winter groaned into your heat, the rumbling vibrations pushing you closer to euphoria.

Dazed, you tried to focus on his face, tried to make out his features in your love-drunk state.

Winter's eyes were closed, and his face never came up once for air. Not even when you could feel his chest shuttering, and those muffled grunts became more frequent.

And God did they feel good.

Your chest heaved, your legs trying and failing to move an inch against his iron grip. As those vibrating groans shoved you over the edge with a cry.

Your brain couldn’t focus, not with all the blood rushing through your head and the thundering sound of your own heart in your ears, or the blissful sensation of release crashing over you in waves.

“So dirty, Dollface. Letting me ruin you like this.” Winter eased his grip on your shaky legs, his hands dragging up your thighs to grip your hips. “Letting me brand you, taste you…” He licked his lips, tasting you on his stubbled face. His body leaned forward, your legs parting around his hips as he planted a burning kiss to your lips, “Fucking perfect.”

You panted, blinking to focus on his words as you came back to yourself.

Winter was lifting himself off of you, his eyes raking over your disheveled form as he slipped off the bed and stood to his full height. Those blue eyes held nothing but burning desire, muscles flexing as he yanked off his shirt and rewarded you with the view of his sweat slicked torso.

The sight was erotic. His hair damp with sweat, and his face glossy with the remnants of your release, chest heaving as he sucked in much needed air.

Winter reached forward, his cool fingers wrapping around your ankle and tugging you towards the edge of the bed with a wicked grin. “Gonna make you come again, Dollface. Need to hear those pretty sounds you make.” His flesh hand grabbed your calf, pulling you closer. “Wanna hear my name on your lips again, and again, and again.”

His metal fingers gripped your thigh hard enough to leave bruises, but that didn’t bother you. You loved the reminders that littered your skin from the last time Winter branded you with his affections, and you relished each one that would follow.

With a quick, strong motion, he flipped you on your stomach. Your chest bounced against the bedsheets, the friction against your pebbled nipples sent a jolt of pleasure down to your toes making you moan into the comforter as he brought your hips up and adjusted your knees against the bed.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” He panted, pressing himself against your ass.

You could feel him through the sweats still hanging from his hips. The length of him pressed firmly against you, brushing your sensitive core and making you groan again. You wanted to feel him, needed to know what it was like to be with Winter the same way you craved intimacy with his counterpart.

“Please,” You begged.

With a grunt, the sweats were yanked down and he thrust harshly, seating himself completely in one swift motion.

His moan rumbles through you, setting your nerves alight. “Oh god…”

And then he starts moving.

One stark difference between James Buchanan Barnes and The Winter Soldier, was that one was gentle and kind, and everything you’d want in the man you’d take home to meet your parents. And the other? The other was the kind of man that would carve his name into your skin with a smile and defile you in unspeakable ways, rough and raw.

Winter snapped his hips at a breakneck pace, pulling out only to plunge back in with a force that made you see stars. Your mouth hung open in a silent scream, clinging to the sheets as he drove you into the mattress. His cock hit all the right places, those quick, constant motions driving you closer and closer to another release. His grunts and puffs of breath only added momentum.

Tears pricked your eyes, your heart hammering and your skin on fire as pleasure coursed through you, building higher and higher.

A cold palm slipped along your belly, snaking its way between your breasts and firmly wrapping around your neck, squeezing those delicate pressure points that made your head spin. He lifted you from the mattress, his pace halting almost completely as your back met his heaving chest.

Winter’s raw voice met your ears as you whimpered at the loss of friction, teetering on the edge of sanity as your core wept for attention. “Gonna cum if I keep that up, Dollface.” His voice is choppy, puffs of air hitting the side of your neck as he talks. “Feel so fuckin’ good.”

His dick pushes in again, dragging slowly along your walls as he groans in your ear, your own voice joining him in a broken harmony. “‘M gonna need this every time. Need to feel your tight cunt, hear your pretty cries…” His tongue darted out to slide over your cheek, swiping up a tear that had fallen from your damp lashes, “Taste you every. Single. Time.”

Those hips snapped back into their brutal pace, slamming against your ass as he clutched your frail neck in his metal hand, the other coming up to grip your hair and tug your head back as he sucked more love bites along your neck.

You moan, tears of pleasure falling from your lashes as you near the edge. Winter’s grunts and shaky breath vaguely registering that he’s nearly there himself.

He sinks his teeth into the juncture of your neck, the combination of pain and utter pleasure shoving you over the precipice as you open your mouth in a scream. That metal hand snakes up to stifle it as his hips jerk a few more agonizing thrusts before shuddering with his strangled moan.

You’re left limp and breathless, utterly spent and draped over his arm with your head lolling against his strong and heaving shoulder.

Winter slips from you, repositioning you on the bed like an offering on an unholy altar. With his hair plastered against his forehead, those dark strands utterly soaked with sweat, he smiles down at you.

“Again.”

Tags<3

@mrsnikstan / @sunnyhummingbee / @millercontracting / @veysxrge / @almosttoopizza / @tiredsleepyandreading / @lauratang / @buckyssugarchick / @tranquilty / @8crazy-freak8 @thatonewriterchick / @kennysbadkitten / @black-cat-2 / @urbanleftovers / @hellsenthero / @knowingnothingnoel / @appeys-world / @bubblegumbeautyqueen / @rianxx / @ponyosmom35 / @atomicwinter2213 / @ariana-l / @savannahrilee-blog

#sequel #fanfic #smut #winter soldier #marvel #bucky barnes #drama #the avengers #x reader #x yn #mcu #bucky barnes smut #update #marvel mcu

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pangur-and-grim · 5 months ago

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Hello Greer!

I’m a long-time foster who recently came into possession of half a litter of nine kittens— at eight weeks old they’re EXTREMELY neonatal (the biggest ones are around 20 ounces) and I suspect there are multiple fathers given the wide array of colors. I was wondering if you could guess what their dads looked like! You don’t have to, of course, it’s just idle curiosity on my part.

(Kittens from three weeks ago, with their mother.)

(Kittens from yesterday when we took our half of the litter).

There are two Siamese (one seal point, one tabby point), one black, one spotted tabby, one mackerel tabby, a third grey tabby whose markings I don’t know, and three solid greys.

We think there was at least two fathers, one to explain the coloration of the black kitten and one to explain the Siamese. Is it possible there was only one? Or even three?

(As a tax, here’s the smallest and most Belephegor-like kitten. At eight weeks old, I swear she felt like less than a pound! All the smallest ones are staying with their mom and the old foster.)

hmm.....there might just be the one father?

let's start with the mother: she's shorthaired, dilute black, agouti but carries the recessive for solid-coloured (since she has solid kittens), mackerel tabby but carries the recessive for classic tabby, non-pointed but carries point.

now if there's just the one father, he could be shorthaired, black but carries dilute, agouti but carries solid (OR just pure solid), ticked tabby but carries the recessive for classic tabby, non-pointed but carries pointing. in other words, a guy that looks like this:

or this:

HOWEVER there might also be the silver/inhibitor gene at play, given the unusual look of this kitten in the back.

though that could also be a fever-coat, which would mean the kitten will eventually grow out of it and look solid-coloured.

if the kitten does have a silver undercoat and ghost striping that doesn't fade with age, then it's a smoke (which is what silver is called in sold-coloured cats), which would mean the father is a silver ticked tabby:

or a black smoke, with a ticked ghost pattern:

the litter could all be explained by one father, but that doesn't mean there aren't multiple. in any case, they're a batch of very cute and colourful kittens!

#EDIT: it's also possible that the father was pointed instead of just carrying pointing #but if that were the case I'd expect a higher ratio of pointed kittens #given how the numbers worked out it's more likely that he was agouti and non-pointed

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moonstruckme · 5 months ago

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Hi Mae! First of all, congratulations on your 7k!

For the bake sale, could you please write “³¹⁾ three people sat on a two-seater sofa” with wolfstar x reader, please?

Thank you!!

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 790 words

There are lots of things to love about your new apartment. It’s charming, not too expensive, almost perfectly equidistant between your work and the boys’. Remus is really pleased about the in-unit washer and dryer, and Sirius is obsessed with the kitchen backsplash. But you think your favorite part is this view.

You have a TV but you’d argue you hardly need it, what with the spellbinding appeal of your own sitting room window. You have your legs crossed on the loveseat, your knee spilling over Remus’ thigh while both of you sip coffee and watch the sun rise over the sidewalk.

Yours is a quaint neighborhood, far enough from the hustle and bustle of town that you still have trees and quiet but close enough that you get to see people walking by. With the new chill in the air it’s a fun time to people watch. Remus enjoys it nearly as much as you do.

“Fucking hell, there he goes again,” murmurs Remus, frowning at the man running on the sidewalk down below.

“Do you think he owns a longer pair of shorts?” you wonder.

“I don’t see how he can survive the winter without one.”

“That girl looks like she’s freezing her tits off.”

Remus hums. “It’s one of those days. Bring a jacket and you might end up carrying it around all afternoon, but don’t and in the morning you’ll suffer for it.”

“Maybe her guy friend will lend her his.”

“Likely. He’s more interested in putting his arm around her. He’s not going to give up that chance.”

“Wouldn’t he want the gentleman points for giving her his jacket, though?”

“That would be the smart choice, but he doesn’t strike me as a smart bloke. She can do better, I think.”

You blow on your coffee, letting the steam blow back onto your face. “I bet by the time he walks her home, she’s got his jacket.”

You hear the groan of the bedsprings, and then a human one louder than that. A minute later Sirius is padding into the sitting room with your comforter drawn around his shoulders. His eyes look half open.

“How could you do this to me?” he whines.

“Morning, love,” Remus says placidly as Sirius crawls over the arm of your loveseat, spilling onto Remus’ lap and wriggling his way over until his head lies in the nest of your crossed legs. He turns his face into your stomach, the picture of tortured misery.

“What are you both doing up?”

“I was awake,” you explain.

“And I wanted coffee,” says Remus.

“There was no need to abandon me like this,” Sirius goes on as if neither of you have spoken. His voice pitches with a yawn. “It’s Saturday, you masochists.”

You hold your mug in one hand to put the other in his hair. This seems to mollify him somewhat. He pushes his face harder into your tummy, making a disgruntled whining sound.

“Would you like some coffee?” you ask him.

“Coffee is only a balm for having to get out of bed, which neither of you had to do, because it’s Saturday.”

“But now that you’re out of bed, would you like some?”

“Yes, please.”

You ease out from under him. You top yourself off and make Sirius’ the way you both like it, with copious amounts of cream and sugar. When you get back he’s taken your spot, so you pass him his cup and sit half on his lap, squished between him and the armrest.

You’d have a bigger couch if the room allowed for it. Instead, you’ve put a chair along the wall that Remus usually prefers to sit in, but he doesn’t seem inclined to move now and you don’t want him to. You derive more contentment than is reasonable from all of you smushing together like this, touchy and close in a way that’d be awkward if there weren’t so much love between you.

“Is that very comfortable?” Remus looks over at you, concerned. “Why don’t you come sit over here, sweetheart?”

“I’ve got her just fine,” Sirius argues, adjusting so that you’re entirely on his lap, his arm possessively around your waist.

You turn agreeably, pivoting until you’re sitting sideways with your back against the armrest. Remus pulls your feet into his lap.

“There he goes again,” you say, looking out the window. Both of your boyfriends follow your gaze.

“Bloody hell.” Sirius’ face screws up like his coffee is bitterer than he’d expected. “Are those children’s shorts?”

“This is what you’re treated to when you wake up,” Remus teases.

“Not worth it. And now that I know you’re out here ogling men that aren’t me, I’m tying you both to the bed.”

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l0vergirlsw0rld · 5 months ago

Text

ravish pt.2

hitchhiker!readerxperv!loganhowlett

a/n: thankyou so much for all the love on ravish, it means a lot. in this one, i focused a little more on the set up of their connection and less on the sex part to give their relationship more depth. part three will eventually be in the works, but i hope you guys like this one<3

wc: 3.6k

NSFW

18+ MDNI | alcohol usage, age gap, oral sex and sexual themes

summary: the last thing y/n remembers was being in Logan's car after being picked up by him. How did she get to this motel room, where is he?

au: 1970s

Your brain buzzed the entirety of the drive to El Paso.

You hadn't fully recovered yet from your mindblowing orgasm in the backseat earlier. However, you felt better because you no longer had that aching pressure between your legs.

Logan had taken care of that before the long drive ahead. He could smell the arousal off of you the second you entered the car which made driving just too hard to concentrate on. With a simple look at you, it's as if he could tell that's exactly what you needed, and he gave it to you.

The both of you managed to make the 6-hour drive without any other detours.

Shortly after pulling out of the woods he had stopped at a nearby store and bought you both something to eat, he mentioned he couldn't hear the music over your stomach growling.

His soft rock cd's filled the silences as you both drifted into your individual trains of thought.

Once in a while, you'd pass him cigars from the dash when he was due for another.

He'd mumble a 'thanks, sweetheart.'

At one point he had folded his flannel as a makeshift pillow so you could nap your hangover away.

He'd quietly cuss under his breath trying to keep his road rage to a minimum and not wake you up.

"Kid, wake up." He shook you gently.

Your eyelids were glued shut.

"Kid," He prompted you again.

You could hear him and were awake but your body remained in that coma-like state, catching up on some overdue rest. Being on the road constantly meant you didn't eat or sleep as much as you were supposed to.

Logan let out a grunt and got out of the car, turning the front and opening your passenger door; He uncliped your seatbelt and carried your bridal style to a motel room door.

He unlocked the door with a swift motion of one hand as the other held you in his chest.

He kicked it open and gently placed you on the bed before returning to the car to grab your bag.

He closed the door and kicked off his boots. The mattress dipped where he sat on the foot of the bed.

He carded his fingers through his hair with a huff, taking a peek at your sleeping body.

Your shoulders rose and fell as you gently breathed, a few strands of your hair in your face, floating with the exhale from your nose. You looked so peaceful, and... innocent.

He still wondered what a young thing like you was doing travelling across the country alone, it was a reckless choice on your part, putting yourself in danger every single day. Why were you doing this to yourself?

Logan's trust in people had been long gone for some time now, and he couldn't help but feel responsible for making you realize that maybe the world isn't such a great place after all.

He frowned as his mind dove into the thought that he was no better than they were, taking advantage of you in the back of his car. Letting his perverted fantasize take over him. He was way older than you were, and though it was legal, a part of him wasn't sure if it was right.

Anger bubbled inside of him, disgusted with himself. He pulled out the panties he had pocketed earlier and sighed returning them to their place.

"Fuck," He gritted through his teeth.

He rose to his feet and took one last look at you before he slipped out the door.

You had no recollection of how you got into a motel room, but it was safe to assume that Logan had placed you there. The clock on the wall indicated it was an hour before midnight, you had slept the entire day away.

How sweet, you thought.

You scanned the room looking for any trace of him; a phone number, a wad of cash, cigars, anything: nothing.

Just you and your backpack.

It's as if there was no trace of Logan ever existing:

Had you imagined him?

Had he been a hallucination from the leftover psychedelics in your system?

Your gears turned.

Would he leave without saying goodbye?

You look over to the bedside table and call the front desk.

"Guest services," A voice chimed from the other line.

"Hi... my...friend, got this room for me. I'm just wondering if he is staying in a separate room or left anything with you guys at the desk." You groggily explained, not being 100% sure yourself what you were trying to ask.

"I can check, what room are you staying in?"

"..Give me a sec," You murmured into the receiver, looking at the sticker on the rotary phone. "B6."

The clerk ruffles pages around looking for your information on the other end of the line.

"...Your room name is under Logan Howlett, but unfortunately there doesn't seem to be any other bookings under that name. We also didn't receive anything from Mr. Howlett at the desk."

Two things:

He was in fact real and he did leave without saying goodbye.

"Thank you," You mumbled, and hung up the phone and dropped your head with a huff.

You took notice that your feet were still black, and the reality hit that you indeed hadn't showered in a couple days, the struggles of being a nomad.

You padded to the bathroom and made your way to the shower, twisting the knob; warm steam filled the room, fogging the mirror.

You undressed and stepped under the shower head. A chill ran up your stomach, causing your nipples to get hard, you weren't used to the water temperature yet.

With the motel-provided toiletries, you were able to wash your hair and body and even shave.

You cracked a smile, laughing in disbelief at how Logan absolutely didn't care that you weren't shaven and hadn't showered for a few days.

Your smile faltered as you remembered he was gone.

He was a man you just met, a total stranger, but he had definitely left a lasting impression.

Even though his knuckles had dried blood on them, you didn't feel scared around him, if anything you felt safe. There is something about him that just reeled you in like a deer in headlights. Not to mention your physical chemistry was through the roof.

You turned the shower off, stepped out and wrapped yourself in a robe. You had forgotten to turn on the fan so the entire room looked like a sauna.

Great, you thought, slipping on the provided paper-thin sandals and walking to the back door.

You opened it to clear the steam.

What? You stopped in your tracks.

Logan's car was parked in front of your room, he hadn't left after all.

You tightened the knot on your robe and stepped out into the darkness of the parking lot. You pressed your face against the window, shielding your eyes from the street lights with your hands.

Logan wasn't inside, and it looked like nothing was missing;

Where could he have gone, had something happened to him?

Your curiosity got the best of you, you were going to look for him. You went back inside and got dressed back into your dirty clothes that now smelled of booze.

Booze.

You had noticed there was a bar across from the motel, he might've gone there; hopefully, he wasn't getting himself in another fight.

You kept the slippers on since those were your only shoes at the moment and left for the bar.

You pushed the paint-chipped door and were greeted with a musk of liquor and cigarettes.

The inside, much like the exterior was made of wood and covered with various street signs and glowing lights casting a neon wash into the room.

It was small and the place was packed. The air was warm and thick with smoke. Loud rock blared from the speakers as people chattered and laughed amongst themselves over the track.

You pushed through a few people and spotted his flannel at the pool table, his back facing you.

You reached him tugging at his sleeve.

"I thought you left," You started and cut yourself off as a man you didn't recognize turned to face you.

"My bad, thought you were someone else." You mumbled apologetically and turned to leave.

A grip on your bicep stopped you in your tracks.

"Where you goin'? Stay, wanna play a round?" The stranger slurred.

"I'm actually looking for someone, maybe next time." You jerked your arm out of his grip, squeezing through groups of bodies, making your way to check out the slot machines in the corner.

No one there.

Shit.

The last place you could check was the bar. You sucked in a breath, whispering your 'sorrys' and 'scuse me's' as you slithered your way to the bar top. Observing the occupied seats you couldn't identify Logan. Your eyes made contact with the bartender.

"I.D. please or a parental permission letter." He up and downed you while drying a beer mug with a cloth.

"I don't want a drink, have you seen a man, 40s, side burns with uh, bloody knuckles." You spoke up over the music.

He pointed to the end of the bar where a brunette man had his head buried in his arms.

"That's who you're looking for? He's been here for a while and had quite a lot to drink, I had to cut him off after he finished the whole bottle."

You furrowed your brows.

"Thanks," You muttered and made your way to Logan.

You could smell the booze wafting off of him from three feet away;

Was he trying to drink himself to death?

You placed a gentle hand on his back whispering a 'Logan' in his ear.

He perked up, squinting from the bar lights.

"What're ya' doing here?" He grumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"Come on, let's go back to the room, you're wasted," You grabbed his wrist giving it a little tug.

"M'fine, n' the room is all yours." He stretched out his back, relieving it from the pain.

"Well you can't sleep on the bar, let's go, the bed is big enough for both of us." You persisted.

Your eyes locked, noticing almost immediately something changed in him, hurt was written all over his face. Logan didn't say anything, just looked at you with a sad expression, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"...M'sorry..." He whispered and blinked slowly.

You arched a brow and grabbed his hand, running your thumb over his knuckles.

"It's fine Logan, let's go rest up. You've had a long day." You tugged at his arm and this time he threw a stack of cash on the bar and got up to follow you.

He hung his head low as he followed behind you, heavy footsteps crashing into the gravel stumbling lightly here and there.

What the hell had happened while you were asleep?

You both bust through the door, Logan flopping on the bed, making it squeak loudly.

"I'll get you some water," You shut the door and grabbed the complimentary disposable cups on the desk.

"I said m' fine," You heard him faintly grumble in the mattress from the room as you filled it with the bathroom sink tap water.

You returned and sat on the mattress next to his head.

"Drink some," You ushered, running a hand through his hair, he was warm to the touch.

He hummed in delight as your nails scratched his scalp gently.

"You like that hm?" You teased.

Logan took a deep breath and propped himself on his forearms grabbing the cup from your hand. He threw it back like a shot of tequila, crumpled the cardboard and tossed it to the corner of the room.

Your hand fell to his nape where your thumb rubbed tiny circles, he looked at you in the eyes, the same sadness still there.

"What is it?" You whispered.

"...I'm old n' gross, didn't mean to do anything you didn't want.." He stared at the mattress.

"What are you talking about..... in the car?" Your brows knitted.

"Yeah, shouldn't have done that." He propped his head up with his palm.

"Logan, hey, of course, I wanted it, I'm the one who initiated it, I came onto you, remember-" You explained, dropping to your knees on the floor so that your face was now inches away from his.

"-and you're not gross," You pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

He lifted his gaze to meet your eyes. Just don't want to take advantage of you, kid, don't wanna hurt ya'," His eyebrows softened. You slid your hand to cup his stubly cheek.

"Then don't hurt me, " You smiled.

"-and you're not. If anything I'm the one taking advantage of you," You giggled and bit your lips as you pushed him onto his back. You swung your thigh over him, now straddling him with both your hands on his chest. That earned you a surprised huff from Logan. His thick calloused hands grab to your exposed waist. You sat on his groin, feeling him getting slightly harder.

You peered down at the gorgeous man beneath you. "I'm an adult too you know...just because I'm on the younger side doesn't mean you're taking advantage of me. I like you." You mumbled shyly.

"I know bub'." He sighed. "Jus' never did this before.'" He breathed out.

"Me neither, kay? So nothing to worry about." You pressed your forehead against his, cupping both his cheeks in your hands.

"Kay'." He rasped, you could smell the prominent whiskey and cigars on his breath. You kissed him, long and hard, full of passion he returned it with an enthusiastic groan.

You didn't know the first thing about this man, but you already cared so much. You could tell that he had something inside of him that was dark or broken, which saddened you. He had shown you such generosity and kindness, you couldn't help but want to return the favour.

He groaned as you pulled back from the kiss. "Go shower and come to bed back with me," You grinned.

Without a word, he got up and obeyed.

You had changed out of your clothing and back into the robe again, it felt good to be clean and wear something clean. You were in bed, waiting for him to come join you. A single warm-toned lamp lit the room.

The door opened with a thud and Logan emerged from the door with a towel hanging from his hips.

The sheer sight of him made you immediately bite your finger: his hair stuck up in every direction, almost like when a wet dog shakes themselves dry.

His muscles glistened underneath the droplets of water, his abs were prominent and stretched all the way down to his pelvis. Logan was ripped, a pleasant surprise you hadn't gotten the chance to see earlier in the car.

"Feel better?" You said warmly.

"Mhm," He agreed, trudging through the carpet to make his way to the bed. His abs flexed as he walked. He pulled the cover of the blanket up and began to get underneath with his towel.

"Your towel is going to make blankets wet," You remarked.

"There's only one robe," He paused looking down at you.

From your point of view, he had one knee on the bed and towered over you. His towel-covered pelvis was inches away from your face.

You grinned and flipped to your stomach. Warmth spread in your cheeks as you reached out a hand to grip the towel.

"That's alright with me," You purred, as you pulled it down making Logans semi-hard cock spring out.

"What're ya-" He began but you cut himself off with a groan as you wrapped your small hand around it. It was thick and had a few prominent veins that grazed its sides, the red tip of it poked out from the foreskin that bunched at the edge. He was gorgeous.

You looked up at him with doe eyes as you began to stoke it slowly; You felt the warmth in your hand as it swelled to it's full erect size, Logan was about a whole delicious seven inches,

"Can I?" You blinked.

"You don't have to," He groaned from the sensation, brushing a hand through your hair.

"I really want to, please can I?" You begged, and your mouth began to water. Pleasuring Logan sent a thrill in your stomach. You could have this groan man under your control in a matter of seconds.

"Kay' princess, whatever you want," He grunted out.

You pulled back the foreskin, exposing his thick eager tip. You hum in delight before enveloping your warm lips around it, sucking on it gently while still keeping that slow stroking rhythm from before.

Logan's grip on your hair tightens, and small moans and groans escape his lips. You were so pretty with his cock in your mouth, he stared at you in awe as you worked gently on him. Inch by inch you relaxed your throat to take more of him, feeling his hard cock push on your tongue for added friction.

"You're doin' good," He praised with his head tipping back as you reached the base, your nose brushed against his pubic hair as you pushed him even further down. An ache formed at the back of your throat, but you didn't care, you were enjoying pleasuring Logan. A hunger began to form between your legs, and you squeezed them together, trying to ease the pressure.

You pulled your head back, removing it from your warmth. You took a breath as you picked your pace a little, the strokes getting faster and faster. You spit the saliva that had been collecting in your mouth on it earning a grunt from Logan and a little tug on your hair.

He gripped his cock guiding it closer and slapped it against your cheek, making sounds of wet skin-on-skin reverb in the room. A low groan resonated from his chest as his slaps got harder.

"Fuck," He breathed, peering at you with his hunger-filled eyes.

If he liked it rough, you were going to give it to him rough.

You took charge again, wrapping your two hands on it now. Twisting them both in opposite directions down on the spit-lubricated shaft, tightening your grip and applying more pressure to his needy length.

Your strokes became even faster, sending Logan's spine in tingles. You re-inserted him in your mouth sucking hard and letting him go with a pop noise, you repeated that a few times as he bucked his hips closer and closer, his orgasm approaching.

You bobbed on his tip, sucking as hard as you possibly could, taking him in deeper and deeper with each push until you once again reached the base. You gagged from his size, groaning in pain, sending vibrations along his shaft. You pushed yourself to keep deep-throating him, making you gag over and over. The vibrations sent Logan over the edge.

"Fuck sweetheart," Logan rasped breathily, removing himself from you as you moaned in relief, you stroked him as ribbons of pearly cum shot out and covered your swollen lips.

He fell in a fit of moans as he rode out his orgasm under your touch. He hunched over, placing a hand on the mattress to stabilize himself as you slowed your movement, letting him come back to his senses. You wiped off his seed with the sleeves of your robe, smiling at what you had just done.

He caught his breath and plopped down on the bed next to you, chest heaving from the miraculous release he had just experienced.

You rolled into his side snuggling close to him, as he wrapped his tired arm around you. You laid your head on his bare chest and could hear his heartbeat slowly going back to normal with each breath. Logan's abs flexed as he brought down his lips to kiss the top of your head.

"thanks', that felt real good sweetheart." He mumbled against your hair.

"Mmmm... was all my pleasure," You smiled, tipped your chin up and kissed him on the lips.

The both of you laid there like that in the blankets in silence for a while. Logan stroked your hair gently as you twirled his chest hair between your fingers, the both of you just enjoying your presence.

"Logan?" Whispered.

"Ya?" His chest moved with his word.

"Why were your knuckles covered in dried blood?" You asked.

Logan's hand in your hair froze.

"-Work." He rasped.

"Are you going to work tomorrow? Is that why you were going to El Paso?" You pried.

"No work, thinking of heading out to the other side of the border for a little bit," He chose his words carefully.

He was being secretive; yes you did not know each other at all and you weren't entitled to full disclosure, but it seemed that he wanted you to know as little as possible.

Was he on the run? Mexico was the perfect place to go for people who wanted to be off the radar.

Did he have a wife and kids down there? Your eyes darted to his hand, no ring.

"Vacation?" You tested.

"Something like that," His tone calm, dissmisive.

"When are you leaving?" You felt a pressure in your chest as you thought of him leaving for good.

"Tommorow mornin'," He groaned looking at the clock.

"That's so soon," You frowned.

"Yeah I know, kay kid' time to go to bed now." He rolled over to turn off the lamp, leaving the room in complete darkness now.

He pulled your body into him so that your back was against his chest. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet smell.

Logan was going to miss having you in his arms, but he had business to take care of down south. Maybe one day he'd have the pleasure of crossing paths with you again.

You heard the bathroom door shut, he was awake. You couldn't sleep last night because you had too many unanswered questions. You got up quietly stripping from your robe and sliding on a fresh pair of underwear that you had in your backpack. You rummaged around the room finding your scattered clothing pieces and frantically putting them on.

Logan opened the door and was met with you being fully dressed and ready to go. His brows knitted.

"Where you goin'" He grumbled.

"I'm coming with you," You crossed your arms.

so much angst.

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 1 year ago

Text

Carpe Diem | Michael Gavey x fem!reader

Summary: After himself being ditched by Oliver, they meet once again. Both seemingly skirting around what happened in the Common Room when they last saw one another. | Word Count: 5.1k~ (oops) | Warnings below the cut!

Part One: Quid Pro Quo Part Three: Veni, Vidi, Vici

warnings: virgin michael, oral sex (f receiving), fingering

A/N: I feel...like the word count is overboard but FUCK IT it's my blog 😈

“Greek and Latin both belong to the Indo-European language family, which does not necessarily mean they are similar. The branches are totally different. Whereas Latin belongs to the Romance branch, Greek belongs to the…”

She half-listens to the lecture, caught between Professor Wardon’s monotone ramblings and scribbling whatever bits and pieces she can string together in swirly handwriting, trying to ignore Trevor two rows in front of her, typing loudly on his brand new Macbook that he no doubt got from his well-off parents for Christmas.

Pencil and paper for the peasants, she thinks bitterly.

The laptop she has back in her dorm is clunky, too thick for carrying in her bag, and any notes she makes now will have to be typed up meticulously later. She supposes it’s a good way of getting the information to be irreparably printed into her brain though. That’s the only thing keeping her from going insane.

Which is where she finds herself now, in the wee hours of the morning, her fingers so tired and eyes so strained she feels that all the letters and characters are beginning to merge together.

She's just about to close the damn thing when a notification blares in the bottom right corner of her screen.

‘m_gav_314159265359 is now online’

She presses her lips together to stifle a laugh at the username, it makes her giggle every time. Of course his username is fucking Pi.

After their little ‘happening’ in the Common Room, they'd talked for a bit over MSN, sometimes texting when she had enough credit and even more rarely meeting up at Trinity College campus. Their timetables never seemed to line up very often, so their meetings were quick and over before they could even get settled into really getting to know each other.

It felt strange to have done something so exciting and yet not really know someone.

The memory made her blush. She was never usually that impulsive and brazen. But she didn't regret it.

Everytime Michael saw her, his cheeks flushed almost without her even needing to try. And it felt nice to see someone act like that in her presence.

After lectures had started after Christmas into the New Year and then into Spring, she found herself somewhat self-conscious. Second guessing herself. Wondering if the freedom and calmness of the holiday period had given him a new sense of clarity.

After all, he'd not spoken to her once since lectures had started again.

A heaviness weighed in her chest, bitterly like rejection.

Maybe she was delirious from the time of night, but she felt a surge of courage, desperately wanting to just know if this was going to be more or not.

She felt her cheeks heat somewhat, rubbing the backs of her knuckles against her lips. There was no time to reply before he sent another.

And if what he'd said before didn't make her face burn, that certainly did. She nearly smirked when she thought to herself, 'you mean when I sucked you off in the Common Room?'

But she didn't type that. She decided to have mercy on him, if only a little.

His replies were so blunt and to the point that they were so quintessentially Michael. She found herself wondering if what he'd typed before had been for the intention of making her blush, but she doubted it. He seemed the type to be somewhat oblivious to how words could affect the opposite sex.

Or anything to do with the opposite sex for that matter.

Her stomach fluttered with excitement as she typed off a few quick goodbyes and with a soft, plastic tap, shut her laptop for the night.

“There are no fit guys in my class this semester, fucking livid,” Priya rolls her eyes, nursing a stale pint and a cigarette.

“Did you really expect Modern Languages to be teeming with attractive men?” She smirks in response.

“No. But I at least expected a good shag within the first three months.”

“Does they have to be within our course?”

“No, course not. I'm not lazy as fuck. Can’t be arsed to go off campus.”

She laughs, waving the smoke trail that's formed between their faces, the smell of cigarettes and damp, beer-soaked carpets fill her senses, nursing the only pint she's capable of downing.

“Don't shit where you eat, Priya.”

“Don't you fuckin’ start,” she grins with all her perfect teeth before checking her phone, “fuck, is that the time. Sorry mate you've got like half your pint left-”

“Don't be silly, just go. Whoever you're meeting is bound to have a bigger cock than me anyway.”

“You're a nasty bitch, you know that?” she smiles, standing and pulling her mini-skirt down, “see you later? Catch up?”

“Wouldn't miss it for the world. Have fun!”

“Oh I will!”

She smiles, sipping the stale beer as Priya rushes out the door excitedly tapping the keypads on her phone in reply to a guy no-doubt, nearly running right into a lamppost.

She pulled out her own phone, spotting a new message from the ex-boyfriend she hadn’t heard a peep out of since Freshers Week, groaning with a displeased expression at the first few lines of text that read as if he were desperate. Even over the crackling sound of the speakers and Daniel Powter’s ‘Bad Day’ lulling quietly through the pub, she was still sensitive to the sound of his voice.

“-get me another pint please, Oliver? Thanks.”

She had to crane her neck, half-swivelled on her chair, but it was undoubtedly him. Only one person had that hissy, direct way of speaking, had dirty, blonde hair that touched the nape of his neck and was likely to wear such an…interesting selection of clothes.

Her mouth was barely open before she realised it was Michael, and by then he was too far away to shout from across a busy pub. She found herself with a sort of stupid grin, watching him walk with such a lanky gait, as if walking were an inhuman thing for him to do.

It took her a few moments to text back a reply to her ex before she looked up again, eyebrows furrowed when she saw that whoever Michael had been with, was now umming and ahhing about whether to join the popular lot, for which she recognised Felix Catton amongst them, shockingly ill-dressed in a ‘what happens in Kassiopi stays in Kassiopi’ t-shirt, with a cigarette between his lips that had been inhaled to a nub.

She grimaced. Only rich people could dress so fucking shocking.

And then her heart leapt in a different way when she saw Michael look distantly at Oliver, his hand half-raised in an awkward wave, his face crumbling in a way where she knew he was disappointed and yet, not surprised in the slightest.

It was when Michael pushed his glasses up his nose in a way she couldn’t help but find sweet and go for the door, that she slipped from the stool she was on, a quarter of her pint left, and took off after him.

“Michael!”

The late winter air nipped at her skin, cursing internally that his legs were so fucking long he could stride a hell of a lot further than her.

“Michael!”

It wasn’t hard to see the glint of his glasses lenses off the streetlights once he’d turned to face her, his lips parted in surprise and a heat rising to his cheeks.

He swallowed visibly, “H-hey..”

She felt her own heart rattle in her chest at how easy it was to fluster him, “Hey, you alright?”

For a moment, the self-proclaimed mathematical genius seemed genuinely lost for words, his throat closing up on him like he was having a sort of allergic reaction to the opposite sex. So with all that, he simply nodded, his hands clenched as if not knowing what to do with them.

“Sorry about your mate, that was a shitty thing to do.”

“Oh, he’s…he’s not my mate.”

She nodded, rubbing her hands together to warm them from the chill, “d’you wanna go somewhere?”

Michael’s eyes behind his glasses widened, “like…together?”

“No, I’ll make you go off on your own,” she grinned, “yes together!”

He huffed an embarrassed but elated laugh, and only now her eyes studied his shirt, cocking her head in amusement at the ‘that’s how I roll’ shirt with what looked like a maths equation beneath it. The actual meaning was lost on her, but it was so dorky it made her smile.

“U-uh, my mum bought it me for Christmas...” he muttered quickly to which she cracked an even bigger smile, the two of them laughing quietly for a moment before he spoke up again.

“Do you wanna come to mine?” he asked, and it was so direct it made her blink, her lungs feeling as if they were fluttering, “I mean-my dorm.”

She wet her lips from the dry cold, watching how nervous and twitchy he was. And how it reminded her of the last time they were alone together.

“Like…catch up or something. I-I’ve got alcohol if you-”

“That’d be lovely, Michael.”

He at least seemed grateful that she’d actually replied to save him from rambling, and even cracked a thin-lipped smile himself, clearly and delightfully nervous. Thirty-minutes ago, he’d have never considered this to be the ending to his evening.

Michael’s room is disturbingly tidy, she wonders if he actually even lives here. It’s like those university rooms that they take photos of to advertise the ‘spacious’ and ‘community-driven’ atmosphere of campus life.

At least it was clean, she mused as Michael passed her a bottle of the only alcohol he had, which were lukewarm WKDs.

“Thanks,” she smiles, taking a sugary sip and looking about the room. Michael has since cracked open his own drink, but seems disinterested in it as it rests on his bouncing knee, looking up at her from where he’s sat on his desk chair from under his brow.

His laptop sits shut, pencils in a neat line next to it. His walls are bare, with what she can only assume are blue tack marks from the previous tenant’s last year. With the exception of a wall-mounted calendar next to his desk.

“No posters? Was hoping I could be nosy, see what you like.”

When she turns back to Michael he quickly looks down as if not wanting to be caught staring, “It’d just be maths stuff.”

“And Carol Vorderman?” she teases mindlessly, not catching the way his cheeks go alight.

She hums an amused laugh behind the bottle at her lips, “It’s very tidy.”

When he just replies with a shrug, she scoots off the bed to have a roam about the place, needing only a few steps to cross the room to his bookcase, filled to the brim neatly with books. She runs her finger along some of the spines.

“You’re not going to mess anything up are you?”

She laughs, coming out more of a snort, which makes her cheeks warm, “Sorry. Just curious about your books. ‘Mathematics of Language. Sounds like a bit of me and you.”

There’s that flush again.

That deer in the headlights look.

“Uh…just sounded interesting.”

“And is it?”

“Is it what?”

She smirks, “interesting.”

There’s a silence that for a moment neither of them are able to shake.

Michael swallows visibly, “don’t know yet..”

She sees something in his expression when a playful smile lifts across her face, suddenly the memories and implications of what they’d done before now weighing heavily on them. And all at once, he’s able to smell the body scrub she’d used in the shower that morning and eyes flitting to the glint of her stud earrings. He’d remembered brushing past them with his fingers when her mouth wrapped around his-

“And who says you’re not a languages man?” she presses with a teasing lilt to her voice. The tone and sing-songy nature of her voice has his heart doing backflips, feeling as if he could feel the erratic beating between his ribs.

Michael seems stuck in the position he finds himself as she lazily crosses the room, slipping back on his bed, one hand brushing across his bedsheets and the other setting the drink on his bedside table. For a long moment, his eyes couldn’t leave her. The whole situation was suitably extraordinary. A girl who had come onto him (to say the least) was now in his room, sat on his bed, touching his things…all while wearing something he personally deemed unsuitable for the cold, a dress with black tights beneath.

She turns her head to him, smiling, “you seem nervous.”

He swallows, trying to claw at any sort of reply, “is that an accusation?”

It comes out a bit harsher than he probably expected, but instead of recoiling, she bites her lip as if to stifle a full-toothed grin, “an observation.”

He shrugs, “just never had a girl in here before.”

“Worried I’ll mess up your feng shui?”

“My what?”

She genuinely laughs at that, nearly smacking her head on the bed frame, but a hearty chuckle all the same. And Michael doesn’t know why his own cheeks start to heat up at that, taking this opportunity that her eyes are shut to look down at her legs. For some reason, making her laugh just makes him want to try more.

He’s never had that feeling before. Wanting to make someone laugh.

“No, really, my what.”

She meets his eyes brightly with her own, “feng shui, it’s like…the vibe of a room, a space. Like, how you place your furniture or whatever.”

Michael raises a brow, his lip quirking on one side, “sounds like bullshit.”

“It probably is.” she laughs.

“Can I ask you something?”

The quick u-turn and tone in conversation has her eyes meet his nervously, her interest and curiosity piqued. Her hands find themselves nervously stroking her legs, the texture of the tights providing some level of comfort, “yeah sure.”

She can't quite figure out what expression he's trying to put on. His brows are furrowed in judgement and a curious sense of guarding himself. And yet he's sat back in his seat, looking at her like he is trying to figure her out, and yet wants to know why she is the way she is.

“Why did you do that?”

She blinks at the accusatory and monotone rhythm of his way of speaking.

“Do what.”

“Don't play stupid. Doesn't suit you.”

She nearly scoffs at that, “what? Why have you gone all weird all of a sudden?”

“Why did you do…that at the Christmas party?”

She shrugs and shakes her head, as if the answer should be obvious, “because I wanted to? And you didn't seem to mind either.”

“I didn't-that's not the point!” he retorts, “are you genuinely taking the mick out of me?”

“You've asked that before and no.”

“Well why then?”

“Is it not enough to really think that I find you interesting? And nice to talk to?”

Of all the things she expected Michael Gavey to go quiet at, it certainly wasn't that. But she watches him all the same, the line between his brow slowly disappearing as his frown vanishes.

She cocks her head, “and not bad looking either.”

“Stop it.”

“I mean it!”

“Nobody wants the fucking maths virgin-”

“Michael. I don't give a fuck about that,” she says calmly, “Hell, I was a virgin not that long ago. You keep saying ‘nobody wants the virgin’ but you can't keep using that as an excuse just because you're embarrassed you haven't done anything.”

He sighs, like he doesn't want to believe her. And she can hardly believe how self-deprecating and yet direct this man can be in a single breath.

“Look, if you don't want to talk to me, I can always go-”

Almost as soon as she is stood, he is too, one large hand wrapped around her forearm, “No.”

They've been sat so long, she had almost forgotten how tall he was, and the difference between them briefly has her tummy doing back flips. From here, she is able to smell whatever body wash he uses, and if she had to guess, probably blue radox.

“No, I didn't say I wanted you to go. Stay…”

He doesn't say ‘please’ once, and yet she's able to hear the desperation.

When she doesn't move, his grip loosens, and she feels tingly all over when his hand slides up her arm.

“Can I kiss you again like last time?”

She almost smiles in adoration at how he asks it, but for the sake of saving him the embarrassment of thinking she's laughing at him, settles for a simple and gentle nod of her head. She is sure she's not really thought it through. Weighing up the pros and cons isn't exactly the first thing on her mind right now though as Michael has to bend significantly to crash his lips to hers.

Much like last time, he is a bit endearingly clumsy, his lips moving quickly on hers like he's running a race with his mouth. This time there is no pool table for him to cage her against, but all the same his legs take him forwards until her knees hit the edge of his bed.

By the time he is on top of her, she's managed to weave her fingers through his hair, her nose nudging against his glasses every now and then, and guiding him with her own movements to slow down and enjoy the moment, with no need to rush.

She knows that secretly he's probably just excited.

But this time, his hands are extremely active.

She's unable to help the breathy whimper between desperate kisses as he tentatively squeezes her thighs, not quite brave enough to go beneath the dress yet and drifting upwards to her breasts, touching and clutching fondly, as if any harsh grip or movement and she'll get up and leave.

He's still unsure, maybe even nervous, she can feel it.

It's here she realises that whether he is doing it subconsciously or not, she can feel the strained bulge at the front of his trousers rubbing up against the inside of her leg, probably chasing friction that feels too good for him to feel lucid.

“Can I see you…” he asks as his lips break away.

She doesn't even reply, she just complies, pulling the sleeves of her dress over her shoulders and the bra straps along with it. The position she's in making it near impossible to reach behind her.

If she could print his face in her mind as she pulled her dress down to her ribs, she would. He looks entirely mesmerised in adoration, and once the only thing covering her breasts is the thin material of her bra, Michael looks at her with an almost dream-like gaze.

His hand moves before his mouth, or at least before he catches himself, “Is it oka-”

“Course..” she says far too quickly.

All she can hear as Michael pulls the thin straps of her bra fully down her arms, exposing her breasts, is his breath, staggered and uneven. His hand easily covers one of her breasts, squeezing experimentally, his thumb gently drifting over her nipple and watching them stiffen to needy buds.

She doesn’t need to look between them to see how hard he is, she can feel him against her thigh, where her dress has since ridden up to her hips.

His glasses knock against her chest as he leans down, all-too-carefully covering her nipple with his tongue, like he is trying to print the taste of them to memory.

There is an unconscious desire to press her thighs together, but she settles for rolling her hips, causing Michael’s voice to rumble against her chest where he mouths at her breasts. One hand forever stays at the one he isn’t paying lip service to, testing the weight and shape in his palms.

It feels like all sensitivity has been turned up to 1000. He is so slow, so unsure, that every languid movement has every nerve feel as if it’s on fire. A selfish part of her wants him to go faster, so used to the fervent, almost rushing nature of who she’d been with before. It was never like this, borderline worshipping.

“Michael…” she breathes, rolling her hips against him experimentally, rewarded with a low whine from him.

She watched as her nipple slips from his lips in the most erotic manner she’d ever seen, before his clear eyes are on her again.

“Is this okay? Am I doing something wr-”

“No,” she shakes her head quickly, “feels nice.”

Michael licks his lips, a sign of how nervous he is, “Can I do something else?”

He is so eager to please, to learn, that looking at his face as he asks she can hardly deny him. And her head moves without effort, nodding as she watches his hand disappear beneath the hem of her dress to pull her tights down her legs.

It then becomes obvious what he wants to do.

“Are you sure, I-”

“I’m sure.” he adds, rolling the black nylon down her legs until all that is left between Michael and her bare skin below her hips, is her underwear. A flush of embarrassment engulfs her face at the thought of how aroused she might be, knowing he has no experience, she doesn’t want to scare him off. The tender and yet needy way he’d mouthed at her breasts had her body all warm, and she can’t remember the last time she’d been this ready for anything.

“I just want to do the same for you as you did for me. Make you feel good.”

And that certainly doesn’t help that feeling either.

She’s not sure if she will get tired of the sight of his long, lithe fingers gripping her thighs apart, and for a moment she finds herself entranced by the view, until he is pressing sweet kisses to the inside of them. Open-mouthed, with an addictive cooling sensation when he pulls away, only to edge closer to the centre of her underwear.

Her breath remains stuck in her chest as she watches him navigate the female body, mapping it out in his head. She knows better than to say anything, knowing him as she does now, he is immensely competitive, and wants to get things right. It’s likely if she stepped in to instruct him, it would only embarrass him more. So she stays quiet, and lets him come to her.

His thumb dips beneath the leg hole of her underwear, “Can I?”

She swallows visibly, now for some reason it’s her being the nervous one. Possibly because the first time, it was her doing something for him. And now, it is very much the feeling of being studied, of being watched to see what made her tick. A feeling that has her desperate for some kind of fulfilment. Anything.

She lifts her hips to help him slide her underwear down her legs, her cheeks warming at being so utterly exposed to him herself for the first time. There is a finality to it that she just can’t quite put into words. A point of no return.

A full body shudder made its way through her when she felt his thumb trail across the spot where her leg met her hip, trailing the line there that led to her sensitive womanhood.

Michael looked as if he was being presented with an equation, she could practically hear the thoughts in his head. But beyond not entirely knowing what to do, it didn't dissuade his curiosity.

She could tell though, that he didn't know what to do.

Michael nearly flinched when she took his hand, encouraging his thumb to touch her bundle nerves hidden between her folds.

She watched him as his thumb cautiously collected the wetness that had begun to come out of her and used it to gently apply pressure to her clit. Breath was hot in her chest as he started slowly.

“Does that feel good?” He asked softly.

As soon as she nodded, confirming how pleasurable it was, Michael's first reaction was to go faster. And so he did. Like he was trying to light a fire.

“No, no, no, it's fine to go slow.”

“Shit, sorry…”

“It’s fine,” she smiled, “just more gentle.”

The panic on his face had been clear. But at her gentle instruction, she saw him relax, taking her words and applying gentle pressure in slower, tighter circles. And it seemed Michael was now fully aware of its intended effect, as his eyes were able to lift up to hers underneath the rim of his glasses to see her breathing had increased, and blood rushing to her cheeks.

It felt incredible to watch his expressions, she thought. Seeing the little thoughts rattling around in his head, to be able to awaken something in him for the first time. But it also felt utterly exposing, and every time his thumb drew circles against her clit, she heard the soft click of her arousal that made the room feel as if she were inside an oven.

Michael’s lips parted, his head moving as if pulled by an invisible string to her core.

“Can I…?” he asked again, but more uncertain this time.

The anticipation gnaws so much at her skin, combined with the way he is taking his time that she has become somewhat impatient, so it’s completely involuntary when she nods her head and somehow manages a whispered ‘yes’.

She doesn't really, really know what's wrong with her. She's had head before. But when he dives between her thighs so quickly and eagerly, his thumbs almost pulling her skin gently to expose as much of her as he can, and swiping his tongue over the centre. From her entrance, all the way to her bundle of nerves.

It has her breath stuck in her chest, instinctively reaching down to run her fingers through his sandy hair. Even the slightest tug on it has a low groan vibrating through her where his mouth moves slowly against her.

“Michael…”

At first he is careful, taking the instruction she'd given him before and applying it to tasting her instead. But his eyes flit up to her when she breathes his name like that, so he redoubles his efforts, gripping the underside of her thighs to tug her towards him in a teasing rhythm.

She didn't really know what to expect, assuming he hadn't done anything like this before. But Michael seems eager to please, as he nudges between her sensitive folds to tease her entrance with his tongue, the sharp shape of his nose butting against her bud with every movement, as little as it is.

With one hand in his hair, her hips move against his face, the glasses perched on his face hanging askew. And all she can see is that his eyes are closed as he tastes her, every now and then he makes a noise between a whine and a moan, as if he didn't want the experience to end.

Dragging his tongue back up to her bud to focus his attention there, Michael experimentally slides one long, slender digit easily inside her, pleased at the breathy sound it seems to elicit from her. Two feelings at once, just as she'd given him before.

“Oh, shit-”

He fights the urge to smirk when he hears that. She's so warm and wet, that it's easy to slide in the second, feeling her walls suck him in as they clamp around his fingers moving in and out of her. It's a feeling he couldn't describe if he tried, and he daren't think of what she'd feel like around his cock, or if she'd let him.

She can feel her stomach muscles tightening, an orgasm bubbling up to the surface when he gains confidence, flicking her swollen clit with his tongue and pistoning two fingers with a pornographically wet smack into her over and over. Brushing that sweet spot inside that he manages to find sometimes, seemingly without realising.

“Michael - fuck - I'm gonna-”

He groans as her fingers tug at his hair, her hips grinding herself against him and chasing that delicious friction as her high barrels through her, sparking pleasure down each notch of her spine until it fizzles out through her limbs.

She can feel Michael grinding himself against the bed, searching for his own, as he maintains his actions, lapping up everything she gives him with determination. When she dares to look down at him, as if he can sense it, his eyes open to watch her expression, the blue of his eyes nearly entirely eclipsed by black.

As if something had been awoken in him that even he couldn't recognise he'd wanted.

With one last swipe of his tongue over her centre, Michael withdraws his fingers, gripping her thigh with them and making the skin there glisten.

Her cheeks feel as if they're on fire when he rights himself to his knees before her, looking down at her with admiration at how she is still essentially half naked. The tightness at the front of his jeans makes it obvious how he felt about what he'd just done.

Engrossed by watching her breasts move as she breathes heavily, the slight shimmer of sweat on her collarbones, Michael raises his hand to his face, using his palm to wipe her slick from his lips and chin.

She breaks the silence with a tired laugh when he pushes his glasses back up his face, one half of the lenses completely fogged up. It prompts him to laugh too.

“Was I okay?”

This time she doesn't hold back her smile at the way he asks it. As if she hadn't just shaken with the force of her high all over his face.

She nods, “More than okay.”

He seems genuinely relieved.

She bites her lip as she looks at him, his cheeks all tinged pink, his mind reeling at what they'd just done.

He doesn't know what to say or do, and she can see it.

“Do you fancy having a girlfriend, Michael?” she asks.

“Uh…I've never had one, not properly anyway.”

“Yes, but would you like one?”

She watches the bob of his Adam's Apple as he swallows heavily, “Y-yeah…”

She pushes herself up to meet him where he's knelt, admiring his features for a moment, before leaning forward to kiss him, encouraging him to kiss her back. It takes a second for him to respond, but when he does, it's needy, teeth and tongues clashing as the musky taste of her is captured on him.

“Tell you what, after your exams, when you can relax, I'll be your proper girlfriend. In every way..”

His breath comes out shuddered against her lips, “what do you mean?..”

She wets her lips as she smirks, “I think you know exactly what I mean, Michael.”

She doesn't think she'll ever get tired of seeing him blushed and bothered.

And when they're both dressed, sharing awkward giggles and nervous kisses, she gives him a look with a cock of her head as he checks his wall-mounted Countdown-themed calendar.

“What you looking for?”

“My last exam is the 15th. There's exactly 12,246 minutes between now and then and all I'm going to be thinking about is whether you'll really be my girlfriend or not.”

She nearly smiles at the fact he does the maths so quickly. 8 days, 12 hours and 6 minutes until his last exam. And even though she's made it clear she wants him, he's still unsure.

She meets his gaze, unable to hide the grin off her face, “Better get studying then. You've only got 12,245 minutes left until you've got me.”

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#michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x you #michael gavey x y/n #michael gavey x oc #michael gavey fanfic #michael gavey fanfiction #michael gavey smut #michael gavey saltburn #saltburn 2023 #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fanfic #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters #michael gavey x fem!reader #michael gavey x female reader

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theonottsbxtch · 2 months ago

Text

MADE IT OUT ALIVE | FC43

an: okay so this is so late but this is the thing i asked if you guys wanted to read which is a blow by blow of my situationship but make it franco colapinto lol. had it actually been him ong it would hve lasted longer i swear.

wc: 2.4k

SHE FIRST MET HIM in the humid chaos of Singapore. The paddock buzzed under the relentless sun, and the air was thick with the sounds of engines screaming and the staccato click of cameras. It was just another race, just another weekend. She was there with her usual kit—a clipboard tucked under one arm, a microphone in hand, and that practiced, effortless smile plastered on her face.

But then he walked up.

Franco was late, sauntering into the media pen like he owned the world. A half-zipped race suit hung loose around his waist, his hair a mess of sweat and confidence. The kind of man who seemed to know exactly how magnetic he was.

When she spoke to him, it wasn’t just her voice that carried the questions. It was the way she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the way she leaned forward just a little too far. She hated herself for it, but it was instinctive—like gravity. And when he answered, smirking at her with eyes that lingered a second too long, she knew she was already in trouble.

For a month after, she said nothing. She told herself it was better that way. Just another fleeting crush; it would fade. But the silence was deafening, and one night, sitting alone in her hotel room with the glow of her laptop casting shadows on the walls, she finally sent the text.

Nothing complicated, nothing vulnerable. Just a joke about his race start and a winking emoji.

It took him eight minutes to reply. Eight minutes that stretched into eternity, her phone burning a hole in her hand. When the screen lit up, her heart raced. And so, it began.

The first texts were harmless. Banter about his pit stops, teasing remarks about his qualifying performance. It didn’t mean anything. Not then. But soon, her phone became a lifeline, each ping a jolt of adrenaline. He wasn’t always quick to respond, but when he did, his charm oozed through every word. And when he called her “trouble” for a particularly sharp comment, she swore she felt her stomach flip.

But Franco didn’t text first. Not once.

It was her who built the bridge. Her who asked how he was doing after a rough weekend, her who sent a meme about the top three at 1 a.m., her who tried to hold on when he drifted too far. And when he answered, when his words carried the flirtatious edge she’d started to crave, it felt like winning. A small victory in a war only she knew she was fighting.

It took weeks of careful persistence before he started calling her a friend. He even said it once, casually, in passing: “You’re fun. I like hanging out with you. You’re a good friend.” She had smiled so hard her cheeks hurt, ignoring the way her chest ached at the word “friend.”

The next time Franco offered to drive her back to her hotel, she tried not to read into it. The streets of Monaco were deserted, the night wrapped in a blanket of stars. He turned the music low, one hand on the wheel, the other drumming a beat on his thigh. She stole glances at him when she thought he wouldn’t notice.

At the hotel, she reached for the door handle, but his voice stopped her.

“You ever wonder how you ended up here? Like, in all of this?” He gestured vaguely toward the brightly lit paddock in the distance, his expression softer than usual.

“All the time,” she replied, her words quiet, like a confession. “And you?”

He just shrugged. “Sometimes.”

The silence stretched thin between them, his gaze fixed on the steering wheel. She thought he might say more, but he didn’t. He never did.

The nights like that came sporadically, each one a thread that bound her closer to him, though he didn’t seem to notice. She would stay awake until 3 a.m., talking to him about everything and nothing, feeling like she’d finally cracked through his armour. But then morning came, and he would pull back, as if they were strangers again.

It broke her in ways she couldn’t describe, the whiplash of his attention. One day, he’d invite her to meet his parents—his parents, for God’s sake—and charm them so completely she’d feel like she belonged in his world. The next day, he’d brush past her in the paddock without a glance, as if she were invisible.

She called him out once, in the heat of an argument after a particularly long day. “Why do you do this?” she demanded, her voice sharper than she intended. “Why do you act like you care, and then…then act like I don’t exist?”

Franco looked at her, genuinely confused, like she was speaking a language he didn’t understand. “I don’t know what I did wrong,” he said, his tone maddeningly casual.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? He didn’t know.

Now, sitting in her apartment far from the glamour of the paddock, she looked at her phone. His name still sat at the top of her blocked contacts list. She had stopped unblocking him just to read old messages. She had stopped pretending his words still had the power to hurt her.

She scrolled through her gallery, past blurry selfies with drivers and candid shots of pit lane chaos. Then she saw it—a photo of him. Taken on some idle afternoon in Abu Dhabi, sunlight catching the curve of his smirk. Once, she would have stared at it for hours, dissecting every detail.

Now, it was just a picture.

The flirty texts that used to make her heart race were nothing more than hollow echoes. She had given him everything—her time, her patience, her heart—and he had taken it all without a second thought. But she wasn’t angry anymore. She wasn’t sad. She was free.

For the first time in years, she closed her eyes and didn’t see him.

Freedom wasn’t the grand epiphany she thought it would be though. It didn’t come with fireworks or triumphant music. It crept in slowly, like the way morning light slips through the cracks of blackout curtains—soft and almost unnoticed at first. But once it was there, she couldn’t unsee it.

The texts stopped hurting long before she blocked him. She realised, one day, as she was reading through an old conversation for the hundredth time, that his words didn’t have the same weight anymore. The “miss you” he had sent after a particularly bad fight felt hollow, like an echo of a voice she used to love. The nicknames that once made her cheeks flush now sounded mechanical, calculated. She read them as if they were addressed to someone else entirely.

And maybe they always were.

She thought of the girl she’d been two years ago, standing in the Singapore paddock, heart racing just from the sound of his voice. That girl wouldn’t recognise her now. The woman she had become was sharper, tougher, less willing to bend herself into unrecognisable shapes just to fit into someone else’s life. She wasn’t bitter—bitterness was too much like holding on. She was just…done.

The next time she saw him, it was on her television, a post-race interview in Austin. He was standing next to another interviewer, flashing that same practiced smile he’d once aimed at her. She noticed the way his hand brushed against the microphone, the way he leaned in just slightly, like he was sharing a secret only they were worthy of hearing.

She laughed, quietly to herself. She had memorised every one of his tricks, his arsenal of charm, his arsenal of lies. The thought used to hurt. Now, it just felt like watching an actor on a stage, performing a role he’d rehearsed a thousand times.

The interviewer asked him a question about the race—a tough one, about a strategic error that had cost him a podium. His smile faltered for a second, and she caught the flicker of irritation in his eyes. He recovered quickly, answering with a mix of deflection and humour. But she saw it. She knew him well enough to spot the cracks in his armour.

Once, she would have texted him after something like this. She would have reached out, offered some ridiculous joke to make him laugh. Once, she would have stayed up until dawn listening to him vent about how the team screwed him over.

Now, she just changed the channel.

Months passed, and Formula One kept moving. New races, new faces. She kept moving, too. She started saying yes to invitations she used to decline, let her friends pull her into adventures that didn’t end with her glued to her phone, waiting for a reply that might never come.

At a café in Paris, during a rare off-weekend, she caught herself laughing—really laughing, the kind that left her cheeks sore and her chest light. Her friend across the table raised an eyebrow.

“What?” she asked, still grinning.

“You just seem…different,” they said, stirring their coffee. “Like you’re finally letting yourself breathe.”

She thought about that for a moment, about the weight she hadn’t realised she’d been carrying until it was gone. “Yeah,” she said, her smile softening. “I think I am.”

The season wrapped in Abu Dhabi, as it always did, the desert sun blazing down on the circuit. She stood in the paddock, microphone in hand, interviewing a rookie who had just secured his first career points. The excitement in his voice was infectious, his grin wide enough to split the sky.

She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to find Franco standing there. The flirt. He looked the same—effortlessly handsome, his hair slightly tousled, his race suit tied around his waist. But something was different.

Or maybe it was just her.

“Hey,” he said, his voice as smooth as ever. “Long time, no see.”

“Yeah,” she said, her tone polite but detached. “It’s been a while.”

He hesitated, as if expecting her to fill the silence with something else. When she didn’t, he gestured to her microphone. “Still asking the tough questions?”

“Always,” she replied, flashing him the same professional smile she gave every driver.

For a moment, he just looked at her, like he was trying to read something in her expression. But whatever he was searching for, he didn’t find it.

“Well, I’ll see you around,” he said, offering her that same practiced smirk.

She watched him walk away, his swagger as unshakable as ever. But for the first time, it didn’t make her heart skip a beat. It didn’t make her feel anything at all.

That night, as she packed up her things and prepared for the long flight home, she caught herself humming a tune. The melody was bright, unburdened. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this light.

She wasn’t thinking about him anymore. And that was the best gift she could have given herself.

She swung her bag over her shoulder, the wheels of her suitcase clattering softly as she pulled it down the quiet hallway of the hotel. The race weekend was over, the desert sun outside already setting, casting long shadows through the thin gaps in the curtains. Her flight was in a few hours, and she was looking forward to the silence of the plane—a reprieve from the buzz of engines and voices that had filled her days for months.

As she turned the corner, she heard it. Muffled at first, but unmistakable: raised voices behind one of the doors.

She paused, her steps faltering despite herself. She wasn’t the type to linger, wasn’t the type to pry. But something about the tone—sharp, exasperated, and yet heartbreakingly familiar—made her stop.

It was Franco’s voice.

Even muffled, she could recognise the rhythm of his words. And then she heard hers, the other voice. The journalist from the interview, the one who had been laughing with him so effortlessly, so naturally, in the paddock earlier that day.

She didn’t mean to listen, but the words cut through the barrier of the door like they were meant for her to hear.

“I’m not ready for something serious,” he was saying, his voice tinged with frustration.

“Then why do you act like you are?” the journalist shot back, her voice trembling. “Why do you text me every night? Why do you call me at 2 a.m. and tell me things you won’t tell anyone else? Why do you—why do you make me feel like there’s something here?”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she was there again—standing in front of him in the parking lot of a Belgian hotel, her heart in her throat, her voice cracking as she asked the same questions.

“Why do you stay up till 3 a.m. with me?” she had said, her words sharp with frustration and hurt. “Why do you only reply to my messages after a bad race? Why do you treat me like everything I want, but never follow through?”

His answer had been maddeningly simple. “I don’t know.”

Listening now, she realised it wasn’t a unique script. He hadn’t given her anything special, anything real. It was the same dance, the same empty promises, the same threadbare excuses. The realisation hit her like a punch to the gut—not because she missed him, but because she had once thought she could fix him. She had believed she was different.

And now, another woman was standing where she had been. Another woman was asking the same questions and feeling the same ache.

She didn’t linger. She started walking again, her pace quicker now, as if trying to outrun the flood of memories. But as she stepped into the elevator and the doors slid shut, she felt a pang of something she hadn’t expected: pity.

Not for herself. For the journalist. For every person who would stand in that hallway, in that argument, hoping for answers he would never be able to give.

By the time she reached the lobby, the pity had faded into something lighter. Acceptance, maybe. Relief. She wasn’t the one standing there anymore. She wasn’t trapped in that endless loop of hope and heartbreak.

For the first time, she realised how far she had come. How much lighter her chest felt now that she wasn’t carrying the weight of him.

the end.

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babydollslibrary · 7 days ago

Text

PARIS — NICO HISCHIER

published: March 19th, 2023

summary: in which y/n is so in love with Nico, that she doesn’t care about any of the gossip her friends tell her about her exes.

specific lyrics: “your ex-friend's sister met someone at a club and he kissed her. turns out it was that guy you hooked up with ages ago; some wannabe z-lister. and all the outfits were terrible. 2003 unbearable. did you see the photos? no, i didn't, but thanks, though.” and “i’m so in love that i might stop breathing.” and “privacy sign on the door, and on my page, and on the whole world. romance is not dead if you keep it just yours.” and “i wanna brainwash you, into loving me forever. i wanna transport you, to somewhere the culture's clever. confess my truth, in swooping, sloping, cursive letters.”

GIF by mattymartin

“did you hear that John got engaged?”

i peek up from my spot on the floor, glancing over to Ella who sits in the armchair across the room. Tara and Naomi are sat together on the couch, wide eyes and excited smiles.

“no.” i shake my head, my lips flattening in a straight line as i continue flipping through the magazine in my hands.

“yeah, he got engaged last week. but the kicker?” Naomi speaks this time, pausing for dramatic effect. “Ella heard from Carrie, who heard from the fiancée’s sister, that the girl is two months pregnant. it’s a shotgun wedding.”

“and she’s forty-one compared to his twenty-eight!” Tara pipes up. i glance up again, offering a furrowed brow and an uninterested nod. why were they telling me these things?

“cool. i mean, we’re adults, age doesn’t really matter anymore.” i shrug, and now it’s their turn to look at me like i’m crazy. our exes are usually our favorite topic for gossip, but that was before i met Nico eight months ago. now it’s typically been gossip about their exes. “besides, maybe they are getting married because she’s pregnant, but they could end up being really in love.”

“but- this is juicy?” Naomi says, her face scrunched in confusion. Ella and Tara nod along with her, clearly confused by my disinterest. i shrug once more, my focus falling back down to the magazine that rests in my lap now.

“John just isn’t part of my life anymore. i don’t really care what happens with him. i wish him the best in his marriage and fatherhood, though.”

“the best?” Ella balks, jaw hung open in surprise. “the man who cheated on you with three other women? you wish him the best?”

“i’m over it. did it hurt at the time? yeah. but, i’m happy now. if he hadn’t cheated on me, i wouldn’t’ve found my way to Nico, so it worked out in my favor.” i confess my feelings, and the girls all share a look, raising their brows in suspicion.

“that’s actually really mature of you, y/n/n. i’m proud of you.” Tara tells me, the other two nodding in agreement.

“what can i say? Nico’s been good for me.” i laugh, and they all giggle before returning to their own magazines.

“does it ever bother you that we’re not public?” Nico’s voice breaks me out of my trance. my hands, which were previously rubbing cleanser on my cheeks in circles, freeze and i look at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. he stands in the doorway, frowning down at his phone, leaning against the frame.

“no, why?” i ask. “does it bother you?”

“well, no. it was my idea.” he sighs, slipping his phone on the counter and making his way over to me, entangling his arms around my waist as i continue washing my face. “but, i don’t know. i just saw Shara’s post with Darya and i wondered if maybe it upsets you. i know girls like to be posted and admired, and i feel bad that i don’t do that.”

i finish washing the cleanser off my face, patting dry with a towel, before i twist around in his arms. placing my hands on his bare chest, i give him a soft smile.

“Neeks, i don’t need to be posted in order to feel admired. you make me feel that way every day just from your simple actions. i mean, just yesterday, you went for a run and came back with a bouquet of flowers. last week, you surprised me with a movie night and homemade pizza, when you could’ve very well spent that night sleeping early considering you were leaving the next day for a quick roadie.”

“but-” i press a finger against his lips, signaling for him to be quiet.

“i don’t need to be posted because i like our privacy. besides, the important people know. our friends, our family, they’re the only people we care about knowing, the entire world doesn’t have to know in order for our relationship to be real. if anything, i think it’s kept the romance alive because we’re living in the moment. we’re not taking our phones out to get pictures of our special moments; it’s just us enjoying our time together. i love you, and i know you love me. i don’t need us to be public in order to feel loved by you, because you make sure i’m aware of it every day.”

“ich liebe dich von ganzem Herzen.” he slots his lips between mine, soft and sweet, tasting like his mint toothpaste. we part, and i smile up at him.

“i only caught that first part, but i love you too. so much.” i step out of his grasp to walk back into his bedroom, glancing behind me to see him following me. slipping into bed, he copies me, turning his bedside light off and slinging an arm around my waist, pulling me into him so that we press against each other. my eyes fall closed, and i’m on the verge of sleep when i hear him mumble.

“ich möchte dich eines Tages heiraten.”

i’m spread across the couch at Naomi’s house this time, Ella sitting with my feet in her lap, Tara in one armchair, and Naomi in another.

Ella paints my toenails as Naomi and Tara gossip back and forth and i lay with my eyes closed, just listening.

“y/n.” i pry open my eyes to look over at Tara, humming inquisitively. “did you hear?”

“hear what?” i ask.

“your ex-friend, Gianna? her sister, Izzy, met someone at a club and he kissed her.” she tells me. my brows form a ‘v’ as i nod in understanding.

“okay?”

“turns out it was that guy you hooked up with ages ago; some wannabe z-lister.” Naomi chimes in. “remember him?”

“umm, vaguely, i think. Jake something or other. right?” i peek down at Ella, who stopped doing my toes in order to listen more intently.

“mhm!” Naomi hums before huffing out a harsh laugh. “and all the outfits were terrible.”

“like, 2003 unbearable.” Tara laughs. “did you see the photos?”

“no, i didn't, but thanks, though.” i tell her, shaking my head.

“do you wanna see them?” Naomi asks, tapping on her phone a couple times before i offering it to me.

“no, thanks.” i scrunch up my nose, shrugging.

“oh. okay…”

“i do!” Ella exclaims, swapping the nail polish in her hand for Naomi’s phone. “oh god!”

“it’s horrible! right?” Tara laughs, but i just frown, sitting up on the couch. “he’s wearing a camo thermal shirt under a polo! like dude!”

“guys, that’s mean.” i scold.

“it’s not mean, it’s the truth. if you saw the pictures, you would understand.” Ella giggles, offering me the phone once more. i push it away, shaking my head.

“i don’t care about what happens between Jake or Izzy.” i tell them. Ella shrugs, handing the phone back to Naomi and going back to painting my nails.

“you seriously don’t care?” Tara asks and i shake my head.

“not really. i’m at a good point in my life, Nico makes me really happy. i don’t care what my exes or almost exes are up to.” i admit. “i don’t mind all the other gossiping we do, i love gossip, but i really don’t care for hearing about my exes. it doesn’t affect me in any way, so why do i need to know about it? if they’re happy, then good for them.”

“who are you and what have you done with y/n?” Ella jokes, making us all giggle.

“i really love Nico. he makes me happy, which in turn, makes me content with what happened in the past. i don’t need to hear about the bad karma that’s hitting my exes, because i just don’t care about them anymore.” a soft smile spreads across my face at the thought of my boyfriend.

“i love Nico for you. this relationship is so healthy and i can tell how good he is for you.” Naomi tells me, her voice gentle and happy, a grin on her lips.

i stare down at the piece of card stock in my hands, tracing my cursive with my eyes.

‘kick ass tonight, captain!

p.s. i wanna love you forever

lovingly yours, y/n’

smiling in content, i tuck the note into one of Nico’s skates in his duffle bag for him to find later. a tradition i’ve come to look forward to, it started about two months into our relationship, when i slipped a note into the tupperware holding his pregame snack. when he got home after their win that night, he told me he looked at it during both intermissions. that was the night we said ‘i love you’ for the first time. so now before every home game, i write him a note and stick it somewhere in his things, in order for him to find it before the game, to give him a boost of confidence.

“darling, have you seen my keys?” Nico’s voice carries in from the living room, and i swipe his keys off the counter before padding to the entryway of the living room to find him digging in between the couch cushions.

“right here, love.” i smile, watching his head snap up and his sight lock on the car keys dangling from my fingers. he lets out a sigh of relief, making his way over to me.

“what would i do without you?” the question is rhetorical, but i can’t help but jokingly answer.

“walk.” i shrug. chuckling, he nabs the keys out of my hand whilst simultaneously planting a gentle kiss to my forehead.

“will you be here when i get back?” he asks, raising a hand to gingerly cup my jaw. i nuzzle deeper into his touch, nodding.

“of course.” i tell him before joking again- “i don’t have ESPN+, so i have to use yours on your tv to watch the game.”

he chuckles again, leaning down to press a quick but sweet kiss to my lips before bidding me goodbye. i wish him a good luck, watching as he leaves for his game.

“where’d it go?” i wonder aloud, scouring the bathroom countertop for my chapstick. Nico always puts it back after he borrows it, knowing it’s part of my nightly routine, but he must’ve forgotten today.

leaving the bathroom, i go back to his bedroom, scanning the top of his dresser for the lip product but coming up empty handed. i let out a deep sigh, moving on to his nightstand. not spotting it on the top, i open the drawer. but my brows furrow when i get the drawer ajar, only to find it empty other than a stack of cardstock. pulling one out, i flip it over in my hands, my eyes softening when i read the words swooped across the paper.

i pull out the stack, shuffling through them. my eyes prick with tears at the realization. my notes. i never knew what he did with them after the games, but i guess i assumed he just threw them away. but i was wrong, because they’re all here. all accounted for, dating back to the very first one. kept safe in his bedside drawer. tears slide down my cheeks, my heart pounding in my chest at the sweet gesture.

i place them all back in the drawer, swiping at my face to dry it, and giving up on my chapstick.

laid in bed, a book is gripped in my hands as i await Nico’s return after his big win. i perk up at the sound of the front door opening and shutting, placing my bookmark in and closing my book as Nico opens the bedroom door.

“hi, superstar!” i cheer, dropping my book onto the nightstand. a bashful grin spreads across his face as he drops his bag on the floor by the end of the bed. i shuffle on the bed, sitting up on my knees, facing the edge of the mattress. “two goals and an assist, and first star of the night. i’m so proud of you!”

“thank you, love.” he steps in front of me, wrapping his arms around my waist, pulling me flush against him, chest to chest. “did you see what i did after them?”

heat rises to my face as i think back to what he did after both goals. the gesture that he told me long ago meant he was dedicating those goals to me; a quick tap to his lips.

“i did. thank you, baby.” wrapping my arms around his neck, i crane my own, settling a gentle kiss onto his lips. parting, he lays his forehead on mine.

“i want to love you forever.” he tells me, making me giggle.

“using my own words on me?” i question, switching to bury my head in his neck. his hand rubs up and down my back as we hug in silence for a moment.

“i think that may have been my favorite note so far.” he admits, whispering in my ear.

“yeah?” i pull back to look at his big brown eyes, my favorite color for the past eight months. he hums an agreement.

“i’m so in love with you. sometimes, it feels like i might stop breathing.”

“you are the best thing that’s ever happened in my life.” i confess. “i love you. so much.”

“is it too early to ask you to marry me?” he questions. a joke, i assume, and i let out an airy laugh.

“maybe a little bit.” i tell him. “but how about we compromise?”

“and just how do we compromise?” he asks.

“how would you feel about me moving in with you?” a wide grins spread across his face at my words, happily nodding.

“i would love that.”

#nico hischier imagine #nico hischier #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier fic #nj devils #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl blurb

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heerinnie · 9 months ago

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Imagine having threesome with heehoon, like they both would tease you, and make you beg for their dicks. Tie you on the bed and fill your ass and cunt at the same time. Or cover your eyes with a blindfold and than fuck you one by one and ask you who is it? And when you tell them the wrong answer, they would go extra rough on you and make your body go numb and I can imagine them cursing alot while fucking you senselessly. Like "yeah, you like that slut. You like being railed by two dicks at the same time" "wrong answer whore, now get your ass up and be ready for the punishment"

RAH 🦅DONT EVEN because I love your brain rn.

Ngl i see Hoon and Hee as two different people in bed. Hoon seems like the kind of individual who would push you to your limits and make you feel inferior, 100% hard mean dom that punishes you even when you happen to laugh at a joke told by a guy other than him or Hee and then asking you if his joke really was funny or if you wanted to add a groupie to your roster. His behaviour could be seen as toxic in some situations but after fucking you dumb know he didn't mean a single word he said. Outside of the bedroom he really is an amazing and compassionate boyfie completely contrasting his wild and animalistic side in bed.

On the other hand, Hee comes across as someone who’s gentle with you, a soft dom if I do say so myself. He’d whisper gentle words of praise in your ear, cooing at you for taking him so well and for all the ways you'd let him have your body and mind. Now this might come out of nowhere but I must spread my heesub agenda. This man is such a switch, he’d be a soft dom in bed but the biggest brat known to man if you take control. And absolute menace because nothing beats the way your irritated brow twitched when he spoke back and he just lived when you took it out on him.

Now all of that mixed in with being in a poly relationship with these two? I don't know about you but I’m sold.

They would take turns using you one by one and revel in it. The hard thrusts of Hoon using you like a fleshlight, bruising your hips with his grip along with Hee whispering sweet nothings and telling you about how much of a good girl you are for taking him while sucking and playing with your tit would send you into overdrive, turning your mind into nothing but mush.

On most occasions things would happen the usual way as expected, the opposite parallels of your two boyfriends domming would never bore you so you couldn't complain much. However, there were some days when Heeseung's behaviour and demeanour would take a complete U-turn, surprising both you and Hoon, wondering where your sweet man went. He would align himself with Hoon's attitude, which was quite different from his usual self and he would adopt an entirely different attitude to how he treats you during sex. Same goes with hoon, there ware days where he sees your struggling and would take hours taking care of you whether it’d be eating you out until you couldn’t remember the issue or making love to you telling you how beautiful you’d look carrying his and seungie’s babies.

Back to sub hee, god when you three fuck but hee subs it’s like something straight out of porn. Moaning and whining as you play with his cock and balls teasing and edging him all whilst sunghoon fucks you in doggy like an animal in heat. Slurring degradation and praise towards you both. I’m convulsing.

I hope what you gathered from this is that their duality would be insane, I'm insane, i need them NOW.

#heeseung smut #heeseung drabbles #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung hard hours #sunghoon hard thoughts #sunghoon hard hours #sunghoon smut #sunghoon drabbles #enhypen smut #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung x reader #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon x reader #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #enhypen drabbles #enhypen x reader #from rinnie 💟

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wwaheoh · 6 months ago

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Henlo. 👋 I love the Unrequited Love series you wrote for Lycaon, Anby, and Zhu! If you're accepting requests and have free time, could you write a part three where the reader is confronted by someone about it (though it's not necessarily the one the reader's avoiding)? Thank you again for the wonderful pieces you've wrote for the ZZZ fandom! 💜

“Heart Meet Mind”, Zenless Zone Zero x gnReader

Ellen Joe (Von Lycaon), Qingyi (Zhu Yuan)

a/n: originally supposed to be a oneshot angst, now getting a happy(?) ending- still deciding whether to go for a bittersweet or happy ending. consider part 2 and part 4 endings depending on which one you’d prefer

Part 1.

Part 2.

You went out for another walk, thoughts of Lycaon were still buzzing around often, but time slowly began to erode at the amount of space it took. They say time heals all wounds after all. It seemed it was doing so at last, maybe you’ll move on finally, after stewing in your heartbreak at home.

It was a bit pathetic, being so hung up on another person. Lycaon, such a gentleman, such a nice guy, a guy who could bounce back from a relationship ending so quickly. Such a kiss-ass, maybe you two weren’t as close as you foolishly thought- seeing through rose-tinted glasses rather than how he actually was. How happy you saw him when he was with that other person at the Noodle Shop… How warm he looked against the lamp lighting, his clothes fitted and fur groomed. Did he look like that when the two of you hung out? Or was he eager to leave- using those emergencies at work to ditch you…

You stopped walking, now in a nearby park. The feeling of a constricted throat and stinging eyes that’s become more and more familiar since that day rising once more.

Sitting yourself down onto an empty park bench, you looked blankly out to the lake of water the park surrounded, ducks swimming lazily, leaving small ripples in the water. The sounds of their honks and nearby cicadas filling the silence of the afternoon. It’s helped a lot whenever you needed to get out and get fresh air.

“Yo.” A feminine, monotone voice spoke behind you- a yelp escaping you as you nearly fell out of your seat, not having heard the newcomer. Looking back and to the approaching girl, you noticed that she was familiar- Ellen Joe, one of the featured members of Victoria Housekeeping. Crap.

“Realized huh? I’d imagine, considering how often you hung around Lycaon.” You flinched at the name, a look of guilt passing through Ellen’s face. “Look, if it helps, I’ve never seen the man so hung up on anything in his life.”

“No… it doesn’t.” You replied nervously, inwardly cringing at how you were terrified to speak to a high school girl about your failed confession to her boss.

“Good.” She took a lollipop from her pocket, ripping the plastic off, and popping the treat into her mouth- stick sticking out of her mouth like a cigar. “Would’a been a red flag.” Speech a little different due to the treat in her mouth, yet still carried its meaning clearly.

Taking the lollipop out of her mouth, she pointed it towards you, red sphere of hard sugar facing you. “You go to the cafe- the one you met the boss at. He’ll be there. Tell him again.”

“But he’ll just say no again.” You mumbled, eyes downcast at the reminder of her confession.

“I wouldn’t bet on it."

“Huh?” You looked up quickly, nervousness painting your face.

“I said I wouldn’t bet on it. The fact that I know how much this’s been messing with him shows that he realized he made a mistake.”

“Now, go there tomorrow, he’ll be there.” Popping the treat back in, the shark-girl stood up and walked off, dropping the plastic wrapping into a nearby trash can on her way out.

Tomorrow, he’ll be there. Tomorrow, you’ll see him again.

((i actually dunno much about her so take this with a grain of salt))

Shifting the car into the parking lot, you were excited to finally get out of duty. Not that you hated being a police officer- it was a dream of yours ever since you were a kid and basically a shoe-in due to your high Ether Aptitude, but because of your partner. Not your reassigned partner- they were great, the two of you had become fast friends and while the sting of heartache still lingered, it was beginning to fade. This morning however, they had called off sick, forcing a newcomer into your car and who had been shadowing you today.

Qingyi. Now you weren’t going to say you disliked her, especially for such a petty reason of being too late to ask your crush out. Though you also weren’t going to say you liked her. It was a surprise to see her tap on your window, even bigger to know that she would be joining you today. It was a tense couple of minutes- like what do you say to the one who stole your crush’s heart? It did slowly fade by the end, making conversation and helping out around the neighborhood- but it still never left.

She probably felt it, you thought, guilty for putting your coworker through the stifling awkwardness for a reason she didn’t know of.

She did feel it and she did very much have an idea of what was going on.

So just as you pulled into the police department’s private parking lot and settled into an open space, she locked the doors and turned to you.

“Are you infatuated with Zhu Yuan?”

“Huh!?” You had nearly been about to ask her why she locked the door when she hit you with that. “Why?”

“Because. Now answer.”

“N-no…” As much as you wanted to say yes, to tell the shorter person that you had plans to confess- it wasn’t your choice anymore, it never was. Since you were-

“- not too late.” Her voice cut through your inner monologue.

“Huh.” She stared at you with an exasperated look, “I mean, just cause she’s my partner doesn’t mean you’re too late.”

“What? That exactly means I was too late!” You blurt out before slapping your hand over your mouth. Mortified at what you just exposed.

“I’ve seen the way she looks at you. If you talked to her, it’d help. She’s been pretty down since you stopped hanging out with her.”

“What?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh…”

“Tomorrow, tell her. Her shift ends at the same time as yours.”

She clicked the locks back off, opening the door and sliding out, shutting it behind her as she left. You stared at where she sat, mulling over what she said.

Tomorrow. That’s the time.

#zenless zone zero #zenless zone zero x reader #zzz x reader #zzz #von lycaon #von lycaon x reader #angst #lycaon x reader #zhu yuan #zhu yuan x reader #ellen joe #ellen joe x reader #ellen x reader #qingyi #Qingyi x reader

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comesatimecomesashadow · 3 months ago

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her *ೃ༄

pairing *ೃ༄ carl grimes x gn reader

cw *ೃ༄ teen angst, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, teen romance, semi-slow burn, fluff

fic type *ೃ༄ one shot (?) | part ii

summary *ೃ༄ in which you fall in love with the freckle-filled, blue eyed boy who wears a sheriff's hat.

note *ೃ༄ this is what i do instead of my three week old homework, enjoy !

masterlist *ೃ༄

Arriving in Alexandria was an odd thing. Here, people tried to build a ‘civilization’, as if the world outside the walls wasn’t gone to shit already. You often ventured outside the walls without anyone knowing — Anyone excluding Enid, of course — because you were afraid of becoming weak. Immersing yourself in Deanna’s delusion would do nothing for your survival, you were sure of it.

When Rick and his group were welcomed inside the walls, you noticed their rough demeanors and the rugged way in which they carried themselves. They were a contrast to the people of Alexandria and because of that, their presence alluded you, even when others were weary of them. But you stayed away. Not because you were scared of them too, but because you’d rather not get close to anyone again. Regardless of what your instincts wanted you to do.

Enid would sometimes hang out with you alone or go with Ron and the others to fill the time that you all now had. You usually just spent the days in the attic of the empty house down the street. You’d heard a lot about the blue eyed boy with the sheriff’s hat from Enid, he seemed kinda awkward to you but you didn’t fault him. It was probably strange going from having to fight walkers 24/7 to now having the time for video games; You remember feeling that way too.

You were no stranger to the crushing weight of loneliness that followed all those who survived. Sometimes, you wonder if you should’ve just let yourself be eaten. But you were afraid you’d be betraying the last thing your dad told you. ��Live! Fight and Live!’, you remembered his words vividly. You also remembered the screams that came next.

The leaves crunched under your boots as you walked towards your secret hangout.

No one, not even Enid, knew where it was. It was the place in the forest you went to whenever you felt lonely, it was a comfort to you most of the time. There in the secluded spot, you had a box with a broken lock hidden with leaves and sticks, it was full of your scavenged art supplies. Drawing was something you liked to do ever since you were a kid, it was one of the only things the apocalypse hadn’t taken from you.

As you approached your secret hideout, you noticed a familiar boy with the famous sheriff's hat sitting against the log you always sat at. You bit your lip and walked a little faster. ‘What was he doing here?’ You were a little upset at this.

“..How did you find this place?” your words were clear and loud enough so he could hear. You didn’t intend for it to come off as mean as it sounded, but then again maybe that was the best choice. You’d met different groups before coming to Alexandria and people always tended to be selfish people. Even in Alexandria, you noticed how most of the kids your age were selfish, hence why you hid your secret space even from Ron and his group. Why would this guy be any different?

He got up and met your eyes, seeming like a deer caught in headlights. He left your sketchbook on the ground. “I was just- Uh, I was walking around and found this place. Do you.. Hang around here, or..?” You could tell he was nervous and frankly, it felt awkward.

You sat on the ground next to the not-so-hidden box and grabbed the notebook he left on the ground. He opted to sit next to you. “To answer your question, yeah. I hang here by myself- most of the time at least.” You flipped to an empty page and grabbed some of your pens and markers from the chest.

The boy glanced down at your drawing, observing you. Then he began to speak again, less nervous this time. “I don’t think we’ve met before, I’m Carl.”

“...” You kept your eyes on the notebook. Should you be friendly with him? After a few moments of silence you told him your name and could see him slightly smile in the corner of your eye. “..Are you gonna stay here?”

“Do you mind it?” he asked. You shook your head. He seemed harmless for the most part, maybe he wasn’t like Ron and his friends. “Then.. Could I come here sometimes?”

“Why do you wanna?” you asked him, finally meeting his blue eyes. You noticed the freckles on his fair skin and the way his hair fell over his face was kinda funny to you. He was.. Something. Carl looked away from you, contemplating his words.

“Just cause.” He said with a small smile. You laughed a little at his words, sometimes it was hard to forget you were just kids.

“Alright then.”

The next few weeks, your routine began to change.

Normally, you’d wake up some time before the afternoon and get ready for the day. Afterwards, you’d help Olivia with the inventory and keeping track of rations. You’d go out on a run if you were asked to and if you weren't, your time was spent at your secret spot or with Enid.

However, ever since formally meeting Carl. Your secret hangout spot has become a shared secret hangout spot. He drew comic book characters on one of the notebooks in the chest at the spot, brought you art supplies when he came back from runs and even brought some of his own comic books. You noticed the way his facial expressions changed when he was immersed in his comics, the way he did that awkward side smile of his sometimes, you even caught him stealing glances at you sometimes.

But you never addressed it.

Not even when you began to find yourself disappointed when he missed a day at the spot. You had to remind yourself that he was just someone you met, it wasn’t like he belonged to you or anything. It wasn’t like you expected him to be there when you knew he had his own life too.

You told yourself then that you’d try to distance yourself.

Falling for someone, especially in the middle of a damn apocalypse, couldn’t go well. It just couldn’t. But it was hard to distance yourself when he seemed to be everywhere. Whenever you helped Olivia with keeping track of the inventory, he was there with his stupid, dorky smile and innumerous freckles. When you took a usual afternoon walk to clear your head, he waved at you and even joined you with his little sister in tow.

He was everywhere and that made it increasingly harder for you to bury your feelings away.

“What’re you drawing this time?” Carl asked. Your pencil stopped at the sound of his voice. You looked up and smiled involuntarily. For some reason, ever since you met him, you started to smile more often. Maybe he was just that easy to talk to, but you hated it sometimes.

“Walkers.” You gazed back down at your notebook that contained the scribbles and doodles of dismembered walkers and you even drew some of them with funny expressions and speech bubbles. “I know it’s twisted, considering they're the reason the world is ..shit. But I dunno,” you shrugged, wondering what he would think. Carl looked over your notebook, his hair tickling your shoulder.

Then he laughed.

“Is this one giggling? It looks funny,” A smile graced his features and a warm feeling crept into your heart at the sight of it.

“Yeah..!” You giggled and shaded in the drawing with some highlighters.

“When did you get into drawing?”

You shrugged, “I’ve always been into drawing, ever since I was a kid. I really liked comics n’ stuff, so I guess that’s what motivated me.” You found it endearing that he even asked because it meant that he was interested. You have never known what it felt like to have feelings like these, to feel so close to someone, but it was exciting. ..And scary at the same time of course.

It was then that you remembered that you’d forgotten your intentions of distancing yourself.

“Yeah? How come?” He picked up the comic book he had meant to continue reading and flipped to the page that had one of its corners dog-eared.

You put your pencil down and looked up at the sky peeking through the various green leaves blocking it. “It’s an outlet, I guess. Whenever I got lonely I’d just draw and draw till I forgot the loneliness.”

Carl lifted his gaze up to you again. “Do you still feel like that?”

You set your notebook down and hugged your knees closer to your chest before letting out a sigh. “Sometimes. Not as much nowadays though.”

“I’ve felt that way before too, actually. I thought I was the only one.” Carl admitted. He looked away when your eyes met his.

“Yeah?” You asked quietly.

He nodded his hands now flat on the ground at his sides and the comic forgotten on his lap. “I feel like it’s too normal sometimes.” Carl said. You agreed with his statement. “A lot of the people here aren’t prepared t’fight. I think that’s the scariest thing outta everything.”

“Why so?” you drew circles on the dirt.

“If someone, or something, from outside the walls wanted to take this place, they could.” Carl spoke as if it was fact. Maybe he was right. The wind whistled throughout the forest, a signal to return inside the walls now that the sun was also beginning to disappear. You put your notebook and his comic back inside the hidden box and closed it.

“We should get back, your dad’s probably wondering where you are.” You lent him a hand to help him up and he took it. His hand was a little calloused — but warm.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

He got up, but he didn’t let go of your hand.

The day the walkers came in through the walls was the day you returned to reality. You had to admit, being in Alexandria had indeed dulled your fighting skills — but it did not deter you. Plunging your knife into the skull of the walker in front of you, you headed toward the infirmary. Gunshots could be heard which only called in more from the swarm, you had to hurry.

After a sprinting to the infirmary, you met Denise and began to help treat some of the patients that had gotten hurt. Your hands were quick at cleaning wounds and wrapping bandages, you’d picked up a lot of things before coming to Alexandria and you’d made it a habit to learn from Denise as a precaution. Luckily, it was paying off.

..Until Rick brought Carl to the infirmary with a grave injury to his right eye.

Your hands came to a sudden stop and trembled and you couldn't stop staring at him in utter shock of what had been done to him. “What-..”

Denise helped Rick lay Carl down on the patient bed. “Get me the bandages, we need to stop the bleeding,” Denise ordered. Your mind went blank but you moved in a flash, handing her all the materials she needed to help him as if you were on autopilot. You didn’t ask Michonne nor Rick how it happened and you couldn’t either way since Rick decided to take his anger out on the walkers swarming outside.

Your eyes were laser-focused on the numbers reading Carl’s heart rate.

It was then that you realized just how much you cared about the freckled boy with the blue eyes, the sheriff’s hat he never took off and his stupid smile.

..It was then that you realized how far you'd fallen for Carl.

“Is he..” your voice was shaky but Denise cut you off.

“He’s going to live. He will.” Her words were spoken in a strong tone but you didn’t know if she was trying to convince herself o..r you. In the meantime, you busied yourself with the other patients, most of the people huddling up inside the infirmary had left now and were beginning to go join Rick in his fight against the walkers currently swarming the inside of the walls. You couldn’t afford to think about him living or dying when other people were on patient beds fighting for their lives too.

But it was hard to not think about him.

You could only hope he would be alright.

The day seeped into the night sky and soon enough, Rick and the other Alexandrians had succeeded in massacring all the walkers inside the walls. Now, they were focused on making sure the walls would hold up while you still were tending to the patients in the infirmary with Denise. Luckily, some of the patients were recovering from their injuries now and waking up. From what Denise told you, Carl was unconscious but he was stable- He was alive. That’s all that mattered to you.

You wanted to talk to someone, tell someone about all the feelings you were bottling up- but Enid was nowhere to be found. Neither was Ron or the other kids, and you couldn’t tell Denise because you knew how stressed she must have been. You left the infirmary and went outside to take in some air. The woman with the sword.. Michonne, you think her name was; She was outside of the infirmary as well. Carl’s dad, Rick, was there too.

“How is he?” Rick asked, you could hear the anxiousness in his voice.

You tried to give him a smile, “He’s doing better than when you brought him in, thankfully.” A few tears escaped Rick’s eyes but a small smile crept onto his lips. “..There was nothing we could do about his eye. But, ..He’ll live. You can go see him right now, he’s uhm.. He’s unconscious though.” Rick nodded and Michonne seemed relieved, but Rick was the only one who went in. Michonne stayed out on the steps with you.

You sighed and leaned against the wooden railing, your arms crossed and your heart full.

“Are you okay?” Michonne asked you genuinely.

If it were in another time, any other time, you probably would have lied. But as soon as one tear strayed from your eye, a multitude of others seemed to follow. Michonne’s expression softened and she offered a hug, embracing your shaking body racked with emotions you couldn’t name. You didn’t know if you should be relieved, or worried- or both!

“It’ll be okay, [Name].”

You took a shaky breath in, “How..- How do you know that?” You looked up at her, your vision blurry.

She wiped your tears carefully, “Because we’re the ones who live.”

The words she spoke to you that day gave you hope. Luckily for you and his family he woke up a few weeks after the whole ordeal. However, you tried to avoid him as much as you could, like you had done before you met him.

You couldn’t look at him, not because of how he looked..

..but because you knew that the next time you saw him face to face, the dam of feelings you held inside would burst open instantly.

#carl #carl grimes #carl x reader #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes x reader #twd #twd carl #carl twd #jume fics #twd carl fluff #the walking dead #the walking dead carl #carl the walking dead #fluff #angst #teen angst #teen romance

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theoriginalkaminari · 8 months ago

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Izuku Midoriya x reader with a quirk like Toge Inumaki's cursed technique!

(Do not repost or reblog pls)

So basically you posses the "Snake Eyes and Fangs" quirk! You have little black spirals on your tongue and around both sides of your mouth. Your quirk allows you to infuse your words with cursed energy to improve the spirit of your commands, forcing all who hear it to obey.

However, you choose not to speak in a conventional manner in order to protect people from your quirk. Speaking in rice ball ingredients makes it difficult to understand you, and people usually don't have the patience to learn to communicate with you. Which means you don't have friends. Sorry.

You've gotten used people giving you weird looks and side glances. All throughout your childhood, you were constantly teased or bullied. It was even hard for your parents to understand you. Most of the time they dismissed your wants and needs because it was hard for you to communicate them.

So decided to push your feelings aside and focus on becoming a hero. And the person you wanted to be like was none other than Present Mic. He used his voice to fight bad guys! And he had funny hair, so that was a plus to you. He was everything you wanted to be. Confident, loud, and accepted.

When you were around thirteen years old, you moved away from Shibuya and to Musutafu, where you began to attend Aldera Middle School. It was pretty much the same as all schools, only there were rumors of a quirkless boy attending the school.

You assumed these were rumors because you had never seen the quirkless boy. You thought he was a myth. Until one day, you saw a blonde kid standing over a green haired boy. The blonde kid seemed angry, and was shouting hurtful things at him.

This bothered you. So you lowered the scarf that covered the lower half of your mouth, and spoke a command.

"Leave."

The blonde boy had no choice, and suddenly left. The green boy looked over at you in surprise. He quickly got to his feet dusting off his uniform.

The boy had messy green hair, soft green eyes, and a few freckles on his cheeks. He wears a nervous expression as he looks at you. You simply cover the lower half of your face with your scarf, and turn to leave.

Until the boy calls back to you. "U-uhm!" He calls, stepping forward a bit. "Wait, please!" You're a bit surprised, but turn back to him, tilting your head to the side.

"Thank you." He smiles softly. "I didn't expect Kacchan to just leave like that.." the green haired boy says, looking back to the place where the blonde kid was. Was Kacchan his name? Then he looks back at you, his green eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"Was that your quirk that you used on him?" He asks, stepping closer to you. You nod, a bit confused. Why was he so eager? Weird.

"That was amazing! What is your quirk, exactly?" He beams, stepping closer. This was a bit of an awkward situation. You couldn't really answer him, but at this point, you carried a paper with you that says everything you know about your quirk on it. So you decide to give him that.

He seems a bit confused, but takes it and reads it. You can see the curiosity and wonder sparkle in his green eyes. He finishes reading and looks at you. "Your quirk is amazing!" He proceeds to ramble about how amazing it is for three minutes.

Eventually, you put up a hand to stop him, and he silences. "Sorry." He smiles nervously, scratching the back of his neck. "So...you can only speak in...rice ball ingredients?" He asks. You nod again. "Salmon." You reply. His eyes sparkle and he beams. "Does that mean yes?" He asks, and you nod again.

He suddenly pulls out a notebook and begins to write in it. You both spend at least an hour making translations for your speech.

Salmon was yes, Bonito Flakes was a negative response or just no, Kelp is used as a greeting. Mustard leaf is used to express concern. Tuna is as to say: look! And Tuna Mayo is used to say to do something.

Ever since that day, you and Izuku Midoriya have been bestfriends. You often defended him from this..'Kacchan' character. And he brought you over at his home a few times. His mother, Inko, did her best to try and communicate with you, and she treated you like her own kid.

Izuku eventually developed feelings for you. Everything about you made him happy, and he found himself wanting to be near you at all times.

So, he gathered up the courage to tell you his feelings. He waited until you both had a moment alone, and took his shot. He quickly confessed, rambling nervously about how much he cared and loved you, and wanted to become heros with you.

To silence his ramble, you leaned forward, pulling your scarf down, and connected you lips with his in a sweet and gentle kiss.

Izuku felt his face heat up quickly. It took him a few seconds to realize what was happening, but then slowly leaned into the kiss. He cupped your cheeks with his hands and your hands rested on his shoulders.

The kiss lasted for a few seconds, beforw you both pulled away slowly. Izuku smiles softly. "I'm in love with you..." He says in a soft voice, as if he didn't say it enough. You chuckle softly and look him in the eyes. The two of you kiss for a bit longer.

Izuku's favorite part of yoir relationship together is how you enjoy listening to him ramble. Izuku enjoys holding hands, and when you press gentle kisses to his scars or freckles. Izuku likes to kiss the black spirals on your cheeks, and sometimes when you guys makeout, he does his best to trace the outline of the black spiral on your tongue.

Izuku has definitely become happier and more confident since the two of you started dating. After all, you mean everything to him.

Until one day, his whole world fell apart.

The League of Villains found put you were important to Izuku, and took you away from him. They tore your vocal cords out. Then burnt your body. And sent it to U.A as a threat.

Izuku never felt so sad and alone.

You ment everything to him. He loved you.

Why did you have to die?

So he took Bakugou's old advice, and took a swan dive off the building, wanting nothing more but to reunite with you.

To his disappointment, his friends saved him.

Izuku kept the scarf you used to wear on him at all times. It still smelled like you. And it was the only thing he had left of you.

Izuku could never forget you. Never.

And he got his revenge. Dabi was the one who burnt you, so his head now stands on a spike as a warning to the rest of the villains.

Izuku loved you. And he shows his love by killing every villain that crosses his path without a single thought.

He was eventually expelled from U.A for his actions, and he became a villain himself. He became the very thing he swore to destroy.

And he didn't regret a thing.

#izuku midoriya x male reader #izuku x reader #deku x male reader #deku x reader #Deku x female reader #mha izuku #izuku midoriya x reader #Villain deku #Izuku Midoriya x female reader #Villain deku x reader

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felibrary · 10 months ago

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LOVE IS AN OPEN DOOR - chuuya nakahara

synopsis: if you wouldn't know any better you'd think that chuuya nakahara doesn't take a liking to you - he loathes you. but what if one day you make a shocking discovery that it might be the opposite.

pairing: chuuya nakahara x gn!reader | wordcount: 1.2k | content & warnings: im at the first ep of s4, so if chuuya mischaracterized no need to wonder…, school au-ish kind of??, cursing (fuck), dazai teases chuuya for his crush, chuuyas kinda not rly good with his feelings and expressing himself, drinking (chuuya offering to go out and drink), dazai plays cupid/matchmaker

a/n: when i wrote this i didn't have 15 yo dazai or chuuya in mind (cause of the school au yk) just as them idk but interpret it however you like - high school or college wtv, im so obsessed with chuuya rn y'all don't even know, hope u guys enjoy this little thing i've whipped up in an hour

you're convinced that chuuya nakahara hates you.

that's one thing you're sure of. after all, he avoids you like the plague; however when the two of you do get in touch with one another, he starts cursing you out, calling you names such as “dumbass" and abruptly leaves.

yeah, you're pretty sure that that guy dislikes - if not despises you. although until now you've hadn’t had the slightest idea why. well, that was the case up until now.

some days have passed since you started noticing it. every time you hung out with dazai and started laughing a bit too loudly at his jokes or lightly slapped his shoulder, chuuya gave you a death stare - if you wouldnt know any better he looked like he’d grab your throat any minute to shut you up.

admittedly (and also embarrassedly) you never really noticed it until dazai has pointed it out. which, on one hand, explains the weird feeling you’ve recently gotten - it felt like someone was shooting daggers at the back of your head, luckily for you, that’s solved now.

but on the other hand, you still demand an explanation why chuuya would do that. is it simply because of his (one-sided) hatred towards you, that can’t be the case right? or did he have a huge crush on dazai, that’s the most realistic explanation that you can think of.

once school ended and the bell had just rung to release everyone from their classes and go back home. you’d usually scurry home right away, because there was no point in staying longer, after all who’d want to endure this hell house also known as school more than necessary, it's no use right?

well jokes on you, staying over time was definitely worth it. kunikida assigned you the task (forced) to carry a huge stack of boxes full of documents and paper to your homeroom teacher's room, because it was the “right” thing to do - well at least according to his ideals.

“but what about dazai? that idiot just ran off and is probably slacking off right now!” you protested, because it's not fair when everyone has a task to complete and someone else just gets to relax, right?

at your complaint the blond could only scoff “i’ll scold him later, but for now let's just concentrate on the task in front of us, time is running out.”

that’s how you ended up here, back pressed against the heavy classroom door that separated you and the two guys that were inside the room as you tried to listen in into their conversation.

initially your plan was to find dazai, drag him by the collar of his white button up and beat his ass for skipping and leaving you alone with a ton of boxes that not only cost you ten minutes to carry around or so.

because neither kunikida or anyone else didn’t bother to tell you that there were three, fucking three, of those staples of boxes that were filled with countless papers.

however, it came to a change of plans upon hearing chuuyas’ voice. usually, any sound that was made inside of the classrooms was drowned out and barely audible to hear outside the room.

this time, that didn’t seem to be the case though. chuuyas’ screaming and dazais' hysterical laughter were faint but loud enough to hear from outside the room.

“come on chuuya, there's no need denying it, you have a massive crush on them.” dazais’ voice was laced with amusement as he started laughing out loud which seemed to piss the redhead off.

you were able to hear a small huff that escaped dazais mouth. “chuuya, there’s really no need to start getting all violent, just admit that you’re absolutely whipped for them!” the brunette chuckled. “so stop kicking me in the balls!” that probably earned him another kick as you could hear dazai letting out a small “ouch.”

“shut up, shitty dazai.” the guy in question only snickered at that. “yeah, yeah. everyone’s able to tell that you’re madly in love with them. every time you’re around them you start to get beet red, the color even exceeds the one of your hair! a hilarious sight to look at, really.”

you didn’t hear a response from chuuya and apparently neither did dazai so he just continued his rant. “also, let me tell you one thing, you’re not making it any better by cussing them out or intently staring at them, that’s just scary, man!” dazai closes his eyes and starts shaking his head before tutting in disappointment.

“oh chuuya. the brunette sighs, eyes still closed. “letting a beauty like them slip away this easily by not showing any proper interest. you’re to be pitied, really.” the male moves away from his previous position and bolts over to the door, crossing his arms as his back leans against the door.

an exasperated sigh leaves chuuyas mouth. “what do you expect me to do then? they probably have a horrible impression of me already. if i pull up with a bouquet of roses and some cliché pick up lines, they’d probably stare at me in horror, wondering if i got possessed or something.” he sneers at dazai.

just who in the world are they talking about?

dazai pretends to think for a moment before snapping his fingers. “well for starters, how about greeting them, doesn’t even have to be verbal, just some waving or nodding. then start hanging out with them!”

“idiot! how's that supposed to work from just greeting each other!” the ginger scowls at dazai.

“hold your horses.” the brunette whistles. “i didn't say to rendez-vous and have a candle-light dinner. how about accepting those group invites first that you keep declining. then you’d have the chance to meet up with them more often and get to know them.”

dazai continues to advise chuuya by giving him tips and recommendations “try bonding over stuff with each other, like favorite shows or food. and if you’re not incapable of doing so, how about complimenting them. wouldn't hurt you know?” dazai shrugs in simplicity.

chuuyas still skeptical “assumingly that was the case. the two of us attending the same party, they’re alone and i finally get the chance to approach them, what the fuck am i supposed to say?” dazai only smiles at chuuya, a look that says “that’s up to you.”

“why not use me as your lab rat!” dazai suggests optimistically.

“no way in hell!” chuuya shoots back pessimistically.

after pondering and musing for a while, chuuya comes up with a curt sentence. “i find you really good looking and cool.” the redhead stops and both you and dazai await his continuation in anticipation. “wanna go out and grab drinks sometimes?” chuuya doesn’t look up from the floor which he’s been staring at for the past minute. the tips of his ears tinted in a vermillion red.

“well, that wasn't so hard was it?” dazai asks cheerily, clapping his hands together. “if you still have doubts, how about you try it on the real thing now?” and before you can realize what's going on dazai swiftly steps away from the door before grabbing the door handle and opens the door, revealing your figure to the two guys.

you’re not sure who's more taken aback, you or chuuya.

e/n: as y’all can tell the title is inspired by frozen's love is an open door cause y’know dazai opens the door for chuuya to confess his feelings. does this make sense lol??

#felis staple of books ⋆·˚ ༘ *#bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs fluff #bsd x reader #bsd fluff #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya nakahara x you #chuuya nakahara fluff #chuuya x reader #chuuya x you #chuuya fluff #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bsd x gender neutral reader #chuuya x y/n #chuuya x gn reader #bungo stray dogs x you #chuuya bsd #bsd chuuya

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misseviehyde · 4 months ago

Text

SHADOWS

My ex-boyfriend James is sooooo fucking weak and pathetic. I hate and despise him with every part of my soul. He is everything that is wrong with men these days. Indecisive, overly sensitive, small and pathetic. What a fucking loser.

His twin brother Jason by comparison is a God. He is the man I now desire. Once I despised and hated Jason, but now he is everything I seek in a man. Tall, strong, rich, dominant... he makes me so fucking wet. My new boyfriend is a total Alpha. The longer I stay around him the more feminine I feel. I love what he does to me.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me explain how this all started...

Once I was the nerdiest girl at school. It seems insane to say it now, given how popular I am, but there was a time when I couldn't name six fashion designers or contour my makeup or suck off three boys at once in the cheerleaders locker room. I was a fucking loser.

Terrible skin, flat chested, nerdy glasses and goofy teeth. No. I was once plain little Melanie. I even had ginger hair. No wonder everyone bullied me. Popular rich bitch Madison didn't even exist. I was a fucking nobody.

My life consisted of science fairs, anime and role-playing games. Not the fun role playing games where you dress as a sexy school girl and get railed by a hot guy... no... the loser ones where you pretend to be an elf.

To my shame I was even into LARPIng. Live action role play. Each Friday night, me, James, Jason and our other buddies would go into the local woods to play.

We would run around the woods pretending to be on adventures. Fuckkkk it was so pathetic, I feel a major ick just thinking about it.

Jason wasn't the God he would later become at this point. He and James basically looked the same. I don't know why I had chosen James as my boyfriend. I guess he was slightly more confident and had asked me out first. He and Jason basically looked and acted the same though. Many people couldn't even tell them apart. Even me sometimes.

Then Jason found the shadow and everything changed.

As part of our role playing experience we sometimes brought props along and Jason had found this creepy looking glass bottle in a charity shop. It was opaque and stoppered with a wax cork. Perhaps it held a liquid of some kind? Sometimes it looked like there was something dark swirling inside, but it was kind of hard to tell.

We needed a prop to represent an evil demon that was trapped in a bottle so Jason had brought out the bottle.

As usual the group had split up. It was dark now and I was on my own. I had on my favourite druid costume (ughhh so fucking fugly) and I was creeping through the woods under the moonlight.

Suddenly I saw Jason through a gap in the trees. He was on his own too and carrying the bottle. I headed towards him, he hadn't seen me... in fact he wasn't really paying proper attention to his surroundings, which is maybe why he suddenly tripped over a tree root.

The bottle span from his hands and smashed against the ground with a musical tinkle.

I had a perfect view of everything. Jason was lit by the moonlight, his scrawny body shivering and his eyes wide with fear as a rolling mass of black shadows erupted from the smashed bottle and flowed towards him.

I wanted to scream but my voice had left me and I could only put my hands to my mouth like a parody of some dumb anime girl as the shadows flowed into Jason. Black smoke forced its way down his throat, into his nose. It wrapped and enveloped him, melting and merging into his body.

Then it was gone.

But the scene was not over.

Jason let out a cry, or maybe it was a moan. I watched in horrified fascination (and now I'm happy to admit a little bit or arousal) as I watched him change. Jason... my God... was being born.

Muscles rippled and swelled under his skin, causing his shirt to rip and his fantasy style breeches to bulge. He tore his top off to reveal a rippling six back and toned muscles as his skin flowed like wax and he changed and transformed. He grew taller and bigger, more handsome too as his face became more masculine and his hair cut more stylish.

Grunting and grinning Jason ripped off his pathetic role playing costume and stretched confidently. He was entirely naked now and I gasped in arousal as I saw his magnificent ass and his perfect cock. As I watched it was growing. Ten inches of thick white meat now hung between his huge thighs and I almost salivated as I beheld his perfect manly body.

Jason confidently stretched his body, clearly enjoying how it felt. He grinned perfect white teeth and his eyes, once mild and nerdy shone with ambition and dark desire. He clicked his fingers and there was a wisp of smoke as a stylish black shirt and designer jeans encased his new perfect body. He now looked like a male super model and he strode off through the woods chuckling, leaving me breathing heavily and wondering if I was losing my mind.

***

I ran through the woods. Back then I was ungainly and lacking athletic ability. Whereas now I hit the gym daily and can bend into nearly any position (especially when fucking) I was a fucking loser, so I made quite the noise as I crashed through the trees.

James and the others soon found me and I garbled what I'd seen, but they all thought I was still role playing.

"Babe, it's a cool story, but one detail that doesn't work. My stuck up bullying brother doesn't play with us. He thinks we're losers."

I gawped at James. I thought he was joking at first, but as we spoke it became clear he was serious. The shadow had changed Jason, but it also seemed to have changed everyone's memories of him.

I had no idea why I hadn't been affected. perhaps because I had witnessed his transformation directly or something.

James and the others couldn't understand why I was so upset and worried. The shadow had looked evil and I was worried my boyfriends brother was now under the control of something wicked. I decided I'd have to confront Jason directly and see if I could aid him, so I told the others I felt sick and left to go immediately to James and Jason's house.

James started after me, but I quickly lost him in the woods. I didn't want him to see what had happened to his brother. I was sure I could find a way to save Jason.

Haha, what a fucking idealistic moron I used to be.

***

I arrived at Jason's to find the house had changed. There was now a pickup parked at the front and the house was larger and clearly more expensive. Entering the house I found it was better decorated and I nearly had a heart attack as I entered the kitchen to find Jame's Mom and Dad.

Michael, the Dad was now a handsome looking business man wearing an expensive suit. Linda, James Mom had transformed from a homesy kind Mom into a haughty and beautiful MILF. She looked stunning!

Neither of them paid me much attention, they clearly recognised me as James girlfriend. The sneer and look of disgust Linda gave me left me cold. I can't blame her. Linda is now a major icon to me and we are the BEST of friends. She loves me like a daughter and I've learned so much about manipulating and using men from her. But back then I was a dork dating her loser son James.

But that was soon about to change.

I found Jason in a room I'd never seen before. A personal gym.

He was stripped to the waist, his muscles rippling as he pumped iron. He turned and grinned at me as I entered.

"Well well well. My brothers dork girlfriend? What the hell do you want Melanie?"

"I saw everything Jason. I saw that weird shadow enter you. We have to get it out of you. What have you done to your Mom and Dad? This isn't right."

Jason grinned. "Ahhhh. So you saw it? So you remember the old me? Haha you have no idea Melanie. No idea how good this feels. The shadow within me hungers for power and pleasure. It serves no other purpose but to give me what I want. It can change things, people too. Anything that falls under my shadow can be twisted to serve my whim. I am a fucking God now."

I watched nervously as black shadows seemed to spread around Jason as he spoke. The air rippled with potential and a cold numb feeling spread through my body and my soul. Jason grinned as the light seemed to be sucked out of the room and I was drowning in darkness.

"You could be so much more Melanie. You're such a fucking dork, just like my pathetic brother. I always wanted you to be MY girlfriend and now I have this power you can join me. I won't force you, I want you to join me willingly. A taste of this power and I think you'll want more."

I gasped falling to my knees as the shadows surrounded me. All the warmth and kindness and love inside me was suddenly numbed. It was like the shadow was feeding on my positive emotions... perhaps it was.

The dark shadows enveloped and wrapped my nerdy body. Tempting whispers invaded my mind and I felt Jason's presence beating down on me and willing me to give in. The shadow wanted to change and corrupt me, but it would only do so if I wanted it to. Jason hadn't lied.

I don't know if you've ever been offered something so fucking delicious and perfect that even if it came at the cost of your soul you'd jump at the chance... but when that moment finally arrives, it's pretty hard not to succumb.

I'd seen what the shadow had done to Jason. It had turned him into the perfect example of masculine perfection. It could probably do the same for me, but make me the ultimate girl. All I had to do was let it in and surrender to the darkness.

I'd seen girls in magazines, on TV, on teenage drama programs. I'd always wondered how it would feel to be a Queen Bee... a head cheerleader type. What must it be like to be so pretty you can get whatever you want? How would it feel to be a bitch?

"Yes... change me," I groaned. "But only a little... I just want to be a little prettier."

I gasped as my body suddenly ached and I felt the shadows begin to change me. I ripped my dorky glasses off and felt my brace snap as I spat out the metal to leave perfect white teeth. My red hair turned a sexy black and my pale spotty skin tanned as my body toned.

It felt so fucking good.

"Don't you want more Melanie? Don't you want to become a real fucking bitch? If it feels this good to go a little of the way, why not let the shadows take you all the way?"

Jason had a point. The more I transformed the more I wanted to transform. As I felt myself become more popular and beautiful, the further I found I wanted to go.

"Yessss mmmmore," I gasped feeling the shadows pour down my throat and into my body. I could feel Jason in my mind now, his fingers manipulating my pleasure receptors and his thoughts becoming my own.

"That's right Melanie. You don't want to be a dweeb anymore. You want to go all the way. You want to be a fucking bitch. Say it."

I shuddered as delicious throbs of pleasure pulsed through my body. "I... mmmmmh, ohhh yes, I want to be a bitch."

"That's right Melanie. Let's picture a girl. Let's call her Madison. She's everything you want to be isn't she? Thin, pretty, bratty and spoiled. She's the kind of girl that has a new outfit every day, that all the other girls bow down to. I want you imagine how hot she looks. Nice tits, a toned body, ultra-feminine body language. So different to the dork you are. Are you picturing her?"

I was picturing her. I was thinking of every mean bad girl and bitch I had ever know in real life or in the movies. I was picturing Madison and boy was she fucking hot.

"Now say it. Say you want to be Madison. You want to be the bullying popular Alpha girl."

My pussy was wet, my already partially transformed body felt so good. I needed more... I needed the shadows to corrupt me completely.

"Yessss I want to be Madison."

I screamed and orgasmed as I said it, feeling the shadows flowing into me and destroying Melanie forever. All the kind gentle nice parts of me were consumed and the shadows pumped me full of evil, mean bratty thoughts.

Melanie died in that instant and I... Madison... took control.

Long bitchy nails shot out from my fingers. My face became meaner and even prettier, soft pouty lips curving into a bratty grin. My clothing became designer, my handbag expensive and my personality became that of a spoiled rich bitch.

Reality rippled and changed. Only Jason and I would remember the old me. It was as if Melanie had never existed and only I had been born.

The shadows withdrew, but they left their mark. I was a fucking evil bitch now, devoid of mercy. I only cared about myself... oh and Jason of course.

"How do you feel baby?" he grinned, towering over me in his Adonis body.

"I feel amazing baby," I grinned. "In fact I want to thank you for being the best boyfriend ever."

I giggled and sank eagerly to my knees. My long nails looked so hawt as I unzipped Jason's fly and his huge ten inch dick flopped out.

Moaning I began to pump and suck his cock. This was who and what I worshipped now. Jason had taken me from that loser James.

"Yesssss, good girl," grunted Jason as he put his hands gently on my head and pushed me deeper onto his cock. "You're my slutty bitch now and I have everything I ever wanted."

I just gagged and gargled happily, I fucking loved my man's big cock.

I couldn't wait for him to cum. I needed to taste it...

***

And so that is how I ascended from being a fucking pathetic loser into a Goddess myself. Jason is the Master of the Shadow and so long as he holds that power I am his willing accomplice.

Soon after the transformation James came home. He no longer remembered I had ever been his girl, but that didn't stop me and Jason fucking loudly next door and laughing about the little simp jerking off in his room next door.

I felt so evil and perfect. Being Madison was like a perpetual state of orgasm. The meaner and nastier I was, the better it all felt.

Sometimes I wondered what would have happened if James had smashed that bottle instead of Jason? Perhaps he would be the Alpha stud with the delicious bitchy girlfriend.

But it was just idle speculation. The shadows answered to Jason...

And I answered only to the shadows now.

THE END

#evie hyde #bitchification #f2f transformation #corruption #evil bitch #m2m transformation #shadows #betrayal #mean #bratty

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skulla-rxcks · 4 months ago

Text

Gaping guns

Paring: ot8 x afab reader

Rating: explicit

Genre: smut

Warnings: gun fucking, face fucking, PIV, unprotected, group s3x

Day 12 of ktober - You wake up in a random house and agree to have sex with a group of men, not knowing that it would be the most pleasurable experience of your entire life.

Taglist: @f3lix00 @channiesgoodgirl @mal-lunar-28 @bangchans-gf5 @fun-fanfics @iwannabangchan @linosluver

Please dm me or use my inbox if you’d like to be added to the taglist ^^

THIS IS PURE FICTION, NOTHING IN THIS IS REAL ITS JUST A STORY!

I’m walking back my car after doing my weekly grocery shopping, all the heavy bags I’m carrying hurting my arms, they’re definitely going to leave marks. As I continue walking I can’t help but wonder why I parked so far away, yeah sure the parking lot was full but could I at least have found a spot closer? my feet move along the concrete dragging myself along. Suddenly I feel someone or something grab me from behind. I fall onto the concrete behind me and hit my head, completely blacking out.

I wake up on a rich velvet covered house in what seems like a fancy dining room, I rub my eyes and sit up, looking around. there’s eight men sitting around the room I’m in, are they the ones who brought me here? I wonder. “you’re awake. finally.” one of them says in a deep Australian accent; his hairs blonde with a strong but petite build. “what happened..?

where am I? who are you guys?” I ask him, my eyes scanning the other men in the room as I wait for an answer.

“don’t worry about that now,” another man replies to me, he also has a similar accent to the guy who woke me up, but a bit more buffness in this build, his biceps popping out of his tank top.

“we’ll take you home if you let us fuck you, yeah?” fuck me? hopefully not all eight of them,, right? “would you let us use you, bunny?” one of the eight says. “I.. okay. but what are your names so I know what to.. scream?” I ask, crossing my legs as I sink into the couch. “Chan, Felix, Han, Seungmin, Jeongin call him I.n if easier, Hyunjin and Minho, oh and I’m Changbin.” the one who called me bunny says, Changbin. “okay.. I’ll try remembering all of your names.” I respond. “good girl.. take off your clothes for us.” Chan says with his thick accent, walking behind me and putting a gun to my head, threatening to pull the trigger if I don’t. the gun intimidating me enough to make me strip right then and there. “undergarments too.” Han giggles, walking up to me with a knife, cutting my underwear and bra off with a quick swipe before pulling the ripped material from my body.

“legs open. princess.” He adds, his strong hands forcefully pulling my thighs open to reveal my already wet pinkish cunt.

Chan kneels down infront of me, licking a stripe down my soaked folds. “what are you.. nngh..” I moan out, the sensation of being touched by his tongue making me whimper already. “I’m tasting you baby girl.” He chuckles, spreading my folds open and thrusting 2 fingers inside of me, curling them up and finding my g spot almost immediately.

“Fuck!” I gasp. “We’ll do that soon enough baby.” He replies, making a joke out of my moans.

“Who wants her first? And which hole?” He asks the rest of the boys; Changbin says he wants my ass, Felix says my pussy and Jeongin says my mouth. I thought they’d all use me separately but I was wrong as I see the three men walk towards me while taking their pants and boxers off as well as their shirts. All of them seem to have amazing bodies, abs, muscles and perfectly fit, you can tell they work out quite a bit.

Chan moves away and stands behind me again, watching as the three boys position themselves at the entrance of my holes. I moan in a mixture of pleasure and pain as all of their dicks impale me at once; Changbin’s making me whimper the most,

I’ve never had anything in my ass before so it feels like he’s ripping me open. “Fuckk..~” I cry, my words muffled from Jeongin’s cock in my mouth, I hear him gasp as my words send vibrations throughout his length. Felix starts moving inside of my pussy, his cock rubbing slightly against Changbin’s through the small barrier of skin. “Dick… so much… mmgh!” My eyes roll back as all three of them start penetrating my holes, my entire body shuddering at the sensation.

The rest of the boys are watching, staring at the scene with lust filled eyes stroking their own dicks as they watch my body get absolutely destroyed.

Chan leans over and takes out his gun again, rubbing it against my clit, adding to the pleasure these strange men are giving me. Minho comes over, tired off waiting he rubs himself against my breasts, beginning to leak all over my chest, his groans adding to the noise we all are making as he rubs his dick against the soft skin repeatedly.

“I’m gonna fucking cum!” Felix blurts out “can I fill you up?” He asks, I shake my head in response. No. What If I get pregnant? As much as I’d love my womb being filled up with Felix’s seed I sadly have to say no. He ends up pulling out and cumming all over my stomach, leaving my pussy gaping while Jeongin and Changbin are still going at my mouth and ass.

Hyunjin begins to walk over, taking Felix’s place and beginning to penetrate my pussy, thrusting way harder than Felix did, making the sound of skin against skin echo in the room. Jeongin fills up my mouth with his warm salty semen, not pulling out until I swallow it all; Seungmin pushing him aside and using my mouth now.

“So pretty..” Chan giggles, slapping his cock against my face as he watches me get violated by his friends, watching and paying attention to every thrust filling up my holes, and every groan and moan that we all are making, as well as the noises of Changbin’s and Hyunjin’s balls slapping against me. “Stay still..” Changbin Groans, wrapping his hand around my neck as he fills up my asshole with his thick seed, the feeling of his cum in my ass making me feel all warm inside. in the meantime Minho stops rubbing against my breasts and takes my ass instead now, thrusting harder and harder until he releases his load inside of me, Hyunjin follows after and then not soon after Seungmin does too.

Everyone’s Either filled me up or their cums stained on my skin, just as I thought we were done Chan pushes the boys away and commands for them to sit down - as if he’s their leader or something. “I’m not done with you yet.” He says, standing in front of me, kneeling down before shoving his gun into my vagina thrusting it in and out of me. “C..chan..? That’s a gun not a.. a dildo..” I tell him, earning a chuckle from him in response. “I know that, but I’m going to use it as one.” He shoves it in me deeper and deeper making me squirm until I cum all over the gun, hopefully not ruining it.

“Bend over the couch, get into doggy. He demands, I do as he says, bending myself over the arm of the chair, arching my back as my ass sticks out for him. “Good girl” he smirks before pushing into my vagina, thrusting himself in and out of me at a rapid pace. Using one of his hands to squeeze and play with my ass, while using the other one to slowly finger my ass before bringing up the speed to match it with the pace of his thrusting. I moan in pleasure, tears forming in my eyes as he uses me; fucking me harder and faster than any of the guys did. It could just be that he’s extremely fucking horny or that his dicks bigger than the others. Either way, I don’t care. “Chan..!” I cry, tears running down my face, wetting my cheeks with a hint of a glistening sparkle from my makeup as my mascara and eye shadow runs down my cheeks with them.

“You feel so fucking good. I’m going to cum inside this little tight cunt.” He says, growling into my ear.

“No.. I’ll get pregnant!” I call out. “So? I’ll get you plan b pills after this. Just need this right now, need to cum inside this slutty cunt of yours it’s the only part of you that hasn’t been filled up yet.” Chan groans, pushing his cock deeper into my pussy. “A-ah. But.. b-b-but..” I try to reason with him but I can’t he’s too deep inside me for me to complain about it, I look over at the rest of the guys who are now pleasuring each other; sucking and jerking each other. Some of them even kissing. But I can’t seem to focus on that now, all I can take in and focus on his dick penetrating my pussy, Chan’s dick to be exact.

“God you’re so cute.. can’t even talk! Fuck I’m gonna.. I’m gonna fill you up with my seed, take it, take it all you slutty bitch!” He screams out as he releases himself inside my cunt. When he pulls out I moan, feeling empty again.

“Gonna go get the pills now.. if you’re still horny maybe have another round with the boys..” Chan chuckles as he walks out the door to get the contraceptives. I nod and walk over to the rest of the boys, wanting to. No. Needing to be fucked one last time.

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hyuneskkami · 9 months ago

Note

hi hi hi can i please get a percy jackson x daughter of aphrodite reader?? basically she’s all about the love part of Aphrodite and she’s talking about it constantly and he’s her friend and kinda realises like oh wait i’m in love w her

does that make sense?? also can i get a moodboard w it?? <33

thank you and ily!

masterlist

💌┊₊˚⊹꒷ BROOKLYN BABY .ᐟ

⤷ percy jackson x daughter of aphrodite!reader ‧₊˚ ⋅

ᝰ. 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 . . . percy jackson and the heroes of olympus

ᝰ. 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬 . . . y/n constantly yaps about the idea of love to her best friend, percy, and he realises he has feelings for her. (annie’s y/n’s close friend too! i’m too nice to make her an angry b </3) also!! y/n has brown eyes solely bc brown eyes are pretty asf and not talked about enough <3 + ft. best friends to lovers, minor gods dissing (like one time), y/n reading the cruel prince (not directly mentioned), percy having an ‘uh oh, i’m in love’ moment, and a book bouquet. p.s. moodboard at the end!

ᝰ. 𝐤𝐞𝐲 . . . y/n: your name | y/l/n: your last name | n/n: nickname

ᝰ. 𝐰𝐜 . . . 1.4k

ᝰ. 𝐚/𝐧 . . . hdkwjdkw 1/8 asks complete lmao. this req was so cute!! I love reading the ‘moment of realisation’ dialogues in books, but it was especially fun to write it for the first time. it was a little weird to write only bc i’m a cabin 3 kid irl but it’s okay 😭 for the sake of a fluffy fic, I powered through, guys <3

2 years ago . . .

✮⋆˙ y/n’s pov

“some kid killed a minotaur!” a hermes cabin demigod yelled from near the dining pavilion. glancing up from our glasses of soda, annabeth and I turned towards the voice. “he’s a new one!”

we looked at each other, wondering which god couldn’t keep it in their pants again.

suddenly, a few apollo kids ran out from the infirmary towards the arch near thalia’s tree.

“the new kid’s probably clumsy,” annabeth said.

“he killed a minotaur,” I shot back.

“hey, you can be dumb and strong at the same time.”

“uh huh. whose child do you think he is? I bet it’s one of the big three.” I said.

“no way, they have a pact, remember-”

“do you really think they actually follow that, annie?” I snickered at her.

in a while, an unconscious boy about their age was carried into the infirmary. I only caught sight of his black hair, and dishevelled and bloody look. I decided to visit him the next day to check up on his condition.

the rest of the day was spent reading in my cabin, while my sisters tried new makeup products on our brother, which was quite funny, really.

throughout the next week, I left the warmth of my bed to visit the new kid—percy jackson—in the infirmary. he had begun to regain consciousness.

“who are you?” he asked, sharply inhaling a breath.

“oh, hey,” I smiled at him. “i’m y/n y/l/n. daughter of aphrodite.”

“right. daughter of aphrodite. a goddess,” he repeated slowly.

I realised that no one had explained about camp half-blood to him yet, and took that job upon myself after calling out for will and letting him know that his patient was awake.

“so, there’s gods and goddesses. and monsters. and everything in the greek myths you were taught? they’re all real. at camp half-blood, we’re all demigods—the children of a god or goddess and a mortal.” I continued to explain to him how the demigod world worked, remembering to talk about the mist, the gods, the cabins, and everything else.

I expected him to not believe me, and call me names (like the other new campers) for lying, but he took it like a champ. he nodded at me, sitting up properly, and asked for something so his arm would stop paining. I immediately got will to help him.

the next week, when I was out by the beach, reading my romance novel about a mortal girl and a faerie prince falling in love after being enemies, I heard sand shifting around behind me.

“who-” I turned around.

“hey, y/n, right?” percy asked, walking closer.

“ah, you remember,” I said, a smile growing on my face.

“well, yeah. you’re really just the only person who has spoken to me normally… and not like I was some intimidating and scary… thing,” he said, running his hands through his already dishevelled hair.

“come, sit down.” I patted the sand beside me. he took his place there, sitting down with his legs criss-crossed.

“what are you reading?” he asked.

I explained to him the plot, setting, characters, and everything about the book I was reading for the next few hours.

we sat there till dusk, watching the sun set into pretty hues of pink, purple, and orange.

“it’s so pretty, isn’t it?” I asked.

✮⋆˙ percy’s pov

“yeah, it is.” I replied to her, eyes fixed on her side profile.

wow. she’s so beautiful.

timeskip: present

“perce!” y/n called loudly, running towards me.

“heyyyy! n/n, you’re back! how was the quest? did you get hurt or anything?” I asked, hugging her, and then moving back to scan her for injuries.

“i’m fine, perce, all good. I got will to check me out and he cleared me,” she said, grinning. her face was swiped with dirt and grime, but she still looked like she was an ethereal princess who walked out of one of her books. “what? have I got a lot of dirt on my face?”

“nah, you’re cool. ‘s pretty.” I said, and she laughed—my favourite sound in the entire world. “and anyway, you need to change out of these clothes and meet me outside your cabin. I have something for you.”

“what is it?”

“that’s a surprise-”

“I hate surprises.”

“you’ll like this one,” I winked at her, as she laughed again.

timeskip

✮⋆˙ y/n’s pov

I changed into casual loose sweatpants and a shirt since it was summer.

ah, summer. one of most romantic seasons ever. the breeze whipping around a girl’s hair, as a boy runs towards her with flowers. the sunlight falling onto their faces as they share a kiss. watching the sun set in pretty shades everyday with each other. that was summer.

everything about it reminded me of percy. watching sunsets, seeing the sunlight fall on his face after he gets out of the water. the flowers, now dry, that he gifted me for every special occasion.

it was hard to admit that I liked him more than I would like any friend. i’d never picked up any hints from him, that might’ve signalled that he liked me, no matter how many of my siblings told me he did.

all friends hold hands, right? and all good friends wish each other a good morning and good night everyday. what was so special? the flowers?

“hey, n/n!” percy’s voice dragged me out of my thoughts. he was dressed in loose shorts and a hawaii button up, and my gods, he looked so gorgeous.

“perce! at least tell me where we’re going now,” I groaned.

“nuh-uh. a surprise is a surprise.” he brought out a blindfold and handed it to me. I raised my eyebrow at him. “put it on. i’ll take you there.”

“I swear to gods, if this turns out to be a prank-”

“shh, it won’t. now put it on,” he promised.

I walked closer to him and put on the blindfold, and he turned me around a few times to make sure I wouldn’t figure out where we’re going. I scoffed at his childish actions.

as he was standing behind me, I felt his warmth on my back. he took my arms at my side and urged me to walk ahead.

he manoeuvred me in different directions and finally stopped after a while.

“you ready, princess?” he asked. the nickname did something to cause butterflies in my stomach.

“yeah,” I whispered.

he took off the blindfold, and it was too bright for a second. I shielded my eyes and groaned, before letting them adjust to the harsh sunlight.

I looked around and saw a huge, fluffy blanket laid down on the grass of the fields. a basket with food was set in one corner and a bouquet in the centre.

specifically, a book bouquet.

“PERCY, HOW DID YO-”

“surprise,” he grinned, as I turned around and hugged him. he’d always given me gifts when I returned from quests, but this was, by far, the best.

“how’d you know all my favourites?” I asked, looking at the 10 romance novels on the blanket.

“oh, annie helped,” he said enthusiastically. “should we sit down and start eating? you can tell me all about the people in your books, and why you like romance books especially, yeah?”

smiling, we sat down on the blankets, and ate away with no care in the world.

✮⋆˙ percy’s pov

as she talked about her books for the next few hours, I could only think about how beautiful her brown eyes were, especially when the sunlight hit them at the correct angle. how soft her lips looked as her mouth moved at a faster pace than her thoughts. how perfect her cheeks were, smiling wide. how amazing she was. how smart and beautiful she was.

when did my feelings of friendship turn into love, for her?

as she continued to speak of the love between her favourite characters, I noticed her longing for a similar love. I could give that to her, couldn’t I?

wait. what? what am I even thinking? y/n’s my best friend.

“love is everywhere, in every gesture, every glance. it’s the thread that binds us together, connecting hearts across time and space,” she said.

and at that moment, I knew I was done for.

I was hopelessly in love with my best friend.

percy jackson x daughter of aphrodite — the love like in her books <3

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#skye's cafe ~ ⋆.˚#⭑𓂃 skye’s riordanverse !#skye.jpg🧸—#𝜗𝜚 skye's asks #percy jackson the man that you are #ngl every pjo and hoo bf is so book bouquet coded #I love percy sm tho #such. A. CUTIE.#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #daughter of aphrodite #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo fanfic #oneshot #pjo one shot #percy jackson one shot

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