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witchywithwhiskey · 3 months ago

Text

only man allowed

pairing: toxic!bucky barnes x toxic!female reader

summary: you're feeling particularly needy one night, but when you text your situationship to come over, he reminds you that he won't wear a condom, which is a problem since it's a risky time of the month for you. but you tell him to come over anyway.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), established situationship, smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering (f receiving), consensual non-consent and consensual sexual coercion, sexual roleplay, 'just the tip' trope, breeding kink, bdsm elements, some biting and marking, some dacryphilia, some pain play, dirty talk, daddy kink, praise kink, degradation kink, pet names (baby), begging, teasing, multiple orgasms, aftercare, taking and sending nude photos, possessive behavior, toxic behavior, jealousy, referenced but not shown situationship between reader and john walker, very anti-john walker behavior

word count: 8.5k

a/n: listen, i definitely wrote this at a certain time of the month and i'm not going to apologize for it!!! what i will apologize for is the fact that this ended up being way longer than i expected!! i wanted these to be short little fics, but apparently toxic bucky won't let me keep things short 🤭 anyway, this was fun to write and i hope y'all enjoy it!! ♡

you ain't my boyfriend and i ain't your girlfriend series masterlist

You missing me, baby?

You could perfectly imagine the arrogant smirk on Bucky Barnes’ stupidly handsome face and the playful glint of mischief in his eye as he asked you that question in response to the picture you’d sent. It was a hastily taken photo of your body clad only in one of Bucky’s t-shirts, your fingers pulling up the hem to show a pair of panties—the ones that had made him groan like he was being tortured when he’d first seen them.

The truth was, you were missing him. You were horny as fuck and you didn’t care if he knew it—which, you were certain he did, because you only ever sent him lewd photos of yourself when you wanted him—but would it kill Bucky to show a little bit of reciprocity, instead of sending you that teasing response?

It didn’t matter that his playfully cocky words only drove your need higher, your body warming as heat flooded between your thighs. You were missing Bucky’s brand of arrogance, and it was all you could think about, the deep rasp of his voice in your ear while he pounded into you, the dirty and depraved things he’d say as his cock slid into your pussy, stretching you out just the way you needed.

You knew, without even touching yourself, that neither your fingers nor your toys would be enough for you that evening. You needed Bucky. Not John Walker, not any of the other guys on your roster—only Bucky Barnes could satisfy the need burning through your body.

So you rolled onto your knees and lowered your upper body to your bed, arching your ass high in the air. You positioned your phone and took a photo of your curved ass, barely clad in your panties, with the TV on your dresser also in frame. You took photos until you got one that you liked well enough and sent it to Bucky.

I’m bored, come chill.

Your text deliberately didn’t acknowledge Bucky’s question—and you weren’t asking him to come over, you were demanding it. You refused to beg a guy like Bucky Barnes, who refused to be exclusive with you, to come over and fuck you.

But you knew the simple request would drag him away from whatever he was doing on that Saturday evening and get him to your apartment.

So you were surprised when he texted back and didn’t immediately say he was on his way.

You sure? If we end up fucking, I’m not wearing a condom.

The second you finished reading Bucky’s text, you shoved your face into one of your pillows and let out a frustrated groan. Of course Bucky hadn’t forgotten you were in the process of switching to a new birth control and you’d told him that if he was going to fuck you, he’d have to wear a condom.

He’d taken it better than you expected—especially for a guy who claimed sex with you “didn’t feel as good” when he wore a condom. He hadn’t thrown a tantrum or tried to talk you into fucking bare while it was unsafe. He’d seemed happy enough with handjobs and blowjobs, and had always reciprocated by getting you off with his fingers or mouth.

But you could tell from his text that he was reaching his limit and, truthfully, so were you.

You missed the feeling of Bucky’s bare cock sliding into you, the heat of his stiff length and the drag of his veins against your sensitive inner walls. You were desperate to feel his cum flooding your cunt, filling you up with his seed while his balls twitched against your ass or clit, and he groaned low and deep in your ear.

Bucky was the only man on your roster allowed to fuck you bare, and it was entirely contingent on him swearing on his mother’s grave that you were the only girl he fucked without a condom. As far as you knew, Bucky had kept his promise—which you knew because you made him get tested at the local clinic at least once a month.

Still, you were only four weeks in to the 4-6 week period where your doctor had told you to use secondary methods of birth control while you were switching prescriptions. And you were so horny that you were probably ovulating—but you wanted Bucky so bad you could barely think.

In fact, the thought of letting Bucky cum inside you when it wasn’t a safe time of the month, and was extra not safe because you were switching your birth control, turned you on so much, your whole body shivered with need. Something about the idea, how risky it was, how it might mean Bucky would knock you up, was too good to be ignored.

You were so horny, you were seconds away from shoving a pillow between your thighs simply so you’d have something to hump against. That probably should’ve been a sign that you weren’t thinking clearly, but instead, it had you making up your mind.

You decided having Bucky over—having him fuck you raw—was worth the risk. In a brief moment of clarity, you reasoned with yourself that there was always the morning after pill. That was good enough for you.

So you texted him back.

I’m sure.

Bucky showed up to your apartment so soon after you texted him that you were sure that he either broke a number of traffic laws driving over from wherever he’d been, or he’d already been on his way. You loved both ideas, and didn’t want him to give you another reason, so you opted not to ask.

But for how fast he’d gotten to your place, he seemed content to take his time getting to the main event. When you opened the door, you’d been expecting (or, rather, hoping) he’d pounce on you. Instead, he pulled you into his arms and gave you a brief, chaste kiss, asking how your week was and how you’d been since he last saw you.

Then, as you entertained his desire for small talk, Bucky made himself comfortable, stretching out on your bed after kicking off his shoes and beckoning you to curl up with him. You did so, a little warily, and even put on a show you’d seen a million times since you figured Bucky would distract you from it soon enough.

But he didn’t.

You lasted all of five minutes before you were lifting your head from Bucky’s chest to look at him, surprised to find the guy you’d texted to come over and fuck you was seemingly engrossed in your show. You whined his name in a pitiful voice, “Bucky.”

The arrogant smirk you’d pictured when he’d texted you earlier spread across his face and he squeezed you tighter in his hard, muscled arms.

“Shhh, baby, watch your show,” he rumbled, rolling you onto your back so he was curled around your side, throwing a leg over yours and burying his scruffy face in your neck. “I’m just here to chill, right?” There was a teasing note in his voice that had you huffing out a frustrated sound.

“Bucky…” you grumbled, even as you shifted your head on your pillows to give him easier access to your neck. He rewarded you by kissing your soft skin, sending a tendril of heat curling down your spine and settling heavily between your thighs. “You know this isn’t what I meant when I told you to come over.”

Bucky lifted himself up onto his forearm, hovering above you so he could stare down into your eyes. His arrogant smirk had slipped off his face, leaving a serious expression as he took in the pinched, frustrated look on yours. He seemed to come to some kind of decision as he stared at you.

“It’s not a safe time for you, right, baby?” he asked, each word said slowly, intentionally, another meaning laced within. “You don’t want me to tell you that I’m horny as fuck and the only thing I want is to bury my bare cock in you and cum in your unprotected pussy—you don’t want me to try to talk you into it, to coerce you, right, baby?”

At his filthy words, your heart thundered in your chest and your pulse thrummed between your thighs, and for a brief, blistering moment, you considered throwing a whole entire hissy fit because that’s not what you wanted. You wanted the opposite of what Bucky was saying—and then the deeper meaning in his words hit you.

Bucky wasn’t really asking if you wanted him to be nice and respectful of the boundaries you’d set, even though you’d already essentially given him permission to ignore them. He was asking if you wanted to play along with the idea that you were reluctant to let him fuck you without a condom while you were at risk of getting knocked up.

“That’s not what you want, is it, baby?” Bucky rumbled, his gaze holding yours as he nodded his head slowly, the gesture so at odds with his words, it could only mean he was asking you the opposite of what he said.

You’d been eager for Bucky to fuck you—you were so horny, it was the only thing you could think about—but the opportunity of playing this game with him was too enticing to pass up. Pretending to be reluctant, pretending to slowly give in to Bucky’s whims when it was what you both really wanted, would only make the sex that much hotter.

An excited smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, and you saw Bucky’s gaze drop to your lips, his own face flickering with elation as he took in your reaction. You waited until his eyes returned to yours before you answered him.

“Noooo, that’s definitely not what I want, daddy,” you whimpered huskily, the barest hint of sarcasm in your tone as you struggled to stop from smirking. Your head was nodding just as Bucky’s had, and he was the first to break, an eager grin spreading across his face.

He ducked down and brushed another frustratingly brief kiss to your lips. “You got it, baby, no fucking tonight—just chilling,” he murmured, a teasing tone in his voice that had your body tingling with anticipation.

You were less surprised that time when Bucky snuggled back down on top of you, his mouth going back to your neck where he was working on sucking a hickey into the side of your throat.

Since you knew the game you were playing, it was a little easier to settle in and watch your show, all the while trying to forget the way your pussy was pulsing with need. Still, you wouldn’t have said it was easy to ignore the steady twitching of Bucky’s cock against your thigh as he hardened in his sweatpants.

It only got more difficult to keep your attention on your show when Bucky’s hand slid under your shirt, his fingers trailing idly over your stomach until he eventually reached your tits. He began kneading your soft flesh lazily, his fingers plucking teasingly at your nipples, while his mouth sucked on your neck.

Despite how obvious it was that Bucky was taking his time, it wasn’t long before you were a wet, whimpering mess beneath him.

“Bucky, w-we shouldn’t fool around,” you murmured breathily, mouth tripping over the words as you voiced the exact opposite of what you wanted. It was like your lips didn’t want to play the game you’d started, but you were rewarded for their effort by his frustrated growl, which had you throbbing between your thighs.

“It’s fine, baby, we’re not doing anything we shouldn’t…” he rumbled against your neck, his teeth nipping at your sensitive skin and making you shiver.

The word “yet” hung unspoken in what little space there was between your bodies, and the promise of it had you warming even more, pressing your thighs together against the ache pulsing in your core. “Bucky,” you whimpered his name, your hips twisting toward him like they had a mind of their own.

“Are ya getting wet, baby?” he asked teasingly in your ear, his fingers tripping down your body until they skimmed along the hem of your panties. All you could do was whine in response and Bucky chuckled. “Yeah, I bet you’re dripping for me.”

Your chest was already heaving with heavier breaths just from the way Bucky was teasing his fingers beneath the edge of your panties, taking his sweet time going any lower to where you really needed him. Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, and your intention had been to shove his hand deeper into your panties so he’d finally touch your pussy, but instead he stopped.

“Don’t worry, baby, ‘m not gonna fuck you, no matter how wet your pretty little pussy is,” Bucky murmured in your ear, brushing a kiss to your cheek.

Though his words might’ve sounded reassuring, his tone was a deliciously teasing rumble and you could feel his smirk against your cheek. Your body trembled, your thighs parting for Bucky of their own accord, which had him humming a pleased sound.

“Good girl, just let me feel you.”

Bucky’s fingers finally dipped into your panties and slid down to your pussy, a breathy little moan bursting from your lips. The feel of his warm, skilled fingers slipping through your soaking wet folds, bumping against your clit before swirling around your aching, clenching hole, was almost too much.

You had to bite your lip against the urge to beg Bucky to fuck you already, not wanting to ruin the game that was making everything hotter. But he seemed to lose himself for a moment, burying his face in your neck and groaning while his fingers slipped between your swollen and soppy lower lips.

“Fucking hell, baby, you’re drenched for me,” Bucky growled, his voice low and no longer teasing. His fingers were dipping shallowly into your hole and spreading your wetness around, making a mess of your pussy. “You feel so fucking ripe, I gotta feel it—gotta feel you against my cock.”

Bucky was already pushing your panties down your thighs, rising above you and tearing his shirt off over his head before tugging your own shirt from your body.

At the same time, you were kicking your panties from around your ankles and spreading your legs, sitting up shove at the waistband of Bucky’s sweatpants. When his cock bounced free, you reached for his perfect length, saliva already pooling in your mouth as you gave his girth a reverent stroke.

But then Bucky was urging you back down, guiding your shoulders to the bed and covering your body with his own. You arched up into his warmth while he settled between your thighs, your fingers clinging to his sides.

His darkened eyes were fixed on the juncture of your legs, his fingers going back to playing through your wetness and spreading it around to make a mess of your pussy. Occasionally, he’d bump against your clit, which made your body jolt every time he brushed the needy bundle of nerves.

Bucky felt so good, and you were so close to getting what you really wanted—his cock inside you—but you forced yourself to remember the game you were playing.

You grabbed Bucky’s face in both hands, tipping it up so you could catch his eye. There was an almost dazed look on his face, but he blinked and focused back on you.

“It isn’t a safe time of the month,” you said, as sternly as you could manage. But your breaths were coming too quickly for there to be much steel in your voice. Bucky’s thumb brushed over your clit purposefully and your hips bore down on his hand, your body begging for more as you whined, “You can’t fuck me bare, Bucky.”

“I won’t, baby,” Bucky purred, wrapping the fingers that were sticky with your desire around the hard length of his cock. He chuckled when you whimpered at the loss of his touch, leaning down over you and brushing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Just let me rub against you—you’re so wet, it’ll feel so good. I won’t push inside your drippy little pussy, baby, I promise.”

You knew he was lying, and you knew Bucky knew you knew he was lying. For some reason, that made everything so much hotter. So did playing the reluctant participant, which was why you bit your lip with fake nervousness as you stared up at Bucky, your panting breaths adding even more uncertainty to your voice when you spoke.

“Oh-okay, daddy, you can rub against me—but no more.”

The words were barely out of your mouth before Bucky was sliding his thick, hard cock between your pussy lips, making you moan and spread your legs wider, raising your knees toward your chest to give him all the access he needed.

Bucky let out a groan and dropped down to cover you with his body, his arms digging beneath your back to hold you pinned tightly against his chest. Your sensitive nipples rubbed against him, teasing you relentlessly.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” Bucky rumbled, rocking his hips so his cock dragged between your swollen, dripping folds, rubbing against your clit and sending sparks of pleasure swirling through your body. “So wet… You’re making a fucking mess on my cock, baby.”

“Oh god,” you whimpered in Bucky’s ear, your body shuddering under the onslaught of blistering pleasure and aching emptiness in your core.

You wrapped your arms around Bucky’s shoulders, hands digging into his soft brown hair and holding onto him while his hips kept rocking into the cradle of your body, his cock grinding against your clit until you were gushing with wetness all over his stiff length.

“Doesn’t it feel good, baby?” Bucky murmured in your ear, his voice sweetly entreating, like he was trying to convince you of something, though you were already very well aware that his hard shaft grinding into your dripping wet pussy felt better than it had any right. “You’re creaming all over daddy’s cock, baby—tell me how good it feels.”

“Nngh, so goooood,” you keened, hooking your ankles around the backs of Bucky’s thighs to get better leverage to grind against his hard length. You were caught between wanting more and wanting to keep grinding against him. “Your cock feels sooo good, daddy, so big and hard against my drippy pussy.”

“Fuck, ‘m so hard for you,” Bucky groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder as he rutted into your soft, drenched folds with rough, punishing thrusts. “My dick’s throbbing for your cunt, baby, can you feel it?”

He pressed his shaft deep into your slit, the flared head of his cock bullying your clit, and you could feel it. You could feel the pulse in his hard length, joining the rhythm in your center.

Your body reacted on instinct, your inner walls clenching hard around nothing while you whined his name, “Buckyyy.”

“I can feel you, baby,” Bucky rumbled, the teasing tone back in his voice. “I can feel your cunt mouthing at my cock.”

Bucky’s words sounded so deliciously depraved that you wanted to turn your head and kiss him, to taste his debauchery straight from his tongue. You knew he had a filthy mouth, but his dirty talk was even hotter because of the game you were playing—and he just kept talking.

“Feels like ya want me to fuck you, baby,” he cooed, lifting his head to speak directly in your ear. “Does your pretty little cunt wanna get fucked?”

It was on the tip of your tongue to scream, ‘Yes!’ You wanted to get fucked so bad. You practically desperate for Bucky to push inside you and impale you on his cock, to pump into your pussy bare and cum inside you. You managed to bite it back at the last second for the sake of the role you were playing, but you couldn’t get any other words out.

When you were quiet, save for your panting breaths while Bucky’s hips kept up their torturous rocking, he lifted himself, bracing on his forearms so he could hover above you and see your face. He raised an eyebrow in question, his body slowing its movement as his gaze raked over your face, uncertainty flickering in the depths of his blue eyes.

It was clear he was questioning whether you still wanted to play the game you’d both started, and the fact that he was taking the time to check in with you had your heart squeezing uncomfortably in your chest.

It was an annoying reminder that Bucky wasn’t the kind of man to be selfish and self-absorbed in bed. Even if he was only your situationship, he made sure you were enjoying everything he was doing.

And you wanted him to know you were enjoying yourself very much—and that you still wanted to play the role you’d been given.

“I want you so bad, Bucky.” The words tumbled from your lips as you gave in to the urge to assuage Bucky’s concern. “I want you so bad, but we shouldn’t,” you whined, pouting up at him as you slipped back into the game.

The furrow of concern smoothed itself from Bucky’s brow and he smirked before ducking down to capture your lips in a quick kiss.

His hips began rocking into you again, and he swallowed your responding moan greedily. He groaned himself when you used your ankles hooked around his thighs to grind back against him, your soft, wet pussy sliding against the rough ridge of his cock and making a mess of both of you.

“What if I…what if I just push the tip in?” Bucky rasped, pulling away and catching your eye, a smirk fluttered at the edges of his mouth, like he was trying to hold it back but was failing. “Just the tip—just let me feel you. Please, baby, I wanna feel you so fucking bad.”

Bucky bowed his head, pressing sweet kisses to your collarbones, a barely restrained chuckle rumbling his chest. It seemed he’d lost the battle with being able to keep a straight face and you couldn’t blame him, your mouth was spread in a mischievous grin while your nails raked through his short brown hair.

“It’s not safe,” you reminded him, but there was an edge of glee in your tone.

You couldn’t hide the fact that you were having fun with Bucky, playing out the little game he’d started. You were so close to getting what you wanted, that it only made it more difficult to pretend you didn’t want it.

So when you murmured, “If you cum inside me, Bucky…” your voice was breathless with desire, and you had to cut yourself off to bite back the moan that wanted to be set free.

Bucky smirked against your neck, his teeth nipping playfully at the mark he’d left on your throat before he responded. “It’s just the tip, baby, promise—I won’t cum inside you.”

Had it always been so easy for you to hear when Bucky was lying, or had he given up on the pretense of the game so much that it was even more obvious?

The question flitted across your mind but didn’t stay long. You were too busy gasping a quick, “Ok,” your hips tilting, trying to catch the tip of Bucky’s cock in your hole on one of his grinding thrusts. However, it wasn’t until he pulled his hips back that the head of his hard length notched at your tight, clenching pussy.

Both of you held your breath when Bucky pushed inside. He stopped when just the tip was nestled inside the entrance of your warm, wet cunt.

“Fuuuck,” Bucky groaned, pressing his face into the side of your neck, his hot breath fanning over the hollow of your throat and his scruff rasping against your sensitive skin. “You’re so fucking warm, baby,” he rumbled into your neck, the sensation of his mouth against your throat making you shiver all over. “Gotta do it again.”

His muttered words were your only warning before his hips reared back, the broad tip of his cock pulling free from your grasping hole. A tortured whimper slipped from your mouth before you could stop it, and Bucky chuckled as he slid back inside you, your pitiful sound dissolving into a moan when the head of his cock popped into your cunt.

“Yeah, that feels good, doesn’t it?” Bucky crooned in your ear, doing it again, slower that time, making you feel every tiny bit of his tip pushing into your weeping hole. “My cock sliding into your drippy little cunt—you’re so fucking wet for me, aren’t you, baby?”

“Yes, Bucky, so wet for you,” you echoed, unable to do more when all your focus was on not impaling yourself on Bucky’s cock. Your body squirmed beneath his larger form, one of Bucky’s big hands pressing down on your hip like he knew you were barely holding back from pushing yourself down on his cock.

“It would be so easy for me to slide all the way inside, don’t ya think, baby?” Bucky purred in a teasing tone, his hips rocking forward until he’d pushed another inch deeper before pulling back so only the tip was inside you again.

Just that little tease had you moaning mindlessly beneath Bucky, tears of desire and frustration springing to your eyes.

Your arms wrapped tightly around Bucky’s shoulders and your legs hooked around the backs of his thighs, trying to pull him in deeper. You needed more, to hell with the game you’d been playing. You needed him inside you already.

“Bucky, please,” you begged on a sob, pressing your face into his cheek.

“I can feel your cunt gripping me, baby, sucking on me—she wants me to push deeper,” Bucky rumbled in your ear, a gruffness to his voice that told you he was reaching the limit of his patience with the game as well.

In that moment, you’d have done anything to get Bucky to fuck you properly, but before you could speak, he went on.

“Do you want it, baby?” he asked, his voice rough as crushed rock, his own breaths hot and heavy against your skin. “Want my cock buried deep inside you, filling you up and fucking you hard?”

“Yes, Bucky, please,” you gasped, your hands diving into his hair and pulling his head up so you could look him in the eye. You had to blink the tears from your eyes to do it, but you didn’t want there to be any confusion about what you wanted. “Fuck me, daddy, please!”

A slow, depraved grin spread across Bucky’s face as his eyes roved over your tear-stained cheeks. You felt the tip of his cock twitch inside you, and your body gave an answering clench, like it was begging him to slide inside. But Bucky seemed happy to let his eyes wander over your face, relishing the sight of you crying and begging him to fuck you.

It felt like a small eternity before his gaze met yours again and he seemed ready to give you what you wanted.

“But don’t cum inside you, right, baby?” Bucky asked, a devious tone in his voice. His hips pulled back and thrust forward slowly, pushing his big cock inside you at a torturous pace. Bucky’s grin was teasing as he went on, murmuring, “Wouldn’t want daddy knocking you up, right, baby?”

At Bucky’s words, something inside you snapped. Your mind went blank and your body moved on its own, your legs hiking up Bucky’s sides to wrap tightly around his lower back. Your heels dug into his firm ass and you whined loudly until he let you pull him deeper inside you.

Bucky’s cock impaled you with one thrust, a pleasured grunt slipping from his mouth, half-muffled against your neck. He filled you up all the way to the root of his thick cock and you moaned, long and loud in his ear.

You finally got what you wanted. Finally, you were full of his cock.

Bucky was buried so deep inside you that you could feel his balls pressed against your ass—his big, heavy balls, full of the seed you desperately wanted him to pump inside you. The desire left you dizzy and dazed, your body thrumming with a need to be filled, to be knocked up, to be bred by your situationship.

“Breed me, Bucky,” you whispered breathlessly in his ear.

He stilled for a very brief second, but then he was groaning obscenely, sucking hard on the hickey he’d already left. Whether it was a reward or a punishment, you didn’t know—nor did you care.

“Oh fuck,” Bucky grunted, his legs shifting on your bed and repositioning himself to fight against the stranglehold you had on his body.

He pushed up onto his forearms so he could hover above you, his eyes raking over your face as he rolled his hips to fuck you in hard, shallow thrusts that had your lips parting, punched-out whines slipping from your mouth.

You were so consumed in basking in your pleasure that it took you a moment to realize Bucky had gone quiet—quieter than he normally was when he was fucking you. It took another moment for you to blink your vision back into focus and when you did, you sucked in a sharp breath at the look of pure, depraved desire on Bucky’s face.

“Do you have something you want to tell me, baby?” he asked dryly, lifting an eyebrow in question. Before you could answer, he ducked down and captured your lips in a searing kiss, the heat of his tongue flicking into your mouth making you moan. “Does my girl have a breeding kink she failed to tell me about?” he asked in a teasing tone, plunging his cock deep into your pussy and grinding hard against a spot inside you that had you seeing stars.

“Not your girl,” you managed to gasp, even through the pleasure.

A low growl rumbled in Bucky’s chest, but it cut off abruptly. It seemed your situationship didn’t like being reminded that he wasn’t the only one who fucked you. Bucky nipped at your bottom lip, biting it a little harshly, making your pussy clench around his cock as you whined through the brief sting.

“Does John fucking Walker know about your breeding kink?” Bucky seethed, his voice suddenly furious. His anger was reflected in the way he picked up the pace of his hips, fucking you in rough, hard thrusts that had you crying out and clinging to his shoulders, your nails sinking deep into his golden skin. “Do you let John fucking Walker fuck you raw—fucking tell me, baby.”

“No,” you cried, tears of pleasure slipping from your eyes and trailing down your temples into your hair. Bucky’s lips found the salty tears and he kissed them from your skin, making your heart and pussy clench simultaneously. “You’re the only one allowed to fuck me bare, Bucky, you know that.”

“That’s fucking right,” he growled, punctuating each of his words with brutal thrusts. “I’m the only man who fucks this pussy raw,” he went on in a gruff, furious voice, raising up onto his arms so he could look you in the eye. “I’m the only man who cums inside this cunt, who fills you up until you’re leaking my seed all down your pretty thighs—I’m the only man who breeds you, isn’t that right, baby?”

“Yes—yes, Bucky, only you,” you cried, squirming beneath him, using your ankles hooked around his thighs to meet Bucky’s thrusts. It didn’t even occur to you to fight him on his possessive questions—he was right. He was the only one allowed to do all those things. “Only you, only you—please, I need you to breed me Bucky!”

You were getting close, but before you could tumble over the edge of your release, Bucky sat up, breaking the hold of your arms as he pushed up onto his knees. You let out a frustrated wail, but stopped short at the expression on Bucky’s face.

The look in his eye was wild, nearly feral. His hands were rough and possessive when he grabbed your plush thighs, pushing them up toward your chest until you were folded in half. His cock was still inside you, but not nearly as deep as you wanted it in the position Bucky was in.

Your hips squirmed, a whine working its way up your throat before spilling free.

Bucky leaned back down on top of you, pinning your legs to your chest and your body to the bed as his cock slid deeper until you were so full of him, you swore you could feel him in womb—even though you knew that was impossible.

He stayed like that, buried inside you, his cock stretching out your tight cunt while he rocked his hips, grinding deeper into you. All the while, he stared at you, his gaze glittering with the wildness that spoke of a deep-rooted possessiveness, but when he spoke, his voice was deceptively sweet.

“You want daddy to breed you, baby?” Bucky cooed in your ear, his mouth pressing wet, messy kisses to your cheek and jaw. “You knew it wasn’t a safe time of the month, and you let me fuck you raw anyway—such a silly little cumslut pretending you didn’t want it, but you do, right, baby?”

All you could manage was a punched-out, “Uh huh,” Bucky’s heavy weight pressing the air from your lungs while he crushed you to the bed. He shifted a little, so you could breathe, but it didn’t seem to matter that you’d responded, because he went on as if he hadn’t even heard you.

“You wanna feel my fat cock bruising your cervix, baby?” he huffed, pausing only to nip at the lobe of your ear with his teeth, making you clench hard around his cock. His next words came out on a filthy groan, pouring into your ear and settling deep in your mind. “Ya want me to flood your fertile little cunt with my seed and breed you—is that it?”

You were half feral yourself with desire, with your need to cum—with your need to feel him cum inside you—and you weren’t sure if Bucky was checking in with you, or if he was getting off on teasing you, but you rushed to answer, telling him the truth.

“God, Bucky, yes—please,” you whined, your fingers digging into his soft hair and towing his head until your mouth found his, kissing him messily while he kept fucking you in hard, rough thrusts. “Fill me up with your cum, daddy, make me your pretty little cumdump, please, I want it—I need it!” you cried into Bucky’s mouth, your words half muffled because neither of you wanted to pull away.

“Jesus fucking christ, baby,” Bucky grunted, his hot breath panting past your lips. You felt his mouth curve into a sly smirk. “First you don’t want me to fuck you because it isn’t safe,” he murmured in a teasing tone. “And now you want me to breed your little pussy full of cum—which is it, baby, d’you want me to pull out or cum inside your unprotected cunt?”

A mindless moan slipped from your lips at his filthy question, your mind going entirely blank for a split second. All you could do was feel—Bucky’s thick cock pounding into your pussy, the tip hitting a spot inside you that felt so good, you never wanted him to stop. It was too good, you didn’t want him to pull out, even if it would’ve been the smart decision.

“Breed me, daddy,” you begged in a throaty, desperate voice. “Breed me, cum inside me—please, please, please!”

“Fuck,” Bucky cursed, but he sounded pleased, too. “I’m so fucking close, baby, so close to draining my balls in your tight little cunt.”

His body shifted and then he was pounding into you in a new, better angle, making you feel impossibly good as you careened toward the edge of your release.

“Tell me, baby,” he rasped, his forehead pressed to yours. “Tell me you never let John fucking Walker cum inside you—tell me I’m the only man allowed to breed you.”

You whined, well aware you’d already told him—and he already knew he was the only one allowed to cum inside you. But it fed the possessiveness Bucky felt, and it felt good to give him that, so you did.

“You’re the only one,” you promised in a thready voice, your pleasure dripping from every word. “The only man allowed to cum inside me—you’re the only man allowed to breed me, daddy!”

Bucky captured your mouth in a dominating kiss, his tongue plunging past your lips like he was desperate to fuck as many of your holes at the same time as possible. You moaned into his mouth, gripping his face and holding him close while you sucked on his tongue, your nails raking through the scruff on his jaw, both of you groaning at how good the other felt.

Finally, Bucky managed to wrench himself away from your clinging grip and his face hovered above yours, a devious smirk on his plump lips.

“Ya know I heard,” he started, his voice a little breathless and gruff, the deep sound of it singing through your body and making you shiver as your pussy pulsed around his thrusting cock. “If you cum at the same time as me, you’re more likely to get knocked up.”

A violent shiver raced down your spine and your pussy clenched hard around Bucky’s cock. His words were going to be the end of you, you just knew it, but what a glorious end it would be.

Bucky grinned at your body’s reaction, looking far too pleased with himself, though you were too far gone in your pleasure to try to wipe that smirk off his face. Not that he gave you much opportunity, ducking down to murmur in your ear.

“Rub your clit, baby, I wanna feel you cumming on my cock while I’m knocking you up.”

“Oh my god, Bucky,” you whimpered pleasure spiraling through you at his words, but you did as he said.

You slipped your hand between your bodies, finding your clit messy and sticky with your desire, your fingertips brushing the thick shaft of Bucky’s cock as he fucked you. Rubbing your clit in ruthless little circles, your body pulled tight.

“Bucky, I’m gonna cum—don’t stop!”

Your mouth dropped open in a silent scream as the coiled tension in your body finally shattered, and you came with a strangled cry, pleasure consuming your mind and body.

Your release washed over you in waves of bliss that were so intense, you could feel your arms and legs trembling, your cunt clenching hard around Bucky’s thick length that was still plunging deep into your grasping channel.

“That’s it, baby, cum on daddy’s cock,” Bucky rasped, brushing sloppy kisses to your face as he rutted into you, his thrusts turning wild and rough. “You feel so fucking good, baby, you’re doing so good for me, gonna make me a daddy for real, baby—Jesus fuck.”

Bucky cut himself off on a groan, his hips pressing flush to the backs of your thighs, his cock impaled to the hilt in your still fluttering cunt. He came with a loud moan, his cock twitching inside you as he shot rope after rope of cum into your pussy. Your inner walls milked every last drop of seed from his balls while he painted the inside of you white.

When Bucky was finally spent, he collapsed on top of you, your bodies easing into a more comfortable position. He lay on top of you in the cradle of your thighs, his palms smoothing over your hips and sides while your fingers stroked idly through his soft hair. You made small sounds of contentment, and an answering, pleased rumble, sounded in his chest.

Finally, just when it was beginning to get uncomfortable bearing so much of Bucky’s weight, he heaved himself up onto his knees and carefully slid his cock from your thoroughly used pussy. You watched him, his gaze focused on the slit between your thighs, and you saw the moment his blue eyes darkened when his cum started dripping out of you.

You reached between you thighs, which were splayed over his his spread knees, to clean up the cum before it made a mess of your bedsheets, but Bucky knocked your hand away. He fished through the mussed up bedding until he found his discarded sweatpants and pulled his phone from the pocket.

Your body was limp with sated pleasure, and he’d taken enough post-sex photos of you, that you let Bucky arrange you how he wanted. You even held your legs open for him so he could position his phone above your pussy and take a couple close-up photos of his cum spilling out of your pussy. Then he pulled his phone back, so your whole body was in the shot.

“Say, ‘I’m gonna be a mommy,’ baby,” Bucky ordered, a lazy grin on his face.

Between your thighs, your pussy pulsed at the words, which sounded so innocent and so filthy at the same time. Heat filled your cheeks and you turned your head to the side, trying to bury your face in a pillow while you whined, “Bucky.”

You knew it was silly to be shy about saying something so innocuous, especially after everything you and Bucky had just said and done, but the moment was over. You didn’t normally have such a breeding kink, but you’d been so horny and it had made you so hot to talk about getting bred while Bucky was inside you.

However, it felt like a whole other thing to play into it when the heat of the moment had passed. It felt like the kind of thing boyfriends and girlfriends did, and you knew better than to tread into that territory.

Still, your body warmed at the idea of looking into Bucky’s camera and saying those words…

“Baby,” Bucky crooned, leaning over you and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “C’mon, I know you wanna,” he murmured in your ear, his mouth brushing butterfly kisses along your jaw. “You don’t have to be shy with me, baby, I know you’re a dirty little breeding slut desperate to be daddy’s good little cumdump.”

“Jesus Christ, Bucky,” you groaned, but you were smiling when you turned your head and met his mouth for a kiss.

Bucky let you kiss him for a few moments before he pulled away and sat up, holding his camera in position while he raised his eyebrows at you in an expectant expression.

“I’m gonna be a mommy,” you mumbled, pouting up at the camera while Bucky snapped a few photos. It wasn’t long before you were smiling and preening for the camera, sticking your tits out and holding your legs even wider for Bucky.

“Good girl,” he murmured, catching your eye as he lowered his phone. He was giving you a pleased smirk, and you smiled up at him in return.

Bucky gently moved your legs from around his waist and flopped down on the bed beside you, swiping through the photos he’d taken of his cum leaking out of your pussy while you curled around his bicep. You had to admit, they looked hot—even the ones of you pouting and mumbling up at him.

Seeing yourself like that was turning you on and you were just about to shimmy down Bucky’s body and lick his cock clean until he was hard again when he spoke, derailing your dirty thoughts.

“I’ll pick up the morning after pill for you before I head home,” he rumbled absentmindedly, still focused more on his phone. You could see him favoriting some of the photos he’d taken and saving them to a separate folder. “And if you are knocked up, I’ll pay to have it taken care of—but don’t expect me to cuddle you and do boyfriend shit after.”

For a moment, you restrained the urge to smack Bucky in the face with a pillow. And then you thought, why not? You weren’t his girlfriend, you didn’t need to play nice.

So you grabbed the pillow behind your head and brought it down right on Bucky’s face. He let out a satisfying, startled ‘oomph’ sound, and you chuckled as you rolled out of bed.

“Gee, thanks,” you shot over your shoulder sarcastically as you padded toward the bathroom, intent on cleaning Bucky’s cum from between your thighs.

But then you had an evil thought and a wicked smirk tugged at the corners of your lips. You wiped that look off your face, though, as you turned and leaned against your doorway, striking a casual pose.

“Maybe if I’m knocked up, I’ll just let John fuck me bare and tell him it’s his,” you said, giving a carefree little shrug while trying not to make it obvious how close you were watching Bucky.

You were delighted when his head snapped toward you, his gaze finally pulling away from his phone as his brows lowered into a glare. His soft mouth turned down at the corners, a furious frown darkening his face.

“D’you think John would offer to marry me?” you asked, ignoring Bucky’s reaction and tapping your chin with one finger like you were thinking. “He strikes me as the type of man who’d want to make an ‘honest woman’ out of me.” You couldn’t hold in your eye roll, even as you were trying to torture Bucky with the possibility of you marrying John fucking Walker.

In an instant, Bucky was up and off the bed, pinning you to the doorframe of your room with every inch of his big, strong body pressed against yours. You only had time to gasp while Bucky quickly gathered your wrists in one hand and pinned them above your head. His hardening cock was trapped against your belly, the stickiness of both your releases rubbing into your skin.

“You’re not marrying John fucking Walker, baby,” Bucky growled while he loomed over you. He was so close, you had to tilt your head back to look up at him, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smirking. “And you’re certainly not raising my kid with Walker’s last name.”

At that, you had to laugh. But when you saw how serious Bucky still looked, you realized he didn’t realize you were just trying to get a rise out of him. Something about the thought of you marrying John Walker had clearly made all rational thought completely abandon Bucky in that moment.

Instead of thinking too hard about Bucky’s reaction, you explained yourself to him.

“Bucky, it was a joke,” you wheezed, giving him an incredulous look. “Of course I’m not gonna marry John.”

Bucky’s eyes flitted back and forth between yours, like he was checking to make sure you were being honest. He must’ve decided you were because he blew out a breath and closed his eyes, his forehead falling to yours.

“Jesus, baby, you drive me fucking wild sometimes,” he rumbled, but there was humor in his tone, albeit reluctant.

A breathless laugh slipped from your lips and you leaned back against the doorframe, hiking your leg up around Bucky’s waist. He caught it in his free hand, the movement pressing his thickening cock between your thighs, making both of you groan.

“I think you should show me exactly how wild I make you,” you purred, rocking your hips against his stiff length, coating him in the mixture of your desire and his cum still leaking out of you.

Bucky growled, his eyes flying open as he stared at you and worked his cock against your pussy.

“Careful what you ask for, baby,” he rumbled, his tone a delicious taunt that had your toes curling against the floorboards and your hips tilting so you could rub your clit against his hard shaft. “Or you’re gonna get another load pumped into your tight, unprotected little cunt.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, daddy,” you sassed, smirking up at Bucky and watching as his eyes darkened with desire.

In a flash, Bucky dropped your leg and let go of your wrists, spinning you around to face the doorframe and yanking your hips toward his lap with a rough, possessive grip on your body. Your upper body fell forward and your hands clung to the doorframe, nails digging into the wood when Bucky entered you in a swift, hard thrust.

Bucky fucked you in the doorway of your bedroom, making you promise yet again that you’d never let John Walker fuck you without a condom before emptying a second load inside you.

After, he followed you to the bathroom, hopping in the shower with you where he drained what little cum was left in his balls inside your pussy before helping you clean up—though you suspected he only offered to help so he could finger his cum deeper into your cunt under the pretense of cleaning you.

When you were both finally, finally sated, you collapsed into your bed together. Your mind was blissfully blank and your body deliciously sore as you cuddled together. Bucky dozed for a bit, his head on your chest while you carded your fingers through his hair and watched your show.

After a while, Bucky roused and got dressed, going out to get you the morning after pill from the nearest drug store, just like he’d said he would.

He also brought you back your favorite sports drink and snacks, explaining in a gruff voice that he’d read the potential side effects of the pill on the box and wanted you to be prepared. You refused to feel any type of way about that.

Then Bucky kissed you and left to head home.

All things considered, it was a good thing your new birth control had taken effect, or the morning after pill had worked, and you didn’t get pregnant despite the evening you’d had with Bucky. It was a relief when you were able to tell him that your risky night hadn’t led to any of the consequences the both of you had willfully ignored.

When you texted him to tell him you’d gotten your period, he responded quickly, messaging twice in quick succession. The first text made you roll your eyes, because you thought that was all he’d have to say.

Good.

But then you saw the second message, and you could imagine the arrogant smirk on Bucky Barnes’ ridiculously handsome face and the playful glint of mischief in his eye when he’d sent it.

It made you smile, and you had to bite your lip against a giggle, forcefully reminding yourself that he was just a situationship.

Let me know when you wanna play ‘just the tip’ to ‘breed me, daddy’ again, baby.

you ain't my boyfriend and i ain't your girlfriend series masterlist

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #toxic bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan characters #you ain't my boyfriend and i ain't your girlfriend series #witchywithwhiskeywork

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deadghosy · 8 months ago

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☆BEING MATTHEO’S CHILDHOOD FRIEND TO LOVER ☆ male version||female version

COMPLETELY protective over you ever since childhood. He literally fought a kid back then because they didn’t like that you were a “girl” playing boy games with them. You were sensitive back then, so of course you cried to mattheo about it. And mattheo did something about it. He punched the kid and stole their teddy bear to give it to you.

He asks you about girl things so he can flirt and treat a girl better. You could be literally reading a romance book, and he wants to learn too. Please teach him or else he’s gonna whine about losing another girl.

“Sooooo what does a girl like for a guy like me to tap that ass…cause I got a girl on my roster..” mattheo says sliding by you in the library table you sat in. You were literally getting to the good part of where the two main characters were gonna kiss. “Why are you asking me these questions riddle…” you say with venom in your tone towards his last name. Mattheo frowned. “Actually my name from you is Matty, Matt, and matty bear. So please—”

“—Please kill yourself and never let your soul rest after.” You say getting up from the library table and walking away. Mattheo’s jaw drop as he followed you offended. He never interrupted your reading time ever.

When your period comes…he’s asking you “what the fuck that is” and “why is it hurting you” with a frown. He’s thinking he can solve it like any other with a wave of his wand…but it’s more complicated when you explained how your uterus is shredding itself and that’s all you can get out before mattheo started to gag and leave your dorm room like the overdramatic king he is.

He still loves you dearly so he got you tea and some materials you need for the rest of your week.

Sometimes when you two have a sleepover, which is just either of you two sneaking into the girls dorms or the boys. You two gossip like little girls ready to rip someone’s heart out.

Mattheo is 50/50 on you doing makeup on him. But if you really plead and want to do it. He’s gonna let you. He can’t say no to you sadly.

A guy had broken your heart once, so he broke his face in…and broke his dick. Don’t ask.

Couple of girls hated how close you were to Mattheo. He’s a handsome guy, so of course people may spread rumors around. And Mattheo doesn’t really like that, he’s going to the girl and showering her how equal rights have hands.

If you two ever argue, it leads to Mattheo apologizing first. He’s a sucker for you, he doesn’t know why. He just doesn’t want you to be mad at him.

It’s even worst when you talk to anyone else than him.

When you fully ignore him, no texting, no calling, not even talking to you in public and being by you makes him go insane. He’s smoking in the courtyard. Jaw tightened as he eyes you across. He can tell that you know he is staring. He can tell you know indeed when you shift a lot.

The way you feel his burning gaze on you, it made you feel warm. You always loved mattheo, but with him always “going after” girls…you just thought that maybe he wouldn’t love you back.

Jealousy is something mattheo has built into him. He doesn’t know why, so when a ravenclaw student tried to ask you out. He couldn’t stand it. He had to take you away. He couldn’t bare to lose you. He ushered you away from the student, taking you to an empty classroom. He couldn’t handle not being near you, he hated it the most. You are his other part.

He hates it.

“I don’t know who that guy was. But you’re mine. Okay? You’re mine, you always have been even if we both didn’t recognize it. Shit, I know I’m dumb to think to just push my feelings away from you. But I can’t help but love how you are so amazing…” he says slowly at the end. Kissing your head and closing his eyes. You smile slowly. Your heart swell with warmth, taking a deep breath in as you wrapped your arms around him too. You loved him just like how he loves you. He loves you as if you were the made the creation of his favorite food. He loved you like making new potions. He loved you like music to his ears.

He always has been a gentleman before you two dated. He made sure he opened doors for you. He made sure you were comfortable with things. He would even sacrifice his cloaks if you were cold.

He’s like a puppy in love as he just lights up seeing you.

He loves his girl very much. You are the prettiest thing he could ever ask and give for.

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zyafics · 9 days ago

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hihihi i love ur fic ‘wildflower by five seconds of summer’ which was a best friends to lovers, I was wondering if you could do a fox where he’s reassuring her that he’s attracted to her and idk. But she basically feels that they were best friends for so long that maybe he’s just dating her for her personality and doesn’t actually want to see her idkkkk but I think you’d be super good at writing this one

omg thank you!! something about bsf!reader gives me so much energy to come up with them so let’s get to it 🤞🏼

REAL OR NOT REAL | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Blurb)

Pairing — BSF!Rafe x Wildflower!Female Reader

Word Count — 1.7K.

Content — fluff, Rafe comforting Reader about her insecurities, happy endings.

You always been aware of Rafe’s type.

There’s a certain degree that sparks Rafe’s interest, and how you slot into his future, but it hadn’t matter to you. Especially since you’re together now, it’s a constant reinforcement that he chose you out of all the girls on his roster. And he’ll keep choosing you because you’re his best friend.

At least, that’s what you like to think.

Your first cloud of doubt came in the form of an engagement.

When Kelce sank to the floor on one knee, holding up a sparkling diamond ring, he didn’t have the chance to finish his sentence before his girlfriend, Aria, leaped into his arms, squealing out a yes!

From there on, the entire restaurant cheers at the vow, and you alongside it, clapping your hands together with the utmost glee. You’re happy for your friend, and his embarkment on this new stage in his relationship. And you rejoiced in that feeling, floating in its bubble, until Topper came over to clap a hand on Rafe’s shoulder.

“How do you feel, man?” Topper asks, looking directly at your boyfriend.

“What do you mean? I didn’t get engaged,” Rafe huffs with a roll of his eyes, and you laugh, wrapping your arms around his bicep. He glances down at you with a soft smile.

“Not that,” Topper scolds, “In general. We always thought it would be you first.”

Your shoulders slouch. “What?” You question, but your voice is soft in the loud atmosphere. They didn’t hear you. Somehow, Kelce manages to enter at the tail-end of the conversation.

“Yeah, Rafe, never thought I’d beat you out,” Kelce laughs.

“You didn’t beat me,” Rafe declares calmly, holding up a glass of whiskey.

“I’m one step ahead of you,” Kelce refutes. “Didn’t you have a whole future planned? The house, the wife, the kids? The whole nine?”

“He’s been saying it since we were teens,” Topper adds. “Changed your mind?”

Rafe shrugs, appearing indifferent, but something cold runs through your veins. He lifts the glass to his lips. “When it happens, it happens.”

“Make it happen soon, alright?” Kelce adds with a grin, just as Aria slides beside him and he wraps a protective arm around her waist. “Because we’re planning a family, and my kids are gonna need your kids to keep them in check.”

“Or the other way around,” Aria comments with a chuckle, and the entire night went on as such. You celebrate among your friends at the restaurant of their engagement, the waitstaff brings out a glorious dessert for the couple, and everyone is in high spirits.

By the time you come home, all that energy disperses, and everything comes flooding back.

You almost forgot. Before Rafe and you got together, he had envisioned a future that didn’t match yours. He wanted a wife and kids, all before the age of thirty. He didn’t want to wait, as he always said before, he wanted it to be young, to start early, just as his father did.

You don’t feel the same. You grew up in a household that abandoned you to your own devices, hollowed out in creaky hallways and subdued by a rotation of maids and servants in and out of your estate. You always knew you wanted kids later, or not at all because you wanted to take time and travel the world.

This doesn’t match Rafe’s.

Yet, it was never brought up. You were so consumed by the bliss of finally having each other, that you neglected the very foundation of what it means to be in a relationship in the first place—to address the conversation of a different yet nearing future you each carved out for yourself.

Doubt begins to lament every inch of your skin as to why Rafe is with you in the first place. He had known this–he’s your best friend—he knows you’re different from what he wants and he still pursues it? Was it for fun? Was it to pass the time until he found someone more compatible to match his needs? Perhaps, even a chance, Rafe was so used to having you at his side that it was easier to seduce you into the most natural next-step role. He didn’t actually like you, your brain argued, he got with you out of pure convenience.

So, you start distancing yourself. Every invitation to spend with the newlyweds was declined, and every inquiry to come over to your house was subsequently ignored. It got to the point where, a week in, Rafe finally had enough and came into your house unannounced.

“What the hell is going on with you?” Rafe demands upon entering your room, his eyes sliding across the place to find the messiness of your sanction, pillows, and blankets thrown to different corners. Almost ditch-like, as if you hadn’t had the chance to leave—in fear of encountering him.

“What?” You ask meekly, shoulders slouching inwards, making yourself small.

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he declares accusingly.

“Not true,” you argue.

He glares. “Don’t lie to me.”

You hesitate, digging your nails into the sheets and playing with the covers of your bed. “I just need some time for myself; to think,” “About what?”

You inhale sharply, trying to fizzle out your nerves. All your thoughts and rumbustious questions lead to this final end. This is it.

“I think we could break up.”

For the first time since Rafe’s entry, he’s taken aback by your statement. He unconsciously takes a step backward, brows drawn together, throat tightening. “What?” He replies, his voice low.

Now or never.

“I’ve been thinking about it for the past few days, and I think it’s the best option,” you reason, trying to appear as if this comes from a place of logic rather than insecurities. “For our future.”

“Our future?” He repeats, testing the words on his tongue.

“We’re not compatible,” you continue, the confession slicing at your chest. Tightening your skin. “I want certain things, and you want different things. Honestly, I don’t even know why you liked me in the first place. We were better off as—”

“Slow down,” Rafe cuts you off. You’re going so frantic, trying to streamline a sense of continual thought, that he thought you were going into a panic attack. Rafe lowers himself to your level, taking a precarious step forward and encroaching on your bed. “What do you mean?”

“We should break up.”

“No,”

“Rafe,” you pout, eyes softening, trying to let him go the gentlest way possible. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“You’re being unreasonable,”

“I’m being logical,” you argue.

He scoffs. “Logical? You’re breaking up over a problem that doesn’t exist. Incompatible? Really? You had a whole week to come up with an excuse and that’s what you settle on?”

Your shoulders sink. You play with the frayed threads of your comforter, and the mattress dips to accommodate his weight. His hand hovers over yours, halting your nervous antics and forcing your gaze back onto his.

“What happened?” Rafe asks gently.

“I can’t give you what you want,” you murmur with a cry, pathetically feeling like you’re close to tears.

“Okay,” he cautions slowly. “What do I want?”

“Not me,” you insist weepingly, “I don’t want kids, or to be a housewife. Being in your life, I ruin your plans.”

“Baby,” he murmurs, cradling your face. “I don’t care about that.”

Your heart beams with hope, before being smothered by the reminder that this is a trick to ease your thoughts. “You don’t want kids?”

“Of course, I want them,” your chest tightens. “But I want them with you when you’re ready.”

He adds. “I was serious that night,” he reminds you of that first night when you two became an item. “It’s you or nothing.”

You remain quiet.

“What else? Hit me.”

“I’m afraid,” you confess quietly.

“Of what?”

“That you don’t really like me. I think you’re with me because it’s the easiest thing, or perhaps you don’t want to let me down or—”

“Calm down, wildflower,” he breaths out, dropping his hand to your chest, forcing your intake to steady. They do, calming under his palm. “How about I tell you what I feel instead of you making assumptions?”

He’s right. That’s logical. As you nod, composing your words, you slowly draw a steady breath. “Do you want a housewife?”

“I do,” he answers honestly. “But I only want you.”

“And if I don’t?” You ask. “I don’t want to be one?”

“Then you won’t, simple as that.”

Your eyes pan across his handsome face, trying to uncover any mistruths, but you find none. It settles something in you, and you reveal your next step of doubts.

“You said you wanted to settle down before your 30s,” you remind him.

“That was before I knew this,” he gestures between you, “had a chance.”

“So you change your plans for me?”

“You’re my future,”

You swallow hard. “And if I don’t want to? Not just settling down—but I want to travel the world, and experience adventure, what do you say?”

He comes forward, cupping your chin and forcing your gaze on his. “I say do whatever the hell you want, as long as it’s with me.”

You brush your hands against his jaw, stopping your questions, before having one more on the tip of your tongue. Rafe nods encouragingly, “Anything else?”

You hesitate, and Rafe’s hand slides up your neck, finding that sensitive spot, and cradles it under his palm. “Ask the last one.”

Exhaling, you ask, “Do you like me?”

“Baby, you’re the love of my fucking life. I don’t think there’s anyone I like more than you.”

A blanket of comfort wraps around you, your heart softens, expression relaxes. Your brows pinch together, and they look up at him with utmost guilt. “I’m sorry,” you murmur.

“Don’t be,” he leans forward to press a kiss against your forehead. “You needed that. But I’m here to remind you—I want you. I chose you. The only way someone’s leaving this relationship is through death.”

You laugh softly, tears crowding your vision. “Is that a threat?”

“I think it’s a vow,” he murmurs, closer between you and pressing a soft kiss on your lips. “In sickness and in health, or whatever.”

Your hands run through his hair, pulling him closer, “How about let’s stay in bed and figure out the rest later?”

His hand catches the mattress, and his body presses against yours, forcing you onto your back as he covers you. And he kisses you again. And again. Until you’re out of breath. “I like the sound of that.”

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majestyeverlasting · 1 month ago

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Hello lovely <3

Can I please request a Joel miller x reader oneshot where the reader had a really bad run in with infected on a patrol and then when Joel comes home to find her all panicked he comforts her, gets her cleaned up and into bed .etc. ??

Thank you🥰

𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

contains non-explicit nudity

Pairing Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary After a brush with death while on patrol, Joel assures you and himself that you're still here as you wind down for the night [outbreak, fluff, 3.3k]

A/N Thank you so much for this amazing request, anon! This is my first fic of 2025, and I appreciate your patience as I took a little break to transition into the new year. I’ve decided to make this fic a part of the From Here on Out universe. I hope you guys enjoy!

∘°∘♡∘°∘

Chatter and swells of laughter rest at a minimum amid the Tipsy Bison. Only half the usual Friday night patrons have trickled in so far, peppered around the establishment with drinks in hand. The air is thick with the scent of sharp spirits and stale beer. String lights cast everything in a dim, warm glow.

Beneath the clunk of Joel’s booted footsteps, the floor is sticky. A few nods are directed his way as he saunters towards the bar, which he returns with a tip of his cowboy hat. In the ten months since he arrived in Jackson, he’d built up a reputation for himself. One that was revered and feared all the same. Fading into the background wasn’t an option anymore.

If folks still didn’t know his name, they undoubtedly recognized him when he walked into the room. That easy, measured stride. Those brows oftentimes furrowed in thought. Those dark, knowing eyes that were humble enough to know he had a lot more to learn.

The older man wiping down the counter tosses the rag over his shoulder as Joel approaches. Old stains are splotched down the front of his white shirt. But he’s happy to see Joel. A quiet, jazzy piano melody flows from the billiard room.

“Howdy Clyde,” Joel drawls as he sits. A few barstools down, a pair of friends talk over beer. “You hiding Duke Ellington back there?”

The man snorts with a shake of his head. “Good ol’ Dennis. Does this a few times a year,” he says. “Comes in, drinks, plays like it’s paying.”

Joel gazes through the archway to where a couple people shoot pool. Dennis and the piano are just within sight.

“He ain’t too shabby,” Joel says.

“Not at all,” Clyde agrees. “‘scuse me for a second.”

Joel listens to the piano as Clyde goes to refill beers.

He knows you’d appreciate Dennis’ playing. You were drawn to live music like a moth to a flame. Joel realizes then that he misses you. It’s a peculiar feeling that always seems to compound by the end of the day after being apart. You patrolled together when you could, but he’d been on the roster to volunteer at the community stables today.

It was good, honest work. Peaceful too. There was no need to be on guard, and he didn’t have to talk to anyone unless someone was particularly keen on striking up a conversation. Being with the animals did a lot more for him than he’d ever expressed out loud.

Back in front of Joel, Clyde braces his thick weathered hands on the counter, “So how’s Alamo? Came bearing good news for me, I hope.” An attentive furrow has formed between his bushy brows.

Alamo, Cldye’s Stallion, was recovering from what the veterinarians diagnosed as a mild case of the flu.

“He’s doing much better,” Joel assures. “Got him to eat and drink more than yesterday. He let me lead him around the corral for a couple laps.”

Clyde’s eyes are grateful. “Thank God. I don’t know how you do it, man.” Joel smiles at the man’s relief. “What can I get you?” He quirks his thumb to the wall of bottles behind himself.

There’s a decent selection. Moonshine, applejack, mead—whiskey, which always sounds particularly good these days.

Joel purses his lips in brief consideration before saying, “I’m okay tonight. Gotta get home to my lady.”

Clyde hums in understanding. “Smart man,” he says. “I’ll catch you later.”

Outside, it’s cold enough for Joel to see the frost of his breath. People bundled in coats, hats, and scarves mill around because, despite the chill, it’s just another evening in Jackson. Snow still covers the ground from last week’s snowfall, and more is due any day now. The sky is white with promise as the last of the sun’s light lingers near the horizon amid dustings of pink.

The community center buzzes with life as he passes by. A few people talk outside, and multiple heads can be seen through the windows. Just as he’s about to avert his gaze and continue on his way, his brother bursts through the doors.

Tommy lifts his hand to signal him to wait even though Joel doesn’t intend to keep walking away. Relief is etched all across his face.

“There you are,” he claps his gloved hand onto Joel’s shoulder. “You’re a hard man to find when you wanna be.” The slightly frazzled tone of his voice contrasts the casualness of his words.

Worry stirs within Joel as he meets his brother’s gaze. “Hey. What going on?”

Tommy wets his lips as he considers how to phrase the news. “Before you freak out, everybody’s alright,” he starts. “Just a bit shaken up.”

Joel swallows the lump in his throat. He already knows it’s about you. He wishes he were wrong, but wishing never changed what his gut already knew was cemented in time.

“Your girl and her patrol partner had a run in with some Clickers earlier this evening while they were out,” Tommy continues, and Joel’s jaw tricks. “No bites, thank God. And they managed to take ‘em all down.”

An avalanche of guilty, frustrated, and relieved thoughts crash onto Joel all at once. Tommy loosely follows after him as he takes a few composing steps away to run a hand down his beard. Heat has risen in his face to the point where it almost doesn’t feel cold anymore. He can hear his heart in his ears.

“Where is she?” Joel finally asks. It almost sounds like there’s a small ball of cotton stuck in his throat.

“At your place with Ellie. Her uncle Nate dropped by too,” he says. “She was askin’ for you, and I told ‘em you were on the way.”

It’s days like this that make Joel wish you hadn’t rejoined the patrolling rotation. With or without him.

He’s is about to walk away, when Tommy adds, “She handled herself mighty fine out there. Both of ‘em did.”

•••

Death was no stranger to anyone in Jackson, but you’d never stared so directly into the face of a being that embodied such a definite, unyielding sense of finality. Never seen fungal decay so intimately that it made your skin crawl from the inside out.

There had been four Clickers earlier that evening. Three taken out by your partner, Langdon, and the final one by you after tumbling to the ground.

In your struggle, chunks of snow had crept into your jacket and dusted across your face. The bitter chill hardly registered from the moment your back hit the ground. Neither did the sound of your pistol firing as the hulking, distorted figure begin to crawl overtop of you. All you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat like a heavy tribal drum in your ears. Endure, survive, endure, survive.

Only after Langdon drug you from beneath the limp Clicker, and hauled you to your feet, did you realize you were releasing frantic sob-like whines with every exhale.

The entire scene won’t stop playing in your head. Electricity still hums beneath your skin.

“Joel should be here soon,” Ellie assures again, in part for herself.

He was always better in situations like these. Always knew what to say because he’d lived these same horrors himself, not a handful of times like she had, but countless since 2003. When it came to providing comfort, she always felt as though she was blindly grasping for the next right thing to say or do.

But you were grateful to have her here all the same. If nothing else, she knew how to sit and be present. And after being asked to share an account of what happened by countless members of the patrol board, being with her as you wait for Joel is the peace you need.

When you notice the worried way she’s chewing on her lower lip, you reach out for the glass of water she’d sat on the coffee table for you. You take one shaky sip and realize you’re a lot thirstier than you though you were. You drain it in a few big gulps. Ellie straightens up with a sense of having something right.

“I’ll go get some more,” she says, taking the cup from you.

Creaks arise on the porch soon after she heads to the kitchen. Then comes the faint jingling of keys. Joel pushes through the front door with a concerned furrow between his brows. It smooths when his eyes fall on you sitting in the living room.

You look as small as you feel.

Aside from the absence of the sparkle that usually shone in your eyes, you seem as alright as you can be. Which is a much better than the image he’d conjured up in his head, despite Tommy insisting you’d made it back in one piece.

“Hey,” he greets, carefully, like he’s talking to animal seconds away from curling in on itself. Like that’s all the bass he can muster into his voice.

“Hi,” you murmur, eyes tracking him as he shrugs off his leather jacket and hangs it up. His hair is curled at his ears and a little disheveled when he takes his hat off.

The floor creaks under his footsteps as he walks to occupy Ellie’s former place. Without uttering a single word, he wraps his strong arms around you and pulls you into his chest.

You press your nose into his shirt like there’s no other place it belongs. He smells faintly of sweat, but mostly of the outdoors. Like air and earth. Breath and constance. Life. So warm, you forget all about the chill that has crept into the room.

Ellie’s relieved to walk back in to the sight of Joel sitting with you. Your eyes have fluttered closed, so you only hear the sound of the refilled glass being set on the table. Joel meets the girl’s gaze with an appreciative nod. Thanks, kid. You did good.

“I’m supposed to volunteer at craft night, but I can stay,” she offers.

You peek up from Joel’s chest. “It’s okay.”

“Are you sure?” She asks, and you nod.

“Thank you,” you say honestly.

“I’ll make you something cool,” she promises.

When the door clicks shut behind her, silence settles between you and Joel as you rest in his arms. You focus on the rise and fall of his chest, the faint, steady beating of his heart. It says he’s here, you’re here.

Even with your body cradled in his arms, the thought of losing you haunts his consciousness. Makes tension root through his shoulders, until he takes one long inhale and lets it out. As if shedding the remnants of fear, and dispelling it from his being.

You can feel him letting his anxiety go, only for it to manifest as guilt within your own chest.

“We were being careful,” you say, then swallow because the next words are harder to get out, “They—they came out of nowhere.”

Apology plagues your tone, and he knows he’s the reason why.

On more than one occasion, perhaps to his own fault, Joel expressed that he’d rather you not patrol. There were countless volunteer opportunities around the commune, but after meeting him, you expressed your desire to start going out again.

For the first couple months, you were only ever partnered with Joel because he insisted. It became something you did together, getting to protect the people you love and absorb the beauty of Jackson beyond the commune limits.

Slowly, he came around to the idea of you being partnered with different people as he picked up other volunteer work.

Now that you’d had your first close call, you can’t help but consider the possibility that Joel had seen a certain weakness within you all along. Maybe you aren't as vigilant as you thought, or a skilled shooter, or truly capable of holding your own. If it had been Joel, the Clickers probably wouldn’t even of made it within a thirty yard radius before they were shot down—

“Sweetheart? Hey, look at me,” he pulls away so he knows he has your attention. Except, he hasn’t exactly pieced together what he wants to say.

After releasing a breath, he meets your gaze with an apologetic look of his own.

“I know you were careful.” His tone is warm with sincerity. “You ain’t gotta justify anything to me.” When you don’t say anything, he keeps talking, “I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.” His dark eyes are earnest, hopeful as they flit across your face.

You nod, and he wants to believe you’ve let his words sink in.

“There ain’t a single person in this commune who knows what’s gonna happen when they step outside those gates,” he says. “Best thing anyone can be is prepared, and that’s exactly what you were out there today.”

Joel’s not expecting a response, but he can tell he’s finally gotten through.

He takes your hand in his and presses soft kisses over your knuckles. After letting go, he eases off the couch to kneel at your feet. You admire the slight hunch of his shoulders as he moves to untie your boots, the delicate way he handles the laces as if they’re somehow a fragile extension of you.

When he’s done, you angle your feet to make it easier for him to pull the boots off. Even then, he doesn’t stand up. He stays on his knees so you’re eye to eye.

“How’s a shower sound?” He gently squeezes your knee and waits to follow your lead.

It’s an illusion of control he’s offering for your sake. Really, it’s all him. After everything today, all you want to do is let go. Follow someone you know you can trust. Someone who always knows how to lead the way.

•••

Joel gets the shower started and, before long, both of you have stripped to your undergarments. He watches as you begin to pull your sports bra over your head, and helps you on the tail end because the strong elastic won’t set you free.

You don’t meet his gaze again until after you’ve stepped out of your panties. Joel’s eyes rove over you with a quiet, fond attentiveness, and you realize he’s looking for bruises or any sign you’re in pain.

“I’m okay,” you manage a small smile.

“Okay,” he says, then runs a hand through his hair as if he still hasn’t quite accepted that you are. His bicep flexes as he does. The expanse of his chest is broad, dusted with dark hair.

“I promise.”

Finally, he nods like he believes you. “Go ahead and get in. See you shivering.” The bathroom hasn’t quite warmed up yet, and the window is drafty. Joel makes a mental note to get it resealed.

You waist no time doing just that. A deep hum escapes you as the water meets your skin.

From behind the curtain, you can make out the outline of Joel’s figure as he pushes his boxers down his legs. Over the sound of the running water, you can just barely hear him gathering your clothes to go put them in the hamper.

When he joins you, there’s a gentleness to the way he lathers your body with soap. A diligence. The steam lifting around you carries the light, earthy scent of lemon balm. You let him run the bath sponge along your arms as the warm spray of the shower patters onto your back.

When he’s done, you wrap your arms around him so the front of your bodies are pressed together. Without pause, he graces the sponge across your shoulderblades before gliding it down your back. He continues all the way down the curve of your backside. You pucker your lips against the front of his shoulder in a pert kiss. He kisses your forehead in return.

It’s a miracle your legs have held you up thus far. If you were to let yourself go limp, a small part of you likes to believe you’d somehow float. That’s how relaxed you feel. But you have half a mind not to test the theory. The thought makes you chuckle, and Joel peeks down at you with a budding smile of his own.

“What?” he asks lightly, but you shake your head and close your eyes. “Don’t fall asleep on me.”

“‘M’not,” you murmur.

Joel hums in feigned disbelief. “That doesn’t sound very convincing.” He puts a hand on your hip in a silent request for you to turn around.

When you do, he snakes an arm around your waist. Behind you, he’s a promise. All muscle, warmth, and wet skin. He runs the sponge over your breasts before dipping down to gently run along the undersides.

Your eyes flutter closed again, just as he presses his soft lips to the pulse beating beneath your ear. The shiver that tumbles down your spine makes you lean back into him, and he’s right there holding you up, getting you clean, weaving you so surely into the fabric of the present.

He lets you do the same for him. Allows himself to relish the gentleness of your touch.

Touching his forehead to yours, his voice is thick as he whispers, “Glad you’re okay.”

The two of you stay in the shower long after you’re clean.

Until the water runs cold.

•••

The mattress dips as Joel crawls into his side of the bed. Per your request, candles burn on both of your nightstands, bright enough to provide a glow to see each other’s faces. His warmth is behind you before long, chest to your back as he drapes an arm over your waist. It’s a reminder that he’ll never let go.

The room is quiet aside from your breaths and the occasional creaks of the walls. You rest a hand over Joel’s to run your thumb over his skin and along the bumps of his knuckles.

“I’m terrible,” you say all of a sudden. Joel shifts behind you, prepared to counter even without the full context, but you continue, “I never asked about your day.”

Joel gives you a squeeze. “Probably would’ve bored you to half to death anyways.”

A small smile buds on your face. “Half alive is better than nothing,” you say.

A chuckle rumbles through his chest, vibrating straight into you. You’d wage wars to hear that sound. Cross oceans to reach it again. Joel feels you shake with a small laugh of your own, and it further solidifies that you’re going to be alright.

“Let’s see,” he decides to humor you after a brief moment of silence. You turn around in his arms and touch your feet to his beneath the sheets.

“Everything went well at the stables,” he says. “Alamo's doing a lot better. Stopped by the Tipsy Bison to tell Clyde on my way home.” You can hear the tiredness in his voice, making it gruffer.

“Aww, really?”

Joel hums and places a hand on your hip. He draws smalls circles with his thumb.

“He’s such a beautiful horse,” you think aloud. His coat is as black as the night.

“I’m starting to notice a pattern,” you slip your hand beneath the hem of Joel’s shirt to splay over his side.

“What might that be?” he asks.

“You making everything better. People, animals...”

Joel huffs an amused breath through his nose, but doesn’t say anything. Maybe not everything, but he sure as hell knows he’ll never stop showing up.

You scoot closer to him and allow your lips to find his amid the candlelight. Slow and steady like you’ve got forever.

Thank you so much for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. I promise I see them all.

Check out the From Here on Out Masterlist for more of this reader and Joel.

GENERAL MASTERLIST

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #the last of us #tlou hbo

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damiansgoodgirll · 4 months ago

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OK I found it! (No rush what’s so ever BUT!)

(During Roman’s tribal chief era.)

!Female Reader always had a crush on Roman, but was always too scared to ask him out.

One night during a match Kevin Owens costs her the match, (kinda like how Dom cost Raquel that one time) (you can pick between who ever is on the smackdown roster to have reader up against but it’s also not really required if you don’t want to.)

And basically the bloodline, mainly Roman goes to readers rescue, cause beef with Kevin.

(I know it’s not really…LIKE Roman to do something like that because he’s the tribal chief, but I feel like it would be a nice concept idea.)

Idk just fluff and adorable and what ever cause Roman… LMAO.

sorry it took me so long writing this but i’ve never written for roman and i had no idea on how to start 😭 i hope you like it + the timeline doesn’t really exist here lol

roman reigns x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated

‼️nothing major, hurt/comfort, angry roman, some fluff too, kevin owens is mean here sorry

my weakness

everyone loved roman. yes, he played the big mean guy part and he was definitely good at it but deep down you knew that he cared. he cared for his family, his cousins, the fans, he even cared about his opponents while in the ring. deep down you knew he had a big heart and he was a kind person who pretended to be the bad one.

and maybe it was because of his big mean yet kind personality you caught feelings for him.

it’s not that you were big friends - you had a closer relationship with the usos and your shy personality made it harder for you to get to know him better.

but there were times when you and roman spent some time alone. at the gym, training before a big match or backstage, his presence was nice and even if you didn’t speak much, you enjoyed being around him even if the only present sound was the silence.

unbeknownst to you, roman always admired you. he adored your quite presence. when everyone was noisy around him, he found comfort in your silence. your presence was enough for him.

and his admiration for you didn’t go unnoticed backstage but everyone kept quiet, too scared the tribal chief would get mad if someone said something and they know better to not upset him.

all the locker room knew about that. the saw how roman was nice in your presence but mean with everyone else and even if it made you laugh, you never thought more about that.

even if you had no real beef with anymore backstage, somehow kevin picked you as a main target just to made roman even angrier.

it was going all good on friday night smackdown and you had a match against tiffany - if you won over her, you would get a title shot against nia and after being in the industry for over five years with little to no titles opportunities, you were ready to take it all.

it was your moment to shine, to prove everyone that you deserved to be the women’s champion.

what you didn’t see coming was kevin owen running towards the ring the moment you almost pinned tiffany. you almost had it. but you got distracted by him running and tiffany saw that as an opportunity to stand up and hit you in the back.

you were kinda surprised to see kevin there, why was he even there? he barely talked with you backstage and you pretty sure he wasn’t there to help tiffany as he had no business with her either.

feeling pain in your back, you tried to take back control inside the ring but when kevin got closer to the metal stairs, you and the blonde woman both turned your head towards him.

“what are you doing?” you almost screamed, definitely irritated that he was there to ruin your moment “get down kevin…”

but he stood there, watching the way you and tiffany kept fighting. for the second time that night you had the chance to pin tiffy down but you were too close to the cords and nonchalantly kevin put tiffany’s leg over them.

“what the heck! kevin!” you screamed, even angrier now. you were pretty sure you did him no harm so why was he ruining your moment like that?

at this point you were tired and in pain. kevin was trying to sabotage you and you didn’t know if you had the strength to pin tiffany down for a third time.

meanwhile backstage roman was getting ready for his interview later that night and he had no idea what was happening in the ring. he knew you had a match and he was dying to see it but jimmy forced him to repeat his lines for the interview and he was missing all of your match, until jey came to the tribal chief private locker room and asked him if he knew why was kevin ruining your moment.

roman scrunched his nose, trying to elaborate what his cousin just told him “what did you say?” his tone hard.

“kevin is costing y/n’s title opportunity man, i didn’t even know those two had beef” jey uso repeated.

his words making roman’s blood boil “they don’t” he simply said before he left his changing room.

you fought with every single bone in your body. your head was spinning, your back was killing you and you were tired but you wanted that title opportunity so you kept fighting and for the third time that night you had the chance to pin tiffany down, only for kevin to grab you by the leg and drag your body away from the blonde one.

you couldn’t understand. you really couldn’t.

was it in the script and no one told you?

was your career so pathetic that superiors wanted you out of any title opportunity and instead of telling you, they sent kevin?

your mind was spinning so fast and even faster when your teary eyes met kevin’s eyes. somehow you knew he felt guilty about what he was doing to you and yet he kept going on, dragging your body out of the ring.

you had no strength left so you laid there, hearing the bell ringing, letting tiffany win, and you lose, again.

the crowd erupted in boos, especially since everyone was waiting for your match and cheering for you.

you still laid there, trying to catch your breath again when you suddenly heard the crowd going apeshit.

a very mad roman reigns was running towards kevin owens and punched him right in the face. you quickly stood up, surprised he was even there.

you stood by the ring, a hand behind your back as you tried to catch your breath once again. jimmy and jey coming to your rescue as you all watched roman dragging kevin inside the ring “your beef is with me, now with her…you’re gonna pay for this” he whispered, almost as a promise before leaving the ring.

the crowd was cheering, thinking that it was all part of a script and some even thought that you were going to join the bloodline but you honestly had no idea what was happening.

you saw roman waking towards you, his eves never leaving your body “you okay?” he asked but you were too confused that didn’t even answer “let’s get you backstage…” and for the first time you saw the twins walking in front of him as. roman’s hand gently moved to your back as he helped you walking away from the scene.

medical staff checked you out and luckily you had nothing broken. you were just in a big uncomfortable pain.

roman brought you to his changing room, telling jey and jimmy to go somewhere else as he wanted to speak with you - alone.

“are you okay y/n?” he asked once you sat down on his couch.

“yeah, i think so…” your voice trembled. you definitely weren’t okay. you didn’t even know what happened in the last thirty minutes. your brain couldn’t comprehend it.

“you’re not okay…come here” he gently sat next to you and engulfed you in his big arms. you didn’t even realise you started crying. soft whimpers left your body as roman stroked his hand over your back “kevin is gonna pay for what he did” he said with stern voice.

you looked up at him, quickly wiping your tears away “i don’t think i’ve ever been mean or rude to him, why would he cost me the only title opportunity i’ve been given in five years?” you said mostly to yourself.

“because of me…” roman didn’t want to confess. he didn’t want to ruin the little friendship you two had.

your look quite confused “you?”

“yeah me…” he took a deep breath “because the men in the locker room know…”

“they know what?” you couldn’t understand what he was trying to say.

“that you’re my weakness…” he tried to avoid your look as you watched him with big eyes “you’re my weakness, i never felt like this and they know it…they know i have feelings for you but no one ever said anything…except for kevin, who thought that ruining your moment was okay…he did it because of me, he probably feels like shit knowing that he fucked you up but he got my reaction, he pissed me off and that was his goal” he exhaled once he was finished.

you stayed there, trying to assemble what roman just told you. he liked you, kevin used you to piss roman off and roman defended you, because, again, he had feelings for you.

“you have feelings for me?” you whispered, fearing that if you said it out loud it would have been fake.

“yes…”

“you, the roman reigns, the tribal chief, you have feelings for me?” you whispered again, making roman chuckle this time “am i dreaming? that’s the only possible explanation, i am dreaming…”

his strong voice chuckled again “i promise you that you’re more than awake…”

“why didn’t you say anything about it? we could have avoided a lot of silence conversations…” you asked.

“because i didn’t know, i still don’t know what the outcome of my confession is…i didn’t want to lose you and in all honesty i loved being in your silent comforting presence” he smiled, making you smile back.

you looked at him, trying to find any sign that he was lying but when you find none, you moved closer to rest your lips upon his bigger ones. it was a soft kiss, the both of you testing the waters.

“this would have been the outcome if you told me earlier…” you whispered against his lips, making him laugh.

the title opportunity long forgotten when roman gently moved you over his lap and deepened the kiss.

“i can’t believe you like me…” you whispered, too stunned to believe what just happened.

“i’ve been liking you since you joined the roster…i should have said something earlier…” he said softly while his hand softly stroked your cheek “but i’m glad i did it now…” he kissed you back feeling you smile against his lips.

after a couple of minutes of softly making out, you both got distracted by the twins knocking on roman’s door.

“not now” he said, a stern voice while you tried not to laugh.

“we just wanted to remind you of the interview…” jimmy voice said and you felt romantic scoffing, clearly annoyed to be doing that interview.

“i’ll be out in five” he screamed back and began to kiss you again when he felt the twins walking away from his locker room.

“as much as i love this, you have work to do…” you reminded him, getting an annoyed look by him.

moving back to sitting on the couch, you let roman getting ready as you admired him. he smirked feeling your look on him, especially when you tried to look away.

“i promise you, you’ll get your title opportunity back and no one will interfere this time, you have the bloodline protection, that’s a promise” he said, promising you.

of course you believed him - you knew how important he was in the game and he knew that if he asked hunter for a little favour, he wouldn’t say no.

“once i’m done with my interview, i’ll come back here and then we’ll finish what we started, back at my hotel” he smirked again before leaving the room.

you watched him leave, not being able to answer back. your mouth agape at the idea of spending even more time with roman - maybe, after all, it wasn’t a bad night.

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z2z-gaming-and-random-art-ai · 1 year ago

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youtube

Console Fighting Games of 1995 - Super Fire Pro Wrestling Queen's Special

Released on the SNES and TurboGrafx CD, Super Fire Pro Wrestling Queen's Special is an all female wrestling game developed by Human Entertainment and features wrestlers from the Japanese promotion All Japan Women's Pro-Wrestling.

#90s games #90s gaming #fighting games #wrestling #wrestling game #all female roster #super fire pro wrestling queen's special #all japan women's pro-wrestling #snes #turbografx cd #youtube

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wiptw · 7 months ago

Text

Pokémon Stadium Series

Nintendo 64 - Nintendo - 2000 to 2001

You as a Pokémon fan are absolutely fucking spoiled these days. Aside from the mainline games you have spinoffs and fangames offering different experiences, you have entire websites dedicated to documenting everything down to the internal maths of the series, there's no end to the free content you can access with an internet connection between emulators and battle sites like 'Showdown!', and it's now socially acceptable in most circles to be older than 13 and have something with Pikachu's face plastered on it (especially if you're female presenting, especially if your friend group is also infected with the Pokémon hype). Back in my day™ you had almost none of this. You had the anime on Saturday mornings, you had the early run Pokémon licensed merch which WOULD get you called a baby if you continued buying past 10-12, and you had the games. Those sweet, sweet games that indoctrinated a generation of young people into being gamers and awoke a horde of JRPG addicts.

Literally Me

So remember this when I tell you that Pokémon Stadium, both one and two, aren't great games because they do something back then that you can't get today; they're great for what they did back then. So Pokemon Stadium 1&2 were a duology of games from 2000 and 2001 respectively that allowed players to battle Pokemon in 3D, with the addition of some side content such as minigames included to prevent the game from being 100% Pokemon battles. Because otherwise, the game is in fact navigating a series of menus and completing Pokémon battles with 3D models.

Whether it's taking on the gym gauntlets, the marathon of battles in the Pokémon cups, or just free battles with friends and loved ones, 98% of the experience is either selecting Pokémon from a roster of pre-built 'rentals' or transferring them from a saved game using the Transfer Pak, then fighting them in a series of 3D environments. An experience which you can definitely do today using web apps but as I said earlier, we didn't have that.

The peak of Pokémon battles in 2000

So if you're buying Pokémon Stadium (either version really) you're already probably a Pokémon fan right? So that means you have Red/Blue/Yellow/Gold/Silver/Crystal, so why not just play that game and get the full experience? The fun of exploring, talking to NPCs, discovering new and exotic locations? Simple, because in those games battles looked like this

While in Stadium, battles looked like this

If you grew up watching the anime while playing the Gameboy games, there was this special kind of dissonance where you might find yourself saying "Yeah, (for the time) these graphics are RADICAL but I wish I had something closer to these cool Pokémon Battles they had in the anime." As you hide under the covers with your Gameboy Color worm light, nestled in your Ash Ketchum pajamas while you attempt for the 100th time to capture a ditto. Pokémon Stadium was the answer to this dissonance, providing you with vibrant 3D graphics unlike anything you'd ever seen before; bringing Pokémon to life in a way that would be unmatched until Colosseum came out during the Gamecube era.

So, to actual mechanics, you play both games pretty similarly; by building a team of Pokémon (either on your handheld or by using the rental mons the game provides) and take part in a series of battles to become the ultimate battle master. To use your own Pokémon, you'd need to use the aforementioned 'Transfer Pak' to plug in a copy of Red/Blue/Yellow (for 1) or Gold/Silver/Crystal (for 2) with a game saved to the cartridge; otherwise the rental Pokémon covered all released Pokémon (except for some hidden ones) allowing you to build your dream team, sans a few caveats here and there.

Evolved Pokémon have better stats but worse moves, while weaker Pokémon tend to have better moves to compensate

In terms of WHERE you can battle, there's two choices: Either in the Gym Leader Castle, or the Tournaments held in the center of the map on either game. Either way, the game will then have you battle through a series of 3v3 matches versus a set number of trainers who will also select 3 random mons from their full team of six.

A bit bare bones, but there's some spice to how things are run. For one, the rental system was a huge thing for us younger players back in the day. Even if you had the games some Pokémon were hard to catch, had evolution requirements some players couldn't complete (like the trade-mons), or were locked to a version you didn't have. The rental mons give you a list of every Pokémon (some exceptions, but not many) and then lets you build your dream team. Sure, you can't set their moves, EVs, IVs, and it's the era before abilities and natures but I CAN HAVE A MEOWTH/PERSIAN ON MY TEAM. Do you know what I had to do as a child to have this Pokémon outside of Stadium? I had to find someone in the American South who also enjoyed Pokémon, hoped they had Blue instead of Red, hoped they had a link cable, then get them to agree to a trade despite both of us being children (and therefore, objectively terrible) which likely meant giving away a rare Pokémon in exchange for what amounted to common garbage in their game because it was Version fucking Exclusivity™ and everyone seemed to know that meant you'd do anything to get that one fucking Pokémon you wanted.

In the handheld games, if you wanted to build your dream team then likely you'd have to put in some more effort than other games of the time would've required of you. With Stadium, your dreams come true, and if you already have that dream team you can just import them to fight in glorious 3D. Circumventing the fact that rental Pokémon are kinda terrible overall.

Don't feel like building? The challenge cup mode that gives you randomized team comps that has it's own charm (for masochists)

Not to say all of them were bad but construct a normal distribution of 'Good' to 'Bad' picks then that graph is gonna skew left so hard you'd be forgiven for thinking it was just a straight line. To keep every choice 'viable' Pokémon rentals were balanced around stats and moves. More powerful evolved Pokémon and Pokémon with high Base Stat Totals (BST) were given weaker moves and first form and low BST Pokémon were given generally better moves. Charizard might have better stats than Charmeleon and Charmander but his only fire type move is going to be something like Fire Spin. Conversely, Charmander might have Fire Blast but his stats are gonna make him an easy target for the computer's pokemon, which are not bound to the same builds as the rental mons you're using.

Once your team is assembled, then you're off to battle trainer after trainer after trainer with beautifully scored (for the Nintendo 64) soundtracks giving you an unearned sense of importance every step of the way. Battles themselves are conducted with a weird, but functional control layout where A and B access sub menus you then check with the R button before finalizing with the c-buttons, which on original hardware or a USB N64 controller is fine but on emulation with a more modern controller like Logitech, can be a little nerve wracking as you worry about whether your 'up' input on the control stick was up enough for the game or if you accidentally drifted right or left using an unintended move.

fun fact: the name of imported Pokémon affects their coloration in Stadium

Battles are also largely regulated by (at the time) tournament standard rules. Little and Pokecup have level restrictions, and all three non-random cups include clauses for sleep, held items, and repeat Pokémon. Additionally, in any cup if you win the round with all 3 Pokémon still in tact, you're granted a continue; meaning you can retry the battle if you lose. Additionally, there is no 'draw' outcome in these games. Use a move like Explosion or Selfdestruct and the game will register it as your loss on your final Pokémon, regardless of whether you took down the opposing fighter with you or not.

You'll be doing a LOT of back-to-back fights here against trainers with varied team comps, but even with over 246 Pokémon in the available potential lineup you'll get tired fast of fighting. This is, however, slightly mitigated by the 3v3 nature of the matches but even so be ready to here the same Pokémon noises, watch the same effects play out, and wait for the same health bars to tick down over and over as you claw your way to the spot of Pokémon Master.

The art style of non-battle scenes like the main map and minigame plaza have that nice, 90's charm to them as well.

If you do get tired of battling it out, then Stadium 1 and 2 both offer minigames for players to partake in. Either in a tournament format or by using the free-play browser, players are able to take part in a multitude of different Mario Party-esque (without the hand burning) minigames featuring the Pokémon as stars. Minigames consist of stick twirling, button mashing, and point collecting all while controlling fan favorite Pokémon such as Togepi, Eevee, Scyther, and Pichu with no real rhyme or reason behind why these game exist aside from a amusement park theming the minigame zones have for their icons and menus.

You won't get a real explanation as to why you're racing Donphans, cutting logs as Scythers and Pinsirs, or playing Simon Says with a bunch of Clefairy, but you don't really need that either. The games are fun, the models are charming, and watching Clefairy get smacked in the head for each wrong input brings me a level of joy I should probably talk about with my therapist. You won't likely spend hours in this mode, but it's a nice breather from the onslaught of battles otherwise.

fun fact: I still won't talk to some people because of the outcomes to Rampage Rollout over two decades ago. You know who you are.

Additionally there's a quiz minigame separate from the main selection of minigames with easy/normal/hard difficulty selections. Players compete to see who can be the first to get a number of questions correct before anyone else based on facts about the Pokémon (typing, size, silhouette, etc) or facts about the game (where you can find things in the game, names of routes and towns, names of figures in the game).

It's not the most challenging on easy or normal, but playing on hard the game will try to screw you with trick questions so playing with others becomes a balance of "do I let the question play out, or attempt to steal it before someone else can answer correctly?"

Sometimes even playing the game won't prepare you for how out of pocket the questions can get

The real advantage of 2 over 1 is that, in addition to minigames, the game has the trainer academy; a kind of in-depth battle tutorial to teach players not only the basics of Pokémon fighting, but also some secrets as well

You can learn about held items, a feature new to the second generation, as well as participate in mock battles to demonstrate the materials you've been reading and quizzed on. Some of this information for the time too was obscure or hidden knowledge, like the fact that using Defense Curl before using Rollout would boost the damage significantly or that using Stomp on an opponent who used minimize would double the damage.

Some type matchups just make sense, like Ground v Electric.

Overall though what really makes this game is the presentation. The soundtrack does a great job selling the feeling Nintendo wants you to experience, climbing the ladder in a tournament or the Gym Leaders Castle makes you feel powerful, and the little details on top of it all just tie it together in a nice package.

The fights, for example, are also narrated by "The Announcer". A bombastic voice shouting over every detail of a fight. When you score a crit, when you apply a status effect, even using certain moves will get the announcer loudly narrating each detail like a Pokémon prize fight. Seeing the ground rip apart when you use Earthquake is only half the charm, the other half comes from that man yelling in your ears "A DEVESTATING EARTHQUAKE ATTACK!". Clearing gyms or clearing opponents in one of the cups grants you gym badges, a dream for any child growing up on the handheld classics or watching the anime who wished they too could earn shiny bits of metal that gave them an inflated sense of importance.

I would literally kill everyone I came across if it'd get me a real life Zephyr Badge.

Stadium 1 and 2 aren't evergreen classics. They're stuck in Gens 1 and 2 respectively, the roster of Pokémon while impressive is largely useless and makes collecting trophies way harder than it has to be, and the games were made before things like abilities and double battles were introduced, leading to the Pokémon battling game missing out on the generation of Pokémon that made battling more fun (Revolution doesn't count, Revolution is dead to me and disappoints me more than I disappoint myself.)

But for the time especially, it gave fans an opportunity to experience a form of Pokémon more advanced than what the handhelds could output. It was a window into a world of potential that wouldn't be truly fulfilled until arguably the 3DS era of Pokémon released, and gave fans a fun little romp handcrafted for them at every twist and turn. Whether you were a gamer or you enjoyed the anime, there was something here for you.

Overall: 7/10 Sound: 8/10 (for the time) Graphics: 9/10 (for the time) Memorable Moments: Stadium 1: Hearing about Mewtwo, thinking he was an urban legend, then finding out he wasn't Stadium 2: Finally beating the elite 4 using only rental mons.

#wiptw #video games #gaming #pokemon #pokemon stadium #pokemon stadium 2 #pkmn #review #7/10 #Nintendo #nintendo 64 #n64 #retro #retro gaming

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izzabela · 7 months ago

Note

Hear me out hear me out.

A make out sesh with the masked characters while they still have their masks on plus the female characters if you’d be so kind.

Please and thank you.

Off or On? - MK1 (2023) Roster x GN!reader (scenario fic)

in which you make out with some of the characters with their masks on

a/n: guys... ermac may be cool but they still a dead body...

ship[s]: bi han, tomas, kuai liang, kitana, mileena, rain, reptile, general shao, takeda x gn! reader (scenarios)

warning(s): suggestive endings, kanon and non-kanon

=====================

Bi Han - Coming Home

- You waited anxiously for Bi Han in the main courtyard, pacing in the snow as you limped on a crutch. The snow could be heard beneath your feet as you kept pacing

- Bi Han was away on another mission, taking your place since your injury rendered you unable to perform. It pissed you off, especially since Bi Han tasked his brothers to take care of you

- Now, you pace in circles as you wait for any signal that a portal would appear from thin air

-Suddenly, flickers and sparks appear in the air as they form in a circle. Fire borders the portal, and out walks the iconic blue uniform and black and silver mask of Bi Han

- He's got blood on the fabric, also on his pants, but his hands remain clean. His mask also has bits of blood on it, but it adds to the charm of it all. He sighs as he walks out, and his mask hides the little smile on his face as you limp over to him and throw yourself in his arms

- "Welcome home, grandmaster," you say as you dig your face in his chest. Bi Han looks down at your face as you meet his eyes up above

- "Yes, thank you beloved," Bi Han says. He brushes your hair out of your face, and his eyes flutter close as he initiates a kiss

- Your lips meet something cold, but your eyes are closed and refusing to open. You pepper the mask with many kisses, and Bi Han realizes that his mask is still on

- "Apologies, my dear," he says as he takes his mask off. However, you stop him from taking it off

- "Keep it on... I like it like that," you whisper, hiding your face as it turns a little pink

- Bi Han chuckles as he sweeps you off your feet, beelining for the bedroom to give himself a proper welcome home with you

=====================

Tomas - Stay Quiet

- You and Tomas stay well-hidden in a tree, stalking the enemy for anything related to information regarding a new Earthrealm threat

- Unfortunately, nothing noteworthy appeared, and the enemy retires for the night, but not you two

- You both sit on a thick branch to rest, stretching and moving your limbs in order to stay fit and ready. Once all done, you lay down and have your head in Tomas's lap

- "You can't be tired already," Tomas gently scolds, petting your head as you giggle

- "I'm only resting, love. It'll take a lot more to wear me down," you say. Tomas chuckles, pulling you up in his lap and your eyes level with his

- Your hand cups his masked cheek, the rough material littered with scratches and dents from years of use

- However, it was an integral part of his identity, and an integral part to your physical attachment to him

- The mask perfectly hugs his lower face, and your fingers trace the silhouette of his mask. Tomas catches your hand and gently pulls it down and away

- Yours and his eyes become hazy, lidded with desire at the fact that there was some downtime for one another on this perilous mission

- You kiss the mask, and Tomas's hands roam your clothed back to pull you close. His breathing is muffled and labored, and he pulls away from you quickly to take it off

- "Wait! Don't take it off..." you tell him in a semi-hushed tone

- "Why? It will get in the way." Tomas is perplexed by your adamant refusal to his mask being off

- "I, uh..." you don't finish your sentence as you look away and cover your face. However, your neck is growing more colored as the warmth of embarrassment floods you

- Tomas just chuckles, pulling you close before his hands begin to roam under your uniform and undershirt

=====================

Kuai Liang - Hard Day

- Kuai Liang's breath was hard and labored behind his mask, taking a break from training Shirai Ryu initiates

- He sat on the wooden platform of the compound, away from all the ruckus and yelling of the initiates. The wind was blowing perfectly, and the temperature outside was nice and cool

- What was not cool, though, was how you surprised him from behind. Still, he managed to move just in time to avoid your childish antics

- "Ah! So close..." you groan as your arms crossed over one another, missing his sides as he stands in front of you

- He chuckles, "That was a good attempt, but it appears you'll need more training." You sigh, and you both sit down together

- "Hard day?" you ask, and he nods as he removes his mask for a couple of minutes to drink some water

- You chuckle, taking his mask and help him to put it back on. He thanks you once you hook the ends of the mask to his ears

- Mistakenly, though, he kisses your forehead with the mask on. His eyes are wide, embarrassed as his eyes dart away from yours shyly. You don't mind though, and grab his face to meet your eyes

- "Don't turn away from me, dear," you say softly, planting a quick kiss on the cheek part of his mask

- You both lean in, and your lips collide with the metal of his mask. You can hear him breathing hard, and feel his hands exploring your body under your uniform

- "But my mask..." he whispers, voice drowned out by the thickness of his mask

- "I quite like it..." you say with a little blush

- He picks you up, and it seems Kuai Liang's hard day becomes easier with you in his arms, together in bed

=====================

Kitana - Post-tournament

- Kitana sits alone, only the hanging wisterias and the stars her company

- Her sister was receiving treatment for Tarkat, meaning she had to fight in her place during the kombat tournament

- However, she was beaten by an Earthrealm farmer. A humble one. While she was pleased with his humility and great patience, it made her feel...

- Disappointed. A failure. She let her mother, her sister, and her kingdom down

- She sighs again as she blinks away tears that begin to roll out of her eyes. Her mask catches them, but the fabric begins to grow just a bit damp

- "Your highness?" a voice calls. She knows it, and she turns around to find a worried expression on your face

- "Ah, hello my love," Kitana sniffles as she elegantly covers her face with a fan of hers

- "Don't hide from me, dear, I heard you as I was coming to meet you," you tut and gently nag her

- She sighs yet again, not hiding her feelings as she pats the empty spot on the bench. You sit by her and hear about her performance and how it affected her

- "My dear," you cup her mask face as she begins to hiccup and cry a little more freely. "My dear, you still did exceptionally well!"

- You wipe her tears, peppering her face with kisses around her eyes and the places where her tears fell

- You then plant a kiss on her mask. While it is sturdy, it is made of Edenian fabric, so you can feel the outline of her lips

- You giggle as you pull away, but in past the tears that lined her eyes, the makeup she wore, it was clear she liked that

- "Shall I continue, dearest Kitana?" you ask, and she wraps her arms around you to pull you closer

- Your lips find hers again, and the mask gets just a little damp at how deep you're kissing the princess. Her breath is ragged, and you can hear the squeaks and little moans she lets out behind her mask

- "Someone is feeling a little better now," you tease her as you wipe your mouth

- She chuckles, wiping her eyes as she gets up from her seat with your hand in hers

- "Perhaps you can make me feel even better, my love," she drawls out, eyes half-lidded as she swings your arm

- You pray that Argus gives you the strength to hold back tonight

=====================

Mileena - Imperial Duties

- Mileena stretched on her throne, moving her arms up and down and stretching her legs out

- Hell, she took her mask off to stretch both her human and Tarkatan jaw- she was that pooped from today

- Another day, another list of imperial chores, meetings, and items to get through. Honestly, how her mother did it was a question between her and the gods

- Mileena was relishing in her role as Empress, and doing well fitting in her mother's shoes, but it was still a job

- And whether you like it or not, even queens hate their jobs

- Just as she was about to blow off some steam with more training, a servant came in the throne room with an announcement you're coming through

- You bow as the servant moves out the way, and a soft exhale left her mouth at the sight of you

- "Hello, beloved," Mileena greets you. You smile as you walk closer

- "How are you faring with your duties?" you ask as you stop at the steps of the throne. Mileena growls, eyes sharpening a bit as she pats her lap for you to sit

- You're shocked, "A-are you sure? There are people..." Mileena just huffs as she sends everyone away

- Including the Umgadi

- "E-empress!" you're shocked as she takes you in her lap. She's tall enough already, her heels make her even taller

- Not only that, but from the constant kombat and sparring she did, her muscles were well-defined and formed

- "I despise the imperial politics," Mileena mumbles into your back. You giggle as you reach behind to pat her head

- "Imperial duties, my beloved," you sympathize

- Despite the mask she wore, you could feel the littlest breath come through. Seems that bits of her Tarkat were coming through, and she normally wore it when it got bad

- Funny, since everyone knows about her disease

- You turn in her lap and meet her eyes. Her eyes crease a bit as yours does, and you give her just a quick peck on the spot of her mask where her lips are

- "Feel better now?" you ask, stroking her face gently

- "Hm..." Mileena ponders a bit, before pulling you in close once more for another kiss

- You kiss at the same spot, and the mask becomes a little damp at how badly you want her actual lips to hit yours. Your moans become a little more apparent as her slender fingers stroke up and down on your side

- "E-empress!" you cry out as her fingers find your skin under your garments. Mileena chuckles lowly, taking you in her arms as she gets off the throne

- "Beg for more, dearest. You'll need the mercy of your empress in a few short moments."

- You gulp, "Delia, give me the strength..."

=====================

Rain - Hidden

- You wait patiently in a rundown shack on the outskirts of Sun Do

- Constables aren't everywhere, since it isn't the capital, but they are around. It worries you, but they're gone as you hear floorboards creaking in the shack

- You gasp as your head snaps behind you. Your eyes search the darkness, and you can hear the warbling of water swirling in the corner. Theres also a little light illuminating there

- "Zefferro? you call the hydromage's name. The water stops, and a figure emerges from the darkness

- "My pearl..." his voice draws from behind the mask. It's soft, almost distant, but he's here in the flesh

- You throw your arms around him as you catch him in a hug. His arms wrap around your waist as you breathe his scent in. He smells like the sea, mostly due to his magic, and he smells like the outside

- "I've come bearing gifts," he whispers, forehead on yours as he shows you a bag next to his staff

- "I told you to stop stealing for me," you scold him, pushing him away as you grab the bag of food. "You must stay hidden!"

- Inside the bag, all your favorite snacks stare you in the face. Sweet candies, salty chips, even fried street foods. You couldn't stay mad at him, and you look over your shoulder with a downturned smile

- "You cannot remain angry forever, my pearl," he teases you as he closes in on you again

- You sigh once again. Rolling your eyes as you meet him in the middle. On your side, a table stands in the middle of the room, and you place the bag there as Rain wraps his hands around your waist

- "You are right, but you cannot remain out here forever," you tell him, sobering him up at his current situation

- After the fall of Seido, he had to serve time in imperial prison, but he left you behind. You had no one to protect you, a normal Sun Do resident with no powers, and you lived in constant fear that you'd be run out of your home if people learned of your connection to the former high mage

- He wanted you safe, even if it meant at the expense of himself

- "Pearl, nothing else matters but your happiness and protection," he whispers as he looks you deep in your eyes.

- There is so much love and strength in them, but pain that he'd need to leave again. To make the most of it, you kiss his mask, in the place where his lips would be. Rain is a bit shocked (slightly weirded out), but it is welcome regardless

- "Zefferro..." you say in a voice barely above a whisper. Rain's exhale is shaky, almost like he's going to cry

- He leans in again, and your lips attack his mask. His breath is ragged as his hands climb up from under your shirt, roaming your upper chest area. You moan at the feeling of his fingers, moving fluidly like the magic he controlled

- "Let me remove this," he says, but you stop him and sit on the table, pushing the mask back on his face

- "You must stay hidden, right love?" you smile shyly, and Zefferro's gaze darkens at your innocent flirtation

- The table creaks as Zefferro towers over you, and you smile as he begins to undress you where you two were supposed to eat

=====================

Reptile/Syzoth - Spar Reward

- Syzoth is panting as his arms falter from the stress of holding them up against the blue-clad princes

- "I yield!" Syzoth yells, arms giving out as he falls onto his back

- Kitana chuckles, putting her fans away on her pants and removing her mask before coming to his aid

- "Good work, Syzoth," Kitana praises, "There is room for improvement, but you are on the right track"

- Syzoth gets up with Kitana's help, and he bows before grabbing some water

- As he takes many long drinks, his ears pick up on a new set of footprints. He can also smell a familiar, grassy and dewy, scent from behind him

- He turns his head and is met with your beautiful being, dressed in formal attire as you had come from a court meeting. You smile at him, quickly bow to Kitana, then make your way to Syzoth

- "How have you been, love? Is training going well?" you ask him as you wipe down his arms, a little gesture you do every time you see him

- He nods, "I find it difficult to train in human form. I do not understand how this form is so comfortable for you..."

- You roll your eyes, "You say that like I, too, can shift form."

- Kitana takes leave from the area, allowing you two a private couple moment. As you two talk, you massage Syzoth's shoulders

- "You train so hard, you deserve a break and reward," you giggle, kissing his masked cheek

- You don't see it, but his face is warm and slightly green. If he were mortal, he'd be queasy, but it was clear he was embarrassed and flushed with emotion

- "May I have a real kiss?" he asks shyly, and you chuckle as you move in front of him to kiss him

- The mask was tough, as it protected his mouth and lips. You kiss him where his lips would be, and Syzoth closes his eyes as you wrap your arms around his neck as he places his calloused human hands on your waist

- Syzoth's breathing is pitchy and uneven, almost like he was begging for it. His mask was slick with your saliva, and you pull away

- You giggle, "Is that reward enough, love?" Syzoth hums, thinking a little bit before the grip on your waist is tightened

- "I think I'll need more," he says with a low voice, in the process of removing his mask

- But you stop him

- "Can you... keep it on love?" you ask as you gently push the mask back on his face. You can feel something poking you from underneath, and you turn pink

- Syzoth took you over his shoulder, racing back to his bedroom to relish in his reward

=====================

General Shao - On the Run

- You knock three times on a shabby wooden door, the said door opening with Reiko behind it

- "Is he here?" you ask, pulling down your hood as he ushers you inside

- Reiko nods, "We cannot be here for too long. It won't be long before someone realizes a huge man with horns and a silver mask resides here..."

- You click your tongue angrily, scowling at the fact your beloved warrior would be leaving again

- Broken out of jail by Bi Han, Reiko and General Shao were on the constant run

- Which means constant moving

- Which means practically no chance on meeting your beloved warrior

- The only possible ways would be when they were near your village

- And by near, probably two cantons over, another village to make sure you would not he caught in the crossfire of this manhunt

- That's what you're doing now, meeting your warrior in a village two places over- all for... an unknown amount of time

- "Dragonfly...." a rumbling of a voice comes from the darkness, and you see the shine of metal and deep red eyes

- "My warrior..." your voice cracked as your hands wrapped around his neck. His strong, scaly arms grips your waist and back

- His breathing is deep, trying to remember your smell before you'd have to leave again

- "Dragonfly... How I've missed you..." he said softly, gently swaying in his spot with you in hand

- You look up at him, his silver skull mask covering a good portion of his face. The only things you could see were his eyes and mouth

- "How long are you here for? Reiko did not mention the length in which you'll be here," you caress his metal face, and his hand is on top of yours as he grabs it gently

- "I do not know, my little dragonfly, but what I do know is that you're here, with me," he whispers, voice so low that not even a fly could hear it

- "Then," you say as your other hand is on his covered cheek. "Just hold me here, until you have to go..."

- "Gladly"

- Your mouths mesh together perfectly, like a beautiful symphony. The mask over his face is cool, and the little teeth that cover his mouth just barely your lips as both of your tongues fight for dominance

- His hand go lower, resting on your plush bum as he kneads it like dough. You moan, letting go of his lips quickly as you grind into his hardened member

- "Shall I take off my mask?" he asks, already doing it. You stop him just in time though

- You shake your head vehemently, "No. I want to see the warrior you are, including the mask"

- He nods, and he picks you up in his arms as he walks to the "bedroom" in the back

- He'll show you a warrior, that's certain

=====================

Takeda Takahashi - Nightly Visits

- You stood on the balcony of your apartment in Shibuya (you are my special)

- The night was warm and breezy, and you looked over the scenery of the bright city awaiting a certain black and yellow ninja

- You look down at your watch, sighing, "Late again..."

- As you turn to head inside your flat, you're shocked by the said ninja. He's decked out in his tech armor, and his iconic black and yellow skull mask is on

- Despite his scary look, his eyes are soft and crinkled on the edges, indicating a smile

- "I don't think I'm tardy this time," he teases you, and you practically tackle him in a hug

- He laughs as he catches you, hoisting you up in the air as he swings you side to side. He smells like iron, sweat, and the Japanese wilderness- probably another mission

- "When did you sneak in here, you goof?" you noogie his head, bits of his hair misplaced despite the bandana that pushed it all back

- "A couple of minutes ago. Seriously, did you not hear me? I even cleaned up a plant I knocked over out here..."

- Your head turns to the direction his faces, and you can see the decently cleaned spot of one of your plants that had fallen off its pedestal. You whip your head back at him, glaring and removing your arms from around him

- He was mega strong. Carrying you while your arms were no longer around his neck is not for the faint of muscle

- "Aww... dearest, don't be angry..." he pleads, mask nuzzling into your neck. Despite the hard, shell-like exterior, it made you ticklish as the nose of the mask dug into the sensitive spot you had

- "How can I make it up to you?" he begs, eyes sparkling. How can a guy be so cute and deadly at the same time?

- "A kiss," you say, hands grabbing his face as you give him a peck at the teeth part of his skull mask. He chuckles as he pulls you in again for another

- "Of course, dearest," he says as your lips hit his mask again

- Your lips lick and suck at the place where his lips should be, and it clearly turns Takeda on as you can feel his growing member. You try to wiggle away from it, but his grip on you is strong as he forces you to grind on it

- When you pull away, you're red and hide your embarrassed face in his shoulder. He coos, patting your head as he teases you more.

- "So, am I forgiven now, dearest?" he asks, moving your hips for you as you whine

- "If you show me more moves inside, perhaps you are," you say, matching his energy with half-lidded eyes and a flirtatiously lazy smile

- He rushes inside your flat, slamming the balcony's sliding door shut as he climbs over you on the couch

- Let's just say that he earned more than forgiveness this nightly visit

=====================

GUYS GUYS GUYS MK1 DLC ANNOUNCEMENT AKHISDIJG

okay see y'all in the next fic! love you all for getting me to 50 followers! (at the time of this fics publishing)

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witchywithwhiskey · 3 months ago

Text

another man’s marks

pairing: toxic!bucky barnes x toxic!female reader

summary: you're texting with your situationship when he asks for a nude photo—but you're covered in marks left by another man. wanting to see what he'll do, you send a photo of yourself, and you're rewarded with a very torturous and enjoyable reaction.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), established situationship, smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering (f receiving), masturbation (m), come play, bdsm elements, a lot of biting and marking, orgasm delay, choking, some breath play, some pain play, some dacryphilia, dirty talk, daddy kink, praise kink, degradation kink, pet names (baby), begging, teasing, some aftercare, taking and sending nude photos, possessive behavior, toxic behavior, jealousy, referenced but not shown situationship between reader and john walker, very anti-john walker behavior

word count: 7.3k

a/n: so this post came across my dash and i had the thought 'ok but what if you sent a situationship a picture covered in another man's marks?' and i started thinking about how toxic situationship bucky might react and then i wrote the first draft of this fic very quickly 🤭 i actually really love toxic bucky but i'm a little nervous to share this because i just want you all to love him as much as i do 🥺 (and, actually, he's not as toxic as i originally intended but y'know what, that's ok i think). i hope y'all enjoy ♡

you ain't my boyfriend and i ain't your girlfriend series masterlist

Let me see your tits, baby.

The text message drew a huff of noise from you, one that was half laugh, half scoff. You were laying in bed, already wearing your pajamas—an oversized tee and panties—and catching up with your situationship, Bucky Barnes, before you went to sleep.

His request wasn’t entirely out of the blue. After asking how your day was, Bucky had started complaining about his day, and you’d known the man long enough to know those kinds of conversations often led to him asking you to send a photo of yourself—though he usually wanted a picture of what panties you were wearing.

Most of the time, you didn’t hesitate to take a picture to send to him. But that time, you paused.

You liked Bucky. You liked talking to him and hearing about his day, and when you were together, you had fun. Plus, you liked sending photos of yourself to him, and you enjoyed the fact that he wanted to see your body when he wasn’t with you. It stroked your ego when he asked for a photo, and he always responded with filthy praise that turned you on.

But that particular night, you had a problem preventing you from simply taking a photo. And, really, the problem was partly to blame on Bucky.

From the beginning, he’d said he didn’t do relationships, he’d told you he wasn’t ready to commit to just one person. He’d been clear and up front about what he wanted, and it was nothing more than a situationship, which was fine with you. You liked him, but you weren’t going to beg for more.

But you’d also decided that if he wasn’t going to commit to you, then you certainly weren’t going to clear out your roster just for him. You weren’t going to be one of those girls sitting at home pining away for some guy. Not even Bucky Barnes.

Which, in a long, winding way, led to your current predicament.

After all, there was a difference between Bucky being vaguely aware you were still hooking up with other guys—since you occasionally referenced your roster—and him seeing the evidence of it. And you had to wonder how he’d react if you took a picture of your tits in the state they were that evening…

It had only been about a day since your last hookup, and your mind wandered to the night before. You’d met up with one of the other guys on your roster, John Walker, and had a decently enjoyable dick appointment. You hadn’t expected Bucky or any of the other men on your roster to ask for pics, so you’d let John do what he wanted to your body.

If there were two things you knew about John Walker, it was that he and Bucky hated each other, and he loved your tits. John loved playing with them, he loved sucking on them, and he loved leaving hickeys all over them. Which he’d done the night before—and then proceeded to give you a not very satisfying orgasm.

Sure, it’d done the trick in the moment, but not even 24 hours later, you were already restless again, your body needing a proper release, which you knew Bucky could give you. But you weren’t planning to see Bucky for at least a couple days, not until the evidence of your hookup with John had faded.

Lifting your shirt, you looked at John’s handiwork. Your tits were dotted all over with at least a dozen tiny little love bites, and your body warmed as you remembered the knife-edged pleasure that came along with each little mark. They were so recent, the bruises were still reddish, not having yet fully faded to a dark purple.

As you looked at them, you had a devious thought—what would Bucky do if he saw John’s marks on your body? Would he blow you off, stop talking to you, maybe even ghost you? Or would he need to see you so badly that he’d come over to your apartment? Would he fuck you and give you the release you needed?

Thinking through your options, you knew it would be the kind, respectful thing to send Bucky an older photo, one of your tits when they were entirely unblemished. You had plenty of photos like that on your phone—and Bucky probably wouldn’t even notice if you sent him the same photo twice.

Or… You could send Bucky a photo of your tits covered in another man’s hickeys. You could, if he asked, tell him exactly who had given you all those hickeys. And then, you could see what Bucky would do about it.

A wicked smile crept across your face as you came to a decision.

Lifting your shirt again, you arched your body toward the light in your room, making sure the marks were clearly visible on your skin, then you snapped a photo of your tits. Before you could talk yourself out of the idea that was probably toxic and definitely a little mean, you sent the photo to Bucky.

His reply was almost instantaneous.

Who the fuck did that to you.

You bit back your mischievous giggle, even if you were alone in your room and there was no one to hear the evil way you wanted to cackle at Bucky’s response. Excited thrills raced through your veins, warmth blooming between your thighs at the anger laced in his text message.

You knew you’d be pushing him further toward anger by answering his question—you knew how much Bucky and John hated each other—but he’d asked. And besides, you were hoping he’d take out all that anger on your body in the most delicious of ways. So you sent a simple response.

John Walker.

You waited for Bucky’s response.

And waited.

But as the minutes ticked by and Bucky didn’t text back, your heart sank more and more, and the delighted smile on your face flattened into a frown. You began to think Bucky might actually be ghosting you.

For only a moment, you let yourself feel disappointed at the way your phone didn’t light up with another text from your situationship, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to be sad over a man like Bucky Barnes. Even if he fucked you way better than John Walker or any of the other guys on your roster. Even if you liked him more than any of the other guys you’d been with.

Hauling yourself up from your bed, you went through your nighttime routine, brushing your teeth and washing your face while listening to music. It wasn’t until you were about to slip into bed and go to sleep that your phone buzzed with a new text message.

Your heart lept into your throat when you saw it was Bucky and you scrambled to read his response, eager to know what had taken him so long. Your breath caught in your throat and excitement buzzed wildly through your veins when you saw what he’d written.

I’m outside. Open your door.

A shiver of anticipation zipped down your spine as you bounded out of bed, an ecstatic grin spreading across your face at the realization that you’d got what you wanted—Bucky was at your apartment. And he was going to do something about the photo you’d sent him.

It took all your self control not to run to your apartment door and fling it open excitedly to greet Bucky. Instead, you forced yourself to take your sweet time padding to the door, your movements deliberately lazy as you unlocked it and swung it open.

Bucky Barnes loomed on the other side, his head hanging between stiff arms, his hands braced on either edge of the frame like he was holding himself back from kicking down your door. His broad shoulders were bunched up, his short, brown hair messy like he’d been running his hands through it. His chest was heaving as he breathed harshly.

When he lifted his head, the stubborn possessiveness in his darkened blue eyes slashed right through to your heart. He’d never looked at you that way before, and you had the terrible, fleeting thought that you could get used to being the only girl Bucky looked at so possessively.

For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other. Then, Bucky stalked forward, crowding you into your apartment and gathering you up in his strong arms while he kicked the door shut behind him. It closed with a rough slam that had your pulse skittering in your veins, your heart already pounding in your chest as Bucky crushed you in his arms.

His gaze held yours and there was something about the emotions swirling his eyes, a mixture of uncompromising possessiveness and lustful determination, that felt dangerous. Not to your body, but to your heart.

“You got a lotta nerve sending me a picture with another man’s marks on you,” Bucky growled as he walked you backward toward your bedroom, his hands groping your hips and ass like every inch of your body belonged to him. “You weren’t trying to make me jealous, were you, baby?”

His words were a furious hiss that he punctuated by ducking down and snapping his teeth at your plump lower lip, biting you roughly enough to wring a gasp from your lungs. Between your thighs, you could feel your pulse pumping needily, your body aching for so much more of Bucky’s rough treatment even as you forced yourself not to cower and submit like you wanted.

Pushing against Bucky’s shoulders until he leaned back and you could catch his eye, you quirked an eyebrow at him in a dry expression of amusement.

“You’re a big boy, Bucky,” you said, before pausing to run your tongue along your lower lip, feeling the tender spot he’d bitten. Dark satisfaction swirled in your chest, but you made yourself shrug indifferently. “And I’m not your girlfriend—so if you’re jealous, that’s your problem, not mine.”

“You let him mark you,” Bucky snarled, an accusation in his tone as he stared deep into your eyes.

For a moment—just a brief moment—you saw a hurt look in Bucky’s gaze, and it pricked at something deep in your heart. Something you refused to look at or examine, especially not with Bucky standing right in front of you. You didn’t want to think about the fact that Bucky might’ve been hurt by your actions, or that you cared about his feelings enough to want to apologize.

But you supposed you could take pity on him. You’d tormented him enough for one night.

“Yeah,” you said, cocking your head to the side, a sly smirk curving your lips. “And what are you gonna do about it, daddy?” You practically purred the final word, knowing how Bucky would react to it.

Just like that, the hurt vanished from Bucky’s expression and heat sparked in his icy blue eyes, a menacing smile pulling across his face.

“You wanna see what I’m gonna do about it?” he growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “Oh, baby, you’re not fucking ready for what I’m gonna do to your pretty little slutty body.”

Bucky crowded into you, pushing you backward until your legs hit your bed, and then he was shoving you down to the soft blankets. You crawled backward into the center of the bed while Bucky toed out of his shoes and took off his jacket, leaving him in only a black t-shirt and gray sweatpants.

Once he’d tossed his jacket somewhere in your room, he didn’t waste anymore time, prowling onto the bed and using his hands to push up the hem of your oversized tee. His head fell to your body, his teeth nipping harshly at your soft belly to make you squeal and squirm as he worked his way up. He delivered the same treatment to the curves of your brests and the delicate skin of your collarbone.

When his face finally hovered above yours, his breathing was harsh and his expression was filled with a determination so stubborn, you knew you were going to have a long night while Bucky showed you why you shouldn’t let another man mark your body.

“You’re not leaving this bed until you’ve got so many of my fucking marks on your body that you won’t even think about sending nudes to anyone else,” Bucky growled, tugging off your tee, pushing your legs open so he could settle between them, and descending on your tits.

He found the first of John’s marks and sank his teeth into the skin around it, sucking hard on the already aching bruise. The spot gave a little twinge of pain from Bucky’s rough treatment, but it only mixed deliciously with the pleasure he was dragging from your body, and your fingers threaded into his hair, clinging to him while he sucked on your skin.

Bucky worked the reddish-purple blemish relentlessly with his mouth and teeth until it was bright again, and so much larger than the mark John had left. Then, when he was done, Bucky moved on to the next hickey, scraping his teeth over the bruise and wringing a helpless cry from your lips before he sucked the curve of your tit into his mouth.

It went on like that for you didn’t know how long, Bucky working methodically down and across your chest, sucking and biting every bruise John had left behind on your body until each one was replaced with a new, bigger mark.

If you begged Bucky for more—or tried to push his furious mouth down toward your pussy, which was throbbing almost painfully with need—he’d simply narrow his eyes at you, giving you a look like you’d known exactly what you were getting yourself into when you’d sent that photo to him. Then he’d work his mouth even harder, even more roughly against your body, until you were tossing your head back into your pillows and moaning your pleasure.

By the time he was done, you were nothing more than a whimpering, pleading mess beneath him. Your eyes were filled with tears of desperation, and your inner thighs were sticky with the sheer amount of desire soaking your panties and coating your trembling flesh.

“Daddy, please,” you begged on a sob, shoving at Bucky’s shoulders to get his attention as he roughly kissed a spot in the valley between your tits, licking and sucking a new hickey into your skin.

At the sound of your ragged voice, Bucky lifted his head, but you could already tell by the determined glint in his eye and the stubborn set of his jaw that he wasn’t going to give you what you wanted just yet.

“Hush, baby,” he rasped in a dark, patronizing tone, lowering his mouth back to your chest and sucking on the hickey he’d just left. “Daddy’s just getting started marking your beautiful body with all the pretty little bruises I want.” His voice was a rough growl that reverberated beneath your skin.

Between your thighs, you could feel more of your desire trickling into your panties, which were already soaked all the way through and sticking to your clammy skin. A whine worked its way up your throat and spilled from your lips before you could stop it, your legs squirming around Bucky’s sides, trying to grind your cunt against his body but unable to get the angle right.

While you wriggled frustratedly, Bucky paid you no mind, shifting down your body as he picked a spot for his next mark. When his teeth sank into the soft flesh of your belly, you cried out, arching up off the bed and spreading your thighs wider to make room for Bucky’s broad shoulders.

Your fingers twisted in his soft brown hair, trying to push his head down further, until it was between your thighs, whimpering a soft sob of, “Bucky, please.”

But Bucky was having none of it. Despite your pleading and protests, he took his time, only peeling your panties away from your soppy wet cunt after taking his time leaving a trail of hickeys on your belly.

When he saw how wet you were, Bucky chuckled and murmured, “Such a messy little slut, baby.”

He’d said the words fondly and, if you weren’t mistaken, there was affection in the curve of his smile that had you feeling something you didn’t want to look at too closely. But your treacherous heart beat a little harder all the same.

Then his words sank into your lust-soaked mind and heat bloomed in your face at the gentle degradation. But what little shame you could conjure up only mixed with the burning of your desire as you stared down into Bucky’s darkened eyes, holding his gaze while he took off your panties and tossed them somewhere in your room.

He turned his focus back to the juncture of your thighs, shoving your legs wide open and smirking when you let out a helpless little moan at the feeling of the cool air brushing against your heated, dripping cunt. You were so worked up, you could feel your inner muscles clenching around nothing, needing to be filled with something.

“Your pussy’s winking at me, baby,” Bucky rumbled, laughter in his voice as he spread your pussy open with his fingers. You could feel it, your body winking at the man between your thighs like you were begging him to slide inside you—his fingers or his cock, you didn’t care. “She wants me bad, doesn’t she, baby?”

Bucky’s taunting words had you covering your face and letting out a low, tortured groan even as your hips twitched, your body yearning desperately to be filled, to be fucked. “Bucky,” you whined, drawing out his name pitifully as your hips bucked into his hands, seeking more of his touch.

But Bucky didn’t oblige your body’s request. His hands skimmed away from your pussy and along your thighs to hold you behind your knees, pushing your legs up to your chest so you were bared fully to his heated gaze. When you peeked out from between your fingers, you saw him staring hungrily down at your cunt, but at your movement, his gaze flicked up and caught yours.

“Do ya want me that bad, baby?” Bucky purred, ducking down to nuzzle his scruffy cheek against your inner thigh—so close to where you needed him, but still too far away. On instinct, your hips bucked upward, trying to press your pussy against Bucky’s face, but he held you down, grinning as he went on. “Ya want daddy’s fat cock to pound into your cute little cunt, huh, baby—want it hard and rough so you’ll be feeling me in your pretty pussy for days?”

“Oh god yes—yes, please, Bucky—daddy, please, I need your cock,” you babbled desperately, your hips squirming as you humped the empty air, seeking any part of Bucky that you could grind your aching cunt against. You didn’t care if it was his mouth or his cheek or his shoulder, you needed something.

Instead of giving you that, though, Bucky turned his face and sank his teeth deep into your thigh, hard enough that your pussy pulsed violently and you thought you were going to cum. But you didn’t.

Once the blinding sensation of pain and pleasure passed, you knew you wouldn’t manage to tip over the edge just from Bucky’s teasing. You weren’t going to cum until he finally paid attention to your pussy, and somehow you suspected Bucky knew that.

“Tell me how bad you want me,” he growled, sucking on your skin and beginning to leave a new mark on your inner thigh. His gaze was locked on yours as he stared up your body, past your heaving chest that was already littered with his marks, commanding you with the stubborn, possessive look in his eyes to do as he said.

“Want you so bad, daddy,” you cried, your whole body trembling like a leaf in a bitter autumn wind. Tears of frustration and need were pooling in your eyes again and you knew that if Bucky kept edging you for much longer, they were going to spill down your cheeks. “Want you more than anything—anything—please just fuck me!”

Bucky’s eyes glittered, the possessiveness is his gaze deepening and turning into something feral as he stared up your body. Finally, his mouth pulled away from your quivering thigh—after he placed one last affectionate kiss on the mark he’d left.

“Tell me you want me more than John fucking Walker,” he spit out, shifting his head to your other thigh and sinking his teeth into your soft flesh as he held you pinned to your bed with his thick biceps wrapped around your legs.

Your heart fluttered in your chest and your breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t expected to get such a reaction out of Bucky when you’d sent him that picture of your tits with John’s marks all over them. But you also couldn’t bring yourself to regret it. Not when he was looking at you like you were his while he sucked yet another mark into your skin.

“I want you so much more than him,” you murmured. “I want your marks on me, I want your cock and your cum in me—I want you, Bucky.”

The words tumbled from your lips—the ones Bucky had demanded—and you were more than a little surprised by the vehemence in your voice, and how easy it was to admit you wanted Bucky more than John.

Sure, you’d known he was a better fuck than John, but things with Bucky felt right in a way they didn’t with any of the other men on your roster. Like the two of you fit together somehow.

And that scared you. It scared you enough that you rushed on, forcing yourself to raise an eyebrow at Bucky and muster a dry tone as you asked, “Is that what you wanted to hear?” You could detect the hitch of emotion beneath the taunting tone of your voice, but with any luck, Bucky wouldn’t.

Thankfully, he seemed not to notice, responding to your words by growling into the soft flesh of your thigh, his eyes narrowing into a glare. He gave the hickey he’d sucked into your skin one last pull, then pushed himself up.

Before you could beg again for him to fuck you, Bucky roughly grabbed your hips and flipped you over. His teeth sank so hard into the plush curve of your ass, you screeched into your pillows. There was more pain than pleasure that time, but Bucky knew the edge you liked to walk and he didn’t give you more than you could handle.

As it was, even more wetness flooded between your thighs and you writhed beneath Bucky’s big body, all the small stinging aches of the marks he’d left blending with the pulsing throb of need coursing through your veins. It was enough to break the damn of your tears and you sobbed into your pillows.

“Bucky, please, please, I need your dick,” you cried, straining your neck to look at him over your shoulder.

Bucky’s dark blue eyes were narrowed into slits and when he finally pulled his teeth from your ass, he continued glowering at you, looking grumpy and almost entirely unbothered by your pleas. You knew he wasn’t entirely unaffected, though, because his cock twitched against your thigh when he saw your tear-stained face.

“Tell me you won’t do it again and I might consider giving you some dick,” he growled, holding your gaze as he ducked down to lick and soothe the bite mark he’d left on your asscheek.

“I won’t send you another picture covered in John’s marks, I promise,” you rushed to say, arching your back and whining. Your body was moving on its own, trying to present your pussy to Bucky, but he only scraped his teeth over the mark he’d left in your skin.

“Not good enough,” Bucky grumbled, shifting to your other cheek and sinking his teeth into your ass, giving you another bite mark. When you hissed at the pain, Bucky relented, stroking his tongue over the spot as he sucked on your skin. “No one else gets to mark you but me.”

You had to look away to hide the way your eyes rolled at that demand. Bucky wouldn’t commit to you, but he wanted you to promise you wouldn’t let another man mark you. Fucking men. You glared into your pillows, not saying anything and hoping he’d drop it if you didn’t respond.

He didn’t.

“Say it, baby,” Bucky growled, leaning to the side and slapping your ass. He managed to hit the exact spot he’d bitten, which was tender from his teeth and mouth, making you cry out. “Say I’m the only one allowed to mark you.”

“Men who aren’t my boyfriend don’t get to make demands like that, James,” you snarled, turning to glare at him over your shoulder.

The two of you glared at each other for a long minute. You knew Bucky could be stubborn, but you could be much more stubborn when you wanted to be—and you fucking wanted to right then. If Bucky thought you were going to let him dictate what you could or couldn’t do with other men while he refused to commit, he had another thing coming.

Slowly, Bucky shifted up onto his hands, climbing up your body with the languid movements of a predator until his bigger form covered your smaller one.

Still, you glared at each other.

His hand pushed his sweatpants down until his cock bounced free, the stiff length slapping your ass lightly. His precum immediately started leaking into the valley between your cheeks, and your pussy pulsed in desire.

Still, you glared at each other.

“Say it, or you’re not getting my dick,” Bucky rumbled obstinately, pushing his stiff length between your thighs to drag against your dripping wet slit.

You sucked in a sharp breath and arched your back, giving him more of your pussy to rub against—but that didn’t mean you were going to submit to his ridiculous demand. And he wasn’t going to turn you into a liar.

“Say you’re my boyfriend, or you’re not getting my pussy, daddy,” you retorted, putting as much mocking sarcasm into the nickname as you could manage.

Bucky’s eyes flashed with so much annoyance, you couldn’t help the satisfied smirk that curled your lips, which only made his face contort in even more frustration.

His hand reached between your thighs, pressing his cock deep into your slippery folds until the head caught at your tight hole. But he didn’t push inside. Instead, he let the tip slide through your folds to grind against your clit.

Need and desire pounded an unceasing drumbeat beneath your skin, your hands curling into fists in your blankets as you bit back a desperate moan. But you didn’t let your face go slack with pleasure, you kept right on glaring at Bucky over your shoulder, even as he repeated the motion, teasing your tight little pussy with the head of his big cock.

Finally, something in Bucky snapped and he ducked down, capturing your mouth in a savage kiss, his lips and teeth attacking yours until both of you were breathless with need. You were practically vibrating with it beneath Bucky’s big body, and even his arms were trembling when you blinked your eyes open as he pulled away.

“You’re gonna be the fucking death of me, baby,” Bucky rumbled, his voice so low and gravelly, you felt its deep tenor roll down your spine and settle deliciously in your core. As he spoke, he tilted his hips just the right amount and pushed the head of his cock into your dripping hole, making both of you groan in pleasure.

“Right back at ya, daddy,” you quipped at him, your voice embarrassingly breathless as you clung to the blankets of your bed and arched your spine, pushing back into Bucky as he pressed forward.

It took one long, glorious moment for Bucky to sink the full length of his cock inside your drenched, sopping wet pussy, and you nearly blacked out at how good it felt after so long of his teasing torture.

He was bigger and thicker than any man you’d ever been with—though you’d never in a million years admit that to him—and it was always a little overwhelming when he first slid inside. But you loved it. You loved the way your body stretched to fit him, the way you could feel your pussy wrapped so snugly around his thick length. You loved the way you could feel him throb and twitch inside you, especially when he was close to cumming.

And you could tell by the way his cock was twitching inside your tight hole that he was already close. That was good, because after all his teasing had worked you up, you didn’t think you were going to last long anyway.

Bucky gave you a moment to adjust to his size while he yanked his t-shirt over his head. Then he was pressing his bare chest to your back and pushing you deeper into the soft blankets of your bed until you lay prone beneath his strong body.

Only then did he pull his hips back, making you feel every delicious inch of his thick cock, before slamming inside again. Wrapping his arm underneath your neck, he tucked his bicep beneath your chin and held you pinned to his chest, forcing you to arch your spine more and feel the way his hips clapped against your ass as he pounded into you.

“I’m the only one who can fuck you like this, baby,” Bucky growled in your ear, grinding his cock into the depths of your cunt until you were whimpering beneath him. “You’re daddy’s good little slut, and only daddy can fuck your pussy the way you need it, isn’t that right?”

“Yes—yes, daddy, you fuck me so good,” you cried out, hands scrabbling at the bed sheets for leverage to push back into him.

“Tell me what I want to hear,” he demanded harshly in your ear, the words sinking into the deepest parts of your brain.

A twisted smile curled the corners of your mouth because you knew exactly what Bucky wanted to hear, and you were only too happy to give it to him. It was safer to admit what you were about to admit because it was the heat of the moment, and you hoped Bucky would think you were just saying it to make him happy. Only you could know that you meant every word.

“You fuck me so much better than John, daddy,” you purred, pushing your hips back into Bucky’s thrusts, forcing him deeper into your cunt until you were so full of him, you thought he was imprinting himself on your very being. “Your dick feels so good, so big, daddy—you’re the only man who fucks me so good, Bucky, you’re the best dick I’ve ever had. ”

“Fuck—fuck, baby,” Bucky bit out, his mouth brushing against your cheek, his stubble rasping against your skin and making you shiver. He fucked you harder, faster, rutting into your slick cunt like he was trying to leave another mark inside you. “Rub your clit for me, wanna feel you cum on my fat cock.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You slid your hand between the blankets and your body, slipping it between your thighs and circling the tight nub of your clit with a viciousness that matched how Bucky was fucking you. Your inner walls clenched down hard on Bucky’s cock, dragging filthy groans from both your mouths as he pushed deeper and began grinding inside you.

“Your pussy feels so fucking good,” he gritted out through clenched teeth. “Never felt anything so tight.” He let out a harsh breath, his forehead falling to your shoulder as he kept up his relentless fucking, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of your release. “Feels like you’re choking my cock, baby—I can’t hold on much longer.”

“Choke me, daddy,” the words tumbled from your lips before you could stop yourself, the deepest recesses of your brain responding to Bucky’s words in a plea for one of your darkest desires.

Bucky’s bicep and forearm squeezed the sides of your neck instantaneously, giving you what you begged for and cutting off some of your air so you were forced to gasp for every little breath. You pussy squeezed tighter around his cock, wringing a rasping chuckle from the depths of his chest.

“You’re such a filthy, depraved little slut, baby,” Bucky murmured teasingly in your ear before nipping the shell with his teeth, dragging a ragged cry from your lips. “Ya like it when daddy chokes you, huh? Bet John fucking Walker doesn’t choke you like this, does he?”

“No,” you gasped, your voice hoarse but genuine as you admitted, “He’d never choke me—he’d never treat me like a slut.”

“That’s fucking right,” Bucky growled, somehow managing to fuck you even harder, his hips snapping into your ass so hard, you could hear the sharp clapping of his skin against yours even over his heavy breaths panting in your ear.

“I’m the only man who can fuck you like you need it—dirty and rough. That’s how you like it, isn’t it, baby—you like being fucked like a slut?”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” you chanted, as much in response to Bucky’s debauched question as to the feeling of his cock pounding into your cunt. You were so close—so close you could barely think, but you knew everything Bucky was saying was right. He was the only man who fucked you the way you needed it, and you needed to cum on his cock.

Thankfully, Bucky seemed to want the same thing.

“Cum for me, baby,” he growled in your ear, his hips slamming his cock into your body hard enough to nearly hurt, but the pain-edged pleasure only pushed you closer to your release. “Cum on daddy’s cock while he’s choking your pretty little neck and fucking you like the filthy slut you are.”

Bucky’s words and his cock, and your fingers on your clit, sent you over the edge, your eyes rolling into the back of your head and a ragged scream tearing free from your lips. Pleasure consumed you, body and mind alike, until all you knew was the sensation of ecstasy drowning out everything else.

It went on for one long, endless moment, pleasure pulsing through your being until it finally abated. Then, the world began to reform around you. Slowly, you returned to yourself, Bucky’s cock still driving into you, his thrusts turning wild and desperate as he growled in your ear.

“Fuck, you feel good, baby,” he was rumbling, rutting into you while your pussy squeezed him in a perfect clenching rhythm. “Feels like your cunt’s begging for my cum. Is that it? Ya want my cum that fucking bad, baby?”

“Yesss,” you moaned, your limbs melting beneath him as you savored the feeling of Bucky chasing his release in your body. “Want your cum, daddy, please gimme it,” you whimpered, weakly pushing your hips into his big body in a wordless plea.

Bucky grunted a soft, “Fuck,” and then pressed deep, burying his cock to the hilt in your still pulsing cunt as he came. He let out a long groan, his cock twitching against your inner walls while he emptied his balls into your pussy, the warmth of his cum filling you up.

It felt so good, your lips curled at the edges in a happy smile. Every part of you felt warm and satisfied, and you basked in the unmatched afterglow that came in the wake of getting fucked by Bucky Barnes.

When he was finally spent, Bucky eased his hips back, pulling out of you gently so he didn’t hurt your thoroughly used pussy. You appreciated the effort, even if you did feel a pang in your gut at the loss of him, like your body was mourning his absence.

Bucky rolled off you and flopped onto his back, leaving you limp and sated.

And cold.

The man who’d just fucked you better than anyone else ever had made no move to pull your naked body into his, but that wasn’t surprising. Bucky wasn’t the type to initiate post-sex snuggling, though he didn’t stop you from cuddling into him if you initiated it.

Gathering your strength, you heaved your body toward Bucky, draping yourself on top of him, wrapping an arm over his stomach and hitching your thigh over his hip. Your cooling skin pressed to his heated body as you tucked your face into his neck, cooing happily when his arm curled around your shoulders, holding you against his side.

But a post-sex snuggle wasn’t the only thing you’d been looking for.

Your mouth found the side of Bucky’s neck, your lips working against his skin, kissing and sucking and biting him while he rumbled soft sounds of satisfied pleasure. You didn’t stop until you’d left a hickey, but when you pulled away to get a look at it, you decided it wasn’t enough.

After all, you were literally covered in his marks.

So you went back to work, sucking on the hickey until the bruise was so big, there’d be no hiding it—not unless Bucky suddenly started wearing turtlenecks. Somehow, you knew he wouldn’t. You knew he’d wear your hickey proudly, even if it meant he might not get laid until it faded.

When you were finally satisfied with your work, you brushed one last kiss to the hickey, and settled down at Bucky’s side. Your cheek pressed to his chest and you listened to his heart thumping a steady drumbeat beneath his pecs.

For a moment, you were both quiet, enjoying the feel of each other. Then Bucky fished his phone out of the pocket of his discarded sweatpants, which he’d kicked off at some point. He held the device aloft over the two of you, tilting his head to the side and using the front-facing camera to look at the mark you’d left.

“I guess I deserve this,” he commented, trailing his fingers over the gigantic hickey. There was no anger or annoyance in his tone, though, only amusement. He skimmed his fingers down to your shoulder and gently rearranged your arm until the marks he’d left on the sides of your tits were visible. “Now we’re even.”

A snickering smile curved your mouth and you were about to retort that you weren’t anywhere close to even, but the soft click of Bucky’s phone snapping a photo cut you off.

Reaching up, you tapped the screen to show the picture and you had to admit, it was pretty cute. The hickey on Bucky’s neck was prominent and he wore a cocky grin on his attractive face while you smirked into his chest, his marks dotting your skin even though you weren’t revealing too much of your breasts.

It was the kind of photo you’d consider setting as your phone’s background if Bucky was your boyfriend.

He wasn’t, but that didn’t mean you didn’t still want it.

“Send that to me,” you said, trying to keep your tone light.

But Bucky must’ve heard how much you wanted the picture, because he chuckled evilly, pulling the phone out of your reach. When you lifted your head to glare at him, there was a mischievous glint in his blue eyes.

“If I send this to you, you gotta promise not to let John mark you up again.”

That time, you let him see you roll your eyes while you reminded him, “Only boyfriends get to make demands like that, Bucky.”

Huffing a frustrated sigh and giving you a half-hearted glare, Bucky tapped the screen of his phone a couple times. A second later, your phone buzzed with a text and when you glanced at it, you saw he’d sent you the photo of the two of you.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “I just don’t ever wanna see his fucking marks on your body again.”

You nodded your agreement, saying, “That’s fair.” It was the least you could do, all things considered.

Bucky laughed to himself at your easy agreement, then pushed you onto your back and spread your thighs while he sat up on his knees between your legs. “Now, smile pretty for daddy, baby. I wanna take some photos of all the hard work I did marking you up.”

A pleased grin pulled across your face. As much as you enjoyed taking pictures and sending them to Bucky, you loved it even more when he wanted to take pictures of you himself. So you laid on the bed and let Bucky position you how he wanted so he could take photos of his handiwork.

“You gonna jerk off to these when you get home, daddy?” you taunted, staring up at Bucky and smiling for his camera. “Gonna rub your cock to pictures of your marks all over me?”

Bucky’s eyes flashed and his cock twitched between his thick thighs, making your smirk widen. You knew you were provoking him again, but you couldn’t seem to stop.

“You gonna make yourself cum looking at photos of me covered in your marks, daddy?”

Your teasing comments led to you laying helplessly beneath Bucky, his knees keeping your thighs spread wide so you couldn’t grind against anything while he jerked himself off with his fist. The only thing he allowed you to do was knead and grope your tits, your pleasure mixing with aching pain from the bruises covering your skin.

Bucky came like that, his cum covering your fingers and chest in ropes of his seed, marking you all over again.

He took even more photos of the sight of your hands playing with your cum-covered tits, then fucked your pussy with his fingers, sounding very pleased with himself when he teased you for getting off on him making a mess of your slutty body and pushing his cum deeper inside you.

It was late when Bucky finally left your apartment, and you realized you’d been right. It had been a very long night. But even though you knew you’d only get a couple hours of sleep before work, it had been so worth it to text Bucky that photo of your tits covered in another man’s marks.

Over the next few days, Bucky demanded an endless stream of photos of the bruises he’d left on your tits and ass. He was busy at the office and the two of you couldn’t find time to see each other, but he didn’t want to miss any of the progression of the marks he’d left as the hickeys deepened into a dark plum color on your skin.

It turned you on to send so many photos, to see the constant reminder of the marks he’d left on your body, so you indulged Bucky every time he asked for more photos. It helped that he responded with a mixture of sweet degradation and filthy praise that had your heart beating harder in your chest and wetness gathering between your thighs.

Every night for a week, you got yourself off to the dirty things Bucky texted you, the promises of what he was going to do to your body the next time he saw you. But more than anything else, you kept going back to the possessive text message he’d sent the day after he’d been to your apartment, rubbing your clit to Bucky’s words.

Don’t you dare show John fucking Walker your tits with my marks on them, baby. Those marks on your body are all fucking mine, and they’re only for you and me.

you ain't my boyfriend and i ain't your girlfriend series masterlist

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #toxic bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan characters #witchywithwhiskeywork #you ain't my boyfriend and i ain't your girlfriend series

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pyromaniac-cyndaquil · 2 years ago

Text

It's been a lot of work over a lot of time but I think I can finally share this...

PMD:EoS, but with all of the starters!

...Including Grookey, finally!!!!! 🥳

Introducing PMD: Expanded Sky!

This is a public mod available to download now! It adds in all starters from unova all the way to paldea, as well as zorua, axew and rockruff, and allows evolving eevee into sylveon.

Speaking of which, fairy type has been patched into the game! Disarming voice replaces milk drink and moonblast replaces judgement, which was unused.

Some non-traditional starters are no longer available as hero options in this due to lack of space, but are still available as partners. (Skitty can be chosen as a hero in version 1.0.0 only, so download that version instead of the latest if you wanna use her! Riolu and Shinx are available in version 1.2.1 and below)

If one of your faves was taken off the hero roster (eg vulpix, skitty, riolu, munchlax, etc), I have a tutorial here on how to quickly edit the patched file to put them back in :)

Several regional variants have been added! Alolan Raichu, Alolan Marowak and Hisuian Typhlosion are now available as potential evolutions for their respective base stages.

Partners across both rescue team and all three versions of explorers are available too, including Cubone, Munchlax, Machop, Vulpix, Riolu, etc

Sprites and portraits are courtesy of the brilliant PMD Sprite Repository and the many incredible artists who contribute to it!

Credits for all improvement patches, sprites and portraits are included in the download, as well as an explanation on how to patch the game and the full starter list.

The mod is split in two versions to accommodate all the partners - MIDDAY version and MIDNIGHT version. The download includes both, as well as the tool required to patch your game! You'll need a clean US copy of pmd eos at hand.

A full list of moves learned by newly added Pokémon can be found here, as well as info on how to evolve them and their IQ groups.

If you run into any issues, feel free to drop me an ask or DM and I'll see how I can help/what I need to fix!

You can find the download for this rom hack here!

Edits/updates noted under the cut:

(27/04/23)

The overall mod now has a name - expanded sky! Reflected earlier on in the post.

I've been informed that the included patching tool (XDelta) doesn't work on mac, and after some digging around and discussions in dms we found this tool works for Mac instead.

Added graphics to the post displaying which heroes and partners are part of the hack.

(11/05/23)

Added link to learnset compilation for all new pokémon.

(17/05/23) Version 1.1.0 has been released!

Sobble is now a starter, replacing Skitty (Skitty is still accessible by downloading v1.0.0 on the download page). Sobble is also now a partner in MIDNIGHT.

Zorua/Zoroark's moveset has been tweaked slightly

Base forms of all new starters can now be found in Oran Forest, and can be recruitable in the post-game. The new fire starters can also be found in Giant Volcano.

Extra portraits and sprites were added for Cubone, Psyduck and Machop. Like the rest of the new assets in this mod, these were imported from the PMD Sprite Repository, and credits are on the title screen and in the readme.txt.

Extra credits + more in-depth instructions for patching the game included in the readme.txt.

(18/05/23)

Added a link to a tutorial on swapping out heroes for others already existing in the game.

(22/05/23) - Version 1.1.1 has been released!

Fixed genders for female starter options on the quiz. Updated Fuecoco to use new portraits and sprites. (Credits to Garbage)

(23/05/23) - Version 1.1.2 has been released!

Female starters from gens 5-9 can now evolve correctly (save for starters who don't have evolutions in the game yet - these are listed in the text file in the download)

Rockruff can now evolve, and Midnight Lycanroc's evolution method has been fixed to use the Lunar Ribbon as intended.

(15/06/23) - Version 1.2.1 has been released!

In 1.2.0, a second version of the mod was included in the zip compatible with melon emulator, and potentially others that were having issues with saving.

Fairy gummis were also made available as mission rewards and shop items.

There's a couple more things that can be seen in the changelog including bugfixes, but the main other thing promised was that Froakie and Litten can now evolve directly into Greninja and Incineroar. Due to an evolution flag not being set this ended up untrue, but has been fixed in 1.2.1.

This post claimed dazzling gleam is in the game, but it should've said disarming voice.

🆕 (10/03/24) - Version 1.3.0 has been released!

Dusk Lycanroc, Drizzile, Inteleon, Grookey, Axew and Fraxure have been added, as well as Alolan Raichu, Alolan Marowak an Hisuian Typhlosion.

Axew replaces Shinx in the hero roster, and Grookey replaces Riolu. Additional portraits and sprites added for starter evolutions, including vanilla starters. Sleep animations have been copied over to EventSleep/Laying/Wake animations if missing.

Greninja erroneously had the same moveset as Froakie. This has now been fixed.

Credits are no longer displayed on the title screen.

Sprite, portrait and patch credits can now be viewed by talking to a Cyndaquil NPC on the crossroads.

Evolution help can also be accessed by talking to this same NPC.

🆕 (23/05/24) - Version 1.3.1 has been released!

The uhh. Grovyle problem. Yeah. That should be fixed.

(Grovyle was missing several sprites as a side effect of trying to add new ones, due to his unique setup in the vanilla game as such an important npc. His sprites should now be reverted to a functional state, rather than leaving him to walk fowards on the spot all the time).

An issue present from the start that caused the game to freeze while advancing floors in dungeons occasionally should now be resolved.

#pokemon #pmd #eos #pmd eos #rom hacks #I'VE BEEN WORKING ON THIS FOR SO LONG... REALLY HOPE U GUYS LIKE IT #pmd expanded sky

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hauntedhowlett-writes · 2 years ago

Text

i can see you (miguel o'hara's version)

pairing: professor/mentor!miguel o’hara x graduate assistant!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 4.5k

summary:

As Dr. Miguel O’Hara’s graduate teaching and research assistant, you’ve spent years pushing down the inappropriate thoughts you’ve had about the brilliant, gorgeous man.

But what happens when a late night at the lab and a scientific breakthrough leads to a breakthrough of a different kind?

author's note:

my first (but probably not my last) miguel o'hara fic based on taylor swift's song "i can see you" from speak now tv. if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging or commenting and letting me know your thoughts!

content warnings/tags:

explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), explicit language, no use of y/n, alternate universe - no powers, age gap (undefined), presence of power dynamics (teacher/student), author took scientific liberties (forgive her, its been 10 years since bio II lab), pineapple on pizza, potentially bad spanish translations, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving), miguel picking reader up, unprotected p in v, size kink, choking, pet names, praise kink, competency kink, dirty talk. let me know if i've missed anything!

Translations you may need:

Universidad Estatal de Nueva York - State University of New York

Sí - Yes

Dios mío - My god

El Origen de la Genética Mutante - The Origen of Mutant Genetics

Mierda - Shit

Te lo prometo - I promise you

Lo juro por Dios - I swear to god

Arañita - little spider

Cállate - be quiet

Mirame - look at me

te sientes tan bien - you feel so good

Perfecto - perfect

________

You’re sitting in the front row, in the seat you’ve claimed as your spot, watching Dr. O’Hara pace in front of the projector screen that displays today’s lesson notes.

“And what is the hallmark of this mutant gene that demonstrates its incompatibility for transmutation?” He asks the silent room of undergraduates that have found themselves on the roster for his Mutation Genomics III course at Universidad Estatal de Nueva York.

A few hands go up around the room and Dr. O’Hara points to a student in the back who says, “Uh, it’s got a spiked protein arrangement that can’t be modified?”

“Is that a question or an answer?” Dr. O’Hara asks. There’s a sprinkle of laughter in the room and a smirk tilts his lips briefly.

“An answer,” the student says more confidently. Dr. O’Hara nods.

“Correct, but that’s not the whole picture,” he says. His eyes catch yours and he gestures for you to join him. Your eyes go wide as you stand and walk to his side at the front of the class. “I’m sure some of you that actually use your available resources to pass my class recognize my teaching assistant. And if you don’t, I recommend visiting her office hours during this section because this is her area of research.”

Your cheeks feel warm as everyone’s attention falls to you. Dr. O’Hara hands you the data pad and steps back, giving you an encouraging nod. You tap the screen, bringing the diagram up on the holo projector and making it larger.

“You’re correct that the spiked protein arrangement can’t be modified, but there’s something more limiting in this particular model. If you look at it from this angle—,” you spin the DNA diagram, “you’ll see something else hindering the modification process. What do you see?”

Hands go up. Dr. O’Hara points to another student who says, “There’s a gap jump. The spike protein would continue to travel across the gap jump and avoid any inserts.”

“Exactly. So, what’s the potential alternative?”

“Fill the gap. Target the spike protein in your modification cycle,” Dr. O’Hara finishes. “That’s all for today. Your exam next Wednesday will include this presentation, so don’t act surprised when you see the questions.”

A few students stop to speak with Dr. O’Hara as you gather your bag from your desk. His low voice calls your name, the timbre of it sending a shiver down your spine as you step up to his desk.

“You’re running a sequence right now, sí?” He asks, shuffling a stack of papers into order.

“Yes, it should finish around seven tonight. Sorry, I know that it's late for a Friday,” you reply. He waves a hand dismissively.

“I’ll see you in the lab.” His brown eyes flick to yours and your stomach swoops, heart skipping a beat, same as it always does when he looks at you.

Dr. Miguel O’Hara makes you nervous. Not only because he’s one of the most notable researchers in the field of mutant genomics, but also because he’s so handsome he leaves you breathless. He’s tall, towering over most men you’ve met, with broad shoulders and a tapered waist that are always covered by a suit and tie in the classroom or a lab coat in the research lab. His tan skin is complemented by dark hair and brown eyes that make you lose your train of thought when you stare into them for too long.

Which…is exactly what you’re doing now.

You clear your throat, stepping back from his desk. Had you been leaning closer? Christ, you hope not. You give him a brief smile before responding, “Yeah, see you tonight. Thank you, Dr. O’Hara!”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Miguel?” He calls after you.

“Maybe when I’ve cracked the sequence!”

________

Miguel watches your hips sway in the jeans you wore to class today, the denim hugging your curves so well he has to bite back a groan. The door to the lecture hall slams shut behind you and he sighs, rubbing a hand over his jaw in frustration.

You drive him crazy. Every class period you’re sitting in the front row, watching him as you tap your pen to your lips or leaning over your desk just enough to give him a glimpse down your blouse or dress. Or you’re in the lab, delicately handling samples and extractions with a level of competency beyond your years, your lip caught between your teeth as you analyze a sequencing output.

He looks forward to and dreads your impending graduation in equal measure, being free from the constant temptation but losing the greatest researcher he’s met in years.

Miguel finishes gathering his belongings as the door opens and the next lecturer comes in, nodding at him in greeting. As he steps out into the warm Nueva York air, he has a weird sense that something big is coming.

He just doesn’t know what.

________

Miguel is waiting for you outside of his double locked research lab that evening, suit jacket hung over his arm and the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to reveal tan forearms dusted with dark hair. Your brain nearly short circuits at the sight, conjuring up images of those arms wrapped around your—

No, you think. He’s your mentor. Your handsome, intelligent, and very serious mentor.

He looks up as you approach, corners of his lips tilting the slightest bit. Or maybe it’s a trick of the light, you can’t be sure, but he presses his palm to the biometric lock and the heavy metal doors slide open. He steps inside ahead of you, putting his face in the frame of the security camera. A red laser scans his face and a light above the second locked door goes from red to green, the click of the lock disengaging echoing in the anteroom.

You follow him through the door and into his research lab. The fluorescent lights glimmer off the chrome equipment and pristine bench surfaces. A machine whirs, running the sequence analysis you’ve been waiting on.

“LYLA, what’s the status?” Dr. O’Hara says as he sets his belongings on the desk in the corner.

“Sequence will complete on schedule. Also, your specimen delivery is available in the ultra low freezer,” Dr. O’Hara’s AI assistant, LYLA, announces, feminine voice carrying through the room.

“I have a surprise for you,” Dr. O’Hara says, tugging on his lab coat as he walks towards the ultra low freezer.

“A surprise?” You ask, setting your stuff down at the assistant’s work space.

There’s the beep of a passcode being entered and the heavy freezer door being opened and shut. He’s holding a tray of cryovials, the contents varying in color. He sets the tray on a bench top near your desk and pulls one out, holding it up to the light.

“Isolated arachnoid mutagen,” he says. Your mouth drops open in shock. You rush forward, pressing in close to stare up at the vial with him.

“You’re kidding,” you whisper. He hands the vial to you, fingers brushing yours. You hold it between your thumb and index finger to inspect the suspension, red in color with tiny flecks of black. “Dr. O’Hara, this is insane. How did you even get this?”

“A guy owed me a favor,” he says. You glance up at his face and you’re suddenly very aware of how close your bodies are. One deep breath and your chest would probably graze his, and did you just imagine his eyes dropping to your lips?

“That’s one hell of a favor,” you murmur, stepping back. “You want me to work on the extraction?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“You say that like I’m not your research assistant. You can tell me to do anything.” Dr. O’Hara’s eyes go wide and you cough. “I mean, you know, lab related. Research stuff. Yeah. I’ll get started on this. LYLA? Power up the centrifuge and thermocycler, please.”

“Centrifuge is online. Thermocycler will reach optimal processing temperature in t-minus five minutes,” LYLA replies.

You set up all the necessary supplies and prepare the sample for the thermocycler, going through the motions that are now part of your muscle memory - extract, vortex, centrifuge, extract, wash, set in ice. You set your tray of samples into the thermocycler and remove your gloves to hit the start button.

________

Miguel watches you run the PCR test, fixated on the confidence with which you complete each step and your words from earlier continue to echo in his head.

“You can tell me to do anything.”

Dios mío, he thinks. He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to will away the possibilities that anything could entail.

“Sequence results are available. Would you like to review now?” LYLA asks.

“Display,” Miguel says. You spin on your stool to view the hologram of the spliced DNA you prepared. He notices an issue immediately.

“Fuck,” you hiss, stepping up to the control screen and spinning the model. “There’s a deletion.”

“You knew there was a risk of that.”

You zoom in on the model DNA strand, a broken gap shown in the mutation. “I know there was a risk, but it should have worked.”

Miguel crosses his arms and watches as you bring up the transillumination image of the DNA you had attempted to merge with a human sample. “You wanted it to work. Science is finite. There is no room for should.”

You glance at him. You look like you’re about to say something when the thermocycler beeps and he’s left to wonder what you would have said as you busy yourself with removing your tray of DNA samples. He leans against the bench as you assemble the agarose gel for electrophoresis.

“Tell me, why do you think there was a deletion?” He asks.

“The mutagen was incompatible with the human strand,” you murmur, adding dye to your vials. “Just the same as it has been the last dozen times.”

You’ve loaded the wells of the gel with your sample and set it in the tank, closing the lid and turning on the power supply. Miguel takes the remaining tray of arachnid samples to the freezer while your procedure runs. He understands your frustration, he’s run his fair share of failed experiments after all.

After about an hour, the hum of the electrical current from the electrophoresis tank shuts off. Miguel, who had been reviewing a journal submission for El Origen de la Genética Mutante, joins you at the bench as you remove your gel and set it on the UV transilluminator.

“LYLA, scan and project,” you ask the AI assistant. Miguel stands behind you, looking at the DNA bands you’ve generated. He’s momentarily distracted by the fact that he’s so close he can smell the sweet scent of your perfume, something citrusy that reminds him of summer.

You jump suddenly, back colliding with his chest. His hands come up to grip your waist, steadying you as you turn to face him, face lit up in the brightest grin.

“Miguel, look. This arachnid mutagen. It’s a potential match for insertion!” You say excitedly. “It has the same length as the deletion seen with the scorpion mutagen.”

“LYLA, show the current projection against the scorpion scan,” he says. The two images appear side by side and it’s clear that the band of arachnid mutagen fits definitively in a space that appears void in the scorpion samples. “Mierda.”

“You see it, right?” You ask. It’s then that Miguel realizes he’s still got his hands on your waist. He flexes his fingers experimentally, watching as your eyes go the slightest bit darker at the pressure.

“I can see it,” he murmurs. He wants so desperately to lean in closer, to back your body up until you’re pressed between the wall and his body, nowhere to go as his lips explore yours.

But he doesn’t. He drops his hands and puts much needed space between your bodies. He clears his throat.

“Prepare a combined sample,” Miguel says. You blink, checking your watch.

“It’s almost nine. Running a new combined sample would mean we’re here until close to midnight.”

“I’m familiar with how time passes, sí.”

“Are you sure you want—“

Miguel sighs, placing his hands on his hips. “You’re on the verge of one of the greatest scientific discoveries in the last decade. Do you think I give a shit about having to stay late? What kind of mentor would I be if I told you, ‘Oh just wait until Monday to change the scientific world’?”

“One with a work-life balance, probably,” you reply with a giggle. Miguel raises his eyebrows at you. “Okay, okay, combined sample. I’m on it.”

As you rush around the lab, it hits him that you called him Miguel. Not Dr. O’Hara. He’s not sure what that means but he’s certain he wants to hear his name from your lips again.

_______

Dr. O’Hara orders food while your new combined sequence runs, begrudgingly agreeing to a half pineapple and half sausage pizza to split. You’re sitting outside of the lab in the empty hallway, pizza box between you as you eat the slices over grease stained napkins.

“What are your plans for after graduation?” Dr. O’Hara asks. You shrug.

“Probably get my doctorate. No one takes you seriously in this field without one.”

He frowns. “You’re on the cusp of a major breakthrough, one that could change our understanding of genetic modifications and mutants as we know it.”

“Yeah, and it’s coming from your lab. You’ll get listed as the first author, that’s how this goes.” You pick at your pizza crust, tearing the bread into tiny pieces that you sweep back into the box.

“I won’t let that happen. If this works, you’ll be the first name on that paper,” Dr. O’Hara says vehemently. “Te lo prometo.”

You smile, caught in his gaze for a brief moment before an alarm rings from his watch. LYLA announces, “Sequencing complete.”

Dr. O’Hara stands, holding a hand out to you. You grasp his broad palm and he pulls you up with ease, the force of it making you stumble slightly. You press a hand to his chest to steady yourself, marveling at how solid he feels beneath your palm.

“Sorry. Slipped,” you murmur.

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you with a crease between his brow and storms in his eyes. His watch beeps again and he releases your hand to silence it, the spell broken between you.

He unlocks the lab doors and you join him at the holoprojector, taking a deep breath. Dr. O’Hara brings up the sequence analysis, the hologram coming to life in the space between you. Your eyes scan the model, checking for gaps, deletions, frayed nucleotides, anything that could mean your procedure didn’t work.

You turn the projection this way and that, looking at it from every angle. You scan the result output reading, eyes jumping to the green SEQUENCING SUCCESSFUL text at the bottom.

You turn to face Dr. O’Hara, eyes wide with surprise. “It worked.”

“It did,” he replies.

“It worked,” you say again. You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet, your grin so wide it hurts your cheeks as you rush forward shouting, “It worked!”

Dr. O’Hara’s arms open to catch you, wrapping around your waist as he lifts you from the ground and spins you. He’s smiling, a rare sight for such a serious man, and it makes your heart pound in your chest as you stare up into his face.

“Dr. O’Hara?” You ask as he sets you down, his arms still wrapped tight around your back. “What—“

His lips collide with yours, stealing your breath from your lungs and your words from your brain as you melt against his broad body. The kiss is anything but gentle, with Miguel acting like a man starved as his tongue sweeps into your mouth.

“Dr. O’Hara—“

“Lo juro por Dios, if you call me that one more time,” he growls, lips trailing down your neck with wet kisses, “Miguel. Say it.”

“M-Miguel,” you whimper. He smiles against your neck before sinking his teeth against your pulse point, making you gasp.

“That’s right,” he says, lifting his head. His brown eyes have gone dark and he’s smirking as his hands find the hem of your blouse, fingertips ghosting across the skin of your abdomen and dipping beneath the waist of your jeans. “Tell me what you want, arañita.”

Rather than trust your voice, you bring your own hands to his shirt collar, working at the buttons of his dress shirt as he opens the fly of your pants. He slips his hand lower just as you reach the last button of his shirt, revealing the tight white t-shirt that outlines his impressive chest.

His fingers rub you over your panties and you feel your knees buckle at the delicious friction. Miguel chuckles, removing his hand to grip the backs of your thighs and lift you against him, your legs wrapping around his trim waist and your hands holding onto his shoulders. He sets you down by his desk, reaching around you to sweep the surface clean, pens and paper falling to the floor.

“In a rush are we?” You say with a laugh. Miguel raises an eyebrow at you.

“Cállate.” He kneels before you, lifting each foot to remove your shoes before turning you to face the desk with his hands on your hips. He grasps the waist of your jeans and shimmies the material down over your hips. When they’re pooled around your ankles, his warm palms grip each ass cheek roughly, spreading you open. “This pussy is even prettier than I imagined,” he groans.

“You think about my pussy a lot, Dr. O’Hara?” You ask innocently. A palm lands a smack to your ass cheek, heat blooming across your skin as you gasp.

“Don’t play dumb, baby, I know you’ve thought about this just as much. You think I can’t see it. Trust me, I can see you watching me in class with those pretty little lips wrapped around your pen, wishing it was something else. Isn’t that right?”

You gasp as he runs his thick fingers through your soaked folds, reaching forward only enough to graze your clit without giving it the attention you desperately want. He leans himself over you, his chest pressed to your back and his lips grazing your ear as he says, “Answer me.”

“Yes, yes,” you pant, the confession earning you that delicious friction, his fingers drawing messy circles around the sensitive nub. He withdraws too soon for your liking, a whine falling from your lips that he shushes, his warm breath on your pussy. You turn your head to look over your shoulder, surprised to find him on his knees.

As you watch, he spreads your cheeks once more before leaning in, licking from your clit to your entrance with a rough groan. Your head drops down, hitting the surface of the desk with a thump as he eats you out like a man who’s found water in a desert. The sounds echoing in the lab are downright indecent, deep groans of appreciation against your cunt and desperate whines from your lips.

“Miguel,” you moan, unable to keep your hips still as his tongue drives you closer to the cliff’s edge of release. “Miguel, I’m gonna cum!”

The man only grips your hips harder, fingers digging deep as he holds you still and doubles his efforts. The thread you’re hanging on by snaps, sending you falling into ecstasy as your muscles go tight and your breath leaves you in a shout of his name as you unravel.

He pulls away only long enough to stand and turn you to face him, lifting you so that you’re sitting on the edge of the desk, legs spread by his body. He wastes no time slipping two thick fingers inside of your still fluttering cunt, his grin sharp as he sets a pace that has you trying to wiggle away to escape the overstimulation.

“Ah, Miguel!” You yelp, trying to shut your legs. His free hand shoves one thigh wide, pressing it to the desk. “What–”

“Cum for me again, I need to see your face this time,” he demands. He curls his fingers, pressing against your front wall with each drag of his hand from your body.

“I can’t!”

“What was it you said to me earlier? I can tell you to do anything?” He curls his fingers harder, focusing his efforts on a spot that has you squirming, desperate to get away and to cum in equal measure. “I’m telling you to cum again, arañita, so be a good girl and do as I say.”

Your orgasm crashes over you in a wave, the tightness in your abdomen unraveling as you clench around his fingers. His movements slow as you try to catch your breath until he’s withdrawing, leaving you feeling disparagingly empty.

“Mirame,” Miguel says. You lift your head, pushing yourself up on your elbows and watching as he unbuckles his belt. “You made a mess, baby.”

You feel your cheeks heat with embarrassment as you notice the wet stains on the front of his gray slacks. The feeling is short lived, however, as Miguel unbuttons his pants and pushes them down his thighs along with his boxers, kicking them to the side as he reaches behind his head and pulls his t-shirt off. You’re blown away by how stunning he is, broad shoulders and chest that lead to sculpted abs and a defined adonis belt that draws your eyes to his thick and intimidatingly long cock.

“There’s no way that’s going to fit,” you tell him nervously.

“Why don’t we test that hypothesis?” He asks, taking himself in hand. You blink at him.

“Did…did you just make a joke?” Laughter bubbles up your chest until it’s spilling into the room, your shoulders shaking with the force of it. Miguel takes himself in hand, notching the broad head of his length to your dripping entrance and sliding inside the barest amount, just the tip, but it has your laughter morphing into gasps.

“Mierda,” he murmurs, gaze fixed where your bodies connect. “So fucking tight, arañita.”

You feel like he’s splitting you apart, the stretch deep and all consuming as he fits himself inside of you, drawing back after each inch and slowly thrusting back in and giving you more of his cock in the process.

“You’re so close,” he tells you. “You’re doing so good for me. Tell me how it feels.”

“It feels so fucking good, Miguel,” you answer honestly. “I’m so full.”

“Fucking right you are,” he growls. His hands shove your blouse up, bunching the fabric under your armpits to expose your breasts. He tugs the cups of your bra down before leaning forward, the last bit of his length slipping inside of you as his lips wrap around a pert nipple and his hand gropes the opposite breast.

Your back arches at all the sensation - the fullness and stretch of him inside of you, the warmth of his mouth and the pinch of his fingers. He moves his mouth to your other breast and looks up at you through dark lashes with darker eyes as he licks the taut peak while holding your gaze.

His hips draw back, the drag of each inch from your body exquisite torture until he slams into you, the force of it sliding you up the desk. You cry out, your hands gripping his shoulders and your fingernails leaving crescent shaped indents as you cling to him.

Miguel stands, his arms looping beneath your thighs so that the backs of your knees rest across his forearms, spreading you open as he picks up his pace. He looks down at your body like it’s his greatest discovery.

“Fuck, fuck, te sientes tan bien,” he growls.

“Miguel,” you moan, “please, please, please!”

“What are you begging for, arañita? Tell me.”

“Wanna cum, please, Miguel,” you beg. He drops your legs, reaching up to wrap a hand around the back of your neck, urging you to sit up. You keep one hand planted on the desk behind you, the other diving into his thick, dark hair, pulling at the strands.

He drags his strong nose along your jaw as he murmurs, “Greedy girl, but I’ll give you what you need. Won’t I?”

“Uh huh,” you moan in response. His other hand settles at the base of your throat and his eyes hold a question that has your pussy clenching around him in anticipation.

His palm creeps up, strong fingers wrapping around your delicate throat, squeezing the sides the slightest bit. Your eyes roll back at the pressure.

“Look at me,” Miguel demands, “look at me while I make you cum again with my hand around your pretty throat.”

You gasp for air as he pounds into you, your release sparkling at the edges of your vision. It explodes like a supernova across your nerves, your muscles tightening around him and making him moan, a deep rumble that you echo as his movements grow erratic.

He slams deep inside of you, cock pulsing and filling you with warmth as he groans your name, head dropped to your shoulder. You’re both panting, trying to catch your breath as the sweat on your skin cools and you run your fingers through his hair.

“That was—“

“Perfecto,” he finishes, lifting his head and pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, one that has your heart pounding even harder than the lust filled ones from earlier. “It’s late. Let’s get this cleaned up and get you home. I’ll drive you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you argue. He scowls at you as you continue to say, “No, seriously, you don’t need to go out of your way—“

“Will you shut up for a minute?” Miguel asks. He holds your face in his hands as he says, “Get dressed. I’m driving you home.”

He steps back, the absence of him making you feel empty as you carefully stand from the desk on shaky legs. He hands you your jeans and you look around in confusion.

“Have you seen my underwear?” You ask.

“Hm? No, I don’t see them,” he hums, buttoning his slacks. The stain from earlier has blessedly faded.

You shrug, pulling your jeans on and fixing your blouse. Miguel cleans up the stuff he’d knocked from the desk, putting it all back in haphazard piles and grabbing his bag. He holds his hand out to you.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says. He must sense the hesitation you’re feeling when you don’t immediately grab his hand because he steps close, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “No one will see us. It’ll be our secret.”

You nod, digging your teeth into your bottom lip. “Just this once?”

“Not if I have anything to say about it, arañita.”

The most fantastic fanart by narutoss.ramen on insta that fits the vibe of professor! miguel:

#miguel x reader #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel x you #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x female reader #miguel x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara fanfiction #atsv fic #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderman #alternate universe #no use of y/n

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a-babe-without-a-name · 1 month ago

Text

Sit Next To Me

Chapter 2: Wanna See a Magic Trick?

You had created two rules for yourself.

Rule One: You could do whatever you wanted. Get the degree you want, party when you want, cancel plans when you want, love who you want. Whatever you really wanted to do, you were going to do, anxiety and guilt free.

Rule Two: You could do whatever you wanted, except for have relationships with classmates. No sex, no dating. If they were on the same course roster as you, they were off limits.

Easy enough, right?

...Right?

Viktor x Female!Reader - 18+

A.N. Chapters 1 &2 were supposed to be 1 chapter and then it got wayy too long. So the first 2 chapters of this fic are done, and the rest is being written. If you like it, let me know! It helps the process for sure. If you don't like it, eh, that's fine but keep it to yourself.

Read on AO3

“Do you want to make out?” You tipped your head to the side innocently, but were unable to hide your amused smile, encouraged by the second of shock on his face.

“You are very abrasive,” He frowned, but looked more conflicted than angry.

“So is that a no or…” You snarked, rolling your eyes.

He looked down at you next to him, amber eyes watching yours, searching for something. Slowly he ducked his head, face inches from yours as he looked down to your lips.

“Tell me when to stop,” He breathed, his words sending a jolt of electricity down your spine.

When you didn’t reply, his eyes moved back up to yours, expectant, waiting. You gasped for breath, the skill of breathing escaping you as you nodded too quickly. He snorted a laugh at your eagerness, the corner of his lip pulling up just slightly. He moved closer again, open mouth ghosting against yours, like he was giving you one last chance to back out. Normally you’d become irritated when a man decided for once in his life to take it slow when all you wanted to do was go fast. This was different, he was different. You felt like you were drowning in everything about him and he hadn’t even kissed you yet.

And when he did, you decided you could drown in him forever.

Slowly he pressed his lips to yours, soft and warm, eyes falling closed as he tasted you. You tilted your chin up, wanting more of him. His tongue pushed against yours, the taste of mint and gin mixing with the weed you two had been smoking. He pulled your bottom lip between his teeth, biting hard enough to elicit a whine from your throat.

Without breaking the kiss he twisted his back and scooped an arm under your shoulders. He cradled you halfway under him, the other hand gripping your waist. You forced the pace to quicken, moving your mouth against his with almost bruising force. He fought back, the hand on your waist moving to your jaw, his fingers moving tenderly against your cheek, forcing you to slow down. When you relaxed, he moved his hand back to your waist, fingers brushing against the hem of the borrowed t-shirt.

He pulled back, trying to hide how hard he was breathing. He fluttered his fingers against the hem of the shirt, “Is this okay?”

You quirked an eyebrow at him, “Did I ask you to stop?”

He swallowed hard, eyes fluttering shut at your tone. His mouth found yours again, settling on a pace somewhere between what you and him wanted. It worked. It was perfect. His hands were slow, cold against your burning skin. He splayed his hand flat against your ribs, trying to hold as much of you as he could in his palm. You sucked his top lip into your mouth, biting gently and wishing you could leave marks on him. He cupped your breast in his hand, kneading gently and flicking his thumb across your nipple.

“Fuck,” You panted, unable to help the way your head tilted back, your back arching up into his touch. You would’ve been embarrassed by the reaction to such a small thing, but in the moment you really couldn't be bothered to care.

He took the opportunity to attach his lips to your neck, messily kissing your skin. Your hand tangled into his hair, pulling gently at the soft chestnut strands. The whimper he let out made your thighs snap together, and you pulled on him harder, dying to hear it again. He gave you exactly what you wanted, the sound tumbling from his lips like a hymn. He let you pull his neck back, panting with half lidded eyes and a blush that would rival a peach, the beauty marks on his face standing out against the color.

His lips pulled back over his teeth in a dazed smile as he looked down on you, your hand still tangled tightly in his hair. He tried to move towards your lips again, but you pulled him away by the hair, forcing his head sideways so you could bite down on the pale column of his neck. You could feel the shift of the couch as his hips gave a microscopic and involuntary buck. You wanted to fuck him. You needed to fuck him.

You dragged your knee up, slightly unsure of where to actually go in the position you were in but he got the hint. His hand left your chest, moving up to grab your jaw. He held your face as he licked into your mouth, kissing you like you were the last thing he’d ever taste. When he was sure you weren’t going to pull away again to attack his neck he dragged his hand down your side, at just the right speed and pressure to make you burn for more. He grabbed the back of your knee, pulling your leg up to drape across his waist. He squeezed the back of your thigh with a content sigh, moving his fingers over your skin like he wanted to map every pore, every freckle, and scar. His fingers wandered higher, cupping the curve of your ass and pulling you closer. You clung to the front of his shirt with one hand, the other on the side of his neck. Fingertips brushing against his hairline.

He pulled away, more like forced himself away, panting above you with his eyes screwed shut, a hard line between his eyebrows.

You kissed his jaw gently, reaching up to smooth the lines of his face, “Relax, Pretty Boy,” You practically cooed, “I’m not going anywhere.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes searching yours again. You weren’t sure what for. Regret? Hesitation? Fear? When he didn’t find anything telling him no, he grabbed your waist, pulling you upright.

“C’mere,” His voice was shaky, holding back, “Please.”

You giggled and pecked his lips, “So polite,”

“Just, uh, carefully,” He told you, keeping a grip on your leg to guide it. When you quirked your head he gestured to his own leg.

He wore a brace, extending from his mid thigh to mid calf. You hadn’t noticed it, the black material almost faded completely against the dark denim of his jeans, not to mention the high and your distraction with other parts of his body.

“Oh, sorry,” You said without thinking, trying to shift away.

“For what?” He asked, raising an eyebrow, grip on your leg keeping you in place.

“I…I don’t know,” You chewed on your lower lip, wishing you hadn’t said it, “I just, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m not gonna break, darling,” He assured you, gently forcing you to straddle his lap, “Just don’t put all of your weight on that one leg, and we’re all good.”

You hesitated, suddenly aware of your every movement. He didn’t seem irritated with your concern, luckily, but he definitely wanted to dispel any worry. He grabbed your face with both hands and pulled you into a rough kiss.

“I mean, if you really need to put all your weight on my thigh,” He panted into your mouth, “You are more than welcome to ride the other one.”

You couldn’t help but whine into his mouth. His hands moved from your face, he grabbed the back of your knees and yanked you closer to him, forcing you to stop your hovering and press down flush against him. He was so hard, the feeling of his cock beneath his jeans releasing all the nervous tension in your body. You let yourself settle against him, creating even more contact.

“Good girl,” He muttered, doing his best to keep from rutting up against you. Trying to have some self control.

Heat pooled between your legs as you kissed him, tongue invading his mouth as you gave one hard roll of your hips, practically begging for more friction.

“God, don’t hold back now,” You teased, licking along his jaw as you ground down against him now. You wished you had worn the skirt, “I’m not gonna break, darling.”

He scoffed as you quoted him, the sound caught off by a groan as you pushed down again, biting on his neck at the same time. He gave in, rolling his hips against yours, finding a steady rhythm that was satisfying without being too obscene.

Your hands found the buttons of his shirt, you easily opened them until his chest and stomach was fully exposed. When you pulled away, you could practically drooled over him. The beauty marks from his face were scattered across his torso. Dark constellations against a pale sky. Like his hands, his body was slender but not delicate. You ran your nails down his chest, tracing from one beautiful mark to the next. He watched your face as you chewed on your lower lip, fingers tracing the delicate trail of hair from his navel to the waist of his jeans.

“You’re gorgeous,” You couldn't help but to admit, he blushed under your scrutiny, eyes falling shut as you dragged your hand back up his chest. You gently wrapped your fingers around the base of his neck, not squeezing just holding. You felt his Adam's apple bob against your palm, “Such a pretty boy.”

“Not fair that I’m showing more skin than you,” He tried to joke, opening his eyes halfway, fingers moving under the hem of your shirt again.

“You can just ask me to take my shirt off, ya know.” You teased, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his sternum, looking up at him through your lashes, “I mean, I kinda like being told what to do sometimes…only if you want to.”

He took a slow breath, you could practically see the gears turning as he thought of his next move. You rest your chin against his chest, still looking up at him expectantly.

Finally he grabbed a fistfull of your hair, right at the base of your skull. You could feel both his desire and concern. You gave a small encouraging smile, urging him on. When he yanked, you let him pull you back with a gasp, the feeling making our head go fuzzy.

“That’s more like it,” You panted, head still tilted back, you looked down your nose at him, “Now, tell me what you want Pretty Boy.”

“Take your shirt off,” He nodded his chin at you, voice hesitantly firm,“Now. Please.”

“Still so polite,” You smiled, gripping the bottom of your shirt, “I appreciate it.”

When you pulled your shirt off, you made sure to give him a show. A reward for doing what you asked. You pushed your chest out, arching your back in a way that made your hips press down into his cock. When you were free of your shirt, you froze under his eyes. His jaw hung open slightly as he drank you in. His eyes traced every line and curve of your body. He was looking at you like you were a specimen, like he could learn so much just by studying your figure and form. You were happy to let him.

He reached out, fixing a rogue strand of hair on your head. The gesture was softer than you expected, making you pull in a shaky breath. He grabbed your hands, taking the shirt away and tossing it to the side. Gently he pulled your arms past his neck, encouraging you to lean into him. He kissed you, deep but soft. His cold hands moved up your back, fingers moving against your spine so delicately goosebumps rose across your skin. The sudden change in pace almost making you forget you were in a dingy garage and that he was a stranger.

You realized you had completely abandoned your movements, hips still in his lap. The short seconds of tenderness made you panic. This was not the place and he was not the person.

You bit his lip again, hands tangling in his hair as you rocked your hips against him again. The layers between you dulling the feeling. He caught up to your pace, one hand moving around your side to grab at your chest, and the other wrapping around your waist, holding you close as you bucked up into you. You felt like you were gonna soak through your shorts. You dragged a hand down his front, letting your nails leave faint red lines on their way down. At the waist of his jeans, you tugged at the button undoing it easily.

“Is this okay?” You asked against his lips, wanting to be sure.

“Fuck yes, please.” He panted, hands moving up your back to hold onto your shoulder blades, practically bracing himself as you undid the zipper on his jeans, tugging them down enough to palm him through his boxers.

He hissed at the contact, head falling onto your shoulder as you teased him. He bit down on your shoulder, hard enough to make you wince. You hoped it would bruise.

You grabbed his hair, pulling him off you and placing a kiss to his lips before shoving home back against the couch.

“Tell me what to do.” You told him, sitting back a little, careful not to put too much weight on his bad leg.

“Touch me.” It was more of a beg than a demand, but you appreciated the effort.

You pulled him out of his boxers, sucking in a breath at the sight of him. Even his dick was pretty, the trail of hair you had touched earlier ended tidily at his base, a slight delicate curve up, perfect pink tip already leaking, precum dripping down his length. He was big too, certainly over average, almost to an intimidating degree. You could suppress a soft laugh at the thought that crossed your mind.

His face dropped in horror, “Absolutely not cool to laugh in this situation,” He choked out.

“I’m sorry!” You said, waving a hand at him, “It’s just…it’s always the skinny guys that are so big.”

His face flamed red, he swallowed hard and looked to the side, “Shut up.”

“Well, I could,” You told him, tilting your head and taking the base of him in your hand. Your fingertips didn’t meet. He gasped, hands clinging to your thighs and eyes fluttering shut as you stroked him slowly, spreading precum over him. You rubbed your thumb over the slit at the tip, enamored with how he felt in your hand, “But then, I couldn’t tell you how perfect you are. Which I really want to do, ya know. I want to tell you that you have the most perfect cock I’ve ever seen.” He gasped, stomach muscles flexing as he twitched in your grasp, “I bet you taste amazing. So pretty and big, god, I love how you feel in my hand. I can’t wait to feel you inside me.”

“Ah, fuck.” He gasped, without hesitation he hands flew to the button of your shorts, yanking them open with desperation.

You yelped, fingers brushing over your tummy in just a way to tickle you, “Hey, careful,” You joked, “I like these shorts.”

“I wish you were wearing a skirt,” He muttered, doing his best to focus on the button and zipper of your shorts with his dick still in your hand.

“Tell me about it,” You rolled your eyes, cursing Lest.

With your free hand, you helped him out, popping open the tight button. He didn’t waste a second in shoving his hand between your legs, feeling you through your underwear. You gasped at the simple contact, his hands cold against you.

“God, you’re so fucking wet,” He growled, your hand gripping into his wrist, definitely leave crescent shaped nail marks on his skin, “This all for me, baby?”

You looked at him through hooded eyes, pleased with his sudden confidence boost. You nodded, jaw falling open as he pressed the tips of his fingers against your clit.

“Fuck, yes, please,” You muttered, unable to form a proper sentence, “Need you so bad.”

You ground down against his fingers, not able to help yourself. You took him in your hand again, pumping your first and leaning forward to kiss him. Suddenly he froze, it only took half a second for you to follow suit.

“What?” You asked, fully present and incredibly worried you had done something wrong or hurt him.

“I… I don’t have a condom, fuck.” His jaw hung open, he looked like he had seen war.

“Oh, hm,” You sat back as his finger retreated from your shorts, “Wanna see a magic trick?”

“What?” His face contorted in confusion, your question throwing him completely for a loop.

“It’s a good one, I promise,” You giggled, letting go of him and sitting up on your knees, shorts sliding down your hips a little.

You reached behind the couch, tits practically in Pretty Boy's face, despite the situation he took the opportunity to pull one of your nipples into his mouth, tongue swirling around the hard peak. You gasped, blinking through the feeling to resume your mission. You reached farther behind the couch, praying to any god that was spying in on you. You grinned when your fingertips found exactly what you wanted. You tried to sit back, but he held you where you were, not finished with you just yet. His hands squeezed your ass as his mouth traveled to the other breast, giving it the same attention.

“Ah, fuck,” You grabbed his hair when you couldn't take anymore, pulling his mouth off you with a soft pop.

You sat back on his lap, holding the condom up in front of you with a proud smile.

He tilted his head to the side, “Was that…behind the couch?”

“Yeah,” You laughed, mentally thanking Mel and her need to be fucked whenever she smoked, “Uh, this couch is…well worn in. It’s best not to think about it too much.”

He glanced at the fabric beneath him, nose scrunching. You held the condom out to him dramatically, “A gift for you, sir.”

“Thank you very very much, miss,” He replied, taking it from your hand, “now take those god forsaken shorts off.”

You scrambled off his lap, watching him intently as you wiggled your shorts off. The cuff was wide enough for you to step out of them without taking your shoes off. You stood between his spread knees in nothing but your underwear and high top sneakers. He looked like a deity, or maybe an angel, lazily leaning back against the couch. He opened the condom wrapper with his teeth, watching you as he rolled it down his length. You couldn’t help but stare, shirt split open, his cock laying pink and heavy against his pale stomach, you watched as he lifted his hips, pushing his boxers and jeans just a few more inches down his legs and then grabbed himself, giving a few slow strokes as he stared right back up at you.

“You’re-”

You both started at the same time, making a laugh bubble out of your chest.

“No, I get to say it this time,” He pouted, sitting up. His hands slid up the side of your thighs, all the way up to your waist before settling against your ass, the cheeky cut of your underwear giving him full access to your skin. He pressed his nose to your stomach, breathing in deeply before resting his chin against you, looking up at you, Pupils completely blown out, his irises the smallest amber rings, “You are so beautiful.”

His teeth dug into the soft flesh, tongue smoothing over the redness when he let go, he continued this along your hips and down to the waist of your underwear, pulling back slightly to look at them. He traced a finger along the lacy edge.

“I love pretty things meant to be taken off,” He told you, looking up through his lashes.

When you didn’t say anything, he brought a hand down on your ass. Not hard enough to really hurt, but enough for you to gasp and straighten up.

“What was that for?” You asked, blinking down at him with wide eyes.

A grin split his face as he looked up at you, then he shrugged, “I don’t know, I just wanted to do it.”

“Okay, brat,” You rolled your eyes, and scoffed jokingly.

“Come here,” He laughed, grabbing your knees and pulling you down to straddle his lap again.

You braced your arms against the couch, caging his head in. You watched him lick his lips before sliding his hand between your things again, this time he pushed your underwear to the side. His fingers ran smoothly against you, traveling up and down your slit, stopping to rub slow circles around your clit. You couldn’t help the moans that slipped past your lips, eyes falling shut.

“No, look at me,” He told you, voice filled more with want than demand.

You blinked your eyes open, blushing as he watched your every move. You felt his fingers tease at your entrance, a question in his eyes. You gave a small nod and easily slipped two fingers into you. You cried out softly, forehead falling against his as you panted, curses falling from your mouth. He tilted his chin, kissing you as he curled his fingers against your walls, thumb pressing to your clit.

“Fuck, fuck, oh fuck.” Your voice shook against his mouth, he smirked.

“Quite the vocabulary,” He teased you, fingers moving slowly in and out.

“Yeah, top of- ah!” You gasped when he separated his finger in you, stretching you wider, “Top of my english classes.”

“Oh I’m sure,” He snorted, and then kissed you as he pulled his fingers out and away from you, swallowing the whimpers you let out, “You said you wanted to feel me inside you right? Can’t keep my fingers in there at the same time.”

“You could certainly try,” You joked, brushing your hair out of your face.

“Hm, maybe try taking just my cock first, yeah?” He asked, laughing softly.

“Will do,” You said seriously, watching as you studied your wetness on his fingers. Before you could protest, he put his fingers in his mouth, eyes on yours as he tasted you. Your face burned as his eyes fell shut, tongue swirling between the digits, groan coming from deep in his throat.

He pulled you down, sighing as you ground down against him, finally free of the layers of fabric. His length slid smoothly between your folds, making both of you go dumb for a moment. Unable to wait any more he grabbed your hips, getting you to sit up a little higher on your knees.

“Tell me if it hurts, okay?” He told you firmly, looking up at you for confirmation.

“Yeah, yes I will,” You promised, eagerness ripping at your insides.

He lined himself up, tip teasing at your entrance. He watched your face as you sank down onto him, your lips parted and eyebrows furrowed.. He gasped as you took him in, unable to keep his jaw from hanging open, all his energy being used to keep his hips still until you were ready. He filled you in the most amazing way, stretching you more than probably anyone else. You wanted more of him, you needed all of him.

“Hey, I usually have stuff to help,” He told you, “You don’t have to go all-”

His own strangled cry cut him off as he bottomed out, your pelvis flush against his. You dropped your head to his shoulder panting heavily.

“Fuck, are you okay?” He asked, concern filling his voice, “You didn’t need to do that.”

You tilted your head back to look at him. His breath hitched at the sight of your face, pupils huge, cheeks red, lips swollen, looking completely fucked out all ready, “I wanted to, need all of you in me.”

“Ah, fuck.” He groaned, dropping his forehead against yours, his voice strained, “Fuck, let me know when I can move.”

You kissed him, letting yourself adjust for a few more seconds before rocking against him. You lifted yourself into your knees a little, his cock sliding halfway out before you pushed back down. He whined, bucking up against you. When you were confident this wouldn’t result in a very embarrassing ER trip, you picked up your pace, sliding up and down on him. The feeling sent sparks across every muscle in your body, you licked into his mouth, trying to quiet your moans as much as possible. He jerked up into you, throwing off your rhythm for a moment.

When you found the movement together, though? You swear you had died and gone to some filthy sticky version of heaven. You cried out, clinging to his shoulders. He wrapped an arm around your waist to steady you, the other on the back of your thigh helping you move with him.

“Ah, fuck baby, feels so good,” He moaned, biting and licking at your jaw, muttering, “cítíte se skvěle, naprosto dokonale.”

You could have taken him for hours, drunk on the ways his hands moved over you, obsessed with the feeling of his cock filling you up. He bit down on your collar bone, you couldn't be bothered to care about the mark he was definitely going to leave. The way he twitched inside you made your entire core tighten up, your walls crushing around him.

He gasped, hand moving between your thighs. He began rubbing your clit, helping you regain the pace when you faltered. You grabbed him by the hair, yanking his head back to kiss him again. It was messy and rough, your teeth tapping together as you devoured each other, tongues invading every area of flesh.

“Come for me, Lasko,” He begged, pumping into you harder, fingers working against you fast, He licked into your mouth, arm around your waist tightening, “Come on my cock like a good girl.”

The feeling of him, against your clit, inside of you, his hands and mouth and breath and spit. It all pushed you closer, and closer to the edge. Every muscle in your body tightened and then released with the most intense pulsing.

“Good girl, so good for me,” He practically cried, taking his hand away from your clit, but fucking you through your climax.

The stuttering of his hips told you he wasn’t far behind. You kept up your movements, ignoring the overstimulation as you continued to slide in and out. You clenched around him involuntarily, finally drawing it out of him. With a whimpering moan he came, both arms wrapping around your waist and his head buried in your chest. He gave a few more stuttering bucks as he filled the condom. You dropped your cheek against the top of his head, both of you breathing like you had just run a marathon.

He pressed a kiss to the base of your throat, still clinging to you, all his muscles suddenly useless. You brushed your fingers through his hair, dragging your nails across his scalp gently. He pulled back, hands moving up and down your back.

“Are you okay?” He asked, looking up into your eyes.

“I’m great,” You told him, a soft laugh passing your lips. He flinched, the tensing of your muscles around him way too much to handle. He lifted your hips up, pulling his softening dick out of you. You winced at the sudden emptiness, “Are you good?”

He readjusted your underwear and pressed a kiss to your lips, “I’m perfect, amazing even,” He smiled, you were grateful he was still kind after cumming.

He held onto your waist, leaning you backwards as you reached for something on the table. He pulled back a metal water bottle, offering it to you. You took it gratefully, it was cold and heavy and in your eyes might as well have been holy water. You unscrewed the lid and tilted it back, drinking from it for a few long seconds. He smiled at you fondly, brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. You wiped your mouth on the back of your hand and handed it over to him, watching his tired face as he drank. Still pretty.

Now back in the real world, you realized how exposed you were. You glanced over your shoulder at the unlocked garage door, the sound of music and people still coming faintly from the house. Pretty Boy reached over and grabbed the borrowed t-shirt, turning it right side out and giving it to you. You pulled it on, content to be covered again. He pulled your face to his, kissing you slowly. His tongue tasted like you and was cold from the water. He kissed the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then your neck. All gentle.

When you pulled away, he tilted his head at the frown on your lips, “What’s wrong, Lasko?” You were dying to know what that meant. You were also dying to stay with him. To go back to wherever he lived and never leave his bed. Fuck it, even locking the garage door and staying here forever would work for you. But the others would be looking for you at some point, if they weren't already.

“I should probably go,” The sadness in your voice betraying you.

“Do you want to go?” He asked, all sincerity.

“No,” You scoffed, unable to lie while he looked at you with all the trust in the world, “But I have to. My roommate is probably looking for me, I was definitely gone a little longer than I said I would.”

“Hm, okay,” He brushed your hair behind your ear again, fingers lingering against your cheek.

You kissed him again, just softly on the lips, before standing up. Your whole body ached, but the joints and muscles of your legs were impossibly stiff. You groaned, stretching your whole body up until your spine cracked with a satisfying pop.

“Ah, nice,” He complimented, stretching out his own back.

You bent down stretching your legs as you reached for your toes, a swift smack on your ass made you gasp, “Rude,” You scolded, standing back up.

“I’m just a man,” He said dramatically, making you roll your eyes as you stepped back into your shorts. He peeled the condom off, cringing as he tied it up and wrapped it in a paper towel, setting it on the ground, “I will deal with that in a second.”

“Yeah don’t forget it,” You warned, holding back a laugh.

He lifted his hips pulling his jeans and boxers back up and tucking himself away, “I’d have to drop out or kill myself… maybe both.”

“That’s fair honestly,” You nodded, watching his pretty hands button up his shirt. You missed them on you already.

“You’re heading out?” He asked, though it sounded more like, ‘please don’t head out’.

“Unfortunately,” You leaned over him, hands on the back of the couch caging him in, you pressed your forehead this, “Thank you for a very good start to the semester, I appreciate it.”

“Likewise,” He punctuated his words with a kiss, lips slotting against yours, tasting you one last time. When you pulled away, he opened his mouth to say something, then sighed, “Have a goodnight, get home safely.”

“Will do,” You kissed the top of his head and turned around. You didn’t look at him as you walked to the door, knowing you’d walk right back to that couch.

Outside, the summer air was practically freezing in comparison to how you felt minutes ago. You straightened your clothes and smoothed your hair as you walked back towards the house, music growing louder as you approached. When you put your hand on the handle of the sliding back door, you froze.

Every cell in your body was screaming at you to turn around. To walk back into the garage, ask for his name, his number, his hand in marriage. All of the crazy thoughts that come with really really good sex. You looked at your fingers wrapped around the handle, imagining them against his cheek. You could still feel him on your skin, against your lips.

Why didn’t you ask his name? You wanted to beat yourself up. It would have taken two seconds, it would have been normal. More normal than not asking his name, honestly. Who does that? Who fucks someone who’s name they don’t even know. You needed to know.

Just as you released the handle and stepped away from the door, it slid open loudly, making you jump. Music poured out of the house, overwhelmingly loud. Lest stood in front of you, perfect face creased with stress and her bag on her shoulder.

“Where have you been?” She snapped at you, and then took a deep breath, calming herself, “You scared me half to death! You left your phone, I was actually on the verge of calling the cops.”

Dramatic as always, it was what you loved about her, “I’m sorry, I was just in the garage. Why didn’t you come get me?” Thank you, thank you, thank you for not coming to get me, you thought.

“What? Jayce said he saw you come back in the house?” She frowned, grabbing your wrist and pulling you inside, you stood close to the cold glass as she spoke.

“It must have been someone else,” You shrugged and reached out for her arm to calm her, but dropped your hand when you realized you should probably wash them first, “I’m sorry, I didn’t even realize I didn’t have my phone on me.”

Lest sighed, “It’s okay, I’m just glad you're okay.”

You have no idea how ok I am, you thought, laughing to yourself.

“What?” She asked tilting her head, “Are you high? Were you smoking by yourself?”

“Nothing, I, yeah, I was.” You lied, hoping she couldn’t tell.

“That's- you shouldn’t do that,” She scolded, “It’s dangerous…and sad.”

You gasped, punching her shoulder gently, “Hey, there is nothing wrong with a little alone time.”

“Okay, whatever you say, freak.” She said, trying to hide her smile.

“Were you wanting to go home?” You asked, remembering that she was holding her bag. You looked around the house, people were definitely leaving, but it wasn’t odd for you and Lest to hang out with Jayce and Cait and the others until it was just your friend group, fighting sleep in favor of each other's company.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” She looked sheepish, “I don’t feel super great. I know it’s still kind of early for us, I don’t mind going home by myself if you don’t want to leave.”

If you stayed, you could go back to Pretty Boy in the garage…

“Nah, I’m down to go home,” You told her, praising yourself for showing even a modicum of self restraint, “We ubering or walking?”

“Oh cool, ubering for sure,” She nodded with wide eyes.

You laughed, “Good, I'm gonna go say bye, I’ll meet you outside?”

“Eh, you might just want to text them,” Lest cringed, “Jayce and Mel already snuck off to his room and Cait and Vi we’re only sticking around down here to keep the place from burning down. Not like either would notice with the way they were sucking face.”

“Ew, don’t say that,” You stuck your tongue out at the childish phrase.

You followed her through the house, grabbing your bag on the way out. When you sat on the curb to smoke a cigarette and wait for your ride, you couldn't help but to glance at the front door. Hoping every time it opened it would be Pretty Boy, leaving the stuffy party to catch his own Uber home. Or maybe walk if he lived close enough. Maybe you’d offer him a drag and ask his name. Maybe he’d have a different girl on his arm. Maybe you would both pretend to not recognize each other.

Luckily, he never gave you the chance to find out.

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