#almost like when youre partially clothed hitting deep and slow and making out

[anangelbyanothername]

thinking about a big feral werewolf

holding me so gently and rutting into me softly snd sweetly

lapping up my tears from the stretching snd sheer emotion

pumping all of his love into me one thrust at a time, while cooing sweet “youre ok, its ok, you can take it”

[blindmagdalena]

Eat Your Ego, Honey ( Ch5 )

homelander x oc 18+  escort services, sex work, voyeurism, stalking, Homelander in general. see ao3 link for detailed tags. chapter index. check out the playlist!

Layla gasps at the familiar feeling of the world falling out from beneath her as Homelander lifts off from the ground, holding her tight. She’s more prepared this time, and wraps both of her arms around his neck, recovering quickly to kiss him more fiercely. Adrenaline and arousal hit her with equal force. She’s left breathless, pulling back from him with a deep inhale, panting into the sparse space between their lips.

Homelander has drifted out from beneath the tent, and since flown above it. Layla tightens her grip around his neck. Despite the firm hold he has with his arm around her waist, this position feels a great deal more precarious than the way he held her on their initial ascent. She doesn’t know what to do with her feet until she feels Homelander’s shoes bump beneath hers, giving her something to partially stand on. The gesture is so effortlessly sweet, so thoughtful, that she kisses him with renewed vigor. She knows he’s pleased with himself, she can feel it in the way he smiles against her lips.

They land on a balcony several more stories up. Between the wine, the kissing, and the thinning air, Laya’s head is spinning. She would have stumbled once she was on her feet if not for the way he held her, one arm looped around her waist while the other cupped her cheek. He’s impossibly warm, especially compared to the bitingly cold night air. “Inside,” she says between kisses, shivering. “Inside, inside, inside.” Homelander laughs, pulling her to the balcony door. He inputs a quick passcode, and the heavy steel framed glass door swings open with a faint groan. It’s a surprising amount of security–given the staggering height of the building–but Layla doesn’t give it much thought. At the moment, she hasn’t any to spare.

The door closes behind them with a mechanical noise, relocking. The atmosphere is instantly more comfortable, though the air inside is strangely reminiscent of a hospital. It’s sterile, crisp, and kept at a moderate temperature.

Unlike a hospital, however, Homelander’s penthouse is dark and richly colored. There are paintings on every wall, hung in beautiful gilded frames. The body of work is almost entirely 18th century Colonial America, leaving the place feeling more like a museum than an apartment. It’s distracting, but not nearly as much as Homelander’s hands roaming down her sides. He cups her ass while he kisses her neck, walking her backwards towards the bed. 

Layla sits when she feels the backs of her legs bump the bed, her hands falling to the soft bedding below her. It’s plush, as luxurious as she would expect from him, but not as grandiose as she anticipated. It’s smaller than even her bed. Homelander yanks his tie loose. She’s not sure what he’s more eager for: sleeping with her, or ridding himself of his “civilian” clothing.

“Stop,” she says, halting him in his tracks. He looks confused, almost wounded, his brows pinched together. She doesn’t let him hang long before she continues, “Do it slowly. I want to watch.”

His expression flips immediately, lips curling into a relieved smile. He does precisely as he’s told, slowing down enough that she feels a quiver of excitement roll up her spine. He slips his cufflinks out first, dropping them into his pants pocket. He holds her gaze while he unbuttons his blazer, his chest visibly rising and falling with each breath, his own anticipation written clearly in his every move.

Next, he unbuckles his belt. Layla feels herself shiver at the sound his leather belt makes sliding through the loops of his pants before he drops it to the ground. He kicks his shoes off, shuffling the pile of leather to the side with his foot. Layla reclines on the bed, propped up on her elbows to properly enjoy the show. His gaze dips from hers to the way the slit of the dress rides up her thigh, the velvety fabric settling between her legs. “Keep going,” she encourages him. His throat bobs as he swallows, readily obeying. His pants come off next, along with a pair of rich crimson briefs. His cock is already hard when it falls free. She knew it would be, she could feel it against her thigh when he walked her to the bed. It’s thicker and longer than she’s used to. She has to resist the immediate impulse to sit up, to touch, to taste and explore what has been kept from her, and instead tells him, “All of it.”

Homelander hesitates, his fingers poised on the buttons of his dress shirt for a second before he begins popping them loose. He shrugs his jacket and shirt off in one go, finally laying himself fully bare to her. His fingers curl and uncurl from his palms. Through his arousal, Layla can feel the thrum of nervous energy in the silence between them. For all of his self-glorification, the insecurity at the root of it is showing. 

Layla sits up and slides herself to sit at the edge of the bed. She lifts her hands to his waist, smoothing them down to his hips. Her thumbs catch on the sharp jut of his hip bones. He’s slender; the bulk of his suit is truly a distortion of his proportions. She pauses at the sight of a birthmark just below his right hip. With a smile, she leans in, hearing him take in a sharp breath as she presses her lips to his warm, soft skin.

“I’ve imagined this,” she admits, kissing a slow trail towards his stomach, ignoring his straining cock for now.

“You have?” He breathes, voice thick with need. She hums, inhaling the warm, woodsy smell of him. The cologne he wears reminds her of thick green grass warmed by the summer sun. “Is it… everything you imagined?” He asks, a little tentative. His hands hover, unsure of where he should put them. “Everything and more,” she assures him earnestly. He sucks in a sharp breath when she kisses the head of his cock, loosely grabbing the base to hold it steady. She licks her lips with it still pressed to them, letting her taste the salt-sex flavor of him. She parts her lips and takes just the tip of him between them, sucking so gently that there’s barely a pull. Homelander shudders above her, his hands curling into tight fists at his sides.

It occurs to her that he is not touching her because she has not yet given him permission to. Such a good boy, she thinks, pleased.

With her free hand, she cups his balls, letting the weight of them barely sit in her palm. She knows it’s all too light, too little — a terrible tease — but she also wants to know just how super those senses of his really are.

“Layla,” he rasps, trailing off into a low moan. She sinks a little deeper, presses her tongue to the vein along the underside of his cock. She can feel the beat of his heart in it, how it throbs in her mouth. His breaths are already uneven. Reducing a superhuman like Homelander with little more than a few swipes of her tongue is an intoxicating kind of power. Knowing she wouldn’t stand a chance against him if he decided to overpower her is almost as thrilling as knowing that he won’t, that he’s too deep beneath her influence. He craves her love too deeply to fuck it up now. A woman could become addicted to this.

She glances up at him. His eyes are screwed shut, teeth bared, fists tight at his sides. It’s only then that she notices that the ceiling above them is mirrored. The realization hits her with such heat that her eyes nearly roll back, a soft moan reverberating around his cock. “Oh, fuck,” he says, giving a reflexive little thrust. Layla allows it, taking him deeper between her lips. She massages his balls at the same time, picking up a steady rhythm between that, her mouth, and stroking the base of his cock.

“I’m–fffuck, fuck, I’m going–Layla,” he groans, desperately warning her. She can feel it in him, the tension in his cock, the throb of it against her tongue. She hums around him, to which he makes another agonized noise. “Layla, please.”

She looks up, and sees that he’s staring down at her, expression twisted up in such exquisite agony. She pulls off of him with a wet slurp, slowing the stroke of her hand. “What’s wrong, darling?” “I’m going to come,” he finally admits, but that’s when Layla realizes that isn’t what he means. He isn’t just warning her. What he means is that he’s desperately trying not to. What he needs from her is permission.

“Okay,” she says, voice soft and low. “Look up, and watch yourself come in my mouth.” With that, she takes him back into her mouth, watching as he tips his head back with a rough exhale, meeting his own gaze in the mirror above them. She can hear him falling apart in the staccato of his breaths, feel it in the shaky little jerks of his hips. 

She glances up and sees that he’s doing just as he told her — watching himself, enraptured by the picture they paint. She drags her tongue through his slit before taking him deep, pumping the base of his cock faster, intensifying the sensations so suddenly that he comes with a ragged gasp, his back arching. 

The rush of it across her tongue is white hot, spilling down her throat before she even begins swallowing. She accepts it greedily, still stroking him, still sucking, swallowing with every bob of her head. She pulls off with a satisfactory pop, licking her lips. When she looks up this time, Homelander is staring down at her, breathing heavily. He sinks down to his knees before her, hands falling to her hips. He kisses her thigh through the dress, her knee, hunger and reverence felt in equal measure.

Layla responds by placing her heel on his bare thigh. This time, he knows exactly what to do. He takes a gentle hold of her ankle and lifts it, sliding her high heel from her foot. He does the other in the same way, setting both shoes aside. She reaches under her dress and shimmies out of her pantyhose, taking them down to her thighs before Homelander takes over. He pulls the garment off, discarding it to the ground, and then slides his hands back up her bare legs. She allows him to spread them, her dress hiked up over her hips, exposing her inner thigh to the press of his lips.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he says, the words a hot breath against her skin. Layla combs her fingers through his hair, her own body aching, the pulse of it radiating from her core. She can feel how wet she is against her panties. The thought of finally having him makes her whole body throb.

Layla hooks her fingers under the hem of her dress and pulls it up over her head, leaving her in just her lingerie, a lacy black ensemble she matched to the dress. Homelander looks up at her, his eyes blown black. He focuses on her breasts immediately, lifting himself towards them, but Layla catches the top of his head, threading her fingers into his hair and halting him. “Earn it,” she tells him breathlessly, licking her lips. Homelander hikes her legs over his shoulders without hesitation, nuzzling in against her through her panties, making a hungry noise. Layla begins to lean back, but he throws her for a loop when he slips his hands under her ass and effortlessly lifts her up, balancing her on his shoulders. She grabs his hair with both hands, locking her ankles behind his back with a small sound of surprise. Even now, his strength catches her off guard. He holds her there as he reclines onto the bed, helping her to straddle his face. Layla braces her hands on the headboard, giving a breathless moan at the feel of his tongue pressing against the thin, wet fabric of her panties. He laps at her through it, nuzzling in between drags of his tongue, hands settled on her thighs to hold her steady.

Fuck, he’s good. His tongue feels unreal — firm and quick, tireless in the way he uses it against her. She immediately loses all sense of reserve, gripping the headboard tightly while she shamelessly grinds down against his mouth. His only response is a pleased, muffled noise that rumbles against her. She becomes hyper aware of the barrier of her underwear between them, and reaches down, lifting up just enough to tug the fabric to the side before sinking back down. Homelander moans outright, drives his tongue into her cunt so eagerly that it makes her shiver. He ravishes her without reserve, his nose rubbing her clit while he tongue fucks her. There isn’t a moment of reprieve from the pleasure, and it occurs to her that he might not even need to breathe.

Layla’s head tips back, and she catches herself in the mirror. Seeing the two of them reflected back immediately makes her wish they were in her studio, where her cameras would record this. Where she could watch this back while she fucks herself with her fingers, with toys, or even while he fucks her. She’s consumed by the thought of riding his dick while watching him absolutely devour her, his fingers sinking into the meat of her thighs with his own desperation. She can see that his cock is already hard again, bouncing against his belly in time with the way she rocks against his mouth. Even his refractory period is superhuman.

His mouth is unyielding beneath her. The harder she presses, the more he encourages her. She doesn’t have the strength in her body to bother him, much less hurt him. It has her panting, sweat prickling on her skin, pressure building higher and higher, like the rumble of a teakettle before the whistle. “God, John,” she gasps, the pitch of her voice steadily climbing. She could almost scream when he stops suddenly, lifting her just slightly. “Homelander,” he says beneath her, voice low and thick. “Call me Homelander.” Layla doesn’t care what he wants to be called right now. She’ll call him Santa Claus if it means he keeps doing that with his tongue. “Homelander,” she practically growls, moaning at the immediate way he presses his tongue back into her. “There, perfect, ah,” she sighs, arching her back, one hand on the headboard while the other lands atop his, on her hip.

Instantly he takes her hand in his, interlacing their fingers together. He squeezes her thigh with the other hand and groans loud against her, rocking with her, voracious in the way he moves his tongue, drinking her down like it’s ambrosia spilling from between her thighs.

Dragging his tongue up to her clit, he moves his hand from her thigh to between her legs, and slips a finger into her dripping wet pussy. “Fuck,” she gasps, eagerly grinding down against his hand, rolling between his finger and his tongue. “Oh fuck, oh god, fuck, more,” she pants, screwing her eyes shut. She’s close, closer than she can stand. “More.”

Obediently, Homelander adds another finger, scissoring them, crooking them until her thighs start shaking. He adds a third when she demands it, tongue swirling on her clit. It’s exactly what she needed — the fullness of his fingers thrusting inside her making her see fireworks.

“Yes, yes, oh my god, Homelander, Homelander, Homelander!” She cries, her whole body seizing up like a vice in the wake of her orgasm. It shakes her to her core, has her curled in towards the headboard while she rides out wave after wave of euphoric pleasure. She squeezes his hand through it while he laps leisurely at her, humming softly, already sounding smug. 

He sucks at her clit in time with the way it throbs, attuned to her body in a way no one else has ever been. It’s as if he can hear every little pulse, knows exactly where to place his tongue, his lips. Layla shudders through it, her moans fading off into sharp, oversensitized little gasps until finally she tells him, “Stop, stop, ah… Hah, hahah… God,” she breathes, lifting herself on shaking knees away from the devilish slide of his tongue and off of his fingers.

Homelander slips out from beneath her, rising up behind her. His hands fall to her waist, his lips kissing a trail up her spine. She remains still, hands braced on the headboard, catching her breath. “I’ve thought about that,” he murmurs between kisses, making his way up to her neck, to the sensitive shell of her ear. “Every night… Since the first day I saw you,” he says, his voice low in her ear. She hears him lick his lips, lewd and intentional. “Still better than I imagined.” Layla sinks back against him, gripping his wrists. Her mind swirls still in waves of euphoria, and as she comes down from the high of it, a single thought prevails: “Tell me you have condoms.”

While she knows he’s clean — it’s part of the screening process for her clients — she still insists on protection. She’s in the habit of taking more precautions than not when it comes to the risk of a child. Homelander pauses a moment. She wonders briefly if he’s going to protest. “Nightstand, top drawer,” he answers at last, smoothing his hands along the curves of her body. There’s a contemplative lilt to the tone of his voice that she chooses to ignore for now. She leans forward, reaching for the nightstand. As she does, she notices for the first time the small, framed portrait of… Abraham Lincoln. Mildly disturbed by Honest Abe’s vacant stare, she gently tips it face down before she resumes her mission, pulling the drawer open.

Inside, she finds an unopened Vought branded (naturally) box of condoms. Translucent’s Barely There Invisible Protection. Right next to it, there’s a nearly empty bottle of water-based lube with a distinct dolphin motif to the packaging, but only the lower half of the Deep’s face on it, the label largely torn away. 

There’s truly no aspect of life that Vought has not found a way to commercialize with their Supes. They’re mascots, treated with the same agency and personhood as Tony the Tiger or Mickey Mouse. Homelander seems to be no exception. 

He is a brand, one that has consumed John’s entire life.

Shaking her head, Layla sits back up, and lets her thoughts fall away for now to focus instead on the way Homelander’s hands sweep up from her hips to her ribs, fingertips grazing just below her breasts. His touches grow more tentative the closer to them he is, but no less desiring. She can feel the tension of his longing in every muscle of his body. She tears the box open, and pulls out a condom before haphazardly dropping the package onto the nightstand, rattling the face-down portrait. Sorry, Abe.

She lightly taps the back of Homelander’s hand with the condom until he takes it, allowing her to slip out of his grasp. She puts a hand on his shoulder, realizing when she gets to her feet that her knees are jelly, still wobbly from the intensity she rode his mouth with. She smiles, feeling giddy. Before Homelander, she can’t remember the last time sex felt like something unexplored and adventurous.

Meanwhile, Homelander is grinning at her, clearly patting himself on the back for the state of her — flushed and giggly, limbs loose with pleasure. He tears open the wrapper, tossing it carelessly to the side. To her confusion, he unrolls it in his fingers, pausing when he brings it to his cock. “Wait, fuck,” he mumbles.

“You have used a condom before, right?” She asks, biting back a little giggle as she reaches to pull another one from the box. “Yes, I have; it’s just — it’s been awhile,” he says through his teeth, looking equal parts frustrated and embarrassed as he takes the new one from her. “Stopped seeing the point when I thought I was sterile. Do I really need this? Aren’t you on the pill or something?” “Or something,” Layla says, taking the condom from him once he unwraps it. She wonders fleetingly what made him think he was sterile, as well as realize he wasn’t, but opts to tuck that away for another time. 

She presses the condom to the head of his cock, and then begins working it slowly down with deft twists of her wrist that make him shudder. She strokes, slow but firm. He cups the side of her neck, thumb stroking just behind her jaw, exhaling roughly. “See, still feels good,” she says, voice low, her smile audible in it. “Here, turn,” she instructs, arranging him so that he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, feet on the floor.

Layla slips out of her soaked panties, stealing a quick kiss from him while she’s bent over. He tries to follow her when she pulls back, but she stops him with a hand to his chest. Each one of these interactions, the way he relents to her gentlest touch, despite the gravity of his strength, is a tiny thrill in and of itself. He has such profound control of himself, a skill born of practice and necessity. She’s not sure the novelty of it will ever fade.

Reaching behind her back, Layla unclasps her bra. Homelander’s gaze drops, fixated. She takes off the garment, her breasts falling free of the lacy material. She discards it to the floor, and places both of her hands upon his shoulders, straddling him on her knees. She hears him swallow, and can feel the tension in his hands as he grabs her hips. He’s practically vibrating with desire.

Slowly, Layla sinks down until she feels the tip of him press against her. She takes a breath, sweeping her fingers through his hair. His eyes flicker up to meet hers, wide and shining, impossibly blue. His lips part. With her hand at the back of his head, a gentle pull is all the encouragement he needs. He nuzzles between her breasts and kisses that middle spot before turning his head to mouth at the swell of the right one, making a noise somewhere between relief and yet more mounting, insatiable lust. At the same time, she begins sinking down, wringing a moan from him as she envelops him in her warmth. Her nails bite ineffectually into the impenetrable skin on his shoulder, while her other hand tightens in his hair, cradling him to her chest. He closes his mouth over her nipple, sucking, muffling the noises he makes as she bottoms out. His cock is thicker than his fingers had been, and reaches deeper. It’s been a long time since she’s had sex like this, she realizes. Since anyone was inside her, fucking her. It isn’t something she always offers, particularly in recent years.

It feels fucking good.

Homelander slides his hand up her body, from her hip to the breast he doesn’t have his mouth on. He massages it, catching her nipple with his thumb. His tongue does the same on the other, eager and covetous in the way he claims her. She remembers how his gaze had lingered on her chest during their very first conversation. She has no doubt he imagined this, too. 

Slowly at first, she bounces against him. He whines, pants hotly around her breast, dragging his tongue between needy pulls of his lips. He thrusts up harder than she expects him to, startling a throaty moan from her. “That’s good,” she breathes, wanting to feel his inhuman strength. “More, darling. Can you give me more?” He groans, eyes screwed shut. She’d think him in pain if she didn’t know any better, if she didn’t know that he’s restraining himself, overwhelmed with pleasure and need. “Yes,” he rasps, her skin wet where he’s pulled away from it. He nods fervently, anchors himself. “Fuck, yes.” Returning both hands to her hips, he holds her steady while he begins to thrust. Lifting her with ease, gravity is nothing compared to the way he pulls her down into each thrust.

She feels weightless in his hands. It’s been years since she’s had a sexual partner outside of her profession, years since she thought this much about what she wants. “More,” she moans again, arching her back. Homelander curls into her, wraps his arms around her waist, and fucks her deep, maintaining the kind of momentum most could only dream of. “ More. ”

Homelander makes a strained noise, almost a growl, and stands up suddenly, hands gripping Layla’s thighs. She gasps, locking her legs around his waist, her stomach flipping while he bounces her on his cock. He fucks deeper into her like this, each thrust a shock to the core of her. He lavishes attention on her breasts, burying his face between them, biting and sucking. She can feel him marking her, just as he had done before, the pull of his lips as sharp as his teeth, bruising her skin.

The slap of skin against skin is impossibly loud, nearly drowning out the thundering of her own heart in her ears. Layla has lost any leverage she had before; her only option to hold on for dear life as he fucks her, giving her everything she asked for and more.

“H-Home–John,” she stutters, unable to think, unable to focus on anything other than the relentless force of his thrusts. Her teeth clack together when she tries to speak, leaving her with no recourse but to endure him.

The experience is transcendent.

Layla can already feel that same pressure building sharply back up, each snap of his hips igniting a progressively greater flame within her. Like a bell being struck by a hammer, her whole body resonates with every blow. The threat of shattering thrills her to the very marrow of her bones.

Pleasure and pain blur into a singular sensation. She doesn’t even realize she’s coming until she’s crying out, erupting in a wave of heat and ecstasy unlike any she’s ever experienced before. She doesn’t recognize the sound of her own voice.

With one, two, three more thrusts, Homelander stills, burying himself deep in her as his own climax takes him, stealing the breath from his lungs. He curls in tight against her, arms shaking with the way he holds her. For as tightly held as she feels, it’s taking everything in him not to crush her while he’s barraged by wave after wave of overwhelming release.

Homelander’s jaw falls slack, and he tips backwards. They do not fall, however. Even in her haze, Layla recognizes the familiar, bizarre sensation of falling upwards. The two of them are hovering several feet off the ground, Homelander reclined almost fully horizontally with Layla limp against him. Her eyes feel heavy and tear-laden, her whole body thrumming in the aftermath. Distantly, she knows that this feeling will soon become a terrible soreness. For now, she is utterly lost to the bliss of it all, cradled in an impossibly strong embrace.

Eventually, Layla feels the faint breeze of descent while Homelander lands slowly on the bed. She adjusts as they settle, giving him the chance to dispose of the condom before she lays her head on his chest. They’re both breathing irregularly in the aftermath of it all, coming down gradually from the high.

Layla is the first to break the silence. She laughs breathlessly, quiet at first but growing fuller with each breath in. Homelander lifts his head, visibly confused. His expression shifts, however, when he realizes there are tears rolling down her cheeks. She’s not really laughing or crying so much as it’s a mixture of both.

“Fuck,” Homelander rasps, voice rough with sex. “What–did I hurt you?” “No,” Layla hurries to assure, even if the truth is really yes, but I demanded it of you. She sucks in a breath, fighting down the sharp little half-sobs bubbling up. “No, I’m okay. It’s alright, darling. Lie down,” she says, pressing on his chest.

Though he obeys, reclining onto his back, he looks rightfully skeptical. He lifts a hand to cup her cheek, his thumb wiping away the tears that streak down her face. “I hurt you.”

She presses her hand to his, pinning it to her cheek. “I’m a little sore,” she relents, turning to press a kiss into his palm. “But that’s not what this is. This is… release. You were amazing,” she says, the praise visibly easing the tension in him. “You did everything I asked you to. This is just,” she pauses, closing her eyes. “This is the fallout of that kind of intensity. It’s physical, and it’s emotional, but I promise I’m okay.” “You promise?” He prompts. His voice sounds smaller. When she opens her eyes to look at him, he has that familiar vulnerability in his gaze that makes him look so much younger.

“I promise,” she affirms, smiling tiredly. Her whole body is buzzing, but so too is it heavy with the weight of well-earned exhaustion. She breathes slowly, deeply, fighting to regulate the contrasting extremes she feels. 

He relaxes some more at that. Layla slides from atop him and nestles in against his side. He slips his arm under her, pulling her in, while she slings her arm over his middle. He brings his other hand across his chest to touch her face, brushing away the remaining wetness of her tears.

Once her breathing settles, and the space between them has calmed into a comfortable quiet, Homelander blows a gentle raspberry. “...Kind of a freak, aren't’cha?”

Layla chuckles, her cheek pressed to his chest. “You’re only just realizing?”

“Well, just goes to show you can’t judge a book by its cover.”

“What did you glean from my cover?” She looks up at him, one brow quirked.

“I took you for a fine, upstanding Christian American woman.” He says it as if it were the obvious conclusion.

She rolls her eyes, smiling. “My cover needs revisions, then.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I distinctly remember a litany of devout prayer while you were sitting on my face.”

“Get out,” she groans, moving her hand to his side to push on him.

He doesn’t budge, but he does laugh. “You’re in my penthouse, missy. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“Your penthouse? I thought we were in the Smithsonian,” she says, curling her arm back around him. Her eyes are too heavy to keep open, though her lips stay curved in a warm smile.

He gives a playful little scoff and says, “God forbid a man have hobbies.”

That gets a good laugh out of her. Homelander smiles, absently curling a lock of her hair between his fingers. She gives a long, bone deep sigh, sinking deeper and deeper against him, eyes falling shut. Her body is still tingling all over. She feels heavy, like she’s been filled with lead. She fights to open her eyes, and finds Homelander staring down at her still.

How is she supposed to get back on her feet after that? The thought of sitting up sounds like a Herculean feat, let alone walking in a pair of heels.

“Stay with me,” he says quietly, as if hearing the debate happening in her mind.

Layla hesitates. She can think of a million reasons not to, but she says only, “I didn’t bring anything.”

“I’ll get you anything you need,” he dismisses, lacking even an ounce of her reservation. He gives her a gentle squeeze. “Stay with me.”

She bites her tongue. That certainly hadn’t been her plan, but then again, she hadn’t really planned for any of this. Even up until yesterday, she had been convinced she would ultimately call the whole thing off. Yet here she was, tucked in his arms, in his home, still reeling from how gloriously he’d fucked her.

“Okay,” she says, whispering it as though she can hide it from her own voice of reason.

Homelander’s smile broadens. He helps her shuffle under the blanket with him, quickly drawing her back into his arms. Perhaps even he’s worried she’ll change her mind. He presses a kiss to her forehead, still idly twirling a strand of her hair between his fingers.

She falls asleep like that, warmer and more satiated than she’s felt in years. Chapter Six.

[silverdelirium]

𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 | 𝐍.𝐋

SUMMARY ➠ nikolai fucks you against the spinning wheel’s walls

WARNINGS ➠ oral (male receiving), sexual tension at the start, dirty talk, nicknames, tiny bit of degrading, sex from the back in front of a window.

WORD COUNT ➠ 1.5k

A/N ➠ if you haven’t read the books, the spinning wheel is basically a big house on a mountain that has glass walls

———

the clock read 1:23 A.M

and all you could focus on was the blonde who took strides closer to you.

he was wearing pijamas, you noticed. probably couldn’t sleep either.

“evening, y/l/n” he saluted. coming to a halt next to you, yet his line of sight was focused on the panorama the big glass windows gave you.

you didn’t respond. instead, you acknowledged him with a small nod that you could only hope he had caught with the corner of his eye.

your lack of communication didn’t stop him from making conversation.

“couldn’t sleep either?”

“no”

he hummed in understanding, letting his neck crane to the side so he was looking in your direction.

nikolai let his eyes travel from your sleep deprived features to your silk nightgown that stopped at mid-thigh. his gaze faltered when he reached your chest, pebbled nipples making blood rush to his groin.

“how do you like the view?” he asked, his eyes still on you.

“it’s nice” you sighed, turning your head to him; unconsciously sinking your teeth on your lower lip cushion.

the blonde swallowed thickly at the action, trying to shake off the thoughts that rushed through his mind— all including you. naked— “you don’t plan on going back to sleep” it was an observation, not a question.

“i don’t” a pause, and a step forward “think so. you?”

another step, this one came from him though, “maybe, i just have lots of restored energy” he responded, a wink sent in your direction as he watched your brows shoot up slightly at the innuendo.

about two more steps.

“any suggestions on how to get rid of it?” his voice dropped an octave, the fabric of his trousers tightening around his crotch as you stood about eight inches apart.

you shrugged, “i may have some ideas”.

nikolai took the last step forward.

the lip-lock was languid and heated; the desire in the pit of your stomach only intensifying more and more with each roam of his hands down your body.

“you don’t know how many times i’ve dreamt about this” he groaned, large palms kneading at your bum as he walked you slowly but surely to the same glass wall you were both just admiring a few moments ago.

nikolai’s thigh found it’s way between your legs, feeling the heat of your sopping core rub itself on his leg “i’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to sit on that cunt for the rest of the week”

a moan sounded, and you didn’t even realize it came from you until you saw him snickering to himself, his forehead on yours as he brought your palm to rub on his erection.

“this is all yours for tonight, precious”

the back of your neck grew hot as you stood nose to nose with nikolai, sharing the same hot breath.

you gave him one last peck before you were sinking to your knees, eye contact still intact even though his muscles twitched with expectation.

“you gonna suck my cock now, angel?” he asked yet there was a slight quiver to his voice when you dragged his pants down, letting his engorging cock out.

you nodded your head rapidly, wasting zero time and wrapping your hand at the base of his length, pumping him slowly.

his next words almost had you coming on the spot, “well you best make it sloppy, princess. because it’s the only lubrication you’ll get” a whine left your lips “but i bet that cunt can provide us enough lube”.

he definitely had a way with his words. your breathing was already heavy and he barely touched you.

his breathing pattern shook when you enveloped your lips around his sensitive tip, making him hiss and throw his head back, sending a wave of euphoria to your dripping cunt as you took in the way his throat bobbed with his gulp and how the vein running down the side of his neck only made him more attractive.

his hand fisted in your hair, giving the locks a small tug as a silent plea for you to take more of him in.

you complied, letting your tongue run up and down the girth as he slowly sunk more of his rigid cock into your warm mouth.

“taking me so fucking me well” he panted, “i’m gonna flood your pretty throat with my cum, sweetie”

those were the last words to hit your ears before your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your throat being absolutely demolished by the male’s— unexpectedly— fast thrusts.

“saints— fuck!” you heard him grunt; though his voice seemed far away as your jaw ached and mind went hazy, the neglected and profound ache between your thighs increasing by the second at the sound of his praises and moans.

“oh god you have the best fucking mouth ever” he choked out, thrusts sloppy and deep as his hips stuttered before he was gritting his teeth, doing his best to suppress the loud cry of your name as spurts of cum shot down your throat.

the taste made you cringe slightly but you did your best to swallow everything, his cock partially exiting your sore mouth. “if your mouth was that good i can just imagine how well your little cunt will take me” he praised, hooded eyes focused on your rising form as he let his hands tug at your straps.

his gaze held enraptured hunger as you freed yourself from the silky nightwear, butterflies erupting in your core as he eyed your flesh with lust.

“there’s no way i’ve been missing on all of this, dove. you’ve been basically starving me” he commented, a giggle erupting from you as he dived his head down on your neck.

a catch of breath came from you as he nipped on your sweet spot, small whimpers hitting nikolai’s ears.

he kissed and licked, sometimes even grazed his teeth, along your neck. your pussy clenching around nothing as he continuously teased you.

“please” you croaked “i need it, so fucking bad”.

“need what, precious? use your big girl words for me” he winded, trapping you against the cold glass and his body.

you swallowed timidly, “your— your cock, i want it”

the corners of his lips twitched, along with his cock “where baby? in your mouth again or in that eager cunt of yours?”

his words almost made your legs shake.

“my… cunt, please” you whined.

nikolai gave an approving nod before turning you around softly, now pressing your breasts against the windows as your breath fogged it.

he pressed down on your lower back, bringing you to a small arch.

you felt him run his hands down your body, from your shoulders blades to the swell of your ass. his fingers tugged at the soaked cloth that covered your pussy, slowly moving it to the side and revealing your wet canal.

“my, my, you have the pretties pussy ever, can’t wait to bury myself balls deep in it” he praised, bringing the dampened material down.

your heart thumped against your ribcage as you felt his swollen head kiss at your slit, teasing once again.

“nikolai ple—” your own intake of air cut you off, the unexpected thrust making your thighs shudder.

you heard him release a few groans of his own as he let you accommodate to his size, giving small and slow thrusts into your gushing cunt.

“do you like that? you like it when i fill you up to the fucking brim with my cock?”

you whimpered, rocking yourself back on his cock as he sped up his pace, what were once distressing thrusts turned into delightful ones.

your wails resonated through the room, as well as the wet sounds of skin slapping from where your bodies connected.

“nikolai, don’t stop please. don’t fucking stop” you moaned, slamming your palm against the hazed glass.

“sound so fucking hot when you moan my name like that, like a little whore— shit” you didn’t have to look back at him to know that his head was thrown back and mouth was agape, the vice grip he had on your hip told you enough.

your clit throbbed almost agonizingly before the blonde had snaked a hand around your waist, the pad of his fingers soothing the neglected bud.

he let his eyes travel from your messy hair, to your bouncing ass, to his cock covered in a ring of your arousal at the base, and to your jiggling legs that struggled to hold you up.

“the way you shiver, y/n— fuck it makes me wanna wreck you to no end” he confessed, thrusting deeper and prodding at your g-spot.

“nikolai fuck, i’m gonna cum!”

“do it, princess, cum around my cock like a good slut” he encouraged, slamming a hand down on your ass before stilling his hips, bottomed out, and cumming deep inside you.

pleasure wracked through your body like no other, your vision going blurry as pulsated around him. your, now creamed, walls fluttering with the intensity of the orgasm.

it stayed silent except for your ragged breathing and the sound of dripping to the floor for a few seconds.

but nikolai broke it first, “turn around, i wanna watch your face when you take my cock this time”

———

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🏷: @alic3cullenswife @randomstufflol29 @akraziia @arcaneofdawn @selenesheart

[sinner-as-saint]

‘Till We Bleed Out - 2.

Vampire!bucky x reader AU

Part 2 of this series. 

Run-through: Your car breaks down on a deserted road on a rainy night. You have no other option but to seek shelter from the nearest house you could find; the mansion, which happened to be the talk of the town for its mysteriousness along with its equally mysterious owner, Mr. Barnes. The universe can be tricky sometimes but the fact that you found yourself at that mansion’s doorstep at that time was no simple coincidence. That one night changes everything forever - quite literally. True love, past lives and creatures from folklore; turns out it’s all real. 

Themes throughout the series: vampire!bucky, fluff, smut, angst 

You woke up realizing that you had surprisingly fallen soundly asleep last night, after the strange dream about the handsome man; who was kind enough to let you take shelter from the storm in his home. 

Speaking of the storm, you got out of bed and walked over to the window, pulling the curtain aside. You noticed that the weather was even worse than last night. Heavy rain, and nonstop thunder. Although, it seemed like a very cozy day to just stay inside. You sigh with a soft smile on, perhaps you’d get to know more about Bucky today. 

You turned back around and noticed something you hadn’t last night. Roses on the nightstand, as red as blood and just as hauntingly beautiful. Your smile grew; there was something enchanting about red roses. A bunch of it looked like the embodiment of poetry and there was no other way you could explain it. 

You approached the flowers and inhaled their fresh scent. Oh how you loved them! How come you didn’t notice they were on the nightstand? Anyways, you walked into the bathroom and brushed, showered and were about to change into another pair of sweatpants when you noticed more clothes in the closets. A sundress caught your eye and you decided to wear it. It fit you perfectly. You twirled in front of the mirror, checking yourself out when Wanda walked into the room. 

“I see you’re up, Miss.” she smiled at you. And you noticed she had the same look in her eyes, like Bucky did. That of sadness, or helplessness. But you tried ignoring it. 

“Good morning.” You gave her your best smile and noticed how she took in your appearance. 

“You look lovely. Anyways, I came to let you know that breakfast is ready. Mr. Barnes is waiting for you downstairs in the dining room. Come down whenever you’re ready.”  

Wanda left and the brief mention of Bucky brought back the memories of last night’s dream. It was definitely weird that you had such an explicit dream about him, but the weirdest thing was that you were not feeling the slightest bit guilty about it. 

You took a deep breath and stepped out of the room. You made your way downstairs, leisurely. Taking in more of the décor and the paintings on the wall. These must have cost a fortune, you thought. 

You found Bucky in the dining room, sitting at one of the ends of the large table. You had to admit, even the furniture in this house seemed pricey. Bucky set the newspaper down upon seeing you. He let his eyes roam your frame quickly and his smile broadened. “You look lovely,” he commented. 

You smiled, just a little shy and whispered a ‘thank you’. As you took a seat on his left, he spoke again. “The storm intensified. Looks like you’re not going home today.” he said with a genuine smile. You began to oppose naturally but he insisted. “You’ll be safe here.” 

You agreed. You picked a few food items from the large trays and took a few bites while Bucky got back to his newspaper. The silence was comfortable, the two of you seemed perfectly alright with sharing the space without feeling the need to fill the void with any conversation. It felt like this was part of your routine almost. 

You sipped on coffee and discreetly lifted your eyes to look at Bucky. He munched on a piece of fruit while focusing on some article in the papers. His body language made him look like an older man; eating while reading his newspaper. But his face didn’t look a day over 35. The contrast made you giggle and that caught his attention. 

He turned to face you with a raised eyebrow. “Something funny, miss?” he sounded like he was teasing you, politely. 

You shook your head and set your cup down, and upon doing so you noticed the red roses in a vase in front of you, again. The sudden urge to ask a question took over you, “Your wife, did she like red roses?” 

“They were her favorite.” He seemed unfazed by your sudden curiosity. 

“What was she like?” you asked again and the smitten smile on his face gave away how much he loved her. Love like this was rare, and you felt just a little envious of the late woman. She was so lucky, you hoped she knew. 

“Like the answer to all my prayers. Beautiful. Every little thing about her was so, so beautiful. She was kind, smart and funny, and fierce. She made me a better man. She was delightful.” You noticed he looked you right in the eyes as he spoke. His answer gave away that he worshipped that woman. 

“I hope she knew how much you love her.” 

He gave you that soft smile again. “I made sure to remind her every single day.” 

-

You never knew rainy days could be so lovely. After breakfast Bucky offered to show you his library because of course he owned one. And you had the time of your life just walking around and running your fingers over some of your favorite books. 

You noticed red roses on the coffee table as well, by the couches in his study room/library. While reaching for a copy of Pride and Prejudice, your hand brushed with his and your whole body felt like it was electrified. You pulled away sheepishly, but he held it up to you and you took it with a smile, admiring the front cover. 

“Your favorite?” he asked. 

You nodded, excitedly. He let out a little laugh. “You can have this one. I have plenty of other copies.” 

You smiled so big your cheeks hurt. “Thank you, Buck.” you were so excited that you walked past him, hungry to explore the other side of his library - without realizing what you just called him. 

Meanwhile Bucky was both surprised and elated. Buck… no one called him that except for-

“What’s in there?” he heard your voice and turned around immediately. You were pointing at the partially hidden door at the end of the room. “That’s where you hide all your secrets?” you teased, using the same tone he did this morning. 

He laughed and nodded. “Yes, you caught me.” 

You two shared a laugh and then he insisted that you should see the piano room. You agreed and just as everything else in the house, the grand room was equally as breathtaking. White couches, brown pillows, plants, full of light even with the stormy weather and a large balcony adjoined to it. Perfect. 

“It’s beautiful,” you said as you admired the room. You could hear the heavy rain hitting the window panes, it was comforting. You noticed the well-maintained piano right by the door which led to the balcony, “Do you play?” you asked and he gave you a dramatic look which gave away that you had just bruised his ego. 

“Miss Y/N, how dare you question my skills?” He answered with a smile on, then proceeded to play the most melodic tune you had ever heard. You weren’t much of a musical person, but you knew a melancholic tune when you heard one. It was, as most things in this house, hauntingly beautiful. Even the music carried a sense of nostalgia, and homesickness. 

You closed your eyes for a moment, getting lost in the music which filled the room effortlessly. Familiar, very familiar. Then it hit you - this was the same song being played at that ball in your dream. You opened your eyes immediately, baffled at the weird coincidences taking place lately. 

You found yourself gravitating towards the bench, and eventually you sat beside Bucky. He looked at you for a brief moment, then resumed playing somewhat of a softer tune. You smiled at him and suddenly it all felt like a déjà-vu. Like you’ve lived this exact moment a hundred times before. Sitting next to him, your elbows brushing, him looking at you lovingly, yet with sad eyes. His cologne, the slight gray in his eyes, the weather - it felt like a forgotten dream was coming back to you. 

You had to find something to say otherwise you felt like you were about to lose your mind. “You said you worked all day everyday. So is today your day off?” you tried to lighten the mood. 

He let out a little laugh. “Like I said, I rarely get visitors. I’m just making the most out of your company.” 

He was drop dead gorgeous, and he could make your heart race with just a few simple words. A dangerous combination really. 

He kept playing as you walked around the room, taking in every little detail. This was the only room in the house which had white roses in the vase, instead of dark red ones. Well, the white ones matched the interior better here. Your gaze fell upon something interesting next. 

“Vinyl records?” that seemed to catch his undivided attention as he stopped playing and turned to you. 

“Oh yes. It was one of my… old hobbies.” He answered. 

You giggled. “You say old hobbies like you are over a hundred years old.” 

He chuckled and got up from the bench. He walked over to where the records were kept, picked one out and carefully placed it down on the record player. A soothing tune filled the room again. Much lighter and happier than the piano earlier. A stark contrast to the gloomy weather but it still, somehow, fit perfectly. 

Bucky extended his arm out in front of you, out of nowhere. “Dance with me.” 

You didn’t hesitate for a single and took his hand immediately. Bucky held you close; his hand at your waist pressing your body to his gently. His other hand held yours delicately. Your arm placed over his shoulder as you stared into his deep, piercing eyes. And just like that, you two swayed slowly to the sweet, slow music. Effortlessly, gracefully and without any awkwardness or hesitation. Almost like you’ve danced a thousand times before. 

You giggled as he twirled you around and pulled you closer almost immediately. And when you looked back up into his eyes, it felt like a déjà-vu again. Only this time, you knew where you had experienced something similar to this - in your dream last night. The ballroom, the gown, the way you danced. Just like this. 

Your body tensed up and you weren’t blinking, Bucky caught the change in your behavior. “Don’t think about it.” he murmured. 

“About what?” you used a much softer tone as well. You and him were so close you could whisper and you were sure he would hear you perfectly. 

“Whatever it is you’re thinking about.” He spoke as he swayed you gently. “You’re here, with me. I don’t want you to think about anything else.” It sounded more like a plea than a request. There was something else he was trying to say; inexplicable, hidden in between the lines. Somehow you caught it. 

You nodded. “I’m here.” You spoke without paying much attention to what you were saying or doing. “With you.” All that mattered in the world right now was that you were in his embrace. His ocean blue eyes were the only thing you could make sense of. 

You felt it then. The warmth, despite his cold hands. The sparks flying around, despite the dark and gloomy weather outside. He started leaning in and you met him halfway. 

His hand moved up to gently cup your face. His lips brushed against yours briefly as he paused and waited to see if you would pull away. Seeing you didn’t, he pressed his lips to yours. You shivered at how delicately he caressed your cheek with his thumb. Kissing him felt natural. Like a habit. His lips were soft and familiar. He tightened his grip around your waist, pulling you closer. 

Your hands instinctively slid into his hair, he moaned under his breath as you tugged on it gently.  Bucky tilted his head to the side and deepened the kiss, nibbling on your lips and gently stroking your lower lip with his tongue. You felt giddy and warm. And safe. 

He pulled away just a second before Wanda stepped into the room. “Dinner’s ready.” 

Bucky told her you two would be downstairs in a minute and you caught that look on her face. A look of pure joy and satisfaction. You didn’t understand why. 

When Wanda left, you faced Bucky again, now just a little nervous. “I.. I didn’t-,” 

He silenced you by gently holding your chin in between his fingers. “Shh sweetheart.” His gaze spoke volumes; he was perfectly alright with this kiss. “We should go downstairs.” 

Dinner was perfect. Lovely conversation, lovely wine, the same stormy weather outside but inside Bucky’s home; all was well. He told you that you were more than welcome to use his library if you wished to do some light reading before bed. You agreed. 

You grabbed a book and curled up on one of the couches and he did the same, sitting right across you. You found yourself re-reading the same sentence over and over again because you couldn’t focus. Not when you could physically feel his eyes on you. You even caught him staring a few times and giggled whenever he seemed flustered after being caught. 

There was ease between you two. And the next two hours went by comfortably. 

“It’s late, I should go to bed.” You spoke as you stood up. He did as well, and when you looked into his eyes you began wishing that this storm outside lasts forever. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” He whispered, leaning in and kissing you at the side of your mouth. 

“Goodnight.” 

-

You tossed and turned in bed. Somehow, falling asleep was a little harder today because you couldn’t help but think about how it felt when Bucky kissed you earlier. The sound of the harsh storm echoed inside the house, but it was still comforting. 

The loud roar of the thunder was the last thing you heard before drifting off to sleep; dreaming again, this time of red roses, blue eyes, balconies and paintings… 

Arms wrapped around you from behind, embracing you in a tight hug. “Do you like it, my love?” the silky smooth voice asked. You looked down and you smiled at the sight of the wedding band on his finger. 

“I love it.” You looked up at the frame hung on the wall. It was a painting of you and your husband, delivered to you that morning itself. “We’ll keep it here forever.” 

You heard a soft chuckle, then felt a pair of lips kissing your neck softly. “Even longer.” 

You turned around and came face to face with Bucky, with slightly longer hair, tied in a low, neat ponytail. Behind him was a very familiar door. You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips. “We should get going, else we’ll be late.” 

The surroundings faded, and you were now inside a dimly lit ballroom. The grand chandelier was mesmerizing, but not more than your husband’s eyes. He was gorgeous, your man; even with half his face covered by the masquerade mask he was still perfectly able to take your breath away. 

He smirked, as though able to read your thoughts. He leaned in, and the rest of your surroundings was suddenly a blur. “Do you wish for us to go somewhere more private, sweetheart?” He whispered in your ear. 

You bit your lip and nodded, only then realizing that you were wearing a mask as well. Bucky smiled, tugging on your hand and dragging you along to wherever it is he was taking you. 

The room around you morphed again and you found yourself running up a staircase with Bucky, giggling and holding onto each other for dear life until you finally made it to the top. You found yourself on a balcony. 

“Where are we?” you asked. 

Bucky stepped closer, pushing you gently against the balustrade. “Home.” He leaned in and kissed you. His mouth moved against yours gently, passionately. His hands were on either side of your waist as he pressed you further into him. Your hands instinctively went to his neck as you gently pulled him closer.

As you closed your eyes and cherished his touch, an image of the painting from earlier flashed in front of your eyes. But you forgot it just as quickly as it came because Bucky’s touch took over all your senses. His hand slipped under your dress, and went right to your wet core. 

You giggled into the kiss as his knuckles brushed faintly against your core and you moaned at his touch. He cupped you in between the legs and the palm of his hand pressed against your throbbing clit. His mere touch was driving you insane. His lips left yours and he kissed his way to your neck; sharp teeth nipping at your skin. At the feel of it, your own canines sharpened out of nowhere. 

Surprisingly, it didn’t feel like it was the first time that it happened. You seemed comfortable with the sudden change. 

Bucky kissed all the spots which made you weak in the knees; he knew your body by heart it seemed. While he kissed your skin, his fingers moved slightly against your dripping core. You moaned, tugging on his hair just a little. 

“Be quiet for me, sweetheart.” he mumbled against your skin as he slipped two fingers past your folds. He curled his fingers inside you immediately, and stroked your walls gently. You moved your hips against his hand as you chased your orgasm. His thumb rubbed your swollen clit furiously as you bit your lip to keep you from moaning. 

“Buck…” you were breathless, each nerve ending on fire as pleasure washed over you. 

“Shh sweetheart,” he quickened his actions and slipped his fingers in and out of you incessantly until he felt your walls clench around him. “Cum for me,” he whispered. You moaned, biting your lower lip as you came all over his hand. 

Once you recovered, he pulled your dress up, making it bunch around your waist as he stepped in between your legs again; kissing you like his life depended on it. He undid his pants and hoisted you up his own body. You wrapped your legs around his waist quickly for better balance and he leaned the two of you against the balustrade once again. 

You felt his hard cock pressing against your skin as he kissed you hungrily. His hand dipped in between the two of you and he guided the tip of his erected cock over to your dripping entrance. The brief friction caused you to moan into his mouth. 

“Be quiet for me, yes?” he spoke against your lips, almost as breathless as you were. You nodded frantically. And with that, he pushed himself inside you quickly. You felt all of him once he was completely buried in you. His cock twitched inside you and you bit your lip to prevent a moan from escaping your lips.

He held your hips, and your hands gripped his shoulders desperately as you tried to keep your voice down. You pushed your face into the crook of his neck, nibbling on his skin with your sharp fangs as he rocked in and out of you. You moaned quietly against his skin as his throbbing cock sped up into you. He pounded into you relentlessly, earning more and more moans and gasps out of you. 

He growled when he felt you clench around him. “Bucky…” you moaned and he immediately placed his lips on yours to stop you from making more noise. He loved how you lost control under his touch. He loved the sound of his name leaving your lips. 

“Shh, sweetheart. Quiet,” he mumbled against your lips as he felt your walls milking him perfectly. “We can’t get caught fucking in our own balcony while we were supposed to be hosting a party downstairs.” He ended with a chuckle. 

You whined. “Well if you weren’t so insatiable,” you teased. He scoffed, holding you at the curve of your ass, hands under your dress as he occasionally squeezed your butt cheeks, making you giggle and moan at the same time. 

“Says the one who lures me in like a seductress every moment of every day,” he sassed back. He slammed into you relentlessly while you tried your hardest to not to scream out loud. You felt a pressure building between your hips, and it seemed like he felt it as well because he dipped his head into the crook of your neck and swore under his breath as he sped up again. 

Your thoughts became cloudy, and all that you could focus on in that moment was the force of his thrust. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you found yourself unable to form proper thoughts. Your clit rubbed against his pelvic bone each time he filled you up.

Your body moved along with his like a rag doll as you could no longer keep up with his thrust. Soon, you felt the warmth taking over. And a familiar tingle went down your spine as your walls clenched around him. You gushed out all over his cock with a loud moan… 

 You woke up gasping, shocked that you had dreamt such explicit dreams two nights in a row now. You looked around and realized that it was still night time. You could still replay the dream in your head like a vivid memory. You closed your eyes and took deep breaths. 

The painting. 

The painting seemed so real, so detailed. You wondered if- 

Wait, that door you dreamt of. You’ve seen it before, haven’t you? Large, dark wood with beautifully detailed carvings on it, golden doorknob… 

You gasped again. It was the door in the library. Your heart raced. Could it be… ? 

You didn’t think twice before getting out of bed, grabbing the robe Wanda had left you earlier you stepped out of the room. Your breaths got shallower and shallower as you reached the library. 

It could very well be just a weird dream, right? You jumped at the sound of the thunder, and realized that you were already inside the library. You stared at the door. This was the exact one you dreamt of. 

Fuck it. You walked towards it, blocking out any thoughts which told you to turn back around and get back in bed. You twisted the doorknob and it was unlocked. You pushed the door open, stepping inside you found a secret room. About the same size of the library, or maybe slightly more spacious. 

It looked like a more modern and luxurious version of a drawing room. With the usual, couches, carpets and… and paintings. For a moment you almost didn’t want to find it. You didn’t want to find that painting of you and Bucky; which you had just dreamt of because if or when you do, what then? 

You looked around, the light from the two chandeliers illuminating the room just right. There were regular paintings one would find in an expensive mansion like this one; views of countryside, mountains, rivers. There were some paintings of people you couldn’t recognize but you knew, deep inside, that they seemed familiar. 

You almost let out a sigh of relief when you didn’t find the painting from your dream. 

Almost. 

But then you saw it. The largest frame in the room. Right above the golden fireplace, mounted on the wall perfectly straight and right in the center of the room. 

It was the painting you dreamt of. The one of you and Bucky. 

“What the hell?” you whispered as you approached the fireplace, craning your head up to look at the oddly familiar painting. 

You two seemed so happy. You were in a rose gold gown, and Bucky was well-dressed in navy blue. A lovely moment in time, captured in a beautiful painting. You weren’t quite sure what to think as you looked at yourself in the painting. 

Your eyes instinctively trailed down to the bottom on the frame. And in cursive black painted were written the words which gave you goosebumps: ‘Mr. & Mrs. Barnes. 1872.’ 

“What the hell?” you repeated. 

This time you heard a voice speak up, from behind you. “You should be in bed, sweetheart.” He said softly. 

You turned around and found Bucky leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed and a look on his face which you couldn’t quite decipher. You turned to look back at the painting, and then back at him again. He hadn’t aged since 1872 it seemed. 

Your heart raced again. 

It couldn’t be… could it? 

[mrs-gucci]

A Snowy Night’s Rescue {werewolf!Sir Jacques Le Gris x Reader}

@mrs-zimmerman​​

Please share your take on Jacques as a werewolf!! Perhaps lost in the forest together or he visits you at night? Any genre you feel works best. Thank you!

this is partially inspired by the runaway & rescue scene from ‘Beauty and The Beast’.

warnings. (light) THRILLER, (some) ACTION, (a bit of) HURT/COMFORT, (some) FLUFF, there a lil bit of everything in here lol, reader is Jacques’ wife, he’s more of a beast-like werewolf, being chased by wolves, badass female character, a pleasant ending.

(possible) tw’s. werewolf!Jacques, semi-explicit depictions of minor injury & blood, falling off a horse, handling/use of a sword.

word count: 1.5k

You’re so, so tired of being berated by Jacques’ overbearing mother about your “failure” to conceive an heir for her son. Every single day she’s making some kind of snide, backhanded comment about your ability or, sometimes, she just directly criticizes you.

But, of course, she never, ever does it when Jacques is around; she always waits until he is gone for the day to say something. Jacques believes you when you tell him the things she says, he certainly doesn’t put it above her, but there isn’t much he can do. She’s his mother, after all.

Tonight, after a comment at supper was made about how perhaps your enjoyment of riding and excess of saddle time is affecting your fertility, you just couldn’t stand to be in her presence any longer.

You excused yourself from the meal, changed into riding clothes and stormed down to the barn. Now, you’re charging full-speed across the rolling hills of the estate up towards the thick wood. 

A brilliant full moon hangs overhead and you’d almost forgotten that tonight was the night. When Jacques had first told you his closest guarded secret, the one that only he and his parents knew of, you obviously had your doubts. 

Werewolves? That was a creature of fantasy, a thing in tales read to children. 

But then, you witnessed his transformation one fateful autumn evening under a chillingly full moon. Your handsome, human boyfriend turned to a large, hairy beast right before your eyes. 

Despite his petrifying outward appearance, you’ve come to learn that his wolf personality is not much different than his human one, although he can be a bit more temperamental and grumpy in his beastly state.

The bitter winter’s wind whips by your face as you crack the reins and encourage your horse onwards into the deep wood, taking a path you're familiar with. 

Heavy hoofbeats echo in your eardrums, nose burning as it begins to run from the icy cold. The freshly fallen snow creates a beautiful, natural blanket over the landscape and if you weren’t so upset, you’d slow and take a moment to admire it.

When you hit a rougher part of the trail and pull up a bit, there’s a sudden change in the air that sends a chill down your spine. Your horse begins to jog in place, snorting nervously with his ears pricked forward, listening alertly.

You reach out and stroke your horse’s neck, both to calm her and yourself. Her coat is soft, you can tell even under your gloved palm. She seems to calm down a bit with your soothing touches.

A twig snaps behind you and you gasp, turning your head quickly to identify the source. Your horse spooks, jumping in the air slightly at the sound and at your audible reaction.

Leaves crunch on the other side of you and you turn your head again, anxiety rising in your chest. You feel surrounded all of the sudden and you catch sight of motion behind the trees, which makes your heart stop for a beat.

Your horse begins to jump in fear and when you hear a low growl, you realize what’s happening. You’ve been surrounded by a pack of wolves. 

Quickly, you crack the reins and tap your horse’s sides with your heels, which prompts her to take off down the path. The pack leader howls as the members begin their pursuit, chasing after you and your horse.

You look back, eyes widening when you realize how close they’re getting. You kick her onward, holding her mane for dear life as she sprints through the woods, leaping over fallen limbs and logs along the way.

As the wolves draw closer, they start to snap at her hind legs. An idea suddenly comes to you and you begin to reach up and grab some of the thicker branches, yanking them off trees and throwing them back at the wolves.

A few yelps come and a few of the wolves fall back, but unfortunately, your efforts do little except put a few fresh scratches across your face. Your horse grunts in pain and when you look down, you can see that they’ve managed to nip her ankles.

You’re praying to god that the gashes aren’t too deep and that she can keep going. She begins to slow and your heart sinks as you try to kick her on, panic rising within you.

“Come on, chérie.” You say, cracking the reins. “Just a little longer.”

One moment, you’re safely on her back and the next, you’re flying through the air along with her as she falls to the ground with a wolf on her leg. You hit the snow with a grunt, pain shooting down your entire side as you scramble to get to your feet. 

Your horse is squealing, struggling to fight off the wolf that’s got his teeth sunk into her leg and you quickly draw the sword on your hip, charging at the wolf. You manage to land a good slice on the creature, causing him to pull back and allowing your horse to get back up.

She’s bleeding badly, limping pitifully over to the side where she collapses again. The wolves, seeing a prime opportunity, begin to crowd her, and you could easily run now and escape with your life while they’re distracted. But...you just can’t bring yourself to leave her like this.

You run over and stand in front of her, holding your sword out as the wolves try to lunge. Luckily, Jacques saw it fit to teach you basic fighting skills for self-defense purposes, so you’re relatively skilled with a sword.

The first few wolves come easy and you fend them off, but you’re quickly growing fatigued, arm beginning to shake from exhaustion. Just as you begin to contemplate giving up and accepting your fate at the fangs of these wolves, something runs up out of the woods.

Your eyes widen when you recognize the large, hairy figure as your husband. He puts himself in front of both you and your horse.

“Jacques?”

He growls at the pack, standing up on his hind legs. “Stay back, do not move no matter what.”

You nod even though he isn’t facing you, watching nervously as he charges the pack with his teeth bared menacingly. They fight back, jumping on top of him all at once while you quickly tear off part of your cloak to wrap around your horse’s bleeding leg.

Jacques grunts with effort as he tosses wolves left and right, peeling them off his back. He soon gets a good handle on the creatures, having taken most of them out already.

But then, out of the corner of your eye, you see the pack leader creeping up out of the woods. Jacques has his back turned and when you try to warn him, he doesn’t seem to hear you.

You’re left with no choice but to grab your sword and fend the leader off yourself, so you do just that, rushing at the large wolf with your blade. It snarls as you swing your sword, baring its shiny teeth in the low moonlight.

It dodges your motions and gives a loud, vicious bark in retaliation, which startles you enough to send you falling backwards with a soft gasp. The wolf then jumps forward and bites down on your arm, causing you to drop the sword and cry out in agony. 

He hears you and quickly turns around, immediately growing angered at the sight. The wolf pulls back when Jacques shoves the rest of the wolves away and stands back up, hackles raised and claws out.

With a low growl and one single menacing bark, the lead wolf and the pack are taking off back into the woods. He limps up to you as quickly as he can manage, assessing your bite wound as gently as possible with his massive paws. 

“I recall uttering the words ‘no matter what’ when I told you to stay back and not to move.”

You laugh softly. “We both know that I rarely ever listen to you, so this should not come as much of a surprise anymore.”

He chuckles, grabbing the bottom part of your cloak that you’d already ripped earlier for your horse and uses his claw to slice a strip of fabric. Then, he wraps your arm up firmly before helping you back to your feet.

“The servants will get you the proper dressings when we return to the estate, but that shall do for now. I apologize for not being there to defend you, ma petite, but I thank you for putting your life on the line for me.”

“There is no need to apologize, I know that you were a bit preoccupied.” You say, reaching up to run your hand down his furry arm. “Plus, I enjoy feeling like the hero on occasion.”

Jacques smiles. “Well I enjoy the occasional break, so it all works out.”

Suddenly, you’re nudged by your horse, who has stood up once again. Jacques helps you back up onto her back and he leads the two of you back to the estate.

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[dourpeep]

Capitulation

Fun fact the actual fic is 1666 words—1666 words of utterly salacious, sinful smut...

Summary: In which he finally gives in. Also known as, Scaramouche is intrigued by your attempts at being on top but doesn’t want you to know that.

Contents: ((NSFW 18+)) sub!Scara, dom!Reader, bratty Scara (he has his moments), teasing, denial, degradation, praise, ‘good boy’, one (1) ‘good girl’, desperation, intercrural sex, cunnilingus, afab reader, crude language

open-ended ending because you know I love to add onto existing fics with surprise part 2’s but anyway! Under the cut as usual <3

Your hand cups strangely flawless skin stained with red, your thumb smearing the rouge painted along violet eyes. For a moment, your chest squeezes tight. He always looks so pretty. Your heart stutters at the realization, and you suck in a breath. Surely, he’s noticed your distraction by now, right?

The thought is short lived as your offending hand is smacked away.

“What do you think you’re doing—?”

His lips sit in a sneer, betrayed by the way a light blush sits on his cheeks. “Do you really think I’d be desperate enough to settle for someone like you?”

He was doing a shitty job if he thought he was hiding his desires.

Without another moment wasted, you lean in close, almost touching. Your breath brushes over his lips and for a moment you notice he’s frozen. You watch his resolve flicker. He’s left helpless—the arrogant, proud Balladeer. To see that, really, under all those big words and cold looks, he wanted—no, needed—your touch. It soothed a desire usually pushed aside.

He stays where he lays sprawled when you turn away.

Despite having your back to him, you can feel his eyes burning against the exposed planes of your body as you strip. You’re sure if he wasn’t so interested in what you’re going to do, he would’ve already trapped you back against the bed.

Taking your time to bend forward, you give him the opportunity to drink in your nude form fully. A look over your shoulder reveals his flushed face.

You contemplate.

Yet the way his lips part gently stirs something in your chest—a warmth, a fire—and you spread your legs for him. When his breathing hitches you smile in satisfaction. So much for ‘settling’.

The last bit of your clothing falls with a whisper to the floor.

“You’re taking forever.”

As soon as the little quip leaves him you tilt your head and purse your lips.

“I don’t have to touch you. In fact,” You stroll back to the bed, hand making the surface dip where you lean. “Maybe I should just tie you up-“ Between his legs, his cock throbs. “And make you watch me cum.”

His eyes widen and you climb onto the bed to straddle his lap. Arms loose around his shoulders, you kneel on the bed with legs on either side of his, cunt hovering over him just out of reach and your lips brushing at his ear.

“Only good boys get rewards.”

Before his hands can settle on you, you slip back off and pretend you need something from the side table.

In the five minutes it takes for you to rifle through the contents, Scaramouche gets up, standing close behind you to goad you into pleasing him. His teeth meet the nape of your neck and you sigh.

Wasting no time, you feel him press against your ass, searching for a hint of friction as he grabs your hips to press them closer. You decide to humor him and grind back.

The groan that slips from his lips as he nips at your shoulder drives you to guide his hands to touch your chest, pinching and squeezing at your nipple, and the harder buck he gives you hints that anymore would upset your plan.

“Good girl-“

And with the murmur of praise, you stop. If only you could see his expression when he realizes he failed to notice the way you gathered a fine scarf from the drawer. A brief flash of frustration, rage, and realization hit him at once and you easily slip from between his now tied wrists.

You grin and push him back onto the bed as he attempts to undo the knot. You both know well that he easily could rip through the delicate fabric.

He settles for glaring, but even that doesn’t last long as you once again straddle him.

Between your thighs, you can see the flushed tip of his cock peeking, a pretty pearl of precum leaking only to smear on his skin. By now he can feel how aroused you are, especially as you slowly rock against him. His jaw clenches at the feeling, holding his moans at each stroke of wet heat against his shaft.

“I bet you’ll cum just from this, won’t you? Getting off on getting your cock stroked by my pussy-“

You mimic your earlier ministration, grinding down hard on him. Beneath you his hips buck up.

“Fuck yes-“

A particular grind against him rubs just right against your clit and you sigh, closing your eyes. Your hips shift to keep the right angle while you continue your slow, teasing pace.

His expression shifts, brows furrowed and lips parting with each pant. By now he’s stopped toying with the scarf and settled for resting his bound wrists behind his head to reveal the expanse of flawless, pale skin just faintly flushed with red from the warmth of arousal. Admiring the way he squirms beneath you, one of your hands settles on his chest while the other cups his cheek. He leans into your touch.

“You look so cute like this, all hard and trembling.”

Scaramouche only sighs in response, hips meeting yours when you slide up along his shaft.

“It’s a shame to see you gave in so easily—”

You lift your hips off his and watch as his raise to chase after the feel of you. He growls and tugs at the ties on his wrists again. Instead, his hazy eyes open to greet the sigh of you already shifting up over his waist, chest—until you’re finally just above his chin. The prior frustration melts away. If it weren’t for the way his face was partially blocked, you’d bet he was already wetting his lips in excitement. Stroking his hair, you smile.

With patience, you wait until his breaths turn to pants, your gaze set on how he’s entirely lost in the thoughts that are no doubt swimming in his mind.

It’s almost funny how the mouthy man watches each tilt and sway of your hips above him.

Using your thumb, you push his bangs to the side. Striking violet eyes flick to meet yours following the gesture and you watch the way his pupils dilate as you descend.

Eagerly, he presses his lips to your sensitive bud, tongue swirling and flicking. He tilts his head down, trailing his lips over your wetted slit, tongue peeking to trace along it until it slips within. Already you grind down against his ministrations with a moan.

“Such a good boy, doing so well-“

Tongue still buried deep, he lets out a moan. You can feel the puffs of warm breath against your core as he pants against your skin. With the way his fingers tremble and leave red half-moons in the flesh of his palms, you could tell he was getting close. Perhaps you got a bit carried away earlier—he hits a particularly sensitive spot in you, making your back arch and toes curl.

Your hands weave into purple locks and your voice seem to sing out his name as your orgasm washes over you, hitting you in slow warm waves.

Between your legs he slurps and sucks you through your high. The sound of ripping fabric hardly registers, though the way that his hands grip your thighs hard and pull you closer to his lips and tongue catches you by surprise.

“Oh—mmn-!”

It takes over in intensity and you nearly sob at the pleasure bordering painful, gripping the headboard hard and pushing away at him in attempt to relieve yourself.

As you’re coming back down, you see the lazy, yet utterly smug smirk on Scaramouche’s face.

Apart from it, he looks utterly debauched.

“What was that about giving in?”

You promptly shut him up by reaching back and giving him a featherlight stroke. Your touch makes his eyes squeeze shut and pulls a gasp from his lungs, nearly leaving him breathless. So sensitive for someone so sure of himself.

Another touch teases just along the line where shaft meets tip and his body jerks and his hips hump at the empty air in a bout of desperation. Your look down to see his forehead, slick with sweat and warm with his efforts, pressing to your thighs.

A quick peek back confirms the mess he’s made of his own thighs, now filthy with thick ropes of white. Shifting, you lift yourself up from his lips.

“Big words coming from you, Scara.”

A finger traces over the line of his messy jaw, gently tipping his chin up.

“You’re so desperate to be touched, aren’t you?”

You remove yourself from above him, instead kneeling between his legs, a hand reaching to stroke already sensitive flesh. When your fingertip brushes beneath the head of his over-sensitive cock, he lets out a keening whine. A dribble leaks from his tip. His eyes, already so hazy from desire, widen when you bring your hand up to your lips to lap at the mess he made.

Transfixed, he shifts, propping himself up on his forearms. You crawl forward to kneel between his legs, pressing a kiss to his still-wet lips.

Still a bit fuzzy from your separate highs, the kiss deepens as tongues press and tangle, mingling the taste of you both. His arms pull you into his lap and you oblige, not minding the way his thighs were still messy.

When you finally break the kiss, he presses his lips to the sensitive spot behind your ear. You feel the way he fills out again beneath you.

The way he looks at you is ravenous, a drastic switch between the way he was just trembling at your touch and you find that you too feel the same. As his tongue presses to your neck you gasp and push at him. Scaramouche grins and squeezes your hip. Your eyes meet with renewed vigor.

“I bet you can’t handle another round.”

“Try me.”

[holylulusworld]

Her substitute (1) - Need you

Title: Her substitute (1)

Summary: Once you were her best friend. Now her widower seeks shelter in your arms.

Square Filled: Cordell Walker

Ship: Cordell Walker x fem!Reader, Cordell Walker x Emily Walker (widowed)

Characters: Stella Walker

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of loss of a loved one, grief, unrequited love, smut, protected sex, scared of feelings, guilt, sneaking around, secret affair

A/N: This is partially an AU. Cordell didn’t go undercover. Emily and the reader’s boyfriend died together on their way to Y/N’s birthday party. And the reader is Cordell’s partner for the sake of my story. His partner from the show will have an appearance either way.

Word Count: 1,7 k

Created for: @walker-bingo​

Her substitute masterlist

2021 Walker Bingo masterlist

Divider by @firefly-graphics​

Once upon a time life was good to you, great even.

Life was all you ever dreamed of. Until. One day. Your world exploded.

One day your best friend, the woman you considered family, and your boyfriend got killed after you tried to arrest an unforgiving man. You and your partner lost the people you love on the same day.

While you tried to pick up the pieces and put your life back together, Cordell preferred to despair, and to use you as an outlet for his pain, grief, and frustration.

He can be gentle and cruel within a heartbeat.

Emily was the love of his life but Jason was just someone you spend your days with to fill your empty life. Sometimes he calls you cold or heartless only as you gave Jason’s belongings to the Salvation Army after one year of grieving. 

Cordell can never know the reason for your fast recovery…he can never know…

“I need you—“ it always starts with these three words, followed by a desperate look and his hands. God his large hands reach out for you to touch, caress and grope. “Baby Girl.”

“We talked about this, Cordell,” you weakly press your hands against his chest, shaking your head ever so slightly. “I can’t do this. We are partners and she was my best friend.”

“Didn’t stop you from fucking her widower not six months after she got killed,” here we go. The sweet and desperate Cordell is gone, replaced by a blank nerve wanting to hurt and drag you down. “Only as you got over Jason like he meant nothing to you doesn’t mean I can just stop grieving.”

“Then why do you come here to fuck me?” he takes off his cowboy hat, nervously playing with it. “Cordell, we shouldn’t do this. It’s no good for you or me. What if your kids find out?”

“All I can think about is to have you underneath me, pinned to the mattress and my cock so deep inside it hurts,” he drops his hat, steps over it to grasp for you. “I want you, baby girl.”

“Shit—” pinned to the wall seconds later you find yourself falling for your best friend’s widower all over again. It’s not a secret you were in love with Cordell before Emily even met him. He just never showed interest in asking you out and when Emily came into the picture, you backed off like the good friend you were.

“Say you need me,” he buries his face in your neck, inhales your scent deeply. “Baby girl, tell me that you need me and that you want to feel me.”

“Cordell, fuck baby,” you whimper his name, ignore the guilt eating your soul up once again. All you can focus on are his hands grip your waist to hoist you up, holding you midair until you sling your legs around his waistline hands cradling his face to kiss him deeply. “I need you.” It’s not a lie. You always needed him; he just didn’t know it.

“I need you too,” he kisses you fiercely, almost desperate to forget all the pain and his empty bed at home when he tugs at your clothes or moans your name. “Give in, baby girl.”

You are a mess, both of you. While you let Cordell strip you bare, not just your body but your soul and heart, he pants, moans, and whines on top of you.

It doesn’t take long for him to slide into you and pin your hands above your head to make sure you know this isn’t love-making.

Two sides of the very same coin hit you where it hurts the most. Every. Single. Time. He doesn’t take his time to be gentle and loving. Its raw, unadulterated lust driving him into you.

“Fuck, baby girl,” he watches your lips part and your eyes dilate when he starts to move his hips. “Look at me.” It’s a command you follow immediately. He holds your wrists pinned to the mattress to make sure you can't touch him gently. “Good girl, always so good for me.”

“Cordell, you need to—” his lips kiss your protest away, force moans and tiny whimpers out of you. “Please.”

“Just tell me you need me as much as I need you, Y/N,” he finally says your name, not baby girl, and you nod, ashamed you let the widower of your best friend fuck you like a whore on cheap sheets.

“I need you,” you choke the words out, looking away, not wanting to hold his gaze when the familiar burn is back, the one pushing you violently over the edge only to leave you hollow in the end.

“Look at you, so responsive,” his hands finally let go of your wrists to roughly cup your breasts. His thumbs toy with your nipples leave them hard and throbbing. “Those tits, so pretty,” he dives in, suckles one nipple into his hot mouth to push you closer to the edge.

He moves slow, deliberate, plays your body like an instrument. You are in trance, only feel his body press yours to the mattress, mind blank once again.

Another deep thrust makes you moan his name loudly. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you grasp for his shoulders to bring Cordell closer to your heated body to hold him, even if it’s only for this fleeting moment. “Cordell.”

“So tight and warm for me,” his hands grip your thighs to spread you wider. He loves to watch his huge cock disappear in your pussy, the one only he owns. “You take me so well and deep, baby girl.”

You cry out in pleasure, back arching off the bed when his cock hits that spot taking your breath away. His large hands cup your ass, squeeze it tightly.

Cordell holds himself inside your body, stops moving to feel you clench tightly around his thick length. Just staring down at you.

“Cord, what’s wrong?” you whimper breathlessly. 

“Just wanted to feel you cum before I fill this cunt up,” his pace becomes brutal after your orgasm.

He moans, eyes glued to your face as he tries to pretend you are only a warm body he can use, a toy to fulfill a primal need, not the woman he could fall for…

“Oh—” you watch him move on top of you, memorize his features, the way his hair is glued to his sweaty forehead, and those obscene veins in his arms, popping out. “I want you to cum, let me feel it, Cordell. Fuck me.”

“Fuck, you—shit Y/N,” he groans, hips jerking violently before he allows himself to let go. 

When it’s over he rolls off you to dispose of the condom, already looking for his clothes on the floor.

You have a routine. He comes to your apartment, convinces you to let him fuck you, and leaves you alone and cold moments after your high.

Tonight, you wrap yourself into a sheet and turn around to not watch Cordell hastily put his clothes back on. You would give the world for him to stay the night, but you know he will leave soon.

As usual, you take deep breaths to hide the tears forming in your eyes. “Thank you,” he says, and you feel like a fool all over again.

“I got a job offer in New York,” you casually say. “Do you remember? I always wanted to be with the FBI. Three years ago, they didn’t have a position for me, but last week, I got a call.”

“Oh—” is all you get. You can hear the ruffling of clothing, and then the door opens. “You should take their offer. Being my partner is a dead end. A girl like you shouldn’t stay a Texas Ranger,” the coldness in his voice breaks your heart.

“Yeah, maybe I should,” you clear your throat while you try not to cry. “I will call them on Monday. Have a great—” the door closes before you can say another word. “Figures…”

“FBI?” Stella blanches. “You want to go to New York to work with the FBI, Y/N?” she cries. “You can’t leave me too. Why is everyone leaving me?”

“Stella bear, nothing is decided yet,” you sit next to her on the steps, patting her thigh. “They called me two weeks ago, and I just thought I should at least fly to New York to talk to them. Don’t you think?”

“I don’t know,” she sniffles. “What did dad say? You are his partner, Y/N. He needs you,” you sling one arm around Stella’s shoulders, hiding she just added another crack to your fragile heart. “We need you. You are family to us. Mom loved you.”

“I loved your mom too, Stella bear,” giggling at the awful nickname Stella leans her head against your shoulder, and you feel the guilt overwhelm you once again. If only the girl knew you are banging her father. “She was my best friend and your dad is my friend too.”

“Y/N?” Cordell walks toward his house with long steps. “Is there an emergency? Do you need my help? It’s Sunday.”

“Your mom invited me for dinner, and I met Stella in town and drove her home. If you don’t want me here, I understand,” you try to keep the sadness out of your voice.

“Grandma wants a family dinner, dad,” Stella grumbles. “If I must spend time with my lame brother and you, I want Y/N to join us. At least she’s cool.”

“Cool?” Cordell smirks, glancing down at you. “I remember there was a time when she had braces and was a shy little mouse.”

“Y/N shy? I don’t believe a single word, dad,” she nudges your side. “Right, Y/N. You never were shy.”

“I hate to admit it, but I was a little shy. Your mom helped me break out of my shell and become the woman I am today. I miss her,” you sniff, watching Cordell sit next to his daughter. 

“Emily, she always talked about you. How you helped her get better grades,” Cordell says. “She loved you too, Y/N.”

When you sit at his table half an hour later, watching Cordell with his family you decide your last encounter was the last time. You won’t risk messing his family up even more...

“We can’t do this again, Cordell,” you sigh when he leans in your doorframe, that look in his eyes again. “I told you after the dinner with your family we should stay only friends.”

“Y/N, we are friends but—” he cups your cheek with one hand, thumb swiping over your lips, “I need you, baby girl…”

>> Part 2

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[jackrrabbit]

If I may I just want Overhaul to do me on his desk during a meeting showing the precepts his personal slut

Yubitsume /// Overhaul x f!reader (18+)

Yubitsume: a Japanese ritual primarily performed by the yakuza to atone for offenses to another; a way to be punished or to show sincere apology and remorse.

This story takes place before Chisaki becomes the leader of the Shie Hassaikai and before he puts the big boss in a coma. ngl this was fun to write 😎

Tags/warnings: exhibitionism, coercion (dubcon-ish?), mild humiliation, yakuza members be perving, reader’s quirk makes it impossible for her skin to be cut (it’s relevant I promise), references to violence, some light possessiveness at the end there

You’re softer than you look.

Chisaki’s never really touched you before, so he had no way of knowing until now. Maybe it’s a subconscious association with your quirk, which prevents anything from breaking your skin, but he didn’t think you’d be so yielding. Every bit of you that he can touch is tender and unresisting under his grasp. He almost wants to take off his latex gloves so he can grip your hips and feel how smooth you are against his bare skin.

Ah…but this isn’t for his sake. It’s for yours. Your punishment, your atonement. He’s supposed to be teaching you a lesson, not feeling good. The irresistible heat of your cunt hugging over his cock is just a perk.

“Watch closely, men,” the Boss’s voice rings out across the long, narrow table, cutting across the wet sounds of Chisaki’s flesh slapping against yours. His thrusts slow and then stop with his cock buried deep inside you, giving the Boss a chance to speak over the two of you.

When the room is silent save for the sounds of your breath mixing with Chisaki’s, the Boss speaks again. “This is what happens to those who betray the interests of the Shie Hassaikai. Keep going, Chisaki.”

It’s not like he needs to tell them to watch, Chisaki thinks as he picks up the pace again. Every man in the room is staring intently at the coupling as Chisaki fucks you over the desk. You’re bent forward with your ass sticking out toward him, one trembling leg holding you up while the other is folded up on the wooden surface, angling your pussy into a perfect position for him to thrust into. You’re barely holding your face off the desk with your elbows propped up, and every time Chisaki pushes his cock back into you, you rock forward and the desk creaks under your combined weight.

It’s hardly the solemn atmosphere that’s usually considered necessary for this kind of punishment. The men watching are doing so with lascivious interest, some laughing, some making comments under their breath to each other, and some just staring. He can hardly blame them. The view from the front must be incredible—your tits bouncing, your hands holding onto the edge of the desk for dear life…

What does your face look like right now? Chisaki can’t see when he’s fucking you from the back, but he wishes he could. Are you ducking to hide your lewd expression from the men you’ve worked alongside since you joined the Shie Hassaikai? Are you biting your lip to hold back the sound of your moaning, trying to salvage the little bit of dignity you have left? From the muted noises of your voice (the little uh—uh—uh’s you can’t quite keep from slipping out), he thinks it’s pretty likely.

But if it’s between seeing you and being inside you, Chisaki knows he’s getting the better deal. Fuck, it’s like your throbbing cunt just keeps sucking him in deeper and deeper. What with the heat of your body and the slickness lubing him up in between your pussy lips, it’s getting difficult to hold back his own grunts of pleasure. His thrusts are getting less controlled and sloppier every time he pumps into you.

The men are watching…they’re watching you, Chisaki has to remind himself in order to stop the urge to lean lower over the desk and rut you for all he’s worth, observers be damned. How much deeper can you take it? Probably a little more than this, right?

His next thrust has him bumping up against your cervix, forcing a kittenish whine out of you. A couple of the voyeurs laugh. One wolf whistles. Chisaki’s noticed that the hairs on the back of your neck raise up when the men get loud, and right now your skin is pebbled with goosebumps.

“Don’t let her hide from her shame, Chisaki. Hold her up so we can see.”

Chisaki hesitates, then curls his fingers over your upper arm and drags your torso up off the desk to display your naked chest to the boss and the rest of the Shie Hassaikai. Your head lolls forward and then rolls back onto his shoulder, your damp back flush against the fabric of his shirt.

The position is a little more awkward, and he has to tilt his hips to the side a little to push back into you. On the other hand, it seems like he’s hitting your g-spot at a better angle judging by the way your pussy is twitching around his length.

“Ch…Chisaki,” you whimper, only to wince and snap your eyes shut when the name earns a suggestive whoop from one of the men watching you.

“Aw baby, you gonna beg him?” Rappa asks, voice a mocking growl. You flinch and Chisaki can feel how tense you are. The muscles in your arms go rigid as you try to jerk out of his grip.

Another thrust has you squeaking out a high-pitched moan. “Fuck yeah, make ‘er scream,” someone calls out, but Chisaki ignores it in favor of rocking deeper into you, careful to slide his thick cockhead against your g-spot. This time you’re barely able to keep your voice down, but you can’t conceal the muscles in your pussy pulsating over him.

It feels good, doesn’t it? he wants to ask you, but he knows he can’t. It’s not supposed to feel good for you. You’re supposed to be…reflecting on your mistake or something. When he’s balls deep in your pussy, it’s hard to keep track of what kind of atonement this is supposed to be.

“I see you’re once again capable of speech, (Y/N),” the Boss says, silencing the other Shie Hassaikai members. This time, however, Chisaki can’t bring himself to stop fucking you long enough to let his benefactor speak uninterrupted. The Boss doesn’t seem to mind, though, as he continues— “Enlighten us as to why we’re watching Chisaki bed you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Chisaki can see your chin tip forward so you’re looking hesitantly at the Boss. Your face is so red, but you manage to form words despite your embarrassment. “P-P-Punishment… Instead of y-yubitsume, I’m being—being punished…”

Yubitsume. The yakuza ritual of cutting off one’s own pinky finger at the first knuckle to make recompense for an insult or injury committed against the organization, a mutilation that not only increases difficulty of combat and manual labor but also brands the afflicted with a public stigma. By tradition, yubitsume is the appropriate penalty for the crime you perpetrated, but your quirk makes it impossible. No blade can pierce your skin.

This—getting fucked by Chisaki while the Shie Hassaikai watches—was suggested as a substitute method of apology. There were other alternatives, other ways to exact retribution on your body (you may not bleed, but you can certainly bruise…and break). This method was almost a kindness, or at least that’s how the Boss had explained it to you until you reluctantly agreed.

Still, as the men who used to see you as a fellow (an equal, even) now jeer at you and call for Chisaki to fuck that little slut harder, he has to wonder whether this is really the kinder option.

“And what are you being punished for?” the Boss asks.

“I-I did something wrong—uhn!” You snatch a betrayed glance at Chisaki as his arm snakes around so he can grope at your breast and pinch your nipple between two fingers. “I—! Brought p-police, to the Shie Hassaikai…”

Chisaki knows better than the rest of them how minor your crime was. The transgression had nothing to do with them, and it would have happily gone unpunished had you not been caught by the authorities. The yakuza might care little about petty lawbreaking, but your real offense had been attracting the attention of the cops. They’d been lucky to get away without a thorough inspection. Now you’re paying the price for your carelessness.

“Good. As all of you know, I have no wish to treat (Y/N) too harshly. Chisaki…finish her off.”

There it is. This may be your atonement, but Chisaki’s aware that he’s being punished as well. He’s the one who brought you to the organization, and so your wrongdoing is partially his responsibility. The Boss knows how much Chisaki would usually hate this…having to touch someone’s bare flesh so intimately and so publicly. He’s getting hives just thinking about being in this position with someone else.

But it’s not someone else. It’s you. You with your untouchable skin, so clean and soft. You with your tight, hot pussy swallowing every inch of his cock so nicely. For the first time since he can remember, he half-wishes he were wearing less clothing just so he could feel you…and every second he’s inside you he regrets putting on a condom more.

And now he’s got the Boss’s blessing to make you cum on his cock. Chisaki’s hand drops from your breast down to your pussy and his index finger swirls around your clit. You gasp and cry out (much to the appreciation of the men watching), and Chisaki has to bite down on a growl of his own as your innards clamp down on him.

You’re probably close to cumming already. No, no, you’re definitely close. Even with no direct stimulation to your clit until now, Chisaki’s been fucking you for ages. All that friction over your g-spot has taken you right up to your edge, and it’s not going to take much more to push you over.

You’re already pulsing around him intermittently in rhythm with the pads of his fingers teasing your clit. The pressure of your pussy fluttering around every ridge and vein on his cock is excruciating, so fucking good that he can barely remember that the two of you are being watched. The other gang members are getting louder in their bawdy commentary of the pornographic scene playing out in front of them, but Chisaki tunes it out in favor of focusing on the way your shallow breaths meet the tempo of his thrusts.

With you draped over his chest, he barely has to adjust his position to push his masked face into the juncture of your neck and shoulder so he can nuzzle up and lick you through the stiff fabric. You shudder—ugh, do that again, he thinks—and your hips writhe weakly, trying to increase the stimulation of his hand on your clit. You’re about to cum, and so is Chisaki, but he carefully steers his hips to control both your reactions and his. When he pulls out of you he’s slow, tender, making sure you feel empty without him, but when he pushes back in he does it in a quick snap that stretches you out paired with a rough dab at your clit.

You’re coming apart in front of him, not even bothering to be quiet anymore. “Chisaki…Chisaki, I—I’m cumming!” you cry out, trying not to pay attention to all of the Shie Hassaikai egging you on and telling you what a good little whore you are. Your orgasm has your pussy sucking down on Chisaki’s cock, even tighter than before, like your body is instinctively trying to milk the cum out of him.

Goddamnit… Yeah, he’s not going to last for another minute with you clamping down on him like that. As soon as Chisaki’s sure you’re cumming so hard you’re barely coherent, he drops you gracelessly back down onto the desk so he can grab up your hips and fuck his last few pumps into you as savagely as possible. His fingers dig into your ass deeply enough that he’d be drawing blood if not for your quirk, and when the heat building in his cock spills over he holds you perfectly still despite your attempts to squirm away from him so that you feel him jerk and cum between your throbbing walls.

“(Y/N)…good, good girl,” he pants out as he gives a couple more shallow thrusts for good measure. Well, huh. That’s the first thing he’s said since he started fucking you.

When it’s too uncomfortable to stay inside for a second longer, Chisaki pulls out and tugs the filthy condom off, ties it, and drops it in the trash. He needs a shower…and something to wipe off on, but at the moment neither are available to him so he has to tuck himself back into his pants without cleaning up. Disgusting. Even though it’s just his own cum dirtying him, his skin is still crawling at the thought of it.

“Good work, Chisaki,” says the Boss, rising to his feet to leave. “You can clean up after her.”

Emboldened past their usual limits by what they just witnessed, the other men guffaw and taunt you as they follow the Boss out. Setsuno reaches out to slap your ass as he exits, but Chisaki stops him with a hand on his wrist. His hold isn’t painful, but the threat is clear.

If you touch her, you’re going to lose more than a pinky.

“R-Relax, Chisaki,” Setsuno stammers. “Hands off. I get it.”

Chisaki almost corrects him, almost tells Setsuno to call him by the right name—Overhaul. But the Boss isn’t quite out of earshot yet, and it wouldn’t do for him to hear. So he just lets Setsuno go. The rest of the men give the two of you a wide berth as they file out, although your pert little ass still gets a few lecherous glances as they leave.

And then it’s just you and him. You roll over onto your back and sit up on the desk. “…Chisaki? You don’t have to clean up, I’ll do it.”

How docile of you. You really are apologetic. To be honest, Chisaki should still be angry—you almost caused a lot of trouble for the Shie Hassaikai, and what with the plans he has in mind, getting the authorities to look a little closer at them could ruin everything. He shouldn’t be keeping a risk like you around, especially considering the Boss doesn’t usually let him play with you the way he’d like to.

But the Boss isn’t going to be the one making decisions for much longer. And until he’s out of the picture, Chisaki can’t wait for you to slip up again.

[bigballofstress]

Pickpocket (Avengers x Child!Reader)

Description: You have been living on the streets for years, and over these years, you have become incredibly good at pickpocketing.  Unfortunately for you, though, you picked the wrong target one too many times.

Part 2 if you guys want it, just let me know!

Chin up, shoulders back, even steps.  My heart is calm, my breaths slow and measured, and every muscle in my body is relaxed.  In other words, every last inch of me screams that I am a confident, kind young lady without a care in the world.

No matter what anybody says, looks really are everything.  Every time you meet someone new or even just pass by them on the street, your mind makes a snap judgement about them.  Now, don’t get me wrong.  I’m not saying that everyone you meet is prejudiced or anything of the sort.  Those snap judgements can easily be changed with an open-minded person, sometimes without even needing a whole conversation.  Still, that doesn’t change the fact that when you see a well-groomed person in a suit, your mind automatically thinks they are successful, and when you see someone coming at you with a hoodie covering their face and their hands in their pockets, you automatically tense up.  None of that is your fault, and actually it’s probably a good thing that you would be wary of people who are acting rather suspicious.  Really, the only issue with these immediate ideas of every person you see is the fact that it makes people like me -- people who understand how these momentary impressions work -- able to take advantage of them.

It didn’t take long to realize I had a talent for it.  I already looked the part, -- a helpless, adorable little girl -- I had a surprising knack for staying calm under pressure, and as much as I hated the old bitch, my caretaker had given me all the tools I needed.  She was a stickler for proper manners, so I learned how to speak, sit, and walk like a “proper young lady.”  Plus, her insane rules about tiny meal portions and too-early curfews taught me to be light on my feet as I often sneaked downstairs to grab a roll of bread at night.  Yes, I had everything I needed.  The only real hurdle was actually deciding to do it.  I never really wanted to be a bad person.  But the world is a heartless place, the city even more so, and by the end of my first week, I knew what I had to do if I was ever going to survive.

So, I started working -- oh, and by the way, no matter what you think, it is still a job.  I put my time and effort into a certain task, and I obtain money because of it.  I don’t know about you, but that certainly sounds like a job to me.  And it was easier than I thought it would be.  Within about a day, I realized that people saw me as sweet, innocent, and harmless -- no, more than that, they wanted to see me as harmless.  Because if I wasn’t harmless, then that meant their world was even more screwed up than they thought.  I learned quick, and by the end of the year, I had perfected my technique.  It was simple: avoid all conversation if possible, and if absolutely necessary, smile and point out the farthest adult man within reason as my dad before weaving through the small gaps in the crowd, preferably around taller people, so they couldn’t see or follow me.  I only got caught once or twice, but I’m grateful that I did.  It forced me to learn perspective, that I needed to know more than just how to talk well.  So, I learned how to run through a city.  And now, I’m practically unstoppable.  

As I take my even, not-too-fast-but-not-too-slow stroll down the sidewalk, a small, ambiguous smile decorating my lips, I can see it in each person’s eyes as they walk past that I have completely embodied my character.  My arms swung with a practiced nonchalance as my eyes flickered from one person to the next, each time going through a mental list as I weighed the chances I had of succeeding on them versus how likely they were to catch on and calculated the amount of time that both of these events would likely take to happen.  Finally, after a few minutes of this practice, one of them caught my eye.

He was larger, more muscular.  Guys like him were  a gamble.  Often, a man of his appearance simply cared a bit too much about his appearance.  Still, every now and then, they look like that because they been trained, and while past training usually meant they had no practice running in a city, it also meant that he would be much more jumpy and alert to his surroundings.  However, his deep, loose pockets with the corner of his wallet just barely sticking out and the thoughtful gaze as he surveyed the buildings tipped the scales further and further in my favor.  The wonder in his eyes just screamed tourist.

I gazed forward with an absentminded look in my eye that I’d spent months perfecting in the mirror while keeping him clearly in my periphery before bumping into him.  As I hit him, two of my fingers simultaneously dipped into his pocket, where my knee bumped against his leg to jolt his wallet up and out.  The moment the warm leather was in my grasp, I forced myself to fall backwards.  Before I could hit the ground, though, I felt one of those strong, muscular arms had wrapped itself around my waist and was helping me back up.  

My jaw clenched for half a second.  This wasn’t good.  His reflexes were too quick to have just worked out at some random gym, which meant my hunch was right: he had been trained.  And that meant that I needed to get out of there fast.  I wouldn’t be able to slip the wallet back in his pocket without bumping into him again, and that would only make me look even more suspicious, so I quickly emptied it of all of the cash behind his back and slipped the bills into my sleeve before tossing the piece of leather on the ground a few feet away.

“Are you alright?” he asked, concern evident in his eyes, and immediately I decided on my personality for the day -- bright and bubbly but proper.  Gently, he released his arm from its position on my waist once he knew I had regained my footing.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” I quickly apologized, my left hand shooting up to cover my mouth in fake shock while my right hand carefully dropped the money in one of my own pockets, all the while watching every last one of his movements for any sign of suspicion.  “It was all my fault.  I wasn’t paying attention where I was going.”

“It’s ok, really.”  He scratched the back of his neck.  “I wasn’t really looking where I was going either, so it was partially my fault, too.”

“Well, thank you for catching me, sir, but I really have to go,” I smiled at him apologetically.  “I’m supposed to meet back up with my dad in about five minutes.”

“Oh, no worries,” he responded kindly before sneaking a glance at my old, slightly ripped clothes, the concern still dancing in his eyes.  “You’re sure you’re alright, though?”

“Absolutely!”  I dismissed.  “Thank you again!”

“Um, yeah, no problem.”  We both started to walk away.

I waited patiently as I listened to his retreating steps.  1... 2... 3... 4... and then-- “Hey, mister!” I called, bending down and grabbing the piece of leather from where I had tossed it earlier.  “I think you might’ve dropped your wallet!”

The man turned back, shocked, before jogging back towards me.  “I didn’t even notice,” he mumbled to himself.  “Hey, thanks, kid.”

“My pleasure!” I chirped.  “Now, sorry, but I really have to get going.  See you around, sir!”  I quickly jogged off, allowing myself to get lost in the crowd before he could even have a minute to fully understand what happened.

-- 3rd Person POV --

“I told you guys the world wasn’t such a bad place!” Steve called as he entered the living room of Stark Tower.  The rest of the Avengers looked up in surprise.  They had been having this argument for the past three days, with Steve insisting that there were still people who put others first living in New York while the entire rest of the team tried to convince him otherwise.

“Alright, show your work,” Tony leaned back against the wall, watching the captain with curiosity.

“I met a kid today who couldn’t have been older than 16.  I was trying to remember what the city looked like before I went in the ice, and I accidentally bumped into her.  She then spent the next few minutes constantly apologizing and saying it was all her fault.  And the best part is, after we’d already walked away, she found and returned my wallet.  I hadn’t even realized I had dropped it!”  The 96-year-old man finished with a triumphant grin, leaving the rest of the team silent for a moment.  That is, until Tony busted out laughing.  Steve frowned.  “...What?”

“Steve, honey, check inside of your wallet,” Natasha sighed as she turned back to the tv to watch whatever was on.

Steve frowned, reached into his pocket, and pulled out his wallet.  “I don’t understand; why do you want me to....” He trailed off as he stared at the now empty pocket that only just earlier that day held around 65 dollars in cash.  “She... but how did she...”

Tony slapped a heavy hand on Steve’s shoulder, wiping away a tear from the corner of his eye.  “She scammed you, bro.  And you fell for it hook, line, and sinker,” he grinned before walking back to his room, still chuckling softly to himself at his friend’s misfortune.

------- Time Skip -------

About two weeks had passed since that godsend of a man and I crossed paths.  I can’t remember the last time I had managed to lift 65 dollars off anyone.  That kind of cash can last someone like me a really long time.  But sadly, all good things must come to an end, and after buying myself the first decent meal I’d had in weeks plus a ton of canned foods and non-perishables that I dropped off at the nearest homeless shelter, that good thing ended ended all too quickly.  Which meant it was time I went back to work.

I stepped into the public library, that same ambiguous smile painted ever so gently across my face.  There weren’t a whole lot of people here and there were almost never any big scores, but working here was a lot less guess-work, and more often than not, the target was too engrossed in their book to even notice what I was doing, so there was also much less risk of being caught.

After a quick scan of the quiet room, my eyes landed on the man sitting at one of the long tables, his bag haphazardly laying next to him on the table.  It should be easy enough to grab something from in there, and he seemed invested enough to have his guard down.  He should make for a good target.

I walked into the science section and grabbed a few scientific papers, most of which were generally about to nuclear physics, before walking back to his table and sitting down right across from him.  Scientific papers are the best way to make sure no one has the confidence to talk to you.  I opened the paper that I had read a hundred times and started pretending to read it once more, my left hand resting on my cheek as my right hand slowly made its way towards the bag.

“Excuse me.” I glanced up, pausing my movement towards his back but still being careful not to react too quickly and retract my hand.  I didn’t want to draw his attention to what I was doing, and if at all possible, I would still like to come out of this with something to show for it.  As I met the glasses-clad, clearly intelligent eyes of the man in front of me, it was easy to figure out what my personality should be -- shy, smart, and above all else, kind.  “Is that Schippers’s work?”

I blinked in surprise and allowed a soft smile to spread across my lips.  “You know Stefan Schippers?”

“Yeah, his work in antimatter is amazing,” he grinned fully now, his eyes lighting up and making him almost look like a completely different person.  “Particularly regarding his research in collisions.”

I grinned back, taking note of how his eyes were now trained on mine, instead of glancing around like before.  Maybe I should’ve started a conversation before -- clearly it was a good distraction for him.  Well, either way, it’s going to be easier to lift something off of him now, so I guess I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.  “I completely agree.  His work is amazing,” I giggled softly, glancing down at the table before looking back up at him, a slight red hue now painting the apples of my cheeks as my hand slipped inside of his bag.

“I was honestly surprised to see you reading that paper, actually,” he chuckled nervously.  “I’ve read it at least 20 times, but I figured I was the only one.”  I laughed lightly, slipping what felt like a wallet out of the bag and tucking it under my arm.

“Trust me, I’ve read this so many times, I’m afraid the library is going to have to replace it because I’ve worn it out so much.  You know, if you’re interested in Schippers, you should read some of Dr. Banner’s papers,” I laid my left hand on his arm gently while my right arm swung back over to me, pushing the wallet into my lap.  “As much as I love Schippers, Dr. Banner’s work is unparalleled.”

The man chuckled nervously again, ducking his head a bit.  “You really think so, huh?  How old are you anyways?  I don’t see a whole lot of kids brushing up on nuclear physics.”

“I’m older than I look,” I casually brushed off the question.  I was not about to give up any personal information, fellow science geek or not.  “Oh, by the way, do you have the time?”

The man glanced at his watch.  “About 6:00.”

My eyes widened in shock.  “You’re kidding, it got that late?!  My dad’s gonna kill me!”  I gasped and quickly stood up, catching the wallet in my left hand and slipping it into my pocket.  “It was really nice meeting you, sir, but I have to go home.  I really liked talking to you, though!  I hope we can meet again!”  I hurriedly gathered the papers and rushed off, waving with a broad smile.

“Oh, uh nice meeting you... too...” he tried to respond, but she was already well out of sight.

-- 3rd Person POV -- 

“What the hell?” Bruce mumbled, digging through his bag.  The pizza had just arrived, and he needed to pay his share.

“What’s wrong?” Natasha glanced at him, an eyebrow raised.

“I could’ve sworn I put my wallet in here, but now I can’t find it,” he frowned, continuing to search every last nook and cranny of the old bag.

“Don’t worry about it, buddy, I can cover you if you’re short,” Tony shrugged.

“That’s not the issue,” Bruce frowned, finally giving up and tossing his bag to the side in frustration.  “That had my credit card, my driver’s license, and my ID for Stark Tower.  If it’s lost somewhere, it could be a real problem.”

“When was the last time you remember having it?”  Clint mumbled through a full mouth of the piece of pizza that he’d already shoved in his face.  Natasha rolled her eyes and wiped off the bit of spit he’d gotten on her in disgust.

“I was at the library.  I used my library card to check out some books,” he responded confidently.

“Again?” Clint asked, once again through a mouthful of cheese and marinara sauce.  “What, do you live there or something?”

“Ok, now walk us through exactly what happened after you checked out those books,” Natasha suggested, doing her best to ignore her best friend.

Bruce sighed and nodded, sitting down.  “I checked out my books, then walked over to one of the tables to start reading.  Then I talked to that teenager for a little while about some of Schippers’s theories before she ran off--”

“You talked to a teenager about Schippers?  And she actually understood?”  Tony asked, lifting a brow in surprise.

“Yeah, she even recommended I read Dr. Banner’s work in the same field,” Bruce chuckled.  “I thought it better not to tell her who I was, but according to her, Banner’s work is ‘unparalleled’.”

“Damn, the kid knows her stuff,” Tony nodded, impressed.  “Did she say anything about--”

“Boys,” Natasha cut in.  “The wallet.”

“Ah, right,” Bruce mumbled apologetically.  “Anyways, after she ran off, I kept reading for a few minutes before leaving, too.  Then I came back to the tower and got up here just in time to decide on ordering pizza with you guys.”

“Did you use the subway?” Natasha asked.

Bruce shook his head.  “No.  I figured since it was such a nice day out, I would just walk home.”

“How did you enter the building?”

“I ran into Steve downstairs, and we came in together.”

Steve, who had been silent up until this point, finally spoke up.  “This teenager... Was she about 16?  With (H/C) hair?”

“What, you think it’s the same girl who totally scammed you the other--” Tony started, getting ready to take part in his favorite pastime of making fun of Steve.

“Actually, yeah, she was,” Bruce answered, his eyes wide in realization.

Before anyone could say anything, Tony’s incredibly loud laughter filled the room.  “Holy shit, you guys both got scammed by the same teenager!  How does that even happen?!” He wheezed, laughing so hard he could hardly breath.

“Hey she seemed like a nice girl!” Bruce defended.  “How was I supposed to know she was robbing me?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a genius or something?” Tony asked, tears streaming down his face now.  Bruce opened his mouth, trying to come up with something but came up blank.  A heavy hand landing on his shoulder knocked him out of his stupor.

“Just let it happen,” Steve sighed, his eyes cast down as he shook his head in sympathy.

------- Time Skip -------

It had been a week since I had spoken to that science nerd in the library, and I was still pissed.  Seriously, what kind of grown man only carries around 4 dollars and 36 cents?  Well, apparently, that weirdo did.  I had thrown out all the cards and IDs to at least sell the what looked to be leather wallet to a pawn shop, but apparently the thing wasn’t even leather!  All of that time, wasted for a measly 12 bucks.  I’ll say it again: I was pissed.

So, now I was back out working again, because the money I’d made was barely enough to buy a few snacks that I had to portion out over the course of the past week.

As I walked down the sidewalk, still grumbling softly to myself about what had happened, I saw him.  

Tony freaking Stark.

I grinned.  Maybe my luck was getting better after all.  I mean, a billionaire who’s famous for having, shall we say, questionable morals?  After all, it’s not exactly nice to sleep with as many women as humanly possible before tossing them away like they’re nothing.  I mean, sure there’s the whole iron man thing, but he’s still kind of a dick, let’s be honest.  And while I usually tried to refrain from taking anything major in case my target doesn’t have a whole lot of money or the object is sentimental, billionaire jerks are fair game.  And the best part was, I didn’t even have to read him to know the part I was going to play.  Tony Stark would only ever fall for one personality: sarcastic, quick-witted, and strong.

His head was down, buried in his phone, so I casually walked towards him, picking up an old cup of coffee from one of a nearby cafe’s outdoor tables, before smacking into him head-first, spilling the coffee everywhere.

“What the hell?!”

“Oh my god!” We both yelled at the same time.

“Oh c’mon, kid, this is silk!” Tony continued to shout, staring down at the coffee covering his chest.

“Hey, I’m not the one with my head buried in my phone while walking through one of the busiest cities in the world,” I snapped back.  “And you’re not the only one whose clothes got ruined.  This is cashmere!” I lied through my teeth.  It was a ratty old sweater that I’d bought for about 3 dollars at a thrift store.

Stark scoffed.  “Do you have any idea who I am?”

“Yeah, you’re Tony Stark.  That doesn’t change the fact that my parents are gonna be pissed about me ruining a hundred dollar sweater,” I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms defiantly.

That was when he finally glanced at me and my coffee-stained outfit.  Stark sighed and put his fingers to the bridge of his nose.  “Alright, I’m sorry.” Wait, what?  Since when does the great Tony Stark ever apologize for anything?  “I’ll pay for the dry-cleaning, ok?  Just give me your parents’ numbers.”

Shit, that’s not how this is supposed to go.  Ok, new strategy.  A sassy front but a kind interior.

I sighed and shook my head.  “No, it’s not entirely your fault.  I guess I could’ve tried to avoid you better.  Anyways, you got a pen and paper?”

Stark nodded slightly and reached into his inner pocket, pulling out a tiny pad and a fancy looking pen.  I quickly jotted down the phone number and handed it back to him.  Shoot, he looked like he was about to walk away.  I had to act quick or lose my chance.  Time to add one more very important characteristic to my identity: pitiable.  “Hey, I really am sorry.  I kind of overreacted.  It wasn’t cool.  I guess I just got a little nervous.  My dad likes things to be clean, and he can get pretty mad when I don’t follow that rule...” I trailed off a bit, glancing down at my feet.  I shook my head quickly and met the billionaire’s gaze, now filled with concern, again.  “Sorry, didn’t mean to dump that on you.  I just wanted to say thanks.”  I held out my right hand, praying that I’d guessed which hand to use correctly.  As Stark grabbed my hand, I had to hold back a sigh of relief when I saw the watch casually placed on his wrist.

“It was really nice meeting you, Mr. Stark,” I smiled a bit, with my left hand closing over his wrist while three of my fingers on my right hand undid the clasp on his watch.  Then I pressed down one the buttons on either side of the clasp with my middle finger on my right hand and my thumb on my left hand, making sure to hold the watch in place.  “If you’d like, I’d be happy to buy you a coffee to make up for it.  There’s a really nice café right over there.”  I squeezed the watch tightly with my left hand and jerked my chin towards the store just behind him.  He turned his head and looked, pulling his hand back slightly as he did so, which allowed me to slip the watch off his wrist.  Immediately, I dropped it in my pocket before he had a chance to turn back around.

“Thanks, kid, but I’m good.  I’ll give your parents a call when I get home, ok?”  He said before awkwardly giving me a pat on the shoulder.  “Now go run off and play with some dolls or whatever.”

I rolled my eyes.  “Thanks, but my collection can’t be nearly as big as yours,” I bit back with a slight, good-natured smirk.  “Anyways, I gotta go home and get yelled at by my parents.  Nice meeting you, Mr. Stark,” I called, waving to him as I was already leaving.

Stark shook his head with a small smile.  “Yeah, you too, kid.”

-- 3rd Person POV --

“What, no watch today?” Tony furrowed his brows at Bruce’s question.

“Of course I have a watch today.  I have a watch for every day of the week,” he scoffed, lifting his wrist to show off the rather expensive Rolex.

“Umm dude...?” Clint started.

“Yeah, I know it’s awesome, and no, you cannot try it on,” Tony smirked.  “I have a very strict look don’t touch policy.  These bad boys cost quite the pretty penny, and I wouldn’t want any of you trying to take it from me.”  Clint just shrugged in defeat and unpaused his video game -- it wasn’t his fault his friend interrupted him trying to help.

“Tony, look at your wrist,” Steve rolled his eyes at the pompous man’s antics.

“What, just so I can admire it--” he cut himself off as his eyes landed on the bare skin of his wrist.  “...Where the hell is my watch?”

“Maybe you forgot to put one on today?” Bruce shrugged, going back to his computer as he continued to work.

“No, I didn’t forget; I never forget,” Tony snapped.  “It was there this morning, and now it’s gone.”   He yanked up his sleeve to search in vain for the incredibly expensive missing item.

“Hey, maybe Tony was pick-pocketed, too,” Clint joked absentmindedly before cursing at some ‘dumbass little camping noob’ who kept killing him.

Tony’s eyes widened in realization.  “Holy shit, it was the kid.”

“What?” Steve frowned.

“The kid!  The kid who spilled coffee on me today!”  He shouted.  “I had my watch, then she shook my hand, and now the watch is gone.  She totally took it!”

Clint paused the game again.  “Wait, so basically some kid took your custom watch, which is worth thousands of dollars, right off your wrist, and you didn’t even notice?”  Tony bobbed his head up and down frantically.  “Hold on... You don’t think...” Clint glanced between the three other men in the room.

“(H/C) hair?” Steve asked.

“(E/C) eyes?” Bruce called, suddenly no longer able to focus on his work.

Tony nodded slowly with wide eyes.  Reality crashed down on all three of them.

A wide smile slowly took over Clint’s face.  “So you mean to tell me that three of the Avengers, the Earth’s greatest defenders, got scammed by the same teenage girl in less than a month?”  The three men were silent, each of them staring at the ground as they started to question how smart they actually were.

About 30 seconds later, the silence was broken.  “Nat, you’ll never believe what just happened.  I can’t believe you weren’t home for this,” Clint talked excitedly into the phone while his teammates all slowly left the room to sulk alone.

------- Time Skip -------

It had been a whole month since I had gotten the watch off Tony Stark.  I almost couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw the amount of zeros on the offer the pawn shop had given me.  It was probably one of the best days of my life.  Immediately, I had gone out and bought myself a meal at an actual restaurant, and let me tell you, they weren’t kidding when they said restaurant food is delicious.  Every protein bar and bag of chips in the world couldn’t live up to the food I ate that day.  And with that kind of money, I could be eating like that for maybe even a year!  Still, I knew what I had to do.  

It was almost Christmas.  With the money I’d just gotten, I could afford to buy each and every kid at the orphanage actual brand new presents that year, instead of the crummy second-hand stuff that had to be shared between three or four kids that I usually brought.  So, I went out and blew a good three quarters of my new budget on toys, and not the kind from thrift shops or even the ones from the big department stores.  I could finally get them toys from one of the fancy stores that had display windows.  And it was worth it, too, seeing the pure amazement that lit up those kids’ eyes when they saw there was enough for all of them.  I then spent another quarter of the money on nonperishable foods that I donated to the homeless shelter plus one massive turkey for their Christmas feast. 

After all of that, I was left with around 20 dollars for myself.  Usually I can make money like that last with just a few extra marks, but as the month dragged on and less and less people were out on the streets at night, my budget ran thin.  Eventually, I reached my breaking point.  I’d gone I think four days now without any food.  My stomach growled loudly, begging me to give it something, anything.  I just sighed and receded further into the fabric of my thin, worn down coat that I’d found a few days back by a dumpster -- the coat I used to wear long traded in for a couple spare dollars.  Sure, the wind cut through it like a knife, but hell, it was better than nothing.

I glanced up as I heard the crunching of footsteps in the snow, my heard immediately leaping into my throat at the prospect of there being people out.  I frowned when I saw who they were.  A couple walking together, chatting away about something or another.  Normally, I would never choose a couple to target -- it was too easy for one of them to spot what I was doing to the other -- but I had gotten desperate.  I was freezing cold, and I needed food now.

So, I walked directly towards them and crashed my shoulder into the guy’s, my hand slipping into his pocket.  I thanked whatever higher power was watching over me when my hand came into contact with a money clip.

“Sorry,” I mumbled and slipped my hand back out before continuing to walk at a casual pace away from the two, tucking the clip into my pocket.

-- 3rd Person POV --

“Well that was rude,” Clint huffed, dusting himself off.

Natasha stared at the back of the young girl who continued to walk away like nothing had happened.  “Hey, Clint,” she muttered.

“Yeah?”

“Where’s your wallet?”

“I put it back in my... pocket....” Clint froze when he realized he couldn’t feel the familiar clip in his jacket pocket.  He whirled around to look at the girl, who was already a ways away.  “Hey!  Get back here!”  He screamed, breaking into a run, Natasha quickly following suit.

-- Your POV --

“Hey!  Get back here!”  I glanced back with wide eyes, my heart leaping into my throat before immediately sprinting.

I ran through the snow, turning right and left through back alleys and narrow shortcuts, thanking my past self for never eating well, as my skinny form was able to stay on top of the snow for the most part.  Still, somehow I hadn’t lost the two adults chasing me yet.  They had barely fallen a foot or two behind over the last eight blocks.  My stamina was quickly running out, the malnourishment over the past week finally catching up to me.  I felt dizzy, and my chest burned as I focused on continuing to put one foot in front of the other.  I turned down an alleyway with a brick wall at the end.

“Ha!  We’ve finally caught you!”  The man behind me panted.  I completely ignored him, not pausing a single step as I sprinted towards the wall.

“Uhh, hey, kid?  Rock beats teenager...” He called warily.  I continued to ignore him.  I was only five feet away.  “Stop, you’re gonna hurt yourself!” he shouted just before I jumped, pressing my feet into the bricks to launch my further and further up.  I reached as high as I could and just barely caught the edge of the wall with my fingertips.  I swung my other arm up and forced my arms to pull myself to the top.

I panted as I gazed down from the top of the wall, the couple staring back up at me.  “Holy shit,” the man muttered, to which the woman immediately smacked him in the arm.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly.  “I was hungry.”  I wasn’t really sure why I was apologizing.  Granted, I knew what I was doing wasn’t very nice, but I don’t recall ever apologizing before.  Maybe it’s because they reminded me of my parents -- or, at least, what I imagined my parents to be like.  Maybe it’s because I was so dizzy that I couldn’t really think straight.  I nodded slightly to the two before turning around, preparing myself to jump down the other side.

Suddenly, a massive wave of dizziness and nausea smacked me in the face.  I groaned slightly and put my hand to my forehead, trying to get a hold of myself.  Evidently, that didn’t work, because the next thing I knew, I was falling.

Time seemed to slow as I fell through the air.  I probably shouldn’t pass out right now, the surprisingly calm thought entered my mind.  If I do, I’ll most likely just freeze to death.  Then again, passing out would save me a lot of pain from falling.  Alright, I guess that’s it then.  I’ll pass out now and hope I wake up in time to not die.  My eyes fluttered closed just before I hit the ground, the fog in my brain thickening as I finally allowed myself to just give in to it.

-- 3rd Person POV --

Clint grunted as he caught the girl.  He was expecting to fall to the ground with her, only really serving to break her fall, but was surprised to find that she wasn’t even heavy enough to knock him down.  Natasha made her way over to his side, looking down at the little thief in her friend’s arms.

“She’s light as a feather,” Clint murmured with a frown on his face, “and freezing to the touch.”

“She said she was hungry,” Natasha muttered thoughtfully.

Clint grit his teeth and nodded, determined.  “Alright, that settles it.  We’re taking her back to the tower.”

Natasha glanced at him warily.  “You sure?  The others might not be so accepting.”

“They’re gonna have to be,” he stated, already walking back, holding the girl as close as he could in an attempt to warm her up.

[julieloves074]

Out of the Darkness pt.3 (Darkling x reader story)

Lets just ignore that English is not my first language :)

“Would you rather wear my black colour instead?” his question sounding genuine but a trap all the same, he didn’t move, waiting for my answer, two could play this game.

“Have I made you speechless?” he asked. So simply.

“Well that would just be improper General,” I said taking the red kefta out of his hand with force, he latches onto it for a moment so that I can’t take it out of his hgrips, “I don’t know what I would do to thank you,” I added, with a gaze of admiration, still pulling away from the idea of battering my eyelashes, that would be too obvious, he would see right through me.

Though, his kefta did look warmer, maybe this was his autumn wear, either way, I would never wear his colours, or any colours if I could help it.

“They’re bullet proof, after transporting the sun summoner who knows when one may attack us again,” he commented, and waited until the red clothing was secured around my limbs and body before walking towards two of his soldiers, one was holding the rein of the horse behind them. A midnight black stallion, clearly pure breed.

I huffed as I brought the material forward in one rough pull, fixing the collar while I’m at it. He doesn’t looked back to me, until his body is secure on his horse.

“I will ride on horseback, and you shall be in my carriage, with two of my trusted guards,” he said turning back to me for one moment, his brave commanding voice didn’t quiver now that other first and second army eyes were us and our exchange, him mostly, but some eager eyes didn’t shy away from peeling at me, the new Grisha, that so happened to appear during the night, giving me the benefit of a doubt.

I turned back towards the carriage, looking both ways, past the stares, how else could I get away?

Only to get my arms in not so friendly hold of the guards, who somewhat forcefully push me into the carriage. The space is small, confined, the window quickly becomes a good friend of mine. With nowhere else to look the views outside are quite lovely. Forests and greenery, not much different to where I came from, but still something new.

As we dove deeper into the forest I turned to my new favourite, hated game called stop every mistake you made when you were taken into that tent. I focused on every single little detail that went wrong, I could have forced myself to say on the floor, I knew the mattress and duvet, and the fluffy blanket would lure me away in a deep world of sleep.

I did need it, but I wish I could have prevented it. Made up a plan or even just a lie.

Instead, here I am, sitting across from two soldiers in their black unfirmos, neither of them Grisha, meaning that his most trsuted Grisha were at the Little Palace with Alina, protecting and watching her, bearing in mind that the walls could protect her enough; she really seems like a bird trapped in a cage.

This is good, better than good, excellent, now I can just maybe tip the carriage, not burn it that would be a waste, but maybe just make it seem like an accident, best done during the night, slipping away unnoticed. Really uncontacted this time. I would leave the red kefta on the floor, make sure it gets in the flames, it would burn like the fire itself.

But then he’d suspect me: an inferni. I sighed but the guards weren’t really paying that much attention to me anyway. They sat their bodies square to me looking straight ahead, this is probably the only time they’ve ever been allowed to sit inside this carriage.

Instead I could slow their hearts, he wouldn’t blame it on me, he couldn’t, in his black glossy eyes I am only an inferni after all. Why would he need another inferni anyway, surely he had plenty at the palace? Unless he was really low on fire.

At the sow descend of the shadows, as the sun started to cower down I urged myself forward, my eyelids seemed awfully heavy, unlike their usually feathery float, I hoped the two men didn’t realise, I wanted to get this over with.

But they too shuffled forwards in their seats, hands on their knees. Still staring forwards, almost like gargoyles on old, gloomy caste roofs.

I’m not their prisoner, or his, or so he said. So why would they give such a care? My eyes widened, without turning to me, one of each hand goes to my wrists, entrapping me again in their will. I couldn’t slow their hearts.

“Let go of me! You have no right to me!” I screamed instead, though they did nothing more than hold onto my arms, urging me to stay in one space, to make sure I wasn’t trying to pull any tricks out of the bag.

How’d I create myself such a reputation so quickly?

In a sudden burst the carriage stopped, I couldn’t hear anything or anyone outside, as if the world had stopped, the guards faces turned alarmed, their eyes gazed around, their other arms ready to grip their weapons. Taking the initiative I shuffled backwards, pleading my hands to follow, they stayed in their grips.

Then there was a shuffle outside, footsteps, the guards didn’t even get a chance to shuffle back themselves, or grab their weapons before the door flung open, as if the wind attacked it, harshly beckoning it to open up.

Their hands rip away ferociously, so I rushed mine to wrap them around my knees in a protective position, not weak, but self-protective. Never weak. Edging away from them I painted the situation in exactly the right shades and colours.

“We’re making a stop for a few hours, then the girl rides with me,” he said sternly to the two men, giving them the look of what I would call a waring, they wouldn’t dare lay a hand on me, not when the General could make them pay for it greedily.

The two men looked to each other’s; fear blemished out of their pupils which turned smaller by every second of his stare.

I had my way, I was out of the carriage for the remainder of the journey.

He reached his gloved hand my way, I looked at his hand, then back into his eyes and then to his hand again. The other rested in the doorway of the transport, even in such a lousy position he stood taller and more proper than any man.

“Y/n?” he said, I took a breath, letting my eyes creep to the two guards again before finally accepting the General’s hand out of my seat.

The chilly air hit, like jumping into freezing water all at once. In front of me I saw what looked like an old barn, there was already movement inside, with the way the darkling’s face stayed stoic, calm I could tell that they were out people. His people.

As we were leaving the camp I wasn’t sure how many of us were travelling, it was mostly just soldiers, only two of us, the Grisha.

Landing both my feet steadily on the ground, he let go of my hand, it seemed as though he intend to glide it to my arm or lower back to guide me in but I was already ahead of him, moving towards the entrance of the barn.

Some men and women were already sitting around some sticks, the General looked to me when we sat down. This was my cue to start a fire, could it have been part of a test? Some kind of trial to see if I can even control my power.

Like a baby latching onto their parents I lit a fire in my palm, hearing it crinkle, everything else is quiet, I revel in silence, in the dark when I can pretend there is no one but I in the world. The crinkle of self awareness in a way calms me.

I throw my arms towards the wood, which then too starts to roar in flames, and suddenly nothing seems personal, I feel exposed, but open my eyes and shake off the feeling. It’s just lighting a fire, I remind myself.

Standing there for a moment I stare into the raw beaty of the red and orange dancers, the mild wind too joins in with the solstice. I avoid his stare but he finds a way to make me turn his way, he calls me over with the very movement of his body, I chose not to resist, to get any more conversation out of the way.

Most would kill to be this close to the General, and some would kill to never within a couple of miles of him ever again. I fit nowhere in that scale, which makes it even worse, he doesn’t matter to me, he doesn’t fit anywhere into my life, or my outlooks.

“Did you never want to be with the rest of us?” he asks, the concentration of pressure of the us. He didn’t sound offended or insulted by the fact that I didn’t try to find a way to be with the Grisha. He seemed genuinely confused. Like it were unusual for people with these abilities to shy away from that life.

“You could have been living with the services and care you deserve,” he continues, his voice dark in a way I wasn’t sure was possible. Many described the fold as darkness but a place, they weren’t exactly wrong, but the General’s voice was darkness if it vibrated though words.

What did he know what I deserved? It being clear he thought everyone with these skills should have everything, at least a little less than him.

“I was a run away. Never wanted anywhere, never welcome anywhere. Grisha or not I learned to live a new way, and I like living that way,” I said and it was partially true, learning a new way to live was no easy feat but the freedom was like running around a sandy beach with wind in your hair and the smell of the salty sea.

“Well, you needn’t worry about that, your wanted at Little Palace with others like you, you’re welcome there, it shall be your home,” his voice was slightly gentler, or maybe it was the new hushed tone, as if this was our secret, one that no one can know.

With that he leaped gracefully onto his feet and walked other to his soldiers, solid in his stance but passionate in his words. Just hearing him from here talking about how much he wants to help the people on both sides. For closer up he wasn’t as dark as some might have imagined.

I ended up falling asleep, the kefta was good for that remark, it wasn’t like I had anything better to do, he chose not to sleep, he just sat there, some guards napped and took turns but the General didn’t wink an eye.

We never made eye contact, I couldn’t read his face, and then again like a weak child I drifted to sleep.

For a second night in a row there was no nightmare, and there was always nightmares, they would crawl at me, in every single corner of my head and brain, until I would scream and awaken to sweating and the cold hard ground.

From then on I only allowed myself to sleep a few, a couple of hours.

It’s like my system forgot to be aware, alert.

I woke at the General telling the soldiers to get up and ready to leave, I assume he was coming to wake me up next with his loud words of a calm demeanour but I got to my feet with the left over soldiers, already turning to make my way out of the barn.

Still I had to wait next to where the horses stood because now I would ride with the General, on a horse next to him more specifically, I would escape or else I will be killed.

Once everything else is installed in its places he comes over, only his black stallion in sigh, he meant literally ride with him, now I was starting to have slight regrets. The carriage might have been a better idea.

Without a word he got on then his head turned to me and his hand followed, I rose an eyebrow but the mystic glare of his eyes and tension between his brows put me on edge.

His arms wrapped around me as he reached for the rein and then we were off, the speed felt more real here, faster, for one it might have been the fact that we were gradually losing the carriage behind us.

After getting onto the plainer field there was only us and no on else in sight. It was a quiet journey, one of which the inner of my thighs were burning, I’d never been on a horse before, family was too poor, and I never had a job.

I didn’t dare complain, his heart didn’t show a shudder of anything, but mine was much quicker, whether it was from the thrill of riding a horse or from having the black General so close to mine I would never know?

His arm hovered too closely to mine for a moment and that pass of surety surged through me, it was weird how simply he could make me feel so weak, but so powerful at once, he could make me lose control, that would end in disaster.

“Are you alright?” he asked, though with my whole body screaming for more power to rush into my palm his voice was a whisper. The words echoed around my ear, his lips so close to my ears.

I took in a low breath.

“I’m fine,” I said but he didn’t move from the close position, “Thank you,” I added and like a calling he moved his head back and I felt weak, everywhere.

How was I supposed to get away now?

Part four

[starryseung]

hwang hyunjin + smut

word count; 1.7k words

warnings; unprotected drunk post break up hate sex , angsty as fuck , dom! hyunjin , drunk! reader and hyunjin , master kink , mentions of hyunjin and/or reader fucking around and cheating , toxic relationship , implied edging , overstimulation , reader cries , hyunjin is a fucking asshole

One Night Stand

“let’s get out of here babe,”

the words are softer than a whisper, but the way the voice is zoomed in on your neck, the heavy alcoholic scent brushing against your skin, you can hear him perfectly under the loud bass playing in the club.

you wouldn’t say you were completely sober either, which partially justified why you said ‘yes’ to a complete stranger you were grinding your butt against, hands reaching back to tangle in his hair and bring his lips closer to your neck.

it was when you finally got out of the loud, congested club, the cool breeze hitting your face, when you realized what you were doing. the guy had a dark leather jacket falling off his shoulders, his fingers wrapped around your wrist as he dragged you to the motel behind the club. his bright blond hair rang a few alarms in your head, but you weren’t quite sure yet as to who the guy was.

your vision is blurry, but clear enough to make out you had finally entered a small motel, the blond handing some money to the guy behind the desk before pulling you closer to him, his hand on your hip as he walks down the hall with rough steps to match your pace, teeth digging down on his bottom lip. fumbling with the keys in his hands, he finally shoves it in the lock, opening the door.

you aren’t given a second to breathe, hands pushing you against the wall before plush lips come in contact with your neck.

“h—hyunjin,” you whimper, your hand weakly running up to his hair, tugging at the ends.

the male’s movements stop, fingers tightening on your waist. just then you could smell the citrus essence shampoo from his hair, and you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol messing with your senses, or if it really was your ex, with his hands on your hips while his semi-hard crotch rubbed against you, his warm breath fanning against your neck.

his lips press against your shoulder once again, this time his teeth parting to bring the skin in between before nibbling down on it, your neck craning back to give him more space. your eyes tear up just a bit, whether it’s the sting of your supposed ex biting your neck, marking you down, or your supposed ex entirely — you don’t care.

moving back, lips red, you get a clear view of him and now you’re sure it’s hyunjin — not surprised.

“didn’t fuck before breaking up—” he grunts, tossing you on the bed before pushing his hips down on yours, the prominent tent in his pants pressing against your clothed heat, “—and i really need it, especially now.”

“a—are you clean?” he scoffs at your question, head moving up to face you.

“it hasn’t been long since we broke up, i don’t find girls that easy,” he hisses, rutting his hips against yours while moving his lips down to your exposed chest, sucking over your skin.

“thought you would’ve fucked forty by now,” you smirk, before hyunjin bites down on you, whimper leaving you as he grins, shifting to unbutton your shirt. latching his lips onto your breasts he hums, rolling his tongue around your nipple as his nimble fingers tweak your right one, pinching it softly as you arch your back into his touch. “still as sensitive as i remember,” he hums against your breast, giggling softly.

“i don’t f—fuck around like you,” you stutter, his soft lips wrapped around your hardened nub before sucking at it. “you’ve become too bratty, hmm?”

hyunjin moves lower, and you bring your hips up, and he pulls down your shorts with a soft chuckle, muttering a ‘so eager’ under his breath. you feel his lips press above your heat, tongue pressed flat against your clothed folds. “who am i kidding, you were always a little brat”

the words roll off his lips too easily, your panties sticking further to your wet cunt as a whine leaves your lips. you couldn’t forget how hyunjin would punish you when you touched yourself when he was away, or when you acted out of your way to tease him, especially in front of the members. his fingers digging in your thighs, tongue lapping against your folds as he edged you for god knows how many times, then topping it off with his heavenly cock stuffing you full until you couldn’t speak — you couldn’t forget all of this, no matter what.

soon enough, hyunjin’s lips are on your bare pussy, sucking eagerly as you thrash above him, one hand having the sheets beneath you in a death grip, while the other tangled in hyunjin’s hair, tugging at his scalp. the pressure he applied each time grew harder and harder, until his tongue pushed between your folds, your walls instantly clenching around his muscle as he groaned. hyunjin himself was subconsciously grinding down on the bed, movements messy as his hands spread your thighs apart, face pushing in further between your legs as he eats you out like his last meal.

your whines grow louder and louder, orgasm at bay while hyunjin’s tongue laps your folds, curling in before he pulls out for a breather, replacing his mouth with his fingers. slowly pushing in two fingers, he groans at the feeling of your tightness clenching around him as you curse, moaning aloud as he curls them inside of you. starting a steady pace, he starts thrusting his digits in you, scissoring you open.

“f—fuck, master, gonna cum,”

his fingers stop, eyes training up to look at your face, smirking at the name you just called him. a pang of guilt stings his chest, lips faltering when he realizes just how much you had given yourself to him, to the relationship you both had taken years to strengthen, before he blew it, watching it fall like a house of cards before walking away with someone he found, online.

shaking the thoughts off his head, knowing that it was the "drunk hyunjin" messing with him right now, he pumps his fingers in your hole, soft squelches leaving your pussy at the speed of his wrists snapping in you. you cry out, bucking your hips to match his pace, head thrown back into the freshly laundered pillows under you, legs trembling.

“hyun—master, pl—please,” you whimper loudly like a bitch in heat, eyebrows scrunching as hyunjin palms your clit, rubbing the calloused skin against your sensitive buds. a single tear rolls down your eye and down on the pillow, before another, and another, until you sob softly, your orgasm washing down on you as hyunjin’s fingers still piston in and out of you, not slowing down any time soon. you whine out, squirming under his gaze to get away from the burning sensation building in your core.

hyunjin stops, before the fuzzy sound of a zipper is heard, the bed shifting near your legs. your hold on the sheets beneath loosens, his hand coming down to your waist to gently knead the soft flesh.

you knew it was the alcohol running in your veins, but you couldn’t stop the thoughts evading your mind, the feeling of hyunjin’s warm hand that would comfort you by rubbing against your cold skin, the then comforting sensation turning into nothing but anxiety and heartbreak now.

your drunk train of thoughts is abruptly interrupted by hyunjin’s tip prodding against your folds, a mewl leaving your swollen lips as you feel him slowly push in deeper, a moan grumbling out his own lips at the feeling of your soft, tight walls around his cock, squeezing him.

“you’re gonna be the death of me, shit,” he curses, head dropping down as he cracks open an eye, jaw clenching at the outline of his cock on your abdomen, fingers instinctively reaching out to trace above it; “fuck, how did i never notice this,”

“you were t—too busy thinking of s—someone else when we fucked,” you sigh shakily, feeling him bottom out in you as you clenched around him. he pulled out, pushing back in as he stared at awe at the prominent bump on your belly, pressing his hand down on you before cursing a loud "fuck!" at the feeling of your walls spasming around his dick further, a moan leaving your lips at the tight feeling in your core. hyunjin lets out a strangled moan, thrusting his hips in you steadily. his pace grows quicker, cock snapping into your tight hole repeatedly until you’re a moaning mess under him.

he pulls up your leg, placing it above his shoulder before rolling his hips down on you, reaching deeper, the sensation making your breathing shallow, chest tight. he felt too deep, almost as if you were full of his cock and his cock only. 

you’re drunk out of your head to even realize when you’re cumming but when you do, you’re left dizzy with the aftermath, body trembling as your juices flow out to coat hyunjin’s dick buried deep in you. you feel as if all the energy has been sucked out of you — which it had, no doubt — and you just wanted to cuddle your teddy bear (your replacement for hyunjin) and sleep for longer than ever.

hyunjin pulls out of you, sloppily stroking his length before coming on your stomach and the sheets, his thick fluids trickling down your sides and onto your clothes. he focuses on his breath, flopping down beside you on the cleaner part of the bed, leaving you all sweaty, sticky and disgusting with his and your wetness. even in your drunk state, you expected him to give you some water or dress you up, at least clean his shit off of you.

but maybe you were asking too much from just a one-night-stand.

—

a/n; FINALLY AFTER A 5 DAYS BREAK also may i say this is g**d why did this turn out better than i expected damn

taglist; @joengni @cherryeol04 @lomlminho @bruh-changbin @yooniversalstudios @ann0325441904 @yourdaddychan @nightshade-minho @yangomangos @peachyhan @yoongiesbby1204 @llsiriusminorisll​ (message me if you want to be added!)

[flamencodiva]

Bottom of the Bottle 2 - Sneaking Back on Stage

Description: Dean was at the peak of stardom until his world came crashing down. Can he find his way back to the top?

Word Count: 5340

Warnings for entire series: Smut (oral female and male receiving, P in V, Threesomes, Fingering, Orgies) Fluff, Angst, Violence, Language, Mentions of Drug use, Drinking, Mentions of Death.

Songs in this chapter: Partial Lyrics of Brother's Osbourn Ain't My Fault and Full lyrics of Down don't Bother Me by The Derek Truck Band

Beta'd by: @wonder-cole

Aesthetic by: @firefly-graphics

Dividers by: @talesmaniac89

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

<< Chapter 1

Dean pulled the bike up on the driveway and parked her next to his father’s truck. Then, killing the engine, he hopped off with a smile. Finally, Dean found a place where he could start over, a place he could play and live again. He found a small spring in his step and ran his fingers through his short hair. He was glad it was quick. His years with Purgatory had the band growing out his hair long. He hated it, but it was for the image. At the time, he would do anything just to be able to be involved in music and if growing his hair long was the worst of it, it was worth it to him.

But the minute that he was put in jail and kicked out of the band for something he didn’t do, he was glad to be rid of it. He was happy to cut off the long hair and return to his short locks. Turning the key to unlock the door, he let himself in to find his father sitting at the dining room table, hands folded on top of it.

“You could have gone to bed, you know,” Dean muttered as he placed the helmet on the table in the foyer and shrugged off his jacket to put it on the hook, “I told you I was going to be back.”

“Where did you go?” John asked as he looked up at Dean.

“Out,” Dean huffed, “I’m not a kid anymore, dad. So I went out, the bike had a wire come loose, I was close to a place, got help, came back.”

“You can’t do that again, Dean,” John said as he got up from the table.

“Do what? Go out and have fun? Go out and try to find some friends?” Dean asked, “I’m confused as to what you want from me here. I’m already working at the garage. I’m living under your thumb. I have a damn motorcycle instead of Baby.”

“I just wanted you to think before you went out,” John said as he walked to Dean, “I know you love to sing, and you love music, but it isn’t everything.”

“It’s all I have!” Dean practically yelled. “You know you started spewing all this bullshit about how I abandoned this family and ran away and couldn’t wait to leave,” Dean ran a hand across his face. “I wanted to go out and explore and find myself. You want to know the fucked up thing?” he walked up to his father, “I came back when Sam called me about mom. Not you,” he poked at John’s chest, “Sam, he called me to tell me mom was sick. You were the coward who couldn’t even face me to tell me my mother was dying!”

“Would you have answered the phone if it was me?” John muttered. “You have to admit, the minute you signed that contract, you wanted to high tail it out of here faster than a damn wolf chasing its prey.”

Dean looked down at the floor and licked his lips, “I wanted to get away from you. Not mom, not Sam, you. Because I was so mad and disappointed that my own father didn’t want me to follow something I was good at, something that gave me life.” Dean walked over to a picture of his mother and let his fingers graze over it, “I came every chance I could. I was in that hospital by her side when you didn't know it. I always waited for you and Sam to leave because I didn’t want to fight you while she was fighting Cancer.”

Dean wiped the stray tear that was falling down his cheek and shook his head.

“But it doesn’t matter. Nothing mattered, not that money I gave for the treatments or the fact that I tried to get Mom one of the best specialists I could find.” he turned to face his dad. “Music is in me, and I can feel it. What hurt me wasn’t mom dying. It was the fact that my own father thought of me as a disappointment when I made it big.”

John let his son’s words sink in before heading to the stairs, “A lot of good that fame and fortune did. You became part of a group that, in the end, it brought you back down to zero.” John was halfway up the stairs before he stopped, “you called me a coward for not calling you, but you’re a coward for not manning up to face me at that hospital.”

John’s footsteps began to fade as he ascended the staircase and retreated to his bedroom, leaving Dean to stew in his anger. Dean let out a frustrated growl with his jaw clenched and stomped up the stairs towards his old room. Why was his dad so adamant about keeping him locked up in a cage? He was already in a cell for six months, and he hated every minute of it. Apart from the fact that he could write a few lyrics, he hated being in that damn jail. He didn’t do anything wrong, and everyone tried to fight him for being a damn rock star.

Entering his room, he could see the boxes from his old home scattered around. Some boxes labeled clothing, some marked notebooks, and a few just miscellaneous. Walking to the box labeled notebooks, Dean tore the tape out and pulled out one of his more recently used ones. His fingers grazed over the pages before he turned to his bag full of his things from jail. Reaching inside, he pulled out a small booklet he had filled with some lyrics he had.

Dean didn’t go to bed right away that night. Instead, he took that time to filter through the small notebook and transferred his lyrics to his larger notebook. The memory of Y/N on stage seemed to haunt him. She looked at peace being up on that stage, almost ethereal, an angel ready to spread her wings and fly. Putting down his pen, his eyes roamed his room before settling on the silhouette of his guitar case. Sure, Dean had plenty of guitars, but this one, this one was special, and he was surprised to see it propped up in the familiar corner of his room.

Getting up from his chair, he walked over towards it, pulled the hard case out, and placed it on his bed. Opening up the latches, he lifted the lid and smiled. There nestled nice and snug was a Fender FA-100 Dreadnought Acoustic Guitar. He loved this guitar and hadn't been able to play it for years. He felt almost sad that he had it with him but could never really pull it out to play often. It was a birthday gift for his 17th birthday from his mother. Sure, she said it was from both her and his father, but Dean had a feeling it was more his mother than his old man.

Gently pulling it out of the case, Dean sat on his bed and placed the guitar on his right thigh, the fingers on his left hand holding down a chord on the fret before he strummed it. He winced at the awful sound that came out. It needed tuning. He looked around his room using the tiny light from his desk lamp and smiled when his eyes landed on the corkboard above his headboard. There, pinned to it, was his favorite pick. It was one of the few things his father did give him that he loved, a pick that he had seen in the music store that he had to have.

Taking a deep breath, Dean began to pluck at the strings and turn on the knobs to find the right notes. There was something about the way he felt holding his guitar that sent a shiver down his spine. Dean missed this feeling, and he kicked himself for letting the image geniuses at the label dictate that he should only be the voice of the band. Focusing on his tuning, he continued to play with the knobs until he was sure the guitar had the right notes to play.

With one last strum, he hummed in satisfaction at the sweet sound. He moved his fingers along the fret, strumming at the strings when a melody came to mind. He wasn't sure of the tempo, but he knew the notes he wanted to play. Adjusting himself and the guitar, he cleared his throat and let the music flow through him.

“Blame the whiskey on the beer, blame the beer on the whiskey,” he let out and smiled, “I like the sound of that,” he chuckled before grabbing his notebook and scribbling it down.

He continued to find the melody, and he figured a slow rhythm was a good fit for the song. At least that’s what he felt.

“Blame the bar for the band, blame the band for the--” he paused as he tried to find the right word, “song? Yeah, that works,” he wrote it down and shook his head gently.

His mind began to fill with doubt as he looked down at the lyrics. Was he really going to try to get back into music? Could he really deal with being a label stooge? He wanted to make music, sure, but it needed to be his music.

“You got this, Winchester,” he calmed himself, “You’ve been playing music for a long time. This is a good song.” he licked his lips and looked down at his fingers, “you had these lyrics in your head for a while, you just gotta get them out.

He continued to strum on his guitar and progressed as much as he could. He had gotten to the first round of the bridge before yawning. But, looking over at the clock, it was well past two in the morning, and he had to try to get as much sleep as he could.

The following day, Dean woke up to his father banging on his door.

“Wake up,” John called through the door, “I’m headed to the garage. You should head out soon. Coffee is already brewed.”

Dean let out a groan and ran a hand across his face to try and wake up fully. He stretched his body before forcing himself to get up. Dean looked at the open notebook on the floor and sighed. He had to finish the lyrics and try to memorize the song by tonight if he wanted to show Benny up. He didn’t like that Benny thought he would use Y/N for his own personal gain. That wasn’t in Dean’s nature at all. Besides, if the song was a hit, he could perform the other songs he had lying around, but he had to find a way to hide it from his dad.

Walking to his window, he looked outside and sighed. The sun was just rising, and he could hear the birds chirping on the nearby tree. Opening the window, he leaned on the windowsill when something caught his peripheral vision. He turned his head slightly to see the trellis that ran up the side of the house by his window. Reaching over, he pulled on it and gave a pouted shrug.

“Still feels sturdy,” he muttered to himself before looking down and feeling his pulse race. “You can do this,” he said, looking at the height, “you did it back in high school to go sneak over to ‘easy’ Gracie's house.” he reminded himself. “That and all of Mullet’s parties to play a gig.”

With a nod, he began formulating his plan. He spared no time in grabbing his clothes and getting dressed. His notebook was tight under the crook of his arm as he made his way downstairs to grab a coffee. His father had already left, leaving him alone. With a coffee mug in his hand, he used his free hand to write out the rest of his lyrics before looking at the time and dashing towards the front door. He made sure he kept the notebook close to him as he got ready for his bike ride to the garage.

He kept to himself as he placed certain things in his locker before grabbing his coveralls and put them on over his clothes. Then, his notebook in hand, he walked over to the work orders board and picked a clipboard to work on for the day. In between changing the oil on a few cars, replacing brake pads, and rotating tires, Dean had finished writing and found himself memorizing the lyrics he wrote out.

“I got my hand’s up. I need an alibi,” Dean muttered, “find me a witness who can testify.”

The melody was slow and funeral-like, and for the most part, it worked. What mattered to him right now was memorizing the damn words so he could get them out. He was sure the melody would change later, as he kept bouncing from uptempo to slow funeral march. It was hard trying to find a good beat, but he wasn’t sure what direction he was going. Was he going to stick to the complex rock rhythm he got used to with purgatory? Or was he going to go to his country roots?

He didn’t notice his father looking at him closely, the sad look on John's face as he recognized that Dean was writing lyrics. The old man could always tell when Dean was working on a song. Dean could never sit still when he was inspired, and the fact that Dean kept tapping different rhythms during the day wasn’t helping him hide it. But John was out of ideas, and the last thing he needed was to find his son on the news where they were announcing his death. It was bad enough seeing his son being arrested on the news, but to have his death broadcasted would absolutely shatter him. John had tried so hard to shelter Dean from getting the performance bug, but it seemed like the tighter John held on, the more Dean slipped through his fingers.

The rest of the day, Dean had played with a few different melodies in his head, but nothing seemed to stick. By the time he had memorized the song, it was time to close the garage. Dean had put his coverall back in his locker and walked over to his bike.

“Dean?” John called.

“Yeah,” Dean answered, turning to face his father.

“What do you think about heading over to the diner we always used to go to for dinner?”

Dean looked at his watch and then back up to his Dad. He still had some time to head home and grab his guitar and sneak out, “yeah, sounds good. Need to have that famous burger of theirs. I missed it when I was up in KC,” Dean said with a tight-lipped smile.

“Okay, I’ll meet you there,” John nodded his head as he let Dean go before him, “I gotta lock up, so you go ahead and see if they can get us in a booth.”

“Sure,” Dean called out before putting his helmet on and zipping up his jacket.

The ride to the dinner wasn’t too bad. It was short. To begin with and Dean made it with perfect time to grab the last available booth. Dean ordered a burger for himself along with a beer and a slice of pie for after. The waitress was about to leave when John appeared and slid in.

“I’ll have the meatloaf and a water, Jenny, thanks,” he said to the young waitress.

“You got it, John, coming right up,” she smiled at the elder Winchester before turning to Dean and winking, “I get off at 8.”

Dean offered her a smile before turning to his father, “you come here a lot then?”

“Haven’t really cooked since your mother died,” John muttered as he looked at Dean. “You did good work today,” he changed the subject, “I was thinking about showing you how to run the books and showing you all the accounts, you know, get you ready to take over.”

“Dad--” Dean sighed, “I love working at the garage, I do, but it won’t make me happy.”

“Because music makes you happy,” John scoffed, “look what music did to you!” he pointed out.

“You know as well as I do that it was the industry, not the music. Those are two different things!” Dean argued.

John shook his head before running a hand across his face, “look, you need a backup, and I need someone I can trust to take over.”

“You planning on retiring soon?” Dean let out as he leaned back in his seat.

“Maybe,” John sighed, “I can’t run the garage forever, and I don’t want to sell it.”

Dean looked at his father’s face and could see the hurt in his eyes, “you really love that garage.”

“It’s my second love to my family,” John said as he folded his hands together over the table. “Just think about it?”

“I guess I can do that,” Dean muttered as their waitress, Jenny, came by with their food.

“You know she’s single,” John commented as he grabbed his fork to dig into his meatloaf.

“I don’t need dating help,” Dean let out as he grabbed his burger in his hands, “besides, I’m not looking for attachments.”

“Sometimes they’re a good thing, though,” his father commented after swallowing his food.

Dean rolled his eyes, “after the fiasco with Lisa, no thanks.”

“You’ll find someone,” John chuckled, “I don’t think I ever met Lisa.”

“Thank your lucky stars for that,” Dean huffed. “All she cared about was the fame and notoriety. Then I caught her with some publicist screwing in my bed,” he shook his head, “then again, I was nailing two, maybe three girls at a time so… no skin off my back when I cut her loose.”

John stayed silent for a minute, digesting what his son was saying, “so you went for the sex god approach then.”

“Better than being the drug addict,” Dean shook his head and took a bite of one of his fries, “the alcohol helped to just dull the senses anyways. I was a pretty face and a voice for the band, that’s it.”

John could hear the unhappiness in his voice and see the pain radiating in his son’s eyes over not making the music he wanted. It hurt John for a bit, but it also had him thinking about how it might help keep Dean home and safe.

“The business can chew you up and spit you out pretty easily.”

Dean watched as his father continued to eat his meatloaf, letting the conversation die. Yet, he knew where it would lead if he kept the conversation going.

Finishing his meal, Dean cleaned up his face and reached for his wallet before John stopped him.

“I got this son, you go on home, or are you going back out for a ride?” John asked.

“I need to rest, so I’ll be up in my room,” Dean lied as he slid out of the booth. “So I’ll be in bed by the time you get home, maybe.”

“Okay, I’ll be up watching some tv, so I’ll try not to make too much noise,” John pulled out his wallet and a few bills to place on the table.

Dean walked out and towards his bike just as John got into his truck.

On the ride home, Dean was thinking of what his escape plan would be. He already knew he would climb down the trellis, but his guitar had to come with him. Reaching the house, both men stayed in silence as they went their separate ways. Dean closed his door and put the lock on for good measure. He felt like a teenager hiding from his parents, but he knew his father would never understand. And honestly, Dean really had no place to go, and if he had to keep his musical exploits a secret, then so be it. One could say he wanted to try to impress a particular bartender he met last night, also wondering if he would hear her sweet voice again. Grabbing his case, he looked around for something he could use to strap it to his back, finding a rope he could use on the fly.

Once he was sure that the case was secured to his back, Dean carefully climbed out of the window to sit on the windowsill. He moved as carefully as he could, making sure to avoid making too much noise with his guitar case and getting it out of the window. He breathed a small sigh of relief when he reached the trellis and slowly began to climb down.

“You got this, Dean,” he said to himself as he made sure to place his foot on the holes as he climbed down. “Just like that time you snuck out to head over to the bonfire,” he took a deep breath and swallowed the lump in his throat, “granted you also missed a small hole and fell when you reached the last foot off the ground, but you did it.”

Finally reaching the bottom of the trellis, Dean gave a small jump and smiled in satisfaction. Heading to his bike and rolling it away from the house to not make any noise when he started the engine. Once he was a block away, at least, his night began. The ride to Rusty’s was smooth, and Dean could see it already start to fill with patrons. Parking his bike, he adjusted his guitar and made his way inside. His smile grew when he saw Y/N at the bar already taking orders.

“You know we really do have to stop meeting like this,” he called out with a smile when she turned to him.

“Does that line work? I mean, right now, it just seems like you’re trying too hard,” she let out as she walked over to him, “going to drink, perform, or both?”

“Both,” he answered, “know where I can find Jo?”

“She’s over by the stage taking names for tonight,” she pointed over to the blond who was talking to a few groups.

“Wait,” Dean squinted a bit, “That’s Jo Harvelle? I know Jo,” Dean smiled and turned to face Y/N, “Will you be performing tonight?”

“Nope,” she sighed, popping the ‘p.’ “Yesterday was a fluke. I was filling in for someone.”

“I’m going to go talk to Jo,” Dean said before leaning over and taking Y/N’s arm gently before she could leave. “Whoever told you that you weren’t amazing last night was lying to you, sweetheart.” He let her go before she could give him a counterargument and made his way to the stage with his guitar strapped to his back.

As he approached the stage, he could feel a hand pull him back, and a person walked past him.

“Hey,” he called out, “do you mind?”

“Why yez, ah do mind,” the familiar Cajun voice said, “didn’ tink youz goin’ tah show up.”

Dean gave Benny a cocky smile before huffing, “I did tell you I would see you. Let me guess you have a song to sing tonight too?”

“Betta’ than what chu have to play i’m zure,” Benny chuckled, “I didn’ tink dat dey let chu play an inztrumentz.”

“I was playing the guitar before I ever joined that group,” Dean said with a low growl, “how the hell did you recognize me anyway.”

“The long lockz don’ matta to me brotha,” Benny sighed, “but da eyez are da windows to da soul.”

“You and everyone else seem to recognize me,” Dean muttered, “well, you can go ahead and sing your song before me,” Dean offered him a sly smile, “I’m sure I can bring the house down.”

Benny let out a scoff before turning away to walk towards Jo, “good luck wit dat brotha.”

Dean watched as Benny talked to Jo, who gave him a quick nod while jotting down a note. Once she was done, the Cajun turned around and checked Dean on the shoulder.

“Good luck up, der,” he chuckled at Dean, “you lookz like you need it.”

Dean clenched his jaw as Benny walked away. The guy really didn’t like him. Dean didn’t do anything. Hell, most people’s assumptions of him now have to do with the damn drug charge. Shaking his head, he walked up to Jo and adjusted the guitar strapped to his back. As he walked up to the young blond, he couldn’t help but smile as a memory of a young girl in pigtails flashed before him.

“Never thought you’d grow out of the pigtail stage,” he said as he stood in front of her.

“Well, well, well,” she said, chuckling before pulling him into a tight hug, “never thought the infamous Dean Winchester would grace us with his presence. I thought this place would be too. country for you?”

“I want to sign up to perform,’ he let out with a deep breath.

“Fees $20 to perform,’ she sighed.

“Performance fee?” Dean scoffed, “Really, Jo? Who the hell came up with that?”

“Look,” Jo sighed, “The $20 goes for every and all performers. It’s a small fee for renting out the stage. Besides, you get more in tips if people really like you.”

Dean grumbled as he fished in his pockets for a twenty-dollar bill. He handed it to Jo and shook his head, “I’m only going to be singing the one song.”

“Okay,” Jo wrote down his name and smiled, “You can wait by the bar and order some food. I’ll have someone pull you to the back about three performers before you.” She reached over and pulled him into a hug, “Welcome home, Dean. I have a feeling this is going to be a fresh start for you. You never looked right with that band.”

Dean smiled as he hugged her back, “Thanks, Jo.”

With that, Jo pulled away to let him walk towards the bar with his guitar still on his back. Approaching the bar, Dean smiled, seeing Y/N smile as she served customers. Her laugh reached his ears, and it pulled at him. There was a sense of comfort he felt from listening to Y/N’s laugh. Her laugh was very familiar to him. Walking to the bar, he pulled up a stool and sat down to wait for his turn. He wanted to try out his new song, but he wasn’t sure about the tempo yet. He continued playing around with different beats, but all he could come up with was a depressing march, but it didn’t seem to fit the song at all. With a groan, Dean decided to get something in his stomach while he waited.

“You look like you got something bothering you, Gringo.”

Dean snapped his head up from the menu to see Y/N leaning over the bar top towards him.

“Just trying to figure out what to eat before I have to head up on stage,” He chuckled, trying to shrug off the nervous feeling he had on him. “Besides, Benny’s gonna get mad if he sees you talking to me.”

“I can handle Benny,” Y/N offered him a smile, “besides, I’m the only bartender here, so I’m doing my job.”

“What do you recommend from the kitchen?” Dean asked as he licked his lips. There was something alluring about Y/N, but at the same time, he felt as though he had known her from before their encounter in the coffee shop.

“Honestly? The ultimate bacon burger,” Y/N answered. “It’s got premium Angus beef, with nice crispy bacon, a chipotle aioli, lettuce, tomatoes, and pickles. Not to mention you can have it with steak fries or onion rings.”

“That actually sounds good. I’ll have that and a bottle of Margiekugels,” Dean closed up the menu and sighed, “So is there ever a chance I’m going to see you on stage again?”

Y/N looked over at him as she put in his order on the digital register, “I don’t know,” she sighed, “it was just a one-time thing being up there.”

“Well, if you ever want to go up there again,” Dean said before taking a sip of his beer, “I could always be your backup.”

“Look,” Y/N shook her head with a slight huff. “I know all about you. Just because you cut your hair doesn’t mean that people aren’t going to recognize those big green eyes of yours,” she gave him a soft glare. “I’m not into rock stars, so do me a favor and just find someone else to play with, okay?”

Dean let out a small huff with a smirk, “well, screw you then, sweetheart.”

He took another sip of his beer and shook his head.

“You think you know me because of what the media says about things I didn’t even do? Then fine, you know me. But in reality, you’re just a scared little bitch who wants to stay behind the bar counter.” he grabbed his guitar as he got off the stool. “You can have them send my burger to the table in the corner over there,” he pointed towards the back of the saloon and slapped some money on the counter, “keep the change.”

He stalked off with his beer and guitar, chest full of anger as he looked up to see Benny had already gone on stage and was singing a song. The people were cheering and hollering for him.

Goin' 'round in circles

Pickin' out a cue

Travelin' with no memory

Ow, in my shoe

Down don't bother me.

If the music say

You can take a picture baby

Time won't care

And you're my second nature

A-coming over me

And though I might be shakin'

Down don't bother me no more.

Down don't bother me no more

Down don't bother me no more

Down don't bother me no more

As Benny finished his song, Dean rolled his eyes as everyone in the crowd cheered and whistled. Seemed like Benny has a crew of regulars that come to see him. He took a swig of his beer, smacking his lips and smiling at the waitress who brought his burger to him. Dean could feel Y/N staring, but he didn’t care. She had made up her mind, and he was done trying to prove to people that he wasn’t an asshole.

Finishing up his burger, he watched as Benny made his way over and rolled his eyes. He should have known that the seat he picked was closest to the kitchen.

“I’ze hope chu enjoyed dat performaze brotha,” Benny chuckled, “chu look like you could yuz da luck.”

“I don’t need luck,” Dean grumbled, “I know my skills, so why don’t you go back to yours and leave me and mine alone.”

Benny lifted his hands in surrender and let out a laugh, “didn’t mean ta hit a sore spot witch you. Enjoy da burga.”

Dean shook his head as Benny walked into the kitchen. His nerves were starting to get the best of him as he could feel his hands shake. Looking at his guitar propped up in the chair, his mind began to spin with thoughts.

‘What the fuck am I doing?’ his mind shouted. ‘People are going to hate this song. I don’t even have a tempo yet!’

He could feel his heart race. Nothing could get him to snap out of it. At least, not until Jo came up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, making him jerk.

“Hey,” she gave him a warm smile. “You got two performers before you. You should head backstage. I’ll show you the way.”

Dean nodded numbly as he followed her, not noticing an old friend watching him as he disappeared behind a black curtain.

Chapter 3

Tags in the Reblog

[come-on-shitty-boys]

//bruised and battered. sakusa kiyoomi//

Request: Soulmate AU where your soulmates scars appears on you and Omi somehow landed with the clumsiest girl in the world as his soulmate👉🏻👈🏻🥺

Warnings: mild swearing

Word Count: 1.3K

Notes:  okayokayokay i changed it up a bit?? So, think more like shared pain until you meet?? Also i’ll add the header later because it’s uhhhhh 6 am? And I should uhhhh sleep?

@nekxrizawa bby, because I won’t post the inbox message until I wake up in god knows how many hours and you said you wanted tagged ;-;

Sakusa must’ve looked like an old man, hobbling around school.  His entire body hurt as if he had tripped down the stairs.  He had been sitting in class, trying to mind his own damn business when the slow ache set in.  His jaw had clenched tight, trying his best to distract himself from the discomfort of the purple bruises that were surely forming all over his body. 

But, he was used to it by now.  His entire life he had been dealing with the constant random pains and bruises.  His body was littered with scars from all sorts of accidents, the most prominent being the one on his knee.  Everyone got hurt, he knew that.  Hell, even he got his own bruises after rigorous hours of practice, but this?  This was just ridiculous.  How the hell did he get stuck with the clumsiest person as a soulmate?  

It was like every other day something was wrong.  One time he was just trying to run laps with the rest of the team and his ankle randomly gave out, the throbbing pain from a new sprain of his soul mate’s ankle having him sitting down to take a quick breather.  There would be times when Sakusa would just be laying in his bed, trying to get some sleep when there was a jolt of pain passing through his nose, making him reach up to try to soothe the aching.  Did you fall or did you drop your phone on your face?  He didn’t know and it didn’t matter.  All he knew was that his nose hurt and now he was annoyed and couldn’t wait to finally figure out who you were so he could scold you for being so reckless with your body.  

But, even if it annoyed the shit out of him, there was part of him that found your complete and utter clumsiness to be almost . . . endearing.  It was so easy to picture himself tutting his tongue at you, calling you a dumbass, a cute pout on your face after stubbing your toe.  He didn’t even know who you were or what you looked like, but just like everyone else, there was a certain excitement within his chest about one day finding his soulmate and finally learning all of the stories behind the scars that you shared.

Sakusa didn’t know the full extent of that dull throbbing pain that had been building inside of his body since class until the end of the day.  He had been stripping his uniform to change into his set of practice clothes, the steady eyes of his teammates stopping him in his actions.  “What happened to your legs?”  Komori asks, tugging his own shirt over his torso.

It was then that Sakusa finally took a good look at himself.  There were deep bruises on his shins as if you had slammed them into something.  He caught himself shaking his head.  So, he was partially right, but instead of falling down the stairs, you fell up the stairs and had likely hit your shins on one of the steps.  But, as if those heavy purple marks weren’t enough, a third bruise was just barely visible under the leg of his shorts.  You were a walking disaster, that was for sure.  

“Soulmate,” was the only response that Sakusa could manage, bending down slowly to tie his sneakers, trying his best to ignore all of the aches and pains that you had caused him.

“Man, you really got it bad, huh?” Komori laughed, punching his cousin on the shoulder lightly.   “I couldn’t imagine getting hurt as much as you do.  Seems like every week you have a new bruise.”

The ace just shrugged, gingerly getting back up to his feet.  It was just his life.  It wasn’t anything new.  The bruises and the scratches and the scars were just a part of him, they were a part of you, a physical representation of a bond that couldn’t be broken.  There would be more scars and more pain as his life continued, but it was worth it to be with his other half.  If he had to endure a couple bruises and some random small injuries to find you, he would do it over and over again.  Bruises eventually go away and even scars can begin to fade, it’s all only temporary, but the love and adoration that he hopes to one day hold for you would be eternal, making everything worth it.  

Maybe it was cheesy.  Maybe this whole soulmate thing didn’t seem like his vibe, but what could he say?  There would be long nights of just staring at the ceiling as his mind raced and his heart pounded and he was flooded with thoughts of his soulmate.  What would they look like?  How would their laugh sound?  Could they sing?  Do they know how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie-Pop?  Did they eat pineapple on their pizza?  Those important questions always plagued his mind, leaving him tossing and turning for hours on end.  

He had dreamt of meeting you a million times.  Sakusa thought that it might be something as small as recognizing a scar or watching you bump your head and then feeling pain in the same area, you know, like something out of a movie.  Except that wasn’t it.  Honestly, he would’ve missed the opportunity if it hadn’t been for Komori.  The libero had nudged him as they walked to class one morning.  “Hey, they have a bruise on their leg just like you do!  That’s kind of a neat coincidence, don’t you think?”  Komori’s easy smile and warm laugh was lost to Sakusa.  It was like his whole world was moving in slow motion, eyes trained only on the girl walking the halls with a group of friends, blackish-blue bruises painted across her shins, a larger one on her thigh just barely visible beneath the school uniform.   There was no doubting it.  After 17 years, there you were, right there in his own school this entire time.

One of your friends noticed the wide look on his face, tapping your shoulder, and gesturing towards him.  That little smile that spread across his face as you turned to look at him for the first time was unlike anything anyone had ever seen, but he couldn’t help himself.  You were better than anything he had ever imagined.  That absolutely bewildered expression as you stared up at him, your mouth settling in a small, “Oh,” as you got a good look at him.  There was a small scar above his right eyebrow, matching the one that you had gotten after running into a table as a toddler.  A scar in the shape of an ‘L’ on left hand from the time that you cut yourself trying to open a can of peaches.  The more you looked, the more markings you found that matched the ones that covered your own body.  

“So, what’d you do?  Trip up the stairs?”  Sakusa teased, nodding his head towards the bruises on your legs.

“Hey!  You don’t know that!”

He felt the edges of his mouth twitch up into a teasing smirk.  “So, you did trip up the stairs.”  And Sakusa just tutted his tongue at you as he shook his head, a small pout taking over your already cute features, just like he had always imagined.  “Dumbass.”

[brutal-nemesis]

E&T-Caring For Your Tiny Test Subject

Welp. (⓿ ◡ ⓿) I made more. Maybe real content will resume soon, but until then...tiny Erebus

←Previous - Masterlist

Ingredients: noncon partial stripping/nudity, noncon touching (unsexy)

“You know,” Neteri mused as she turned Erebus over in her hand, “you’re kind of filthy from your little adventure. Maybe I should-”

“No-”

“Yeah.” She tightened her grip as Erebus squirmed, looking down at him with a devilish grin. “Let’s get you cleaned up, lil guy.”

“I-I can do that myself Neteri you don’t need to-”

“I do need to because it will be so absolutely adorable.”

“That’s the dumbes-” Erebus’s protest was silenced as she placed one of her fingers over his mouth. He glared at her, debating biting her for a moment. She’d only have herself to blame if he drew blood...still, the last thing he needed was for his situation to get any worse. As per usual, Neteri was going to get what Neteri wanted and he’d just have to suffer through it. Even so, this...this was not going to be easy. Already, an awful feeling was stirring in his gut at imagining her…bathing him. He shuddered, trying to just put it out of his mind for now.

Once they got back to her office, Neteri plopped him back into the jar and screwed on the lid before taking him back to his cell. She set the jar on the desk and crouched down to his level. “I’m going to go get everything I need, and then I’ll be back, so you just chill until then, okay?” Erebus just quietly nodded from where he was seated with his arms wrapped around his folded legs. He tried to take deep breaths once he was alone, trying not to let himself get freaked out before it even started.

He would be fine. Neteri was always gentle with him as long as he was cooperative, so he wasn’t too worried about this experience hurting. He was far more worried about how much she was going to be touching him, about how exposed he was going to be, about how helpless he was going to feel. Not that he wasn’t already helpless right now, stuck inside a glass jar, but there was a whole new level of powerlessness in being held tightly in her hand. When he’d been his real size, he could always take comfort in his significant height advantage over her, the vague idea that he could easily overpower her if he tried. But now, she could do whatever she wanted with him with just her bare hands, and there was nothing he could do to fight back.

By the time she had returned with a relatively shallow bowl and a large cup, he had steeled himself for what was about to occur. Still, when she reached her hand in the jar, he pressed himself back against the glass, because he didn’t want this. “You’ll be alright little guy, the water’s nice and warm for you.”

“T-that’s not what I-hey! I can take that off mysel-”

“I’m sure you can,” Neteri said as she pulled his shirt off over his head, his struggles doing absolutely nothing to slow her down. “But this is more fun.”

“Not for me.”

“Who owns who here, Erebus? Now stop wiggling or I might take off more than your pants, and neither of us want that.” Erebus grumbled but stopped trying to resist, feeling his face flush at her bare hands against his skin. She poured some of the water from the cup into the dish before gently setting him down in it. He felt himself relax despite everything; the water did feel good and it’d been so long since he’d had a bath. Probably not since...since he’d lost everything. Maybe this would be alright…

Yeah, it felt sort of nice as she poured the warm water over his head with a thimble and started to wash his hair with two of her fingertips. He leaned into her touch just a bit-no no no wait this was Neteri she’d shrunk him and this was humiliating he wasn’t supposed to enjoy it, and even if he did, there was no way he’d let her catch on to it. He put on his best glare and hugged his knees close to his chest. Neteri laughed. “You always look so cute when you’re angry, but now that you're tiny it’s even cuter! You’re just perfect like this, huh?” She tilted his chin up, and he tried to turn away, but she forced him back. “Keep your head tilted back, I’m going to rinse your hair and I don’t want it to get in your eyes.”

“Fine.” She was always so unfairly tender with him, and part of him wished she would be rougher, that she would stop making it so hard to hate this. Even when she pried his arms away from his legs and forced him to uncurl so she could wash the rest of him, she was never anything but gentle. Fortunately (or maybe unfortunately? He wasn’t sure), the feeling of her fingers scrubbing his body ended up being more uncomfortable and invasive than nice, and it was easier for him to hate it. 

And he...he hated it, really hated it, so much so that he didn’t know how much more he could take, because he just wanted her hands off of him, not all over his bare skin, over all of his scars, at the same time. Erebus tried to squirm away, but there was firmness behind Neteri’s gentle grip, rendering his attempts futile. He was just as helpless as he had feared being, and he could hardly bear it. She was almost done, she had to be, she’d gotten just about everywhere and he wasn’t sure if his face could get any redder, if the awful feeling in his stomach could get any worse.

He fought back an audible sigh of relief as she started rinsing him off, glad that this experience was almost over. Once she was done, Neteri slid her thumb under his chin, tilting it up. “There, you’re all clean now.” She stared at him a moment more, stifling a laugh. “You’re all embarrassed it’s so adorable. I do wish I could keep you like this.”

“You’d better not-”

“No, no, I can’t, that would use up far too much of my magic power, shrinking you every day. And doing procedures on your tiny little body would be way more difficult and not worth it at all. But, a girl can dream,” she sighed. He rolled his eyes, relishing the fact that she’d have no idea that he did it. She released him, looking around on the desk. “I forgot to get a towel for ya; let me go grab one from your bathroom.” 

Erebus eyed the edge of the bowl as soon as she turned around. The sides weren’t that steep, and he could probably climb them, which would earn him a little moment of freedom, not stuck inside anything or held back by her giant hands. He stood and sloshed towards the edge, deciding it would be best to just try to crawl up the sloped sides. He stepped out of the soapy water, feeling confident enough in his first step that he immediately tried to take another, trusting all of his weight to his foot on the sloped side of the bowl.

A mistake he soon paid for. 

Still coated in soapy residue, his foot slipped on the smooth surface of the bowl, and his forehead immediately slammed into the ceramic. He managed to catch himself before his face slid into the water, and he just stayed on his hands and knees for a moment, staring at his reflection in the water as his head throbbed. Of course he couldn’t even escape from a bowl. Of course. Tears of frustration welled up in his eyes, but he quickly wiped them away as Neteri returned.

“What was that sound, Erebus? You okay?” she asked as she picked him up, examining him.

“It was nothing. I’m fine.” He crossed his arms, hoping she’d just drop it.

But this was Neteri, who rarely dropped it, and seemed to have a sixth sense for this sort of thing. “I dunno bud, you have a lil red spot on your forehead. Did you-” a mischievous grin spread across her face, “did you try to climb out and hit your head?”

“I-so what if I did? It doesn’t matter.” He looked away as she laughed, his face once again burning an unfair amount.

“It does matter ‘cause that is the cutest thing, oh you poor little dear.” She ruffled his hair with one of her fingertips before picking up the cup of clean water. “Alright, close your eyes while I rinse you off one last time.” When she was done, she set him down on the towel she had brought over and got to work drying him off. He let her, just wanting this whole thing to be over with. The towel felt so much rougher now that he was small...that was another thing he missed about home, how soft the towels always were. His sheets and pillows had always been so comfortable, too...he missed his father and everyone, of course, but sometimes he couldn’t help but think about all of the little things. 

Once he was dry, Neteri dropped him back in the jar before throwing a set of small, clean clothes on top of him. “Here, I shrunk those for you, and I think I was able to do it so they’ll get big when you do like your other clothes shrunk with you the first time. Just let me know when you’re done.” She held out her hands to cover the side of the jar facing her, eyes squeezed shut for good measure. 

“You’re good, Neteri,” Erebus called once he’d gotten changed. “Are you going to leave me alone now?”

“Absolutely I will not.” She picked up the jar, holding him at her eye level. “You are at your most cutest ever in the world and I want to be here for every second of it.” Her stomach growled. “Also I have just realized that I forgot about food and neither of us have eaten since this morning and it is definitely past lunchtime so I am going to go get us some food.” She grinned as she set the jar down. “I can give you tiny food oh I’m so excited!” She dashed out the door, calling “I’ll be right back!”

Erebus couldn’t say he wasn’t happy to get something to eat, but he could do without the way Neteri watched him the entire time, occasionally gasping at stupid things like him ripping off part of the chunk of bread she’d given him. She’d shrunk most of his food, so he ate it like normal, but for some reason she tore off a piece of her normal sized flatbread and gave it to him, and there was no way he was just going to bite into something so big. He’d lost a lot of his dignity over these past few months, but he still wasn’t a savage. Besides, she was making him drink out of a thimble, which was demeaning enough. 

She put him back in the jar while she took care of their plates and cleaned up from bathing him. He laid on his back and stared at the ceiling, wondering what stupid thing she had planned next. It would be foolish to assume she wasn’t going to spend the rest of the day bothering him and teasing him and holding him in her hands, since she’d made it very clear how much she was enjoying this. Nothing would be worse than the bath, though. He hoped. 

Once she returned, Neteri picked him up from inside the jar and just stared at him intently. Erebus narrowed his eyes. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m just trying to decide what to do with you next.”

“You could put me down.”

“Or I could hold you in my hand forever.”

“No.”

“I think I will do that.” She sat down on his bed and laid back, pressing Erebus against her chest, her hand on his back pinning him down on his stomach. His wiggling was, as always, completely useless. He sighed, trying to make himself comfortable and pretending he was just lying on a bed or something. Neteri rubbed her thumb soothingly up and down his back, and soon enough he...found himself...getting tired...

~~~

Neteri resisted the urge to jump up in delight as she watched little Erebus fall asleep on her chest. She’d just wanted to lay down and hold his tiny body for a few minutes, but she’d expected him to struggle longer or glare at her the whole time, not take a nap. Not that it was unwelcome, not at all, he was so precious like this, and there was no way she’d move until he woke up. She continued stroking his back, smiling down at her little test subject. 

She was going to enjoy every moment she had left while he was small.

Tags: @as-a-matter-of-whump @yet-another-heathen @galaxywhump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @whumpasaurus101 

[aetheternity]

Opposite sides attract (Eren x Reader)

I was thinking this could take place around season 3 but with older Eren. Technically it would make more sense from a manga standpoint than the anime. This is Nsfw so 18+ only.

Synopsis: Eren meets a beautiful girl while being held hostage. He's waiting for death or his teammates but all he can think about is you.

"You can't be fucking serious." Eren watched as the two men in front of him bickered unable to speak thanks to the device in his mouth.

"You were leaving anyway right? And I've got business with Rod Reiss. This chick is new but she's feisty, trust me she won't let Eren out of her sight."

"Whatever!" The bigger man threw his hands up in defeat. "If anything happens it's on you, Kenny."

"It's just one night!" Kenny remarked throwing his arms up with a dramatic huff, "It'll be fine."

The husky man groaned, "Come on Flegel." The two of them quickly exited and Kenny placed a hand on Y/N's shoulder.

"Hey, Historia's in the back. But everyone's more worried about titan boy here. So don't mess this up."

"Sure." You replied and with that Kenny was also leaving.

You immediately felt Eren's large green eyes on you. His gaze falling slowly over your facial features, then down your neck, over your chest and hips where they stayed for a little too long-

"If you've got something to say you should say it." You smirked, and you watched irritation work its way onto his features.

He huffed, rolling his eyes and you smiled a little feeling his green pupils stay on you. His head resting against the back of his chair.

"I guess not." You remarked, smirking at the way he grunted over the device between his teeth.

He shifted a bit shoulders splaying as he took a deep breath. It was hard not to stare, even through his shirt you could see the tensing of his abs. His biceps flexing against the remarkably thin fabric. And-

Shit..

He was trying to smile that was for sure. His green eyes sparkling where they held onto you.

"Shut up." You mumbled

He let out a breathy chuckle before repositioning himself in the chair. You both fell quiet for what was probably two minutes until you felt his gaze boring holes into you again. You grunted and moved to pull the biter from his mouth.

"I'm not here for your entertainment, you know." You huffed, staring him down.

"No, but you're the first person to watch over me who isn't an old man."

You couldn't help the way your lips curled up into a smile. You felt his eyes still staring you down, somehow much more intense than before. Your peripheral vision catching the slick movement of his pink tongue casting over just as pink lips.

"Can I ask what your name is?" He asked, you couldn't tell when you looked over at him what he might be thinking.

You scoffed, gaze drifting. "You didn't hear it when I came in? I guess titan powers don't include good hearing."

Surprisingly enough he smirked looking at you from the corners of his eyes. "Nope, I just get bigger."

Your jaw almost hit the floor but you refrained from letting it show on your face. This had been the first job Kenny had let you go on since you joined his gang. You definitely couldn't mess it up.

"Hey." Eren said, tilting his head forward. "Why are you with Kenny?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you don't look like the kind of girl that should be working against the law. Aren't you worried the military police are going to come for you?"

You rolled your eyes stepping forward so that you were in front of his chair. In one swift motion you kicked it over allowing it to fall flat against the floor with a heavy thud. Eren grunted as he slammed against cold tile.

"Oh yeah, And why would you care? You don't even know me." You said, your breath was fanning his face and he blinked up at you, eyebrows furrowed.

"I don't have to know you to know you're working with horrible people who don't care about you."

You yanked his chair back up, settling into his lap. Delicate thumb coming up to inch over soft pink lips, edging them open slightly. "Does that concern you titan boy?"

When your lips pressed against his it was to test the waters. Hands sliding up to his ears, grazing the soft hairs on his face. Coming in close again you sealed your lips once more.

"What're you trying to do?" Eren asked his voice low like his words were a secret.

You couldn't help the soft snicker that fell from your lips right before you kissed him again. You were surprised by how firm he was right off the bat, pressing back like he'd been waiting to do this all day.

You pulled away again, looking into his slightly hazed over green eyes. "I was just thinking a girl this pretty doesn't have to do some guys dirty work." He said

You caught him off guard this time. Teeth sinking into his bottom lip, tugging it back with you then letting it go bringing your mouth flush against his. One of your hands traveled down his neck to his chest twisting his shirt in your fingers roughly yanking him forward.

He broke away face barely inches from yours. "Hnn so rough.." he practically growled

You felt his thighs spread and you pulled him back in with a smirk. His breath caught, air flushing over your mouth when you grounded your hips into his lap. The print of his cock making your thighs clench around his waist.

"Hmm, someone's easily turned on." You giggled, pulling him as close as you could with both hands tangled in his hair.

"Yeah, the girl that crawled into her captives lap." He shot back

You didn't expect his tongue but when it prodded against your lips, you opened up. Fuck his tongue.. it sent shivers down your spine as he carefully picked you apart. He wrapped his tongue around yours with ease coaxing a moan from your throat.

You felt yourself slowly submitting to Eren's playful bites against your tongue. Gasping when he left a couple against your lips and the sides of your mouth.

"Take the cuffs off." Eren grunted in between breaths that tickled your cheeks.

"I'm not supposed to."

His groan made your stomach ache. He pressed back into you and you held him tightly in place. Hands running up his back.

"Please." He begged "I wanna take your shirt off."

"So bold." You whispered against his lips. In an instant you had scooted back, shrugging off your plain black tee.

His hum of acknowledgment met with some soft grinding against his cock. You couldn't help but claw at his shirt over the breathy hums and grunts he let slip.

He leaned in closer to your ear, " I wanna touch them."

You met his lips with a chaste kiss which he chased when you pulled back. "Good things come to those who wait." You warned

You inched your fingers under the hem of his shirt wanting to tease him but also being partially impatient yourself. Surprisingly the article of clothing slipped over Eren's head easily, tangling itself in the cuffs.

Eren bucked up into you and you laughed slightly, now you actually did tease a little. Your fingers inching the straps of your bra off your shoulders before unclasping the thing sliding it the rest of the way off and chucking it off to the side.

You didn't miss the way Eren groaned at your chest now completely bare in front of him. He leaned in latching his mouth to your collarbone layering it with bites and soft kisses. You were much quicker with his pants then you had been with his shirt, unbuttoning and unzipping till you were touching the head of his hard cock.

He let out a moan that caught in his throat as your hand flicked over warm, hard flesh. "You have a really nice dick." You whispered to him. His moans were flooding your ear and you felt yourself tremble.

"If you like.. it so.... much why don't you.. put your mouth on it?" Your hand froze and he leaned back to look at you. "I didn't.." he paused in his speech and you quickly took in his dazed expression as you flop to the floor. Your hands tugginghis pants down as much as possible.

"You won't be needing these anymore." It was way more difficult then you'd realized to slip Eren's pants off but you managed. Had him plopping back down in his seat with his bare cock flush in front of your face.

He took a deep breath opening your throat to swallow his length. Eren gasped his eyes rolling to the back of his head and then shut tight. The breathless pants falling off his lips bouncing off the chipped paint on the walls.

Maybe you should've taken it easier on him. You thought with a smile to yourself.

His hips bucked up into your mouth but you quickly held him down. He was stretching your mouth in a way you kind of enjoyed. Exaggerating the slurping noises as you kept your place slow and relaxed.

"Hnngh please.." Eren begged

You looked up at him. His green eyes were open again, watery but watching every move you made.

"Please what?"

"The fucking cuffs." He grunted, eyebrows etched together.

You reached for the base of his cock flicking your wrist faster a little faster. "Why?" You lapped at his tip. "You wanna grip my hair?"

"Badly." He gasped

"Wanna use my throat?"

"Yessss." His eyes were dangerous in the currently dim lights.

"Wanna slap me with your cock?"

"And cum on your face." He finished

You thought for a second before returning to sucking his cock. His body shook and you watched his expression tense up again.

A copious amount of curses fell of his lips and he gasped, cock twitching on your tongue. It was hard not to smile especially when Eren's jaw dropped open to an almost choked grunt.

You decided to stop playing with him at least a little bit. Speeding up your mouth, cheeks hollowing around him. If all of it wasn't enough already his abs contracting and expanding in front of you were doing way too many bad things to your pussy.

His eyes were completely hazy at this point and so intense. He let out a deep sigh, head lolling as he stared down at you with flushed cheeks.

"I'm almost there.."

Your pause was sudden and you practically ripped your remaining clothes tossing them off. You reached out for Eren's chest, thumbs inching over hard skin then up to his shoulders and down his arms. He leaned into you suddenly capturing your lips with unhinged kisses that quickly had you breathless.

Without any further hesitation you lifted yourself up pressing the tip of Eren's cock against your entrance. His breath came out hot against your face and you both let out a deep sigh as you slowly bottomed out.

Your mouth wasn't the only thing he'd managed to stretch and when you dug your nails into his back he kissed your chin. "Does it hurt, Y/N?"

You chuckled a little breathless. "Oh, so you do remember my name."

"How could I forget the name I'm gonna be groaning tonight?"

You carefully brought your fingers down to your clit indulging in the way his cock brushed over your g-spot. You felt Eren's thighs spread and your stomach curled in appreciation when he began to meet your thrusts.

"Shit Eren.."

His bottom lip tucked itself under his teeth and you brought one of your hands up to coax aside the hairs against his forehead. You dropped your hips a little faster sucking in a breath at the sensation coursing through your hips.

His name fell off your lips and his shoulders tensed as you used them for leverage. Eren groaned his breath catching and you pulled him closer swallowing every sound from his lips.

Sweat clouded your forehead, sticking to the little strands of hair on your head. Toes curled and clenched in your black boots. And you bit your tongue trying to control the moans spilling off your lips as they grew in volume.

You felt your thighs quiver and your head fell back. The sounds of yours and Eren's skin slapping along with the mixed sounds of both of your pleasure filling the room.

"Ugghh.. don't squeeze.." Eren begged, mouth hung open, eyes darkened over.

You would've laughed if you weren't close to cumming and you could tell Eren was right there with you.

It shocked you how fast Eren managed to capture your lips again. "I'm soo close.." He mumbled against your kiss swollen lips. "Soo cloosee.. f-fu- I'm cumming.."

You sped up Eren's hips working themselves a little faster. It was hard to hide the loud gasp that slipped from your throat when he came. His eyes squeezing shut, long moan flooding from his lips as he leaned in emptying inside you.

"Mm I'm almost there too.."

"Finish, come on.." He whispered, surprisingly still completely there after his orgasm.

The finger on your clit circled a little faster and you rocked your hips a little more till you shook in his lap. You squealed teeth nearly biting into his shoulder as your hips momentarily twitched. You rode out your orgasm, head back and eyes closed.

Eren groaned, your nails digging into his back. "Ohh fuck Eren.." You sighed, working to catch your breath.

You held onto him for a couple seconds completely still as you caught your breath. Not sure what you were expecting to see when you looked up at Eren again but his eyes were filled with a sort of hunger. And the next thing you knew your back was hitting the floor and he was on top of you.

"I'm starting to think you're not taking the cuffs off cause you're nervous." Eren's hot breath fanned your face. "Don't worry though."

When he leaned in you felt your pulse quicken. Your hands creeping up his back to his hair digging into his scalp. He groaned against your lips, the tip of his cock nudging your entrance. You reached down with a breathless sigh but he yanked himself back before you could touch him.

He allowed himself one more kiss then he was inching backwards, his knees heavy on the cold floor. "I'll be gentle."

The small flick of his tongue against your sex was nervous almost and sweet. Forcing you to beg your hips to stay still. He moved in a little closer, tongue flat over your lips, hole and clit. You hand flashed forward gripping his hair almost too tightly.

The floor was cold but you barely noticed. Your whole focus turning to the heat resurfacing in your stomach. Eren's name fell from your lips over and over as his tongue circled and massaged the bundle of nerves between your lower lips.

The simultaneously heat and cold making your thighs shake uncontrollably. You could feel every curve of his lips, every breath and every noise that exited his throat it all vibrated off your sensitive core.

The texture of his tongue against yours was nothing compared to the fire he was starting between your legs. He pressed forward, lips wrapping around your clit before working his way back down to your hole.

The mix of your juices and his cum all being lapped up, wetting his soft pink lips. You were barely holding your voice back now but you couldn't even pretend you cared when he was roughly pressing his tongue in and out of your still sensitive hole.

You begged. For what you didn't know but you felt that familiar coil unlatching. That same intensity from earlier back with a vengeance. Your pleasure falling off your lips from your hoarse throat.

You felt Eren's smirk and his tongue flicked your oversensitive clit till you were sure you were red in the face. Back arched off the floor followed by a scream you couldn't begin to muffle. When you came it sprayed Eren's face and the floor but you were too busy trying to catch your breath to really take it in.

That is until Eren sat up. His face dripping with your cum. Tongue darting over it with a smirk that made your head spin. With shakey legs you stood quickly grabbing the key that had been lodged in your back pocket.

"You'd better not run from me." You whispered. You made quick work of the cuffs as they were soon clattering to the ground.

Eren's hands came down roughly on your ribs. He shoved his cock in so fast you could barely gasp. "Run from your tight pussy? How stupid do I look to you?"

He didn't hesitate to pull his dick out to its tip quickly ramming it back inside. His hands fastened under both your knees pressing them into the ground as he continued assaulting your pussy.

You could already feel your stomach tensing, his breath hot in your ear. Toes curling at your name rolling off his tongue over and over again almost unheard over your gasps and the slick sound of your skin slapping together.

The way he was sucking at the spot behind your ears and on your neck was definitely going to be unexplainable but it was impossible to think right now. Your nails finding purchase against the back of his neck clawing over smooth skin.

One of his hands came up from your surely bruised thigh to harshly grab at your breast. The action forcing a loud moan from your throat. Giving it a little smack he slammed into your pussy halting for a second before yanking you closer by both legs.

"Where.. do you want my.. cum?" The question threw you and you felt yourself clench around him.

"H-huh.."

You could swear you heard him snicker. His tongue lashed over your eardrum and you nearly flinched. "Tell me.. where you want.... my cum." He continued his voice husky.

You let out a soft cry, head leaning back as his tip rammed your spot full force. His thumb rough where it stroked your clit. You heard him grunt, without looking you knew his eyes were shut tight. His name fell off your lips in a long moan.

He was gripping you so tight that his finger prints were probably etched into your skin.

"M-my ch-chest.." You cried, head completely empty. "Pl-ease.."

Your voice was almost completely lost but Eren was pulling out. His dick being pumped quickly and in only a few seconds ropes of white cum were splattering over your chest. The last of Eren's moans dissolving away into heavy huffs.

Soon enough he was bringing you to another orgasm as his cum slid against your clenching stomach. You head falling back and your hands fisting around nothing as you came.

He let go of your body and you dipped your finger into a bit of his dripping cum bringing it to your mouth as he watched. The way he sucked in his breath was cute and you teasingly wiggled your hips.

"I wanted to see how it tasted." You remarked innocently.

He let out a breathless chuckle indulging you in one quick peck before looking around at the mess you two had made.

"Good luck explaining this, and those tomorrow." He said, gesturing to the already forming red marks on your skin and the smashed chair leg.

"That will be easy." You smiled deviously

"How so?"

"I have my ways."

[hqbbg]

memorable.

pairing: kageyama x fem!reader

summary: you’re a virgin and kageyama’s about to change that

genre: smut

word count: 2.7K

warnings: 18+, language, aged up characters, fingering, loss of innocence, no plot tbh (but kinda friends to lovers?), awkward moments just for fun, slight hair pulling kink

author’s note: so this was supposed to be a response to a request but I'm dumb with fat thumbs and accidentally clicked the delete button on the post after I posted it (but thankfully I still had the story saved on my laptop uwu) but n e ways 👁👄👁 to the anon that requested this, I hope this finds you well and ALSO I HIT 500 FOLLOWERS!! thank you to everyone and I might have an event or something to celebrate idk yet 🥺🤧 ok sorry this a/n was long, hope you guys enjoy!! 💖

“Are you okay?”

You do your best to form coherent words, but you can only whimper as you nod your head, gripping Kageyama’s shirt in your fists as he slowly pumps two long fingers in and out of you while your shorts and underwear are abandoned somewhere on his living room floor.

It had started out as an innocent conversation as the two of you sat on his couch which had somehow shifted to the topic of sex. Kageyama was well aware that you were inexperienced, and you trusted him as one of your closest friends to not judge you for a lot of the different questions you had. Apparently being a pro volleyball player was a big plus in impressing the ladies no matter how awkward or intimidating you were, proven by Kageyama’s track record.

Perhaps you had overstepped a boundary when you’d asked him about his experience in fingering, but Kageyama certainly didn’t seem to mind and it was most definitely his idea to show instead of telling you just how good he was at it, even if he was super awkward in proposing the idea.

“Kageyama,” you surprise yourself at the sound of your voice that’s become hardly recognizable with how lustful it sounds. “Faster.”

He nods his head as he begins to thrust his fingers in and out of your sopping wet heat at a quicker pace. His fingers reach much further than your own ever could, and you feel almost lightheaded at the sensation.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he practically groans as he leans towards you. You throw your head back against the couch and soon feel his lips on your exposed throat, sucking and nipping gently at the skin. You arch your back as you feel his fingers brush a spot deep inside you that you’ve never been able to reach yourself and can’t help but cry out in pleasure. Kageyama is quick to get the hint and angles his fingers to repeatedly hit that spot, practically shooting you straight towards your first orgasm caused by another person.

“F-Fuck, Kageyama,” you moan as your toes curl. “I-I think I’m going to—”

Your statement is cut short as you feel Kageyama firmly press his lips against yours, swallowing your moans. You loosen your grip on his shirt and move one hand to the back of his head, weaving your fingers through his hair. He hums against your lips as you begin to tug on his locks, tightening your grip when you feel his thumb press against your clit, rubbing it in harsh circles. You gasp and feel his tongue slip inside your mouth as your body begins to tremble and before you know it, your walls are clamping down on his fingers and you feel your orgasm consume your senses.

“Are you okay?” Kageyama’s voice manages to reel you back down from your high as he pulls away and you look at him with half-lidded eyes, hearing a dull ringing in your ears.

“Never better,” you admit with a shy smile. He returns the smile and you notice that his cheeks have tinted a light shade of pink.

He slowly removes his fingers and you bite your lip to hold back the soft whimper threatening to slip out from the sensitivity. You watch as he brings his fingers to his lips and feel yourself blushing deeply at how erotic he looks, sucking and licking his fingers clean.

“You taste pretty good,” he says casually and you’re sure you look almost feverish from the embarrassment.

He leans forward again and kisses you, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue and momentarily clearing your thoughts of anything but him. Your hands begin to wander down his chest to his waist and move towards the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Hey, we don’t have to go further tonight,” he says softly as he pulls away.

“I want to,” you say as you lock eyes with him. The dark blue tint of his eyes practically blends in with the lustful expanse of his blown-out pupils and you hate the idea of leaving him in this state without release.

“Are you sure?”

Your fingers graze over the growing hardness between his legs and you bite your lip as you nod, noting the increased pacing of his breathing. You know your friendship will change after this—whether it’s for better or for worse—but you’re willing to take that risk.

“I’m bound to lose my virginity eventually,” you say, your eyes flitting back up to look at him. “Plus, we’ve made it this far, so just make my first time memorable.”

“I think I can manage that,” he replies as he dips his head to kiss you again.

His hands take more liberty now as he uses one hand to cup your clothed breast, giving it a firm squeeze to elicit a moan from you. He slips his tongue inside your mouth and you feel him guide and maneuver your body so you’re laying down across the couch. He adjusts your positions, so you aren’t squeezed to one side as he hovers over you and slips his hand under your shirt, ghosting over the bare skin of your torso.

His lips move down your jaw and you sigh with content as he licks and kisses the skin behind your ear. Your own hands busy themselves with his shirt and he pulls his lips away for a moment to sit upright and lift his shirt up and over his head, discarding it on the floor. You have a moment to admire the definition of his muscles, the way they ripple with his movements. He leans back down to kiss your neck and collarbone, and your fingers trace the existing lines on his abdomen before arriving at his waistband.

Before you can do anything, Kageyama tugs on your shirt and you prop yourself up slightly to get rid of it. Upon doing so, Kageyama’s fingers are quick to unhook your bra as well and free your breasts, leaving you completely naked before him. He remains sitting upright and licks his lips as his eyes take their time memorizing every dip and curve of your body. You raise your arms to cover yourself from embarrassment and it seems to snap Kageyama out of his daze as he grabs your wrists and gently pries them away from your body.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to stare,” he says softly as he leans back over you. “You’re beautiful.”

Just when you think it’s impossible, your face burns hotter and you can barely mutter a response as he captures your lips with his again. His hands knead your breasts, his fingers occasionally pinching and rolling your nipples to hear soft moans from you. Your hands find their way back to his pants and you begin to tug them down. Kageyama removes one hand to help you and pulls his lips away, muttering curses under his breath when his sweats prove to be troublesome as they refuse to simply slip off.

You can’t help but giggle softly at his visible frustration and watch as he eventually yanks them down, sliding them off and kicking them aside. The crease that had managed to form between his brows softens when he turns his attention back to you and instantly forgets what he was even upset about to begin with—the way your lips are tugged into a smile along with your pink-dusted cheeks stirs something in Kageyama beyond his current lust.

“What are you looking at me like that for?” You ask, pulling him out of his thoughts. He can see how shy and nervous you are.

“I just never thought this day would come,” he replies honestly. Before you can question anything further, he slips his boxers down, freeing his erect cock.

You bite your lip as you look at it, head empty of every thought that does not revolve around the naked man before you. This is your first time seeing a dick in person and to be quite honest, you’re intimidated by it; how’s it even supposed to fit?

“We’ll take it slow,” says Kageyama, as if he was reading your thoughts. Your eyes meet his and you nod, only partially comforted by the softness of his voice; your mind is still trying to wrap around how you’re supposed to wrap around him.

Kageyama kisses your neck and you sigh softly as he uses his hands to relax some of the tension you hadn’t even realized you had built up in such a short amount of time. You feel his fingers prodding back at your entrance before his index finger drags up your slit.

You feel him spread your wetness around a little before inserting two fingers again for the second time this evening and you moan as he begins to spread them within you in a scissoring motion. Your hands are on his shoulder and in his hair as he continues to suck on a sensitive spot on your neck, nibbling every so often. He continues to stretch you out for a little longer until you’re writhing and whimpering under him, begging for something more. He pulls his fingers out and you watch as he sits up a little to position himself. He coats his length with a mixture of your juices on his fingers along with the precum that’s been beading at the tip of his cock and you can’t deny that he looks undeniably attractive doing so.

He positions himself at your entrance, prodding your lower lips open with the head before a thought seems to hit him and he pauses, pulling away. You look at him with confusion and he looks back at you with sheepish realization.

“Let me go grab a condom.”

You’d been so caught up in the moment that you’d also forgotten to implement protection and can only sit and watch as he hurriedly rushes into his room. You sit up and wait patiently as you hear him opening a couple drawers and slamming them, muttering incoherent words to himself before rushing back out to you, his fingers fiddling with a recognizable square wrapper. He tears it open and grabs the rubber ring as he finally reaches his way back to you.

“Sorry, I couldn’t find where I’d placed my condoms,” he mutters as he rolls the condom onto himself.

“It’s fine,” you shake your head with a small smile. “Better late than never to remember, right?”

“Good point,” he smirks back and climbs on top of you again. He gives you a chaste kiss before gripping onto his cock again and you spread your legs for him as he repositions himself. You bite your lip in anticipation as he rubs the head of his cock against your pussy again, coating the condom with your dripping slick.

You watch and feel the anticipation building as he begins to push through and your hands scramble to grip onto anything tangible, one hand settling on the back of the couch and the other cupping over your mouth to conceal the pained whimpers escaping your lips.

“Are you okay?” Kageyama asks gently as he pauses his movements momentarily. You feel the painful stretch and glance down to see that he’s barely halfway in before inhaling deeply and nodding. “If you need me to slow down or stop, let me know, okay?”

You nod and squeeze your eyes shut as he begins to push his way in again, slowly easing in.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he hisses as he leans over you, using one arm to support himself by your head. He dips his head to nuzzle his face into your neck, whispering and muttering sweet encouragements in your ear.

After what feels like an eternity of being stretched and filled, he finally bottoms out and remains still to allow you to adjust to him accordingly.

“Are you okay?” he asks once again, lifting his head to look at your face. Your eyes are squeezed shut with tears lining your lashes and he brushes some hair out of your face as you shift your body slightly to feel more comfortable, though you can’t imagine how right now.

Kageyama’s patient as he continues to mutter sweet nothings in your ear until you’re finally ready for him to move.

“I’ll go slow, okay?”

“Okay,” you manage to reply. He begins to slowly pull out and eventually stops right before his entire length slips out of you and pushes all the way back in. You can’t help but cry out as he repeats the motions slowly, pausing every so often to ensure that you’re doing okay.

So… this is sex, huh?

“Kageyama,” you say when you begin to finally feel the pain beginning to dull. “F-faster.”

You can practically see the enthusiasm on his face as he nods, his hands moving to your hips as he begins to thrust his hips quicker. You continue to moan and arch your back as Kageyama sits up, gripping your hips to stabilize you as he continues to snap his hips against yours.

He hooks his arms under your thighs and pulls you closer to him to hit even deeper than before, causing you to practically see stars as you become undone under him, moaning and chanting his name. The sound of skin slapping skin echoes throughout his apartment and you prop yourself up with your elbow, using your free hand to reach out to Kageyama and pull him down to kiss you. He swallows your moans as he grunts against your lips, feeling you fist his hair in your hand.

“Fuck, I won’t last much longer if you keep doing that,” he practically growls, and you can feel your walls tighten around him, the bubble of pleasure in the pit of your stomach growing. “or if you keep tightening around me—fuck, you’re so tight, baby.”

“I-I think I’m close,” you whimper as you push yourself up further so you’re nearly sitting upright. Kageyama rests his forehead against yours, panting as he locks eyes with you.

“Me too,” he says as he does his best to maintain his rhythm. He releases one of your legs and moves his arm forward to press his thumb against your clit, rubbing it in circles. Your back arches and an ecstatic moan of pleasure rips through you as you’re hurled to your second orgasm.

“Tobio, I’m cumming!” You cry out as you feel your walls tightening around him, your nails digging little crescents into the skin of his back and shoulders. He hisses as he continues his ministrations, allowing you to reach your climax first.

Your eyes practically roll to the back of your head as you throw your head back, moaning his name as the bubble in your stomach bursts and white flashes before your eyes, your whole body trembling. Kageyama is close behind as he hisses, his movements growing increasingly sloppier until he also finally begins to release his load whilst being inside of you.

Your body feels spent as he slows down, thrusting his hips a few more times before stilling completely. The room is soon filled with the simple sounds of both of your heavy breathing.

“Are you okay?” Kageyama asks again once he’s recovered from his climax. He gently brushes some hair away from your face and you see how soft he is now in comparison to mere moments ago.

“Yeah, I think I’m more than okay,” you say with a bashful giggle.

“Good,” he replies with a soft smile and leans forward to kiss you. Your hands move up and cup his face, holding him close to you for a few more moments before he pulls away.

“I’m going to pull out, okay?”

You nod and wince as he pulls out, unbelievably sensitive. You’re also now more aware of the growing soreness between your legs and find it hard to close your legs.

“Let’s get cleaned up,” says Kageyama as he helps you move so you’re sitting upright on the edge of the couch.

Kageyama is the first to get up and begins to make his way towards his room before stopping and turning to look at you.

“So, was your first time memorable?”

“Definitely,” you reply with a nod. The smirk you see on his face is one you only see after he wins his volleyball games and another thought crosses your mind. “What if I said it wasn’t?”

“Then maybe I can try again until I get it right.”