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xo2dee · 3 days ago

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NOW LOADING. .

DMC MASTERLIST

USTULATION

PAIRING: Vergil x (Fem)Reader WARNINGS: MDNI/18+ ONLY. Vaginal sex, oral sex, cunnilingus, spanking, dirty talk, degradation, rough sex, breeding kink, creampie, sin devil trigger sex, monster fucking WORD COUNT: 9,569 SUMMARY: Honestly, you really should’ve expected your first time having sex with Vergil would end up like that.

A/N: look, all im saying is: would.

You thought you had gotten your fair share of relationship advice from all of your snooping women family members and friends as you had grown up, and you were completely set when it came down to the romantic aspect of your life. Though nothing could’ve really prepared you for one of the only real and serious relationships you actually ended up in. Your mother and aunts had nothing on how to date a damn half-demon.

Or how to engage in sex with a half-demon.

On your behalf you figured it was just the same as having sex with a… human (it sounded so odd when you said it aloud), your half-demon looked like a ‘regular’ man – if you could count white hair, standing at six-foot-five, carrying around katana everywhere, and a stare that could make lesser strong-willed people piss themselves… Actually, you were completely wrong to think it was the same.

A relationship with Vergil was… interesting at times, but you were no quitter. Granted the two of yours relationship was ridiculously rocky at the beginning, but it came to a heads and you were later able to learn after jumping him and making out with him you two had been evidently pining for one and another so hard it made Dante sick and he’d been doing everything in his power to get you both laid and to stop eye-fucking each other every five minutes. Dante had been the one to warn you of getting into something like that with his elder brother, Nero almost looking traumatized when you had gotten around to telling him – “Hey, me and your dad? Yeah, we’re in a relationship, but we haven’t fucked yet so don’t worry.” – and told you maybe it was difficult to be with someone like him but sending you his best wishes otherwise. But of course, you were not a quitter.

Such as when you wanted to finally have sex with him, and when you finally did.

Perhaps you should’ve thought it through more; Vergil could lift a car with one hand and fling it more than one-hundred yards if he wanted to, he could rip a demon’s head off with one hand, kick a solid hole into a concrete wall, and not to mention all other demon abilities that he possessed. Such as what they called Devil Trigger. You had seen it before: a huge, blue, hulking beast full of scales, clawed nails, a long tail with the slicing tip, wings with a width span rivaling that of some sort of fairytale dragon, horns that executed a burn of blue fire (?), and the maw of sharp teeth that you had seen a handful of times whenever out on the field. However, you didn’t give it too much thought since you figured he only transformed during a fight and was always in control of it.

That was probably another case of poor judgement on your behalf.

Vergil was dominant through and through and practiced keeping himself composed above of all else, though at times it was you that was able to break that exterior and got him to loosen up – whether it was in the bedroom or not. At first you hadn’t been confident enough to push him like that, but when you were able to observe his eyes linger on your thighs if you wore any clothing exposing them, a vein rise from his temple that one time you wore that blue dress he liked with the slit up the leg and when you moved a certain way that revealed your panties, or when you had left the top three buttons undone of your shirt and watched his Adam’s apple bob with the deep swallow he made when you bent over in front of his face, it was enough to get you to try and get his attention to let him know you wanted him sexually as well as the way you already had him.

Vergil may have acted all stoic but the times you caught him just stripping out of nowhere in front of you and stretching a leg out until he could flex a thigh was enough to let you know the feeling was probably mutual. Often times he’d purposefully brush up against your back when you were in front of him, his hands drifting across your waist and trailing down your hips as he did so before ghosting away when you tried and lean back into his touch or turn around and look at him. He wanted you just as bad as you wanted him, though you had no idea why he would hold himself back.

More than often you found yourself on top of Vergil or underneath him as you both engaged in one of your many sessions of making-out and dry-humping, the trysts getting hot and heavy to the point you’d pull at his belt or snag a hand down the front of his pants in an unsaid beg for wanting him to just get inside of you once and for all. However it never ended up the way you wanted, Vergil would let out a hiss you had never really heard or knew he could do and roll away from you, chest heaving and nearly ripping the bedsheet apart from how hard he clutched it. Back then, you hadn’t known he was trying to control himself.

From what? Well…

Maybe you should have paid more attention to when his eyes would glow a haunting cat-like blue, or when you found shreds in your shirt from when his nails grew into talons, or that one time his tongue grew and slithered past your uvula in some form metaphorical oral sex as he made it thrust in, out and all around your mouth while it felt grooved. You were ashamed to admit that it made you cum from the feeling while you thought about how good it would feel eating you out as he did it.

Still, he never pushed it any further than foreplay and you would often go to bed with soaked underwear and him with an erection. Part of you thought he just didn’t want to, and another part of you had been afraid that from the way you gyrated your hips away on his erection and felt the size of him that you’d be unable to take him. But you were not a quitter and were horny beyond belief for him to just indent you into your mattress for once and all, and given how he’d grunt, groan and hiss into your mouth and skin, you knew the feeling was mutual.

So when the time came and you finally got him to actually fuck you and not just grind up on your clothed cunt or tease you with his fingers, nothing really prepared you for what happened. Looking back on it you found it funny, but in the heat of the moment you figured just why he would pull away from your dry-fucking moments.

(You knew a Devil Trigger could be caused by a state of heightened emotions… but not like Vergil had done during the first time you two had sex.)

In had started like that again, you two were alone at the shop again – you figured Vergil only engaged in intimacy like that when he knew Dante or Trish weren’t around to hear you both – and it was late at night while you two did your usual limbo. You couldn’t quite remember when he decided to say fuck it and push his cock inside of you. Maybe it was when you told him you were so wet that you were sure you could take all of him at once as he was two fingers deep in you, or when you struck his ego by saying if he couldn’t get you to cum like that he couldn’t get you to cum while actually inside of you as you rolled your soaked shorts up against his hard, clothed cock.

If you had to guess it was a mixture, the former being almost actual truth when he slid in with little to no resistance and the latter ticking him off so bad he tore shreds into your clothes while hissing at you in your ear and threatening to fuck you until you were begging for relief. Too bad for him that had been your plan.

That’s how you found yourself clutching the pillow underneath your head for dear life as Vergil’s cock was all but hitting your cervix while his hands had a near death grip on your hips in the process.

You shouldn’t have pushed his buttons, but damn, if that was what you got in return?

You’d keep doing it.

Your legs took purchase in one curling around his waist in attempts to hold on and the other hitched up on top of his shoulder, the ankle of the leg around his waist pressing into his skin and your heel against his lower back following in it as it curved and curled each time he fucked into you. The temperature in the room was boiling, perspiration lining your bodies down from the forehead to the conjunction of where both of your bodies were currently smacking into one and another. The only sounds you were really able to make out was the smacking of his skin into yours, the headboard of your shared bed knocking into the thinned wallpaper you desperately wanted to change, and your gasped out moans all jumbled in words varying of his name and praises from the ferocity of his movements.

Vergil’s face was probably a God-given sight to see; all flushed and his eyebrows knotted together in ecstasy as he kept his jaw clenched to keep his poorly concealed grunts in his mouth, but alas he kept his lovely expression nearly face down in the pillow you were clasping onto that your head rested on as well. It didn’t help you were talking filthy in his ear either, the loud exhales growling and the grip on your hips bruising every time you moaned out his name driving him forward push and stretch your insides as much as he could.

Unclutching the fabric of the pillow you slid your hands out to dig your nails into his back, earning you a grunt and a particular hard thrust as he pulled out back far enough until his tip was resting on your opening before diving back in. It was insane on how good he felt, your toes curling as that ball of fire behind your naval burned further towards your eventual release whenever he fucked into you harder.

There had been a time you thought ‘How the fuck did someone like him have a son?’, but from the way he was fucking you then… It wasn’t hard to see how it happened.

He was feral, unrestrained and – dare you say it – desperate.

You panted out again as your body rocked underneath his in unison to his hips, mouth finding his ear again to push at his resolve more, “If I would’ve known you – mmmGod – known you’d be like this, I would’ve – fuckrightthere – would’ve begged you more.”

…Was something pinching the skin of your hips?

You didn’t get to look and check when Vergil abruptly let go of your hips and let them land on the headboard above you two, his upper body moving slightly away from yours as the new position allowed him to pick up his speed. You let your eyes finally feast in looking up at his face, an electrifying tingle finding itself into your clit whenever his expression was just like you thought it would be. He looked like he was holding some poorly concealed agitation in, though you knew it was just a mix of his arousal and concentration. You didn’t know what he was so concentrated on, but if it was keeping him to literally rearrange your entire pelvic region… you were fine with it.

Vergil’s eyes fluttered open for a moment when you squeezed around him, a quick peek of his eyes showing you the icy grey you loved to look was bordering on a vivid azure with his pupils dilating back inwards and letting his irises take over. His lips pulled down in a deeper frown when he let a grunt slip by his lips, his pace growing harder and faster as if he wasn’t already balls deep in your pussy and slamming up into your innermost reach. A keening moan of his name caused his eyebrows to furrow greater and his jaw to clench harder as you jerked from the new sound from above you.

It was a scratching noise, almost like a cat was taking it’s claws onto a scratching post but instead it was on your headboard. You paused in your nearly drunken-stupor from clawing at his back in nicks that were already healing and your loud moaning to tilt your head backwards for a look, yet one of Vergil’s hands was quick to grab ahold of your chin and angle your head back towards him.

His eyes nearly made you want to shy away from how intense they were staring down into your own, the shining azure color taking them over and all but glowing in the moonlight shining down into your room. When your eyes shut and you tightened up around his cock once more, he squeezed your cheeks together and an amused huff fell out of him, “What’s the matter? You were so adamant in getting me inside of you, and now you’re suddenly shy?” a hum left him as he slowed to a mouthwatering roll and abruptly the air felt… static-like, his oddly rough hand falling from your face for two of his fingers to press down hard onto your clit.

The jolt of pleasure was nearly mind-numbing whenever the rough exterior of his fingers began to rub your swollen clit in intervals of up and down, back and forth, and sometimes rolling the area and pinching it between his fingertips. You were starting to squirm then because holy shit, why did his fingers feel so fucking rough but so good, and the way they were massaging your clit in swipes had you rolling your eyes back and mouth gaping from how fucking good it felt. There was slight angle of pain but it was quickly overwhelmed and mixed in with the pleasure he was giving you, the knot behind your naval just building, building, and building.

“OhmyGod, Vergil pleasegofaster,” you babbled out in-between the excessive amount of moans and whines as your hands made way to scrape at his chest.

Vergil bent lower, a low groan slipping out again whenever the angle pushed his cock deeper into your warmth and you could’ve swore his own eyes spun back a fraction, until his face was close for his lips to close around one of your nipples. Him biting and sucking at your breasts was one thing, but feeling that fucking ribbed tongue swirling around the expanse of your areola and the highest point of your nipple – oh Jesus fuck why was he so good at it? You didn’t care nor give it any thought that the man was slowly changing right before your very eyes, your frontal lobe only focusing on the slope you were sliding down for your orgasm and just Vergil, Vergil, Vergil.

The mantra in your mind was repeated past your tongue as he bit at your tit one last time and then that sinful tongue was sliding up past your chest, over your throat, along your jaw, before his mouth found way for your ear again. His teeth felt sharper than normal as he took your earlobe between them until he decided to latch off and bless you with his voice that was slowly beginning to lose its composure.

“Are you begging now? How indecent of you, it’s almost pathetic how desperate you sound.”

…Why did his voice sound like that? It was a near sort of echo, the underlining of his usual nasally voice was there but it was twinged with something else that you couldn’t put your finger on. It felt like that static ambience still wrapped around you two, though he almost sounded… like not himself, but still was him.

Whatever it was it twisted around into your bones and muscles, turning the former into mush and the latter tensing as it vibrated your body from the top of your head sliding down your spine until your toes were curling again over the respective parts of his body. You were nearly ashamed at how much you liked it when he spoke to you like that, the fact in that matter not lost on him when you reared up back at it and clenched around his throbbing cock once more as your sense of reasoning began to slowly fall from you.

You weren’t about to let him off the hook for verbal assault, not when you could feel how hot he was growing inside of you and how his dick was beginning to swell almost as if it was growing from your actions. Not only that, you mused as you intertwined your fingers into his deliberately falling hair, the noises he was making that nearly had you cumming on the spot were enough to let you know he wasn’t as reserved as he was letting himself out to be.

You jerked his head back so that his face was level with yours and both of lips were skimming across each other, relishing in the harsh thrust from the action and when his fingers rolling your clit fell off for a brief moment as a hiss pushed past his plumped lips, “You’re one to talk since you can barely keep it together,” you arched your back to push him as deep as you could and watched his nostrils flare when your cunt seemed to swallow him whole, “I know you wanna let loose, so why don’t you?”

Vergil’s expression scrunched up in a full-blown scowl then, his hip bones slamming into yours faster and harder as you heard…a growl leave his chest, “Stop talking.”

His fingers on your clit sped up after that, the movements of the rubbing matching your poor excuse of grinding to keep up with him and the scratching noise above you picking back up again. Your thigh was burning from the stretch of your leg over his shoulder, but the blurring line between pain and pleasure was long gone since you were gradually beginning to lose all hold you had on holding back from cumming. He was getting tough in letting his cock kiss that sensitive region inside of you, pulling his cockhead all the way out of you and delivering a harsh push back to hit as far as he could. Each push and pull had you reeling, eyes rolling back and broken moans leaving you as you struggled to keep up and form a coherent sentence to drive back at him.

You weren’t finished egging him on, you wanted him to fulfill that threat (promise?) he had said before.

Your fingers were slowly losing the grip they had on his hair as your body bounced and slid up on the bed underneath his body, “I know this issss’t all you can do, I wanna feel it,” a high-pitched gasp left you when his fingers pinched your clit, “don’tdothat, I’mgonnacum – I want you to cum inside of me –”

“Don’t.”

“Vergil please, you have me already. I wanna feel you. I want it all.” Your head was getting fuzzy, the stretch in your lower abdomen pulling to its full extent as his cock grew hotter and began throbbing longer pulsing into your cunt. You wanted it so bad, you wanted him so bad and you were clawing more at his chest as that coil began to unravel.

Vergil rose up away from you onto his knees, your leg on his shoulder falling off to land uselessly onto the mattress as you watched in pleasure-filled vision his head tilt backwards and his Adam’s apple bob from the bitter swallow he took. His hand on the headboard fell to curl up underneath your lower back to push your hips upwards off the bed to dig deeper into you, his fingers moving faster as his chest started to heave. The new angle left you breathless as his thick shaft began to feel as if it was ramming its way into your intestines, another round of babbles and mewls leaving you when his hips pushed desperately into your body.

His thumb was digging itself into your lower spine as he grunted out his next words, no doubt a bruise going to be left behind, “Damn you. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

A warning was going off in the back of your mind, a strong shift in the air as Vergil’s breathing grew louder, combining with a hissing that was bordering on sounding like one of the demons you hunted had gotten into your bedroom. Maybe you should’ve paid attention to the scales beginning to form up on his arm and start to take over the left side of his face, and maybe you should’ve noticed the twinkling blue sparks beginning to fleck off and around him. But you were too focused on what he was doing to you too care, but fuck you were just right there and you were about to cum because his fingers combined with the sheer size of his cock alone were spiraling you into your personal haven and God just right there, right there, rightthererightthererightthere –

You made one last ditch effort to push at him as a long-winding moan of his name bubbled from you, your hands fisting into the sheets and nearly ripping them as Vergil was on the cusp of losing control, “I can take it, please, jus’ do what you said you were gonna do earlier.”

That got his attention, his fingers pausing their wrath on your clit as his shoulders tensed; he knew what you were talking about. “Be quiet,” his tone sounded cold, but the steady rhythm of his thrusting and his fingers rolling vigorously on you was enough to let you know you almost had him.

And he almost had you cumming all over his dick as the last of your resolve was pushed out in a hair-raising moan and some fast chattering to finally feel him once and for all, “God just fuck me, Vergil. Fuck me so hard I’m begging for relief from you from how much you fill me up ohholyfuck –”

Your sentence trailed off as a snarling groan took over the sound in the room and his pace kicked into a destructive speed, a distorted curse spitting off his tongue as something popped and a shuttering noise flew into your ears while the inside of you felt briefly stunned from the action. After that, your body was suddenly uncoiling itself in the throes of your orgasm with a gasping whine of his name.

Your cunt constricted around his cock in a poor effort to hold on, but the action had you spasming in one of the most intense orgasms you had ever experienced. The others paled in comparison from those late nights fingering yourself at the thought of him, your body feeling electrified from the intensity of it and your limbs jerking to find any part of his body to hold on to as you rushed through it. You didn’t know why your cunt and his dick felt like they were buzzing and vibrating from the release, but the heightened stimulation had you squirming throwing your head back onto the pillow with a gaping mouth and eyes spinning into your mind while the hairs on your body rose from the change in the atmosphere. You were well aware you had gushed all over his cock as your legs jerked from the pleasure, and in the back of your mind you were only vaguely aware that something about him shifted.

Something as in his entire appearance.

The static was back as it curled itself around your body and left you feeling frazzled and your limbs exhausted, and you were only densely conscious enough to realize that the skin you had curled your one leg around didn’t feel like skin any longer. Your chest was heaving as you felt a new wave of sweat line up on your forehead and down your pelvis, fingers bunching up the sheets as you tried to slow your breathing and heart rate down, and a warped, huffing mixed sound of growling rolled out above you. Your bedroom felt hotter than before and after a few moments of blinking back into clarity, you rose your head to look back at Vergil to see why he hadn’t made any noise or indication of cumming –

You froze.

Gone was the gorgeous, ivory-colored skin, icy grey eyes, and silver-white hair, instead in its place was that hulking beast you had only seen a handful of times. You traced your eyes towards where you two were still conjoined, over the glowing ‘V’ on his chest, and finally up towards his face where you were only able to make out that luminescent blue where his eyes were supposed to be. Had he –

He.. triggered instead.. of cumming? You didn’t know whether to feel proud or suffer a blow to your ego over that.

You stared at him, blinking a couple of times.

Vergil… stared back – you think anyway – and you weren’t entirely too sure if he could even blink in that form.

You swallowed after a few moments and let your already hoarse voice break the silence, “Vergil, what… Are you – I mean,” you wiggled for a brief second as his newly-formed, scaled hand came to press down onto your lower abdomen to cease any other movement from you, “Did you mean to do this or…?”

The noise he made nearly sounded like a chuff tigers made, a movement from his backside letting you see his tail whip up into the air before it slithered up around your thigh next to his jutted hip. You watched curiously as the scaled appendage curled around said part, the bladed tip of it knocking against your skin in an action that was bizarrely reminiscent of cat slowly tapping the tip of its tail onto a surface. Vergil still hadn’t spoke, which you knew he was able to in that form, and you had half a mind to just ask if he went into some type of demonic state where he was more Devil than man (more than just his appearance, mind you).

However you knew better than that, Vergil was still Vergil in that manner and his standing still action with him remaining inside of you not making a single movement was a key factor that he was being precautious. You supposed you weren’t really thinking too hard whenever you were egging him to finally give in and let loose, but you always didn’t think it would end up with just… triggering.

Nevertheless… it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, it was still Vergil; especially since you were pretty fucking sure he had grown bigger inside of you.

You got your answer when you shifted again and okay, yeah, he was just as big and hulking as his new form as he was down there, and Jesus fuck you were pretty sure he was in your stomach then. Letting out a winding exhale you gripped at his wrist onto your lower abdomen when what you guessed was his cockhead angled upwards inside of you, “Vergil, just –” the weight from his hand pressed down harder and your eyes crossed when a new shock of ecstasy fluttered inside of you. God, you felt fucking stuffed, but the new tingling in your clit was something you couldn’t ignore and since you felt not one essence of his cum inside of you… You waved your other hand in the air.

“Just – just keep going, it’s fine.” You sounded so out of breath, but it was to be expected when you had his literal fat monster cock in you. “I mean, always up for new things right?” ‘Up for new things’, this was the first time you two were having sex.

(Though you didn’t think it could’ve qualified as ‘sex’, what you two ended up doing was just straight nasty fucking after months of piled up sexual tension and frustration. Perhaps not the smartest decision to do it in his Devil Trigger, but hey, first time for everything.)

After all, if you were going to commit to liking someone with a dual form like that then you were going to have to buckle down into the possible monster fucking because if you didn’t… did you even love them?

Vergil, more or less, above you seemed at a fork in the road but when he pushed his hips forward and watched your face wince up from the expanding stretch and felt your pussy tighten at a near painful degree he knew was for you, he was pulling out. A high-pitched, indignant noise left you at his loss and the sting from which he pulled himself from so abruptly, and he was quick to snag your ankle of the leg that wasn’t currently wounded by his tail when you tried to coercer him back to you. You paid no mind that perhaps he was completely coated in your cum and that his cock was not the same one you saw earlier – sans human skin and instead something probably a little more rigid and dangerous-looking and blue – but you really didn’t mind once more since you were fighting a fire for more stimulation.

You didn’t have to wait long either for it, Vergil finally broke out of his silence as a claw-tipped finger tapped onto your ankle bone and his voice was that same distortion from before that sent vibrations throughout the bed and you.

“I’ll have another, then after that I’ll have my way with you.”

Another? “What do you mean another – ACK –” you didn’t get to finish that question when Vergil used the hold he had on you to swiftly flip your body over, a yelp falling out of your mouth when he gripped your hips and positioned you in the way he wanted you. Said position was on your hands and knees with his tail holding your thigh lifting your one leg into the air slightly as a hand came up under you to splay over your lower abdomen to keep you balanced. Your fingers gripped into your sheets hard as the other clawed hand was clutching the thigh not currently suspended into the air and you felt a humid waft of air from his maw blow over your horribly exposed pussy. Your cheeks warmed as you realized the gravity of the situation.

Was he going to –

“For now, I’ll have a taste of what your dripping with.”

You didn’t get a chance to answer to that sinful statement, as for Vergil’s serpentine tongue was already slithering out of his jaws and taking one slow lick up your soaked folds. You were ashamed when your one leg placed onto the bed already starting shaking from it the action, though you couldn’t blame yourself too much since you were still sensitive from cumming mere minutes beforehand and that Vergil’s tongue was of that same ribbed exterior that day you felt him in your mouth. It felt like… God, you didn’t even know, but God it felt good. A shaky exhale left you as the grip on your thigh left to press down onto your lower back, the weight causing you to fall onto your elbows for the position to expose yourself more to his greedy tongue.

Vergil wasn’t one the beat around the bush you learned once he really set his mind to something, and that something at that time was eating your pussy out. If you had to explain it, it was as if your brain all but fried when the grooved tip on his tongue spread and pushed through your folds until the length of the appendage was wiggling up inside of your cunt and whatthefuck –

“Vergil, holy shit, your tongue –” you whimpered out the rest of your mumble as you leant down to pressed your face into your sheets.

The only answer you got was a hot exhale combined with a rumbling growl, his hands on your respective areas sluggishly beginning to rock you back and forth on his tongue. The noise that left you was something out of a hardcore porno, your sweaty forehead digging into the mattress as you felt each grooved lining on his organ run up against your walls and urging you to swing your hips back and forth, to and from his face. You did just that, moans and whines of all caliber falling desperately as you rolled yourself in intervals to get a feel for every dip and dart of his tongue against your soft insides.

You were already well on your way to falling for another orgasm when you started to push back against his face harder, your toes curling as he hitched your leg higher and a grunt escaping when you decided to clench and unclench around his tongue as much as you could. He picked up the pace in his swirling to taste every inch of your cunt and coat your walls with as much of his saliva as he could while he licked up the expanse of you. The knot behind your naval then felt heavier, your back arching further inwards as his grunts and growls kept up with your own moans and pants.

“Fuck, just like that. Keep go-going,” you paused as your knee on the bed started to shake more with the intensity building back up inside your cunt and your clit feeling pressurized even though nothing was arousing it that time, his tongue slithering up and inside your leaking cunt enough to push you towards your release. “It feels so good please… I’m gonna cum again.”

The response you got was a louder, eager grumble from deep within his chest, the claws he sported slightly pricking your flesh as the fleeting pinch of pain only added on to you doubling down into your orgasm. His tail coiled around your thigh tighter and the slicing tip was wriggling out into the air next to your skin, his eagerness showing his in subtle actions to get you to come on his tongue that time. And fuck, if you had spilled out all in your panties whenever he swiped that slick organ around your mouth and down your throat as he rocked his boner into you nearly a week ago, you would have no problem doing it for him then.

The force in which your hips were rocking back into his face was bordering on desperate as you were nearing your peak, your cunt already beginning spasm while he continued to literally tongue-fuck you. The hot huffs from his open maw grew louder and faster against your ass, the pulsing hums he was letting roll off his slick appendage vibrating the inside of you as you desperately clawed at the sheets while your back arched dangerously. You squealed and whined whenever his tongue slipped out of you for a brief moment to run the fat of it along the entire outer parts your pussy, starting with the tip teasing your clit in fast nudges, and the brute of it flattening itself along your folds to catch the fluids so keenly dripping out of your gaping opening.

When Vergil darted back inside your drenched cunt to swipe at your innermost wall faster and harder before, you were all but done. “Vergil!” was your last keening cry as his hand on your lower abdomen pushed up further into your guts, the coil holding your second release together snapping while he continued to tongue-fuck you through the entirety of your orgasm.

That time around your eyes crossed as your vision busted into a different world of colors, your pussy canal nearly acting like a bottle of wine losing its cork as you squirted out and around his tongue. A white-hot tingle shot from your cranial nerve down into your toes had you jerking and squirming about as your cunt trembled and clenched around his tongue for retribution. You didn’t mind too much you had embarrassingly squirted into his face, the evidence of so slipping past his mouth and dribbling onto the sheets next to your quivering knee as you fought to keep balance from the mind-blowing orgasm. Vergil didn’t mind at all, the groan leaving him downright sinful as he let his tongue slip out and wipe up any excess of your cum and fluid that had passed by his mouth. You were thankful for his hands still on your body holding you up and his tail began slowly lowering your other leg back onto the bed as he finished his licking to clean you up while your body shook and you fought back through clarity of from cumming so hard.

A sigh left you when you felt him pull away from your cunt, the body part throbbing excessively and so goddamn sensitive you were sure a single touch would have you reeling back into pleasure once more. It was hot and everything smelled like him as you tried to catch your breath through heaving once more, however your knees were beginning to slide outwards as your nerves were too wired to keep yourself together. You would’ve fallen down onto the bed if he hadn’t caught you by the hips while he angled you back upwards into the way he liked. His tail unfurled from your thigh, though the accessory wriggled around underneath where your abdomen was in slow strokes afterwards as its tip grazed along past your breasts and along your naval making you shudder.

It seemed he wasn’t about to waste any more time, his cock heavy with the need to just finally cum and have you the way he wanted.

Vergil didn’t give any warning that he was ready shove his cock back in you, the only way you knew from your position was when his bulked, scaled pelvis knocked into your ass and another loud exhale of hot air blew across your back. Granted he was slow as he eased into you, but that didn’t stop you from gasping at how fucking far he was stretching your insides that time by just only a few inches of him and your body was involuntarily sliding up forward away from him. The sheer sting was the cause of that reaction, as it nearly felt like his dick was expanding your pelvic bones entirely to accommodate room for him.

“Stay,” was the only word grumbled out from him at first, a hand skimming down your spine in an unspoken word of comfort. He let you wiggle around for a few moments until a long breath left you as you loosened up, and then he was sliding himself back all the way in, relishing in the way you immediately moaned and tightened up around him at the easy entrance. “So wet, so easy; almost like you were just made for this. Are you so desperate to please me that you’ll let me use you as I want?”

His words alone had you moaning again, the mere tone of them and the hissing edge they held letting you grip up harder on him and rock back into his hips, “Don’t act so high and mighty, earlier you were fighting to not lose control and now look at you.” Yeah you said in a fight to bite back at his words, but God if you didn’t feel like telling him to outright fuck you into the mattress or just fuck yourself back onto him because his dick was sitting fat and heavy inside of you and you desperately wanted to just move to let you feel the full brute of him rearranging your guts.

You knew you shouldn’t have pushed a feral Vergil, especially since earlier you had proclaimed you wanted him to fuck you until you were begging for relief and full of his cum because…

Fuck you he did.

You heard another snarling grunt from behind you, his hands tightening on your hips as he almost lethargically pulled his shaft out until his cockhead was kissing your folds and then with one quick snap he was seated back inside of you and setting himself in a maddening, torturous pace.

You had managed a choked moan from that, your breath being knocked out of you as you bounced back and forth from his steady, deep, somewhat slow movements as your ass smacked against his hardened, jutted hip bones. The noise of both of your bodies was incredibly obscene when you combined the sound your backside harshly slapping into his pelvis, while you could hear the squish of your pussy overwhelmed with your cum and fluids every time he pulled back far enough and diving back in.

It wasn’t enough though, the deep dives were gut-wrenching and had you gasping more than moaning but you knew it was his own form of punishment against you for your bratty behavior.

From the ferocity of his thrusts jolting your body, your words began to line in tune with each time he pushed into you and pulled out, “God Vergil – you’re – driving me – insane! Oh fuck… c’mon – fuck me – harder.”

His hand came down and smacked onto your ass, something he had never done before in the months you had been together, and you yelped from the sting as you fell back down onto your elbows. He kept one hand digging into your hip but the other was pushing your back farther into an arch for his cock to hit a new angle that almost made you drool. Once he got you there it was another deliberate pull out and snapping back into you as his hand glided around the press onto your lower abdomen –

OH.

Fuck.

Was that even possible? Shit, who cares it feels so good. So good that Vergil was groaning in a hiss as you squeezed him whenever you felt him bulge through the lower part of your body. His slick, hot tongue was lapping up your spine in a tease to taste the sweat lining your back before you felt him lower down near your ear to speak again.

“Tell me again what you want.”

Bastard. Though as he said that, he was literally beginning to give you what you really wanted.

Gone was the sluggish, deep strokes, in their place a faster speed making you bounce faster as he leant back up away from you. Your eyes fluttered shut when you felt another orgasm on the brink, your brain nearly blocking out what he had whispered into your ear as you started to just focus on the pleasure you were receiving. However, your lover wasn’t so merciful to let you off the hook.

Vergil’s hand came back down to slap at your ass again as you moaned from the newfound stimulation it gave, “Answer me, brat.”

Your eyes rolled back as you tried to buck your hips to fuck back into him, your nails beginning to claw into the sheets below you, “I – Mmm, I want –”

His tail was sliding up one of your thighs again, “What want? Speak clearly.”

His cock was hard and hot in you, “Shit – Vergil, please.”

His pace picked up, the headboard of the bed knocking obscenely loud into the wall rough enough to crack it, “Begging now? You should see yourself crying out for me like some whore,” the mattress shifted and in your peripheral vision you could see one of his clawed raptor-looking feet you usually laughed at come to balance himself on it, and then his tail was sliding up around your back, “You’re maddening.” His voice was teetering onto a fine, sharp edge, the movements of his ferocious thrusting becoming jagged as his resolve seemed to turn on him and you knew then he was getting close to cumming.

However because of Vergil’s newfound realization he was heading towards his own end, he found a means to better fuck you, or to better use you for both of your enjoyment.

His tail wrapped around your abdomen.

Your first instinct was to grab ahold of the accessory with one of your hands, a gasp falling out of you from how he coiled it around tight enough to keep you where he wanted you but not enough to hurt you. Your second instinct was to arch harder and then your third was to –

You didn’t give it much thought, because Vergil had decided to go from fucking you to using his tail to pull your body back and forth onto his cock in hurried movements, and –

“OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod,” you chanted out in a mewl of a babble, both of your hands gripping to the scaled appendage wrapped around you as it kept you in the position he wanted. Your brain was surely mush then, your cunt unclenching and clenching in a hasty fashion as the new pace and angle crossed your eyes and careened you down further into cumming all over his cock again.

Your cheek found itself pushed into your bed as he pressed you down further with a rough palm, his distorted voice then sounded more choked up and losing its composure, “You like this, don’t you? Being used like this by a demon?”

All of your sense and reasoning was out of the window, another harsh moan leaving you as you listened to him speak, “Mmmm, I love it!”

Vergil’s hold on your hips grew to bruising as he started to fuck back into your bouncing body while continuing to use his tail as leverage to pull you into him, an air of desperation about him while more grunts left him, “If you love it so much, tell me what you want me to do.”

You were about to cum, his dick stretching you out so much and slamming into practically your cervix as your nerves lit up and any discomfort from the rough treatment exploded into full-blown pleasure. He continued to hit that one spot that had you keening and your teeth biting into the sheet as well, hissing as your sounds grew louder and your pussy impossibly wet and tighter. He knew you were about to cum, and with that knowledge a rough fingertip was grazing across your swollen clit in a means to get you to finally unravel and screaming to him of what you wanted.

“Say it.”

The reaction was instantaneous, your muscles bunching up, eyes watering as the pressure in your cunt grew tenfold, his rough movements, and your rapidly approaching orgasm let the words flow freely from your mouth.

“Vergil, please, I want you to cum in me! Just –” a louder whine fell out of you when he pushed you down in retaliation for more of your pleas, struggling to take his hard thrusts as you finally felt yourself let go and felt your cunt gush and squeeze one last time as you rambled the rest of your begs in a high-pitched cry.

“More.”

“I’m yours, Vergil! Fuck me full of your cum… Mmf, breed me, Vergil!"

The answering snarl was devastating, his tail heaving you upwards onto your knees for your back to press against his scalding front side as his tongue slid back out of his mouth licking up the expanse of your throat until it found itself into your mouth. You eagerly accepted the crude mean as a replacement for a kiss, your eyes rolling back into your head as you sucked around the appendage and your hips sporadically jerked into his still thrusting cock as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm. It was the same as before with your vision bursting into colors behind your eyelids and your frontal lobe feebly chasing that emotion of endorphins released into your veins as you came undone in front of him for the third time that night.

Your third release left you feeling spent and exhausted, legs quivering in their place as your moans fell into huffing noises with your body falling back onto the bed as Vergil hissed, snarled and groaned his way to finally giving you both what you asked for. The gush of air and new shadow expanding behind told you that his wings had unfurled, the last of his composure leaving him whenever he pushed back into you with a ferocious jab that cracked the wall above your bed and a long-uttering satisfied groan vibrated the entire room.

Your eyes spun back when you felt the warm spurts of his cum shoot inside of your awaiting cunt and literally stuff you full as a feeling of mild electrification prickled the hair on your body. It nearly felt as if he never was going to stop, the new heat in your pussy sliding down throughout the inside of you. You could feel the thick girth of the liquid passing through your cervix and into your womb as Vergil’s hips rocked slowly with each new spray into you until finally he came to a full stop with his cock sitting snugly inside of you to hold all of his cum in your cunt for the time being. His fingers flexed as they returned to both grasping your hips with a hissing exhale that you felt deep into your stomach, and meanwhile you tried to force your mind and body to leave that fucking high and try to at least find yourself into some clarity from probably the best fucking and orgasms you had ever felt.

It was a few moments of catching your breath and letting your heart calm down on both ends when Vergil slowly started to slide out of you, the full feeling in your lower abdomen leaving you like air slowly being let out of a balloon until his cockhead was kissing your folds. Vaguely you were aware of your cunt clenching and throbbing around nothing for the loss of him, your opening gaping as you felt the remains of what he fucked into you start to ooze out until he was pushing his dick back in with a slow roll to fuck his cum back into you. You whimpered as you clutched the sheets again, your insides entirely too sensitive and used for any other stimulation for that time while he continued until he was sure you were, indeed, fucked full.

“Easy.” Yeah okay, it was easy for him to say that since he was the one that didn’t get their pelvic region bottomed out.

Vergil granted you that break finally, his cock along with the whole of his body leaving after he was satisfied with his work. His tail unfurled from around you and the loss of what was the only thing that was holding you up on your useless legs caused you to almost fall into the mattress completely if it wasn’t for his arm wrapping up under your breasts to hold until you both fell onto the bed together.

His human arm.

That static in the air was gone, the feeling of like you were on the cusp of being shocked gone while the heat in the room began to dissipate into the normal temperature of the shop. The back of your head found a spot onto his shoulder while your legs entwined with one and another’s as you continued still to calm your heaving down while Vergil’s thumb stroked a gentle pass on your sternum. His breathing seemed to notch back down after he left his triggered form and buried his nose into your hair, but the deep inhales and exhales were signs he was too still suffering from the aftermath.

Briefly, you wondered when the last time he had sex was. Then you decided that from his feral behavior: a long time ago.

“Your pulse is still racing,” he spoke after a while of you both staring up at the dark ceiling, voice slightly croaky and out of breath.

Gee, I wonder why. You threw up a hand and let it fall onto his chest in a gentle tap, “Well I mean, I did just get the shit fucked out of me. And I think you literally might’ve shifted the bones in my pelvis and hips around.”

The back of his hand came up to wipe at the sweat on your forehead, “…I apologize if I caused you any discomfort,” he mumbled into your hair, almost so quietly that you nearly missed it.

The first thing you said was a tease, “Vergil? Apologizing? If pussy gets you like this then we should’ve done this sooner.”

He pinched your nipple.

You squealed and wiggled against him until he let up, his hand returning to sit at your sternum, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry!”

“Brat.”

You sighed as you really thought about his words; was he honestly thinking you might’ve not liked it after you begged him for it? Sure you probably would be bowlegged the next day, and yeah he literally cracked the wall and nearly broke the headboard and clawed the Hell out of it, and okay maybe you would have some little bruises on your hips where he held you, but he was being foolish to think you didn’t want it. You had wanted him physically like that for a long time aside to having him emotionally and mentally, and it was even better than you imagined for a man who looked like he’d rather eat dirt than have any physical contact with people.

It’s always the quiet ones.

You didn’t like it, you loved it.

“You didn’t hurt me, at least not in the way I might’ve wanted,” you eventually answered, feeling an amused huff blew into your hair. He didn’t answer you after that, the silence stretching between you two as you finally calmed down enough and came to your senses – your senses being bothering him as much as you could. His face was still buried into your hair whenever your usual annoying antics came back as you both basked in that post-coital bliss.

“I have a serious question.”

Vergil only grunted.

“Soo, I noticed before that when you triggered before that you couldn’t actually see your dick in that form. Does it, y’know, have its own little sheathe?” ‘Little’ was probably an understatement.

He was still for a few moments until you felt the bed shift and his body move away until you were given sight to him leaning up over you and staring down at you with the blankest face you had ever seen on the man. Vergil’s hair had fallen from its usual slicked back fashion, a feat you only got to saw when he slept for the night and when it was wet, and the silver of his eyes were barely visible through the white-grey strands but you could still feel the brute of his piercing stare.

Vergil only stared down at you.

“I’m being serious, but if you don’t wanna answer you don’t have to. Probably a sensitive topic since you can’t literally cockfight Dante in that form like you two normally do.”

You watched his eyes narrow.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s true.”

Evidently he had enough of your little prattle, his body moving way too swiftly for someone that just had sex so roughly as he rolled himself on top and pinched both of your cheeks between his fingers.

“You have no filter, do you? You just spout whatever comes to mind that you can use to demean me in your own childish way.”

“Mmmsorry, ow!”

His hips wormed their way in-between your thighs once more, your lower abdomen curling at the feeling, “Perhaps I should find better ways to keep your mouth occupied.”

“Is that a dig at wanting a blowjob?”

A hum left him and you jolted when you felt the press of his cock against your clit, a pleading gasp falling from your squished cheeks as you bucked against him, “Not exactly, I quite like it when you’re begging.”

He wasn’t… Already?! “Again?”

Vergil’s hands left your face and one was already curling around your thigh to hitch it around his hip as the other balanced onto the mattress next to you, one of his rare, devilish smirks on his face as he watched you grow flustered, “Again.”

A gasp mixed together with a moan fell out of you when he slid back inside of your still warm and wet cunt with absolutely no problems, your hands coming up to clutch at his forearms as he started off into a slow grind for the second round. Another hum rumbled deep from within his chest as he bent down and languidly kissed you when you started to sigh from the gentle movements, only breaking off the lip lock to mumble his new resolve against your mouth.

“After all, weren’t you the one that said you wanted yourself full of me until you were begging for relief?”

Honestly, you really should’ve expected your first time having sex with Vergil would end up like that.

#{🩸} nee fics #vergil x reader #vergil x you #vergil x y/n #vergil dmc #vergil devil may cry #vergil #dmc #vergil smut #dmc x reader #devil may cry #dmc smut

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treatbuckywkisses · 13 hours ago

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It's happened she LITERALLY did this for ME🥺😭

the warning............ already has my stomach tense as fuck🫠

Thor is such a sassy king in this LOLL dramatic man with power 😮‍💨

A formal gala, with Bucky dressed up in a suit and you in the most alluring dress in your closet, could be the perfect place to earn a second warning. LMAOOOO YOU GO BABE !!!!!!

“Okay darling, they’re closed.” He plays along, knowing that when it comes down to it, he would do anything you ask him without contest because it’s for you. My God shutup this whole encounter between them is literally the most freaking precious thing EVER☹️☹️

Bucky’s fearful that you won’t actually believe his statement, even though they are perhaps the most honest words that have ever left his lips. It’s no secret that before he met you, Bucky had enjoyed sleeping around - had entertained more than his fair share of attractive women in his bed, but after just one month officially as your boyfriend, becoming intimately familiar with your beautiful soul, he has zero doubts that you are the only woman he wants in that position for the remainder of his life. Em I'm SICK this is everything☹️❤️

You playfully slap his chest, giving him a kiss on the cheek, and then proceeding to rub your lipstick stain off, before pushing him along to get you a drink. He looks back at you as he walks away, almost bumping into the Chief of Surgery, apologising profusely with a guilty glance to you, before he shuffles off towards the bar. THE LOVE THEY HAVE IM SCREAMING 😭😭

“Months… how much can someone really change in a couple of months? There’s so many of us around the hospital he’s fucked. You really think he’s loyal to you?” You recoil at her words, not having expected the conversation to turn into whatever this was becoming, nor so soon into your small talk. I just gasped so loudly.............what a bitch

“You don’t know him like I do and have no right to speak about him like that.” You state firmly with a small humph. If you weren’t at an event packed with your colleagues, you’d slap her. YESS STANDING ON BUSINESS BABY

Coming to a compromise, your brain instead decides that being frozen in place, unable to look away like an impending car crash, is the best place for you to be. But that is also pure torture. this is so realistic😔 poor baby I'm feeling so bad for her rn

What if you are just Bucky’s practice run at being in a relationship, the one who fixes him up, teaches him all the valuable lessons, only for him to leave you and be the perfect partner to someone else? UGH EM the writer that you are !!!!! Seriously!!! The self doubting and silent spiral is so me lol so I can confidently say you wrote this out so well ❤️‍🩹

There’s a split second where the whole world stands still, everyone at the gala other than the two of you disappear and it’s like you’re standing right in front of him, regardless of the space separating you. Their love 🥺🥺🥺 I will never be over them

You lean your head on Bucky’s shoulder as he continues to rub your back. Why can’t the world just exist like this? Just the two of you in peaceful, quiet, solace. He kisses the top of your head and in that moment you know he’ll wait patiently, all night if that’s how long it takes, for you to explain how you’re feeling. I'm going to cry over this forever

YOU'RE MY FUTURE YOU'RE MY EVERYTHING BE SO SERIOUS RIGHT NOW EM

Fracture into a million pieces, the fabric of reality tearing apart at the seams around you as euphoria flows through you like wind on the surface of water. Every single cell in your body feels like it’s been lit on fire, burning bright like a shooting star soaring through a galaxy assembled by your love for him. How actually dare you write this

“I love you.” Bucky confesses with a shaky breath, even though he is assured in his affection. Though you’re not conscious to receive his words, something about disclosing his most closely guarded secret to your beautiful face, finally admitting his profound feelings aloud, feels like an enormous step for him. Never in a million years did he think he could open his heart up far enough to allow space for these types of feelings to nestle within. “You are the most precious thing in my life. I’m never going to compromise what we have, never going to take you for granted. I’m going to love you and only you for every day I have left in this life and even when I’m no longer here, my soul will forever be yours.” A SLEEP CONFESSION I'M SO SICK HES SO FUCKING PRECIOUS

A male paramedic was shot. ........I know you did not do what I think you did..........

And then you see it. The thing that flatlines your heart. No.

You try not to break down seeing the sheer amount of blood, Bucky’s blood, soaking the gauze they are pressing into his shoulder wound, how pale and fragile he looks strapped down to the gurney. You’re an emergency medicine doctor, you’ve treated wounds like this before, confronted much more blood than this from a patient. But nothing in your training prepares you for observing your soulmate barely clinging to life, their claret staining your gloved fingers as you help maintain pressure, how cold his skin is to the touch, how his face looks almost serene even though these could be his final moments on earth, that he could be abandoning you for the warm embrace of death. No simply no what the fuck hey what the hell 😃 em what the fuck! My heart is in my asshole right now you're so evil what the fuck is this babe!! (This is really written so beautifully but I'm mad at you currently)

James Barnes simply wouldn’t exist anymore. STOP??????????? DON'T SAY SHIT LIKE THAT WHAT THE FUCK.

You’d never hear his voice again. Or his laugh. I'm literally sobbing RN

Neither comes. You are fated to live in excruciating limbo, your lungs burning, as if you can’t take a breath until Bucky’s destiny has been sealed. Me fkin too 😭😭😭😭😭

So I'm basically feeling all stages of grief RN but mostly denial🫶🏻 I simply refuse to believe you would do this to ME SPECIFICALLY?????? HOW DARE YOU😭😭😭 YOU GIVE ME ALL THE BEAUTIFUL THINGS SO WONDERFULLY AND LOVEY AND SOFT AND PERFECT AND THEN TO RIP IT ALL AWAY SO FORCEFULLY LIKE I'M THE ONE BEING SHOT WHAT THE HELL EM RESPECTFULLY WHAT THE FUCK. talk about a twist bc I was in denial from the beginning I really was thinking you'd make it Steve to throw us off but no she had to go and pull the trigger on my fucking man I'm so sick rn I'm going to bed until bucky wakes up.

In Situ

[He’s Hazardous To My Health Series]

Paramedic!Bucky Barnes x Resident!Fem!Reader

< < PART 8 | Series Masterlist

In Situ - meaning in the natural position (ie. Bucky’s place next to you)

Summary: You ask Bucky to accompany you to the hospital's fundraising gala.

Warnings: strictly 18+, unprotected soft loving sex, creampie, graphic depiction of gunshot wounds & significant bleeding to a major character, a bit of angst as they struggle to reveal their feelings, will we finally get an ‘I love you’??, certain ex-fling of Bucky’s makes an appearance, this part has a bit of everything, fluff, angst, smut all rolled into one; I will apologise in advance you have every right to hate me given the ending of this

Word count: a whopping 10.3k (buckle up)

A/N: this part is dedicated to the wonderful @treatbuckywkisses and @yenzys-lucky-charm, I haven’t updated this series in so long and I genuinely thought no one would care about it being incomplete but you both have left such sweet comments on the other parts that inspired me to continue with my vision for paramedic!bucky, so I hope you both enjoy my darling friends 🩵 banners by @vase-of-lilies

Main Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Taglist | Library

It’s the start of a very long shift when the person you least want to encounter, Dr Thor Odinson, approaches you with a glowering expression which looks like the most accurate embodiment of ‘I would rather be anywhere else’.

You would rather quite literally be in any other room of the hospital than in trauma room 2 right now, but as your direct superior, you have to constantly take direction from the same man who tried to compete with Bucky for your affection, and then blacklisted you at work after you turned him down.

“Before you say no to this, I need you to know this is a requirement of your employment here and you cannot get out of it, no matter how much you might want to.” Thor states with the same amount of joy as if he were inviting you to a funeral. His hands fidget almost unconsciously with a sealed envelope as he speaks, before offering it to you with a firm, outstretched hand. “Believe me, I’ve already tried.”

You consider him for a moment, his eyes not quite meeting your examining gaze and nervously grinding his back teeth. Taking the envelope, you notice your name written in messy, scrawled handwriting on the front.

“Not sure why I wouldn’t want to, whatever you’re inviting me to sounds like the absolute time of my life.” You jest in an effort to diffuse the tension between you. Thor, however, doesn’t seem to find it funny as rather than a chuckle, you elicit the most forced eye roll you’ve seen in a while.

“It’s a fundraising gala, mostly for the research labs associated with the hospital, but part of the proceeds go to supporting patients without healthcare who otherwise would not afford our help.”

Though the thought of contributing to those of the community who are less fortunate, and find themselves in the unfortunately common situation of being in debt to a healthcare system which was designed to further cripple the already vulnerable, the lack of enthusiasm Thor is conveying during the conversation makes you wary of what important information you’re likely missing about the event.

“You’re allowed to bring a plus one.” He adds with a rising inflection, almost as if it’s a question rather than a statement.

Silence falls between you two, and for a moment you fully believe Thor is waiting for you to confirm whether you will be bringing Bucky as your date, which would just make this uncomfortable encounter even more awkward, but thankfully he speaks again before you need to say anything.

“You’ll be representing the ED, and more importantly the hospital, at this event. You and whomever you bring better be on your best behaviour, I don’t want to have to write you up again.” A smirk curves on your face as he walks away. Although there is a finality to his voice in which you know you won’t get out of this work event, Thor has reminded you of the very public display of affection Bucky showed you in the emergency room which had earned you an official warning from hospital HR.

A formal gala, with Bucky dressed up in a suit and you in the most alluring dress in your closet, could be the perfect place to earn a second warning.

* * *

The night of the Gala, Bucky knocks on your front door, feeling rather uncomfortable in this taut suit with the unnatural feeling of the shoulder pads compressing against his already broad shoulders.

He tries adjusting them as he waits, he wants to look his absolute best for you, to rival even a fraction of the radiance he’s sure you will exude tonight. But they feel even more out of place now he’s fiddled with them and regrets the decision until he hears the pattering of your footsteps behind the door.

“You have to close your eyes before you come in.” You call out to him in a playful voice, without opening the door. “I’m not ready yet.”

Bucky’s positive that in any state of undress or stage in the process of getting ready you are the most beautiful girl in the entire world, but a warmth spreads through his chest at the notion you’re wanting to look your best for him.

“Okay darling, they’re closed.” He plays along, knowing that when it comes down to it, he would do anything you ask him without contest because it’s for you.

Bucky hears the lock click as it opens and a small giggle, before the light pressure of a pair of lips on his.

“No peeking.” You request as you take his hand and lead him inside. Bucky knows your place like the back of his hand already and doesn’t need his eyes open to know that you take him towards the couch. “I’ll be right back, don’t you go anywhere.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” With each beat of Bucky’s heart his anticipation of seeing you only grows. He’s seen you in every way imaginable, naked and writhing for him, vulnerable with sickness, beaming with pride and joy, and yet every time he sees you he is continually flawed by how stunning you are in every scenario.

“Buck, you can open them.”

Bucky is simply lost for words. Never in all his life has he been in the presence of someone so utterly breathtaking. Looking at you now, practically radiating golden light, a brilliant smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, and your body looking downright heavenly in a form fitting dress which compliments the colour of your eyes, Bucky believes angels do actually exist.

“You are so beautiful.” He manages to stammer out once he’s picked his jaw up off the floor.

“Not as handsome as you in this suit.” You grip the lapels of his jacket to pull him even closer to you, straightening his tie in an action that overwhelms Bucky with a need to kiss you.

“What, this old thing?” He attempts to brush off your flattery, because next to you, there is positively no way anyone could compete with your beauty.

Bucky gulps the excessive saliva pooling in his mouth as his eyes roam your frame once again, because he can’t help but literally drool over how stunning you look - can’t believe that he gets to be the one who walks into the gala tonight with you on his arm.

The only other time he has felt this utterly floored by someone’s appearance was the first time he laid eyes on you as you strolled across the ER on that now historic day when he could not believe someone in scrubs and a lab coat could look so breathtakingly beautiful.

“You are genuinely the most gorgeous woman I have ever laid eyes on.”

You kiss him in the breath after he finishes speaking, in that luscious, sensual way that no one else has ever kissed him and evokes a warm, fuzzy, almost life-ruining devotion, dare he say love, in his chest.

“Let’s just stay here tonight.” Bucky mumbles against your lips, his hands finding the zipper on the back of your dress and slowly unzips to let the fabric fall from your décolletage.

He can feel you smile against his lips but then you bruise his heart by pulling away and saying “As much as I would prefer to spend the whole night naked here with you, I’ve already been told I cannot miss this event.”

However, they aren’t words which scare Bucky away from a challenge, he dives back into the kiss, the tip of his tongue tangling with yours. He thinks he has you convinced when your hands start playing with the hair at the nape of his neck - you know how much he likes it and do it constantly to turn him on, but then you pull back and Bucky sighs.

“You’re insatiable, aren’t you?”

“Only when it comes to you.” He responds with a chuckle. You’re the only woman who’s ever had him whipped before, and Bucky’s not sure you realise how powerful the hold you have over him is.

“I promise, all we have to do is last an hour at this thing, and then you can take me home and have your way with me.”

* * *

You walk into the Gala, which is already packed with hospital staff dressed to the nines, hand in hand with Bucky who, in your opinion, looks magnitudes more handsome than any of the other men all dressed in black suits.

You turn to him and he’s already looking at you with that sparkle in his eye, like you’re absolutely perfect, just as you are, and there is nothing about you he would ever dream of changing.

“What?” You ask when those twinkling eyes don’t look away, but instead study your features as if there’s words left unsaid on the tip of his tongue.

“Just imagining pulling you into one of the on-call rooms, tearing this dress off you and tasting every inch of you.” Bucky shifts his hand to rest on the small of your back, his breath warm against your ear sending a shiver down your spine.

“Well, we have done some of our best work in there.” Bucky hums in agreement, both of you taking a second to remember the first of many visits to the on-call room which left you with shaking legs, but was also the first time either of you acknowledged that your feelings were deeper than simply hooking up. “I think you need to grab us both a drink to quench that thirst of yours, James.”

While Bucky is busy with that task, you instead make your way over to the other side of the atrium to take a look at the items available for the hospital's silent auction. You have to chuckle to yourself looking at the prices listed on the bidding sheets - as if anyone with medical school debt could afford to pay for even one of the allusive holidays or artefacts they had obtained for the fundraiser.

But you suppose your job tonight isn’t to bid on the items themselves, but to shmooze the wealthy guests in attendance into bidding with their spare millions.

Searching out one of the items at the lower end of asking prices, you decide to put an almost embarrassing low bid on an all expenses paid weekend to Mexico, that you know someone will outbid you on, just to say you participated in the night without needing to lie through your teeth.

You stroll through the busy hall, keeping your eyes peeled for Bucky near the bar but it seems you’ve lost him in the packed crowd. It’s usually fairly easy to spot your tall, broad boyfriend, and your heart sinks a little that you’re forced to walk aimlessly around the event as everyone else is wrapped in conversation.

“Doctor, lovely to run into you like this.” You hear a voice you’ve heard before but cannot place from behind you. And though you can’t actually see their face, the tone of their voice contradicts their words - they don’t seem pleased to see you at all.

Turning around, a face that evokes prickly apprehension in your chest comes into view. She’s hauntingly beautiful, the type of beauty which artists spend hours trying to commit to canvas and which is just not attainable for regular people like yourself. She holds herself like she’s closing out a Victoria Secret fashion show and is fully aware of the enchanting effect she has on any man who sets eyes upon her.

“Jacqui… I didn’t know pharmacy staff were invited to this thing.” Even with her disagreeable inflection, you do your best to sound pleasant.

“Oh well you are when you’re heading up the department.” She boasts, with a little wobble of her head which you mostly think is to draw attention to her shiny, voluminous blonde hair.

So is she just here to rub her new job title in your face?

“Congratulations, I didn’t know you got promoted.” You try to sound genuine even though you really couldn’t give a shit.

“I saw you walk in with Barnes. Where did he scamper off to?” You are now actually very glad to not have found Bucky in the crowd earlier. Something about the way she is trying to control the curiosity in her voice, and that she was actively watching the two of you together, makes you cautious of her intentions.

“Not sure, I was just looking for him.”

There’s a long pause where both of you refuse to be the next one to speak. You just want this conversation to be over. But you aren’t that lucky.

“How long have you two been together now?” The inquiry is almost punctuated with sharp spite, and though you don’t want to indulge her line of questioning, there’s a voice in the back of your head that’s telling you you need to defend your Bucky from whatever that time is implying.

“A couple months.” Is the defensive response you retort - it’s technically correct, though you’ve only been official for a month of that.

Where the fuck was this coming from?

“I trust him implicitly.” You attempt to control the absolute bewildered facial expression that’s trying it’s very best to overtake your features.

“Oh you poor, naive thing.” She says with a tone you use when delivering bad news to patients' families. “Men don’t change, they just hide their true nature from you. Wait a few months, he’ll be back to his fuckboy ways, guys like him can’t resist cheating. I guarantee it.”

Most men are like that, at least in your experience. But Bucky has never given you any cause to believe he would treat you like that. Just because he had a reputation of casually sleeping around before meeting you, doesn’t mean once he’s in a relationship he’ll be unfaithful.

You can’t imagine the sweet man who walked into your place tonight with his eyes closed, waiting for your consent to see you fully dolled up in your gown and then proceed to call you the most beautiful woman he has ever laid eyes on, would ever cheat on you.

“You don’t know him like I do and have no right to speak about him like that.” You state firmly with a small humph. If you weren’t at an event packed with your colleagues, you’d slap her.

The look in her eyes appears like you’ve challenged her, but you don’t want to think about the connotations of that right now. Without saying goodbye, you turn on your heel, needing to get as far away from her as quickly as possible.

Rippling anxiety bubbles in your chest that in your experience only Bucky’s touch can soothe. You frantically search for him in the sea of black suits, trying to also keep half an eye out for Jacqui so you don’t accidentally run into her, but he is again nowhere to be found.

Where the hell is Bucky? Your mind practically screams as you bump into a strapping chest, but this one unfortunately belongs to the one and only Thor Odinson.

God, could he have worse timing?

You plaster on your best smile, trying your best to keep a calm facade as he introduces you to two older gentlemen he appears to be chaperoning for the night.

As wealthy and influential as they are, having made their billions from a tech empire started with a little trust fund from their families' generational wealth, you can’t find it in you to care at the minute. You just want to find Bucky. Need him to hold you until the tornado of anxiety dissipates in your chest.

But Thor doesn’t allow you to slip away unnoticed, instead he prompts you to talk up the work the team does in the emergency room, speaking about the people you save from all walks of life, from those without health insurance to the affluent who can afford the life saving medical procedures others fail to receive.

Knowing their donations tonight could mean the difference between many getting life saving medicine and not, you summon the will to engage in conversation, trying to push down the acidic bile bubbling in your stomach that had risen as result of your interaction with Jacqui.

The sharp taste remains on your tongue as you’re now caught in philanthropic discussion, silently cursing Thor who stands beside you for ever inviting you to this damn gala in the first place.

It’s at least fifteen minutes later when you finally excuse yourself from their presence, the two men having pulled out their cheque books, much to Thor’s delight, preparing to make generous contributions that would have the hospital naming wards after them.

You hate to think what trouble Jacqui could get up to in that time frame. But you don’t have to wait long to find out.

Finally, after searching near the whole hall for Bucky you find him. Goddess like Jacqui by his side.

She stands there, supermodel tall, blonde bouncy hair, beautiful, toned legs on display through the slit in her dress, a flirty smirk curving on her face, tucking strands of loose hair behind her ears like a schoolgirl with a crush.

The nerve of her, approaching Bucky at all, but especially after the words spoken between you earlier.

Just seeing them together, the most exquisitely gorgeous woman flirting with the man whom you love and confirmed less than half an hour ago to her you are in a relationship with, makes your insides tightly twist with jealousy, as if someone were wringing out a wet towel.

Half of your mind is telling you to stalk over there and possessively claim your man in front of everybody, but the other half, the insecure side which believes Bucky could do so much better than you, who would want someone as beautiful as Jacqui by his side, and which is currently winning the battle in your mind, wants to run off crying into the furthest corner of the hospital.

Coming to a compromise, your brain instead decides that being frozen in place, unable to look away like an impending car crash, is the best place for you to be. But that is also pure torture.

Bucky smiles, not quite his signature cocky smirk that never leaves his face when the two of you are together, but it’s definitely a smile nonetheless and your heart sinks through the pit of your stomach.

Men don’t change. He’ll be back to his fuckboy ways.

You’re not sure why you’re letting Jacqui’s words penetrate your mind, burrow into the deepest crevices and allow them to make a home there. You suspect it’s because at one point in time Bucky thought she was desirable enough to take home and do unexplainably filthy things with. Does he still have that same attraction for her?

Practically paralysed in place as you watch their interaction, it feels like your heart has stopped beating all together when Jacqui strokes his arm. But buoyant relief comes near milliseconds later when Bucky brushes her off. That’s your man.

You can’t hear what they’re saying, but you distinctly see him mouth the words ‘I have a girlfriend’, which relieves some of the tension in your tightly wound heart.

Bucky frantically searches around the room, and appears to have found what he is looking for as his eyes settle on your face.

But when your mind catches up to all the drowning emotions swirling in your chest, an uncontrollable sob bubbles up your throat and tears sting your eyes. You’re not even upset with him, but the fear of what Jacqui had been planning on trying with him still manifests as a choking lump in your throat.

The physical distance between you throughout tonight has let doubt and hesitancy creep into the only small space in your heart Bucky’s affection has not yet touched. Jacqui planted the seed and it’s already bloomed into a large tree, branches crowding space in your tightening chest.

The last thing you remember seeing is Bucky taking a large stride towards you, before your hands fly to cover your mouth and you take off, walking as quickly as you can in your heels, to where you know the nearest on-call room is.

* * *

Prickling panic fills Bucky’s lungs.

Has he inadvertently just ruined the best thing in his life?

Jacqueline’s voice calls his name as he chases after you, watching as you weave between guests and make your way to the nearest exit, which only takes you deeper into the hospital.

He was naive enough to think Jacqueline’s intentions were innocent when she approached him for conversation, just two colleagues catching up at an event that neither of them were fully participating in, but he was sadly mistaken.

He’ll never make that blunder again.

Watching you shuffle into the nearest on-call room, Bucky takes it as a positive sign that he’s not the one you’re upset with, at least not completely, when you don’t slam the door in his face but instead leave it open knowing he’ll follow you inside.

Bucky stays by the doorframe for a split second, watching as you work to steady your breathing, hands wiping the corners of your eyes, but the overwhelming urge and the need to comfort you wins out and he can’t help but hastily rush to your side.

“Darling…” He starts to say but when you look at him with big, wide eyes that are filled with tears, his mind goes blank and all he can think about is holding you.

You turn into his chest, face nuzzled into his lapel, and his arms instinctively close around you.

It’s the little sob which escapes your lips that does Bucky in completely. He hates to see you upset, but never in the months of knowing you has he been privy to this amount of genuine distress. He’s seen some not so great days, shaking frustration, even teary eyed with sadness, but never breaking down weeping.

He would move heaven and earth to ensure you never feel this way again.

He places a feather light kiss to your hairline whispering, “I’m right here. Nothing can hurt you.”

Though it was not his intention, his words provoke more sobs to escape your throat and Bucky pulls you ever closer. He’s practically holding up your entire body weight, and decides you’ll probably be much more comfortable on the bed this on-call room provides.

Even seated, you cling to him like he’s your lifeline, and Bucky can’t ever imagine letting go. He’d drown if it meant holding you safely out of the rough, relentless rapids currently flooding your mind.

As a paramedic, he’s so used to taking action, launching into a crisis with the equipment to be able to provide aid, to prevent further suffering. But right now all you need is his presence, to be the anchor grounding you to this world as a reminder that you have someone in your corner fighting for your happiness.

He hates not being able to do more for you.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Bucky asks after minutes of comforting you without words.

God, you feel so stupid. Crying at a work function because one of your boyfriend's ex-flings decided to flirt with him.

But it’s more than that - it’s the disrespect, the fact that she seems so entitled to Bucky’s affection simply because at some point in his history he slept with her, regardless of if she hurts you along the way to get to him. Do all the women at the hospital look at you like you’re an inconsequential ant they can step on to get what they want?

It doesn’t help that she's also the most stunning, physical personification of a man’s wet dream you’ve ever seen.

“It’s not you Buck, it’s her.”

He doesn’t answer immediately, just continues rubbing his large hand up and down your back, which tells you he’s confused by your statement. Perhaps you’re not making any sense in this outburst of emotion, you can barely keep your thoughts in a logical stream let alone expressing them eloquently.

“Jacqui, she… I told her we were together, she knew I was your girlfriend, and she still had the nerve to flirt with you.”

“I didn’t flirt back.” Bucky says defensively, and as much as you adore him, it’s making you frustrated having to spell it out for him how her actions have made you feel when your throat is aching from pure emotion.

You take a deep breath, allowing oxygen to diffuse into the deepest alveoli of your lungs, calming the constant stream of anxious thoughts, and letting you regain control of the tears falling from your eyes.

“I don’t know if it’s jealousy or insecurity. I genuinely don’t care how many women you were with before me Buck, it’s just a number, it doesn’t matter.” You sit up and look him in the eye, needing to convey just how vigorously you believe your statement. “It’s just… it's a soul crushing feeling that people in the hospital, people I have to work with every day, use the fact that you’ve slept with them to make me feel uncomfortable. That somehow because they know what you look like naked it diminishes our relationship and then they feel entitled to flirt with you and try and fuck you even though they know you’re dating me.”

The misery in Bucky’s eyes is almost tangible, and maybe it’s just an illusion from tears in your own, but seeing you hurting makes him start to cry too. His large hands engulf both of yours and his thumb strokes the backs of your hands resting comfortingly in your lap.

Previous partners have always brushed you off, gaslit you or raised their voice and called you crazy when you expressed an ounce of self-doubt or insecurity, but Bucky listens to each of your words with a determined focus, taking the weight of them on himself, as if they have just as much significance to him as they do to you.

“Darling, I’m so sorry Jaqueline made you feel that way. She had no right. But you need to know there is not a single woman on the face of this earth that could tempt me away from you, no matter how hard they try. No one has ever had me like you do.”

The panic beating of your heart starts to calm when Bucky places gentle kisses to your knuckles. His eyes brim with trepidation, as if he’s just realised how fragile relationships can be and he’s desperately trying to hold onto you, preventing you from ever letting go again.

“I can’t change my past, as much as I might want to, but all I know is you’re my future.” Tears trickle out of the corners of your eyes, but now the reason being due to happiness at Bucky’s sweet confession.

What did you ever do to deserve him?

“My life before I met you was dull, black and white reruns of the same shit each day. Since I met you, everything is in vivid colour. If I could go back in time and wait for you, I would. If I knew you were around the corner, there wouldn’t be any other women. But to me, you’re the only woman that matters. It’s so profoundly better with you because I-, because I care about you beyond comprehension. There were never any feelings with anyone else. You are the only person I have ever felt this way for. You have nothing to be insecure about or anyone to be jealous of, you’re the only woman in my eyes, and I-, you’re my everything.” For someone who constantly says he isn’t very good with words, Bucky always seems to know exactly what to say to make you fall even more in love with him. They are perfect words. Precisely what you need to hear from the man who has quickly become the reason for your being.

There’s a buoyancy in your chest as those familiar eyes, so blue you could drown in, examine your face for any non verbal cues of how you’ll react to his words.

“You really feel that way James?” You ready yourself, inadvertently grinding your teeth, waiting, hoping, wishing for him to say those three little words that will take your relationship to the next level.

But that hope pops like a bubble floating in the wind.

“Darling, I would never lie to you.” He punctuates with a kiss to your lips, slow and fervent, full of meaning. The look in his eye tells you he wants to reveal more, but it passes in a blink. “C’mon, let me take you home, and I’ll show you just how much I care.”

Bucky’s firm hold on your hand never leaves yours as he leads you back through the gala. You notice some glance at you, but all you’re focussed on is your boyfriend, his head held proudly high, not giving a damn what other hospital staff are whispering under their breaths.

* * *

Bucky slowly unzips the back of your dress, the material slowly falling away from your shoulders. A shiver runs down your spine as his lips kiss down the path of the zipper, starting between your shoulder blades, careful not to miss a single inch of skin as your dress bunches around your stomach and hips.

“You were the most beautiful woman there tonight. You’re the most beautiful woman in the whole world.” He whispers against your skin, in such a sure tone you can’t help but believe him. His hands roaming over the base of your spine before gently pulling your dress over your hips. “Can’t believe I got to be the man who walked in with you as my partner.”

Bucky turns you around to kiss you once you’re bare for him. The passion, zealousness of his lips feels like you’re drowning in a tender devotion he could not articulate with just words themselves.

You don’t need to break away from the kiss to push his jacket off, unbutton his shirt, nor unbuckle his belt. He’s as hard as a rock, standing at attention ready for you as soon as his trousers hit the floor.

“My darling girl…” He practically growls in your ear when you cup his balls with one hand as the other starts stroking him, using your thumb to spread the pearly bead of precum over his tip whilst placing kisses to his chest. “This will be a very short, one act play if you keep doing that.”

“I’ve barely touched you Buck.”

“Mmm, I know. That’s just how much you turn me on.” The signature smirk he shoots you turns your stomach to mush, and makes you feel like you’re the dazzling sun at the centre of his universe.

Bucky’s large hands pull you down on the bed, on top of him. He sits you on his thick thighs, tongue sweeping into your mouth, hands exploring your every curve.

You wish you could live in this moment forever, relishing in how much care Bucky holds you with, but still manages to make you feel like you’re the sexiest woman in the solar system.

It hits you square in the chest when his soothing, wide blue eyes look up at you with a familiar tenderness that gives life to butterflies in your stomach, that you would do anything for the man underneath you, the man you love.

“What do you want, darling?” Bucky asks between breaths as he sucks on your hard nipple, his tongue swirling, doing magical things that could make you cum just like this. “What do you need?” He adds, switching to your other breast, which makes it hard to control your stream of thoughts - but there is one thing at the forefront of your mind that you don’t have to consider to know you need desperately.

“You.”

He lets out a groan around your nipple and you suspect thrusts his hips up involuntarily, just to feel closer to you.

“I need you Buck.” You repeat, tucking your finger under his chin and bringing his lips up to tenderly touch yours, as the urge to kiss him overcomes you. If it were up to you, the remainder of your life would be spent with your lips locked with his.

“How?” His stubble scratches the tips of your fingers as you cup his face. The desire brimming in his eyes, the hunger to ravish every part of you, the yearning to have you so close to him you can’t tell where you end and he begins, leaves you breathless.

“Just like this, please.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but your imploring tone inspires Bucky on, not wanting to waste a single second more where the two of you are not joined.

Your forehead rests against his, his eyes boring into yours as he simultaneously uses one hand to assist you lifting yourself to hover over him, and the other to line his tip up to your dripping entrance.

An obscene sound from the back of your throat topples from your lips as you sink down on Bucky's cock. He doesn’t take his adoration filled eyes off you for a single second, even to blink, as he fills you up completely. A whine escapes his lips once you’re seated on his thighs, appreciating how your pussy is swallowing his entire, impressive length.

“You enjoy sitting on your throne?” You can tell he’s trying to tease, a mischievous twinkle in those deep blue eyes, but his voice quivers slightly, almost as if it’s strained, which you know him too well to realise is a dead giveaway for just how aroused he is.

How aroused he is by you.

That fact alone is enough for you to start grinding against him, hips moving back and forth, working up a rhythm that has you seeing stars and him groaning your name.

Both of his large, calloused hands are resting on your hips, helping you keep the tempo, making sure each rock of your hips results in your clit being stimulated against his pelvis. His lips find your collarbone, teeth scraping your delicate skin, the sensation of which clears your mind of any coherent teasing response you could have come up with.

“Fuck, look at you fucking yourself on me. You’re a fucking dream.” Bucky’s mouth is one of the most arousing parts of him, not only for what his lips and tongue can do to your body but also for the salacious words he speaks in that gravelly tone which turns you on just as much as his body does. “That’s it, fuck me darling, this cock is all yours.”

“Buck you’re so deep.” Is all you can think, all you can feel is how his length is nestled within you, how much he fills you up. You’re bursting because of how satiated you feel with him inside you, but Bucky’s musky, woody scent, as well as his warm, tender touch surrounds you from the outside, you feel like he’s everywhere all at once, and it brings you right to the brink of coming undone.

“Be a good girl and cum for me.” In this moment you want to give him everything you have, give him everything he’s asking for and more. His voice is gentle the next time he speaks, a murmur just for you, and matches the softness in his gaze. “It’s okay, I got you. Let go for me.”

Bucky sucks the pulse point on the side of your throat and it’s the complete end of you. You shudder, feeling safe caged in his arms as ecstasy fires up from the base of your spine through every neuron in your body, your toes curling, fingers scratching down Bucky's back - you can even taste it on the tip of your tongue as you scream his name.

Your legs shake uncontrollably, unable to continue your pattern of movement grinding down against him, but Bucky takes matters into his own hands by wrapping his arms around your waist and fucking up into you to prolong your high.

Once you’ve finally stopped seeing stars, your vision coming back into focus, all you can see is the adoration, pure captivation as he looks up at your sweaty form trying to catch your breath.

“That’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.”

No one’s ever looked at you like this before, as if you’re the only girl in the world, the only person that matters to them, the one who holds their fragile heart in the palm of your hands and trusts you not to break it.

A dangerous thought flashes through your mind - do you dare tell Bucky that you love him for the first time right now, in the middle of the throes of passion. You have always wanted to let him set the pace of the relationship - he was the one who wanted to take it slow, not rushing into anything, but you can tell by the blooming warmth spreading through your chest, you have never loved someone more than you love him right now.

Bucky reaches up and affectionately brushes his thumb over the apple of your cheek, and before you can think twice about if you truly want to confess your devotion in this moment, he’s kissing you again.

Before you can even recognise what he’s doing, his toned arms have engulfed you in a tight embrace, and without pulling out of you, he flips you onto your back, making sure your head rests gently on one of your pillows. His body weight presses you deliciously into the mattress, it feels like being tucked in securely with a weighted blanket that just so happens to look like a Greek god.

“Need to feel you cum on my cock again, it’s so fucking addicting.” Bucky practically growls in your ear, his breathing heavy. His long chestnut hair falls into his eyes, but it doesn’t prevent him from gazing at you with a tangible combination of awe and lust.

The thrust of his hips is downright sinful. You feel the longing absence of each inch of him as he pulls out, only for him to split you apart again as his hips snap forward. Bucky starts out slow, his fingers intertwine with yours, forcing your hands above your head, but when he starts placing open mouthed kisses on the underside of your jaw, his strokes pick up momentum.

James Barnes has you in a trance, caged in by the sheer size of him, each languid, sensual thrust into you tightens the knot twisting into shape at the bottom of your belly.

He’s so breathtakingly beautiful, the most gorgeous person you’ve ever laid eyes on. As his shining pupils fixate on the pleasure contorting your face you ponder if he is possibly thinking the exact same way about you.

The moans dripping from his lips, mixed with grunted curses, along with the telltale crease in his forehead, and the fact that his teasing mouth can’t come up with anything coherent is evidence of how close he is. But you know Bucky’s generous heart better than anyone, perhaps even himself, and you are sure he’ll be determined not to cum before you.

One of his large hands continues to pin your wrists down as the other moves to wrap your legs tighter around his waist. Then he has the fucking audacity to rub the pads of his fingers over your clit in tight circles. You’re so done for.

“Bucky, oh fuck… yes, just like that.” You manage to stammer out, barely able to move with his weight pinning you beneath him, knowing your body is hurtling towards an inescapable, forceful orgasm, and all you can do is feel as Bucky plays your body like a fiddle.

“Please, need you to… I can’t last like this.” You can feel the desperate, animalistic timbre of his deep voice in your chest and his hot breath against your neck. “Darling please.”

And then you shatter.

Bucky speaks your name as a prayer, a vow, a promise. Over and over again. A reminder that you are who he is coming apart for.

It almost makes you dizzy how lost he is in the feel of you, how his hands spread you open as far as your legs will flex, but then you hear the wanton whimper as he spills his orgasm inside you and it’s almost enough to make you cum again.

As your heart rates slowly return to normal, Bucky lays down beside you, cupping your face tenderly as his tongue slips once again into your mouth. You would have thought given the display of passion just produced he’d have had his fill of physical affection, but he continues to surprise you.

Who would have guessed that Bucky ‘doesn’t go on second dates’ Barnes would now be clinging to you like a koala, not being able to get enough of your touch.

* * *

“Sweet dreams Buck.” You whisper in that tired, yet sickly sweet tone that Bucky associates with the contentment of falling asleep beside you.

”They’ll all be about you.” He responds with a delicate kiss to your forehead, fingers tracing gentle lines up and down the expanse of your back.

“Then I wish you nothing but dirty dreams.”

He rarely dreams of anything else nowadays, but it makes him smile nevertheless that your minds think in such similar ways.

You really are the girl of his dreams.

Even more than that, if there was an expression which captured just how significant you had become intertwined in his life after a relatively short period of time. His brain could not have concocted someone as perfect as you, even in his wildest fantasies.

He holds you close to him in the total darkness as your breathing slows, but there are too many thoughts racing through Bucky’s brain for him to fall asleep.

Tonight was perfect. Complete, utter perfection. Not that he expects any less of a night spent with you.

So why, even after building the courage all week ahead of the gala, (and if he was honest with himself, since the week he swapped to be on the night shift with you), had he yet to utter those three magic words?

Steve would say there was one final wall around Bucky’s heart he had yet to pull down for you, to reveal his deepest darkest vulnerability that he could barely admit to himself, let alone the flawless woman who consumed his every waking thought.

The insecurity he had been plagued with since he was fourteen years old and his father had wished death upon him.

The fear that he is innately unloveable.

Just because he loves you in a way that influences his every decision, impacts every aspect of his existence, and alters the chemistry of his brain, doesn’t mean you are as hauntingly consumed by devotion as he is.

And even though the rational part of his brain tries reminding him you would not have shown such patience and stuck around as he clumsily attempted to manoeuvre being in a relationship for the first time if you truly did not want to be with him, that nagging insecurity is always at the back of his mind like a fog that won’t clear, doubting whether after everything he has endured, if he is deserving of being loved the same way he adores you.

But at some point Bucky knows he needs to find the bravery to take that leap, even if your possible rejection would be his ultimate downfall.

“Darling?” Bucky whispers as quietly as he can into the still night air. You don’t stir, nor do you respond, which is exactly what he’s hoping for. “Darling, are you awake?” He questions slightly louder so that you couldn’t help but hear him considering his proximity.

You continue to rest peacefully, lips slightly parted and breathing steadily, which is precisely how you always appear when sleeping beside him, but given the gravity of what he is about to reveal to you, Bucky has to be absolutely positive you’re in a deep slumber.

“Chicken butt.” He says randomly, hoping that if you are feigning sleep this will cause a crack in your rather convincing facade. But to his delight, your expression doesn’t change in the slightest, no muscle in your face so much as flinches, and Bucky is finally convinced.

He takes a deep breath, readying himself even though he knows you’re unable to hear him.

You provide no response, features stay perfectly still, breathing rate doesn’t change. Which is of course exactly the reaction he’s hoping for while you rest, but he can’t stop his mind from wondering what your reply might be if you were awake; if you’d profess the words back to him, or if instead you’d recoil, shying away possibly because Bucky was moving too quickly.

Nevertheless, Bucky knows better than most that life can be painfully short, everyone has their expiration date, and you need to tell the people in your life how much you care about them before it’s too late.

“I love you.” He repeats with a smile and a kiss to your bare shoulder. Though he is navigating the all consuming, anxiety riddled, life ruining feeling of falling in love for the first time, Bucky knows with absolute certainty that he would go through it all again, one hundred times over, if it meant getting to spend his life with you.

But now for the difficult part - he has to say those three life changing words when you’re actually awake to hear them.

* * *

When the irritating ringing of your alarm wakes you up the following morning, a wave of disappointment washes over you. The night before with Bucky had been nothing short of memorable; complete with overflowing emotion, devotion, and no hint of apprehension from the man who had previously told you himself he wanted to take the relationship slow.

It was the most tangible display of pure love you have ever beheld.

But now, you lay alone in a web of cold sheets, Bucky’s place beside you unnaturally empty. When he has an early shift, typically he wakes you before he leaves, and at the very least gives you a kiss on the forehead, if not a much more intimate show of affection. But today, you have no recollection of being woken, no memory of his pillow soft lips on yours.

You find it takes a much more determined effort to get out of bed without an energising kiss from your Bucky.

The gala is the talk of the hospital, those who did not receive an invite interrogating everyone who attended for all the latest gossip. You hear your and Bucky’s names dropped a couple times in passing conversation, but all that does is remind you of the night before, and Bucky proclaiming his devotion to you while extracting a pleasure from your body no one else has been able to produce.

Tonight, you promise yourself, those three small words that have been tugging at your mind for the last month, tonight you’ll tell Bucky.

His declaration of wanting to take your relationship slowly was all the way back before your second date, before you officially became his girlfriend, before you held him as his mother underwent life saving surgery, before you knew of his traumatic past, before he switched to the night shift just so he could see you more often, before last night where he told you you are his everything.

Regardless of if he says the words back, you need to tell him. Need him to know that he is the love of your life, that synapses in your brain have reformed so your train of thought always comes back to him, that he has rewritten the molecular code inscribed in your cells so that they crave him like water, drawing him in like osmosis.

Your thoughts are interrupted by your pager going off, calling an all hands on deck emergency.

The ER is a frenzy of nurses clearing trauma rooms, doctors discharging patients who have already been seen to and Dr Strange shouting at surgical staff to prepare the operating rooms.

“There was a shooting at the mall. Police and paramedics are on scene, but it sounds bad.” Wanda fills you in as you both wash your hands and put gloves on, getting ready for the volume of blood and carnage that comes with gunshot wounds.

Dr Strange gathers the emergency medicine team together to brief you all on what you’re about to face. His face is stoic, having treated too many disasters to even seem phased by the decimation of so many lives.

You have not mastered that, but you also like having your humanity, caring about people is what you do best.

“So far we know of eight victims being routed here. There will most likely be more. All G.S.Ws, five women, two men and a child, about eight. One of the men was a paramedic on scene.” The last sentence out of his mouth gives you pause.

A male paramedic was shot.

“A paramedic? Did they say who? Give a description?” All eyes turn to you and no one needs to say it aloud to know exactly what you’re thinking.

“No, that’s all the information we have at this time. They should only be a few minutes out.” You’ve never known Dr Strange to be very sympathetic, but the look he shoots at you is what you assume to be the most compassion he is capable of.

The nagging part of your brain that always finds a route to the most devastating scenario, no matter how unlikely, is screaming so loudly you cannot ignore it.

What if that paramedic is Bucky?

There would have to be thousands of paramedics in a city of this size, what would the chances actually be that Bucky is the one paramedic in critical danger at this very moment.

But the universe has always found a way to be cruel to you, with the exception of when it brought devilishly handsome Bucky Barnes into your life. But what could be more cruel than introducing you to unconditional love and then destroying your heart by taking it away just as swiftly?

Wanda, sensing your paralysing worry beside her, comfortingly strokes her hand up and down your upper arm. “He was working the morning shift today, his shift will be well and truly over. He shouldn’t have been working when the shooting happened.”

“Yeah… he was on morning shift today.” Reminding yourself how you woke up in bed alone. Your lips tremble as you attempt to talk yourself down from the ledge of sheer panic. But your best friend can tell this fact doesn’t convince you.

“Call him.” Wanda instructs with a level voice, only a small glisten in her pupils gives away that she too is worried for his safety.

Your hands are shaking uncontrollably as you locate his contact in your favourites, accidentally dialling your mum first before you see the picture you have of the two of you together set as his contact pop up as it starts ringing.

Time stands perfectly still, the bustling hospital which is always full of movement, the constant beeping of patients pulse oximeters, announcements sounding over the PA, it all goes dead silent and all you hear is the ring tone of a phone call which Bucky isn’t answering.

Pick up. Pick up. Pick up.

It goes to voicemail, his voice filling your ears but it’s of no relief because it’s only a recording.

You press his contact again.

And again.

The fourth time you’re forced to listen to his infuriating voicemail, you leave a panicked message. “Bucky I’m so worried about you, please ring me back as soon as you get this. There’s been a shooting. Please, I need to hear your voice, hear that you’re alright. Please.”

You thought he’d pick up the phone and relieve you from this torment, but now knowing he hasn’t answered after multiple calls, you’re more convinced than ever it’s him that’s been shot.

“Wanda if it’s-”

“You can’t think like that.” But that's all you can think about. Your job, the duty you have to these patients who are en route to the hospital, none of that comes close to the need to know Bucky is unharmed.

The world starts moving in slow motion as the first of the patients arrives. Time runs like molasses, but the anxiety in your chest turns up one hundred fold, as if flashes of lightning strike your chest one after another.

A woman gets pushed in on a gurney, light brown hair stained with blood, and even from the sight of how the paramedic needs to hold her skull flap to her head to prevent her brain being exposed, you know she won’t make it as much as the surgeons will try to save her.

There’s a child, not much bigger than Sasha who you treated the day you first met Bucky, that gets pushed through next. In complete juxtaposition, she’s sitting up talking to paramedics, arm in a sling, but mostly looks unharmed.

And then you see it. The thing that flatlines your heart.

Chestnut hair and an EMT uniform.

You’d know those thick, wavy locks anywhere.

“Bucky!” You don’t even recognise your own voice with how much terror it is consumed with. This can’t be happening. This can’t be real.

In a flash you’re by his side, keeping pace as they wheel him deeper into the hospital, your lungs and throat scorching with distress.

Not your Bucky. They can’t take your Bucky.

“Buck, can you hear me?” Your hand cups his cheek, and he’s as cold as ice. His eyes are shut so he can’t even look at you to give you one last chance to memorise the astonishingly blue irises which have been your source of solace since meeting him.

A mask covers his mouth and nose, delivering rescue breaths. You try to place a block in your mind to stop it from retrieving the medical knowledge you have spent years memorising - you don’t want to know how catastrophic a situation his body must be in to be needing rescue breaths.

“I love you, James. You hear me? I love you!” It almost ends your existence when he doesn’t answer, doesn’t even so much as flinch at your confession. You hope any part of him that is still alive inside the casing of his cold body manages to hear those words.

Dr Strange and Wanda have to physically restrain you from following the team treating Bucky and prevent you entering the operating theatre.

Dr Strange’s voice sounds like a hum, too far away to make sense of even though he’s pushing you away from the OR. All you’re focussed on is keeping your eyes on Bucky for as long as you can.

Is this the last time you will ever see him alive?

It’s only once he is out of sight, that your brain starts to catch up to the realisation of what has actually happened.

Bucky was shot. A bullet ripped through his skin, tearing muscle and fascia, lacerating his organs, possibly fatally wounding him.

Bullets are designed to kill. To end the life of the organism the gun barrel is aimed at. There is no mercy from a gunshot wound, you had seen too many to believe better.

A guttural cry forces its way out of your parched windpipe without you being able to prevent it, your kneecaps sting as you fall to the ground. Hot, large tears cascade onto your cheeks as Wanda’s arms engulf you.

Any second now, James Buchanan Barnes’ heart could be taking its final beat and you wouldn’t be any wiser. His lungs would stop breathing, preventing oxygen from binding to hemoglobin in his blood and reaching his brain. Everything else would shut down quickly from there.

One second he’d be here and the next he wouldn’t.

James Barnes simply wouldn’t exist anymore.

You had seen it too often, heard from bereaved family members time and time again how quickly it had all happened, but it wasn’t until this very moment that you understood the magnitude of that sentiment.

How could he go from telling you yesterday night that you were the most beautiful sight he had ever laid eyes on to now possibly his cold, lifeless body laying on an operating table with his soul having crossed over to the afterlife?

You’d never hear his voice again. Or his laugh.

Never see his dazzling sapphire eyes as they regard you with overwhelming affection.

Never feel that warm rapture blooming in your chest when he’d proclaim himself as yours and kiss you in the same breath.

He’ll never get to know you love him.

It feels as though you are tumbling wildly down into an abyss, waiting for the inevitable crash at the bottom that would either end this eternal suffering or that sudden jerk, the lurch as you wake up from this cruel nightmare.

Neither comes. You are fated to live in excruciating limbo, your lungs burning, as if you can’t take a breath until Bucky’s destiny has been sealed.

Oxygen would be the gift you’d allow yourself once your love was awake and talking again; cracking stupid jokes with his signature cocky smirk and flirting with you like you were on your first date again.

And if he were to pass into the next life, taking your heart with him, then you would simply refuse to take another breath until you were reunited with him once again.

Part 10 coming soon

Be added to the series taglist here

He’s Hazardous To My Health [Paramedic!Bucky Barnes] Taglist: @lavenderpenumbra @crazyunsexycool @eralen @buckbuckyoongs @blackwidownat2814 @crayongirl-linz @ozwriterchick @desert-fern @misshale21 @chalesleclerc164 @rookthorne @janineb86 @emmabarnes @scarletbich @princezzjasmine @thebuckybarnesvault @doasyoudesireandlive @solitarioslilium @iamfandomwasted @tanyaspartak @pop-rocks-818 @Dumdidditydumdoo @missvelvetsstuff @kayden666 @amiimar @katheryn1 @safew0rd @kentokaze @thewackywriter @lady-loki-barnes-djarin @badasswlthafatass @loveoldmenlikelana @00cmh @pointless-girl @honeyglee @nerdxacid @ashhsage @prettylittlepluviophile @otomefromtheheart @sjsmith56 @mandijo17 @lokidokieokie @oceansandblackhearts @rebeccapineapple @soorwellystan @excusememrbarnes @lofaewrites @snapcapquartet @wishingwell-2 @aya-fay @lowkeysebby @redbarn1995 @lex-is-up-all-night-to-get-bucky

#mcu fanfic #paramedic!bucky barnes #wow.#I'm not saying anything else #ever

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xo-myloves · 2 days ago

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SLASH SUGAR BABY

like he punishes her for talking to a guy her age

So like heavy smut and then fluff

Pleaseeeee

-🧛‍♀️

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚑 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚝 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑..

༞༞༞༞༞༞༞𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝༞༞༞༞༞

Slash wasn’t the jealous type. At least, that’s what he told himself. He’d been with enough women, seen enough shit, and lived through enough insanity to think he was above that kind of petty bullshit.

But then he saw you. Sitting at the bar, drink in hand, laughing at something some punk-ass kid had just said to you. Some guy your age, flashing you a grin like he had a shot. Like he didn’t realize who the fuck you belonged to.

Slash clenched his jaw, exhaling smoke through his nose like a fucking dragon. His whiskey glass was already sweating in his grip, and he took a long swig, setting it down harder than necessary. The bartender gave him a wary glance, but he ignored it. His eyes were locked on you.

You looked good—too fucking good. That short little dress, the curve of your thigh as you crossed your legs, the way your lips parted just a little when you smiled. He knew exactly what you were doing. Maybe not on purpose, but fuck, did it matter?

The kid leaned in closer, and Slash saw red.

Without thinking, he pushed off from the table, stalking toward you like a predator. The second you saw him, your smile faltered. The guy you were talking to—some floppy-haired, clean-faced dipshit—glanced up and barely had time to react before Slash was in his space.

“You got a fuckin’ problem, kid?” Slash’s voice was low, dangerous.

The guy blinked, looking confused. “Uh… no?”

“Then why the fuck are you talking to my girl?” Slash took a slow drag from his cigarette and exhaled right in the kid’s face.

“I—I didn’t know she was with someone.”

Slash scoffed, shaking his head. “Yeah? You blind or just stupid?”

The kid swallowed, suddenly realizing that the dude in front of him wasn’t just some random jealous boyfriend—he was Slash. The Slash. His mouth opened like he wanted to say something, but then he thought better of it and muttered a quick, “Sorry, man,” before getting the fuck out of there.

Slash watched him leave, shaking his head with a smirk before turning his attention to you.

“The fuck was that?”

You rolled your eyes. “He was just talking to me, it wasn’t a big deal.”

Slash leaned in, pressing one hand against the bar beside you, caging you in. “Not a big deal?” His voice was lower now, almost amused, but you could hear the edge underneath. “You got some little pretty boy makin’ you laugh, and I’m supposed to sit over there and just… what? Pretend I don’t give a fuck?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t give a fuck.”

Slash let out a dark chuckle. “Yeah? Well, guess I’m full of shit, huh?”

You smirked, reaching for your drink, but he caught your wrist before you could take a sip. His fingers were warm, rough, calloused from years of playing.

“You tryin’ to piss me off, baby?” he murmured, his lips just barely brushing your ear.

Your breath hitched, and you tried to play it cool, but fuck, the way his voice dropped like that…

“No,” you said softly.

Slash smirked, brushing his thumb against your pulse point. “Good. ‘Cause you already fucking did.”

He grabbed your drink and took a slow sip himself, keeping his eyes on you the whole time. Then he set it down, pulling you off the barstool with one firm tug.

“C’mon,” he muttered, his voice rough. “You’re done talkin’ to kids. I got better things to do with you.”

you knew you fucked up.

✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢

“Tell me who this pussy fucking belongs too hmm?” Slash gritted his teeth in your ear, pounding into your abused pussy, feelings your core tightening even more, already having came three times, your body was so over stimulated, shaking from the pleasure.

I felt his hand come down to my cheek, making my body ripple, his hips crashing into mine, feeling myself melt into his touch, screaming in pleasure, my nails going to the sheets, pulling them off the bed.

He groans loudly at your scream, his grip on your hips tightening. He starts to thrust into you roughly, not caring if he's hurting you. His face is buried in your neck, biting and sucking hard marks onto your skin. His movements are fast and brutal, like he's trying to punish you.

“F-fuck you..” I mumbled under my breath, knowing it was a mistake the second it let my bruised lips, he laughs harshly, snapping his hips forward again. "Answer the question, baby. Who pussy does this fucking belong too?" He releases one of your wrists to push a hand between your thighs roughly, finding your spot and rubbing hard to take the edge off your pain. His teeth grit together “just be a good slut and cum for daddy again.”

My moans got louder, feeling my legs clamp together, my chest rising, my eyes shutting, my body couldn’t take any more of this much longer, he snapped, thrusting especially hard into you. He bites down hard on your shoulder, sucking and pulling to leave a deep hickey. He can feel you getting closer, your body tightening around his. "Come on, baby."

“M’gonna cum daddy,” I murmured into the bed, my body getting hotter, my body turning red, my pussy clenching around him, milking him for what he’s worth, taking in all of him, "Fuck - that's it." He shoves his hand harder against your clit, feeling you clamp down around him as you come undone. His thrusts become more erratic and desperate, losing control as he feels you fall apart beneath him. "Fucking take it, baby."

My body convulsed around him, my body squirting while liquid all over the bed, leaving the wet spots bigger than before, grunts leaving slash’s mouth, moans leaving mine, his eyes fly open in shock and arousal. He slams into you a few more times before burying himself deep inside, pulsing and shaking as he comes hard.

His ooze costing me completely, feeling his arousal leaking out of me before feeling his body collapses on top of you, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. His heart is pounding in his ears, his mind racing with the sudden realization of how much he just fucking loves you. He buries his face in your neck, his arms wrapping tightly around you.

“Maybe you like punishing me..” I murmured into his neck, my arms wrapping around his torso, he stayed silent for a moment, his breath slowly returning to normal. He finally pulls back slightly to look into your eyes, his voice low and gruff. "Maybe I fucking do." He kisses you softly this time, a stark contrast to the rough and aggressive sex you just had.

“Y’know you love it,” I smirked kissing his cheek, placing my forehead against his, my fingers tracing his lower back tattoo, he smiled slightly, his thumb brushing over your cheek gently. He knows you're right, but he can't admit it out loud just yet. Instead, he kisses you again, this time with more tenderness and love than he's ever shown before. "Shut up and kiss me, bitch."

He’s back.

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writer-freak · 3 days ago

Note

If requests are open, could I request gekko + your favorite valorant agents with a significant other who gets panic attacks? Your writing is so lovely!

Characters: Gekko, Yoru, Reyna and Jett

A/n: Thank you so much for the request I hope you enjoy this <3. Also I think some of the women in Valo don't get enough love so I included Reyna and Jett

Gekko Gekko immediately notices when something’s wrong. He is even softer then usual as he crouches in front of you, his hands gentle as they find yours. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he murmurs, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles over your skin. “You’re safe, I got you.”

He doesn’t rush you, just stays close, offering quiet reassurances while his little buddies hover around you, sensing your distress. He starts talking about random, lighthearted things, maybe how Wingman got into trouble earlier or how Dizzy almost knocked over his drink. His voice is calm, steady, trying to give you something to focus on.

Once you're ready, he guides you to the couch and wraps you in a warm blanket. “How about a movie marathon?” he suggests, a grin tugging at his lips. “Or, better idea, I make you whatever you want to eat, and we turn this into a full-on spa day. What do you say?”

He makes sure you’re comfortable, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before heading off to prepare your favorite food. When he returns, he settles beside you, rubbing your back or belly, or in general doing whatever you need. And with his little creatures cuddled up around you both, he makes sure you don’t feel alone, his presence reassuring.

Yoru Yoru isn't great with words, but he knows something’s off the moment he sees you struggling to breathe, your body tense and shoulders trembling. His jaw tightens, his usual cockiness pushed aside as he quietly kneels in front of you.

“Hey,” his voice is lower, more careful than usual. “Look at me.”

He gently takes your hand, placing it over his chest. “Breathe with me,” he instructs, inhaling deeply, exhaling slowly, waiting for you to follow his rhythm. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t push. Just stays there, grounding you with his presence.

When your breathing steadies, he squeezes your hand before letting go, standing up like nothing happened. “Tch. You scared me for a second,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know I'm not the best at the whole emotional talk thing…but, you’re not dealing with this alone. I’m here, okay?”

Then, without waiting for a response, he drops his jacket over your shoulders, his way of comforting you without making it obvious. “You’re cold,” he grumbles, avoiding eye contact. “And don’t even think about arguing.”

He stays close, even if it’s just sitting beside you in silence, his presence making you feel safe.

Reyna Reyna acts fast. The moment she notices your breathing pick up and your hands trembling, she pulls you into her arms, one hand cradling the back of your head. “Shhh, mi amor, I’ve got you,” she whispers, her voice warm and steady.

She guides you to the bed, settling you in her lap as she strokes your hair. “Focus on me,” she murmurs, her lips pressing soft kisses along your temple. “You are safe. Nothing can hurt you while I’m here.”

She doesn’t let go until your body relaxes against her. Even then, her hold is strong, protective, her fingers tracing gentle patterns along your back.

When your breathing evens out, she tilts your chin up, studying your face with careful eyes. “Better?” she asks, and when you nod, she smirks. “Good. Now, we rest.”

No questions, no pressure, just Reyna keeping you close, her presence an unshakable shield against the world.

Jett Jett notices something’s wrong immediately. She sees the way your hands shake, your chest rising and falling too fast. Without hesitation, she moves in front of you, crouching down with her usual bright smile dimmed into something softer.

“Hey, hey, you with me?” she asks, her hands gently resting on your arms. “Let’s take it slow, okay? Breathe in, like this.” She exaggerates an inhale, holding it for a moment before exhaling. “Now you.”

She stays with you, repeating the breaths until your body begins to relax. Then, in true Jett fashion, she nudges you playfully. “You scared me, you know,” she says with a small grin. “But it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

She moves beside you, pulling you into a side hug, rocking you gently. “Whenever I freak out, I do something super dumb to shake it off,” she admits. “Wanna try? We could run around, throw pillows at each other, just do something silly.”

If you’re up for it, she’ll make sure you end up laughing. If not, she stays close, running her fingers along your scalp, whispering how strong you are and how proud she is of you.

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

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guardian-of-time-if · 2 days ago

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I couldn't find anything about this on the blog so I'm gonna have to ask, is there anything to keep in mind about the fashion of the world? I want to draw my MC but I want to make sure I understand the fashion.

thank you!

Hi! I have been waiting for the fashion question, and I am prepared with images.

Long with lots of images:

The Nytherian upper class dresses like everyday is the most important day of their lives. Most commonly women will wear gowns with wide skirts and tight bodices and lots of jewelry. Notably, gold jewelry is rarely worn, and is seen as tasteless or unclassy. Despite the weather, they actually don’t wear a lot of furs or layers to keep warm because most buildings (that the upper class would interact with) are warded against cold, so you’ll actually see a lot of short sleeved dresses even in the dead of winter. Here are some examples of what women might wear,

And yes they dress like this every day. The idea is that a courtier should be able to spontaneously drop whatever they are doing and meet with the emperor if he calls them. The main difference between everyday and event attire for Nytherian women is how much make-up they are wearing. They wear a lot flashier make-up for events, and very little on regular days. (Some forgo it entirely, and those that do wear it in a way that looks as if they are not.)

Peasant women, also wear dresses, but of much simpler designs, something more like this (the jewelry here would be more indicative of a middle class than poor peasants, but it's close enough):

The Nytherian men of the Imperial Court would dress in more layers, like this:

Or some would just wear their armor which would look something like this for a high ranking officer like Luk or Lord Igor, but with a shoulder cape instead of the hood depicted here.

For a lower ranked soldier, it would look something more like this.

While MC is in Nytheris, she's expected to dress like a Nytherian lady, but when she goes to train with the Dragon Seekers outside of the empire, she'll get to dress more practically. Dragon Seekers don't have a uniform, so most people dress similar to their own culture. But it is more practical and often includes armor, so it might look something like this:

Or for something with pants (which will be a possibility):

Male dragons seekers also tend to dress pragmatically, with lighter armor, but almost all of them wear at least a partial set of armor. Some who have combat training will wear heavier, but lighter leathers tend to be more common, for example something like this(ignore the watermark):

#guardian of time #guardian of time if #Nytheris #fashion

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avatarfandompolice · 1 month ago

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Just saying that I find it interesting that the comics give female characters like Mai, Ursa, Ty Lee, Azula, etc. some agency to craft their own destiny rather than it being guided along by a male character and every mouth-breathing pseudo-fan coincidentally thinks this is OOC and bad writing

#almost like you don’t want women to do something #Azula #ty lee #Mai #Mai ATLA #ATLA #atla comics #avatar the last airbender #avatar comics

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mylove-thresher · 3 months ago

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JUMPING UP AND DOWN!!,,,!!,! I DREW!,!,,,!!!!,,

yo cuando mujeres sobrenaturales

#So like… I don’t know how to explain what I just did #Basically She is. Um. Benevolent shapeshifting entity #She is a giantess (ig) and she takes a stroll around the world in a constant loop #Everyone sees her differently. Everyone has a unique sight of her. No one has seen the same version of her #By the way her name IS She. I’m not motivated enough to make som up.#Anyway as I was saying uhhh yeah so #She’s basically a concept materialized into reality #She isn’t like a normal human at all. Her skin is elastic (almost like that black goop that ppl thought was solid until som time ago)#((I can’t find or remember the name of the black goop I’m talking ab. imma look so weird. But I swear it exists 😭))#(((GOOGLE ITS NOT FUCKING OOBLECK ITS WAY MORE SPECIFIC THAN THAT FUCK YOU)))#Also uhh back to the main topic. She is going to be eaten alive by men #Kind of like Gulliver and the liliputians #PLEASE TELL ME WHAT IM TALKING AB ISNT NICHE AND THAT I SHOULD BE LOCKED UP 😭#I had a Lilliputian dictionary when I was a kid…#ANYWAY ughh I keep getting distracted #Honestly that’s kind of about it as of now #Also I’m debating if all of her forms should be completely naked or if they should maybe have a little clothing accessories #I’m mainly debating this bc of things such as hijabs. Burqas. Niqabs. Etc.#They should also be included in the beauty thing right? But it’d be inconsistent world building for She’s concept maybe?#She is only her liquid form. Where would she get the clothing articles? And how would they fit her gigantic size?#Well. Whatever. I can do whatever I want and bend rules however I want. If She goes fully naked or wears something it’s her choice.#There’s a lot more stuff I want to mention but it’s whatever #traditional art #Pencil art #concept art #story wip #Women

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nezuscribe · 4 months ago

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you try not to get jealous. it does you no good. but sometimes you get a little miffed when it comes to how women treat your husband, arranged!gojo.

you see how the women giggle at him, how they bite their lips whenever he walks by. you see them giggle to each other, the way they try to catch his attention.

and though most ladies of the high society act this way, some of the servants around the estate, the women of the town, and others behave like this too.

they act as if he’s not married, as if that ring on his hand is purely for decoration. and sure, maybe a couple months ago it was for show but now things have changed and you don’t appreciate those ladies all that much.

and gojo notices.

he knows you’re getting better at talking to him about what ails you, but he also knows that it’s a a lot to get used to at once. he sees the way you tense up at their whispers, the glares you throw their way when you hear his name in their conversation. he understands because he’s the same as you, his feelings mirroring yours.

so he decides to comfort your worries a bit indirectly.

“what…” you whip your head around as gojo stops at a random spot in one of the hallways, taking you away from your tea time with shoko as he fails to give any explanation for his hurried responses, “what are you doing? you have that meeting with your counsel and-”

“missed you,” is all he’s able to say as he slams his lips onto yours, earning a surprised yelp in response.

your back hits against the stone wall, one of his hands against your head to protect it from bumping back as your gasp in surprise, letting him slide his tongue in your mouth as he sloppily kisses your lips.

“satoru, w-wait,” you try to stop yourself from whining out loud, your fingers cuing into his artic strands as his hands move down to hold your waist, “it’s daytime, p-people, people can come…” you can’t speak anymore because he doesn’t let you, lips slotting against each others as your eyes screw shut, heartbeat in your throat as he hands squeeze as your skin.

“i missed you,” he just repeats, nipping slightly at your bottom lip as you mewl, feeling his lips trail down your chin to your throat as you tilt you head upwards to give him a better angle.

you almost want to laugh because it’s only been hours since you’ve seen each other, but for gojo it feels like days since he’s seen you.

you peek slightly too look at him, see the way his lips attack your skin, sucking and biting, surely leaving marks as he makes his way down. you love the way his hair is slightly wavy, most likely from his bath after sparring.

you’re almost too intoxicated from his feverish kisses to notice the sounds of incoming footsteps, but the loud overbearing giggles is what pulls you back to reality.

you tense up, scrambling to push him away from you but he won’t budge. if anything, he seems to be motivated, moving back up to your lips to steal your words away.

“t-there’s people coming!” you try to warn him but he doesn’t seem to care, his blue eyes gleaming with a different look as your whine from one of his hands moving upwards to your chest, giving one of your breasts a light squeeze.

“so?” he murmurs, lips hovering against the corners of yours as his brow cocks upwards.

you go to say something else but he tilts your chin upwards to meet him, one hand balancing on the wall behind you, one on your hip, his hair messy from your fingers gripping at him.

you don’t feel like moving, too drunk off of him to even notice the ladies as they round the corner, not looking their way as you hear their squeals of shock, the way they try to hurriedly leave.

you glance slightly to the right as gojo moves back down to your neck to get a look at them, your fingers still tangled in his hair, one hand draped over his neck, squinting slightly as you remember their faces from last week, when you overheard them talking about your husband.

there’s a slight tilt in your lips as you hear their scrambled apologies, the way they try to leave as fast as they can. you try not to gloat too much in their looks of envy and jealousy.

and if you focused just enough, you could feel the smile on his lips.

“you missed me?” you ask a little breathless, a coy tilt to your voice.

“so much,” he mumbles as he glances up at you from his white lashes, his pupils blown wide, lips messy with spit, red and swollen as he presses a slopping kiss to the slight skin showing of your chest.

“you’re so immature,” you chide, trying to look away, the hide the bashfulness in your face but his hand cups your jaw, pulling your face back down to see his.

“they had to see for themselves,” he tells you, his voice wavering on something darker, “had to see who the only lady gojo is.”

and you smile, eyes a little hazy as your fingers slightly tug on his soft strands, reveling in the way his eyes roll back and his lips find their way back up to yours.

yeah jealousy wasn’t the best. but thank the gods your husband was just as petty as you.

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo drabble #jjk x reader #jjk drabble #satoru x reader #arranged!gojo

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gor3sigil · 8 months ago

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Before starting T, when I socially transitionned, I was surrounded by radical feminists who saw masculinity as gross and inherently evil, something to avoid, something to make fun of, something to destroy. The other transmascs in my friend group, sometimes, told me that they didn’t knew if they really were non-binary or if they just were scared shitless of saying “I am a man”. Because they saw this as a betrayal to their younger self who had been SAd and abused.

I saw many of my masc friends and trans men around me hate themselves, not outing themselves as men because it would imply so so much, it was like opening the Pandora Box. Even when we were just together, talking about our masculinity was always coated with bits like “I know we’re the privileged ones but…”, “I don’t want to sound like I have it bad but…”, “Women obviously have it worse, but last time…” and we were talking about terrible traumas we experienced while taking all the precautions in the world in the case the walls were a crowd of people in disguise waiting to get us if we didn’t downplay the violence we faced, or like crying and being upset and being traumatized and afraid and scared and to say it out loud would make us throw up the needles we were forced to swallow every second of every day living in our skin.

Most of us weren’t on T yet, some of us were catcalled every day and harassed in the streets or in abusive relationships nobody seemed to care to help them get out of because they were “strong enough” to do it by themselves.

I was using the gender swap face app and cried for ours when I saw my father looking back at me through the screen. The idea of transforming, of shedding into a body that would deprive me of love, tenderness, and safety, was absolutely terrifying. I knew I couldn’t stay in this body any longer because it wasn’t mine, but I also knew that if I was going to look like my dad, my brother, my abusers, it would be so much worse.

5 years later and I’m almost 2 years on T, and almost 2 months post top surgery.

I ditched my previous group of friends. I was bullied out of my local trans community. But let me tell you how free I am.

I was scared that T would break my singing voice: it made it sound more alive than ever.

I was scared that T would make me less attractive: it made me find myself hot for the first time in my life.

I was scared that T would make me gain weight: it did. But the weight I put on is not the weight I used to put on by binging and eating my body until I forgot that it even existed. It’s the weight of my body belonging to me, little by little. The wolf hunger for life.

I won’t tell you the same story I see everywhere, the one that goes “I started going to the gym 8 times a week, I put on some muscles, I started a diet and now I look like an action film actor”, in fact if you took pictures of me from 5 years ago vs now I’d just have more acne, I’d have longer hair and still look like I don’t know what to do with myself when I take selfies.

But the sparkle in my eyes, my smile, tell the whole story way better than this long ass stream of words could ever.

I want to say some things that I wish someone told me before starting medically transitionning.

It’s okay to take your time. It’s your body, it’s your journey, if you don’t feel comfortable taking full doses and want to go slow, the only voice you need to listen to is your own. Do what feels right.

If you feel overwhelmed, it’s okay to take a break, it’s okay to ask for support.

Trans people are holy. Everyone is. You didn’t lose your angel wings when you came out because you want to be masculine. You are not excluded from the joy of existence, from being proud of yourself, from being sad, from being scared, from being angry. The emotions and feelings you allowed yourself to feel while processing what you experienced when you grew up as a girl and was seen as a woman are still as valid as before. Nobody can take that from you. If someone tries to, don’t let them.

It’s perfectly normal to grieve some things you were and had before you started to transition, like your high soprano voice or even your chest. Hatching is painful. You can find comfort in things that don’t feel right, so making the decision to change can be incredibly scary and weird and you deserve to be heard and supported through this. Wanting top surgery doesn’t make the surgery less intense, less terrifying, less painful to recover from. When it becomes too much you have the right to take a break and take some deep breaths before going on.

You don’t have to have a radical, 180° change for your transition to be acceptable or valid or worthy of praise. Look at how far you’ve come already. It doesn’t have to show, you’re not made to be a spectacle, you’re human and it is your journey.

Oh, and last thing, you know when some people say “Oh this trans person has to grow out of the cringy phase where you think that you can write essays about being trans or transitionning or just their experience because it’s weird” ? If you ever hear this or see this online, remember all the people whose writing you read and, even if they were not professional writers, helped you more than any theorists did ? If you want to write, do it. It won’t be a waste. It can help people. Or it won’t, and even then, if it helped you, that’s enough.

Love every of my trans siblings, take care of yourselves. You deserve the world.

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catdia · 4 months ago

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Sevika with a Chubby S/o

Sevika loves bigger women, something about round tummies and thick thighs makes her go wild

calls you her peach because your nice and juicy

runs her fingers along your stretch marks, grabbing fistfuls of your flesh

chronic ass slapper and biter

uses your belly as leverage to fuck into you with her strap

constantly tells you that she wants to get you pregnant if she could

that you’ll make a great mama for her children

Sevika is much leaner and muscular, so whenever you get the chance you trace her abs with your finger tips

amazed by her raw powerful body you get an excuse to make her move furniture or heavy boxes

Silco adores you, so does Jinx. he asks Sevika how are you doing and genuinely cares about you (especially when you brought cookies for his daughter). because he has seen first hand what your relationship does to Sevika

got into a pretty nasty fight? Sevika punches his goons half to death. and looks even scarier than ever before

you patched up Sevika’s poncho after it got snagged on a broken window? he could almost see a sliver of a blush on her cheeks

his right hand woman has no idea the effect you have on her does she?

Sevika even toned down drinking and smoking

“my lady chews my ear off if I smell too much like a drive bar.”

you call her beautiful as you kiss her countless scars and rub the shoulder of her mechanical arm

“i’m everything but beautiful, doll.”

something primal takes over her as she sees how different your bodies are. you so soft and plush, her’s hard and brutal.

treats you like an absolute princess. buys you what ever you want. gives you what ever you want.

you are the one that cuts and styles her hair. she even asked you to shave her bald once and you had a heart attack.

Sevika plays dirty in card games. for every round she wins you take off a piece of clothing. one time she left you completely bare and you were pissed because you saw her cheat more than once.

ate your fat pussy out as a form of sorry

when she tells you to sit on her face, you SIT on her face

no “I’m too heavy” bullshit. if she couldn’t handle a little weight on her then she wouldn’t have the privilege of calling you her woman

and have you seen her?! Sevika is a tank. she can certainly handle herself (and you) more than anything

sleeps nude, with her chest pressed against your back and always a hand on your lower tummy

walks around the apartment shirtless all the time. flexes her arm when she catches you staring

uses your arm fat as a stress ball. It “makes her think better”. her words not mine

you patch her up after rough deals, crying and yelling at her for being too reckless. so selfish

Sevika kisses you. nose running down your neck, smelling your sweetness. she hates seeing you in pain. especially if it was caused by her

“i don’t like it when you cry.”

#arcane x reader #chubby reader #sevika #sevika x reader #arcane league of legends #arcane #sevika x you #vi x reader #caitlyn x reader #viktor arcane #jayce x reader #vander x reader #vander arcane #viktor league of legends #mel medarda #arcane silco #plus size reader #fat reader

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satoruan · 4 months ago

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FRIENDS WHO PLAY TOGETHER STAY TOGETHER ! ! — ARCANE

( tw ) f!reader. FF pairings. modern AU! masterbation. fingering. squirting. cunillings. dry humping. reader is kinda possessive in Vi’s. some yearning.

featuring. Violet, Caitlyn Kiramman & Mel Madarda

authors note. When you off that honey packet and ur home girl the only one in vicinity. Mel is so 🤭 I can’t she my type to a teeee. Anyways I’m about to go watch Act 2 WISH ME LUCK IM SCARED. Also idk how I feel about Kaits part I could do better 😔

VIOLET

You and Vi were at another one of your friends' sleepovers. You didn't wanna come, you wanted to spend the Saturday just the two of you, alone. You hated sharing her attention, she was your best friend. You were each other's number one, why did you need other friends when you two were each other's everything. It was late now, almost everyone was sleeping or about to fall asleep when Vi crawled between the bodies of people to where you were laying. You didn’t notice until you felt the familiar embrace of her against your back. Despite yourself, you felt yourself relaxing against her body.

“Are you still mad at me?” she whispered into your ear before placing a gentle kiss on your bare shoulder. “You know my favorite person. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah, whatever.” You grumbled. You weren't truly mad anymore but you knew what came next, what Vi did to reassure you that you were special to her. Her only best friend. You weren’t surprised when her hips rocked into your ass, when she pressed her tits against your back nor when her hand traveled underneath your oversized sleep shirt and cupped your breast.

“Vi…” You sighed nuzzling into the arm underneath your head. She tightened her grip on your breast and rocked her hips into you. You push back harder and soon enough you guys find a rhythm. Your ass pushing down on her hips when she grinds up into you. Her callused palm grazes your nipple and you whine softly. She whimpers into your shoulder, finger going to your nipple when she pulls and twists. You wish her mouth was on you, you wish your mouth was on her. You turn your head to her “I love you the most. My favorite forever.”

You feel her smile into your shoulder. “You're so beautiful, you know that?” translation: I love you too.

MEL MEDARDA

You couldn’t believe it. Your best friend’s tongue was inside of you. Licking you. Her lips were sucking on your clit, her teeth were biting your pussy lips. You could hear how wet you were—you could feel yourself leaking all over her face. “Mel!” You scream out into the dark room before slamming your hands over your own mouth. You don’t want anyone to see you—you don’t want her mother to see you, what a scene she would make. Seeing her daughter nose deep into her childhood best friend. Mel pulls her mouth off your clit with an embarrassingly loud pop. “Do you feel that? This is how you’re supposed to eat pussy darling.” She smiles when you just nod. Afraid that if you remove your hands from your mouth, you might confess something you don’t want.

Plus, this was just a favor, strictly platonic, you were just friends. That’s why she was eating you out in the first place—you wanted to finally dip your toe into the dating scene but you were scared because you were inexperienced, you didn’t wanna leave your future partners disappointed in your nonexistence skills. And that’s where your best friend came in. Where you didn’t know anything about sex, she knew what felt like everything. Though you never saw her with anyone, she talked like she knew the ins and outs of men and women and she offered to teach you.

“Now after you use your mouth and get them wet you wanna bring in your fingers, like this.” Mel grabs one of your thighs and pushes it down, giving her a better view of your dripping pussy before using her free hand and pushing a slender finger into you. You gasp. “I know you’ve fingered yourself before sweets, how many fingers have you shoved into this pretty pussy?”

You whimper, hesitantly removing your hands. “T-two Melly.” You answer bashfully, using the nickname you gave her when you were children. She hums and adds another. You bite your lip, lower abdomen clenching when she curls them into your spongy g-spot.

“Now pay attention to me alright?” She leans down to place a kiss on your pubs, leaving a trail of light kisses until she reaches your clit. She moves her hand out of you and a fast pace, fingers curling when she knuckles deep. You moan at the feeling of her hand pounding into you.

She gives your clit a few kitten lips before wrapping her full lips around the swollen area. She bits hard enough for you to wince before she starts sucking. You feel yourself coming apart on her face before you can stop yourself. She hurriedly removes her fingers, mouth sucking you even harder when you feel liquid gush out of you. You grab the back of her head and scream. You can’t stop it, you don’t want to. You throw your thigh over her head and curl your foot into her back, still riding the high. When your pussy stops shooting the mysterious liquid out Mel’s fingers find themselves back inside, four this time.

You feel tears collecting in the corner of your eyes, as she finger-fucks you. Mel pops back off your abused clit to whisper praises, good girl, you're doing so good, look at how well you take me, you feel heavenly, and when she goes back to playing with your clit you know you don’t want anyone to fuck you unless it’s her. Maybe you can ask her to teach you how to give hickeys next.

CAITYLYN KIRAMMAN

You were horny. Cait was horny. You both kept glancing at each other when you thought the other wasn’t looking, sussing out what the other was thinking. The movie you guys were watching was a rating away from being straight porn. When it was over you, both decided to call it a night. It was late she said. You guys had class tomorrow you said. When the lights turned off, you both said goodnight and laid down in your shared bed. You two were so close and loved being near each other that on the first day of the semester you pushed your twin beds together. Oh, how you were regretting that idea now. All you wanted to do was fuck yourself. You knew you weren’t going to fall asleep without an orgasm and so after twenty minutes when you thought Cait was asleep, you found your hand traveling into your boy shorts. You sighed in relief when your fingers grazed your throbbing clit. You rubbed it for a few seconds before shoving two fingers into yourself.

That relief was short-lived when you heard a breathy moan that didn’t come from you. You tensed up and stopped. When you didn't hear anything—maybe she was making those noise in her sleep—you slowly started to move your fingers in and out, palm rubbing against your clit. You bite your lip to stifle a moan and turn onto your back. You could barely move your fingers in and out lying on your side. You part your legs and moan when you finally hit your G-spot. You're so horny but your imagination isn't cutting it. Opening your eyes you turn your head to find the outline of your best friend who was the star in some of your fantasies, her hourglass figure would for sure spark a fantasy. When your eyes adjust to the dark you're shocked to see Cait staring back at you, her blanket pooling at her hips when you could see her hand abruptly stop moving. Your Cait was masturbating too, in the same bed as you. A grin spreads along your face.

“I-I’m not—”

“I am.” You whisper, pushing your blanket off you. Her eyes immediately latch onto where your fingers are slowly pushing in and out. Your other hand comes up to your tank top where you push your shirt down. Your breasts spill out. Cait’s face turns into a tomato, eyes widening even more than they already are. She doesn't remove her gaze from your breasts when she starts fingering herself again. You watch her mouth part into a small O and her eyes roll to the back of her head. You imagine what she looks like riding your face and start to speed up. Your other hand twisting your nipples.

“I-m gonna..” Cait whimper and spasms for a few seconds. You moan at the look on her face, so pleased with herself, and soon enough you're squeezing your eyes and coming too.

#.satoruan writes #arcane #arcane x reader #arcane x you #arcane x female reader #arcane x y/n #vi x reader #vi x y/n #vi x you #violet x reader #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn x reader #cait x vi #mel medarda #mel x reader #mel x you #Mel x y/n #arcane smut

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pencil-n-pen · 14 days ago

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YOUNGBLOOD

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆ . ۫ ꣑ৎ . ⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

rafe x fem! black cat! pogue!reader

masterlist | kofi

wc: 9.3k (sorry)

summary: summary: You’re the girl. Every guy who asks you out gets the same answer: No. You don’t do dating anymore. But as your reputation grows, so does the challenge. And when Rafe Cameron gets you in sights, he’s not about to give up.

cw: Rafe and reader are both assholes (hers is justified bc to me women are always correct) but it works out. oh also this one is a little spicy !! ofc not full smut but this is Rafe Cameron we’re talking about i can’t NOT include a LITTLE. ward jumpscare for like two seconds, references to past shitty relationships

tags/tropes: he falls first and harder (seriously he wants her BAD) black cat x doberman, kind of how to lose a guy in 10 days vibes, at first Rafe wants her bc of the challenge but eventually he just WANTS her, mild hurt/comfort, dom! rafe but also he does whatever reader wants (except stop trying to date her)

a/n: in this fic i imagine reader being one of those super fluffy feral black cats and then rafe is this doberman sitting behind her. walk him like a dog sis walk him like a dog

i’m so glad i finally finished this i’ve been writing it for ages but here it is !! hope u guys like it <3

EDIT: PLEASE stop asking for a part two. i’m in the hospital. writing is not my priority right now. i appreciate and am grateful that you liked the fic, but please stop commenting and sending asks for a part two.

songs i listened to while writing: Youngblood by 5 Seconds of Summer, Meddle About by Chase Atlantic, Champagne Coast by Blood Orange, Salvatore by Lana Del Rey, Brooklyn Baby by Lana Del Rey, Sad Girl by Lana Del Rey, sex money feelings die by Lykke Li, Angel by Massive Attack and Horace Andy

title taken from Youngblood by 5 Seconds of Summer aka this fics anthem

. ݁₊ ⚜️ . ݁˖

He meets you in, of all places, a fucking Barnes & Nobles.

There’s one Barnes & Nobles in the entirety of Kildare Island; it’s on the North side.

Rafe is only there because one of Kelce’s current flings is obsessed with reading those smutty books. Race doesn’t get the appeal. Apparently, the fling is at home sick and Kelce wants to get her something to make her feel better.

Rafe and Topper both think the partying might seriously be affecting his brain chemistry.

But anyway, Kelce asked Rafe to help because he’s “got a way with wooing women” and then since Rafe was going he said fuck it and invited Topper, who will surely be the voice of reason in all of this.

(He seriously doubts it, since Topper almost died in a burning building for the sake of his girlfriend, but whatever. Rafe just doesn’t want to deal with pussy-whipped Kelce by himself.)

They’re on their third go around the store and Rafe is beginning to contemplate the pros and cons of just grabbing the nearest book of the shelf and telling Kelce to just fucking pick something when he spots you:

Straining to reach a book on one of the top shelves. Looking perfectly and immaculately delicious.

“Yo,” He smacks Topper’s arm, getting his attention, “Who the hell is that?”

Topper follows his eyeline, landing on you.

“No fucking way, dude. No chance.”

He frowns, turning and looking at Topper, affronted.

Topper shrugs. “No offense, man. I tried once. All the guys in the island got this stupid-ass nickname for her, too.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Mhm. The Pogue Princess. She’s turned down every single guy to ever ask her out. Even the Kooks.”

Rafe snorts. “So she’s arrogant?”

“I wouldn’t call it that. I totally thought she was a bitch when she turned me down, but honestly, it makes sense. People only ask her out because she always says no.”

“So?” He scoffs. “She’s fucking hot. She should be flattered.”

He looks her up and down again. “I’m gonna ask her.”

He can picture it exactly: having the one and only Pogue Princess hanging off his arm. The girl no other guy has banged— she’d be his, and his only. He’d have those lips and that face— he’d have you.

And you’d have him, of course. Not many girls can say that.

“Suit yourself man. Don’t come crying to me when she turns your ass down.”

He strides over to you, sidling up next to you, leaning against the shelf.

“Hey,”

“No.”

He blinks. “What?”

“No. No I don’t want your number, no I don’t want to sleep with you, no I don’t want to go out with you.” You say, not looking over at him once.

“Well, how come, doll?” He says, leaning down a bit so he’s closer to your height. “We could have a good time, you and me.”

“First of all,” You start, pulling a book off the shelf. “It’s a known fact that Rafe Cameron doesn’t date Pogues. Secondly, I can tell you exactly how this relationship would go. We’d date, and then after a few weeks you’d grow sick of my Pogue-ish ways or something like that. We’d break up, and then I would be seen as even more of a social pariah than I am now. I’d be unwelcome in Pogue spaces because I’d forever be the girl who dated Rafe Cameron just to get her heart broken like all the others, and I’m already a stain on this side of the island, but I’m willing to bet your groupies and fanclub would increase their ridicule if I was ever seen here. So no.”

He lets out a low whistle. “You’ve thought this out.”

“No I haven’t. It’s predictable.”

You re-shelf the book you were holding then walk away, stalking deeper into the store.

He looks back at Topper once, flashing his best friend that dangerous smile.

Topper groans in the distance, all too away of the effect a challenge has on Rafe Cameron.

—

You have to say. You’re a little surprised to feel his continued gaze on your back, even more displeased to hear his footsteps trailing behind you.

“You won’t better your chances by annoying me.”

“I haven’t even said anything.”

“You don’t have to,” You slow your walk, reaching out to tap your hand on the spine of a book you’ve been eyeing for awhile. “Your reputation precedes you.”

“And what does my reputation say about me?”

“That you’re an asshole and a heartbreaker,” You turn and look back at him over your shoulder. “You’re not exactly selling me, here.”

Your eyes latch on something tucked under his arm. It’s the two books he saw you eyeing. His gaze catches yours and he gives you a cocky smirk.

You roll your eyes and turn back around. “You’re going to have to try harder than that, Rafe Cameron.”

He trails after you the entire time you’re in the store, picking book after book off the shelf that he sees your eyes even linger on.

“What’s your plan here?” You ask, turning a book over in your hands and scanning the blurb on the back. “Buy the entire store? Woo me with your credit card? You’re not the only guy on the island with a piece of plastic.”

“Pretty sure I’m the guy with the most on his plastic, though.”

You sigh loudly through your nose. “I’m not interested in men who are only interested in me as an object. You want the trophy you get from ‘bagging the Pogue Princess.’ So fuck off.”

You’re so sick of this. Sick of every guy being the same— only being interested in you as an ego boost. No guy has ever been interested in you for you.

And they never will be, so long as you keep turning them down. Every man wants what he can’t have.

“You’re seriously not going to get anything?”

You pause in your storm off, turning around to look at Rafe. “What?”

His arms are laden with a thick stack of books, muscles flexed at the weight of the stack, straining at the sleeve of his t-shirt.

He gestures to the shelves around you. “You must have looked at the entire store. You’re really just going to leave?”

“I’m a Pogue, Rafe. You do the math.”

Your hands clench and unclench on the strap of your bag. You never thought you’d catch the attention of Rafe Cameron. If Sarah’s the Kook Princess, then he’s the Kook Prince. Dating him would give you some major points on the North Side of the Island.

…And ruin your relationship with 90% of the Pogue’s on The Cut.

Besides. Even if you did date him, he would stick around. No way in hell he would. And then you’d be back right where you started.

Your fumbling with your keys out in the small parking lot, groaning as your ancient beater car key once again refuses to turn in the lock when you hear footsteps behind you.

You rub a hand over your face and turn around.

“Can you please leave me alone? Seriously.”

He’s got that stupid smile on his face again and he’s holding something out to you.

A book. Just one.

You take it from his hands cautiously. “You had a whole stack. Why downgrade to just one?”

He clasps his hands behind his back. “Cause you looked at all those other ones once. You stopped at this one three times. Figured you might’ve wanted it.”

You chew your lip. “I’m still not going out with you.”

He shrugs. “Didn’t think you’d change your mind right now.”

He leans down, reaching forward, breath fanning your face. You screw your eyes shut, bracing.

A loud click behind you. He pulls away.

“But you will.”

With that, he turns, walking back into the store. At the doors, he flashes you one last smile.

You take one breath. Two.

You climb into your now unlocked car, tossing the book onto the passenger seat.

When you get home, you won’t be able to stop thinking about how in the moment, you kind of wanted him to kiss you.

—

He finds you at the Boneyard, because of course he does.

You’re sitting on one of the drift wood-slash-benches near the bonfire, pretending like you’re not shivering.

“You know, most people come to beach parties to let loose and have fun. That includes me. Having fun and letting loose does not include you.”

“Oh, come on. This is neutral territory, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“What am I allowed to call you?”

“Nothing. Go find another girl to stroke your ego. Or your dick. I don’t care either way.”

He leans down into your space. “You’ve got a mouth on you.”

“Fuck. Off.”

He raises his hands in mock surrender. “I only came over to give you this.”

This time, instead of holding out a book (that you had, in fact, read in a matter of days. It was as good as you’d thought it’d be) he holds out a jacket. One of those expensive North Face fleeces.

You scrunch your nose. “And why are you giving me that?”

“You’re cold.”

“So?”

“So, I’m being a gentleman.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you knew what that word was.”

He drops the fleece on your head. “Take the fucking jacket.”

You slide it off your head, putting it on and glaring at him all the while.

“I’m only putting this on because I’m cold.”

“Sure you are.”

“This has nothing to do with you. I’m still not dating you.”

“Mhm.”

“I hate you.”

He cracks the same smile he gave you at the bookstore. “Sure.”

He takes a swig of his beer, walking backwards towards his group of friends. “You look good in my clothes, princess.”

You flip him two fingers, and he flips them straight back.

You’ll deny it later that you smiled after the interaction.

—

He shows up at your job. This time, Topper’s with him.

You close your eyes and count to ten, mentally picturing fleeing the country and never having to deal with men again before speaking.

“You know, there’s a term for you right now.”

He smiles that same stupid fucking smile, tapping his fingers on the table of the cafe you work at. He’s seated outside in your section. You highly doubt it’s by mistake.

“Determined? Persistent?”

“A repeat offender,” You say flatly. “Now will you please order and get the hell out here?”

To his credit, Topper looks vaguely uncomfortable with his own presence. Though that might be because you did turn him down particularly brutally. You wince internally. It wasn’t his fault, per se. It was just… not a good day.

Rafe is perfectly capable of handling your top-notch bitch-ery, and secretly, you enjoy the chance to be as openly angry as you want to be.

Rafe pretends to read over the menu. You know he’s only pretending because you watched him read it for five straight minutes when they first arrived. He probably has it memorized.

“I’d like a blueberry muffin,” He says, still smiling. “Just one.”

You scribble it down on your order sheet, then turn to Topper. “And you?”

“Uh,” He clears his throat, “Just a water, please.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Seriously? You came all the way to my job to harass me and that’s what you order? One muffin and a water?”

You write the water down anyway, clicking your tongue. “And the asshole-ery continues.”

“And what would you have us order, then?” Rafe asks, eyeing you from his position at the table.

It’s scary how well he commands a space just by being— he’s Rafe Cameron and he knows it. He exudes power and control.

He’s the exact kind of man you turn down hard. No chance of anything.

“Something actually worth bothering me for,” You slip the notepad into your apron pocket and spin on your heel, “I have other orders and tables to wait. Don’t expect to get your muffin and water soon.”

As you wait and bus the tables that need to be dealt with before your orders are ready, you begin to wonder if you’re going too far.

This isn’t just any Kook. This is Rafe. He could completely and utterly destroy your life if he wanted to.

Maybe you’re better off agreeing to go out with him. Just to be safe. Women don’t turn a man like that down.

Finally, you get their orders out to them, setting them on the table a little less harsh than you were originally planning.

“There,” Can’t quite stop your mouth, though. “Do you want the check now?”

Rafe picks up his muffin, shrugging. “Sure.”

You slide them the bill— you had it ready the second you got the chance. You’d rather not have them here any longer than you have to.

It was hard enough to get a job outside The Cut. You don’t need to give your boss any more reason to fire you.

Rafe tosses a few bills onto the bill and you take it, counting the money.

“You overpaid.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Your total was nine dollars and twenty six cents. You just handed me two hundred dollar bills.”

He tilts his head at you like he’s confused. “I thought you were supposed to tip waiters and shit.”

You blink at the bills. “Yeah like, five dollars. Not two hundred. I don’t even think we accept hundred dollar bills.”

“Tell your manager I’m the one who paid. Can’t take issue with a Cameron.”

“You’re the worst,” You tell him, but take the money back to your manager. He isn’t happy, but like Rafe said— can’t take issue with a Cameron. He gives you the change you need and bores holes into your back with how hard he’s staring as you walk the money back.

“Here.” You thrust your arm out, handing him the change.

Rafe crosses his arms. “I said that was your tip.”

“I can’t accept this. I don’t accept pity money.”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s not pity money.”

“Then what kind of money is it? Cause it sure feels like pity money. Oh wait, is this you-owe-me-now money?”

He groans. “Can’t you just take the fucking money?”

“Not if there’s a consequence.”

If Topper looked uncomfortable before, he looks almost nauseous now. You kind of feel bad for him.

Rafe scrubs a hand down his face. “Will you just take it? No consequence.”

“Why?”

Topper chokes on his water.

“Why?” Rafe asks, a muscle in his jaw jumping. “Because it’s what I do. You’re the Pogue Princess, yeah? I’m giving you the princess treatment.”

“But why? What do you gain from this?”

“I’m just gonna go wait at the car,” Topper says, getting up so quickly he bumps the table.

Rafe’s eyes never leave you, the money still clutched in your hand. “You know what I get out of this? The prettiest girl on the island in my clothes. The prettiest girl on the island spending my money.”

The bills start to crinkle in your grip. “I’m a Pogue. You don’t date Pogue’s.”

He stands, pushing back his chair in a much more controlled manner than you were expecting, given the look on his face. “Have you ever considered that you’re the exception?”

“No, because I’m not. The only part of me that’s an exception is the challenge. That’s all you want.”

Something flashes in his eyes. His gaze is dark where it scans your features, something calculating in his eyes.

“Some guy fucked you over, huh?”

Your near full body flinch is a dead giveaway. “Fuck you, Rafe. You’re an asshole.”

He shrugs. “Maybe. Probably. But I’m gonna keep showing you what this,”

He gestures to the both of you. “Could be like. I’m not that kind of asshole. Not to girls who look like you.”

He stands, taking all the change out of your hand except the $100 bill.

“Hold onto that for me,” He says, voice husky as it brushes your ear.

His hand comes up for one second, two, and then he lowers it. Like he’d had to restrain himself ok touching you.

An involuntary shiver runs down your spine. He smirks at the reaction.

And then, he’s gone. Now you’re just some waiter standing at a table with a $100 clutched in your hand.

You shake yourself out of your stupor, getting busy bussing the table. You notice something fluttering under his plate.

An old receipt with a number scribbled on it.

And a $20 bill.

“Son of a—“

—

You’re having a really bad day. One of those thirty-million-minor-inconveniences-in-a-row days. With one last fuck you from the universe on top.

You couldn’t get your hair right no matter how many times you tried, your makeup is rushed and bad because you spent too much time on your hair, once again one of your neighbors pulled out of their driveway without looking and almost killed you, a guy tried feel you up during your shift and your manager told you it was your fault for wearing revealing clothing (you were literally wearing your uniform) and then top it all off, your car won’t start. It won’t even try.

You slam your head against the steering wheel. Your boss made you stay late because of the incident so it’s getting dark now. You’re not walking all the way back to The Cut. But you don’t know how you’re getting home. It’s not like you can just call a mechanic. None of your pogue friends have cars and only person who does you’d… rather not call right now.

So that just leaves one option.

A really, really, terrible option.

A horrific one.

You curse as you rifle through your purse, pulling out the old receipt. Your phone’s almost dead, so you have to make this count.

You dial the number, pulling your knees to your chest and sinking low in your seat.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Rafe.”

“I was wondering when you’d call me.”

“I’m sure you were,” You say flatly. “Listen I… I need a favor.”

“Spill.”

“I’m at work. My car won’t start. I just—“ You break off, frustrated tears welling in your eyes. “Can you please come pick me up?”

“I’m on my way. Sit tight.”

He hangs up the phone and you sigh, scrubbing your face and willing the tears to just go away. You press the heels of your hands to your eyes, probably smearing your makeup past the point of return, but you can’t find it with in yourself to care.

You sit there for what feels like minutes, hands pressed to your face trying desperately to stop the tears that keep flowing when you hear a car pull up next to you.

You sit up, hands lowered, eyeing the sleek Range Rover that just pulled up next to you.

You manage to climb out of your car, hugging your waist in an act of self-soothing and a sad attempt at getting warm. It gets cold in Kildare at night.

Rafe rounds the front of his car, expression pinched.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine, really, just…” You trail off, gesturing vaguely to your car. You sniff hard, rubbing the back of your hand across your face. “It’s just been a long day.”

He looks over your shoulder, assessing your car before looking back to you. “Get whatever you need from your car.”

You rush to gather the items from your car, piling them in the backseat at Rafe’s direction. You turn, facing him when something is thrown at your face.

It’s disturbing that you recognize it by deja vu alone.

“Rafe—“ You say, taking the jacket in your hands.

“You’re cold. Put it on.”

“But—“

“Listen, princess, I’m perfectly satisfied waiting here all night until you put that on.” He crosses his arms, leaning against the car.

You squeeze the jacket in your hand. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“That.”

“Mmm,” He hums. “That’s a tough one. Probably cause you look pathetic when you shiver.”

“I do not.”

“You totally do. You get all hunched. Like an old lady.”

“Is this your idea of flirting?”

He smiles. “Put the jacket on.”

You do. It’s just as warm as last time.

He nods his head towards the car and you climb into the passenger seat, clicking your seatbelt.

He climbs in after you, putting his seatbelt on and pulling the car out of the parking lot. After a moment, he reaches across the console, turning on your seat warmer and cranking the heat up.

“Thank you,” You say after a moment.

“I told you I’d show you what life would be like if you were mine.”

“Yours?”

“Yeah,” He says, fingers flexing on the steering wheel. “Mine.”

“So you’d have me, what? Caged? Chained to you.”

“Spoiled, is the word I’d used.”

“I’m not an object, Rafe. I’m not going to be some kind of kept woman.”

He snorts. “Who said anything about that?”

“That’s what you want, is it not? Want me to have no personality, no nothing. You want me to hang off your arm and laugh at everything you say—“

“Fuck no,” He says so vehemently you pause. “You’re so fucking mouthy. And stubborn. If I wanted some brainless fangirl, I’d go find one. I wouldn’t pick her up from her job and drive her home. Probably wouldn’t give her my fucking jacket.”

You look up at him. “You wouldn’t?”

He shrugs. “None of those girls tell me to fuck off.”

“So it is the challenge. That’s all.”

“That’s not all. You’re making shit up.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. Come on. No guy has ever given you his jacket? You seriously want me to believe you look like that no one’s ever spoiled you?”

“No,” You say curtly, “You want me to believe that every guy just enjoys spending a bunch of money on a girl?”

“Not a girl. Their girl. There’s a difference.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Cause it’s not your job to get it. It’s your job to be spoiled. Now where the hell am I going?”

You give him a vague address— just the street name and how to get there. You’re not stupid enough to give him your house address.

You don’t talk for the duration of the drive, you begin to shrug out of his jacket when a hand on your thigh stops you.

“Keep it. You can give it back to me the next time you see me.”

“There’ll be a next time?”

“If I have anything to say about it.”

You slowly put the jacket back on, then hastily climb out of his car, barely remembering to grab your stuff from the back.

You pause by the window. He rolls it down.

“Um. Thank you. Again.”

His lips twitch. “Don’t mention it.”

—

You don’t see him for a full two weeks after that.

After the first week, you figure he’s busy.

After the second week, you assume you scared him off.

You’re out on your old, busted kayak on the water, enjoying the early evening sun.

“Afternoon, princess.”

“Don’t call me that,”

You look over, eyeing Rafe and Sarah on one of the Cameron’s smaller boats. Sarah waves at you kindly. She’s always been fairly kind to you—

“Princesses have to stick together.” She’d said to you once, an easy smile on her lips, her face bathed in an orange glow in front of the bonfire.

A similar smile is on her face today. But the one on Rafe’s is nothing but mischief.

“Why don’t you come over here?” He calls.

You flip him a certain finger.

“Come on!” Sarah yells. “We’ve got beer!”

Well. Who are you to say no to free alcohol?

—

You should’ve said no to the free alcohol.

“You know what Rafe?” the words tumble out of your mouth, clumsy. “You’re really hot. It’s not fair. How am I supposed to hate you when you look so hot?”

You’re sitting on one of the benches on the boat, half leaning on the back of it and half leaning on Rafe.

You might have forgotten to take into account the fact that you’re a lightweight.

He raises an eyebrow. “How many beers did you have?”

“Don’t worry about that,” You slur, attempting to shush him but failing halfway through, your hand falling harmlessly into his lap. “I like beer. I like drinking. How come I don’t drink often?”

You pause, squinting at him. “How come you’re so hot?”

“Yeah,” He sighs, “You’re drunk.”

“Who cares? I like being drunk. Drunk me is fun. Like that one song. Release your in-hi-bitions— feel the rain on your skin!”

He gives you a pained look. “Please don’t try to start dancing. You don’t have the coordination for it, and I’m not going into the water when you tip overboard.”

“Pshhh, yeah you would. You like taking care of me. Cause you’re weird.”

You turn to face the other side of the boat, where Sarah is watching you with an amused expression. “Sarah! Did I tell you that he drove aaaaaaaallllllllll the way to my job to pick me up cause my car wouldn’t start?”

She tilts her head, looking at Rafe. “You told Dad you were going to go pick up Topper and Kelce from a party so they didn’t drunk drive.”

You make a so-so motion with your hand. “That’s like. Basically the same thing.”

“It is not. You really are a lightweight, huh?”

You squint at Sarah. “Did John B. tell you that?”

She splutters. “No, I—“

You cross your arms, frowning. Then you turn to look up at Rafe again. “I should’ve called John B. to pick me up, cause he’s the only Pogue I know who’s got a car. But I didn’t. I called you.”

“Mm,” Rafe says, his jaw tensing and un-tensing. “And why is that.”

“Cause he’s being a dick. He’s all upset ‘cause I’m hanging out with you, keeps telling me I’m gonna get hurt again and blah blah blah, but then, it turns out he’s been dating Sarah for weeks and he didn’t tell me! It’s the same thing! And we’re not even dating.”

Rafe looks at Sarah. “You’re dating him? That’s who you broke up with Topper for?”

She glares right back at him. “There is literally a Pogue in this boat right now who is only here because you want to date her. Don’t be a hypocrite.”

“She’s different.”

“How?”

You and Sarah ask the same question at the same time. Rafe sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“She’s not just some random Pogue I picked up off the street.”

“I could have been.”

“You’re not helping.”

You frown, staring at your feet.

He gazes at you for a moment. “She’s just… different.”

You blink up at him through your lashes. “You should kiss me.”

“No.”

“Why not?” You whine.

“Because when sober-you remembers all of this, she’s already going to kill me.”

“Not to mention I would.” Sarah grumbles, taking a sip of her own beer. “Come on, Rafe. You should bring her home. It’s getting late anyway.”

“Mm,” He hums, glancing at you up and down. “You wanna go home?”

“No. There’s no beer and Rafe there. S’ boring.”

“I’m pretty sure sober-you likes it that way.”

“Then she’s boring,” You poke the muscle of his bicep. “Do you work out?”

“Yes.”

“Are you buff?”

“I’d like to think so.”

“Could you carry me?”

“Probably.”

“Hmm,” You sink lower on the bench, kicking your feet. “Okay. We should go home before sober-me figures out what’s going on.”

Sarah brings the boat back to their little dock while Rafe makes various attempts to keep you awake during the journey.

You whine, batting his hands away as he pokes your face.

“We’re here, so you’re gonna have to get up.”

You groan. “You’re a big strong man. Carry me.”

You hear a huff, a sigh, and then arms come around your middle and you let out a half-aborted scream as you’re hefted into the air, stomach landing on a muscled shoulder.

“I was joking,” You mumble, your arms dangling. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

“I swear to fucking— here.”

He slides you off his shoulder and you wobble as you land, vision swimming.

“I think I’m a lightweight.”

“You’re just now figuring that out?”

“Why are you so mean?”

“I was told by a certain princess that it was my brand.”

“I wanna go home.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Are you going to walk then? Towards my car? So you can go home?”

You turn (slowly) and squint at his car in the distance. “That seems really far away.”

“It’s not.”

“I don’t wanna walk that far.”

The muscles in his jaw jump. “Just this once, because I need to get you home, and you are drunk, I am going to offer you a piggy-back ride. Got it?”

“Hmm. Okay.”

He stoops a little so you can hop on, then hooks his arms under your legs with only a mild grunt, your arms crossing —not too tight— around his neck.

He makes his way across the deck and up the path, silently, your cheek pillowed on the side of his neck.

When he makes it to the car he opens the passenger side door and slides you into it, clicking your seat belt on when your fingers fumble with it.

He’s silent the entire drive, jaw clenched and hands white knuckled on the steering wheel.

The silence practically thrums with anger, the charged air prickling your skin.

“Are you mad at me?”

He works his jaw. “No.”

“It seems like you’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“Then how come you’re upset?”

He sighs out through his nose. He doesn’t respond right away. Waits until he pulls over at the front of your street, sets the car in park. His hands don’t leave the steering wheel.

“You’re… squishier than I thought.”

“You think I’m fat?”

“No- fuck. I’m saying you’ve got a convincing stone-cold-bitch act. Then you go and get drunk and turn into this. Makes me feel like a piece of shit.”

You cross your arms. “You don’t like it. Me.”

He finally looks over at you, his eyes hooded. “I never said that. It’s one thing for us to have this back and forth assholery, as you put it. But now I know this is also who I’m being a dick to.”

You look down at your lap. “You know, I wasn’t always a stone-cold bitch.”

He cuts you a look. “Stop talk—“

“No, you shut up, I’m not that drunk anymore,”

You’re totally lying, which he knows, but he lets you talk.

“There was… this guy. I really liked him. He really liked me. Well, I thought he did. He was a Kook, too. Everyone warned me against getting with him, but I thought what we had was real,” You clench your hands on your thighs. “It wasn’t. Turns out his friends had dared him to sleep with ‘the prettiest Pogue he could stomach.’ That’s all I was. The only Pogue he could stand to fake it with. He told me the morning after. We broke up.”

“Who—“

“It doesn’t matter. I’m telling you this so you understand that I am a frigid bitch, but I’m also… this. So you better not fuck this up.”

He chuckles. “What do you want me to do, then?”

You shrug. “Prove me wrong. And I’m not made of glass. You just gotta… take it.”

Rafe raises a single eyebrow. “Take it?”

“Look, I already told you I think you’re hot. You’ve got a brain. Put the pieces together.”

He rubs a hand across his jaw. “And if I go too far?”

“I’m not that fragile.”

He crosses his arms, biceps flexing. “You sure about this?”

“Right now? Yes.”

He hums. “I should say no. You’re drunk. You’re not in the right mind to make these kinds of decisions.”

“But?”

“I’d rather test this and see,” He leans down, across the middle console, eyes hooded and hungry as he stares down at you. “You’re on, pretty girl."

—

When you wake (in your own bed, shockingly) it’s to the sound of a chainsaw right next to your ear.

Oh. It’s actually just your phone buzzing.

You hit the accept button and roll over onto it instead of doing all the effort of lifting it onto your face.

“H’llo?”

“Morning, princess.”

You groan. “Why the fuck are you calling me?”

“You don’t remember last night?”

“You’re on, pretty girl.”

You groan again, this one long and drawn out. “Why did you let me drink? You should’ve thrown me off the side of the boat after the first beer.”

You’re utterly mortified at how you acted. There’s a reason you don’t really get drunk anymore.

“And get rid of my free show like that? Please.”

You huff, head pounding at the effort of remembering the night before and speaking. “Why’re you calling me?”

“Had to make sure all that drinking didn’t kill you. We’ve got plans tonight.”

You sit up a little in bed. “No we don’t. I have work tonight.”

“That’s your only dispute?”

“I figured I didn’t have to state the obvious ones.”

“Come on. It’s just a little party—“

“I don’t do parties, Rafe.”

“I recall seeing you at the boneyard more than a couple times.”

“Bonfires on the beach don’t count as parties.”

“So you’d come if it was on the beach?”

“No, I—“ You tap the speaker button, dropping the phone into your lap. “What’s the point of this party, exactly? You want to be seen in public with me? Want everyone to know I’m off limits?”

“Yes,” He says it so easily, though his voice a little rough, a little gravelly, “But you also need to lighten up. I’ll pick you up from work. Bring clothes to change into.”

You open your mouth to respond but the hang up tone beeps steadily in your ear.

Of course you had to go blab your tragic backstory to Rafe fucking Cameron.

—

Work is long as usual, and you’ve contemplated quitting several times by the time you’re changing into your ‘party’ clothes in the bathroom, ignoring the fact that Rafe has definitely been parked and waiting for half an hour.

Your boss kept you late. Again.

You rush out to his car, cursing. He’s leaned up against the passenger side door, one hand in his pocket and the other holding his phone. He looks up when you approach, the corners of his lips twitching.

He pushes off the car, opening the passenger side door and nodding towards it.

“You look good.”

You pause, shouldering your work bag. “That’s it? I keep you waiting for thirty minutes and that’s all you say?”

“Did you want me to get upset?”

“Well, no, but—“

He shrugs. “Don’t care. Get in the car.”

He closes the door after you then climbs in himself, cranking up the heat and driving towards the boneyard.

You notice his eyes flicking down to your thighs every now and then. When picking an outfit for the party/bonfire/whatever, you’d decided to go simple. Having Rafe follow you around would be attention enough.

Still, the jeans you’re wearing are tight. A bit more form-fitting than your usual attire.

He seems to notice.

You shift in your seat, a little self conscious under the heat of his gaze crossing your legs and angling them towards the car door.

He sighs. “Mm-mm. None of that.”

He reached a hand across the console, deft, strong fingers effortlessly hooking and curling over your knee and dragging your legs back over and closer to him. Once he resituates you, his hand travels a little higher, squeezing and rolling the plush flesh there in his hand.

Your breath hitches. “What are you doing?”

“Taking.”

You swallow heavily, nearly choking on the lump in your throat. “You better not act like this at the boneyard.”

“And what if I do?“

“I’ll leave.”

He snorts. “I’m your ride. You gonna walk home? In the cold?”

“It’s not cold out.”

“It is to you. You’re always shivering. You better have brought the jacket.”

He doesn’t have to say which jacket for you to know which one he’s referring to.

You cross your arms, firmly ignoring the hand still intermittently squeezing your thigh. “I did. But i’m serious, Rafe. You have to back off when we get there.”

“Mm,” He hums. “Then at least let me have a little now.”

There’s something in the way he says it. The timber of his voice, the low, almost croon to his tone. He says it like you’re in control. Like you have power over him.

Even just the idea of it is exhilarating.

You push your thigh up into his hand, just a little bit.

“Only cause you’ll be insufferable if I don’t.”

He curls his hand under your thigh, palm pressed to the side and fingers pressing into the muscle through your tight jeans.

“Thanks, baby.”

“I’m not your baby.”

“We’ll see about that.”

You pull up to the beach, party already well under way.

People cheer as Rafe climbs out of the car, but he ignores them in favor of walking over to your side of the car and offering you a hand, which you swat away.

“I’m not an invalid.”

“Has anyone told you that you’re really hard to be polite to?”

“You’re just—“

“For the love of god, don’t start with that shit. Get over here.”

He snakes an arm around your waist, tugging you to his side. He starts towards the beach and you squirm, not wanting to be seen tucked under his arm.

This is the exact scenario you’d wanted to avoid with this whole thing. Showing up with Rafe Cameron —literally climbing out of his car— and having his arm around you is the perfect way to be ostracized by almost ninety percent of your circle.

“Will you chill the fuck out?” Rafe says, slowing to a stop a little ways away from the party, turning you to face him. “We’re just going to a party.”

You attempt to shrug his arm off your shoulder, but it holds fast. “You don’t get it. You have money, so you don’t need a community to fall back on. We’re poor. All we have is each other. So if I walk over there with you, i’ll lose it. I’ll be a traitor.”

His expression twists. “You’re blowing this so far out of proportion it’s not even funny.”

Anger begins stirring in your chest. “Rafe—“

“Who cares? No seriously, who the fuck cares? Everyone on this island is a piece of shit in their own ways. No one gives a shit if I got you under my arm. No one’s watching you. You’re not a fucking celebrity. You’ve got a reputation for turning down guys, you’re not fuckin’ Taylor Swift.”

The anger fades and your skin prickles in its absence. “I don’t think that I’m famous or anything.”

Rafe’s features smooth into something a little calmer. “I know, I know. Is this cause John B’s being a dick?”

“He has a point—“

“No he doesn’t,” Rafe snorts, “He’s dating my sister. He doesn’t get to say anything.”

You sigh. “They’re just worried about me making the same mistakes again.”

His arm leaves your side and you resist the shiver that threatens to overtake you at the sudden loss of the warmth and stability you hadn’t realized you’d been reliant on during the length of the conversation.

Rafe slides a gold ring off his pointer finger— the gold ring. The Cameron signet ring. The ring he never takes off.

He takes your hand, turning it palm side up, and drops the ring in it.

“There. My dad would probably murder me if anything happened to that ring. If I become a real and serious dick to you, chuck it in the fucking ocean.”

You stare down at it. “This is real gold. It’s a family heirloom. You can’t just give it to me.”

“I’m not,” He says easily, “This is a loan. When you decide that I’m not gonna fuck you over, you can give it back.”

You close your fingers around the ring, still warm from his finger. You tilt your back, looking up at him through your lashes. A small smile starts to spread across your face.

“I’ve really got you wrapped around my finger, huh?”

He huffs a laugh, tucking you under his arm again and walking you towards the party. “Took you long enough.”

The party honestly is fun after that. You drink (not much, Rafe carefully watches your alcohol intake and makes sure you toe the line of tipsy, but don’t fall over into drunk territory. He spends the night nursing one beer, claiming designated driver whenever someone gives him shit for it.

“Never stopped you in the past.”

“Didn’t have precious cargo before.”

He stays true to your earlier agreement and remains fairly hands off, but follows you around the party like some sort of guard dog, lingering just over your shoulder and successfully scaring off every guy who even looks in your direction.

Some of the pogues do give you the occasional glare or judgmental look or two, but Rafe was right. No one cares.

It’s… nice. For once you’re not hoping no guy approaches you or praying a Kook doesn’t start some shit with you. With Rafe trailing behind you, one hand in his pocket and jaw set, you truly are free to just enjoy the party, for the first time in your life. No one’s trying to hit on you, no one’s trying to making a spectacle of trying to convince you to date them, no one is making snide comments.

It’s weird, because you’re accustomed to a certain kind and amount of anxiety that comes with going to a mixed party, but everytime you start wondering how things are going to go wrong, Rafe is there with an arm around your waist or some stupid comment or other about somebody at the party whispered in your ear.

You manage quite a bit more socializing at the party than you usually do. Unfortunately, between this and the alcohol, you tire pretty quick.

You trip over your third stick when Rafe settles a hand on your hip with an “Think it’s time you went to bed.”

You groan. “But I’m actually having a good time for once.”

He steers you in the direction of the car. “Well, you’re in luck, cause if you think you’re going to parties alone from now on, you got another thing coming.”

Rafe at your side —a seemingly permanent arrangement now— you stumble your way towards the car.

“Isn’t that boring for you?”

“If it was, I’d say something. Besides. There’ll be different parties. Stop worrying so much about shit.”

His words seem harsh, but his tone is nothing other than low and fond.

“I’m cold.”

“I told you to grab the jacket—“

“I did bring it—“

“Then why aren’t you wearing it?”

“It didn’t match the outfit!”

“Are you being serious right now?”

"Is it a crime to want to look good at a party--"

He chuckles, fingers flexing on your hip as he tugs you closer to him. "You're so stupid."

"Rude."

"Not rude if it's true."

You elbow his side, but he just laughs louder.

Unsurprisingly, he warms the car for you when you get in.

—

Storms are a common thing in Outerbanks. Everyone's used to them. Monsoons, thunder storms, even the occasional hurricane. So you're not surprised to get the warning, not surprised when it hits.

You are a little surprised to wake up pelted with rain, a tree branch in your room, and part of the roof missing.

"Shit," You gasp, pushing the fallen debris off your body and rolling out of your bed to assess the damage.

It's bad. The branch is big and long, probably from that stupid tree your neighbors refused to cut down that you said was going to be a storm hazard. They'd refused, and now there's a huge tree branch that's caved in your roof and part of the wall that separates your bedroom from the living room.

No one is home but you. No one ever is, but right now it causes tears to rise to your eyes, because there's a branch in your room, and the roof is in pieces, and now that you've stopped moving, your legs and arms and torso actually hurt quite a bit, and something warm and wet is running down your temple and when you touch your fingers to it, they come away wet and scarlet.

You're out of your depth and you're scared. You can't stay here, obviously, but you don't know what to do. No one else is home. You don't even know who to call. JJ is out, because who knows if his dad is home and he doesn't even have a phone right now, Kie's out too because her parents didn't like that you were a Pogue with a reputation, you and Pope aren't that close, and John B is... John B. He has a car, at least, and you grew up together, so he'd probably overlook everything between the both of you if you're in danger.

You snatch you waterlogged phone off your dresser, shaky fingers scrolling through your contacts, thumb hovering over John B's.

You should call him. You've been neglecting your friendship with the group recently, working around the clock and Rafe whisking you away. Everyone's busy in their own way, what with the treasure and everything, so this could be a moment to reunite, bond over how shitty the storms make life on the Cut.

There's one other person you could call.

You shouldn't. Should stick to the friends you know, call John B.

But if you called Rafe, he'd come. He'd come get you, and probably take you back to his house and you wouldn't have to worry about anything, because for some reason, he's serious about doing that.

You could call him. He probably wants you to.

You press call before you can talk yourself out of it.

"Do you know what time it is--"

"A tree branch fell on my roof and now I don't have part of my roof and I'm really cold and wet and please come get me."

"Jesus— okay, yeah, yeah I'm coming. Shit, okay. Are you hurt?"

"My head is bleeding and I'm battered all over, but I don't think I need to go to he hospital."

"You're bleeding from your head and you don't think you need to go to the hospital?"

You can hear the sound of a car door slamming and an engine turning over.

"I don't want to go because then I'll be stuck in these clothes and they'll poke and prod at me and it'll take ages and—"

"Alright, alright. Calm down. How bad is the damage to the house. Look around for me."

"Um," You turn in place, scrutinizing the disaster and chaos around you. "I think most of the roof is intact, just the portion that covers my bedroom and some of the living room are uncovered. The branch took out most of the wall that seperates my room from the living room."

"Fuck. Okay, what about the rest of the house?"

"Um, I don't think I can get to it. The tree branch and other house... pieces are blocking my door."

"Can you get out? At all?"

"Yeah, I think through my window."

"Don't move. Take what you need from your room. I'll be there soon."

“Please don’t hang up.”

The line goes silent and you think he has hung up, that you didn’t say it fast enough or he just didn’t care, but then he speaks.

“Would you rather I sneak you in my house or walk in through the front door?”

“…What are the pros and cons?”

“Well, getting in the front door is easiest, but then you risk seeing my parents and my Dad won’t have questions, but Rose will, and I never want to answer her questions anyway.”

“She can’t be that bad.”

“She is. Sneaking you in is harder, but then we avoid conversations, but if we get caught, conversations will probably be worse. Might become a whole lecture.”

“They’d lecture you for taking in a girl who needs help?”

“Rose would.”

He keeps talking the entire way to your house, his voice speaking in low tones as you gather up the things you need to spend an indefinite amount of time away from home.

He eventually does hang up when he arrives, so you turn your attention to prying your window open and climbing out of it.

You can barely get it wedged open enough to fit through, so you toss your bag through first and shout a quick “over here!” before beginning to crawl through.

You hear footsteps slow to a stop in front of you. “You know, usually when this scenario happens, you’re facing the other way around.”

You swat at his leg. “You’re disgusting. And I’m not stuck. You just arrived at an in-opportune moment.”

He curls a hand under the window and pulls up, making the gap wider. At the sudden release of tension you yelp, tumbling out of the window.

“You’re such a mess.”

“You didn’t warn me!”

He helps you to your feet and leads you to his car, the hand on your waist keeping you distracted from the wreckage behind you.

—

You do decide in the end to just walk in the front door, because you’re cold and wet and tired.

Ward does wake up and meets you at the staircase (you’re pretending not to notice the sheer opulence of the house) looking rumpled and confused.

“Who’s this?” The man asks, gesturing your rather pathetic looking form.

“My girlfriend,” Rafe says smoothly, “Branch fell on her roof. Place is a mess.”

You wave hello. “Sorry for waking you, Mr. Cameron.”

His gaze flicks to you for a second, then back to Rafe.

“Girlfriend?” His tone sounds… off. “How long has this been a thing?”

Rafe shifts, squaring his shoulders and stepping a little more in front of you. “A little while.”

Ward hums again, eyes flitting to you, taking in your appearance.

“Make sure you get the first aid kit. That head wounds looks nasty.”

Rafe nods. “We got it. Thanks, Dad.”

Ward just dips his head once, then steps back into the bedroom.

You let out a long sigh, pressing a hand to your chest.

“I thought he was going to throw me out.”

“He wouldn’t. I wouldn’t let him, anyway.”

You snort. “Yes, yes, you’re a big strong man. Can we attend to my wounds now? And get some dry clothes?”

Cleaning your wound doesn’t take long, mostly because your head is the only one that really needs cleaning. The rest is taken care of in the shower. The most luxurious and amazing shower of your life. Seriously. You didn’t even know showers could be this relaxing.

The warm water soothes your aching muscles, and Rafe has weirdly good taste in bodywash.

He’d left you a change of clothes and a spare towel even though you said you brought your own.

You change into his anyway.

They’re more comfortable. Better quality than your ratty pajamas.

Your underwear is a different matter. Your dresser is old and broken —as most things in your house are— and the drawer you picked to store your underwear in doesn’t close all the way. This normally isn’t an issue, but when your roof is suddenly no longer attached, it means the a good portion of your underwear got soaked and muddy.

Except the ones at the bottom of the drawer. So the only underwear you had to bring to Rafe’s that was clean and dry is the tiny, lacy stuff you bought from Victoria’s secret and only wear when you’ve taken an everything shower and need a little pick-me-up. When you want to feel like a hot piece of ass. Girl things.

So you look at yourself in the mirror, clad in your own tank top (it’s actually warm enough in his house to wear a tank top to bed) and a pair of his pajama pants, the draw-string pulled tight, the fabric sagging low on your hips, showing off a thin little strip of lace.

Your face flushes. You look like his girlfriend. Dressed in his clothes, lacy underwear peaking through, skin freshly washed and smelling of his body wash.

When you step out of his bathroom, old clothes clutched in your hand, he stills.

He sits back on the edge of his bed, leaning back on his elbows as you slowly saunter over, steps quiet.

His eyes flick down to the lace, pauses on the sight, then back up to your face.

The air is charged, thick with tension.

You pull away from it, tossing your clothes in your backpack and ignoring the heat of his gaze on your back.

“Come over here.”

You straighten, hands behind your back as you walk to him.

“Closer.”

You step forward, now standing between his legs.

His hands come up to the back of your thighs, tightening, before moving to your hips. His thumbs ghost over the edge of the lace, and he rumbles something deep in the back of his throat.

“I like these.”

“Do you?”

“Mhm.”

He presses his face forward, pushing your tank top up with his nose pressing his lips to the now exposed skin of your stomach.

You gasp, then feel him smile against you. He tugs you closer, face pressed to you and hands gripping your sides, just above the edge of your ribcage.

Tentatively, you reach a hand down, sliding from the top his head, down the side of his face, then slowing to a stop at his jaw, pushing your palm up. His head lifts, his eyes a little glassy, chin resting on your stomach.

“You introduced me as your girlfriend.”

“As far as I’m concerned, you are.”

“I am?”

You stroke a thumb over his face, sweeping over his cheekbone and under his eye. He leans into the touch, pliant.

“You think I let just any girl in here? You think I give any girl my clothes?”

“Yes?”

“Come on, baby. We’ve been over this.”

He presses another kiss to your stomach, mouth hot and lips firm.

He lifts his head up again. “You can make me yours anytime you want. Just say the word.”

“I’m scared,” you whisper, words barely even a breath.

“Mm,” He hums, hands running up and down your sides. “You think too much.”

You pause for a few moments, taking everything in.

You grab his hand, leave it palm side up in front of you, then reach into your pocket and drop something into it.

The ring. His ring.

He stares at it for a beat, then closes his hand around it, slipping it back onto his finger.

“Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

He grins.

Your drop your hands around his neck and he moves his hands to the back of your thighs, effortlessly lifting you onto his lap, wrapping your legs around his middle.

He doesn’t waste any time kissing you. It’s hot and full at first, a roaring flame licking in both your chests, like he’s been holding himself back all this time and finally let it all out. He pushes up into you, and the kiss deepens before it mellows out, slowing down to a few cracking embers.

He pulls back, your noses brushing. “Been wanting to do that since the fucking bookstore.”

“That long?”

“Mhm. You were wearing those cute little pants and you couldn’t reach the top shelf. Wanted to have you right there.”

“You’re insatiable.”

“Mm. Only when it comes to you.”

You fall into each other again, and again, and again.

“Baby.”

“Hm?”

“I really like you in lace.”

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

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