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redwing4life · 13 days

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Home Cooked Meal

CHAPTER 4 | ASHES TO EMBERS

can be read as a stand alone :)

PAIRING: Firefighter!Neighbour!Bucky x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Smut (finally) - dirty talk, pet names, oral f and m receiving, fingering, tit play, praise kink, hand kink?, ball play, hair pulling, unprotected PinV sex, aftercare, reader and bucky have dinner, swearing, fluff, let me know if i missed anything!

SUMMARY: You surprise Bucky with a home cooked meal after his shift, and it’s the best damn thing he’s had in years. The pasta was pretty good too.

WORD COUNT: 10550 (ngl i rechecked this three times cuz i didn’t think i wrote this much but turns out i did in fact write over 10k words im sorry lmao)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER // NEXT CHAPTER

Call me when you get home x

Your text still sits on Bucky’s lock screen, read but not opened, as he gets changed out of his work clothes.

It’s fair to say that the message intrigued him when he first read it half an hour ago, just before he left the firehouse. His legs sped up your building stairwell faster than normal, desperate to find out why you’re awaiting his call.

Knowing you would have said so if you were in immediate danger, Bucky sifts through the multitude of possibilities that await him on the other side of the ring tone; none of which ease the butterflies in his stomach.

He walks to his kitchen, phone in hand, to get a glass of orange juice. Pulling up your contact page, he presses ‘call’ and grabs the carton of juice from the fridge door.

You answer after just one ring, eager to hear his voice.

“Hey, Barnes!” God, Bucky loves your voice.

“Doll.” His voice is soft, tone rising at the end with curiosity. “You asked me to call, what’s up?”

The firefighter swoons at the adorable giggle you let out, the sound distant from the mic as though you’ve tried to hide it. “I was worried you didn’t see my text.” You admit.

Bucky pictures you biting your lip anxiously, an accurate prediction for your current state.

“What are you doing right now?”

Glancing down at the yet-to-be-filled glass in front of him, Bucky leans a hand against the kitchen island. “Just about to get a drink, what are-“

“Don’t!” You cut in. “Don’t get a drink, I need you to come over.”

“What, now? What’s wrong?”

“Nothings wrong, James. Just come knock, okay? I’ll see you in a minute!”

And with that, the call cuts off with a dull beep; Bucky brings the phone down from his ear and stares at it in confusion. You’re being weird, never having hung up on him like that before.

Alpine meows from above the fridge, drawing her owner’s attention away from the phone, only to tilt her head at him.

Even Alps is confused.

Deciding to just do what you told, Bucky slips his phone into the pocket of his dark jeans, returns the orange juice to the fridge and sets off for the front door. He finds himself checking over his appearance in the entry way mirror, eyes scanning over his outfit before he smooths out his hair.

Although he won’t admit it, Bucky’s spent a lot more time in front of that mirror lately; checking his collar isn’t twisted, his hair isn’t too messy and there’s nothing stuck in his teeth. The need to look good, to look good for you, hasn’t gone unnoticed by his colleagues.

He considers using the spare key you gave him and letting himself into your apartment but shakes the thought away.

She asked you to knock, Bucky. Not break in.

With one final nod in the mirror, Bucky leaves his apartment, stepping into the hallway he’s spent so many mornings and nights in with you.

Old jazz music greets his ears when he approaches your door, the soft melody sneaking through the cracks of the door frame. Bucky smiles to himself at the thought of you dancing in your kitchen, heart warming when he notices your humming.

Knocking thrice, the firefighter steps back and nervously stuffs his hands into his pockets. You always make him nervous, those darn butterflies stirring in his stomach whenever he’s about to see you. And when he does see you. Actually, they’re there even when he imagines seeing you.

He takes a breath when he hears you shuffling up to the door, but nothing could prepare him for the sight when it swings open.

Rusty red fabric flows from your neckline to the middle of your thighs, small flowers dotted over the slightly orange colour. Two thin straps perched on your shoulders leave plenty of skin on show as your usual sun-pendant necklace sits between the v-neck of your dress. Which, by the way, perfectly presents the soft swell of your breasts.

It takes everything Bucky has to not drool at his breathtaking neighbour, but it takes even more to not dive on you and finally taste those pink lips.

Your skin is ablaze beneath his eyes and you revel in his reaction, the exact response you wanted when you pulled on the dress two hours ago.

“We’re matching.” You grin, taking a moment to enjoy Bucky’s red henley.

“It’s almost like we planned it.” A chuckle escapes him, eyes trailing up from your thighs to meet yours.

“Speaking of plans,” You reach out to pull Bucky closer, tugging his forearms until he pulls his hands out of his pockets, “I have a surprise for you.”

Is it letting me look at you in that dress all evening? Your neighbour thinks - hopes - as you lead him into your apartment.

Closing the door behind him, you take his hand in yours once more to guide him to your little kitchen/diner area. If you weren’t looking ahead, you’d see Bucky’s cheeks flushed pink at your touch. Seeing your hand encompassed with his own will never fail to drive him crazy.

When he eventually looks up from your joined hands, he’s stunned to a halt. You turn back to him when you feel him plant his feet and your features twist into a nervous expression.

“I- Doll, what is all this?” The firefighters eyes are wide at your ‘surprise’.

Your small dining table is set up for two; cream place mats lay beneath charcoal gray pasta dishes with wine glasses sitting at their corners. There’s even a little vase with pink and yellow tulips in between the two spaces.

“Well, remember that time when you told me you haven’t had a proper home cooked meal in years?” You watch Bucky closely as you speak, waiting for some sign of approval.

“You mean this morning?” He turns to you in wonder, thinking back to your conversation as he gave you a lift to the cafe. “I don’t know what to say, doll.”

You roll back on your heels, hands scrunching your dress at your sides. “Is it okay? I know it’s a little cheesy and it’s last minute but I thought it would be a nice surprise for you after working all day. I mean, it’s not exactly at your home but it’s pretty cl-“

Bucky takes two long strides towards you and brings his hands to cup your cheeks; your words die on your tongue when he looks down at you with tender eyes.

“It’s perfect, Y/n.” He smiles, stroking his thumb over your cheek bone. “You could feed me Alpine’s food and i’d still bow at your feet, sweets.”

Now you’re the one blushing. You heart skips when Bucky’s eyes drop to your lips with hunger in his gaze.

“Always so good to me, aren’t ya?” His words tempt a whimper from deep within you, a submissive whine held back by the last of your restraint.

“Well-“

The oven beeps, its sharp tone darting between your bodies and making you step back from Bucky’s hold.

“Uhh” Your mind is all over the place as the firefighter watches you with amusement, “I- I should, I mean- the pasta must be-“

“Go, doll.” Bucky shakes his head laughing quietly.

Your dress sways as you spin away to the stove, stirring various pots and tidying up the counters. Your neighbour watches you in awe, unashamedly enjoying the view; you just look so goddamn sexy in that cute little dress while you cook for him. He wishes he could come home to this every night.

“You need a hand with anything, doll?” Bucky’s voice sounds from behind you.

“Actually, yeah!” You glance over your shoulder. “Come here.”

If you keep bossing him about, Bucky’s gonna struggle not to tear that sweet little sundress right off you.

Settling in at your side, Bucky cocks his head. “What d’ya need?”

You scoop some of the creamy tomato sauce onto a spoon and bring it to Bucky’s lips. “Try this for me.”

With bated breath, you watch his full lips wrap around the end of the spoon, his eyes bearing into yours as he drags the sauce into his mouth.

Bucky has no business looking as dirty as he does in this moment; you watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows before his tongue juts out to catch a few missed drops. And just when you thought your panties would survive the sight, a moan ripples from his throat and you clench around nothing at the sound.

“Good?” You murmur, hoping he doesn’t notice when you cross your legs.

He notices.

“Delicious,” Bucky takes the spoon from your hand and stretches across you to place it back in the pan, his right hand brushing against the small of your back, “you did great, sweets.”

Fuck. Me.

You regather your composure and ask Bucky to get the wine from the fridge. He pours you both a glass, setting them back on the dining table gently before returning the bottle to its home.

“Hey, could you bring the bowls over, please?” You call over your shoulder.

You plate up the sauce coated pasta while Bucky places the dirty pans in the sink, both working around each other like a fine tuned machine.

Before you can do it yourself, Bucky is picking up the bowls and laying them on the place mats, winking at you as he does so. He pulls your chair out for you, nodding for you to join him.

“For you, Madame.” He jokes, allowing you to sit down while tucking you in.

You watch him round the table and take his own seat. “And they say chivalry is dead.”

Bucky grins at you. The orange glow of sunset shines through your windows, catching your features with grace. Your eyes shine beneath the light and Bucky can’t help but find you angelic.

“You’re beautiful, doll. I don’t know if I said that earlier but, god, you look stunning tonight.”

Dropping your head, you play with the hem of your dress shyly. Your hair falls into your face, forcing you to push it behind your ears, though Bucky wishes he was close enough to do it himself.

With rose tinted cheeks, you look up at Bucky through your lashes. “You say that to all your neighbours, Barnes?” You raise a brow with your teasing voice.

Bucky throws his head back and laughs heartily, a sound you’ve come to adore.

“Only the ones who cook for me.” He winks.

“Doesn’t Ms Scott bring you pies every couple weeks?”

“And I tell her she looks ravishing every time.”

You giggle and tell Bucky to dig in, though you could happily sit and talk all night. While you both stop every now and then for a forkful of food, conversation bounces between you as it always does.

Tonight isn’t much different to a typical evening with the firefighter next door; usually you share some snacks and beers, cozying up on the couch as you watch tv. It’s become ritual for you to send Bucky a video of you playing the piano each evening, his phone playing the video on loop as he sleeps. It’s strange, but the music creeps into his dreams and keeps them peaceful, keeps him away from that burning building.

It’s been a few weeks since the night he was sent home early. Both you and Bucky felt a shift that night; waking up in his arms left you craving more, though you’ve yet to tell him as much. You left him sleeping peacefully that morning when you left for work with only a couple hours of sleep under your belt.

Bucky hated waking up to find the other side of his bed empty, no longer feeling your heat. The note you left him eased the disappointment slightly, your neat handwriting promising to come back in your breaks. Neither of you have addressed how right it felt to sleep beside each other that night, despite spending all of your free time together with unspoken words hanging over you.

Instead, you dance around each other like two ghosts doomed to never touch. The bond between you is stronger than any you’ve ever had, the magnetic lure undeniable for you both.

Your glasses have been emptied and refilled twice now - dinner long since been finished - and you’re starting to feel the buzz; those butterflies in your stomach have turned into a swarm of confidence, your brain taking a backseat from its usual overthinking.

“You expect me to believe that you broke down the door before Sam could? The same guy who beat you at your physical a few weeks back?” You tease the brunette, a challenging brow raised at his rather unimpressed face.

“What are you trying to say there, doll?”

Bucky’s jaw clenches when you tilt your head slightly, eyes shining with amusement beneath the exposed hanging light bulbs.

“Nothing to worry your cute little head about.” You watch Bucky relax into his chair slightly as you reach for your glass with a smirk. “Just that I doubt Sam has any difficulty kicking a door down, not with the way he’s built.”

The scoff to end all scoffs ripples from your neighbours throat; his bright blue orbs glare into you and his features twist into a scowl. Oh if looks could kill…

Bucky’s tone is flat, “Didn’t know you were such an admirer of Wilson’s build, Y/n.”

The lack of a pet name sends your confidence wavering, but not enough to keep you from having a little fun.

“Well, you know,” You bring the glass to your lips, “he’s hardly difficult to miss.”

Watching the deep ruby liquid pass over your lips, Bucky fights to hide the fury that’s flooding his veins, forced to look away from your smug grin.

He knows, he knows, that you’re lying through your teeth, trying to get a rise out of his usually impenetrable facade, and yet he can’t help but feel jealous.

Bucky’s painfully aware that he has no right to feel so possessive, not when he lays no claim to you. But the twist of his stomach is proof that he doesn’t much care.

“Maybe I should just give you his number and you can cook him a meal next time.” Bucky grumbles.

“Oh, that’s alright, I already have his number.”

You’ve never seen Bucky’s head snap up as quickly as it just did, his gaze pinning you to your spot.

“You what?”

Gently, you place your glass back on the table. “Yeah, Steve gave him my number last week so he could get in touch.”

The fire in those blue eyes burns brighter with each word, his body so still that his chest is barely moving when he breathes. In fact, you’re not even sure if he is breathing. Hell, he’s not even sure if he’s breathing.

“Is that right?” Bucky’s gruff voice is laced with possessiveness, the low tone travelling straight to your panties till you swear you feel yourself throb. You wonder briefly if you have a jealousy kink and the sweet arousal dripping from your cunt only confirms your suspicions.

“Mhm.” You hum in response, “In fact, i’m going out for coffee with him next week.”

“Huh.”

Bucky’s chair screeches against the hardwood floor as he pushes himself back. You follow his movements with amused eyes when he stands up and grabs your plates before storming to the kitchen. You twist in your chair, watching him place the dishes in the sink and flick on the tap.

“James, what are you doing?” You ask.

“What does it look like i’m doing?” Oh he’s grumpy, grumpy.

Bucky’s shoulders are tense beneath his tight henley, his sleeves now rolled up as he starts scrubbing at the plates. It’s quiet while he concentrates on his work, only accompanied by the music still flowing from your speaker.

From the corner of his eye, the firefighter sees you rise from your chair, ears honed in on the sound of your feet pattering towards him.

It’s now hard for Bucky to focus on anything but your breath on his neck, goosebumps littered across his skin like a rash. You stand right behind him, tracing your fingers up from the small of his back; Bucky’s muscles tense momentarily before melting at your touch, just like always.

“Ask me why i’m seeing Sam next week.” You order, hands still roaming the taut fabric on Bucky’s back. The command makes him pause and clench his eyes shut. Why are you making him talk about this when it’s tearing him apart?

The brunette turns in your hold but you don’t release him, instead settling your hands on his waist.

“Why are you seeing him, doll?” Bucky sounds despondent, brows furrowed in confusion as he looks down at you.

“He asked me to teach his nephews to play the piano, Buck. I’m meeting him and the boys on Wednesday, Sarah too.”

A shocked ‘What’ tumbles from his lips as the information sinks in, his frown slowly falling away as he processes your words.

“Yeah…” You grin, though it’s more like a smirk, content with yourself proving he was jealous.

In a desperate attempt to save his ego, Bucky rolls his eyes playfully. “I knew you weren’t really attracted to that dumbass.”

You scoff and pat his chest lightly. “Sure you did, Barnes. Now scoot, you wash ‘em, i’ll dry ‘em.”

With his hands on his hips, he stays still as you nudge your way to his side, stretching to the window sill where your dish towels lay. Bucky’s never been in this position before, it’s always him who’s teasing you; this is new territory for him and it irks him that you riled him up so easily.

Once he shakes his head clear, the firefighter returns to face the sink and starts washing the dishes again. You wait patiently while he works, humming along to whichever song is playing.

“You like the old stuff, huh doll?” Bucky grins warmly at the slight sway of your hips, your radiance beaming like a lantern.

You giggle sheepishly and bite your lip, unknowingly sending Bucky spiralling. “I thought it was fitting for tonight, really leaning into the whole ‘housewife’ role.”

He raises a brow, “Does that make me your doting husband then, sweets?”

Realising what you said, your cheeks heat up instantly and your eyes widen. You attempt to backtrack but your words stumble over one another as though you’re a little school girl.

Bucky, however, is basking in the familiarity of control; your rosy cheeks never fail to bring a smile to his face, and boy is he beaming right now.

“I meant- It’s- You know what I meant, James.” You shoot daggers at him, though the idea of being married to your neighbour sends your heart into overdrive.

That swoon-worthy laugh greets your ears with haste, Bucky’s eyes crinkled at the corners as his chest reverberates with its force. It’s impossible to bite back the grin that’s fighting its way onto your lips.

Small tendrils of chestnut hair tumble from behind his ears, begging to be pushed back, but the buzz from the wine has dulled and you can’t find the confidence to do it, no matter how much Bucky’s eyes are pleading you to.

“You know, it’s sweet of you to teach the boys how to play.” He looks at you in adoration, the image of you spending time with Sam’s nephews triggering a warmth to spread in his chest.

A breathy laugh escapes you as your gaze falls to the kitchen counter. You blush at the compliment and slowly start drying the dishes again.

“Do you spend much time with them?” You ask with a brief glance his way.

Bucky shrugs, “Yeah, Sarah is always throwing barbecues for the squad. They’re good kids, and I bet they’ll love you!”

“Oh God, I hope so. I’ve never taught before and i’m scared they’ll hate me and i’ll destroy their dreams and-” You ramble away without noticing the frown tugging at your neighbours brows.

“Teach me.”

Huh?

“What?” You freeze.

“You said you’ve never taught before,” Bucky steps closer to you, his cologne swarming around you like a warm hug, “so practise on me. Teach me something.”

You almost laugh at his words, mind immediately jumping to the conclusion that he’s joking. But Bucky doesn’t move, his blue eyes study your own, body so still that you fail to conjure a laugh. He’s not joking.

Hesitation is written across your features, drawing a single shake of Bucky’s head. “Come on, sweets. Please? For me?” He pleads.

“Okay.”

It’s scary how quickly you succumb to Bucky’s wishes; you fear you’d do awful things if only he asked and you’d even do it with a smile. You’re so doomed.

With a triumphant grin, Bucky plucks the dish cloth and plate from your grasp and carefully places them on the sink’s edge, before taking your hand in his and guiding you to your piano.

Nerves prickling beneath your skin, you trail behind him and silently revel in his touch. It’s hard to not stare at his perfect body as you stumble around furniture, the sharp muscles of his shoulders rippling as he tugs you with him. Flicking off the speaker on the way, you fall onto the small piano stool beside Bucky, and with such little room, your left thigh is pressed up against his. The solid curve of his muscles prod into your flesh and yet despite the fluttering it causes in your stomach, you’re far more focused on his hands.

From the bulge of his toned biceps to the trail of prominent veins in his forearms, your eyes drag down Bucky’s arms till you pause at the sight of his large hands. They lay spread across the span of his thighs, his right pinky finger mere atoms away from your exposed skin where your dress has ridden up. You find yourself craving the sparks that alight with his touch, so you adjust your position to make sure your leg brushes against his hand.

It certainly hasn’t gone amiss to the firefighter that you’ve taken a liking to his hands. Sure, he’s caught you staring at them before, but the hunger in your gaze right now is greater than ever.

The corner of Bucky’s lip turns up into a smirk as he reaches for your hands once more, lifting them to rest on the ivory keys of your piano.

“Wanna hear you play me something before you give me a lesson.” He admits, his words more of a demand than a question.

When you fail to respond, still caught up in scanning the crevices of his calloused hands, Bucky nudges your shoulder.

You shake your head with a dazed frown, “Huh?”

A playful chuckle falls from his pink lips, “I said play me something, sweets, before you start teachin’ me.”

You giggle sheepishly, sighing an ‘Oh’ before you gather your thoughts. Bucky returns his hands to his lap - a movement you struggle to ignore - giving you free rein of the instrument.

Running through some songs you could teach him, you settle for one of your favourites, or more accurately, one of Bucky’s favourites. The cool surface of the keys is harsh beneath your fingertips, a stark contrast to the Bucky-induced-heat flushing through your veins, hands stretching into place as you prepare the opening chords.

Rhythmic tones swarm around the two of you as you begin playing, masterfully dancing across the keys like it’s a second language. Your graceful motions always bring Bucky to a halt as you entrap him in your art.

He recognises the song straight away, lips turning up at the sweet melody. You didn’t even have to ask to know what he wanted to hear, you just knew. Bucky’s head feels light at the sight before him. A knowing grin has settled on your soft lips, your body ever so lightly swaying to the music, clearly getting lost the sounds.

It’s impossible not to feel the adoring stare of your neighbour, no matter how hard you try to ignore it. Warmth is pooling in the depths of your heart where it feels like you’re bleeding out, your love for Bucky forcing out the blood till the only thing circulating through your veins is him. No longer able to cope with the feelings swarming within you, your fingers abruptly stop mid song before you turn to look up at the firefighter.

“Okay, your go.” You state, but when Bucky raises a bemused brow your way, you continue to instruct him. “Come on. You’re gonna do the left hand, I’ll do the right.”

“Yes Ma’am!” Bucky chimes with a mock salute, earning him a glare.

It takes a few tries to move his fingers into the correct positions, both because he’s apparently wholeheartedly incapable of doing what you say but also because you may or may not zone out every time the veins of his hands stick out as he moves. But it’s still entirely his fault though. Entirely. ‘Maybe like 98% his fault. That’s seems fair.’ You think.

“There you go!” You cheer when the firefighter successfully plays the right notes in tandem.

“Would you look at that, not so useless after all.” Bucky winks at you and you blush lightly.

Glancing at him hopefully, you ask him to play the first chord you taught him.

“Oh, umm-“ He stutters, fingers flailing about and pressing random keys in search of the right pattern.

“Here, let me…” You chuckle sweetly at how utterly lost he looks and move to help him.

Leaning forward, you drag Bucky’s fingers over the ridges of ivorite, slowly placing them on the correct keys. You feel his lust-filled eyes trained on your face while you work, though it’s getting harder and harder to focus under his stare.

A frown tugs at your brows when your mind goes blank as to where Bucky needs to put his left hand, his still-wandering gaze burning into you and spreading to your cunt faster than you care to admit.

Of course, Bucky notices your breath quickening, chest stumbling up and down with shaky pants. His proximity is intoxicating and the will to fight it is slowly slipping past you, fingers itching to trace up Bucky’s thick arms to his neck so you can finally pull his lips to yours.

Bucky reads every inch of your skin like he’s studying for an exam. From the clench of your jaw to your eyes fluttering shut, he knows that he’s winning this tussle for control.

“Bucky…” You breathe, the wavering sigh rolling from your tongue like a stray secret.

“Yes, doll?” Bucky smirks with glinting eyes and you bite back a whimper.

Opening your eyes, you keep them trained on where yours rest on his. “I can’t focus with you looking at me like that.”

Bucky knows exactly what you mean but he can’t help but toy with you. “Like what?” He cocks his head with faux innocence that fools no one.

You turn to look up at the firefighter, eyes meeting his half lidded ones, the blue of his eyes barely visible behind his lust-blown pupils but the blue you can see is so impossible dark that you wonder if they were ever light in the first place.

Taking a breath, you wet your lips so briefly that Bucky nearly misses it. Nearly. “Like you want to kiss me.” You say, barely above a whisper.

“Oh,” Bucky sighs, leaning in closer, “I want to do much more than that.”

Your body is alight with need. Craving his touch, a breach of the barrier between you, you practically whine your reply. “Then why are you just staring?”

“Well, I wanna remember you like this; sweet, angelic, so perfect in your little sundress.“

With the back of his hand, Bucky nudges the hem of your dress higher till his whole hand is spread against your thigh. You quash the aching desire to glance at where your bodies meet and lock your eyes on Bucky’s, whose lips are turned into a knowing smirk.

“Gotta savour it while I can.” He says as he pushes his palm further to your inner thigh, his pinky finger mere inches from your heat.

“Why?” You ask, heart racing.

It dawns on you that you may actually pass out when the firefighter leans in close to you, nose pushing your hair aside to expose the soft skin of your neck which now sits defenceless to his advances. The heat of his breath is electrifying, lips nearing your pulse point eagerly.

Bucky’s lips ghost over your skin as he explains, “Cause once I’ve had my way with you, you’re gonna be a hot fucking mess, sweets.”

A breathy moan tumbles from the depths of you chest at the crude insinuations of his words; your eyes flutter shut, an unintentional reaction that you’re grateful for as it hides the way your pupils roll to the back of your head.

Through the dark span of your eyelids, you picture exactly how Bucky will make you a hot fucking mess. Spread legs with his tongue delving through your folds, back arched as he pounds into your pussy with vigour, his hands guiding your hips back to meet his as he fucks you from behind. The images bear too much for you yet you can’t stop picturing the salacious scenes, not when your neighbour is pressing open-mouthed kisses to the side of your neck.

“James…” You sigh, voice carrying the weight of a thousand pleas.

“Yeah? Is that what you want?”

Nodding your head desperately, you whine, unable to form any words beneath his sinful tongue.

“Words, doll.” Bucky says, lips hovering over your ear. He’s struggling to hold back but can’t let himself touch you the way he wants to until he hears you spell it out for him.

Turning your head slowly, you peer at Bucky with half-lidded eyes and a slack-jaw. “I want you, James. Please.”

That’s all it takes to disintegrate the final remnants of the firefighter’s self-control before his full lips meet your own with a hunger that’s been brewing for months.

Bucky’s lips glide across yours, slotting between your own so easily it’s got you believing this is not your first kiss. It’s soft and sweet but so goddamn sensual that you can’t help but moan into his mouth, the now open gap giving him the perfect chance to slide his tongue inside.

You bring your hands up Bucky’s body and rest them on his neck, fingers tentatively feeding through the hair at the nape of his neck while you jostle for control of the kiss.

Forced to pull back for breath, you take a peek only to find those strikingly blue eyes already on yours.

“Fuck, doll,” Bucky whispers, “you don’t know how long I’ve been waitin’ for this.”

“Probably not as long as I have.” You scoff.

“Then let me make up for lost time.”

“Wait, what do y-“

Within moments, Bucky is lifting your legs over the bench and is knelt between them, his large hands teasing the hem of your dress as he keeps your thighs spread apart.

Your mouth is agape with surprise while you grab onto the piano behind you for stability, a mixture of nerves and anticipation coursing through your veins. And as if he can read your anxious thoughts, Bucky looks up at you with the most sincere expression across his soft features.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks, despite the deep desire shining in his eyes. He wants you more than anything, but he needs to know you want him too.

It’s an easy answer and you’re shaking your head faster than you care to admit, but the memory of Bucky’s prior words flash through your mind and you still just as quick.

“No.”

Watching intently as he runs a hand from your ankle up to your knee, the firefighter rolls his bottom lip between his teeth when your breath hitches.

“Then promise me you’ll tell me if that changes?” Bucky asks.

You reach down and run your fingers through his chestnut locks, tucking the few loose strands behind his ear.

“I promise.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, sweets.”

A hearty laugh reverberates through you, but you’re quickly silenced by Bucky’s lips on your inner thigh, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. He kisses his way up to your heat, slowly pushing your dress higher and higher till the only thing between you and his mouth is the crimson lace panties covering your mound.

A sound you can only describe as a growl ripples through the room and you glance down at your neighbour to find him practically drooling at the sight of you. But then his eyes are on yours, his hungry, half-lidded eyes, and he’s tracing a finger over your clothed slit. Your breathing becomes laboured at his touch, your body, your mind, all of you at his mercy.

“Bucky, please…”

“Ah ah ah-“ The firefighter tuts, “-since when do you call me Bucky?”

You frown, back arching slightly in search of some friction on your core, too aroused to process his words properly.

“Look at me, Y/n.”

The stern nature of his tone lures your eyes to his once more. “What?” You ask, confused.

“I haven’t spent months goin’ crazy listening to you use my name only to have you call me Bucky when I’m finally between your legs.”

The throb of your pussy spurs you on and you tilt your head teasingly. “Touch me, James.” You say, and he obeys.

Bucky glides his hands up to your hips and drags your panties lower and lower, his lips chasing the lace till there’s no where left to kiss but your slick folds.

He hovers over your heat with bated breath before forcing himself to close his eyes and ask if you’re still okay with this.

“More than okay, James.” You answer truthfully.

“Good, cause I’m fucking starvin’.”

You feel his mouth on your pussy before you’ve even processed his words, tongue delving between your folds like he really is starving and you didn’t just feed him the best dinner he’s had in years. Though something tells him that title is about to be beaten the second you cum all over his face.

Your mouth curves into an ‘o’, the most pornographic of moans escaping you at the sinful sounds of Bucky’s mouth on your cunt. Drowning in increasingly intense waves of pleasure, your senses are dialled up to the max; with every flick of his tongue and suck on your clit, you find yourself falling deeper in your arousal. It becomes impossible to listen to anything Bucky’s telling you.

“Y’taste so sweet, doll.”

“Doing so good for me, aren’t ya? My good girl.”

“Let me hear you, doll, need to hear how good you feel.”

Whether it’s praises or orders, there’s no chance in hell of you understanding a word that falls from his lips, though Bucky doesn’t mind. The clench of your soft thighs around his head tells him all he needs to know - that even if your heads not fulling comprehending him, your body is. And the sheer amount of slick glistening across your cunt is enough for him to know that you’re ready for more.

The sensation of Bucky’s finger tracing along your pussy lips sends your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your hips lifting off the stool.

“James- oh fuck-“

Words die on your tongue when Bucky eases a finger inside you. White hot pleasure builds at your core, burning the last remnants of your self control, its embers coaxing a near-scream out of you.

“Fuck, that’s it, sweets. That’s- shit you’re so tight, pussy’s squeezing me and it’s just one finger.”

You mewl and squirm beneath him.

“How you gonna handle two of ‘em, doll?”

Bucky’s mesmerised at the sight of his finger gliding in and out of you, drenched in your sweet juices, too beautiful of a sight for him to give up by eating you out. But when you groan at the suggestion of two fingers, he drags his gaze upwards and is greeted with a view that’s evening better.

You, draped against the piano, head tilted back and brows drawn together while uneven sighs tumble from your swollen lips. God, you look heavenly, Bucky thinks. He doesn’t realise he’s said it out loud, but it makes little difference seeing as you’re rather preoccupied with the thought of Bucky fucking another finger inside you.

“James?” You call, reaching down to cover your left hand around the one at your sex, the other tugging on his hair.

“Yeah? Are you alright? Do you want me to stop?” He panics, thinking you’ve grabbed his hand to stop him.

Instead, you look him in the eye and say “Are you gunna fuck another finger inside of me or what?”

An awe-inspired grin spreads across Bucky’s face at your question. He keeps his blue orbs on yours while he presses a kiss to your clit and pushes himself higher till he’s inches from your face.

He rests a hand against the piano, caging you in and says, “Anything for my girl.” before a second digit joins his first.

The stretch knocks the wind out of your chest but Bucky hardly gives you any time to adjust, his fingers pumping in and out of you even faster than before. His palm slaps against your bundle of nerves with every thrust, the force riding to your chest where your tits bounce in rhythm.

“So damn beautiful…” The firefighter says.

You look up at him through your lashes and pull his lips to yours, tasting yourself on his tongue. With clashing teeth, the wet slapping sounds only feeds into the moment and Bucky’s suddenly very aware of the tightness in his jeans.

With each passing second, the cord in your stomach is getting so close to snapping that your mouth isn’t even moving against Bucky’s anymore.

“Fuck, James, I’m- I-“

“Shh, I know.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “You gonna cum all over my fingers, doll? Gonna let me see you fall apart?”

You nod feverishly.

“Good girl, now let go for me.”

That’s all it takes for the damn to break loose and the fiercest orgasm of your life to rack through your body. It reaches every part of you, all the cracks and crevices you never thought could be touched, yet here you are, feeling every inch of yourself set on fire.

“That’s it, doll, that’s it.” Bucky comforts you while you lay victim to the aftershocks of his work, slowing the thrust of his fingers till your breathing evens and he moves to gently circling your sensitive clit.

“Holy shit…” You sigh, a satisfied and totally fucked-out grin playing across your lips.

Noticing how your hazy your eyes still are, Bucky smiles to himself while pressing loving kisses on your forehead.

“You did real good for me, sweetheart.” He listens to you hum beneath him as he moves to kiss your temple. “Y’look so pretty when you cum, you know that? Even prettier than I imagined.”

You twist in your seat to face your neighbour. “You’ve imagined this too?”

“Every night, doll.”

“Huh…”

Though Bucky’s eyes remain fixed on yours, it’s obvious that his mind has slipped away; he’s now clouded by memories of his x-rated dreams, ones that have ended with him pumping his embarrassingly hard length into his fist one too many times, and his cock twitches in his ever-tightening pants. You notice the movement at his crotch and, emboldened by his confession and the best orgasm you’ve ever had, you decide to take back some control.

“What have you pictured doing to me, James?” Your tone is so sweet, so innocent, that it takes a moment for your words to register in his brain. But when it does, boy, does a fresh wave of blood rush to his cock.

“You sure you wanna know? Cuz it ain’t all sweet and innocent.” He warns.

You say nothing and let your actions do all the talking; you slide a hand down to meet his left, the one still nestled between your sticky thighs, and tug it away from your cunt. With your eyes locked on his, you raise Bucky’s cum coated fingers to your mouth, slowly wrapping your lips around them and sucking your sweetness away. Making sure to give the firefighter a show, you swirl your tongue around his fingers before taking them as deep as you can, a knowing look in your eyes when you notice Bucky clenching his jaw.

After releasing his fingers from your swollen red lips, you press a kiss to the palm of his hand. “Tell me.”

What you can only describe as a growl rises from the back of Bucky’s throat and before you know it, you’re being carried to your bedroom, legs bound tightly around his waist while your arms wrap loosely around his neck.

He sits down on the edge of the bed; hands resting on your hips and edging lower to your ass, his fingers grip the supple flesh to keep you in place.

His force on your hips is pushing you down on his ample bulge, sparking a flash of pleasure straight up your spine that escapes you with a moan. Bucky chuckles softly with a sinful grin as you tilt your head back at the feeling.

“You wanna know what I’ve imagined us doing, doll?” The firefighter grabs your chin to bring your attention back to him. He runs the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip, tugging on it and letting it bounce back into place.

“I’ve pictured us just like this.” He drops his hand to your neck, tracing the curve of your collar bone till it meets the strap of your sundress. “You, naked and beautiful as ever, riding my cock like I know you can.”

You gasp lightly when he tugs your strap till it’s tumbling off your shoulder.

“And you’re telling me just how full you are, how stretched your little pussy is around me, choking my cock like a damn vice.”

Bucky’s filthy words send your hips into motion without warning; you grind your bare cunt over his crotch, the tent in his pants settling between your slick folds till his shaft is enveloped with your warmth.

“Does that sound good, doll? To have my cock buried inside you when you bounce on it? Fuck, I bet your cunt is dripping for me again,”

“It never stopped, James.” You whimper, your sensitive clit sending jolts up your frame as Bucky guides your hips over his.

“That’s right, you’re never gonna use anything else to cum ever again. You got me now, doll. I’m all you need. Me, my cock, I’m gonna ruin everyone else for you.”

You don’t even notice that Bucky’s hands are on the zip at your back, slowly pulling it down till the fabric are your chest goes slack, and with the straps already draped over your shoulders, the flowing material cascades around you, tumbling to your hips and leaving you defenseless to Bucky’s insatiable blue eyes.

“Fuck me, sweets, you’re- god- you’re perfect.” He leans in and kisses your collarbone. “So,” kiss, “So,” kiss, “perfect.”

Your eyes flutter shut, lost in the feeling of his touch, and Bucky smirks when he sees you. He teases a hand up your soft skin till it sits just beneath your tit, daring to reach up and play with you in the ways he’s always dreamt of.

“Is this okay?” He asks, earning an even more passionate grind of your hips as you push your chest closer to his open mouth.

He chuckles, “Needy, aren’t ya, sweets?”

You whine.

“Hmm, lucky for you, this is exactly what I imagined doing to you, what I’ve dreamt of for months…”

His lips wrap around your hardened nipple with haste, the warmth of his mouth a welcome sensation. He sucks at the sensitive nub, this tongue reaching out to soothe you afterwards. You throw your head back and moan loudly.

The sound of bucky loudly licking and sucking on your tits is driving you crazy, to the point where your hips are stuttering over his, practically drowning in the feeling till you have no control over your movements.

“God, I love your tits. Wanna act out every dream I’ve ever had of you. Fucking your tits, your throat, your cunt, anywhere you’ll let me, doll, please. I’ve needed you for so long.”

You blush at the word love, surpressing the hope that is stirring at the possibility that your tits aren’t the only thing he loves. Has he really wanted this as long as me? You wonder, picturing everything he just revealed he’s been wanting.

“M’So fuckin’ hard for you sweetheart, I know you can feel me. Dick’s throbbing, doll, it’s s’hard it hurts.”

You pull at his hair so he’s looking up at you again and capture his lips in yours.

“I wanna see you, Bucky…”

He groans and reaches for the hem of his shirt which he waists no time in tearing off. Your chest rises and falls heavier than before, eyes raking his physique just like you had that night he was leaving the shower at his place.

You trail a finger down his abs till it brushes the button of his jeans teasingly.

“All of you, James.” You look pointedly at his crotch. “May I?” You ask and when he nods, you climb off his lap and sink between his legs on the floor, you dress tumbling to the ground immediately.

Bucky’s abs tense as you work to undo the button, your hands tiny in comparison to his body. Next, you work the zipper up and over the bulge of his cock, the teeth desperate to come apart after being so constricted for so long. The two sides of denim snap away from the tent of his boxers, perfectly presenting where the firefighter so badly needs your touch.

He helps you kick off his jeans till the only thing between you is his boxers. You trace a finger up and down his shaft through the cotton, enjoying the sticky patch of pre cum leaking through the top.

“Have you ever imagined me sucking your cock, James?” You ask with half lidded eyes before kissing his covered shaft. “Cause I have.”

Bucky whimpers - whimpers - at your words, his hips snapping up to your face uncontrollably.

You begin to drag down his boxers, trailing kisses down down down, your lips greeting his tip when his cock flicks up against them before your eyes even get chance to glance at him.

Your eyes flutter shut at the salty taste on your lips, revelling in the breathy moans from your neighbour.

“Fuck- pl-please honey, I need your- argh- mouth around me!”

You make eye contact with him from your place on the floor and ask if he’s sure.

“More than anything.”

And with that, you take his thick length into your mouth, lips sealing around his angry pink cock head briefly when your trace your tongue over his slit, before gliding lower down his cock.

You take as much of him as you can, but you need time to warm up having never taken a cock as large as his before.

“You’re so big, baby.” You say as you pull off his shaft with a pop, “Biggest I’ve ever had in my mouth.”

A frustrated groan arises from the firefighter and you feel his hand on the back of your head, gently pushing you to his dick once more.

“Suck my cock, doll, just like we’ve both imagined, nice and deep, please.”

You take the base of his cock in your hands and guide his tip back to your lips.

“Atta girl,” Bucky encourages as you take him deeper and deeper.

He feels you relaxing your throat to take more of him and his balls clench at the feeling.

“Argh fuck, fuck, fuck. Good girl, oh my god, yes!”

His praises and curses cheer you on and you manage as much of him as you can, only an inch or so remaining that’s simply too thick to fit in your mouth. Lord knows how he’ll fit in your pussy, but you’re sure he’ll figure it out.

You bob your head on his length over and over till you’re in desperate need of air. You let your hands work your spit and his precum up and down his hard cock while you catch your breath and watch his beautiful face contort into one of extreme pleasure.

Your chest fills with pride at Bucky’s facial expressions; making him feel good is somehow more rewarding than anything you’ve done in your life and you find yourself content at the thought of spending the rest of your days pleasing him.

Bucky is oblivious to the gratified smile toying your lips and wholly unprepared for your next movement.

“Oh god- oh fuck, doll-” He groans, his breathing staggered and eyes clenched shut when you take his balls in your mouth, the skin sloppily wet from your work on his cock, and now enjoying the warmth of your mouth.

“Oh honey, do that again, felt so go- argh!” He’s interrupted by you tending to his sack once more, your tongue swirling around them and lightly sucking.

You moan around his pretty, swollen balls, the vibrations drawing a sigh of pleasure from your neighbour. The trimmed hair at the base of Bucky’s member is tickling your nose while you fight to taste every part of him.

With a final sharp suck, you release his balls with a small plop, plant a wet kiss on each and flatten you tongue to lick a bold stripe up his length. The tip of your muscle presses into the vein on the underside of his dick and Bucky thrusts upward, his hips bucking as he desperately searches for more.

As you ready yourself to glide his cock down your throat once more, you feel Bucky’s hand on your cheek, pulling you off him.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something?” You ask with a concerned frown, nervous that you’ve done something wrong to have Bucky stopping you. You wrap your hand around his forearm, the one outstretched to hold your hair, while the other remains enclosed around his cock.

“Nothin’ bad, sweets, it’s just that- fuck-“

You absentmindedly stroke your thumb over his girth, a motion you intend to be comforting but in reality, it just makes him throb even harder in your hands.

“-I’m not gonna last much longer if you keep using your pretty mouth like that.”

“And that’s a problem because…?”

He laughs lightly and tucks your hair behind your ear. “Cause as hot as you’d look swallowing my load, I’d much rather cum inside that sweet pussy for our first time.”

You roll your bottom lip between your teeth before pecking a doting kiss to his forearm and letting Bucky pull you to your feet. His eyes follow yours till he’s looking up at you from his seated position, his hands falling to your hips with an awestruck face.

“What the hell did I do to deserve you?” His voice is barely above a whisper. You blush crimson.

“Get on the bed, doll.” He orders. “Lay on your back.”

You do as he says and once you’ve settled, he crawls on top of you. It’s quiet for a moment as Bucky stares lovingly down at you, burning the image into his memory to remind him he has everything he needs.

“I should have found the guts to do this months ago…” You murmur, pushing the fallen tendrils of chestnut hair behind his ear. He looks so goddamn perfect; the golden glow filtering through your window catching every feature you’ve spent so long dreaming about, and now he’s here, really here, and you can’t help but stroke his cheek with revere.

“We have now, doll. That’s enough for me.” Bucky whispers. “Are you comfortable?”

You nod, truthfully, both in terms of your position but also for what’s coming. But then his elbows bend out and he’s lowering himself onto you.

“How about now?”

There’s a gleam in his eye and a playful smirk on his lips as he watches your chest heave, your body taking more of his weight now.

“No!” You giggle.

“No? Is this better?” Bucky teases, briefly laying his whole weight over you until you paw at his shoulders to push him off.

“James! You’re squishing me!”

The melody of your carefree laughter has Bucky melting and he pushes himself up onto his hands once more. His lip is tucked between his teeth, enjoying the view as he becomes increasingly aware of his cock now just one slip away from your pussy lips.

Quickly coming to your own awareness of Bucky’s rock hard length pressing into you, you sober up.

“Darling?” You tug on his bottom lip with the pad of your thumb.

Bucky’s brows pinch closer slightly.

“I need you inside me.”

His soft lips are crashing against yours within moments, his hand fighting between the nonexistent space between your bare bodies to grasp his cock and guide his tip to your bundle of nerves.

The sudden taste of how good Bucky can make you feel forces a sharp breath from you. It’s so much yet not enough, all at the same time.

“Tell me if you need me to stop, okay? Let me take care of you how you deserve.”

After a meek nod with your hands finding refuge in Bucky’s soft locks, he trails his cock head down your pink folds till it catches on the dip of your entrance.

Bucky tempts a whimper from you as he slides inside of you, your walls stretching to accommodate his larger than average member.

“Fuck, doll, you’re so tight for me.” The firefighter moans, resisting the urge to snap his hips and bottom out completely.

You’ve yet to make a sound, the sting in your pussy not yet dissipating, and when you glance down at where your bodies meet, you realise you’re barely taking half of him.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Bucky’s reassuring voice is ghosting over your ear, “you’re taking me so well, sweets. You need me to go slower?”

You clench your eyes shut briefly, “No, keep going, you’re just so…”

“So what?”

Bucky watches a deep red creep up your neck before returning his gaze to your eyes, that now dance across the room avoiding him.

A gentle grasp on your chin draws you to face the breathtaking man above you and you clench around his dick.

“What happened to the little minx who was practically beggin’ me to fuck her, huh? Don’t get all shy on me now, dollface. I’m so what?”

His words have you spilling yours without second thought. “You’re so fucking thick, James, cock’s splittin’ me in half.”

He groans and snaps his hips fully into yours, making you scream out, “Jamie!!!”

His scalp burns when you pull on his hair harder than before, your moans filling the room like a broken record. Bucky should be focused on the furrow of your brow, your laboured breaths, the way your cunt is choking him, anything about how perfect this feels, but all he can focus on is how with one thrust, you called him ‘Jamie’. And you didn’t just say it, you screamed it.

“Shit, honey, say it again.”

“Ja-Jamie…” You whine and feel Bucky draw his hips back before pounding into you once more.

“Again.” Your neighbour growls.

“Oh my god, fuck- I”

“Again.”

It takes everything you have to open your eyes and look at him. “Fuck me, Jamie.”

“That’s my girl.”

Bucky drives his length into you till his tip is hitting your cervix, the pleasure wrapping around your throat and squeezing the air out of you. You fight to breathe as Bucky drills into you, over and over, softly grunting with every thrust.

“Never felt anything as good as your cunt before, doll. Wanna spend the rest of my life buried inside you.”

You pull his lips to yours and, back arching from the mattress, dive your tongue into his mouth with vigour. He lets you explore his mouth while fucking you deep and fast, the headboard of your bed slamming against the wall and probably driving your neighbour crazy. Oh wait, he is your neighbour, and it is driving him crazy, but in the best way imaginable.

“So goddamn tight, sweets, y’pussy was made for me,” He swallows your whimpers happily, “don’t you think? You feel how good i’m filling you up, honey? Sliding in an’ out so easy, you’re so fucking wet for my dick.”

“Harder, Jamie.”

Goddamn.

“Keep calling me that and I’ll do whatever you want.”

You lose yourself in his thrusts; the sting has long turned into the most pleasure you’ve ever felt, and that’s saying something after the orgasm he lulled from you only a few minutes ago.

“Fuckin’ me s-so good, Jamie.”

“Ah- just like that, baby.”

“I’m getting close, James, need you to go faster.”

Your pleas send Bucky’s cock pulsing and he does exactly as you wish. He fucks you faster, fighting off the desperate urge to cum inside your sweet cunt.

“Jamie…” You sigh.

He grins up at you from his place at your tits, his tongue reaching out to tease your nipples. You push his head down till he takes your sensitive bud in his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue over it while he gropes its twin.

The tight coil in your stomach is twisting to its limit and you find yourself dangerously close to cumming around Bucky’s hard, thick length.

“I’m so- oh fuck- i’m so close, James.”

He lifts his head and eyes you with lust blown pupils.

“Are you gonna cum for me, doll? God, I can feel you clenching around me, you wanna cream all over my cock? Huh?” He smirks at your pornographic moans. “Bet I’ll look so good covered in your cum, sweets, maybe I’ll let you clean me up, put that mouth to good use.”

“I’m gonna cum, i’m gonna cum,” You chant several times breathlessly.

“Let go for me, sweet girl, make a mess o’my cock. Cum, doll.”

Your body shudders as your hips grind up into Bucky’s, your walls tightening before he feels you gush around him. Practically screaming in pleasure, you bite down on Bucky’s shoulder to quiet yourself, though the pain travels straight to his member, still fucking into you with force.

“Fuck, James, you’re so perfect, never came so hard in my life- shit-“

He’s groaning into your ear, his balls slamming against you and filling the room with salacious wet slaps.

“You’re so wet and- fuck- I can’t- I can’t hold back much longer.”

You tug on the hair at the nape of his neck and lick up the side of his throat, tongue catching the salty beads of sweat in its path. Reaching his earlobe, you suck on it lightly and whisper into his ear.

“Want you to cum inside me, Jamie. Fill me up, please, I need your cum.”

“Argh, fuck!!” Your words send Bucky over the edge and his hips stutter while he finally lets go.

“Oh god, yes!” Bucky grunts. “Take my cum, doll, fuckin’ take it.”

Your tongue seeks his neck once more, pressing open mouthed kisses as his cock shoots streams of white seed into you, the spurts seemingly never ending.

“Fillin’ my cunt so much, Jamie- fuck- you feel so good!”

As his cock softens, his thrusts slow to a more bearable pace, both of you so sensitive from your orgasms. Catching your breath takes a minute or two, but in the meantime, you coax satisfied sighs from your firefighter by running your hands up and down his back; the light sheen of sweat greets your fingertips as you touch him tenderly.

With no words being shared, you focus solely on Bucky’s breathing, the rise and fall of his back beneath your hands and the weight of his body on yours. It should be uncomfortable, but you’ve never felt so at home in a place, let alone with a person, in your life.

“That was…” Bucky murmurs into your neck.

You finish his sentence, “Pretty damn good.” Laughter ripples through the muscles of his back.

“Yeah,” He agrees and pulls back slightly to look at you, “you feeling okay?”

“If by okay you mean ‘completely and utterly fucked out’ then yeah, I’m great.”

You grin cheekily before pushing his hair behind his ear yet again, an act you find yourself praying that you’ll get to do for the rest of your life.

“How are you feeling?” You ask sincerely.

Those blue orbs flick between your own, laced with an emotion you hope to be love. “Like I want to be with you like this forever.” Bucky admits. “That and completely and utterly fucked out.”

You laugh heartily, bringing a beaming smile to Bucky’s swollen red lips.

“Let me clean you up, doll.” He offers before pushing himself off you, much to your dismay. He disappears to your bathroom for a minute before returning with a damp cloth in hand.

“Can you spread your legs for me, sweets?”

He bites a chuckle at how quickly you obey him and gets to work, wiping away your shared cum from your pussy and goosebump-ridden thighs. The towel is warm and soft on your skin, lulling you to sleep, though you fight to keep your eyes on your neighbour.

“You’re so beautiful, James.” You say, reaching to place your hand on his that sits beside you hip, where he’s leaning his weight.

He smiles sheepishly and focuses on the job at hand. Once you’re clean, Bucky carries you to the bathroom so you can do your business, waiting patiently outside after putting his boxers back on and grabbing his henley for you to wear.

When you step out of the bathroom, Bucky’s holding his he let out in front of you. “You looked a bit cold so I thought you might want a shirt?”

You smile, “Your shirt?”

“Yeah…” He rubs the back of his neck, muscles flexing at the movement, “You don’t have to, I just thou-“

He stops talking when you pull the henley from his grasp and tug it over your head. It swallows you whole and the sleeves tumble past your hands, but Bucky thinks it’s perfect. You’re perfect.

Grabbing his hand, you pull him back to your room and back into bed, tugging the sheets over you both where you nestle into his chest.

“You’re staying, right?” You ask with the most puppy-dog eyes you can muster.

“Of course, doll.”

Smiling to yourself, you curl up against the firefighter. “Woulda cooked you a meal months ago if I knew that’s all it took for you to finally fuck me.”

a/n: filth. pure filth. so sorry that it took me a lifetime to post this - life got lifey and it took me ages to get this right. it’s my second time writing any sort of smut so i hope it was good for y’all. thanks for all the support, it means the world to me. love you guys, red ❤️

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ellemj · 7 months

Text

Candy Cane: 12 Days of Smut #4

Bucky Barnes x Reader One-Shot

Warnings: profanity, stuck in an elevator, mentions of death, teasing, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires any other warnings.

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: I usually hate everything I write but this sure felt like some good shit while I was writing it. Hopefully it feels the same for whoever may read it. Thank you sooo much to @mashedpotatooooos for this beyond perfect prompt, as soon as she submitted it to me I was SCREAMING. So creative, so inspirational, thank you for feeding me with this brilliant idea.

A fucking candy cane. A fucking peppermint treat from the 1840s. That’s what’s going to be the Winter Soldier’s undoing? No. Really, it’s you. It’s the way you’re sucking on the damn thing. The way you’re wrapping your lips around it so sensually, savoring the taste with an innocent little gleam in your eye. That’s what’s going to kill him. He’s had enough.

The sound of a chair scraping along the hard floor breaks you out of your trance. Pulling your half-finished candy cane out of your mouth, you lift your gaze and look across the room to see Bucky silently disappearing down the hallway. God, he’s moody today.

“I bet that’s why they called him the Winter Soldier.” Sam scoffs. You raise an eyebrow at him as you resume your work on the candy cane. “Because his mood is always so damn icy.”

“That’s cute.” You say, refusing to dignify his bad joke with a laugh, although you have to admit, it was kind of funny. He’s right though, Bucky’s been a little extra moody this week. You’re not really surprised that he’d be someone who hates Christmas, it’s very on brand for him. It’s only three days away now and he hasn’t said a thing about it. The rest of you have been watching Christmas movies, having hot cocoa way too often, and at the very least pretending to be festive most days. But Bucky’s been staying in his room excessively more and frowning enough to end up on Santa’s naughty list. Something’s up with him. You’d have already asked what was wrong with him if you weren’t so annoyed at his inability to spit it out unprompted. The man is over a hundred years old but still has the communication skills of a teenager.

Only a few hours later, Bucky’s just finished up taking his frustrations out in the gym when you’re coming back from a run to the grocery store. You needed a few ingredients for the Christmas cookies you plan on baking tomorrow and there’s no better time to hit the grocery store than at night. Of course, just as you’re coming inside the tower, you see the elevator doors sliding shut. You rush forward, throwing your hand out to hold the elevator. Bucky lets out an audible sigh when he sees you step into the small space. He thinks about darting back out before the doors close both of you in, but he knows he’d have to explain himself if he did something that childish. So, he remains.

Bucky keeps his gaze trained on the screen above the doors, watching as it slowly counts each floor that you’re carried past. You, on the other hand, keep your eyes trained on him. He’s clearly just come from the gym, as evidenced by his dark athletic shorts and sweaty t-shirt. He doesn’t wear short sleeves often, so you take the rare moment to steal a look at his black and gold arm. That’s when he finally decides to give you a sideways glance. You’re just about to break the unusual silence by saying whatever pops into your mind first when the sound of grinding metal fills the air. You don’t even have a moment to brace yourself before the elevator practically skids to a screeching halt and throws you and your bag of Christmas ingredients sideways into one of the walls. You closed your eyes on impact, and when you blink them open again, you’re thrust into darkness. The power must’ve gone out. After just a couple of seconds, the very dim emergency lights kick on and you straighten yourself up, stepping away from the wall and trying to fully comprehend the situation that you’re in. Bucky’s analyzing you as you stand there, staring straight ahead in thought. You don’t look to be injured or very frightened that you’re trapped in such a small space, so he feels it’s safe to say that you’re not claustrophobic.

“The button to call the fire department isn’t even lighting up.” You say quietly, more to yourself than to the super soldier who stands a foot to your right. That means you’ll have to try your phones, and if those don’t work then you’ll be trapped in here until someone realizes that you and Bucky have been missing for too long.

“I’ll call Sam.” Bucky fishes his phone out of the waistband of his shorts and quickly types in his passcode, easily finding Sam’s contact since it’s one of the very few that he has saved. He’s just about to hit the button to put the call through when he notices the top of his phone displays a “no signal” alert. Shit. “No service.”

“Of course, no fire department and no phone service.” There’s a hint of nervousness creeping into your voice but you try your best to tamp it down. “W-what floor were we on before it stopped?” You know Bucky was watching the floor counter.

“Fourteen.” Suddenly, you can picture the elevator plummeting all the way down to the ground floor, killing you both on impact. However, the more rational side of your brain reminds you that elevators have emergency braking systems specifically designed to keep something like that from happening. You inhale a shaky breath and try to come up with at least a semblance of a plan in your mind, something to keep you from thinking too much about how you’re trapped so high above the ground in a little metal box. Bucky watches you closely as you move to sit on the floor, letting your back rest against the back wall and drawing your knees up to your chest. You begin rummaging through your little grocery bag and when your hand wraps around what you were searching for, you pull it out and begin opening the small package. Even in the dim light, Bucky can tell exactly what it is. Fucking candy canes.

“Do you want one?” You hold one out to Bucky but he gives you an almost displeased look as he shakes his head, staring down at the candy cane in your hand with disdain. So, not only does Bucky Barnes hate Christmas, but he even hates the most basic Christmas candy. You almost laugh to yourself at how ridiculous he is. He’s turning out to be an actual scrooge.

“Fine, more for me.” You unwrap the candy cane and lift it to your mouth, beginning to suck on the straight end of it. You’re not paying Bucky any attention now, so you don’t notice the way his jaw clenches and he averts his gaze as soon as the candy hits your tongue. He remains standing but leans back against the elevator wall, hoping the cold metal against his sweaty t-shirt might have the same effect as a cold shower.

It doesn’t.

Two minutes later, you’re still quietly working on your candy cane while Bucky has gone absolutely rigid. He has the back of his head pressed against the wall now and he stares up at the ceiling actually wishing that the emergency brakes would fail and the elevator would go crashing down to put him out of his misery. Why does it take you so long to eat those damn things? And how the hell do you not realize what you’re doing? Are you that naïve?

“Are you okay, Bucky?” Your voice is the last thing he wants to hear. He doesn’t even make a move to look down at you, because the fact that you’re already on the floor at the level of his dick and the fact that he knows what you look like when you’re sucking on something you really like will only make this situation that much worse. His cock is already fully erect in his thin athletic shorts, painfully so. The only reason you haven’t noticed yet is because you’ve been distracting yourself with your little snack and because Bucky’s shorts are so dark.

“Fine.” He croaks the single syllable out in just the right way to let you know that he is in fact, not fine.

“Okay, what is it?” You demand to know. Did Tony skimp on having emergency brakes installed and Bucky knows your death is imminent? Is the big scary man secretly afraid of heights or small spaces? “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I said I’m fine.” Bucky repeats the words through clenched teeth. Who would’ve known that such a private man would be such a bad liar? You push yourself up off the floor now and stand to your feet, turning to face him head-on. You’re just about to threaten to stab him with your little candy cane remnant when your eyes land on what it is that’s got him so worked up. The bulge in the front of his shorts is on full display, pulling the seams of the fabric so tight that you imagine Bucky’s incredibly uncomfortable right now. But…why would he be so turned on in such a shitty situation? Is it the fear? The adrenaline?

“Bucky—”

“Stop fucking talking.” He cuts you off sharply, finally snapping his eyes open and meeting your gaze. Even in the dim lighting, you can see the frustration painted over his features.

“No, tell me what’s up with you.”

“We’re stuck in an elevator.” He says plainly, closing his eyes once more. He really does suck at communicating. Obviously, you can see that he’s aroused. He knows that you can see it, but he’s still standing here in front of you pretending like he isn’t. As you stare at the stubborn ass that you’ve just barely come to know over the past year, all you can think about is getting on your knees and sucking the bad attitude right out of him. Maybe that’s what he needs. He clearly needs something. However, the fact that he won’t simply speak his mind and instead chooses to act like a moody fifteen-year-old most of the time still irks you. You want him to open his damn mouth and speak.

“Look at me.” Your voice is so calm and even that Bucky immediately wonders what you’re up to, but he doesn’t open his eyes. You take two steps so you’re standing right in front of him, and then you repeat yourself. “Bucky, look at me.”

“What part of stop fucking talking doesn’t make sense to you?” He snaps, opening his eyes. When his gaze meets your face, he’s met with the sight of you, dragging your tongue along the side of that damn candy cane and he nearly cums right there. He’s thankful that you can’t have possibly seen the way his cock practically jumped in his shorts when his eyes landed on your tongue.

“It’s the part where you think you can mope around here constantly and treat people like shit that doesn’t make sense to me.” You suckle on the end of your candy cane for a short second before pulling it back out of your mouth and adding one bold part to your little tiff. “It’s also the fact that you’re standing here with a hard dick while simultaneously acting like you can’t stand me. That really doesn’t make sense to me.”

Bucky lets out a sound of annoyance at the way you’re matching his attitude. He’s especially annoyed that you actually mentioned his dick, but he’s a lot more focused on fighting the urge to reach out and snap your precious candy cane into a thousand tiny pieces. You see the way his eyes keep flitting to your mouth as you enjoy your candy. Honestly, once you see the look in his eyes and pair that with the huge tent in his shorts, you don’t know how you didn’t put it together before. Maybe it’s because you fear you could die in this elevator, or maybe it’s because you’ve always sort of wanted to know what it’d be like to have such a strong effect on a man like Bucky, but an idea pops into your head that you just can’t seem to shake. You want to make him tell you what he wants. You want to force him to communicate with you, and then you want to reward him with everything he needs. Besides just being an irresistibly hot idea, it’s also a sure way to keep you from thinking about the elevator plunging into the basement at any given moment. You both need this.

That’s what leads you to sink down to your knees at Bucky’s feet. He thinks he’s hallucinating at first, but when he hears your light little laugh as you pop the candy cane back into your mouth, he knows it’s real. Your pretty eyes stare right back up at him as you slowly pull the candy cane out of your mouth, keeping your lips pressed tightly around it.

“Fuck…” Bucky mutters, screwing his eyes shut tightly as he feels a fresh wave of heat rush through his body. You haven’t even touched him yet he feels like he could have an orgasm on the spot. “Don’t do that.”

“Why not? You don’t like this?” You tease. You push the candy cane past your lips once more but he’s refusing to look down at you, so you take matters into your own hands. You hold the candy cane with your left hand while your right hand lands lighly on Bucky’s thigh, dangerously close to where he needs your touch the most. He inhales sharply and snaps his head forward to look down at you again. “Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.”

“I need you to stop with the candy canes.” He says harshly, giving you an icy stare. You laugh, but you can’t deny that he actually communicated something. So, you remove your hand from his thigh and fix the wrapper around your candy cane as good as you can before leaning over to drop it back in your grocery bag.

“Was that so hard?” You ask, returning to your position on your knees at his feet. He lets out an exasperated sigh, wondering why the hell you’re not getting back up.

“Are you going to stay down there until the elevator starts up again?” He narrows his eyes at you. You shrug your shoulders.

“Until the elevator starts up again or until you tell me what you really need, whichever comes first I guess.”

“I told you already.”

“Right, but that wasn’t all you needed.” You point out. He watches as your eyes leave his face and coast down his neck and torso, until your gaze lands on the taut fabric of his shorts. You’re perfectly eye level with his hard-on and it’s not making this situation any easier on him. He feels his cock twitch again from the way you’re looking at him. He weighs his options in his head. How bad would it be for him to cross this line? To tell you how badly he needs you to suck his cock the way you’ve been sucking those candy canes the last couple of days? It couldn’t possibly be that bad if you’re already on your knees offering it. If anything, he can at least feel better knowing you crossed a line first. Besides, what if you two never make it out of here? He knows you will, people get stuck in elevators all the time and you rarely hear about it killing people. But, what if? He can’t deny himself this potentially one, final pleasure.

So, Bucky learns to communicate.

“Fix the problem you created.” Bucky’s stare is cold and calloused, but the way his chest rises and falls at a quickened pace and the way his pupils dilate as he looks down at you makes you feel powerful. You test the waters, sliding your palms from his knees up his thighs and then curling your fingertips beneath the waistband of both his shorts and boxers. He remains focused on you, not giving you indication that he wants you to stop. So, you tug his shorts and boxers down until his cock springs free, nearly slapping against his lower stomach as your drop his shorts to his feet. Your eyes are glued to his impressive length, taking in the way precum is beginning to drip down his shaft and the way his balls look so full and heavy between his legs. He’s growing impatient, wondering if you plan to sit there and stare at it or do what you really want to do to it. He’s just about to showcase his impatience with you when you reach up and wrap your right hand firmly around his cock, holding it with just the right amount of grip as you give it one long stroke from the base to the tip. You tighten your fist around the head and let his precum lubricate your palm before stroking back down to the base and spreading the wetness around his shaft. The way his head falls back against the wall makes you feel high. You like having this kind of power over him. You wonder how much more power you might have if you used your mouth, but why wonder? Leaning forward, you continue stroking his cock with your right hand while you plant your left hand on his thigh and press your lips to the tip.

“Shit.” The curse falls from his lips so freely that you can’t stop yourself. The next thing you know, his cock is sliding past your lips and the tip is brushing against the back of your throat as you nearly fully deepthroat his entire length. You only have an inch left to go but you aren’t sure you can fit it all. Bucky looks down and sees your hesitation. He knows he should’ve restrained himself. He knows he should’ve let you take this at your own pace, but he needed it. He needed to feel your throat tighten around his cock. He needed to see how fucking pretty you’d look with every inch of him in your mouth. So, Bucky gently placed his right hand on the back of your head and applied a little pressure. Just enough pressure to make you swallow the rest of his cock. As soon as he felt your nose brushing against his skin, he pulled you back by your hair. His eyes roam over your face now, checking in to see if you’re okay. Your eyes are wide but your pupils are blown with lust. Not only are you okay, but you’re on cloud fucking nine. With the tip of his cock still in your mouth, you nod up at him, letting him know it’s okay to do it again.

Bucky guides his cock into your mouth again, pulling your head closer and closer to him until he feels your throat tighten as you gag around his length. When he tries to pull you away this time, you grip both of his thighs and stare up at him so hungrily that he groans at the sight. You don’t want him to go easy on you, you want him to take what he needs. It’s only a second later that Bucky puts both of his hands on your head and holds you firmly in place as he begins thrusting his cock into your mouth. He’s slow and careful at first, trying not to give you more than you can handle. But the first time you moan around his shaft, slow and careful goes out the window. He fucks your throat, letting his balls rap against your chin with every deep thrust. The obscene sounds and the way you fight to maintain eye contact with him sends him straight to the edge of his release so much sooner than he expected.

“I’m gonna cum.” He rasps, praying that you won’t want him to pull out. Although, he could easily picture himself cumming all over your pretty face. Your only response is to grip onto his thighs even tighter while you look up at him so submissively. That’s all it takes. Bucky gives your mouth one more thrust and then holds your head in place, with your lips wrapped tightly around the base of his cock. You feel every drop of cum as it trickles onto your tongue and down your throat. After a few more seconds, Bucky releases your head and watches as you sit back on your knees, swallowing everything that he gave you. When you lick your lips he swears he could go for round two already.

“That was so much better than a candy cane, Bucky.”

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #mcu #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #marvel #the winter soldier #winter soldier #12 days of smut

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bloatedandalone04 · 10 months

Text

If It Makes You Happy - Part 1

➪the one where you give bradley your heart and he breaks it.

Warnings: smut, angst, fluff, unprotected sex, age gap, 18+, swearing, alcohol consumption, hair pulling, small pain kink ig, jealousy

Word Count: 5.3k | Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“God, you feel so good,” Bradley’s deep voice sent chills down your spine. Your hands trailed up his back and gripped his shoulders as his hips hit yours over and over again. “Fuck, baby.”

His words, mixed with his raspy voice, went right to your core, where you greedily sucked him in deeper.

Bradley groaned loudly, dipping his head down to suck on your collar bone. He wasn’t usually one for hickeys at his age, but he found himself loving to both give them and receive them ever since you and he first started this whole situation.

“Just like that,” you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut tightly when you felt his lips pepper kisses all over your neck.

“Like this?” He mutters as he fucked into you, making you see stars behind your closed eyes.

“Yes,”

One of his hands reaches down to wrap your leg around his waist, making him reach even deeper in you. “You like that, baby?”

“Yes,” you say again, sliding one hand up to tug on his hair. “Please.”

Bradley grunted at your relentless tugging, the feeling of your fingers threading through his hair adding to the overall pressure currently building within him. “Fuck, you’re so hot,”

If he thought you were hot, he must not be aware just how damn near edible he is.

He continued to suck mark after mark onto the skin of your neck, all while his hips rocked into yours with a friction that had you digging your nails into his bicep. One thing you both discovered was that Bradley had a bit of a thing for pain. He loved when you marked his skin with your nails or bit on his bottom lip whenever you kissed, but the thing he loved most was when you tugged on his hair in a death grip. The sore scalp and minor headaches he’d endure later on were so worth it.

So, as you raked your nails down his arm, Bradley just grunted against your neck, driving himself impossibly deeper into your inviting walls. “Yeah,” he breathed out, lifting his head so his lips brushed against yours. “I’m close, too, baby.”

After doing this with you for nearly half a year, Bradley knew your body like the back of his hand. He knew how to get you off in every way possible, and he knew when you were close to that sweet peak of relief.

Using the hand that wasn’t keeping him propped up above you, he presses the pad of his middle finger against your clit, which was still swollen from when he went down on you earlier.

The added stimulation had you crying out, your fingers tightening in his hair as you came for the second time since you arrived at his house. “There you go, give it to me,” he muttered and his words somehow managed to prolong your high. “So good, letting me fuck you when we’re supposed to be with our friends.”

As he continued to fuck into your warm and inviting core, you keep your hand tangled tightly in his hair and tug a bit harder, knowing that it would add to his pleasure.

You were right, as he groaned against your mouth, a mantra of “Fuck,” leaving his kiss swollen lips when he came.

He fucks his release deeper into you, your greedy walls taking everything he gave, before he comes to a stop and lays his body gently down on top of yours.

You release his hair and softly massage the top of his head, smoothing out the messy strands. As you bask in the afterglow, Bradley presses kisses to your bruised skin, a faint smirk on his lips at the sight of your hickey covered neck.

“I’m gonna miss this for the next six weeks,” he confessed and you had to calm your racing heart before it jumped to any conclusions.

“What? Fucking me?” You ask with a quiet laugh, moving your hand to trace your fingers along his sweaty shoulder.

“Fucking you,” he confirmed with a nod, making your smile fade a bit as he continued, “Kissing you, falling asleep with you in my arms. Just you in general.”

That made your smile reappear, and you moved his head so he was looking into your eyes. “You’re going to miss me? Or my body?”

Bradley pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. “You,” he answered before he was standing up and holding his hand out to you. “Come on.”

You take his hand and let him pull you up and off of his comfy bed. “Where are we going?”

He steadies you in his arms, a proud smirk on his lips at your inability to stand up on your own because of the number he did on you. “Since we’re already half an hour late, why don’t we make our friends wait a bit longer?”

You smile up at him, letting him guide you towards his bathroom. “What did you have in mind?”

He kisses you deeply, his free hand tangling into your messy hair. “Come join me in the shower and find out,”

You and Bradley showed up a whole hour after your promised arrival time, but neither of you cared too much.

After your shower, you complained that you didn’t have anything you needed at his house, and his reply was one that you were still thinking about now, “You know, it’d be a lot easier if you just kept some of your stuff at my place. You’re here all the time, yet you’re still always unprepared for these kinds of things,” he was referring to your complaint that all of your makeup was at your house, and you had just scrubbed your face clean of the natural look you applied before you got there.

“What, you’re okay with me keeping my makeup all over your bathroom counter so I can reapply it once you’re done fucking it off me?” You had asked, half joking and half totally serious.

“I don’t care, I’m barely in there, anyway. The room could use some personality,” was his response, and it had your mind thinking about things you didn’t usually allow yourself to dwell on for too long.

Nearly six months you’ve been sleeping with him. Six months.

And it’s been five months since you broke rule number one and fell for him.

It was simple, easy, casual.

You started out as nothing. You were a friend of Jake’s, and that in itself was a surprise, so it wasn’t much of a shock when he invited you to go with him to the Hard Deck. When Bradley arrived at the bar a few minutes after you and Jake did, he didn’t pay much attention to the girl under the blond’s arm.

Jake was definitely a ladies man, so to see him with his hand wrapped around a girl’s waist wasn’t all that surprising. He played pool with Nat for a bit before making his way over to the bar, barely acknowledging Jake as he ordered a beer. “Hey, Rooster!” The man greeted, his own beer sloshing around in the glass as he moved towards him.

“Hangman,” Bradley muttered, hoping Penny would hurry up and hand him his drink.

“I want to introduce you to my friend, Y/n,”

That had Bradley turning his head in slight curiosity, a little shocked to hear that the girl currently stuck to his side was only a friend. When his eyes meet yours, his stoic expression drops.

You were beautiful, to put it simply.

He sweet talked his way into getting you to play pool with him, and later ended the night with you sprawled out on the back seat of his Bronco. He found himself under you, on top of you and in you several nights out of the week after that, and now the whole arrangement was about to be hitting the half a year mark.

It started out casual; he’d be there when you needed him, and you’d be there when he needed you.

The decision to not label it was a mutual one as you both believed it would be the best way to go about things.

Only a month in was when you offered to sleep together without protection. You confessed that he was currently the only person you were seeing, and he also admitted that he wasn’t sleeping with anyone else as well.

As the months went on, Bradley began getting more affectionate with you, especially in public and in front of the other guys. While you were sure you were falling for him, he had also been acting as if he was more than just a friend with benefits.

He offered you to sleep over every time you found yourself underneath him well into the night, and he woke you up each day with a good morning kiss and smile.

He lets you wear his clothes, use the appliances in his kitchen and even asks you to stay for dinner most nights.

All in all, he was the perfect boyfriend, but he wasn’t your boyfriend. He just acted like it.

There was a bit of an age difference, with you being twenty five and him pushing thirty five. While he had never explicitly said it bothered him, and he sure as hell never acted like he had a problem with it, you assumed that was why he had yet to make it official with you.

You weren’t reading too much into this, right? You couldn’t be.

He was all over you when you were around, and texted you constantly when you were away from him. He wanted you to feel comfortable wearing his clothes, didn’t care if you ate the leftovers he was saving, and had told you on more than one occasion to start keeping some of your things at his house.

And you had started to, kind of.

Your phone charger was plugged in next to his, a few of your shirts and jeans were currently in the washing machine along with his own, and your beloved hoodie you got from your uni days had a seemingly permanent place on the left side of his bed.

There was no way you had been given the wrong impression, right?

Right?

As soon as you entered the crowded bar, your face makeup free and one of his old vintage shirts tucked into your jean shorts, Bradley was pulling you with him to where Nat stood next to the pool table. “Hey, Rooster,” she greeted as she handed him a cue, nodding in your direction. “Rooster’s girlfriend.”

You expected him to correct her, but he surprised you by just shaking his head and laughing quietly, pulling you closer to his side. Your face heated up as you met Jake’s eyes from across the room, and he smiled as he waved you over to where he was sitting at the bar.

“Hey, I’ll be back in a sec,” you tell Bradley, and he leans down so he could hear you better in the loud bar. “I’m going to go get a drink, you want one?”

“Just one,” he answered before placing a kiss on your lips. “Hurry back so you can watch me kick Nat’s ass.”

Nat slapped his arm as you walked away, a dumb grin on your lips as you made your way to the bar. Jake welcomed you over with an arm around your shoulders and a kiss to your cheek.

“Hey, Jake,” you say as you rest your hand on his chest.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he answered, eyeing something behind you with a sly smirk. “Don’t look now, but your guy friend is glaring at me as if you’re his girlfriend or something.”

Despite his words, you turn and look at Bradley anyway. His brown eyes were on the two of you, furrowed and clouded over with what you think is jealousy. You held back a forming grin, your face heating up at the fact that he was getting jealous at the sight of you with another guy. Maybe it made you seem selfish, but you loved that he didn’t want you to be around other guys in the way you are currently with Jake.

“He does realize that I’m the one who introduced him to you, right?” The blond asks and you just shake your head, leaning over the bar and ordering two beers. “You’re not official, right?”

You clench your jaw at the reminder and shake your head, “No,”

Jake takes a swig of beer as he runs his hand up and down your back in a friendly kind of gesture. “Then I don’t understand why he’s coming over here right now,”

At that, you turn just in time to see Bradley step into your space, his hand on your arm as he tugged you away from Jake. “Hands to yourself, Hangman,” he says coldly, eyeing the other man with a suspicious glance. “We both know I’m the one who’s taking her home after this.”

His words dripped with a sense of possessiveness, and the whole thing had a surge of lust flow through your body. “My intentions are pure, Rooster,” Jake winked at the two of you as Bradley pulled you into his side. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Is that right?” Bradley questioned but didn’t really care for the answer.

“Relax, Bradley,” you murmur, handing him one of the beers. He didn’t take his eyes off Jake as he blindly took it from you, the cool bottle a nice contrast against his heated skin. “I came here with you, remember? That means I’m leaving with you, too.”

That had him meeting your eyes with a proud smirk on his lips, seemingly satisfied with your words. He gives Jake an over exaggerated shrug before pulling you along with him. “Later, Hangman,”

He tugged you over to the pool table once again, his hand sliding from your arm to your hip, where he squeezed slightly. You settle against his side, this position feeling more like where you were supposed to be than just an embrace.

Staying true to his word, Bradley took you back home a few hours later, and you spent the rest of the night wrapped around him in more ways than one, and giving in to his quiet plead of, “Stay with me tonight,”

It was the fifth night in a row he’s asked you to do that, and the fifth time you’ve said yes without hesitation.

The next morning, Bradley woke you up by going down on you until he had you coming twice. He didn’t ask you to return the favor, simply muttering something about “Needing his fix to start the day,”

You help him pack any last minute things, before driving him to the dock in your car. This would be his second deployment since this whole ordeal started, and this time you were completely in love with him. You weren’t sure how you would cope with not seeing him for six weeks, and you wanted him to know that you’d be thinking about him the whole time he was gone.

As you stood with him on the dock, you gazed up into his brown eyes with a sense of longing. “Thanks for coming with me this time,” he spoke quietly, making you grin up at him.

The first deployment was just two weeks into your situationship, and since you weren’t really all too familiar with everything that made up the marvel of a man named Bradley Bradshaw, you stayed home and sent him a simple text that wished him luck.

“Of course,” you reply, inching closer to him when his hands found home on your waist. Your eyes trailed over the scars on his cheek, and you refrained from reaching out to trace them with your finger. “I’m going to be thinking about you every single day, you know.”

This was it.

Bradley smiled down at you, leaning in and running his nose along the edge of your jaw. “You will?” He hummed, pressing various kisses to the marks he had left on your neck the night prior. When you nodded, he pulled back and took your chin between his thumb and index finger, guiding your lips to his in a lingering kiss. “I bet I know what part of me you’ll miss most.”

He was teasing you, but you were about to put your heart in the palm of his hand. “I’ll miss all of you,”

Bradley grinned and took you into his arms in a tight embrace. “I’ll miss you, too,”

From his hunched over position, your mouth was right next to his ear, meaning he was at the perfect height for you to whisper, “I think I’m falling for you,”

There it was.

You had given him your heart. It was his to take, and you supposed it was also his to break, as it was like a switch flipped inside him.

His body tensed against yours, and you immediately regret ever opening your mouth. Before you could take your words back, Bradley pulls away and keeps his hands on your waist as he mutters, “What?”

You felt your eyes burn instantly, your lower lip threatening to quiver as you stared up at him. “I..” You weren’t sure what to say. You had clearly mistaken your role in his life, and you wished you had never said anything. You had completely fucked things up. But there was no going back now. “I’m falling for you, Bradley.”

His eyes flicker between yours before he stands back up to his full height. “That’s what I thought you said,” he muttered under his breath. You feel your heart fall as he steps away from you, his arms dropping back to his sides. “Fuck, I wish you didn’t tell me that.”

You quickly begin building walls up around your heart as you stand your ground, swallowing harshly as you ask, “Why not?”

Bradley’s eyes turn cold as he answers you, “Because that wasn’t what this was supposed to be,”

It was as if that was the most obvious answer in the world.

You shake your head and wrap your arms around yourself, glancing around at the many people who were sending their loved ones off with sad smiles and hugs. “I’m sorry. I can’t help how I feel, Bradley,” you say quietly and he just scoffs.

“We were just having fun, Y/n,” he says and grabs his bag that he had set down on the dock when you arrived. He slings it over his shoulder and places his aviators over his eyes. “That’s all this was. You’re ten years younger than me, what did you think was going to happen here? We’re in two different places in our lives, and I thought that was obvious.”

You break eye contact as the first of many tears begin to fall. “It wasn’t,” was all you managed to say before he was sighing heavily and backing away from you.

“If that’s the case, sorry for leading you on,” he said as he turned and began walking up the ramp. He had only walked about four steps before he stopped with a heavy sigh. He turned to glance back at you, seeing that you hadn’t moved from your spot, and you hadn’t taken your eyes off the wooden dock below you. “Look, I don’t want to leave it like this, but I need to go. I’ll call you if I can, okay? We’ll talk more about it when I come back.”

You just nod, not bothering to lift your head and meet his eyes.

Without another word being shared between the two of you, Bradley steps onto the carrier deck and waits to be shipped off. Though he knows he shouldn’t, he glances up at the dock and his heart falls at what he saw.

You were still where he left you, but that was when he finally caught sight of the tears that were steadily rolling down your face. You did a pretty good job at hiding them when he was right next to you, but now that he was far away, you had lifted your head and he was given a clear view of your pretty face as you cried.

He realized then that he had royally fucked up, and he needed to make things right before he left for a month and a half.

Bradley watched as an elderly woman gently placed her hand on your arm, surely thinking that you were crying because you were sad about having to say goodbye to your loved one, when in reality he had just broken your heart.

As you began making your way through the crowd and towards your car, he cursed under his breath and fumbled around in his bag for his phone, regret filling his body as he clicked on your contact.

He watched as you stopped walking through the crowd and pulled out your phone, and to his surprise, you actually answered. “What?” You sounded so sad, and it only made him further regret the words he said to you.

It wasn’t even the truth, and he hoped you would give him the chance to explain that to you. He needed to be quick, though, because he knew he would quickly lose service once the carrier started moving. “Baby, I’m sorry,” he rasped out, his heart skipping a beat when he saw the way you turned to look over at him. He tried to meet your eyes as he continued, “I’m sorry, okay? Let’s talk about this now.”

You furrow your brows and shake your head. “There’s nothing to talk about, Bradley,”

“Yes, there is,” he insisted, feeling his heart drop once the carrier started to pull away from the dock.

“There’s not,” you muttered. “I mistook my place, disrespected your boundaries and that’s on me. Completely my fault.”

“No, that’s- no,” he begged but he knew he didn’t have enough time to get through to you. “Please, just, wait for me. I’ll call you as soon as I can, we’ll talk and-”

“And what, Bradley?” You cut him off. “You said it yourself; I’m too young for you. Too immature. It’s best if we just end this now so we can both stop wasting our time.”

“You’re not a waste of time,” he said quickly, watching as your form slowly began to disappear the further he drifted away from you. “I’ve loved every second I’ve spent with you, and I think I’m-”

Before he could also give you his heart, you had broken it with a simple sentence, “You’re cutting out,” and you were, too, but somehow your last few words were crystal clear. “I know where we stand now. Goodbye, Bradley.”

And then you hung up. And he was left to drop his hand back down to his side in defeat as he silently prayed he was able to call you within the next few days.

A whopping six hours had passed since Bradley had been shipped off when he found himself missing you.

His arms ached to be wrapped around you, his lips missed the taste of yours, and his heart longed with a sense of need to know that you would still be his once he returned home.

His.

Bradley had to laugh.

You weren’t his.

He hadn’t managed to step up and ask you to take things to the next level yet before he was ruining everything. He hadn’t given a possible real relationship with you a chance.

God, he was so mean, belittling you as if you deserved to be treated with anything other than respect and kindness. He acted like a proper asshole, and he deserved to feel all the things he felt right now.

Shame. Guilt. Regret. Anger. He felt all of it all at once, and he hated himself for hurting you.

Had he known the sad sight of you crying because of him was all he needed to get his act straight, he would’ve told you he loved you when you confessed to falling for him back on the dock.

Bradley loves you. Why did it take losing you for him to realize that?

A couple weeks passed before he was allowed the opportunity to call you, and as he put your number in, he found himself praying to anyone that may have been listening that you would answer.

He felt a little more than deflated when it rang five times before he was sent to your voicemail. He listened to your sweet voice ask him to leave you a message, and he did, but he also knew you wouldn’t be able to call him back once you listened to the message.

If you listened to it at all.

“Hey, sweet girl. I… God, I wish you picked up, but I understand why you didn’t. A few weeks ago…fuck, I was so out of line, baby, and I’m sorry for that. I didn’t mean what I said. I didn’t mean any of it, I’m just a fucking idiot when it comes to this kind of thing and I threw all my issues on you, and you didn’t deserve that,” Bradley waited a beat or two before he continued, “I’m so sorry. I miss you, and I know I have no right to ask this of you, but I hope I can see you on the day I get back to San Diego. I only have just under a month to go, and I can’t wait to see you and talk about this in person, if you’ll let me.”

He felt pathetic, leaving you a sappy message you couldn’t even reply to.

“I’m sorry, again, and I hope things have been going well for you,” he ended the message after that, reluctantly hanging up and returning back to his bunk, where he threw himself down on the bed that felt too empty without you by his side.

It went on like that for weeks.

Bradley would go to sleep, wake up, complete whatever he needed to do for the day, then do it all over again, all while thinking about you.

He was counting down the days until he was able to return home and back to you, but he wasn’t sure he even had the right to seek you out once he was off the carrier.

He had called you again a few days ago, and you had once again given him your voicemail. Two calls in, and it was silent on your end. He missed you terribly, missed your flowery scent, your kind smiles, your voice, and the feeling of your body tucked against his.

Yeah, he missed the sex, but he missed you more. All of you.

You were so close to being his. You had put your heart on your sleeve, completely his for the taking, and he rejected you. Like a fucking idiot.

He knew he would get an earful from Nat once he got back, and he was honestly looking forward to it. He knew he deserved it, and he couldn’t think of a better person to call him out on his bullshit than his best friend.

Another week flew by after he successfully completed his mission, and he was a few quick hours away from the same dock he had left you on a month and a half ago.

While he didn’t expect you to be there to greet him once he stepped off the carrier, he still felt his heart break a bit as he finally let it all sink in. A few feet from where he stood now, he had broken your heart.

He dropped his bag onto the dock below him as he pulled his phone out and called you, once again disappointed when he was sent to your voicemail. Before he could stop himself, he left you a message, “Hey, it’s me. I’m back home now, and I still really want to see you. I want to try to explain myself and why I said the things I did. I’m still so sorry, Y/n/n, really, I am,” he ended it after that, and used the last bit of battery he had left to call Nat in hopes she would come and pick him up.

Like he expected, Nat did end up chewing him out during the entire ride home, and even in his own driveway. Bradley just sat there and took it, knowing he deserved every harsh dig that was thrown at him and more.

When she angrily reached over and hugged him in the car, she promptly told him to get out and that she would see him later at the Hard Deck.

Bradley unlocked the front door and stepped into his house, the silence being the last thing he wanted to be met with. You were in your twenties, you were young and loud and cheerful, he had gotten so used to how chaotic his life had become since you entered it. It was chaotic in the best way, and he missed the loud laughs you would emit as he carried you down the hall to his room, or when the two of you would skip out on beers with your friends to watch a comedy in his living room instead.

He sulked his way to his room, and his heart deflated even more at the sight he was met with. Nat had gone on about how she had to use the key Bradley gave her to let you into his house while he was away, and how she was confused about that until now.

Gone was your phone charger and old movies you kept by the TV he had on his dresser, and he was sure your clothes in his laundry room were picked up as well. The left side of his bed was bare of your uni hoodie, a thing he had a strong amount of fondness for.

Coming home to a quiet house was one thing, but walking into a bedroom that lacked any personality at all was something else. The small things you kept in there made it appear more lived in, more cared for than he had ever tried to make it look, and he once again was reminded just how much he had fucked up.

You made him happy, were the reason he looked forward to the end of his days because it would likely mean he would end them with you, like he had been for the good part of the last six months.

Bradley let out a frustrated sigh as he threw his bag onto the bed. He plugged his phone in before heading into the bathroom, his eyes glancing at the spotless counter. A few of your face washes and creams had taken up space next to the sink the last time he was in here, but now they were gone too.

He quickly realized how much he loved having your things at his house. God, did he miss you.

After the quickest shower of his life, Bradley got dressed in jeans and a Hawaiian shirt and unplugged his phone. It had only been charged up to thirty four percent, but he didn’t plan on going on the device too much once he arrived at the Hard Deck.

He grabbed his keys and wallet before he started up his beloved Bronco, typing out a quick text to you in hopes you’d actually answer him this time.

You’re ignoring me and that’s fine, but I hope I’ll be able to see you at the Hard Deck tonight? If not, maybe we can meet up later and I can explain everything to you. Please. I don’t want it to end like this.

He didn’t want it to end at all, but especially not with you thinking you weren’t all he could ever want.

To his surprise, you had actually gotten back to him pretty fast, and your response had him quickly backing out of his driveway and speeding down the road towards the Hard Deck.

Y/n/n: Seems as though luck is on your side today. Glad you’re back home and safe. I guess I’ll see you tonight.

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spookywisp96 · 2 months

Text

"I had to talk to you."

Repost from other account

2.4k words

CW: Heavy flirtation, canon divergence (S4 end events didn't happen), College Student!Steve, Steve has shit eyesight

October 13th, 1989

Steve sighs, leaning back on the drivers side of his 1983 BMW. Burgundy paint starting to chip on the hood, the car becoming less appealing day by day. Girls passing by not even looking in his direction anymore. He was old news in Hawkins after people found out he had finally started at a college half an hour away in Fort Wayne. Just starting his life like everyone else did 4 years ago just wasn't appealing to most girls.

At least not Hawkins girls.

But at this point he didn't care. He was proud of himself for pulling his life together after all the bullshit he had been put through. With saving an entire town too many god damn times. Cutting his dad off when his parents divorced. Moving out to get a rented house with his best friend Robin. Just what he learned he needed over time.

Getting into a good school by himself with no help was just a cherry on top of the fuck you sundae he graciously served his past problems.

He was satisfied with what he had right now.

Dustin walks out of the new game shop in the newest strip mall to grace Hawkins. Steve looks up, pushing his Ray-Ban sunglasses onto his head.

"You made it out before, Robin. I'm surprised." Dustin glanced at the instrument shop a few doors down, then back to Steve. "You get what Eddie needed?"

"Mostly yeah. She's still getting her trumpet fixed?" Steve shrugs at Dustin's question and slides his sunglasses down in place again.

"She probably got distracted looking at something shiny and new. You know Robins crow brain sometimes." Dustin laughs, looking into his bag, shuffling a few things around inside.

Steve looked over at the liquor store at the end of the strip mall. Looking back at Dustin, he taps the top of the car. His head snapped up, eyes a bit surprised at the sudden noise.

"You want anything?" Steve asks, tilting his head back towards the store.

"Coke? If they got it." Dustin simply replied before getting in the back seat. Steve nods and walks to the liquor store.

The bell chimes over his head as he walks through the door. He takes in the warmth of the store and the radio playing over the speakers on the ceiling. Such a nice contrast to the crisp Autumn air outside.

He turns heading down an isle of assorted liquor bottles and bar accessories before finally stopping at the fridge. Humming along to the song over the radio, mumbling the lyrics to 'I wanna know what love is' absentmindedly.

Sliding his glasses down his nose, he squints at the selection. All the labels are blurry the farther he is, he steps forward rubbing his eyes and sure doesn't help with the florescent lighting blinding him from above.

God I need to get my eyes checked.

Opening the fridge, he grabs the 3 soft drinks and a 6-pack for later when he hears a metal scrapping and whoosh next to him. Followed by a muffled but panicked "Shit!"

Looking over, he sees the back of a squatting woman struggling with a metal shelf slipping out of one of the fridges.

Walking over, he quickly puts his things down and pushes the shelf back in. The metal shelf, cold against his warm skin as he reaches into the fridge, fixing the fasteners back into place.

An issue he's all too familiar with working at Family Video. The fridge racks always got loose and every time it happened he was always made to clean them up. He could only imagine the mess a bunch of glasses and beer would have made.

"Thank you so much!" The woman speaks as Steve stands up, slowly closing the door. Looking back, he finally sees your face. His lips slightly part as you continue talking, he can't hear a word you're saying right now.

All he can hear is the very oddly convenient Foreigner song playing over the store radio as he takes in every detail of your gorgeous face. From your shiny hair to your bright smile. The vibrant colored nail polish on your fingers you're waving as you talk. You're unfamiliar, he's never seen you before, but you're an absolute stunner of a woman.

Steve never thought of himself as a love at first sight kind of guy. But right now he was undoubtedly being proven wrong by the spark he was feeling, not to mention the nervous knot in his stomach.

"But really you're a life saver... Thank you." You stop talking, looking at him. Your face falls as he perks up, realizing he's just been staring like a complete idiot this entire time.

"You're welcome!" He spoke, choking almost over how inappropriately loud he was for a second. Feeling the effect of not talking to women for a while really hit him. You look down at his soon-to-be purchases.

"Full Sail Amber. Good beer." You comment, making him look at the floor and nod.

Crouching down, he grabs his things and stands cracking his head on one of the fridge door handles. His sunglasses fell off his face and onto the floor. He stands up wedging his soft drink between his side and arm. Rubbing his head with a hiss.

"You okay?" You ask with a slight chuckle. Bending down, you grab the sunglasses, Steve moves his hand, grabbing the bottom of the door handle to shield your head from injury.

"Yeah, thanks." Before he gets to put his hand out to take his Ray-Bans back, you slide them on his head with a soft smile.

God she's so fucking pretty.

"You're welcome. And thanks again for... Saving me from paying for a full shelf of beer." She turned down the isle to another part of the store.

Part of Steve wants to follow you and try chatting you up, but the slight embarrassment of hurting his head just keeps him from doing so.

He turns, goes to the front of the store and makes his purchases. Heading outside, he walks to his car, finally seeing Robin in her usual spot, the passenger seat. Opening the driver's door, he slips in.

"There you are!" Robin looked at him, her trumpet case in-between her legs on the floor of the car.

"What's with the face?" Dustin asks, Steve looking at him in the rearview, glaring.

"Shut up Henderson." He hands them their sodas, moving to close his car door when he hears the bell from the liquor store chime.

Out you walk, starting across the parking lot to a top-down red 86' Volkswagen Cabriolet. Steve freezes, staring again. He really can't help but stare.

"Oooh." Robin and Dustin both taunt him, making him sigh. He needs more friends, fewer annoying friends.

"She's pretty." Robin says looking at Dustin.

"Too pretty to talk to, apparently." Dustin adds, laughing as he looks back at Steve.

"I talked to her in the store." Dustin raised his eyebrows, pushing his baseball cap up a bit.

"You asked her out?"

"No." Steve watches you load your bag into the back seat and start pulling the top up on your car.

"Not too late!" Robin smiled, taking a sip of her drink. Dustin looked at her.

"He's not gonna do it."

"No, he's gonna do it."

Steve feels like he has a devil and an angel bickering on his shoulders right now. His foot meets the new asphalt of the parking lot as you open your driver's door.

He's quickly out of the driver's seat.

"Holy shit he's doing it." Dustin comments as he shuts the door on them.

He stops at the bumper of his car, hearing your car engine click over. Music pours out of your open windows before you turn it down quickly.

The universe is screaming at him to talk to you when he starts hearing that familiar Tears for Fears song, 'Head Over Heels'.

Please don't pull away, please don't pull away.

He nearly sprints across the parking lot out of fear of missing his chance. Upon reaching the car, he knocks on the back window, pulling you from looking for something in the console.

"Hi..." He says awkwardly, approaching the window. Leaning on the door, he smiles as you smile back.

"Hi. You need something?" He gets so agitated that you smirk up at him.

'Why'd you have to be so God damn pretty?'

"Sorry if this is weird, but I had to talk to you." He started, finally being able to say something. Your eyes go half shut with a soft nod.

"Talk to me?" He nods, clenching the door frame for a second. "Go ahead then. Talk."

His eyes go wide in surprise at your sudden confidence. Steve stammered for a second.

"Uh... At the risk of sounding crazy or desperate... You're probably the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in my life." You can feel your body warm up as he gives the most genuine smile you've seen on a man in a while.

"Mmhm, go on."

"Are you by chance single? Or like... Are you even attracted to men at all?" He asks, sheepishly smiling.

"Yes, and yes." Your smirk slowly turns into a grin as he squats to eye level now, feeling a bit more confident after your answer.

"I'm Steve, by the way. Steve Harrington." He smiles again hearing you reply with your name. "Are you new to Hawkins?"

"I am actually. I just moved here from the city and needed to stay nearby for school."

"Where are you going?"

"Trine University." His eyes go wide, the same school he goes to. What are the odds?

"Really? I actually go there too. Education major." You look him up and down. You never pegged him for the teacher type.

"Software Engineering major."

"So you're smart and gorgeous. Good to know." He smirks, finally feeling like himself when talking as your flush finally becomes noticeable. "You like movies?"

"What kind of psychopath doesn't like movies?" He laughs at your response, leaning in closer to the window.

"Lemme be more specific. The new Halloween 5 movie came out today. You interested in seeing it? Maybe with me tonight at the drive-in theater in Lafayette. We can have dinner after. All my treat, of course." He can see the sparkle in your eyes, that spark he felt looking at you before is still lingering around him.

"What's in it for me?" You playfully ask. He cocks his head to the side, leaning it on his arm for a second.

"A fun night out with a gentleman, I promise I'm fun." You chuckle, rolling your eyes, he knows you want to say yes. "Please?"

He'd never said please before when asking a girl out. It didn't feel embarrassing like he thought it would. You turn your attention back to the console looking for something.

Pulling out a napkin and pen, you quickly write down your number and address. Turning back, you hold it out to him as he takes it.

"I'm free at 8. And dress nicely. You're taking me somewhere decent after the movie."

"I'll take you to the most expensive restaurant I can find if that's what you want. I don't care. As long as I get to see you again." You laugh at his bluntness, it's like music to his ears.

"That won't be necessary. I don't need to be spoiled."

"What if I want to spoil you?" That caught you off guard as you didn't respond right away. He let a soft breath escape his mouth. "You like roses?"

"White roses." You reply, he nods, standing up again and folding the napkin, storing it in his back jean pocket for safe keeping.

"I'll be sure to remember that." You two just stare at each other in silence for a minute. No man's ever looked at you like Steve has right now, it makes your heart race from nervousness.

"I'll see you at 8 o'clock then." You look past him for a moment and back to him. "Tell your friends I said hello since they like to stare so much."

Raising an eyebrow, Steve turned his head. He sees Robin poking her head over the roof of the car and Dustin sitting on the rolled down window frame. They quickly hurry back into the car, noticing they've been caught. He should be embarrassed, but he fully expects their behavior from being friends for so long.

"Ignore them." Steve says, sighing as he looks back at you. "I'll see you at 8."

He turned away towards his car, trying to stay as confident as he was before turning his back. Reaching his car, he pops the door open, clutching it for dear life as he silently collects himself. Robin poked her head across the driver's seat to look up at him.

"You good dude?" She asks, concerned but also excited as he just nods.

You pull out of your parking spot, stopping behind his car and honk once to get his attention. Dustin pops his head out the back window as Robin looks out her open door. Steves head snaps up at you as you lean on your window frame, chin on fist with the most shit eating grin on your face.

"See you at 8 sexy~" You called to him. And then you have the balls to blow him a kiss before peeling out of the parking lot.

Steve silently gets in the car. Robin shuts her door as Steve does his. Dustin sits forward looking at Steve, who's just gripping his steering wheel, the adrenaline starting to wear off.

"Dude, she's so into you, into you!" Dustin breaks the silence as Robin nods.

"And I'd say it's the same for Harrington here." Robin grins as a massive smile spreads across Steve's face.

He starts excitedly thrashing frontwards and backwards. Enough to shake the car and look like he's about to rip the steering wheel from it's column. He lets out an excited yell, causing his two friends to laugh at him.

He let out a long breath, looking at them.

"She says hi by the way."

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #stranger things x reader

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ma1dita · 5 months

Text

said he likes crazy

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 2.1k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where only he can help you with a bad day, even if he's been avoiding you since your first kiss. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

a/n: SAID HE LIKES CRAZY GIRLS, BUT HE HATES WHEN I ACT CRAZY guys i didnt sleep for this pls tell me its ok

(posted 1/29/24, beta’d by the lovely ellie @lixzey )

—

He’s been avoiding you.

To be specific, Luke’s been running away from you. Typical son of Hermes, and a typical teenage boy at that. But if anyone’s asked you what’s up (which, they all have, after almost 4 years of seeing you two not go a day without bickering), it’s just easier to say you’ve been busy.

Okay, so perhaps you’ve been avoiding him too.

Annabeth clocked you as soon as you turned tail after almost bumping into him after archery practice. Damn children of Athena; it’d be nice if they weren’t so perceptive sometimes.

“What did he do this time?” she pipes up, filling the silence of the Big House. It’s late now, and the cabin counselors’ meeting just ended.

“Seeing as you’re the one helping me with the paperwork tonight and not him, you can take a good guess, Annie,” you sigh.

Honestly though, who the fuck kisses someone senseless and then runs away? (Luke Castellan, that’s who.) You weren’t sure what to make of it. You’re a daughter of chaos, after all, not love. But if there’s anyone who can read your emotions better than yourself, it’s him.

Annabeth stares at her idiot brother through the window as he wanders in the grass outside the Big House.

“That bad, huh?”

“He’s just…being Luke,” you say, blinking slowly as you shuffle through the last of the files you need to put on your dad’s desk before you mutter, “I’m just having a bad day.”

A noise of concern makes its way up Annabeth’s throat. You haven’t had a bad day in a while, in all honesty, not one that makes you act like this, admittedly not one that makes you act like you— the daughter of Dionysus, god of insanity, and not the daughter of Mr. D, camp director.

It was just a bad day until it turned into a bad week, and the voices in your head were starting to get loud without Luke distracting you. Because that’s what he ultimately is, a distraction from your camp duties.

There’s so much to do and so little time, however, that you hide away your microexpressions that seem to be clawing at you from the inside. The anger, the mania, the hurt. If you unleash it, only the gods can predict how much of camp would be affected by your ‘outbursts’, as your dad likes to call them. Not like you had a choice in the matter. Your days of wreaking havoc are behind you, now presenting yourself as the stellar star of the Camp Half-Blood show. It’s almost a one-woman production with you picking up after your father and trying to tame the traits he passed down.

Thanks for that, D.

So you give and you give and you give—all your attention and time and effort into keeping camp upright, into being the perfect daughter, that at the end of the day, you’ve drained yourself of who you are with who you try to be.

You look at your tired reflection in the window, before your eyebrow raises at the sight of Luke blending in with the shadows of the tree he’s leaning against. Idiot.

“Annie, would you mind…”

“Yeah, I’ll do cabin checks myself. Might drag your brother to do them with me,” she smiles, patting your arm before grabbing her bag.

“If he complains, let me know. Pollux has heard me bitch enough today.” The small girl raises an eyebrow at that, biting her tongue from responding. You chewed out a lot of people today, acting extra uptight and demanding of the counselors to “just do the right thing.” It was almost insufferable, but despite you trying to hold it in, your emotions bled into their own. Everyone was agitated by the end of the meeting, filing out quickly with biting words and hot tempers. You couldn’t help but notice Luke led them all out of there, and they also somehow got the feeling that he was to blame.

Smiling at Annabeth in thanks, you watch her walk out to Luke before punching him in the stomach as he grimaces, meeting your violet gaze through the window as he raises a hand. It’s hard to tell if it’s to signal a truce or his embarrassment, but he trudges the way up the path and the door creaks open.

“Heard you were having a bad day,” he mumbles, scratching the nape of his neck. You look at him from the corner of your eye as you continue to write down the weekly to-dos and organize papers for your dad to sign and send back to Zeus.

“Why are you here, Castellan?”

“So we’re back to that? I thought…” his voice trails off at the sound of his last name, not Luke, not angelface, or anything in between, and both of you are unsure how to proceed. Neither of you have done this before, at least not with each other. You tilt your head to the side, daring him to speak, and it reminds him of a week ago, you bathed in sunlight when he leaned in and kissed you. Though if he did that right now, he’s not sure how you’d react.

“It’s just a bad day,” you whisper in defeat, lilac eyes wilting in front of him like an overwatered flower.

He realizes then that he cares for you more than he knows how to. And Luke knows what it means when you’re having a bad day.

There’s a deranged look in your eye, a subtle eye twitch and clench of your jaw that is almost insusceptible to the average demigod, but he knows you’re on edge, having taunted you mercilessly until you scream, cry, laugh, or all of the above. But most of all you look tired and in need of someone who knows how it feels to be underappreciated.

“D’s a great dad to the twins. But I just feel like… maybe he wasn’t meant to be mine,” you whisper, rolling your tongue against the front of your teeth to push back the sob a 14-year-old version of you would let out deep in the dark of cabin 11, having been there for months and knowing Dionysus was your father and waiting for him to see you. To know you.

“Giving me a hard time about all of this,” you say, hands gesturing to the things you have to prepare for him by morning. You’re overworked, underpaid, and definitely not appreciated— and Luke decides he hates your dad for what he puts you through, not just as a shitty camp director but as a shitty dad. He’s learned to live with the hurt—to use it to fuel his vengeance for how he plans to make the world better. But your ambition makes you change yourself constantly to try to be better. Both fatal flaws are fueled by the ignorance of your fathers. He knows the feeling all too well. He knows you.

“What do you need?” he asks simply, stepping closer to your form hunched over the desk.

“I can do it, you know. D’s wrong about me,” you whisper, and the words come out sounding so desperate for him to believe the performance you always put on that you avert your eyes.

He doesn’t need to be convinced; instead, he holds his arms out waiting for you to let you make the next move. Luke is neither a fool nor a knave— there are no tricks here, no hidden agenda as he watches you try to compose yourself with a deep breath instead of showing him the real you. The one who’s beneath the mask of being head counselor, your father’s saving grace, and the one who carries her responsibilities like Atlas carries the weight of the sky.

“I know you can. You always have. You really think I’m here to help you file paperwork?” He means it.

“Will you let me?” Whether he meant sharing the workload or being there for you, you wouldn’t dare to ask. It’s all the same, anyway—laying yourself bare for someone to peek into your mind and have them not laugh at it.

Suddenly you speak, and the intensity of your tone makes him straighten his posture.

“Sometimes… Do you ever feel the need to just…”

“What?” He reaches out to tug your hair, and in the dim light, he can see the bloom of your cheeks. You’re shy, and Luke thinks you look soft like this, wary of how he perceives you.

“I shouldn’t.” Fuck the gods. He can see the thought form in your eyes, the heat of your stare tearing through his, and his lips pull into a smirk.

“What was that, trouble?”

“Luke, don’t be an asshole…” You say warily, biting the inside of your cheek. There’s no way you’re going down in the history books for cursing the gods because Luke Castellan of all people made you.

“I thought you liked me like that,” he’s grinning now, and grabbing your chin lightly, mouthing the words to echo your thoughts.

Fuck the gods.

“Fuck.” you whisper, before your voice fails you, your eyes closing both from his touch and the genuine fear of the heavens falling down from the sacrilege falling from your lips.

“Louder,” he whispers, pulling your face up close to his, “come on, you used to be more fun, trouble. I believe in you.”

“Fuck!” you say louder and he’s whispering in your ear, urging you to toe the line between perfect child and degenerate.

“Say it again.”

“FUCK! FUCK THE…” you yell before you sigh exasperatedly, eyes widening as you feel the breath release from your chest before your head lolls onto his shoulder.

“Gods, you’re fucking insane, Castellan.”

He laughs lowly, and it sounds as sweet as sin. Your smiling lips make an imprint on his collarbone, and he wishes they would sear themselves on there for the rest of eternity.

“Hey, I get it from you. Feel better?”

To be seen is a fickle thing. But to be known is something more intimate, and nothing will be able to erase the connection you both share—fatal flaws and all. There are things you can’t change about people, what they are at their core, and so he takes what you hate about yourself with both hands and pulls you towards his chest until you settle against him with a sniffle. Luke tilts your chin up again, a rough thumb wiping away evidence of your watery smile. He thinks he sees a glimpse of a past you—a younger one that dyed his socks purple to make him feel like he belongs here. And he knows now that he does belong with you, right here as he holds you in the quiet of the Big House.

“Ugh, I’ll kiss you later, I still have to finish up here. You’re not off the hook, angelface.” You sigh, pushing away from him before he tugs you back, your feet stumbling as you roll your eyes at his impish expression.

“Let me make it up to you, trouble.”

“What, so you run away again?” you scoff, snickering at the sight of his ego being taken down a notch.

“I’ve just….I don’t know how to do all of this with you. Guess I’m worried it won’t meet your expectations, Miss Head Counselor.” A boyish sort of bashfulness crosses his features, and he’s twirling a piece of your hair in his hands like spinning silk.

“I just hope you never stop surprising me. That’s all I ask.”

Your hand touches his wrist lightly, and he sighs like you’ve already taken his breath away.

“I keep my promises. Do you?”

“Who said a kiss was a promise? I meant it as a threat,” you laugh before he’s pressing your hips into the table, nose nudging against yours and suddenly work is off the table for the rest of the night.

You on the table, however, well... that could be negotiated.

“I knew something was wrong with me when your so-called threats got less scary and more sexy,” Luke teases, running a finger on the side of your cheek. His breath tickles your lips, and you can imagine the rage your father would feel if he caught the two of you in his office like this. Besides the blatant defiance, you briefly wonder if your rebellion would get him to respect you more. An interesting thought.

“You’re absolutely terrible. I need to get this done… The gods don’t wait for us.”

A weak sigh leaves your mouth as your brain is already riddled with thoughts of him and he closes the gap between your lips.

“They can wait until morning. For now, you’re mine.”

—

“You can’t love someone unless you love yourself first — bullshit.

I have never loved myself.

But you —

Oh god, I loved you so much I forgot what hating myself felt like. (via swxrn-in)”

ask to be added to general/luke taglists!

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #luke castellan fanfic #pjo x reader #pjo imagine #made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan angst #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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azsazz · 4 months

Text

Midnight Muse (Part 22)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: Smut!

Word Count: 4,106

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18] [Part 19] [Part 20] [Part 21] [Masterlist]

_________________________________________

For the third time tonight you catch yourself bobbing your head and mouthing along to the words of the song blaring through the walls instead of reading the words in the art history book that you’re staring at.

Cursing, you toss your pencil into the crease of the textbook and lie your head in your hands. You’ve read the same page three times over but you haven’t absorbed one ounce of information. It’s something about the art in ancient Rome and the different ways God figures are portrayed.

Your phone buzzes from the spot next to you and you can’t help but grin. You’d declined an invite to another one of Cassian’s infamous parties because you have a test on Monday and you can’t afford to fail. You barely passed the first one by the skin of your teeth and you’ll be damned if you don’t pass this class with less than a B. Azriel had even pestered you about it for a bit, but ultimately left you to focus on your schoolwork, or, as much as half of your attention on the page you could manage.

A: I can’t believe you’re studying right now. I can’t even focus on my drawing. How are you doing it?

Y: You’ve trained me in the art of studying with loud backgrounds, don’t you remember? You quickly follow that text up with another. Y: I should’ve joined in on the fun instead. I’m going to fail art history, anyway. I could really use a shot right now.

Azriel’s response pings your phone faster than Cassian saying something sexual. A: How about something else that might cheer you up? ;)

A puff of laughter chokes out. Checking the time in the corner of your screen your smile falls and you want to groan. You’ve only been attempting to study for forty five minutes.

Y: As mood improving that might be, I really need to study. This sucks.

To garner some extra sympathy, you tack on a frowning emoji at the end.

A: It’s not that hard, princess.

It’s a bold move to reply: Y: Your cock? Or art history? But you hit send anyway.

A: Both, but the pair can be remedied.

Y: Come over.

There’s a sudden slamming of a bedroom door through the wall that startles you, then forces you into a fit of giggles, realizing how eager Azriel had been to escape his apartment and see you.

The thought sends butterflies off in your stomach and your heart kicks giddily in response. You’re just as excited as he is, shoving your chair back from your desk and bounding towards the door.

Soft light from the lamp in the corner of the living room washes the apartment in a warmth that feels like you’re being cuddled. The rest of the apartment is dark, empty. Feyre had popped her head into your room earlier, asking if you wanted to go to the party next door but at that point in the night you were still determined in your studying, waving her on without you.

There’s a soft knock on the door and when you tug it open Azriel is barging inside, all but tackling you on his way inside. His hands find your hips like a magnet and you’re swept up in the heat of his body as it collides with yours as he sweeps you further into the apartment, kicking the door shut behind him.

“Hurry,” he whispers, and his long strides are no match for your shorter legs. You feel like you’re tripping, tangled up in him, but he holds you steady, firm, like a rock you’ve been missing from your life.

It’s quite nice.

Azriel reaches behind himself to lock your door before he’s turning back to you and planting a kiss to your forehead. “Before Tarquin sees me.”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around him. He’s snug in his usual garb, a black t-shirt that clings to his body like a second skin. His jeans sit low on his hips, the waistband of his briefs calling your name. The fact that you know what’s beneath these clothes is as intoxicating as his blissful scent: night-chilled mist and cedar.

“Who’s Tarquin?”

“Old friend,” Azriel huffs. “He was just arriving at the party. If he saw me he would’ve wanted me to tap the keg with him and I’d much rather be here, tapping you, princess.”

You shove playfully at his chest but Azriel catches your wrists and pulls you back into him for a popper kiss. You fall into it, body relaxing and even pressing yourself further into him. His hands slide around your waist and over the curve of your ass where he grabs a handful, sighing contently against your lips.

He’s been the perfect gentleman since the chat you shared at Rita’s, and has even offered to walk you to and from your classes, though you suspect that has more to do with Lucien than not wanting you walking alone, even though you share most of your classes with Feyre.

“Hi,” you whisper when he pulls away only to rest his forehead against yours. His golden eyes bore into yours and you can see the happiness swimming there.

You can also feel it against your stomach.

“Hey,” he answers just as softly. “I missed you.”

“It’s only been a few hours,” you remind him, but your chest flutters a little because you missed him too. You’d allowed Azriel to walk you home after your last class of the day but had drawn the line at the door that he pressed you up against, using that wicked mouth of his to try and convince you to let him inside. After a thorough minute of persuasion, he’d backed off, leaving you with a cheeky wink and both your mind and your cunt screaming at you to call him back.

“Yeah but dealing with Cassian feels like a lifetime has gone by sometimes,” he jokes, following you eagerly as you lead him through your apartment towards your room. It hits you then that he hasn’t properly been inside of your apartment before, only having seen it when he walked in on accident, but there will be time for a tour later, right now you want him in your room. Preferably on your bed.

“What was he doing this time?” you squeal when he pinches your ass and you glare at him over your shoulder.

“Sorry, princess, I couldn’t resist,” Azriel grins and you can’t help but smile with him. When the corners of his mouth pull high there’s a crinkle around his glowing golden eyes that makes your heart skip a beat. He looks younger, sweeter with that smile on his face. Azriel is a handsome man. “He was trying to get me to join in on the party. Think he was trying to rally some girls to play flip cup or something.”

Azriel frowns when he steps into your room, not because he notices that the head of your bed nearly perfectly aligns with where his is pushed up against the wall you share, but because of the loud music humming through said wall. He knows it must be even louder when he’s the one blasting tunes at all hours of the night, but he hadn’t realized just how thin the walls were.

“Sounds a lot more entertaining than art history,” you grumble a little, slumping back into your chair at your desk. Your body warms as Azriel comes to stand behind you, planting a hand on the surface and resting his chin on your head as he leans over to look at your textbook.

“Ancient Rome,” he comments, and you can feel the delicious rumble of his full-toned voice. It makes you shiver in your seat, and you wonder if he notices you tensing, trying to stifle your reaction to his single word. “It’s not that hard, princess.”

“Of course you would be good at it,” you groan, slumping back in your seat. It causes Azriel to slip away, planting himself firmly on the edge of your desk. “You’re good at everything.” His golden eyes twinkle as he preens. You narrow your eyes at his smirk. “Oh, shut up.”

“Didn’t even say anything, princess,” he muses. “If I help you out with art history, will you be good for me, too?”

You can’t help the rush of arousal spilling into your veins like adrenaline. The way he’s staring down at you through lowered lids, smirk turned into a face more serious, it’s a taunt as much as it is an offer.

“You wish,” you murmur back. There’s no heat to your response because it’s all collected between your thighs that you’re pressing firmly together.

“I do,” Azriel responds, gaze fiery.

And, well, those catacombs will still be there tomorrow.

You allow Azriel to pull you up from your chair and into his chest. His hands find your hips while you wrap yours around his neck, amiring one another. It’s a soft moment backed by the buzzing bass of Cassian’s party but you couldn’t be happier right now, with Azriel holding you in his arms.

You trail your fingers down his chest and he watches you, bright eyes never leaving yours as you swiftly slide them under the hem of his shirt. You can feel his cock hardening in his pants as you slide across his abdomen, reveling in the smooth skin of his chest, fingers dancing over the ridges of muscle.

His grip tightens on your hips but you urge him with a soft tug to take the shirt off. Reluctantly, Azriel removes his hands from you only long enough to rip the shirt over his shoulders and then they’re back, pulling you closer than before.

You trace the line of his jaw and he allows you to drink in your fill of him because you’re looking at him like you’ve just found your inspiration for your next project, and he likes that raw look in your eyes, likes being the one you’re solely focused on.

Moving downwards, you follow the line of his collarbones, fingering at the whorling ink there, like shadows of the night. They expand up across his broad shoulders and Azriel shivers when you lean in and flick your tongue against them, as if you can somehow taste their night-chilled forms.

Azriel’s breath hitches in his throat as you take your time inspecting each and every single one of his tattoos. The way you’re looking at him, the way you’re touching him makes him harder than a rock, and his cock strains painfully against the zipper of his jeans. He won’t move until you’re done, though, he won’t dare to break your concentration.

Wrapped up in the black of his shadows are two cupids, bows fully loaded and ready to launch their arrows. On his arm, the tattoo of the female warrior you’d noticed at lunch when you were secretly admiring it, trying to figure out who it was.

“Who is this?” you ask softly, and his answer is just as quiet, not wanting to shatter the trance you both seem to be stuck in.

“Nemesis. The goddess of vengeance,” Azriel explains, and your eyes are soft with grief when they flick upwards to meet his. He’s smiling softly at you though, and tenderly tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear. He nods his head towards his other arm, showing you the other scrawled across that bicep. “This is Eleos, goddess of forgiveness.”

You can’t help the urge to surge forward and kiss him. His tattoos serve as reminders of a life he once lived, one filled with rage and hurt, the yearning to harm his step-brothers a forceful one. As time went on and his hands healed, he’d gotten that tattoo of Eleos, not because he was forgiving any of his family for how he’d been treated, but a year later when he was learning how to forgive himself for the time spent hating what had been done to his hands.

And with those hands, Azriel lifts you into his arms. He’s kissing you just as passionately as you’re kissing him because without even an explanation, you seem to understand the artwork poked into his skin.

He places you on the bed and follows you up onto it but you’re not done with your exploration yet. With little coaxing, you find yourself straddling Azriel, pulling away from a dizzying kiss and resuming your pandering of his body.

An image of a winged man falling from the sky on the side of his ribcage, and two wings defining the hard muscle leading to the tent in his pants that makes your mouth water. These wings are feathered, unlike the membranous bat-like ones painted large across his back. Each and everyone is more captivating than the last, and as your fingers hover around the waistband of his pants, you lean forward and lick a long stripe over those wings.

“Fuck,” Azriel curses, hips jolting at the movement. His hands smooth your hair from your face where it’s falling with the angle and all of a sudden you want to feel those hands fisting around your hair, guiding your head while your mouth is full of his cock. “Princess,” Azriel warns, but the sound is choked, “I thought you were studying.”

“I am,” you answer, unbuttoning his pants. Azriel’s not doing a lot to help you focus on that work though, and you won’t be able to focus until you’ve tasted him, felt him like the piece of artwork he is. “I’m cashing in on my reward early.”

He hums, helping you rid him of his pants and briefs. His cock sticks out and it’s one of the best looking cocks you’ve seen in your life. It’s pink and leaking at the tip, ready for you to wrap your lips around.

“You don’t have to—” Azriel’s words dispel into a rough moan when you take him into your hand and lick his slit. The taste of him explodes on your tongue, just as heady and delightful as the rest of him is. You know that you don’t have to, but with a tug of your hand up his shaft while you suck the head of his cock into your mouth his fingers tighten in your hair and you want this, you really really want this.

Swirling your tongue teasingly around the head of his cock, you jerk and twist the length of him. On reflex, Azriel tries to shove you further down on his cock and you allow it, moaning around his length when he hits the back of your throat.

You take him as far as you can, reveling in the noises he makes in response to your movements. When you suction your cheeks in, lathing your tongue wet and wild across his silky cock, when you use your grip on his base to jerk him off when you need to come up from air. You keep the crown of his cock in your mouth because he seems to love the warmth of your breath as you pant around him.

“Princess,” he hisses when you twist your hand, “Fuck, baby, need you to stop or I’m gonna cum.”

Gods, do you want that. Before you can eagerly continue your ministrations, Azriel is easing you away from his cock, his hands tearing at your clothing. You’re distracted by the way his hands slide under the fabric of your shirt, and you’re trying to relieve yourself of your clothing so you can feel more of those hands on your bare skin.

“Come here, gorgeous,” Azriel pants, pressing your naked body flush against his. You slant your mouth over his as you grind against him, your clit throbbing with need.

“Condom,” you breathe between kisses. His hands smooth from your hips up your back and down again, guiding your hips to drag your cunt against his shaft.

“Pocket,” Azriel answers, unable to tear his mouth from yours. You strain over the side of the bed but are able to retrieve the condom with ease. You don’t even take the time to scoff at him for stuffing there out of convenience before he came over, because he clearly knew where the night was going to end up.

You tear off the corner of the foil and roll it down his hot cock. Azriel’s golden eyes are hot on your body as he pulls you closer to him for another kiss. He’s addicted to your taste on his lips, the feeling of your body pressed against his.

And you’re addicted to him just as much. The way he caresses every inch of your skin like you’re the finest piece of art he’s finally able to touch. The words that roll so effortlessly off of that wicked tongue of his, good for more than taunting you.

“When is ‘yet?’” you ask, kissing across his chest.

Azriel blinks, looking down at you with the cutest furrow of his dark brows. “What?”

You huff laugh at his confusion but are unable to keep your wet pussy from sliding across his heavy cock. The movement causes the both of you to moan and you melt a little against the warmth of his chest.

“You told Rita that I’m not your girlfriend yet,” you explain, finding the strength to continue your path down his body. You lap over one of his nipples and enjoy the way Azriel’s muscles flex. “So, when is ‘yet?’”

Azriel’s fingers find your chin, stopping you from biting between his pectorals like you want. He looks just as devastated by that thought as you are. “Impatient little thing, aren’t you? We haven’t even had our first date yet,” he teases and you fail to bite back your grin.

Your first date is tomorrow, and you have no idea what he has planned. You’re pretty sure that there’s no way that he’s going to be able to beat your first kiss at the museum, but if there’s one thing you’ve learned about Azriel, it’s that he’s full of surprises.

“We shared a milkshake,” you pout, squirming as he pokes at your sides. You enjoy the way that his chest shakes with laughter.

“And that counts as a date?” he questions, quirking a brow. You settle against him, even though your cunt is screaming at you to shift a little lower and sit on his cock. Azriel strokes soothing lines up your body, enjoying the feel of your smooth skin beneath his marred fingertips.

You shrug, “If you want it to.”

He puffs out a laugh. “You’re low maintenance.”

“For now,” you grin, poking his nose. “But that wasn’t an answer, Azriel.”

He can’t help himself, craning forward to kiss you. You draw him in like a magnet, and he’s never felt this raw need to be around someone before. When he first met you, he’d thought it a coincidence, how you kept running into each other, how he wasn’t able to take his eyes off of you.

Now, he knows it’s much more than that.

“And is this answer imperative to how the rest of the night goes?” He asks, rubbing his cock in a long stroke across your wet cunt.

You gasp, bucking back against him, but you want your answer, first.

“I mean, I can go next door and—”

“Don’t you fucking dare finish that sentence, princess,” Azriel growls, grabbing your hips to roll you over. You squeak at the swift movement and suddenly you’re pressed into the mattress with Azriel’s looming form towering over you. His gold eyes are sharp with possessiveness. It makes you tingle. “You’re all fucking mine.”

He follows his words by nestling the head of his cock between your folds. You squirm, trying to get him to press further into you but Azriel holds steady, even through your teasing.

“If I’ll have you, you mean,” your chest heaves with anticipation, your fingernails already digging into his skin. You want him inside of you right fucking now, and you’re regetting taunting him already. “Which means you’d have to ask me, though. See if I even want you back.”

“Oh, but I know you do, princess,” Azriel’s voice takes on the low edge that makes you want to scream. His cock inches further into your needy cunt and he nips the shell of your ear. “I know you want this all to yourself.”

Your keen betrays your words. “S’not that special,” you slur blissfully. You already feel so full with the head of his cock teasing that bundle of nerves that had your stomach coiling already.

The feeling of your nails ripping at his skin tells Azriel differently.

He hums like he believes you, knuckles brushing torturously down the center of your body to play with your throbbing clit. His chest constricts with the way that your cunt strangles his cock and he takes a deep breath so he doesn’t come only from this; your stubbornness and the way that you’re wriggling on his cock.

“How about I show you how special my cock is, and then I ask you to be my girlfriend?” He proposes.

“How about you ask me to be your girlfriend and then you show me how not special your cock is,” you counter, but you’ll do just about anything to have him pressing in all of the way.

“Fine,” Azriel relents. “But if I make you orgasm more than three times, you can’t call my cock ‘not special’ ever again. You have to refer to it as the most special cock you’ve ever had the pleasure of cumming on. Oh, and that it’s pretty too.” And fuck, it really is pretty like this, tucked into your tight heat.

“Kind of a mouthful, don’t you think?” you ask, whining as he pulls completely out of you to rub himself down the length of your cunt. That glowing look in his eyes makes you glare, but it’s shortlisted when he nudges himself back inside of you again.

“More than a mouthful, princess, as you well know,” Azriel smirks, and you pinch his side. It does little to deter him, though. “You want it? You’re going to have to agree to my terms.”

“Did you want a blood oath or…” he threatens to remove his cock again and you scramble, clawing at his hips to keep him inside of you. “Fine! Fine.”

Azriel leans down and the way that his cock plunges a centimeter further into your aching cunt has you gasping, moaning against his mouth. You want to bite that smirk right off of his lips but he tastes too good, and his tongue is swirling against yours, making you forget. “Was going to ask you to be my girlfriend anyway, princess, even if you hadn’t agreed.”

You shift your hips and it works to guide him a little further inside but it’s not enough. You feel hot, like you’re going to explode if he doesn’t start moving soon. You need to feel his entire length stretching you out, shoving the air from your lungs and taking you like he’s no longer in control of his body.

“Well, bully for you, Azriel.” You dig your nails into the meat of his back. “I’ll take some of the most special cock I’ve ever had the pleasure of cumming on,” you grit. “Though that is yet to be determined.”

Your taunt does nothing to irk him into moving, though. Instead, he’s smirking down at you again. “You forgot pretty, princess. It’s pretty too, isn’t it?”

“Come on then, pretty,” you groan, on the verge of screaming.

“I don’t think so, I haven’t held up my part of the bargain yet.” The words are followed by him pressing himself the rest of the way inside of you, enjoying the way the tension leaves your body and has you melting for him. You want him to start moving, need him to start moving, but Azriel’s gone all serious all of a sudden, peppering you with kisses until you can focus on him once more. “Will you be my girlfriend, (Y/N)?”

“Yes,” you cry out, feeling so full your heart could burst. You drag Azriel in for a kiss that’s hot and desperate and a little sloppy. “Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend, Az. Now, please move, baby, I need your cock.”

His gaze goes molten at the pet name the way you’re begging for him. He pulls his hips back and presses them forward again, finally giving you the friction you’ve both been desperately craving.

“Of course, princess. Let’s give you what you need.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

MM Taglist Part 1: @justvibbinghere @nickishadow139 @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumebrs @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakura-frost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r @ssmay123 @blackthorngirl @haivenhoule @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @bloodicka @wilmalovegood @jw83 @acourtofbatboydreams @hannzoaks @judig92 @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @ilikefictionalmen @harrystylesfan2686 @dr4g0ngirl @helensophie

#midnight muse #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #tattoo artist!azriel #artist!azriel #art school au #acotar au

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