#honestly though like... what a boring take

[scorpioriesling]

Omg as soon as I saw you wanted more acotar asks I knew I had to request this! Could we please get an azriel smutty fiction where we call him a friend as a prank and he gets all worked up and tells us all about how friends don't know how we taste and stuff?

Taste Me

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Vampire!Azriel x Reader

Warning(s): rough handling, blood drinking, oral

Summary: Your boyfriend doesn't seem to appreciate your little prank, and makes plans to put you right back in your place.

SR’s Note: I'll do you one better and make him a vampire too (: Happy Summerween! This is just one of the five stories I'll be featuring in my short Summerween series (since October will be filled with daily Kinktober stories!) I hope you enjoy this one, though it is short 'n sweet!

Tags: @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @whyucloudingmymind @bookofriverr @kitsunetori @velarisdusk @nctsawrus @lreadsstuff @paintedbyshadows @woollybread786 @invisiblepixies (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

The party was boring, plain and simple. You'd seen the same people, milling about in the same outfits, drinking the same wine all evening. Sighing, you sipped from your own glass, honestly wishing for something to happen to stir the pot a bit.

"Boring party?" Nesta asked, joining you in the uncrowded kitchen. It was the one place in Rhysand's House of Wind that wasn't full to the brim with Night Court dwellers this evening. The kitchen, and, well... the balcony, you supposed.

You nodded, your expression the definition of boredom. Nesta chuckled, glancing around at the guests. You lowered your glass, raising an eyebrow.

"What's got you so entertained?"

She simply shrugged a shoulder, the faelight gleaming against her golden blonde hair. Her eyes caught on something, and narrowed.

Not something -- someone.

"Well, I was entertained until I spotted that girl over there," she scowled, setting her glass on the countertop behind her. You followed her line of sight, your own brow furrowing as you caught sight of Nesta's suspicion.

"Seems like she's the one doing the entertaining," you mused, watching as the raven-haired girl with full red lips fawned over both Cassian and Azriel. Neither male seemed to take the hint, or perhaps they were too drunk to be impolite.

"Whoever she is, she needs to back off." Nesta said. You could practically feel anger radiating from her, and you set down your glass as well.

"What do you suggest we do about it?"

She huffed a laugh. "I have one idea... it might not send her running, but it'll send the boys running right back to us."

✧･ﾟ: *

The plan was petty, you were sober enough to admit that. You were, however, drunk enough to go along with it. After two more shots shared with Nesta, the two of you were on your way. You floated from person to person, joining conversations and greeting people in a well-executed performance. All the fake smiling made your cheeks hurt; but in the end, the look on Azriel's face would be worth it.

"And, who did you accompany this evening?" You asked, resting a friendly hand atop the blonde-haired male's shoulder. He simply shrugged.

"No one, I came alone this evening." He said. You raised a playful eyebrow, as you'd done time and time again in the past hour. Nesta winked at you from across the room, working a redhead in her favor.

"And, you?" He asked, his gleaming blue eyes finding yours. You laughed playfully, fake-ly.

"Oh... I don't have a date," you mused, jerking your chin in Azriel's direction. He'd moved a few times over the past hour, though he grew more and more interested with every male you spoke to. This time, he stood merely ten feet from you -- close enough to hear.

"I accompanied my friend this evening."

The blonde chuckled, glancing toward Azriel who had surely heard your misspeak.

"Oh, yeah? And would your friend mind if I-"

Two hands snaked around your waist in an instant. Azriel had heard.

"We certainly do, mind," he said, a threatening edge in his voice. "And I did not bring her as a friend, thank you -- she's my date."

The blonde's eyes widened.

"My apologies, Azriel, I-"

He growled low in his throat, his grip tightening around your waist.

"I suppose you disappear now," he ground out, his dark eyes gleaming. A rush went through you as he made his sharp canines seen, revealing and baring his teeth to the onlooker. "Before I rip out, your fucking throat."

✧･ﾟ: *

You whimpered as Azriel towered over you, pressing your back against the stone railing on the private balcony. His fangs glinted in the moonlight, pointed, sharp -- his gaze was to match.

"Tell me, my love... why do you say such, cruel," he paused, toying with the slim strap of your gown.

"Untrue," he paused again, sinking to his knees. Your breath hitched.

"...things?" he finished, his chill-tipped fingers brushing against your thighs. Goosebumps erupted across your skin -- you should've known he'd punish you for this.

You squealed as he roughly yanked your panties down, leg's shaking as the fabric reached your heels. He inhaled deeply, his gaze ravenous.

"I still haven't heard an answer..."

"I-I was just..." you stuttered. Azriel leaned in, the tip of his nose barely brushing your apex. You gasped, trying to force the words out. "I didn't mean it, Az, really-"

"That's not good enough, my dear."

He pressed closer, his mouth grazing your outer lips. You shuddered, gripping the stone railing behind you as you tried to reign in your control.

"Az... please-"

"Do you think," he asked, his voice low. "A mere friend would know how you taste?"

You swallowed a groan as Azriel's tongue flicked out, licking a fat stripe through your folds. He purred at the taste, his eyes closing as his head disappeared further and further beneath your knee-length dress. Your throat worked as he teased you, licking playfully around your entrance and up toward your clit.

Just when he was nearing your sensitive nub... he pulled away. You groaned in frustration at this, leaning forward to see what the holdup was.

"Azriel? Please-"

"Oh, you don't need to beg me, my love. Ever."

He rose to his feet, pressing his torso against you again and effectively pinning you to the railing. You gasped at his speed, never fully used to his vampiric abilities -- but in a moment's time, he had you bent over the railing, his chest pressed to your back.

His voice was low as he growled in your ear, inhaling the scent of you yet again. You shivered as his breath skated down the column of your throat.

"But I will beg you -- give me a taste, love. One taste, and all is forgiven."

Your eyes widened as you gazed out at the city below. You remembered last time, the subtle sting as he bit into you. The pleasure that followed, as he drank, and drank, and drank...

"I'm yours to taste, Azriel." You said breathlessly. Heat flared between your legs, and judging by the iron rod pressing against your ass, Azriel was in the same boat.

"Taste me."

That was all it took for him. His hand was instantly threaded through your hair, gripping your locks lightly as he swept the strands away from your neck. Your pale skin reflected in the moonlight, so inviting, so unmarred...

His lips kissed your neck once before the pinprickle of pain bloomed. In seconds, his teeth had sunk into your flesh, drawing a long and languid moan from you. The sound only turned him on more, encouraging his tongue to keep lapping at the stream of blood flowing from the open wound. His lips worked in tandem, sucking at the warm liquid, so sweet as it touched his lips.

"Baby," he growled, his fingers digging into your waist. You arched against him, pressing your ass further against his cock. He groaned, the sucking slowly tapering off before his teeth had removed themselves from your throat. His tongue worked to lap at the clotting red, his hips now grinding against your bum in need.

His hands pushed the fabric of your dress over the fat of your ass, baring your pussy to him. He sucked in a sharp breath, unsheathing himself from his dress pants and aligning with your dripping core.

He only uttered one thing before fucking you senseless.

"Don't ever. Mislabel me for a friend. Again."

✧･ﾟ: *

[angelcatsiel]

'well I think the doctor should only ever be a white man' yeah yeah dad I know you have shared this opinion many times

[springtiide]

Results are in, the lie was that I once helped run a pride festival!

When I was between 3-11 I lived in Florida and my immediate family and I went to Disney FREQUENTLY, we lived about three hours away in Orlando. They’d pick my sister and I up early on a Friday and swoop us away under the guise of an “”emergency dentist appointment”” or something equally as whack, and the weekend would be spent at the parks. We were never rich, but we were fairly well off with my mom’s job as a district manager at Gap, so whenever she got time off we would go. We went almost every month one year, and sometimes more than once a month. The state government even sent my parents an angry letter telling them to stop taking me out of school… sorry fuckers, I was off with chip & dale!!

I don’t know the exact number of times, but we know it’s at least 60 at last count. Definitely absurd. Our privileged asses got bored of the parks at some point—we moved on to universal which I’ve been to maybe 3 or 4 times? Total? Unsure though. But definitely more than some people go in a lifetime.

And I lost my gallbladder in Dec. of 2021, yowch. Christmas Day too! I had been dealing with the pain on and off since January of the same year, by far the most intense and excruciating pain I’ve ever felt—I would be left genuinely unable to speak from the terror and extreme pain levels, and it would usually last 2-3 days at a time. It was honestly a Christmas Day miracle that my dad finally rushed me to the ER despite our lack of health insurance. They must have had a deal on gallbladder removals, though, because when my mom went to pay my over $30,000 bill, it was gone. Just like that. The hospital couldn’t find any bill. What a crazy experience that was. The hospital staff were so fantastic too, they respected my name and pronouns very well the entire time and were so kind to me. Genuinely felt kind of like a vacation at the time, even through not being able to eat for 72 hours and a shit ton of blood draws haha. My dumbass even asked one of the nurses if he was a vampire when he came to draw my blood at 3am, I was so out of it.

chat two truths one lie

Tagging people bc this is fun!!

@changeling-offical @leviathan-offical @catboy-offical @can-tab-eater-offical @skribuggmicake @ur-least-fav-gal-offical @archangel-uriel-offical @vanity-reblogs @nerdwholikesnerdythings and ofc tags are open <3

[wheatstar]

why is shadow so hard to get through i want to be done with it so bad... really really not looking forward to thunder

[thebarneschronicles]

Nine Lives

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 9.4k

Synopsis: Bucky Barnes drives you insane—in every possible way. The bickering, the reckless plans, the way he smirks like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. But when a mission goes sideways, leaving you both bloodied and too close for comfort, the tension between you ignites into something impossible to ignore.

You can keep pretending. Keep fighting him. But Bucky isn’t one to back down—especially when he knows you don’t really want him to.

Trigger Warnings: Bullet wounds, unprotect sex (wrap it before you tap it!), p in v, dirty talk, BUCKY BARNES (he needs his own warning)

Author’s Note: I had been tinkering with a few scenes in this and the Thunderbolts trailer made me finish it. Hope you like it! B x

-- Bucky Barnes was going to be the death of you.

Whether it was because he got on your last nerve or because you were desperately, irrevocably, undeniably in love with him—either way, he’d be the reason your heart stopped beating.

And honestly? It might happen in the next five minutes. Because God help you, the man was insufferable.

The room smelled like burnt coffee and bad decisions.

Sam stood at the front, gesturing at a holographic map as he laid out the mission plan, his voice steady and patient—too patient, the way a parent speaks when they know their kids are about to cause problems.

You were paying attention. You really were. But out of the corner of your eye, you could see Bucky leaning against the wall, arms crossed– and looking bored out of his mind.

Every once in a while, he flicked his gaze to you, not saying anything. Just watching.

And you knew that look. That I’m about to do something reckless and you’re going to yell at me for it look.

You gritted your teeth.

“—we’ll go in through the east entrance,” Sam continued, pointing at the building layout. “Stealth is key. No unnecessary attention.”

Bucky made a quiet sound. It wasn’t quite a scoff, but it was close enough.

Sam’s jaw flexed. “Got something to add, Barnes?”

Bucky shrugged, like the whole thing was barely worth his effort. “I just think you’re overcomplicating it.”

Your brows shot up. Oh, here we go.

Sam closed his eyes, visibly counting to ten. “What part is complicated?”

Bucky shifted, pushing off the wall. “The part where we’re tiptoeing around like we’re on a damn field trip. We go in, take out the threats, get what we need. Done.”

You turned in your chair, slowly. “Take out the threats?”

Bucky smirked. “What?”

“What?” you repeated, voice rising. “You mean brute force? Like some kind of rabid raccoon?”

Sam sighed deeply, rubbing his temples.

Bucky grinned, which somehow made it worse. “I’d say more wolf, but sure.”

Your grip tightened on the edge of the table. “Barnes, if you go off-script, I swear to God—”

“Relax, doll,” he said, casual as anything. “I’ll mostly follow the plan.”

Your eye twitched. “Mostly?”

Sam exhaled sharply, muttering to himself. “I should start charging overtime for this.”

Bucky wasn’t done, though—he turned that damn smirk back on you. “You do love bossing me around, don’t you?”

And that? That was the last straw.

Your chair scraped against the floor as you stood, planting your hands on your hips. “We are sticking to the plan, Barnes. No improvising. No wandering off. No turning this into some solo hero death mission.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, inhaling through gritted teeth as you fought for patience you absolutely did not have. “Why is your solution to everything brute force? Sam has a plan. A good plan. A plan that does not involve you punching your way through every obstacle.”

Bucky folded his arms across his broad chest, looking completely unfazed. If anything, he seemed amused. “First of all, rude. Second of all, my way works.”

“You mean it works when it doesn’t get us killed?” you shot back, voice rising. “Which, by the way, is not a guarantee.”

His mouth twitched like he was trying not to grin. “C’mon, doll, you’re overreacting.”

And there it was. That goddamn nickname.

You felt it like a spark in your bloodstream, a rush of heat you refused to acknowledge. Instead, you rolled your eyes so hard they nearly got stuck. “Don’t ‘doll’ me, Barnes. I’m serious. We are sticking to the plan.”

“I am sticking to the plan,” he said, far too casually. “I’m just… modifying it.”

Your jaw dropped. “Modifying it?”

“Enhancing.”

“You mean ignoring it?”

He shrugged and you had never wanted to strangle and kiss someone in equal measure more in your life.

God, this man was going to be the death of you.

You took a slow, deep breath, curling your fingers into fists at your sides. “Bucky. No modifications. No enhancements. No Barnes-ifying the plan.”

He tilted his head, looking irritatingly pleased with himself. “Barnes-ifying? Huh. I kinda like that.”

You threw your hands in the air. “Of course you do.”

Sam, who had been observing this entire exchange with the long-suffering patience of a saint, let out a loud sigh. “Are you two done? Or should we clear the room so you can work out all that tension?”

Your head snapped toward him. “There is no tension.”

Bucky, the absolute menace that he was, had the audacity to murmur, “Oh, there’s tension.”

Your entire body went rigid. Your face felt hot. You whirled back to him, pointing an accusing finger at his chest. “I will kill you.”

His lips twitched. “I’d love to see you try, doll.”

You weren’t sure what infuriated you more—the way he said it— doll —like it was his own private joke, or the fact that you liked it. Loved it, even. That it sent a pulse of something traitorous through you, something that made you want to either punch him or grab him by the collar and—

No. Focus.

You squared your shoulders, planting your hands on your hips. “Here’s what’s going to happen, Barnes. You’re going to follow the plan. No making things up as you go along. Got it?”

His blue eyes glinted with something unreadable. “And what if I don’t?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Then I’ll personally make sure you regret it.”

Bucky grinned, slow and wicked. “Kinda looking forward to that.”

Your breath hitched. Your brain short-circuited. You opened your mouth, then shut it again, because there was absolutely nothing appropriate to say to that.

Oh. Oh, that son of a—

Bucky chuckled, clearly enjoying the way he’d just rendered you speechless. Then he leaned in just slightly, voice dropping to something low and smug.

“Face it, doll,” he murmured. “You’d miss me if I was gone.”

You scoffed, even as your stomach flipped. “I’d miss arguing with you. That’s it.”

“Mm-hmm.”

The knowing look on his face made you want to smack it off. But more than that, it made you want to—

Nope. Not going there.

You exhaled sharply, turning on your heel. “I’m done. Sam, let’s go before I change my mind and let him get himself killed.”

Sam snorted, giving Bucky a pointed look. “See what you did? Now you’ve pissed her off.”

Bucky only smirked, watching you walk away. “Nah,” he said, mostly to himself. “She likes it.”

—

You didn’t like it.

Not one bit.

And do you know why? Because you knew—knew—he wasn’t lying.

Bucky Barnes didn’t say things he didn’t mean. He wasn’t the type to play games with words, wasn’t the type to tease just for the hell of it. If he said there was tension, if he said you’d miss him, then he meant it. He knew.

He knew before you did.

And that was the worst part.

You had no idea when your constant bickering turned into something else, something deeper, something dangerous. One day, you thought you hated him—the next, you realized you couldn’t imagine a world without him in it.

It had terrified you.

So you fought.

You fought harder, argued louder, refused to let him see just how deeply he had burrowed into you. You clashed over the stupidest things—his reckless plans, his stubbornness, the way he called you doll like it was a secret between you. Because if you didn’t fight, if you let the walls slip for even a second, you weren’t sure what would happen.

And it infuriated you.

How dare he?

How dare he make himself at home in a corner of your heart you didn’t even know existed? How dare he take up permanent residence there, until that tiny space expanded into the whole damn thing?

How dare he make you want him when you were supposed to be angry at him?

How. Dare. He.

The memory took over before you could stop it…

It had been a disaster from the start.

The mission was supposed to be a simple recon—go in, get intel, get out. No unnecessary engagement. No close calls. No getting shot.

But Bucky Barnes? He didn’t believe in simple.

You were fuming as you dragged him into the safe house, your grip tight on his arm, ignoring the way his blood seeped through your gloves. He was bleeding all over the place, but of course, he still had the audacity to smirk at you.

“You’re manhandling me, doll.” His voice was rough, teasing. “If you wanted to get handsy, you could’ve just asked.”

You pushed him down onto the rickety cot in the corner, none too gently. “I swear to God, Barnes, if you don’t shut up, I will make your injuries worse.”

Bucky groaned dramatically as he flopped back, far too casual for someone who had just taken a bullet to the shoulder. “You’re so mean to me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry—should I be nice to the guy who just got himself shot?” You tore open the med kit, grabbing a pair of scissors and snipping at the sleeve of his tactical suit. 

Bucky’s smirk vanished. “Hey, whoa—this is a perfectly good jacket.”

“You’ve bled through half of it, Bucky!” You glared at him, slicing the fabric open with zero hesitation.

Bucky scowled. “Still wearable.”

“Still ruined.”

“You’re ruining it more.”

“Oh my God—do you wanna keep arguing, or do you want me to keep you from bleeding out you reckless, metal-armed asshole?”

Bucky huffed a laugh, because of course he did, the sound painfully casual. “Little dramatic, don’t you think?”

Your hands shook as you tore open the med kit, fingers fumbling over the supplies. “Shut up.”

“Oh, come on, doll, it’s just a—”

“Don’t you dare say ‘scratch.’”

Bucky sighed, dropping his head back onto the cot. “I’m not bleeding out.”

“You got shot, you dick,” you snapped, peeling the fabric away to get a better look at the wound. Through and through, just above his bicep. A clean hit, but it would scar if you didn’t take care of it properly.

Bucky peered at the wound like it was barely an inconvenience. “It is just a scratch.”

Your eye twitched. You gritted your teeth, pressing an antiseptic wipe to the wound with zero mercy.

Bucky hissed, body tensing as he glared at you. “Jesus—are you trying to kill me?”

“Oh, now you feel pain?” You didn’t let up, pressing a little harder just for good measure. “You didn’t seem too concerned when you ran into a hail of gunfire like a rabid golden retriever with a death wish.”

Bucky scoffed. “Golden retriever?”

“You just charged in, Bucky! What part of ‘stealth mission’ do you not understand?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I had to.”

“No, you didn’t!” You grabbed a fresh gauze pad, pressing it against the wound. “Sam and I were handling it just fine before you decided to be stupidly heroic.”

“Doll, you were cornered,” Bucky argued.

“No, I was waiting for backup.”

Bucky gave you a pointed look. “You were outnumbered and had a jammed weapon.”

You locked your jaw. Because okay, maybe that was true.

But he didn’t have to jump in front of a bullet for you.

You cleared your throat, trying to sound unimpressed. “I was fine.”

“You were two seconds away from getting shot.”

“I know, Bucky!” You slammed the antiseptic wipe against his skin, not caring when he hissed. “But you didn’t have to—you didn’t—you— I told you not to do it!” you cried out. “But no, you just had to go full Terminator and jump in front of a goddamn bullet for me—”

You stopped.

Because suddenly, your throat was too tight, and your breath was coming too fast, and you hated that the panic was winning, that it was spilling over.

You weren’t just mad.

You were terrified.

Bucky blinked at you, actually looking concerned now, which only pissed you off more.

“Doll—”

“You think you’re indestructible, don’t you?” You threw the used gauze aside, grabbing another one, your hands shaking as you pressed it to the wound. “Just because you have the serum, you think you can—can take all these stupid risks—”

Bucky sighed, clearly exasperated. “I heal faster than you do, sweetheart. It’s not that deep.”

Something inside you snapped.

“Oh, fuck you, Bucky!”

His eyebrows shot up at that.

“You think the serum makes you invincible?” you seethed, eyes burning. “Is that why you keep throwing yourself into danger? Why you never hesitate before taking a hit? Why you jump in front of bullets like it’s your damn job?”

Bucky opened his mouth, but you weren’t done.

“Guess what, Barnes? The serum doesn’t make you immortal! One day, your dumbass luck is going to run out! And what then?”

Bucky stilled, blue eyes searching yours.

But you were unraveling too fast to stop now.

“I swear to God, Bucky, I’m gonna lose my mind if you keep—” You sucked in a shaky breath, voice cracking. “I can’t—I can’t keep watching you do this to yourself.”

Something changed in Bucky’s face. The teasing, the smirking—it all vanished.

You didn’t want to see whatever was in his eyes.

You dropped your gaze, fingers moving on autopilot, taping the bandage down over his shoulder. Your hands wouldn’t stop shaking, but you pretended not to notice.

You felt him watching you.

For the first time since the mission, Bucky was quiet.

The weight of it pressed against your chest.

You swallowed hard, clearing your throat. “Just—just try not to die next time, okay?”

Bucky let out a slow breath, something almost amused slipping into his voice. “Not really my style, doll.”

You snapped your head up, narrowing your eyes at him. “Yeah, I noticed. You’ve got a real stubborn track record of coming back from the brink of death.”

Bucky grinned, slow and lazy, like he couldn’t help himself. “What can I say? I’m persistent.”

Your jaw tensed.

“Yeah? Well, I don’t want to be the one watching you zero out your nine lives.”

The smirk disappeared.

A flicker of something serious passed through his eyes—so fast you almost missed it.

For a second, you thought he was going to say something that would change everything.

But then, as quickly as it came, he shoved it away.

He exhaled a soft chuckle instead, shaking his head. “You worry too much.”

You clenched your jaw, standing abruptly. “And you don’t worry enough.”

Bucky watched you, his expression unreadable.

You grabbed the med kit and turned away, before he could see just how badly your hands were still shaking.

Because the truth was—

You weren’t sure what scared you more.

The fact that Bucky Barnes kept coming back from the brink of death—

Or the fact that, one day, he might not.

–

You exhaled sharply, shoving the memory aside.

No. Not thinking about that.

You couldn’t.

Because if you let yourself sit with it for too long—

If you let yourself acknowledge how much he meant to you—

You weren’t sure how you were supposed to breathe through it.

Bucky must have sensed the shift in you, because as you stalked ahead, fuming, he was suddenly there—keeping pace beside you, his presence entirely too much. Too close, too solid, too him.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured. “That’s never a good sign.”

“Maybe I just ran out of things to say,” you snapped, not looking at him.

He made a low sound, somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle. “That’ll be the day.”

You whirled on him before you could stop yourself, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Do you enjoy driving me insane, Barnes? Is it, like, a hobby for you?”

His lips twitched, that damn smirk already forming. “I mean… yeah. Kinda.”

You let out a frustrated noise, turning on your heel, ready to put as much distance between you and that insufferable smirk as possible. But before you could take two steps, his fingers curled around your wrist—gentle, but firm enough to stop you in your tracks.

The warmth of his skin against yours sent a jolt through you. His grip wasn’t rough, wasn’t forceful, but it was steady, intentional. And for a split second, you couldn’t breathe.

When you looked up, his blue eyes were locked onto yours, unreadable, intense.

“I’m not trying to drive you insane,” he said, his voice softer now, but laced with something heavier, something that made your chest feel tight. “I’m just trying to figure out why you won’t admit it.”

You swallowed, pulse hammering. “Admit what?”

Bucky tilted his head slightly, studying you like he was searching for something, peeling back layers you weren’t ready to let him see. His gaze dragged over your face, lingering—too long—on your lips before flicking back up.

Your breath hitched.

He was going to say something else. You knew it. Could feel it. But whatever he saw in your expression made him change his mind at the last second. His features shifted, the quiet determination giving way to something smug, teasing. A deflection.

“That it’s a good plan.”

Your pulse stuttered.

This wasn’t what he wanted to say. Not even close.

But he was giving you an out. Letting you pretend, letting himself pretend, like this was still just another argument. Another round of your never-ending bickering instead of… whatever the hell this was becoming.

And that? That scared you more than anything.

“It’s not,” you shot back, seizing the escape he’d handed you. You took a step back, yanking your wrist free of his grasp. “It’s stupid. It’s reckless, and it’s going to get one or all of us hurt if we do it.”

Bucky’s jaw tensed, his smirk faltering for the first time. His eyes darkened, something unreadable flickering in them before he asked, voice quieter, but rougher—”Why do you never take my side?”

The question hit like a sucker punch.

It knocked the breath from your lungs, left you reeling in a way you hadn’t expected.

“I—” The words caught in your throat.

He wasn’t teasing now. Wasn’t throwing out some cocky remark just to get under your skin. This was something real, something raw, and it left you woozy.

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Second time I’ve got you speechless today, huh? Must be a new record.”

His voice was light, teasing again, but the look in his eyes said something else entirely.

Then, before you could recover, before you could shove something sharp and defensive between you, he turned and walked ahead—leaving you standing there, heart racing, breath unsteady.

Completely, utterly furious at him.

And even more furious at yourself.

Your hands curled into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you forced yourself to breathe. In. Out. Don’t let him get to you.

Except he had. He always did. And the worst part? He knew it.

You glared at the back of his head as he walked ahead like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t just thrown you completely off balance and left you scrambling for solid ground.

Why do you never take my side?

You hated that the question still echoed in your head. That it stung in a way you weren’t ready to unpack.

You stormed after him, your boots crunching against the pavement. “Barnes, we’re not done talking about this.”

He didn’t stop, didn’t even turn around. “Seemed pretty done to me.”

Your jaw clenched. “God, you are infuriating.”

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned that once or twice.” He threw a glance over his shoulder, his smirk still in place, but his eyes? His eyes were still sharp, still waiting.

You caught up to him in two quick strides, grabbing his arm to yank him to a stop. “Don’t walk away from me.”

Bucky arched a brow, glancing down at where your fingers gripped the sleeve of his jacket. “Thought you couldn’t stand being near me, doll.”

You ignored the way your stomach flipped at the nickname. Ignored the way your traitorous hand lingered for a second before you let go.

“That plan of yours?” You crossed your arms, tilting your chin up. “It’s reckless. And you know it.”

His smirk faded, just slightly. “And what if reckless is the only option?”

“That’s bullshit, and you know that too.”

Bucky let out a slow exhale, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I get it. You think I’m some idiot who just punches his way through problems—”

“I know you are,” you shot back.

He glared at you, jaw ticking. “But maybe—just maybe—I actually know what I’m doing this time.”

You opened your mouth, ready to argue, but something in his expression stopped you.

There was no smugness, no teasing. Just raw frustration, something worn down underneath.

You stared at him, chest rising and falling too fast, the words dying on your tongue.

“Right,” Bucky muttered, shaking his head. “Should’ve known better than to expect you to trust me.”

The words weren’t loud. He wasn’t even looking at you when he said them. But they landed like a slap.

Your breath caught. “That’s not—”

“Forget it.” 

— 

Shockingly, Bucky had followed Sam’s plan.

And—even more shockingly—it had gone wrong.

In the end, brute force had been the only way to get all three of you out alive.

You weren’t sure when the dust had settled, when the ringing in your ears had finally faded enough for you to hear your own breathing again. But when your vision cleared, Bucky was still standing.

Standing over a pile of bodies, bloodied and exhausted, his chest heaving with exertion.

There was a split in his lip, a gash across his forehead, and a bullet graze along his ribs, the fabric of his tactical suit dark with blood.

And you hated it.

You hated how your stomach twisted at the sight of him hurt. Hated the way your fingers curled into fists at your sides to stop yourself from running to him, from touching him, from grabbing his face and checking.

Most of all, you hated that you had doubted him.

Bucky Barnes had a century of combat experience. He had spent his entire life surviving fights he shouldn’t have walked away from, and still, you had dismissed him. Still, you had refused to listen.

And now? Now all of you were bleeding. All of you were shaken.

But the worst part—the part that made your throat tighten and your breath shudder—was that Bucky wasn’t even gloating.

No smirk. No I told you so.

Just silence. Just his sharp, assessing gaze, scanning the aftermath like he was still bracing for another fight.

By the time Torres had you all back on the plane, you were shaking.

The adrenaline should have worn off by now, but the weight in your chest only grew heavier. You knew—you knew—Bucky would heal faster than you or Sam. Logically, you understood that.

But logic wasn’t stopping the tightness in your throat when your eyes landed on the bruising around his temple.

It wasn’t stopping the way your fingers trembled as you grabbed the first aid kit and sat down in front of him, against every warning screaming in your head.

Bucky exhaled slowly, tilting his head back against the seat. “I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding,” you shot back, voice sharper than intended.

“So are you.”

You ignored that. “Just—hold still.”

For once, he didn’t argue. But when you reached for him, when your fingers ghosted over his skin, his gaze flickered—just for a second—to your hands.

He noticed.

Noticed the tremor in your fingers, the way they weren’t steady.

His brows drew together, just slightly. He didn’t say anything, but you felt his stare, felt the question lingering on the tip of his tongue.

Your breath hitched. You curled your fingers tighter around the antiseptic wipe, focusing too hard on dabbing at the cut on his forehead.

When he flinched, you huffed. “Big bad super soldier can take on twenty guys at once but can’t handle a little stinging?”

His lips twitched, but the teasing was half-hearted. “Not my fault you’re rough.”

You shot him a look. “I wonder why.”

His jaw flexed. “You do like making things difficult.”

“Oh, I make things difficult?” You shook your head, pressing a little too firmly as you cleaned the wound. “I don’t remember me running in headfirst with zero regard for a plan.”

Bucky scoffed. “Right, because your plan went so well.”

You froze, fingers stilling against his skin.

His voice hadn’t been sharp, but the words still landed heavy in your chest.

“You didn’t have to follow it,” you murmured.

Bucky let out a slow breath. “Yeah. Well. I did.”

Silence stretched between you, thick and weighted.

You forced yourself to move again, forced yourself to focus on the cut rather than the way his eyes lingered.

Your throat was dry when you spoke. “You were right.”

His expression didn’t change, but you felt the shift in the air.

“We should have done it your way,” you admitted, barely above a whisper.

Bucky’s fingers curled over the edge of the seat. He didn’t speak, didn’t move, but you knew he was watching you.

Finally, he exhaled, his voice quiet. “Didn’t do us much good, did it?”

You pressed your lips together. “Would’ve gone a lot worse if you hadn’t stepped in.”

His eyes flickered. His jaw worked, like he wanted to argue but didn’t have the energy for it.

“You don’t have to say that,” he murmured.

“I do.” Your voice wavered, but you swallowed hard, pushing through it. “Because I was wrong.”

Bucky was still. Unreadable.

Then, after a beat, his voice dropped lower. “That an apology?”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no real fire behind it. “Don’t push your luck, Barnes.”

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Wouldn’t dream of it, doll.”

But his eyes? His eyes told a different story.

—

The hum of the jet was steady beneath you, the vibrations deep in your bones, but it did nothing to ground you. The cabin lights were low, throwing long shadows across the metal walls. Sam was already passed out in the back, his breathing even, the tension from the mission finally easing from his shoulders.

You should be doing the same. You should be closing your eyes, letting exhaustion take over, shutting out the memory of the chaos you’d just escaped from.

But you couldn’t.

Because Bucky was still watching you.

He sat across from you, silent and unreadable, his blue eyes darker in the dim light. He hadn’t spoken since you finished patching him up, but he hadn’t stopped looking, either.

It wasn’t his usual sharp-edged irritation or teasing smirk. No playful bickering, no cocky remarks about how he’d been right. Just this.

Something softer. Something heavier.

Something you weren’t ready for.

“You should get some rest,” he murmured, voice low and rough around the edges.

You shook your head, fingers curling into your palms. “I’m fine.”

Bucky exhaled through his nose, like he didn’t believe you. “Yeah? You don’t look fine.”

You hated that he could see it. The tremor in your fingers, the tension in your shoulders, the way you were still breathing too fast, like your body hadn’t realized the fight was over.

You hated that he noticed. That he cared enough to notice.

And then—because you were tired, because you were furious, because he had almost died and you were still trying to claw your way back from the sheer panic of it—you snapped.

“You could have died, Bucky.” Your voice was sharper than you meant, thick with something you didn’t want to name.

His brow twitched, but his expression didn’t change. His voice stayed infuriatingly even. “Yeah. That’s kinda what happens when people shoot at you.”

“That’s not funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be.” His lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw tight. “You think I don’t know what I’m doing out there?”

“That’s not—” You exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down your face. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what do you mean?”

The question hung between you, thick with unspoken things.

Bucky didn’t move, didn’t blink, just watched you—his gaze steady, patient, like he was giving you the space to say it.

And God, you wanted to.

But the words sat like stones in your throat, impossible to force out. You clenched your jaw, tried to shove them back down, but they wouldn’t go away.

Because the truth was, you weren’t just shaken by the mission.

You were shaken by the way seeing him bleeding had made your stomach drop, by the way his pained groans had made your hands shake, by the way you had wanted—needed—to run to him, to wrap yourself around him and never let go.

You were terrified.

Because this wasn’t just anger or frustration or a heated argument in the middle of a mission.

This was Bucky.

And you couldn’t lose him.

So instead of answering, instead of trying to put words to the panic still rattling inside you, you did the only thing you could do.

You reached for him.

It wasn’t sharp or defiant, wasn’t out of frustration or anger.

You just—needed to touch him.

Your fingers brushed over his wrist, barely there, hesitant. A point of contact. Something to anchor you.

Bucky stilled.

For a second, he just stared at your hand, at the way your fingers curled against his skin like you weren’t even sure if you had permission to hold on.

Then, slowly, he turned his wrist under your palm, letting your fingers slide over his pulse point. His skin was warm, his pulse steady. Alive. Here.

Your throat went tight.

Bucky’s voice was quieter this time. Rougher. “You gonna tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?”

You swallowed hard, but you didn’t let go.

Your thumb ghosted over his pulse, barely a whisper of touch, but it still wasn’t enough.

You didn’t know what you needed, what you were searching for beneath your fingertips, but the slow, steady thrum of his heartbeat wasn’t easing the raw ache in your chest.

Your eyes flickered around the cabin.

Sam was still dead to the world, Torres nowhere in sight. The only two people awake on this jet were you and Bucky.

Something inside you snapped.

One second, you were gripping his wrist, tethering yourself to him like that alone would make this feeling go away. The next, you were moving before you could stop yourself—sliding out of your seat, crawling into his lap, wrapping yourself around him like holding on tighter would somehow keep him safe, keep him yours.

Bucky made a sound—something low, something confused—but his hands came up anyway, large and warm and steady as they settled on your hips, instinctive.

His breath hitched, and you felt it against your temple, the subtle shudder of his inhale.

You buried yourself closer, curling into his chest, fingers winding into the hair at the nape of his neck. His scent was everywhere���gunpowder and metal and something distinctly him—and you could have drowned in it.

“If you ever tell anyone I did this,” you muttered, voice muffled against his neck, “I will find ways to kill you.”

There was no bite to it. No real threat.

Just you—raw and exposed in a way you didn’t know how to take back.

Bucky let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle, but he didn’t pull away.

Didn’t tease.

Didn’t shove you off like he should have.

Instead, his arms shifted, wrapping around you fully, pressing you into him like this was what he had been waiting for, like this was something he had been needing just as badly.

Like he wanted to.

His metal fingers flexed at your waist, pressing against the fabric of your suit, a steadying grip. His other hand flattened against your back, tracing over the curve of your spine as if he was committing the shape of you to memory.

His touch burned.

His warmth was everywhere.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your fingers sliding from his hair to his cheek, brushing over the stubble there, the still-healing cut on his temple. And then—before you could stop yourself—you were tilting his face toward yours.

For the first time since the mission, since the gunfire, since you watched the blood dripping down his temple and felt your entire world tilt on its axis—you met his eyes head-on.

Bucky swallowed.

His gaze dropped—just for a second—to your lips.

It was enough.

Your resolve snapped like a frayed wire.

And before you could second-guess yourself, before you could remind yourself that this was Bucky, before you could convince yourself that you didn’t love him like this—

You kissed him.

It was desperate, messy—nothing like the slow, sweet build-up you had imagined in the deepest corners of your mind.

Your lips crashed against his, your hands fisting in his suit, pulling yourself closer, closer, closer, needing more, needing everything.

Bucky froze.

Didn’t move when your lips parted against his, when your tongue flicked against his bottom lip, when your teeth caught the cut there, tasting blood.

Didn’t react when you kissed him again, soft and searching, when your nose brushed against his, when you sighed against his mouth, the sound fragile and aching.

Didn’t kiss you back.

The realization hit slow, creeping in at the edges of your desperation, sinking its claws into your chest.

He wasn’t—

Oh, God.

The sting of rejection burned hotter than the wounds littering your body.

You tried to breathe, tried to steady yourself, but your lungs felt too tight, your hands shaking as you forced yourself to pull back, to put distance between you before you shattered entirely.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, a shaky breath washing over his lips. Your throat was tight, your vision blurring at the edges. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

Your voice broke.

Bucky was still silent.

And that was somehow worse.

It took a second to register the weight of what you’d done, to catch up to you.

You had kissed him.

You had kissed him and he hadn’t—

Your stomach plummeted.

“I’m—” Your breath hitched, panic clawing at your ribs. “I’m so sorry, Bucky.”

You tried to untangle yourself, tried to scramble out of his lap, to preserve whatever dignity you had left, to put distance between you before you completely fell apart in front of him—

But then—

God.

Then his hands tightened on your hips.

Hard.

Before you could even get further, Bucky dragged you back against him, fingers digging into your skin, like he wasn’t about to let you go. He maneuvered you until your legs were astride his hips, your arms around his neck, your chest pressed to his.

Your breath stilled, eyes wide, heart hammering against your ribs.

His expression had changed.

The shock, the hesitation—it was gone.

In its place was something darker.

Something heated and unrelenting.

Something like want.

Bucky’s breathing was uneven, his lips parted, his pupils blown wide as his gaze flickered between your eyes, your mouth, back up.

Then—

Then his fingers traced up your spine, slow and deliberate, leaving goosebumps in their wake. His metal hand trailed over your ribs, up your arm, curling at the back of your neck, tipping your face toward his.

And then, finally, he spoke.

“Doll,” he rasped, voice wrecked and low. “Can you do that again?”

Your stomach flipped.

“I—” You swallowed, your pulse hammering against his fingertips. “You didn’t—”

“I froze,” he cut in, jaw tight. “I won’t now.”

Oh.

Oh.

Your lips parted, heart stumbling over itself.

Bucky let out a breath, something between a laugh and a groan, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you. His grip on your hips flexed, strong and sure, and for a split second, all he did was look at you.

Like you were something he didn’t know how to handle.

Like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to devour you or worship you.

Then—slower this time, more sure—he leaned in.

And kissed you.

You had been right.

Bucky Barnes would be your undoing.

He’d kill you with the way he kissed, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to ruin you, like he wanted to take you apart with nothing but the sweep of his tongue and the heat of his mouth.

You felt it—every glide of his tongue against yours, every careful press of his lips, every sharp inhale between kisses—like a spark lighting up your spine, sinking deep, settling between your legs with a heat so intense you could barely breathe through it.

You shook on top of him, the way he touched you sending shockwaves through every nerve ending in your body. His hands were everywhere—tight, possessive squeezes against your hips, reverent drags of his fingers down your back and thighs, gripping you like he never wanted to let go.

A whimper escaped you, completely unbidden, and Bucky groaned, a deep, wrecked sound that vibrated against your mouth.

Then, suddenly, his lips left yours.

You gasped at the loss—until you felt him move.

Felt the warm brush of his breath against your throat, felt his nose skim along the sensitive skin there before his mouth followed.

“Bucky—” His name left you in a sharp breath as he kissed down your neck, slow, teasing, his lips dragging over every inch of exposed skin he could reach.

The problem was—there wasn’t enough.

Your suit covered too much, kept him from truly touching you, and it was driving you out of your mind.

You arched into him, restless, desperate. “Take it off,” you whispered, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

Bucky stilled, his lips pausing against your collarbone.

His hands tightened on your hips, but he didn’t move. Didn’t continue.

“Take it off,” you begged, fingers digging into the fabric of his suit, tracing over the zippers, tugging uselessly at the buttons, trying to feel more. “Please, take it off.”

His breath was uneven, ragged. “Doll, there are people—”

“I don’t care.” You tugged at his collar, leaning in, pressing another desperate kiss to the corner of his mouth. “They won’t see.”

Bucky’s hands flexed against your waist, like he was warring with himself.

You kissed him again, lips parting over his, trying to convince him, trying to make him understand, to feel just how badly you needed this, needed him.

He let out a shaky breath, his forehead pressing to yours, his chest rising and falling unevenly beneath you.

“Please,” you whispered, voice breaking. “Please, before you change your mind—I need this. I need you.”

That did it.

Something snapped in him.

The hesitation vanished.

And then, suddenly, you were weightless.

Before you could even process what was happening, Bucky was standing, lifting you effortlessly, your legs tightening around his waist as he carried you toward the back of the jet, moving with a singular, determined focus that made your breath catch.

Your back hit the cool metal wall of the jet, the impact sending a shiver down your spine, but you barely had time to react before Bucky was kissing you again—hot, rough, devouring.

You gasped against his lips, fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck, holding on for dear life.

His hands roamed down your back, over your thighs, squeezing, gripping—and then, finally, finally, he found the zipper of your suit.

“I’m not changing my mind,” he murmured, his voice thick, edged with something raw that made you shiver. His fingers curled around the fabric, tugging just enough for you to feel the weight of his words. “And you’re not changing yours.”

You nodded without thinking, without hesitation, without fear.

There was a faint awareness of the reality around you—the steady hum of the jet beneath you, the wall of gear shielding you from the others, the knowledge that Sam and Torres were mere feet away. The fact that you were both bloodied and bruised from the mission, that maybe this wasn’t the time, wasn’t the place.

But then Bucky moved, and all of that faded.

The zipper came down in a slow, deliberate slide, the rasp of it against your skin sending a shiver down your spine. His hands worked quickly, efficiently, but gentle, pushing the suit down your arms until you could shake it off completely. The moment it was gone, he pulled your arms around his shoulders, guiding them to hold onto him, like he needed you to keep him close.

“Hold on to me,” he murmured, voice quieter now, almost reverent, before dropping to his knees.

Your breath caught, your pulse hammering as his hands gripped your hips, firm and unshakable, guiding the rest of your suit down your legs. His head dipped, his lips grazing the fresh bruise blooming along your hip. He kissed it once, then again—soft, lingering. Worshipping.

You swallowed hard, your fingers threading into his hair as he nuzzled along your thigh, your knee, before rising back to his full height.

“Not getting these off,” he muttered, his fingers ghosting over your soaked panties. You’d be ashamed if it weren’t for the way his lips parted, like he was desperate to get back on his knees, get his mouth on you, There was also something else. The look on his face - regret, you thought - like he wanted to take his time with you, but was disappointed he couldn’t.

His hands moved up your body, skimming over your waist, tracing along your ribs. You shivered at the sensation of warm and cold, flesh and metal. His eyes darkened at the sight of you trembling under his touch.

“We have to be quick.”

You nodded, obedient, but there was something clawing at your chest, something making your breath catch, making your hands shake as you reached for his belt, undoing it with frantic fingers.

“This—” You took a breath, sliding the zipper down, pushing his pants and underwear down in one swift motion. His cock sprang free, thick and hard, the tip already slick with pre-cum. You ached at the sight of him. Ached to drop to your knees and taste him.

Instead, you swallowed hard and met his eyes. “This isn’t how I imagined doing this with you.”

Bucky let out a low, disbelieving chuckle, shaking his head. “Me either.” His voice was rough, wrecked, breaking apart at the seams. His lips brushed your ear as he groaned, deep and ragged, when you wrapped your fingers around him, stroking him slow, teasing. “Fuck, sweetheart—”

A shudder rolled through him, his forehead pressing to yours, eyes fluttering shut.

“But I’ll make it up to you,” he promised, voice thick with something dangerous, something devoted. “I promise.”

His arms wrapped around you again, lifting you effortlessly, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, your hips rolling forward to grind against him.

“Bucky—”

“You want this?” he asked, pressing you back against the cool metal wall, the contrast making you gasp. His mouth was everywhere—dragging down your jaw, across the swell of your breast, open-mouthed and hungry.

“I do. I—”

The words faltered on your tongue.

Your heart was hammering, your chest was aching. This was reckless. This was insane.

This was everything.

You squeezed your eyes shut, pressed your forehead to his, your lips brushing his with every ragged breath. “I want you,” you whispered, voice breaking. “All of you.” Your fingers twisted into his hair, tugging just enough for him to feel it. “Please.”

Bucky exhaled sharply, his grip tightening. “You have me.”

His words were iron, unbreakable, true.

Something cracked inside you.

And then—there was no more hesitation.

His lips crashed into yours again, raw and consuming, leaving no space between you, no air, no room for anything but him. His free hand slid down, tugging at your panties, dragging them to the side. Your own hand moved between you, wrapping around his cock, guiding him to where you needed him.

“Jesus, doll—”

It wasn’t gentle.

It wasn’t careful.

It was one full thrust, his cock pressing inside you inch by inch, filling you completely, stretching you to the edge of pain. Your nails bit into his shoulders, your head falling back against the wall as a gasp tore from your throat.

You felt full. Too full.

Your legs shook around him, your walls clenching tight around his cock, the overwhelming stretch making your eyes slam shut, your mouth parting on a silent moan.

Bucky groaned, deep and wrecked, his forehead pressing to your temple. His body was shaking too, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps against your skin.

“Fuck,” he ground out, metal hand locking around your thigh, keeping you open for him. His other hand tangled in your hair, his grip tight, desperate. “Fuck, you feel—Jesus, sweetheart.”

Your breath hitched, your arms trembling as you clung to him. “I can’t believe you’re inside me,” you whispered, voice barely there, overwhelmed and ruined. “Oh my god, Bucky—”

He snapped his hips forward, and your world split apart.

The pleasure was sharp, blinding, a lightning strike surging through your veins. Your body clenched around him, gripping him so tight he groaned against your neck, his rhythm faltering for a beat. His hands tightened on your hips, metal and flesh both possessive, both desperate to hold on.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he choked out, voice strangled, roughened with something close to reverence. He thrust deep, his cock dragging against every nerve inside you, every sensitive place that made your stomach coil so tight you thought you might shatter.

“For you,” you confessed, arching into him, letting him feel it, letting him know. “All the time. Every time you look at me—”

Bucky snapped his hips forward, harder, deeper, tearing a cry from your lips.

“Shit,” he breathed, voice breaking, cracking at the edges. “Shit, shit—”

“You’re so deep,” you gasped, barely able to breathe. Your nails raked down his back, desperate, pleading, needing. “Bucky, I—I can’t—”

“I’ve got you, doll,” he groaned, pressing his mouth to yours, swallowing every sound you made as he ruined you completely.

Every thrust was a curse, every breath a kiss, and you were careening toward the edge so fast it was dizzying.

The pleasure ripped through you before you could warn him, before you could even process it. Your walls tightened, pulsing around his cock, body shaking so violently that he had to pin you to the wall with his hips, burying himself to the hilt, his hand cradling the back of your head, shielding you as you contorted in his grasp.

His mouth devoured your cries, catching every broken, pleading gasp as the orgasm tore you apart. It was an explosion that didn’t stop, that kept rolling through you, wave after wave.

You rocked against him, desperate for more, still chasing, still needing, barely hearing the way he rasped your name, telling you to slow down, telling you to look at him, warning you that he was—

“God, you’re heaven,” Bucky breathed against your ear, grinding deep inside of you, his voice wrecked, every syllable tinged with something broken, something beautiful. As you slowly came down, you could feel how close he was, how tightly he was holding on, trying to keep himself from falling over the edge. “I can feel you—fuck me, I should pull out.”

“No.”

It came out fast, urgent, a whisper laced with something dangerous. Your legs locked around his hips, keeping him trapped in your hold.

His entire body went rigid. His breathing stilled.

“Baby.”

Bucky’s voice was low, frayed at the edges, filled with disbelief. The word hung in the air between you, unspoken until now.

You froze.

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you knew you shouldn’t have given that away. Shouldn’t have let it slip, shouldn’t have handed him something so fragile, something you couldn’t take back.

But what was a drop to someone who was already drowning?

Bucky’s hands tightened on your hips, but he didn’t move. If he wanted to, he could have pulled you off of him without lifting a finger. You had always been painfully aware of how much stronger he was, how easily he could overpower you.

And yet, he stayed still, locked in your hold. Completely at your mercy.

You swallowed, your fingers shaking as they curled into his hair, pulling him closer, refusing to let him run.

“C’mon, doll,” he whispered, his lips brushing yours, stealing a kiss that felt like it was more for him than for you. “Let go.”

His hips rolled, his pelvis grinding against your clit, making you whimper. Your body was still trembling, still oversensitive, but fuck, if he kept going just a little longer—

“I want you to cum inside me,” you pleaded, your voice trembling, your nails digging into his skin.

Bucky froze.

The words echoed between you like a shot fired into the silence.

His hips stilled. His breath hitched. His hands trembled where they held you.

You had to bite your bottom lip to keep from crying out, from begging him to move.

“Doll,” he rasped, warning in his tone, his forehead pressed to yours. He looked wrecked, as undone as you felt.

“Stop arguing with me,” you shot back, voice shaky, grinding against him, dragging your soaked, sensitive heat over him, pulling a moan from his throat so deep it made every hair on your body stand on end.

“Fuck,” he groaned, head dropping to your shoulder, his grip on you bruising.

“I want this.” You tightened your arms around his neck, pressing yourself closer, wrapping him in you, cocooning you both in the moment. “I’m begging you, Bucky. Please.”

“It’s—” He swallowed thickly, voice strangled.

“Irresponsible, yes, but what’s a little irresponsibility?” A breathless laugh escaped you, but your voice broke at the end, too raw to keep up the teasing. You squeezed your eyes shut, inhaling deeply before forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “I’m on the pill.”

His jaw clenched.

“I need this,” you whispered, the truth clawing up your throat before you could stop it. “I need you.” Your voice cracked, your breath hitched, emotion swelling too fast, too much. “You don’t get it, I—”

You didn’t even realize you were crying until he softened.

Something in his eyes clicked, something changed, and suddenly, his arms were wrapping around you tighter, his hands cradling your face like you were precious, like you were fragile, like he had to hold you together before you broke apart completely.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, kissing your temple, your cheek, your jaw. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

And then he moved.

His thrusts were slower, deeper, his lips brushing yours between each movement. His hands wandered, soothing, worshipping.

“Giving you exactly what you want, yeah?”

You nodded frantically, breath labored, losing yourself in the way he felt, the way he surrounded you, consumed you.

“Don’t pull out,” you begged, voice barely there, a whisper of devotion, of desperation.

Bucky let out a shaky breath, forehead pressed to yours. “I won’t, baby,” he promised, voice breaking. His pace picked up, hips rolling against yours, pushing deeper, harder, dragging against your oversensitive clit in a way that had you whimpering. “Gonna fill you up like you wanted.”

Your toes curled at the words, at the image, your walls fluttering around him.

“Oh, please don’t stop,” you gasped, rolling your hips, needing, aching.

Bucky groaned, his head dropping back as his rhythm faltered, as he snapped his hips harder, chasing the end, giving you what you wanted, giving you everything.

“Fill me up, baby,” you pleaded, your voice a broken, desperate thing. “Make me yours..”

And that—

That was what finally broke him.

Bucky snapped.

A curse tore from his throat, his grip on you bruising, unrelenting as his hips slammed into you, chasing the inevitable, giving you everything. His rhythm turned frantic, needy, his body demanding what you had just offered.

And you took it.

You craved it.

Your body tightened around him, coaxing him deeper, begging for more. Every thrust was an answer to a question neither of you had spoken aloud, a declaration in the language of skin and breath and longing.

“Fucking hell, sweetheart,” he gritted out, his forehead pressing to yours, his breath hot against your mouth. His hand slid down between you, his metal fingers finding your clit and pressing, rubbing tight circles, dragging you back to the edge with him.

Your body shook, every muscle tensed, the pleasure sharpening into something unbearable, something deadly.

“Bucky—”

“I know, baby,” he groaned, his voice cracking at the edges, his own body trembling as he held himself back, as he waited for you. “Give it to me.”

You did.

Your orgasm hit like a tidal wave, knocking the air from your lungs, blinding in its intensity. Your body locked around him, your hands clutching desperately at his shoulders as the pleasure ripped through you in violent, unrelenting waves.

And that was it. That was everything.

Bucky followed, slamming into you one last time before breaking, burying himself as deep as he could go, a shuddering groan torn from his chest as he spilled into you, filling you like he promised. You felt it as his warm cum Costas your walls, so much of it you weren’t sure there wasn’t some spilling out.

His body trembled, his arms locked tight around you, holding you close as he gave in, as he let go, as he let himself have this.

For a moment, there was silence.

Just the sound of your breathing, labored and uneven. The quiet, lingering shock of what you had just done.

Bucky’s forehead pressed against yours, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his heart hammering so hard you could feel it through his suit.

Neither of you spoke.

Neither of you moved.

You stayed like that—wrapped around him, his cock still twitching inside of you, his arms cradling you like you might disappear if he let go.

You let your eyes drift shut, your fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against the back of his neck, the weight of him comforting, grounding, even as reality started creeping back in.

You should let go.

You should move.

You should say something.

But when Bucky finally pulled back, just enough to look at you, his hands coming up to frame your face gently, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones—

The words died on your lips.

Because he was looking at you like you had just ruined him. Like you had just changed something fundamental inside of him.

Like you had just made him yours.

And you had.

Slowly,, Bucky eased his grip, his arms still wrapped around you, his hands still mapping the shape of you, like he needed to memorize every curve, every ridge, every place he’d touched.

His lips brushed your temple, then your cheek, then your jaw—soft, tender kisses that made your heart clench, made something deep inside you ache.

It felt too big.

Too much.

But you couldn’t stop touching him.

Your fingers traced the lines of his jaw, the stubble rough beneath your touch. You pushed damp hair out of his face, ran your knuckles down the slope of his nose, his cheekbone, memorizing him the way he was memorizing you.

A hand slid up to cradle the side of your face, his thumb tracing your cheek, his expression unreadable.

When he finally spoke, his eyes were soft, but serious.

“You meant it,” he murmured.

It wasn’t a question.

You swallowed, lips parting, breath hitching.

“Bucky—”

His other hand was still pressed to your lower stomach, like he could feel himself inside you, like he could brand this moment into your skin.

“I felt it,” he whispered, almost to himself. “The way you—” He exhaled sharply, like the words were too heavy to get out.

You closed your eyes, trying to give yourself some kind of reprieve from the enormity of it all.

“Don’t run from this.” His voice was so calm, but it cut through you like a knife. “Please, doll.”

Your throat tightened.

You weren’t sure if it was the aftershocks of pleasure or the overwhelming emotion of it all, but your body was still trembling—and Bucky felt every bit of it.

His arms tightened around you, securing you to him, anchoring you.

“I’m not running,” you whispered.

He pulled back just enough to search your face, like he didn’t quite believe you.

And maybe you didn’t quite believe yourself.

Because what came next?

What happened after this?

There was you before Bucky Barnes.

There was you after Bucky Barnes.

And they weren’t the same.

[mostly-imagines]

Sugar on the Rim vol. I

bruce wayne x afab!reader

aka the billionaires new friend

warnings: implied that reader is a virgin, age gap (bruce is older than reader), mentions of sex, smut in next part

You twist the stem of the wine glass around between your fingers slowly. Your chin rests atop your knees as you stare vacantly at the tiny puddle left of the drink. You could go refill it, but then you’d have to go back out to the main room and man…you really do not want to do that. So you’ll sit here, swiping your tongue across the bumps of the roof of your mouth as if it's a fascinating new discovery.

The creak of hinges has you shooting upright, your back thumping against the stair step behind you. You’re not immediately sure how to act as though it’s normal that you’re sitting in the stairwell outside the fundraiser rather than in it, fraternizing with old and new money alike. You freeze, trying to relax your posture so it doesn’t look like you’re alarmed at the sight of another person, but not so relaxed that you look as bored as you are.

Your neutrality stutters when you glance up to find the host of the fundraiser. The billionaire host of the fundraiser. Bruce Wayne, the billionaire host of the fundraiser. Your posture straightens right back up and your mouth snaps shut as you make eye contact.

Should you stand up? 

No, he’s rich, not royalty. 

You are in his house though—

He looks you over contemplatively, “I don’t know you,” It’s not accusatory, rather he says it like it’s something interesting.

You perk up at that, immediately formulating reasons to justify your presence. “Oh, uh, no—” the words nearly spill out of your mouth all at once. You clear your throat, “I’m just a plus one for my boss—”

“Who’s your boss?” he asks, relaxed. 

“Arthur Mullins.”

He looks to the side, squinting, “Mullins…he’s the executive at Williamson Industries, yes?”

You nod and he returns the gesture, slower, like he’s processing through something. “I’m Bruce,” he says warmly after a moment, holding his hand out to you.

You nod before you can even think to get any words to come out, “I—yeah, I know,” you accept his hand, shaking it as you tell him your name.

There’s a slight glint in his eye when he hears your name, and he repeats it quietly to himself. “A pretty name.”

“Oh, it’s just…” Just your name. But rather than fill him in on that fascinating tidbit, you let the sentence die off.

He smiles kindly anyway, “What are you doing in here? Party’s out there, or so they tell me.”

“I…I’m hiding in here,” you admit sheepishly.

He leans in towards you slightly, lowering his voice. “I’ll let you in on a secret—so am I,” he smiles at you like it’s easy.

Your grin matches his, “It’s your party,”

“That’s why I need to hide.” He tilts his head, “Doesn’t give you much of an excuse though, does it?”

“I don’t know anybody here.”

He puckers his bottom lip contemplatively, “Your boss.”

You shake your head, “I’m just his assistant. I’m pretty sure he just brought me as a precaution in case he needed a designated driver.”

He laughs at that, “Based on the way I’ve seen Mullins’ attempts to operate, his assistant would have to be a hell of a lot more important than just a designated driver.”

Well, he’s certainly right about that. Your boss doesn’t exactly “have it together” per se. He’s an unorganized man with little to justify his importance in Gotham, so he tends to insist on taking on more responsibility than he has any business having. Not to mention, he’s a bit of a try-hard and you’re constantly left to sweep up the pieces of his reputation that he shattered himself. Not to say he’s necessarily unprofessional, he just will do anything and everything to prove he belongs in any given space. It’s honestly a bit exhausting to watch. It’s more exhausting to try and convince him that the exchange went well afterwards.

You nod slowly, eyes on his shoes. “Mr. Mullins has…a unique approach to business. It does usually leave me fairly busy, I’ll give you that.” You take a quick deep breath, plastering on a fake smile. “But that means I occasionally get to go to fancy parties where I don’t know anyone, so..”

“Well then it sounds like you’ve got it all worked out,” he ribs, “Or don’t you agree?”

You smile coyly, “I would never be so bold.”

“I don’t mind boldness. For example, the reason I came in here is because he spotted me.”

You laugh at that, “Mr. Wayne—”

“Bruce.”

“Mr. Wayne,” you suppress your smile as you pause, choosing your words carefully. “I think he’s just networking.” He doesn’t have the money to give.

He nods surely, “He’s definitely just networking.” He really doesn’t have the money to give. You allow just the faintest wisp of a smile to adorn your face as you look down again.

You check the time and realize that you’ve been hiding away for too long and that if he hasn’t already, your boss will notice soon. You sigh quietly to yourself, “I should..”

He turns his head to the closed door where the chatter can be heard from beyond, sighing in defeat as he shakes his head looking back at you. “So should I.”

You feel a bit insecure as you stand, the gown you’re wearing is pretty but it is very much affordable and you’re sure someone as wealthy as Bruce Wayne would know the difference.

If he does notice he makes no deal of it, motioning you forward gallantly to walk ahead of him.

He follows after you, hands behind his back. “Would it be rude of me to ask you to distract him while I run for the bar?”

It’s busy, even for a Sunday afternoon, and you have to sidestep past someone nearly every step you take. You stick next to the windows of the line of boutiques down the road, trying to balance window shopping and not bumping into other pedestrians.

You're in a nicer district of Gotham, truthfully an area you don't quite belong in. So far you’ve only managed to find a couple shops that weren’t several ranges above your budget. 

A call of your name has you blinking rapidly and turning around as if you’re lost. It doesn’t take long for you to pick the six foot two billionaire out of the crowd and it’s only half a second longer before you realize he’s walking towards you. A few people collide shoulders with you as they move past thoughtlessly, no regard for the personal space of the idiot that stopped in the flow of traffic.

You let him approach a couple feet closer before you ask him, “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Wayne?” The presence of his figure in front of you allows for a break from being bumped into, as he seemingly makes for a far more easily seen and intentionally avoided target.

He sways a bit, “Bruce. I’m not sure yet,” he looks down to the couple of bags you’re holding, extending his hand out. “May I?”

It takes you just a moment to move past your surprise at the request, allowing him to hold them for you. “Are you in a rush?���

You shake your head quicker than you meant to, “No, I—not at all,” he gestures his head forward, allowing you to walk before him.

You traipse ahead in silence for a moment before deciding against biting your tongue, “What exactly is it you’re not sure about?”

He raises his voice a bit so you can hear him over the crowd, “Whether or not you’ve got plans on the 19th.”

You look back at him, “What’s on the 19th?”

He stops with you as you admire a set of jewelry inside a window display, “We’re hosting a gala for something or something else, hopefully less boring than the fundraiser.”

You blink, “You’re inviting me?” He nods. “Why?”

“I could use someone who wants to be there even less than I do.”

He said it so casually it takes you a second to even register his meaning. You blink, face contorting defensively, “That’s not—” you can barely make out the smile on his face as he continues on walking.

You shake your composure back together and trail after him, rushing to catch up. “I don’t think Mr. Mullins would be very happy to hear that I’m attending a business gala without him.”

He shakes his head as he scans over the crowd, “He can’t fire you for that.”

“He’ll try.” He would. A petty little man, he is. 

He scans across the rows of clothes leisurely. “Well, then he can speak to me about it. Besides, it wouldn’t be for business.” And then he just lets that sentence linger.

It takes you a moment to recover from those words and begin to start processing the world around you again. After a few more feet down the sidewalk he pulls you gently to the side by your lower arm, out of the rush of traffic, and looks at you dead on, “What do you think?”

You try not to waver under the weight of the eye contact, “I don’t…uh, I don’t really have…” you look down, hoping to get the message across without actually having to say the words.

He glances into the store window next to you and raises his eyebrows, “Well then I’d say we’re in the right place.”

You can’t manage to tell him that this store is definitely far too expensive for you, walking through the door as he opens it for you, albeit apprehensively.

Well. Up close window shopping is more fun anyways. 

The spotless white of the floors and walls has you intimidated, and just as much so by less by the no doubt designer clothes lining the walls. The saleswomen all look pretty highbrow themselves, hair up in tight buns and uniforms chic.

You only break from gawking at the store to look behind you at Bruce. You note the way his eyes roam around blindly, looking for something and clearly having no means to narrow down where it might be. You take one more glance around, immediately finding the women's section with no such difficulty. 

“This way.” You say, nodding your head over to the left. He recovers nicely and lets you lead the way towards the section of dresses. You peer back at him, “You don’t seem like someone that does much of his own shopping.”

Thankfully, he laughs at that. “Well, special occasions.”

You keep your gaze ahead this time, asking as casually as you can, “Is this a special occasion?”

He hums in consideration, “I’d say so.”

You stop upon approaching the dress section, taking in the immediately stunning display of options. 

“What are you doing up here anyways?” you ask, hand brushing across a particularly plush dress.

“Ah, I was headed to a meeting.”

“Oh,” you frown, looking at him. “Don’t you need to go?”

He shakes his head with a puckered lower lip, “No.”

A few seemingly heiresses roam down the aisle mindlessly, not caring much that you’re in their path. 

Bruce sees them before you do, knowing well that they were not going to excuse themselves. “Sweetheart,” he nudges you gently to the side, closer to him as the group passes. His hand remained open-palmed and flat as he guided you to the side, seemingly very careful not to touch you with uninvited boldness. Though you’re quite shaken by the chivalry of the gesture, a brazen touch wouldn’t have been the worst thing in the world.

As your arm brushes against a rack of clothing your gaze follows, met with something rather appealing.

Bruce is quick to notice you admiring the sleek black dress that looks like something you’d see a model wearing on a runway. “You like that one?”

“It’s nice, yeah,” you murmur, not really thinking. You flip the price tag over and your face drops. “It’s $800.”

He nods thoughtfully, “We can find a nicer one,” he says, though it’s clear he knows exactly what your problem with the price tag was.

“I can’t—” you restart, “I would never have a reason to wear something this nice again.”

He shakes his head coolly, “That’s alright.”

Your shoulders drop and your head tilts seriously, “It’s not, though.”

“You like it?” He looks you in the eyes, his own searching for a truthful answer.

“I mean, of course, but it—”

He nods affirmatively, “Then we’ll get it. Problem solved.” He turns his back to the rack, casually observing the rest of the store goers. “Pick your size.”

Apparently not one to argue, you thumb through the row until you find one that should fit. 

You sigh, realizing that you’re running out of time to mention that you don’t have $800 to spend on a dress. “I can’t—”

“You don’t need to,” he says simply as he takes the dress off the rack and drapes it across his arm, making his way towards the salescounter.

You try to stop your mouth from hanging open as you follow, “It really is okay, I don’t need—”

His grin cuts you off, just in time for you to hear him mutter, “Sweet girl..” to himself. You stop right in your tracks, feeling very thankful that he’s not looking at you right now because you’re certain the look on your face would give you away.

He still doesn’t face you as he calls out, “Come on,” as he continues on.

Obviously you’re not stupid. You know what type of intentions a billionaire playboy must have with a younger girl that he doesn’t even really know. However, if said billionaire is offering to buy you a pretty dress…no, you’re not sleeping with him because he bought you a dress—of course not—and you’ve made absolutely no promises to do so, so what’s the harm in letting him? Really?

And yeah, maybe it’s a plus that he’s not bad looking, but how is that your fault?

You stand a bit awkwardly next to him as he puts his card in the machine, not even glancing at the outrageous number, and declines the offer for the receipt.

As you exit the store together and stand at the doors as he hands your original two bags back to you along with the new shiny black one that on its own looks like something people would pay for.

“You will be there?” he asks, eyes more hopeful than you were prepared for. 

You nod, gesturing the bag up, “Well you just bought me the dress.”

He shrugs that off, “I would’ve bought you the dress anyways.”

You linger in the midst of the ado wearing a dress that you feel far too overshadowed by, fidgeting with the half empty wine glass in your hand. Unfortunately, this time around you were invited by the host of the event and it would be extra rude to run away and hide. That doesn’t stop you from considering it, though.

A hand sliding across your lower back has you momentarily startled, and for reasons you couldn’t quite verbalize, you’d naturally assumed it was Bruce. The disappointment rings strong when you turn around to be met with the sight of an even older man, who looks considerably wine drunk. 

“Hello there, Miss.,” The words themselves are polite but the salacious smile on his face and the way his eyes have no trouble roaming your body gives you a solid idea of what this conversation is going to entail.

“Hello,” you fake a polite, tight smile and shift your attention to the rest of the room. 

This does nothing to deter him, as he takes a sizable step back into your line of sight. “Having a nice time?” 

The man is clearly from money, if his attire didn’t give it away his attitude sure did. There’s an heir of entitlement around him, like he’s inherently deservant of your attention—a quality you were notably surprised to not have found in Bruce. 

You give him your faux-smile again, this time tighter but half a second longer for the sake of politeness. A rookie mistake.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks, gesturing to the bar.

“I’m okay, thank you,” you say, gesturing your wine glass up.

A momentary flash of irritation crosses his face, but to his credit, he does a better job recovering from it than you would have expected. Though, that’s not really saying much. “Well, pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be all alone here,”

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” Both of your heads snap to the side, finding a much more welcome surprise than you’d previously received. 

Your counterpart's posture straightens immediately, “Mr. Wayne,” he fawns, “What a lovely event you’ve thrown. I’m sure the Bernsteins will be appreciative.”

Bruce hums, eyes narrowed slightly. “You are…”

The man startles and rushes to finish off his sentence, “Alexander Watson, senior executive to the accounting department for the research wing of the company.”

He nods slowly, no recognition actually present in his eyes. “Ah. The research wing of the company that just blew fifteen million dollars on prototype self-operating cell phones.”

You’re trying hard to fight the smile creeping up on your face.

“What exactly is a self-operating cell phone?”

Watson’s face drops, hurrying to justify his approval of the proposal’s funding. As he rambles, Bruce’s gaze lowers to where Watson has once again placed his hand on your hip, though he’s not close enough to you for it to rest fully or naturally. You don’t know him well but you can say confidently that he doesn’t look pleased. 

He looks back up to Watson, attitude challenging. “Surely you’re not poking around where you’re unwelcome?”

Watson stutters at that, blinking and shaking his head quickly. “No, no, of course not! I was just hoping to provide the young lady with some company. That’s all.”

“And so you have.”

“I—,” about two steps behind in this conversation, Watson finally decides to retreat, “Yes, good evening, Mr. Wayne.” He bows his head and shuffles away back into the crowd.

“Mr. Wayne,” you smile knowingly, turning to him. “How are you?”

The hardness of his gaze fades quickly as he takes in your appearance, quite liking how you wear the dress you’d picked out.

“Things are looking up,” he smiles, “You look lovely.”

 “Thank you,” you glance over to where Watson has made his way to the bar, likely about to down an entire glass. “Mr., uh, Mr. Watson makes quite the impression.”

His smile turns a bit sullen, “You know last year he tried to convince the board that battery-powered battery chargers were going to be the next big thing?”

You blink, tilting your head, “Thought you didn’t know who he was.”

His eyes are fixed on the wall as he tugs the corner of his lip down, knowing he’s been caught but not really caring. “I’m sorry to have been away for so long, it seems everyone needs my attention at these things.”

“At the gala that you threw? I’d imagine so.”

He rolls past that smoothly, “You’re having a good time?”

“I am,” you say with a confirming head bob.

He regards the room with a numb expression, “You know, I think I’m getting bored with all of this.”

You smile at him, brow furrowed, “It’s only been an hour.”

He looks at you, eyes wide. “It’s only been an hour?” He’s exaggerating his surprise to make you smile, and it works.

“I think we should go,” he says lower.

You stare at him, bemused. “You still have a whole room full of guests.” 

He shrugs, “They’ll filter out on their own eventually.” 

He clocks your hesitation easily, accurately noting it to be more out of politeness than actually wanting to stay at the party. “What, you’re not ready to leave?”

You look around at all the mostly old, posh guests, disinterested small talk evident all across the room. You take a breath, “Alright, yeah. Let’s go.”

He smiles and leads you out a side door and through a corridor that’s significantly longer than you’d expected. 

“Do you always ditch your parties this early?” you ask, following closely.

He makes a sharp right at the next doorway, “If I can manage it.”

You look around at the high wooden ceilings and grand furniture. “Aren’t some of them friends of yours?”

He shakes his head, “My friends aren’t here.”

You frown at that, “Then why do you throw them at all?”

“Why did you show up last weekend?”

You nod slowly, understanding. “It’s your job.”

He returns the nod, adding, “Only difference is, there’s not a chance in hell you get paid enough for the work you do for Mullins.”

For the sake of maintaining your wishful facade of professionalism, you’re going to not acknowledge that incredibly accurate statement. Instead you smile politely and continue on walking. He seems to get the implication, returning it with an even brighter adornment.

“Well, money’s money,” you say wryly.

His smile fades a bit, “You shouldn’t have to worry about things like that.” 

You shrug, “A day in the life,”

He looks sullen upon hearing that, with more sympathy than you’d have expected from someone of his stature. He’s done nothing if not surprise you, though.

“Here,” he says, taking hold of the handle of a glass door. It opens to a garden, lit up beautifully by the moon and outdoor light. A fountain sits in the middle, water rhythmically gushing out of the top and trickling down the sides. The bite of the Gotham night air burns at your cheeks a bit and you find yourself thankful the dress you’d chosen is so long.

Bruce leads the way to an expensive marble bench positioned nicely in front of it, allowing you to sit first before following suit. Your hands find a place in your lap, clasped together awkwardly in an attempt to find warmth through contact.

It takes Bruce less than ten seconds to stand, remove his suit jacket, and drape it over your shoulders before sitting back down. The material is thicker and warmer than you would’ve expected, surely reminiscent of the perks of being owned by a billionaire.

He doesn’t look at you to acknowledge the grateful expression on your face, simply carrying on like it didn’t happen. “Was hoping it was warmer,” he murmurs.

Your focus momentarily goes to the icy cold stone of the bench under your thighs, initially finding it uncomfortable before deciding the coolness actually felt quite soothing. You remove your gaze from the gray stone and turn your head to find Bruce already focused on you.

You start to say something, though you’re not sure what it would’ve been, when he brushes his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down.

Well, he certainly knows what he’s doing, doesn’t he?

His eyes stay on your lower lip as he murmurs, “You’re a pretty girl, you know that?” 

God, he’s a professional.

You look up at him and refrain from saying anything, waiting to see if he follows it up with something that will make you regret agreeing to coming out here with him.

He doesn’t.

You shift, moving your hands off your lap to rest on the stone under you. “You can’t just do this—”

He smiles and lowers his chin to look you in the eyes, “Then what can I do for you?”

“You—” you blink rapidly, “Stop it.”

His coy beam persists, “Stop what?”

You raise your gaze up to him ever so slightly, a pouty expression across your face that you’re trying to sell as serious. “You’re trying to make me nervous.”

“Do I make you nervous?” He tilts his head down further, a ghost of a smile echoing on his lips, “I don’t mean to, sweet girl.”

Your eyes drop to the ground, biting your tongue. “Yeah.”

His simper grows, “I’m serious. I’d hate to scare away a new friend.”

You laugh at that and he perks up a bit at the sound, “What? We’re not friends?”

You cock your head to the side, “You’re the one who said none of your friends are here.”

He hums, “Maybe I spoke too soon.”

“You think so?” You should probably stop flirting so much. 

“Yeah,” he leans in a bit closer, “I do.”

“Why’s that?”

“Maybe I want to be your friend,” his hand finds a place atop yours. 

Your eyes flicker across his face as he closes in, “What if I don’t want to be yours?”

His eyes are on your lips, “I’m sure we can work something out.”

You take a slow deep breath, “Your intentions are blurry.”

He smiles lightly, amused. “We’ll have to clear that up then, won’t we?” His lips are inches away and his voice is soft as he says, “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

You look up at him eyes wide, barely processing his words as you nod. He gently grasps your jaw in his hand, tilting your head up. His other hand finds the back of your head, holding you in place as he kisses you with intention. Your hands hover in the air for a second before holding onto his forearms. 

He breaks the kiss only to give you another sweet one right after. Your mouths remain close when it’s over, eyes still shut, trying to catch your breath. You stay like that for a moment until he kisses you once more on your cheekbone before pulling away. His hands drop to rest on your knees, the weight of them gentle.

He hums lowly, “Sweet thing..”

Being under the heaviness of his gaze leaves you feeling vulnerable. It’s starting to get you concerned with the potential levity and implications of kissing him. The expectations.

“You…” you stare down at where his hands meet your skin, not quite sure that you actually meant to start that sentence. 

“What?” he frowns, brow pinched. Your chin lowers further as your mouth forms a tight line. He shakes his head, “No, it’s alright. What is it?” he asks gently.

It takes a surge of willpower for you to get the sentence out, “You just want to sleep with me..”

He frowns harder at that, pulling back a bit. “No. I’m…” he sighs, “I’m not trying to lure you in just to toss you out right after.”

That makes you look up again. His voice has a sincerity to it that you weren’t prepared for. 

He continues, “I would like to, yes. Yeah. You’re beautiful, of course I would, but..” he looks down at his hands before looking back up at you, “No, that’s not the most important thing to me.”

You break eye contact again, thinking over his words. If that’s not the most important thing to him, what is? You can’t think of what else he could possibly want from you, a billionaire who could have anything he wants..the only thing you could have to offer in his eyes is sex. 

Right?

He exhales, “If you want to leave, I’ll call you a car. No hard feelings.” He nudges your chin up gently so you’ll look at him, but he gives you the freedom to fight against it if you wanted to.

You let him move you.

“I don’t want to leave,” you tell him, looking into his eyes. “What do you want?”

“Whatever you want,” he says it like it’s automatic. You physically can’t help but roll your eyes at the corniness of it. He doubles down, though, “Seriously. Anything.”

You smile in disbelief, shaking your head.

“Alright,” he returns your smile, straightening, “Here’s what we’re going to do. Do you need a ride home?”

You blink at him, “I’m going home?”

“You are,” he nods softly, “Do you need a ride?”

“No.”

He nods again, more like he’s working through something in his head. “Okay. You’re going to go home and think through what you want. If you decide you want to, come back here next Saturday.” he stands up, extending his hand out to you, “Then you can let me know what else you want and we can get to work on that too.”

You start to shake your head, “I can—” 

He drops his chin seriously, “Think on it.”

You relent easily, taking his hand and coming to a stand.

“Alright?” Again, his question is genuine. He does really want to know if you’re on board with this plan. 

Already going against his request, you agree without a thought, “Okay.”

He starts to lead you back over to the garden door with a head nod and a kind smile.

It ultimately was not a decision you had to think very hard on.

You’d considered every scenario of how this could play out and none of them ended with regret as far as you could guess.

You’ll still admit though, there was one scenario you had missed, apparently, which is why you were immeasurably confused when you showed up and he invited you to play chess.

He’s not wearing a fancy three piece suit this time, but his clothes are still very nice. With the sunlight peeking through the windows, you’re able to see the manor more clearly than you had been the other night. It really is a beautiful home, clearly very old and charmed, but there’s a lot of little details of character and history scattered around. There’s portraits and photographs of his parents from when he was young and furniture decorated with trinkets all throughout, kept absolutely spotless and dust free. Everything is neat and tidy but there’s still traces of the house being lived in with the patched throw pillows and worn carpets. Still, it’s very, very placid.

You’ve met new money plenty of times over the course of dealing with countless businessmen for Mr. Mullins but old money is something entirely different. You don’t really have a frame of reference here. New money is almost always brash and demanding, they like things done quickly and correctly the first time around. They’re usually not very interested in hearing what you have to say (even if it would save them a lot of trouble) and prefer it when the assistants women keep their mouths shut. Bruce has proven to be very different from these standards already and you’re not sure where to begin with placing new ones.

You’re about halfway through a second game, and while you’re not awful at chess, you get the impression that he’s easing up on you considerably.

You sit on the floor in front of a short coffee table, the game having no clear lead so far.

“I think this is stressing me,” you mumble, no actual weight behind your words.

“It’s just chess,” he says, not looking up from the board.

You watch him move his knight forward as you ask, “And that’s all we’re doing?”

“As it stands, yes,” he looks up at you, though you don’t return his gaze.

“Yeah,” you sigh, sliding your rook, “But later?”

“Later?”

“Well, you said...” you meet his eyes, “You said you wanted to sleep with me.”

He nods slowly, “I do. Is that alright?”

You consider it for a moment. You already knew that, if you really weren’t okay with it you wouldn’t have come here. And yeah, the idea makes you a little shaky, but in a good way.

“Yes,” you tell him, moving your queen forward two spaces.

“Are you sure?” he presses, moving to sit on the side of the table rather than behind it.

You do the same, sitting on your knees. “Yeah, I just..” you shift your weight, eyes wandering. “I’m not…overly experienced.”

He just smiles at that, like it’s endearing. Your words didn’t quite convey your meaning but your tone did. In any case, he understands the implication. “That’s alright, sweetheart. I’m not going to throw you in the deep end.”

You nod, looking down again.

“You’re nervous,” he comments.

“No, I’m—I mean, maybe,” your voice is barely a murmur by the end of the sentence.

He’s quiet for a moment, observing the way you fiddle with your rings. “What if we get you something pretty to wear? Something that makes you feel pretty. Whatever you want.”

He fishes his wallet out of his pocket, opening and pulling out a lump of cash without even looking. He holds the money out to you wordlessly and you can see from the bill on the outside that it’s at least a couple hundred dollars.

You shake your head instantly, “I can’t take that.”

He doesn’t put the money down but his eyes turn to begging. “Please. I just want you to feel good.”

“Bruce—”

He wavers a bit at that but it’s more of a falter than you’ve seen from him before so it’s easy to take notice of. “What?”

He shrugs barely, “I like when you say my name.”

Your eye contact holds for a moment and your resolve starts to shake almost instantly.

You exhale, “I’m not taking more than a hundred.”

“Two hundred.”

“Bruce.”

He smiles and picks out some of the cash and pockets it, handing you the rest. You don’t comment on the fact that it’s a hundred and fifty more than you’d agreed on.

You look down at the money in your hand like it’s a foreign object, shaking your head. “I don’t even know what to get.”

His thumbs start to rub reassuring circles by the bend of your knees, “Anything you want,” he tells you. “What do you like? Silk, lace, cotton, anything.”

You look up, tilting your head at him with a furrowed brow. “It doesn’t matter what I like, th—”

“It only matters what you like,” He says seriously, lowering himself to meet your gaze. “I’ll love it, no matter what you pick. Don’t worry about that.”

You lean forward a bit instinctually, “Okay.”

His eyes scan across your face in something that you can only recognize as awe.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you whisper.

“I want to kiss you again,” he says, voice even quieter.

Your eyes go to his mouth and you can only manage a nod, lips already parted.

He moves forward not a second later, kissing you with more fire than you’d gotten to see the other night. His hands grab at your waist, squeezing lightly as you hook one hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

You hear the clatter of chess pieces falling over as he moves nearer to you, large frame leaning over you. You push up on your knees, meeting his lips up at his level. His hands caress around your hips as the kiss gets deeper.

You just start to fumble with the hem of his shirt when he takes your hands in his, pulling them away before breaking the kiss.

“Easy, sweet girl,” he smiles, nudging you back with little force.

You groan, “Why?”

He barks out a laugh at that, stroking your hips again. “I’m not fucking you for the first time on the floor.”

“Then let's go somewhere else,” you nod up towards the stairs.

He shakes his head, that soft smile still playing on his lips. “Not tonight.”

You sit back on your heels again, frowning.

He brushes your hair back, murmuring, “No. But for now, I'll kiss you ‘til you can’t think if that’s what you want.”

You really hope you didn’t perk up at that as much as you think you did.

part two

🌾🌽 i heard a rumor that if you like without reblogging your crops will be cursed but hey what do i know 🌾🌽

[fushitoru]

ranking types of hugs he'd be comfortable with another guy giving his gf! a nanami kento fic / drabble

cw: nanami kento x reader, a little suggestive maybe, established relationship, fluff, nanami is a green flag but he's just a man, light jealousy / posessiveness, crack, based off this (instagram link). gojo ver here

general masterlist

"Ranking types of hugs I'd be comfortable with another guy giving my girlfriend." 

Kento’s not the type to aimlessly scroll on his phone --- he prefers to be in the present, not deplete “his reserves of dopamine” too quickly, but right now he’s bored. You’ve yet to come from work---you’d texted him you were running late, buying some groceries---so Kento’s laid on the couch looking at his phone. Even though he hates using social media and the rabbit holes that result from said use, he answers your reels and TikToks religiously. After all, he values everything you have to say, even though they are a bit silly.

But just before he could respond to the baby fever videos you sent him----he does have to admit, it’s a bit cute---his screen auto scrolls onto the next piece of 30-second content, and with that, he’s hooked, observing the slots of rankings the filter auto generates for the guy on his screen.

For a bit, he multitasks on looking at the video and reading the comments, then frowns at how possessive they seem. 

catcher hug is 1000 bodies 😭😭

No one is hugging my girl

PUT EVERYTHING AT 11 CUH

a/n lmaoo these are real comments on the link above honestly i love when men are pathetic

Surely, it can’t be that bad … right?

Kento prides himself on being an emotionally mature and secure man. It’s not to say he doesn’t have his own flaws, but while it seems the rest of his gender has fallen to the gym bro gurus and alpha male podcast bros, he’s involved himself in constant communication with you and makes sure to educate himself. 

And yet. He doesn’t know he’s going to almost be on the brink of tears as he opens the filter to try it out by himself.

The filter shuffles, presenting the first option: A back hug.

Kento exhales sharply through his nose, eyes narrowing slightly. He doesn’t immediately react, but there’s a flicker of something in his gaze. He ranks it a nine.

Then, the next: A slow dance hug.

His jaw tightens. The thought of you in someone else’s arms, swaying under dim lights, your cheek resting against another man’s chest—it’s enough to make something unpleasant curl in his stomach. Ten.

The filter shuffles again. One-armed hug. He sighs through his nose, rubbing his temple. Three. Acceptable. Barely.

e waits, trying to keep his thoughts level, but when the next option rolls in, his grip on his phone tightens. A slow catcher hug.

His face is blank. He blinks once. Twice.

Then, a deep, audible sigh fills the room as he drags a hand down his face, thumb and forefinger pressing against the bridge of his nose.

The image is unwelcome, vivid—someone else catching you, your legs wrapping around their waist, the ease, the familiarity.

His phone clatters onto his chest, and he stares at the ceiling. The muscles in his jaw are taut, his lips pressed in a firm line. A moment passes. Then another.

And that’s how you find him—lying on the couch, stiff as a board, staring blankly upwards like he’s contemplating the meaning of life itself.

“Sweetheart?” you call, stepping closer. You set down your groceries, taking in his unusually tense form. He doesn’t immediately acknowledge you, just continues his thousand-yard stare.

“What’s wrong?” you press, now more concerned. “Are you feeling sick?”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, still staring at the ceiling. Then, in a voice that’s a little too measured, he finally speaks.

“If another man so much as thinks about catching you in his arms, I’ll break both of them.”

You freeze. Blink.

“… What?”

Finally, he turns his head to look at you, eyes dark and serious, but there’s something almost resigned in his expression—like he knows he’s being ridiculous but can’t bring himself to care. You’re surprised at the turn of events to---it’s unlike him to be so…possessive and droopy. It’s actually really cute---he reminds you uncharacteristically of a wet, droopy dog.

“I don’t like that filter.” His voice is calm, but his fingers twitch slightly where they rest on his stomach. “I don’t like thinking about other men touching you.”

It’s so unlike him—so openly possessive—that you’re momentarily stunned into silence. Then, amusement bubbles up in your chest.

“Did you just get jealous over a TikTok filter?” you tease, stepping closer.

He exhales, slow and long, closing his eyes briefly before muttering, “I was curious. I regret it.”

You bite back a smile, reaching down to brush your fingers against his jaw. He leans into the touch, almost instinctively, before sighing again.

“You’re the only one I want to touch me, Kento.” you reassure, and his lips finally quirk at the edges—barely, but it’s there.

“I know,” he says, voice softer now. “But if I ever see a man standing with his arms open around you…” He exhales one final time, shaking his head before murmuring, “… I can fight.”

You giggle, pressing a kiss to his cheek before moving to put away the groceries, leaving him lying there, still brooding.

As you walk away, you hear him mutter under his breath, just loud enough to catch:

“Slow catcher hug… ridiculous.”

general masterlist

a/n first time writing for nanami kinda nervous :') i have def areas to improve upon but for the meantime pls accept this <3 thank you for the req cutie !! @girlyuuta choso ver is going to come too :3

[buckytakethewheel]

next door secrets

Summary: The walls in the Avengers tower are paper thin. So, one night, when Bucky hears you moan his name through the walls of his bedroom, things take a turn. Pairing: New Avengers!Bucky Barnes x New Avengers!Fem Reader Warnings/tags: smut; masturbation (female & male); dirty talking (mostly bucky, but very light); light swearing dual pining; unbeta'd Word count: 3.8k Notes: this idea came to me randomly yesterday and i just immediately started writing it. not sure if this is a thing people will be into, but i'm very proud of what came out 😂 for future fics, if anyone wants to be tagged, please let me know! ❤️

Tonight, Bucky can't fall asleep. No, not just tonight; it's always particularly hard for him to let himself be embraced by a night of rest, his mind constantly battling its own demons. It's a dark place in there when he closes his eyes.

He scrolls on his phone for a while, but nothing catches his eye enough to earn his full attention. Turns on the TV to watch a stupid action flick, but gets bored ten minutes in. Opens a book and tries to read, but the words melt together.

It's a fight he fights every night. And tonight, it doesn't look like he's about to win it.

When he first hears the sound that is going to keep him up a few more nights in a row, he almost ignores it, because it was probably something else. Anything else. His ears perk up but silence stretches and he figures he imagined it.

Then, he hears it again. Unmistakable, this time, slightly louder.

A moan. Clear as day, on the other side of the wall that meets his bedroom. And Bucky knows immediately who it belongs to. You. When you joined the team, you had been attributed a bedroom of your choice. Everyone had chosen theirs. Bucky though that was stupid because, truthfully, they all looked the same. You had insisted you wanted this one because the window had a good overview of the city. It does, but they all do.

Bucky doesn’t know you picked this bedroom because every morning, when you wake up, you cross paths with him when walking out and you get to see him sleepy, a little grumpy - the most domestic you've ever seen him. You're sunshine and warmth, and you give him a bright ‘good morning’ before walking away.

He doesn’t know that. He doesn’t know you’re staring at him when he’s not looking, the same way he stares at you when you’re not looking.

So, tonight, he hears you moaning and Bucky's heartbeat stutters in his chest. He almost stops breathing, his hearing attuned to try and hear more of what's happening on your side, but there's another pause, another moment of silence, and then -

“Oh, yes, that feels so good.”, he hears you moan. It’s not loud. It's not obscene. It's honestly a bit sweet, even if the words come from a place of desire and pleasure. Your voice sounds like honey coated in sin, and Bucky lets out a breath.

You're with someone. Right now, in this very moment, he's listening to you having sex with someone. Someone, anyone, a body on yours, fingers grabbing and touching and driving themselves inside of you, skin on skin, lips wrapped around your pretty, delicate neck, inhaling your scent. Hearing you moan sounds like heaven on Earth, but knowing it’s for someone else is the personification of hell. Ache sipping through the walls and settling deep in his bones.

Bucky makes a low, quiet noise of disapproval and grabs his pillow, presses it hard over his head in hopes of drowning out the noise. It barely helps. Thankfully, you’re not too loud, and there’s a long period of silence where he doesn’t hear you at all, or only manages to catch a few gasps before you’re quiet again. Whoever is with you doesn’t make any noise, either. Good. There was a low chance Bucky would come out of this alive if he had to hear someone moaning for you.

The silence lasts for a couple of minutes, but then he hears it. More sounds. More moaning. He thinks he picks up on the bedframe hitting the wall once. More- “Right there, please.”, you say, and Bucky has to move the covers away from his body because he feels like he's on fire. You sound so good, the please coming out in the hottest pleading tone. Whoever is touching you knows how to do their job - or you’re good at pretending. And Bucky might be a little selfish, but he would prefer to know you’re feeling genuine pleasure. “Please, don't stop, Bucky.”

In that moment the world may as well have stopped spinning.

Bucky?

No. No, absolutely not. He heard that wrong. No way you said his name- “Bucky, oh my god, I'm gonna cum.”

Fuck.

That was definitely his name. There's no mistake, no other possibility, it couldn’t be any other word or name - and that means you're not having sex with someone else. You're alone, in your bedroom, touching yourself to the thought of him.

For a whole moment, Bucky feels like his entire body has frozen, glued to the bed, muscles stiff. He can't move, can barely grasp for air. What is he supposed to do with this? With the knowledge that you're pleasuring yourself while thinking of him? Does he walk over to your bedroom, knock on your door and consume you? Does he admit to having overhead you? It would be too embarrassing, too real. He thinks you’d hate him for it.

Bucky’s brought back from his spiraling when he hears you moan breathlessly again, a little more desperate, and the pitch of your words and curses makes it obvious that you’re cumming. By the sound of it - hard.

Seconds later, silence. And he doesn’t hear you again for the rest of the night.

The next morning, Bucky comes out of his bedroom at his usual hour, but looking even more tired than usual. Last night, he barely got any sleep. He couldn’t after he heard you like that over the walls, and the sound of his name on your lips repeated itself in his mind over and over again. Maybe he got an hour of two of sleep, at most. It doesn’t feel like he got any at all, though.

He’s closing his door and locking it when he hears another door right next to him, closing. Instantly, he knows. It’s the usual morning routine. The two of you, coming out of your bedrooms at the exact same time every morning.

“Good morning, Bucky!”, he hears your sweet voice, the same usual happy greeting. He swallows hard, unsure if he’s even capable of looking at you, but he makes an effort. When he turns his face you’re standing by the door of your bedroom, dressed in your usual workout clothes, some tight black leggings and a grey tank-top. Words escape him. The sound of you moaning last night is etched into his brain and now, looking at you, he can imagine your head thrown back, eyes half closed, fingers buried deep in your-

“Bucky-?”, you ask softly, and he realizes his thoughts had gained the best of him and he had been standing there, standing at you, frown lines in his face. Clearing his throat, he shakes his head like he’s trying to swat away the things gnawing at him.

“Good morning.”, is all he says, and he doesn’t take long to immediately disappear down the hall. This will be a long day.

**

The day goes by exactly as Bucky expected. Long. Awkward. Mind breaking.

He bumps into you way too many times. Sees you during his training session, across the gym, finds you already in the kitchen by lunch time, gets paired with you during mission debrief. For the most of it, he tries to pretend he’s fine. Nothing’s different, nothing’s changed. He is still is regular old self, grumpy, unbothered, with dry humor and a staring problem. For the most part, he seems like his usual self. Or at least, he thinks so.

He doesn’t know you notice a difference. He’s stiffer than usually is. Makes up an excuse to run when you ask him to train with you. Barely gets a word out during the mission debrief. Something’s off, you smell it on his expression, on how he avoids your gaze all day. He looks even more tired than usual. So, you figure, maybe he just had a particularly bad night. Couldn’t sleep because of the nightmares.

When you return to your bedroom tonight, you’re thinking about him again. Just like last night.

Since you first joined the team, you could never really take your eyes off of Bucky. You picked the bedroom next to his on purpose, just to make sure you would cross paths with him every morning. Sometimes you’d try to align your training hours with his so you could see him in the gym, sweat glistening down his neck and into his shirt. Despite that, you’ve been discreet - either that, or Bucky’s very naive, because he doesn’t seem to notice you watching at all.

You tried hard to ignore it, to lock away the desire burning under your skin, but every day it grew wider. Finally, last night, you gave in to your desires. Touched yourself to the memories of him, the sound of his rough voice, the way he would say your name sometimes to get your attention. And when you came around your fingers, a little loud and ashamed, the thoughts of him didn’t subside. Only grew larger.

Which is why tonight you’re already in bed again, shorts pushed to your knees and fingers sliding under the waistband of your cotton panties.

You bite down on your lip, close your eyes and he’s there immediately. Tonight, there aren’t memories of Bucky - there are fantasies. You imagine his human hand digging into your hip, pulling you close. His mouth is on your neck, kissing, biting, licking.

You circle your clit slowly, a soft gasping slipping past your lips. Your core is warm and wet just with those fantasies, but you drag it out, instead of making it quick. Your free hand cups one of your breasts over your shirt, and your nipple hardens under the cloth. Another gasp and you shift in bed, fingers dragging slowly over your folders, spreading the slick of your arousal.

In your fantasy, Bucky is moaning your name in your ear while his metal hand drags down your body. He slides one finger inside of you - your toes curl, your back arches off the bed and you slid a finger inside, soft and sweet, dragging it in and out with some kind of precision you can imagine Bucky would have, too.

“Bucky.” You gasp his name, a little louder, the imagery of him flooding your brain. “Bucky, you’re so good, you feel so good-” The words slip out of your mouth easily, almost like you can really feel his touch on your skin.

Another finger adds to the first one inside of you, and you moan and gasp and let out small curses under your breath as your fingers move faster inside of you, brushing against all the sweet spots inside of you, curling and bringing you closer to you release. Your stomach coils, muscles tensing against your pillows and you bite hard on your bottom lip, almost to the point of drawing blood - and you imagine him kissing you, raw, unfiltered, his teeth tugging your lip into his mouth as he sucked and licked and bruised.

He’s all around you, the scent of him, the blue eyes, his touch and you drop your hand from your breast to the silk sheets under you, tightening your hold on them as you cum hard around your fingers, hips bucking into your hand, finding your sweet release.

When your breathing goes back to normal and you curl your body under the sheets, you feel satisfied but not sated.

You’d need him for that.

**

Bucky heard you that night.

And the night after.

And the night after, too.

He feels like he’s one breakdown away from requesting a new bedroom, but he doesn’t know how to do that without making it weird. What excuse would he give to move?

Every night, for the past week, he’s heard you on that damn bedroom next to his. Moaning his name, gasping and whimpering sweet nothings, praise and sugar. He loves that you’re not downright dirty. You’ll let slip an occasional curse, a soft fuck under your breath, but for the most part you sound just sweet. And his heart does somersaults in his chest every time you moan his name the way you always do, like he’s the only one for you, like he’s making you feel good in a way no one has ever had. You keep repeating it, too. Like a prayer, like a mantra, as if saying his name would act like a balm on a wound.

And every morning, he has to cross his path with you when leaving his bedroom, another sleepless night, and you’re still looking like you always do. Sunshine and color, smiling brightly at him, saying your ‘good morning’.

He hates it. Hates that he’s too much a coward to confront you about it. Or too much a coward to maybe ask you on a date like he doesn’t know you touch yourself every night, and then take you home and fuck you nice and slow, like he imagines you want him to.

Tonight is just another night of hating himself. Of brooding and staying in bed awake until it’s too late, until he can already hear you in the room next door. He’s stopped trying to drown the noises and now just lets them haunt him, like a wound that refuses to heal properly. And tonight, just like the night before, the moment he hears your first gasp, his cock twitches in his boxers.

You’re probably imagining it right now. His cock hard, demanding, growing against your hips as he kissed you on the bed. And you don’t even know that, on the bedroom next door, Bucky is hard and aching for you. Tonight, he doesn’t resist.

With a sigh, he makes himself comfortable against his pillows, slides his boxers down to his calves before he opens his bedside drawer and grabs a small bottle of lube. His cock rests half- hard against his stomach and Bucky squeezes a few drops of lube along his shaft before he wraps his flesh hand around it, thick and warm.

On the other side of the wall, you moan again, a little more desperate this time. Bucky’s cock throbs in his hold and he gives it two gentle strokes before it’s already fully hard in his hand. He closes his eyes, leans back against the headboard and strokes himself lazily as he waits for another sound on your side of the wall.

He’s waiting, albeit not very patiently, and thoughts of you flood his brain. How your ass will sometimes jiggle when you’re running in the gym with particularly tight pants, your sweet, sweet smile when you see him every morning, how your small body looks so fragile and yet so strong. You’re the most amazing he’s ever met, not just physically - and that somehow turns him on even more.

“Oh, Bucky - your tongue feels so good.”, he hears you say, and he has to bite on his tongue to stop himself from groaning. You’re usually not too descriptive when you’re touching yourself, not from what he’s heard. Bucky never really knows what you’re imagining, but right now you’re talking about his tongue, and the image is quick to slide into his brain. Him, on his knees, spreading your thighs open for you as he eats you out. Slow, gentle, tongue licking long stripes over your folds. He can practically taste you on his tongue, so sweet, and the strokes on his cock grow a little harder, a little faster, with a bit more certainty. He lets out a ragged breath, perks his ears to listen for more. More.

“Please, don’t stop.”, you moan, and Bucky feels like his mind has short-circuited, because he doesn’t stop himself from replying as if he were in the same room.

“I’m not stopping, baby.”, Bucky moans back, hand tight around his cock, stroking him slow and steady. It takes a second to register that he’s said it, and his eyes fly open, hand stopping around the base of his cock, body rigid.

Fuck.

Did you hear that?

You did.

You think you might have one crazy when you hear it. Your imagination is particularly vivid today, and maybe it made up the sound of his voice way too real.

Because there’s no way Bucky actually just responded to you. You’re not being louder than you were the other nights, you know that. And that would mean he could hear you every night.

Damn it. What the hell are you supposed to do now?

There’s no other sound from the other side of the wall. Your fingers are already buried deep inside your wet pussy, curled into a sweet spot, but they’re still right now. You try to listen for noises, but there’s nothing. Just silence. So you decide to probe. Test the waters. Your heart is in your throat, and you’re not even sure if you can get the words out, but you start moving your fingers again, try to use the arousal and pleasure as fuel to your courage.

“Bucky.”, you moan his name, and it’s not as ashamed as you’ve said before. It’s a little more confident, almost like you know he’s listening on the other side. “Tell me I’m your good girl.” A pause. You’re moving your fingers slowly, steadily, in and out of your core, hand already covered in your arousal. He doesn’t say anything, but you push again. “Please. Need to hear you say it.”

And you hear him.

It’s not loud, it’s not very clear, but it’s real and a little broken. Almost a whimper.

“Fuck,” he says, and then he’s groaning your name. It sounds like a fucking dream in his mouth. “You’re my good girl, baby.”

Bucky’s not sure he’s alive right now. Maybe he died and went to heaven, because why would you be begging him to call you his good girl while you pleasured yourself?

God, he obeyed - he obeyed and followed like a lost puppy, mewling at your command. He would say anything to you if it meant hearing those pretty noises that came from your mouth, the way you moaned his name. He calls you his good girl and you’re moaning again, and it’s louder, and he knows you know he’s listening, now. Just like you are listening to him.

Bucky tightens the hold on his cock, his metal arm buried in the sheets and curling his fingers around them like he needs it to ground himself.

“Sweet little thing.”, he says, daring himself to push a little, to break into her fantasy. “You’re so beautiful. Could eat that sweet pussy for hours.”

You let out a broken gasp on the other side of the wall, and Bucky hears it. God, he practically melts when listening to it, and the pace of his hand on his cock quickens. It’s a stupid thing, that you can tear him apart just with those little noises you make. That voice that sounds like heaven but has a hint of recklessness to it. Like the devil on a leash. Well-behaved until you’re free.

“Please.”, you mumble, fingers working inside your pussy, your walls clenching around your fingers. “Wanna feel that tongue buried in me. Taste me. Make me scream your name.” You’re hyper aware of everything, trying not to lose a single sound that comes from Bucky’s bedroom. And you don’t. You don’t lose the way he groans when you say that, and he sounds strangled, like you’re stealing his oxygen.

“Sit on my face, baby.”, he says back, broken. “Fuck, I’ll be buried in that pussy until I can’t breathe.”

That gets a real reaction out of you. A whimper, louder, high, sharp, and you’re gripping the sheets under your body, hips bucking against your hand. Bucky sounds divine, so obscene and you feel wetter than you’ve ever been, white heat clouding your vision even with your eyes closed tight. The familiar tales of your orgasm creep up your body, making your muscles tense and your legs shake, and you can tell that it’s going to hit you hard and fast, like it hasn’t in a while.

“Oh, God, Bucky, I’m gonna-” A moan interrupts your words, breathing ragged, but you need to say it, need him to hear it. “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum so hard for you-”

And Bucky hears it. He’s right there with you, his hand stroking his cock fast as it twitches to the sound of your voice on the bedroom next door. He hasn’t touched himself in a while, and all the pent up pressure, along with the want for you is making him see red.

“Fuck, baby-”, he moans, and then your name falls from his lips once, twice. “Cum for me. I wanna hear you, please.”

It doesn’t take much longer for you to let out a whimper as your fingers buried deep in your drenched pussy make you cum hard, your body arching off the bed and legs convulsing, shaking, trapping your hand inside of you for a long time as you ride your release. And through the haze of your orgasm, you hear Bucky letting out a strained ‘fuck’ and then a ‘oh, baby, gonna cum so hard too-’ and then a groan.

Bucky’s hand stills on his cock as stripes of hot, thick cum paint his stomach and then he strokes himself lazily a couple more times before his body goes limp and he simply lays there, staring at the ceiling.

For a few moments, there’s only silence.

Then, an unmistakable giggle. Soft. Tender. Bucky feels like is heart is being ripped out of his chest. Why are you laughing?

He’s interrupted by his phone ringing, and he makes a disapproving noise before he grabs it from the nightstand and sees your name flashing on the screen. He swallows hard, then picks up, tentative.

“…Hey.”, he says, and on the other side, he can hear that giggle even clearer now.

“Hi, Buck.”, you answer, still chuckling softly. “Having a good night?”

He makes another grumpy noise. “Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not!”, you say, and he can practically imagine you raising your hands up in defense. “I’m serious. Did you have fun?”

Well, fuck. What is he supposed to answer that?

“… yes.”, he answers, after a pause. “Did you?”

“Do you wanna come over?”, you say, way too quickly. It’s not answer to his question, you know that. It’s something more. An extended hand. “I think I would rather start having the real you, instead of fantasies.”

Bucky doesn’t believe what he’s hearing. He almost begs you to say it again, just to confirm he heard it right. But he’s already getting up, tugging his boxers up and putting on his sweatpants.

“On my way.”, he finally answers. “Be there in 30… seconds.”

The phone call ends with another one of your chuckles. He hears it through the phone, through the walls.

And the next time he hears it, he’s standing face to face with you, before his lips finally find yours.

[spearofheaven]

⋆˚࿔ BEHIND CLOSED DOORS — office worker! nanami kento

SUM. when your husband’s secretary acts just a little too friendly around him

CONTAINS. 18+ content, MDNI. 1.1k+ words. x fem reader. semi-public sex. exhibitionism. cunnilingus. fingering. use of pet names.

"you need an appointment to see mr. nanami."

the receptionist spoke in a bored tone, barely looking up from her computer to give you a once-over. all the while she rolled her eyes and obnoxiously smacked her gum, like you were the one wasting her time.

but before you even had the chance to answer, the office door creaked open. "and i thought i mentioned that she could come in without needing one," nanami spoke up, appearing beside her desk.

the receptionist straightened up and busied herself with 'stacking' a couple papers on her desk. fluttering her lashes when she did look up at him, leaning forward just the slightest bit. "sorry, sir. you've just been soo busy and you did mention you didn't want anyone to bother you."

you honestly couldn't blame her, though. not when your husband had walked out of his office without his suit jacket on—the sleeves of his blue button down pushed up and showing off his watch. and well, the most important thing, his wedding ring. which she was blatantly trying to disregard.

"i'm aware. but you should know that doesn't apply to my wife, she's welcome to enter whenever she pleases," you could practically see her jaw clench as soon as he called you his wife, "please don't have me repeat myself. again."

"yes, sir. it won't happen again."

what she'd promised last time.

you stepped foot into the office, ceiling to floor windows decorating the space behind his desk. your heels clacked against the pristine floors, walking over to one of the wooden chairs.

"i brought you some lunch. saw that you forgot your bento at home and i wasn't sure if you brought any money to buy lunch," you spoke up, giving him a soft smile as you offered him the bento.

"thank you," he took the bento from you, setting aside, "but i think i'd like to have something different for lunch," kento cleared the space in front of him, patting on the wooden desk. a silent invitation. the skirt you had on rose up when you took a seat. the perfect offering if you'd ask nanami.

calloused hands ran down your legs, gently spreading them open. taking his time despite the thirty minute time constraint. "i'm sorry about her, by the way," nanami spoke up in a whisper, his lips pressing against your calf. "i don't know how much more obvious i need to be about being happily married."

his lips were reverent as he kissed up your leg, one of his hands holding the other in place. "like i'd ever want anyone but you, my love," he murmured, more so to himself, gently nibbling on your inner thigh. where only he'd be able to see them after. your legs spread apart almost instinctively, giving nanami the perfect view of the lace panties he adored so much.

and as much as he loved seeing you in them, the sight of you without them was much better. kento hooked one finger around the waistband, slowly removing them. sliding them inch by inch down your legs. "you didn't think we should hurry up, mr. nanami?" you questioned teasingly, pushing his hair back to take a look at his face.

"and why would we do that, mrs. nanami? i want to enjoy our time here," he pulled the underwear off, letting it fall to the floor. "well, you know you're sooo busy," you drawled, twirling a hair strand in between your fingers. he let out a small scoff, gently nipping at your leg in retaliation.

"never busy enough for you, you know that," kento’s voice came out muffled, licking a stripe up your cunt. he swirled his tongue around your clit before moving down, running the tip of his tongue down your folds. "never?" you mused, looking down at nanami. he wasn't paying that much attention to you anymore—rather, just your pussy.

"never," he muttered offhandedly, pushing a finger inside of you. your heels dug into his shoulder blades, your back arched when kento curled his fingers to hit your g-spot. and while it'd hurt at first—it was a pain that nanami was more than welcome to receive if it meant getting to lose himself in you.

your nails—paid for by yours truly—tugged on his hair, pulling him closer to your dripping cunt. kento clicked his tongue, looking up at you, "come on, use your words. tell me what you want and i'll give it to you."

"more, please," you responded almost immediately, your grip on his hair loosening up. just a bit. he replaced his tongue with two fingers, slowly getting past that initial resistance before pushing them in and out of you.

even with his glasses fogging up with every heavy breath that he took and your slick covering his mouth and chin, nanami continued to push his fingers inside of you. coaxing out all the pretty little noises you were making. "you can be a little louder, no? just a little bit, sweetheart," nanami curled his fingers, drawing out a whine from your lips.

you dripped onto his digits with each thrust, the golden wedding band on his finger glistening against the office lights. "k-ken, don't stop," your nails dug deeper into his hair, messing up the time he took fixing it this morning. you weren't even sure what was louder anymore—the squelching in between your legs or your moans.

your thighs clamped tightly around his head, holding him in place. "open them, darling. you can take it, you even asked me for more," kento felt the way your legs trembled—the way you were almost hesitant to open your legs again. you were close. "too much, too much," your moan had come out louder this time—loud enough to bleed through the walls.

not that it mattered.

you felt that familiar pressure build up in your lower tummy, your legs threatening to close again all the while your toes curled against the leather heels. too much, you'd said, and you still found yourself needing even more. "cum for me sweetheart, you can take it. take what's yours," his words served as a final push, your orgasm washing over you like a wave.

nanami pulled his dripping fingers out from your cunt and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping them off. effortlessly, he wiped away the spit and slick dribbling down his chin before carelessly tossing the handkerchief to the side. like it was nothing more than just a bother.

your chest heaved as you leaned back against the desk, watching your husband stand up from his spot. a wet patch adorned the front of his khaki pants, his cock practically twitching against the confines of his boxers. "i think i'll just skip ahead to the main course."

needless to say, you didn't have any more trouble coming into nanami's office after that <3

[lilianne-tarot]

PICK A CARD: Your Future Spouse’s First Impression of You? ✮⋆˙

I. II. III.

Hey there! Welcome to my first pick-a-card reading on this blog page, I hope you all enjoy it! If I make any mistakes, please bear with me. Comment down what you felt about the reading and if it resonated with you and show some love, Your support means everything to me!<3

How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images below. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you, go ahead and read both!

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⊹₊⟡ Pile I

Cards pulled: the world, page of cups, ace of wands, 8 of pentacles, hanged man, justice, 4 of wands, oracle cards

Okay babe, like instantly I’m getting this vibe that you are in a field like marketing, finance, or something that really involves talking and writing. your job includes practical work, being clever AF, and not being emotional at all. You are into a field which makes you fulfilled (at least finacially or in you day to day life), and let me tell you… Your future partner is SO INTO IT. Like deadass, your practicality pulls them in like a moth to a flame. And listen!! It’s not that you don’t have emotions, pfft no. In fact, you’re such a sweet romantic, devoted lil baby when you actually care 💗. But the thing is, you only show it to people who deserve it. You’re not the type of person who is trying to prove how “good” you are to everyone. Period. You’re selective, you’re not out here giving everyone your full mushy marshmallow side of you. And honestly that makes People think you’re this emotionally cold, witty, maybe even selfish or boring. Some people see you as someone who can literally manipulate them buying something they didn’t even want 😂. Your words are your Lethal weapons, best thing you have. Your presence is so soft yet Strong AF. 

Now, coming to how your person will perceive you. WELL. when they meet you, they’re gonna be like “This is the one for me. Period. End of discussion”. For some of you i feel like you’ll are not into love and relationships as much as they are by the time yall meet so when they shower you with their love and start love bombing you you’e gonna feel attacked in some way🤣 you’ll be like, “goshhh leave me alone” and they are like, “NOOO MARRYYY ME PLEASEEE” 😭😭 ISTG THIS PILE STARTED SOO CONFUSING AND TOOK SUCH A TURN LOL. 

OKAY so this is a specific message I’m getting. Some of you went through betrayal in life in terms of love and have been quite unlucky in love so yall wouldn’t believe in love or someone who would make you their priority. This is so painful istg. to them your love is a gift of the divine. You’re someone they can risk it all. So this whole thing about you, they’ll sense immediately, without you even saying it, that you’ve been hurt. They’ll feel your silent belief that love might not be “your thing” anymore. Maybe you’ve even sworn off marriage? ouch 😭.

But your person don’t wanna change your mind with their huge declarations of love. No no. They’re more like, “Okay, you think love is a waste of time? Then waste it on me ” That message LITERALLY hit me, and i think i heard it in a song but it fits here perfectly. They’re all like: I am willing. I am hearing. I am risking. I see you. They don’t just like you, they want to settle down with you. (them considering doing this even though they are mostly going to be like someone who believes in short-term flings and one-night stands, DUDEEE this is crazyyyy)  they would be ready to do the most insane thing just to be with you. they are ready to DO ANYTHING. Like they would even agree to change countries, OVERNIGHT, if you give them a chance to be with you. 

They would see you as a baby😭 not literally. I know this sounds so weird and awkward 🤡 but actually what i mean here is they would adore you like a baby. Nurture you and treat you like your heart is the most fragile thing to them.  They wanna be your shield, your literal security blanket. Someone who you would choose to rely on and trust. That’s their ultimate life goal at this point ✋🏻 They can see past the workaholic, composed outer shell straight to your soft, squishy inner child who needs healing and it’s high time to do it. And they’re like “lemme protect this one.”

But OHMYGOD this person wants to rush. Like it’s so funny. Iif yall have seen those vidoes of “hyper active gf/bf X chil gf/bf” I’ve been seeing that image since the beginning of this message. AHHHH I JUST THOUGHT OF SOMETHING. So among birds, the male bird is more gorgeous than female birds and they use their beauty to charm their female lover, I’m seeing a peacock here, like the female is just standing there🧍🏻‍♀️ and the male peacock is giving his best performance, which is just so hilarioussssss😭😭😭. So this is going to be the scene with yall as well.  They’re ready to lock it down. And You’re like “umm excuse me, I’m just now believing in love again” And yet, they’re already planning the venue and picturing the honeymoon. And hey, maybe even the physical stuff, they want closeness FAST. But not in a creepy way, they’re just excited to nurture you. MARRY YOU, even. Like… who does that anymore?!? 🥹

They give off BIG masculine energy, regardless of gender. Like… protective, active, pure-hearted, sunshine-in-human-form kind of vibes. i think you'll spent your life protecting and nurturing others so now your person is going to do all of that for you. This person is gonna light your whole life up. The Four of Wands says: “Happy endings only, baby.” Sooo yes, your life’s been all logical and methodical lately, but they’re here to remind you that JOY still exists, and you deserve it. ✨

Alsoooo, this person will be OBSESSED with you and we know that by now. but they are gonna respect you so much as well. Maybe even be intimidated and stunned by your emotional strength. Like they’ll see you as someone above them. The moment they meet you, it’s like “oh dang, I gotta step my game up to win them.” Which is HOT. They see you as an opportunity. The blessing. The “I can’t lose this or I’ll regret it for life” kinda vibe. You’ll make them realise what matters, no more wasting time with flaky BS ❤️

For some of y’all, your partner might’ve been a little wild before, like fucking around and doing whatever i want vibes. But after meeting you? BABY they’ll go through a whole mental transformation You’re more stable by the time they meet you, and they’re gonna learn so much from you, especially emotionally and spiritually. Maybe you’ll be going through a time of spiritual healing when you meet them, prolly because of the heartbreak we talked about earlier. Because some of y’all are interested in spirituality, art, literature, all the mystical and deep stuff. You’re that empathic, emotionally intelligent angel who helps them feel things properly for the first time. And that’s the reason they'll be losing their sht.

They’ll mirror you. Like literally pick up your habits, try your hobbies, and follow your routines because they just wanna be in your world. And this is NOT a time-waster. Nuh-uh. This person is action-oriented. They see something? They go for it. They like someone ( YOU)? They say it. No games, no hesitation. It’s giving: “my boy saw the girl, and he WENT FOR HER” 

They’re gonna LOVE being around you. Worship your presence. Be obsessed with your voice especially. Also… this is gonna sound wild but THEY MIGHT SEE YOU AS A BABY COW  (but like the cute, innocent one okay!!). Especially if you’re younger or just have this sweet soft vibe, they’re gonna be like “must protect this smol bean.” 🥹

And if your last relationship made you be the parent all the time?? Like the mature one always giving and fixing? BLESS. THIS. NEW. RELATIONSHIP. Your persona is gonna heal that. They’re the protector now. They’re the one initiating, solving conflicts, planning a dang future with you. It’s not just love, it’s “LET’S GET MARRIED” level .

This person is LOUD. Like socially, energetically, “life of the party” loud. And you? You’re chillin’, vibing, admiring them from the corner, “that’s my person.” It’s giving introvert + extrovert harmony. Yin and Yang. Opposites that complete each other.

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⊹₊⟡ Pile II

Cards pulled: Knight of cups, Knight of wands, the Sun, queen of swords, queen of cups, page of Pentacles, the Chariot and Oracle cards.

AHH MY FAVOURITE PILE. SEXYYYY LMAO

TO desribe your person's impression of you in few words: forbidded. irristible. tempting.

instantly when your person first meet you or have a proper conversation with you, they're gonna be like, "hey baby i think i wanna marry you" 🫡 (IYKYK) but the challenge they're gonna face is going to shake their ground 🤣

Your person is kinda like a bee. A WHOLE BEE. Just like a bee who wanders from one flower to another, and they believe there are many to taste and many to explore in this whole garden but they are so wrong with this mindset of theirs lol. Because the moment they meet you they’re gonna slapped with the reality check which will shatter this mindset😭😭

 I feel like you'll are someone who puts a strong emphasis on material things and how you look and how the materialistic aspects of life and your social standing, career, and everything around that theme. You're ambitious towards your dream and goals, and you really value your social standing and everything related to the Venusian theme. And there is nothing wrong about that. you value your reputation immensely, this is something your person is going to notice as the first thing in you. To your fs you seem like someone who doesn't need anyone to complete you, to validate you, and that kind of intimidates your person initially, cuz they picks up on that instantly. that kind of want them to chase you HARDER because to them it seems you don't need them and they are not used to having run behind someone everrrrr. I think they had a fair share of suitors and people crushing on them, so they got whoever they wanted, but this time the script was flipped so they just can’t keep it lowkey anymore😂. And suddenly, they want to impress you (good luck with it mr/ms future spouse) . I think for a lot of you this person is going to be a younger person. But there is definitely going to be age gap of some sort. If not literally then surely on a maturity/ emotional level. 

I’m also seeing that some of yall might be into healing job or something where you have to talk to people. You might be in a healing job like therapy, medicine, consulting, or something along these lines or maybe you’re just that one friend in your friend group whom everyone trauma dumps to cuz they know you would listen to them with no judegement and offer them the best adives. Either way, your person sees this soft, trustworthy energy in you right away. You just feel safe to them. Solid. Like you’ve got your priorities together, even if you’re still figuring things out (no judgment, same). There’s a huge chance you’ll meet this person through work or something career-related. Could be your first job, your current field, or even on a random trip that’s kind of job-related. When they meet you, it weirdly reminds them of something from their past, something emotional or meaningful, and it hits them. Like, you just click with a part of them they forgot was still there. 

COMING TO THEM, Your future spouse is such a softie🫠. They seem quite charming, gentle and caring in nature. They are also super romantic when they actually let themselves show it. This person is one of the affectionate towards you and they are willing to commit towards you. They genuinely respect you a lot. Like, they see you as the full package. But here’s the thing about them, they kind of don’t think they’re the full package YET. They look at you and feel like they’re not on your level yet. Like they need to upgrade themselves and work on themselves a lot before even thinking about asking you out. They want to, they really do, but your strong energy throws them off just enough to make them second-guess themselves.  Still, they’re not backing off (GOOD JOB). one thing is for sure, They’ll be super into you from the get go, like instant butterflies. You might notice they get a little nervous or try too hard to play it cool, but underneath that, they’re basically like “how do I win this person over?????????.”

you come across as strong and soft, which is kind of your superpower. You speak your mind, but in the most graceful, non-aggressive way that still leaves people like “damn, okay.” That’s what gets them.

this might be someone who’s already in your extended circle. Could be a friend, mutual, someone from a family connection, or maybe they pop up at a gathering where there’s already some shared comfort. It’s not giving stranger vibe, it’s giving “Hey, why do you feel kinda familiar?” There’s this cozy vibe with them, like you’ve known them in some alternate reality. It could also be a past life connection.

Also, you're gonna find them super soft whn you actually get to know them on a deeper level. Like innocent-in-a-cute-way soft. They’re still figuring life out, but not in a mess, they’re just young-soul energy. And ou're the wise owl here. You’ll feel it. You’ve seen things, learned things, set boundaries, and now you’re in your “I don’t have time for nonsense” era. You’re fiercely protective of your independence, your peace, and your standards. Not bitter, not jaded, just self-respecting. You’re loyal, loving, and lowkey hilarious, and once people get past your gate, they’re in for life. That nurturing, “mom friend but make it glamorous” energy you radiate, that’s what pulls them in like gravity. You’re elegant and put-together in public too, like someone who always knows which fork to use and still makes it look casual.

Now your person is very into their goals. Like, this is the kind of person who has a whole plan of what they are going to do with their carrer. It could also be that they have some family business of some sort so their carrer path is already planned. They care a lot about career, money, education, and just...winning at life. And somehow, your connection will tie into that part of their world. Not saying it’s gonna be all business and work, but your presence shifts their focus. You spark something in them that makes them want more than just success on paper. You make them want real connection too. WITH YOU. they might act all chill and emotionally composed on the outside, but inside  they are just a fragile little baby 🫠They don’t always know how to handle all those emotions, though, so you might see them try to play it cool while they're internally spiraling like, “Why am I obsessed???”

They’re ambitious, yes, but emotionally not so skilled yet lol😭. You’re showing up as the wise one in this connection, and they’re the student. There’s a clear maturity difference here, but it’s not a dealbreaker. If anything, it’s adorable ( i’m lovinggg this😭). You’ve both got earthy energy, you vibe with the small joys of life. You’re the sunshine in the relationship, and they’re the knight/ the chariot protecting that light like, “Nobody mess with this, or you’ll answer to me.”

ALSOOO, They’re loyal AF, so you never have to stress about trust. Might be a little bit of a dreamer, definitely pretty (like, actually pretty), and they see the world with these rose-tinted glasses that make everything feel magical. They’re gonna look at you like you’re their personal dream ocme true. CUTEEEEEEE😭 Now, full honesty, they might not have been the most serious about love before. Kinda more “flings, sex and timepass” than “relationship goals.” But You're the exception. You're the one who flips the whole script for them. And they love it.

BESTIE THIS PERSON IS SOO UNPREDICTIBLE😭😭. Reading about them is like solving a confusing case. Something new is popping up every moment, once they are just fuck around energy, suddenly they are also career focused, then they are also emotionally deep and cute??!?!?! Like they are making me question myself😭😭

Like In their career and goals? Super focused. All about logic, hustle, planning. But in their personal life? Total softie. Cuddly, romantic, shy, and a little emotionally-driven puppy. Their heart leads in relationships, not their head. Which is funny, because it’s the opposite of how they act professionally. They’re not emotionally unstable or immature. they’re secure, they’re not gonna have you babysitting their feelings. It's a green flag there. Also, you two? Total “we feed the street cats and cry at sunsets” energy. You both adore the little joys like kids, animals, flowers, summers, random beautiful things, and they’ll totally join in on appreciating it all with you. If you say, “Look how cute this snail is,” they’re right there like, “OMG he has a little home 🥺.” songs cringe but with your fav person nothing remains cringe TRUST ME. 

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⊹₊⟡ Pile III

Cards pulled: 9 of wands, 2 of swords, the world, king of pentacles, 4 of swords, 7 of pentacles, king of wands, death and oracle cards.

Before diving into the reading, i'll have to say that this pile has the strongest and heaviest energies. I had to pause multiple times while doing this, and thus I will keep every message real with y'all as well to keep the real essence of the reading intact.

At first glance, you might look like someone who keeps everything to themselves, someone who’s always protecting themselves, guarding themselves, and has locked themselves inside a cage they made on their own. Maybe even someone who gets into conflicts here and there if someone tries to climb that wall. 

In your life, you might have faced a really painful betrayal, where you believed in something or someone with your whole heart. Maybe it was a dream, a person, a career, a degree, a friend, or anything you truly trusted, and it didn’t work out. It broke your heart deeply. After that, you started protecting yourself. Your person will witness this entire journey, they will see you going through all of this. They will understand the depth of your pain. Maybe the signs were always there, maybe it was obvious that things weren’t going to work out, but you still believed. And now, you might even feel like a fool for believing in it.

You might think, "I didn’t even try to understand the truth when it was right in front of me." This thing likely happened to you when you were very young, which made the pain even harder. And that’s okay. You were young and vulnerable. But somehow, this pain you went through , it’s also going to hurt your person deeply. Like, they’ll feel that pain in their heart too. There’s a really strong water sign energy here, I feel it clearly. Maybe it's Cancer, Pisces, Scorpio, or even strong water planets in you or their charts. Some of you might have these zodiac signs, or maybe you just love being around water, because while doing this reading, I keep getting images of water. I can feel this water energy very strongly. Maybe your person is a water sign. Anything is possible.

Your person is going to help you go through this pain and heal from it. They will help you slowly open up again, break down those walls, and rebuild your spark. They want you to spread your wings again. They’ll help you gently dust yourself off, slowly but softly, and break out of those walls you built around yourself. They’ll help you come back to life. Once again, this is not a first impression because this person has known you for a long time. Even before officially meeting, I feel like they will already know about you in some way. So the whole idea of a first impression doesn’t apply here.

This is like the first pile I read, I don’t see this as just a first impression, but as a full journey. But when your person sees you, they’ll think you are someone with deep empathy and softness in your nature.

Okay, I’m seriously getting emotional now. I’m not joking. A sentence just came to me so suddenly, and it hit me hard:

"It’s not your job to heal everyone." "It’s not your responsibility to take care of everyone’s emotions." You are only responsible for yourself love. Spread your wings high and just fly, because that’s what you deserve.

This is exactly how your person sees you. This is what they want for you. They want you to see yourself the way they see you, strong, worthy, and free. I can’t even explain how much this sentence affected me while writing. I had to stop for five minutes. That’s how powerful it was. It felt like the most beautiful message ever.

You’ll meet this person during a really low phase in your life, when everything feels confusing, and you’re struggling to make decisions. You’re stuck in a very critical moment. You’ll feel frustrated, lost, like nothing makes sense. And even your person will be feeling something similar in their own life. They’ll feel like they’re trapped too, like someone has put them at gunpoint and they’re being forced to just look at what’s convenient or beneficial to others. You’ll meet your person at a low phase in your life, when everything is confusing, when nothing makes sense, when decision-making feels impossible, and you feel like you’re stuck in a really critical situation. You’ll feel exhausted, stressed. And honestly, your person, they’ll also be in a similar phase. Maybe even worse. They’ll also feel like they’re completely stuck in their own life. Like they’re being held at gunpoint and people around them are being selfish. While you, on the other hand, won’t even understand what’s going on or what exactly you’re doing anymore. So love at first sight or basically falling in love os a theme youll both explore at the MUCHHH later stage of your journey together. 

Meanwhile, you're trying to figure out what you're doing with your life, and you can’t seem to understand anything clearly.

When yall meet or get to know each other, you might have been in a situation where your person could clearly see that you were going through a very intense phase in life. Maybe they were even a part of that journey, the journey where you had to face multiple moments of confusion and indecision. There were moment where you had multiple breakdowns and even times of self doubt and insecurity. And they’ve seen you go through all of that. So I feel like this person had already become a part of your life long ago, at a very early stage of your life because i don’t see any theme of first impression here. It’s more about how they actually see you. you'll only realize it much later, maybe very late in life,  how they’ve been ap art of your journey for so long, because you were so caught up and occupied with other areas of your life that you didn’t even notice this happening. You were so busy guarding yourself and protecting yourself that this wasn't even something that bothered you at all. 

A specific message i am getting is you’ll begin to know this person when you are going through an important phase of your life, a transformative one, and something that is testing you. Like an important exam in your life, your job hunting time? Or just anything along these lines which needs patience and resilience and trusting in oneself. 

This person is the kind of person who, more than themselves they wants YOU to succeed in life. This person will genuinely want you to succeed a lot in your life, move far ahead, and do great things. And they will notice how you hold yourself back from your true self, how you keep yourself controlled. They will see all of this and will want you to let go of this state of yours. They would wish you would stop holding yourself back and doubting yourself, and just spread your wings wide and high and explore every colours of life. 

AHHHH. this is crazyyyyy. SO Right after I told you to spread your wings, I pulled an oracle card I got a message from that oracle Card, and it showed me the image of the Phoenix. Phoenix is a bird that holds powerful fire energy. In the image, it’s shown spreading its wings wide and high. I seriously got goosebumps seeing ths. That card instatly gave me a very clear message from the universe, it confirmed what I had just told you. It showed me how much this person wants you to grow emotionally. They want you to break out of your comfort zone, spread your wings, and live your life fully. They want you to experience everything in this world.😭😭

I can strongly feel that this person would go all the way to make sacrifices for you. This is definitely a love where your person won’t mind sacrificing anything for your sake, if it means your happiness. GOSHHHH I CANT- 

This love is very real and grounded. It’s the kind of love where the person will go through ANYY pain just for you. They feel your pain like it’s their own. Maybe something happened in your past that made you become so guarded and protected, and this person wants you to feel your inner strength again. They want you to know that no dream or desire is more powerful than you. If you truly want to grow, nothing can stop you. This person carries very steady emotional energy, they are emotionally mature and stable. This isn’t someone who will bring unnecessary drama into your life over small things so you can be relaxed about that. One thing i noticed is how this person is SOOO similar to the the male lead of the kdrama when life gives you tangerines, how he dedicated his entire life for his wind especially him saying things like, “i can’t live without her” LORD.

This person will bring a lot of transformation into your life. The last card I pulled for you was the Death card, and that’s not negative here. It actually shows how this person is going to completely flip your life around and change everything for the better. As I’m doing this reading, I feel intense emotions. My energy feels drained, and my heart is pounding, i’m not eve kidding. I had to pause this reading multiple times cause the overload of emotions i felt were overwhelming at some point lol but im glad this tured out so beautifully ultimately HAHA. That tells me this is how strongly this person will feel about you, this is how deeply they will experience knowing you.

Again, this reading isn’t about a "first impression" because this is a long story. You both have known each other for a long time, longer than even words can explain. maybe even beyond this lifetimes. You complete each other, like puzzle pieces that perfectly fit together. So, in your case, there’s no such thing as a "first impression"   because your connection is very divine and complicated in a beautiful way.

You’re someone this person is truly ready to invest time, energy, and commitment into. They are ready to build something stable with you. They want to grow with you. As much as they want to live their own life, they also want to make you feel safe, happy, and secure. You both might even have a Twin Flame connection. Twin Flames often go through similar kinds of life events, and I think you both will experience that too. Maybe I’m wrong, but I feel like you two will have similar life stories or meet through a shared path. For example, maybe you're in the same college, doing the same course, or working in the same place,  there's a similarity here. Maybe through a same fandom of spiritual path. Your emotions will be very dependent on each other, even at a subconscious level.

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˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

[monstersholygrail]

Something New

A Free Use City Universe Fic

Deer Hybrid x fem!reader— drugs, sex toys, sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, aphrodisiac potion, fingering, aftercare

You had found yourself into quite the sticky situation. Having sex with your sexual drug dealer was possibly a new all time low for you. You would’ve said you have officially hit rock bottom but knowing you… there was probably a bit more to fall.

Living in Free Use City has been the dream you always thought it was going to be. No, in fact, it was even better. The sex was endless and you’ve never felt more desired and needed in your entire life.

But the problem with having constant sex is just that. You’re having constant sex and it can get… boring. You were bored with normal sex. You did it everywhere you could. In front of others, with others, watching others, and you did every little dirty and depraved thing you could think of. You tried the roughest of toys and the riskiest most mind blowing positions.

No matter what you did you couldn’t stop the creeping sensation of boredom from clawing its way through your body like a tentacle monster sliding their entire length inside you till they made you their human sex kebab. Literally.

You needed more but you didn’t have a clue what. Even the regular drugs at the clubs you frequent were beginning to bore you. The high always the same, the impact on sex hitting you in the exact same way.

Now tonight you find yourself back into your usual habit. Drink, dance, take drugs, and find someone to fuck. Tonight your club of choice is a favorite of yours, The Hunter’s Harvest, the most popular night club in Free Use City.

The world around you is a blur as you go through the motions. Somehow finding yourself riding an admittedly sexy ass Orc in the back of the club. When suddenly a familiar Naga comes slithering up to you two. Out of all the drug dealers that supply to the club his venom had to be the best. But tonight it just wasn’t working for you.

“How’s that venom treating you, pretty?” He hisses in your ear, reaching out tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. While completely ignoring the Orc beneath you. Honestly you were too.

All you have to do is purse your lips and give a drunken shake of your heads and the Naga understands all. A wicked gleam passes over his expression but he’s leaning back in before you can pick up on it. Not that you would in your current state anyway.

“Want something new? Something stronger,” he rasps into your ear again, causing sparks to zap down your spine.

And that’s how you found yourself in some strange back room of the club having no idea where you really are. You see dancers, waitresses, and monsters in dark scary looking suits pass by the room but no one spares a glance at you as you both lay down on the couch.

In exchange for a new drug they were testing out, a drug to enhance the sexual experience, you were to try it out with him before anyone. Said he wanted to be your first because he can swear you’ve never been fucked like this before. Yeah, you’ll just have to see about that. The challenge in his tone was more the reason why you agreed to this than the actual drug. But hey, if it finally brought some thrill back to sex, you’d take it.

Naga Drug Dealer settles between your hips and you can feel the hard bulges of his cocks rest hotly against you. It was a comforting sensation but nothing new. No, what was really new was the pretty orange vial he slips out of his pocket as he shakes off his clothing. You stare at it in awe, lips already parted, and head tilted back. Wanting so badly to experience something new.

“Enough!” A loud voice booms, breaking the tension like they took a hammer to glass.

You and the Naga jump a part, a bit of the vial splashing out and landing right in your mouth. Though his focus isn’t on you when you see his eyes go wide in terror. The man literally starts shaking before you. And that’s when your eyes catch onto the shadows of the wall behind him. A tall figure stands behind you with two long twisting horns.

It’s him. The Demon Drug Lord of Free Use City.

“S-sir, I’m- I can explain, you see. This is all just a big misunderstanding,” the Naga stammers over his words, sweating bullets.

Drug Lord Deer Hybrid storms into the room, ignoring the Naga’s stuttering words. You feel his touch before you see him as he pinches your chin and with one swift jerk of his hand brings your gaze to his. Your eyes widen as instead of a demon before you it’s a Deer Hybrid. His simmering grey eyes searing into you.

“Tell me, sweetheart, did you drink any of the vial?” His smooth deep voice seeps into ears and courses through your bloodstream, making you shiver into his touch.

All you can do is nod dumbly, caught like a deer in the headlights, too busy getting lost in his eyes. He curses under his breath, his grip tightening ever so slightly.

“Tsk— stupid girl. Come with me,” he orders, giving no room for argument.

And he doesn’t give you room to even consider arguing as before you can even stand he’s picking up your curvy frame with an insane amount of ease. Your lips part, wanting to protest. You’re totally able to walk on your own. But… he’s also so warm. Very comfortable. Something about him feeling strangely safe despite his dangerous aura and the reputation that proves it true.

Without so much as a word to your drug dealer, Drug Lord Deer Hybrid whisks you out of that room and down the darkened hall. You can’t see much of anything in front of you, left completely at this man’s mercy. And you don’t think he has that much. At least not normally.

The weight of your body begins to tip forward and you get the strange feeling he’s walking up stairs. You quickly steady yourself, placing your hands on his back. Not even trying to fight him off. You know who he is, you’re not stupid enough to do that.

But suddenly as he reaches the top, a wave of heat begins to wash over you. The world seems to slow down and grow hazy, everything in your vision blurring. You can faintly see he’s brought you into a lowly lit office— his office, you assume.

With all the gentleness of a falling feather, he carefully places you down on another couch. This one most softer and you assume a lot cleaner too. His thumb brushes along your jaw and a trail of fire is left in its wake. He tilts your head back, forcing your glazed eyes to fall on him.

“How much got in this mouth, baby?” He murmurs low, voice sounding like slow sex on nice Sunday morning.

Light tingles ignite throughout your face as he swipes a finger across your bottom lip. Effectively sucking out all the air from your lungs. You fight off a shiver, trying to preserve a little of your dignity.

“Just a few drops.”

He closes his eyes, the muscle in his jaw twitching. When they open back up they’re about several shades darker, a conflicting storm of emotions passing through them.

“You’re about to get really hot, sweetheart. But it’ll be ok. You’re gonna need to cum. A lot. And I’ll be close by to help you through it,” he murmurs, his voice almost a whisper. If only he knew how much hotter that just made you. But you’d refuse to admit it to him.

With a heavy sigh he pushes up off the couch, his tall and imposing form towering over you. For a second you expect him to pop open his belt and let you go to town on him. But then he’s turning his back to you to open a nearby closet, bringing back with him a box of toys.

“Here, these will help you get through the worst of the heat. It’s better to start sooner rather than later. And even when you cum, just keep going. Don’t let the heat build too much or you won’t be able to move.” His eyes never once leave yours as he speaks, his tone demanding obedience. He then slaps a suction cup dildo on the ground and you practically cum in your already soaked panties.

Everything about him has you caught up in a trance. All you can focus on is him and the raging heat building up from your core that grows stronger the longer you focus on him. But his words manage to register in your mind soon enough that you’re still able to speak.

“But I want you,” you reply stubbornly, a scowl decorating your face.

He raises a brow at you and merely holds out a vibrator for you to take. When you don’t, crossing your arms instead, his face drops. His eyes flicker over your frame in assessment and it has your belly clenching with desire and need. You can barely read a thing on his face but when he crouches down in front of the toys you dare to have hope.

“I’ll stay, okay? But I won’t touch you. That will have to be enough,” he responds, though both of you know it won’t be.

But still, you’ll take what you can get. Your body is so hot you almost wanna crawl out of your skin for some relief. Though shedding your clothes does help. You don’t even have the mind to be shy or embarrassed, needing to cum so bad. There was no room for that here.

Your pussy was dripping down your thighs, you didn’t even need to be prepped. You see his back straighten, eyes intent on your glistening folds. If you weren’t so desperate you’d have put on a little show for him, anything to get him inside you. And as you sink down on the thick dildo you imagine it’s actually his cock and you immediately moan in pleasure. The toy filling you up so perfectly.

Drug Lord Deer Hybrid falls to his knees before you, his expression giving away nothing of the emotions lying underneath. He doesn’t even seem like he’s breathing as he watches you get the dildo all slick with your juices before riding on it like you’ve gone mad.

He talks you through your next dozen orgasms, the time passing in the blink of an eye. He tells you just how to ride his toys, when to roll your hips, and how to touch your clit. And he’s right every time, bringing you to the most intense and existence transcending orgasms of your life. All while never touching you. But it’s his gaze that turns you on more than anyone ever has before. You can’t get enough of it.

You watch him watching you, his eyes nearly swallowed up by his pupils. Every muscle in his body is tense like he’s trying to hold off pouncing on you as much as you are to him. His voice growing more raspy and feral with each orgasm he brings out of you.

“That’s it, baby. Make yourself cum for me. Rub your clit, just like that— nuh uh uh— don’t change speed. Do it— yes— do it hard, just like you like,” he demands in a low growl and you are far too weak to deny him.

Following his instructions you’re not surprised anymore as the cord in the belly snaps and you’re gushing liquid onto the deep red carpets. You figure they’re meant to hide something, why not your cum? He knows your body far too well for someone who has only introduced to it a few hours ago. Or has it been days? It’s hard to tell given the room has no windows.

You don’t know how long it’s been but you’ve effectively fucked yourself to exhaustion. The heat all but dissipated out of you with your final climax. Unable to hold your body up any longer, you start toward the floor and you don’t have the strength to stop yourself from the fall.

Right before your face makes contact, his arms are curling underneath your pits and hauling you up. Touching you for the first time since he carried you in here. He gathers you in his arms, laying you down all snug in his lap.

Your mind and body are way too gone to react right now but if you could you’d be seriously freaking out. He leans back enough to look down at you, his eyes somehow even more intense and full of conflict. Like he doesn’t know quite what to do with you. But after a moments hesitation he lifts a hand and pets the back of your head, the action surprisingly soothing.

Before you know it your eyelids are growing heavy and you’re melting into him. Everything in you, even your damn body, screamed that it trusts him. You should believe in your gut. If your guts always right or not is to be debated. But… things felt so good right now you didn’t want to try and open your eyes and insist you get going now.

No, you wanted to stay. Tonight was beyond anything you’ve ever experienced and you’ve done it all. And you have a feeling it had nothing to do with the drug.

Read Version Two here on my Patreon!!

[boyfhee]

゛HIDING IN PLAIN SIGHT ✶ 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾

𝐈𝐈𝐈─────𝗐𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗒 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆, 𝗁𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗄.

﹙엔하이픈﹚ㅤ .. ㅤ ❛ bf ! enha x fem ! readerㅤ❜ ⠀ꢾ꣒ㅤ────ㅤ kissing, skinship, suggestiveㅤㅤ星ㅤㅤ3O2Oㅤㅤ

thanks to srubae, jiah and baefyri for sharing their ideas >< this did not turn out the way i wanted it to but hope you like it nonetheless 🪽

HEESEUNG

you could feel his gaze lingering on you even from across the lift. it’s uncomfortable— so many people pressed up together, pushing and pulling— it’s hot.

and you finally take a sigh of relief when the lift stops and around half the crowd steps off. it barely lasts for a second though, because your boyfriend shifts to your side, interlacing his hand with yours.

“feeling hot?” he whispers close with lips brushing against your earlobe. it’s intentional, he is having way too much fun like this, pressed up together in the back of the elevator.

“a little,” and you’re not sure if it’s the heat making your face warm or if it’s heeseung. you try to push him but he pulls you closer, lowering his head down your ears again to leave a gentle nip.

you swear everyone heard your little gasp but the lift stops, much to your relief, causing everyone to step out. you gulp in nervousness and anticipation, the door closes, and you’re already pressed up against the elevator walls, his lips devouring yours.

he barely gives you a moment before pushing his tongue past your lips, eliciting a soft gasp in response. he’s kissing you deep and rough, like a man hungry for weeks. you can see his floor approaching in the display, your heart racing, the door opens— and he’s out.

“have a good day at work, princess,” you watch the doors close onto him, still catching your breath. it was going to be a long day at work.

JONGSEONG

expensive suit, hands in pockets, classy and composed, sharp tongue and he’s always a step ahead, corporate hours but inappropriate thoughts— one can never guess what the park jongseong does to you behind the closed blinds of his office.

“i want more,” he whispers in a low and husky voice, chasing your lips, only for you to cover his mouth with your palm.

“jay—” a pause, and you take a peek at the closed door before looking at him again. your voice is hushed although you’re afraid your heart is beating louder. “i need to go.”

he grumbles under his breath. honestly, he would rather spend this entire day looking at you rather than looking at some boring documents. “what for?”

“meeting,” you say it as a matter of fact, as if he isn’t the one hosting the meeting, as if he isn’t the one leading the project.

“should i cancel it?” his face finds solace in the crook of your neck with his warm breath fanning against your skin. “just say the word,”

it’s tempting, really. there’s a thrill in knowing you two can get caught any moment, a sense of excitement laced with dread. he traces the purplish mark on your neck and you know it by the smirk on his face that it would be a tough job to cover it up.

“i’ll see you after work,” but you pull yourself together despite his hands running over your waist. and he barely protests before letting you get off his desk, knowing he can only ignore work for so long.

he sits on his desk, eyes admiring your figure as you leave. it’s amusing how you’re fixing the creases of your dress as if he wouldn’t ruin it again. he chuckles, hands moving to fasten his belt as he calls you out from behind. “fix your hair, baby. they’ll know,”

JAEYUN

asking jake for help was a bad idea, you should have seen it coming. he’s rarely up to anything good, especially when it has anything to do with being around you. yet still, you call out to him and he offers to help, like the good senior he is.

“hm, let’s see,” you can feel your heart race as he steps behind your chair and leans over you, caging you between his arms as an excuse to review your work.

you can feel his breath next to your ear, the way he deliberately gets closer to make you squirm in your seat. he knows the proximity makes you nervous and he whispers in a low tone. “you need to do it like this, miss yn,”

“y-yes. thank you,” you can barely focus on what’s displayed on the monitor, too dazed by his breath against your skin. you can barely function and the scent of his cologne only makes it harder for you to pay attention to work.

“hm? did you say something?” he leans against you even more, just enough for you to feel his chest against your back. he is a little too close, you can almost see your coworker eyeing you from across the room.

“t-thank you, sir” it’s the way you stutter, the shaky salutation that slips off your tongue that makes his lips curl up in a smirk.

“good,” he knows you’ll do anything to keep your relationship a secret and you know he is enjoying teasing you way too much.

SUNGHOON

he is the head of finance, handsome, efficient, your boyfriend, but first and foremost, he is a menace— and sunghoon would agree.

he has been at it since the morning— leaning a little too close to compliment your new skirt, deliberately brushing his hand against your waist, and now he is giving you looks from across the conference room while you are giving a very important presentation.

it’s working, unfortunately enough. the way he sits with his legs slightly open, the watch that hangs a little loose on his wrist, the rimless glasses that rest on his nose, and the smirk on his lips— everything that is making your thoughts to inappropriate places.

and sunghoon manages to be the last one to leave the room, always. he strikes a conversation with an employee or pretends to be on his phone to buy time and just when everyone leaves, he locks the door, making his way to you, like he is doing right now.

“you did so well, darling,” he is impressed, mostly by your work, also by the way you look in that new skirt with that blouse that compliments you a little too well. “you look so hot, i was barely holding myself back there,”

another thing— he is shameless, snaking his arms around your waist from behind and whispering praises in your ear. he knows just how to get you worked up, even though you look a little annoyed right now. “i need to arrange these papers, hoon,���

you warn but your words fall deaf to his ears. he knows you are busy, hell, that turns him on a little, but he isn’t the one to back off. “let me help,”

he sits on the nearest chair and pulls you down on his lap, having that smug grin on his infuriatingly handsome face. he does help you, slow, teasingly, kissing your neck while your hands tremble to put the sheets together. it was going to be a long day at work.

SUNOO

you’re alone in the break room, trying to get the coffee machine to work. you’re five minutes from a meltdown when the door creaks open softly.

“need a little help?” he asks.

you look up, and there he is—sunoo, with that soft smile, his ID badge swaying gently as he tilts his head with a sweet smile. you don’t even answer and he is already next to you, pressing the buttons to try to get the machine to work.

there’s a gentle smile on his face as he offers to make your coffee. he’s subtle, careful, his fingers occasionally brushing against yours while asking you to pass the cup, and it happens again when he hands you the coffee. “stressed?”

“a little,” you nod, biting back a smile. he almost has you pressed up against the counter and you’re not sure if it’s intentional. your face heats up when you feel his gaze shift to your lips briefly.

he looks around momentarily, just making sure the two of you are alone before bringing his lips close to your ear as if to whisper a precious secret.

“i love you,” he whispers softly, gently brushing a few strands of hair off your face. he loves the way you get shy at the slightest of touch, the way you take a sip to hide your smile.

he is being subtle, trying to, even though he is a little too close to be deemed appropriate for coworkers. you’re just about to leave as he reaches out to wipe the coffee off your lips, his thumb pressing against your lower for longer than usual.

you feel the tension just as heavy as his gaze on your lips. you hold your breath, hoping, anticipating, but he just steps back, licking his thumb clean. “have a good day at work,” and he’s out of the door.

JUNGWON

you can barely register when a hand wraps around your arm and pulls you inside the restroom, when you get pressed up against the wall, and when his lips capture yours. it’s messy, you’re tugging on his tie while his hands are roaming all over you.

your fingers get lost in his hair, tugging onto the strands and he nips onto your lower lip, drawing a fairly loud moan from you, and as if on cue, you hear someone talking right outside the restroom.

“wait—” you gasp, pulling away slightly, only for him to chase your lips like a mad man, kissing you deeper.

“shh,” he’s kissing you slow, swallowing your soft gasps and little moans. “just keep kissing me, baby,” and jungwon is a damn good kisser, because you are losing your mind and your knees are giving up.

you hear the sound of footsteps and muffled conversations again and gosh, you know you weren’t wrong about someone being around.

“wonie, there’s someone outside,” your words are punctuated by heavy breaths, fingers still gripping his shirt.

“there’s no—” he responds with a silver of irritation, only to pause when he hears the conversation outside. your hand instantly covers his mouth when he tries to speak something, his body pressing closer to yours as if trying to hide both of you in a corner.

it’s thrilling, a little scandalous. being seen with your boss like this won’t do any good. but jungwon is far too gone to care. you both hear the footsteps getting faint, soft giggles mingling in the air between you two, and his lips are back to yours.

NI-KI

he doesn’t flirt. instead, he sends long unreadable glances from across the room. he checks you out quietly, once, up and down, and then he looks away like it means nothing although you feel his gaze lingering even when his eyes are no longer on you.

he calls you to the copy machine, saying it isn’t working or just makes up an excuse to be near you. you explain a task to him and he simply leans against the nearest wall, not even blinking away from you.

“are you listening?” you ask with arms crossed over your chest. you know he is not— he can’t pay attention to anything if you’re around him.

“i’m not sure,” he sighs and then takes a step towards you. “do i focus on you or your words?”

and his voice, his voice, low and raspy, quiet, it sends shivers down your spine. he barely says anything, doesn’t have to, you’re already feeling butterflies just by his eyes on you.

blame it on his height, but he towers you effortlessly every single time, like right now— leaning over your shoulder, taking a long pause before whispering. “see you after work,”

[2cupids]

perverted yoga instructor!gojo whose bright and outgoing personality has brought him a large following. pair that with his good looks and it’s made him one of the most followed yoga teachers in the country. his classes are always in high demand, with people coming from all over just for one class. it’s not uncommon having to book a class months in advance sometimes and wait in the queue for the next available spot, especially in the spring and summer months.

but masked behind his good looks and charm, lies a twisted mind of perversion. he’s constantly trapped in a room with women of all shapes and sizes; it's like he’s a kid in a candy shop who can take his pick from the wide ranging selection whenever he wants without the risk of ever being caught.

his sharp eyes pick up any and everyone whose form is improper while watching the women get in position, quickly walking over to each one to fix it. his smooth voice flows through the room as he speaks into the mic next to his mouth, instructing people to tighten up their form, now noticing the even larger number of women who are doing it wrong. 

of course no one bats an eye at what looks to be gojo just being a helpful and attentive teacher as he goes around to help and he knows it. but his true intentions are much deeper than just placing a hand on a woman’s lower back to help adjust her posture. 

what no one knows is how excited he gets as his fingertips gently touch the material of her yoga top or pants, and if he’s lucky, sometimes her exposed skin. any position where a woman’s ass is in the air or that exposes some cleavage is undoubtedly his favorite. and he always manages to conveniently position himself at the front or back of the room during these positions, wherever the view is the best from honestly.

obviously many women throw themselves at him, from bored housewives to young college students, even the older women who come to keep their bodies healthy. he always politely declines, much to everyone’s dismay, which earns him many groans and displeased looks thrown his way as he gives them that handsome smile and thanks them for finding him attractive. 

satoru gojo isn’t looking for a relationship or even a fling, at most he just wants a one time thing. if he’s being honest though, he’s far more content with continuing to appear as an unassuming man to hide his deeply rooted deviant mind. a man that goes home and fervently fists his cock while flipping through every perverted memory and thought.

that is until you come around. now he wants nothing more than to feel your body against his, no matter what it takes.

you’re a fresh face he notices in his class one day but he tries not to pay you too much attention, knowing how sad he’ll be if you happen not to come back and he doesn’t get to ogle that beautiful body of yours anymore. so when you begin to make regular appearances, he’s more than just thrilled, he’s ecstatic.

during class, his eyes not only flicker towards you more than any other woman in the room as he speaks, but they linger on your body longer as he makes his way around the class, too. often times he’ll find any excuse to touch you even though your form doesn’t need the slightest bit of fixing. the women with keen senses pick up on the small details that most normal people would overlook when it comes to gojo and his attention. you’re suddenly given unwelcomed looks of spite from them, completely unaware that they’re jealous you’ve caught the hot yoga instructor’s eye instead of them.

it’s not until one day as you’re rolling up your mat that you’re suddenly aware of the special liking gojo has taken to you. you’re the last one left in the room with him and he approaches you, appearing to make small talk with you, but his glances at your breast don’t go unnoticed. after a few minutes, he lets you go and wishes you a nice afternoon, but not before he lets his hand go to your back as you’re about to walk away.

the next few classes go by without incident and gojo starts to think he won’t get his way after all, maybe he should’ve just given into one of the other dumb broads in the first place. he’s starting to feel dejected and seeing you regularly only makes him feel worse. soon, he’s back to his usual self though, showing every woman in the class an equal amount of attention again, telling himself to give up and forget you.

weeks later, you find yourself to be the last one to leave class again today. 

now, the way everything went down from that point is up for debate, depending on who’s asked, gojo or yourself. the only thing that’s not up for debate right now is how gojo’s got you pressed up against the mirror in the studio with your back nicely arched as satoru digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your ass which is sure to leave marks, keeping your cheeks spread wide so he can watch his cock disappear into your juicy pussy with each thrust.

condensation fogs up the area of the mirror where your face is pressed to the glass, eyes shut as gojo’s deep voice tells you all the dirty thoughts he’s had of you. an opaque white ring clings to the base of gojo’s pale dick, a result of your juices leaking onto his shaft from the constant friction. deep blue eyes glance up at your pretty and fucked out face, taking in the sight of you. 

you’re really all his at this moment. submitting your entire self to him, letting him use you to his liking just like a fuck toy. without even realizing it, his hips come to an involuntarily halt as spurts of hot cum shoot into your pussy making your soft walls flutter around him.

gojo doesn’t go soft, he’s still extremely hard and ready for more, so without another thought he wastes no time in maneuvering both your bodies onto the floor, manhandling you into a perfect position for fucking that he’s taught in class before.

the fat tip pokes at your slick lips for the second time as he starts round two. he spits on your puckered asshole before slipping his thick thumb inside while roughly snapping his hips into your supple flesh.

[lizardho]

I was like 11-12 years old when I figured out at a boring-ass church activity that you could put rocks into little plastic spoons and then pelt people who annoyed me with them. I did this for the rest of the activity, and at Sunday dinner the next night was bragging about my victory (cornering the mean kid who picked on my youngest brother and pelting him with rocks). One of my cousins was like “no way, that sounds SO fun! Let’s do that RIGHT NOW!” So we grabbed spoons and went and got pebbles from the back yard and launched them at each other.

The problem was my grandma sold her soul for the world’s most resilient plastic spoons so we could launch those fuckers HARD. I gave out welts like candy on Halloween, and I got them back in kind.

So we resorted to taking cover and giggling until we got whacked, then yelping, then returning fire.

My cousin hid in my grandpa’s little fishing boat. It was a good boat, but simple and honestly underused. We didn’t know the little windows on it, meant to keep the wind out of my grandpa’s face while he drove, were cracking. However, they were definitely cracking. Eventually it became obvious and we realized we had been being dumb.

This was NOT the first time in my life I’d been dumb roughhousing and broken something, and I had developed a reputation in my family as being “suicidally honest” so I was the one to deliver the bad news. My grandpa let out a pretty good chuckle and said it was OK, tousled my hair, and asked my grandma to bring me cake. I am not kidding. I learned later he hated his boat and only bought it for his kids’ sakes, since he thought everyone needed to know how to fish. At the time though I was just bewildered and pleased at my good fortune. FINALLY, at long last, being honest and telling the truth about breaking something expensive was getting me cake. I knew if I kept trying it would eventually serve me, and now so had CAKE. I was pleased as could be.

My dad, on the other hand, was livid. He LOVED that boat. He spent several weeks each summer recovering from breaking ribs in that boat every year for about 7 years prior to this incident. He had great memories and memories that boat. So he told my Grandma NO cake for me AND that I’d be coming by this weekend to fix stuff around the house and pay for the broken window with my babysitting/lawn mowing money.

Obviously I was devastated, but that felt more in-line with the way things normally went when I broke something expensive so I just figured it was OK. My grandpa gave my grandma a look and sadly said “Ok, have her here on Saturday to help me with some yard work.”

That Saturday my dad woke me up at 6:00 sharp and drove me, sleepy and bewildered, to my grandpa’s house. He was mumbling under his breath the whole time but he thought he was teaching me consequences for my actions so he was ultimately OK with it.

We get to my grandpa’s house at 6:15. My grandpa is outside with a ladder hanging Christmas lights. The lawn is freshly mowed, the trees and garden are weeded and well-tended to, the carnations in the front yard look immaculate, and my grandpa has this giddy mischievous look on his face. He tells me he was so excited that I was coming over that he couldn’t sleep, so he did all the yard work himself. He asked me to help him put up Christmas lights and decorate the Christmas tree, which I did, then said that because I was such a good helper I could have some pancakes for breakfast. I was sent home with the slice of cake I had been denied the week before, wrapped to keep it as fresh as possible.

The whole way home my dad looked a little miffed, but told me that he was glad I had been honest and was proud of me for helping grandpa. I know he wanted me to Learn a Lesson™️the cowboy way, like he had as a kid, but didn’t have much room to complain since I’d still been Put To Work.

I think that was a lesson for both of us, although I’m not totally sure what it was supposed to show me. I think it was my grandpa’s way of showing my dad that discipline without tenderness doesn’t count as much. He died last year and I miss him terribly, as does my dad. I hope that my story of victory, drama, punishment, and ultimately a secret second victory is meaningful to someone else out there, but if not it still means a lot to me ❤️

[jupiterpilgrim]

Silent Night, Whispered Secrets

Christmas Special 🎄

Yunjin x Male Reader

word count: 4.5K words

The office is eerily quiet on Christmas Eve, with only the soft hum of your computer and occasional clicking of the keyboard breaking the silence. Most of your coworkers left hours ago to start their holiday celebrations, but you're still here finishing up year-end reports. The only other person crazy enough to still be working is Yunjin, whose office is just down the hall from yours.

You've known Yunjin for the two years you've worked at the company. She started a few months before you and helped show you the ropes when you first joined. You hit it off right away, drawn to her quick wit and infectious laugh. She's the kind of person who can find humor in even the most mundane office situations, making even boring meetings more bearable with her subtle eye rolls and whispered commentary.

Physically, Yunjin is absolutely your type, though you've tried not to think about her that way given your professional relationship. She has a classic beauty about her, with delicate features framed by stylish glasses that give her a sexy librarian vibe. Her lips are full and naturally pouty, the kind that make you wonder what they'd feel like pressed against yours. She typically dresses conservatively for the office in blazers and pencil skirts, but you can tell she has a slim, petite figure with small breasts that suit her frame perfectly.

The sound of heels clicking on the tile floor pulls you from your thoughts. Looking up, you see Yunjin leaning against your doorframe, her jacket discarded and the top button of her white blouse undone.

"Still at it?" she asks with a sympathetic smile. "You know Santa won't come if you're still awake doing spreadsheets."

You can't help but chuckle. "Pretty sure Santa skips over office buildings anyway. What's your excuse for still being here?"

"Same as you probably - trying to get everything wrapped up before the holiday break." She walks into your office and perches on the edge of your desk, something she's done countless times during your friendly chats. "But I'm officially taking a break and you should too. We've been at this for hours."

The familiar scent of her perfume - something light and floral - wafts over as she settles next to you. You realize she's right about needing a break; your eyes are starting to blur from staring at the screen.

"Yeah, you're probably right," you concede, leaning back in your chair. "Most of this can wait until after Christmas anyway."

"Exactly! Speaking of Christmas..." She swivels to face you more directly, crossing her legs. "What are your plans? Big family gathering?"

"Pretty much the usual - heading to my parents' place tomorrow morning. Mom always goes overboard with the decorations and Dad pretends to complain about it while secretly loving every minute." You smile thinking about your family's traditions. "What about you?"

"Similar, minus the over-the-top decorations. Though my mom does make enough food to feed a small army." She pauses, seeming to consider something before asking, "Will your girlfriend be joining you?"

The question catches you off guard. In all your conversations, she's never directly asked about your relationship status before. "No girlfriend to bring along," you answer honestly. "Flying solo this holiday season."

"Really?" Her eyebrows raise slightly above her glasses frames. "I find that hard to believe. A guy like you, single at Christmas?"

There's something different in her tone now, a slight flirtatiousness that makes your pulse quicken. "What do you mean a guy like me?" you ask, playing along.

She adjusts her glasses in that adorable way she does when she's about to say something bold. "Oh, you know... Smart, funny, easy on the eyes." Her lips curve into a playful smile. "The kind of guy who probably has women fighting over who gets to kiss him under the mistletoe."

Your mouth goes dry as you process this shift in dynamic. Is Yunjin actually flirting with you? After two years of carefully maintained friendship?

"Funny, I was just thinking the same about you," you reply, testing the waters. "Surprised you don't have a line of guys waiting to take you home for the holidays."

She laughs softly, uncrossing and recrossing her legs. "Maybe I'm waiting for the right guy to ask." Her eyes meet yours with unmistakable intent now. "Someone who already knows me... understands me..."

The air between you feels charged with possibility. You've imagined moments like this before but always pushed the thoughts away, not wanting to complicate your friendship or work relationship. But now, with her looking at you like that...

"Yunjin..." you start, not quite sure what you're going to say.

She slides off your desk and extends her hand to you. "Come with me. I want to show you something."

You don't hesitate for a second, turning off the computer and getting up from your chair. Your heart pounds as you take her hand, letting her lead you out of your office and down the darkened hallway. Her fingers are soft and warm interlaced with yours. She guides you past the break room and copy area to a section of the building you rarely visit.

"Where are we going?" you ask, though you're happy to follow her anywhere at this point.

"Somewhere private," she answers mysteriously. "Where we can talk without worrying about security cameras."

She leads you into what appears to be a storage room, flicking on a small lamp that casts a warm glow over boxes of office supplies and forgotten furniture. It's cozy in an odd way, like a secret hideaway.

Yunjin turns to face you, still holding your hand. Her cheeks are slightly flushed and you can see her chest rising and falling with quick breaths.

"I need to tell you something," she says. "Something I've wanted to say for a long time but never had the courage."

You squeeze her hand encouragingly, heart racing with anticipation.

"I have feelings for you," she continues. "Real feelings, beyond friendship. I think I have for a while now but I was afraid to admit it, afraid of ruining what we have. But being here tonight, just the two of us... I couldn't keep pretending anymore."

The confession hangs in the air between you for a moment before you respond. "Yunjin, I had no idea you felt that way. I mean, I've definitely thought about you like that but I always told myself it was just a crush, that it would pass..."

"And did it? Pass?" she asks softly.

You shake your head. "No. If anything, it got stronger the more I got to know you. You're amazing, Yunjin. Smart and funny and beautiful... I love how you can make me laugh even on the worst days. How you always remember little details about things I've told you. How passionate you get when talking about things you care about..."

She steps closer, reaching up to touch your face. "We've been through a lot together, haven't we? All those late nights working on projects, lunch breaks spent venting about difficult clients, celebrating each other's wins..."

"Yeah," you agree, letting your free hand rest on her waist. "I guess it's natural that feelings would develop. We just... fit."

"We do," she whispers, then rises on her tiptoes to press her lips to yours.

The kiss is gentle at first, tentative, as if you're both still afraid of crossing this line. But then she sighs against your mouth and something ignites between you. Your arms wrap around her waist as hers circle your neck, pulling each other closer as the kiss deepens.

Her lips are even softer than you imagined, moving against yours with growing passion. You can taste mint on her breath, like she'd been preparing for this possibility. The thought makes you smile against her mouth.

"What?" she asks, pulling back slightly.

"Nothing," you murmur, trailing kisses along her jaw. "Just happy."

She tilts her head to give you better access to her neck, letting out a small moan when you find a sensitive spot. "Mmm... want to know what would make me happy?"

"Tell me," you breathe against her skin.

"Letting me give you your Christmas present." Her hands slide down your chest as she speaks.

You pull back to look at her, seeing desire burning in her eyes behind those sexy glasses. "What kind of present?"

Instead of answering, she starts unbuttoning her blouse, revealing smooth pale skin and a simple white bra underneath. Your breath catches as she reaches behind to unhook it, letting the garment fall away.

You can't take your eyes off Yunjin's exposed chest as she straddles your lap in the dimly lit storage room. Her breasts are small, almost flat against her slim frame, but they're absolutely perfect to you. Each one is barely a handful, topped with delicate pink nipples that have hardened in the cool air. The sight makes your mouth water with desire.

"I know they're not much to look at," she says shyly, noticing your intense gaze. "Most guys prefer bigger..."

You silence her self-consciousness by cupping both small mounds in your hands, feeling their subtle weight. "These are exactly what I want," you tell her firmly. "Perfect little tits that fit my hands just right."

She shivers as you run your thumbs over her nipples, watching them stiffen further under your touch. The rosy buds stand out proudly now, begging to be sucked. You lean forward slowly, maintaining eye contact as you take one peak between your lips.

"Ohhh..." Yunjin moans softly as you begin to suckle her breast. Her fingers thread through your hair, holding you against her chest as you worship her sensitive flesh.

You alternate between gentle suction and firm licks, paying attention to how she responds. When you graze your teeth lightly across her nipple, her whole body trembles and she lets out a gasp. You do it again, a bit firmer this time, and are rewarded with a breathy "Yes..."

Your hands knead her small breasts as you continue lavishing attention on her nipples. Despite their size, or perhaps because of it, they seem incredibly sensitive. Every touch, every lick, every gentle bite makes her squirm and moan in your lap.

You pull back slightly to admire your work - her nipples are now swollen and deep pink from your ministrations. "So responsive," you murmur, blowing cool air across the wet peaks and watching them tighten further. "I love how sensitive these little tits are."

"Only for you," she whimpers as you dive back in, this time taking as much of her small breast into your mouth as possible. There's something incredibly arousing about being able to almost fit the entire mound between your lips.

You suck firmly while massaging her other breast, feeling her nipple press hard against your palm. Her hips begin to rock subtly in your lap as her arousal builds. The movement makes your already hard cock throb with need, but you're determined to thoroughly worship these perfect little tits first.

Moving to her neglected breast, you trace circles around the areola with your tongue before capturing the straining nipple between your teeth. A sharp gasp escapes her lips as you apply just enough pressure to toe the line between pleasure and pain.

"Oh god," she pants, grinding more insistently against you now. "That feels so good... I never knew my breasts could be this sensitive..."

You hum against her flesh, the vibrations making her shudder. Your hands slide around to grip her ass, helping guide her movements as she rocks in your lap. Each roll of her hips makes her small breasts sway slightly, a hypnotic sight that has you alternating between watching and tasting.

"Such perfect little tits," you murmur between licks and kisses. "Love how they bounce... love how responsive they are... love how they fit in my mouth just right..."

Your praise seems to turn her on even more. She arches her back, pressing her chest more firmly against your face as you continue your oral assault on her sensitive peaks. Her breathing becomes more ragged with each passing minute.

You bring your hands back to her breasts, squeezing them together so you can move back and forth between nipples more easily. The sight of her small mounds pressed together, topped with those pretty pink nipples, is incredibly erotic. You lap at both peaks simultaneously, making her cry out.

"Please," she whimpers, though you're not sure what she's begging for. You respond by sucking harder, drawing one taut nipple deep into your mouth while pinching and rolling the other between your fingers.

Her whole body is trembling now as you continue your relentless attention. You can feel how wet she is through her panties as she grinds against your lap, seeking friction. The combination of your mouth on her sensitive breasts and the pressure against her clit seems to be driving her wild.

"I think..." she gasps, clutching your head tighter. "I think I might... from just this..."

The revelation that she might cum just from breast play spurs you on. You double your efforts, sucking and licking and nibbling at her swollen nipples while your hands massage the soft flesh of her small breasts. Her movements become more erratic as she chases her pleasure.

"That's it," you encourage between sucks. "Let go for me... show me how sensitive these perfect little tits are..."

With a sharp cry, she does just that. Her body goes rigid in your lap as waves of pleasure wash over her, triggered by nothing more than your mouth on her breasts. You continue gently sucking and licking through her orgasm, prolonging the sensation until she weakly pushes your head away, too sensitive to take any more.

"I've never..." she pants, looking down at you with wide eyes. "That's never happened before..."

You press soft kisses to her flushed chest, admiring how her nipples are now deep red and slightly swollen from your attention. "Just proves what I said - these are perfect."

With a smile Yunjin slides down your body with a hungry look in her eyes, her delicate fingers work at your belt buckle as she settles between your legs, licking her lips in anticipation.

"Now I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel," she purrs, finally freeing your throbbing cock from its confines. Her eyes widen slightly at the sight. "So big..." she whispers, wrapping her small hand around your shaft.

You groan at the first contact, already rock hard from getting her off with just breast play earlier. She starts with slow, exploratory strokes, learning the feel of you. Her other hand cups your balls gently, rolling them between her fingers as she studies your reactions.

"Tell me if it's good, okay?" she asks softly, her hot breath ghosting over your tip. "I want this to be the best you've ever had."

Before you can respond, she leans forward and drags her tongue from base to tip in one long, slow lick. Your cock twitches in her grip as she swirls her tongue around the head, gathering the bead of precum that's formed there.

"Mmm," she hums, savoring the taste. "Already so excited for me..."

She continues teasing you with her tongue, tracing the prominent veins along your shaft and paying special attention to the sensitive spot just under the head. Her hand keeps up a steady stroking motion, spreading her saliva along your length.

When she finally takes you into her mouth, you have to fight not to thrust up into that wet heat. She starts shallow, just sucking on the tip while her tongue works against the underside. Her eyes flutter closed as she focuses on the task, clearly enjoying herself.

"Fuck, that feels good," you groan as she gradually takes more of you in. Her mouth is so hot and wet, and the suction is perfect. She hums in acknowledgment, the vibrations sending pleasure shooting through your cock.

One hand wraps around what doesn't fit in her mouth yet, working in tandem with her lips and tongue. The other continues massaging your balls, occasionally trailing lower to tease your perineum. The dual stimulation has your toes curling.

She pulls off with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting her lips to your cock. "I love how hard you are," she says, pumping you with both hands now. "Love feeling you throb in my mouth..."

Before you can respond, she's diving back down, taking you even deeper this time. Her tongue pressed flat against the underside of your shaft as she bobs her head, building a steady rhythm. The wet sounds of her sucking fill the room, obscenely erotic.

You thread your fingers through her hair, not guiding her movements but just wanting to touch her. She moans around your cock in response, the vibrations making you groan. Her pace picks up slightly, switching between deep sucks and focusing on the sensitive head.

"Just like that," you encourage as she finds a particularly good rhythm. "Your mouth feels fucking amazing."

She pulls back again, this time to focus solely on your tip while her hands work your shaft. Her tongue swirls around the head before flicking rapidly against the frenulum, making your hips jerk. "Want to taste every inch of you," she murmurs before taking you deep again.

This time she doesn't stop until you hit the back of her throat. She holds there for a moment, swallowing around you, before pulling back for air. Strings of saliva connect her lips to your cock as she gasps.

"So fucking hot," you groan, watching her catch her breath. Your cock twitches in her grip, achingly hard from her skilled attention.

She smiles up at you before diving back in, this time maintaining eye contact as she works you over. The sight of her pretty lips stretched around your girth while she stares up at you with lust-filled eyes is almost too much.

Her technique varies between long, slow sucks taking you as deep as she can manage, and focusing on the tip with quick flicks of her tongue. She seems to delight in finding what makes you moan loudest, repeating movements that get the biggest reactions.

"Getting close?" she asks during another brief break, her hand never stopping its stroking motion. When you nod, she smiles. "Good. I want to taste your cum... want to swallow every drop..."

The dirty talk combined with her renewed oral assault has you right on the edge. She seems to sense this, doubling her efforts. One hand pumps your shaft while the other gently squeezes your balls. Her mouth focuses on your sensitive head, sucking firmly while her tongue works the underside.

"Fuck, I'm about to cum!" you growl, staring down at Yunjin's face as she works your throbbing cock with her skilled mouth. Her designer glasses are slightly fogged up from her heavy breathing, adding an irresistibly naughty librarian vibe to her cock-hungry expression. Those plump, glistening lips stretch obscenely wide around your thick shaft as she bobs her head with expert precision.

Rather than slow down at your warning, she doubles her efforts - taking you even deeper into her hot, eager mouth. Her full, pouty lips form a perfect seal around your cock as she sucks harder, her tongue dancing and swirling along your sensitive length. Drool runs down your balls as she services you with single-minded determination, the wet sloppy sounds of her enthusiastic sucking filling the room.

You reach down to tangle your fingers in her silky hair, accidentally knocking her glasses slightly askew. She doesn't miss a beat, continuing to worship your cock while reaching up to adjust them with one hand. The intellectual look of her wire-rimmed frames contrasts deliciously with the absolutely filthy things she's doing with that talented mouth.

Her crimson lipstick is completely ruined now, smeared all over your cock in scarlet streaks. The sight of those perfect dick-sucking lips wrapped around you, combined with her sultry gaze behind those sexy glasses, has your balls drawing up tight. She must sense how close you are because she takes you impossibly deeper, until you feel the back of her throat squeezing your sensitive cockhead.

Her nose presses against your pelvis as she deep-throats you with practiced ease, her glasses fogging up even more from her heavy breathing. The rippling sensation of her throat muscles working around your length finally pushes you over the edge.

"Fuuuuck!" you roar as your orgasm hits like a freight train. Your cock pulses violently, shooting thick ropes of hot cum directly down her eager throat. She moans in satisfaction around your spurting length, continuing to suck and swallow rhythmically as you empty yourself into her hungry mouth. Not a single drop escapes those perfect cock-hungry lips.

Even after you're completely drained, she keeps gently nursing on your sensitive head, her tongue lapping up every last trace of cum. Only when you're trembling from overstimulation does she finally release you with an obscene pop. Your cock emerges glistening with her saliva, still twitching occasionally.

She looks up at you with heavy-lidded eyes behind her slightly steamed glasses, licking those full, swollen lips with obvious satisfaction. A thin strand of saliva and cum still connects her mouth to your cock. "Mmm, fucking delicious," she purrs, her voice slightly hoarse from taking you so deep. She gives your softening length one final kiss before sitting back on her heels.

Your legs feel weak as you watch her run her tongue over her lips again, savoring your taste. Her ruined lipstick smeared across her mouth and chin. Combined with her messy hair, fogged glasses, and the hungry look in her eyes, she's the perfect picture of debauchery.

"That was incredible," you manage to say once you catch your breath. She just grins wickedly, clearly proud of her cock-sucking skills. And rightfully so - you've never had your dick sucked with such enthusiasm and expertise before.

"I love the way you taste," she says, running one finger along her bottom lip while pushing her glasses back up her nose. "And the way your big cock feels stretching my mouth open. Makes me so fucking horny." To emphasize her point, she brings both hands up to her small breasts, squeezing them firmly through her top.

The sight of her playing with herself while looking at you with those intelligent eyes behind her frames makes your spent cock twitch with renewed interest. She notices and laughs, her hands still kneading her chest. "Already wanting more? Such a greedy boy." She leans forward to plant soft kisses along your shaft, which is already starting to harden again.

"Can't help it when you've got such perfect dick-sucking lips," you tell her, running your thumb across her plump bottom lip. She captures the digit between her teeth, sucking it into her mouth with a sultry look. The combination of her hot tongue swirling around your thumb and her glasses sliding down her nose again makes your cock throb.

"These lips were made for worshipping cock," she agrees after releasing your thumb with a wet pop. "Especially yours. I love how thick you are - really makes me work for it." She emphasizes her point by wrapping those gorgeous lips around just your sensitive head, sucking gently while maintaining eye contact through her slightly fogged lenses.

You groan at the sight and sensation. "Fuck, you really are insatiable aren't you?" Your hand finds its way back into her hair, careful not to knock her glasses off this time as you guide her movements. She starts taking more of your rapidly hardening length into her mouth again.

She pulls off just long enough to say "When it comes to sucking your cock? Absolutely." Then she's diving back down, taking you to the root in one smooth motion that has you seeing stars. Her throat contracts around you as she swallows, making you gasp.

Your grip in her hair tightens as she starts bobbing her head with renewed vigor. The wet sounds of her enthusiastic cock-sucking fill the room once again. She alternates between taking you deep in her throat and focusing on your sensitive head, her talented tongue doing incredible things that have you moaning.

"Such a good little cocksucker," you praise her, making her moan around your length. Her glasses fog up completely as she works your cock faster. "Love watching those pretty lips stretch around my thick cock. You were born to suck dick, weren't you?"

She responds by taking you even deeper, until her nose is pressed against your pelvis again. The feeling of her throat squeezing around your cock while she looks up at you with those big, eager eyes behind her steamed-up lenses is almost too much to handle.

"That's it, take it all like a good girl," you growl, using your grip on her hair to hold her in place for a moment. She moans and squirms, clearly loving being used like this. When you finally let her pull back for air, she gasps and immediately dives back down for more, quickly adjusting her glasses before wrapping those perfect lips around you again.

Her enthusiasm is infectious. You start thrusting your hips slightly, fucking her willing mouth while she moans encouragement. The sight of your cock disappearing between those perfect cock-sucking lips over and over, combined with her sexy librarian look, has you racing toward another orgasm embarrassingly quickly.

"Gonna cum again," you warn her through gritted teeth. She responds by sucking even harder, her cheeks hollowing as she works to draw out your load. Her tongue does wicked things to your sensitive head while one hand massages your heavy balls.

This time when you explode, she pulls back just enough to catch your cum on her tongue. You watch in awe as rope after rope of hot cum paints those gorgeous lips and fills her eager mouth. Some of it lands on her glasses, making her look even more debauched. She makes a show of swallowing it all down before licking her lips clean with a satisfied smile.

"Mmm, even better the second time," she purrs, giving your sensitive cock one final kiss. Her lips and chin are glazed with a mixture of cum and saliva, her lipstick completely destroyed, and her glasses are splattered with your seed. "Well, what did you think of my blowjob? Think that lived up to being the best you've ever had?"

"Fuck yes. Your lips, your mouth, your tongue, those fucking glasses... You're perfect, Yunjin.”

Still on her knees, she reaches for the open cardboard box nearby. It’s crammed with small packs of wet wipes. She plucks one out, tearing it open with her teeth before pulling a single wipe free. As she starts cleaning her glasses, she laughs softly. “These glasses? Expensive as hell,” she says, wiping the lenses with a casual ease. “But having you cum all over me while wearing them? Fucking worth it.”

Her words make you shudder slightly, your breath catching as you watch her throw away the last used wipe, her face and glasses less messy now. She smirks, using her thumb to rub at the the forgotten bit of smeared lipstick.

When Yunjin finishes, she sighs, looking at you with those big lovely eyes. "Did you like your present?" she asks softly.

You pull her closer, crushing your mouth to hers, tasting yourself on her tongue but too far gone to care. “Best Christmas present ever,” you murmur against her lips, your hands finding her hips, pulling her impossibly closer as she melts into you.

"Merry Christmas then," she says with a playful wink, wiping her mouth delicately.

"To be honest, I've never liked Christmas as much as I do now," you tell her when your lips move away.

She laughs softly, tucking her head against your neck. "Just wait until you see what I have planned for New Year's."

You hold her close, both of you catching your breath as the reality of what just happened settles in. Outside the windows, snow has begun to fall, dusting the city in white. It's still Christmas Eve, you still have family obligations tomorrow, but right now none of that matters. All that matters is this moment, this woman in your arms, and the promise of more to come.

"We should probably head home soon," Yunjin says eventually, though she makes no move to get up. "It is Christmas Eve after all."

You press a kiss to her temple. "Five more minutes," you bargain, and feel her smile against your skin.

"Five more minutes," she agrees.

You sit there together in comfortable silence, watching the snow fall outside while your racing hearts slow to normal. Whatever happens next, you know this Christmas will be one to remember. And as Yunjin snuggles closer in your arms, you can't help but think that sometimes the best presents come when you least expect them.

The office will look different from now on, you think. The familiar halls and rooms now charged with memory - her hand in yours as she led you here, the first press of her lips against yours, the way she looked on her knees between your legs…

Finally, reluctantly, you both begin to dress. You help Yunjin button her blouse, stealing kisses between each button until she laughs and pushes you away playfully. Her hair is slightly messed up from your fingers and her lips are still swollen from their earlier activities.

She's never looked more beautiful.

"Walk me to my car?" she asks, slipping her hand into yours.

"Of course," you reply, squeezing her fingers gently.

As you make your way through the quiet building, you can't help but marvel at how much can change in a single night. Yesterday, Yunjin was just your friend and coworker. Now... now she's something more, something precious and exciting and full of possibility.

In the parking garage, she turns to face you before getting in her car. "Text me when you get home?" she asks, and you nod.

"Definitely." You pull her close for one more kiss, slow and sweet. "Merry Christmas, Yunjin."

She smiles against your lips. "Merry Christmas."

You watch her drive away, snow swirling in the headlights, before heading to your own car. As you drive home through the quiet streets, you can't wipe the smile off your face. This Christmas is already shaping up to be the best one yet.

Your phone buzzes with a text just as you're pulling into your driveway. It's from Yunjin: "Already missing those five more minutes 😘"

You reply quickly:

"We'll have to make up for lost time after the holidays."

Her response comes immediately:

"Can't wait 💕"

As you head inside, you find yourself actually looking forward to returning to work after Christmas. Who knew the office could hold such possibilities? But then again, with Yunjin involved, anything seems possible.

You fall asleep that night with thoughts of soft lips and gentle hands, of whispered confessions and promises of more to come. In your dreams, it's still snowing, and Yunjin is there, smiling at you through the white flakes, reaching for your hand.

Tomorrow will bring family gatherings and holiday traditions, but tonight belongs to the memory of her - the taste of her kisses, the sound of her moans, the feel of her skin under your fingers. It's the best Christmas gift you could have asked for, and it's only the beginning.

[reminiscingthesea]

Part two of my stalker Phainon x nerdy reader fic!! You should be able to find part one just under this post!!

A/N- tysm again for the massive support and love on my last post, it’s honestly making me feel rlly happy and I’m genuinely considering making this a chapter by chapter fanfic (no promises tho idk what life may throw at me)

Synopsis- After establishing a friendship with you, Phainon simply can’t help but fall deeper in love with you. Yet, when an unknown variable- a pest- invades his peace, he feels as though things may take a dangerous turn for the worse.

Warning- Stalking, mentions of extreme violence towards another character, kidnapping, gore.

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Ever since you and Phainon became friends, the two of you would always be texting each other nonstop! Talking about silly things like teachers, cute videos, random drama, and also more in depth things, such as your shared interest of historical relics.

Because of this, the two of you would often set up dates hang out days to take each other to a local museum to research ancient relics or texts. Other days, when the two of you are both free, you’d each be cooped up in a corner of the campus’ library, reading literature and talking to each other with enthusiasm when an interesting point was reached. Albeit, not without the sound of angry shushing from the old, cranky librarian at the front desk. She could really hear everything..

However, when you reject Phainon on a day out to a relic site-seeing place, he feels confused, upset, dejected, but most of all, angry. Very angry, especially after finding out why you weren’t available.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Phainon. But I won’t be able to join you tomorrow on our little weekly day out. I have plans with someone called Mydei? You know him, right?” You spoke nonchalantly, flashing him a quick, apologetic smile as you watched him momentarily deflate at your initial rejection, before turning away just as quickly, not able to see his face morph into a look of wrath once you mentioned that name.

He stayed silent for a few moments, before beginning silently. His tone sharp and cold as he spoke, “Yeah, I happen to know who he is. Mydeimos, son of Gorgo or something. He’s a recent transfer student, isn’t he? What’s he hanging around you for?” He asked as calmly as he could, to mask his voice of envy and irritation behind his cool demeanour.

“Oh, uh.. yeah he is. He’s not very popular right now, so I was assigned to be his little study-buddy for the time being, sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. It’s a bit stupid how they thought placing a quiet kid with another quiet kid was a good idea, but….” You rambled on about your school’s inadequacy or whatever, blissfully unaware that Phainon was indeed not paying any attention whatsoever, and instead, focusing on the numerous thoughts flying through his mind at 360mph.

‘Has she gotten bored of me now?’ ‘What does this Mydei have that I don’t?’ ‘I bet he’s really fucking ugly, he’s probably just a charity case in her eyes.’ ‘Who does this Mydei guy think he is?’ ‘Is he asking for a death wish?’ ‘Maybe I should slice him up into pieces, and serve his meat as meatballs for her-‘

Just as Phainon’s internal turmoil reached its peak, a quiet clear of the throat could be heard from behind the two of you.

“Oh, hello, [Name]. I was told you’d be here, should we get going?” A voice spoke. The pair of you, Phainon and yourself, turned around to the sound of the voice. You smiled brightly at the sight, waving at the guy with your hand. Phainon on the other hand, stood still in shock as he took in the other man’s appearance.

“Ah, Mydei! Hello! I was just finishing up with my friend here, Phainon. We can get going soon, I just need to fix something on my phone. The two of you can chat for a bit before I’m done!” You chirped happily, stepping to the side to fix whatever glitch was on your phone now. Shitty campus signal was really no joke.

Bulky, muscular, slight tan, short, golden wispy hair with slight red ends, enchanting golden eyes, not to mention, ridiculously tall, almost taller than Phainon.. he seemed to be a good contender for your love.

“..Are you just gonna keep staring at me or what? It makes you seem odd, y’know?” Spoke Mydei, his voice deep and rich, with a slight edge of aggressiveness to it. Stunning Phainon out his stupor, he laughed quietly and bowed a bit apologetically.

“Ah, I apologise, Mydei. I was just thinking about something, nothing more.” Flashing Mydei a quick, sweet smile, he was met with a questioning, curious look, that could almost be comparable to a glare. Phainon swore he could see a flicker of understanding and awareness through Mydei’s daybreak orbs for a split second as they darkened slightly, before a soft sigh could be heard from you in the distance.

“Still glitched out. I swear, this campus really does not care about their students. The signal is terrible! Anyways, Phainon, I need to get going with Mydei now. We can chat later!!”

You stood next to Mydei as the two of you began walking away, waving quickly at Phainon as you walked away. However, what you didn’t notice, was the death glare that Phainon was sending towards the two of you, especially at Mydei.

But Mydei saw. With the turn of his head, he saw those icy blue, once bright, now dark blue orbs cutting deep with their intense gaze. He didn’t shudder or tremble in fear, no. He simply kept a blank, unreadable look on his face, looking Phainon up and down with his eyes, as if scanning him carefully, whilst you’d talk about something random.

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“So, Mydei. You told me you like to bake, is that right? Would you like to teach me how to bake? I’m more-so good at cooking rather than baking.. I always make the desserts too raw, or too dry!” You were both now in his dorm as you ranted, placing your books and bags on his table, granted with his permission, as you joined him in his kitchen, which was so much tidier than most other student’s kitchens.

“Hmph. The art of baking stems from the heart. Even raw or over baked goods are still delicious if you know the person made it from their heart.” He declared respectfully, handing a small black apron to you, whilst putting on his own soft pink apron on.

“Uh, are you sure this black apron is for me? I’m pretty sure you should be wearing this one-“ You’re immediately cut off as he sends you a quick death glare, which shuts you up just as fast, but you could’ve sworn there was a slight flush to his cheeks, that matched his pretty pink apron for a few seconds.

“If you looked, you’d know that apron is clearly too small for me. Of course yours is the black one. What? A man can’t wear pink now?” He asked aggressively, but not without a hint of playful aggression laced into the threads of his serious tone.

“I-I never said that!” You waved your hands in front of your face in distress and apology

“Quit it, I was just teasing you.” He uttered again, a soft smile now on his face as he took in the utterly adorable pathetic sight of you trying to save your case hopelessly.

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After a while, you had managed to create an adorable set of yummy cupcakes with the helpful guidance of Mydei’s exceptional baking skills. Opening the oven door, a warm air of sweetness and cocoa hit your nose, before enveloping his whole dorm.

“Looking good,” Mydei praised as you carefully took out the tray with some oven mitts and bent down to place them on the stove atop the oven, before going back down to close the oven door again. But in the reflection of the oven, you saw something for a split second- Mydei’s gaze on you, your form in front of him. Before you could notice fully, he quickly averted his gaze back to the chocolate cupcakes in the baking tray.

Was he praising you?

As you got up, he spoke, bringing in a piping baggie and holding it in front of you.

“Now that the cupcakes are done baking, we’re going to have to wait a bit before we can ice them, since they need to cool down a bit first. Otherwise, the frosting would melt and go everywhere.”

He then brought together the ingredients to make the icing, as well as three food colourings tubes

“Now, you can decide between red food colouring, pink food colouring, or blue food colouring. I don’t really mind either way.” He said, handing the tubes to you to decide which colour to use.

You looked at the food dyes in your hand, deep in thought. See, you had wanted to gift some of these cupcakes to Phainon to make up for having to cancel your little hangout, but you also saw the way Mydei was eyeing the pink food colouring in your hand.

“Hmm.. I think I’ll go with the blue food colouring! You don’t mind that, right?” You asked gently, giving him a look of sympathy as you saw how he deflated slightly at your decision. He took the other dyes from your hand without a word, but you swore you could see a hint of a small pout on his face as he turned his back on you.

“That’s fine. I’ll help you make the icing, I just need to get the right nibs for the piping bag..” He spoke, momentarily distracted as he rummaged through his cupboard to find an appropriate nib. He came back a few moments later, standing next to you in front of the counter.

“We’re gonna be using a simple nib today, no designs. Since it’s your first time, you won’t be using any intricate designs.”

You pouted playfully as you helped him whip together a batch of icing, dipping in some of the blue food dye into the mixture, and watching as it turned from white to a pretty shade of cerulean blue almost resembling Phainon’s eyes.

“Really? I’m sure I could do it! Please, an intricate design would be so cute! Plus, I wanna gift some of these to my friend, so..” You pleaded gently, looking away in shame as he shot you a scowl, which really just made him look like a cat, or a young lion. He turned back to the bowl, whisking carefully, before muttering something almost incoherent under his breath.”

“Would’ve been cuter if you used the pink dye instead…”

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Now, I’m going to teach you how to pipe the icing properly onto the cupcake. We can still make cute designs with a simple nib, so just listen carefully.” He announced, almost sternly as he filled the piping bag with the light blue icing, twisting the nib onto the corner of the bag, before handing it to you and taking a chocolate cupcake out the tray and placing it in front of you.

“Ice it.” He said, staring down at you as you held the bag almost cluelessly in front of you.

“I thought you were gonna help me..” You inquired meekly

“I just wanna see how bad you’ll do, that’s all.” He quipped back, a sly grin on his face as he stepped away from you. You could only narrow your eyes at him as you turned to try and ice the cupcake.

That poor cupcake was now subject to messy, uneven scribbles of azure blue icing, your handiwork was truly poor. You sulked, not being able to even take your eyes off the now eyesore of the cupcake, lest to not have to see Mydei’s face, which was probably adorned with a giant, stupid smirk.

But he wasn’t Phainon, as he chuckled softly and leaned his head near yours, trying to catch a glimpse of your sullen expression.

“You don’t have to pout like that, y’know? Not everyone’s going to get it right on their first time.” He sighed, his voice now taking on a more mellow, kinder, tone, more patient, as it was devoid of any aggression or abrasion. He then simply pushed that cupcake to the side and brought out another one from the tray, before wrapping his big, muscular arms around your form, gently holding you by the hand with his larger hand, as if guiding it.

“Just follow my lead, I’ll help you..” He spoke gently, almost intimately, as he whispered into your ear, huskily, coaxing your hand to lift the piping bag once more with his.

“Mydei..” You spoke hesitantly, shyly, as your cheeks flushed, which he could see through the faint red that dusted onto the curve of your cheek from behind, and on your ears.

“Call me Mydeimos, yeah?” He breathed richly into your ear as he steered your hand with his, squeezing it to coerce you into squeezing the piping bag tight once more, to start icing the cupcake.

You stayed silent as he helped you, but yoy couldn’t help but feel so unfocused as he stayed so close by to you. How his warm breath on your neck as he leaned down to whisper instructions or words of praise into your ear from behind, how it tickled the inside of your ear a little.

After some time, the cupcakes were all beautifully decorated with the icing, with pretty, intricate designs made with the piping bag due to his ‘guidance’

“Look at that, masterpieces in less than ten minutes. You’re a pro already.” He praised, his tone now becoming less husky and quiet, returning to its normal deep and resonate tone as he pulled himself away from you.

“T-thank you.. this was mainly your doing though, you helped me move my hand in all the right places and all..” You muttered quietly, blushing softly as you met his gaze.

“You’re being a lot quieter than you were before when you were with that.. Phainon? guy. Are you two..?”

“Oh- we’re not.. yet but he’s been acting odd lately. More distant and passive-aggressive at times..” You said sadly, thinking back to his colder tone as you told him about Mydei at the start of the day.

“Well.. maybe these cupcakes will make him feel better. You too seem to be close friends, so I’m sure he’d appreciate the gesture.” He answered calmly, almost sympathetically. But, a flicker of a possessive, almost excited glint glimmered in his eyes for a split second as he spoke.

Did he have a chance with you? He did enjoy your company after all

“You’re right,” You sighed “he’s normally really bubbly, so I’m sure something sweet and cute like this will definitely lift his spirits!”

Mydei could only look at you with an adoring unreadable gaze as you began packing up the cupcakes in a tidy container you had brought along with you to his dorm.

Suddenly, you felt one of the cupcakes being pushed towards your lips, the blue icing smearing a little onto your pretty lips.

“Wha-“

“It’s the failed cupcake, just eat it. I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate it” He stated jokingly, shoving the dessert further until you opened your mouth to get it with a muffled giggle, covering your mouth and turning to face him, cautiously taking the cupcake from his hand and looking up at him.

“Thanks again, I really enjoyed this.. I didn’t think you’d be into these sorts of things, but I’m glad I got to know you and your interests..” You mused calmly, fully aware of the close proximity between the two of you yet again. You were almost pinned against the counter by him as he kept his hand firmly next to your torso on the counter next to you

The two of you could only stare at each other longingly for a few moments, before you both blushed and pulled away from each other.

“A-anyways.. I need to get back to my dorm now, I really enjoyed your company agai-“

“Let me take you. It shouldn’t be too far, right?” He cut you off, albeit, politely due to his sincere intentions. He didn’t give you a moment to think as he helped you pack your things, slinging his keys around his fingers, creating a quiet jingle sound as he did.

“Sure, I guess. We do both live on the same floor, no? Let’s get going then.” You turned to take your things from him and grab the tub of cupcakes on the table, before making your way to his door.

However, before following you, Mydei couldn’t help but momentarily turn his head over his broad shoulder, looking through the window behind his sink. His expression was dark as he felt another presence nearby, that obviously wasn’t yours. It was now dark outside, so he couldn’t see clearly. And he didn’t want to keep you waiting to go check up and confirm his suspicions. So, he simply smirked to himself and the dark outside world beyond the window.

He knew you were being watched and listened to the whole time, so why not give a little show, no?

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Phainon gritted his teeth and almost bared them like an angry dog’s at the entire spectacle from outside his window. You were now long gone from Mydei’s dorm, he had already slipped back into his own dorm, to avoid being caught by Mydei, who was already onto his ass from the very beginning.

“Shit. Fucking piece of shit. Who does that guy think he is? Touching her up, holding her like he’s fucking her. Whispering into her ear from behind like that.” Phainon mumbled angrily to himself as he tore a new one into a poor, fluffy pillow on the ground.

He pretended the pillow was Mydei. How he’d tear his resilient skin off his muscles, rip out each and every one of his axons and nerves, tear through that generous muscle of his, that almost rivalled his own. How he wanted to blend up his organs, crush up his skull, and serve it all raw to you, to show you his devotion.

But he knew you’d run away in fear, never want to speak to him again, be scared of him for the rest of your life. And he didn’t want that. In fact, he wanted the complete opposite. He wanted you to rely on him, make you depend on him. He wanted you. All to himself. No more beating around the bush, you belonged to him. And messing with a potentially even messier dog for food may result in trouble. So why not go for the food first before the other dog gets to it first?

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It had been a few days since your hangout with Mydei- or Mydeimos as he wanted you to call him.- The friendship between the two of you grew stronger, and you were happy about that! But there was still a growing ache in your heart.. what about Phainon?

He hadn’t contacted you throughout the days that had passed, and he wasn’t at his dorm either whenever you knocked to come check up on him whenever you were free. Initially, you had thought he was busy with his own classes, sports activities or whatever, but even during the times where he too was free, you could never find him, anywhere. Not in his dorm, the gymnasium, the gym, museums, cute cafes, nowhere. It also didn’t help how any text you send was always left on delivered. You were becoming worried, but most of all, upset.

You missed him, you wanted to see him, you didn’t like the thought of him being angry at you because of something you did. You had to make it right, you just had to.

It was a cold, winters evening, where the sun was already beginning to set at the dusking time of 6pm in the afternoon. You walked with determination to one of Phainon’s favourite places- grand library, much greater than the one on your campus- You had remembered when Phainon took you there during the holidays at the end of the first semester, noting how it was absolutely filled with loads of historical textbooks and fiction.

You had hoped, that just by a miracle, you would be able to find Phainon there, or at least get him a few books for him as an apology gift for canceling on him for someone else, even if it seemed small in retrospect.

However, the roads and streets were desolate, quiet, empty. Nobody liked going out or hanging around during these times due to the dark weather, and the gloom it brung along with it. But you were calm, you wouldn’t be out for too long anyways, the library wasn’t too far from your college’s campus to be out for so long.

What you didn’t know, was that someone was watching you, following you, drawing closer and closer as you advanced deeper into the darkness, until-

“What’s all that runni- HEY-! MMPH!! MMHMPH—-mmph- hmmgh-.. mmh…”

An unknown perpetrator had grabbed you from behind, their arms held tightly around you like a vice as their hand brought up a cloth to your nose and mouth, drenched in a form of anesthetic, forcing you to inhale the chemical skillfully. Once the unknown person knew you had been knocked out, they rid you of your belongings, discarding them on the ground besides you aimlessly, before dragging you away, and taking you someplace else, disappearing with you into the night.

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A few hours later, your eyes fluttered open with a few blinks, taking in your surroundings. It was dark to say the least, and cold, probably dirty too. Your vision was blurry, as it took you time to adjust. Once you did, you realised you were bound tightly to a chair, unable to move a limb, even by a tiny spasm from your muscles. There was also a cloth wrapped tightly around your lips, muffling any noise coming from your mouth.

Trembling in fear, you teared up. Was this the end? Were you about to be killed? Why would someone do this? Where’s Phainon? Phainon won’t know where you are.. You’re gonna die knowing Phainon hates you- Phainon- Phainon-

You didn’t even realise you were calling out Phainon’s name, even if it was muffled by your gag, as you felt a sharp, cold knife being pressed against the large vein in your neck from behind. Whimpering softly, you shut up, sweat beading at your forehead, as tears began streaming down your cheeks.

“So very pretty, aren’t you? A pretty little thing like you should know not to stay out so long i

n the dark, don’t you have a boyfriend to keep you safe?” They spoke, his voice sinister and low as he spoke, roughly yanking the cloth from around your mouth downwards to let you speak.

But you could only whimper pathetically again, your throat feeling dry as the words fell on your mouth.

“I don’t have one..” You answered weakly, your voice strained from the anesthetic previously used on you a few hours prior, from the dryness of your mouth and throat, due to the lack of water, and from your short sobs.

The figure chuckled lowly, evilly, a bite of inhumanity lingering in the sound.

“What a shame.. nobody to protect you, nobody to save you, nobody to help you, nobody to run to, nobody to love…”

Thoughts swarmed your mind as you thought of the endless possibilities of what may happen to you here. Bad thoughts, thoughts that made you even more scared, and cry even harder, louder. To which, you began to sob out loud. A genuine sound that your kidnapper took great pleasure in hearing. You felt their presence behind you back away, only to appear in front of you. They were masked, gloved, concealed fully in all black, with the exception of their eyes, which you couldn’t make out the colour of due to their mask almost covering it up completely.

Not being able to face the kidnapper eye to eye, you turned your head to the side and sobbed, not caring how stupid you may have looked as it lolled over the chair to the side. But they clearly weren’t having it, as they drew their knife under your chin, lifting it up with its sharp edge, to meet their thunderous gaze once more, eliciting a shudder and gasp from your lips.

“What’s the matter? I just want to see your face as I slice you open an-“

Their words are cut short as they gurgle on something- blood, before falling to their knees and side in front of you. What stood behind them shocked you to your core.

It was Phainon, standing tall above the man with a dagger in his hand, now coated in blood. His gaze was icy cold as he stared the kidnapper down, who looked back at him with a look of shock, and also, betrayal?

Before the kidnapper could get another word out, Phainon stepped on the back of your captor’s neck, crushing it with his weight, before turning back to you, who was horrified and motionless, face turning pale.

“P-Phai-“ You choked out, before sobbing loudly in fear and relief. His gaze immediately turned to one of immense worry and love as he dropped the dagger and cradled your face in his hands, looking at you with eyes full of distress, scanning over your form with despair.

“[Name], [Name]! Listen to me, you’re fine, you’re okay. Shh.. Hey- stop crying, please.” He gently patted your cheeks as he got down on his knees in front of you, having kicked the now dead body of your kidnapper away.

When you didn’t stop crying, he could only wince in sadness and frustration, making quick work at the rope around your legs that bound them to the chair’s legs. He whispered soft shushes to try and alleviate you somehow, which obviously didn’t work.

Once he had untied the rope’s tight knots around your ankles, he moved behind you to untie your arms from behind your back over the chair, which soothed a soreness from there that you didn’t even pick up when you woke up as he loosened the rope. He kept muttering small “I’m sorry..”’s into your ear from behind, his voice ever so soft and comforting.

Having fully untied you, he took you off the chair and brought you down onto the floor with him, cradling you against his large, warm torso, stroking your hair as you sobbed into his chest, soaking his light blue hoodie.

After some time, you had calmed down, albeit, still sniffling and choking slightly as you tried to speak.

“P-Phainon.. I— hic- I’m s-so sorry… I w-wanted to apologise- sniffle- but-“

“Shh.. it’s fine, [Name]. You shouldn’t be the one apologising, it should be me. I… I got you into this mess because of my own pride and communication issues, even if you told me to improve on it. I’m sorry, you’re safe now. Please don’t apologise, I was so worried when you weren’t picking up my calls…”

You heard a sob coming from him as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, crying gently at his own stupidity, the same stupidity that got you in this position. You couldn’t help but rub his back gently, trying to comfort him now, but he only let out a slight huff at your actions.

“..You shouldn’t be comforting me.. I got you into this mess, I almost got you killed. I was so stupid I-..”

“Phainon, i-it’s fine. You got me out of this mess, didn’t you..? And- and I don’t blame you for ghosting me or keeping your distance from me- I shouldn’t have cancelled plans on you last m-minute.. you didn’t know it’d end up like this..” Your voice was calmer now, less broken and fixing up as you spoke, trying to reduce his stress and worry.

‘You didn’t know it’d end up like this’ what a joke. He thought to himself.

“I just.. I was so worried. I tried messaging you back at 8pm to talk it out, because I knew you were most active during those times, but you didn’t answer. I spammed you so much and tried calling you so many times, but no answer…” He let out a shaky sigh as he ran a hand through his hair before continuing, “..I went to your dorm, knocked and waited there for so long, but you weren’t answering- I was terrified at that point.. Then, I went out and tried looking for you outside campus, still didn’t find you. And then- I saw it all.. your things. Your bag, your phone, everything- on the ground near some old trash cans near the side of the road. It took me ages to find you, but I spotted some desolate area and thought I’d try my luck, and thank goodness I did..”

He hugged you closer, before picking you up in a princess carry delicately, as if you were made of glass due to your more fragile state. He soon made his way out the room, making his way through the labyrinths of rotting walls and long, creepy corridors. He made sure your head was tucked away under his chin in the crook of his neck, so he could hear your breathing through his ear, in case anything went wrong.

“I have your phone and keys with me too, they must’ve fallen out whilst your kidnapper took you away, hm? Must’ve been terrifying, poor thing..” He gently swiped a piece of hair away from your face, which was all red, puffy, and wet from all your crying, giving you a pained expression in return to the sight.

As he carried you back into the campus, everything was a complete blur, and he could only slowly rock you back and fourth like a baby, to ease your nerves and mind, and coerce you back into reality as he swiftly entered your dormitory’s floor, reaching for the key in his pocket and unlocking the door swiftly.

He carefully lay you down on your room’s couch, getting on his knees again and stroking your head gently, a sad, hurt look on his face as he acknowledged your agitation and trepidation, after such a frightening experience.

“Just rest now, okay? You look so tired.. Don’t worry, [Name], I’ll keep you safe and watch over you. Just get the sleep that you need..” He lightly commanded, staying there, on his knees, until you drifted off into the realm of dreams peacefully.

He sighed in exhaustion as he got up, rubbing his forehead and looking at you with pure love in his eyes.

“…You know why I had to do this, right? Why I had to have some disgusting kidnapper take you away for some time? I need your love, your attention, your trust in me.. I’m so, so sorry, my love, but I had to. Otherwise, that pest- no. That virus, Mydei, would’ve taken you away from me, and I just can’t let that happen. I can’t imagine a life without you, [Name]….” He preached reverently, as if he was looking down at you like you were the embodiment of the divine, speaking to you as if you were his God. But you were. You were his to worship, his to love, his to keep safe. And he was going to make sure of that. One way or another, even if it meant hurting you in the process.

You belonged to him and him alone.