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angelremnants · 16 days ago

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American Wedding | S. Rogers

summary : Steve Rogers is throwing himself into mission after mission, trying to outrun the weight of his past—his unresolved feelings for Sharon and the lingering memories of Peggy. But when his commanding officers force him to take a break, Steve ends up on a staycation in Barbados. What begins as a forced respite soon becomes a much-needed escape as he unexpectedly finds healing, peace, and even a connection in the warmth of the Caribbean sun. Steve learns to let go of the past and finally breathe again, even if it’s just for a short while. Inspired by American Wedding (unreleased) by Frank Ocean.

pairing : Steve Rogers x f!reader

warnings : Fluff to angst, imposed traits on the reader such as an origin, emotional healing, mention of past relationships, themes of healing and self-discovery, themes of arranged marriages and family pressure, mentions of emotional and familial abuse, a bit of hurt/comfort, bittersweet ending, mentions of past trauma, mild language. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive to such material.

word count : 12.3k

author's notes : I don't know what's wrong with me and writing long fics with major angst. I think I might have a problem.

If you're still as hooked in the MCU fandom as I am, then it shouldn't be a surprise for you that I stumbled upon the infamous Steve edit on American Wedding. Steve was my first little crush when I started getting into the MCU; it might not be my number one anymore, but I couldn't help but be mesmerized by the work and how well it could somehow fit the vibe of our golden boy.

Side note, I chose Barbados just because I love Rihanna (plus, the country is as gorgeous as she is). I tried to respect the culture as much as I could, but please do let me know if something is amiss. Anyways, here's my take on what this song could mean if associated with America's Ass greatest soldier.

(ao3 version)

The mission was over.

Steve Rogers had traded his usual Captain America tight suit for average civilian clothes and now stood just outside a bustling café in Bridgetown, the late afternoon sun casting a golden hue over the vibrant streets of Barbados. He should’ve been relieved. The intel was secured, the rogue operation dismantled, and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were already working to extract the rest of the loose ends. But instead, Steve felt a familiar weight settle on his shoulders, one he couldn’t quite shake.

The air was heavy with the scent of fried fish and spices, and the sound of calypso music drifted from a nearby street performer. Locals walked by, some glancing curiously at the tall, broad-shouldered man who looked distinctly out of place. Steve’s fingers hovered over his phone, debating whether to call in and request another assignment.

Then, his phone buzzed in his hand, and the name Tony Stark lit up the screen.

Steve answered with a sigh, already bracing himself. “Stark.”

“Capsicle! How’s my favorite star-spangled soldier doing?” Tony’s voice was chipper, the sound of clinking glasses and faint jazz music in the background.

“I’m fine,” Steve replied, scanning the street as though someone might overhear. “Why are you calling?”

“Well, it’s not to remind you to update your playlist based on what I’m hearing in the background—though, seriously, we need to talk about that at some point.” Tony didn’t wait for a response. “No, I’m calling to let you know that for the first time in, oh, forever, we’re at a lull. No alien invasions. No rogue A.I.s. No infinity stones threatening to wipe out half the universe. You know what that means?”

Steve frowned. “That it’s time to prepare for the next crisis?”

Tony let out a dramatic groan. “And people say I’m the workaholic. No, Cap. It means you get a break.”

Steve rolled his eyes, leaning against the café’s wooden railing. “I don’t need a break, Tony. There’s always something that needs to be done—”

“Yeah, no. I’m gonna stop you right there.” Tony’s voice turned pointed, though there was still a hint of his trademark sarcasm. “I talked to Fury, and even he thinks you’ve been overdoing it. And considering the guy’s idea of a vacation involves a bunker and a bottle of bourbon, that’s saying something.”

“I’m fine,” Steve insisted, his tone tightening.

“Fine? Really? I mean, do you even know what day it is? Look, pretty much everyone’s off the grid—Sam, Natasha, even Clint’s in retirement mode. And I’m finally getting around to that honeymoon thing with Pepper because, you know, saving the world isn’t as good for a marriage as you’d think. So you? You need to chill.”

“Tony, I’m fine,” Steve had insisted, though even he didn’t sound convincing.

“Yeah, sure. That’s why you’ve been taking back-to-back missions for the past three months. What’s next? Fighting a volcano?”

Steve opened his mouth to respond, then realized he didn’t.

Tony took his silence as confirmation. “Listen, you’re not a machine, Cap. Even super-soldiers need to decompress. Which is why I, in all my infinite wisdom, am forcing you to take some time off.”

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tony—”

“Ah-ah! No arguments. Fury’s covering part of the bill, and I’m picking up the rest because I’m such a generous friend. You pick the place—anywhere in the world—and I’ll make it happen. You’re welcome.”

Steve glanced around, his eyes lingering on the vibrant life of the island. The azure waters sparkled in the distance, and the rhythmic sway of the palm trees seemed to beckon him. He hadn’t allowed himself a moment to breathe in months, maybe years.

“I don’t know,” Steve said slowly.

Tony groaned again, louder this time. “Come on, Cap. It’s not like I’m asking you to take a yoga class in Malibu. Though, honestly, you’d kill it in downward dog. No, I’m telling you to pick a nice spot, kick back, and—God forbid—relax for once in your life.”

“Tony—”

“Let me paint you a picture,” Tony interrupted, his tone turning theatrical. “A beachfront villa. Sunsets so pretty they’ll make you cry. Maybe a fruity drink with one of those little umbrellas—wait, scratch that, you’re more of a ‘beer and brooding’ guy. The point is, take the damn vacation, Steve. Doctor’s orders.”

Steve sighed, looking out the window of the outpost at the vibrant streets of Bridgetown. “I’ll stay here,” he said finally. “Barbados seems… peaceful.”

“Atta boy!” Tony cheered. “I’ll wire the funds. And hey, if you don’t send me at least one picture of you in a Hawaiian shirt, I’m gonna be very disappointed.”

Steve couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks, Tony.”

“Don’t mention it. Seriously, don’t. I have a reputation to maintain.”

The line went dead, leaving Steve alone with the sounds of the island.

The first few days in Barbados passed in a blur of quiet solitude. Steve spent most of his time walking along the beach or sitting on the villa’s small porch, nursing a cold drink while the sun dipped below the horizon. For someone used to the constant hum of battlefields, strategy meetings, and high-stakes missions, the stillness was almost unnerving.

But it wasn’t just the quiet that unsettled him—it was the thoughts he’d been pushing aside for months. Thoughts of Sharon.

He’d tried not to dwell on their break-up, but here, surrounded by the warmth and beauty of the island, the memories crept in uninvited. Their relationship had ended just weeks ago, though the cracks had been there for far longer. She had been kind, understanding, and steadfast—everything Steve thought he should want. But every time he looked at her, a small, nagging voice whispered the truth he didn’t want to face.

She was Peggy’s niece.

No matter how much he tried to compartmentalize it, the connection was impossible to ignore. Every time Sharon smiled, there was a flicker of something familiar—her determination, her poise, even the way she carried herself. It wasn’t fair to either of them, but Steve couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been chasing a shadow of the past. Sharon deserved more than that, and so did he.

When they’d finally called it quits, Sharon had been the one to speak the words he couldn’t bring himself to say.

“You’re still carrying her with you, Steve,” she’d said, her voice calm but heavy with resignation. “And maybe you always will. But I can’t be her for you. I don’t want to be.”

The guilt had followed him ever since. Sharon had been right. For all the years that had passed, Peggy still lingered in the corners of his mind—her voice, her laugh, the way she’d believed in him when no one else did. He hadn’t just been grieving Sharon’s absence; he was grieving Peggy all over again.

By the third day, Steve found himself wandering into a bustling part of Bridgetown, hoping the sights and sounds of the island might distract him. The streets were alive with energy—locals bartering at colorful market stalls, tourists snapping photos of historic buildings, and the rhythmic beat of soca music weaving through it all.

“Yuh lookin’ lost, boss,” a young man called out from behind a coconut cart. He was grinning, a machete in hand as he expertly cracked open a coconut.

Steve glanced back at him. “Just exploring.”

“Ah, well, yuh gotta try dis,” the man said, handing him a freshly cut coconut. “Yuh look like yuh could use a lil’ taste of Bajan life. Fresh coconut water! Or yuh scared of a lil’ machete work?”

Steve smirked politely but didn’t respond, unsure if he was being teased or seriously invited. Before he could decide, you appeared, carrying a basket of fruits and shaking your head with a laugh.

“Jamal, stop tormenting de tourists!” you scolded lightheartedly. “Poor man just tryna enjoy ‘e day without you harassing him.”

Jamal shrugged with a grin, chopping open another coconut. “Ah, just showin’ him how we do it here, yuh know? He look like he need it.”

You turned to Steve, flashing a warm smile. “Ignore him, he does this to everyone. But,” you added, your tone playful, “he’s not wrong. Coconut water will fix whatever ails you. You should try one.”

Steve chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing. “If you say so,” he said, stepping closer.

You nodded approvingly as Jamal handed him the coconut. “See? That wasn’t so hard,” you teased.

Taking a sip, Steve found the cool water surprisingly refreshing. “This is good,” he admitted, glancing at you.

“Good?” you repeated with mock offense. “It’s de best on de island. You’ve got a lot to learn.”

Steve smiled, feeling more at ease than he had in days. “Guess I’ll need a guide, then,” he said, the words slipping out before he could overthink them.

You tilted your head, amusement sparkling in your eyes. “Lucky for you, I know everyone ‘round here. Stick with me, Captain America, and I’ll show you the real Barbados.”

He blinked, surprised you knew who he was.

“Relax,” you said with a wink. “We don’t make a big deal of celebrities' ‘round here. Besides, the way I see it, everybody needs a break—even heroes.”

He guessed he really did well in choosing his destination.

Steve walked beside you through the busy streets, his coconut still in hand. The initial awkwardness of being recognized faded quickly as you carried the conversation effortlessly, your teasing making him smile more than he had in weeks.

“So, Captain America,” you said, throwing a glance over your shoulder with a grin. “What’s a hero like you doin’ walking ‘round alone in Barbados? Not enough trouble to save us from?”

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Actually, I’m here because I was told to take a break. Guess I've been working a little too hard lately.”

“Working too hard? You? Never would’ve guessed,” you teased, your tone playful.

Steve shook his head, grinning. “What about you? You seem to know everyone here.”

“I do. Born and raised. And the people here? They’re my family—even Jamal, with his coconut antics,” you said with a laugh. “You stick wit’ me, and I’ll teach you all de secrets of the island.”

“Secrets, huh?” Steve said, his tone tinged with curiosity. “What kind of secrets?”

You stopped suddenly and gestured toward a small, colorful shack by the road. “For starters, the best fish cutters on the island are right here. Come, you can’t visit Barbados and not try one.”

Steve followed you to the shack, where an older man greeted you like an old friend. As you chatted easily with him, ordering food, Steve found himself watching you with a kind of quiet admiration. You were easygoing, quick to laugh, and had a warmth about you that was magnetic.

When the fish cutters arrived, you handed one to Steve. “Here. And don’t even think of saying it’s just ‘good.’ Dis is heaven in bread.”

He took a bite, his eyes widening. “Wow. Okay, you’re right—this is incredible.”

You smirked. “Told you. The locals always know best.”

As the two of you walked along the beach, the conversation grew more personal. You asked about his life back home, and he answered honestly, even about the heartbreak he was still trying to shake.

“So, this Sharon,” you said carefully, “she’s Peggy’s niece?”

Steve nodded, looking sheepish. “Yeah. It’s… complicated.”

“You think?” you teased gently, bumping your shoulder against his. “Sounds messy. But you know what? Sometimes you just need to let go of what’s complicated and hold on to what’s simple.”

“And what’s simple?” Steve asked, curious.

You stopped walking and turned to face him, your expression soft but playful. “This,” you said, gesturing to the ocean. “Good food, good company, and a little bit of adventure.” He smiled, the sincerity in your voice hitting him in a way he didn’t expect. “I think I’m starting to see your point.”

Over the next few days, you made good on your promise to show Steve the best of Barbados. True to your word, you showed Steve places that weren’t in any guidebook, sharing bits of history and culture along the way.

“This,” you said one morning, gesturing to a vibrant, bustling market, “is where you get the freshest fruit on the island. And where you learn to bargain.”

Steve watched in awe as you haggled with a vendor, the two of you laughing and bantering in a mix of Bajan dialect and English. When you returned with a bag of mangos and papayas, he raised a brow.

“You just got all that for half the price,” he said.

“Yup,” you said with a grin, popping a slice of mango into your mouth. “You're lucky you've got me, Captain. Otherwise, they’d have charged you double for being a tourist.”

“Good thing I’ve got you,” he said, his tone warm.

Later, you took him to a rum distillery, where you explained the process of making Barbados’ world-famous rum, teasing him as he tried a sample and coughed slightly at the burn.

“That strong for you, Cap?”

“Not strong enough to knock me out,” he replied, his voice laced with humor.

You then took him to the lively Oistins Fish Fry, where he tried grilled marlin and danced awkwardly but earnestly to soca music. You dragged him to Harrison’s Cave, laughing as he marveled at the limestone formations.

“You look like a kid seeing snow for de first time,” you teased.

“I’ve been frozen in snow for seventy years,” he replied, deadpan.

You burst out laughing, and even he cracked a smile at his own joke.

One afternoon, you led him on a hike up to Cherry Tree Hill, where the view of the rolling hills and turquoise ocean was breathtaking. As you stood beside him, the wind tugging at your dress, you glanced at him with a smile.

“You're not bad company, you know,” you said.

“Neither are you,” he replied, the corner of his mouth lifting in that signature half-smile.

“You keep looking at me like that, and I might think you’re sweet on me, Captain.”

Steve’s cheeks flushed faintly, but he held your gaze. “And what if I am?”

Your eyebrows shot up, surprised but delighted. “Well, then,” you said, stepping closer, “I hope you know you’re in for one hell of a ride.”

As the two of you strolled along a quieter path near the beach, the sunlight danced through the palm trees, and Steve couldn’t help but feel a sense of calm he hadn’t experienced in months. He looked over at you, smiling at how animatedly you were explaining the significance of the bright kites dotting the sky—something about “kite season” and friendly neighborhood competitions.

“You know,” Steve said after a moment, “your accent isn’t quite like everyone else’s around here. It’s still got that lilt, but… it’s different.”

You glanced at him, a little surprised. “You noticed that, huh?”

He nodded. “I guess I’ve got an ear for detail. What’s the story there?”

You smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “Well, I went abroad for a few years—took my undergrad in the U.S. and just came back home recently.”

“Really?” Steve asked, intrigued. “What’d you study?”

As you walked beside Steve, your voice became more animated as you shared the kind of work you had done during your studies. “Well, when I was in the States for my undergrad, I did my thesis on cultural practices, specifically exploring the dynamics between traditional marriage structures and modern society.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Really? That sounds… complex. What kind of structures?”

“Yuh know, I looked into things like arranged marriages and how they vary across different cultures,” you explained, eyes sparkling with passion. “One part of my research focused on Islamic marriage traditions, particularly around the roles of brides and how modern perspectives are influencing those practices. It wasn’t about judging or anything, just trying to understand how people make it work, despite some of the harsh stereotypes.”

“Wow,” Steve said thoughtfully, clearly impressed. “Sounds like you dove deep into it. You didn’t go for the easy topics, huh?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “No, not really. I wanted to tackle something meaningful. And, for me, it was important to explore how even with things like hijabs or polygamy, those traditions have layers, especially when it comes to women’s agency. It’s all about perspective.”

Steve nodded, clearly fascinated by your work. “It’s amazing how much you can learn when you dig into a topic. I guess that’s why you came back here, huh? To work on making a difference in your community.”

You smiled softly, thinking back on your time abroad. “Yeah. I learned a lot, but I always knew I’d come home. There’s so much to do here, and I want to make sure we’re not losing our identity as we modernize. Barbados is home, and I want to help make sure it stays that way.”

You laughed softly, shrugging. “Guess it’s de island girl in me. This place is part of who I am. But,” you added with a sheepish grin, “spendin’ so much time abroad, I guess I picked up a bit of de American accent. It slips in sometimes when I talk.”

“I think it’s kind of charming,” Steve said, surprising even himself with the comment.

You raised a brow at him, a slow smile spreading across your lips. “Careful, Captain, or I might think you’re tryin’ to sweet-talk me.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish but amused. “Maybe I am.”

Your laugh rang out, light and melodic. “Well, you’re not too bad at it.”

At one point, while they were sitting on a beachside bench, a gentle breeze tugging at their clothes, Steve caught her eye, and she smiled. That smile. He swore it was the brightest thing in the world, even more stunning than the sun hanging low in the sky behind her.

The conversation continued, with Steve steering it back toward you. He asked about your time abroad, what it was like living away from home, and what made you choose environmental science in the first place.

“And what about you?” you countered, tilting your head as you studied him. “You’ve been saving the world for what—over a century now?”

He chuckled. “Not quite that long, but close.”

“Doesn’t seem like you’re slowin’ down anytime soon,” you said, your voice softer now. “But, Steve… don’t you ever just want to stop for a bit? Live a little for yourself?”

Her question caught him off guard. For a moment, he was quiet, the only sounds around you were the gentle crash of waves and the rustle of the wind in the trees.

“I guess I don’t know how to do that,” he admitted.

As you sat on the beach watching the sun dip below the horizon, you turned to Steve with a mischievous glint in your eye.

“So,” you began, “how do you feel about weddings?”

He looked at you warily. “Weddings?”

“Yeah. My… um, distant relative—you probably need a map to figure out how we’re related—is getting married this weekend. It’s a small thing,” she said, “But it’s a family event. You know how it is—everyone wants to show up and make it ‘extra’ for the aunties.”

Steve chuckled. “I’m guessing it’s not going to be your average wedding then?”

“Oh, no,” she grinned, “Think small chapel, a few too many drinks, maybe a bit of dancing, and a lot of awkward family members trying to act like they haven’t been feuding for the past ten years. But, you know, in the best way possible.”

Steve found himself laughing along with her, the ease between them growing stronger by the minute.

“Actually,” she said with a mischievous grin, “It’s going to be kind of hilarious. I was thinking…” she paused, glancing over at him. “You wanna come with me? As my… plus one?”

Steve blinked in surprise, but there was something about the way she said it as if she didn’t mind the idea of them being together at such a personal family event. “I mean, are you sure? I’m probably not what your family had in mind when they thought ‘plus one,’” he joked, a smile tugging at his lips.

She shrugged, the motion casual, but her gaze was intense. “Honestly, I don’t think anyone really knows what they’re getting when they invite me. And trust me, you’ll be far more interesting than the rest of my relatives.” She glanced at him sideways with a grin. “Besides, maybe they’ll like you more than me.”

“Are you trying to get me to go to your wedding as an act of charity?” he teased.

She laughed. “No, I’m offering you a chance to be part of something completely ridiculous, and trust me, you’ll be talking about it for years.”

“Well, in that case,” Steve said, pretending to think it over, “I guess I’ll be there. But you’ve got to warn me beforehand if there’s any kind of dancing involved. I’m not exactly a pro.”

Her grin widened. “Deal.”

They separated when it was well into the night, and soon enough Steve found himself back in his quaint hotel room, listening to the peaceful waves of the ocean. He laid on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind drifting back to the hours he’d spent with [Y/N] earlier.

He couldn’t help but replay the way she looked again and again in his mind. The first thing that struck him was how effortlessly beautiful she was. Her skin looked golden when it caught the sunlight in a way that made everything around her seem brighter, like she was glowing from within. Her hair framed her face in soft waves, a contrast to the sun-kissed skin that made her seem like she belonged to the island itself. It wasn’t just the way she looked, though; it was the way she carried herself. She moved with such ease, like she was perfectly in tune with the world around her, as though every step was measured but never forced.

Her eyes—those eyes—were a shade that seemed almost impossible, warm and deep, with a spark that made it clear she was fully present, fully alive in every conversation. When she spoke, it was with an accent that was distinctly Barbadian, but there was a softness to it, a hint of something else—like she’d been somewhere far from home and had returned with more layers than when she left. Her smile had been what did it to him, though. It wasn’t just the way it lit up her face, but the way it made him feel like he was the only one in the world she was focusing on, even if it was just for a moment.

And it wasn’t just her looks—Steve knew he’d never felt this way about someone in years, the way his heart seemed to skip when she caught his gaze, the way the mere thought of her made him feel like a teenager again, nervous and unsure but eager all the same. The more he thought about her, the more the feeling intensified, like a slow burn in his chest. He tried to push it down, telling himself it was just the heat, just the newness of it all, but deep down, he knew it wasn’t that simple. He had found something in her, something that made the weight of everything else just… fade away.

The way she laughed, her smile so effortless, like she was a living embodiment of the sun that bathed the island in warmth. There was something about her that made his chest tighten—something magnetic, yet disarmingly genuine. He’d expected a brief distraction on this trip, maybe a drink with a stranger. Instead, she had effortlessly captivated him. Her energy was infectious, and even in the quiet moments, she had a way of drawing him in. The little quirks of her accent, the way she’d pause mid-sentence to correct herself, as if speaking a second language she hadn’t used in too long—there was a vulnerability in it that made her all the more endearing.

And then there was the tattoo. That damn tattoo. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. He’d barely even paid attention to it at first, but after spending hours with her, it stood out more, like a proud branding. A temporary tattoo she’d convinced him to get while they were strolling around. It was a simple design, a swirling wave pattern across his left hand, something that matched the feeling of freedom he’d had with her that day. He looked down at his hand now, the ink still vivid, but with a hint of purple-ish blue where it was starting to fade. She’d laughed when he’d rolled up his sleeve to show her, clearly impressed by how well it suited him. He never thought he’d have fun getting a tattoo, temporary or not, but the experience had been entirely different with her. Everything felt light, effortless, fun.

As his mind wandered further, Steve found himself imagining something he hadn’t thought about in a long time: the future. The thought of her in a wedding gown, walking down the aisle toward him, made his heart race. He couldn’t help but picture it, absurdly vivid—[Y/N], laughing under the lights, her eyes sparkling as she smiled at him in that way only she could. He’d be there, in a tux, grinning like a fool, probably fumbling over his vows. He could almost hear the judge’s voice, telling them to kiss, and there she’d be—his wife, laughing with him as they made it official in a courthouse with nothing but their hearts and a rush of love propelling them forward. The thought made him shake his head in surprise, crimson adorning his cheeks. It was ridiculous, yet felt so very real. He was falling for her in ways he never thought possible.

He tried to focus on other things—his next move, the mission he’d just completed—but as much as he tried, the tattoo kept pulling his attention back to her. It wasn’t just the design; it was the way it had been something shared between them. A small, playful gesture, but one that made the whole day feel… connected. He smiled to himself, the thought of her making his heart race again. He shifted uncomfortably under the covers, trying to shake off the sudden rush of warmth that had pooled in his stomach.

But as much as he tried to focus on other things, her laugh kept echoing in his mind, and the image of her running after his vehicle earlier today kept replaying, like something out of a dream he didn’t want to wake from. It was a feeling he hadn’t realized he’d missed—the easy excitement of getting to know someone new. He rolled over onto his side, trying to get some rest, but his mind wouldn’t quiet. No, he thought to himself, he wasn’t about to start feeling this way about her. Not now, not when he had so much left unsaid, so many wounds still open. But as sleep slowly began to pull him under, that feeling—warm and electric—lingered in the back of his mind, making it hard to ignore the undeniable pull he felt toward her.

The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the streets as Steve revved the engine of the bright red 5.0 Mustang he’d rented for his trip. He’d opted for the car, not just for the joy of driving it, but because he thought it might impress [Y/N]. Plus, he couldn’t deny that he wanted to show off a little, especially when he’d be picking her up from university. He’d learned from their conversations how much effort she’d put into her education and her dedication to her work, and he was eager to see where she spent her days.

He parked the Mustang in front of the university building, its polished surface gleaming under the late afternoon sun. His eyes scanned the steps, waiting for her to appear. He’d offered to take her to the wedding, knowing how much it meant to her. He’d also taken the time to ensure he had the right attire, knowing it would be expected of him. He wanted to be the gentleman. But it wasn’t just about impressing her family; it was about showing her that he respected her, that he was willing to step into her world, no matter how different it might be from his.

Soon, she appeared on the steps, a bundle of papers that she had to submit for her master's application clutched in her hand as she hurried down toward him. She wore a light sundress floating around her figure as she walked towards him, and Steve couldn’t help but notice the way the late afternoon sun made her glow. As she approached the car, she glanced at him with a playful grin, her eyes lighting up when she saw the Mustang.

“You sure know how to make an entrance, huh?” she teased, her voice laced with amusement as she slid into the passenger seat.

Steve chuckled, feeling a slight rush of pride. “Figured I’d try to keep up with you,” he said, glancing at her as he started the engine. “Ready for this?”

She nodded, still smiling. “I’ve never been more ready. Just a heads-up, though—my parents might give you the look. You know, the ‘who is this American?’ look.” She winked, but there was something soft in her gaze that made Steve feel like maybe she wasn’t entirely at ease either.

“Yeah, I’m used to ‘the look.’” He grinned, determined to be charming despite the tension in the air. He wanted to make her feel at ease.

As they drove toward the wedding venue, Steve kept the conversation light, asking about her studies, her thoughts on the wedding, and what her family was like. She talked about her work with passion, but Steve couldn’t help but notice the slight apprehension in her tone when she mentioned her parents.

When they arrived, he was introduced to her family, his hand shaking politely as he greeted her parents with a well-practiced smile. They weren’t unfriendly, but there was a certain coldness to their demeanor, like they were sizing him up, unsure of what to make of him. Steve, ever the gentleman, took it in stride, asking questions and trying his best to blend in. But as the evening wore on, it became clear that [Y/N] was not quite as comfortable as she let on.

She was whisked away by her family to change into something more formal, and Steve found himself left to fend for, alone in the crowd of unfamiliar faces. He quietly took a seat, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of her.

As the evening wore on, Steve found himself being gently but firmly ushered away from the crowd by one of [Y/N]’s relatives. He was led to a room at the back of the venue, where an array of Barjan formal attire awaited him. The family had been insistent on ensuring he was properly dressed for the occasion, a tradition that Steve hadn’t anticipated.

“I guess I’ll have to dress the part,” Steve muttered to himself, his voice carrying a hint of amusement as the servant handed him a traditional Barjan tuxedo. It wasn’t quite what he’d expected, but he knew better than to argue—[Y/N] had asked for him to be taken care of, and he wanted to honor that.

The outfit was stunning: a sharply tailored jacket with intricate gold embroidery at the collar and cuffs, paired with sleek trousers that tapered perfectly at the ankle. The fabric was a rich, deep shade of midnight blue that shimmered under the light, and the shirt underneath was a crisp white with a soft sheen. He looked at himself in the mirror, admiring the polished shoes and the way the suit fit him perfectly, as though he’d been born to wear it.

As Steve finished adjusting his tie, he couldn’t help but think about how much this wedding had already become so much more than what he’d anticipated. He wasn’t just here as a guest; he was part of her world, even if that world was foreign to him in many ways. He was eager to see her, to see what she would look like in her formal attire, and the thought of her in a gown left him feeling a strange mixture of excitement and nervousness.

Once he was dressed, Steve rejoined the others in the main hall, where he was greeted by [Y/N]’s family, all clad in their formal Barjan attire. The women wore elegant, flowing gowns, with intricate beadwork and colorful patterns that reflected the island’s natural beauty. The men wore similarly rich outfits, with patterned vests and gold-accented details that gave them an air of authority and elegance. Steve felt like he’d been transported to another world, one full of tradition, culture, and beauty.

Then, finally, [Y/N] entered, and Steve’s breath caught in his throat. She looked radiant. Her dress was everything he’d imagined and more: a delicate, embroidered gown with a soft blush hue, its flowing fabric catching the light with every step. The intricate patterns on her dress mirrored the ones in her family’s attire, as though they were all part of one elaborate, elegant tapestry. Her hair was let loose in its natural soft waves, and the sparkle in her eyes made her seem even more ethereal.

She smiled when she saw him, and Steve felt his chest tighten with something he couldn’t quite put into words. “You look… incredible,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

She smiled back, her eyes twinkling. “Thank you,” she replied, her tone light but warm.

They shared a quiet moment, their connection palpable. The formal attire, the elegance of the night—it all felt surreal, yet right at the same time.

Steve couldn’t keep his eyes off [Y/N] as the wedding celebration rolled on. She was radiant, her smile lighting up the room, but it wasn’t just her looks that had him captivated. It was the way she carried herself, effortlessly blending into the crowd while still standing out. He wasn’t used to feeling this way—not amid all the military stuff he had been through, not after everything he’d seen. But with her, it was different.

As they stood by the drinks table, Steve couldn’t resist a smile. “You clean up pretty well,” he said, the words coming out more smoothly than he intended, but it was true. She looked stunning in that dress, her laughter echoing in his chest like a warm melody.

[Y/N] looked over at him, her gaze teasing. “For a guy who usually wears a uniform, you look pretty good in that suit yourself.”

“Well, I’m trying to keep up with you,” he replied, giving her a half-smile. “You know, trying to make a good impression.”

She leaned closer, her voice dropping just slightly, playful but with that edge of seriousness Steve had come to recognize. “You don’t need to try so hard,” she said, her words almost a challenge. “You’ve already impressed me.”

Steve’s heart skipped a beat. He didn’t know what it was about her that got under his skin like this, but the way she made him feel was disorienting, like the ground wasn’t quite steady beneath him. It had been a long time since he’d felt this much—anything, really.

“So,” he said, trying to keep his composure, “what’s next? You’ve already got my attention, and I’m starting to think that’s the only thing I’m focused on tonight.”

Her lips curved into a smile, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, I guess maybe you should focus on me a little more,” she teased, but there was something deeper in her voice, a subtle invitation that made Steve want to step closer. “After all, there’s still plenty of weddings left, Captain.”

Steve blinked at the title, his face softening into a grin. “I’m not used to being called that at a party,” he joked, though his mind was already on the edge, keeping himself from crossing the line. He wasn’t used to this kind of playful banter. In the military, things were direct, and to the point. But with [Y/N], it was different. She made him feel… lighter. He’d never thought he’d feel this way, especially not in the middle of something so unfamiliar, like a wedding halfway around the world.

He leaned in slightly, just enough to get her attention. “But I’ll insist, you’ve got me distracted, more than I thought possible.”

[Y/N] laughed softly, as though she was enjoying the chase, but she stayed close enough that their words felt like a secret between the two of them. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said, her voice carrying the slightest hint of mischief. “Though, maybe I should keep you on your toes a little longer. Can’t make it too easy for you, Captain.”

Before Steve could respond, her parents arrived, their presence immediately cooling the warm atmosphere between them. The formalities kicked back in, and Steve felt a slight shift in [Y/N]’s demeanor. She seemed to retreat into herself a bit, her smile faltering. Her parents were speaking with her in low tones, their voices too serious for the celebratory mood of the evening. Steve’s protective instincts flared, but he knew better than to interrupt family matters.

She tried to give him a reassuring smile as they spoke, but it wasn’t enough. Her parents were speaking to her in hushed tones, their words sharp, but Steve managed to catch bits and pieces with his super-soldier hearing. “You’ll marry him soon. It’s already arranged,” her mother’s voice was firm, but there was an undeniable sense of finality in it.

[Y/N]’s expression darkened as she listened, her hands gripping the fabric of her dress as if trying to hold herself together. Steve’s heart ached for her. He didn’t know what was being said, but he could see the pain in her eyes. He wasn’t about to let this go unnoticed, not when it was clear she needed support.

Without a second thought, he moved toward her, gently pushing through the crowd to reach her side. As soon as she saw him, she turned away from her parents, her expression a mix of frustration and sadness.

“[Y/N]?” Steve called out softly, his voice full of concern as he reached out to her.

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she hurried toward the back of the venue, away from the eyes of her family, with Steve following close behind.

“Hey, hey,” he said, catching up with her and gently taking her arm. “What’s going on?” She looked at him, her eyes wide with emotion. “They… they’ve already arranged my marriage, Steve,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “To someone I don’t even know.”

The drive back to the beach was quiet. The low rumble of the engine was the only sound between them as Steve kept his eyes on the road, his knuckles white against the steering wheel. The Mustang purred beneath them, but it felt hollow in the silence that stretched out like the ocean they were heading toward. Steve was trying to give [Y/N] space, but the tension between them was palpable. He knew she was struggling, knew that what had happened at the wedding had cracked something wide open. The weight of it all hung heavily in the air, thick and suffocating.

The soft hum of the ocean was the only sound that accompanied them as they walked along the shore. The sand beneath their feet was cool from the night air, and the sky was dotted with stars, but the world felt heavy around them. [Y/N] was quiet, her steps slow, her mind still racing with the events that had just unfolded. Steve kept a careful distance, giving her space, but his mind was working overtime—trying to make sense of everything that had just happened.

They reached the spot where they’d stood together the day before, where the horizon stretched out before them, untouched and endless. The contrast between that peaceful moment and this was sharp. He could still see the laughter in her eyes, the carefree joy they had shared—but now, her face was clouded with doubt and fear.

Steve paused for a moment, looking at her as she stared out into the dark expanse of the ocean. He wanted to fix this, to do something, anything, to take away the pain that had suddenly overwhelmed her, but he knew this was something only she could express. He was here to listen, to be present, and that was what mattered right now.

[Y/N] broke the silence, her voice barely audible over the crashing waves. “I thought I had more time, Steve. I thought I had figured things out. I worked so hard for this freedom.” Her voice cracked as she looked at him, tears welling in her eyes. “I thought that if I could prove myself, if I could show them that I could make something of my life… they’d let me go. But now, they’ve taken everything. They hid my passport. They took my money. And now, I have nothing.”

The raw vulnerability in her voice hit him harder than he expected. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out instinctively, resting on her shoulder. She flinched at the touch but didn’t pull away. She needed comfort—he could feel it, even if she wasn’t sure she wanted to accept it.

“[Y/N]…” he whispered, his voice full of empathy. He didn’t know what to say, not really. What could he say to make this better? But she kept going, her words tumbling out like a dam had broken.

“I came back thinking everything would be different,” she continued, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I thought if I came back successful, I could change their minds. But they’ve already planned everything. They’ve arranged my marriage to someone I’ve never met… and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Steve’s heart sank as he heard the desperation in her voice. He wanted to scream, wanted to fight, to tell her that she didn’t deserve this, that she didn’t have to go through this alone. But instead, he just wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest, offering her the one thing he could give—comfort.

“You’re not alone, [Y/N],” he said quietly, his voice soft but firm. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

She pressed her face against his chest, her tears soaking through his shirt. “You don’t understand. You don’t know what it’s like… to be trapped like this, with no way out. I can’t even run anymore.”

Steve tightened his hold on her, feeling the weight of her pain in his bones. He had faced his fair share of burdens, of being trapped by duty, but this—this was different. She wasn’t bound by a war or a mission. She was bound by a life she hadn’t chosen, a future her parents had decided for her.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” he said again, his voice hoarse. “We’ll figure this out. I don’t know how, but I’m not going to let them take you from your life.”

She pulled back slightly, her face streaked with tears, her breath ragged. Her eyes searched his, looking for any sign that he truly meant it. That he wasn’t just saying what he thought she wanted to hear.

“I don’t even know how to fight this anymore,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “They have everything… They control everything. And I just wanted to live my life. I just wanted a chance to choose.”

Steve cupped her face gently in his hands, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. “And you will. We’ll find a way. You’re not stuck. I promise you that.”

The tension between them was thick, raw, and emotional. It wasn’t just about the fight against her parents. It was about everything that had been left unsaid, everything that had been building between them. The air between them crackled with unspoken words, a connection that had been forged over the past couple of days but hadn’t fully been explored until now.

“I can’t let you go through this alone,” Steve said, his voice low and steady. “Not now. Not ever.”

She searched his eyes, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke. There was a tension in the air—an unspoken connection that hung between them like a spark, waiting for someone to ignite it. Steve wasn’t sure who moved first, but before he could think twice, [Y/N] closed the distance, her lips meeting his in a kiss that was both tender and urgent. The world seemed to fall away in that instant, leaving just the two of them in the quiet of the night, where nothing else mattered.

When they finally pulled apart, their breaths shallow, [Y/N] looked at him, her eyes searching his face. “I never wanted to drag you into this, Steve,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I’m scared.”

Steve cupped her face gently, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheek. “You’re not dragging me into anything, [Y/N]. I want to be here. With you.” His voice was steady, but the emotion behind it was raw and real. “Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

She nodded, her lips trembling as she tried to hold back more tears. “But it’s too much. This wedding, this whole thing… it was supposed to be my escape, and now it feels like my worst nightmare.”

Steve leaned his forehead against hers, the cool air of the night brushing against them. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady the turmoil inside of him. “Look, maybe this doesn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “But you’ve got me, [Y/N]. You don’t have to pretend like it doesn’t matter to me. It means something. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Her eyes softened at his words, and despite the storm of emotions, she found comfort in his touch, in the sincerity in his eyes. The tension between them was palpable, but in that moment, it wasn’t just about what they had, or the mess of their circumstances. It was about a promise—unspoken but understood—that they would face this together, no matter what it took.

“I can’t promise things will be easy,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But… maybe if you stay, if we try, we could figure this out. Together.”

Steve kissed her forehead softly, brushing a stray tear from her cheek. “We’ll figure it out,” he promised. “You’re not alone in this, [Y/N]. Not anymore.”

And as they stood there, under the stars, in a moment that felt timeless, Steve knew one thing for sure—whatever came next, he wasn’t going to let her face it without him.

The air in Steve’s hotel room felt different now, quieter, heavier. The events of the day hung between them, both the wedding and the weight of [Y/N]’s revelation. After the drive back to the beach, she had refused to go back home, not wanting to face the reality that awaited her. Steve had insisted she stay with him for the night—there was no way he could let her face everything alone, especially now. He didn’t know what to do, but he knew he couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, Steve rubbed a hand over his face, his mind racing with possible ways to help her. He wanted to be her knight in shining armor, but he couldn’t simply waltz in and fix things with a few words. She was trapped—her passport, her future, everything—locked away by the people who were supposed to love and protect her.

“[Y/N], I…” He trailed off, not quite sure how to say what he was thinking. “I’ll figure something out.”

She was curled up in the armchair by the window, gazing out at the city lights, her expression distant. She didn’t speak for a long time. She didn’t need to. She didn’t need to tell him how much it hurt, how much it all stung—he could see it in her eyes. The hopelessness, the exhaustion. The realization that this wasn’t just a fight for freedom. It was a fight for her entire life.

Suddenly, something clicked in Steve’s mind. He turned to face her, the idea solidifying. “What if I could help you get out of here?” he asked, voice low but urgent.

Her eyes flickered toward him, but the sadness in them didn’t fade. “What do you mean?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I can pull some strings. They have resources—people who can help you, maybe even with getting a passport or finding a way to go somewhere else for a while. You don’t have to stay here. You don’t have to stay trapped in this.”

She shook her head, the weight of the thought sinking in. “But they’ll come for me, Steve. My family…” She trailed off, biting her lip. “I don’t think I can escape them.”

Steve stepped closer, his gaze locking on hers. “I’m not going to let you go through this alone. You’ve got more options than you realize.” He looked down, something catching his throat. He had a lot of connections, but even with all that, he wasn’t sure if it would be enough. But he’d damn well try.

Then, another thought hit him, and he stood, moving toward the table where the papers were scattered. The Mustang. It had been his escape for the weekend, a symbol of freedom, but now it was a tool he could use for her. “I rented it for the trip,” he said, his mind working. “But maybe… I can buy and sell it. Use the funds to help you get started, to give you a little cushion until we figure out your next move.”

Her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to protest, but Steve cut her off before she could speak. “It’s not much, but it’s something. You’re not going to keep fighting this alone.”

[Y/N] stared at him for a moment before shaking her head. “I can’t accept that, Steve. You know I can’t, it’s expensive and it’s too much work.”

He met her gaze, determination in his eyes. “You mean so much more to me than a car, [Y/N].” The words came out before he could stop them, and his chest tightened at the vulnerability in his own voice. “I’m not going to leave you to deal with this on your own. Not now, not ever.”

Her eyes softened, but there was still a sadness there. “I don’t know if I can go back to my family, Steve. I don’t think I can survive that again.”

A surge of protectiveness ran through him. He stepped closer to her, his hand reaching out, but he hesitated just before it touched her. “I won’t let them get you.” His voice was rough, but there was an undeniable sincerity to it.

[Y/N] looked down at the table for a moment, then back to him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she whispered.

Without thinking, Steve gently cupped her face in his hands, tilting her head to meet his eyes. The moment felt suspended, like the world had stilled just for them. He leaned in slowly, as if asking for permission before pressing his lips against hers.

It wasn’t a kiss of passion, not at first. It was soft, tender, like a promise—an unspoken agreement that no matter what happened next, they wouldn’t have to face it alone. The kiss deepened as the weight of everything—the pressure, the fear, the hope—flooded through them both.

When they pulled back, Steve reached into his pocket, feeling out the small, simple ring he had kept for years—a ring that had once been meant for Peggy. It was never given, never worn, but he had carried it with him as a relic from the past, a piece of his lost future with her. But it had also been something else—a lucky charm, a symbol of what was lost, but also what he might still be capable of.

As he looked at [Y/N], a memory flashed in his mind—the conversation with Sharon, her words weighing heavily on his heart.

You’re still carrying her with you, Steve.

Those words had haunted him. He had spent so long carrying Peggy’s memory, holding onto the past, thinking it was the only way forward. But at this moment, it hit him.

Maybe Peggy’s spirit had always been willing him to move on. To let go of the relics of the past, to make space for something new, something real. He didn’t need to carry that ring anymore. He could finally let it go.

[Y/N] looked up at him, and for the first time that night, she smiled—a real smile, the kind that reached her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I don’t know what’s coming next, but… I’ll trust you.”

Steve nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips as he sat beside her, his arm around her shoulders. For a moment, everything felt as it should be—like the world outside didn’t matter, and the only thing that mattered was the two of them.

The following morning, Steve awoke to the soft sound of the ocean waves crashing against the shore. The room was dim, the early light creeping in through the windows. He turned his head and saw [Y/N] still asleep, curled up next to him. Her breathing was steady, peaceful, a stark contrast to the chaos of the night before.

Today was his last day in Barbados.

They hadn’t solved everything, not yet, but they had taken the first step. They had found each other in a moment of vulnerability, and for once, the world outside felt a little less pressing. He smiled softly, brushing a few strands of hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her skin.

As he watched her, his thoughts turned to Peggy—her memory, her spirit—but now it felt like a distant ache, not a tether keeping him bound to the past. Peggy had been a part of his journey, but he had learned that it was okay to move on, to let go. The future, whatever it held, didn’t need to be defined by what was lost. It could be shaped by what was right in front of him—[Y/N], a new beginning, a chance to build something of their own.

[Y/N] stirred and slowly opened her eyes, her gaze meeting his. A soft smile appeared on her lips as she stretched, still half asleep.

“Morning,” she whispered, her voice still thick with the remnants of sleep.

“Morning,” Steve replied, his heart light, despite everything they still had to face. “How are you feeling?”

She paused for a moment, her eyes searching his as if weighing the sincerity in his words. She glanced down in lost thought before meeting his gaze again. “I’m… okay,” she said quietly. “It’s a long road ahead, Steve. But I don’t feel so lost anymore.”

Steve nodded, his hand gently caressing her arm. “We’ll take it one step at a time. I’ll help you with whatever comes next. We’ll figure it out together.”

Her eyes softened, and she gave a small nod. She wasn’t fully healed, and there was a long way to go, but there was hope now. And that was enough.

The sun had fully risen by the time Steve and [Y/N] were ready to face the world again. After the heartfelt conversation the night before, it felt like they had made strides, but the morning light brought a sobering clarity.

Steve stood at the window of the hotel room, staring out at the endless horizon, the weight of his duty pressing down on him. He had known this moment would come. He had always known that being with [Y/N] was a fleeting thing, a brief escape from the responsibilities he could never quite shake off. There was a sense of urgency in his chest, a reminder of the mission waiting for him, the world that still needed saving.

[Y/N] had showered and dressed in silence, her face still pale from the weight of everything she’d gone through. She moved quietly around the room, packing her things as if trying to avoid the inevitable. She hadn’t said it, but Steve could feel her resistance. The distance between them had already started to stretch.

He turned away from the window as she sat on the edge of the bed, looking small in the oversized hotel robe. She wasn’t meeting his gaze, and he couldn’t blame her. She had put everything on the line to be with him, only to have to face the reality that they couldn’t have a future together—not now, at least.

“I’ve been thinking,” Steve began, his voice steady but tinged with regret. “I might be able to help you get out of here, help you get your life back. Maybe through SHIELD… I’ll make sure you’re safe, that you have a way out of this. I’ll talk to the director.”

[Y/N] didn’t respond immediately. She just stared at her hands in her lap, her fingers trembling ever so slightly.

“I don’t want you to do this for me, Steve,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You have a life… your duty. You don’t have to fix this for me. I’ll find a way out, one way or another. I’ve been running from this for years. I can handle it.”

Steve clenched his jaw, fighting the frustration bubbling up. “You shouldn’t have to,” he said quietly, walking over to where she sat. He crouched in front of her, his hands resting gently on her knees. “You deserve better than this. You deserve more than a life of being pushed around by other people’s choices.”

Her eyes finally met his, and for a moment, they just looked at each other, the weight of the world between them. “I thought… I thought I could have a different life,” she said softly, her voice breaking as she blinked back tears. “But I don’t know how to get away from this. I don’t know how to get out.”

Steve took a deep breath, his heart aching for her. The situation wasn’t fair, and he couldn’t give her the kind of life she deserved. Not right now.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the wedding ring. It was strange, how something so tied to the past had suddenly become a symbol of hope for the future. He had carried it for too long, unsure of whether he would ever move on, but now it felt right.

He placed the ring in [Y/N]’s hand, his fingers lingering on hers for a moment. “I can’t stay, [Y/N]. You know that,” he said softly. “But this… this is for you. It meant a lot to me for a while, and now I want you to have it so you remember that you’re not alone. You’re stronger than you know, and one day, you’ll find your way out of all this. I believe that.”

[Y/N] held the ring in her hand, her fingers wrapping around it as if it were the last thing tethering her to a future she wasn’t sure she could have. Her tears finally spilled over, and she let out a shaky breath.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” she asked, her voice breaking.

Steve nodded, standing up and giving her one last, lingering look. “I have to. There’s a world that still needs saving, and I can’t turn my back on it. But you’ll be okay. I know you will.”

[Y/N] nodded slowly, wiping her eyes as she looked at him one last time. “I’ll find a way… to make things right. I will.”

They stood there in silence for a moment, the weight of what they couldn’t have settling between them. Steve reached down and gently cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear.

“I’ll never forget you,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “And maybe one day… if the world isn’t too broken, we’ll find a way back to each other.”

She nodded, her heart torn, but she knew the truth of his words. They were both tied to duty, to the things that had shaped their lives. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t remember the good, the fleeting moments of peace they had shared. They would always have those. “I’ll keep this,” she whispered, holding up the ring. “It’s all I’ll have left of us.”

Steve and [Y/N] spent their final hours together. The air between them was thick with the bittersweetness of time running out, but neither of them wanted to waste a single moment.

They spent the day doing little things that made it feel like time had slowed down. A quiet breakfast by the beach, just the two of them, the waves gently crashing against the shore. They walked along the sand, hand in hand, the sounds of the ocean almost drowning out the world around them. They shared memories, laughter, and stories, as though pretending the weight of the world wasn’t pressing down on them.

But no matter how hard they tried, the reality couldn’t be ignored. Time was slipping through their fingers.

In the afternoon, they sat together on the same spot where they had spent their first evening, the sunset painting the sky with shades of pink, orange, and gold. Steve leaned against a large rock, his arm around [Y/N] as she rested her head on his shoulder, both of them watching the fading light. The silence between them was comfortable, but filled with unspoken words.

“I wish we had more time,” [Y/N] murmured, breaking the stillness. She turned her face toward him, her eyes reflecting the same sorrow he felt.

“I wish I could give it to you,” Steve replied, his voice low. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing against her skin like it was the last time he could touch her. “But you’re strong. You’ll be okay. You’ve already come so far.”

She gave him a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “What about you, Steve? Will you be okay?”

He paused, unsure how to answer. He couldn’t promise her that he’d be okay, not when he had so many things pulling him in different directions. But he knew one thing for sure: this day, this moment, was something he would carry with him for the rest of his life. “I think I will,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

They sat in silence again, just watching the sunset, neither of them willing to let go of the moment.

As the evening wore on, they went back to the hotel, their movements slower now, almost reluctant. Steve knew what was coming. The inevitable parting. And it hurt more than he had expected.

Before he left the room, [Y/N] handed him something—a small, folded piece of paper. He opened it, and inside was a drawing of a Mustang, her version of the car he had rented. On the bottom, she’d written, “For when you’re far away.”

Steve looked at her, his chest tight with emotion. He didn’t know what to say. The words caught in his throat. So, instead, he stepped forward, pulling her into a tight hug. He kissed the top of her head, breathing her in one last time.

“You’ll always have me in your heart,” he whispered, holding her as if he could keep her there forever. [Y/N] nodded, her tears threatening to fall.

“And you’ll always have me, Steve. No matter where you are.”

Steve’s boots clicked against the cold floor of the Avengers compound as he entered, the familiar hum of the place only adds to the weight in his chest. He’d just come back from his brief time away, a time he wasn’t sure how to summarize. It had been a whirlwind, a mixture of emotions he hadn’t expected to feel so deeply. But this sudden vacation had successfully changed him.

As he stepped into the common room, he saw Tony lounging on the couch, his eyes glued to a screen. The moment Steve walked in, Tony looked up with a grin, clearly expecting the usual sarcastic quip.

“So, Cap, how was your vacation?” Tony asked, casually tossing a glance at him.

Steve set down his duffel bag and leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t quite know how to explain what he’d experienced, what he’d left behind. The memories of [Y/N] lingered in his mind, and they felt like a weight he wasn’t sure how to carry.

“It was… well, it really helped me, Tony,” Steve said quietly, his voice steady, though there was an undercurrent of something deeper there, something he hadn’t figured out how to unpack yet. He glanced out the window for a moment, as though the ocean and the memories of the beach could somehow soothe him. “I didn’t realize how much I needed that time until it was over.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, always quick to read between the lines. But he didn’t push; instead, he took a sip from his glass and leaned back, knowing when not to ask further questions. “Good to hear, Cap. We all need a break now and then.”

Steve nodded but didn’t answer immediately. His mind kept drifting back to the last day he’d spent with [Y/N]—how they’d spent hours walking along the beach, hand in hand, knowing it was the end of something beautiful but fleeting. He remembered the warmth of the sun on his face, the way her smile had both broken his heart and healed it at the same time. But what hit him hardest was the way they’d parted. There was no easy goodbye, no promise that they would somehow find a way to be together. Just the certainty that life, as it often did, would pull them in different directions.

He couldn’t help but think about that damn Mustang. The one he’d rented for her, the symbol of the escape she had needed so badly. She’d drawn it for him—her version of it, something small and tender that he would hold onto forever. The image of her face, so full of determination and quiet sorrow, was forever etched in his mind.

And yet, he knew he had to leave. He couldn’t stay. Duty was calling, and no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t just throw everything away. She had her own future now, a future she had fought so hard to build. And he had his—one that couldn’t afford distractions, no matter how deep the feelings had run.

Tony watched Steve, noticing the faraway look in his eyes. “You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” he asked casually.

Steve blinked, shaking himself from his thoughts. He hadn’t expected Tony to guess it so quickly, but then again, Tony always had a way of cutting through the bullshit. He didn’t know how to explain what had happened with [Y/N], what they had meant to each other. And he didn’t want to, not yet.

“I am,” Steve admitted softly. “But it doesn’t matter. She’s going to be okay, Tony. I made sure of it.” His voice was low, steady with conviction, but there was something else there—a tinge of regret that he couldn’t quite shake.

Tony studied him for a moment. “That’s good, Cap. But you don’t have to keep it all together all the time, you know? It’s okay to feel like you don’t have all the answers.”

Steve chuckled softly, the humor in his voice tinged with melancholy. “I’m still figuring that out.”

Steve had made sure [Y/N] left before him and was taken care of before he made his departure. He had called in every favor, using his influence and SHIELD’s resources to ensure she could leave her old life behind and start fresh. After everything that happened, she deserved a chance at freedom. Her parents’ control over her life, the arranged marriage, had weighed heavily on her shoulders for so long. But now, with Steve’s help, [Y/N] was free.

With her new identity, a fresh passport, and a financial cushion, she had the chance to build her future on her own terms. Steve knew she had the strength to make something of herself, but it wouldn’t be easy. He’d made sure she had the right people backing her, a network of allies who could help her navigate her new life, far from the constraints of her family’s expectations.

She was enrolling in a prestigious university overseas, something she’d always dreamed of but never had the opportunity to do before. The freedom she’d fought for was within reach. Her family would never understand, but she didn’t care anymore. She wasn’t the person they had tried to mold her into. She had become her own woman.

But just leaving wasn’t simple. The scars of her past, her family’s rejection, and the haunting memories of the arranged marriage still lingered. She had to rebuild herself from the ground up, and Steve had been there for her every step of the way, even from afar, even if she didn’t directly know it. He’d given up a part of himself—his heart, his peace of mind—just to make sure she was safe and had a future. He’d set things in motion to ensure she had a chance to be the person she wanted to be, even if it meant not being able to stay in her life.

He’d watched her go, knowing that despite everything they shared, they could never be together. She was on her own now, and Steve had to let her go. His duty, his responsibilities, and the life he led as Captain America had always come first. But that didn’t stop him from caring for her, or from wondering what might have been, if only circumstances were different.

As the plane took off, [Y/N] looked out the window, leaving behind the life that had almost consumed her. Steve’s name echoed in her heart, but she knew she couldn’t look back. She had to keep moving forward. She had her own life to live now, and she would make it count. For him.

She was heading down a different path now, one of independence, of freedom. He had made sure she had the support she needed, and as much as he wished things had turned out differently, he knew he had to let her go.

Later, as Steve stood in the hallway, his hand on the door to his room, he took one last deep breath. He thought of [Y/N], of the way her eyes had sparkled in the fading light of the sun, of the way her smile had broken his heart. He thought of fading tattoo, of the Mustang and the promise of freedom she had now, and the one thing he had given her—something simple but meaningful: a wedding ring.

It wasn’t his first choice. It wasn’t even his second. It was the one he should’ve given Peggy, the one he carried with him for years as a reminder of what could have been. But now, it had found its way to [Y/N]—the woman who had made him feel something more than duty, more than responsibility. He couldn’t keep carrying it, couldn’t keep living in the shadow of his past. He had to let go.

The ring was a relic. It didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was that, for once, he had lived in the moment.

For Steve, it was the kind of love that burned brightly—intense, fleeting, and beautiful. Like an American wedding, it brimmed with promise, a celebration of what could be. But some things, no matter how luminous, aren’t meant to endure. And maybe that was okay. Because even in its brevity, it left something lasting—a healing fragment of her, etched into his once broken heart, immune to the passage of time.

And like an American divorce, it became a love story confined to memories—bittersweet and unfinished. They both knew it could never be more, but the echoes of it lingered, quietly shaping the man he would become.

Want to read more of my works? Check out my masterlist !

dividers ©️ @k1ssyoursister + @cyberbeat + @atinystaypixie .

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lilithslittleworld · 4 months ago

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can you write something with tobias eaton ?? preferably heavy making out and fluff. i think both of you being instructors/trainers . you can do anything you want

His Girl

A/N: yes ofc! The idea of this fanfic is that Tris never chose Dauntless and captured Four’s attention, you did🤭 I hope you enjoy it!

Sidenote: I LOVE getting requests from you guys, they’re so fun to write, so thank you:) There is also another Author's Note at the end of the fic!

Summary: After a first brutal year in Dauntless, Four managed to get you an instructors position alongside him. However, you can't help but wonder if the soft glances and brushing of hands is strictly professional or if it's something else...

Sometimes when you opened your eyes, you still expected to be in the dorms with the other new initiates. It had been months since you'd gotten your own little studio but it didn't always feel real. You liked having a space all to yourself, for your things, and without having to share. If that made you selfish, you didn't care.

You rubbed your eyes groggily, staring out of the one tiny window your flat had. "Another gray day," you mumbled, pulling yourself out of your bed. To call it a bed was an overstatement but you were forever grateful for that spare mattress Christina didn't want.

The sound of voices grew as you walked down the narrow corridor that led to The Hub. You could distinguish a few: some were other instructors and some came from your own initiates. You liked your bunch, especially since they were the first you were training. As for the rest of the instructors, the majority were fairly nice, some more than others. But only one stood out. Four.

Your feelings towards Four were unclear. On the one hand, he had trained you well, even landed you a job beside him. But your feelings towards him weren't solely professional. No, there were moments in your lonely nights that you imagined him taking you into his strong arms, his lips against yours, protecting you from a danger you both knew didn't exist. You knew that dating instructors wasn't off limits but it couldn't possibly be permissible, socially at least. The rest of trainers usually kept to themselves, indulging in the occasional hookup or fling but it was never anything more serious. Hooking up with Four sounded spectacular but it also didn't feel genuine.

You found your fellow instructors in the middle of the hub, going over that day's training no doubt. Four's back was facing you, as he spoke with Eric, turning his face slightly as he did. You knew he'd seen you out of the corner of his eye when he spun around halfway to meet your gaze.

"Y/N," he nodded at you, his eyes fleeting over your face quickly.

"Four," you responded, standing a few inches away from him.

"Ready for today?" he mused.

"Like always," you said, rolling your eyes and punching him lightly in the arm.

"Getting stronger, Y/N," he said, a small smirk pulling at his lips, "Careful or I'll have to hit back."

You gawked at him in a mock shock, your eyes widening. "You wouldn't dare."

Four shrugged, "You're not my student anymore. There are no rules that say instructors can't fight."

"Oh yeah?" you challenged, raising an eyebrow at him, "See me after class." You took off towards the training room, not bothering to hear his response. Though you knew you had caused an impression.

Your classes that day went by quickly, the minutes ticked closer to your break, closer to seeing Four again. You were thankful to have passed initiation but there was a tiny part of you that missed spending greater part of your days with Four, even if it was through the means of enduring physical hardships and fist fights with others. That's usually how trainings went anyway.

As the final initiates thinned out of the crowd they'd formed around you, the silhouette of one caught your eye as you bent down to pick up the scattered equipment left behind. It didn't take you long to realize it wasn't one of your students, as none of them were nearly that tall, that strong. Or that silent for that matter.

"Right on time," you said coolly, not bothering to glance over at Four as you retrieved knife after knife from the floor.

"I take all of my altercations very seriously," he replied, his voice sounded even deeper in the empty training room.

"Ah," you smiled, spinning around to find him staring down at you, his arms crossed. "Is this what this is?"

"I'll remind you that you're the one who told me to see you after class," he smirked, rolling his eyes, "I've done my homework, haven't I?"

"Very punctual," you answered, tilting your head up slightly to meet his gaze. Four chuckled lightly in response.

"I hate to burst your bubble, though," he said, shaking his head slightly, "I don't have a huge appetite for kicking your ass tonight, Y/N."

"Never took you as a coward, Four!" you gasped, the sarcasm thick in your voice.

"There's nothing cowardly about not wanting to fight on a first date," he replied matter-of-factly. A thrill ran through your body at his words, a hint of blush lingering on your cheeks.

"Is this what this is?" you asked, the shock on your face this time was real but you hid it well.

"Only if that's what you want," he said slowly, taking in your bewildered state. Or maybe you hadn't been as discreet about your surprise as you'd thought.

"Of course," you blurted out, "I just wasn't sure if I was picking up on the right vibe, that's all."

"You're not very easy to read either, you know that?" he shook his head, his shoulder moving as he chuckled.

"Mhm," you huffed, tossing the last few knives back into their container, making sure to hide your suddenly flushed face.

Twenty minutes later, Four had dragged you to The Pit once again. Only now, the seemingly welcoming vibe had been replaced with a much tougher crowd. A quick scan around you gave you the answer. A competition. Most things in Dauntless seemed to be life or death but swinging across the Chasm on a ragged, old rope sounded like a solid death sentence.

"You brought me to swing to my death?" you asked Four sourly, careful as to not make your excitement noticeable in your voice.

Four's lips tugged into a smile. "Not you, obviously. We're here to watch."

"What's that supposed to mean?" you asked, turning towards him now, "You don't think I can do that?"

"Let's be honest, Y/N, out of the two of us, I'm the expert in ropes," he replied coolly.

"We'll see about that," you muttered, your feet taking off beneath you as you finished your sentence. You were determined to prove him wrong. Was it risky? Yes but how hard could swinging from a rope be?

You were sure Four's voice was calling out for you in the auditory blur that surrounded you but you didn't care. Pushing past the bystanders, you made your way to the edge of the Chasm. A dozen of big-looking Dauntless members stood waiting for the next opponents. That's when you realized there were two ropes, one for you and one for someone else.

"What're you waiting for?" a small, yet strong Dauntless man called out at you.

"We won't bite!" said another, "Sheela's been standing here for a while," he said, gesturing at a tall, brawny Dauntless woman that stood holding one of the ropes.

"Well, I'm sure I was worth the wait," you replied, your voice loud and even.

The Dauntless members laughed, a few looked at you with bewildered faces.

"Well, little lady, step right up," the man said, "You'll have to reach the rope though."

You walked right to the edge, suddenly aware of how far the rope was from you. You would have to lean over the edge quite a bit to grab it. The good news was that if you did, there would be something to hold onto. You didn't want to think about the bad news.

You reached out a shaking arm towards the rope, leaning your body forward as you did. Your fingertips brushed the coarse, prickly line, trying anxiously to pull it towards you. You knew you needed another inch of inclination. Taking a deep breath to steady you, you pushed your body even further.

Thankfully your calculations had been precise, as the rope was now in your tight grip and your body around it. Screams emerged from behind you as you fell forward, many thinking you had missed it altogether. But no, your legs had twisted around it and your hands were holding you close to it. The problem now? You were quite literally over the Chasm.

"Y/N!" Four's voice sounded louder over the rest of people cheering you on, though many still seemed doubtful about your fate. "Swing!" he yelled. And they call this man a genius.

"I got it," you called out, knowing very well he wouldn't see you rolling your eyes at him from this distance.

"She's got it!" the Dauntless men who had teased you earlier yelled back at him. Four's eyes shot daggers back at them but didn't say a word.

They were right of course, you did have this under control. You swung yourself back and forth, each swing bringing you closer to the stone ledge. You used the momentum of your last push to reach out one of your legs, pushing your foot down firmly on the pavemented edge as you pulled the rest of your body back to safety.

The crowd behind you hooted and cheered for your triumphant return. Four's face seemed slightly more relaxed at seeing you back on the floor. He even seemed to smile.

Sheela seemed to be the only one not celebrating. "Are we doing this or not?"

The shorter Dauntless man held up a hand to both of you before turning to the crowd that only seemed to be growing. "The rules are simple. Step one: grab the rope," he grinned at you for a split second, "Step two: swing across the Chasm to the other side. Step three: climb the eastern wall and retrieve the arrow. Step four: come back before your opponent does."

There was no turning back now. Another Dauntless woman held a pistol up in the air, ready to fire the shot that would send you and Sheela swinging towards a very probable death. The shot rang through the silent Chasm loud and clear, the sound bouncing off the walls around you.

In an instant you were running towards the edge, wrapping your body around the rope once more as you swung yourself over the black abyss. You made sure to give yourself a few swings here and there as you neared the other side. Worst case scenario would be to get trapped in the middle and have to rely solely on your inertia to reach solid ground again. Luckily, once again, everything had gone according to plan. A few minutes later, your feet were on the surface of the other side of the Chasm. Sheela hadn't been so fortunate.

"Nice, Y/N!" Four called out from the other side of the Chasm. He was now standing next to the other Dauntless men, near the edge where you had stood just moments before.

You let out a breathy laugh as you tied the rope around a rock. No one had said anything about that and this way, you'd have one less step to think about. The walk to the eastern wall was short but you made sure to focus on your feet. The accidental slip of a foot could send you down. The arrow was lodged about fifteen feet up, in a small crack. This side of the Chasm wasn't as smooth, thankfully. There would be many spots to place your feet on as you climbed it.

You jumped up, arms reaching for the first rock that seemed pushed out, grabbing onto it tightly as you surveyed the rest of the wall. The climb was exhausting, so much stretching and rearranging your feet but the impending doom below you motivated you enough to not stop. You could hear the others cheering for you across the opening as you continued scaling.

About ten feet up, your extremities began to tremble. It started slowly but ultimately ended up wracking your entire core. You suddenly became aware of every droplet of sweat that dripped down you. But you couldn't brush them away. The arrow was now just a foot away from you. It was so close but your body was so weary that it felt like miles afar.

"Come on, Y/N!" Four's voice interrupted your troubling thoughts "Climb!"

His voice brought back a spark inside of you, one that pushed your body to its edge as you reached up towards the next ledge. The arrow was lodged safely in the wall but pulling out was the simplest thing you'd done this night. You let out a sigh of relief as you held it in your hand, resting your feet on the ledge you'd just held.

"That's my girl!" Four shouted with pride, his hands cupped around his mouth. His words sent a shiver down your spine and a swarm of butterflies in your stomach.

You had half a mind to check on your opponent, who happened to be scaling halfway up the wall to your right. You couldn't get distracted now, you still had to climb back down. Placing the arrow in your mouth to free both hands, you began your descent to safety. The way down was much easier, since you had already learned where to step and where not to.

In a matter of minutes, you were back on the ground, running towards the rock you had tied your rope around. Sheela was just seconds away from reaching her arrow but you knew her climb down would be as quick as yours.

Wasting no time, you untied your knot and took a couple steps back to give your swing more momentum. This last step of the competition was the least of your worries. You swung yourself for the last time, your feet pushing off of the ground firmly.

Four waited for you on the other side, his arms ready to catch you as you came closer. You flew right into them, sending you both toppling to the floor. In a blur of seconds, the Dauntless group had pulled you up into their arms, throwing you up in the air as they celebrated your victory. You craned your neck back to catch a glimpse of Sheela, who was still on the other side of the Chasm.

A pair of strong arms caught you. Four smiled down at as he slipped you away from the crowd. It would be a matter of seconds before they realized you weren't among them.

"Had me worried for a second there, Y/N," he smirked as he walked.

"I had it under control," you replied, raising an eyebrow at him.

He laughed, his whole body shaking against you. "Believe me, this wasn't my idea of a first day."

"Well I'd say it was one of the best in the books," you smiled and you meant it.

"You're insane, Y/N," he said, shaking his head in bewilderment as you reached a quieter part of The Pit. Four set you on your feet gently.

"No, I'm your girl," you said softly, smiling up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Oh, without a doubt," he murmured, his lips just centimeters away from your own.

"What am I going to have to kiss you too?" you teased him, running your fingers through his hair.

"God, you're driving me crazy," he laughed breathlessly before bringing his lips to yours. You expected a gentle kiss but there was a force and urgency behind it that made your heart flutter. Four's lips were so warm and soft and his arms wrapped protectively around you sent you spiraling. You needed him in a way you'd never felt before. You pushed your body closer to his, pulling his hair as his hands made their way to the the small of your back. Four's tongue found yours, swirling against it. Your breaths mixed with his own, his toned chest rising and falling as you kissed him. His lips moved against yours ardently, pulling you impossibly closer to him, the warmth of his body consuming you. He was driving you crazy.

You pulled away quickly before you did anything stupid like ask him to spend the night. It took you both a few seconds to compose yourselves before Four spoke.

"So, next date?" he began, playing softly with your hair.

"Who says there's going to be a next date?" you challenged, fulling aware that you were being a pain in the ass tonight but Four seemed to love it.

"I'm going to have to fight you for that," he said seriously.

"Sounds like we have date number two," you giggled, before you pulled Four back in for another kiss.

------

A/N: I realize this isn't too fluffy so I apologize and will definitely write the second date if you'd like!!! (and with a spicier ending!)

#divergent #divergent series #tobias eaton #tobias eaton x reader #tobias eaton smut #four x reader smut #four x reader #four smut #divergent fanfiction #divergent imagine #divergent smut

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celestie0 · 3 months ago

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Hey!! Do you have any ihm headcanons for gojo and y/n?

I honestly love them both so much especially reader. Your writing is amazing

suuure!! i mean they're not like officially in a relationship yet so these will just be kinda random facts about them i supposeee, some separate and some together :0 but i hope they're still interesting haha <33

in holy matriphony headcanons

ᰔ note. for anyone new here, these headcanons are based off of my gojo x reader long fic series called "in holy matriphony"!! header art by @/3-aem

ihm!gojo woodworks in his free time. he’s building a coffee table right now. he passed out in his workshop last weekend because he accidentally inhaled too many wood stain fumes

ihm!gojo already has a college fund set up for his future kids (he started it when he was 26 lmfao)

ihm!gojo on that note is veeery financially responsible (unlike ihm reader hahaha)

ihm!reader only chose nursing for her post undergrad plans because she dressed up as a nurse once for halloween and it drove choso crazy and that’s basically what she ended up rolling with for the rest of her professional career 👍🏼 (a questionable yet relatable decision)

ihm!gojo’s ex-wife, who shall still remain mostly a mystery, is actually someone he’s known since he was four years old (childhood friends to lovers type beat)

ihm!gojo’s favorite weekend pass times are hanging out with juno, taking his boat out to the lake, and watching SNL

ihm!reader secretly really wants to go for a ride on the lake on ihm!gojo’s boat but she’s spent so much time yelling at him for parking it halfway across her driveway curb that she feels like asking would be damage to her ego

ihm!gojo & ihm!reader were actually veeeeeery civil with one another when they first met, like very sweet neighbors, but then obviously things became sour down the line haha

ihm!gojo eats a generally pretty clean diet other than the occasional takeout on a friday. he PIGS out when he’s sold a house though. also, he’s a massive slut for home baked goods especially if they were made just for him. one time juno brought him a plate of (very burnt) chocolate chip cookies and he damn near cried (it’s the thought that counts)

ihm!gojo became a real estate agent fresh out of college but his actual major in college was entirely unrelated to marketing, sales, or business (shall be revealed later)

ihm!reader was voted prom queen not once but twice when she was in high school and she believes that’s when she peaked in life

ihm!gojo gets sent on business trips to foreign countries pretty often by his brokerage firm to assess new housing markets and he always tries to bring back souvenirs for everyone in the neighborhood (except reader because he once brought her a stuffed animal from the airport in taiwan but he saw her throw it away in her garbage bin on trash day :( …she’s so mean sometimes)

whenever ihm!gojo & ihm!reader have arguments over things, they always vent about it to their neighbors in passing, and reader gets so pissed off when neighbors take gojo’s side because she’s literally lived there her whole life and yet they have the audacity to advocate for HIM

ihm!reader holds a lot of resentment towards her father because he was a heavy smoker for the entirety of his marriage to her mom, and so she suspects the reason her mother has cancer in the first place is because of the secondhand smoke

ihm!gojo is obsessed with avocados. he eats avocado toast everyday. and he makes a meaaaaannn bowl of guac. he only has one avocado tree in his backyard right now but he would like to have a whole farm of them someday

ihm!gojo is really social, he loooves to talk to people and get to know them and ask them for their whole life story even if he just met them like two minutes ago lol, but his actual close knit group of friends is only like 3-4ish guys

ihm!gojo gets frequently invited to his clients’ dinner parties, christmas parties, thanksgiving meals, kids birthday parties etc lmfaooo but he often has to politely decline

ihm!reader’s doctor is very concerned for her symptoms of insomnia (due to her abnormal sleeping schedule from nights shifts) because she already has risk factors for alzheimer's from her mother and insomnia only increases that risk

ihm!reader’s favorite store ever is costco. she wants her ashes to be spread across a costco parking lot

a/n. hope u enjoyed :0 much love!!

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3cremepie3 · 11 months ago

Text

The creamery pt 2.

Synopsis - Where or would the Twst boys would cream in/on you? Feat Octavinelle

Warnings - smut 18+! Fem reader: Creaming, saliva, deepthroating, degradation, jealousy, pettiness, breath play

A/n - part 2! These are pretty fun to write. Which dorm should I do next?

Azul would cum on your pussy. Why? Just because he can. He’s content with the fact that he scored you especially because there are so many bachelors on campus. There were princes after you for god's sake! But you chose him so now he can do whatever he wants with you.

You’d clench around him purposefully not wanting him to pull out. You loved it when he finished inside flooding you with his ink. “Stop squeezing me so tight you god damn vixen.” He’d beg you over and over but you wouldn’t stop. Your essence created a milky ring around his base in preparation for what was to come.

Men would pay thousands to be in his place. They would pay thousands just to get a peak at your naked figure. And yet he had you here begging like a slut in heat for a creamepie. “Azul please I need it. Flood my insides again it feels so good!”

“Should I really,” he asked. “What makes you think you deserve it?” Please Azul I’ve been trying so hard not to cum yet.” And yet you’d failed don’t think just because you held your moans I couldn’t feel you clenching all around me,” he chuckled. Shit, you were caught.

“B-but,” you whined. “No buts honey I’ll let you cream again no worries,” he smirked. And he would definitely cream just not inside of you like your gushy heat begged for. He’d finish on your pussy claiming it as his. Fully his and no one else’s especially not those bums on campus.

Floyd would cream anywhere. He didn’t like the feel of condoms since his dick would be “squeezed” so he opted to not use them. The vast majority of positions he would have you in just so he wouldn’t get bored added on to his options.

Let’s say he had you in full Nelson. After your pussy was gripping onto him like a vice he knew he couldn’t last much longer. Your form which recently felt as light as a feather to him became heavy as his knees buckled. Your legs wrapped tightly around him keeping your place in his long arms secured.

Floyd’s thrust became sporadic. It was clear he was about to give into your wet heat clearly begging him to cream inside of you. His legs buckled and his sharp fangs buried a place into your neck. “Ow,” you yelped. “Don’t pretend like you don’t like the pain… Lil Shrimpy,” he mumbled. “I felt you get tighter around me.”

“You must want me to cum,” he chuckled. “I’ll grant that wish,” he smirked. Your legs were placed on his shoulders fully bending you into a pretzel shape. “Fuck so deep,” you moaned. “Can feel it in your stomach yea,” he mocked. You couldn’t answer back your mouth was too busy filling with drool as he brushed against your sweet spot.

You couldn’t take it anymore clamping down on him for dear life as you orgasm. He was quick to follow you pulling out and creaming on your stomach. You watched him empty his large supply of sperm in awe. “Why not cum on the place I just was,” he questioned.

Jade would cream in your mouth. You just looked so good guzzling it down like it was sweet frosting. It was your reward after servicing him for what felt like forever. Your jaw would go slack from his thickness alone but mix that with his sadistc desire to see you struggle.

He knew you could hardly breathe as your nose hit his base connecting with his shortly trimmed hair. Your eyes watered looking up at his for permission to get up. But none ever came so you sat there your throat convulsing around his cock.

Drool began to drip down your chest and then onto his bare thighs before he finally stopped you. Once his hand was untangled from your hair you went back to pumping him in place of your mouth. You knew it wasn't enough and you had to get back to work. But damn you needed to catch your breath.

You didn’t have any other choice as he began to move you up and down his unit. You continued to suck getting used to his brutal pace. “You’re doing so good slut.” He would coo at you while you somehow worked your magic.

You were draining him. It was obvious because he would always get chatty. “Tighten up a little more,” he directed. “Yes just like that!” Ahh fuck it’s coming open wide.” His sharp layers of teeth came together to form a weak smile. He spilled his essence into your warm inviting mouth. He shook while doing so but you licked up any excess.

“Open wide,” he demanded. You did so showing off what you worked for. “Like it a lot huh?” You nodded your head gratefully.

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yelenaslyubov · 2 months ago

Text

I Don’t Bite

main masterlist || requests || autumn fic list

requested by @belovasecho

a/n: two fics in one week? two fics back to back? who am i🫣this was so fun to write! you can probably tell by now, found family is one of my favorite things to write, hence why a lot of my fics have so many MCU characters in them. i hope you enjoy <3

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ pairing: yelena belova x reader

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ warnings: heavy flirting, language (but i honestly don’t remember), fluffyyy

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ description: on the day of the avengers annual fall family get together, you spend your time baking and watching football commence. during the usual bonfire, the cold leaves you seeking the warmth of another avenger you have a dirty little secret with.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ word count: 2k

When the leaves are at their peak orange glow and it’s just cold enough to stay outside, Steve named it our “Family Fall Festival” weekend. You, along with the rest of the Avengers never celebrated Thanksgiving. This was due to the foundational ideas of it along with the fact that the Avengers were a melting pot of different cultures and places. There was no point in celebrating.

Instead, the team had made their own holiday that consisted of baking, games, gossiping, a large feast, drinking, and a large bonfire to end the day. It was a way to create your very own fall holiday under different premises.

For the majority of the day, you spent time with Wanda in the kitchen baking. You baked everything from apple pie to shortbread cookies. People came and went all day, snatching up different delectables to eat on their way to their next destination.

Since the Avengers really were your family combined with your coworkers, it was nice to have a day with no chaos and only love.

The sun was going down now, signaling the near ending of a wonderful day. You were finishing up your last batch of chocolate chip cookies when you watched some of the guys play a rough game of football. Though they did it every year, you weren’t sure why they continued since it always ended in a fight.

This time was no different as you watched Peter get tackled to the ground by an angry Pietro. There was no way that one did not hurt. You may be Avengers, but you sure as hell still bleed.

You walked down to the field below the compound to see what was the matter. Peter was laying on the ground with a crowd around him.

“That was awesome!” You heard Rocket’s distinctive voice shout.

“Guys, it’s not funny, he’s hurt,” Carol said concerningly.

“I swear I did not mean to hit you that hard, it just… happened,” Pietro explained.

Peter groaned while laying stiff in pain. “Yeah, for sure. The guy with super speed didn’t mean to run full speed ahead into my body…”

“He’s got a point,” you said. Regardless of the situation, you tried to hide your laughter due to Peter’s attempt at being upset.

In the distance, you saw Yelena, Nat, Kate, and Valkyrie huddled next to each other. The thing that stood out most was Yelena’s laughter that resembled the honk of a goose. She was completely bent out of shape chuckling until she was red in the face.

This might do you in for good, and then you would be a terrible friend. You couldn’t stand there and laugh in Peter’s face, so you chose to walk away instead. You found yourself next to Drax, the worst person to be near if you’re trying to be serious. You hoped this time it might be different.

He had his hand buried in a bag of chips and was staring in the distance. You stood next to him and watched as Peter started to get back on his feet. Once he stood up, you noticed the large and noticeable patch of mud that was spread on the back of his pants.

Once Drax caught wind of Peter’s pants, his loud laughter soon followed. He abandoned his bag of chips and clapped his hands together as he lost all control of his body.

“His pants!” he yelled. “They have… they have poop on them! HAHA!” He tried to speak between his wheezing and screaming but it was no use.

“I’m going to take Peter inside, why don’t you guys start the fire,” Steve suggested while grabbing one of Peter’s shoulders and guiding him inside.

“Ooo, you guys are in trouble,” Kamala said.

“You can’t lie, it was a little funny,” you chuckled.

“Oh absolutely, it was hilarious!”

After the fun around Peter's accident had died down, everyone made their way over to the large fire pit that was reserved for the bonfire. Surrounding the pit were several wooden chairs and logs that had been strategically placed to feel the fire’s warmth.

The stars were starting to make their appearance in the sky which meant it was time to start up the fire. Bucky, Sam, and Clint started to work their magic starting the fire with the several dozen large logs that already resided in the pit. Some of the guys spent the morning chopping down a tree or two and splitting logs in preparation for tonight.

In a few minutes, there were sparks flying around the logs until each one was lit aflame. Soon, the fire’s heat was spreading around to everyone, except for you apparently.

You looked around at the faces circling the fire; Agatha and Rio sat far behind the group, Nat and Wanda were now sitting together, and some of the guys were huddling around in a group conversing and laughing.

Though the fire exerted much warmth, you still found yourself shivering underneath your coat. Just in time, Peter was walking towards you in the distance.

“You okay?” you asked him.

“As good as I can be.” He sat down on the log next to you with a groan. “At least it’s a nice night huh?”

“Yeah, for sure,” you said between shivers.

“Oh no, are you cold?”

“Uh, just a tad.”

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

You expected him to drape part of the blanket he had around him over you, but he did no such thing. Peter was your best friend, but most of the time he was clueless.

“Well, I’m gonna go sit with some of the guys. I’ll catch you later.” Peter awkwardly waved goodbye as you laughed to yourself at his oblivion.

You took this as an opportunity to get up and move to a chair closer. Since most people claimed the chairs before the logs, the only chair that was left was the wooden two-seater chair made for two people.

You sat down closer to the fire and tried to cozy up. You regretted not bringing a blanket down from your room and you were far too lazy to walk all the way back up to find one.

Deciding on just suffering the consequences, you stayed by the fire with only your coat for comfort. To your dismay, warmth still did not find you. You were starting to think you should go inside when the chair next to you creaked.

You looked to your left to find Yelena sitting down, one of the last people you had thought of.

“Cold?” she asked sarcastically. You knew Yelena well enough to know it was sarcasm from the get go.

You knew Yelena, but most everyone else would say otherwise. Based on a decision between the two of you, you opted to keep the relationship between you secret.

You and Yelena had been dating in private for around a year now. You both felt that it would be better to work under the circumstances that you weren’t forming a strong personal relationship. This became hard as time went on, especially now that certain people started to catch on. This was reinforced when you looked across the fire to see Kate, Valkyrie, and Carol staring between you and Yelena with a smirk.

“Uh, what are you doing over here?” you asked her nervously.

“So you’re not cold?”

“No, I’m very cold actually, but-”

“Then no more talking.” Immediately, she unwrapped the thick blanket from around her shoulders and tossed it over you and her own lap. The gesture made you smile and her blatentness made you laugh.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you said.

“And you did not answer mine… at first at least.”

“Exactly, which means you get to answer my question next,” you smiled devilishly.

“Can’t a woman just sit where she pleases? This is America after all.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Touché, Yelena.”

You usually spent your time staring at her from afar, or catching glimpses while you were paired on missions, but it wasn’t very often you saw her in her natural form.

Her cheeks were glowing bright and hot as the reflection of the fire casted shimmering shadow. Even though her hair was a mess most of the time, it was still perfectly laid and complimented the rest of her so perfectly. And even though she was wearing a sweatshirt that was clearly too big for her and sweatpants to match, she was still the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

Having Yelena close like this around everyone else was dangerous. Times like these, all you wanted to do was pull her close and take in everything about her.

You could feel Yelena scoot a little bit closer to you. She knew how easily you could be flustered, so it didn’t help when she slipped her hand under the blanket to find yours.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, as if anyone could hear you anyway.

“What, I can’t hold your hand now? I don’t bite, you know,” Yelena huffed, adding a playful smirk at the end. “Well… most of the time.”

You smacked her arm. “Yelena, not here!”

“I’m sorry! How can I not when you look like that?”

Her admiration made you blush. Even with the warmth from the fire, Yelena couldn’t mistake the red spreading all over your cheeks. She took your hand more firmly and squeezed it.

She leaned in towards your face and brought her lips to your ears. “I’ve missed you, detka.”

Her mother tongue never fails to make you shiver. It made it even worse when she decided to bring it out around others.

“I’ve missed you too,” you whispered.

You stole a long look into her hazel eyes. Her lashes hung low as the day dragged on, giving her a dazed look that you loved. Things felt so much more normal like this than in secret, though you both knew it was for the best.

You heard snickering and you looked across the fire to see Valkyrie, Carol, and Kate giggling to each other and staring at the two of you. Yelena gave them a nice middle finger to shut them up, but you couldn’t deny that you liked the attention of the two of you being seen together.

Once the three of them stopped their mocking, Yelena turned her attention back to you. She looked around and when she saw the coast was clear, she lifted your hand to her lips and gave it a quick kiss.

You couldn’t resist any longer and leaned against her body. She had the perfect balance of strength and comfort.

“Have I ever mentioned that you smell amazing?” you asked Yelena.

“Maybe like once or twice,” Yelena smirked.

Instead of holding your hand, Yelena moved her hand to rest on the skin of your back. She scratched up and down and drew small circles. At this rate, you would be asleep within the next few minutes.

Your assumption was correct, her affection making your eyes heavy. For once, you finally felt warm all throughout, a feeling you had been craving all day.

When you awoke again, your surroundings were dark, indicating the fire had gone out. Looking up, you saw Yelena looking up at the stars wide awake. Somehow, you had ended up with your head in her lap.

You slowly sat up and looked around. The party seemed to be over, as the two of you were the only ones left.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” Yelena greeted you.

“How long was I asleep?”

“Long enough for everyone to stare at you while you slept with your head on me.”

You groaned. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“Hey, why are you saying sorry?”

“I don’t know, I guess because of the whole secrecy thing.”

Yelena stared at you harder. “If I can love you in secret, I can love you just as loud for everyone to see.”

Your heart swelled at the sentiment. You took your chance and grabbed the side of her head and pulled her into a passionate kiss. Oh how you had missed the taste of her.

She left a kiss on your cheeks and your forehead to top it off. “Let’s go inside then, hmm? The party has just begun,” she smiled.

“You really know how to make every situation dirty, don’t you?”

“What can I say, it’s a gift.”

With the cold autumn chill and stars to guide you, Yelena led you back inside the compound after the end of the most perfect day.

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frantic-fiction · 9 months ago

Note

Hear me out… my TAV’s background is that she was a sex worker that was sold into the trade from a young age, and this has been her chance to break free, and she’s romancing Astarion and he’s the first person she slept with that she CHOSE to and WANTED to, and all I can think of is the “you were just a transaction” line he has… and maybe he says it to her because he freaks out and is scared of his feelings? Just something SO angsty, HEAVY groveling, happy ending??

My heart ugh you monster (I love you 🥰)

I don't write angst very often. This was incredibly fun and heartbreaking to write...and I might have gone a little too melodramatic with it. Hopefully this lives up to what you were imagining!!

Transaction

Astarion x gn!reader

Warnings: Angst with a slightly happy ending, implied that reader was a sex worker, if I missed anything major let me know

Word Count: 2k

Masterlist

Transaction.

Just a transaction.

You were just a transaction.

It's a bitter realization that hits you like a cold wave crashing over your very being. How naive of you to believe that someone could see beyond your body? To look deeper than sex and find all the quirks and vulnerabilities underneath. The person who savors the taste of sweet rolls and red wine, who secretly indulges in cheesy romance novels but would never admit it out loud. The person who was forced to do unspeakable things but still stands strong in this cruel world.

You thought he understood. After all the nights spent sharing your history, baring your soul, and listening to him bear his own, you dared to hope he would be different. How could you have been so blind, so naive, to succumb to the romantic fantasy of finding someone who saw and understood the scars you carried and loved you all the same?

How could he do this? The laughter you once shared under starlight and the kisses captured behind tent flaps all feel hollow all merely a performance to win you over for his benefit alone. How could you have been so blind to his true intentions? Was it the desperation for connection that clouded your judgment, or simply the yearning for love you so desperately craved?

The signs were there. Astarion's gradual withdrawal began after the events at Moonrise Towers. You convinced yourself it was merely that the group was finally back in the city. You hoped that a night alone together would help. But hope was a fragile illusion.

Instead of finding solace in each other's arms, you are standing on the precipice of your unraveling. Each word, each action, reinforces the painful truth that you were nothing more than a pawn in his game—a transaction to be exploited for his gain. And as you grapple with the emptiness gnawing at your chest, you can't help but wonder why you failed to see it coming.

"Hey, Soldier."

The voice breaks through the haze of your thoughts, pulling you back to the present moment. Blinking slowly, you find yourself in the dimly lit confines of an alleyway, the stench of decay mingling with the chill of the night air.

Moving like you're wading through water, you turn towards the voice. You stare blankly at Karlach, who kneels beside you with concern and caution as if approaching a frightened animal.

You sluggishly realize—you're the frightened animal.

Behind her stands Halsin, his attempt at a reassuring smile falling short in the face of your obvious distress.

"We were getting worried about you," Karlach murmurs, her usual cheer tempered by genuine concern.

"I'm sorry," you croak, your voice raw with emotion.

You don't remember when the tears began falling, but they nonetheless stain your cheeks.

"You have nothing to apologize for," Halsin assures, his voice a soothing balm to your battered soul.

Wrapped in a cloak infused with the scent of pine and honey-suckle, you allow yourself to be guided through the silent streets of Baldur's Gate, the passage of time seeming to have slipped through your fingers like grains of sand.

How long have you been lost in your despair?

"He, As—" you choke on his name, the pain of his betrayal still fresh in your heart.

"You don't have to explain anything. Not to us," Karlach interjects, her hand a steady anchor in the tumultuous sea of your emotions.

"Thank you," you whisper, gratefully.

The journey back to the Elfsong Tavern is a silent procession, your footsteps echoing in the empty streets as you grapple with the weight of your shattered reality. Once inside, you are ushered into a bed. Gale gives you a sleep draught while Shadowheart heals your shredded palms, which you didn't realize you injured in your dissociation. After that, you're left with a fleeting moment of peace.

No one mentions the absence of a familiar presence, but the void he left behind looms large in the silence that envelops you.

From his vantage point on the rooftops, Astarion watches as Tav is led back to the safety of the tavern. Their frail form is a stark reminder of the havoc he has wrought. Guilt gnaws at his insides, punishment for the pain he has inflicted upon the one person who saw past the facade he so meticulously crafted—the person who began to love him.

He feels sick to his stomach, the weight of his actions crushing him beneath its burden. With each passing moment, the memory of Tav's heartbroken expression sears into his mind, the irreparable damage he has caused.

Astarion wishes he could take back the venomous words that slipped from his lips and erase the pain etched upon Tav's face. He wishes he could confess the truth that lies buried beneath layers of deceit and self-preservation and admit the depth of his feelings without fear of rejection or abandonment. Pull them into his arms, kiss away the tears, and whisper all the love Tav deserves to hear.

But wishes hold little sway when your world is governed by fear.

You allow yourself one day to mourn, to grieve for the shattered illusions that once held sway over your heart. But with the dawn comes the realization that there is no room for weakness. You steel yourself against the pain, burying it deep beneath a facade of strength and determination. You still have a tadpole in your skull and a city to save.

The days blur into nights, a relentless cycle of action and exhaustion that leaves little room for introspection or regret. You throw yourself into the fray, tackling each challenge with a ferocity born of desperation and resolve.

Nights, however, offer no respite from the torment that threatens to consume you whole. In the darkness, when the world is shrouded in shadows and silence, the memories come rushing back with a vengeance.

Astarion's parting words echo in the recesses of your mind, a relentless refrain that serves as a painful reminder of your naive hopes. Despite the anger and betrayal simmering beneath the surface, you still hope Astarion's safe. Deep down, you still care for him.

It was another restless night. You were digging through your travel pack when a hesitant knock hit the sturdy wooden door of your room. It was late, but it was not unusual for Karlach or Shadowheart to pop in and check on you. Standing up, you stowed your pack away and moved to the door. Your socked feet padded against the wooden floor.

"Shouldn't you be asle—" The words die in your throat, and your stomach drops as you're faced with the man you've been trying to forget.

Astarion looked terrible. His hair was a frizzy mess, curls sticking out in unruly strands. He had dark purple circles under his eyes and hollow cheeks. His clothes–the same ones he left in–were covered in a splatter of mud and grime. At that moment, Astarion had never looked more like a corpse. Where had he been?

"Tav," his voice was a whisper, laden with sorrow that pierced through the still air.

The sound of your name on his lips was like a knife twisted in an old wound, reopening the fragile scare you hastily tried to heal over the last two weeks. You recoiled instinctively, the pain of his presence threatening to ruin you all over again. You couldn't afford to unravel not again, not when so many counted on you. With wide eyes brimming with unshed tears, you turned away to flee.

But Astarion's desperation refused to be ignored. His hand shaking with uncertainty, he reached to halt the closing door. "Wait! Please, Tav," he pleaded. "I know you owe me nothing, but I beg you, let me say this, and you'll never have to see me again."

Your throat tightened, a lump choking back the bitter retorts that threatened to spill out. The impulse claws at your conscience, tempting you. Yet, the crack of Astarion's voice, the tremor of vulnerability that seeps from him, holds your tongue.

With a heavy sigh, you relented, the door inching open just enough to meet his gaze. "Two minutes," you whispered.

Astarion's relief was palpable. "Gods, Tav, I'm so sorry," he began each syllable, a testament to the regret that weighed on him. "You can hate me for eternity, and I would deserve it. But I need you to know that every word I spoke to you was a lie."

A tear traces a path down his cheek, and you long to reach out and wipe it away—to soften the turmoil on his beautiful face and erase the sorrow that consumes his glistening eyes. But instead, you tighten your fist against your thigh and stare up at him blankly, waiting for him to continue.

"I need you to know that I pursued you instinctually because I needed someone on my side, someone to trust me," he continued his voice a fragile whisper against the silence. "But then you showed me love and happiness and became so much more. You were… you are… more than I deserve. And I hurt you, and I will carry that with me forever."

"Astarion," you began, the syllables catching in your throat, suffused with a longing you dared not acknowledge. But before you could find the words again, he spoke once more, voice quivering with regret.

"I love you, Tav," Astarion confessed, the words lingering in the silent room. "I don't deserve your forgiveness, but before I leave, I need you to know you are more than sex and safety. More than a Gods damn transaction."

"Astarion,"

"And I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for ruining the one good thing in—"

"Astarion!" You grab his arm, ceasing his frantic apology. You're stunned, standing on the threshold of your room, feeling more confused than ever. Love? How are you supposed to feel when the man who tore you apart is telling you he loves you?

Astarion's eyes widen in surprise, his breath catching in his throat as he meets your gaze. His eyes swim with a mix of hope and despair.

The weight of his confession presses down on you, threatening to suffocate. Wordlessly, you walk back into the room, leaving the door open for Astarion to follow. Collapsing onto a chair, you rub your face, struggling to make sense of your raging emotions. The heartbreak and betrayal are still so fresh, but the sincerity in Astarion's regret seems to chip away at your defense.

"I don't know what to say,"

"I… I understand," Astarion murmurs, his resignation soaking his words. I'll leave you be. I promise you won't see me again, Tav."

But as he turns to leave, the ache in your chest intensifies, the void he leaves behind widening with each step. And that moment, despite the pain, the betrayal, and your base instinct to shut him out entirely, you still care for him. Maybe even love him, too.

"Astarion, wait, you call out, the words tumbling from your lips before you can stop them. "Stay."

He freezes mid-step, his back turned to you, body tense with anticipation.

"Please," you plead, the word heavy with the weight of your conflicting emotions. "Just don't go."

Astarion slowly turns to face you, his expression a mix of disbelief and hope, his eye shining with more unshed tears. The silence stretches in the room. Hesitantly, with slow steps, he walks to the seat beside yours. The two of you sit there momentarily, unsure where that left you.

Tentatively, you reach out and take his cold hand into your warm one. "You hurt me," you start, not looking over at the man but feeling his intense stare. You betrayed my trust, and I can't just forget that."

"I understand." Astarion's shoulders slump in defeat. "I didn't expect…"

"But I care for you," You interrupt, squeezing his hand softly. "I haven't been able to stop worrying about you since you left. I don't think I can handle you leaving again."

"Okay," Astarion says, simply rubbing soothing circles into the back of your hand. "So what now?"

"I don't know, but I'm willing to figure it out if you are?"

"There is nothing I'd like more,” he responds, pressing a tentative kiss to your knuckles.

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acourtofmenandthirst · 10 months ago

Text

When The Night Calls

Tamlin x Reader

Warnings: smut, slight breeding, dubcon if you will, Calanmai, beastie tamlin (not abo or actual beastiality)

Word Count: 6.6K

This Tamlin x reader was inspired by @slutbugz (nsfw) on twitter!! I got permission to write this, and here are a couple pics that inspired me. Not Tamlin, but I mean come on how hot would he be like this…

Your mother tucked a warm cup of tea between your palms and curled a strand of loose hair behind your ear. Your father had spent a majority of the evening boarding up the windows and the doors, nailing the heavy wooden slats into the frame. The incescent sound of the sharp iron nails being driven into the trim with the steel hammer had you on edge all night - and even though he’d been at it for hours, you still weren’t used to the noise.

He’d all but buried you in the house, laying stones and heavy bags of sand in front of all the doorways to create a hearty wall outside your home. He’d then shut and locked all the doors, opting to nail wooden boards across all the openings, despite the metal latches already fastened in place.

Calanmai used to be a night spent outside, with singing and dancing, letting the magic run wild across the Spring Court hills. You could even feel it twist and twirl through your ankles and across your arms, like a warm wind. It was a party most Fae snuck out to join, once they were old enough, that is. The joyous feast and dancing around the bonfire lasted most of the evening, before the Fae females were lined up for the High Lord’s choosing.

It used to be an honor to be taken for the evening, a lustful night spent with the most powerful Fae male, in which her bodily sacrifice promised good yield and high power for the following year. Her family would be well taken care of, and her likeness would be celebrated throughout the town.

The High Lord had been rumored to be a great lover. A strong male, large and well built, with shining green eyes and oh-so-pullable blond hair. The females he bedded had lived on cloud-nine for the first few days after the ceremony, and despite their lust-blown eyes and the contagious smile across their plump swollen lips, none had ever uttered a word about the male’s performance. They didn’t need to, though, as even a blind Fae could tell all they needed to from their blissed out state.

While the Spring Court males had never been too pleased that their sisters or daughters could be whisked away by the High Lord for an eventful evening, it was considered a blessing by the Mother herself, considering it was her magic that coursed through his veins that night and chose his partner.

But it hadn’t been the same in the past few years. Not even with all the years spent under the mountain - you’d still had that one night of freedom, where Fae wine and music spread across the Spring Court hills. A night of tears filled with the promise of freedom - someday. Tamlin had bedded a lovely brunette that last evening, and though seemingly possessed by a darker magic (perhaps due to the circumstances set forth by Amarantha) the female returned to the crowd with shaking legs.

But it had only gotten worse after that. After you’d been freed from the confines of the mountain, at the hands of that once-human female, you’d expected the court to return to its plush green, with magic in the wind and happiness in the air.

But then the female left - well, she was stolen.

And then the High Lord became unhinged.

Later, when it was found out that she’d up and all but left him for the Night Court - that she had willed for the High Lord of the Night Court to take her from Spring - Tamlin had broken completely.

War waged throughout the lands while he remained bastardized and miserable. Lucien, the Autumn Court emissary, had left as well. The High Lord was utterly alone.

Calanmai was skipped that year.

The harvests suffered. There was so little food to go around; the salvageable fruits and vegetables were sold at market for one hundred times their worth. There was once a point where money and gold were valued and traded for nearly as much, but you couldn’t even buy meat with three solid gold necklaces - at that time, if it wasn’t edible, it was worthless. Your small family had barely made it through the year, keeping to themselves and rationing soup and bread.

Rumor had it, Tamlin had been seen around lately. He was spotted lurking in the woods, his unmistakable green eyes glowed against the dark brush. Word had gone around suggesting he’d be back for this Calanmai. He would have to return for the magic to be restored in the lands - and it would make quite the return.

You were glad, hoping he’d retake control of the court. You all surely needed it. But the sight of your father boarding up the house only made your bones itch.

The male hadn’t been seen in human form in over a year.

He undoubtedly had built up an unquenchable thirst.

You sighed into your tea cup, rubbing the

furrow between your eyebrows.

“We should’ve sought refuge in the Summer Court,” you father grumbled, more to himself than either you or your mother. He dropped a nail, causing the heavy piece of lumber he was nailing over the final window to fall to the wooden floor with a loud bang. Your flinch caused some of your tea to splash out of your mug and onto your hands.

Your mother responded regardless: “And give them what in return, exactly?” It was the argument they’d been having for the past month: leave the Spring Court for the week of Calanmai and seek refuge in Summer. But with the poor yeild and nothing to offer in return for shelter, your mother did not think it would be a good idea. Though, your father argued it would be better to sleep on the beaches of the Summer Court than to risk the High Lord stealing you for Calanmai.

While the argument ensued in the living room, you wandered off into your bedroom, unable to listen to the same conversation they’d already had a million times over. You lit the candle beside your bed, grimacing at the wooden slats that had been nailed over your large window, the moonlight shining in only through the slivers of space between the boards. You knelt on the floor beside your bed, sighing as you read the time on the clock beside your bed: 9:07. You only had three more hours until this night came to an end.

You pressed your nose against your palms, held together in prayer as your elbows rested on the bed. You silently prayed to the Mother for an uneventful evening: that your home, your mother, your friends, and your neighbors would all be safe. You prayed that the High Lord regained his power over the court, prayed for a strong yield, and prayed that whoever he did choose the evening would make it out safe and sound.

Through the muffled sound of your parents’ argument outside your closed bedroom door, you heard the wind ruffling the leaves outside. The tree on the otherside of your window rapped against the glass, the bushes shaking wildly as they were stirred up by the wind.

You furrowed your brows as you rose and neared the wooden slats, unsure of the storm that was brewing up outside. But as you neared the glass, peering over the boards, there was a dark figure climbing through the brush in front of your window.

A pair of bright green eyes glared back at you, dark in color but shining brighter than the moon. You were frozen in place with a gasp lodged somewhere deep in your throat. He did nothing but stare at you, his large figure shielded by the leaves. His head was furry - wolffish ears standing tall above his head and glinting in the moonlight.

He radiated nothing but pure power.

You stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over the back of your skirts. As you steadied yourself, though, he took one step forward. As you moved back again, feeling for the bedside table behind you, he took another forward, his chest nearly touching the glass of your window. You watched ad his chest broadened with each heavy breath he took. The cold air swirled around his head, the air nearly freezing cold.

He raised a large hand and his fingers rapped against the window, no doubt feeling how thick the glass is. Then his eyes narrowed, staring at you between the gaps of the wooden boards. He made quick work to tear down the moat of sandbags and stones on the ground at the base of your window.

Without another look back at the half beast - you ran, calling for your patents.

But your shouts were drowned out by the sound of broken glass and heavy breathing, the male grunting as he tore through the wooden boards, breaking them right down the middle, ripping nails out of the frame.

You lurched for the door, running out into the living room, following your parents’ confused calls, shouting for help. But somehow, the male was faster, and as he was right on your heels, you took one look back before heading straight for the kitchen.

The male was build like a stone fucking wall, muscles coiling around his chest and arms, stained red from the cold air outside. He wore nothing but a pair of thick looking trousers, stained with grass and mud - unlikely to have been washed within the past year. His head was covered by a wolf’s hide, brownish in color, with glassy brown eyes. The jaw had been broken, such that the lower half of the jaw was missing, exposing the male’s face to you. The wolf’s teeth crowded his face, intimidating sharpness mirroring the Fae’s own fangs that he barred in your direction. His blond hair poked out around his jaw, mixing with the fur that flowed into the hood down his back.

The High Lord had come for you.

You screamed, rounding the corner hoping to find something to defend yourself with. As you scanned around the kitchen, unable to find anything, you heard your mother’s scream, and his footsteps indicating that he was closing in on you.

“Son of a bitch - ” you heard your dad call towards him, only to be met with a feral growl from the taller male.

Without another look back at your family, you ran out the back door.

Straight into the woods.

You went as fast as your feet could take you, using only the moonlight as a guide into the woods.

You couldn’t hear anything over the wind whirling past you, mixing with the sound of your heartbeat drumming in your pointy ears. You wove through trees and hurled yourself over boulders and fallen branches, praying to all the gods that you didn’t slip on anything. You didn’t know if he was running on his own two legs or on all fours. Nothing would surprise you, considering the rumors of the shifter male - more powerful than any other Fae… you had no doubt he’d catch up to you eventually.

But why hadn’t he caught you by now?

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat and pushed your legs impossibly faster, arms pumping at your sides to keep your momentum going, every so often shooting out beside you to keep your balance as you tripped over slippery rocks and fallen tree branches.

It felt like you’d been running for hours, though you knew he wouldn’t have let you - after all, there were only a few hours left of the night, the Calanmai magic had to be sealed in before midnight. You had never run so fast or so far; you wove through trees, looking for the godsdamned river that ran into Spring from the Autumn Court - but you couldn’t hear it, let alone find it. You’d twisted and turned around the trees so many times that you’d lost track of where you were. You couldn’t find any of the trails; not even the moonlight could light up the ground enough for you to track any Fae or animal footprints.

It was still so quiet behind you, maybe you lost him when you slid between the narrow spaces between the trees, surely his huge form wouldn’t fit. In the dark, though, you missed all the claw marks on the tree bark, where the High Lord had clawed his way through the thicket. His lips spread into a grin as he could hear your racing heart from where he ran behind you.

You gulped down a deep breath and your hands coiled into fists. You mustered the strength to tilt your jaw to the side, the moon lighting your sights just far enough in front of you to confirm there were no trees in front of you to run into.

Your legs kept pushing as your head turned, eyes darting out to the side to look for the pursuer.

Then he lurched.

Your breath caught in your throat as it felt like your heart stopped beating completely. He’d been shadowing your every move, no more than a step away from you this whole time. Two big hands grabbed your hips easily, his long arms barely having to stretch out to pull you into his chest. His warm palms pinned your hips to his own, your back flush against his naked chest as your feet left the ground and he came to a sudden stop.

You let out a winded groan, your chest and legs burning from the sudden stop - but your bare feet were damn near thanking the gods as they left the freezing ground, no doubt cut up and bleeding.

The High Lord took no more than a few steps forward before he set you back down on your own two feet, a strangled groan leaving your throat when the dewy leaves met your open wounds. You clawed at his forearms and the backs of his hands, panic suddenly flooding through you.

But he kept his hips pressed up against your ass as you lurched forward, trying to escape his grip. But he simply laughed, the rumble of his chest vibrating into your back as he mirrored your movements.

He was so warm, though, and the cold was quickly sinking into your bones as you were held in place. The thin layer of sweat that coated your legs and the back of your neck was starting feel like you’d been doused in an ice bath. The only thing keeping your teeth from chattering and your chest from convulsing was the beast of a male behind you.

He adjusted his grip, holding you across the waist with one arm, as the other slid over your skirts, drawing a long line down your leg until he found the hem and hiked it up over your hips. You screamed at his quick actions, one of this thick thighs found his way between yours. His pants brushed against the apex of your thighs, the sudden pressure between your legs causing them to squeeze around his.

“Scream all you want,” he growled, the sound of your panting only causing his cock to stir in his pants. “Nobody can hear you.” His breath brushed against your ear as he leaned in close to whisper to you. You shivered when his hips began to rut against you, building up in presesure that you rocked on your tiptoes when his hips jutted against your ass.

There had been years where Tamlin had looked forward to Calanmai, the magic coursing through his veins turning him into a completely different male. He used to love the sound of the female’s blissful moans and cries falling over him in praise as he bedded them for hours. He missed how they’d pull at his hair, how they’d promise him anything he wanted, that he could take them however he’d pleased.

And this was how he wanted you, heady, desperate, rocking back against him as your legs dared to curl around his, fighting for him to be even closer to you.

Tamlin grinned again, biting into the crook of your neck, right at the exposed flesh from the neckline of your dress. It was soft, just enough for his fangs to press against your skin, to which the gasp that escaped your lips almost had him sticking his cock into you immediately.

You felt the fur against your neck, the matted coarse hairs from the wolf hide he wore poking against your sensitive skin as he licked over the bitemark he’d just given you. Your knees pushed together, feet leaving the ground as you rocked against his thick thigh. Tamlin kept his vice-grip on your waist as the other hand pushed up your dress until it was hiked up over your back. He then curled his arm around your front, reaching over your hip and the mountain of skirts around your waist. He rested you on his thigh, your toes now barely grazing the ground.

It took all of your strength not to rock your hips back and forth against his leg.

And turns out you weren’t that strong.

The heat radiating off him was like a drug coursing through your body, and the only way to keep it flowing was by rubbing your cunt across his hard-muscled thigh. The friction of your undergarments against his pants was addicting.

Tamlin laughed at how eager you were.

He let you have your fun, tucking his hand down your front, fingers sliding between where your pussy was rubbing against him. You gasped, his cold fingers sliding between you legs, prodding at your clit as you shifted back and forth across him.

Your hands flew out to the tree in front of you, sharp bark digging into your palms. But you couldn’t feel it, you were just using it for balance so you could continue fucking yourself against him.

The High Lord practically moaned as you let out a shaky sigh, watching you work so hard to get yourself off - before he even started. He curled his fingers upwards, relishing in the cry that passed your lips when your clit brushed against his fingertips. He dared to move his hand further between your legs, hissing at the way your warm cunt tried to envelope his fingers even through your underwear. He swallowed hard, trying not to focus too hard on your ass brushing against his hard cock in his pants.

So with a few quick passes between your legs, he pulled his hand away abruptly, ignoring the strangled groan that fell from you as your hips faltered.

You were so close.

He lowered you down so your own feet held you up, promptly removing his leg from between yours. You practically whined, pressing your knees and thighs together, clenching around absolutely nothing as you fought to feel something - anything.

Tamlin wasted no time in grabbing all your undergarments and tearing them off you in one quick motion. You screamed, the cold air hitting you all at once, shocking your system. But before you could even register the feeling, you felt his nose press against your bare cunt, his long tongue swiping across your folds.

“Oh my gods,” was all you could gasp as your hips flew backwards, meeting his face as he opened his mouth and began his assault between your legs. He chuckled again, you felt his lips curl into a smile before he kissed around your clit and bit at the fat of your upper thighs. He licked at your clit, back and forth in a quick motion before licking up your slit.

He moaned at the taste, the first woman he’d had properly in years, even. He wasn’t planning on eating you out, the only thing on his mind was burying his cock as deep into your cunt as your body could take, but at the rate his dick was growing, he knew he’d have to loosen you up at least a little before that.

But as his tongue pressed up into your hole, feeling your warm walls, he knew that no matter how long he’d spent opening your cunt up, you’d still be so tight around his fucking cock. The taste of your juices mixed with his own filthy thoughts of bouncing you stupid on his cock had him groaning, the vibrations tickling your thighs that had esentailly trapped him between your legs, unwilling to let him go again.

Not before you came, at least.

“You like this don’t you,” he growled through barred teeth. “Want me to use you for the night? You didn’t run very fast, like you wanted me to catch you, huh?” You felt his lips moving against your pussy as he spoke. You bit back a response, all thoughts and words caught in your throat as he continued to work at your clit.

You pushed further into the bark of the tree as you pressed yourself back against Tamlin’s face. You felt the nose of that godsdamned wolf hood press against your ass, which had you grinding even further into your High Lord’s face. He fell to his knees behind you, running his tongue against your slit and clit as you fucked his face. His hands found purchase against your hips, grabbing at your ass and quickening your pace as your legs shook around him.

You felt his tongue curl up between your legs, flicking at your clit as you were left clenching around nothing, yet again. “Please,” you groaned, brows furrowed, crying out as his tongue swirled around your clit.

His brows rose at your first word spoken to him, a broken cry that was nothing but music to his ears. “Please what?”

He licked another long stripe against your pussy, stopping his previous movements until you answered. You groaned out, desperate for more friction - if rubbing yourself against his pointy nose was all you were going to get, you’d take it. “Please - your fingers, something - ” you gasped as he nuzzled his nose against your clit. “Anything.”

The High Lord laughed, smile broad as he nipped at the skin of your ass. “You’re not supposed to be the one telling me what to do,” he replied, as if it was obvious (it was - but you were desperate). But he smiled and landed a harsh smack against your ass, which burned against your cold skin, right before he returned the assault of his tongue against your clit.

His long fingers dragged up your tight and swiped across your enterance a couple times before he slid them right in your wet pussy, curling upwards against your walls. You both shared a moan, your warm walls clenching around his two cold fingers the moment he pushed them into you. Tamlin pushed himself forward, and you hiked your leg up high enough for him to turn underneath you, now sitting directly under you with his back against the tree you held yourself up against.

He worked his fingers up and down inside of you as he kissed at your clit, swirling his tongue around the nub. His eyes found yours as your head hung forward, and his emerald eyes practically glowed under the darkness of his hood. They were not the eyes of a Fae, no - the wolffish eyes with glowing iris stared up at you, watching your every move as he curled his fingers up into the gummy spot in your walls. Your eyes shut and your knees buckled as he continued his movements, tongue now sloppily licking anywhere he could reach before returning to your clit.

He shook his face back and forth, absolutely devouring you, and the nose of his fucking hide brushed against your pubic bone. With a cry, you squeezed your thighs around his head, practically falling onto his face just to feel his tongue against your clit even harder. It was a welcomed by the High Lord, as his fingers did not falter once as you rode out your high, throwing your head back with a loud cry.

He moaned underneath you, drinking up your sounds and juices as you fucked his face and fingers. But with no time to even catch your footing, the male was back behind you, standing up and hoisting you back to your feet. You kept yourself pushed up against the tree as his one arm held you like before, the other working to push his pants off. He kicked them away before taking a wide stance and tugging at his cock. He let out a shattered breath as he lined the tip of his cock against your wet folds, both of you crying out.

The High Lord kept his arm hooked around you as he nudged your clit with the thick tip of his dick, your legs nearly shutting around him in overstimulation. He nudged your leg with a bent knee, lifting his foot to kick your leg out from under you, spread apart from the other. He tutted at you, leaning forward so his chest pressed against your back again. “Legs open,” he growled in your ear. “You’re tight enough as it is.”

You couldn’t even comprehend his words as he slid the tip of his cock into your wet cunt. He grunted as he drove his hips forward, the wetness of your pussy letting him slide right in, though your walls squeezed him so tightly, and he had to grit his teeth and hold himself back from slamming his hips up into yours.

You squeezed you eyes shut and groaned, feeling his wide cock stretch your walls. You cried out as you tightened around him the farther he drove his cock into you. He moved back and forth slowly, allowing you to get used to his size, before he couldn’t take it anymore. His dick was so hard, he’d been waiting for this moment for years, the Mother’s magic surging through him like adrenaline in his veins.

So he fucked you like it - without so much as a warning, he slid out of you almost completely, so just his tip was catching on the enterance of your pussy. You arched against him, tilting your hips backwards to try to fuck yourself back onto his cock. Before you could get any farther, his hips slammed up to yours, his balls hitting your clit from behind.

You screamed out, as his cock practically pierced you, and he continued to fuck you at a rapid pace. He moved so quickly that you hinged forward, curling over his arm still secured around your waist. You lurched forward at each press of his hips, moaning each time his cock nudged that sweet spot inside of you.

Your arms had fallen from where they were holding you up against the tree, completely hinged in half as your fingers clawed at his arms - this time out of pleasure. Your legs were too weak as you clenched around him, finally giving out as they began to shake with your impeding orgasm. Tamlin’s other hand gripped your hip so that he held you completely against him, bent in half, as he continued fucking you, now so much tighter as your legs fell together under you.

The High Lord let loose a string of curses as you squeezed his cock. He held your hips up, your toes just barely brushing the ground as he fucked up into you. His breathing was ragged as his chest heaved, groaning as you tried to grab onto anything you could. He never lost rhythm as he drove into you, your slick walls allowing him to slide in and out of you with ease. Your head spun as it felt like he was just getting bigger and bigger the more he fucked you.

Tamlin let you fall to your hands an knees abruptly - to which you knew you’d feel the pain of more if you weren’t completely focused on the heat between your legs. He took a knee behind you, legs spread around your side to shove his cock back into you. “Fuck, how are you so tight still?” He muttered to himself as he continued to fuck you, faster now that he didn’t have to hold you up.

You used all the strength you had left to push yourself up and turn your head behind you to take in the sight of the High Lord absolutely wrecking your pussy. His skin was glistening in the moonlight, the muscles across his broad chest straining as he moved his hips so smoothly against yours. His hair fell over his shoulders, sticking to his neck with sweat. His face was conceleaed, only his lips and sharp jaw poking out from the wolf hide’s unhinged jaw. Your gaze fell down his chest to his taut waist, where the blond hairs underneath his bellybutton grew to surround his cock.

Gods, you knew he was getting bigger.

The base of his cock was so thick, you weren’t even sure it would fit inside you anymore. He moved you quickly on his dick, in and out so you slid down just half of his length. It was mesmerizing, truly, the High Lord thrusting in and out of you ferally.

Then he fucking smiled.

His white teeth barred in a devilish grin, fangs practically shining as you suddenly wanted to feel them bite into your skin.

Then he slammed his hips fully into yours as he pulled your waist back onto him, bottoming out inside of you.

You fell forward with a cry, the stretch of the base of his cock almost painful as your pussy tried to accommodate him. You felt him against your cervix, stirring up into your stomach. You rested your forehead against your arm, protecting your face from the dirt and ground underneath you.

Tamlin’s groaned, breathing a quiet, “That’s it, take it,” as you felt his large hand flatten against your back. In your folded position, you arched even farther against him, where he swore he could feel the end of the depths of your cunt. He kept you arched, which you almost struggled to break as he continued to fuck into you.

He leaned over, other hand ripping a line down your bodice with what felt like a sharp claw, tearing your dress from your skin - so you were just as naked as he was. He licked a broad stripe up your spine before burying his head into your neck and biting your shoulder. You gasped, his sharp canine teeth nearly breaking skin. He offered you a repreive, leaving open mouthed kisses across your shoulder and neck - undoubtedly marking you.

His leg hinged around yours, allowing him to hump into you as you fell forward underneath him. You couldn’t bring yourself to look back at him, not with the force of how hard he was fucking you.

Like he read your mind - he pulled out of you quickly, his wet cock curling up against your cunt as he rutted against your folds a few times. Tamlin wanted to look at you just as much as you wanted to see him.

He gripped your hips and flipped you onto the cold ground so your back was against the fallen leaves and branches. He lifted your legs up so they were bent in the air, allowing him to slide right back in your ready and waiting cunt.

The hood he wore still covered his eyes, just his fangs visible. But you, on the other hand, were all spread out for your High Lord, so pliant and ready for his seed, writhing underneath him.

He truly didn’t know how much longer he’d last.

He knew you wouldn’t last, though, not by the looks of your blissed out face, mouth open and mews spilling from your lips. Your legs were shaking, and you were fighting the urge to wrap them around his waist, but again, like the damned male read your mind, he grabbed the meat of your ass and slid his hand around your thigh, curling them around him. He grinned like the fucking Cheshire Cat. Your hands landed on his shoulders as he leaned over you, hands planted on either side of your head.

He groaned, fucking you so deeply, body almost prone on top of yours now, cock going all the way into you. You met him thrust for thrust, locking your ankles behind him and using it as leverage to fuck yourself onto his big cock. He was close, meeting your quickened pace. “Desprate for your High Lord, huh?” He teased through clenched teeth. “Fuck yourself on my cock, show me how bad you want it.”

Oh you wanted it bad.

You were practically shaking as you continued to meet his thrusts, rocking your hips up and down. Tamlin’s eyes fell to your stomach, where he could see the indent of his cock poking through. He sighed at the sight, plump lips falling open. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, not as he felt his cock twitching and his balls tightening.

Your pussy was absolutely wrecked, stretched out to accommodate the girth of the base of his cock. You felt him rub against your walls, not an inch of your cunt untouched by his dick. Tamlin dropped a hand to your clit, feeling you struggle to take all of him. It became harder for you take his cock as your legs tighten around his waist, your pussy gripping down on his cock as you neared your orgasm.

Tamlin eventually lost all patience, slamming his hips into yours. You fell back completely against the ground, unable to hold yourself up any longer as your took his brutal strokes. He humped into you, his balls rubbing against your ass as he towered over you, fucking you quickly.

Your hips turned upwards and you took a sharp breath as the hairs at the base of his cock brushed against your clit. “You going to take all of it?” Tamlin growled, fucking you harder.

Your stomach coiled, legs shaking as you tried to shut your legs around him, but his body gave you no space to squirm around him. “Scream for my cum,” he moaned, falling forward and pressing his lips against your neck. “I know you want it. Tell me you want it.”

You did, so you screamed, crying out for your High Lord to fill you up.

He came as soon as you did.

His warm seed filled your cunt as he continued to fuck you, the lewed sound of your wet walls against his slowing pace made you shiver. His long cock was still nuzzled inside you as his hand drew up your waist and found its way up your chest. His fingers and thumb danced across your soft breast, swirling at your nipple before his hand danced along your collarbone and up your throat. He tilted your chin up, undoubtedly taking in all your features before his thumb swiped against your bottom lip.

He swore he’d never cum so much in his life. But never had he been presented with such a pretty pussy to fill up, one that would take him completely and be able to give all his seed to. You’d hold all of it - he’d be damn sure - as the swollen tip of his cock remained nestled deep in your cunt.

You were panting and twitching as Tamlin stilled completely above you, too enthralled in the feeling of your wet pussy coated in his cum to even try to pull out. His strong arms keep himself held above you, his face, shielded by the wolf hide, still only a few inches away from yours - but if you moved any closer, you’d certainly be knocked by the nose and teeth of whoever that once was. His blond hairs were clumped together at the ends, hanging over his broad shoulders, and you couldn’t see his eyes, surely dimmer now as the Mother’s magic was wearing out of his system, but you know they were glaring down at you from underneath the darkness of the hood.

The High Lord shifted, keeping his cock buried inside of you as he unhooked one of your legs to make room for him to slide down beside you in the dirt. You winced as he moved you, your pussy now beaten raw and sore as it shifts against the coarse blond hairs across his pubic bone. It’s the first time you’d heard his voice quiet, gruff but calm, as he murmured a quiet “Sorry.”

He moved for your hips to sit atop of his, his cock softening, but still far too big for it to slip out of you in this position. Your legs fell across his own, thick thighs shielding your softer ones from the hard ground. He tucked you in the crook of his arm, allowing you to rest against his chest.

His hood had fallen against the tree roots he rested against. It was your first look up close at him, the arch of his brownish eyebrows, the long pale eyelashes that rested along his high cheekbones when he blinked. His nose sloped into a sharp point and the hair framing his face was stuck to his bronze skin with sweat. You swore his chiseled cheeks were tinted pink, probably the cold.

You didn’t know that the male was actually just blushing, the feeling of your pretty eyes studying him made him nervous. Now that the haze fogging his mind had cleared, Tamlin was almost embarrassed with his actions, how he chased you through the woods and forced you against the cold hard earth. He’d never felt that way before - not in his many hundred Calanmai celebrations he’d had before. Perhaps he was a bit pent up, but maybe it was something about you that had him acting so primal.

You brought out the beast in him.

He clenched his jaw to keep himself quiet, unsure of what he should say - what would he even say to you after that? He usually never said anything to the females he bedded after the night was over, never had to - never wanted to.

You swallowed a shaky breath when his eyes met yours, and for the first time you’d seen him as a Fae male and not as a wolf. Those green eyes burned brighter than any leaf or flower in this forest. His gaze remained unwavering, almost in challenge. You bit your lip nearvously, his sights flickering down to your lips, now chapped and dry from the cold that swirled around the both of you.

He wanted to kiss you regardless.

But he figured he’d save that for the next time - when he’d hopefully be able to act like like a respectable male.

He studied you, and under the scruitiny of your High Lord, you spoke out nervously. “My parents wanted to seek refuge in the Summer Court.” You made no move, not to escape him nor flee the woods - if you could even find your way back home.

The High Lord scoffed, turning his head away to gaze up at the stars. His body remained still, one arm tucked under you, curling around your waist to keep your naked body flush against his own. The heat radiating off him kept you warm, both of you glowing through the thin layer of sweat coating your chests. His bright hair splayed out behind his head, blond locks mixing with the brown fur pelt that rested at the crown of his head and down his back. “To spare you of me?”

You would’ve missed the smirk that he fought hard to suppress if you hadn’t been staring at him to intently. His eyes danced across the constellations, studying them, and there was no doubt in your mind that he knew the names and stories behind each of them. His arm tightened around you, fingers gripping into the plush skin of your hips. You didn’t trust yourself to respond, just a nod of your head that he felt against the crook of his neck as you buried yourself further into him.

Tamlin licked his teeth behind his closed lips, barring his fangs but keeping them hidden from you. His voice was low when he responded, calm and confident: “I would have found you anyway.”

#acotar #tamlin/you #tamlin x you #tamlin oneshot #tamlin imagine #acosf #acomaf #acotar series #tamlin redemption #tamlin #spring court

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autocat5876 · 2 months ago

Text

again, no real title other than more sebpainter! another surface au (owned by the lovely @feligayzed) fanfiction!

wordcount of 2.8k (whoops), more of a hurt/comfort thing this time around. please enjoy! i had a lovely time writing this

The first few weeks back on the surface were the toughest for Sebastian. Everything was new, despite how much he wished it wouldn’t. His body, despite being close to what it used to be, wasn’t all perfect, and the world had changed fast in the years he was gone.

So- once he was finally released from the medical hell that proceeded leaving… there- Sebastian found himself locking up in his bedroom for days on end. It was small enough that he didn’t have to move around much to get from place to place, a welcome relief to his now-aching body (would it always be like that? He hoped not).

He knew it was unhealthy, but he didn’t really care. He didn’t want to be outside, and the outside probably didn’t want him either. After all, he wasn’t fit to be part of the public anymore. He’d missed so many years of humanity to know what was relevant and what wasn’t anymore, not to mention he barely looked “human” anymore. The patches of scales itched and constantly caught his hair (which, itself, was a mess he never had the energy to fix), and the missing finger on each hand weren’t doing any favours either.

But, that was all he could really do with the shitty hand life chose to give him. And he’d much rather rot away alone than deal with returning to the world anyways.

Sebastian had been holed up in his room for a while now, p.AI.nter noted. It was the same thing every day. He wouldn’t even come out to get food or water, leading to the bot needing to bring it to him itself. As much as it knew Sebastian needed time to adjust, this seemed a bit… much.

Steeling its nerves, it walked up to the door Sebastian had been hiding behind. With a huff of its fans, it knocked, soft as to not startle him.

“Sebastian? It’s… well, you know who I am… Um- can I come in?”

The air was silent for a long while, to the point p.AI.nter almost thought he had fallen asleep, which wasn’t uncommon these days. He never got rest back at Urbanshade, and it was almost like his body was trying to catch up on the sleep he missed.

Right before the bot could turn to leave, it heard shuffling coming from inside. Cusses mixed with ruffling fabric and clicks against the wood floor as Sebastian made his way to the door. It opened a crack, bright blue eyes peering out at p.AI.nter. Nothing moved, before the door creaked open enough for it to enter.

Not wasting a single moment, p.AI.nter stepped into the room and shut the door. As to be expected, the interior was… well, it was a mess. Dishes and silverware piled up on top of an old dresser, clothes strewn about on the floor to the point that the wooden boards were barely visible. Leaning against the nearby wall was Sebastian’s walker, which he seemed to have a sort of vendetta against with how much he hated to use it. His bed took up the majority of the room, the sheets ruffled up presumably from him dragging himself out of it. The curtains were drawn closed, bathing the room in a dull orange light from the thin fabric.

Turning to face the man himself, p.AI.nter could see Sebastian was in no better condition than his bedroom. Messy and knotted hair framed his face, but the rats-nest couldn’t cover the heavy bags under his eyes. His clothes were all too loose for him, the faded band tee looking more like a dress than anything else, and his shorts were baggy and barely held up by the drawstring. One hand grasped his cane for dear life, the other gripping the nearest dresser edge to hold him up.

“Well? What do you want?” Sebastian’s voice was rough and low- from disuse, p.AI.nter presumed (did he really talk that little anymore? p.AI.nter didn’t want to believe it).

p.AI.nter shook itself out of its thoughts. “Right! You’ve been pent up here for… a while-” A scoff slipped from the other, it chose to ignore it. “-so I was thinking you… came out and got some air? Just out on the porch.”

“No.” His answer was immediate. The mattress squeaked as he sat back down on its edge, hissing at the soreness of bending his knees again.

Another huff of p.AI.nter’s fans. “Come on, how long’s it been since you had any fresh air?”

“I open the window from time to time.” Sebastian looked away, mumbling. A quick glance at the windowsill showed it was covered in dust from disuse.

“Sebastian, please?”

“I said I’m not doing it.”

The room fell into silence for a long time. p.AI.nter didn’t want to give up this easily, but it couldn’t think of anything that would work. That is, unless…

“If you do it, I’ll do whatever you ask. One request of any kind..?” It was a bad offer, it knew that much, but maybe it was enough to convince Sebastian.

Again, silence. p.AI.nter fidgeted nervously in place, looking anywhere but Sebastian.

“Paint my nails.”

The reply jolted p.AI.nter out of its thoughts. It turned back to Sebastian, meeting his gaze.

“That’s… That’s it?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know that ‘anything’ didn’t include everything.”

The bot quickly jumped into motion, waving its hands in front of itself. “No, no! If that’s what you want then that’s what I’ll do.”

Sebastian just hummed, the sound resonating in p.AI.nter’s system. Gosh, his voice was so nice to listen to sometimes… it shook its head. It couldn’t be thinking like that right now.

“Stay right here. I’ll be right back!”

Sebastian was going to regret this, he felt it in his bones (alongside that constant dull pain, the hope that it wasn’t permanent was beginning to fade). Outside meant people could see him, and people seeing him meant… he didn’t want to think about it.

He didn’t get up from the mattress, waiting for p.AI.nter to return. It had run out of the room nearly as soon as he agreed. He looked around as he sat, his gaze hardening as his eyes landed on the walker leaning against the wall.

It wasn’t that he hated the object itself, but the thing it represents instead. How he couldn’t even function properly like how he did before. Before they came and took him for no good reason, ripped him apart and put him back together, and-

The door creaking open pulled Sebastian from his thoughts. In the doorway was p.AI.nter, with a hairbrush and towel in hand.

“I know we aren’t going to be outside much, but I thought you’d maybe like to clean up a bit before we did?”

Sebastian didn’t move, letting p.AI.nter do what it wanted. Despite how he acted, he was glad his companion still cared for him.

The bot took a seat behind him, crossing its legs as it reached out for his hair. Sebastian jolted as soon as he felt fingers brush up against his hair, tensing up in fear. He couldn’t let anything touch him, if he did then he’d be brought back, stuck in that too-small cell-

Again, p.AI.nter pulled him out of his thoughts (how does it keep doing that, he wonders?) with a soft, “Sorry!”

“It’s… It’s fine. Just don’t do that again.”

p.AI.nter slowly made its way off the bed, leaving what it brought in next to Sebastian.

“Here… if you want to clean up. I’ll wait outside.”

p.AI.nter groaned, holding its screen in its hands as it sat down in the hallway outside. Of course it had to mess this up. It was trying to make Sebastian more comfortable, and all it did was make him more upset.

It sat alone for a while, its self-pity party broken only by the door opening. Peeking through its fingers, it could see Sebastian carefully shuffling out of his bedroom. His hair was carefully combed (although still messy, that would never change) and his face was washed off. Still in his faded shirt and shorts, he was careful with one hand on his cane and the other on the doorframe.

“Hey…” p.AI.nter stood, but it didn’t approach Sebastian again.

“Hi. Let’s get this over with.”

The bot nodded, walking alongside him, still not touching. Their pace was agonizingly slow down the hallway to the front door, but p.AI.nter didn’t mind the time.

Sebastian on the other hand, very much minded. Under his breath he mumbled curses and words of anger at his situation. p.AI.nter couldn’t help but feel bad, but it still didn’t act on it. It didn’t want to upset him again.

After what felt like nothing to p.AI.nter and everything to Sebastian, they made it to the door outside. p.AI.nter turned to the other, its eyes looking everywhere but him.

“Ready?”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.”

The door opened with a small squeak, and the front room was bathed in the afternoon sunlight. A gentle breeze ghosted through the grass and leaves, filling the air with a quiet white noise.

p.AI.nter was the first to step outside, a smile quick to be drawn on its screen. It had been so long since it had really seen the outside world. It never got the chance to just sit outside and enjoy it, something was always filling that time instead.

It took a seat on the first step of the stone stairs leading up to the entry, patiently waiting for Sebastian to join it. He did, after a moment. A quiet groan escaped his lips as he lowered down to sit. p.AI.nter said nothing, just returned to looking around.

Thanks to the calm conditions of the day, the other people in the neighbourhood were also out and about, either in their own yards or walking the sidewalks. The sight softened the bot’s expression. They were all so peaceful, it thought. Nothing threatening their safety, nothing dull in colour, no one trying to rip them from their family and trap them in a lone cell, force them to do mindless tasks for god knows how long… p.AI.nter shook its head. It shouldn’t be thinking like that anymore. It was safe, they both were.

p.AI.nter didn’t even realize how much time they spent outside until its gaze again landed on the man next to it. He was shaking, his grip on the handle of his cane tight enough to turn his knuckles a sickly white.

“Sebastian?” It said nervously. “You’re shaking…”

He didn’t turn to look at p.AI.nter, still staring straight ahead. “Can we go?” He managed to croak out, the last words dying off into wisps of air.

Something was seriously wrong. p.AI.nter stood, nodding. “Yeah- Yeah, of course we can. Let’s… let’s get you inside now.”

It stood, Sebastian slowly following its actions. His return inside was much faster than p.AI.nter expected, its heart lurching at the sight. He was forcing himself to speed up to go inside, probably hurting himself in the process. All because of some dumb idea it had…

The walk back to Sebastian’s room was silent, save for the clink of metal on the wood-panelled floors. p.AI.nter opened the bedroom door, letting him in as it followed behind. Sebastian made a straight beeline to his bed, burrowing under the blankets and hiding his whole body under them.

p.AI.nter said nothing, instead it just took a seat on the edge of the bed to watch over the lump under the covers.

Sebastian hid. Hid from the sunlight (it was too bright), the breeze (the chill it sent down his spine was very unwelcome), the people (they were so loud and they kept staring oh god they wouldn’t stop-). So he stayed under the blankets of his bed, where he knew it was safe.

It was darker out when he finally peeked his head out, his gaze landing on the bot sitting nearby. It had left the edge of the bed hours ago, now sitting against the wall opposite of the bed. It was clearly lost in drawing, the screen displaying a bright landscape instead of the usually messy eyes and grin.

“What are you drawing?” He asked, his voice filling the room with something more than just cooling fans.

The sudden sound caused p.AI.nter to jump in place, a large, accidental brushstroke covering its artwork. It quickly undid the mistake and saved the file, returning to its face.

“Ah- nothing. Just the usual…”

The room again fell into an awkward silence, neither of the two wanting to look at each other. Sebastian looked down at his hands clutching the edge of the blankets, the promise from earlier in the day resurfacing in his mind.

“You know, you still owe me that promise. Nail painting, remember?” He didn’t look up as he spoke.

The only sound that came from the bot was the near-silent movement of its joints as it stood.

“What colour?”

“Black.”

It only nodded, leaving yet again to find where it kept its real paints.

p.AI.nter found itself sitting back on the mattress of the bed within minutes of leaving, right across from Sebastian. Next to it was a small palette, a small dollop of black paint on it (though the orange light from the sunset and old curtains made it look strangely different). In its hand was the thinnest brush it could find.

Truthfully, it didn’t really know what it was doing. It had never painted nails before, but it assumed it couldn’t have been much different than actual painting- much to its joy, it was right.

In order to try and make Sebastian a bit more comfortable, it began to play a local radio station from its speakers. It kept the music quiet to focus, but it was loud enough to be audible.

Sebastian didn’t say anything, but before long he was softly humming along to the tune of a song p.AI.nter didn’t recognize. Both looked down at his nails as they were all carefully covered in a thin coat of black paint.

They stayed like that for a long while, even after p.AI.nter was done with the nails. The paint needed to dry, after all.

The music was cut off with an exhale of p.AI.nter’s fans. It took a moment to collect its words. “Sebastian, listen,” It began. “I’m so sorry for today. I didn’t mean to make you feel so upset.”

p.AI.nter waited nervously for a reply. It wasn’t expecting for Sebastian to magically forgive it of everything it did, but it hoped he wouldn’t be pissed at it either.

“...It’s fine. I know you didn’t mean to. I probably shouldn't have freaked out on you like that either.”

It looked up at Sebastian, eyes widening. “No- you shouldn’t be apologizing here!” Its volume raised slightly. “You had said you didn’t want and I basically forced you out and I even made you upset before everything and-”

“p.AI.nter.” His voice cut through its nervous ramblings. He sounded annoyed, but it knew better than to assume that’s how he really felt. “You said you’re sorry, I said it’s fine. That’s all, alright?”

“...Yeah, alright.”

Sebastian hesitated, before looking up and meeting p.AI.nter’s gaze. “Besides, I got a free manicure out of it, didn’t I?”

p.AI.nter couldn’t help the laugh it let out, quiet and glitchy. “I guess that’s a pretty good plus side to this whole thing.”

The room fell into another silence, but this one was much more comfortable than before. Dusk turned to night, the only light in the room the dimmed screen of p.AI.nter’s face. It stuck around as Sebastian slipped back under the blankets, sitting comfortably at the foot of the bed to continue its scene from before. It tentatively hit redo on the accidental brush stroke from before. Maybe it could find a way to work that mistake into the landscape…

Sleep came quickly for Sebastian as he curled up beneath soft blankets. He kept his hands above the covers, careful to not nick them. Taking another glance at the black paint, a dumb grin grew on his face. By no means were they perfect, but to him they were everything. He shut his eyes, listening carefully to the soft droning of p.AI.nter’s fans. And if that night was the best sleep he had in years, he never admitted it.

#barry writes #sebpainter #pressure #p.ai.nter pressure #sebastian solace #pressure surface au #sebastian x painter

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rkiveinmarvel · 2 months ago

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high mountains - bucky barnes des. loving bucky barnes in a series of mountains notes. fluff-angst. small depictions of smut (18+), violence, major character death! sad, sad, really sad. avengers being a family and tony stark is rich!

hello! it's another bucky fic! this time we have angst!!!!! i just finished my midterm exam and i felt like i need to release this idea--please let me know if i forgot to add things on my notes! anyway, enjoy (grab your tissues, i teared up a little writing this) highkey inspired by john wick 1: movie

w.c: 3.1k

The thing about James Buchanan Barnes is that he tends to pedal back and forth to the real life, like testing a step in climbing a mountain—ever since, he got the freedom of being himself again, he find it weird; like weird—for instance, food’s ain’t boiled anymore, music on the radio is present in televisions now, videos and photos are in a small device, clothes are not that heavy anymore—and you, he find you weird—a good kind of weird.

His curiosity peaked when you sat next to him at the party the Stark had, for whatever reason, you were sitting next to him and out of all the people at the party, all of the Avengers and riches: you chose to sit next to him. He know he should be wary of your action, he was sitting at the corner of the room and you were there next to him, but that seems to vanish when you smiled at him and said: “Not a big fan of crowds, Mr. Barnes?”

He doesn’t know if the alcohol is finally taking an effect on him but he knew you had this energy, something a bit promising and something he looks forward to—he opted to ignore you: but how can he ignore someone like you, at first thought, he saw you as a beaming light: blinding yet he wants to indulge in it. “Not really, you?” His words left his mouth, as he offered the seat next to him to you, he’s still the 40s gentleman after all.

“Just wanna take a breather, Stark always throws parties, it’s kinda tiring at this point.” You chuckled as you sat next to him. “...You don’t know who I am, do you?” you added, as he shook his head and drank his beer. “No, should I?”

You nodded and smiled. “Well, you’ll figure it out.”

That was the first mountain and it frightened him, how easily you made him talk more at that stupid party, he swore that maybe it was the alcohol talking but he knew it wasn’t, so, he talked to you at the corner of the party, laughing stupidly at your jokes and you listening to his nostalgia: for the first time in 75 years, he felt like James. It wasn’t a secret that he loved talking to Steve, hell, since they were kids, but with you—it’s different, it’s surprising, and that scared him. He was scared how you easily broke his walls; the night ended with you leaving but as he asked your name, for the first time he heard it, he continued to utter it: to remember it.

For the first time, he’s looking forward to the parties that Stark threw.

The second mountain was when he saw you again–but this time, in a lab coat around the compound talking to Bruce. He was walking back to his room but he saw you, with all the wondered look in your face typing something, this time, he blamed his curiosity–on technology and on you. He knocked at the glass pane as he gave an awkward smile. Which, you returned with a soft smile and wave.

He found it weird, but in the back of his mind, he liked it. Somehow, he had this hopeful gaze as you went out to talk to him. “Mr. Barnes.” You greeted, to which he smiled. “So, that’s why you said I’ll figure it out—you gonna work with Bruce?” He asked.

You explained that you’re only there to help Bruce figure something—about a research, to which Bucky didn’t even listen to, he just wants to talk to you. It made him wonder though, was the remnants of the party tickling something at the back of his brain that he craves to talk to you, he barely knows you—you barely know him, but still, he remained curious.

The day passes and he still sees you at Bruce’s laboratory and sometimes at the field, talking to Stark or the smart-kid with spider suit; most of the time, Clint. But at night, he’s with you.

It started a week ago, he woke up in cold sweat and heavy breathing; same nightmare whenever he closed his eyes. With no hope of going back to sleep, he walked out of his room to get a drink or something but a visible light from the laboratory was peeking at the living room. He peeked and saw you still working on writing something, he saw your concentrated look.

He wondered how long you were working, did you even eat, did you even take breaks, where’s Bruce—but his questions stopped when he saw you stood up, trying to get something on top shelves. Without meaning to, you entered the laboratory and grabbed it for you. “Tha–Barnes? Why are you here…?” He felt his mouth dry, why was he here?

But your eyes quickly darted at his sweaty collar, his tensed shoulder, and shocked face–before he could answer, you continued: “Tea?” You asked, despite his initial hesitation, he nodded.

That second mountain changed everything for him—it was fun, he met another side of him never knew existed, so, every now and then, when he couldn’t sleep: he knew where to find you and that comforted him.

The third mountain was when he came back from the mission and saw you waiting at the hangar. It was more of hesitation, were you there for him? For Wanda? Sam? For Stark? But no, you were actually there for him, he knew that—well, for whatever reason, he knew because why would you run to him and excitedly say: “I found it! The Hobbit, the one you had in 1937!” He grimaced at the excitement in your voice, as you pulled him to the side.

“Well it’s not the one you actually read, it’s like a version of it.” You shared, as he just listened intently, ignoring Sam who wants to get Bucky to the briefing. But none of it mattered, your laugh and excitement tingles something in him: uncertainty blooms in his chest, this was new.

In a sense that didn’t scare him more like comforted him, woke him—in the heat of it all, he felt different. As the time passes, he knows you more than he knows himself, but that wasn’t scary for him; it’s more he was thankful for. He knew how you prefer to write manually than input it in the amazing technology, he knew how you prefer the natural light in the field, he knew how you don’t like plums.

But you on the other hand, knew the same: you knew James—like how he was fond of manual writing but technology thrills him, like how he likes the natural light but the lights in the building amazes him, and how plums are his favorite; it was different for you too.

Things are beginning to turn at this point, the team doesn’t miss the lingering glances you two share: the dining table, missions, jet rides, movie nights, parties, and even briefing, you two were like steady stepping at the egg cracks causing everyone and no one to notice you, both of you. But, in the worlds of you and Bucky: you both knew, this was more than what you two expected.

“I like you, you know…” You mumbled one night, as you and him bond over tea as he is again awake from a nightmare. The soft glow of the lamp in the kitchen made him see you—you look amazing, with a cheeky grin, he nodded. “I know…” His hand tangled with yours as he leaned into you.

His lips meet yours as you smile at the kiss. “I like you too.”

You shared a giggle as you two pull away, he fell asleep that night, no nightmares, yet a dream with you, like he thought it was like going to prom all over again—and if it is, he knows you are his date: with no room for hesitation.

The fourth mountain was when James was injured when he came back from the mission, he glanced at your sleeping form next to his bed, he clutched his abdomen as he sat up: “Sweets?” He felt bad waking you up, but he can’t sleep—god, he needs you near.

You immediately sat up as you went to him. “Yeah?” He kissed your hand knuckles as he asked you to hold him as he drifted to sleep—you held him that night: that night, his bleeding abdomen meant nothing because with you he felt so undamage, and that amazed him.

The longer Bucky stays at your equilibrium, he finds himself: liking and liking and liking, and liking you more—hell, he was sure he loved you but why would take him—he was broken, blood stains in his mind, a walking monster—how could anyone love someone like him?

“Bucky?”

His eyes met you, was he in deep thought again.

“Yea, doll?”

“Once you get healed, I wanna go hiking with you…I bet it’s gonna be fun.”

He chuckled and nodded, “Alright, doll. Will do.”

Maybe someone would actually love him.

The fifth mountain was when the tide changes, Bucky wants to spend his entire lifetime with you—he realized that at the party, like the night he first met you, but this time, he wants to punch John Walker for even talking to you. He knew he was being jealous over nothing, but, can you blame him, he loves you too much.

But in the creeping image of the Winter Soldier littered in his mind: You deserve someone who doesn’t wake up at night, someone who would be bare with you without the fear of hurting you—you deserve someone who isn’t him—better than him.

The lingering thought sucked an air out of him, was it an attack? A real talk? He was grounded to reality when Sam tapped his shoulder.

“You okay?” Sam asked as he met Sam’s gaze and searched for you in the crowd. “Relax man, they’re with Wanda. You looked out of it, everything okay? You need me to call them?” Bucky shook his head and gave Sam a smile. “No, I’m okay, I’m just gonna head out–” as Bucky exited the party—

He breathed, he hated his voices sometimes: part of him wanted to spend his entire life with you but would you want that—with him? His guts were clinging into him but at the same time his thoughts entered his mind rapidly, but in the midst of it all, a lingering moment of him and you danced in his mind.

Somewhat, something sacred—something he won’t lose, he wishes he never loses.

“...Buck?” Your voice, you met his eyes and he looked confused, as you walked and cupped his cheeks. “Everything okay?” He leaned in your touch as he hummed. He usually shares a lie when asking questions like this but it’s you so, he went: “Far from it, doll.”

You gave him a sad smile, as you pulled him into a hug. “Oh, baby…” you muttered as you held him, he felt like a porcelain glass—how did he even have you in his arms? In the lost moment of fear, comfort, and longing–he finally found the words pulling in his brain.

“I think I love you, doll.”

Just like a year ago, you copied what he said. “I know….” You kissed his temple.

“I think I love you too…” Just like that the cold air in his mind finally lessened, the loud voices quiet down. In a brief moment, he was sure, he saw your eyes filled with constant reminders that you want this too—you want this with him. “I wanna spend my entire life with you, doll..” He breathed.

“Well, we’ll figure it out, Bucky. For now, it’s me and you.”

That night he marked you as his, carving your body into his and memorizing the texture of your skin next to him. That night, he was bare, that in the brisk of the night, his scarred skin matches your warm body, how his lips made love on every piece of you—on how his eyes lingered in every edge of you.

On how his hand marked and shaped you into his. In the breathless night and fondled bed, you were his and he was yours—the night, it was him and you.

The sixth mountain was when he made love to you—-but with a matching ring in each of your hands: as you were finally stole the Barnes. That night, the moon gleamed beautifully, in a beautiful suburb, he found home, world, and love in your hand—goodness, you were his.

“Retirement isn’t bad if every night is like this…” He kissed your shoulder as you shook your head. “You know you don’t have to retire, I just suggested it beca—” He kissed your temple.

“I want this life with you, I want everything with you—I know, you told me that you love me for who I am, no matter what my past is..” He kissed your cheek. “But all I had back then was knives and guns, just this once, I wanna hold you—no knives and no guns, but just you.” In that he kissed you, until all you tasted in your mouth was him.

As you slowly drift into slumber, you two planned life together, to cats, plants, vinyls, books—-and kids, he was looking forward to climbing the mountain of life: of him and you.

— yet the clouds somehow hated him; you had to go.

In the second year of your marriage, he had his life fall apart. All the plans, visions, and hopes fell apart, he clenched your hand tightly at the hospital: why were you sick? Why? Why? You two had plans…

“Baby…” You uttered weakly, as he lifted his head and caressed your head. “Everything’s gonna be alright..” You assured him, he wanted to believe it—but all he had was the sound of the machine indicating your heart: he nodded as he chose to believe you, just for a little bit: he tried to believe that everything’s gonna be alright.

At night, he stared at your body with all the wires and notes attached to you: he hated destiny—why does it have to be him?

Approximately, it’s 6 years of knowing everything together, meeting at the party, sharing night teas, and liking each other, while it’s 2 years and 17 days—that’s how long you carried his last name; that’s how your name was intertwined at the home in the suburb—that’s how long you were his, until you weren’t.

He buried you near the home you hoped to grow old with and every day, he would sit next to it—wishing he had more time with you, but all that is left is the sound of the wind as it bristles in his arms. He would cry too; hoped it was just a mere dream—a nightmare, that once he wakes up—he’ll have tea with you.

But he buried you—under 6 feet was the 6 years of his heart finally beating as Bucky Barnes.

In the seventh day of his mourning—a delivery came over a letter and a pet box, under his name which was a scheduled sent, he hated that you knew you will be gone, but his longing of you was stronger, as he took the letter and pet box—

Hey, James.

He knew your handwriting, he loved it—as he imagined you writing it and saying it to him.

I’m sorry, I know we planned to live our lives until our hairs are gray—but here I am, lying in bed with no clue if I would wake up tomorrow. My life was always hanging on the thread, but that changed when you offered me a seat at the party—chivalry isn’t dead with you apparently.

He sat on the ground as he felt tears pooling his eyes.

I remember our secret tea dates—I wish I was hugging you every time you wake up from a nightmare, but I was scared you’re gonna push me away if I did—if you still had nightmares, here’s the recipe—

He chuckled as he read the recipe in the letter, as you mentioned all the memories you two shared—the same promises and hope, love, longing, and comfort—his eyes drifted further as he knew: you knew your time had come, the way the letter was written, it wasn’t an assurance, it was a good-bye.

He couldn’t go on as he read through the letter, reading emotions he wasn’t aware you were feeling, his longingness, he read the memory where he asked you to be his—I remember when we climbed a mountain, it was really chilly and snowy that day but still, you agreed to do it because I asked you to, that was new to me, Bucky—but it was the best, but as we climbed on top and you asked me to be yours: I never wanted anything more in my life.

He wanted you more than anything in this life. He felt himself slowly falling apart again—destiny was definitely pulling tricks on him.

But Bucky, I know I’m being unfair but I want you to live, my love. Your youth has been stolen from you and I don’t want to be the reason why your life would stop—once I’m gone. I love you, James—timing is a bit cruel, don’t you think? You retired for me and yet I left you alone.

All I wanna say is sorry, Bucky—I love you so much, I wish we had more time. I would’ve loved to see a child with a splitting image of us: I wanted us to be more—to be a family, but this is all the time I had and I can give: I know you’ll be in the loop but be ready to love again, Bucky—love always suits you. I love you, James.

You signed the letter with your name and his surname—a bittersweet farewell: as he read—to love again—a bitter taste left his mouth, until he placed the letter down and lifted the box—a soft pur was heard, as well as a collar. A sad chuckle left his lips: “...oh, doll.”

Though, there’s a kiss of sadness in his chest, a smile left his lips as he traced the name on the collar. “Of course, you would��”

In the seventh mountain, Bucky retraces his steps, with your ring and his dangling in his dog tags he ran inside a building hastily, as he sat down in a group session. He listened to a circle of people talking about their loss—as he listened intently, he found himself lowering his jacket.

“There’s some old faces, are you ready to share, James?” he nodded as he smiled.

“I am James Barnes…or Bucky..” He put the zipper of his jacket all the way down. “And this is Alpine.” as he petted the cat and purred. He smiled knowingly, a high mountain of fun, comfort, home, and a mountain of just him and you, at last—he finally pedalled forward, with Alpine on his side.

⚘ masterlist 1 | 2 | 3 ₊˚⊹♡ taglist: @yesiamthatwierd, @bitchimasnake-sss, @cjand10, @reemoony

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aurorawritestoescape · 11 months ago

Text

FLOWER

Pairing: post outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

Tw: 18+ mdni, dead dove do not eat! dark fic! creator chose not to use all the warnings, unprotected piv, rough sex, enthusiastic consent, praise, choking, heavy angst

I didn’t include some warnings so as not to spoil the fic. If you wanna know them before reading DM me🖤

Word count: 900

A/n: Thank you for the moodboard and the writing challenge @iamasaddie ❤️ Your creativity never stops to amaze me😘😘😘

Masterlist

*****

Joel’s gripping the shovel tight, scowling at the first rays of the rising sun. A drop of sweat is sliding down the side of his face while he’s working tirelessly. His plaid shirt is completely soaked and an early morning breeze makes him shiver.

It’s the second time today that he’s sweating so profusely. The first one was a few hours ago when he was fucking you on his bed. Still wearing his shirt and jeans having just returned from a shift he was ruining your tight pussy as his sweat was dripping on your naked breasts.

“Sorry for waking ya up, baby. Need this,” he growled thrusting into you. “Fuck, that’s my girl!” he praised you, his face hovering over yours, after you tilted your hips up and opened your thighs wider for him to plunge deeper into your core. Your white nightie was bunged up in his fist, the skirt pulled up to your waist so he could see your greedy cunt swallowing his cock. His other hand found its usual place around your throat. Squeezing and letting go. And squeezing again.

***

You were always hungry for him, always ready to give yourself entirely. You never minded the dull ache of the stretch when his cock was splitting you in half. You loved the pain he bestowed on you, be it from his thick member or his harsh hands. You cherished every bruise and every scratch. He kissed them all after, gliding his calloused thumb over the ever changing rainbow of his marks on your body.

You’d been together only for a few months but his effect on you was tsunami-like. He quickly became your lover, your man, your god. You were new in town and the people in Jackson told you in a hushed voice to run, to escape, to leave him. He had a bad reputation, bloody trail of his past never seemed to wash off having turned him into a recluse. Yet no one could go against Maria’s brother-in-law. “He’s dangerous, violent, unstable”, well-wishers whispered in your ear at every opportunity when he wasn’t next to you. Which was rare. He became a major part of your life, all your life actually.

***

The first time he choked you, you came all over his thick thighs drowning his cock which was buried deep in your pussy. Soon you both couldn’t get enough of that feeling. Complete submission to Joel had already nested in your soul and you longed to give him more.

He’d never tell you but just the thought of holding your life in his hands like that made his cock throb. He loved your reaction to his hand wrapped around your neck. Joel groaned when your pussy vibrated around him, your cunt kissing his length. You looked so beautiful, your eyes rolled back, mouth opened desperate for air, your walls massaging his cock. He wanted to squeeze every part of you as if you were sand running through his fingers. He loosened his grip on your neck as soon as he started coming filling you up with his warm load. The color returned to your pretty face. You took a deep breath making up for the lack of oxygen and a surge of endorphins made you explode on his cock. You were in a pleasant daze after that and when he took you in his arms and stroked your hair you felt how much he loved you.

***

Today that love turned rotten. Poisonous. Suffocating. After fucking you still half asleep he sat up and put you on his lap with your back leaning against his broad chest. He was thrusting up into you and you helped him bouncing on his fat cock with your knees planted on the bed. His fingers were twitching your nipppes and rubbing your clit until his hand snaked up to the base of your throat and gripped it tightly. Your moan got muffled midway out of your lips and you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Love feeling your pulse, baby,” Joel murmured in your ear as your vein was fluttering under the pads of his fingers and your pussy began buzzing around his cock. Your hand was clenching his hair, the other gripping his forearm. You felt his muscles tighten as his fingers were squeezing your neck.

Soon Joel started shooting his cum into your womb and got lost in his high. Your pussy was making him feel so good. He missed how your hand tugged on his hair a few times and then fell on the bed. His spend was dripping out of your hole when his fingers finally parted from your throat.

*****

He stares at the ground and imagines you standing in front of him in your white nightie. You plant a soft kiss on his weathered lips and give him a warm smile. His dick twitches and he hates himself for it. He picks up the shovel and goes home.

There he doesn’t bother washing his hands. They’ll never be clean again. What’s done is done. And he’s done so many unspeakable things. Lost so much due to his mistakes.

He grabs his revolver from the nightstand and sits on the edge of the bed. He thinks of all the people he lost. All the people he hurt. He thinks of you, a pretty flower crushed by his brutal hand and his eyes sting with tears.

Today he’ll pay for all his sins. Today he won’t miss.

*****

Thank you for reading!

Let me know what you think❤️ your comments and reblogs will make me very happy!

#joel miller #dead dove do not eat #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal #✏️ game #tw dead dove #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x f!reader #dddne #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal characters #the last of us #joel fanfic #dark fic #tw dark content

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exorcqism · 1 year ago

Text

„𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆”

: ̗̀➛ 18+ CONTENT!!!

: ̗̀➛ afab!reader, lil bit of sex, nun too heavy. teasing, some whimpering, dom!reader. not proofread so i apologize in advance for any mistakes if they’re made.

: ̗̀➛ art creds by;; separuhpuding. dividers are not mine, if you own these, you may claim them in comments.

: ̗̀➛ WORD COUNT;; 3.1K

: ̗̀➛ plot aspects inspired by;; @selfishdoll (good ass writer,, i recommend)

* dark mode recommended

* do not copy this plot. i’m perfectly fine with inspirations but give creds. if this plot his stolen in any way, the post will be taken down and you will be blocked.

𝐃𝐀𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ✉️🖇️;; ngllll i was writing the smut in gym class. i was INTO it. but its nothing heavy…just a lil nasty nasty 🌚 this was my first time writing for choso BUT THIS MAN SO FINE. i hope ya enjoy ittttt

you and choso were roommates. it wasn’t surprising. you both went to the same college, you were good friends. nothing was wrong with that. but you were wondering what went wrong…why the two of you drifted apart.

“morning, choso!” you beamed at the 5’11 male sitting on the couch, his violet irises looking intently at his paper, loosely holding the pencil between his fingers. “Smoke Break-Dance” by JID played quietly on the speaker beside the tv, you noticed. you smiled a bit. choso must’ve been picking up on your music taste…or it was conveniently playing and he didn’t realize.

the male finally glanced up at you, registering your presence and lifted his hand, replacing actual words.

you plopped down beside him, making the side you sat on sink downward underneath him. his violet irises dragged to their left to look at you.

“whatcha doing?” you smile.

choso could never get over your soft voice and playful attitude. it always made him feel like he was doing something wrong. was he too boring? was it the fact that he hardly had any energy to do anything at all and he just laid around majority of the day? he didn’t know himself.

“writing…” he said quietly. “writing a poem…”

a couple months into your junior year of college was when he told you he loved you. he couldn’t explain himself but that’s what he was feeling all that time you stayed with him.

when you came around, he had a weird feeling in his chest when he saw you.

‘this body is betraying me’ he thought. he thought it was odd to be feeling this way about a human. a woman at that.

choso was a bit possessive of you. he enjoyed your company but grimaced at the men that came into your vicinity. the male watched from a distance, swallowing his urge to burst into a fit of rage but it would completely ruin his calm image.

“it’s fine,” yuji shrugged, waving his hand at his big brother, “that’s your girl, of course you’d be upset at another dude talking to her. it’s completely fine. don’t get so aggy.”

choso was happy to have his little brother, yuji there to comfort him when we was too nervous to confront you about the situation. from simple situations like this all the way to why he had an odd feeling between his legs when he kissed you. he didn’t think the rod that hung down in his lower area would be used for more than just using the bathroom….until yuji said so.

your “first time” was pretty interesting. it consisted of choso asking you if you were okay or if he was doing it right, to which you replied “yes” each time followed by a moan. you were wondering if he had done this before but you chose not to get into it.

more time goes by and then that’s when you realized that you were drifting apart.

choso was pursuing a career in art. drawing realistic portraits, using his heaven sent abilities to make drawings that looked like davinci had created them.

you were attempting to be a nurse, so you were off campus a lot, spending time at other hospitals to do “hands on” learning. neither of you had much time to talk to each other, though you sent texts back and forth assuring each other that everything was okay.

choso’s pupils retracted, hearing the sudden news of you wanting to break up with him. it was like he was going into shock.

“don’t you understand how much it would hurt me to see you go?” he said, his deep voice breaking. you never heard him sound so broken before. the moment almost made you cry yourself. the male gently took your hands, his sad eyes looking into yours, searching for an answer. but there was nothing.

“Y/N please…” you felt his grip on your hands get a bit tighter. you kept your head down, avoiding eye contact with him to refrain from making yourself cry in front of him.

you were gone and that was the end of it. you left your favorite person with his heart hurting, making him feel like he had to throw up. it was like his whole world had went cold, now that you weren’t in it.

two years passed and you haven’t seen choso. you were starting to forget about him. there were some physical features about him that you forgot too…like the way he looked bored all the time or the fact that he always had his hair in two buns and occasionally letting it all the way down.

you went on about your day while choso was probably in his room crying his eyes out, falling into a depression.

you heard a knock at your apartment door. you were confused at first because you weren’t expecting anyone to come over and a select few people knew where you lived. you put on a pair of joggers after walking around in nothing but an oversized hoodie and a pair of ankle socks.

the moment you opened the door, a set of hands clasped onto your waist like a corset and pulled you closer to the owner of those said hands. you were pulled into a really tight hug.

you melted in this person’s arms. their touch, the way they smelled, their warmth…you missed it. your arms wrapped around them, returning that hug. you could feel your scleras burning as tears began to form in your eyes.

memories of choso flooded back into your mind like a tsunami consuming an entire city. salty lines of tears slid down your cheeks and you held the male a bit tighter than he was holding you.

“i’m so sorry, cho.” you cried. “i didn’t mean to hurt you the way i did. i didn’t know what i was doing and—”

you were immediately cut off by a kiss. you had a storm of emotions swirling through your body, your eyes traveled up to the male after he pulled away from you.

a tired smile was flashed at you before you heard him say something just above a whisper, his deep voice startling you a bit.

you forgot about that.

“don’t apologize.”

“but i left you alone for so long. you aren’t upset? you not feeling some type of way about me?” your voice shaking from your recent crying.

“no, i’m not angry.” choso said, his hand sliding down your arm to hold yours. “it’s been two years…and i waited until you were ready.”

“i was told that i should be patient and i shouldn’t try to hold you back.” he added but his words only made you cry even more. he waited for you? he could’ve found so many other women and he waited two years for you?

“why did you wait? you could’ve found someone else to replace me, you know that?”

the violet eyed male just shrugged. “loyalty. if you needed a century, i’ll wait for you.” choso’s loyalty was that of a dog waiting for its owner to return after being gone for hours on end.

having nine other brothers, choso knew what loyalty was and it was something he valued heavily. but most importantly, he valued you. your safety. everything.

“good job, cho!” yuji grinned as he threw his arm around the taller male’s waist. choso’s head swung around, his hair flowing with him and looked at the other, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“i knew you could do it.” he continued.

“why are you even here…?” choso queried, putting on his awkward smile. you just watched with a smile on your face as the pair of brothers chattered until it faded into playful bickering.

later that day, you and choso were at your apartment, in your bedroom relaxing after yuji convinced the two of you to hang out with him for the day. choso was reading a book called “The Art of War”. you enjoyed when he read aloud to you. even though you were getting a bit bored, you didn’t wanna tell him that.

you were getting impatient. needy even. you missed being so close to him and being touched by his hands that looked two times the size of yours. abruptly, the book closes before choso would kiss you passionately as if something had possessed him. his lips were pressing against yours. he didn't say anything, his breath was heavy. everything was blurry to him.

choso held you tight against him, his hands moving to caress your waist. he was no longer thinking straight. he kept kissing you. he was drunk off of the feeling. but he cared about your lips. they were soft and plushy. he couldn’t even remember the last time he felt something as good as this.

soon, his hands moved to your neck. he caressed your throat, tenderly. his head was swimming, filled only by the feelings he had for you. kissing turned into biting, and biting turned into licking, and licking turned into kissing again. his lips were everywhere on your body. all he wanted was you.

there was no talking anymore. only the sound of the two of you breathing. you were breathing fast, filled with excitement. the way choso was looking at you was driving you crazy. he wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

he was caressing you from top to bottom, his lips kissing every part of you. it was...perfect. he was yours, you were his. it made sense. what else did you need?

“you're so beautiful..." he whispered. “...so perfect.”

you felt his bare chest against yours. his body was hot. it felt incredible. you were lost in the pleasure, and there was no returning. it was too late to stop. choso wanted you and you wanted him. It was too good to be true. his hands were touching you everywhere, teasing you, making your blood pump faster, making you moan.

he made you moan loudly. his lips and tongue were everywhere. your whole body was shaking. everything felt amazing. every sensation was magnified by a hundred. the smell of his skin, his voice, his moans in your ear...it made you feel like you were going to go insane.

the male was holding both of your wrists. he was looking at you with lust. he didn't care about anything else. you were feeling so good you were unable to think anymore. your heart was pumping like crazy, your legs were shaking.

he kissed your neck, your collarbone, your breasts. his hands were everywhere on your body. he wanted you badly. he couldn't control himself. he was all over you. he didn't care if it was a little dirty. his hands were exploring every inch of your body, making you moan and scream loudly.

he took off your clothes while his eyes kept scanning your body. soon, you were both naked. you looked at each other's body with lust and excitement. you knew how right this was. nothing else mattered. all of your senses were focused on this moment.

the room was flooded with the sound of both your moans and your breathing. your body was hot, your mind was fuzzy. you were not yourself anymore. you were a different being, full of sensuality.

choso was looming over you now, looking down at you with burning passion in his eyes. he was holding your wrists tightly and staring at you, his muscles twitching, as if he was imagining what he'd do to you. you could feel his breath on your neck, your collarbone... you could smell him.

his fingers were kneading your skin, his hands were sliding all over your body. he wanted to possess you. he was devouring you, slowly, passionately, thoroughly. his hands were feeling you, exploring you, learning you. he was learning how your body was shaped all over again, to better pleasure you.

he was slowly moving his tongue against your thighs now, kissing his way up your body. your heart was beating faster and faster. you could hardly breathe. he was taking his time, but he wasn't playing games with you. he wanted you to enjoy this.

he was caressing your inner thighs, kissing them, licking them, making your legs shake. you couldn't remain silent anymore. you were overwhelmed by desire. he was in control, controlling you in the most delicate way possible, making you surrender to his will.

you began reaching down to choso’s lower area, gently caressing the length that he had been hiding from her. you bit your lip as you stared in awe and pure excitement.

he had no words. his lips were quivering as he stared at you. he was feeling you, feeling your desire. he wasn't thinking about anything else in this moment. he was in awe, in total disbelief. he was breathing furiously as he looked at your hand, moving slowly down.

he closed his eyes, unable to bear the intensity of the situation. a moment later, he opened his eyes, staring at you. his expression was intense. his face was flushed. he wasn't saying anything. all he could do was stare at your hand, moving so slowly up and down...

you moved your hand away for a moment, teasing your partner. choso couldn't help but moan loudly, feeling his heart pound so aggressively. he was addicted to your touch.

he looked at your face, still flushed, wanting to see you enjoying this moment as much as he was. your hand was moving up and down again, so slowly and... so seductively. it was too much for him, but you weren't stopping. you wanted to see him beg.

he could feel it. he was so close to the edge. his whole body was shaking, his breath was rapid. he was holding his breath, unable to control himself. It was taking so long, it was too much for him. he wanted you so badly, and you were making him wait. and you were enjoying it all.

he was so desperate, so hot, so ready to explode any second now. he was looking at you with pleading eyes.

"Y/N... i can't... anymore..." you heard choso mumble.

your eyes narrowed. he was yours, and you were in control. you were loving every second of it. you put your hand back on him and looked at him with a mischievous smile.

“wait a little bit more,” you said, still keeping your hand moving up and down. your free hand went to his mouth to stop him from talking. “be a good boy for me.” you added, with a sultry voice.

he was almost begging you to stop at this point. you were torturing him, playing with him. you had absolute power over him, and you loved it. you didn't want to give in just yet. you were playing with him, enjoying every second of it. it was such a thrilling feeling. you wanted him to suffer a little longer.

he was holding himself, trying to remain calm. the sensation was getting to his head. it was too much. he was starting to feel weak, his legs were trembling, and his hand was shaking.

he was shaking. he tried to move, to get away from your hand, but you were stronger. you held him tight. you were making him wait for your final touch, making him beg for it. he was so vulnerable, so at your mercy.

he was losing control, not able to think, not able to say anything. his breath was racing, his body was shaking, his mind was empty. all he could feel was you. your hand touching him, teasing him, driving him crazy.

choso was breathing heavily, trying to make sense of what was happening to him. he couldn't take it anymore. he turned his head away, hiding his trembling body. his body felt overwhelmed, so close to the edge.

“i can't... please,” he mumbled, his voice barely understandable through the moan. his eyes were closed tight, his face buried in the pillow.

you felt like the goddess of lust, controlling choso’s mind and body, as if he was a puppet in your hands. his voice, his breath, his body were all yours to control. you had broken him, and you were loving it. your whole body was shaking, just a lot less than his, but you still felt incredibly empowered.

you put your hand down again, but you didn't move it anymore. you kept it on him, looking at his face. “not yet,” you whispered.

choso was breathing fast, staring at you. his eyes were so full of lust, desire and love. he could barely move, his body was so tense, so close to the edge, shaking as if he was about to explode.

you were in complete control of his body and of his mind. you were enjoying this. watching him like this, looking at you, wanting you... it was delicious.

you could do anything you wanted with this weak and sensitive boy. literally anything. you could make him beg, you could make him shout. you could do whatever you wanted with him.

your hand was still touching his body. you kept looking at his face, drinking his expressions of love, lust and desire. you were loving watching him like this, enjoying your power over him.

you moved your free hand up to his face, caressing his cheek. you could feel his breath on your skin. he was trying so hard to remain still, but you could see he was shaking, his body so tense.

“don't move,” you whispered to him, with a provocative smile on your face. “stay still for me, boy.”

his heart was beating so fast. he was saying your name like it was the only thing he knew. he was looking at you, but he could hardly keep his eyes open. tears welled up in his eyes from pleasure. he physically couldn’t handle it but he wanted more of it. how could he resist you? you made him feel so weak in this situation. he felt dizzy. his entire body feeling numb.

soon enough, ropes of white substance spewed from his manhood and he was completely out of breath. choso laid down on top of you and you moved your hand away from him, putting your arms around him.

he’d kiss your lips gently before tucking his head into your neck and closing his eyes.

“i missed you so much.” he said quietly.

“i missed you too.” you replied before your eyes closed, falling asleep after your high died down.

𝐄𝐍𝐃.

⋆｡࿇ ·࣭࣪̇˖ 𖦹°༅༚

#choso kamo #𝐾𝑂𝑇𝐴 𝑊𝑅𝐼𝑇𝐸𝑆 書く #choso x black!reader #jjk choso #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu itadori #jjk x reader #choso x female reader #choso x reader smut #choso smut #anime

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