#lmk about typos i beg of you

[xosannie]

Hi! I’m new but I’ve been reading your works recently and HOLY they are very good! I especially love when you write subby ateez so I was wondering if I could request some sub seonghwa or wooyoung (or both if you feel inspired hehe) ideally with some mommy reader thrown in there? <33

Better Make This Quick

a/n:Your wish is my command 🫡 I think it’s about time I write about Wooyoung my beloved. (Sorry this took so long.)

Genre: smut 18+ MDNI

Pairing: sub!wooyoung x dom!reader (f)

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: pwp, established relationship, mommy dom reader, quickie, choking, begging, finger sucking, praising, degrading, unprotected sex (be safe y’all), cumming inside (lmk if I missed anything) if you see typos no you don’t

Summary: Rewarding Wooyoung for his hard work. Hopefully you can do it in time without getting caught. (Coach Wooyoung feat. boxer San)

—————————————————————————

“Another win in the bag,” Wooyoung grins.

He drops the duffle bag of money on the ground. You smirk at him, pulling him in for a hug. San stood beside you two. He was dirty and a little bloody. 

“My god San. I think you need to shower.” 

San giggled, pushing his sweaty hair back and out of his eyes. 

“Yeah I think I will.”

Wooyoung pats San on the back. They just came back from another boxing match, and of course San wins yet another one. You were waiting at their shared apartment since you were too busy with work to attend the match. But when you go out you promised Wooyoung you’d wait for him at his home. 

After nudging San’s shoulder playfully, he excuses himself and leaves to the restroom. It was just you and Wooyoung now. Wooyoung walks over to the couch and plops down on the cushion. He let out a long sigh, resting his head back. He pulls his sunglasses off his head to run his fingers through his dark locks. You smile endearingly at Wooyoung, walking over to straddle his lap.

“Aw baby you look exhausted. I know how stressful this match was for you two.”

“Yeah, we knew this opponent was gonna be difficult. We had to put all our focus on this match, it was draining for both of us.”

“Well you did it. Besides, San couldn’t do it without you.”

Wooyoung smiles at your words, his hands comes to rest on your waist. Poor baby, he looked so tired. You eyes examine him sitting back on the couch. His hair was slicked back in such a sexy way, and the way his shirt was unbuttoned just enough to see the skin of his tan chest. He looked intoxicating. 

You trace your finger up his bare chest, coming up to the thick chain around his neck. You hooked your finger on the chain and pull him in. He gasped slightly at your sudden, forceful action. But his shocked face was immediately changed into a sly smirk.

“Poor baby was so stressed. Maybe he needs a reward for doing a good job.”

You voice dropped in a lower tone. The sound of your voice makes him excited, he knew where this was going. He glanced at your lips, nodding wordlessly at your remark. He wrapped him arms around your waist, pulling you closer on his lap. 

“I do need a reward.”

“What’s the magic word?”

You cup his jaw, pulling him in closer. He grinned at the way you were being a bit aggressive and he began to grip onto your shirt. Already feeling a sense of need whenever you spoke to him in that dominant tone.

“Please mommy.”

Your eyes darkened at his words, and large grin spread on your face. You feel a shock of desire course through you and land in between your legs. Fuck you needed Wooyoung right now.

Your hand snakes down and wraps around his neck, you push him back against the couch and lean in. He gasped at your actions and already felt a stir in his pants. He loved when you were aggressive, when you treated him like a toy for your own amusement. He needed that right now, needed to be your plaything. 

His hands reached up to grasp your wrist and his eyes fill with desire. He felt a shiver run down his spine when you shifted your head to nibble at his earlobe.

“Better make this quick then. We don’t want San to walk in on us do we?”

Wooyoung whimpered at your words. The thought of getting caught making his body fuel with need. He shook his head no and you giggle when you take note of his shallow breathing.

You didn’t fail to notice his bulge growing underneath you. It was hard to ignore it when it pressed against your thigh, so cute how easily he got needy for you. You began to apply pressure on the sides of his throat while whispering seductively in his ear. 

“Better keep quiet too baby. Unless you want San to hear how much of a pathetic boy you are for mommy.”

Wooyoung gasped when your grip tightened around his neck, his head clouded With submission and his dick twitched in his pants. He lets out a moan, you words sending shocks straight to his cock. He shook his head no with a small pout on his lips. 

“I’ll be good mommy I swear. I can be quiet.”

You chuckle and release your grip on Wooyoung’s neck. Your hand snakes down between your bodies and unbuckles the belt around his waist. Wooyoung was already panting, he looked down and tried to help you with his pants but his hands were trembling too much. You coo at the sight and gently push his hands away. You managed to get his pants unbuttoned and pull his already hard dick out. 

It was so beautiful, the tip leaking while it pulsed in your hand. Pretty veins running down the sides, oh how badly you wanted to run your tongue along it. Gotta save that for another time though. Right now you were in a time crunch, and you had to be quick if you wanted to finish before San got out the shower.

“Such a pretty cock. All hard and ready for me.”

Wooyoung whimpers softly at your words, he gripped at your hips and tugged at the waistband of your shorts. 

“Please mommy I need you.”

You chuckle, leaning in to kiss his lips. Wooyoung was quick to kiss back, reaching up to cup your cheek. How could you say no to that.

“Don’t worry my beloved, I’ll give you what you need. You deserve it after all.”

You start to pull off your shorts taking one leg out the leg hole and letting you shorts dangle around your ankle. You grasp the base of his cock and gesture down toward it with your head. 

“Spit on it,” you commanded. 

Without hesitation, Wooyoung did as he told. He spit onto his cock and you smile at him, leaning down closer and spitting on it as well. That was so hot to Wooyoung. You began to stroke his dick, lathering your combined spit on him as lubricant. 

You adjust so you can hover over him and sank down on his cock. Wooyoung’s mouth flew open but you covered his mouth with your palm before any sounds could escape.

“Remember… stay quiet,” you say breathlessly.

You were also trying to remind yourself. Wooyoung filled you up just perfectly, you never got over the feeling of him sliding inside for the first time. You began to rock your hips up and down, Wooyoung gripped onto your hips helping you bounce on his cock. His brows furrowed as he struggles to keep his moans in. 

Wooyoung nodded at your words, you move your palm to prod your fingers against his lips. Wooyoung knew what you wanted, and he was happy to oblige. His lips parted then wrapped around your digits. He began to messily suck on them, bobbing his head slightly as drool rand down your fingers and palm. 

You groan quietly at the sight, your other hand resting on his shoulder for support. All of this was so exciting, you both could still hear the faint sound of the shower streaming down and hitting the bath floor. You knew you had to be quick, and the thought alone made you both more turned on then ever. 

“Yes good boy. You feel so good inside me.”

Wooyoung whimpers around your fingers and you pulled them out. His eyes were pooling with desperation and submission. He pulls your closer so he could kiss your lips. 

“Thank you mommy…mmm fuck me so good.”

The words coming out of his mouth only turned you on even more. You felt him tugging and clawing at your shirt, typically that meant he wanted you closer. He wanted to feel your bodies pressed together, so that’s what you did. You leaned in closer so your  chest pressed flush against each other and Wooyoung wrapped his arms around your torso. He hid his face in the crook of your neck and you cradled the back of his head.

You bite your lip trying to hold back your own moans. You hear Wooyoung quietly whimper in your ear and it makes your heart (and pussy) throb. You guys were pressed so close together that your clit rubbed against his pelvis every time you grind down on his dick. 

“Fuck… so good…” Wooyoung whimpered.

You raked your fingers in his hair on the back of his head and tugged at the strands. You pulled his head back making his gasp harshly. You watch his expression intently, loving the way his mouth flew agape as silent moans got stuck in his throat.

“Yeah? You like when mommy fucks you like this?” 

Wooyoung had to bring his own hand up to his mouth to muffle the moan that threatened to escape. He nodded eagerly and he started to subconsciously buck up into you which only caused more pleasure for you two. You felt Wooyoung throb inside you and by the way his eyes rolled in the back of his head you knew he was close. 

“Keep… fucking me please… please mommy.”

Your head perked when you heard the sounds of the water hitting the shower floor cease. Shit, San was done showering. You bounced faster on Wooyoung’s dick, and the thought of San walking in on you two like this brought you close to release.

“Cum for me Wooyoung….fuck before San sees us.”

Wooyoung whimpered, he leaned forward to rest his forehead on your shoulder and he held onto tightly to you. His hands reached down to grab a fist full of your ass and he guided you on his cock. 

“I’m cumming,” he whispered in your ear. 

And with that you both came together, you bit onto Wooyoung’s shoulder to silence your moans when you felt him fill you up with cum. Wooyoung grunted, letting out choked moans when you tightened around his cock. You continued to roll your hips, the sounds of Wooyoung sliding in and out of you was music to your ears.

Once you both calmed down from your highs you wasted no time to hop off Wooyoung’s cock and pull your shorts back on. Wooyoung adjusted his clothes, buckling his belt and he leaned back against the couch. He threw an arm over your shoulder, trying to remain as casual as possible.

You both heard the bathroom door open and light footsteps made their way down the hall. You grabbed a nearby blanket and leaned against Wooyoung’s body to appear as though you were both innocently cuddling the whole time. 

San walked in the living room, a towel draped around his waist and his hands on his hips. He had a soft smile on his face as he looked at both you and Wooyoung. 

“I say we get food to celebrate my win,” he chimes softly. 

You and Wooyoung both turn to San and smile back. You tried to ignore the feeling of Wooyoung’s cum oozing out your hole and onto your shorts. But you subconsciously shut your thighs tightly together, scared that the cum would drip down your leg. You felt Wooyoung’s shoulders bounce as he chuckled at San. 

“Okay we’ll get food. Just go get dressed, what did I say about walking around is just a towel?”

You giggled softly when you felt Wooyoung’s hand cover your eyes, obstructing your vision. San laughs as well walking out the living room and to his own bedroom. 

“Okay okay I’m going!” He exclaims back. 

Once you both heard his bedroom door close you were quick to hop back on Wooyoung’s lap. You smash your lips on his causing him to let out a surprised sound. Wooyoung chuckled in the kiss and wrapped his arms around you. 

“You’re dangerous…gonna get me in trouble one day,” he muttered against your lips. 

“Come on you liked it… you came so fast.”

Wooyoung smirked, well he couldn’t argue with that. You both kissed for a moment before you pulled away to stare at Wooyoung. He cupped your cheek, keeping you close and pressing a soft kiss on your nose. 

“Thank you baby, for everything.”

“You don’t need to thank me Woo.”

 He smiled at you, caressing your cheek with his thumb. 

“Yes I do, you take care of me so well.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and placed another quick, soft kiss on his lips.

“You’re my baby. It’s my job to take care of you.”

You wanted to stay like this, admiring each other while while staying in Wooyoung’s arms. But the wholesome moment was ruined when you felt the fabric of your shorts stick to your folds with Wooyoung’s cum. You glanced down then back up at Wooyoung. 

“Sorry to ruin the moment but I have cum dripping out my pussy. I need to shower.”

Wooyoung let out a hearty laugh, pulling you in closer and kissing your cheek. The smirk on his face never faded when he looked down your body. 

“You know if I could I would be licking all my cum off your pretty cunt.”

You scoff at his words, trying to ignore the way you core throbbed with arousal at the thought. You lightly smacked Wooyoung on the chest and pulled yourself off his lap.

“Aye, keep your dirty word’s to yourself.”

Wooyoung held onto you hips while you stood up, not wanting to let go of you just yet. He looked up at you with desire filled eyes and you could tell he was still horny.

“Why? Do they turn you on?”

You roll your eyes at Wooyoung and look down at him with a warning glance. You ran your fingers through his hair, pushing it back while you leaned in to kiss his forehead.

“I would never tell. Now let go of me so I can shower.”

Wooyoung pouts softly then reluctantly lets his hands fall to his lap. You found his pouty face incredibly cute and cupped his jaw to kiss his lips. His pout immediately changed to a smile when he felt your soft kiss. 

“If you behave we can go for a round two when we’re alone.”

Wooyoung’s head perks up like a puppy wanting a treat and he nodded eagerly.

“Okay! I’ll behave.”

You smile at Wooyoung, ruffling his hair before walking off. Wooyoung watched you the whole time, a sly smirk on his face while you disappeared in the hall. 

Right when you walk into the bathroom San walks out his room. He walked to the living room now fully dressed, unaware of everything that happened while he was gone.

“We’re still getting food right?”

~

[kadwrites]

the color green | T.S

previous part | next part

or check out the series masterlist

summary ; you've met tommy's secretary , who has a thing for him.

warnings ; mentions of death (no one dies), my bad writing?? probably typos, arranged marriage trope

a/n ; um idk what to think of this part but lmk what you think of it

-

he just looks back at you, his brow raised ,waiting for an explanation

"what?"

"what did ya say to 'er?"

"nothing, why ? what did she tell you?" you can't help the amused expression on your face, you did try to hold it back.

"she said you and polly cornered 'er"

"what" you let out a small laugh "all we did was speak to 'er, and it was mostly polly. she barely acknowledged me."

"really?"

"yes really."

"did ya tell 'er that we're engaged?" his voice was deep and cold. it sent a familiar chill down your spine.

"why ? did ya not want people to know?"

"answer the question"

"i didn't. polly did." you stare at him for a while, eyes tracing his face with a raised brow "are you fucking 'er?"

he blinks slowly, his demeanor doesn't change "i beg your fucking pardon?"

"ya heard me."

"no."

you study his face "we didn't say anything to 'er, polly asked 'er if she knew who i was, she looked me up and down like i was some whore and then almost cried when she found out you and i are engaged. thats it."

"we're not engaged yet."

"we are, according to your aunt. so if ya 'ave any fucking complaints , ya might want to take it up with 'er."

you try to walk past him, deciding that storming off is the best way out of this ,

"and how do ya think youre gettin' back home? polly is gone"

you freeze, stopping in place when you hear that, and he turns, just staring at your back.

"walking exists , ya know?" you turn as well to face him, you try to maintain the most confident expression you could muster

"you're gonna walk back? to your father's house? at this time?"

you just nod,

"no you're not"

"yes i am."

"no."

"why not?"

"what kind if fiancé would i be if i let ya walk home in the dark?." his voice is sarcastic

you just raise your brow again, "i thought we weren't engaged."

"go to my office, i'll drive ya home in a minute."

"ya don't 'ave to, i don't want your charity."

"go to my fucking office, y/n."

you mumble curses under your breath as you stride through and to his office, you open the glass door and plop down on the chair facing his desk. you can see the sectary's silhouette from the corner of your eyes. she's sitting on a desk outside his office and you walked by without sparing her a glance. you can feel her stare burn through you.

the door opens again and he walks in, and sits on his desk

"are we goin' to stay here long? cause i can call oliver to come and get me."

he looked up from the papers he was holding and his stare made you look away. okay maybe you'll let him drive you home.

the secretary knocks and walks in "i just need your signature on this form sir." she walks to his desk and gets as close as appropriately possible.

" y've met my fiancée then, miss carter?" he asks the secretary without looking at her

"i.." she stands straight and glances at you "i did , yes i did."

he looks up at her briefly "she might be comin' here more often now, so please make 'er feel at home whenever im not around."

"of course, sir." she smiles sweetly at him before grabbing the paper and walking out of the office.

you raise your brows, a small smirk on your lips "oh im your fiancée now , aye?"

he doesn't answer you, but you see the corners of his lips curl.

you stifle back a yawn as you sit on the sofa , trying to not to nod off. its the middle of the night and your brother had woken you up. safe to say tonight was not a night you've expected and its yet to end.

"how did ya even know about this?" you nod towards abraham who had a cup of tea in his hand

"mum called" he muttered as he handed you a cup as well

"its just a cold , ya know that? , ya didn't 'ave to leave anna and come all the way here."

"it's dad, i couldn't just sleep after 'earing mum cry about 'im"

"she cries about everything" you say with a sigh as you take a sip of your tea

the living room as dark except for a small lamp that was next to you

"did she call celest and oliver?"

"i think so, but they'll probably come by in the mornin'."

you hear your mothers sniffles as she leaves her and your father's bedroom.

"hes asking for you."

you and abraham look at each other before you put your tea cup down and get up from the sofa.

"come in"

you walk in and close the door behind you gently. your dad is propped up with a pillow behind him, you approach the bed and get on it, laying next to him

"ya better not give me another one of your speeches dad." you feign annoyance but your smile gives you away.

he lets out a laugh then turns to you "i'm an old man ya know, i 'ave to make sure i say everything i need to say before i leave ya."

"y've got a cold dad, its not the plaque " you chuckle as you turn to look at him too.

when you were a child, your father would never sleep if you got sick, he would stay up. sometimes fall asleep beside you, or on the uncomfortable hard wooden chair he'd drag next to your bed.

he would put his head on your heart sometimes late at night anxiously, scared it might've stopped when he accidentally drifted off to sleep.

"listen to me love..." his hands intertwine with yours, his hands calloused from all the days he's spent caring for the soil, or in the war that you never thought would end. "i need to talk about this."

you hum, your hand holding his tightly in yours.

"i'm sorry it had to come to this my love,"

its not another one of his speeches, its a different kind of speech.

"dad..."

"when your mother first told me about this, i thought she was jokin, honest to god" he lets out another laugh "but now..... when i think about it , i cant let ya do that to yerself love..." he shakes his head slightly,

"what?" your eyes look up at him, taking in his features , his dark under eyes, the lines on his face, around his eyes.

"i saved some money yeah? , for when me and your mother might need it. ya can 'ave it." his voice drops to a lower tone

"and do what ?"

"run away."

"run away?" you laugh softly, looking at him with a raised brow "and go where?"

"where ever you want." he smiles softly at you

"you're not serious."

"i am"

you stay silent for a while, processing what he's saying "im not runnin' away dad."

"so you're gonna marry tommy shelby? is that what ya want ? what ya truly want?"

"its what i need to do"

"ya don't"

"so you're gonna go back on your word ,aye? ya gave the man a word after all"

"for you , id break every promise ive ever made."

"dad..." you let out a small smile , his other hand goes to cup your face "i cant do that"

"are ya scared id hate ya? or that id be angry at ya if ya didn't?"

"i cant runaway dad... i cant leave ya" your emotions betray you and they flood through you, your tears start to drop. i cant not be here when you die, when you're buried.

"sometimes i cant believe you're all grown up now,"

"hmm"

"ya were such a lively child"

"you're sayin' im borin' now aye?"

you two share a small laugh, you turn your face and kiss his palm, before closing your eyes "id put myself through anything and everything to keep ya with me for however long i can."

-

@tardisloverz , @optimisticsandwichgladiator , @theshelbyslimited

[artficlly]

king of pentacles [one-shot]

Wild West Marvel AU

outlaw!bucky x fortune teller!reader when your travelling circus rolls into town, you are warned that bucky barnes is the outlaw who rules these lands. you plan to keep your distance, but he and his men can not resist a little entertainment.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, smut, fem reader, blowjobs, begging, p in v, cowgirl position, bit of teasing, soft sub bucky??, if you squint theres some plot, fortune telling, tarot cards, violence, choking, blood, mention of death, mention of torture, mention of beatings, implied previous non-con to reader (not from bucky), protective bucky barnes, smoking, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 5.9k

A/N: i literally cannot even tell you where this idea came from. i had a vague thought about a travelling circus, tarot reading character. i wrote this out and edited it in like two days?? insane. i don't normally write smut so let me know your thots lol. if you enjoy western marvel aus, please check out some of my other works. i have a one-shot called 'me & the devil' and a mini-series called 'a dish served cold'! sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist

It was a windy autumn night when James Buchanan Barnes and his pack of vermin invaded Elkhorn’s Travelling Circus and Freakshow. 

There were scarcely few in the area who had not heard of Barnes and his gang of outlaws. From the moment your caravans had pulled across state lines, you had been warned not to cross Bucky Barnes or his dogs. The law did not concern itself with this place, a place so far west that civilization had been left behind. The memories of cities, people, and culture were a mere whisper on the winds, a fleck of sand in an endless desert. This place was ruled by barbarians, and Bucky Barnes was their king. 

You had heard stories of the fabled man. Some said he was the devil himself, that he sported horns and hooved feet. Others said his eyes were black as the night but reflected the light as if he were part beast. Those terrified people would recall his wrath and how his enemies were never afforded a simple, painless death. No, those who crossed the King suffered for their crimes. 

So when that twisted, cruel man of legend stood before you... You were surprised to find he was none of what he was rumoured to be. 

It had only been an hour since the nightly show had wrapped up, darkness falling quickly due to the colder months looming. The gang of outlaws had stormed your small campsite, locating your leader and employer, Duke Elkhorn, and demanding they be entertained! The candles had been lit, and the music was playing. The animals had been brought from their cages once more, and dancers and performers were laced back into costumes. Barnes had asked for entertainment, so you would provide it, lest you find yourself dead in a ditch. 

Thankfully, you had not yet taken off your own outfit and makeup. A kohl to line your eyes; your lips painted red; hair loose with intermitten beading and braids. You wore large jewled earrings and layers of necklaces that partially covered the deep v of your neckline. Your dress was tightly fitted, your breasts were pushed upwards by the corset beneath, and your skirt was a deep green that swirled around your legs with each movement. Your small tent was filled with a haze of incense, lavish velvet, and silk used as draperies. Your tent was divided into two sections—your working space and your personal quarters. You had been checking your appearance in your cracked mirror when the ruffle of fabric alerted you to his presence. 

He stood with an unquestionable air of confidence, a cigarette in hand. His eyes narrowed as he looked you over, a cruel smirk playing across his lips. He was large and burly, with muscular forearms that bulged against the fabric of his sleeves, which had been pushed up to gather at his elbows. Blood stained his collar and sleeves, and a gold pocket watch was tucked into his vest. His dark hair was windblown, bits peeking out from under his black, cattleman hat. 

As he flicked his cigarette, you realised his knuckles were bruised and split. A subtle splatter of blood across his cheek, smeared, as if somone had reached up and grasped his face in their dying moments. 

“Our mutual friend, Mr. Elkhorn, told me that if I was lookin’ for a pretty thing to come find ya.” His voice was deep when he spoke, gravelly and rough. It sent a shudder down your spine. Damn Elkhorn. You always knew he was a coward, even though he thought himself a big man. You and the other performers were not strangers to his temper and desperation. You all tended not to challenge it, as he could be a cruel man as equally as he could be fearful. 

“He weren’t lyin’ was he?” He lets out a low whistle, exhaling smoke. “How’s he kept you a secret for so long, huh? Guess mah boys don’t come pokin’ in the tents that often. Too busy pokin’ their bits into them dancer girls.”

You remain silent as he chuckles to himself. He eyes you greedily; his icy blue eyes are anything but discreet. You could feel how his gaze rested on the curves of your hips and breasts, watching how your skin moved with each breath. Desire was a strange thing—how easily you might shift from feeling confident and powerful to nothing at all. 

You certainly felt like a squirming idiot under his gaze. 

“I’m not a whore.” You speak up, though your voice is hushed, hesitant, or even uneasy. You knew men like Barnes would not take being denied well. If you thought Elkhorn’s brutality was something to fear, your knees would positively buckle before Barnes. 

Barnes barks out a laugh, his brows raising in something between delight and surprise. He strides towards you, grinning as you flinch back. “Yer employer seems to think differently.”

Your eyes slide closed as he reaches forward, a finger sweeping a strand of hair from your face to better look at you. You swallow hard as he chuckles, smoke blowing across your face. Teeth grit, you slowly open your eyes, a shuddering exhale leaving your nose as he runs a finger across your cheek.

“He’s a spineless excuse of a man.” You dare to bite back, your voice wavering, but you stand tall. His amused expression has morphed into one of intrigue. His actions falter; hesitation is clear in his demeanour. 

“He make ya do things ya don’t wanna do, darlin’?” The outlaw asks, his voice surprisingly genuine. He is still close to you, close enough that you can smell the tobacco on his breath and feel the vibration of each word in his chest. 

“Sometimes.” You admit, your eyes flickering up to meet his gaze. He curses under his breath, rubbing his jaw in annoyance. Barnes backs off a few paces, putting out his cigarette on one of your sidetables. From your side view of his chiselled face, you see a muscle in his jaw tense. 

“Well, sweetheart. I ain’t in the business of bein’ with women who don’t want it.” He says with a roll of his shoulders. He has stalked over to your reading table, bruised knuckles white as he grips the back of your chair. 

You are at a momentary loss for words. You had anticipated being repulsed by this man, the one who repeatedly terrorised these lands and enabled his dogs to do what they wanted and take what they pleased. There was something strangely endearing about his care for your consent. 

“Well, I am glad to hear it.” You finally uttered. “Can’t say the same for some of your boys, though.”

A tense silence washes over the tent, and you almost immediately regret your words. Against your better judgement, you creep towards him. He doesn’t flinch away from your touch as your hands smooth over the top of his hands and wrists. Beneath you, he feels like stone, each tendon and muscle expertly chiselled like the statues you saw in the big cities back east. 

“Yer right. Pack o’ wild mongrels they are. Good for puttin’ folk in their place. I think I’ll get ‘em to pay yer employer a little visit. Remind him whose land he’s on.” 

Barnes goes to leave, pulling away from your touch. A wave of horror washes over you at his implication. You find yourself reaching for him again in an unexpected panic. Your hands latch around his bare forearm, tugging him back an inch. 

“Wait.” You shake your head, gripping his forearm. The outlaw looks back at you in curiosity. 

“I ain’t gonna hurt anyone else, sweetheart. Just him. ” He drawls, eyes darting to where you hold his arm. You drop it immediately, backing off. Your cheeks burn in embarrassment. 

“He will think your lesson is because I turned you down or because I wasn’t good enough for you.” You explain desperately. His eyes narrow, as if offended on your behalf. “Whatever you do to him, he will do to me twofold. As punishment. He is a cruel man, you understand?”

“Yer definitely not pleading his case well, darlin’.” There is impatience in his tone and ire that you could not even begin to comprehend. Your eyes flicker to his bruised knuckles, the splatters of blood. If Elkhorn found out, well, you would have to wear a veil for the rest of your life. Your face would be so mishapened and destroyed that you would bring fear into the hearts of anyone who laid eyes upon you. You would no longer be a fortune teller but a featured freak of Elkhorn’s sideshow. Men and women alike would pull faces, with children throwing food and rocks. The deformed woman— another beast in a cage. 

You have seen this fate play out too many times. Too many were lost to Elkhorn’s wickedness. 

“Please.” You beg. His brow arches and his adams apple bobs. 

You swallow nervously, then hesitantly step forward. With gentle hands, you take his forearm once more, guiding him to your reading table. “Just… I will entertain you for a suitable time. I can read your cards. Then, you can tell Mr. Elkhorn that you laid with me; embellish it if you wish.”

Barnes seems too intrigued to protest. 

He unbuttons his vest with a soft grunt, taking a seat at the table. His legs are spread wide in a domineering pose as he leans back into the seat with cool confidence. As you take a seat at the opposite end of the table, he reaches into his vest pocket. 

“So, how does this work?” He asks. You can tell he is irritated from the way his brow twitches and jaw muscles are still tense. He is playing along for your benefit, you realise. He is looking to you for amusement to stop himself from marching out of the tent and dealing with Elkhorn as promised. 

“I will shuffle the cards, then draw three. Each card has meaning, and all together, it will tell you the message you need to hear.” You explain. Barnes had pulled out a pack of cigarettes, offering you one. You decline with a wave of your hands, instead taking the cards into your palm. He shrugs, lighting it with a half-interested sigh. 

As he inhaled and you shuffled, you noticed his interest lay closer to your exposed skin. Even if he had backed off per your request, it did not seem to stop him from undressing you with his eyes from the opposite side of the table. He seemed emnamoured by the layers of necklaces and how they clinked and rolled across your skin. 

As you shuffled, the first card fell out. His tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip as he watched you work. You slid the escapee card onto the table, facedown on the red tablecloth. 

“Anything in particular that you want to hear, hm?” You ask. As you lift your gaze, you find Barnes enraptured by your movements, so much so that he has forgotten to take another drag. “Most people want to know about their careers… their families. Love.”

“I don’t believe in love.” He says, sucking in a breath. You tilt your head. He didn’t believe in love, no. He believed in lust. Desire. From the way his pupils were blown and his lips parted in awe, he was positively eating out of your hand. A second card falls. You slide it next to the first. 

“Business it is, then.” You breathe. The final card falls from the deck just as the words leave your lips. You put it in place, then place the stack of the remaining deck to the side. Barnes is transfixed as you lean your arms parallel to the table and tilt forward. “Flip one.”

“Does it matter which order?”

“No.”

With unwavering confidence, he reaches forward, flipping over the first in the row. Your gaze falls downward to view the card, a frown pulling at your lips. You examine the familiar figures on the card. Two figures stood on either side, naked and chained. Behind them, in the darkness, loomed a beast with claws, horns, and wings. The Devil. 

How fitting. 

Barnes seems to find it ironic as well, as he scoffs in disbelief. “Ya playin’ a trick on me?”

You look up at him. The tension in the small tent is as thick as the smoke that hangs in the air. “No. The cards tell the truth, if you want to hear it or not.”

You reach out, stroking a finger over the card.

“The figures, they are chained. They don’t want to be there, but if you look closely… their chains are loose. They could escape at any moment.” If Barnes had a snarky comment, he does not say. He hung on to your every word. “And the longer they remain, the longer they become more like the devil. He represents the darkness within them, their shadow selves. It is the evil within you—the short-term pleasures—to ignore the long-term pains. Instant gratification. Greed, violence. You think you have free will, but you have sold your soul to the devil.”

“Tell me somethin’ I don’t already know darlin,” The outlaw says with a chuckle. You notice that his shoulders have relaxed, a cool amusement embodying him. 

You hold his gaze. “Next card.”

His fingers brush yours as he flips over the centre card. The King of Pentacles. 

“The Devil and now the King? You’re spoilin’ me, sweetheart.” He chuckles. 

You eyed the card. The king sat upon his lavish throne, surrounded by wealth. You tap your nail across the yellow pentacle symbol, humming in thought. “King of Pentacles. It represents wealth and abundance. He has influence and is a skilled leader.”

Your head tilts. “It’s a warning.”

“A warnin’? Sounds like a good card to me.” 

“The king has all that he wants. An abundance of wealth. Everything he touches turns to gold, like King Midas.”

“King Midas?”

“It’s an old tale. One of caution. About a king who was blessed with the power to turn anything he touched into gold. His kingdom flourished with wealth, but he soon found himself to be unhappy. He could not eat, as any food that touched his lips turned to gold. He could not know the comforts of the flesh, for the women would also turn to gold. Everything he once cherished…gone. Then, one day he lost the one thing he loved most, his daughter. She kissed her father upon his forehead and instantly became a statue of gold.”

“I would be a far richer man if I were this…King Midas.”

“But don’t you see? You are him. You are a king who is flush with wealth; your influence is strong. Your people flourish. Everything you do and everything you touch becomes profit. But at what cost? How much more will you lose? How much more will you give up for greed?” You finger turns to point at the Devil card. His lips are set in a straight line as he scowls at you. 

“You best be careful now.” He warns. You shudder, leaning back in your seat, motioning for him to flip the final card. 

You stare down at the table, your breath held in horror. The figure in the card sits up in bed, hands to their face in anguish. Decorating the wall behind them are a row of swords, two of which could be seen to be piercing through the figure. Stabbed through the back. The frame of the bed is carved, illustrating two figures fighting. Nine of Swords. 

Your mouth feels dry as Barnes peers at you expectantly. “Well?”

You can’t find the words; your brows are scrunching as you try to find the best way to articulate the meaning without triggering the brooding outlaw’s wrath. Your finger taps on the table, and you clear your throat, squirming in your seat. 

“Nine of Swords.” You utter quietly. “The figure… they are troubled by their own thoughts. Their worries, speculations… so much so that they manifest it into reality.”

Your fingers trace over the fighting figures. “You worry of a rising conflict.”

You ghost over the swords next. A backstabbing. 

It was all very clear to you how it all intertwined. Barnes was a man possessed by evil and greed. He had sacrificed much to accumulate his wealth; like King Midas, he had all the gold he could need, but at what cost? His followers, his people—they were afraid. Weary of their cruel leader. A coup was in the works. Jealousy brewed within his men; all they knew was evil, so all they could give was violence in return. 

“A betrayal.” You breathe. Your eyes snap up to meet his. His pupils were no longer blown, instead replaced with an icy rage. 

“How do ya know this?” His voice had dropped, low and threatening. His cigarette was discarded, flecks of burning ash glowing across the floor. His shoulders were tensed, straining against the fabric as he began to loom over you, slowly standing from his seat. 

You shrunk back. “I don’t, I just read the cards—” 

You let out a shriek as Barnes gripped the table, flipping it in one solid motion. The cards fluttered to the ground around you, the glossy paper flickering in the low candle light. You recoiled in your seat, limbs trembling as Barnes stood over you. 

“Did Rumlow put you up to this, huh? I know what him and his little pack of vermin have been whisperin’.” He spat on the ground beside you, and you flinched back. Barnes reached down, gripping your throat as he forced you to look up at him. 

“I don’t know anythin’. I swear—” You begged, tears prickling at your eyes. 

Barnes scanned your face, then released you with a huff. You scrambled away, retreating to the furthest corner of the tent. Barnes waved his hand at you with a sigh, re-buttoning his vest and straightening his shirt. 

“I’ll give ya the benefit of the doubt, darlin’. But if I find out you’ve been lyin’...I’ll kill ya myself. Ya understand?” 

You nodded wordlessly, whimpering as the outlaw marched out of your tent without a glance back. 

—

“Where is she?” The enraged roar of Bucky Barnes sent a nauseating wave of panic through your body. 

A couple weeks had past, and Elkhorn’s Travelling Circus and Freakshow were wrapping up their stay. Duke Elkhorn wanted to push further west, bring entertainment to the drivers and rustlers of the far reaches of the country. Within two days, you were set to leave this awful place and flee the clutches of Barnes and his boys. 

Well, it seemed that had been hopeful thinking. 

You were in your tent, in your personal quarters. You had pulled shut the draperies to allow yourself privacy. The strong men, slick with oil and always sporting toothy grins, were always eager to deliver you water to bathe in. It had become a sort of ritualistic routine of yours to undress and wash the makeup from your face. After hours of sitting in a stuffy tent stinking of incense, it was a relief to wash the smell from your body. 

You wore a silk robe, loosely tied at the waist. It had been a gift from a patron back east—some rich city boy who had a fascination with you. When Barnes crashed through your draperies into the back of your tent, chest heaving with a livid look in his eye… you froze. You were perched on a stool before your cracked mirror, pulling a brush through your long locks of hair. 

You stumbled to your feet, stool knocked to the ground. 

Barnes was covered in blood, his shirt so drenched that it clung to his skin. His jaw was clenched tightly, and his teeth were bared in a growl. The blood was still fresh on his arms and neck, the liquid glinting in the candlelight. He had not bothered to wear his hat; instead, his hair was messy, with a splattering of blood across his cheek.

“I told ya I would kill ya myself.” The outlaw snarled. 

You backed away, back meeting the tent wall. “I didn’t do anythin—”

You were cut off as Barnes marched forward, large hands wrapping around your throat. He squeezed tightly, a breathless whimper escaping your mouth.

“How did ya know?” He demanded, his face twisted into a look of rage. 

You claw at the front of his shirt, sticky blood coating your palms as you struggle. 

“Ya knew about Rumlow. Ya warned me of a betrayal.” 

He releases the pressure on your throat, and you meekly gasp in air, nails digging into his shoulder as you try to keep your knees steady. 

“I didn’t know, I just said what the cards showed—” You rasp. Barnes doesn’t seem pleased by your answer, jaw muscle ticing. 

“I don’t believe in yer magical horseshit. I know it’s all tricks and acts. How did ya know?”

“The cards aren’t magical. Each card has a meaning that can be understood in different ways, it’s my job to apply them to whoever walks into my tent. The cards just reveal thoughts you have not quite spoken aloud—ideas at the back of your mind. They ask you to confront your inner self. You knew Rumlow was a traitor before the cards, you had a suspicion, but you did not act on it until prompted by the cards.” You wheezed out. The outlaw slowly releases your throat, his face controrting into something closer to frustration than rage. Your palms brace flat on his chest as you steady yourself against him. 

“Deep down, you already knew he was a traitor.” You reiterate. 

“You’re a fuckin’ witch.” He breathes, then runs a hand through his messy hair. Blood streaks across his forehead, clumping his strands of hair. His head tilts as he looks down at you. His face has relaxed, as if a silent clarity had overcome him. “Even if ya deny it… ya did warn me.”

You clear your throat, hand raising to your neck as you brush your fingers over the tender flesh where he had gripped you. “You warned yourself.”

He stares down at you, then frowns guiltily. “Apologies, darlin’. I shouldn’t have done that to ya.”

You believe him.

You hold your breath as his fingers briefly skim over your neck. His gaze falls deeper, his eyes following the curve of your breast that was half-exposed by your robe. The fabric was bunched into a deep v, leaving the swell of your breasts, sternum, and skin down to your belly button exposed. The outlaw sucks in a deep, shuddering breath, then stalks away with a frustrated growl. 

“Barnes—” you call to him softly.

“Bucky.” He corrects.

You catch a glance at yourself in the mirror. The silk robe hangs perfectly from your curves, blood smeared across your chest and neck. You suck in your own deep breath, sweeping your hair over your shoulders as you hesitantly approach the outlaw. He paced like the beasts Elkhorn kept caged up, endlessly forced to perform for cruel crowds. You knew what he needed. A delicate touch, a sweetness to lean on. 

“Speak to me.” You whisper to him, gentle hands guiding him to the edge of your bed. The canopy was draped with deep purple fabrics, furs, and blankets over the straw mattress. He silently obliges. 

“One of my boys, one I thought I could trust. He betrayed me. Thought he could make a little gang of his own and overthrow me from the inside.” The outlaw explains. His voice is stiff, and his posture is tense. You smooth a palm over his forearm, and your thigh presses against his as you sit closely together. 

There is a distant look in his eye as he stares past you at the wall of the tent. It shifts with the cool breeze outside, rising and falling like the night itself breathes. “I dealt with it.”

You cock your head to the side, hand running up his arm as you examine his face with a frown. “Dealt with it?” 

His eyes snap to yours, and your hand wavers in hesitation. There is a darkness in his eyes. His expression made goosebumps rise across your skin. You could only explain it as something primal, something caught between violence and arousal. 

“I made them pay.” He explains, his body twisting as he faces you fully. A bloodied hand raises, his thumb rubbing across your cheek as he cradles your face. “After two days, they begged me to end it. To end their lives.”

“And did you?” You dare to whisper back. His thumb traces inward, across your lower lip. 

“No.” He says simply. “I cut out their tongues so they could no longer beg. I made them pay.”

Your eyes must have been wide in shock because he chuckled, his hand sweeping through your hair. Then, with an uncharacteristic softness to his tone, he utters a question. “Can I kiss you?”

Your heart thunders in your ears, a short gasp leaving you as your lips part. In all your travels, you have heard stories of women who could make men fall in love with them with just their eyes. Women who used their bodies and seduced their way to the top. Even violent men like Bucky had one weakness—a woman who showed them kindness. A woman who could momentarily take control. The men would let their minds drift away; the burdens were lifted, if only for a night. 

Heat pools between your legs. You nod, a hand reaching to stroke across his jaw. The two of you meet in mutual desperation and touch once gentle, now needy. His tongue brushes against your lips, effortlessly parting them as he licks into your mouth. A moan escapes your throat at the taste of his tongue.

Your hands find the front of his shirt, blindly unbuttoning as he grips your hair in one hand. The outlaw groans as his hand slides across your shoulders, pushing away the robe. Your top half is exposed, nipples have hardened, and silk has pooled at your waist. 

As your tongues tangle, Bucky tilts his head to gain better access to your mouth. Your gasps meet his as he moans heavily into your mouth. His hands trace along your body, one squeezing your waist and hips, the other coming to grasp your breast. 

With a tug, you pull his shirt free. The two of you part, your head lulling back as he paints sloopy, feverish kisses down your neck. A groan rises in your throat as you lean into him, one hand gripping his dark hair and the other beginning to palm him through his pants. 

His kisses move further down, head dipping as he licks a stripe across your breast. He takes a nipple into his mouth, kissing and sucking as you gasp and lean into him. The space between your legs is throbbing; a wet neediness rising. 

You clutch his thigh, squirming with desire. The stubble along his jaw prickles your flesh, and a shudder runs down your spine. Your hands find his, easing his grip on your hips as you slide off the bed. Lowering yourself to the floor on your knees, you sit between his legs. Bucky lets out a groan as he looks down at you. His pupils are blown, and his lips are swollen and glossy. Your hands trace up his thighs, and your quick fingers relieve him of his belt. 

“Let me.” You hum to him. You tilt your head, your cheek brushing against his knee. His adams apple bobs as he swallows hard. “I can make you feel good.”

You can see his bulge under the fabric. He eagerly helps you pull his pants down, his cock springing free already fully hard. You press a kiss to the tip. His cock twitches in response and a low moan vibrates in his chest. You look up at him through your lashes, biting your lip. He leans back, looking at the tent roof, as his chest rises and falls with a loud, satisfied sigh. 

There was a power that resonated in your chest, seeing the outlaw so vulnerable under your touch. He did not protest your lead, instead eagerly following your command. You take him into your mouth slowly, one hand running up his thigh as the other wraps around his length. 

You bob your head, feeling him tense with pleasure beneath you. As you come up, you whisper to him quietly. “Relax.”

As your tongue swirls over his tip, then down his broad length, you feel his hips rock beneath you. His hand comes to fist your hair, subtly guiding you as you take him fully into your mouth once more. You follow his needs, taking notice of each pleasured twitch or motion in response to your touch. His fingers tangle in your long locks of hair, tugging as you pull unimaginable, explicit sounds from the outlaw. 

“Fuck—” He groans above you, his breath coming in short pants. You hum in response, relishing the sensation of him falling to pieces beneath you. The spot between your legs was slick, and wetness was beginning to drip down your inner thigh. There was a selfish urge within you that desired to reach down between your legs to gift yourself some friction. 

You swallowed him down deeper, flattening your tongue against his ridgid length. His hips started to jerk, stronger than the previous gentle rocking. You could feel him growing undone, his breath coming shorter, and his nails desperately digging into your scalp as he desperately tried to guide your head deeper and deeper. 

You obliged, but only as you felt his cock twitch once more did you pull away fully. Not yet. You weren’t finished with him yet. The outlaw let out a pained grumble. His hands caressed your shoulders as you rose to your feet. 

“Darlin’—” Bucky protests, but you shush him. 

“How much do you want me, hm?” You ask him. He has propped himself up onto his elbows to look up at you. His cock was still erect, glistening in the candlelight from your saliva. 

“I want you.” He affirms.

“How desperately? Would you get on your knees for me? Beg for me?” You say it breathlessly. You take one of his hands in yours, pressing a kiss to the palm. 

His breath stutters. “Yes.” 

“Go on then.” As the words leave your mouth, your eyes flicker upwards. You look at him through your lashes.

“Please, sweetheart—” He whines. You cock your head to the side, peppering more kisses along each fingertip. 

“Louder.” 

“Please.” He begs. You smirk down at him wickedly, shifting closer. Your palm meets his chest, pushing him back down onto the bed as his elbows buckle beneath him. 

“Lie back.” You instruct, helping guide his legs so he lies flat along the bed. In one fluid motion, you straddle his waist, his silk robe still pooling around your hips. You lean over him, taking one of the waist straps of your robe. With slow breaths, you move the soft fabric across his bloodied chest, tracing each vein and muscle before finally grazing it across his nipples. He shudders beneath you, his grip bruising where he grasps your hips. 

“Say it again.” You breathe. You are embarrassingly wet as you sit perched upon him. 

“Please. I need you.” He obeys, and another wave of arousal washes over you. Only now did you give in to your selfish desires, dead rolling back as you ground your hips slowly. Your lips parted, a small mewling moan leaving you as you clenched around nothing. You flatten a hand over his chest, allowing him to help guide you as you raise onto your knees. 

With one gentle movement, you lower yourself onto him. Your wet heat engulfs him, and the two of you groan in unison. You feel yourself stretch around him, and you moan as you allow your body to take him in completely. His hands tighten their hold on your waist. 

Bucky looks at you with a slightly slack-jawed expression. “Fuck, sweetheart. I think I’m gonna make ya my wife.”

You manage a smile through your own arousal, your hand gliding up and down his chest as you move your hips in a grinding motion. You gasp out a low, “Oh yeah?”

His head tips back with a moan as you clench around him. You experiment momentarily, brows drawn and biting your lip, until you find a grinding rhythm that ignites a fire within you. Bucky meets you halfway, helping guide you with his hands still gripping your hips. Your head lulls forward, small panting gasps leaving you as your eyes squeeze shut. 

“I’ll make you beg for that too…Fuck—” You whine, and Bucky chuckles beneath you. He continues to help direct your hips, and your thighs begin to shake as you lower and raise yourself. 

A strangled cry leaves you as Bucky’s hand lowers, his thumb circling your clit. Pleasure spikes up your spine, your knees wobbling as you nearly double over at the sensation. His fingers swirl with purpose, pulling all manner of illicit words and sounds from your throat. 

“You like that, sweetheart?” Bucky hummed.

Just as you feel like sobbing from the pleasure, you cock your head to the side. With a deep breath, you tug Bucky’s shoulders, pulling him upright to meet you. The two of you clash, breath hot. His arms wrap around you, pinning you to his chest as he kisses you with a primal hunger. You moan into his mouth, your tongue sloppily moving against his as he begins to thrust vigorously. 

You could feel your climax building steadily within you, the peak of a tumbling wave that had not yet crested. Bucky was a panting, sweaty mess beneath you. He greedily kissed and sucked along your neck, head dipping as he ran his tongue along your collarbone. 

Your own head fell, teeth grazing across his neck. He tastes like salt and copper. You nuzzled your nose against his jaw, taking his earlobe between your teeth. Deep within you, you felt his cock twitch. 

You wrap your arms over his shoulders, your fingers tugging at his hair. That pulled a groan from him, the noise vibrating across your skin. With a devious smile pressed against his cheek, you lean in close to his ear. Breath hot, you whisper into his ear. 

“Come for me.”

As if he had been waiting for those exact words, he explodes within you. The sensation tips you over the edge, a thundering in your ears defeans you as your eyes roll back into your head. You clench around Bucky tightly, your body milking every last drop of him as he lazily ruts the last of his energy into you. 

The two of you pant, catching a breath as you both come to a halt. The outlaw nuzzles your neck with a content sigh, then laughs against your sweaty skin. 

“I wasn’t jokin’ earlier.” He finally speaks up, his voice somewhat more dignified now that he wasn’t a moaning mess beneath you. 

“Hm?” You respond sleepily, too fucked-out to be bothered opening your eyes. 

“I’m gonna steal ya away from here. Make ya my goddamn wife.”

Against your better judgement, you believed him.

[summermoa-ns]

.・。.・゜✭・Smart Mouth・✫・゜・。.

NSFW (18+ ONLY) MDNI

academic rival!taehyun x fem!reader

content warnings: drinking, drunk sex, unprotected sex, pet names (pretty girl, baby), small mentions of smoking/weed, slightly condescending Taehyun, fucking until ur dumb lol, if i missed anything else pls lmk!!

author's note: i've been on-and-off working on this fic until i started hating it! just needed to get it out of my system so i can finally work on other stuff! also i didn't really edit this, so sorry for any typos or grammar errors

song inspos: You Lose! By Magdelena Bay; Cologne by beabadooobee

“Hey… Y/n? Maybe you should slow down a little bit?” Yeonjun furrows his brows in concern as he watches you down your third shot in the last 10 minutes. 

Yeonjun’s worries fall on deaf ears as you suck the lime between your teeth. You just need something to fog your mind, to haze the racing thoughts and anger that swarms inside you. Something to distract you from the shitty day you just had. The logical part of your brain is screaming at you to heed Yeonjun’s advice, but you’re not at this party to be smart and logical like you usually are. You are at this party to make bad decisions: to make up for the time you wasted chasing after something, and having it ripped away from you anyway. 

Usually, you’re not at these types of parties. Usually, you spend your free time in front of a laptop, coding for your lab. Or maybe burning your retinas as you stare holes through research journals, looking for articles to cite. Maybe even clocking in overtime hours, proctoring experiments that you were begged to cover last minute.  Day in and day out, you give everything to your lab, and yet they decide to go with him? After doing everything the PhD students and postdocs ask of you– for three fucking years– they give the head coordinator position to him? And now here you are fucking thinking about your lab even though the whole point of being at this dumb party is to not think about it and-

Yeonjun’s soju bottle hitting the table snaps you back into reality. 

After his swig, he waves a hand in front of your face, “Aye, you still here?” Yeonjun’s fingers blur and distort as they move in front of you. The blasting music and sounds of people socializing blend into a slurry. Shit, those shots are finally hitting.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” the words fumbling over themselves as they exit your mouth. You rub the palm of your hand into your forehead, turning to look as Beomgyu greets someone at the front door. 

Your stomach drops when you see who comes through the door. Everything seems to slow down and unravel as the tall figure entering the house does some stupid dude-bro handshake with Beomgyu. His chocolate brown hair, his lean figure, his twinkly eyes: you could recognize him from miles away. The heat rising in you is sobering; it blisters in your lungs as you stare at him from across the house. The last 24 hours come crashing down on your shoulders again.

Yeonjun looks over to what has captured your attention and his eyes widen. “Ah fuck!” 

“Jun,” you slowly turn towards your fox-eyed dumbass of a friend, “I thought you said you double-checked with Gyu to make sure he wasn’t coming tonight.”

“I did, Y/n! I swear on my life!”

“Then why are we staring at the Kang Taehyun in your living room?”

Yeonjun runs his hand through his hair, huffing out his answer, “I don’t know! Maybe he changed his mind?”

You look over at Taehyun’s direction again, and your eyes meet. Your heartbeat quickens. His eyes squint, not hiding how he has spotted you. Fuck. You don’t even have time to process and suddenly Taehyun is standing across the kitchen island from you and Yeonjun. 

He leans forward and whispers to you, “Wow, I didn’t expect to see you here~” 

It’s amazing how you could see straight after how hard you rolled your eyes at him. The chocolate-haired boy chuckles in response. Taehyun greets Yeonjun who makes it brief. He may be a little dense, but even Yeonjun knows not to get too chummy with the bastard you were talking shit about all evening. 

“I was just about to leave, actually!” You begin getting up when a firm pair of hands push your shoulders back into the stool.

You turn in shock and see Beomgyu pouting at you, “Y/n~ you never hang out with us anymore. Can you just stay a little longer?” He whines, but you hear a hint of mischief in his voice. 

You try to protest, but before you can utter a sound Beomgyu interrupts, “Plus, you still owe me from that time you promised to treat me out on my birthday… and NEVER did…”

Fuck. You totally forgot about that. You look at Beomgyu and he gives you the biggest, pleading puppy-dog eyes. An irritated sigh escapes your teeth. “Fine.”

Taehyun is already opening the soju bottle with ease. He smiles as he pours a shot for himself, “Uh oh, Beomgyu! You made the pretty girl mad!”

God, he pisses you off. 

Taehyun, the golden boy: good merits with all his peers and professors, at the top of everything he does. When you both joined your psychology lab, it honestly was nice at first. You grew pretty close being in the same cohort. You both seemed driven and, as first-years, shared a lot of interests and hobbies. The only difference between you being Taehyun’s natural ability to succeed. In the beginning, you didn’t notice. Every class, every test, every paper: Taehyun aced with flying colors, while you chased after him, just out of his reach. But it was fine because you were friends. Taehyun would smile, ruffle your hair, and say “maybe next time”. 

But there was never a next time. Even in the middle of your final year at uni, Taehyun has topped you every single time. Though the rest of the department sees your rivalry as light-hearted and playful, a darkness grew underneath it all. Frustration. Anxiety. Jealousy. As the gap between your abilities became more and more apparent,  his “kind” remarks began to sting more and more. The more he teased you, the more tired you became of his patronizing nature. Eventually, you pushed him away.  

No longer stuck in your ruminations, you catch yourself staring as Taehyun pours a giddy Yeonjun and Beomgyu a shot. He tilts the bottle towards you, “Do you want one?”

Yeonjun starts talking before you say anything, “I think it’s better if she sits this one ou-”. You place your shot glass in front of Taehyun before Yeonjun can finish.

“I can handle myself.”

Beomgyu giggles, wrapping an arm around you, “See, I missed you!! Still as bitchy and smart-mouthed as ever!”

Taehyun cocks his eyebrow at you, “I missed that too.” He pours the shot to the brim.

—

Due to spite, you feel extra pissy today. Or maybe it’s because Taehyun has made it a point to hover wherever you are in this damn house. You want to watch the beer pong tournament happening in the backyard? There’s Taehyun wanting to join suddenly. You want to take some mirror selfies with Sakura in the hallway mirror? Taehyun is posing in the background of some of your pics! You want to pass a joint with Heesung and chill on the upstairs balcony? Taehyun just decides he wants a couple of hits too! 

You finally get some peace and quiet by wandering to one of the empty rooms on the second floor. You sit down by the foot of the bed.

You feel defeated, for some odd reason. The whole goal of tonight was to get Taehyun off your mind, and yet he’s creeped into every crevice in your brain, invading every thought. How he downs shots exposes his pretty neck, how his eyes brighten when he smiles for pictures, how soft and big his hands are when you hand him a joint… Ugh. You mentally smack those images out of your head.

There’s a little secret you would take to your grave: the main thing that pisses you off about Taehyun is that he is drop dead gorgeous. It’s just all too unfair. A person can’t be insanely smart and look like an S-tier model. There really should be rules about that. But it’s evident God has favorites, and Taehyun is one of them. Being cross-faded also hasn’t helped with these thoughts. You feel floaty and a bit too…vulnerable. Like everything is threatening to burst from your chest.

The light from the hallway lights up the room for a second as the door opens. It’s the last person you want to see. 

“Taehyun, please. Just leave me alone,” you sigh, not bothering to hide your irritation.

He scoffs, “Happy to see you too,” He closes the door behind him and leans against it.

As you both soak in the silence you can’t help but grow confused by his persistence. How does he just keep popping up everywhere?

“Is there a reason you’ve been following me tonight?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking abou-“ You stand up and get in his face before Taehyun can finish his sentence: just close enough to smell the alcohol on his lips. 

“I’m not stupid, Tae. So please, just tell me what you want.”

He raises his arms up, “Okay, okay. You got me. I’ve just been trying to find a moment to talk: in private.” 

He takes a deep breath. He leans into the door harder, tilting his head back and pinching the bridge of his nose, “Why are you acting like this?”

Your eyebrows scrunch. “Huh?”

“Y/n, you never come to these types of things. I’ve invited you to them plenty of times,” he continues, “then out of the blue, you come with Jun of all people.”

“I know I’m a shut-in, but I’m allowed to have fun every once in a while.” God, how many times is he going to make you roll your eyes tonight?

His face grimaces with an emotion you’re not familiar with, “I’m not saying that. You just never want to…”

You impatiently cut off his sentence, getting closer to him by the doorway. “Want to what?!” 

“You never want to go out with me. You never want to hang out with me. You basically avoid me all the fucking time.”

Taehyun’s arms fall loosely to his sides, “I just don’t get why you hate me so much.” You look up at his face and are hit with a pang of guilt. Is he… actually sad right now?

“I never said I hated you.”

“I can’t help but feel that way. You never talk to me anymore.” 

In the quiet you realize how little space there is between you two. The atmosphere feels dangerous, heavy, and hot. You catch Taehyun sneaking a glance at your lips. You’re scared to see where this goes, scared of breaking the tension.

You bite down, wanting to flee from the guilt and shame bubbling in your stomach. You take Taehyun’s hand and try to pull him off the door to make your escape, but he flips you both. Now you’re pinned in between the door and Taehyun.

“Stop running from me, please.” 

His voice is warm and dark and weak like a dying bonfire. Your body shudders in response. His arm is slammed next to you, propping his body up so he can lean over you. “I’m so tired of chasing after you.” 

He says it so quietly into your ear, you almost convince yourself that you must have misheard him. The only thing that grounds your conviction that you heard correctly is how Taehyun’s free hand softly grips the hair on the back of your head, how his face finds solace in the crook of your neck, how gently his breath grazes that sensitive part of your skin. Suddenly your body feels like it’s on fire, and you’re not sure if you can handle it.

“Tae,” you breathe out softly. “Wait…,” but your objection is only met with the alcoholic heat of Taehyun’s lips. He tastes like the bitter aftertaste of lychee soju and mint chapstick and it knocks the air out of you. You buckle under his weight, instinctively gripping at his shirt for support. He is needy and gasping and crumbling in your hands: a complete 180 from the Taehyun you’re used to.

You manage to separate yourselves, both of your lips bruised and wet. “Tae, wait please!” To your surprise, he listens, but you can tell by the look in his eyes that he’s trying hard to restrain himself. 

“You’re drunk!” You push against him, trying to make more space between you two, but to no avail. “Y-you’re really fucking drunk, and not thinking straight. Let’s not do anything we’ll…” You swallow as you catch a glimpse of Taehyun’s lips, “... regret.”

Taehyun cups your face in his hands and looks at you with so much clarity despite all of the alcohol in his veins. The abrupt roughness of the earlier kiss is contrasted by how gently he holds you. The gravity of his stare lingers in the air for a second until he finally answers.

“I’ll only regret it if you end up regretting it. So tell me clearly that you want me to stop.”

“Wha–?”

“I want you to say it. As clear as day. I’ll give you until the count of three: just tell me you don’t want me and I’ll stop. Otherwise,” he puts his forehead against yours, “I’ll keep doing what I want.”

He starts. “One…”

The room is still and quiet except for your heart knocking against the door, drowning out the muffled music from outside. This should be easy, you think, you just need to tell Taehyun to stop. You say stop, Taehyun stops: simple, logical cause and effect. But despite those thoughts rolling into your brain, something primal in you holds your tongue. The way Taehyun’s woody cologne sticks to your clothes and the desperate way he’s panting after that first kiss makes you ache for more. The way his sculpted body feels under your palms and the way you can tell he’s undressing you with his eyes is all too intoxicating.

“... two…”

Your breathing is in sync with him. Taehyun is holding onto every little sound you make as he finds his way nuzzling back into your neck. He fully leans into you and you feel how hard he is. Your breath hitches and you feel him smile against your skin; his hot length twitches from inside his jeans. It excites you how he responds to your tiniest reactions. Curious to test the waters, you slightly grind against him which earns you a small, restrained groan from his lips. You want to hear him more, want to feel him more. It’s against your better judgment…. 

But remember? You’re not here to be smart: you’re here to make bad decisions.

Taehyun doesn’t even get to three before you crash your lips into his. You wrap your arms around his neck and he takes the opportunity to feel you up as you both blindly stumble to the edge of the bed, not daring to break the kiss as you straddle him. You feel Taehyun impatiently pull at the bottom of your blouse, you smile and untangle yourself from him in response, letting him take off your top. He also takes this time to rip his shirt off of him, and damn: built like a damn Greek statue, carved and polished to perfection. You could have stared at him all night if he didn’t flip you underneath him.

Hovering over you, Taehyun takes a moment to take in the view. His hand traces over the edge of your lace panties. “Wow, did you wear these just for me?” 

You prop yourself up to kiss Taehyun’s cheek. “No,” you playfully pout at him, “but I’m letting you take them off of me. So be thankful.”

He chuckles at your snide comment, “God, I love it when you talk like that.”

Taehyun starts leaving a blazing trail of kisses, saliva, and bites down your neck, taking some time to leave some blooming hickeys around your collarbone. He gets to your chest and while he marks his territory, he reaches underneath you and unclasps your bra. You have no time to marvel at his mastery when you gasp at his tongue swirling around your nipple. His hand makes quick work of your body, gripping and massaging your other breast, lightly pinching your other bud in between his index and thumb. 

You throw your head back in ecstasy, softly sighing. Taehyun takes his time; his mouth switching between your breasts indiscriminately and occasionally taking a break to kiss the valley in between them. While you squirm under his touch, you feel your wet core ache for more. 

“Taehyun…” you whine.

He looks up at you while swirling his tongue around one of your buds. He hums in a questioning tone, refusing to let his mouth leave your body. 

“Taehyun please…need more of you…”

He finally pauses and his smile wickedly spreads across his face, “Tell me what you want, pretty girl.”

“Mouth… please. Can I have your mouth please?”

You feel the heat of Taehyun leave your chest as he gets up to quickly strip your panties off of you. You hold your breath when you feel the chill of the room hit you; everything, everywhere is aching. You just want him to touch you, to taste you. It isn’t until you feel the grip of Taehyun’s strong hands around your thighs and the plump soreness of his lips on your hot core that your breath hitches. 

You grip Taehyun's hair while he pulls you full force to his face. How his tongue laps into you, how he switches to intensely sucking on your clit, how he pants as he places the wettest kisses against your inner thighs. The rhythm of his tongue puts you in a trance as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Taehyun absolutely loves giving head. He has had his fair share of partners, so his palette is pretty… experienced. But something about you was so addicting. He thought you tasted like heaven; a flavor so delicious, he could imagine savoring it every night and morning. He could keep your thighs clamped around his face all night if you would let him. 

This entire time Taehyun has been pushing you further and further to your bliss. Your body threatens to unravel with every swirl from Taehyun’s tongue, but never quite reaching the tip. However, it all comes crashing down and the coil in your stomach finally snaps the minute he pushes two fingers deep in you. The sounds that escape you are unholy and all you see is white as Taehyun brings you past your orgasm, overstimulating you.

“God, baby, you’re so wet for me already. I was able to fit my fingers in so easily,” he smiles triumphantly at his soaked hand, “Where’s that smart mouth from earlier, huh?”

You whine, riding your drunken high as you grind on his hand. Your walls pulse around him as he thrusts his fingers rhythmically. Happily smiling to himself, he returns his lips to their rightful home: in between your legs, lightly lapping at your clit. Taehyun is having way too much fun now. Your reactions? Your sounds? Your body? Complete, utter perfection. It’s taking every bit of his self-control to not whip out his dick and slam it into your dripping cunt. Every whimper and moan that comes from you makes his cock throb like crazy. 

It’s certain everyone in the hallway knows the room is currently “occupied” even over the blaring music. You’re too lost in all the sensations running through your system to care about your volume. Then, you feel Taehyun’s fingers curl into that magic spot: the spot you can never quite reach by yourself. The spot that usually needs the help of toys and vibes. Still coming down from the crash of your previous orgasm, you instinctively push away from Taehyun’s hand, almost scared of feeling any more pleasure. But this reaction doesn’t escape the devious eyes of the boy in between your legs. 

Taehyun pauses his movements and asks from below, “Can’t take anymore, baby?” His stare softens a bit as he kisses around your thighs.

You’re conflicted; you don’t want this moment to stop, but feel like you might melt into the sheets if you continue. A small whisper leaves your lips, “I-I think I can, it’s… it’s just a lot all at once.”

“Oh baby,” he coos, “but you can take it for me, right?” Before you can answer, his fingers curl up and hit the spot once more. Again, you feel the heat in your lower stomach release and those aching waves envelope your body, even more powerful than last time. You blink away tears from your eyes, digging your nails into Taehyun’s shoulders as you scream out his name. 

Taehyun continues cleaning the honey dripping out of you with his tongue, his cock twitching every time you whimper out a plea for him to fuck you already. Now that you’re ready for him, Taehyun doesn't have to hold back anymore. He tries to hide how eagerly he is stripping off his pants, but you can still tell in your tipsy haze that he is brimming with enthusiasm. However, Taehyun stops as he hovers over you.

“Last chance to back out now, baby.”

You wrap your legs around his waist, “You’re not fucking going anywhere.”

He rubs the tip of his cock along your entrance. He wets his lips, amused by your answer, “Fair enough.”

Even with proper preparation, the stretch is enough to make you arch your back. Taehyun grips the sheets– his knuckles turning white– until he bottoms out inside you. You grip into his back, pulling him flush against you. His brows are furrowed in complete concentration as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You both stay there for a second, steadying your breaths.

After what feels like an eternity, you adjust to Taehyun’s length and feel ready. However, Taehyun stays still, unmoving.

“Tae… you can move now,” You say, pushing your hips against to demonstrate your willingness.

Taehyun groans, “I know, baby… you just–,” he nearly whimpers, “you just feel really good. Give me a sec…”

A sense of pride swells in your chest. The usually measured, deliberate Kang Taehyun has become a mess just from slipping it in. A coy smile spreads across your face as you wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer.

“Aww, is someone struggling right now? Did I make you feel too good?”

Silence. You feel a slight shift in the air that makes you shiver. Silence. Until Taehyun lifts his chest off of you– pulling back his hips– and looks down at you. His stare makes your blood run cold. One of his hands grips onto the headboard, making him hover you. Taehyun snaps a hard thrust back into you, making you moan in surprise.

“I see that smart mouth I love so much is back,” he icily smiles down, “and I’m going to fuck it out of you.”

There’s no warning, no precaution, as Taehyun brutally begins fucking you into the mattress. He grips the headboard, causing it to knock against the wall in a frantic rhythm. Taehyun’s hips piston into you as you claw into the pillow you lay your head on. With every thrust, you feel yourself clamp around Taehyun’s cock, your mouth agape from the sheer pleasure coursing through you. 

“That’s it, pretty girl. Take all of me,” Taehyun breathes into your neck before taking a long lick along your throat. “How does it feel? Feels good?”

You can’t even form words, you feel like a mindless doll as you frantically nod at Taehyun’s question. You feel him pulse inside you as he flashes you a cocky smile. His hand leaves the headboard, moving so both hands grip into your hips, allowing for more leverage. 

“Bet it fucking does. Fucking you so dumb, you can’t even talk,” He punctuates each word by slamming his full length into you, making you see stars.

With Taehyun’s constant teasing and unruly speed, it doesn’t take long for you to feel your next orgasm peeking from behind the horizon. Your hands reach down, cupping over Taehyun’s on your hips.

You don’t even have to say anything, you look into Taehyun’s eyes and he just knows. Taehyun grabs your knees and pushes them down towards your chest, leaning into you for a searing kiss; it’s filthy and lustful and pushes you right over the edge towards your release. You let out a low moan into Taehyun’s mouth, your walls fluttering around his dick. With that, Taehyun’s force becomes more erratic as he chases his own high. He pulls away from your kiss and starts nipping at your ear. His breathing becomes more shallow and quick each time your hips meet, little sounds escaping his plump lips.

“Fuck, baby, gonna cum in this pretty pussy,” he growls.

A final push and Taehyun stills inside you, releasing a few hot pumps, until he begins to soften. When he pulls out, you can feel the mixture of your arousals spill out of your fucked-out pussy. Taehyun plops down next to you, both of you still coming down from your respective highs. The silence is broken by Taehyun chuckling, pulling you into his arms.

“Yeonjun is going to be so fucking pissed at me,” he laughed. 

You looked up at him in confusion, “Wait, what? Why?”

“Because this is definitely his room.”

Your eyes dart around the room: signed concert posters of bands you recognized on the wall, a closet full of stylish clothes, the bluetooth speaker he always brought to dance practice. Fuck. This was totally Yeonjun’s room.

Your hands shoot up to cover your face, groaning, thinking about how Yeonjun would scold you for getting his bed “dirty”. But your panic subsides as Taehyun presses his lips into your check, giving you a quick peck.

“Ehh, I’m sure it’ll be fine…,” Taehyun hums, flashing you that same cocky smile, “we can talk our way out of it.”

You snuggle into his chest, Taehyun’s smile no longer causing bitterness and resentment to flood your thoughts, but something much warmer… 

“...This is what he gets for not warning me about you coming to the party.”

“Okay… maybe don’t start running that smart mouth next time we see him. I’ll do all the talking, alright?”

[writingstoraes]

sparks 🎇

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!reader

type: written imagine (fluff)

word count: 1.7k, no warnings hehe

notes: once again this is a new idea even though i have a ton of drafts like my mind is a mess so i am not surprised ANYWAY . trying to get out of a writing slump so lmk what u guys think! ALSO apologies for any typos or grammatical errors this is not proofread at all 😆

about:  The few of the many times Charles’ heart skipped a beat because of you.

Movies have always portrayed “real” sparks so well. Sometimes it’s a scene where a guy sees the girl for the very first time during a first date and he freezes for a moment, the apparent electricity between two people when their hands almost touch and they panic for a little while, or the moment of suspense before a first kiss and the exhilaration after.

But Charles taught that was exactly what they were - movie scenes. He lingered on the thought that the moments where sparks flew and one’s heart skips a beat, those moments cannot be manufactured in real life. They stay in movies, books, in the arts; where they belong, somewhere where they were fiction.

Not until he experiences it first-hand, not until he meets you, the woman who held his heart in the palm of her hand.

He felt it the first time your hands ever touched. 

At first, he thought he was going crazy. There was no way he felt a current run through his skin the moment it came in contact with yours, but to this day, it’s a testament he swears on very seriously. 

You had been going out for a few weeks, several dates here and there. It was the exact point where you felt comfortable with each other, but only starting to be, hence why there were still evident boundaries present. The two of you were careful to not cross any, especially Charles. He’s cautious on establishing any physical touch, sure, he’s held your waist to guide you through bustling crowds and had slung his arm over your shoulder, but he hasn’t held your hand. At least, not yet. 

He had invited you to have dinner on his yacht, set at the perfect time where you can be of witness to the beautiful sunset over the sea. He says the food was nearly done, so he set up two comfortable chairs that gave you just the perfect view of the Monaco skies. The sun was setting and the golden sky formed a beautiful gradient with the blue hue that painted it beforehand. 

He turns his head to you, your arm resting on the chair’s handles, a tad bit preoccupied with the view in front of you. He keeps a smile to himself, enjoying the personalized view he had. For some reason, he feels the urge to hold your hand, or at least rest his on top of yours. He was hesitating and second-guessing, lifting his finger once in a while and then putting it back down when he decides not to push through. It didn’t help that there were minimal distance between your chair and his, and so he was fighting the urge to initiate contact and have you flee off. 

But his hesitant hand that kept on moving was something you grew to notice, and thanks to your knowledge of many, many romance movies, you assumed it meant he wanted to hold your hand but was too afraid to do it. You shove the thought of doing it first in the back of your head, overthinking that you might be wrong and he in fact did not want to hold your hand. 

Maybe it was something in the air, the quiet waves of the ocean, or just the fact that he really really liked you. 

He finally lifts his hand so he can reach yours, resting it softly on top of your hand. He lets out a relieved and contented sigh when he feels you ease into his touch. His heart raced faster, like it was screaming for help and begging to be let out of his chest.

As if that was not enough, he feels a current run through his arm and out of his fingertips the moment you grasp his hand and decide to interlock your fingers with his then setting it on top of the chair’s handle.  He swears he saw fireworks when he closed his eyes and his heart finally exploded out of his chest. He vows he can stand up and jump around out of joy, but he chooses to indulge in the moment and gives your hand a reassuring squeeze instead.

He had met you earlier in the season and he would be lying if he said he didn’t want you to see him in his element, doing what truly made him happy. That is, if his team does not proceed to ruin the entire weekend for him and his dedicated fans.

He invited you to watch a grand prix, in a track that he felt most comfortable. He was the perfect gentleman whe he extended the invite, letting you know you could always decline if you didn’t feel like going. You were together, in all terms to be considered, but he didn’t want to pressure you into finally making your appearance only because he knew how harsh it could get. He assures you that he will take care of everything and all you needed to do was come.

You were committed to attend the entire weekend, from free practice until the race itself. Even if Charles was quick to reassure you that you didn’t have to be there for everything, you only return a smile and tell him you wanted to be, which not surprisingly calmed his nerves. 

You knew people were going to stare, fans will take pictures, even the possibility of you making headlines. This was your first paddock appearance as his girlfriend, after all. It was inevitable, so you try to take your mind off of the pressure. Much to your nerves bothering you before you even got on the plane, you had been racking your brain on what to wear. You didn’t want to seem like you were trying too hard or too little. 

You finally settle on an outfit and your lips form a small smile as you looked in the mirror. It was nothing extravagant, only a black one-shoulder top and a black high-waisted pants that you paired with a red leather jacket. It’s not like you wanted what you wore to scream Ferrari, but you wanted to add a little touch, at least for Charles. 

“What do you think? I chose the red jacket for you,” you turn around to see Charles, seeing as you heard his footsteps earlier and knew he entered the room.

If he was being honest, he had seen you put on the outfit. He witnessed how you cocked your head to the side trying to see if it looks good. He sees the outfits laid on the bed, all with a touch of red, and he could feel butterflies swarm his stomach at the thought of you carefully planning out your outfits to include his team’s colors.

There it was again, the stupid sparks that he’s been getting ever since he met you. He curses himself for being a little non-functional when feels them, but he figures he has to get used to being blown away by everything you did. It feels magnetic, like he’s feeling actual static. You make him feel so much by just doing so little. 

He sees you twirling around in front of the mirror, smiling when you finally put on the red leather jacket, looking satisfied. 

He stops at his tracks, at least internally, and fails to respond for at least 10 seconds. 

“Do you not like it? I can always go change-”

“No,” he says, almost out of voice. “You look absolutely beautiful.” 

Where he was standing, he swears he sees fireworks erupt behind you.

Charles stands on the podium, feeling victorious and ecstatic he had clinched another win for his Formula 1 career. He looks fondly at the sea of crowd cheering for him, waving flags of his own country, Ferrari, and Italy. From where he stood he could see Fred’s big smile and the engineers celebrating, jumping up and down. 

The trophies had been awarded and the Monaco national anthem had finally played. He was wearing his Pirelli cap and completely drenched in champagne. He scans the crowd down the podium, hoping to get a glance of you. Earlier, he did tell you you didn’t have to witness the awarding personally should he win, because he didn’t want you to get in between many people and possibly get shoved or pushed. He assumes that you were in the garage, waiting for him, probably with a kiss and a hug. 

He leans over the makeshift railing of the stage, eyes still set on possibly sighting you. When he fails to find you, he finally comes down and there he sees you, just near the stairs going up to the podium with teary eyes and a wide smile. There you stood with hands clasped together, in awe of Charles who was standing in front of you. 

He feels his heart race yet again, having experienced the first time you ever greeted him after he claims P1 in a race. Even just by looking at you he feels his world shift, like its only goal was to pull him towards you, like the fireworks that took the skies earlier weren’t enough and he was having his own show. 

He jogs towards you, exhilirated and filled with adrenaline and pulls you into a tight embrace. His entire body twitches when you plant a soft kiss on his cheek, as if every fiber of his being had turned into putty at your touch. Everytime you engulf him in an embrace, kiss his cheek, or run your hands through his hair, he feels as if he’s inside his car going at least 320 kilometers per hour. He has no clue how you do it, how you possibly make him feel like he’s won a race every time he was with you;  as if you and his heart had a binding agreement. 

“Congratulations, mon champion du monde,” you say slowly and close to Charles so only he could hear, hoping you didn’t mess up the pronunciation, after having practiced it several times on the plane. 

Something tugs at his heartstrings, having been greeted by the knowledge that you sent out his well wishes in French, even though you didn’t speak the language and mentioned you were always scared you were going to say something wrong. But mostly because you called him your world champion, and that just sends him down a spiral.

“Thanks for being here, amour.” he replies, pulling you in again for another hug. 

------------

tagging: @slytherheign, @honethatty12, @siovhanroy

notes: thanks for reading everyone <3 will try to post a 1.4k special soon but firstly thank u so much for all the love hehehe hope u guys r having the nicest day!

[helisesposts]

girl dad quinn hughes is my weakness… would you mind writing something for him 🥺🥺

thank you 🫶🫶🫶

thank you anon for for the request! you ask and you shall receive. i appreciate your patience with me. school is crazy rn and i got sick. so with out further ado… i present girl dad! quinn hughes!

the birthday party

description: Quinn and y/n throw little Maya a pool party for her 7th birthday.

extra notes: girl dad! Quinn and sweetness after the cut. sorry in advance for typos and errors! lmk if there’s anything i should add! you have my sincerest apologies if this is utterly awful.

Today was a special day for the Hughes family. Namely, a special day for you and quinn. Seven years ago, today, you gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. Maya had changed both you and Quinns lives for the better. You remember the day like it was yesterday. It’s seems like just a few days ago you and quinn were learning how to change diapers and balance him being gone so often due to his job. In the beginning, Quinn felt so guilty for being gone and not being able to see Maya everyday. It was hard for him.

He always found a way to make the most out of his time when he was home. Quinn’s favorite thing to do when he is home was take Maya to the zoo. There, he taught her all the different animals and what sounds they make. You’ve always admired his love and patience for your daughter. Quinn was a natural at fatherhood and it suited him.

Which brings you to today, Quinn took the innovative to plan Maya’s entire party out. Well, being born in the summer time has its perks. Maya had begged Quinn for days about having a mermaid pool party. You remember the day she decided, you were picking her up from school when she burst out yelling, “ I WANT A MERMAID PARTY!!”. You laughed and told her to ask dad to see if it was okay. Quinn didn’t say no, he can never so no to her. That night she asked him, he started planning it, showing you different mermaid tails he found online. He told you, “You can’t have a mermaid party and not have tails”.

After picking out tails for Maya and her friends, Quinn moved onto entertainment. To which he told you that he hired an actor to play a mermaid. If you weren’t already in love with this man now, you just fell in love. Quinn does anything and everything for his girls, even renting a mermaid for his daughter’s birthday. You were in charge of snacks. This was the only thing Quinn let you do. He did everything else and planned it perfectly.

You and Quinn started setting all the decorations up at 9:45 because the party started at 11. You had to admit Quinn did a beautiful job picking everything out. He picked out sea shells and streamers in different shades of blue. He even had a custom banner made that said “Happy 7th Birthday Maya!”. You set up the tables with the snacks and juices. You left just enough room for the cake to go in the middle. Quinn also had this specially made, it had two mermaids on either side with a birthday message.

Finally, you guys had finished setting up. Maya was inside the house watching cartoons when you and Quinn came inside. He ran up to the couch and picked her up. “Happy birthday Bug! I can’t believe you’re turning 6,” He said. Maya laughed and said “You’re silly dad! I’m turning seven”. To which quinn replied, “Oh that’s right you are!”. You chuckled at the interaction. He’s always so gentle with her. It makes your heart melt every time.

“Alright, you two let’s get our swimsuits on the party is going to start soon,” you said. Maya quickly jumped out of Quinns arms after that. Shortly, after that people started arriving. Luke and Jack were first to show up, Maya was so excited to see her favorite uncles! She ran up out of the pool and yelled to them,” LUKEY. JACK. HIII”. She proceeded to get them both a big wet hug. It’s a good thing they were wearing their swimsuits. Next to arrive was your parents and following them were her other grandparents.

Then all of Maya’s friends she invited started to show up and it was getting busy. You were busy talking to all the parent when you heard a bunch of squeals coming from the pool. When you turned around you saw the mermaid in the pool. You looked over at Quinn who had a smile plastered on his face and taking pictures. He had done it. This was definitely going to be the birthday party of the year, you thought. That’s when you heard Maya yell, “MOM AND DAD LOOK A REAL MERMAID!” Jack and Luke laughed at her excitement.

The girls talked and played with the actor mermaid for some time. Then it was time for her to leave to the girls disappointed. That’s when you told them it was time for cake, it cheered them up quickly. You guys Sang Happy Birthday to her and opened presents.

The day had gone by in a blink of an eye. Maya had been bathed and you and Quinn were putting her to bed. You guys read her a bedtime story about mermaids for the occasion. After the story was finished Maya yawned and sleepily told you guys thank you for the best party ever. You got up to leave and get ready for bed, but when you got to the door. You heard Quinn tell Maya he was so grateful for her and mom and dad would love her forever. He tucked her into bed and snuck out into the hall where you were. He hugged you so tight, kissed you on the head, and said “Thank you for giving me my greatest gift in life”.

[mikgreo]

Gojo punishing his puppies, pt.2

smut+ fluff. minors dni

pt.1 here.

a/n: i hope u guys enjoy it <3. ty for the luv on pt.1 !! lmk if u guys want a continuation or something similar to this. im so sorry it was so short😭

warnings: 18+, pet names, double penetration, anal, p/v sex, spitting, hair pulling, slight degradation, praise, unprotected sex, breeding kink, threesome, mand handling, NOT PROOF READ sorry if there are typos 🥲

Gojo waited for you and Geto to calm down and relax.

“Suguru~ how about you lay down hm? let y/n-chan do all the work.”

geto didn’t object and did as he was told. you following as well.

Gojo placed himself behind you, putting his hands on your hips. helping you line up with geto’s pink flushed tip, still leaking precum, and hard as ever.

Gojo slowly pushed you down all the way earning a whine from you from the lack of movement.

“s-satoru!…wanna-move..please” you cried out.

“wait hun, not done yet.” gojo bent you over just a little, spreading your cheeks apart to get better access on your unoccupied hole.

he spit on it and sunk his finger in slowly.

“n-nghh!! toru- what are y-you doing?!” you reached for his wrist to make him pull his finger out.

“nuh-uh princess,” he slapped your hand away,

“Suguru, start moving.” gojo glanced over you to geto.

Geto started thrusting up and down on you slowly, quickly accelerating his speed.

at this point, gojo had three fingers inside your anus, you were unfamiliar to this much overstimulation.

“satooo-ruu!~ i can’t take this~ to..too much, please!!” you cried, burying your face into geto’s chest.

“hmm, i guess your ready.” something about his tone sounded menacing, you were confused.

“h-huh for wha-”

Gojo lined his cock up with your entrance and forcefully pushed in.

“oh my g-god!! toru.. i d..dont think i can-can take this pl..please!!!” your whole body was getting rocked back and forth from the amount of force being put into both your holes.

“fuckk, youre so tight, m’love<3.” suguru said kissing the top of your head.

“she-fucking is, tight as hell.” he slapped your ass, “you fucking like being treated like a sex doll dont ya, you slut?”

“f-fuck! mm~ she does toru.. she just squeezed me so hard.” geto said as he looked up at gojo who was drilling into your insides.

Gojo grabbed a tangle of your hair and pulled you back, making you scream out.

“Owie!! toruuu…~!!!” you said looking back at him, pouting.

“Sorry princess, just gotta get a better angle.” he chuckled.

You were seeing stars, your mind was going blank, you felt so overstimulated. your stomach was screaming, you felt so full. you felt both of them all the way up to your throat, you were spewing out nonsense from how fucked up you were.

“sniff toruuu, suguuu~ i hiccup need-break.. cant!! yes yes right there more!…. gyahh!! cant take it please..”

“Pfft look at you, your crying for us to stop but your moaning in the same sentence about how good it is. pathetic fucking whore.” Gojo ended his sentence by giving you a heavy slap on your ass.

“Satoru..im so close! she keeps squeezing me so tight..mmff..” geto said biting his lower lip, wiping off the sweat on your forehead.

“Yeah..me..fuck.. too. you ready for our load princess?” gojo smirked.

“yesyesyesyes!! fill me whole.. please, daddy. need you both so bad, want a baby!! wanna be.. a mommy~” your eyes crossing from the amount of pleasure you were feeling, collapsing onto geto’s chest while purposely leaving your back arched for Gojo.

“What a good cock whore you turned out to be, y/n. all pretty begging for us now hmm?” geto said patting the top of your head, giving it a slight tug as he was close to cumming.

“Sugu-chan..’m cumming..cum with me, ‘kay?” Gojo said giving Geto a lustful smile.

they both bottomed out inside you, you felt their warm thick ropes of cum hitting the deepest corners of your holes. you felt it perfectly slide down your asshole to your cunt and to your legs.

“you did so good, pretty..~” geto said, gojo humming in agreement.

They both helped you clean up, and cuddled in bed with you.

Gojo was big spooning you while geto faced you.

gojo was plastering kisses all over your neck and shoulder, while geto was staring at you in awe, kissing your hand, lips and cheeks occasionally.

“I love you too.. soooo much.” you giggled closing your eyes, drifting to sleep.

“You mean ya love me.. not suguru.” gojo said biting your ear.

“Ouch!!!.. And no i love you both equally ugh!!” you said pouting, and letting out a laugh.

“Calm down you too, i love you both very much too, my babies.” geto smiled at you.

“Hey!! i am not a baby.” gojo said flicking getos cheek.

“well you’re the closest thing to a manchild. your so immature satoru, that’s why i love you.” he grabbed gojos hand giving it a squeeze.

“yeaaahhh i know, the strongest , satoru gojoo!! who wouldnt love me.” he said turning on his back, spreading his arms and legs in a starfish position.

“go to bed toru!! im so sleepy. and tired..” you said kicking him with the back of your heel.

“tch. party pooperrrr”

“cmon toru, lets rest for a bit, kay?”

“okay whatever you lame o’s.” gojo said reaching ocer to you, to geto, making sure he was hugging the both of you.

“i love you guys. <3” gojo said smiling to himself.

im so sorry it was so short!! i really had no idea what to write i didnt think i would have to actually write a part 2!!! tysm again for the support, i will be coming out with a new fic soon, and maybe some hcs <3

[changbinsboiledegg]

Enha hyung line reactions to their gf having a thigh riding kink? - ⛄️

Heyo thank you for your request! I hope you like these! Ily 🫶🫶

AFAB! Reader X Enhypen Hyung line.

(disclaimer: I think technically these could be gender neutral bc I didn't necessarily name any AFAB words regarding body parts other than 'pelvis' but just in case, I'm tagging it as AFAB.)

MDNI. MDNI. MDNI. MDNI. MDNI!!!!!!!!!

Warnings: Thigh riding kink, smut, anything else? lmk.

Note: Why is it that when I write reactions, I unintentionally make the first few short and the rest long??? Beats me... Or maybe they are same length? ... lol.. length. idk. I hope y'all enjoy, I proofread but can't guarantee that there aren't typos lol. I'm going to log off for the night again so... have fun & again, MDNI.

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Heeseung

The second you brought it up and that you wanted to try it, he was up to the idea and mostly just wanted to see where things would go.

As you straddled his waiting thigh and started to rock your hips against his thigh in slow movements, he’d help you out by guiding your hips and finding it incredibly hot how your own thighs shook and the little sounds you made as you came closer to orgasm.

“We should definitely do this again.” Heeseung smirked, rubbing your shaking thighs.

“Please.” You begged, to which his smirk grew.

Jay

It was your birthday and Jay told you, anything you wanted, he would give you. It was your day, after all. Even if he meant material items.

“You want to… ride… my thigh?” He rephrased your suggestion to make sure he heard you right. When you confirmed, he sat down and pulled you by your hips until you were straddling him.

“Go ahead, then.” He removed his hands from your hips and leaned back on the couch as you placed your legs on either side of his thigh, lowering yourself and riding his thigh. Jay seemed to enjoy watching you come undone like this, eyeing your facial expressions and listening to the soft moans you made.

Jake

“What’cha lookin at?” Jake sat beside you as you were staring at your phone screen with full immersion. He knew you liked to read webtoons and such, but he didn’t know you were reading something a bit more spicier.

After a few seconds with no answer, he jokingly swiped your phone and held it up higher than his head. You lunged for it, straddling him as you reached for your phone.

Suddenly, your thighs were straddled on either side of one of his thighs and your pelvis met his thigh, earning a soft gasp as it made contact with the slightest friction. Your reaction caused Jake to freeze as he set your phone on the spot beside him where you sat and his hands were on your hips, creating friction as he rubbed you against his thigh, earning the same reaction, only more prominent.

“You like this, don’t you?”

Sunghoon

He looked up ‘thigh riding’ after he saw the term in your browser history. What he learned about this, surprised him as he didn’t think you were the type to enjoy something like this.

But here he is, attempting to tease you about it without bringing it up by sitting and manspreading whenever you’re in the same room, knowing you’d fit perfectly on his thigh if you let desire take over. But you never acted on it and he was dying to let you try it with him.

He got tired and pulled you in for a kiss, which turned into making out and you straddling his thigh as he tried to control where you were placed. He wanted to see how you looked and how you sounded and he was almost overjoyed when he felt you rubbing yourself against his thigh with your lips locked on his.

“Just like that…”

Note 2: Yes, reader is reading smut in Jake's. Goodnight lmao.

[caszzine]

SOMEONE ELSE

a/n: hi i’m bored and i have nothing else to do so here u go!! pic from @/astralnymphh on pinterest btw<3

warnings: lowercase intended; exgf!ellie; gf!abby; afab!reader; angst (just a little bit i swear); drunk texts; mentions of cheating; fluff at the end? kinda? anyway idk what else to put here if i forget something lmk!!

also english is not my first language and this was not proofread SO! if u find any mistakes pls let me know, thank u!! 😁😁

you were staring at your phone. more specifically, at the messages that just popped up on the screen.

ellie: pls comw bsck

ellie: i miss yu

ellie: im sorry

you felt weird. something about those notifications made you feel weird. why would she text you after three years?

just by looking at the typos, you could tell she was drunk. typical of her. but you still couldn’t understand why ellie was sending you texts at 1am when she was the one that broke off whatever you two had going on years ago.

she was the one who cheated. she was the one that destroyed your heart with a fucking sledgehammer. she was the one that made you feel like a piece of shit everyday. she was the one that would never treat you right. and now she was drunk texting you, begging you to come back?

you snorted, clicking on the notifications. you should’ve done this ages ago. you clicked on ellie’s contact info. you clicked on ‘block this contact’, and then on ‘delete this contact’. and then you turned off your phone, placing it on the bedside table.

and, as soon as you did so, you felt your girlfriend’s strong arm wrap around your waist and you couldn’t help but crack a smile.

you turned around, mesmerized at the sight of a sleeping abby. she just looked so peaceful while asleep.

you kissed her forehead and cuddled up against her warm body, drifting off to sleep as you thought about how lucky you were to have her.

how lucky you were to have someone else.

a/n: kinda short but oh well! 🤷🏽‍♀️

[ghostfacd]

FOOLISH ONE ! — LUKE HUGHES

— “stop checking your mailbox for confessions of love that ain’t never gonna come,”

pairing; slytherin!luke x fem!hufflepuff!reader

genre; angst at beginning, secret baby trope, exes to lovers, blackcat!luke, golden retriever!reader

summary; it’s been a little over a year since luke broke things off with yn to go to umich. she still hopes to hear from him someday, a confession of his love, yet it never happens. luke doesn’t know, however, it’s not just her waiting for him.

author’s note; didn’t reread this so there may be grammar mistakes and typos! lmk if u guys want to see more rowden and lukey content

✸ SLYTHERIN!LUKE MASTERLIST (read first for more context on yn and luke’s relationship)

When Luke broke things off with you to go play hockey in umich, you’d thought he’d at least try to keep in contact.

He did say he was going to visit every year. But that was a total fat lie. Luke Hughes did not visit, he didn’t even bother writing you a message.

You couldn’t be mad. You somewhat understood it from his point of view. He was passionate about hockey, just as he’d always been about Quidditch when the two of you were still teenagers at Hogwarts. Luke Hughes did not owe you anything, he was just your ex.

And also.. maybe.. possibly.. the father of your baby. No, he definitely was. The boy had golden curls just like his father when he was younger.

“Rowden!” You called out, patting your lap to let your baby know where to go.

Rowden Quintin Hughes. You had decided to name Rowden after Jack and Quinn, the two boys who accepted you as their little sister the day their brother started dating you.

Rowden was an exact replica of his father, his cute chubby cheeks and his blonde curls making his appearance ten times cuter than he already was. You loved your baby, and you knew if Luke knew of him, he would to.

But was it selfish for you not to tell Luke? That you found out you were two months pregnant when he left for the airport? Maybe a part of you wanted to keep it a secret, just you and Rowden for a little while.

“Rowdy baby,” you coo, smothering his cheek with kisses that made the baby gurgle happily.

“He’s a happy baby today, isn’t he?” Kielle walks into your living room, carrying a baby of her own.

See, the funny thing was, you and Kielle actually got pregnant around the same time. Of course, Mark was already aware of his son, and always came on his school breaks to visit him and his girlfriend.

You and Kielle decided to move in with each other after finding out you were both becoming mothers, and the rest was history. Tons of morning sickness, mood swings, and late night cravings. For a while, both of your guy’s best friends was Doordash. Mark had always ordered it, making sure his girlfriend and baby were well fed.

Mark knew about Rowden, but you and Kielle begged him to keep it a secret. He was reluctant at first; knowing if he was in Luke’s shoes, he would want to know. But he decided that it wasn’t his choice to make whether or not to tell him, so he kept it a secret from his best friend.

“Theo, say hi to Rowdy, baby!” Kielle says, making her way over to the two of you. “Rowdy’s so quiet isn’t he?”

“Yes,” you nod, “suppose he’s like Luke. Never talks unless he’s supposed to.”

Kielle scrolls through her phone for a bit, breastfeeding Theo while she’s at it. A certain picture makes her wince.

“What’s wrong Kie?” You ask, curious to see what she’s looking at.

She quickly pulls her phone to her chest, shaking her head. “Nothing you have to worry about Y/N. Look, I think Rowdy’s falling asleep.”

It was true. Rowden was snoozing off in your arms, a content smile settled on his face. He was the cutest baby, your baby, you still couldn’t believe it till this day.

“Okay Theo, time to sleep baby.” Kielle carries him to her room, and you’re left alone with a sleeping Rowden. Carefully, you take him into your room, placing him in his crib.

Now it was time for you to have personal time. You decide to spend it scrolling through social media for thirty minutes, looking at what your old classmates were up to. A certain picture catches your vision, and you swore your heart almost drops.

It’s Luke’s post. And on it was of him placing his arm around a girl, captioning it Going Blue with the fave! 💙

You didn’t know how to feel. First, Luke hadn’t spoken to you since the day he took off to Michigan, and now, he’s posing and writing a intimate caption with a girl? Could he break your heart any more?

You didn’t even realize you’re crying until Kielle comes in with tissues, frowning. “I take it you saw the post?”

You only shakily nod, not wanting to speak.

“It’s okay Y/N, he doesn’t deserve you.”

But he does. And you’ll let him have you if he wanted you back. You always will.

When you finally fall asleep, snoring softly with the baby monitor by your side, that’s when Kielle thinks she’s had enough.

There was no way her best friend, Luke motherfucking Hughes, was going to hurt her other best friend like that. She wouldn’t allow it.

“Mark? Cmon pick up,” she says, chewing on her nails nervously.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” Mark’s voice automatically shifts to concern over the phone, seeing his girlfriend’s upset face. “Is there something wrong with Theo? Do I need to fly there baby?”

“No Marky, there’s nothing wrong, well, not with us.”

“Then why’d you call?”

“You seriously need to tell Luke to get his shit together Mark, I’m serious. He’s been making poor Y/N cry so much, it’s not good for her or Rowden. I seriously don’t know what the fuck is going through Luke’s head, especially since he was so inlove with her and now he won’t even text her?”

Mark sighs, watching his girlfriend become pissed off as each minute passes. “The Instagram post, right? Listen, I’m not justifying any of his behavior but the girl, she’s just one of the girls from the sororities who we’re friends with. Nothing more, I promise. In fact, I’m pretty sure Luke is still hungover on Y/N. Wont talk about her.”

Kielle’s anger subsides, but it’s still apparent. “Just a girl from one of the sororities huh?”

“Yes baby, I promise. I wouldn’t lie to you. If anything, I want Y/N and Luke back together. They were so good.”

“They were Marky, they were.”

Mark thinks for a minute, before an idea pops into his head. “Kiel baby,”

“Hm?”

“I have an idea. You know how winter break is in a few days and I’m coming? How about I bring Luke? I’ll just tell him that we’re all catching up. He doesn’t know Y/N lives with you.”

Kielle ponders, then nods slowly. “I just want them back together, Mark. They made each other better and I really can’t stand Y/N being so upset, especially since she has Rowden to take care of now.”

Mark smiles, reassuring her everything will be fine. “How’s Rowdy by the way?”

“He’s good. Not fussy like our Theo. He reminds me of Luke, blonde curls, quiet, and sometimes, he’s all smiley. It’s adorable.”

“Yeah, I just wish Luke was there to see Rowdy when he was first born.”

“Me too.”

The next few days passed by quickly, and you’re reminded that Mark is coming. Kielle is all excited, cleaning and making food the entire day as you watched Theo and Rowden.

The doorbell rings. Once, twice, and another six times because Mark just loves to mess with you two.

“I’ll get it,” you say as Kielle takes off her apron. “You watch the boys.”

When you open the door, you expect to see a smiley Mark, all giddy to see his son again. There he was, all giddy like you had imagined; only this time, a tall figure stands next to him.

A tall, curly haired, all too familiar figure stands right next to Mark. You don’t have to think twice about knowing who it is. It’s Luke Hughes.

“Luke, you’re here..” you say, and the wavering of your voice doesn’t go missed by the boy.

He always remembered tiny details about you due to his ability to memorize and his attentive personality.

“I am,” he says awkwardly, “may we come in?”

“Uh.. yes, of course!”

You don’t know how you’re gonna hide Rowden from Luke. Or, you could just make a run for it now. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to run away from your problems.

“Dude, why didn’t you tell me she was here?!” You hear Luke quietly whisper—which wasn’t really quiet because you had heard everything.

“My bad! I thought it was just Kielle!”

You knew Mark was lying. And you had a stinging feeling that Kielle was in on the lie too.

“Where’s Theo?” Luke’s head scans around the room, smiling brightly when he sees his best friend’s son. “Hi Theo! It’s your uncle Luke.”

He notices Rowden on the floor next to Theo, laying on his back and sucking on his thumb.

Luke raises his eyebrows at this. Blonde, curly hair. Mark was neither of this. If Luke wasn’t going crazy, he would’ve thought it was his son. Was it?

“And who’s this tiny fella?” Luke asks, softly picking Rowden up with as much gentleness as he possibly can. He had a sinking feeling that there was more to the baby than meets the eye.

“Rowden,” you say quietly. The familiar name of his brother makes Luke’s ears perk up.

“Rowden?”

“Rowden Quintin Hughes.”

It’s as if the world had paused. Come to a stop. Luke’s heart freezes for a moment, all the emotions he had kept pushed back into the back of his head came crawling out.

“Rowden Quintin Hughes?” He chokes out.

Mark and Kielle noticed how you and Luke needed to have a serious conversation, so, with a quick pickup of Theo, they both headed to Kielle’s room, shutting the door for privacy.

“I’m sorry,” is all you can say as you try to hold back a sob.

Luke shakes his head, placing Rowden down and opening his arms out for you to lean in.

“Hey hey, none of that okay?” Luke rubs the side of your arm, letting you know he’s there. “You don’t have to apologize to me for anything. I’m the one that should be saying sorry. I was a jerk, ghosting you when I got to Michigan.”

“Yeah,” you say, looking up at him. “You really were.”

“The truth was—I was scared I’d fall inlove with you all over again if I had stayed in contact.” Luke shakily sighs, “I couldn’t stand the thought of not being able to be with you. I was an idiot, for breaking up with you, for everything I’ve done in the past.”

“You were a big idiot,” you say, laughing slightly.

“A very big big idiot,”

Rowden gurgles loudly, holding his tiny hands up in the air, waiting for you to pick him up.

You put your hand in the back of Rowden’s hand to support him as you placed him against your chest. “Hi Rowdy baby, it’s your dad.”

That’s all it took for Luke Hughes to let out a sob of his own, overwhelmed by the confirmation from you.

“Hi buddy,” he says softly, taking Rowden out of your hold. “I’m so sorry your daddy wasn’t here when you were born and for the first year of your life. I’m so so sorry,”

He places kisses against Rowden’s cheeks, eyes closing to cherish the moment with his son.

“So, who was the girl if you don’t mind me asking?”

Luke raises his eyebrows, now full attention on you. “The girl on my Instagram?” He questions.

You only nod.

“She.. she was a friend at one of the sororities. I met her months ago at some frat party. She was really nice, and asked me out.”

Your swore your heart nearly sunk into its chest. “That’s.. great Luke. What did you say?”

“Of course I said no,” he says, placing Rowden down carefully.

“Why?”

“Because I told her I was too inlove with somebody else.”

That’s all you needed to hear before smashing your lips against Luke’s, both of your bodies latched onto each other as it craved each other’s presence.

“I love you too Luke.”

“I know that,” Luke places another kiss to your lips. “And I’ll forever spend the rest of my days making it up to you and Rowden.”

It’s not until two hours later that Mark and Kielle walk out that they see you and Luke curled up next to each other, fast asleep with his arms securely around your shoulder and Rowden by your side.

They silently smile at one another, knowing their plan had finally worked after all.

ynuser

liked by lhughes_06, markestapa, kiellestapa and 770 others

ynuser my two babies!

tagged lhughes_06

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lhughes_06 baby rowden 💙

→ jackhughes wait what? ROWDEN?

→ quinnhughes i wasnt aware of this?? luke??

markestapa baby rowdy! so happy i don’t have to keep you a secret anymore

→ jackhughes YOU KNEW 🙄🙄

kiellestapa theo’s best friend!!

[yeahyeahchloe]

It Wasnt in my Head (3)

(a/n: pls lmk if u see any typos! )

Summary: Abby is the starting linebacker at UW and when her team starts to falter her coach decides to get the team into ballet, in order to teach them that grace and stability is important in football too. Abby is just as upset about her teammates about this, until she sees her pretty new ballet teacher...

dancer!reader x football!abby

!!ABBY IS STRAIGHT IN THE BEGINNING. READER IS HER GAY AWAKENING!!

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

This whole house smelled like total ass.

Dina was excitedly walking next to me trying to guide me to the alcohol, as Ellie looked for her friend.

"Abby!" Ellie exclaimed from my left.

I turned to look into the direction she was facing and just about shit my pants.

It was the pretty blonde from the football team.

She smiled at Ellie and they gave eachother a one armed hug in greeting.

"So this is Dina and Y/n, guys this is Abby," Ellie introduced us both.

Abby nodded her head at Dina in greeting before turning to me and hesitating.

"Hey, yeah no we've met," She said to Ellie signaling at me.

"Oh? Where?" Ellie inquired curiously.

"She is the little ballerina that got stuck teaching the varsity starters," Abby told her with a smirk.

"Y/n, you didn't tell me you were teaching the varsity starters,"

"I, uh, I guess I didn't think I would be running into one like this," I answered Ellie before turning to Abby, "Well, Abby, its nice to properly meet you,"

"Pleasures all mine," She answered with a friendly smile and a slight head nod.

Oh wow fuck me.

"Okay, well were gonna go get drunk. Bye!" Dina said, pulling my arm and dragging me away towards the kitchen.

I decided to just pour a vodka soda for me and Dina while we chatted.

"So what do you think of Ellie's friend?" She asked, sending a smirk my way.

"Oh, god, was is that obvious?" I reddened and hid my face with my hands.

Dina guffawed before answering, "Only to me I think, but I get it. She's totally your type,"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh c'mon! She's tall, super built, big nose, commanding presence, athlete. She was basically made just for you,"

"Ok ok fine, she's perfect, but I am way to awkward to ever initiate anything,"

"Well, maaybe just try talking to h-" Dina cut herself off with a large gasp, "Ohmygod Jesse is right there!!" She gasped, pointing to the boy across the room. "I'm gonna go talk to him,"

"No Dina don't leave me,"

"I'm going in,"

"No, D, please!" I begged her as she strutted off.

I turned around and started digging for stuff to make myself a drink, but the stupid grenadine was too high on the shelf.

A hand reached above my own and grabbed and handed it to me.

"Thank yo- oh its you!" I said, turning around to face the person who had helped me.

"What, wishing for someone cooler?" Abby teased with a smirk.

"Ugh, no. Dina is off with Jesse now, so, I'm gonna drink it off," I told her, gesturing to Dina and Jesse making out on a couch.

"Oh god lame. But I kinda get it, I was the same with this one boyfriend,"

My head snapped back to her with a look of disbelief, and before my brain could catch up to my mouth, I blurted; "You aren't gay??"

"No? What, you are?" She asked, matching my disbelief.

"Well, yeah," I said as if it was obvious.

It really isn't, but I'm trying.

"Ah, well, you had me fooled," She said, face tinged slightly pink.

"Yeah, me too" I answered her, exhaling through my nose in an awkward laugh.

"Well aren't we a pair, breaking our stereotypes and whatever," She told me, confidence fully back on. I laughed a little before she continued, "So do you, like, have a girlfriend?"

"Oh, uh, not at the moment, no. Trying to take it easy right now," I responded, before following it with "You must have a boyfriend, though"

"Nah, no. You could say I'm taking it easy too, real focused on grades and sports,"

"What are you studying?"

"Pre-med. My dad's a surgeon, so its kinda in the genes,"

I was shocked by her answer, its not often you see a football player spending their time actually studying something useful instead of doing drugs and partying.

"What about you?" She asked.

"Oh, uh, the arts. I do painting and stuff. And obviously dance, uh, and also law, I'm looking to go FBI," I said, getting embarrassed by my much lamer response.

"Oh, that actually sounds really cool. I bet you have a shit ton of work," She told me, seeming genuinely interested.

"Yeah, well, you only get a scholarship once,"

"Yeah, yeah, true,"

The conversation was starting to falter so I told her to follow me.

"Hey Ellie!" I greeted as we approached the girl.

"Hey, are you ready to..." She made a signal with two fingers signing she wanted to smoke.

"Hell yeah," I answered before turning to Abby, "Wanna join?"

"Of course I do," She responded with an excited glint in her eyes.

We squeezed our way through sweaty bodies and makeout sessions all the way to the back of the large house where the yard was.

Ellie reached in to her right pocket, dug around for a bit, scowled and then reached into her left pocket where she took out a small joint and a lighter.

"Y/n?" She said my name, gesturing the blunt to me, "Wanna light it?"

"My pleasure" I held the joint up to my lips, the flicked the lighter and lit it. I instantly felt the hot smoke flow through my throat into my lungs. I turned my head away from the two in front of me out of politeness and blew out the smoke.

15 minutes later we were all stoned.

"Hey. Hey, beautiful, aren't you like not 'sposed to do this? Cuz you, like, are gonna be a doctor or whatever?" I spoke while turning to Abby.

"Maybe, but I think all be ok," She chuckled at my state.

She held her weed good.

I didn't.

Ellie held hers good.

I really didnt.

I went to answer Abby when Dina came running up to us.

"Hey guys!" She greeted us.

"Heyyy D," I said to her elongating every syllable.

Dina took one look at me before turning to Ellie with the look a mom would have after her kids stole a cookie from the jar.

"Ellie, come on. I told you not to let her do stupid shit like this anymore, you know she's a total lightweight,"

Ellie looked around defensively and held her hands up in surrender, "Hey man, she asked for it. Besides I didn't do any, yaknow, for protection,"

Dina sighed, grabbed my arm, grabbed Ellie's, and told us were going home. I shouted a goodbye to Abby that was somewhere along the lines of "Bye gorgeous see you in class!" and shuffled alongside Dina out the door.

The drive home was filled with Ellies playlist, and when me and Dina climbed up the stairs and into out apartment we bid our goodnights.

My mind was fuzzy the whole time though.

It was full of one thing.

Abby Anderson.

a/n: this took forever to get out, whoops. working on pt 4 asap, might post later tonight if im feeling spicy.

[mm-275]

MILES MORALES HEADCANNONS 2

Request: yes

tw: none i think?

- Ok so I think that he listens to a little of all genres of music. Like he’s cool with everything but there’s a few songs or artists that he doesn’t fw

- He will make you make him a playlist so he can listen to it when he misses you and he’ll make you a playlist BUTT he’ll be nervous to send it to you, so when your like “bitch where’s my playlist?” he’s like “you actually wanted it”

- This boy BEGGED his parents for Spotify premium and they finally got it for him when there was like 3 months free near his birthday (he cried)

- When you find out he’s spiderman (you’d probably get mad he’s dropping dates and stuff so you confront him and he tells you) you make sure he’s always safe

- He drops by your house sometimes when he gets hurt after a fight or something and you patch him up. Now you keep a first aid kid in your room for him

- When he gets involved with the Spider Society, you get involved. He trusts you with EVERYTHING, so he tells you everything, and eventually you meet all of them.

- You get along with almost all of his friends there. After hearing what Miguel did, you don’t trust him around Miles and Miles doesn’t trust Miguel around you, so he tried to keep you as far away from him as possible.

- Gwen takes awhile to get used to you, but she eventually warms up when she realizes Miles is happy with you.

- Peter B introduces you to Mayday and you hold her and play with her and PB is like “if you don’t keep her I will”

- Hobie appreciates that you make Miles happy and therefore he doesn’t mind you at first. I think he’d be hesitant but he warms up to you (you guys become best friends)

- Pav is so sweet i don’t think anyone couldn’t immediately love him. You and him sit together and gush about eachothers s/o’s all the time and give eachother advice.

- Remember when he was texting his dad and had a bunch of typos because he was fighting a villain? He always responds to you, therefore most of his texts are illegible 😭

- He’s super smart (obviously), but will make you/his mom read over his school essays just in case.

- I think that he wouldn’t use a ton of pet names. Maybe a few sometimes, but would mostly use your name and a few nicknames hes made up (he has one that only he’s allowed to call you)

- Absolutely cannot play an instrument for shit. Gwen and Hobie have tried to teach him, and if you play an instrument you have too, but he gives up.

- He would be decent at most sports, but he’s the type of kid to only do gym for the required credits, and doesn’t go out of the way to play. If friends or you ask to play something with him, he would.

- Once you guys are together for a little, he would bring you to all the family functions. Cousins wedding? you’re there. Fourth of July celebration? He’s dragging you around to all of his family members.

- His mom would make him dress up for all of the holidays (my mom too), like at Christmas he’s in an ugly sweater and his mom is taking 10 photos of all of their matching sweaters (this is a self projection)

- Asks if he can adopt every dog and cat in the alleyways.

- He would know how to do a few origami pieces and does them in class when he’s bored and then gives them to you

- Draws on the corners and in the margins of your papers in class

- Watches CoryxKenshin and either youtube or spotify will be playing in the background of his room at all times.

- Before you guys meet eachothers parents, your screen time would be like 15+ hours from how much you guys would’ve facetimed

- Said this in the last part, but I have to bring this back. He LOVES holding your hand. He’s late to class to hold your hand down the hallways.

- He refuses to split the pole. He’s not even superstitious he just thinks it’s weird 😭

- He’s picky asf. Chicken tenders are his best friend (me too)

—————————

sorry this is so short i ran out of ideas.

im thinking of doing these with another character like e42 miles or hobie? idk lmk

[artficlly]

smog & spirits: spirit-raiser (mini-series)

Gangster/Peaky Blinders Inspired Fantasy AU

gangsterboss!bucky x witch!reader Bucky Barnes, the leader of Sootstone's Smog Boys, needs a favour. A nasty curse has been cast on him, and you are the witch he has chosen to help him break it.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, smut, fem reader, begging, orgasm denial, fingering, p in v, no aftercare, sex magic, blood magic, potion for arousal, curses and hexes, witchcraft, possession, mediums, if you squint theres some plot, smoking, mention of death/violence/torture, mention of police brutality, vaguely british setting??, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 8k

A/N: hey. don't ask. this idea came to me a few days ago and i wrote it all out in like two sessions at 2am. i want to write more for this, i have so many ideas for some more one-shot style interactions. this just got so long so quickly so i had to cut some stuff. sorry for any typos - not proof read and edited while half asleep lol.

main masterlist | series masterlist

You did not remember leaving your door unlocked. 

The fog that settled over the smokey, portside district of Sootstone was suffocating. Despite it being only midday, the entire neighbourhood was cast into a muggy gloom. The sun could not break through the thick smog that comfortably nestled itself along the windy streets of The Warrens. The stench of smoke and fish hung heavy in the air, with sweaty dockworkers and dirty children darting between alleys. In your short journey to and from the small Sunday market, you had nearly been bowled over thrice by oblivious residents. 

The Warrens, or Sootstone Port, as it was formally known, was not a pleasant place. Home to the working class and the rotted underbelly of the city of Blackstone. The high society chatters liked to forget such a place existed, as it was simply not a charming place to think about. Most worked the ports, ferrying in the sea trade. Others worked in the Smokestack district, manufacturing metal in factories that pumped ash and soot into the air. There were also the select few who turned to other trades, such as pubs, hotels, brothels, or even those who were forced into a life of joblessness on the streets. 

The Warrens weren’t so imaginatively named. It was a clever joke among high-society gossipers that the poor fucked like rabbits and lived in their elaborate winding burrows, from which they rarely emerged for air. The people of Sootstone had accepted the insult, finding the whole metaphor rather hilarious. That was because the Warreners could take a joke, unlike the condescending crowd of high society. It could also be argued that the residents of The Warrens could not come up with a better metaphor, as most were not educated in any sense. 

Perhaps the mixture of smog and that lack of an education had finally made it to your head. You were left standing, perplexed, as your front door swung open without so much of a nudge. The lock was normally a sticky one, leaving you to jiggle the knob and slam your shoulder against the frame until it came unstuck. Never in your two years of living in the tiny flat had you ever witnessed such a sight. 

You would’ve thought it a miracle if it weren’t for the implications. 

It was true that The Warrens were notorious for crimes. Theft, assault, and murder. Even if coppers paraded the streets, they weren’t truly there to stop criminals. No, they were more interested in beating any poor innocents that got in their way. It was better to find protection from vigilante gangs who roamed Sootstone’s streets, scrapping like stray dogs over territories. As much as those uninvolved in such business were afraid of them, they also respected them. Their deeds weren’t always motivated by blood and destruction; the gangs stood to protect their communities as no one else would. 

Even if you and your surrounding neighbours were under the protection of Barnes’ Smog Boys, it was definitely still alarming to see a group of them gathered in your small kitchen. 

“Lookie who's home.” One of the men cooed at the sight of you. He stood closest to the door, one hand tucked in his jacket pocket while the other fiddled with a toothpick that hung from his lips. His blond hair was slicked back, tucked under a flatcap. Steve Rogers. The Smog Boys right hand man. Next to him was Sam Wilson, his stocky form leaning against your rickety cupboards. His gaze was fixed on a silver pocket watch he had tightly secured in his left palm, a short chain draping across his vest. He glanced up at Steve’s words, a wicked smirk crossing his lips at the sight of you. 

“Sunday market?” Sam queried, and you drew your woven basket closer. There was an unsettling sneer in his voice. 

The Smog Boys were one of seven gangs that roamed the underbelly of Blackstone. Their territories lay in the fog of Sootstone Port and the smokey streets of the Smokestack district and The Warrens. You could commonly see them stalking the streets, dressed in all black with their flatcaps and slicked back hair. They moved through the smog like ghosts, navigating the twisting streets with an unnatural ease. Some called them ghouls; others called them saviours from the fog. 

The final man, the worst of them all, was Bucky Barnes. He sat across from you, half obscured by your small dining table. He had laid a box of cigarettes and matches on the marked wood. One was smoking between his lips, his head angled down and cocked to one side, as he assessed you with a look of boredom. There was a terrifying edge of calculation in his gaze as he evaluated you. He was just as large as the other two men, with muscles poorly hidden beneath his black, tailored suit. His hair, similarly to Steve's, was slicked back, and the sides buzzed. A 5’oclock shadow ghosted his jawline, but overall, his appearance was unsettlingly neat. 

Not a speck of ash or soot. As if he had just appeared within your flat, blinking into existence rather than having walked The Warrens like any other mere mortal. 

You had never seen the man in person. No. If the Smog Boys were ghosts, Bucky certainly lived up to the name. He was an enigma, a haunting story whispered between children. He had clawed his way up to a position of power from the gutters of The Warrens, bloodshed and all. He was a notorious skirt-chaser, his handsome appearance and strong build drawing in women from all classes. Looking at him now, despite the terror congealing in your blood, you could understand the appeal. 

“Why’re you here?” You ask hesitantly. Unlike the gangsters before you, you were not pristine by any means. Falling ash had coated your shoulders, staining the tartan fabric of the mantle draped over your shoulders. Your hair was swept up under a head scarf, which was also covered in a layer of soot and dust from the smokestacks. Even your worn leather boots were not safe; mud and filth caked onto the heels and sides. The streets of The Warren had never known any type of cleanliness. 

“Come to introduce ourselves. Don’t think we’ve ever met before, ‘least I think I would’ave remembered a pretty face like yours.” Steve speaks up, a gleam in his eye. His tone is playful yet somehow cruel. The chuckle he and Sam share rattles you. The two of them were also said to try their luck with the women who crowded around, searching for the thrill of a gangster lover.

“You might’ave mistaken me for someone else… I’ve lived here two years now.” You speak with a continued caution. With precise movements, as to not brush either of the hulking men crowding the kitchen entrance, you place your basket on a nearby surface. Even the cloth that you have thrown over the items is coated in a layer of ash. 

“We know.” Sam says, twisting his body. He lifts up the cloth, inspecting the food beneath. You know it is nothing exciting—some bread, fish, and vegetables. As well as a handful of sweets you gave to the children of your neighbour. You keep your mouth shut as Sam dips into the white and red striped paper bag and pops one of the sweets into his mouth with a satisfied hum. 

Steve pushes himself off the wall, his jacket brushing against you. He was far taller than you, tall enough that he had to crane his neck down in order to whisper in your ear. “A lil’ birdy told us you’re a spirit-raiser.” 

“I—No.” You stumble over your words, eyes darting between the three men. Bucky is still silent, still like a cat hunting a mouse. The gaze he assessed you with was one of a predator, taking a slow drag from his cigarette. He doesn’t crack a smile as the two men beside you laugh between themselves. 

To fend off some anxious energy, you make quick work of unknotting your headscarf. Ash and dust flutter to the ground as you shake out the fabric, a frown etched across your features. You could not help but let your mind wonder to the stories you had heard growing up. You were a lifelong resident of The Warrens, only moving to live on your own after sickness claimed your mother. You father had passed long before that, lost to drink. 

“What do you call yourself then? Hm?” Steve asks, breath hot against your cheek. You flinch as he pulls a fleck of ash from your hair. In the stories, they would speak of men with their tongues cut out. Bodies that were filled with bricks, then stitched back up and sunk to the bottom of the Sootstone Port. Men were found hanged from street lights, severely beaten, with sections of skin along their thighs and chest peeled off with a blade. And those were only the bodies coppers found. 

“I prefer witch.” You correct, brows furrowing. Your head turns to look at the gangster, wary of how close his fingers lingered. Teeth bared in a grin, he blows a soft breath across your hair, the last of the ash unsettled as it floats away. You can smell tobacco on his breath—a familiar scent to you.

“I need a favour.” Bucky finally speaks up, his voice low. Your gaze snaps to meet his. 

You blink. “A favour?”

You jump as Bucky finally moves, his foot jerking as he kicks the seat opposite him. The chair scrapes across the hardwood floors, stopping centimetres before your boots. 

“Sit.” He commands. 

Sam’s hand finds the back of your neck, a soft push guiding you in the direction of the free space. You obey, your knee bouncing as you take a seat. You sit near the edge of the chair, leaving some distance between yourself and the table. As if sensing your desire to bolt, Steve sweeps up behind you, pushing the chair in until you are fully tucked in. Then, with mocking laughter, Sam and Steve take a seat on either side of you. 

“No one told me there was any issue about magic—” You begin. Steve snickers beside you, returning to fiddling with the toothpick still poking from his mouth. 

“A favour.” Bucky repeats, exhaling smoke from his nose. Sam leans back in his seat, legs spread so widely that his knee touches yours. You shrink back as far as possible. “I’m no copper. I don’t care what you practitioners get up to.”

You find yourself blinking in surprise once more. Magic was a subject that divided many, mostly due to it’s misunderstood nature. High society treated magic as another lavish hobby or skill, with some even going to private schools to turn their gifts into professions with the right licences. Of course, the people of the lower-class were banned from performing such tricks unless they were in possession of the right permits. Due to the nature of the slums being, well, impoverished, unlicensed magic ran rampant through the streets. It wasn’t uncommon knowledge that an entire blackmarket of forbidden arts ran in the backalleys and warehouses of The Warren. Places where those needing particular services could find them for a much more convenient price than in the higherclass areas of Blackstone. 

You had kept your services rather secretive, never using your real identity with clients. It was a precaution to not have coppers knocking down your door in the middle of the night. It seemed, despite your best efforts, that nothing flew past Bucky Barnes. But then again, nothing seemed to fly past the gangster. He knew of every black market and every whisper of illegal activity in the slums. It would be foolish to believe he was unaware of you; however, why did he specifically sort you out? Now that was a mystery. 

“I don’t understand—” You choke out, head whipping back and forth as you look between the men. 

Bucky sighs loudly in annoyance, loud enough that you flinch back. He puts out the remains of his cigarette on your dining table, the smouldering dip leaving a black, circular mark on the wood. He digs into one of the pockets of his vest, revealing a large pendant necklace. The chain is silver, with an oval shaped jewel hanging from the centre. The silver that encrusts it in place is swirled, ensuring there are no gaps for it to escape. Sam and Steve fall quiet, any feeling of twisted amusement dropping from the room. Bucky slides the necklace across the table.

You recoil. This time not out of fear, but rather from the aura the necklace exudes. 

Goosebumps rise across your skin, and bile rises in your throat. There was a wickedness in the air, as if all the light and sweetness in the world were sucked into an empty, yawning void. The world feels still, as if even the ash outside has failed to fall. The room is cast into a sickening silence, a silence so strong that even the surrounding world refuses to push through. You can no longer hear the people walking through the winding streets of The Warren, not the clang of metal from the smokestacks or the cry of the dockworkers. 

Rot. 

It is the only word that comes to your mind. It is as if the jewel itself is rotten, potent, and putrid. An invisible smell so strong you nearly gag. Your skin crawls the longer you stare, as if you rot along with it—bugs squirming beneath your flesh, the taste of dirt in your mouth.  

“What’s this?” You asked, your voice strained. You know the blood has drained from your face. Bucky looks at you with curiosity. 

“You tell me.”

You look down at the necklace. Dread rises once more, and the chill of soil settles across your shoulders. You twist your head and your neck, feeling uncomfortable and strained the longer you gaze upon the necklace. 

There was something terribly, terribly wrong about it. 

“There’s a… a sickness… a rot—a curse.” You stumble over your words, your entire body squirming against your will. The feeling of dread swims through you; the sensation that you need to get as far away as possible reverberates down your spine. 

“Becca was right.” Steve sings somewhere besides you, but you barely register his words. 

“Where’d you find this?” You ask. The room is tighter than usual, with the rickety, peeling cabinets closing in around you. The oven screeches on its iron legs, the yellowed wallpaper crushing closer and closer. Your head falls into your hands, elbows propped onto the table. You let out a shuddering breath, trying to rid yourself of the sickly feeling. You rub your fingers up your face, pinching the bridge of your nose, then massaging your forehead

“It was given to me. As a gift.” As he speaks, you reluctantly open your eyes once more. The room has returned to as you remember, your vision less dizzying as you take in a deep gulp of air, your heart thundering in your ears. You must make a face, because it prompts him to speak once more. 

“My sister has a sensitivity. She is convinced—”

“There’s a spirit attached to that jewel.” You interrupt before thinking. Your knees bounce beneath the table, your feet shaking. Your entire being screams that you need to get away from the object. You do not care for politeness or fear of these men, as the horror in your heart you felt gazing upon the necklace greatly outweighed any potential anxieties of the future.

“Yes.” His voice matches his composure—cool and collected. Wholly unaffected by the horrific aura cast by the necklace. Bucky and his men were not magically inclined. They were completely oblivious to the calamity that sat before them. 

“The spirits're attached to you, too.” You pause, the feeling of bile rising in your throat once more. “You need to get it lifted.”

“That’s where the favour comes in, doll.”

“I don’t…?” You nearly doubled over. “Please get rid of it. I can’t—”

Barnes leans forward, slowly dragging the necklace over the wood. He slowly deposits it into his breast pocket, watching with curiosity as you sag in relief. You would need to burn this table after they left. You could still sense the rot engrained in the pores of the wood. 

“I need to speak with the spirit attached.”

Your forearms lay flat on the table, and you rest your head against them as you try to remember how to breathe. A wave of exhaustion rolls over you. Was this how they tortured their victims? Wore them down into pathetic, panting messes? Were you about to become another body at the bottom of the Sootstone port? You mumble into the fabric. “I can’t raise a spirit without a name.”

“I know her name.”

You pause, lifting your head slowly. “You want to ask her how to break it? You may know her, but spirits’re tricksters they won’t always give ya the correct information—”

“I know how to deal with her.”

You arch a brow, unsure.

“She’s a scorned lover.” Sam whispers beside you. You jump, having forgotten the two other men sitting besides you. Bucky scowls at his words—the most emotion he has shown in the entire time. 

“Everyone knows you don’t ‘ave a witch for a moll unless you’re gonna marry her.” Steve butts in, and the two men share a chuckle. 

“Shut your mugs. The both of ya.” Bucky snarls, and they both fall silent, although you can’t help but notice their bemused smiles. After a brief, tense silence, the gangster settles back into his seat, tipping his chin upward in a nod. “Morwenna Blackthorn.”

You hesitate, glancing between the three men. They watch you expectantly, relaxing back into their respective seats. Given their status and reputation, you had to presume they were familiar with the workings of underground magic. Licenced practitioners would have clients sign lengthy documents for protection in the event of a spell or session backfiring. The Warrens did not have such luxuries—if you made a mistake, no one could protect you or them from the consequences. 

You inhale sharply, placing your hands palms down on the table. The wood hums beneath your touch, the invisible vapours of the curse tickling your flesh. With a roll of your shoulders, you exhale slowly, allowing your body to relax. 

Ink drips across your vision, swirling darkness millimetres before your eyes. You stare hard into the invisible void, searching blindly through the tendrils of smoke. Morwenna Blackthorn. Morwenna Blackthorn. Morwenna Blackthorn. Your mind hums. Through the dark fog, you can make out figures—flickers of candle flames casting large, distorted shadows. Morwenna Blackthorn. Bones crunch beneath your feet, yet at the same time, you float. Morwenna Blackthorn. Your hands burn into the table, the rotting sensation tangling through your digits, pulling you deeper. 

Morwenna Blackthorn

You can see a thin line of thread hanging through the void. 

Morwenna Blackthorn.

It is red; a series of knots tugged tightly intermittently. 

Morwenna Blackthorn.

Your fingers grasp the fibres gently, your nail hooking around one of the tiny knots. 

You tug.

Morwenna Blackthorn.

A violent, ragged gasp leaves you. It claws up your throat, ripping at the flesh. Your entire body tenses, your spine straightening as your head snaps back. For a moment, you are suspended. You can feel her with you, her ghostly fingers stroking tenderly across your skin. She smooths over the back of your hands, slowly and gradually winding her way up your arms. She clutches your shoulders, her bones digging into your flesh.

Then, with violence strong enough that you fear she has folded your spine in half, she pushes down. 

Your body instantly relaxes, head lulling downward. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, and despite the appearance being a milky white, you can see perfectly clearly. Morwenna has settled herself deep within your bones, controlling your movements like a puppeteer. You are conscious enough to understand what is happening, but you are not in control of your actions or speech.

Your mouth spread into a wide, sly smile. “Bucky, my love.”

“Mor.” The gangster greets, although he does not seem entirely pleased. You pout, leaning your elbows onto the table. 

“Not happy to see me?” You coo. Somewhere beside you, Steve shifts in his seat uncomfortably. It is the most off put you’ve ever seen the man so far. He winces as your head swings around, a wicked grin gracing your lips. “Oh, Stevie and Sam. Didn’t see you two here.”

“Mor.” The two men grumble in unison, scowling. 

“Awh. Why so glum, boys?” You whine, your chair scraping against the floor as you stand. Your movements are fluid and graceful, entirely not your own. Your hands stroke across the back of the chair, then swooshes up to meet your chest. 

You lean forward, tutting as you inspect your reflection in the glass of a nearby cupboard. “Trust you to find a pretty one in The Warrens.” 

Your hands move to unpin your mantle, a cloud of ash lingering in the air as you drop it to the floor. You sigh in relief, your fingers unbuttoning the top of your shirt, revealing the curve of your breasts. Your hands smooth down your waist to your hips; your full figure is now displayed. 

“You missed me that much, my love? That you had to find a pretty vessel for me so you could get your cock wet, hm?” You hum, sashying towards the table once more. 

“That’s not why you’re here.” Bucky replies. He seems frozen in place. The horror of familiarity. Recognising the mannerisms of someone he once knew in a complete stranger. 

You ignore his words, unpinning your hair. Thick locks unroll, cascading down your shoulders and back. You let out an exaggerated, satisfied sigh, rolling your neck. The strands frame your face, and the rich colour brings colour to your cheeks. 

“Morwenna.” Bucky snaps. Your brows furrow as you look over to him, pouting once more. “You put a curse. On the necklace.”

Your mind momentarily blanks, as if Morwenna were trying to recall what he said. Spirits often grew confused trying to recall memories, especially ones that brought them anguish. A cog seems to turn as you flash the gangster another beaming smile. 

“The necklace… oh. Did you like it? My parting gift to you? Before you fucked me over you piece of—” Your voice, once sweet and soft, deepens to a guttural growl. Your body shakes, and words cut off as you cough and hack. Your hand raises to your mouth, warm fluid leaking from your lips. You let in a shuddering breath, rubbing your fingers and palms down your chin. Blood smears across your skin. 

“You shot me, my love.” You gasp, your brows furrowing as your head tilts. “You shot me.”

“You betrayed us, remember? You were a rat—” Steve jumps in, but is quickly cut off. 

“Steve.” Bucky warns.

Your hands find your stomach, doubling over as you sob. There is no wound, no blood. Still, your hands dig at the fabric while ragged, pathetic cries leave your blood stained lips. 

“How do I break the curse?”

You shuddering sobs stop, a dreadful silence falling over the tiny kitchen. A guttural laugh erupts from you, saliva mixed with blood dripping from your lips to the floor. “The curse. The curse? I should have known… I should have known…”

Your body jerks upward, movements stiff, and jerks like a marionette doll. Sam’s face contorts into one of fear, while Steve looks horrified. You jerk forward, nearly tripping over the chair as you plunge towards the table. Your stomach smacks hard against the wood, a winded wheeze escaping your lungs as you drag yourself forward by your nails. 

“Don’t you love me? Don’t you want me?” You cry, your head beginning to twist, the angle so unnatural that it strains your neck. 

“How do I break it?” Bucky repeats, voice firm. He hasn’t so much as flinched, a wall of steel as you crawl towards him. 

“It was born in chaos, so it must be undone in chaos. I will find you. I will tear you limb from limb. I will make you rot from the inside out; maggots will grow within you; and mould will bloom in your soul. Everything will crumble to dust beneath your touch. I will ruin you until you b–b—be—”

Your body slides back, and for the first time in the entire session, you grab the reins. You search blindly for the knotted thread, tugging hard. Your body steps back from the table, muscles spasming and tense as your body locks in place. 

You tug harder, and darkness swims across your vision. Candles flicker and dance in the distance, the sun rising and falling as your body twists up and down. The smell of rot slowly subsides, threads slipping from your fingers. The scent of copper and ash is on your tongue, and your head is pounding. 

A dramatic sigh leaves you as your body slumps. You find yourself standing before the table, three sets of eyes burning into you as your own eyes roll back into place. Sam and Steve look equally disturbed as they are horrified, the blond’s mouth agape in shock. 

“The fuck was that?” Sam barks.

“I ain’t never seen a spirit session like that before, Buck—” Steve begins.

“Shut it.” Bucky barks, rising to his feet. 

There is a sickly feeling in your chest, a radiating pain across your ribcage. You barely register the gangster walking up to you, gripping your chin between his index and thumb. 

“You pulled yourself out early.” Bucky sneers. “Why?”

“Buck—” Steve calls again. With a growl, Bucky releases you, twisting around to snarl at Steve. 

“I thought you told me she was the best in the Warrens?”

“She is. Did’ya not see that shit?”

“She didn’t get me an answer—”

“Chaos magic.” You finally speak up, your voice raspy. The gangsters pause, slowly turning to face you. “She told you. It’s chaos magic. What’s born in chaos must be undone in chaos.”

Your hand raises to your face, your fingertips touching your upperlip as warm blood flows from your nose. You raise your hand into the light, inspecting the crimson liquid. Your eyes cut over to Bucky's, and he frowns. 

“Chaos magic?” He questions. 

“Sex magic.” You state, fighting the heat growing across your cheeks. Without much of a care or a flinch, you navigate your way past the group. Your shirt brushes against Bucky’s jacket, the rotting feeling momentarily settling in your stomach as the fabric brushes his breastpocket. You pause in front of your sink, knuckles white as you grip the lip. Blood continues to stream steadily from your nose, dripping into the basin. 

“You focus your thoughts on one thing; you get pulled into a trance. Take the energy, the chaos, and you focus it. At the peak, picture what you’re manifestin’. The chaos that you’ve built through the act is released at the moment of orgasm.” You explain, your gaze solidly locked onto the blood that swirls down your drain. 

“Sex magic.” Bucky hums in thought.

Steve spoke up from beside him with a snicker. “How poetic.”

—

You hated how your hands shook. If Bucky had noticed, he hadn’t brought it up. He was coolly inspecting your tiny bedroom, hands tucked into his pockets. The room had an eclectic taste, with walls covered in shelving. You collected books, objects, trinkets, or other things that helped your work. Drying herbs hung from your curtain railings, your desk cluttered with papers you had hastily scribbled notes upon. 

You ground your palm harder into the pestle, gritting your teeth as you worked the herbs inside into a fine paste. Your bed, stripped bare, had been pushed to the side of the room. It usually sat near the centre, atop a fraying rug. The rug had also been removed, rolled up, and placed somewhere in your stairway. The old wood beneath had been painted by your hand, with intricate runes, symbols, and swirls making up the general shape of a circle. You had already lined it with black salt, candles burning at each cardinal direction. At the centre of the circle, you had laid your bedding and pillows for comfort. 

Bucky had sent Steve and Sam away, the two men snickering like a pair of school boys. You all knew what was about to unfold; it was just a question of why you had allowed yourself to become tangled up in such a situation. You had done similar rituals for clients before, yes, but none of those clients had been the boss of the Smog Boys. None of them had been Bucky Barnes. 

You eyed him as he paused in front of the carved circle, mindlessly playing with the jewelled necklace that hung from his grip. The awful, dreadful, rotting sensation was dulled; you’d nearly begged the gangster to let you cleanse the object. It was a temporary relief that would wear down in a few hours, but at least you could complete your work without gagging at the feeling of it. You hurriedly poured the thick paste from the herbs into a pot, which boiled in your fireplace. It only took a couple of stirs for the potion to settle. You could feel Bucky’s eyes assessing your every movement as you poured the steaming liquid into two cups, briefly swirling each to ensure the consistency was correct. 

“Remind me what this is.” The gangster asked, closing the distance between you. His nose wrinkled in distaste at the scent. 

“A potion to help with the ritual. Some find it…hard to perform.” You say, wincing as you realise what you implied. Bucky raises a brow as you fumble over your words. “It heightens arousal and pleasure.”

“I won’t find it hard to perform.” He replies curtly. 

“I know. I wasn’t saying that—I just… from experience…” You stumble again. If only you could punch yourself in the face for this idiocy. 

“Relax, doll.” He hums, his hand finding your shoulder. You exhale sharply, lips pressed together, as your shoulders drop in response. “I can find someone else if you don’t want this.”

As much as you hated yourself for admitting it, you did want this. Maybe it was a sick curiosity, wondering if this dangerous yet handsome man could perform as well as you imagined, as well as it was rumoured. You swallow, your mouth feeling dry. “No. I want this.”

“Good.” His hand brushes a loose strand of hair from your face, and his head dips to look at you better. “Honestly, I could fuck you with or without the potion, doll.”

There is a knowing smirk spreading across his face as your mind blanks. Fucking rake. You consider if the fumes from the potion have already leaked their effects onto you both. You can feel a warmth growing between your legs. 

“It’s my job.” You mutter, stepping away. Although you’re unsure if the reassurance is for yourself or for him. His chuckle follows you as you sweep across the room, returning to your small desk. “Do you want me to explain the ritual in detail or just give you the gist of it?”

“Spare the details; just run me through what I need to do.” He responds. He has closed the distance between the both of you again, peering over your shoulder as you fumble through your things. 

“Well, it’s pretty simple.” You sigh, turning around. Your chests are nearly pressed together as you spin. You back up as far as possible, your hands moving behind your back as you grip the edge of the desk to steady yourself. "We’ll have to draw some blood with a blade and put it on the necklace to link it to our energies. It’s sigil magic, nothing you’ll have to worry about. We take the potions…”

You fade off with a shrug. Bucky smirks once more, his chin lifting in amusement, but his gaze remains solidly locked onto you. His hands go to his pockets, and his wide chest blocks your movements. You clear your throat. “The ending is more what you’ll need to focus on. When you reach… climax… you must focus all your energy on the necklace and nothing else. I will be there to guide and remind you, but you can’t let your thoughts stray.”

“What about you? What will you have to think of?” He questions, his voice low. His adams apple bobs as he swallows slowly, his tongue running across his bottom lip in thought. Intriguing question. No one had asked you that before. 

“Doesn’t matter. You’re the only one who needs to orgasm.”

“Why?”

“The curse is linked to you. Only you can break it, with my assistance, of course. I am just here to help guide you and lend you my energy. I am just a conduit for the magic, to focus it.” You explain. Thinking it was best to get it over and done with, you finally pluck up the courage to push past him. 

Your athame was already in place; the candles were lit, salt laid, and sigil memorised. There was only one thing left to do—the act. You crouch down by the fireplace, retrieving the two cups. Bucky gives you an incredulous look. 

“It tastes better than it smells.” You reassure him, handing him the saucer. He inspects the liquid once more, wincing, then shrugging in surprise as he finally downs the lot. You watch with a scrutinising gaze as he places the cup down, rolling his shoulders. 

The potion would take all of five seconds to take affect. It didn’t alter the brain or take away authority; rather, it heightened already present feelings of arousal or pleasure. The user would experience a rather euphoric sensation. Dodgy brothels often microdosed their clients with such herbs to heighten the experience. Also to hook in a new, loyal customer. Used sparingly, the herbs were fine, but they were highly addictive. 

And illegal. Most of your work fell into that category.

Within moments, you could see Bucky’s pupils dilate, his jaw and shoulders relaxing, and his nostrils flaring as he exhaled slowly. His voice was strained as he spoke up, his tone gravelly and low as he cleared his throat in surprise. “Fuck. That does feel good, doesn’t it?”

You smile shyly into your own cup and swallow down the liquid. You were familiar with the taste and it’s effects. It was surprisingly sweet, with a vanilla, nutty aftertaste. As soon as it hit your stomach, you could already feel the warmth growing in your core—a delightful tingling sensation spreading up your spine and skull. 

You were quick to place your cup down and cross the room to retrieve the athame. You had to pin point your actions very directly so as not to get distracted by the hulking man looming in your room. The potion was definitely potent, because any fear or anxiety had left you. Your body begged for him to come closer, to touch you, to kiss you. Not yet. Soon. 

“Come here.” You murmur, drawing the blade from it’s sheath. Bucky obeys, wordlessly stalking towards you and presenting you with his palm. You look up at him through your lashes, gently taking his hand into yours. Your skin sings at the content, a rush of goosebumps raising across your skin. “We don’t need much blood.”

The gangster is still as you drag the blade in a short cut along the heel of his palm. You push into the mound, coaxing out droplets of blood to blister to the surface. “The necklace.”

He lets out a low, agreeable grunt as he hands it to you. The potion has helped you ignore any bad energy attached to the object. Your skin simmers as you brush your finger tips along the cut, gathering Bucky’s blood. You take the jewel, smearing the blood across the slippery surface into one half of a symbol. Bucky watches expectantly as you hastily repeat the process with your own hand, smearing your blood to complete the symbol. 

“You need to wear it.” You hum and guide the chain over his head. You know you should find a bandage or some kind of healing salve for your hands, but your attention is pulled away as Bucky grasps your hand. An involuntary whimper leaves your throat as he raises your palm to his lips, his tongue peaking out as he runs it across the open wound. The potion had definitely taken effect. Holy fuck, your back arches as pleasure shoots down your arm, blooming at the base of your skull. 

His lips kiss along the cut, sucking and licking. Your mind swims from the sensation—ideas of where else he could be putting his mouth to use. You pull your palm away, dragging it across his cheek as you cup his face. A crimson streak is smeared along his skin, and his lips are glossy from saliva and stained with your blood. The two of you clash in desperation, a rumbling groan being pulled from the gangster as his lips engulf yours. 

You can taste copper on his tongue, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you flush against his body. The two of you move in a frantic rhythm, scarcely making room to breathe. You guide him clumsily to the painted circle, the two of you falling to your knees in unison. Blindly, you find his clothing, helping him tug off the jacket and then unbutton his vest. 

His hands slip under your blouse, caressing the skin beneath. His fingers roam to your brassiere, your nipples hardening as he brushes them through the sleek fabric. You mewl into his mouth, squirming under his touch as the pulse between your legs quickens. His large palm comes to rest below your breasts, his thumb sitting on your sternum as he yanks you backwards onto his lap. 

Your lips break, and you gasp for air as the gangster continues his assault down your neck to the exposed skin of your collarbone. His stubble tickles across your neck, and he gathers your skirts, fingers gliding past your stockings to your exposed inner thigh. 

Your head tips backwards to rest on his shoulder, and loud, satisfied sighs leave you. The sensation is near blinding, your body alight with pleasure. Had you accidentally made a stronger dose in your nervousness? You had never yearned in such a way before—

“What’re you doing?” You query with a gasp as his fingers slip beneath your loose tap pants. 

Your question is answered as he strokes a fingertip through your wet folds. 

“You’re so wet.” He hums against your skin, voice strained. You can already feel his erection pressing into you. His grip on you remains firm, your back flush against his chest as he dips two of his fingers into you. Ecstasy fizzles across your skin, nails digging into his skin where you grip his arm. 

“What’re you— I’m supposed to make you—ah!” You whine, your breath coming fast as you lean harder into him. Your hips rock greedily, pushing your pelvis in time with his pumping fingers so the heel of his palm grinds against your clit. 

“Shh, doll. Relax.” He whispers, his tongue licking up the shell of your ear. Your eyes squeeze shut, and your body is locked in place by his grip. His pace increases, and the panting in your ear grows as his two digits glide in and out of your tight cunt. 

“Do you like that?” He groans in your ear. Your grinding hips are now giving friction to his cock, which twitches against your backside through his pants. You whimper in response, a short sob bubbling from your mouth as you clench around him. 

Your head lifts, eyes widening as you look down. You can’t see much due to your skirts, but you can feel the knot tightening within your belly. Your hips move more desperately, needy, pathetic moans escaping you as his pace remains steady. 

“Please—” You beg, squirming as the gangster chuckles. 

“You do like this, huh? Even if you acted like a little innocent virgin earlier.” He growls. The vibration is enough to set you over the edge, a loud cry leaving you as you clench hard around his fingers, body spasming. Bucky continues to steadily pump you through your orgasm. “Good girl.”

A continued arousal stirs in your belly at his praise. Your body slumps against him, panting and exhausted. 

“Such a good girl.” He hums again, his digits slipping out of you. You can feel the sloppy mess between your thighs, and as Bucky pulls his hand into the light, you can see the wet drenching his fingers. “I think I like this version of you. The one who makes pretty little noises while I fuck her brains out, hm?”

You’re left speechless as the gangster lifts his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean with a devilish smirk. 

“Well, time to get this ritual over with then, don’t you think?” He says. You’re too exhausted and drunk on desire to bother replying. You allow him to guide you down, so your head is placed side-ways on one of the pillows. He guides your hips up, your legs slightly spread, and pushes your skirts to your hips. 

“You’ll have to tell me when you’re close, so I can guide you.” You finally muster up the strength to say. The gangster pulls your tap pants down, exposing your cunt fully. 

“Sure thing, doll.” He says in response. You hear the sound of fabric rustling as he pulls out his cock. 

Without much warning, he pushes into you, your arousal making it easy for his member to slide in and out of you. A growl burns in the back of his throat while you wordlessly make a fist around the sheets and blankets beneath you. 

“Fuck. You’re so tight.” Bucky groans, his voice strained. “And to think you’ve been hidin’ out in The Warrens all this time.”

He sinks deeper into you, pulling small whimpers and moans from you as he finds a steady, pleasurable rhythm. His hand slides up your clothed back, pushing you harder into the pillow with a grunt. His other hand finds your hips, his grip bruising as he guides you. 

You bite down into the pillow, your pleasured sobs muffled by the feathers. 

“You squeezed so tightly around my fingers; I can’t wait to see how you’ll feel when you come around my cock.” Bucky grunted as he ploughed into you. His hand fists around your loose hair, fingers tangling through the locks as he tugs. Tears are beginning to prickle in your eyes, and your legs are wobbling from the sensation. 

“Please—” you gasp out. 

“Please, what?” The gangster asks, tugging harder. The hand on your hip is squeezing tighter as he holds you in place. 

“Please—I need to—”

“No.” He growls, tugging you upward. You fall backwards into his lap once more, his cock still inside you but somehow deeper from the angle he holds you. “You need to finish the ritual, remember? I can’t have you guide me if you’re too fucked out to talk.”

Another sob leaves you, but you wordlessly nod. You hold onto the burning sensation in your gut, the waves of satisfaction so immense that your limbs tremble. Bucky continues to fuck up into you, his cock steadily driving into you as his free hand comes to lazily swirl your swollen clit. 

You try to remember words, instructions, anything. You feel too high to even breathe. All you can do is focus on the sensation of the necklace rubbing against your back and the friction burning against your skin. 

“Focus on the necklace. How it feels around your neck.” You squeak out, your eyes squeezed shut, as you try to ground yourself. “Focus on the feeling of the chain, the weight of the jewel. Think of your blood, how a piece of you is painted onto it.”

There is a moment of silence between the two of you, only the slapping of skin and the rasping of breath. 

“Are you focused on it?” You ask.

“Yes.” The gangster cuts back. His strokes were beginning to grow sloppy. 

“Focus.” You whisper, though a breathy moan leaves you. “Feel your energy flow; feel your blood seep into the stone. Picture how it will shatter beneath your power.”

His hips jerk beneath you, his finger on your clit swirling faster. Your breath comes in sharp stutters, your back arching as you find no way to escape the rising sensation. His back is rock solid behind you, his hands keeping you in place as you begin to spiral. Your pussy tightens around him as you begin to scream—

“Please, Bucky. Please!”

Something snaps between the both of you, his hips jerking wildly as he spills into you. He moans into your ear at a deafening level, his fingers digging into your thighs. You double over in pleasure, your vision briefly going black as you cry out. Sparks dance across your skin, your body momentarily alight as the power of magic flows through you. You can feel the rush as your energy meets Bucky’s entangling with one another in a fierce battle. For a second, you feel intoxicated, colours bursting across your sight as the rush of magic rests in your chest, and then, just as quickly as it arrived, it cascades out of you.

Behind you, the sound of shattering can be heard above the moans.  

Panting, Bucky releases you. You slump to the floor, off his lap. His cum drips from your pussy, thighs wet as sticky as you close your eyes, desperately trying to catch your breath. You roll onto your back, pressing your thighs together. Through heavy-lidded eyes, you look down at Bucky. He sits kneeling, dishevelled. His hair is ruffled, blood is still smeared along his cheek, and his shirt is untucked and creased. 

At some point, he has tucked his cock away, suspenders hanging loosely by his hips. His gaze is not on you; rather, it is solely focused on the necklace in his palm. You go to lift your head, but you find yourself too weak and exhausted to bother. A mixture of being too fucked out to care and the lack of energy from acting as a conduit for the ritual. 

“Did it work?” You ask the gangster, and his eyes finally pull up to look at you. His gaze wanders over your face, examining your swollen lips, the blush across your cheeks, and the areas where exposed skin remains. He cracks a grin, lifting his hand. The necklace dangles from his fingers, the large, blue jewel now gifted with a large crack down the centre. 

You let out a sigh of relief, letting your head fall back as you stared up at the ceiling. Your eyes flicker closed, a sleepy warmth prickling across your scalp. 

“Doll?”

Your eyes snap open with a jolt. 

“It’s all done? The curse is gone?” The gangster questions. You weakly nod in reply.

“Her spirit and whatever curse she held have been released.” You affirm, voice sleepy, relaxing back into the pillows and blankets. “Apologies. This type of spell drains me.”

Bucky chuckles. You were just glad you had enough sense near the end to actually guide him. The gangster appeared to be attempting to prove something with the orgasms he extracted from you. In the state you were in, you had little reason to complain. 

When you opened your eyes again, he was across the room, vest on and jacket slung over his arm.

“I’ll leave your payment downstairs.” He says, only pausing to look down at you, still curled up on the floor. You blink up at him sleepily. “Thanks for your help, spirit-raiser.”

You can’t find the energy to correct him.

PONY CLUB (PART 2)

[m1ckeyb3rry]

SHSHS YOU SHOUDOVE TOLD ME ABOUT THE SHITTING TYPO LMAOAOA im crying if I hadn’t gone back to read the tl myself it would’ve just sat there un-addressed forever….I was even thinking of making a master note of all the TLs I’ve had so far just to organize imagine I just copy pasted that omg…maybe I should’ve slapped it into grammarly or some spell check before hand

But FR shidou actually hyping people up when he acknowledges vs Emo Rin…

No I completely get it it’s like when you start using like a cringe term ironically and then it just integrates itself into your vocab LMAOOO I know the feeling all too well…

OMGGG guys oaeu is fr happening….wait now I’m torn past me would’ve immediately slammed the Karasu button but after our convo im not sure??? Karasu for obv reasons but wait the otoya ideas we talked abt were way too entertaining and the Nagi double date and then also aiku being like “Barou needs bitches” GUYS decisions…………………….and how could I forget our yuki prince aiku discussion too omfg

REAL lowk I see a lot of nagi hate nowadays?? Mostly the people going “haha nagi fraud” or “nagi u suck apologize to Reo rn” so errrrr I’m gonna need kaneshiro to show us the matches of other stratums pls im lowk sick of Isagi’s face I NEED to know what goes on in scenes Isagi isn’t in pls im begging (channel ur inner kaneshiro and save us please)

I’m ngl I was pretty caught up but I don’t remember anything about his backstory LMAOO based on his character im sure you’re right tho

Also WAITTT I ALMOST FORGOT ABT YUN I love him he was so cute but chigiri as yun so real….I could’ve sworn he also had a moment where people were like “you’re a dude???” Which kinda aligns with the whole chigiri “princess” thing LOL

Wait that’s actually lowk such a smart way to decide HAHAHAH lmk how the results of that go….ive seen a bunch of matchup events floating around too I hadn’t realized how popular they were

I’m not even kidding it’s a little scary how accurate your kiyora feels…like in your previous response you were like “I think I got it somewhat right?” and I went in reading it expecting it to be maybe a little off maybe more violent since that’s what you described it as and then I proceeded to read and it was just canon kiyora. Witchcraft. Kaneshiro is actually invading your brain telling you what to do.

Kiyora being kinda shy and showing his crush a more private, somewhat vulnerable side to him>>>> he’s lowk cuter than I originally thought is this a conversion moment….ill hold onto this sentiment LMAO kiyoranese has me laughing so hard I lowk see the instrument vibes but I’m ngl I think I prefer this one over the instrument…maybe also because I don’t like Kaiser as much HAHA both are so good though….

THATS ACTUALLY TERRIFYING I’m glad you both are safe bc wtf..maybe you should invest in a bottle of pepper spray jic SHEGAJ

LMAOO is the one who mouthed sorry also the one you turned down with an excuse or is this a different person (if it’s different you really have some crazy rizz aura because that was really quick work) ok but no violence is good I was reading that thinking like “wait how much of this is non fiction……”

Checking off another Mira banger off the list…excited for whatever’s next and also the oaeu….

- Karasu anon

LMAOOO no it was funny and i didn’t want to embarrass you plus i kinda forgot it once i started typing so i did not say anything i’m sorry 😩 next time i will though

YESSSS OAEU IS HAPPENING literally so hype it’s going to be so much fun plus season 2 starts soon so it’s like the perfect time to be working on it because the anime onlies are going to get into tabieitaken and aiku which is perf 🤩 LMAOO i’ve fed enough karasu content that the world is no longer starving so it’s more like bonus atp 😏 HAHA funnily enough reo was winning the poll for a WHILE there but now karasu’s in the lead again 😭 it might just be an audience bias thing though because there’s no way if you get random people from the fandom to vote they would pick karasu over sae nagi AND reo 😰 we’ll see there’s still a bit of time before the poll ends so the winner def isn’t locked in yet!! i think reo is second place atm (possibly tied w sae) and karasu is winning w barou in third but who knows how it will all play out

EVERYONE SWITCHED UP ON NAGI SOOOO FAST it’s like they all forgot who carried isagi in the second selection 😱 truly there would be no bllk if nagi wasn’t there to score 90% of team white’s goals 😭 and he was also the first to score on the u20s like i need everyone to put respect back on my man’s name 😒 he’s going to comeback TRUST and when he does everyone will start glazing again but i’ll know…i’ll remember 🙂‍↕️

YESS i distinctly remember yun being mistaken for a girl and being called pretty (he also calls himself pretty a lot iirc) so it’s literally perfect for chigiri!! maybe i have a type in the kind of media i like watching or smth the parallels are kinda going crazy

yeahhh they are surprisingly popular!! i haven’t done a ton before (one of my old mutuals did them so i think i did a jjk one and got noritoshi + choso + yuta so basically i’m pomegranate ink y/n 🤩) but i think it will be fun to see for like curiosity’s sake yk plus it might make me more decisive on who/what to write for…or not LMAO imagine i get shidou bruh i’d be at a loss for words (i don’t THINK i will but the chances are never 0 yk)

LMAOOOO that’s so good to hear i was worried i made him too extreme especially because when i answered you it had been a bit since i had finished so like the most memorable parts to me were him getting in the fight and him talking abt how he beat up the mayor’s son but i forgot he’s pretty chill for the most part in the fic!!

HAHA omg kiyoraism incoming…idt he’ll ever break into my top three (nagi karasu barou the it girls of the miraverse fr) but he’s def growing on me honestly he’s rlly sweet in his own way 🥹 no i def feel that because neither of us have ever been into kaiser + w the instrument it’s almost a less relatable story?? since the reader is a famous actress instead of a regular person…plus kaiser is the opposite of kiyora he seems chill and sweet on the outside but on the inside he’s a little off putting whereas kiyora is ready to smack a bitch on the outside but on the inside he’s just a cutie who gives people grape candy if he likes them and the latter is def a trope that i think we both enjoy more LMAOAAO

IT WAS SCARY and okay so there were actually three guys that night — the one who said sorry (he only half counts though ig because it was dubious whether we were being friendly or if he liked my best friend or me), the one who i rejected by saying i was too drunk, and the one who slid into my linkedin dms 😭😭😭 the rizz aura is a little crazy to be honest like just today i was at the library to print out my resume and a guy asked for my instagram (also was not into him alas but i did give him the insta because why not) bruh it sounds like i’m making it all up or smth but trust it’s 100% real…i’m only chronically online on the inside externally i look normal enough to be approachable ig 😩💔 HELP IF THERE WAS AN ACTUAL FIGHT I WOULD’VE CRIED luckily he just yelled at us a ton but i did use some direct quotes and paraphrases from him to really liven up the story FJFHSJSJ

ANOTHER BANGER DONE now i need to figure out which req i want to be inspired for next and get to work so we can get to the oaeu 🤩 not counting yours i have 5 left to do so hopefully i can get them out quickly!! two hiori ones, two karasu ones, and a nagi req 🤩 plus the ones you sent in ofc and then i got a req last night also for nagi but they missed the cutoff so i’ll work on that post oaeu

[whohaveibeenletting]

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Description: Circa 2013, Thor tries to get Steve involved in an Asgardian party. Instead, Steve finds a nice girl he just wants to protect.  Warnings: Oral (female receiving), loss of virginity, innocence kink, dubious consent, Steve is manipulated, Thor is not a nuanced character in this. Written largely from Steve’s perspective. Overall it is dark-ish. Disclaimer: We’re all friends here. We can acknowledge that virginity is a construct and virgins aren’t any purer than than everyone else, but it’s kinda hot to pretend otherwise.   Word Count: 4811

The water's clean and warm and green. I’m scared of getting in.

‘A true Asgardian celebration.’

That’s what Thor had described this as when he invited Steve to his home the month following Loki’s defeat. In his head, Steve had imagined alcohol, which posed no danger to him, no matter how strong. Prompted by his worst worries of Thor pulling him in to some kind of battle off world, he’d put this visit off for as long as possible, giving him time to prepare an array of excuses should he be asked to get involved in a conflict he has no part in.

He was not prepared for a room full of writhing bodies. People on their knees, their backs; everything on display. The room smells heady with wine and the mass of Asgardians sharing pleasure everywhere. He feels Thor’s hand on his shoulder, urging him towards a woman ready on the floor. Her head tilts back, her lips part invitingly.

Steve hears himself apologise to the woman in front of him. Without another word he’s ducking under Thor’s arm, hurrying out the first door he sees and trying to ignore the thunderous laughter which follows him down a long hallway.

Familiar shame floods through him. He feels the resentment in his chest, tight in his throat.

Must he always going to be the butt of the joke?

Some warning would have been nice, Steve thinks, would’ve declined more politely, if he’d given me half a chance. That poor woman, degrading herself like that for a man who didn’t even want her. His mind stays on that woman. Open and waiting. He wonders how that would have played out if he’d approached her, not that he ever would have. But maybe if he’d just let her-

Earlier, Steve had been shown a room where he’d been told he would be sleeping. When he finds himself back there, he stares at the bed and contemplates the prospect of staying the night. The possibility of Thor trying to pressure him into another rendezvous seems high.

He can’t avoid Thor. Eventually Steve will have to see him if he wants to go home. Steve doesn’t know anyone else, doesn’t have the first idea about how to leave this place on his own. Something about a gateway. Something about a bridge.

Christ, he just has to go. As soon as possible. Even here, when he’s on his own, he feels out of place. He thinks about the apartment he grew up in. It had two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a bathroom, but the whole thing was half the size of this single room meant only for sleeping. He doesn’t belong here. It was clear to him before, and it’s clear to him now.

With resignation, Steve takes determined steps towards the door when a woman rounds the corner suddenly. You just miss walking straight into his chest. He watches you reel a little, taking a couple steps back so that you can look him in the eye without craning your neck too much.

You correct yourself quickly. Hands behind your back, a pleasant smile on your pretty face. It dawns on him then that you’re a servant, dressed as the others were; a white linen dress. A sick pantomime of innocence.

“I’ve been sent to ask if there’s anything you need, Captain,”

“No,” he says sharply, feeling a little guilt when you flinch, but not enough to delay himself. “I just want to get out of here.”

“I am afraid it is impossible for you to leave without his permission.”

“Permission?” Steve barks, raising his eyebrows.

“Unfortunately,” you answer, voice shaking a little. “His Royal Highness is still occupied with the celebration. If you want to avoid that it would be best to wait until morning to speak to him.”

The morning? Steve sighs, defeated, and nods in answer.

“I apologise for any offence, Captain. But if you need anything you need only call.” You make to turn and leave, but guilt forces him to keep talking to you.

“I am sorry for being curt, Ma’am. I’m new to all of this. Where I’m from, people aren’t so...open.”

“There is nothing to apologise for, Captain. I have been told that Odinson parties can often be overwhelming.”

That gives him pause; the prospect of a like mind in this place more comforting than he’d like to admit. “You mean, you’ve never...”

“No,” you say quietly, frowning. “Well, not yet. They told me I’m supposed to start soon, actually.”

“You don’t seem too happy about it.”

You pause. Steve watches you trying to read him; trying to work out if he’s trustworthy enough to share your thoughts with. He keeps his face serious, wanting you to know that he means to listen with care. Instead, you tense. “It is an honour to serve any member of the royal household. I’m very lucky to have been gifted my position-”

“Hey, you don’t need to do that with me,” he says, smiling at you, keeping his voice gentle. You’re looking at him like a scared rabbit. Steve feels his heart swell with worry for the girl in front of him, trying to hide your distress. “If you tell me, maybe I can help.”

Suddenly, there are tears in your eyes.

“I don’t know what to do!” You cry, covering your face with your hands.

"Let’s sit,” he says, directing you to the bed in the middle of the room.

Shaking your head and wiping desperately at your wet eyes, you protest. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

When you try to make for the door, Steve grasps you around the shoulders, his determination to understand your distress intensifying. “I said to sit.” He drops down beside you, keeping close in case you try to run off again. “I want to help you. But I can’t that you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

Steve watches your fingers twist into the material of your skirt.

“It’s just that I’ve never done anything with a man.” You look up at him, your bottom lip shaking, eyelashes wet with tears. “I’m scared of the pain.”

“I’m sure Thor wouldn’t hurt you,”

“But he will!” You cry. "That’s what happens, the first time you’re there. They’ll make a game of it. Especially when they realise that no one’s ever touched me.”

“Jesus,” Steve curses, his stomach turning for this innocent girl. Your sobbing begins anew, and he places a comforting hand on your arm, rubbing his thumb along your soft skin. “I could talk to Thor. I could ask him to give you another job.”  

“There’s no allowance for special treatment. We all have our roles, and I have to take part. I can only hope someone gentle will take me first.”

Steve thinks about the room he just came from; the heady smell, the writhing bodies, the chorus of groans. It didn’t sit right with him. Experiencing it again would be torture. But this girl, pure and virtuous; you’re as hesitant as he is, if not more so. He cannot allow you to experience it without protection, without a watchful eye keeping the brutal men you describe from getting anywhere near your untried body.

“I could  make sure that you’re treated respectfully,”

“You would do that?”

“Yes. I won’t lie to you, the thought of going back to that room is not a pleasant one.” He smiles as comfortingly as possible. “But it’s important that you’re kept safe, so I’ll go back anyways.”

You look up at him. Your pretty eyes are sparkling with tears now starting to wane.

“You’re gentle,” you say, thoughtfully, hopefully. Steve sees where you’re headed, and shakes his head, trying to remain kind but firm.

“I said I wouldn’t take part in all that,” he reminds you. “And I meant it."

“You could have me now. Then you wouldn’t even have to go to the party. It wouldn’t have to happen in front of others.”

“I couldn’t, Ma’am. I’m sorry.”

“You mean you don’t want me?”

He swallows. Some deep dark part of him is screaming that he’s being a fool. This girl, he thinks, beautiful and pure. She’s offering herself yet you’re refusing her.

“You’re beautiful. Any man would be very lucky...” He makes a face, unsure how to finish. Any man would be lucky to fuck you, he thinks, feeling heat rising to his cheeks.

“It’s going to happen anyway, Captain,” you answer, your gaze running over him. A look of determination moves across your face. Then you’re moving to sit yourself on his lap, arms around his neck. “If you want me, you can have me.”

Steve almost whimpers with the way his cock is starting to ache. When you shift against him, he finds himself grasping your hips, encouraging you to grind down on his hardening cock.

He closes his eyes. He’ll allow himself just one more second before he stops you. The taste of the words he should say is sour on Steve’s tongue. I can’t. I shouldn’t. Not when you don’t have a real choice.

But your lips are sweet when you touch them to his; your touch gentle, your kiss almost chaste. When Steve looks at you again, your expression is so alluringly innocent, surprised at yourself for having done that. He wonders if you have ever kissed anyone before, his little ingénue.

You moan when you kiss him again, a little more desperate, like you’re getting addicted to the feeling. Steve sighs, bringing a hand up to your cheek. The skin on your face is unbelievably soft under his calloused fingers, and he’s desperate to find out if you’re soft everywhere. 

“I’ll look after you,” he says, giving in finally to what his body has truly wanted since he saw that woman on her knees earlier, since he saw you sitting on his bed. He runs his thumb over your bottom lip. Soft there, too. “I’ll take you gentle, doll. I promise.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, going submissively when he lies you on your back. He looks you over as he rises to his knees, hands greedily stroking your thighs, opening your body up to him.

Steve doesn’t waste time lifting the linen of your dress up to your waist, a pleased hum escaping when he finds you’re wearing nothing under the skirt. Your cunt is bare, already swollen with want. He knows that he wants you soaked. Wants you relaxed and slick before he puts his cock anywhere near you.

He throbs at the thought, tilting your knees up to your chest as he leans down to your sex. Steve breathes in the warmth between your legs, kisses the junction of your thigh softly. He hears you sigh, feels your tense body relaxing into the bed. Your comfort, your trust in him, your submission. It sends tingles down his spine.

Steve will keep you safe. He’ll keep you pleasured. And you know it.

“I need you to hold your legs open for me.” Steve watches you wrap your hands around the back of your knees for him without complaint, without hesitation. “That’s good,” he encourages, bringing his thumb to your clit and rubbing in circles. He kisses your thigh again as you gasp, watches your pussy flutter around nothing. “You ever had anybody touch you here?”

You tuck your chin against your chest and shake your head. “Never.”

“You ever touched your little bud yourself?” You remain quiet, but your head is still. You make eye contact, eyebrows pulling together as he pushes you towards release with the rough pad of his thumb, still moving in circles. Steve groans at the guilty look on your face. His cock is starting to hurt with how much he wants you. “It’s better like this, isn’t it? Better with somebody else?”

“Better with you,” you correct breathlessly. “With you.”

“Show me, then.” Steve teases his fingers over your entrance, gathering slick and bringing it back up to your bud. You mewl, jolting with pleasure when he starts circling your clit again. “Want you to come for me like this, just like this. It’ll get that little cunt ready for me, yeah? We’ll get you so fuckin’ wet. All relaxed, then I can slide right in, alright?”

You nod rapidly, letting your hips roll against his hand while he rubs at you. No breaks, no slowing down. He can feel your clit quiver against his thumb. Steve watches as your body twitches and writhes, gasping. “Captain!”

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he says, bringing his thumb to his tongue for a quick taste of you, but it’s not enough.

While you’re still jolting with aftershocks, he leans down between your legs, taking a final breath of your arousal before pressing his lips where his thumb just was, kissing your little clit and earning a shocked cry. Steve groans at the taste; sweet, salt, and woman, letting his tongue lick wide over your sensitive button while his fingers stroke over your entrance. He wants to make you cum again, so fucking bad. “C’mon,” he says, tongue tasting you from your little hole to your clit. He gives your bundle of nerves a series of kisses and licks, feeling the jolt of your thighs around his head, though you settle them back open for him like he told you. “You wanna be good for me, don’t ya, honey?”

You hum in answer, long and loud as he pushes you over the edge with his mouth, sinking his finger into you so he can feel your tightness clasp and seize around him. You’re tight, your lack of experience evident in how you grasp him, but he can feel the wetness he’s pulled from you, how relaxed you are to let him in so simply like this.

He looks up at you from between your legs. Steve watches your chest as you breathe deeply, settling into letting him play inside you, whines giving way to moans. “You want to come for me again?”

“Yes,”

“You’re gonna let me in then, aren’t you?” He asks, rubbing the pads of two fingers around your entrance before he presses both inside. “Gonna take my cock?”

“Yes! Please!”

“Just one more like this, okay? Then we’ll look after both of us.”

He watches your face as you nod again, so acquissant, so willing to do whatever he tells you. He could get used to this; his sweet girl, trusting him so completely, knowing to let him guide you because he’ll always know what’s best for you. Better than you anyway, helpless as you are. Coming in here, begging him to take your virginity. And God, he wants it. Doesn’t think he’s ever wanted anything so bad as to fuck you, to be the first man to take you. He scissors his fingers inside of you at the thought, wanting to get you ready but already knowing he’ll have to hold himself back when he’s inside.

“Captain!” You cry, digging your fingers into your thighs, hips moving for him, against him. He feels the satisfying gush of wetness against his hand and grins.

“Look at that,” he says, rubbing his fingers together to feel your slick, watch the strings of it. When he looks at you again, he half expects you to look ashamed, scandalised, confused. Instead you’re looking at his hands, his arms, his chest, breathing rapidly. When you reach his eyes, your lips open slightly. Your expression mirrors that woman on her knees at Thor’s party. 

Steve growls, grabs your hand and brings it to the top of your thighs, makes you rub your mound roughly, both of you listening to the slick sound of your wetness. “That’s you ready, isn’t it? Fuckin’ soaked for me now.” You nod, watching as he reaches to undo his belt. “Take that dress off. I want to see you when I give you my cock.”

When he finally gets a hand on himself, he almost whines at the relief. He gives his cock long, slick strokes and watches you pull your dress over your head. His eyes languish over the peaks of your chest, the feminine softness of your stomach and thighs. Steve rubs his thumb over the head of his cock, feels the sticky warmth of his cum against the pad of his finger and has a fleeting notion to make you taste it.

When he brings his gaze back to your face, he finds you staring at his cock, eyes moving with the slow pumps of his hand. “Think you can take it all? Take my whole cock in that nice little cunt of yours?”

You shake your head in earnest. Steve feels his body react to the edge of fear in your eyes now, his balls tightening in warning, forcing him to pull his hand away from himself. He has to calm down, has to settle before he gets inside you or he’ll lose his mind the second he does.

Steve sighs through his nose as he touches your thighs, opening your legs up for him again with your knees bent and feet flat on the bed. He kisses your knee gently. “You comfortable, sweetheart?”

You nod, your fingers digging into the sheets.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he tells you, settling himself between your legs and grasping his cock to gently prod at your entrance. “We’re gonna go gentle, alright? Gonna make it good for you. Haven’t I made it good for you so far?”

He feels your entrance give way to the tip of him as you breathe out. “Yes, Captain.”

Steve watches as he presses inside of you, his jaw clenching as his head is enveloped by overwhelming warmth. You’re wet enough that he thinks if he just gave one good thrust, he’d slide right in.

His cock reaches the end of you and you cry out sharply. Your hands come up to his torso, almost trying to push him away, but his cock feels so good nestled inside you good and deep. Steve can’t help himself but grasp you around the wrists and diverts your arms down over your head, holding them there with one hand. He leans over, face to face with you, watching tears pool in your eyes.

“It hurts.”

It hurts because he’s the first man inside you, the first to feel you like this. Steve moans at the desperate clench of your cunt around him. It’s torture not to move now that his cock is surrounded by tight, soft, warmth. He presses his face between your breasts, breathes in the clean scent of you; washed sheets and woman.

He squeezes your hands with his when he pulls his hips back, loosens his grip when he pushes through the resistance of your tight cunt once again. He can hear as well as feel the wetness trying to welcome him inside.

“You hear your cunt around my cock? I know it hurts, but your body wants me,” he tells you, pressing kisses up your neck as his hips start to move more steadily. “You need me.”

He thinks you answer, your response half gasp, but he’s too far gone to comprehend anyway. Steve groans into your neck as he fucks you, long and deep, his only favour to you keeping his strokes slow for now. He can feel your cunt squeezing around him, but he doesn’t care to know if it feels good for you yet. Doesn’t want to think about it when he knows he deserves to keep going even if you are in pain.

When he finally feels your legs moving to wrap around his waist, he risks looking at your sweet face again. He growls at the sight of you, your head thrown back in delight.

“Knew you’d love it,” he says, leaning up to press more kisses to your mouth. “Tell me how it feels.”

“So good. I didn’t know it could feel like this,” you whisper. “Thank you, Captain.”

Steve feels his balls pull tight at your words, his hips moving suddenly with more aggression. The push and pull, the desperate need to move in you suddenly too much for him to care about keeping himself gentle. 

“Again,” he says, teeth together, his lips pressed at the top of your cheek next to your ear. “Say it again.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

“Again,” he groans, his hand digs into your wrists enough that he just knows he’ll leave bruises in his wake. He hopes you’ll feel them throb tomorrow and think about him, crave him again. Steve brings his other hand down between your legs, playing with your clit roughly as you keen.

“Thank you! Thank you, Captain.”

His head feels light when you come, mewling while you clamp down on his cock, your cunt begging him to fill you right. Steve wants you addicted. He wants you to know that no matter who comes after, he’ll always be the one that took you best. 

You’re whimpering when the knot in his stomach snaps and he finally cums inside you, overstimulated and weak, but holding his hips tight with your legs anyway, encouraging him to keep fucking into you until he’s sated. The relief is overwhelming. Steve falls against you, burying his face in your chest again. He lets go of your wrists to wrap his arms around your waist, and your hands go to his hair. You brush through it with your fingers, petting his sweaty forehead lovingly.

Your legs are shaking around him when Steve finally pulls his softened cock free, unable to stop himself from watching your swollen centre dripping with your slick and his cum. He pulls his shirt off his overheated body, fights his trousers from his warm legs. Steve’s exhausted, but when he glances over at you again, lying ruined at his side, his tender cock jolts with interest. He curses the serum for his recovery time, knowing there’s no way he’ll be able to take you again today.

He lets himself fall beside you, sighing. Steve watches your breath even out, the rise and fall of your breasts hypnotising until you turn to look at him, capturing his eyes with your gaze. Suddenly, he’s feeling a touch ashamed. He’d lost control near the end there. His thoughts were too shameful to ever share, but you must have felt the aggression in his movements. The way he’d held you down.

“I didn’t hurt you at all?”

“No,” you breathe. “No, it was wonderful. Thank you, Captain.”

Your breathy voice sends a tingle down his spine, the reminder of what pushed him over the edge. Before he can help it his cock is swollen and pink against his stomach. Steve hums awkwardly, reaching for a pillow to cover himself when you notice. Your hands press against his chest as you sit up.

“You need further relief,” you say, climbing into his lap.

“No- I mean,” he stumbles, his cock throbbing at the thought of having your cunt around him again. “Not if you’re sore. You need to heal, right? I think-”

You breathe a low shhh into his ear, grasping his cock and bringing the red tip to your entrance. “Your seed will soothe me best.”

He watches you on top of him as you ride him, looking for pain in your expression. He finds only satisfaction, and lets himself enjoy the woman sitting on his cock for his pleasure. You don’t come again, physically couldn’t after tipping over the edge so many times already. When he fills you up one more time, you moan low and long, squirming over him like the feeling of his warm seed in your cunt has genuinely soothed the ache he’d left behind.

Afterwards, you settle back into the bed like lovers, a leg thrown over his abdomen, your head resting against his shoulder while he smooths his hand up and down the soft skin of your back. You look demure once more, shy in spite of what just happened. Your gaze shifts from your fingers on his chest to his face, hurrying away again when you find him already staring at you. Steve pauses, the euphoria of having you giving way to the dread of what you will have to go through soon.

Other men.

“I’ll speak to Thor,” he declares assuredly. “I'll tell him to keep you away from the others. That I want you to be mine only.” 

There is something strange in your gaze, then. Pity? Maybe you think it’s impossible, that nothing can save you from your fate. Steve makes to continue, to convince you, but you give a soft shhh. “Don’t speak of it, please? I want to enjoy being with you now.”

“Of course you can,” he rushes, feeling foolish now for shattering the calm that had surrounded you. “Does it...do you feel alright?”

“I feel wonderful, Captain.” you whisper, smiling at him tenderly.

“Steve,” he corrects, finally, feeling he’s enjoyed hearing you call him Captain more than he deserves already. “My name’s Steve Rogers.” You only hum in answer, settling back into his shoulder as if to rest. He realises he wants that, too. He wants to sleep here, holding you in his arms. 

He will speak to Thor tomorrow. He’ll keep his girl protected. “Hey,” he whispers, hoping you aren’t lost to him yet. “What’s your name?”

But you’re silent, already sleeping.

The next morning when you wake up, Steve is pressed tight against your back, his body overwhelmingly warm. The soft sheets, the roughness of his chest hair on your back, it’s heavenly. You think that you would be happy to settle in this very spot, never move for the rest of your life.

But you can’t. The sun is rising outside, calling you to start your day, and you must leave before the Captain wakes up. Gently, carefully, you unwrap his arm from your stomach, shifting out of the bed quietly. You wince as you stand, an unfamiliar throb between your legs which reminds you how fully this man took you. It hurts, but it brings a pleasant feeling from your core upwards. How wonderful to have been taken so thoroughly.

You stare at Steve as you dress yourself. The pleasant path his nose takes from his face, his full bottom lip, those eyelashes fanned out against the top of his cheeks. His soft blonde hair is messy from a deep, satisfying sleep, but maybe also from your time together. Your cheeks heat up.

You’re desperate to kiss him. But you don’t deserve it, not after lying to him the way that you did.  

You’re lucky he hasn’t woken already. You tip toe away from him and out the door of his room. As you walk to your destination, you avoid meeting the gaze of passers by, wondering how many in the palace will already know what transpired between you and Thor’s noble friend from Earth. There’s no shame in what you did with him, it’s as natural as breathing. But you are ashamed to think of how it happened.

When you reach the Prince’s private rooms, you’re led in by a guard who was already expecting you, and you find your Prince enjoying the mouth of another servant. You avert your eyes as he finishes.

He calls you over as the girl stands, clapping his hands in excitement. “How was your time with my friend?”

You nod, the memory sweet despite your deception of Steve. “Pleasing, Your Highness,” 

He roars a pleased laugh, slamming his hands together in a pleased clap that practically shakes the room. “I knew he’d want to feel like he was saving you from my terrible cruelty,” he chuckles. “I’m sure he liked knowing you were untouched too.” 

You don’t reply, hoping he won’t question you any further. You’re not proud of lying to Steve, of telling him that you’d be forced into attending Thor’s celebrations, that he and his comrades would treat you terribly. The reality was that it had always been your choice whether to join in; who you wanted to be with, whether you wanted to be with anyone at all. Even the choice to deceive Steve had been yours to make in the end. 

You’d idolised him from the way Thor had described him when he returned from Earth. Kind, brave, and honourable. And then to see him, as handsome as he is. 

The truth was you wanted him. You wanted him to take you first, and you would have done whatever Thor told you to do if it meant you could have him touch you.

Thor’s voice is calm when he says, “I assume he wasn’t rough with you.”

You think about Steve’s hands holding you down, and you feel the painful throb in your wrists. You’d cried out under him, but his thrusts were unwavering. It only sends heat through your core. 

“Not at all, Your Highness.”

[artficlly]

face the music (chapter 8)

Music College Marvel AU - Chapter 8

!frat!musician!bucky x !frat!musician!steve x !musician!femreader

Warnings: FLUFF, little bit of angst, discussion of past abuse, mentions of drugs/alcohol, lmk if i missed anything

Word Count: 4.8k

A/N: revenge plan is underway!! this one gets kinda heavy in the middle but i tried padding it out w some fluff. not proof read, sorry for any typos!

chapter masterlist | main masterlist

The last string of the guitar fizzles out as you move to grab your bottle of water. Practice had gone overtime and your throat was beginning to feel the effects of it. Hitting those notes over and over again wasn’t too bad, but you could feel your voice starting to strain. 

“Okay. I need a break.” You announce, flopping onto one of the couches. Steve gives you an annoyed sigh, ever the perfectionist with his chords. He had been pushing for ‘just one more try’ for the past hour. Bucky had worked up a sweat on the drums but had been compliant in Steve’s insistence to keep going. Meanwhile Sam looked at you with a thankful expression, he had been begging to leave for the past hour.

“Yup, that’s it. We’re done for the night. Wanda asked me to come over an hour ago, she’s gonna be pissed!” Sam says, unplugging his bass from the speaker with haste. 

“Come on, just one more song!” Steve pleads, you slump further into the cushions to hide. You know you’ll give in if you see his sad little puppy-dog eyes begging you. 

“You said that, like, five songs ago dude.” Sam says, putting his bass back in its stand. He looks at Bucky for back up. Bucky wipes the sweat from his forehead with a chuckle. You groan, already knowing where this is going to go.

“You and Wanda made it official yet?” Bucky asks, a cheeky grin. Sam makes an irritated noise, throwing his hands up in the air and storming out of the room. Sam and Wanda had been dancing around the ‘boyfriend-girlfriend’ thing for a few months now, apparently half your class had bets on when they would make it official. 

“I swear those two are never gonna make it official if you keep teasing them,” You tell Bucky, although you’re laughing at Sam a bit yourself. Bucky just shrugs, a sly smile still over his face. 

“Y/N…” Steve whines from across the room, dragging out your name. You sigh in annoyance, you had forgotten to not draw attention to yourself. Best way to get Steve’s perfectionism off your back was to play dead. 

“No! No more. It’s bedtime.” You plead, now fully laying down on the couch, pressing the water bottle to your forehead in a ‘woe is me’ pose. 

“Give the girl a break Steve, surprised her vocals aren’t fucked.” Bucky chuckles, you can hear the shuffling sound as he gets up from the drum set stool. “Plus, we still have to watch that movie.”

You let out an over-exaggerated groan, you had forgotten you had agreed to watch a movie with them. You enjoyed hanging out with the two of them, but you were exhausted. You had been up early to catch a coffee date with one of John’s exes, and had your piano assignment. That and the fact you’d spent half the weekend pacing waiting for the two of them to text. The two of them laugh at you as they watch you try to squirm your way out of watching the movie. 

“No thanks. I’m just gonna fall asleep right here.” You tell them, closing your eyes with a content sigh. A short silence followed and you almost felt relief. Then you heard some snickering. 

“What are you two giggling about - Hey!” You yelp as a pair of hands lift you from the couch. Your eyes fly open to see Bucky has picked you up bridal style. You squirm briefly, but his well-built arms hold you in place. Steve laughs at you as he puts his guitar in its stand, then follows as Bucky carries you down the stairs. Seemed like you were watching this movie, whether you wanted to or not.

“What movie are we even watching?” You ask defeatedly, leaning your head against Bucky’s shoulder so you can look up at his face. He doesn’t notice your gaze, his eyes focused on the path in front of him. You wonder if he can feel the way your heartbeat has picked up, the way you melt with his touch. 

“Dunno. Clint’s pick tonight.” He responds, carefully placing you onto the couch in the dark lounge. Clint is still watching his mystery sport, mouthful of popcorn as he eyes you with amusement. You thought it was some kind of gun shooting contest, but now looking at the TV it seems to be an archery competition.

“Forget how to walk?” Clint jokes, you roll your eyes at him with a huff. 

“Apparently so.” You respond sourly. 

The couch you’re on is a large L shape, and you’ve been snuggly placed in the middle corner. Grumbling, you adjust yourself into a more comfortable position. It doesn’t last long before Bucky plonks down beside you, grabbing your legs and pulling them into his lap. You don’t get to protest before Steve has sat to your other side, laying down so his head is in your lap. He beams up at you. Any desire to move or complain leaves your body. With a soft sigh, you hesitantly run your fingers through Steve’s soft golden hair. Once again you can only hope they don’t notice the way your brain stutters in their presence, how your body craves their touch.

Clint looks at the three of you and doesn’t say a word, instead turning his attention to the TV. He flicks on some uninteresting looking action movie. You don’t make a fuss, you probably wouldn’t be able to focus on any movie right now. Not with Steve practically purring like a cat in your lap and Bucky’s hands rubbing circles into your lower legs. You lean your head back on the cushion, resisting the urge to groan at the feeling of having them so close to you. 

About five minutes into the movie, Scott wanders from downstairs into the lounge. He takes one look at you, smirks, and goes to sit with Clint. You don’t have the energy or patience to ask him why. Instead, you watch as Bucky eyes Scott for a minute, you can see the cogs turning in his brain before speaking up with a sly smile. 

“How was your ride?” Bucky asks cheekily, knowing exactly what he was implying. You hold your tongue. 

“Depends what you mean, skateboarding or the guy?” Scott replies smoothly. Clint chokes on his popcorn, sending him into a coughing fit. Bucky is just smirking to himself and you hear a snort of laughter coming from Steve. Your eyes roll to the back of your head with a defeated ‘jesus christ’ muttered under your breath.

*

“Siren.” A soft voice murmurs in your ear, you groan and reluctantly open your eyes. You’re snuggled into Bucky’s side, Steve’s head no longer in your lap. You must’ve fallen asleep at some point during the movie, in the dark of the room you can see the credits rolling on the TV. 

Stretching and rubbing your eyes, you fumble around looking for your phone. 

“What time is it?” You ask sleepily. Your pockets are empty, you must have left your phone upstairs along with your bag. That or it had fallen out of your pocket somewhere in the hallway after Bucky picked you up unannounced. 

“11ish,” Bucky responds, his body is so close to yours. He’s so warm and nice smelling, you resist the urge to just fall back asleep snuggled up in his side. As you slowly come to, you realize the two of you are alone in the lounge. 

“Where are the others?” You ask confused, reluctantly pulling yourself from Bucky’s side to glance into the kitchen.

“Something about skateboarding, Steve’s gonna eat shit and moan about it for the next week.” Bucky says with a sigh. You laugh softly, shaking your head at him. Stretching your limbs out like a cat and clambering to your feet. 

“I should probably head home, I have to get up early.” You mumble. Bucky nods, standing as well with his own stretch. You consciously try to not look as his shirt lifts up a bit, revealing his toned abdomen. Instead you stare hard at the TV as the credits come to an end. 

“I’ll walk you back.” Bucky says, a laugh in his voice. You can’t tell if he’s laughing at your obviously flustered reaction to his muscles or that fact that you’re half-zoned out and sleepy. 

After collecting your belongings from upstairs, the two of you make the short walk back to your apartment. You tried to give Bucky his hoodie back from the other night, but he insists you keep it, making you pull it on before you exit the frat. The night air is chilly as always which helps in waking you up. Bucky throws his arm over your shoulders so you can snuggle into his side for warmth. 

“I spoke to Steve about what happened with Loki. I’m glad that you’re both doing okay.” You speak quietly, Bucky rubbing your shoulder through the fabric as he listens. 

“Thank you. It was strange, but yeah... We came to an agreement.” Bucky replies, you can’t help but feel like he’s dismissing the conversation entirely. Even Steve had been strangely dismissive earlier, but you had just assumed it was his usual nature of avoiding serious conversations. Bucky was different though, you always had the impression that he was the one to go to for deep chats. You frown deeply, had Steve and Loki lied to you about how it went? Was this some kind of elaborate cover-up to make you feel better?

“Why didn’t you text me this weekend?” You ask, and then immediately regret. You cringe internally and speak up to try and cover your tracks. Talk about clingy freak. “Sorry, that came out weird. I just meant that… I wanted to check in and make sure you were both okay and you never texted.”

“We uh... Didn’t want to bug you. You seemed pretty upset, we wanted to give you time to come to us first.” Bucky admits. You freeze a little. You had been worried about coming off as clingy and texting first when they had been waiting for you to reach out? Would you have been able to bypass an entire weekend of stress if you’d just grown a pair and texted first?

“Oh. No, no. I was fine. I am fine.” You explain, pausing your walk to turn and look him in the eyes. He won't even meet your gaze, staring off down the street with a hard swallow. “What is it?” You ask, worry squeezing in your chest.

“You were just… pretty freaked out when Loki yelled at you.” Bucky admits. You feel your heart drop as you pull away from him.  Bucky sighs sharply, brows furrowed as he finally meets your worried gaze. “We didn’t want to crowd you, I noticed that you don’t like people being close when you’re upset.”

You were quiet for a bit. You had theorized that Bucky had noticed all your weird flinches and worried glances, but hearing it spelt out felt like a blow to the stomach. Was your trauma really that noticeable? Did people pity you? Did he pity you? Despite the winded feeling, you keep your calm. Maybe you could just tell him, explain why you were so fucked up. It wouldn’t hurt. 

“Do you know why I get upset when people yell or get violent towards me?” You ask quietly, voice a bit strained. 

“No… but I’m sure it’s not a nice story.” Bucky says with a sigh, you watch him run a hand through his hair. He always seemed to do that when he was stressed. 

“I had an ex,” You start with a sigh. “He was handsome, kind and considerate. We met in my last year of high school, we would do everything together. All my friends joked that we were gonna get married one day, have the suburban house, the kids, everything. We moved into an apartment together, I didn’t have enough money for college so I was just getting by working odd jobs…

My dad was overseas at the time... He didn’t notice the little changes in my behavior, neither did my friends. They just thought I was some snob or too busy to hang out with them. They didn’t notice the way he spoke to me, the way he controlled every aspect of my life. I lost my job, I kept calling in sick because I couldn’t cover the bruises. I was scared of people asking questions. I lost my friends… I lost everything. My body and mind wasn’t even my own. No one came to save me and there was nothing I could do, no way I could escape. I was financially dependent on him, I had nobody… I tried going to the police and they just acted like I was crazy, like I was just some delusional girlfriend who deserved that treatment for not doing what he told me to do…

It was only because my dad dropped by one day to surprise me. He saw the bruises, the cuts, the way I was living. He was horrified, and blamed himself for not checking in on me. He helped move me out, helped me go through all the police reports, restraining orders… I lived with him for a few months before I got offered a scholarship here.”

Bucky is tense, jaw clenched. He still hasn’t looked at you, instead staring down the street with a fierce look in his eyes. All you can see in his expression is a mixture of rage and… sadness. It breaks your heart. It reminds you of the look he had on his face on Friday when he saw Loki, the way he had tried to protect Steve. Did he wish that he had been there to protect you back then? You hope he doesn’t, you hope that this information doesn’t change the way he looks at you. You hope it doesn't eat him alive, the way it eats you alive. 

“I’ll kill him.” Bucky finally speaks, voice gruff. You tilt your head, eyes studying the planes of his face, the way his skin wrinkles as he frowns, his eyebrows furrowed. 

“Many have offered. You’ll have to get in line.” You say with a nervous laugh hoping to break some of the tension. Bucky looks down at you, his hard shell cracking a bit. His angry gaze is softened as he takes you in. It was the kind of expression that unspokenly read ‘I would never hurt you’.

“Are you… okay now though? Like obviously he’s no longer in the picture but shit like that…” He sighs through his nose, concern knitted into his brows. 

“I’m better now, much better. I have a support system, I go to therapy… sometimes I do get upset about things other people don’t. But it doesn’t mean you have to worry about overwhelming me, I’ll tell you if I want to be left alone.” You confess. Bucky wets his bottom lip, nodding at you in understanding. 

“Here.” Bucky mumbles, holding out his arms. You sigh contently as you are bundled into a hug, drinking in Bucky’s scent. You feel warm, and most importantly safe wrapped in his arms, cheek pressed against his chest. You can hear his heartbeat slowly thumping away, you close your eyes listening and breathing in his scent. 

“A lot of things make sense now.” Bucky mumbles into your hair as he slowly rubs your back. You can practically feel the tension of the last few days dissolving from your body.

“Yeah?” You murmur into his chest.

“Just… in the way you act. I noticed small things but, fuck. I can’t even imagine what you went through. And to think Steve and I just put you in your nightmare situation with John…” He trails off with a sigh. 

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop blaming yourself-” You mumble your protest into his chest, trying to pull away to look at him. He just squeezes you into his chest tighter, cutting you off. 

“I know, I know.” Bucky says with a chuckle. It vibrates in your chest momentarily. “You’re one of the strongest people I know, siren. Maybe second to my mother, only because she had to raise me.”

You laugh a little at that, withdrawing from the hug with a soft smile. 

“You’re so corny.” You say with a sleepy smile.

“It’s my speciality, darling.” He replies smoothly, taking your hand in his as you walk back to your apartment. 

*

“You want to do what?” Sharon yells in disbelief. 

Some way, somehow you had convinced your friend group to meet after class in one of the practice rooms. You had spent the last two days catching up with John’s exes and organizing plans with Maria Hill. It had quickly dawned on you the size of the revenge plan you wanted to commit. Maria had done her part - gathering all the witnesses - now you had to pull through with your part. 

Sharon was sitting on one of the couches, Peter and MJ to her side. The three of them were gaping at you like you’d grown a second head. Meanwhile, on the other couch, Clint and Scott were seemingly very excited about the plan you had proposed. The two of them excitedly muttering to each other and making plans. Loki lingered by the door, looking extremely uncomfortable and huffing every few seconds. Lastly, Bucky and Steve stood leaning against the wall opposite Loki, eyeing him up and down between encouraging glances to you as you spoke. 

“Couldn’t something like that… get us expelled?” Peter pipes in, looking a bit pale. 

“Oh, come on Parker! Live a little!” Clint groans at him. 

“Hey, he’s bringing up a valid point!” Sharon growls at Clint, who just responds by sticking out his tongue at her. 

“Why am I even here?” Loki mutters from the side of the room. MJ - who now you think about it, is probably stoned out of her mind (you found her round the back with Scott before dragging them to the practice room) - looks at Loki in confusion. 

“He beat your face in, wouldn’t it be weird if you weren’t here?” MJ asks, moving her hands with dramatic effect. Scott just giggles at that, which sets Clint off into a laughing fit  and leaves Sharon scowling. You didn’t expect Clint was sober at that very moment either. 

“Touché,” Loki mumbles, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“This is not going to work.” Peter whimpers, still pale. He looks like he’s shitting himself with anxiety at just the thought of conspiring to go against the college board. 

“Oh come on Parker, grow a pair. Live a little. You’re not living under mommy’s roof anymore bud, rebel a bit!” Clint crones, leaning over the couch to try and squeeze Peter’s cheeks. MJ swats his hand away. 

You just chew the inside of your cheek, watching the scene unfold. It was a strange dynamic of people present, a mix of Group A and Group B. People who swore they hated each other, long forgotten hookups and still present crushes. Even if it was a strange combination, you trusted all the people in the room. You would’ve invited Sam too, but he was too mixed up with Wanda and Natasha, who you definitely did not trust to keep their mouths shut. 

“Peter’s right.” You start, the room goes silent as they all look at you. “We could get expelled, or suspended. If that makes you uncomfortable, then leave. I won’t hold it against you.”

The room is silent, but no one moves a muscle. You continue speaking.

“Realistically if they tried to expel us we could demand some kind of whistleblowers act since the board is taking bribes. Scott, Clint and Loki will help me with filming the interviews, making the petition and setting up the livestream. When are the rest of you free for practicing? I figured it would be best to start after the assignment on Friday?”

“Most of us are already practicing at the same time for Friday's assignment, why don’t we just organize that same schedule?” Steve offers helpfully. You silently thank yourself for insisting they came to this meeting to back you up. 

“Yeah that could work.” Sharon hums in thought. 

“When is the livestream actually going to be?” Peter pipes in. You chew on your lip with a huff. 

“I don’t know yet, it depends how long it takes to film the interviews, and then edit it… I’m going to have to write up all the documents as well…” You explain, trailing off as you try and conceptualize how long this plan would take.   

“You sure you’re not taking on too much?” Bucky murmurs, the energy in the room shifts a bit. You had noticed how weird everyone was acting around you when Steve or Bucky were around. Or if they came up in conversation. It was like everyone was walking on eggshells, like they knew something you didn’t. It seemed all Bucky needed to do was be kind to you, and the entire room acted like they knew something obvious that you didn’t. 

“It’ll be fine. I just need to know you’re all in, that you all know the risks and aren’t going to back out last second.” You say, dismissing Bucky’s worries. You’d have to talk to him later when the others weren’t watching with their knowing little smiles. 

“Think the only one you gotta worry about is Parker over here…” Clint mumbles which is met with a snicker from Scott and a death glare from Sharon. Peter seemingly had recovered from his previous fear and was looking a lot less pale.

“No, no. I’m down. I’m a feminist and all that.” Peter says with a shy grin. You fight the urge to roll your eyes at him, adorable fucker. Clint and Loki groan loudly at Peter, Scott laughing as he rubs his face as if in pain.

“Jesus.” You sigh, “Okay, okay. No more weird political outbursts. Is everyone in?” You ask, to which you are met with a chorus of agreement much to your relief. 

After a quick discussion of the time and place for the next meeting, the group quickly departed leaving you alone with Bucky and Steve. The two of them had remained fairly quiet the entire hour, you had already run the plan by them the day before. If anything, you had wanted some reassurance that you weren’t undertaking something insane before you pulled the rest of your friends into your revenge plan bullshit. 

“Do you think this is going to go okay?” You ask the two of them nervously. There was a piano in the practice room. You could feel it calling you, the ideas of smashing out some songs to relieve stress sounded appealing.

“Siren. You’ve literally overplanned, you thought of anything and everything that could go wrong. You’re going to be okay.” Bucky says reassuringly, closing the distance between you to hold your face in his hands. You shiver involuntarily at the feeling of his metal fingers brushing against your cheek. 

“I’m never gonna forgive myself if I get us all expelled-” You start, but Bucky cuts you off with a huff. 

“They know the risks, they’ve all agreed. Steve and I have agreed. It’s going to be fine.” He reassures you again. You stare up into his eyes for a moment, almost forgetting that Steve is there in the room with you. You wince as you hear him tapping the keys of the piano off tune. 

“How do you play this thing?” Steve asks with a chuckle. You look over at him with an offended expression. 

“Not like that.” You grumble, walking over to the piano. “Here, I can show you.”

His interruption felt conveniently placed, like he had noticed you eyeing the piano the past hour. You’d mentioned to Bucky before that you played to relieve stress, but you never thought he had taken much notice of your words. You take a seat on the piano stool, leaving some space and motioning for Steve to sit on the other half. He obliges, Bucky watching the both of you with amusement. 

“You press these keys.” You say, leaning into him as you show him the simple repeating tune. It doesn’t sound amazing by itself, more of an annoying repeating pattern. Steve makes a face. 

“Okay? Sorry, darling, but that sounds like shit,” Steve laughs and you kick his shoe with yours. 

“It’s only half the song, dumbass! I play the hard bit. I used to play your bit when I was like, a toddler, you’ll be fine.” You huff, beginning to play your section. Your bit is simple for you, but more complicated than a simple repeating pattern. It had some weight to it’s tune and required you pressing the piano’s pedals. 

“So when do I come in?” Steve asks, hands hesitating over the keys as he watches you work. 

“Now.” You murmur, nudging him with your elbow as you keep playing the melody. Steve begins playing his simple section, repeatedly pressing the same keys over and over to act as the second piece of the puzzle for your section. The two of you sit there for a while, Bucky observantly watching as you successfully play the song together. 

“And it just repeats?” Steve asks after some time, brows furrowed as he listens to the song. 

“Yup. It’s just something they teach kids I guess.” You say with a smile, allowing him to continue playing as long as he wants. You don’t even need to think about pressing your keys, your fingers moving like second nature. Steve is focused hard, making sure to hit the keys in time with you. 

“Huh. You actually taught Steve something. That’s new, half the time he barely had the brain cells to play the guitar-” Bucky starts teasingly only to be cut off by Steve’s death glare. 

“Shut it, Buck.” Steve grumbles, only to be met with a chuckle from Bucky.

“I’m sure I could teach you more. Get a little Beethoven in your system?” You tease Steve with another nudge of your elbow, a smile forming on your lips. Steve just shakes his head, removing his fingers from the keys. 

“No. Nope. No thank you, I’ll stick to the rockstar persona, thank you.” He says, standing to give you space. Bucky laughs at him, throwing an arm over his shoulders. You settle into the center of the seat, letting your fingers skim over the keys as you begin playing Für Elise. 

“Every pianist has to learn Für Elise, it’s like…a pianist rite of passage.” You explain, looking over to the two of them who watch you in awe. It makes you melt a bit, seeing them being so stunned by the simplest of piano songs. You wonder if they felt the same every time you gaped in awe at them. You had seen their solos before, the way they poured so much passion into their work.

“Yeah, maybe Bucky was right. That’s too many keys to press for my brain cells.” Steve jokes, you just shake your head at him and continue playing the song. It felt so peaceful, so removed from the stress you felt just moments before. You weren’t sure if it was the piano or the boys who made you feel that way. Maybe a mixture of both? 

“The assignment is in two days, how are you feeling?” Bucky asks, eyes still watching your fingers moving gracefully along.

“I feel pretty confident,” You say, smiling up at him. “Not as confident as I would with a piano piece, but I suppose I gotta take some risks.”

“That’s good.” Bucky hums, you watch his fingers trace a circle on Steve's shoulder. “I think we’re gonna ace it.”

“Really?” You ask in surprise. If anything their group had downgraded by taking you in. They were Group A, elitest fucking wannabe rockstars. You were some half-experienced vocalist who had never stepped outside the classical sphere before.

“Yeah, of course. With you as a singer? They ain’t gonna know what hit ‘em, Siren.” Bucky says. You laugh nervously at that, turning back to the piano to hide the blush spreading across your cheeks. No fucking pressure then. Bucky’s confidence in you made your heart swell a bit though. 

“Sam was talking about going out for drinks after class on Friday to celebrate. You want to join? I think Clint is throwing another party, so we were gonna use it as a sort of pre-game thing?” Steve asks. You hum in thought for a moment. All their parties seemed to end in disaster for you, one way or another. Being attacked by John or yelled at by Loki. It felt like tempting fate to say yes, but maybe you’d finally have a happy ending.

“Sure, but only if we don’t have a repeat of last weekend. How long did Bucky spend nursing you to sobriety?” You tease to minimize some of your worries. 

“Two hours,” Bucky chimes in with a chuckle. Steve shoves him lightly with an annoyed look

“You guys suck,” He grumbles only to be met with your laughter. 

Chapter 9