#maybe its not that deep but i feel like it is

[dazevi]

baby, can i? | vi x fem!reader, fluff, smut (18+ mdni) wc: 6k

synopsis: vi guides you through your first time. | masterlist

content warnings: modern au!, tiniest mention of hockey player!vi, virgin!reader/inexperienced!reader, experienced!vi, soft top!vi, needy vi, nsfw/smut; consent is sexy!!!!!!, kissing/making out, little bit of perverted vi, soft sex, fingering and oral (r!receiving) slight overstim, bit of praise kink for both reader and vi, a little sappy tbh

note: ok wait this actually is really sappy/cheesy/whatver ummm but i hope u like it (also i might be on a writers high a little bit > got a request for bartender!vi andi am very excited to write about it)

It was all innocent at first—a movie you chose playing on the TV in Vi’s apartment, her chin resting lightly on your shoulder, her thumbs gently brushing circles against your sides, and ever so often, her lips grazing the top of your head in fleeting, soft kisses. You were tucked between her legs, your back resting against her chest, and her arms were securely wrapped around your waist possessively, not wanting you to move away from her.

You were watching the movie—or at least, you were trying to.

But Vi wasn’t making it easy.

She’d been unusually affectionate all evening, her hands sneaking under the hem of your sweater to rest directly on your skin. They weren’t wandering; she wasn’t teasing you like she sometimes did.

No, this was different.

Her fingers were just there, pressed against your stomach as if she needed to feel the warmth of you. She was quiet, which wasn’t unusual when she was in one of these soft, clingy moods, but you could feel her every breath against your back, her chest rising and falling steadily. In different minutes, she would shift slightly, her legs tensing around you as if she were adjusting, but really, you knew it was just an excuse to pull you closer.

“Comfy?” she asked after a while, her voice low and soft in your ear.

“Mhm,” you murmured back, turning your head slightly to look at her.

She only smiled.

“What?” You smiled back, a soft giggle falling from your lips.

Vi shook her head, placing a tiny kiss to your shoulder, “Nothing.”

She was so close, her face inches from yours, her eyes glinting in the flickering light of the TV. There was a small smile tugging at her lips, and when she caught you looking at her, she tilted her head, her expression softening in a way that made your heart flutter.

Vi had been head over heels for you from the start, though she’d never admit how fast it all happened.

She prided herself on being smooth, confident, and a little cocky—someone who always knew how to flirt, how to charm, how to make the girls swoon. And it worked for her, for the most part. Vi had never struggled to get attention; her charm, confidence, and maybe sometimes even her muscles, did most of the talking before she even opened her mouth.

But none of that prepared her for you.

When you first started dating, Vi tried to play it cool. She told herself she’d keep it casual, keep things easy. But then you smiled at her like she’d hung the moon, and that was it. Vi fell hard—headfirst, without a parachute—and it terrified her.

She couldn’t stop thinking about you, couldn’t stop replaying every moment you spent together like they were the best scenes in a movie she never wanted to end. Every time you laughed, her chest felt too tight, like her heart was trying to claw its way out of her ribcage just to reach you. She didn’t even realize how deep she was in until one day she caught herself thinking about you in the middle of practice, her teammates yelling her name because she’d missed the puck for the third time.

She told herself it wasn’t a big deal. People fell in love all the time, right?

Right?

And that scared her more than anything. Because Vi wasn’t used to feeling this vulnerable. She was used to being in control, to calling the shots, to knowing exactly where she stood. But with you, she felt like she was walking a tightrope, one misstep away from falling so deep she might never recover. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to care.

Because as much as you terrified her, you also made her feel alive in ways she never thought possible.

And for the first time in her life, she wasn’t afraid to admit that someone else had her completely, utterly, helplessly wrapped around their finger.

And, truth be told, you’re not exactly experienced when it came to sex.

The first time you told her, it took Vi by surprise.

She had been getting touchy one day, as she always did when she was around you, teasing you with little brushes of her fingers against your skin, her lips grazing your neck as she whispered something playful in your ear. She could sense the way you tensed up, not in a way that made her think you were uncomfortable, but… uncertain.

“I—uh, I’m not really… experienced with all this,” you had admitted, your cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, eyes glancing away, as if ashamed to even say it aloud. “I’ve never… done it with someone before.”

Vi froze, her breath caught in her throat.

She hadn’t expected it—hadn’t thought that you might be nervous about something so natural to her. Vi had been with plenty of people, experienced in more ways than one, but she’d never really stopped to think about someone who was new to it all, someone who might feel hesitant or unsure. She paused, but then the softest smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she looked at you softly.

“Hey,” she said, her voice gentle as she cupped your face with her hand, guiding your gaze back to hers. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, okay? I’m not in a rush. We’ll go at your pace, baby.”

You swallowed hard, the knot in your stomach still there, but hearing her words made it feel a little easier to breathe. She didn’t judge you. She didn’t make you feel small for being inexperienced. She understood your vulnerability because, in a way, she felt it too.

“I’m really into you,” Vi had said, her voice soft but sincere. “All I care about is being with you. So, if we go slow—if you need time—then we go slow. I’m not going anywhere.”

She kept her word.

She let you set the pace, kissed you slow and gentle, her hands always asking for permission before they moved anywhere further. When you’d get nervous, when you’d pull back, she’d smile at you, brushing your hair from your face, whispering how beautiful you were, how much she liked being close to you. She was kind of shocked herself. She had the patience to listen, the kind of patience she’d never thought she’d have for anyone, but for you? She’d have it for a lifetime if you needed her to.

But god, sometimes, it was really fucking hard.

She wanted to fuck you so bad.

Vi was, above all else, just a woman—a woman with desires that had been left unchecked for far too long. Everything you did made her heart race, made her head spin. You were so fucking pretty. It was almost unbearable. Vi wanted to get lost in you, wanted to feel her lips all over your skin, wanted to explore every inch of you until she knew you as well as she knew herself.

And she respected your boundaries more than anything. She wanted you to feel safe with her, to feel cherished, to feel like there was no rush.

But god, it was hard.

Every time you turned to her and smiled that soft, shy smile, when your fingers brushed against hers so innocently, it felt like you were silently asking for more—though you weren’t. The way you looked at her sometimes, the way you held her gaze when your lips brushed against hers, made it nearly impossible to keep herself in check.

In different situations, at a party, or even just in her apartment or yours, she’d excuse herself for a moment, retreating to the bathroom or something, just to compose herself. She’d close her eyes and huff a hard and heavy sigh, shamelessly picture it all in her head until it drove her insane. Then, she’d go back to you, a bit more touchy and loving, standing even closer than before, unable to get her eyes to look away from you. She’d smile that charming smile of hers when you turn to look at her and tell you it was nothing—even though it wasn’t nothing. Not when her eyes would keep falling to your soft lips, her hands itching at her sides to touch you in places people aren’t allowed to see, and her jaw clenching at the sight of you in such a pretty dress or whatever outfit you decided to put together that day.

Vi wasn’t perfect. Sometimes, she was just someone who wanted to touch you, to hold you, to feel your body pressed against hers. Every time you looked up at her, those soft eyes that sparkled when they met hers, she couldn’t help but think how much she wanted to kiss you, to make you feel as good as you made her feel.

But she holds herself back every time. And she’s quite proud of herself, actually.

Tonight, though, something felt different.

Vi couldn’t put her finger on it, but she felt it deep in her bones. It wasn’t just the heat in the room or the way the soft glow of the TV flickered against your skin. It was the how you’d been leaning into her a little more tonight, just enough for her to notice the subtle shift in your body. And it wasn’t like before, when you’d shift away slightly or look at her with wide, hesitant eyes, unsure of the closeness.

Tonight, you didn’t do that. You leaned in closer.

Vi’s heart skipped a beat as she felt the warmth of your body pressing against hers. Her breath caught, the movie fading into the background as her attention narrowed to you. To the way your body fit so perfectly against hers. Her hand, which had been lazily resting on your waist, hands underneath your sweater, now slid lower, just a little bit—no big deal, just a gentle touch—but the way you didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away, made her pulse race. You didn’t look uncomfortable.

In fact, you looked like you were… waiting. Like you wanted her to touch you more.

Vi wasn’t one to back down from anything, but she had always been patient with you. Yet tonight, she felt the urge to push those boundaries just a little. Her fingertips slid from your waist to your hip, feeling the curve of you, the warmth of your skin beneath the soft fabric of your shirt.

Your breath hitched slightly, but you still didn’t pull away. Instead, your back arched just enough for her to notice, and your eyes flickered up to meet hers. That same shy smile of yours tugged at her heartstrings.

You didn’t seem to mind. In fact, Vi could swear there was something more in your gaze—something that matched the heat she felt rising inside her.

She could feel her chest tighten with as thoughts of you—only you—filled her mind.

She wanted you. So badly.

Her breath came out in soft, breathless whimpers, and your name—your sweet, simple name—fell from her lips like a prayer.

“Baby…” she whispered against you, closing her eyes and letting out soft sigh.

It was so desperate, so soft.

There was no mistaking the need in her voice, the way her breath quickened, the raw hunger she was trying so hard to control, to be gentle with you, but it was obvious to you now that she was practically using every bone in her body to stay patient.

You could feel it in every inch of her, in the way her hands trembled just slightly, in the way her breath hitched as shelingered just out of reach of the place you both knew she desperately wanted to touch.

She dropped her head to your shoulder, her forehead resting gently against the soft curve of your neck as if she was trying to hide her feelings, to keep herself under control, but you could feel it in the way her body tensed, in the way her hands hovered close to you, shaking with the effort of keeping her restraint. She was trying so hard to stay composed, to be gentle, but it was clear she was on the edge, barely holding it together.

She wanted you. Needed you. And her restraint was slipping away with every passing second.

“Vi…”

At the sound of your voice, so soft and gentle, Vi’s gaze snapped up to meet yours. Her eyes were wide, waiting, like she’d been waiting for this moment, for you to say something—anything—to pull her back in. She looked almost like a puppy, the look on her face soft and eager, her lips slightly parted as if she were holding her breath, waiting for you to speak again.

She searched your eyes desperately, wanting to know what you were thinking, what you wanted, because nothing else mattered more.

“I’m here,” she breathed out, her voice barely more than a whisper.

She wanted you to know she was all in—her mind, her body, her heart. She was yours. And in that moment, it felt like nothing could tear her away from you.

“What do you need, baby?” she asked, the words falling from her lips desperately. “Tell me… please.”

Vi’s breath caught in her throat the moment you turned to face her, your eyes locking with hers as if everything else in the room disappeared. The movie was long forgotten by now and for a split second, Vi forgot how to breathe. God, you were so fucking pretty. She couldn’t help but melt as you reached up to gently brush a strand of her hair from her face.

She swallowed hard, fighting the urge to let out a shaky breath as you leaned in, your lips brushing against hers in the softest kiss she’d ever felt. It was sweet, but there was something more beneath it—something deeper.

You pulled away just enough for Vi to feel the coldness of the space left between you, and she immediately chased after your lips like a starved thing, her breath coming quicker, hands gripping your waist. Every inch of her body begged for you, aching to feel you pressed against her, to get closer, to melt into you until nothing else existed. She wanted more—needed more.

And then, your voice, soft and quiet, broke through the haze of her thoughts.

“I want you, Vi…” you whispered.

Your words were soft, almost shy, but they sent a wave of heat crashing through Vi’s chest. Her breath hitched at the sound of your voice, her heart racing even faster.

It was all she needed to hear.

She was lost in you, in the way you made her feel. She melted against you, her hands roaming up your sides, pulling you closer, her lips finding yours once again. This time, it was deeper, needier. She wanted you, more than she’d ever wanted anyone before. Every kiss, every touch, felt like it was both too much and not enough. Vi pulled you closer into her lap, her arms wrapping around you tightly as if she never wanted to let go.

“Fuck,” she whispered, voice shaky, a low groan escaping her throat as she pulled you even closer, her hands cupping the back of your head, deepening the kiss.

You could feel it—the heat building low in your stomach, the wetness pooling in your panties, spreading through your body in waves with every touch of Vi’s hands on your skin. Her grip was firm, her fingers tracing the curve of your waist like she was trying to memorize you. You gasped softly as she shifted you higher in her arms. It was impossible not to react to her—the way she looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world, the way her voice dropped low and raspy when she whispered your name.

Vi couldn’t focus on anything else but you—your soft breath against her lips, your body pressed so close to hers, the way your fingers brushed against her skin. The movie was nothing but background noise now, and all she could think about how you felt, how you tasted, and how much she wanted you.

Without even realizing what she was doing, Vi pulled you closer, your legs straddling her waist. She could feel the weight of your body, the warmth of your skin, and the softness of your touch. You were everything she wanted and more, and Vi’s breath caught as she watched your eyes flicker with the same heat, the same desire that had been building for what felt like forever.

“Need you…” she whimpered, her voice low and needy, her hands already moving to settle more firmly around your waist.

She didn’t give you a moment to think before she stood up, lifting you with ease, her strong arms, muscles flexing, supporting you as if you weighed nothing, as if she’d done this a thousand times before.

You instinctively wrapped your legs around her waist, your arms around her neck, and the heat of your body pressed against hers, the way you fit perfectly, like you were made to be in her arms. She could feel your pulse against her chest, your body trembling just slightly as she carried you through her apartment, heading toward the one place that she knew would be safe—her bedroom.

Vi’s hands moved carefully as she gently laid you down against her bed, her touch lingering on your waist for just a moment longer than necessary. Her body hovered over yours, but she didn’t lean in right away. She paused instead, pulling back slightly to look at you. And god, the way she looked at you—it was like nothing else existed in the world except for you.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks under her gaze, her eyes roaming your face. Vi wasn’t in a rush now, even if her body ached for you. She could feel her heart pounding, her breath uneven as she just… stared. You looked so fucking pretty, she thought, her lips parting slightly as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

Her hands moved absently as she tugged at the hem of her own shirt, a random band tee she got on one of her birthdays, pulling it off in one quick motion and tossing it to the side without a second thought. Her toned body caught your attention immediately, and you felt your breath hitch as your eyes lingered on the taut muscles of her arms and the faint scars across her torso. But Vi didn’t even notice… not when her focus was entirely on you. She leaned back slightly, giving herself just enough room to drink you in.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, her voice barely audible, like the words weren’t meant for you to hear but spilled out anyway.

She reached for you again, her hands sliding over your waist as her thumbs brushed over your hips, thumbs tugging slightly on your shorts. Her mind was spinning, her heart hammering in her chest as she hovered over you. The reality of the moment hit her hard, making her stomach flip over and over.

Is this really happening? she thought, her hands trembling slightly as they rested on either side of your waist. Her throat tightened as she struggled to process it all. You’re really going to let me do this? You’re really trusting me like this?

She swallowed hard, her cheeks burning as her eyes roamed over your face. You were looking up at her with so much trust, and it was almost too much for her. Her chest ached in the best way, and a nervous, breathless laugh almost bubbled out of her throat. Vi was confident—she always had been—but this? This was something else entirely. This was someone she adored more than she could put into words, giving her something so special, so intimate, that she started to question if she even deserved it.

What did I do to deserve this? she thought, her mind racing. What did I do to deserve her?

Her palms grew clammy, nervous, and for a split second, she wondered if she was going to pass out from sheer excitement. Her head was spinning with a thousand thoughts—how to take her time, how to make it perfect, how to make sure you felt as loved and cherished as you deserved, as you made her feel.

“Vi,” you whispered softly, and she blinked, her trance breaking for just a moment as her eyes locked with yours.

Your breath caught as you reached up, your fingers gently brushing against her cheek. And as she dipped her head down, her lips brushing against yours in the softest kiss, you knew you were ready.

Vi’s fingers trembled slightly as they toyed with the hem of your shirt as she pulled back from the kiss for a moment. Her eyes darted between yours and the fabric she was clutching, her lips parted as though she was trying to find the right words.

Finally, she managed to ask, her voice low and almost shy, “Can I take this off?”

The eagerness in your nod made her breath hitch, and a soft, breathless laugh escaped her lips, sounding almost disbelieving.

“Okay,” she muttered under her breath, her cheeks pink and her grin wide as she tugged at your shirt gently, pulling it over your head.

“Oh, fuck,” she whispered, her voice almost reverent as her hands came to rest gently on your waist again.

And she… stared again. Here eyes traced every curve and dip of your exposed skin. Her lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out. You blushed hard as the seconds pass, squirming slightly under her gaze, biting your lip as you glanced away, feeling shy.

“Vi… Stop looking at me like that,” you mumbled, your voice soft, barely above a whisper, but Vi didn’t listen.

Instead, she laughed, lie and warm, and dropped her head to your shoulder. Her strong arms wrapped around your waist as she held you close, her breath warm against your skin.

“Sorry, baby… Can you blame me?” she murmured, her breath tickling your neck as she continued, “I’ve got the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen… looking up at me… waiting for me…”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t help but smile, even as you playfully shoved at her shoulder.

“Shut up,” you teased, though your voice betrayed the way your heart fluttered in your chest.

She smiled cheekily and lifted her head just enough to press a quick kiss to your neck, her lips lingering for a second longer than necessary. Her hands moved with softly as they slipped to the waistband of your shorts, her fingers brushing against your skin so lightly it sent shivers up your spine. She paused for a moment, as if giving you the chance to stop her, her gaze flickering back up to meet yours.

When you didn’t protest, only nodding softly with a nervous but eager look in your eyes, Vi let out a small, breathy laugh, the sound filled with both excitement and disbelief.

“Wanna make you feel good,” she murmured, more to herself than to you, and then she began to tug your shorts down your legs slowly.

Her calloused fingers grazed against the soft skin of your thighs as she worked them down. She didn’t rush, like she wanted to savor the moment, the sight of you beneath her, the way your breath hitched every time her fingers skimmed too close. She let the fabric fall to the floor before leaning back slightly, taking you in with wide, almost awestruck eyes.

“Perfect,” she whispered, her voice low and thick with emotion. Her hands rested on your knees, gently spreading them apart just enough for her to slip between your legs.

Her breath hitched as her eyes lingered on the damp spot on your panties. Her lips parted slightly, her tongue brushing over them. Her hands trembled just a little as she reached up, fingers grazing the straps of your bra.

“Let me,” she murmured, her voice low and soft.

You nodded, cheeks flushing as Vi carefully unhooked your bra and helped slide it off your shoulders. She tossed it aside, but her focus stayed entirely on you. Her gaze roamed over your tits, her hands smoothing up your sides. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your chest, then another lower, and another, her lips trailing down the valley between your breasts.

“My beautiful girl,” she whispered against your skin, her voice filled with awe and something deeper—something that made your heart race. Her kisses became firmer, needier, and you felt her nose nuzzle against the swell of your tits as she breathed you in, the pads of her thumbs softly rolling over your hard nipples.

You couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh, your fingers threading through her short pink hair as her mouth moved lower, leaving hickeys as she went. Vi looked up at you briefly, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted as though she was about to say something. But instead, she simply smiled—soft and a little smug—and leaned back in, pressing another kiss to your lips that made your toes curl.

Vi’s voice was barely above a whisper, soft and warm against your skin as her fingers toyed with the hem of your panties.

“Can I?” she asked, her thumbs hooked around the waistband, tugging gently, as though she was testing your reaction before going any further.

Her gaze flicked up to meet yours, her blue eyes searching, waiting for your answer. You nodded slowly, the movement almost shy, and Vi let out a soft, shaky breath, her lips curving into the faintest smile.

“Yeah?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly.

“Yes, please…”

She smiled and hummed, leaning down to kiss your lips softly. Her fingers moved carefully, sliding your panties down your hips and over your legs, and the moment they were gone, she tossed them aside, her eyes never leaving you.

“I love you…” she murmured so quietly as she leaned back in, her hands settling on your thighs, pushing them apart to get a better look at your pussy. “So pretty…”

She pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, her lips lingering, her breath warm against your skin. Her hands, strong but gentle, rested on your knees as she eased them further apart, creating even more space for herself.

Her lips lingered just above your skin, her warm breath fanning against you as she whispered, “You’ll tell me if you need me to stop, okay?”

You looked down at her, her face framed by the dim light filtering in, her pink hair tousled and her eyes staring with need and want, waiting for permission.

“I will,” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own heartbeat. Your fingers instinctively moved to thread through her hair, pulling her just a little closer. “I trust you, Vi.”

Vi smiled softly at your words, and the sight made your chest tighten.

“That’s my girl,” she whispered, her lips brushing your skin again, and then she kissed you, slow and deep, as her hands moved to hold your thighs, her thumbs tracing lazy circles over your skin.

Her breath hitched as her fingers dipped lower, finally brushing against the wetness that had been teasing her imagination all night. When she felt just how slick you were, her chest rose and fell with a shuddering sigh, her lips parting in awe.

“Fuck…” she whispered, her voice breaking softly as she let the sensation sink in.

Her forehead rested briefly against your thigh, and you could feel the way her breath trembled, betraying just how much she’d been holding back. You squirmed beneath her touch, your breath catching at the slow pressure of her fingers as she explored you. She looked up at you then, her eyes heavy-lidded.

“You’re so wet,” she whispered.

Her fingers teased along your folds, and when she finally slid one inside, the quiet, shaky groan that escaped her lips sent a jolt of heat through you. Your soft moan filled the room, and it sent a shiver straight down Vi’s spine. The way you reacted to her touch, the way your body seemed to move with hers—it was intoxicating. She couldn’t stop herself from curling her finger inside of your pussy, and the sound you made in response nearly undid her completely.

“Tell me how it feels,” she said softly, her eyes searching yours as her finger moved slowly, her thumb grazing over your skin. “I wanna know… everything.”

Your voice came out in a shaky breath, soft and airy as you tried to keep up with the overwhelming sensations.

“F-feels good, Vi—” you managed to whisper, your hands gripping at the sheets beneath you.

Vi’s breath hitched at your words, a flicker of pride and hunger lighting in her chest. She wanted to do good. For you. She paused only for a moment, her eyes never leaving your face as she carefully added another finger. The stretch was new, different, and it made you gasp sharply, your body tensing for just a second before melting into her bedsheets.

“Yeah?” Vi asked, her voice low and raspier now, almost shaking with how much she wanted to do this right, to make you feel good.

Her lips brush over the soft skin of your inner thigh as she fucked her fingers deeper into your pussy, curling just right. Your moans spilled out, filling the room, and Vi felt her entire body tremble with excitement.

“God, you’re so tight,” she groaned, her movements growing a little more confident as she found a pace that made your hips buck and your head fall back.

She quickened her pace, completely entranced by you. The way your face twisted in pleasure—cheeks flushed, mouth parted with those soft moans—sent a bolt of heat straight through her. She couldn’t look away.

She whimpered softly as her thumb circled your clit, drawing a sharp gasp from you that sent a wave of pride through her. But what really did her in was how fucking wet you were, the way it coated her fingers, the lewd squelching sounds filling the room with every thrust. Her mouth went dry, and her stomach flipped as she watched her fingers disappear inside you over and over again.

“Oh, fuck,” Vi murmured, her voice husky and low, almost as if she were talking to herself. “You’re so—so wet… baby, I—”

She cut herself off with a groan, unable to even form a coherent sentence, too lost in how good you felt clenching around her fingers. Her thumb pressed harder against your clit, rubbing slow circles that had your back arching and your hands clawing at the sheets.

You looked so fucking pretty, it made her head spin.

Vi’s breath was shaky as she moved her fingers faster, desperate to pull you over the edge. Her thumb never faltered, pressing and circling your clit with just the right pressure.

She leaned closer, her forehead brushing yours, her voice soft but needy as she whimpered, “Tell me how good it feels, baby. Please… I need to hear you.”

Your moans spilled from your lips like music to her ears. She couldn’t stop herself, couldn’t slow down—not when she felt the way your wet pussy fluttered around her fingers, not when she could see how close you were.

“It’s so good, Vi—oh my god, it feels so good,” you managed to gasp, your voice breaking as your hips bucked against her hand.

Her focus entirely fixated on you, on the way your body responded to her touch. Her biceps flexed with every thrust into your pussy, the veins in her arms standing out as she poured herself into the task of making you fall apart. She groaned softly as she watched her fingers disappear into you, only to reappear glistening and slick before plunging back inside. The sound of it—the wet squelch—had her nearly delirious.

“So fucking pretty like this, baby.”

Her pace quickened, her fingers curling with precision, hitting that spot that had your back arching off the mattress. Your moans grew louder, less controlled, and Vi swore she could feel your body trembling as your thighs quivered against her.

“V-Vi! I-I’m gonna… cum! Gonna cum—“

“That’s it, pretty girl,” she rasped, her lips parted as she leaned closer, her forehead brushing against your stomach. She looked up briefly, her eyes dark as she took in the sight of you. “You’re so close—I can feel it. Cum for me, yeah? Please, I need to feel you.”

And then it happened.

Your body arched, your moans spilling out in broken cries as you clenched tightly around her fingers. Vi groaned loudly, the sound guttural and needy, as she felt you come undone around her. But she didn’t stop—not yet. Her fingers kept moving, her thumb circling your clit as she worked you through every wave of pleasure, desperate to draw it out for as long as she could.

“Fuck, that’s it,” she whispered, her voice shaky and reverent. “You’re so good for me, baby. So, so good.”

Vi let out a breath, a soft sigh of disbelief, as she pulled her fingers from you slowly after she let you ride out your high, her gaze never leaving your face. Her fingers were glistening with your cum, and she couldn’t help but stare in awe. The way you looked—completely undone, lost in pleasure—had her feeling like she was floating, the reality of what had just happened still sinking in.

Blue eyes traced the curve of your body, watching the way your skin glistened with sweat. She couldn’t help it—her mind blanked, a single thought echoing through her: God, she’s so fucking pretty. She was overwhelmed, feeling like she could never get enough of you, of the way your body responded to her, how perfect you were in her eyes, like you were made just for this. Every movement, every little breath, it was all just… mesmerizing.

She brought her fingers up and slid slowly them into her mouth, her gaze never leaving you as she savored the taste of you on her tongue. Oh, fuck! She needed more. Without thinking, her hands moved quickly, spreading your thighs further apart and her voice came out in a soft, needy whisper.

“Gotta taste you… just real quick,” she murmured so quietly, you barely heard it.

A gasp escaped your lips before you could process anything else, your body already reacting before your mind caught up. Instinctively, your fingers tangled in the strands of Vi’s pink hair, pulling hard, making her groan right into your wet pussy.

This was when you learned that Violet was a messy eater.

Her tongue pressed against folds, inside of you, occasionally sucking around your clit, the feeling of her mouth, wet and needy, sent a shiver through you. You couldn’t help but notice how she lost herself, her sounds louder and messier than you’d expected—like she was devouring you. She slurped everything up and you could feel yourself dripping and soaking her bedsheets beneath you.

God, her tongue felt so fucking good. It was almost too good. Fuck, she’s so good at this.

“V-Vi—” you cried out, your voice trembling, but she didn’t seem to hear you.

You tugged at her hair to let her know you were close, that you were going to cum again, and she didn’t slow down. If anything, it only spurred her on, her mouth sucking and slurping more and more, faster and harder. You cried out, the tension building in your lower body, and before you could even process it, she quickened her pace, her hands shifting from your thighs to intertwine with yours. The way she gripped your hand made you feel like she was holding you in place, ensuring you couldn’t pull away, even if you tried.

“I-I’m cumming again—Fuck—Vi-Violet!”

With a final gasp, your body tensed, waves of pleasure crashing over you. The wave hit you all at once, and you came right on her tongue, your breath ragged, moans slipping from your lips uncontrollably. Vi held you through it, her grip on your hand tightening, her tongue slowing down on your pussy.

After a while, she finally lifted her head up and looked at you, her eyes half-lidded and hazy with exhaustion, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips. Her face was flushed, her skin slick with sweat, and her chin glistened with your cum, like she was wearing it with pride.

She moved slowly, her lips trailing up your body. Her kisses were gentle at first, but the further she traveled, the more urgent they became, each one pressing deeper against your skin, right over each mark and hickey are left behind earlier. She kissed your stomach, your ribs, each kiss a little firmer, a little more hungry, until she reached your chest, her breath mingling with the heat of your skin.

When she finally reached your neck, she paused, her breath shaky against your skin, and you felt the faintest tremor under her fingertips. Then, without warning, she was kissing you again, her lips pressing against yours with a hunger that mirrored the one she’d just left between your legs, whimpering and moaning right into your mouth. You could taste yourself on her lips, a faint sweetness that made your pulse quicken all over again.

When the kiss broke, both of you were breathless, your lips swollen and tingling. Vi pulled back slightly, her eyes heavy-lidded, a soft smile playing on her lips as she gazed down at you.

“I love you,” she said.

You barely caught your breath, the lingering aftershocks from everything that had just passed through your body.

“I love you, too,” you managed to say, the words coming out breathlessly.

Her smile softened, her gaze melting into something tender as she stared down at you.

She bit her lower lip nervously before asking, “Did I do okay?”

You couldn’t help but smile lovingly at her, your heart swelling with affection. Without a word, your hands reached up to brush the mess of pink hair from her face, the softness of the gesture grounding you both in the moment. Her hair was tangled, strands sticking to her skin, but she was beautiful—more than beautiful, especially in this moment where everything felt real and raw.

“It felt… so good, Violet… You were perfect,” you whispered.

She held your gaze, her eyes flickering relief and pride. You leaned up slightly, brushing your lips against her forehead in a tender kiss, as if to reinforce what you’d just said. Perfect. In every way.

Vi’s lips curled into a smug, satisfied smile as she heard you, and you couldn’t help but notice the gleam in her eyes—proud, almost playful, like she knew exactly what she had just done to you. Without missing a beat, she leaned down, pressing soft, teasing kisses along your neck. She let herself collapse on top of you, her body heavy and warm, her muscles wrapping around you firmly. She nuzzled her face into your neck, her breath warm against your skin, close to your ear.

“I… I’m gonna let you rest, but…” Her voice was quiet, almost shy. She paused, just for a moment, before continuing, her words sending a thrill through you, “I wanna go again...“

You looked up at her, eyes widening slightly as you tried to catch your breath. Your arms wrapped around her loosely around her neck, your fingers brushing the hairs at the back of her head. Vi sighed at the feeling, closing her eyes for a brief moment before opening them again to look at you, to plead with her eyes.

“Can we?”

That playful, confident side of her was back again, and you knew then, with absolute certainty, that you were in for a very long night.

thank u for reading :) | masterlist

[iamluzgar]

I completely disagree...

Veilguard has the following themes explored: leadership (through Rook's journey, factions, gods, Solas), corruption (of people, of gods), myths (how the myths from Thedas were changed from the original story that we now know), traumas (of losing someone, of being raised violently in a family, of losing your family, of being invaded, of being molded into a specific person, of being betrayed, of being forced to do actions you don't want to do, of duty, of accepting the past of your people), invasion and resistance (of the blight, of the Antaam, of the gods), family (through Lucanis and Taash, but also through the way Neve considers the Shadow Dragons, through Bellara), identity (through Taash, Lucanis, Harding, to an extent to Emmrich), culture (through Taash again, Bellara, but also through the way older games gave us so much propaganda about Tevinter, because they only hear about the upper classes, and we actually get to experience a bit of its culture ingame), the fake division between spirit/demon (through Solas and Spite), blood magic (through the old elven gods and Solas), old elven magic, fade, death (through Emmrich in something that specifically targets the player: "how would you like your remains to be dealt with?"), mourning (Not gonna go into that one but you know several people who die during the game), chronic illness and/or terminal illnesses, the dwarves' past and culture. I probably forgot a lot more.

Like... Does the game asks you whether slavery is wrong or not? No, but the answer to that is obvious, it event shows you slaves and it is sickening. Does the game asks you to take a stand pro/against magister? No, but the answer to that is obvious. Does the game asks you whether we should believe in Andrastian religion? No, but the whole DAI situation showed that the Andrastian church was bullshit already, we know it is, and we know how much now from Veilguard. Does the game asks you to take a stand pro/against magic? I think we're past that point now. We know magic is a nuanced topic and that mages shouldn't be oppressed for who they are. We know there are cultures and society allowing them to thrives without being imprisoned. Those aren't complex sociopolitical issues, those are things that were explored and resolved in other games with a clear yes/no question. Dorian sided against slavery, because he learnt it was bad. At this point everyone and their mother know it's bad. We don't actually need artifically made points like in DA2 where, if you help the mages, they still fuck you up to make you consider maybe they don't deserve the right to exist (I love DA2, it's my fav, but that is not a deep serious political idea).

One point very positive Point of Veilguard is its nuance to the question it was visiting during the game. Should Harding try to commit to her kindness in the face of intense general trauma, or should she accept her anger? Should Taash go towards the Qun or should she go towards Rivain culture? Should Emmrich go Lich or should he keep Manfred? Should Bellara keep her culture's past or should she keep it? Those are all question that have no good answer, because they all come with nuances, with no clear yes/no question, with happiness and possible fulfillment in all cases. Just like in real life, and it's up to you, the player, to make an arbitration of whether you would live preferably in such a way or in another way for your characters. It's a personal discovery journey of what it means to be a person, a leader, a hero, of different pasts, colors, genders, family status, traumas, duties etc. Of making a choice and owning it, for the bad and the good. Veilguard is probably one of the most emotionally mature AAA game in the history of gaming, and we're AGAIN (hello DA2) gonna have to wait 10 years before people realize it.

Like sure, it's not perfect, it's rushed, it doesn't feel like 10 years has been put into it, some stuff in gameplay, level design and UI inventory aren't right, some narration choices aren't great, their choice of focus is debatable, you can't even be a healer mage. But on the themes, thesis, sociopolitical and larger issues? I completely disagree. They also matured in their game design quite a lot in regards to open worlds, quests and its number, and little QoL things I don't remember that made me go "aaah... That's great design". It's just not how we imagined it would be. And yes, me too, I would have loved to have a DA2 in Minrathous, making havroc freeing slaves and beating the shit out of magisters with Fenris, this would have been my favorite thing. This isn't what happened, the game is still very good, it still has incredible qualities if you take it for what it is and engage with the story, the characters and the environment.

I'm realizing there are 3 types of Dragon Age fans.

1) Gamers who play latest big flashy action game

2) UwU kissy dating and besties simulator

3) Interested in the sociopolitical and theological themes and thesis statements the series is historically known for

Veilguard is not made for fan #3. It is a very pretty game that has absolutely nothing it wants to say--to the point that what it says by saying nothing is often times pretty offensive.

[writer-freak]

New years eve | Lads x reader

Characters: Sylus, Xavier, Rafayel and Zayne

Warnings: Gn reader, kissing, fluff, english isn't my first language, a bit rushed so sorry for anything sounding weird

A/n: This is something that I just wrote quickly so it's a bit short (and you can maybe notice that I have favorites), but I hope everybody is gonna have a great new year <3.

Thank you for reading and Comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated and really motivate me to write more <3

Sylus

Sylus loves going all out, and New Year’s Eve is his perfect excuse to treat you and to celebrate in style. He’d plan something amazing, like a rooftop dinner with a breathtaking view of the city lights, soft jazz playing in the background. When you arrive after putting on the dress he bought for you, he’s also dressed to impress, his usual charm is actually turned up even more if you can imagine that. With a glass in hand, he’d toast to the past year and the one that's to come, making sure you know just how much you mean to him. As the clock hits midnight, Sylus steps closer, his movements careful, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart beat out of your chest. He slides one hand up to cradle your face, his fingers brushing against your jawline as his other hand finds its place at the small of your back, gently pulling you in. Time around you seems to freeze, you can't even hear the music anymore when his eyes lock onto yours. When his lips finally meet yours, it’s like the world melts away entirely. The kiss is deep and full of passion, his lips soft yet firm as they move against yours with precision. There’s a heat to it, a pull that leaves you breathless and utterly consumed. His thumb gently strokes your cheek, adding a tenderness that contrasts with the intensity of the kiss. Time seems to stretch forever as he pours every unspoken emotion into the kiss, letting you feel how much he cherishes you. When he finally pulls back, his lips linger against yours for just a moment longer, reluctant to part completely. His forehead rests against yours as his warm breath fans across your skin. “Here’s to a year full of moments just like this,” he murmurs, his voice low and velvety, a promise that makes your heart flutter.

Xavier

We know Xavier’s the more quiet casual type, he would value the little things and meaningful traditions. He’d prepare a cozy night in, maybe cooking dinner together and snuggling up on the couch with blankets and a classic movie. When it’s close to midnight, he’d take you outside to a quiet spot to watch the fireworks light up the sky. As the countdown echoes faintly in the distance, Xavier turns to you, his eyes soft and filled with a warmth that makes your breath hitch. He steps closer, his hand rising to cup your cheek with a gentleness that sends a shiver down your spine. His thumb brushes lightly along your skin, his touch featherlight but purposeful, as though committing the moment to memory.

When he leans in, there’s no hesitation, just a certainty that this is exactly where he’s meant to be. His lips meet yours in a kiss so soft it feels like the world has slowed down just for you. The way his mouth moves against yours is unhurried, every motion deliberate and full of emotion. It’s as though he’s trying to tell you everything he feels—how much he loves you, how much he treasures this moment, and how he never wants it to end.

His free hand slides to your waist, pulling you just close enough for you to feel his heartbeat. The world around you fades away, the fireworks and cold air forgotten as all that exists is the feeling of his lips against yours. His breath mingles with yours, warm and steady, as he deepens the kiss just enough to leave you dizzy and completely at his mercy.

When he finally pulls back, it’s with a slowness, as if he's reluctant to let the moment slip away. He stays close, his forehead brushing yours as his eyes search yours, seeing the faint glow of the fireworks reflected there. A soft, almost shy smile tugs at his lips as he whispers, “Happy New Year, my love,” his voice barely audible over the distant sounds of celebration. His arms tighten around you slightly, as though keeping himself to the only thing that matters, this moment, with you.

Rafayel Rafayel’s all about fun so maybe he’d take you to a lively gathering somewhere earlier in the day but later he would probably prefer a quiet moment alone with you. As the countdown starts, he’d grab your hand and pull you away from the crowd, flashing you that smile that always tells you that he has a great idea.

As the seconds tick down, Rafayel pulls you closer, his body pressed against yours in a way that makes your heart race. His fingers dance along your sides, sending sparks wherever he touches. There’s a playful spark in his eyes, but underneath it, you can feel a the affection, a warmth that you can’t ignore. The countdown reaches its final seconds, and just before midnight, he leans in, his breath warm against your ear, his lips brushing just beside it. You can’t help but shiver in anticipation.

When the clock strikes twelve, Rafayel’s kiss is everything you’d expect: fiery, full of energy, and utterly consuming. His lips crash against yours, eager and demanding, as though he’s been waiting for this moment all night. His hands slide to your waist, gripping you tightly as he dips you, just enough to make the world tilt and spin around you. The kiss is wild and intense, full of passion and excitement. You feel his smile against your lips, and you can’t help but smile back, caught up in the moment.

For a second, you forget everything else around you, just the two of you are currently existing even the cheers are just a distant muffled sound. His hands hold you steady, pulling you back up to stand tall, and as he does, he twirls you effortlessly, lifting you off the ground before bringing you back in close, his lips lingering on yours for just a moment longer.

When he finally pulls away, his eyes are sparkling, his grin wider than ever. “There’s no better way to begin the year than with you,” he says softly, his voice filled with sincerity as he holds you even closer, his gaze locking onto yours. The distant sound of fireworks fades into the background, leaving just the two of you in this perfect moment. You’re breathless, both from the kiss and the fact that this is the man that you wish to spend your rest of your life with. Zayne

We know Zayne’s more on the quiet side, but he’s a sweetheart, so his way of celebrating is all about keeping things intimate. He’d take you somewhere peaceful, some hidden place like a hill, where you can just sit under the stars together. Sharing a blanket, you’d talk about your plans for the new year cuddled up against each other, feeling totally comfortable just being with each other.

As midnight approaches, Zayne’s gaze lingers on you, his expression calm yet something deeper behind it. He reaches for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours, as he pulls you closer gently. The world around you feels quieter in his presence, and the cold night air feels warmer somehow.

When the clock strikes twelve, Zayne doesn’t rush it. He takes a moment to look into your eyes, his gaze so full of emotion that it makes your heart skip. The softness in his eyes speaks volumes, and before you can even process it, he leans in. His lips meet yours with a tenderness that feels like the world has slowed down.

The kiss is slow and lingering, as if he’s savoring every second. It’s soft but meaningful, his lips brushing against yours in a way that makes your chest tighten. You can feel the depth of his feelings, even without the words. His hand gently cups your face, his thumb brushing over your skin with the same care that he gives you everytime. The kiss isn’t hurried, not in the slightest, it’s exactly the kind of kiss that lets you know just how much you mean to him, how much he’s already thinking about the future, and how grateful he is for you.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, both of you taking a breath as if you’ve been holding it for too “You make every year worth it,” he murmurs, his voice quiet and full of sincerity, as though those words were everything he’s wanted to say all along.

[moonlitwitchdaisy]

There’s hardly anything as challenging as trying to sleep while enduring the most excruciating period cramps you’ve had in a long time. No matter how many painkillers you’ve taken, none of them seem to work. A hot water bottle? A blanket? Those were options you’d already tried, only to realize they offered little to no relief.

Boyfriend!Sukuna wasn’t exactly someone who enjoyed physical touch—except when it came to sex. During those moments, every touch of his fingers, skin, or cock against you brought him a pleasure he had never experienced in his life.

But outside of that? Cuddling, holding hands, or other forms of physical contact weren’t exactly his thing. There were rare moments when he gave in, but only after you’d insisted long enough to make it impossible for him to endure your nagging any further.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, stepping into bed to find your body curled up under the blanket like an armadillo. Concern flickered in his crimson eyes.

“Nothing,” you replied, trembling with pain as your hands instinctively moved to massage the area below your waist, hoping to ease the ache.

“Yeah, sure. You’re a terrible liar,” he muttered, reaching out to touch the spot you were rubbing. But before his hand could land, you slapped it away.

“Fuck off, Sukuna. I’m not in the mood for your lectures right now,” you snapped, your voice trembling with pain and frustration. A single tear escaped and rolled down your cheek, one you couldn’t hold back despite your best efforts.

Sukuna saw it. And in that moment, every muscle in his massive body tensed. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was seeing you in pain. He’d obliterate whatever caused you hurt, wipe it from existence, even if he’d never admit it outright.

Your towering, four-armed boyfriend reached out, one of his hands threading gently through your hair. He marveled at how soft it was, thinking it might just be the softest thing on earth.

“Sorry.”

You turned your head slightly to glance back at him, catching his stoic expression. You realized you’d been a little snappy, but it wasn’t your fault. Pain and stress were a volatile mix, and sometimes they made you lash out in ways you didn’t intend.

Letting your head fall back to its original position, you sighed as you stared down the dimly lit corridor beyond your bedside lamp. “I got my period, and no matter what I do, the pain just won’t go away.”

His hand continued its gentle motion through your hair. “Should I grab another painkiller for you?”

“I already took one an hour ago.”

“Tea?”

“Doesn’t help.”

“Something else warm, maybe?”

“Nope.”

The hand stroking your hair paused as Sukuna considered another option. It wasn’t exactly scientific, but it might work.

Before you could close your eyes to try to fall asleep, you felt his strong arms pull you into his massive frame. His four limbs wrapped around you like an inescapable cage, holding you close. He pressed a soft kiss to your exposed shoulder, left bare by your pajama top. He loosened his grip briefly to turn off the bedside lamp, leaving the room in darkness, before wrapping you up once more.

“Sleep,” he commanded in his deep voice.

You found one of his hands, bringing it to your lips to press a small kiss against it. Then, as your eyes drifted shut, you melted into the warmth radiating from his body—a warmth that, oddly enough, seemed to ease your pain. In his arms, sleep finally came.

Boyfriend!Sukuna did, in fact, love touching you, though he didn’t always show it. But whenever he sensed you needed him, he never hesitated to wrap his arms around you, to let his lips brush against your temple. Every moment he spent holding you, feeling your presence, was a miracle he quietly cherished.

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

[vunblr]

Fangs and Spells

Pairing: Worgen!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Smut. Unprotected sex. Dirty talk. Soft-dom!Bucky. Possessive!Bucky.

Summary: Bucky, a grumpy worgen warrior, and his sharp-tongued mage partner are sent on a relatively simple quest that quickly spirals into chaos.

Word Count: About 12k.

Notes: Ok, this one is... heated, I'm sorry beforehand (not).

I’ve been playing World of Warcraft for 15 years, and even though life keeps me away, I’m always eager to return. That said, you don’t need to have played WoW to enjoy this story (though if you have, feel free to comment!).

The golden expanse of Westfall stretched endlessly beneath a bruised sky, and the faint scent of rain hung in the air. Rolling grain fields, left untended for far too long, waved like restless ghosts in the wind. To the south of Moonbrook, jagged cliffs met the turbulent sea, its waves crashing against the rocks with a rhythmic, almost hypnotic fury.

It wasn’t an inviting place, not anymore. The days of bountiful harvests and tight-knit farming communities were long gone, stolen by bandits, gnolls, and worse. The remaining folk clung stubbornly to their land, driven by defiance and desperation. And if you asked them, the worgen prowling over from Duskwood to raid the struggling riverside farms were on top of the offender's list.

Near the cliff's edge, a small clearing hosted a half-pitched tent flapping uselessly in the rising wind. A warrior with a scowl etched deep into his face knelt beside it, hammering a stake into the rocky ground with more force than was strictly necessary. Standing a few feet away, a mage held the sagging canvas taut, glaring daggers at him.

"You had one job, Buck," she bit out, exasperated as the wind tugged at her robes.

“The idiot deserved it, and you know it,” he muttered, not bothering to look up.

She let out a humorless laugh, sharp enough to cut through the whistling wind. “Oh, I know. But that doesn’t mean you had to snap in the middle of the inn. For Light’s sake, Bucky, all you had to do was keep your temper in check. We were finally about to get a decent night’s sleep. But no, you had to let your claws show.”

His lip curled, and hint of a snarl escaped his throat before he caught himself. “The bastard invited you to ‘polish his greatsword’ while groping himself under the table. What was I supposed to do?”

“Nothing! Nothing would’ve been perfect. I could’ve frozen his excuse of a dick and left him weeping into his ale. Then we could’ve stayed, and maybe even conned him into buying an overpriced healing potion for his bruised ego since there isn’t a decent merchant in this God-forgotten place. But no, you just had to make it personal.”

Bucky let out a huff, standing to stretch his shoulders. The motion pulled his vest taut, and her eyes flicked down for the briefest of moments before she caught herself and snapped her gaze back to the tent. He mumbled under his breath, “He had it coming.”

She didn’t let him off the hook. “Please. You just took the opportunity to vent because Steve sent us to kill nagas on the beach. And you hate the coast because when you shift, the sand gets into your fur and other places you don’t-”

“Okay, okay,” he interrupted, waving her off with a sharp motion and an uncharacteristic hint of color in his cheeks. “Maybe that had something to do with it. But still, the bastard deserved it.”

She smirked, pulling the canvas tighter over the flimsy frame of the tent. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, big guy.”

He huffed again, crossing his arms, fixing his eyes on the distant horizon.

“Just... remember where we are,” she advised softly, "This isn’t Dalaran or some other cultivated place. These farmers deal with the Duskwood worgens six days a week lately. They don’t believe -or care- that there’s a way for your kind to regain their humanity."

He stiffened slightly at her words. She regretted saying them the moment they left her mouth, but he didn’t snap back. Instead, he shifted his weight, avoiding her gaze entirely.

"We got lucky you only half-shifted, and the owner just asked us to leave instead of raising some kind of alarm."

“Don’t fool yourself,” he muttered. “He didn’t call on us because he knows we’re here to deal with the nagas.”

“Maybe,” she allowed with a slight shrug. “But that’s not the point.”

Bucky exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair as the first fat drops of rain began to patter against the canvas.

Her voice softened slightly as she bent to secure the last corner of the tent, though her gaze stayed sharp. “Look, I appreciate what you did in some way, but you usually let me handle this kind of thing. The last couple of days, though… you’ve been broodier and grumpier than usual, and that’s saying something. This isn’t just about the beach, is it?”

He grunted, keeping his eyes on the stakes. “You’re imagining things. Maybe you’ve just forgotten my charming personality since it’s been a month since our last quest together.”

She quirked an unimpressed brow, crossing her arms as the rain dripped from the edge of her hood. “Thanks to your charming personality, almost no one in the guild wants to team up with you unless we’re raiding. And its why Steve pairs me with you, because apparently, I can ‘handle’ you.”

Bucky squinted up at her, pressing his lips into a thin line.

“Yeah,” she continued, folding her arms tighter as her voice took on a teasing lilt. “So believe me when I say you’re ‘Buckier’ than usual right now.”

He straightened, looming over her slightly, and let out a quiet huff. “Think what you want,” he muttered, brushing past her to retrieve his bedroll from their supplies.

She wasn’t wrong, and he hated how much her observation rattled him. Worse, he hated how easily she could unravel the mask he wore, the one that kept everyone else at arm’s length. But he couldn’t explain why, not without revealing more than he was willing to.

He should’ve seen it coming. Every Gilnean, given their worgen blood, knew what it felt like, that slow-burning tension building incrementally until it exploded into something primal and impossible to ignore. His rut came like clockwork every year, and when it did, he disappeared from the radar, holed up in some remote spot until it passed. Sometimes alone, sometimes not.

This time, though, Steve had insisted the naga situation couldn’t wait. The bounty was too big, the stakes too high, and Bucky, hadn’t argued. He’d thought he had more time before his hormones kicked in. He’d been so wrong. And now? Sharing a flimsy tent with her and her sharp tongue? It was like throwing oil on a fire.

He glanced at her, and his gaze lingered longer than it should have. She was bent over the supplies, muttering under her breath as she organized their gear. The damp fabric of her robes clung to her frame, outlining curves he’d tried not to notice since… well, he couldn’t remember when it started.

He’d been drawn to her for longer than he cared to admit, though he couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it had started. Maybe it was her sharp wit, the way she never backed down from him, or the way she smiled at him when he wasn’t ready for it. Maybe it was just the way she treated him, like he was more than just a worgen with a bad attitude.

Whatever it was, it didn’t help now. Not when every glance, every stray brush of her hand, set his nerves alight and his thoughts spiraling into dangerous territory.

“You’re quiet,” she said, snapping him out of his spiraling thoughts.

“Nothing to say,” he muttered, unrolling his bedroll and laying it out on the ground.

“Uh-huh,” she replied with skepticism clear in her tone. She didn’t press further, though, for which he was grateful. Instead, she settled onto her own bedroll.

The rain drummed steadily against the canvas above them, a soothing rhythm that contrasted with the storm brewing inside him. He clenched his fists at his sides, willing the heat in his veins to subside.

He just had to get through this. The nagas wouldn’t take more than a day or two to deal with, and then he could disappear before she noticed anything was off.

He hoped.

------

Maybe pitching the tent near the treeline by the rift hadn’t been their most brilliant idea. Sure, on paper, it seemed logical, far enough from the coast to avoid naga and murloc patrols, gnoll bands, Defias stragglers, and those damn coyotes. But the coastline's wind and chill seeped through their tent's flimsy fabric, turning the night into a teeth-chattering endurance test.

It wasn’t a problem for him. His worgen nature granted him a resilience she could only envy, but she was clearly freezing. He could hear the faint clatter of her teeth every now and then, no matter how she tried to stifle it.

Both of them were awake, though for different reasons.

“Bucky,” she whispered, cutting through the steady rhythm of the rain.

He didn’t answer, hoping she’d think he was asleep and leave him alone. She knew how hard rest was for him, how much effort it took to him to conceal just a couple of hours of sleep.

“Bucky,” she tried again, her voice sharper this time. “I know you’re awake.”

He sighed, rolling his eyes in the dark. “You can’t see a thing. How do you know?”

“Pfft. Because if you were asleep, you’d be snoring.”

“I don’t-”

“Like a cute little pig,” she added, cutting him off with an audible smirk.

He pressed his tongue against his cheek, exhaling sharply through his nose. Maybe he did. How would he know? He didn’t exactly stick around for morning conversations after his usual flings, and no one had ever mentioned it before.

“Well, what is it?” he asked gruffly.

“I’m cold,” she admitted.

Oh, he knew where this was going.

“I didn’t pack for a quest in Northrend,” she continued, her tone edged with frustration, “and I’m freezing my ass off. Do your thing.”

He stiffened, dread settling low in his stomach. “It’s not that cold,” he dismissed, turning onto his side and hoping she’d drop it.

“Don’t be an ass,” she shot back, shifting to face him. “You know it is, and we could’ve been warm and cozy in the tavern right now if not for your macho display earlier.”

His lips twitched into a snarl before he smoothed his expression. “I’m not shifting.”

“Oh, come on,” she groaned, her breath puffing out visibly in the cold air. “You’ve done it before.”

“That was different, we were really in Northrend,” he grunted.

She rolled her eyes, but her voice softened a little. “I’m freezing, Buck. I wouldn’t be asking you if I did not. Please.”

Her tone made him pause, wavering his internal resistance. He sighed heavily, dragging a hand down his face. This wasn’t fair. Her scent was already messing with his focus enough, and now she wanted to press against him for warmth?

“Fine,” he ground out.

She hummed in approval as he shifted with practiced ease. He took off his vest and his bones cracked and muscles rippled, becoming larger, thick dark fur covered his body and deathly claws grew on his hands. He didn’t dare to meet her gaze as she scooted closer, curling her smaller frame into his side.

“See? Not so bad,” she murmured, her voice muffled against his chest while she poked at his snout. “Warm and cozy. You’re practically a luxury fur rug.”

His lips twitched, a reluctant smile threatening to break through the scowl he’d carefully crafted. “Glad I could be of service,” he muttered dryly.

She snorted softly, the sound more endearing than he’d ever admit. “Don’t act like you’re suffering. You’re just grumpy because I called you out.”

“I’m grumpy because I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere with you,” he retorted, but the words lacked venom.

She didn’t reply immediately, and he thought she might’ve finally fallen asleep. But then, she spoke again, quieter this time.

“For what it’s worth, thanks, Buck.”

He didn’t answer, tightening his jaw as he tried not to focus on how perfectly she fit against him. Her scent -warm and familiar- filled his senses, sending a deep, instinctual thrum through his veins.

This was going to be a long night.

------

The night dragged on, and though she moved only a couple of times, it was enough to drive him mad. Normally, her restless shifting wouldn’t have been an issue. But now, with his traitorous body on high alert and her nestled against him, it was sheer torment.

At some point, she settled in just the wrong -or perhaps right- position. Her back molded to his chest, her softer form impossibly close. His body reacted before his brain could catch up, and before he knew it, his arm was slung possessively around her waist.

And she didn’t resist. If anything, she leaned into him, her unconscious search for warmth becoming his greatest torture. When her hips shifted slightly, her rear brushing against his growing arousal, Bucky clenched his jaw so hard it hurt.

His instincts roared, the part of him tied to his worgen blood demanding he take what was so temptingly close. His hand twitched against her waist, his claws threatening to pierce the fabric of her robe as he fought the overwhelming urge to act. He bit down on the snarl building in his throat, forcing himself to remain still.

He closed his eyes, his breath was shallow and uneven as the storm outside raged on. This wasn’t him. No matter what his instincts tried to tell him, he wasn't an animal. She trusted him, and saw him as more than the beast he sometimes feared he was. He wouldn’t betray that, no matter how much his body protested.

When the first hints of dawn painted the horizon, he couldn’t stand it any longer. Carefully, he disentangled himself from her, doing his best not to disturb her sleep. He draped his mantle over her before slipping out of the tent into the cold rain.

-----

When she woke, the patter of rain against the canvas was the first thing she noticed. Then the weight of his cloak over her shoulders. She blinked, groggy, and glanced around the empty tent.

“Figures,” she muttered to herself, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Shivering slightly, she wrapped herself tighter in the mantle. It smelled like him, a mix of forest, leather, and something she could only describe as uniquely Bucky. She smiled faintly, shaking her head, and began rummaging through their supplies. He might be gruff and impossible, but he always made sure she was taken care of, and she had to admit she liked it. It didn’t take much to guess where he’d gone, either scouting or standing under a tree somewhere, brooding and keeping watch.

Meanwhile, Bucky stood at the edge of the clearing, soaked to the bone. He barely noticed the cold, his mind was too preoccupied with wrestling his instincts back under control. His claws flexed against the damp bark of a nearby tree, and he exhaled slowly. Her scent still clung to his body, haunting and maddening. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tension to leave his body.

“She’s your teammate, not your mate,” he muttered under his breath, the words as much a reminder as a warning.

But no amount of logic could shake the truth he’d been denying for far too long. She wasn’t just a teammate, not to him. And the more time he spent near her, the harder it became to ignore the pull.

------

Four times.

Four times Bucky had to jerk off and relieve himself before he felt remotely human, or as human as someone like him could feel. By the time he returned to the tent, the rain had lessened, though his damp hair clung to his forehead and his shirtless torso glistened from the early morning mist.

Inside, she was sitting cross-legged with her bag open beside her. She barely looked up when he ducked inside, muttering a gruff, “Morning.”

Her eyes flickered to him, her lips twitching into a half-smile. “Morning. Glad you shifted back; otherwise, the wet dog smell would cling to everything.” She tossed him a magic-infused bun with a wink.

He caught it with ease, biting into it harder than necessary. The faint hum of magic in the pastry soothed his body slightly, though his mind was still frazzled.

She, meanwhile, was doing her best to keep her gaze fixed on his face. The early hour and her half-awake state didn’t help, and her eyes briefly betrayed her, wandering down the lines of his scarred torso. She caught herself quickly, clearing her throat as she focused on his stubbled jaw instead.

“Didn’t sleep last night?” she asked, tilting her head as she studied him.

He almost choked on the bite of the bun. “Why?”

She arched a brow. “Well, the shadows under your eyes and your miserable face give off a certain vibe.”

He scowled, finishing the bun in two quick bites. “If only someone had stayed on her side of the tent instead of tossing around all night,” he muttered.

“Oh, please,” she shot back, rolling her eyes. “Next time, I’ll freeze myself in place so you can have a peaceful night.” She reached into her bag, pulling out a small green vial. “Here.”

Bucky wrinkled his nose, glaring at the potion like it had personally offended him. “Those taste like shit.”

“And you look like shit, so…” she replied, thrusting the vial toward him.

With a dramatic groan, he snatched it from her hand, muttering something under his breath about bossy mages.

She smirked, leaning back on her hands as she watched him grimace through the first sip. “You’re welcome,” she said sweetly.

Bucky shot her a withering look, but there was no real heat behind it. He downed the rest of the potion in one go, resisting the urge to spit it out.

“Better?” she asked, her tone laced with amusement.

“No,” he grumbled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. But the faint twitch of his lips gave him away.

-----

“Tell me again why I have to carry the bag with naga thumbs strapped to my waist?” she huffed, launching a frostbolt straight into the face of an approaching murloc.

“Because I don’t want them to rot and start reeking like shit,” Bucky replied, his tone edged with impatience. He swung his sword with brutal efficiency, sending a naga’s head flying in a clean arc. “Just keep them cold and keep moving.”

She rolled her eyes, shifting the grisly sack at her hip as she prepared another spell. “Yes, master. As you wish, master,” she mocked, her voice dripping with exaggerated deference.

“Shut it,” he snapped without looking back, slicing through another naga like it was nothing.

“What’s the matter, master?” she continued, undeterred. “Does your fluffy tummy hurt? Want me to rub it?”

His grip on his sword tightened. No. He wanted her to rub something else, and that was precisely the problem.

He growled low in his throat, shaking off the thought as he tore through another wave of enemies with grim focus. Every word out of her mouth made it harder to concentrate, and the sooner they finished this quest, the better.

For his sanity.

“Focus,” he barked, sending another naga crumpling to the ground.

She smirked but didn’t push further, summoning a frost nova to freeze the remaining enemies in place. “I am focused,” she replied with a smug tone. “Maybe you should try it sometime.”

Bucky muttered something under his breath -probably a curse- and powered forward, determined to reach the end of this hellish mission before she drove him completely mad.

-----

"I'm not carrying the head to Stormwind. I'm letting you know right now," she called over her shoulder, crouched in front of the naga commander's treasure chest.

Bucky, still looming near the mangled remains of the commander, huffed. "I figured. It's too heavy for you anyway."

With a sharp crack of bones and the sickening squelch of shifting tendons, he reverted to his human form, standing shorter and more composed but no less intimidating. He rolled his shoulders, adjusting to the familiar but always slightly uncomfortable sensation of transformation.

"Anything useful in there?" he asked, wiping blood and ichor off his blade with a rag.

“Actually, yes,” she replied, holding up two gleaming rings. “Looks like someone left us a caster and a melee ring. Lucky day.”

She tossed the melee ring to him without warning, and he caught it effortlessly with one hand, inspecting the intricate etching along the band.

“Aww, look,” she teased, holding up the caster ring. “They match.”

Bucky squinted at her, his lips twitching as if fighting back a smirk. “Great. Now we can get married and settle down in Kharanos.”

She snorted, slipping the caster ring onto her finger. “You’d last a week before murdering the drunken neighbors.”

He chuckled under his breath, sliding the melee ring onto his own finger. “More like a day. But, we’ll have enough ale even for our grandkids”

The banter lingered between them for a comfortable moment, despite the carnage surrounding them.

“Alright,” she stood and dusted off her hands. “Treasure’s looted, commander’s dead. Let’s get back to Stormwind before this starts to smell real bad, and you get extra cranky because of the sand in your ass.” He gave her a pointed look but didn’t talk back.

“Let’s see,” she muttered, already pulling a small portable mailbox from her enchanted bag to let Steve know that they had completed the quest. She tossed it to the ground, and with a flick of her fingers, it unfolded and hummed to life.

Bucky watched her intently, still coiled with tension from the fight. Every part of him was attuned to her movements, even when he didn’t want them to be.

Her brow furrowed as she scanned the glowing letter that appeared before her. “Well, that’s just perfect,” she said, tone dripping with sarcasm.

“What now?” he growled.

She glanced at him, tossing the letter into the air where it dissolved into sparkling motes of light. “We’ve got another job. Steve wants us to go to Duskwood. The guild bank is low on silver ore, and considering it’s nearby...”

Bucky rolled his eyes, letting out a low growl of irritation. “Of course he does.”

“Hey, at least Duskwood has a proper inn,” she quipped, trying to lighten the mood. “And the people there know the difference between Alliance worgen and the monsters lurking in the woods.”

Bucky wasn’t amused. He should’ve been relieved that Duskwood would be less hostile than Westfall, but all he could think about was the proximity, the enclosed spaces, and how hard it was already becoming to keep his instincts in check.

“I’ll go,” he said gruffly, his tone leaving little room for argument. “You can handle turning in the quest in Stormwind. Those fingers are going to start rotting if we don’t deliver them soon.”

She straightened, quirking an unimpressed brow. “Forgive me, illustrious master, but our guildmaster specifically requested both of us.”

“I don’t need backup for something as simple as mining,” he shot back, irritated. “I can handle a few spiders and ghouls on my own. Just go.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, shifting her as she stood her ground. “What’s with you? You’ve been extra bossy today, and for the record, I don’t take orders from you.”

“It’s not an order,” he growled, though it sounded like one. “It’s common sense. I can get the ore faster on my own, and you won’t have to-”

“What? Slow you down?” she interrupted, sharper now.

“That’s not what I meant.” He objected tiredly.

“Really? Because it sure sounds like you’re trying to get rid of me.”

He stiffened, looking away. She wasn’t entirely wrong, but he couldn’t exactly tell her the truth. How could he explain that every moment they spent together was a battle of willpower? That he could barely breathe the same air without the primal urge to claim her clawing at his insides?

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Look, I get it. You’re used to being the lone wolf -pun very much intended- but we’re a team in this one, and we’re going to Duskwood together. Got it?”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, dropping his gaze to the ground. He wanted to argue, to push her away for her own good, but the look in her eyes stopped him, he know it very well. She wasn’t bending.

“Fine,” he ground out, strained. “But don’t slow me down.”

Her lips twitched into a smirk. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

As they packed up their supplies and prepared for the journey, Bucky tried to focus on the task ahead, but the tension between them only grew thicker. It was going to be a long trip, and he wasn’t sure if he’d survive it with his sanity intact.

----

The woods were eerily alive tonight, the undergrowth teeming with movement that set her nerves on edge. It was impossible to traverse the area without skirmishing at nearly every turn, and the battered remnants of giant spider corpses littered the path behind them.

“Isn’t it good I came with you?” she asked, flicking a small flame spell at a particularly persistent arthropod. Its charred remains crumpled into ash as she adjusted her grip on her staff.

Bucky grunted in response, non-concomitantly, as he crouched by a silver deposit. He picked effortlessly loosening the ore, and the metal glowed faintly in the dim light filtering through the canopy.

“You’re welcome,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

“Did you say something?”

“Nope.” She smirked, but her amusement faded quickly as a chill ran down her spine. Her hand tightened on her staff, and she scanned the treeline, feeling the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. “Uh, Buck…”

“What?” he asked, not bothering to look up. “You finally get tired of spiders?”

“Not exactly.”

Something in her voice made him pause. Straightening, he turned to follow her gaze, and his stomach dropped. Emerging from the shadows was a pack of worgens, their eyes were gleaming with a feral hunger that set his instincts ablaze.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, his body shifting almost instinctively. Bones cracked, muscles bulged, and fur erupted as he transformed into his worgen form.

The pack hesitated. He was larger than any of them, and his presence was enough to make a few step back, flattening their ears in uncertainty. But they didn’t retreat. They circled, growling low in their throats, a guttural sound that echoed in the damp night air.

For a long moment, nothing happened. Both sides stood frozen, staring at each other down as if weighing the odds. Low growls and deep, guttural sounds passed between Bucky and the pack, an exchange she couldn’t interpret but that felt loaded with meaning.

She took a cautious step back, and her staff glowed faintly in her hand, though she doubted it would be much use if this went south. “Okay,” she muttered under her breath, “It’s kind of rude, you know. Everyone knows what’s happening but me.”

Bucky didn’t respond, his focus was locked on the pack. He deepened his growl, and the sound reverberated through his chest as his claws flexed at his sides. Whatever language they were speaking, it wasn’t friendly.

She tightened her grip on her staff. “If this is one of those ‘dominance’ things, can we skip to the part where they back down?”

Bucky shot her a brief glance. His glowing eyes were so intense that they sent a shiver through her body. “Stay behind me,” he growled, his voice barely human.

“Oh, believe me, I’m not going anywhere,” she replied, with both sarcasm and genuine unease.

The standoff continued, and the tension was so thick it was almost suffocating. She could feel it in the air, the raw, primal energy radiating from the pack and Bucky himself. She hated to admit it, but even now, amid danger, she couldn’t help but notice the sheer power and command he exuded.

“Any time you want to scare them off would be great,” she quipped nervously, keeping her eyes on the pack.

“I’m working on it,” he rumbled sharply.

The tension in the clearing was suffocating, the pack of worgens circled closer, their growls vibrating threatening in the air. Before she could react, Bucky’s paw encircled her wrist, and he pulled her roughly in front of him.

“W-what?” she gasped, wide-eyed as she looked up at him.

His snout was so close, and his voice was a low, urgent rumble when he asked. “You trust me?”

“Always,” she whispered.

“Alright,” he muttered. Without another word, he leaned down and licked a slow, deliberate stripe along her neck, never breaking his gaze from the pack.

“Buc-” she started, her voice faltering.

“Moan,” he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“What?”

“Just do it. Like you mean it,” he commanded, tightening his grip slightly on her wrist.

Heat rushed to her cheeks as she let out a soft, breathy sound, tilting her head slightly, while her voice trembled with a mix of nerves and compliance.

The pack hesitated, as they exchanged uneasy glances. Bucky growled low and deep, as his free hand moved to the nape of her neck, guiding her downward on her knees with surprising gentleness for the intensity of the moment.

She frowned. “What are you-”

“Rut season,” he growled under his breath, lips close to her ear. “They want to fuck you, and I’m showing them you’re mine.”

Her stomach dropped, and her breath caught as his words sank into her brain. “Oh my god,” she whispered, half in disbelief.

“So, unless you want some fun with those boys,” he continued, dangerously calm, “you’re going to play along.”

Before she could respond, he pushed her neck lower, bending her slightly as he positioned himself behind her. She could feel the warmth of his body, and the weight of his presence almost overwhelmed her as he pressed closer.

His hand brushed the hem of her robe, lifting it just enough to expose the curve of her thighs. Her breath hitched as she realized what he was doing. She wanted to throw him a dirty joke to decompress, protest, or say something, but the gravity of the situation kept her rooted in place.

Bucky hunched over her, his chest brushing against her back as he growled at the pack, sounding primal and territorial, and -oh light- he started to pound and grind against her. His movements were deliberate, and calculated, mimicking the act with enough realism to leave no doubt in the pack’s minds.

“They don’t see much detail from here,” he murmured, his voice low and rough as he panted near her ear. “But it would be wise to show them some… engagement. If you know what I mean.”

The low growls of the pack echoed through the clearing, but they faded into the background as she cast her scruples aside, letting out soft moans and whimpers every time his hips connected with her rear. It was humiliating, sure, but the situation demanded it. Every sound she made seemed to amplify the tension in the air.

Bucky was a storm of barely restrained chaos. Each time their bodies connected, the friction sent a jolt through his body, and it was becoming impossible to ignore the painful erection straining against his pants. He bit back a growl, trying to focus on the task at hand instead of the fact that she could feel every inch of his leaking cock pressing against her.

The pack’s growls began to falter, their aggression giving way to hesitation. But Bucky’s protective instincts burned hotter. The violent intent in their stares toward his mage had his blood boiling. He wanted to tear them, to rip them apart for daring to covet what wasn’t theirs.

And yet, another fire was burning in him, one far more dangerous.

The charade, though necessary, was pushing him to his limit. Her body pressed against his, her soft sounds filling the air, and the scent of her arousal cutting through the damp forest air, it was killing him.

Oh, he noticed.

He noticed how her movements became less stiff, how her breaths quickened with something more than nerves, and how the sounds escaping her lips grew more authentic and less forced.

And she noticed too.

The undeniable hardness grinding and slapping against her clothed pussy was impossible to ignore, and she hated the way her body reacted. Her cheeks burned with the realization of the slickness beginning to gather between her thighs. And worse, she knew he could smell it.

Bucky flexed his claws at her waist, tightening his grip momentarily as a low growl rumbled in his chest. “That’s it,” he murmured darkly but oddly reassuring. “Just a little longer. They’re starting to get the message.”

Bucky inhaled deeply, and his eyes fluttered shut momentarily as her scent overwhelmed him. When he opened them again, they were sharp, glowing faintly in the dim light of the forest. His voice was strained, low, and almost trembling with the effort it took to speak clearly.

“Listen,” he panted, each word carrying the weight of his struggle. “These bastards are going to retreat, and when they do… I need you to cast Frost Nova. On me. And run.”

“What?” she gasped, twisting slightly to look back at him. “Are you insane? I’m not doing that!”

His grip on her waist tightened, claws grazing her robes but not piercing. His jaw clenched as he forced himself to speak through the haze clouding his mind. “I don’t want to hurt you. But I don’t trust myself right now. All I can think about is ripping off that damn underwear and stop this charade.”

Her breath hitched at his words, and her cheeks heated anew.

“But Bucky-” she began, unsure.

“By the Light, woman,” he growled, cutting her off, “Can’t you, just once, do what I say without questioning me?”

The desperation in his voice was unmistakable now, and she froze, torn between the rising fear of what he might do and the unwavering trust she’d always had in him. Her lips pressed into a thin line as her mind raced.

“Alright,” she said finally, not sounding very convinced.

His response was a guttural snarl, but the tension in his body eased, just slightly. “I’ll be fine,” he bit out, though the way his claws flexed told her he was barely holding himself together.

The pack lingered, their yellowed eyes glinted with hesitation as Bucky’s sharp, murderous gaze bore into them. Every roll of his hips against her, every growl rumbling in his chest, was a clear message: she was his, and they had no claim here.

He let out a guttural snarl of finality, slowing his movements until he stopped, and she played along, meowling and whimpering in reaction to his fake release. He leaned forward, almost covering her body entirely with his, growling more menacing than ever before.

Eventually, the tension broke as the pack, deterred by his dominance, slunk back into the shadows of the woods.

After a couple of minutes that seemed like an eternity, he reluctantly moved backward. “Do it,” he commanded, edged with desperation.

For a moment, she froze. She could feel his body trembling against hers, not just from exertion but from the monumental effort it took for him to hold himself back. His claws dug slightly into her sides, not enough to hurt but enough to remind her of how close he was to losing control.

“Now,” he barked, sharp and low.

Swallowing hard, she pushed herself away from him, forcing herself not to look back. With a quick flick of her wrist, she channeled her magic, releasing a Frost Nova that erupted in a ring of ice around him. The spell worked instantly, freezing his limbs in place and rooting him to the forest floor.

Her chest ached as she heard the muffled sound of his growl, laced with frustration, and something else. She forced herself to run, her boots pounding against the uneven ground as she headed toward the road.

Behind her, the crackling sound of ice straining against immense strength echoed faintly. She didn’t stop. She couldn’t.

-----

Maybe telling her to run hadn’t been the most clever idea his clouded mind could come up with. Because now, all he could think about was the chase… and the prize.

Her scent clung to his fur, sweet and maddening, filling his lungs and clouding what little rationality he had left. Each breath only made it worse, feeding the primal hunger gnawing at his control. His aching cock throbbed in time with his heartbeat, every pulse a painful reminder of how badly he needed her.

Something in him snapped.

The ice encasing his limbs cracked audibly before shattering altogether, shards scattering across the forest floor. With a guttural roar, Bucky surged forward, his massive form blurring as he gave in to the chase.

His mind, already teetering on the edge, gave itself over to instinct. Each pounding stride brought him closer to her, his muscles coiling and releasing with terrifying precision. He could smell her panic mixed with something else, something intoxicating. It made his mouth water, his claws flex, and his cock twitch with unrelenting need.

She ran as fast as she could, her robes fluttered as she darted between trees and over roots. But she wasn’t fast enough.

Bucky leaped, the world narrowing to a single focus: her. The thrill of the hunt consumed him, but it wasn’t just the chase, it was the promise of catching her, of claiming what every fiber of his body screamed belonged to him.

----

Her steps began to falter as she reached the road, her breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps. She bent over, hands braced on her knees, trying to recover. She wasn’t built for this kind of thing. She was a mage, for Light’s sake, spellcasting was her forte, not sprinting through a forest or other physical strain.

That’s what she had Bucky for.

Bucky, who would roll his eyes and toss her over his shoulder like a caveman whenever she whined about being too tired to walk.

Bucky, who would scout ahead for the easiest path even though he could tear through any terrain in his worgen form without a second thought.

Bucky, who hunted and butchered their meals with efficiency, ensuring they ate more than stale bread and questionable stew on their travels.

Bucky, who wanted to fuck her.

Her cheeks burned as that particular thought. Not that she hadn’t thought about it before, because she had. Maybe too often for her own good. The idea of him and his hands on her, his low, gravelly voice saying her name in that way that sent a shiver down her spine.

But not like this.

Not the furry kind of fuck.

She straightened, forcing herself to keep moving toward the town. Each step felt like it was taking her further from the chaotic heat of the encounter in the woods, but her mind couldn’t stop replaying the way he’d looked at her: possessive, dangerous, hungry.

And if she was being honest with herself, a small part of her didn’t entirely mind that look.

She almost tripped and cursed, adjusting her robes and glaring down at their impractical hem. Maybe it was time to ditch the flowing fabric and invest in some pants like a sensible person. To hell with Khadgar and his fashionable mage aesthetic. She let out a frustrated sigh, dragging a hand through her hair as she walked. All she needed was to reach the inn, find a stiff drink, and put this insanity behind her.

Oh, but she wasn’t going to make it.

The big, bad, and sexually frustrated wolf had been prowling alongside her, concealed by the thicket, his predatory instincts zeroed in on every step she took. She’d barely made it four more paces down the stone road before her vision blurred with sudden movement.

The next thing she knew, she was pinned.

Her back was pressed against the rough bark of a tree, and in front of her was Bucky. Human, barely. His chest heaved, his shirt torn and clinging to his sweat-dampened skin. He was panting, feral, utterly undone.

Her breath hitched as her eyes raked over him, and before she could stop herself, her thighs pressed together to ease the tingling ache his mere presence provoked.

“H-hey, Buck,” she croaked, her voice trembling under the weight of his stare. “I guess the nova wasn’t to your liking?”

His lips curled into something between a snarl and a smirk, and his gaze dropped to her lips before sliding back to meet her eyes. “Did you really think that would stop me?” His voice was low, rough, vibrating with barely contained hunger.

Her fingers twitched at her sides, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer. “Well according to you, it was supposed to give me a head start.”

He huffed a breathless laugh, his hands braced on either side of her head against the tree. “I guess I subconsciously knew damn well I’d catch you. Since, you know, your stamina sucks”

Her cheeks flushed hot, and her heart hammered in her chest as she struggled to keep her composure. “Yeah, well... there was the possibility that maybe the spell cooled you off.”

“Cool off?” He leaned in, brushing his nose against her temple, dropping his voice into a growl. “You’re the one who’s been driving me insane, running around smelling like... that.”

“Like what?” she whispered, even as she already knew the answer.

“Like you want me to lose control,” he murmured, his lips just barely grazing her ear.

Her traitorous body shivered at his words.

“Would that… be that bad?” she whispered, barely able to get the words out.

His entire body went rigid, curling his hands into fists against the tree bark. A growl rumbled low in his chest, vibrating between them like a warning. Or a promise.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he ground out against her skin.

She tilted her head slightly, forcing herself to meet his burning gaze. “Maybe I do.”

Bucky’s nostrils flared, and he clenched his jaw as if he were fighting an invisible battle within himself. The tension between them crackled like a live wire, and she couldn’t tell if the heat pooling in her belly was from fear, desire, or both.

“Don’t,” he rasped, strained. “Don’t tempt me like that.”

Her lips parted, letting go a soft exhale as she felt the weight of his words. Still, she couldn’t stop herself. “And if I did?”

He snarled, closing the faint distance separating them. His forehead dropped to hers, and his ragged breathing mixed with hers. “Then I’ll show you just how dangerous I can be.”

The words sent a jolt of adrenaline and something far darker coursing through her veins. She swallowed thickly, and her heart hammered against her ribs as she whispered, “Maybe I’m not afraid of danger.”

Bucky’s eyes searched hers, his pupils were blown wide, a thin ring of blue around a sea of black. His lips hovered over hers, so close she could feel the ghost of his breath.

“I don’t know if I can stop,” he admitted.

“Then don’t,” she replied steady, despite the quiver in her knees.

Bucky didn’t move for a heartbeat, his body trembled as he fought his instincts. The moment stretched, before something inside him finally snapped.

His lips crashed against hers, hard and demanding, as though trying to express everything he couldn’t say. She gasped into the kiss, her fingers instinctively tangling in the ragged fabric of his shirt and his long locks, pulling him closer despite the warning alarms blaring in her mind.

His hands moved to her waist, rough and possessive, as though afraid she might slip away. The kiss was a clash of tongues and teeth, raw and unrestrained, but it wasn’t enough, not for him.

He broke away, panting heavily, roaming his gaze over her heated face. “You don’t know what you’ve started,” he growled, low and thick with need.

Her lips tingled, swollen from the force of his kiss. Her fingers trailed up to touch them as her mind spun. “Well Buck, I’m not sure I care,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

His expression darkened, and his body pressed her back against the tree. “Say that again,” he demanded, his tone more animal than man.

She met his gaze, and her stubborn streak flared. “I said, I don’t care, Bucky.”

He let out a sound that was somewhere between a snarl and a groan, and his hands moved to cup her face with surprising gentleness despite the storm raging inside him. “You’re going to drive me insane,” he murmured, brushing her lips with unexpected tenderness.

Her body ached at the contrast, of the softness of his touch against the raw hunger in his voice. She shivered again, and he didn’t miss it.

With a low growl in his throat, Bucky pressed one of his thick thighs between her legs, dragging against the sensitive spot that was already aching for attention. She gasped sharply, and her hands flew to grip his shoulders for balance, but before she could say anything, his hand fisted in her hair, tilting her head back to expose the vulnerable curve of her neck.

His lips were on her a heartbeat later, hot and unrelenting as they trailed along her skin, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses and nips that made her shudder. The scrape of his teeth sent sparks down her spine, and when he growled again, the sound vibrated against her throat and she couldn’t stop the moan that spilled from her lips.

The sound seemed to set something off in him. His thigh pressed harder against her, sending jolts of pleasure as her body instinctively rolled against him. She felt the heat pooling low in her belly, and her mind was a blur of sensation and need.

“Bucky,” she breathed, with a trembling voice.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet her gaze, “Say my name like that again,” he commanded, in a rough whisper that made her knees weak.

“Bucky,” she whispered.

His hands tightened on her hips, holding her firmly against him as he leaned in to capture her lips once more. It was messy, desperate, and so consuming that she felt like she was drowning in him, in his scent, in his heat, in his presence.

When he finally pulled back, it was only to grab the front of her robe and tear it apart with a single, feral motion.

“Hey!” she protested, instinctively trying to cover herself.

“You didn’t like it anyway,” he retorted, dark amusement lacing his tone as he tossed the tattered fabric aside.

Her protest died on her lips when his hand moved lower, hooking into her underwear. “And I don’t like these,” he added, low and rough as he shredded the delicate material without hesitation.

Her cheeks flushed with heat as she stood bare before him, and his predatory gaze raked over intently, his expression darkening further when he finally saw the evidence of what he’d only smelled before, the glistening slick between her thighs.

“So damn wet,” he growled. Without preamble, two fingers slipped between her folds, sliding through the slickness before finding her clit.

Her body jerked at the contact, a whine escaping her lips as his touch sent a jolt of pleasure straight through her body. He didn’t hold back, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with calculated precision, his rough fingertips adding just the right amount of friction to make her toes curl.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice dripping with sinful admiration as he watched her reactions. She was utterly pliant beneath his touch, resting her head back against the tree, lips parted while gasping softly. “So perfect like this.”

She could barely form a response as he kept up his relentless ministrations. Her hands shot out, clutching at his shoulders for balance as her legs trembled under the onslaught of sensation.

“Fuck, Bucky.” she panted, her voice shaky and desperate, as his fingers continued their slow, devastating circles over her clit and her hips moved involuntarily against his hand, seeking more of the friction he was so generously giving her.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, laced with a possessive edge. He leaned in, and his lips brushed against the shell of her ear when he finally buried his fingers inside her. “You feel how good this is? How good you’re gonna feel when I’m finally inside you?”

Her knees buckled at the promise in his voice, and his grip tightened, holding her steady as he continued his ministrations.

His lips trailed along the sensitive column of her neck, and his teeth grazed her skin before he bit down gently.

Her nails clawed at his shoulders and biceps as his fingers worked her relentlessly, curling just right to hit the spot that made her vision blur. “Fuck!” she gasped.

“Feel so good, don’t you?” he murmured against her skin, as his thumb kept circling her clit with maddening precision. “So damn wet for me, and I’ve barely started.”

Her hips moved in tandem with his hand, grinding against him as if she couldn’t get close enough. Every thrust and curl of his fingers, every swirl of his thumb sent waves of pleasure through her body and she was about to snap.

“Oh fuck,” she moaned again, and her head lolled back as he continued to mark her neck. She was completely at his mercy, and her body trembled, as the heat built low in her stomach, threatening to unravel her completely.

“Chase it,” he rasped, pulling back just enough to lock eyes with her. “You’ll be so fucking beautiful when you let go.” His words were her undoing. Her body arched, and a sharp cry left her lips as she shattered, clenching around his fingers as the pleasure crashed over her like a wave.

Bucky didn’t ease up, and his fingers continued their relentless pace, driving her deeper into a haze of pleasure. She squirmed, pushing at his chest in a feeble attempt to stop him, but he didn’t budge. His other hand gripped her hip firmly, pinning her against the tree.

“Bucky,” she whined, her voice breathless and trembling, “I… I can’t-”

“Yes, you can,” he growled, with authority. “And you will. I’m not done with you yet.”

She gasped as he slid a third finger inside her, stretching her further. The sensation was overwhelming, but it teetered dangerously close to pure bliss. His thumb continued its torment on her clit, and her thighs shook as another wave of heat coiled low in her belly.

“That’s it,” he rumbled, his lips brushing against her ear. “I want you ready to take all of me, sweetheart. You’re mine, and I will make sure you know it.”

“Oh, cocky, aren’t we?” she tried to quip, but her voice shook as she clung to the last shred of control she had left.

His deep chuckle vibrated against her skin, “Yeah,” he retorted, his lips curling into a feral grin. “Cocky, indeed.”

Her response was lost in a breathless moan as he curved his fingers again, finding that perfect spot and sending sparks shooting through her body. She couldn’t think or do anything but cling to him as he worked her over with ruthless precision.

Bucky’s blue eyes bore into hers, feral and wild, “Come on,” he murmured, low and commanding. “Give me another one. Show me how good you can be for me.”

Her body betrayed her completely, tightening around his fingers as he pushed her closer and closer to the edge once more. His relentless dominance was intoxicating, and she hated how much she wanted to fall apart for him all over again.

“Don’t you dare stop,” she whined, “or I swear I’ll put bubblegum on your tail the first chance I get.”

Her body trembled violently as her climax tore through her, making her see stars. It was the most intense release she’d ever felt, and it left her gasping for air, every muscle in her body turning into jelly.

Bucky chuckled, clearly satisfied with the way she fell apart under his touch. Slowly, he withdrew his fingers, glistening with her slick, and without warning, brought them to her lips.

“Open,” he commanded, in a rough growl.

Her dazed eyes blinked up at him, but she obeyed, parting her lips. He pressed his fingers onto her tongue, making her taste herself. Before she could process it further, he leaned and crashed his mouth against hers.

He licked at her lips, her tongue, and his own fingers still in her mouth, mingling their breaths in a way that felt so filthy and erotic that it made her head spin.

His other hand cradled the back of her head, keeping her in place as he deepened the kiss, his feral nature showing in the raw hunger with which he devoured her.

When he finally pulled back, her lips were swollen and slick, and her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. Bucky’s blue gaze glowed with pride and desire, and his mouth curled into a wicked smirk.

“You taste so damn good,” he murmured, thick with arousal. “Every part of you.”

Unable to hold back any longer, he fumbled with his belt and nearly tore his pants apart to free his throbbing, leaking cock. A guttural groan escaped from his throat as the cool air hit his heated length.

His glowing eyes locked on hers, filled with feral hunger. “And now, magic bun,” he rasped, “I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t walk… and then some more.”

With one hand, he gripped the back of her knee, lifting her leg to spread her wide. The other wrapped firmly around the base of his shaft, guiding it between her slick folds. He groaned low and deep as the head of his cock pressed against her clit, grinding teasingly against her sensitive bundle of nerves.

She gasped, and her head fell back against the tree as the tantalizing friction sent shockwaves of pleasure through her body. “Bucky…” she breathed half a plea, half a warning.

“Patience.” he growled. Slowly, torturously, he began to push forward, as the thick head of his cock stretched her inch by inch.

Her nails dug into his shoulders, and her breath hitched as he split her open, his size forcing her body to adjust to the overwhelming intrusion. He paused briefly, giving her time to catch up, though his trembling muscles betrayed how much restraint it was costing him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his forehead pressing against the tree as he sank deeper. “So tight, so perfect.” He lifted her other leg from behind her knee and pushed again.

She whimpered, rolling her hips instinctively to meet him, drawing a shuddering growl from his chest. Her body stretched and molded around him, every nerve alight with pleasure and the intoxicating mix of pain and anticipation. Her breath came in short, heated bursts as her lips sought out his stubbled jaw, lingering before she nipped at his skin. It was soft but enough to provoke, enough to draw a growl from deep within his chest.

"Keep going, big guy," she whispered, her voice husky and laced with a mix of daring and need.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he rasped, “Once I start, there’s no stopping.”

Her hands slid up his chest, grazing the muscles beneath his shirt with her nails. “Good,” she breathed, “because I wasn’t planning on stopping you.”

That was all the confirmation he needed. With a guttural sound, Bucky thrust forward, stretching her inch by maddening inch. He kept his eyes locked on hers, watching the way her lips parted in a gasp, her pupils blown wide with pleasure.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his voice a broken growl as he sank deeper, claiming her completely. Her nails dug into his skin as her body arched against him, and a soft cry escaped her lips.

He rolled his hips again, slow but deliberate. “You feel that? That’s all me, and I’m not stopping until I’ve emptied my balls inside you, magic bun."

The vulgar promise sent a new wave of heat through her body. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as her body clenched around him in response.

“You talk a big game,” she managed to tease, the faintest smirk curling her lips despite the haze of pleasure overwhelming her.

Bucky chuckled darkly, “Oh, you’ll see just how big.” he growled, snapping his hips forward sharply, drawing a gasping cry from her.

He didn’t give her a chance to recover, since his movements became relentless in a punishing rhythm that was intoxicating. Every thrust pushed her higher, her moans grew louder, unrestrained, as his words and actions blurred her ability to think of anything but him.

"That’s it," he murmured against her ear, his voice ragged. "Take me. Take every damn inch."

His pace grew rougher, more determined as if his life depended on claiming her body completely. Each thrust drove her harder against the tree, and every delicious drag of him against her sensitive walls made her body sing.

“God, you’re tight,” he groaned, his lips brushed against her ear. “Like you were made for me. Do you feel that? Feel how perfectly I fit inside you?”

“Y-yeah, I feel it,” she stammered, her voice trembling with pleasure.

“You’re gonna take everything I give you,” he continued, his voice dripping with feral hunger. “Every. Last. Drop.” He punctuated each word with a deep thrust, making her cry out in ecstasy.

Her nails scraped down his back, leaving marks that only spurred him on. “Bucky! oh, fuck… I can’t-”

“Yes, you can,” he growled, gripping her hips tighter. “You’ll take it, every inch, every load, until you’re dripping with me. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

She could only whimper in response, her head falling back as he angled his hips just right, hitting that perfect spot that made her see stars. Her body tensed, the overwhelming pleasure building to a breaking point. “Bucky, I’m gonna- oh!”

“That’s it, cum for me,” he commanded, “Squeeze me, magic bun. Milk my fucking cock!” he growled, his voice rough and ragged as he felt her clenching around him. He could feel his balls tightening dangerously, and with a guttural roar, he drove into her one final time.

“Fuck! Just. Fuck,” he groaned, his hips jerking uncontrollably as he spilled inside her, thick, hot ropes of cum filling her up while he panted against her neck.

Her breath came in sharp, uneven gasps, and her legs shook as he held her up against the tree, keeping her pinned as he emptied himself into her.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, resting his forehead against hers, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

She gave a breathless laugh, still shaky. “There goes your endurance”

He smirked, pressing a lazy kiss to her lips. “Don’t think we’re done, though,” he murmured, sliding down his hands to cup her ass. “Not until I’m sure you’ll feel me with every step tomorrow.”

"Bucky-" she started, but he pulled out his still-hard cock and gently set her down, immediately latching his mouth onto one of her neglected breasts. His teeth grazed her sensitive skin as he sucked and nipped, leaving her gasping.

“Oh, how many times did I imagine milking these,” he murmured against her flesh, his voice thick with want.

She quirked a brow at him, managing to ask between pants and squeals when he got rough. “Really?”

“Oh yeah,” he growled, squeezing both breasts with his large hands to make his point. “Every fucking time we shared a tent and you pressed them against me in your sleep. You have no idea what you did to me.”

She let out a sharp gasp, caught somewhere between indignation and arousal. “You creep! Ah!”

He chuckled, flicking his tongue over her hardened nipple. “I’m not a saint, but believe me when I tell you, another man wouldn’t have held back. They’d have taken advantage.”

Her fingers wove into his long, dark locks, an unexpectedly tender gesture despite the heated moment. She tilted his face up slightly, meeting his gaze. “I know. But you’re not just ‘another man.’ You’re my partner, and since our first quest, I’ve always known I was safe with you. Grumpiness and brooding aside... you’re the best.”

His movements stilled for a moment, then he pressed his forehead against her chest, brushing his lips in the swell of her breast as he exhaled deeply. “You don’t know how much that means to me,” he admitted, raw and almost vulnerable.

She smiled, scratching lightly at his scalp. “You don’t make it easy, but you’re worth it, Barnes.”

His blue eyes flicked up to hers. “I don’t deserve you,” he muttered, still exploring her body with his hands, tracing every curve.

“Not the time for the monthly self-loathing spiral.” she chastised. Her hand slid down his chest, fingers dancing over the hard ridges of his abs before continuing lower. When her fingers encircled his shaft -or at least tried to-she began to pump him slowly.

His breath hitched, sharp, and audible, and his hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. “Don’t,” he ground out, his voice rough and almost desperate.

She knit her brows, confused. “Why not?”

He kept his grip firm, clenching his jaw as he averted his gaze, with a flushed face. “Now’s not a good time,” he muttered. “Maybe... maybe when I’m not rutting.”

Her head tilted slightly, studying him. “What’s the difference?”

His grip on her wrist tightened just slightly, and his eyes flicked back to hers with a mix of restraint and frustration. “If I get too... invested,” he admitted, almost growling, “I’m going to shift.”

“Oh.” Her lips parted to say something, but she hesitated, caught between curiosity and concern.

“It’s not just about me losing control,” he added, almost hesitant. “If I shift mid-act, it’s... it’s a lot. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Her gaze softened, and she cupped his face with her free hand. “Bucky, you’ve never hurt me,” she said gently. “And I don’t believe you ever would.”

He leaned into her touch for a moment, exhaling heavily.

“I won’t let you get away with what you want as always. Not with this.”

“But-”

“Shut it,” he growled, cutting her off as he turned her around and manhandled her to the ground on her hands and knees, his discarded cloak softening her landing. His voice dropped into a commanding snarl, rough and dangerous. “Now I’m going to keep getting what I want, and you will take it.” He spread her thighs open with his knee. “You’re only going to open that pretty mouth of yours to moan or cry out my name.”

“Bossy now, aren’t w-” she began, sassy, but she didn’t get the chance to finish. His hand came down on her ass with a loud, stinging smack, making her gasp.

“You just had to insist on being a brat and coming with me,” he hissed, his lips close to her ear, his voice dripping with frustration and unbridled heat. “And then I had to fake fucking you in front of a bunch of horny bastards.”

His hand kneaded the spot he had smacked, “Now, magic bun, you’re going to pay for every second of that torture.” His hands gripped her hips possessively, dragging her back against him, pressing his leaking cock into her ass.

“You think I didn’t notice?” he muttered darkly, sliding a hand down between her legs “You’ve been soaking since that little show.” He pressed his fingers against her pussy. “This? This is all mine.” He growled and pressed the thick head of his cock against her entrance, already slick from his cum and her fresh wave of arousal. Without hesitation, he thrust inside her, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful motion. She cried out, arching her back as she adjusted to the sudden, overwhelming fullness.

He groaned, “So perfect, magic bun. Taking me so well.”

Her fingers dug into the cloak beneath her, and her breathing ragged as her body tried to accommodate his size. “Fuck...” she gasped, a mix of protest and pleasure.

He leaned over her, pressing his chest against her back as his lips found her shoulder. He nipped at her skin, sharp enough to leave marks, each bite sending a jolt of electricity through her already overstimulated body.

“Bucky,” she moaned, her arms trembling as she tried to hold herself up under the force of his thrusts.

“Don’t stop saying my name,” he demanded roughly against her ear. His hips snapped forward harder, and his cock hit that perfect spot inside her with every hard thrust.

She whimpered, dropping her head forward as her body surrendered completely to him. He growled approvingly, sinking his teeth gently into her shoulder before licking the sting away.

“You’re mine,” he rumbled as he drove into her relentlessly. “Say it.”

“I- I’m yours,” she gasped, her voice barely more than a whisper, but he heard her loud and clear.

“Yes, so damn mine,” His hand slid up her spine, possessively fisting her hair and pulling her head back. The exposed line of her throat and shoulders was too tempting to resist, and he sank his teeth into her skin again, marking her.

The wet slap of his balls against her clit grew louder, mingling with her breathless cries and his guttural groans, creating a symphony of pure, unrestrained need that echoed through the forest.

“Buck, y-you’re so deep,” she choked out, clawing her fingers at his discarded cloak for stability.

He chuckled darkly against her skin. “Deeper still, magic bun,” he rasped, his voice filled with raw determination. “I want to feel your womb kissing the head of my cock.”

He withdrew almost entirely, leaving her desperate and trembling, only to thrust back in with a force that had her crying out. His pace quickened, each stroke harder and more deliberate than the last, pushing her toward the edge of sanity.

Her walls clenched around him, pulling him deeper, and he cursed under his breath, the sensation driving him wild. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he growled, his free hand gripping her hip so tightly she was sure it would leave bruises. “Made for me, made for this”

She moaned, arching her body, her knees threatening to give out under the relentless pleasure, as her body rocked with every thrust. He let go of her hair and reached down to play with her swollen clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts. “Take it,” he growled, dark and commanding. “You’re gonna carry me,” he murmured, thrusting harder. “Gonna fuck you so full you won’t have room for anything else. My scent, my seed, on you, in you, everywhere.”

“Oh, fuck, Bucky,” she whimpered, her thighs quivering as she clenched around him, her body responding instinctively to his filthy promises.

She meowled, and her body responded with another involuntary squeeze around his cock. He groaned, the pressure almost undoing him. “That’s it,” he hissed while his pace grew erratic. “Gonna breed you, leave you dripping for everyone to see. “You want it, don’t you?” he rasped, circling her clit faster. “Say it. Tell me you want me to fill you up.”

“I-I want it,” she gasped, the words barely leaving her lips before another sharp thrust sent her spiraling.

He groaned as her walls pulsed around him, and he buried himself to the hilt. “Fuck!,” he growled, as his cock twitched inside her. “You’re gonna take it all. Every last drop. No one else gets to have you, just me.”

The orgasm hit him like a storm, spilling thick ropes of cum into her, the heat of his load making her whimper. He thrust a few more times, grinding deep as if determined to leave no part of her untouched.

His movements slowed, then stilled, and he remained buried inside her for a moment, his chest rising and falling against her back until he finally withdrew, groaning softly at the loss of her warmth. He pulled her down gently onto his discarded cloak, spooning behind her. The feral aggression that had consumed him moments before seemed to melt away, leaving behind a calmer, more satisfied version of himself.

“You alright?” he murmured, softer now as he brushed a strand of her hair away from her face. His hands smoothed over her sides, no longer gripping bruisingly but exploring her curves with a reverence that made her sigh.

“I’m fine,” she replied, still breathless. “But you are totally carrying me tomorrow in a piggyback. I don’t feel my legs.”

His lips twitched into a small, self-satisfied smile. “That was the idea, your limbs around me, where they belong.”

She rolled her eyes and snuggled her back closer to the warmth of his broad chest. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“And you didn’t escape,” he retorted, nipping playfully at her ear.

“Maybe I’m a sucker for punishment,” she quipped, tracing the lines of his forearm where it rested around her waist. “Or maybe I just enjoy being with the guy who acts like a beast but is actually pretty damn sweet when he’s not trying to prove a point.”

He huffed a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “Sweet, huh? Pretty sure I wasn’t ‘sweet’ a few minutes ago.”

“No, you were something else entirely,” she teased, turning to meet his gaze with a sly smile. “But don’t let it go to your head, big guy.”

Bucky inhaled deeply and buried his nose in the crook of her neck. His hands slid up her side to cup her breast, his rough palm was gentler now as he thumbed over her sensitive nipple. He sighed, utterly sated yet still unwilling to let her go.

“We’ll need the tent,” he murmured and the deep rumble of his voice vibrated against her skin. “We’re not making it to the inn.”

She groaned, grimacing at the thought of wrestling with the cursed contraption in her current state. “Ugh, the tent. Can’t we just sleep out here and hope nothing eats us?”

Bucky chuckled with a low and indulgent sound. As if he’d read her mind, he nipped her shoulder, eliciting a squeak from her mouth. “You’re going to lay there looking pretty, and I’m going to set it up,” he said, leaving no room for argument.

She turned her head to shoot him a skeptical look. “Oh, so you’re all chivalrous now?”

He smirked, brushing his lips against her ear as he spoke. “Don’t push your luck, I’m trying to be nice here.” he muttered, adjusting the cloak around her shoulders as if she couldn’t do it herself. “Since I plan on fucking you again -and maybe a few more times after that- I’d rather you didn’t catch a cold. Also…” His gaze lingered pointedly on her chest. “I don’t want some random traveler getting an eyeful of your bouncing tits.”

She quirked a brow. “Funny, you didn’t seem to care about modesty a few minutes ago.”

He crouched down beside her, tugging the edges of the cloak higher over her chest as he gave her an unimpressed look. “Yeah, well, that was different. I was the one enjoying the view. No one else gets to.”

Her smile widened as she brushed her hand over his stubbled jaw. “Possessive much?”

He just stared at her, leaning down to kiss her, slow and deliberate, as if to remind her exactly who she belonged to. When he pulled back, his lips brushed against her cheek, and he nuzzled her affectionately. “Be good for once and stay put. I’ll set up the tent.”

“Oh, I’ll stay put,” she said with a mischievous lilt, shamelessly traveling her gaze down his naked body. “Enjoying the view.”

He rolled his eyes, but the smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him. He liked her looking at him like that, and she knew it. He made no effort to hide the way his muscles flexed as he moved, taking every chance to show off while setting up the tent.

“Really taking your time there, huh, big guy?” she teased.

“Maybe I am,” he shot back, giving her a knowing glance over his shoulder. “If you’re going to stare, I might as well make it worth your while.”

She laughed as she propped up on her elbows to get a better view. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just admiring your… big dedication to the task.”

He shook his head as he secured the last of the tent’s poles. “Come on,” he invited, holding a hand out to her. “Tent’s ready. Let’s see if its sturdy enough for my big dedication.” His smirk widened into a full-blown grin, and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement.

“Always so humble, Buck.” she observed, slipping her hand into his and letting him pull her up.

“Just calling it like it is,” he shot back, pulling her closer until their bodies nearly touched. “And judging by your staring, I’d say you agree.”

She opened her mouth to quip but then paused, frowning. “Um, Buck… by any chance did you bring the sack with the silver or…?”

His confident smirk faltered as his brows knit together. “Of course I-” He stopped mid-sentence, glancing toward the forest, and his expression shifted from cocky to sheepish. “I was a little preoccupied,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck.

She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Steve will love this.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, stepping closer until he loomed over her. “You think I care about what Steve thinks right now?”

She arched a brow, dropping her gaze lower. “Well, considering you’re standing here without a stitch of clothing and no silver in sight… maybe not.”

His lips curled into a slow, predatory smirk as he took her hand, placing it boldly against his hard cock. “You tell me, magic bun. Does this look like it cares about Steve, silver, or his damn surprise quests?”

Her cheeks heated as her fingers instinctively curled around him. She swallowed hard. “No, it doesn’t” she managed,

He growled, leaning down to nip at her bottom lip. “Now, get in that tent before I lose what little patience I have left.”

Her lips quirked, but she wisely said nothing, turning toward the tent with a sway in her hips that she knew he wouldn’t miss. Behind her, he groaned, with both exasperation and lust.

“Keep that up, magic bun, and we won’t make it inside at all.”

Dividers by: @/strangergraphics

[justhereforsubsevika]

Part 2 to asshole sevika because one (1) person eluded to maybe wanting a part 2

Nsfw, smut, public, rough fingering, strap sex (referred to as dick and cock), choking, degradation, humiliation, asshole sevi is acc just awkward weird sevi, also this is now a university au do with that what you will

Okay look i cant have my baby be evil for too long ok </3 no tears or angst but like ITS NOT HER FAULTT SHE'S JUST A WEIRDO!!

Okay so you may have fucked up. You may or may not have told a friend, who may have told a friend, who may have told the whole campus that Sevika moans her own name when she cums. You may or may not have exaggerated and said that her shouting lasted for 3 minutes. You may or may not be watching as some evil cunt walks up to her while she sits alone at the picnic bench, snickering.

You can hear their conversation despite the fact you're a good distance away.

"Hey, Sevika right?" This scrawny guy who, quite frankly, Sevika could snap like a twig, starts to say. Her face lights up. She thinks she's about to make a friend, you can see it all over her face. Jesus Christ, you feel awful. It feels like someone is wringing all the blood out of your guts as you watch this scene unfold.

"Mhm! That's me!" She says, turning off her phone and gesturing beside her to request that he takes a seat. "Nah, I'm good." He starts laughing at her and her face drops in confusion. "What's funny?" She queries, standing so she looks down at him. He doesn't even step back despite the fact his entire body is now shrouded in her shadow. "Is it true you- HAH FUCK- you moan your own name? Y'know when you finish?" He splutters between maniacal laughter.

Her face goes white.

She looks to you with so much betrayal on her face. But she deserved it right? She fucked you raw and didnt even chuck a towel at you after. She made fun of your boyfriend (who you cheated on, but that's irrelevant) and your sexuality.

Oh shit.

She's walking straight to you.

Her face sure got its colour back quick.

"Hi Sev- AH-" Suddenly you're being tugged by your hair across the campus, screaming and flailing as she grunts and tells you to shut up. She doesn't even bother to go into a bathroom stall once you're inside the library building, just pins you against the bathroom tile with her forearm and shoves her fingers under your skirt. She pushes into you roughly, not caring that it hurts bad since there's no moisture to assist her. She wants to hurt you. You've pissed her off bad.

"WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU TELL PEOPLE THAT?" She shouts, roughly pounding into you. It's all so much, her fiery, furious expression, her rough fingers deep inside you so abruptly. But it's not fair! She fucks loads of girls, why the hell is she assuming you spread the rumour?

"H-how do you know it was me? Could be one of your s-sluts that you fuck-"

"BECAUSE I ONLY EVER DID THAT WITH YOU! BECAUSE YOU'RE MY FUCKING FRIEND AND I TRUSTED YOU!"

She looks for a second like she might cry, but instead grunts and bars her teeth, hand coming up to choke you. Even with her impenetrable anger, you can tell she's at least not trying to kill you. You give her the satisfaction of spluttering and heaving for air even though you can breathe perfectly fine and she moans. "You're such a fucking whore aren't you? Gave that pussy up to me despite your little boyfriend, now you're slutting yourself out for me? Anyone could walk in and see how you're dripping down your thighs. Pathetic little bitch."

She lets you go for a second to unbuckle her jeans and of course she's packing. Typical Sevika, always prepared for revenge sex.

She comes up behind you as you attempt to pull down your panties and grabs you up, her forearm able to restrain both your legs from under your knees.

Holy shit. You're now fully off the ground, watching in the bathroom mirror as Sevika slides her dark purple strap into your pussy. Her other hand is back round your neck, making your eyes roll back. She bobs you up and down on her cock in a way you're sure should be physically impossible, somehow still managing to ruin your pussy with her brutal pace. She starts thrusting up into you and you laugh thinking about how she must look from behind, rocking up and down on her toes.

"Fuck are you laughing at?" She sneers, squeezing a little at your neck. Your mouth drops open, silenced by Sevika's rough grip. Her hand drops to thumb at your clit and you can't help but cry out.

"Mm, oh shit sevi, mm fuck sevika," you groan and she smirks.

"Who's moaning my name now?"

And then Sevika sees the bat symbol and says "my city needs me" and flies into an aeroplane and dies (IM NOT WRITING THIS DUMB SHIT ANYMORE OKAY I DECIDED I HATE IT)

[chugging-antiseptic-dye]

Five times you hated Joshua

genre : soft angst word count : 1.3 k words > trigger warnings : profanities and slight slut-shaming (not by shua)

1.

When he helped you up after you tripped in front of him like a goddamn idiot

What happened half an hour ago was the thing you have been dreading since you and Joshua broke up. You even went to church on a Sunday with your mother and begged God to let you keep your dignity for once and NOT make a fool of yourself in front of Joshua. And did you do exactly one week later? Be the biggest, most pathetic loser in this whole city, nay, the universe! Maybe it wasn't a big deal. Lots of people make eye contact with their ex who they have been ghosting, and then stub their toe in the sidewalk, let out a scream a pterodactyl would be proud of, and fall face first into the snow. Joshua running over to help you up was the nail on the coffin. You hated him so much.

Why couldn't he have left you alone when you were hurt?

2.

When he lied to your mom that you were still together

"Why didn't you tell me the reason Joshua couldn't come to family dinner was because he is busy on an important work project? A project that could even net him a promotion??" As usual, your mother screeched as soon as the call connected.

Blindsided by it all, you replied in the most intelligent way you could,

"Huh?”

"And here I thought he finally had enough of you and broke up. I mean no would blame him. Look at who Joshua is and look at yourself. Goodness!”

"Um, yeah, sorry, he was just busy.”

Your brain volleyed off your mom's interrogation on autopilot because the only thing your mind could loop was how much you loathed Joshua.

Why did he still have to be your partner in crime?

3.

When he helped you feed stray cats even when he doesn't like pets.

Enough time has passed since your breakup that you felt that it was safe enough to pass through your old neighbourhood yours and Joshua's home. Making a slight detour to check up on the two stray cats you used to take care of, you push down the feelings of guilt that bubble up. You keep telling yourself that they are okay. They are stray cats. They will be fine without you feeding them premium grade tuna. But, you are still apprehensive of what you are going to find. Suddenly, you see a silhouette dropping something on where the cats frequently gather. Recognizing it's Joshua, you dash into deep dive into the adjacent alley. Your eyes widen in disbelief as you recognize the can Joshua poured something out of. Making sure to stay still until he leaves, you creep slower when the area is deserted again. You saw right. It was the type of tuna you always fed the strays with. It took you a whole minute to wrap your head around the fact that Joshua kept on feeding your the cats. The same Joshua who grumbled that they will follow you home if you keep on feeding them. The same Joshua who passive aggressivly attached the pet policy notice on the fridge with magnets. That Joshua? You can't even stand seeing a single strand of his hair at this moment.

Why did he break his own rules for you?

4.

When he doesn't let anyone disrespect you behind your back

You didn't mean to hear it. However, it seemed that the universe decided that you were its new punching bag and thus, the moment you hit behind the curtains to take a breather (cough hide from Joshua cough) , an annoying, grating voice piped up,

"Hey, Josh!"

Your first thought was, who the fuck is Josh and your second thought was, oh no (you could f e e l the universe smugly saying, oh yes)

"Hey, man! Long time no see. What's up?" A very, very familiar voice replied.

"It's all good. Just peachy. You here alone? I swear, I thought I saw that girl of yours."

You swear that you could feel the. heat radiating off a body just a few centimetres in front of you in the pitch-black darkness . And the voice responding confirmed that you were not being delusional.

"Um. Maybe she is here. I don't know actually. We sort of broke up." Joshua replied awkwardly.

"Oh damn. It's all right, bro. There are plenty of fish in the sea and all that. I always thought she was a bit of a bitch anyway. Acting like she is so above us while dressing so slutty."

Pin drop silent lasted for a few seconds and then, with steel in his voice that you didn't know he possessed, Joshua spit out,

"I think you got the wrong idea here, pal. She broke up with me and not the other way around. And even if I broke up with her, it would not be because of any fault of hers. She is an amazing person inside out."

That piping voice finally got a hint (who even was this idiot) and squeaked a bit in fear.

"Wow, sorry, man. I didn't know that you guys were still together. I totally respect your territory and all that."

"You don't have to respect my 'territory' at all. But never disrespect her in front of me again."

"Yeah, whatever, bye."

Both of you could hear the idiot mutter as he walked away, "What crawled up his ass today?"

Letting out a deep sigh, Joshua also walked away. And you hated him a bit more.

Why couldn't he let you face the world alone?

5.

When he is always in your corner even when you are not

It was a dull Monday evening like any other. The only thing that was exciting in your life was that you were two pages away from finishing the book you were slogging through the last eight months. Just as you turn to the second last page, a small slip of paper starts to float down from the book. Now, curious, you pick it up only to read the words,

"Almost at the end! I always knew you could do it, sweetheart <3 - Your Joshua."

A high-pitched kneeing wail slipped out of your throat and you fell down to your knees. Why, why, why, why, why, why, why. Why did he have to be so supportive? You never hated someone as much as you hated him.

Why did he always have faith in you?

+ The one time you accepted that you will always love him

+1

You were so used to taking the same route every day that it was something you could do with your eyes closed. Suddenly a shrill ring of the phone broke the sacred silence of the subway. Ugh, who doesn't even know to silence their phones before getting on here? You think before recognising that it was your phone that was ringing. In a panic-filled scramble, you accept the phone call and whisper,

"Hello?"

"Wow, I didn't think you would pick up." Joshua said with a tired chuckle.

"Um, well, I did. Is it something important you wanted to tell me? I am actually on the subway. I will call you back later?"

"No! It's fine. There's no need to call back." With a click, the call ended. You turn the short conversation over in your mind. Only one thing stood out. Joshua's voice was even but there seemed to be something he was holding back.

Making a sudden split decision, you elbow your way through the crowd and managed to get on the platform just one second before the subway pulled away. Giving yourself a second to catch your breathe, you make your way towards Joshua's house. It's not something an ex-girlfriend should do but Joshua was so bad at asking for help and you couldn't bear the thought of him experiencing any kind of pain.

It's okay, you guys were bad at being exes anyways.

[occasionalsnippets]

Hello! I have an ask for your family dissonance au. It’s a scenario I’m curious about that you mentioned in one of your writings. What would happen if reader needed up in an alternate au that doesn’t have her in it dressed as Robin because she was filling in? (In like a Yandere way btw). Would she be able to hide, would she reveal herself? What would the Batfam she was originally with do when they notice she is gone??? And for drama sake what if Tim in the other au she falls into was in the time period he was banned from being Robin for his safety due to Redhood just appearing? What would Redhood do about another Robin?

I hope you have a wonderful day!

Taglist: @dragondevinity, @lonely-star2044, @sheep-from-rad, @ilxandra, @thethingwiththefeathers, @star-wars-lycanwing-bat, @sackofsadstuff, @zonked-times, @paastaboi, @venfia, @fantasy-angelo, @linaisadream, @shirp-collector-of-fixations

---

When you aren't acting as Robin, everything is fair game.

If you don't land near a bat, you're not likely to reveal yourself or go to the manor until you do some information gathering. You play it careful, avoid getting caught on any cameras and head to a safe house. Disabling all the hidden mics and trackers is child's play and the safe house is stocked enough for you to get your bearings.

First things first, the internet. Doing a quick search reveals the current state of Gotham, its vigilantes and rogues. Pretty standard stuff. Your plan is mainly to just bunker down until you're found. There's nothing stopping you from doing so and sooner or later, your family will find you.

Those plans are ruined deep into the night by someone else breaking into the safe house.

Red Hood stumbles in, trailing blood all over the place. You're already categorizing his injuries by the time he drags himself over to the couch. Several bullets. Dislocated shoulder. Some kind of fear toxin. All things you can fix if you choose to get involved.

You might as well. Jason will live whether you do or don't but you would feel bad about leaving him. He's not all that there while you're treating him but he's definitely more lucid after getting the antidote.

"So," you hum as you dig bullets out of his flesh, "do you specifically want Batman to kill the Joker or do you want to kill him yourself or are you okay if anyone kills him."

He mutters something you can't hear. The blood loss is probably getting to him. By the time you're finished wrapping him up, his breathing has slowed and become steady. You pat his smooth helmet. Even if it's part of his brand, it kinda makes him look bald.

"Sleep tight, Hood."

By the time he wakes, you are gone and the Joker is dead.

I'm not really sure how to spin the rest of it in a yandere type of way since you don't stay long enough in the universe to really trigger anything.

Jason's helmet probably has some kind of recording thing though so there's evidence of you in the universe before you disappear. Plus in your quest to commit murder, you run into a couple other bats too. The bats in that universe might end up spiralling trying to find you though since a. you killed the Joker, b. you patched Jason up, c. you look like Tim, and d. you broke into a safe house too easily.

Maybe they'll find where you came from, maybe they won't, but regardless, they're sure to have questions.

---

On the other side of the coin, what is going on with your batfam?

They notice within probably 10 ish minutes or less that your trackers are down. In less than half an hour, their facts are confirmed. You’ve gone missing. Like any good detectives, information gathering comes first and conclusions drawn from evidence last. Despite that, they’re actually pretty frantic in their search for you.

Most resources are diverted solely to finding you, everything else is dealt with quickly and efficiently so they aren’t wasting time. Once they narrow things down to magic, fixing everything is actually quite easy. Thank goodness you’re not difficult to find. If it took any longer, you probably wouldn’t want to know the lengths they’d go to for you to be back home and safe.

—

There are three Robins in Titan’s Tower. One current Robin, one former Robin and one not-Robin. It is, in summary, a Spider-Man pointing meme situation.

There’s a lot of yelling and fighting and “you’re ruining my plan” and “well I wasn’t trying to” but it doesn’t end with any major injuries.

Tim and Jason definitely think it’s a time travel thing where future Tim came back to the past to fix something. You don’t have enough energy to correct them. Either way, you stall long enough for the big Bat and Nightwing to come crashing into Titan’s Tower for an early reveal.

You’re gone by the time they get back to the topic of your presence. Hidden away, waiting to return home.

[suzukiblu]

Day thirty-one of “Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it” behind the cut. And we have now successfully done the month! 💗🎉 Think I wrote about . . . 25k this time, give or take? So pretty pleased with that, haha, I think that's pretty good! (( chrono || non-chrono ))

That’s about when he comes, but Tim told him not to stop even if he did, so he doesn’t; so he rides them just as hard even as everything goes all oversensitive and overwhelming and his body wants to shake apart right down to the bone and Bernard keeps kissing him and Tim presses a soft, gentle little kiss against the back of his neck and either he’s still coming or he just comes again, somehow, and it’s all he can do not to sob about it. 

Kon doesn’t know how long the other two last after that, because he absolutely forgets how time works for all of it. He doesn’t have a sense for it, a sense of it; everything’s just the too-much, too-intense, too-perfect pressure and heat and fullness and how their hands hold onto him and how their cocks fill him up and how they both kiss him, kiss his mouth and spine and throat and collarbone; everything’s just him trying to make his body work right, make his body keep working right–keep riding them the same, and keep kissing Bernard back, and keeping his TTK from doing too much, except that part he’s not so sure he manages, but it just feels so fucking good, but–

But Tim didn’t tell him to keep his TTK from doing too much. Tim just told him not to stop. 

So that’s the only thing Kon can actually be sure he’s gonna manage, one way or the other. 

He thinks Tim comes first, maybe–thinks he feels Tim come first, maybe–and Bernard comes a few seconds or minutes or hours later, and Tim’s gasping and panting against his neck in a way he doesn’t during the literal end of the world and Bernard’s groaning appreciatively into his mouth as they both fuck up into him through their orgasms, as he rocks down onto the both of them, as they both come inside him–inside him–and all he can do is clench up tight and cling to them and be tight for them and–and– 

“Pet,” Tim rasps against his pulse, the hot puff of breath that comes with the word enough to make Kon moan louder than either of them, and takes a hand off his thigh to wrap around his cock again. Kon didn’t notice himself getting hard again. Didn’t notice if he ever actually went soft to begin with. 

Either way, it’s still only a stroke or two before he’s coming again, and Tim’s saying something to him, and Kon’s brain’s not there to hear it but his body listens and rides out its orgasm and slows its rocking hips under Tim’s hands, or maybe Bernard’s, or maybe both of theirs, and stops riding them and then just feels them both inside it as deep as they can get like this and almost sobs about it again. Everything’s buzzing and electric and Kon’s whole head feels like a cloud, or a thundercloud, feels all sparks and electricity and lightning and barely there at all, feels like the perfect stereo-thunder of the complementing heartbeats in his ears, and everything left of him’s gone all soft and all lit-up and all perfectly empty and all perfectly perfect. 

And then Tim wraps a hand under his jaw and tugs him back just enough to kiss, tight and certain and gentle, and everything else in the world just stops existing. 

There’s nothing else in the world at all. 

Bernard says something, maybe, and Tim definitely says something too, but Kon doesn’t understand a word of any of it. He doesn’t think he can. He’s just this melted, empty, electric buzz, and nothing else. There are hands on his back, he thinks, and arms wrapped around him, and he forgets when it happened but he’s just sort of . . . slumped forward against . . . something, he thinks, or maybe someone, and everything feels like so much, and everything feels so good, and his vision’s all blurry and his body feels as warm and lit-up and full as the sun makes it feel, and . . . 

And there’s nothing else he has to do or be, so he doesn’t, and he isn’t. 

“Fuck, that’s cute,” he thinks he hears, eventually, and thinks he hears a soft, affectionate little laugh too. There’s a hand in his hair, stroking and combing through it, and arms around him still. His eyes are closed, maybe, and his body feels heavy and loose in the best, best way and his head feels like it could just float away and drift off into the sky. He doesn’t remember how to open his eyes or lift his head or anything like that; doesn’t really remember how to move at all. 

It’s fine, he knows from some distant, different place. Tim would tell him how, if he needed him to do it. Of course he would. 

Kon thinks he maybe wants to cry again, maybe? Like . . . just a little bit. 

Or maybe a lot. 

He doesn’t really get it, because he feels really good. He feels so good he thinks he wants to cry about that, maybe. Or maybe something else, but just . . . it feels like it’s about that. 

But it feels like it’s about something else too. 

The hand in his hair strokes again, and Kon stops trying to think. It doesn’t matter, whatever he was thinking about. He’s just–here, right now. He’s here, and he feels good, and he was good, and that’s all. If anything else matters, Tim will tell him. 

Like–of course he will.

[christinesficrecs]

Heeyyyy!! I’m going on a month long work trip in a VERY small town with nothing to do besides work in January so I need to stock up on some fics. Can you rec some mate and/or soulmate fics that are over 50k please?? Or if any of your followers wanna throw some in the tags or replies that would be super cool too. I’m gonna need all the entertainment/help I can get. I’ve googled the shit out of this place and the surrounding area and it’s literally in the middle of nowhere.

Hey!! Are you coming to visit me? Because I def live in a rinky dink town where cash is king and everything is closed by 4 pm 😂

Apologies to the rest of my listeners because this post got LONG. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Hung The Moon by nrnyx | 85.6K | Explicit

Slowly Stiles got control of himself again. His heart calmed. His breathing evened out. The anger was gone. In its place, a bone-deep weariness settled. He couldn’t do this. He wouldn’t survive this.

Go Away, Scott by HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere | 66.2K

After the incident at the warehouse, Stiles is fed up with Scott. He finds himself drawn into Derek’s pack and in the process, drawn to Derek himself.

With the Alpha Pack closing in, Derek needs to learn how to trust his pack and those around him. And who better to help him than Stiles?

Wanted by Asterekmess (Livinginfictions) | 88K | Mature

With the Hale pack finally settled and safe, it only makes sense that something would happen to screw it all up. To top it all off, Stiles has to pretend to be Derek’s mate, or face a pack of angry Alphas. He’s doomed.

Thanks for Thumper, But I Prefer Cheeseburgers by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) | 58.3K

The wolf’s head whipped around so fast, Stiles felt like he was watching The Exorcist.

Stiles wondered if he could just stand still enough to make the wolf think he was a tree. A very bright red and jean-clad tree. He doubted it, but one could hope.

He knew it was a lost cause when the wolf turned fully, lips pulled back from its sharp teeth—so very sharp, good fucking Lord!—and began walking towards Stiles.

“I didn’t see anything!” Stiles shouted, both hands out in front of himself and sweat instantly breaking out across his skin. “I swear to you! I didn’t see anything! I didn’t see anything! I won’t tell anyone! I won’t! I’ll keep this to myself, until the day I die! I promise! I promise!”

Lead You Home Again by GotTheSilver | 49.9K | Explicit

The first time Derek meets Stiles, the kid’s brown eyes are wide, and he’s staring up at him with a mischievous grin as he tugs at the arm of Derek’s first ever Batman figure like he’s trying to separate it from Batman’s body.

An alternate take on Teen Wolf, wherein Stiles and Derek are childhood friends, and things unfold from there.

Three Marks by sanam | 113.7K | Mature

“And then there was pain again, but this time it was in only three places—his arm, below his clavicle, and next to his heart, all on the left side. It felt like the skin was being sliced apart, ripped open, flayed off— And suddenly it was done. Derek looked across the room and saw the boy on the floor, looking about as bad as Derek felt.”

Derek and Stiles learn that bonding is probably best done with ridiculous amounts of video games and maybe a little bit of time.

A Match Unmade in Beacon Hills by KouriArashi | 47.8K

Derek met his soulmate Kate Argent when he was 15, and he’s tried for years to understand why his soulmate is so cruel to him. Then he meets Stiles Stilinski, who has no soulmate mark, an extremely rare phenomenon. Stiles thinks that he’s destined to be alone forever, but apparently fate has other plans…

Mating Moons by  skinsharpenedteeth (Gavinscotts) | 85.2K | Explicit

Stiles just wanted to get Derek’s attention. Derek had seemed so distracted as the full moon approached and Stiles was feeling pretty neglected as a friend. Next thing he knows, he’s magically bound to a cabin in the mountains with Derek all winter long and they have to figure out whether they want to be life mates?

With or Without You by KouriArashi | 62.5K

Derek thinks that the mating rituals are overly romanticized bullshit, but claiming a mate and defending them from challengers is something werewolves do, and his pack can’t afford to appear weak after the fire. Especially not when Deucalion and his friends are in town for the rituals. Enter Stiles Stilinski, who offers to let Derek claim him so he won’t be overrun at the ceremonies. Nothing goes as expected.

Bonds of Blood, Bonds of Family, Bonds of Love by TyReed | 44K

After being beaten up by a door, werewolf Stiles Stilinksi finds himself bonded to Derek Hale, of the Hale Noble Bloodline. For a scrawny, wimpy, Tainted Bloodline werewolf, Stiles runs away, embarrassed and humiliated as he worries about bringing shame to the Hale Family, and even more shame to himself. Because the Nobles and Tainted just don’t mix, never have, never will.

Except, things aren’t exactly what they seem.

With the help of the (meddling) Hale family, his adoptive (meddling) human parents John and Claudia Stilinksi, and one very persistent Alpha Derek Hale, Stiles might come to see himself as more than just the blood that runs through his veins, and open his heart to find the happiness, friends, pack, and the family that he’d always wanted.

A Letter From Mom by StilesIsMySpiritAnimal | 32.9K

After waking up at the age of 11 without any memories of his past Stiles spends eight years with his father in the tiny town of Shelter Cove, California. After his father’s death he receives a notice from a storage facility in some town called Beacon Hills. Stiles is confused and thinks the manager made a mistake until he finds a letter that should have been for his 18th birthday that his dad never gave him. It’s from his mother, who he has no memory of. Weirdly enough, her letter mentions Beacon Hills and some woman named Talia, who he’s supposed to trust. Confused and angry at his father, Stiles sets out for Beacon Hills anxious and determined to find out what his dad had been hiding from him all these years.

What Fresh Twilight Bullshit Is This? by  isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) | 196.1K

“I am not Bella!” he insisted, shaking his fist angrily at Jackson, as if he’d been the one to suggest he was. “I am not Bella! I am, like, a Jacob, at least!”

Lydia made a noise of debate from his right and he whipped around to look at her.

“What?! What was that sound?!”

“You’re more of a Mike,” she insisted, shrugging neatly and flipping some curls over her shoulder.

Scrubbing Bubbles by  MargaretKire | 46K

Stiles thought it would be easy doing janitorial work for an office. At first, it really was. The job only took a few hours in the evenings and it helped pay for rent and college. Sure, Hale Industries took up an entire floor in one of the downtown financial buildings, but the place was new and easy to care for. He didn’t even have to spend much time cleaning the huge corner office, because the trash was nearly always empty and the office itself was spotless, like no one used it.

It was basically the perfect college job. At least, until the boss started staying late.

‘Till You Make It by standinginanicedress | 46K | Mature

“I’m saying – let’s fake it.”

Derek blinks at him. Hard. Stiles never knew that someone could physically make a blink look hard, but there Derek goes, slamming his lids together like he’s fucking exercising them. “Fake it.”

“Pretend, dumbass,” he backhands Derek lightly on his upper arm. “Pretend like we’re doing as well as our parents want us to and then they’ll be off our backs, right?”

“We don’t have to pretend anything, Stiles,” Derek says evenly, in a tone that suggests he’d much rather be yelling. “We’re literally soulmates.”

“That’s the beauty of it! It’s going to be so fucking easy. I can’t believe we never thought of this before,” he runs his hands through his hair and shakes his head in amazement, grinning from ear to ear. “Holy shit. I can’t believe I just solved all our problems for us, man.”

Deafening Silence by AndersonStorm | 61.1K

On everyone’s sixteenth birthday the first words their soulmate will ever speak to them appear on their body. These words, so it goes, were to bring you love, joy and hope for the future until the fateful day arrives where you will meet the person who would change your life. So what’s Stiles to do when his words are rude and hateful? Avoid love at all costs, or so he planned.

Safety in Silence by Survivah | 66.9K | Mature

It’s perfectly understandable. Even Derek wouldn’t want to be Derek’s soulmate.

And I Thought I Had Problems by zosofi | 60.1K | Explicit | dropbox

Werewolf!Stiles deals with nefarious soul-sucking witch spells, Scott’s inability to be a fully functioning adult, Danny’s incessant need to make everything about sex, and finding out that his mate is Derek Hale. Tuesdays suck.

What You Did to Us by loserchic | 52.1K | Explicit

In a world where alphas and omegas are born with the first name of their mates on their wrists, alpha Derek’s mate’s name comes in mysteriously late. Thinking his mate will never show up, Derek marries Kate and has a son. When his true mate, Stiles, enters the scene Derek attempts to divorce Kate to be with him. Stiles has known Derek is his mate since he was 11, but he’s not impressed by Derek’s plan at all. Stiles doesn’t want to be the other woman and Kate doesn’t want to let Derek go, but there is something about Stiles scent that makes Derek think he might not have long to figure this whole mess out…

[hakkkuu]

sexual tension with anton maybe somewhere like in a party pls pls pls

Unveiling the Wild

The music thumped through the walls of Eunseok's apartment, a pulsing heartbeat that echoed the excitement swirling in your stomach. You adjusted the hem of your tight red dress, the fabric hugging your curves just right, and took a deep breath. Tonight was supposed to be fun; a night to unwind and maybe even meet Anton, your mutual friend whom Eunseok had raved about for weeks.

As you entered the living room, the laughter and chatter washed over you. Groups of friends filled the space, drinks in hand and bodies swaying to the rhythm of the music. You spotted Eunseok by the kitchen, waving you over with a broad smile.

“Hey! You made it!” he shouted above the noise, his excitement infectious.

“Of course! You know I wouldn’t miss it,” you replied, trying to sound casual despite the fluttering in your stomach.

“Good! Grab a drink and mingle. I’ll be right back!” And with that, he disappeared into the crowd.

You meandered toward the bar, the array of colorful bottles catching your eye. As you reached for a glass, you noticed a familiar face slumped over the counter—Anton. He looked up, his puppy eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Well, well, Eunseok's famous friend?” he said, a playful grin breaking across his face. “I was just thinking about how much Eunseok talks about you.”

“Really?” you said, trying to sound nonchalant, but your heart raced at the way he looked at you—like you were the only one in the room.

“Yeah. He says you’re shy. I don’t see it,” he purred, leaning closer, his breath warm against your cheek.

“I—uh, I can be shy,” you stammered, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

“Not around me, it seems,” he teased, arching an eyebrow. “What are you drinking?”

“Just a cocktail,” you replied, pouring yourself a generous amount of something fruity and sweet.

“Let me guess, you’re a lightweight?” he smirked, leaning back in his seat.

“Maybe,” you admitted, taking a sip and feeling the alcohol warm its way through you.

“Well, lets have fun tonight” he said, raising a glass.

You clinked your glass against his, the sound a sharp contrast to the booming music surrounding you. With each sip, you felt a bit bolder, and the playful banter continued to flow. As the night wore on, you found yourself increasingly drawn to Anton's magnetic energy.

“Tell me something,” he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “What do you find most attractive in a guy?”

You froze, your mind racing. “Uh, I don’t know…confidence? And maybe a nice smile”

He chuckled, leaning in closer, his presence overwhelming. “So you like a guy who knows what he wants?”

“I guess,” you mumbled, averting your gaze as your cheeks burned.

“Good to know,” he replied, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Because I definitely know what I want right now.”

Your heart raced at the implication, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. You caught Eunseok's eye across the room, but he seemed lost in conversation, oblivious to the heat building between you and Anton.

“What’s wrong?” Anton asked, his voice low and teasing.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, but your body betrayed you, leaning closer to him.

He smirked, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “You’re a terrible liar.”

You were about to respond when he leaned in, brushing his lips against your earlobe. “You’re really cute when you’re shy, but I can tell there’s a wild side in there somewhere.”

A shiver ran down your spine, and you could barely manage to whisper, “I’m not wild.”

“Oh, I think you might be,” he mused, his fingers lightly grazing your arm. “You just need the right… motivation.”

The way he looked at you felt like a challenge, and you were both terrified and excited to rise to it. The room spun around you, the music fading into the background as you locked eyes with him.

“Anton—” you started, but he cut you off, his voice low and sultry.

“Dance with me.”

Before you could protest, he took your hand, pulling you away from the bar and into the thrumming crowd. The rhythm of the music enveloped you, bodies moving together in a chaotic dance that felt both exhilarating and overwhelming.

You swayed to the beat, feeling Anton’s presence close behind you, his hands resting lightly on your hips. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and his breath tickled your neck as he leaned closer.

“I can’t believe how shy you are,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, sending sparks of electricity through you. “You’re so much fun to tease.”

You turned to face him, the distance between you shrinking. “Maybe you should stop teasing,” you replied, trying to sound assertive, but the tremor in your voice betrayed your nerves.

“Why would I do that?” he challenged, his gaze darkening with desire. “It’s too much fun watching you squirm.”

You bit your lip, the tension between you palpable, thickening the air around you. Just then, the music shifted to a slower, sultry beat, and Anton seized the moment, guiding you closer until your bodies were pressed together.

“See? You’re not so shy now,” he said, his eyes glinting with mischief.

The heat of his body against yours sent a thrill through you, and you found yourself melting into him, the boundaries of your shyness fading. “I guess not,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

His lips curled into a smirk, and he lowered his head, his mouth just inches from yours. “You have no idea what you’re in for, do you?”

“No,” you breathed, heart racing as he closed the gap, his lips brushing against yours in a teasing caress.

The kiss was soft at first, a mere whisper of connection, but it quickly deepened, igniting the fire that had been simmering between you. You melted against him, losing yourself in the taste of his lips, the feel of his hands exploring your back.

“Wow,” you gasped when he finally pulled away, breathless and dazed.

“Wow, indeed,” he replied, a satisfied smirk on his lips. “See? I told you there was a wild side in you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension between you breaking just a little as you reveled in the thrill of the moment. “Maybe you’re right,” you said, feeling emboldened.

“Let’s take this somewhere a little more private,” he suggested, his voice low, the need in his tone unmistakable.

Your heart raced at the thought, a mixture of excitement and apprehension coursing through you. “Where?”

“Follow me,” he said, taking your hand and leading you through the throng of people. You pushed through the crowd, the music fading into the background as you reached a quieter corner of the apartment.

Anton pressed you against the wall, his lips crashing against yours once more, this time with a fervor that left you breathless. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the urgency of the moment enveloping you both.

“God, you’re intoxicating,” he murmured between kisses, his hands roaming your body, igniting every nerve ending.

You moaned softly, the sound barely audible over the distant music. “Anton…”

He paused, looking into your eyes, a mixture of desire and something deeper flickering across his face. “Are you sure you want this?”

“More than anything,” you whispered, feeling the weight of your shyness melt away in the heat of the moment.

With a wicked grin, he captured your lips once more, his hands exploring your curves, pulling you closer until you could feel every inch of him pressing against you.

The world outside faded away, your focus narrowing to the heat radiating between your bodies. You’d never expected a night with Anton to turn into this, but the thrill of the unexpected left you breathless and wanting more.

“Let’s make this a night to remember,” he whispered against your lips, and you couldn’t help but agree, the tension between you finally breaking free in a whirlwind of passion and desire.

[iinterstellaarr]

happy late holidays!!

being under the mistle toe with satoru is certainly an experience.

satoru has always been… dramatic, maybe with a hint of corny, and being under the mistle toe was not about to change that about him.

he had invited everyone over to his house after work for a “holiday party” although the turn out was only you, him, nanami, shoko, and a few of his other colleagues who may or may not have pitied him.

all in all, the music filled the awkward gaps of silence and it was going well. there was a small bundle of mistle toe that hung above the door to his kitchen that everyone was avoiding like the plauge. even when two people were stuck under it, they’d nod curtly at each other or quickly shuffle away.

satoru, on the other hand, was stood under it and staring at you like a hawk. almost like he was waiting for the second you wanted another drink because lord knew you’d need another one if you wanted to deal with satoru.

“are you gonna guard the kitchen all night or is this like a password situation?” you half joked as satoru watched you from the doorway

“oh please, don’t let me stop you!” he pointed into the kitchen and you sighed, knowing exactly what was going to happen next. you try to shuffle past him, only to be stopping in your tracks with satorus long legs blocking you from going further

“oh no! well would you look at that!” he smiled widely and you scoffed playfully as he acted like this wasn’t completely set up.

you crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow at him. “you really think im gonna fall for this?”

satoru grin only widened, “oh, come on. its tradition. cant leave the mistletoe unappreciated!” he said, as if he were the star of some holiday romcom. he leaned a little closer, as if the space between you wasnt already small enough“you know what they say about traditions.”

“yeah, i think they also say only if you want to,” you teased. but as soon as you spoke, you realized how close he was. and how much he wasn’t backing down.

satoru tilted his head slightly, pretending to consider your words, but his playful smirk never faltered. satorus eyes were so intense on you. you were under the mistletoe, and there was something about the way he was looking at you now. like a dare you just couldn’t quite refuse.

“just one.” he added, the words a challenge as much as an invitation.

“this is ridiculous.” you playfully scoffed

“maybe,” he said, his grin softening just a little, “but you like it.” he leaned in just enough for you to feel his breath, and the rest of the party felt like it was miles away when his piercing blue eyes fell on your lips for just a second

you took a deep breath. it was the holidays. why not?

“fine… only one,” you said, finally relenting, and stepped closer.

he leaned in, his lips brushing yours lightly. a soft, teasing touch that left the air between you charged. tt was quick, but there was something undeniably real about it.

satoru pulled back, his smile turning a little smug. “see? nothing to it.”

you shook your head, a mix of exasperation and something else more electric bubbling up. “im going to get you for this, just wait.”

he chuckled, stepping aside as if he hadn’t just completely shattered your ability to think clearly.

“i’m sure you will.”

you knew it was just a tradition, but satorus perseverance and playful smirk had you looking forward to when everyone else cleared out and it was just you, and his azure eyes that always took your breath away.

[ihfmseatsoch]

Hiiii this is Jimmy rape anon again!!!! Your fic was so good and super duper cathartic sooooo X333 Waiter, more Jimmy torture please!!!!!

Can I please get a red room type situation where the reader streams snuff porn of Jimmy after he tries and fails in drugging and taking advantage of them? Or if snuff is too far for you, maybe just in general ruining of his life? Super sorry if this is too weird, I respect your boundaries and I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable!!!

-🥩

I ❤️ SNUFF 😁 smiles sweetly

genre: smut, dark fic

gender neutral reader, genitalia isn't described

word count: 2.2k

warnings/content: dead dove, attempted rape, actual rape, kidnapping, drugging, snuff, jimmy dies 🥳🎉

(>_< this is my first time writing smth like this #sorry if its dumb. bleh)

—

Nights like this were routine for Jimmy; go to a bar, chat up someone that looked the most deprived of their father's affection, roofie them, and take 'em home. Not like anyone would miss a dumb whore in the first place, so it's all guilt free.

Everything was going smoothly with you, although it was frustrating how you kept your hand protectively over your drink the entire time. You also don't seem particularly interested in his advances, so drugging you unconscious was the only course of action. Problem was, the opportunity never arose.

His impatience began to grow. He was not used to being denied what he wanted, and he started to feel irritated by your resistance. You were certainly a difficult target.

Losing interest, his focus diverted away from you, scoping out anyone else that looked drunk enough to make his goal an easy feat. He takes a sip of his drink, grimacing at how it tasted unusually bitter, the flavor lingering unpleasantly on his tongue. Jim dismissed it as a minor quirk. He's just imagining things, the bartender must've made it wrong.

Deep down, an uneasy feeling nagged at him, an inexplicable sense of foreboding settling in his mind.

He doesn't remember anything before everything went black.

When he regains consciousness, he can hear the muffled sound of someone speaking, and through his unfocused, bleary vision, he can see a blinding light pointing directly at him. It takes him a moment to completely get a grip on reality.

Jimmy can tell he's on the floor, but the texture underneath him is similar to... a tarp? He can recognize a camera stand only a couple feet away from him, once his dizziness alleviates.

"Oh, good. He's waking up." He hears an... oddly familiar voice coming from nearby.

Jimmy attempted to move, but all of his limbs felt sluggish and slow. He quickly realized his wrists and ankles were bound together with thick rope that dug painfully into his skin.

"What... the fuck?" Jim manages to groggily mumble, panic washing over him.

"Say hi... um, whatever your name is. I forgot. Probably unremarkable, anyway. I mean... who would care to learn the name of a pig bred for slaughter?" The figure in front of him snickers at their own sentence. A chilling sense of recognition dawns on him.

You.

"Fuck." Is the most fitting word he could utter between his teeth to describe the horror gripping his chest in this moment. "What...– What did you do to me, you psychotic, fucking–" Jim spat, his words still slightly slurred from the lingering effects of the drug.

"Language." You scold, reprimanding him like a child. "I've already heard every insult you could throw at me. Honestly, men like you need to get more original."

He notices a USB cord connecting the camera to a laptop, the screen displaying what looks to be... a live chat, and his body, sprawled pathetically on the ground.

He was being filmed, streamed to a live audience. If he was close enough to read the chat, he'd be met with thousands of people egging you on to make him suffer, using every method in the book.

"Everyone's been so eager to see me butcher another piece of meat. You should be flattered that I chose you. You're gonna be a star." Your tone is eerily giddy.

"Flattered" was most certainly not the word he would have chosen to describe this predicament. "What... What do you want from me?" Jim sounded weaker this time, the fear finally starting to seep into his voice.

"It's not what I want from you, silly. This is about what I can do to you." Your clarification isn't any less threatening. "You tried your hardest to hurt me first, and usually I commend perseverance. But... being so committed to assaulting an innocent person... that's not worthy of praise. Punishment sounds more like what you deserve."

This is not happening. This cannot be real.

"H– Hey, okay, listen. I made a mistake." Jimmy stammers, trying to come up with anything to stall for time. Anything to throw you off. Anything to keep him alive. "Just let me go, I won't breathe a word of this, I swear to god–"

"God? God won't save you. You're not worth it. I don't know how many victims you've gotten your greedy hands on, but even one is more than enough for the death penalty. In my humble opinion." Kneeling on the ground beside him, you grab his face, forcefully turning it to make eye contact with the camera. "You're a pretty boy. Shame you turned out this way."

"Please– Just let me go. I– I'll give you cash, I got money." He pleaded, struggling against the restraints around his limbs. "I'll give you everything. I'll do anything, j–just–" He swallowed, his words faltering under the weight of his desperation.

"Money?" You laugh, like it's the most hilarious thing you've ever heard, and it very well may be. "Aww, you're cute. But no, I don't want your hush money." You position yourself above him, groping his hips, feeling his body up as if you're inspecting an animal.

"Don't–" His body tensed the moment you made contact with him, and he tried desperately to jerk his body forward to get away from your touch, but, well... you can't exactly do much without hands or legs, can you? "–Dont f– fucking touch me!" Jimmy cried out in vain.

"What gives you the right to beg, when the people you've hurt couldn't?" You roll your eyes at his whining. Men like him are always such crybabies.

"Hmm... should we do a poll, chat? Duct tape over his mouth, or no?" You type away on your keyboard, speaking casually to your deranged audience like nothing about this is remotely insane.

His heart thrummed against his ribcage, a cold sweat causing his clothes to uncomfortably stick to his body. "Wait– No! No, you c–can't–! People will look for me, y–you can't j–just–" Every word he speaks ia now filled to the brim with panic and dread, lacking their usual sharpness.

"No one is coming to help you."

You respond plainly. And truthfully, you aren't wrong. Jimmy knows he only has one friend in this entire world, and zero family that ever gave a fuck about him. There's no doubt that Curly would indeed search for him, but the police are useless. He'd file a missing persons report and the case would go cold in a month.

"I've known guys like you my whole life. So which one is it; Daddy issues? Mommy issues? Both? Either way, your parents obviously didn't care enough about you to raise you right. So family is out of the question."

That last sentence got through to him, hitting too close to home. "Shut up," Jimmy's face contorts with anger, "You don't know anything about me, you–" He growled, a weak attempt to hide the shame he felt deep down. He hated how clearly you saw through him. He was truly alone, and it stung.

"I know enough," You reply, without even a hint of emotion. In fact, you were infuriatingly nonchalant. "It's always the same story. Mom and dad fucked you up, so now you're bitter and old, taking any chance you can get to make people feel the same misery you have inside you."

Jimmy winced when you so ruthlessly pointed out the truth he always tried so hard to deny. He wanted to fight back, but what could he say? He was at your complete mercy, literally. So he stayed quiet, his body trembling in your grasp.

You study something closely on your screen, something he can't see, which makes him all the more nervous. "Duct tape it is." You nod to yourself, grabbing the roll you conveniently placed beside you, like you were prepared for this. To silence him. You're not gentle with it, either. You wrap the tape carelessly around his head, the material sticking to his hair and mouth, secured tightly in place.

A muffled protest comes from behind the tape, but it's just as pitiful as his pleading earlier. Your fingers loop around the hem of his jeans, tugging them down roughly. It's honestly a bit more of a struggle than you'd hoped for, with his squirming, plus the rough material not going down smoothly without a fight.

"Don't you think it's stupid to fight back at this point?" You huff, wiping sweat from your forehead when you finally get his pants down to his mid-thigh. "Like, come on. This is the end for you, and you know it. At least you'll be entertaining to watch..."

Dread. That's all he can feel right now. Pure, nauseating dread. Jimmy feels like he's been punched in the gut, struggling to keep the contents of his stomach from rushing to his esophagus. His adams apple bobs as he swallows down the painful, choked up sensation in his throat. He doesn't want to cry. He can't give up his pride just yet.

Jimmy's stubbornness doesn't last long when you yank his underwear down, his soft dick laying limp on his stomach. You straddled his hips, grasping his shaft agonizingly tight, making him involuntarily let out a panic stricken whimper. No one has ever touched him like this, in a way that made his entire body feel violated. He could sit in the shower for the rest of his life, and never wash off the filth.

Jim attempts, once again, to plead for mercy, his brown eyes glazing over with fresh tears.

He's thankful he can't see your face anymore.

You can't make out what he's trying to say, but it's not like you're all too interested to find out, anyway. He feels you shift on top of him, reaching over to grab something off a nearby table. As soon as the cold, metallic barrel of your handgun presses against the pulse point on his neck, his body stiffens, his cries halting altogether.

"That's right. You just stay nice and still." You mutter, maintaining that same calm demeanor you've had since you brought him here, sealing his fate. You've done this before, it's obvious.

It's terrifying.

You keep the gun against his throat as you slip him inside of your hole, albeit with some struggle of course, because he's not hard in the slightest. Jimmy's chest heaves, and he's sure he could vomit at any second. Everything about this makes him feel sick. He's trembling so hard, lightheaded from hyperventilating.

He wishes he would just pass out so he didn't have to feel you use his dick like a toy. Every time you sink back down onto him, it makes him physically recoil, cringing with every muscle in his body. It feels so... wrong. Depraved in a way that's too monstrous, even for him. Which is hypocritial of him to think, honestly. He's put, what, dozens of people in this exact position?

His senses are completely overwhelmed, and he's unable to let out the buildup emotions in a way that isn't letting tears flow freely down his cheeks, out of the fear that if he makes a single noise or complaint, you'd kill him early and continue desecrating his corpse, whilst every single person witnessing his final moments cheers you on.

"At least I'm getting some use out of you," You pant above him, getting off on his sobs, and his palpable, unadulterated fear. "You can be proud knowing you actually made someone cum before you died. I doubt you ever have before."

His eyes anxiously follow the gun as you move it to press it against his forehead. "I wonder where I should shoot you," You hum, deep in genuine contemplation, "I think everyone would like to see your brain splattered all over the wall. Or, I could shoot you right in the heart," You prod the barrel against his chest, "And watch you panic when you feel it stop."

Jimmy wanted to ask you to make it quick. Honestly, he's relieved he'll die when this is over. At least he wont remember a single thing about his fucked up existence when he's unconscious and rotting wherever you throw his corpse. At least he wont remember how he felt in this moment. It's a little comforting to let his mind wander elsewhere, thinking of how blissfully numb he'll be when you end his life.

You could feel yourself nearing your orgasm, fueled by the adrenaline coursing through your body, and if you're being honest, his cock is big, even if it's flaccid inside you. What a shame that it'll go to waste soon. "None of this would be happening if you were a decent man. Isn't that funny?"

No, it isn't.

When you finally cum, he doesn't even have the strength left to be scared anymore. After years of longing for death, his prayers have been answered. It's not the most graceful way to go, but then again, he never expected his last moments to be peaceful.

You grip his hair, roughly twisting his head to look into the camera lense. Surprisingly, even to himself, he doesn't fight back.

"I don't know where you're going, but I hope it's worse than hell." You cock the gun, pressing the barrel to his temple.

The last thing he hears is a deafening gunshot that bursts his eardrum.

—

[crybabyddl]

Balcony Cigarettes

Eddie Munson x Reader

Warning: swearing, miscommunication/cluelessness, friends to lovers, kissing, smoking

Author’s Note: I’m at work and this popped into my head. I wish I had a whole story behind this, but I don’t. I was just thinking about the sunsets at the college I went to, and how it would’ve been cool to smoke there. Now I’m here, writing a random thing and making it about a fictional character that I’m in love with. Second Note: I'm home now and really want to publish this, so I'm forcing myself to finish it one way or another. I apologize if that makes it end up sucking, but I just need to get this finished or else it will sit in my drafts for eternity. I'm considering just posting what I have in my drafts even if they're unfinished because I have like, 80 drafts and I think at least 70 of them are actual pieces of writing and I feel selfish holding onto them bc some of them are not too bad. Most of them are from 2021, but that was when I was writing like a fiend and had a bunch of motivation, so they might not be terrible, probably a tad cringey though.

—

God, what you wouldn’t do to be smoking a cigarette right now…

Almost as if the universe heard you, the sliding door of the balcony swishes and shuts. Without needing to look, you know it’s Eddie—the sound of heavy bootsteps tipping you off.

“Mind if I join you?” He asks softly, just shy of mumbling. He mirrors you as he rests his elbows along the railing.

“Not at all,” you keep your head forward, too entranced by the flow of cars passing by on the streets below. “By any chance, do you have a pack of ciggies on you?”

Eddie can’t help but laugh.

“What kind of question is that?” His tone is lighthearted, but not energetic enough to disrupt the mood. It was a stupid question, Eddie was rarely ever seen without a cigarette between his lips.

He fishes a half-used box of Newports and a lighter out of his pocket. You turn to watch as he pulls two cigarettes out of the pack, putting both between his lips. You feel the corners of your mouth turn upwards as he brings the lighter closer, igniting your vices before handing one to you. You take the cigarette from between his index and middle fingers.

From the first inhale, you can feel the menthol working its magic. It wasn’t something you did often—smoking. You knew it was a nasty habit, but you figured if this was the worst thing you did tonight, you’d be okay with that.

“Do you ever miss Shores Hollow?” Eddie poses the question casually, but it still causes the nervous pit in your stomach to sink like a stone.

“All the time. Don’t get me wrong, I love it here,” you take another drag. “But nothing compares to those sunsets.”

It’s silent between the two of you as you finish your cigarettes, getting lost in the swirls of smoke that float around you. The logical part of your brain blames the cigarette for the uneasy feeling that starts to reside in your stomach and leaves pitter-pattering knocks on your temples, but the sentimental part of you wins and blames it on the man keeping you company.

You dare to look over at the culprit of your mixed feelings, his eyes fixated on the cloudy night sky. You want to say something, you want him to say something, but no words seem to fit in this moment. It’s like torture—having the one thing, the one person you want the most right in front of you, in addition to the weighted memories that come along for the ride, but it’s all just out of your grasp.

Your lips part, no ammunition loaded on your tongue. Eddie’s head turns rather quickly, as if he too was waiting for you to say something. He’s staring at you through windows of deep brown, like a wooded forest just before snowfall. You wish you knew what was making his mind turn, because the hopeless romantic in you looks into his eyes and reads

Tell me you want me the way I want you.

It’s too much of a risk to interpret a simple look in such a way. Maybe if you were a more confident person, you’d be willing to take that risk. But you’re not, and it seems neither is Eddie. He’s turning on his heel to leave, dropping his cigarette butt into the ashtray that sits near the folding chairs along the exterior wall. You realize this is the last time you’ll ever see him if you don’t do something, anything.

“Eddie,"

His name is all you can force yourself to say, but it’s enough. He turns around and something about the look in your eyes lets him know you need him to come back over, so he returns to his previous position, at your side, leaning over the railing.

Another minute of silence is shared between the two of you, and throughout its duration, your mind is plagued with the possible outcomes of all the different things you could utter to the patient man beside you. Just when you felt your brain was about to explode, you mentally scream fuck it and decide to express what you’ve wanted to for the past couple months.

"Please stay here."

It wasn't exactly what you were trying to convey, but it didn't fully matter. It seemed as though Eddie understood, or at least to the best of his ability--he wasn't a mind reader.

"I'm here." his voice was soft, reassuring.

He places his hand over top of yours, an unexpected gesture you welcomed fully--albeit flustered.

"I really need to get better at articulating my thoughts." you were thinking out loud, but it was something Eddie deserved to know as well.

"Is there any way I can help you with that?"

"Maybe."

Eddie looked down, taking both of your hands in his now, giving them a comforting squeeze.

"Is what's on your mind something recent, or is it a thought you've had for a while that you've been holding onto?"

"The second one."

"Okay, that's a start," the smile that graces his features burns your insides like a shot of whiskey. How was it even possible for one man to be so effortlessly attractive? "Is it something you specifically wanted to tell me?"

You nod.

"Well, that makes this a lot more interesting. And to think I almost went back inside!"

You smile sheepishly, thankful that there were no bright lights to illuminate the redness of your cheeks.

"Hmm. Is it something positive or negative?"

"Uh, I think that would be dependent upon you."

"Well shit, Y/N. At this point you've gotta just tell me."

"Fucking hell," you whine. "Fine. But you can't hold it against me."

"No promises."

"I think I'm falling for you."

"Oh."

Eddie's face is pale, but his expression isn't one you can decipher. He's still looking at you, and as much as you wanted to tear your eyes away, look anywhere else but in his beautiful brown eyes, you were frozen. It wouldn't matter if you ran inside, you uttered the words out loud and he heard them--there was no coming back from this.

"Yeah." It was all you could offer, too scared to make excuses for making things unbelievably awkward.

"How long?"

"Hmm?"

"How long have you been feeling this way?"

That wasn't the direction you expected the conversation to go, not that you expected the conversation to even continue.

"A month... or two."

Eddie's quiet. You realize you probably just freaked him the fuck out and he was most likely planning his escape route, despite his only options being to walk through a door or jump from a third story balcony.

"I'd say you're pretty lucky. I've been going on five months."

Huh?

"Huh?" Your confusion was the first thought you didn't worry about expressing the entire conversation.

"I've been thinking the same thing about you for five months."

"Really?"

"Mmhm." he nods. Eddie was hardly ever one to be shy--seeing him like this was cute.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Probably for the same reason you didn't."

Fair enough.

"Now what?" you asked, not sure what to do with your hands, your face, or any part of you.

"I'm not sure. We could just stay here and take in our surroundings, or we could go back to my place and make out-"

"That one. The second one."

"Someone's eager."

"You don't seem eager enough!"

"I've had a lot of time to learn how to be patient. Five months to be exact."

"You say that like it's my fault!"

"Maybe it is! It's not like I was being subtle, I flirted with you every chance I got! I figured you were just too scared to flat-out reject me."

"You flirted with me?"

"A million times!"

"You're joking."

"Dead serious."

"When?"

"Remember your birthday party?"

"Yeah...?"

"I literally told you that you looked sexy!"

"I figured that was just 'cause I was the birthday girl!"

"Then explain why I called you a few weeks ago and told you all about this girl I couldn't get off my mind, and literally just described you!"

"You were talking about me?"

"Oh my god, Y/N! Seriously?"

"Well unless you say it's me, I'm not going to assume you're talking about me!"

"Jesus Christ. Okay, what about the time I brought you flowers at work?"

"Those were from you?"

"Uh, yes. I literally handed them to you!"

"I figured you intercepted the delivery guy and that they were from my parents! My mom texted me earlier that day and asked me if I had decorated my apartment yet, so I just assumed that she sent me flowers so I'd have something to put on the kitchen table."

"Just my luck, honestly."

"Maybe you should've left a note."

"God damn it," Eddie slapped his forehead with his palm. "What about when your car broke down and we had to stop in that diner and the waitress told us we were such a cute couple and she gave us free coffee while we waited for the tow truck?"

"What about that?"

"We played along! I gave you a kiss on the cheek and everything! Friends don't do that, Y/N!"

"They do when a sweet old lady gives you free coffee and you don't want to break her heart!"

"Okay this is getting ridiculous. Clearly, we misread some things, but now we know we both feel the same way. You like me, I like you, right?"

"Right."

"So can I kiss you, on the lips?"

"Please."

Eddie took a swift step forward, his hands reaching and grabbing either side of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he brought his lips against yours. The kiss was passionate, fervent with all the emotions the two of you had been withholding from one another for far too long.

You separated after a moment, looking at one another with blown out pupils, blushed faces, and a newfound tenderness that cleared away any doubt that threatened to tear you apart.

--

sorry the second half of this lowkey sucks. I just kinda ran with it. Sorry again.

[lasnevadaslaborunion]

Okay, finally caught up on the full VOD and here are some messy thoughts

...

So. UHHH. On a gut emotional level, I fucking hated that lmao. Whole chapter of my life finished with a bang and a whimper. Las Nevadas Labor Union is over, y'all. The boss just deny, defend, deposed himself. Holy shit.

On an intellectual, thematic level... I... can't really... argue with that? Like, we didn't actually expect a character that cc!Q explicitly said was inspired by Walter White to receive a happy ending or a functional relationship, did we? We were really high on our copium supply, good grief.

I could, and still might, write a whole meta about how c!Quackity has been passively suicidal with a foreshortened sense of future for a very long time. As far back as Doomsday, he didn't care if he lost his life, as long as he got to watch those who hurt him go down first. He declared so many times that he would die with his country. He was incessantly compared to c!Wilbur, both by other characters and by the narrative itself. He was fucking terrified of being betrayed again, but he always expected it, and moreover did nothing to prevent it. He told c!Foolish and c!Purpled outright that they would have every right to kill him for what he did to them. Didn't even consider making himself immortal with the revival book, instead focusing on making sure c!Dream would no longer have it. Didn't fight back when Slime killed him. Doubled down on his mistakes, and in hindsight rationalized everything as inevitable. Wrested back control the only way he knew how, following another's model. Las Nevadas was a broken institution, built by a man who had given up on fixing anything. His story was always about the self-perpetuating cycle of power and abuse.

This... isn't shocking, unfortunately. If anything, it was too obvious an ending.

I won't go too deep into the OOC implications, because they will make me sound... way more parasocial than I want to be. But I don't think it's controversial to say that the DSMP holds a lot of complicated, difficult, bittersweet memories for many of its former members. It does not surprise me at all that the ending cc!Q chose for his arc was an unhappy one. There are several possible conclusions I would have greatly preferred, but none could have realistically happened without Certain People returning. I wonder how aware the creator was of that, and how much those emotions bled into the writing.

And while I'm... still not certain how I feel about c!Quackity blowing himself up even after being given a second chance (I will always prefer "live and try to do better" à la Bojack Horseman for characters like this), I see the in-universe logic behind it, and everything up to that point was completely in character. Right down to his denial of having ever done the deed, boasting that his enemies deemed him important enough to kill, while ironically taking hollow pride in denying them the chance to take the revenge he so desperately sought for himself, showing no mercy to who he maybe subconsciously believed was his greatest obstacle to true glory... ughhh, c!Quackity makes me so fucking SAD you guys-

Ahem. Anyway. Could he have forgiven himself? Would he have ever accepted the forgiveness of others? Perhaps, perhaps not. In two other lives, those he unknowingly gave a second chance to, he did. q!Quackity went on living for the sake of someone he loved, knowing he, too, was loved. k!Quackity went on living until he found justice, knowing he did not deserve to be wronged. c!Quackity... what other legacy would he have left? Does he know what he truly wanted, before all that fear and hunger for control tainted his heart? Was he content to know someone would remember him with a shred of fondness? That he left a single positive impact? That his life did have a purpose?What if he knew that even some of those with the most reason to hate him still wanted him to be better?

I suppose one might imagine an open-ended resolution, exchanging that last shot of c!Q's last life vanishing with him riding Boner/Ossium away from the explosion and into the sunset to build a better legacy. What would that new legacy look like? I have no idea. I don't think he knows yet, either. But we can pick our favorite based on the day. Time travel is real, and canon is made up. We can do what we want forever now. Enjoy.

...

He's not a fucking gringo, though. c!Quackity is Mexican, importantly so, full fucking stop. Stop infecting him with more Trump particles than he already had. "Oh great, a foreigner" honestly FUCK you Alex. 0/10 for that

[david-bearman]

2 + gewis

okay so listen, gewis and breeding,,, I genuinely could write a whole dissertation on it and while the discord encouraged me I’m going to try very hard not to

Other December themed smut prompts, send me a number, a ship and ill see what I can do!

---

Lewis favorite past time was worshipping George's body. Taking his sweet time in kissing and licking all of his soft edges, spending ages on his ribcage, occasionally drifting to his nipples. Sometimes spending hours between his thighs, where he marked up the pale white skin that hardly ever saw sun.

And so maybe it shouldn't have come as a surprise when during sex the need to claim George as his, overwhelmed him fully. And well, who could blame him when George so clearly relished in being marked in every single way.

"Lewis," George mewled out, as he pushed in slowly.

He smiled as he pressed a kiss to George's flushed cheeks, "You're doing so well."

The sigh he let out was music to Lewis' ears, the soft content expression on his face as he let himself relax into the bed. Lewis let his hands go over his soft skin, marveling at the beauty of his bed partner.

"Please move," George asked timidly, moaning out when Lewis complied.

Lewis pushed one of George's legs over his shoulder, grabbed his hips for good measure and fucked in deep, just the way George liked it. He pressed his lips to the inside of George's calf as he kept moving, trying to will himself to hold on.

George squirmed underneath him, letting his arms flail over his head, "Please, Lewis."

Lewis groaned at the plead, "So good for me, George. So pretty."

Underneath him George took in a deep breath, before one of his hands wandered to his neglected leaking cock.

Lewis tutted as he grabbed George's hands before it could reach its end destination, "No touching, you're going to come on my cock tonight."

A small dribble of precum left George's cock as he whined at the denial. Lewis groaned at the feeling of George clenching around him, easily a sign he was more aroused than annoyed.

"Lewis, please," he whined.

Lewis dug in his nails as he slowed down, trying to making it last longer for the both of them, "What do you need, baby?"

George blinked with big eyes as he looked up, "Please come inside me."

Surprised at the request Lewis' hips stuttered, George had never outright asked. He often protested when Lewis went to pull out, or looked extra content when they had forgone the condom, but never had George asked like this.

"Fuck, baby," Lewis breathed out. "You want me to mark you?"

George's cock twitched against his stomach, "Yes, yes, want you to- want you to fill me up."

Lewis pushed his forehead into George's calf, trying to let himself not slip away. He turned his head and leaned down, pushing deeper into George, who whined at the feeling.

He kissed George deeply, trying to put all of his feelings into that one kiss.

"Yeah, you want me to make you mine?"

George nodded his breath erratic as Lewis changed his angle and doubled down, fucking into him deep and languid.

"Want me to fill you all up?"

George whined, grabbing the arms that caged him in, "Fuck, fuck."

Lewis slid a hand in between them and groaned at the feeling of George covered in precum, he had been positively drooling on himself.

"God you're so pretty. Gonna come for me? Gonna come as I fill you up, baby?"

George arched his back as Lewis jerked him off, a steady and firm rhythm that matched him fucking in and out of his tight hole.

"Please, can I?" George whined, his nails digging into Lewis' biceps.

Lewis let himself feel the arousal that flowed through his body, the need to orgasm now persistent at the front of his mind.

"Yes, baby, yes come for me. Let me fill you up."

Almost instantly George came, his hole fluttering around Lewis' cock, who groaned out and buried his face in George's shoulder as he came. He stayed there for a moment, catching his breath, nosing the skin of George's neck.

"How did I get so lucky," murmured Lewis.

George tangled his hand into Lewis' hair, and smiled, "Not luck, hard work that paid off."