#sometimes a fixation creeps up on u | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dollfaceksj · 1 year ago

Note

hey clovy! i’m already looking forward for the next drabble <3 friday and weekend better come faster

hehe im glad u were patient <3

can’t afford love | myg (m) #4

⋆ TAGLIST ⋆

⇠ PREV. ⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆ NEXT ⇢

WHAT DO YOU DO?

ACCEPT, HAVE FOREPLAY — 95,7%

DECLINE, TRY AGAIN TOMORROW — 4,3%

255 votes

you chose:

ACCEPT, HAVE FOREPLAY

↓

you stare at him for a second longer before slowly starting to nod your head. “fuck, okay.”

he frowns for a moment longer before gently sighing. he places his hands on the back of your knees and pushes them all the way to your torso, spreading you out for him

you gasp at the strength he uses to do that, a scowl creeping on your face. “i’m not a doll!”

he simply ignores you, eyeing your sex for a few seconds before closing in on it

his tongue come in contact with your slit, licking a thick stripe up from your hole to your clit and it makes you slightly shiver under him

you glance down at him and you’re met with his eyes closed, nose nudging your clit as he licks all around your pussy

taking his time

eating you out

like he’s been starved

tongue swirling all around, slurping, sucking on your clit

and this is exactly the reason why you didn’t want any fucking foreplay

because his head game is insanity-inducing

you try your best to keep quiet

refusing to let him know the effects his tongue have on you

yeah you’re childish for that

you hate to say it

but your exhusband is the best pussy eater in the fucking world

the way he uses his tongue is literally inhumane

your thighs clench, tremble and it’s getting harder to actually keep yourself quiet

a soft whimper leaves your mouth without permission and you instantly slam your lips shut

you glance down at him again but this time he’s staring straight at you, mouth still on your quivering pussy

he leans back, hands still gripping your thighs

“you good?” he asks, lips and chin glistening with his saliva and your slick

you blink at him a few times, chest dramatically rising and falling

you slowly nod, involuntarily clenching around nothing

he glances down at your pussy again, just in time to catch the clench which he smirks at but decides not to comment on

you fight the urge to roll your eyes but there’s not much energy left when all of it’s going into you trying to stay as still and quiet as possible

but your plan horrible fails when he starts sucking on your clit with all his might, slurping and attacking it with his tongue

“fuck!” you cry out, hips involuntarily grinding up into his face but he simply keeps going, slightly shaking his head from side to side to give you even more friction

you try to keep quiet, slapping your hand onto your mouth and keeping your cries and moans quiet as he sucks you for all you’re worth

he doesn’t pay much attention to anything else, just focused on eating you out to the best of his abilities with his eyes closed

it reminds you of all the times he’d eat you out

he loved it

sometimes he’d just eat you out for long periods of time, for fun, for his pleasure, edging you and he wouldn’t ask for anything in return either

literally would just come home and find comfort in eating you out

even when you were busy

scrolling on your phone, reading a book, watching tv

he always had his mouth on you

you always called it his oral fixation because he just can’t keep his lips off your face or shoulders or neck or just anywhere on your skin

there’s a sudden intrusion and that’s when you realize he’s plunged two of his fingers into you which automatically makes you arch your back up off the bed

“oh, my god!” you moan, hands flying into his hair as you tug on his roots, trying to pull his face towards you as you grind into his mouth

he continues, slurping and sucking and your moans turn into extreme ragged breathing when the familiar knot in your stomach starts forming

“i-” you pause, “i’m gonna… i’m gonna cum,” you sob as you start clenching around his fingers, back completely arching off your mattress

he speeds up the pace of his fingers as his lips close around your poor clit, continuing to abuse it with his mouth as he pushes you towards your high

your orgasm finally washes over you and it makes your entire body tremble for several moments, tears pricking in your eyes as you cum all over his mouth and fingers

the squelching sounds are disgusting yet delicious, and fuck, you don’t think you’ve ever wanted him as bad as you do in this moment

“fuck, i’ve missed this,” he mumbles but you can barely register it as your body shakes with euphoria

he lets you ride out your high, tongue still licking all the nooks n crannies in your pussy until you’ve stopped trembling and push against his head

he slowly pulls away but not before placing a soft kiss to your pussy

you try to catch your breath, arm draped over your eyes as you focus on steadying your breathing

he softly strokes your thighs. “how are you feeling?”

you swallow thickly before parting your lips and after a moment of silence, you reply, “real fucking good.”

a soft chuckle leaves him as he sucks his fingers clean and gets onto his knees on the mattress

“you need a minute?” he asks quietly, gently rubbing circles onto your stomach which you try not to flinch away from

you can directly feel him rubbing circles around your loose skin and it makes you so insecure

“no, let’s get on with it,” you say once you’ve calmed down, removing your arm from your view to glance up at him and subtly pushing his hand away from your stomach

you really don’t want to be in this position any longer than you need to be

“okay,” is all he says as he slides his boxers off and tosses them off the bed

your eyes automatically drop down to his erection, rock hard and screaming for attention

he knows how much you love his dick and you wish he didn’t

you slowly glance up at him and he’s staring right at you

with the most smug look on his face that you wish you could just SPIT on

you blink a few times before shifting awkwardly on the bed

he holds onto one of your thighs whilst guiding his dick to your leaking sex but not before dropping a dribble of saliva directly onto your pussy

holy shit

you almost moan at the act but quickly stop yourself

“ready?” he asks, tip of his dick nudging your hole

you nod, holding onto the eye contact with him but he’s got other plans

“—to fall in love with me again?” he adds after you’ve already started nodding your head

….

he’s so aggravating

just as you start scowling at him and reach out to hit his shoulder

he slowly starts pushing into you

your brows instantly furrow together and your mouth falls open at the intrusion, the burn in your walls bringing soft tears to your eyes

your hand stays frozen in the air, just before you can hit him

his brows are scrunched together and his bottom lip is trapped between his teeth

you wrap so tightly around him

“are you okay?” he whispers as he slowly pushes further until he fully bottoms out

you gasp once he’s nestled fully inside of you. “y..yeah, sorry. it’s uh,” you pause, “it’s been a while.”

and it has been

you haven’t had sex

since your last time with yoongi

which is a year ago

he blinks at you for a few moments, still buried in you

“you’re so tight,” he pauses, “relax for me, y/n.”

you take a deep breath and take his advice, slowly letting go and trying to relax

“that’s it, baby,” he whispers as he places one hand next to your head against the pillows which makes him completely hover over you

he needs to stop calling you baby

everywhere you look

he’s there

you take another deep breath before saying, “move.”

he slowly pulls out, keeping the tip inside before pushing back in carefully

he does that a few times and the burn is slowly shifting into pleasure

and you need more

you say, “faster.”

he stares into your eyes for confirmation until he slowly starts rocking his hips faster into yours

you try to keep quiet but occasionally, pathetic moans spill from you

“fuck, you sound so sweet,” he mumbles as he leans down, burying his face into your neck and pressing his lips against your skin. “i’ve really missed those pretty sounds you make, love.”

he needs to stop talking to you like this.

“yoongi,” you warn and it comes out as a pathetic whimper but he simply pecks your neck

“yes, say my name.” he slowly starts rocking into you harder

it almost feels like his way to shut you up to let him kiss your neck and sweet talk you without you bringing up your dumb rules

your moans get increasingly louder as he continues to fuck into you, your whole body jerking from the impact

he then pulls away to stare down at you, catching your fucked out eyes and your agape mouth as sweet moans escape your throat

his eyes glance down at the way your breasts bounce from the momentum of his thrusts and he doesn’t wait another second before he tugs the strap of your teddy off your shoulder to expose your right breast, grabbing a handful of your boob as he snaps his hips into yours

yoongi has always loved to touch and fondle you and you’ve always loved it as well

you want to call him out on it but you don’t want him to stop

because it feels so fucking good

yoongi has always loved your body but he was absolutely enamored with you when you were pregnant

you’d never had taken him for that kind of guy

but he proved you wrong back then

the words that leave your mouth escape without your permission, making you want to scream into the void

surprisingly…

“you liked it when they were filled with milk, right?” you question, blinking up at him with a certain look in your eye

WHAT IS WRONG WITHYOUUUUU???

why the hell would you ask that THATS WEIRDDDD

you watch as his adam’s apple bobs up and down

he grunts in response and stays quiet for a few moments as he continues to knead your breast. “is that wrong?”

your teeth sink into your lower lip. “no.”

“then, yes.”

another moan spills out of you when he pinches your nipple but releases your breast not long after, placing his hands on each side of your waist against the mattress

your legs automatically wrap around his waist to cage him in, keeping him firmly pressed against you and it makes his lips slightly curl up into a smirk. “don’t want me to leave?”

“kiss my ass,” you mumble in response as you bring your hands up to squeeze his biceps

“i would if you’d let me,” he says, the pace of his hips slowly increasing. “you’re still so damn beautiful. i must be crazy.”

what the fuck

you almost moan at his words but quickly restrain yourself

those are responses he’d always give you whenever you would said stuff like that and now it reminds you of the old days with him

get yourself together!

“think you can cum for me again?” he whispers, eyes dropping to your lips for a split second as you quietly moan

you lick your lips as your hand travels down your stomach, reaching your clit and gently rubbing it

you moan at the sensitivity, legs starting to shake

“i’m,” he pauses, “i’m close. last chance to back out,” he jokes

you pinch your brows together and smack the back of his head

him making it seem like ur using a second child as an excuse to get dicked down by him again… he’s crazy!!!

crazy.

“ow,” he chuckles but not long before he unhooks your legs from his waist and wraps his own hands around them

pushing your legs all the way to the mattress as he picks up the pace and snaps his hips into yours

“fuck!” you cry out at the change of angle, speed and impact

“can’t fucking wait to fill you up again,” he mumbles, his ragged breathing fanning over your face. “my favorite thing in the fucking world.”

ugh

how can he just

say this to you

no problem

even though you’re ovulating

and the most sinful words are bubbling in the back of your throat

there's almost a physical resistance, keeping you from admitting how much you love being under him

or on top of him, if you will

“i’m gonna cum,” he whispers. “pussy too fucking good. nothing compares.”

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

fuck

he needs to stop talking or things are gonna get out of hand

and really bad for you

cause why are you .. bummed that its already over?

:////

his hips stutter and it doesn’t take long after for him to finally paint your walls with his warm cum, the squelching of his dick fucking his cum into you is almost embarrassing but in this moment it only turns you on even more

“fuck,” he whispers as he fucks his load into you, eyes shut and lip trapped between his teeth

you moan alongside him, having a perfect view of your poor sex being pummelled by his

after riding out his high, he stays buried inside of you, grunting as he tries to catch his breath

cum leaking out of you

heavy breathing

skin to skin

you finally make eye contact with him as you try to catch your own breath

“give me a second,” he mumbles as he hangs his head low after letting go of your legs

“for what?” your voice comes out hoarse and fucked out

he glances up at you like you asked something absurd

he frowns for a moment before speaking again and saying;

“i asked you to cum again, didn’t i?”

to be continued.

⇠ PREV. ⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆ NEXT ⇢

— enjoyed it? you can always show your appreciation by buying me some coffee if you want ☕︎♡

— follow me on twitter and instagram for free exclusive content like sneak peeks, scrapped content, brain storming and to better interact with me ♧♡

— 🍀

@pamzn @jknoah @ahgasegotarmy116 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @rrrapmonste-rr @teddytaee @pnkmyg @yoongallery @agustdswifey @purp13st4r @busanstarkoo @busanboykoo @llallaaa @kookssecret @p34rluv @xumyboo @jojowantstocry @minjenna @codeinebelle @Futuristiclovedreamland @rirushu @taegicity @namgihours @ultminyoongi @swinterr @butterymin @partyparty-yah @bettybloop @secfir @coffeedepressionsoup @keroppitae @manuosorioh @whoa-jo @etaerealboyv @kaiparkerwifes @luvjiminandyoongi

281 notes · View notes

quensty · 1 year ago

Text

tagged by @enterprisery to put my spotify “on repeat” playlist on shuffle and list off the first 10 songs i get.

unfortunately my playlist hasn’t changed much since the last time i did this, so instead, i’m gonna put my “discover weekly” playlist on shuffle and rate the first 10 songs i get. so thank u for the tag babe but i will not be following a single rule.

🪸 erghan diado (song of schopsko) by bulgarian state television choir: we are starting off this list so insanely strong. i have no idea what made spotify assume i would like this but they were 100% correct. apparently this choir performs modern arrangements of traditional bulgarian folk melodies, and this song is from one of their most recognized projects. four stars ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

🪸 choreomania by florence + the machine: i was surprised to see this song was written before the pandemic, but it turns out that welch based this off of the dancing plague of 1518, where 400 women danced themselves to death. what a cool coincidence that she released a song based on a phenomenon ppl theorize occurred as a result of plague-related stress post-covid. obsessed with the behind-the-scenes info, and the song is catchy. four stars ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

🪸 becky by be your own pet: HOLY SHIT. ohhh no. “i heard u talked a lot of shit abt me / to ur new best friend / but it doesn’t matter anyway / cos i’ll find a new best friend / … but, you know, i gotta say / i loved going to your slumber party” this is fucking me up. childhood friends are like runaway cats u keep hanging up missing posters but u’ll never get them back. “he doesn’t miss carol not really or rather he doesn’t miss the woman she’s making herself into. kid carol tho … he misses that version of her sometimes” etc etc. this is reminding me so much of those homoerotic friendships i had at 8 with other girls that always ended in catastrophe, but i still remember their landline numbers. five stars ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

🪸 bury a friend by pomplamoose: i’m pretty positive this was recommended to me based on my obsession with loveless’s version of happier than ever. i love a good cover, and that one is fabulous. it adds a brutal new dimension to an already angry song. they bring a great alt rock/emo pop twist to it that i adore. despite how good a cover this one is, i can’t say i love it—i might be a little biased; eilish’s original is haunting and nightmarish and it puts everything it can into creeping u out. i don’t think this cover adds any new flavor the way loveless’ does. it mostly makes me want to listen to the original again. one star ⭐️

🪸 the ghost of chicago by noah floersch: this song is appealing to my love of the midwest. it wasn’t what i was expecting going in but i like it! it’s cute. i know it’s meant to be a “i like this girl so much that she haunts me” kinda ghost song, but tbh i like the idea of the narrator falling in love w an actual ghost much more. it reminds me of this wip i have where—no. i shan’t say. it’s a secret. three stars! ⭐️⭐️⭐️

🪸 old cape cod by patti page: … idek what to say abt this. i’m sure white ppl in the 50s thought this was a bop but i do not. zero stars :(

🪸 dizzy in sunlight by the blasting company, ashley nguyen dewitt: now THAT is how u make a dreamy, sunday-afternoon-esque song. the lyrics remind me of a mary oliver poem. “wade in the water / mud covered feet,” “the wind and my mother / they both hold me upright / …oh what a feeling / as the waters / rush over me,” “my sister riding her bike from the store / my grandfather smoking his pope out on the porch / …this life spills over me / and rocks me to sleep”. completely and utterly lovely. five stars ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

🪸 in dreams by sierra ferrell: i love the country and folk elements in this. i’m currently on a country music fixation and this is right up my alley. such a sweet-sounding love song, i added it to one of my playlists right away. four stars ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

🪸 neutral spirit hotel by local news legend: omg this reminds me so much of some of my favorite penelope scott songs—sweet hibiscus tea comes to mind; both of these songs are folksy and have this self-deprecating element to them. “i think i say i’m quitting drinking every other week / but it’s so hard to stop / when it’s the only thing that let’s me sleep” dean winchester type shit (sorry). three stars ⭐️⭐️⭐️

🪸 down in the willow garden by the kossoy sisters: HELL YES a strong finish!! this is a traditional appalachian murder ballad about a guy facing the gallows after poisoning his sweetheart and throwing her body in a river. is me liking this song a loss for feminism? IDK. but i like it </3 four stars ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

i’m tagging @keepoffthetardis, @cabeswater, @youthbleeding, @minimyz, and anyone else who wants to do this! consider urself tagged

#this was extremely fun!! and it forced me to listen to new songs :D #mentioned #mutuals

12 notes · View notes

bronwyns-art-locker · 9 months ago

Text

chatterbox

another short story i wrote for class. kinda gimmicky. i still like it.

[8:38pm] veronica_is_cool: Can we take a break? :3 I wanna hear about your day!

[8:38pm] xlincoln_logx: sure! u first tho

I’ve been talking to this Veronica roleplayer for about 3 months now. We met in one of those open role play rooms on ChatterBox. We ended up talking for hours that night, so we decided to make a private room for the two of us. It’s pretty rare to find anyone roleplaying Veronica these days in the Magical Arrival community, especially since they killed off her character last season. I guess one could say the same about my character, Lincoln. He’s not necessarily a protagonist, but he’s a recurring character that I really related to. That’s really the beauty of roleplaying online – even the most minor characters can be fleshed out by the fans in whatever way they want.

[8:40pm] veronica_is_cool: My day was fine I guess! Today at school some kid tried snorting salt during lunch so that was weird xD!

[8:42pm] xlincoln_logx: thats insane lol i was out from school today tho so i just spent most of my day doom scrolling online as usual

In the 3 months since we’ve started talking, I've gotten really close to her. When we stop role playing we just talk like regular friends. She told me her real name is Lili. She loves to draw, write short stories, and role play Magical Arrival online. What’s cool is she’s the same age as me – or at least I assume so. The thing about online friends is that you can never really discern if they’re telling you the truth about their lives. I took what I could get, though. She still listened to me and treated me like a real friend. Honestly, she was the closest friend I had at the time. But I had never seen her face. Or heard her voice.

[9:16pm] veronica_is_cool: I’m just really shy, Max. Plus, how do I know that when we video call there’s not gonna be some older creep staring at me through me screen ;P (just joking).

[9:18pm] xlincoln_logx: nah i get it, im rlly shy too

[9:21pm] veronica_is_cool: I’m just worried you won’t like what you see.

More than anything, I just wanted her to say yes one day. I wondered what she was so afraid of.

[9:25pm] veronica_is_cool: Max, do you ever feel… out of place sometimes?

[9:25pm] xlincoln_logx: yea like all the time

[9:26pm] veronica_is_cool: How so?

[9:27pm] xlincoln_logx: i mean i dont rlly have friends at my school if thats what u mean.

[9:28pm] veronica_is_cool: Not really. I mean like, do you ever feel out of place in your own body? Like you wish you could just be born different.

[9:30pm] xlincoln_logx: i cant say that i have. why, is that how u feel??

[9:31pm] veronica_is_cool: Sometimes.

I failed to come up with a reply. I had never heard her express something like this before.

[9:45pm] veronica_is_cool: Sometimes I just look at myself in the mirror. I look at my body, my face, my hair… and I don’t feel like I’m me. I have, like, this picture of myself in my brain of how I want people to see me, but I know that will never happen. Really, the only person who sees me the way I want to be seen is you.

[9:46pm] veronica_is_cool: I guess that’s why I’m so afraid to show you my face. I’m sorry.

I didn’t know what to say or what to think. I didn’t know how to interpret what she was trying to say to me. Had she been lying to me about who she was this whole time? I felt a strange anxiety creeping up my body. It started at my legs, and made its home in my stomach. I couldn’t look at my screen for too long or else I’d just fixate on her words and get more afraid of what she was hiding from me. For the first time in a few hours I looked away from the bright glow of my laptop, and let my eyes wander around my room.

I looked at my bed sheets, then my unfolded laundry. I got so deep into talking to her that I forgot to at least clean my room. Then I glanced at my mirror, and held my gaze longer than I expected. I examined my face; my expression. I looked tired, but not unlike myself. I guess I could stand to get a haircut, because it was getting a little long. And I needed to shave the rat-stache I had been growing since 8th grade. I definitely had an awkward appearance, but that never bothered me. I didn’t feel like a stranger in my own body – not at all like Lili said she felt. I looked away.

My eyes then landed on the Magical Arrival poster hanging on the wall across from me. It featured all of the major characters standing at a bus stop together in poses that represented their personalities. On the far right stood Veronica. She was staring down at her shoes with her hands in her coat pockets, acting just as shy as she usually was on the show. As I studied her figure longer, I realized that I actually had a face I’d picture when I would think about Lili.

[10:03pm] xlincoln_logx: we’re friends right lili?

[10:04pm] veronica_is_cool: I’d like to think we are.

[10:05pm] xlincoln_logx: you mean a lot to me. you’re someone i want to stay friends with for a while.

[10:05pm] veronica_is_cool: I feel the same way.

[10:06pm] xlincoln_logx: then would it be too much to ask that you dont keep anything from me?

[10:08pm] veronica_is_cool: It’s not…

[10:09pm] xlincoln_logx: do you trust me enough to show me what ur afraid of?

[10:10pm] veronica_is_cool: It’s not that simple. I don’t think you get what I’m trying to say.

[10:11pm] xlincoln_logx: i think im starting to get it. can we just try and figure it out together?

She didn’t reply for a while. I was afraid she had left entirely. I was afraid I scared her away.

[10:45pm] veronica_is_cool: Okay. Let’s do it.

That anxiety I felt earlier had found its way back into my body. Instead of being in my stomach, it found its way up to my chest and my arms. I was breathing manually now, and I felt a subtle tightness in my shoulders and on the sides of my ribs. My arms felt like they had 20 pound weights on them. I nervously opened up Skype and typed in her username. It felt like the ringing lasted forever, until she finally picked up and all I saw was her profile picture: a drawing of Veronica. “Sorry,” she mumbled, “I’m turning on my camera now.” Her voice sounded strained, like she wasn’t speaking in her natural register. She finally turned on her camera.

It was my friend. For the first time since I met her, I finally saw my friend’s face. She had pale skin, and some acne on her cheeks. Her wide lips were contorted into a nervous smile as we stared at each other, just examining each other’s appearance. Her hair was long and slightly unkempt. It reached the tops of her shoulders, and was a deep brown color. Her blue eyes hid behind thick, rectangular glasses and in the reflection of them I could see myself on her screen. I was surprised to see that she was wearing winehouse style eyeliner, and it was neatly done. Draped over her body was an oversized “Deftones'' t-shirt; her favorite band. She looked undeniably nervous. Her eyes were shooting around the room, trying hard not to look at herself on her own screen. The more I looked at her the more I thought about our conversation. I thought more about why she was afraid to show herself to me. I thought about how much courage it must have taken to do this video call at all. I thought about the trust she put into me to reveal this side of herself. I needed to break the silence. “You know, you look just like her, right?” I said.

“Who?”

“Veronica.”

1 note · View note

weepingvoidpenguin · 3 years ago

Text

Unfortunately Yours

Summary: When you and Bucky successfully infiltrate a HYDRA auction, you’re told to stay another day due to max capacity on the jet. But how are you going to survive a night alone with this insufferable Super Soldier? Especially considering the miniscule size of the room and the obvious dilemma presented; who gets the bed?

Warning: S M U T , the smuttiest thing I’ve ever written, language, spit kink, daddy kink, ptsd symptoms, slight voyeurism, slight exhibitionism, hate-s e x, rough, more like enemies-to-lovers kind of thing, gagging, m!receiving, f!receiving, lots of receiving lol, 18+, M

Word Count: 10.6K (Whhhyyyyy)

Your body burned with exhaustion and the sheer weight of your extremities felt enough to drag you to the floor and mirror a coma with the length of your hibernation. You no longer had the minimal strength required to pick up your feet properly which resulted in the sound of shuffling to fill the small, and by small you meant miniscule, room you’d been assigned to.

Well, you and Bucky had been assigned to.

You’d both played your parts well enough over the course of the last few hours. You’d sauntered into the ran-shacked looking bar with Bucky’s arm tossed lazily over your shoulder, his distaste for the assignment evident on his face, but he’d cleared it away the second his foot crossed the threshold. He pulled you in tighter to his body and raised his chin into the air, emitting the energy of a man not to be trifled with. You’d portrayed your role as a damsel just as, if not more, convincing as Barnes’ opposite. Your shoulders hunched over and your steps were small and quivering, the wig on your head a tool used to curtain the hair in your face.

You were the lamb to this White Wolf.

Word had traveled through the dark and twisted grapevine that a certain showing of sorts took place tonight and a high-ranking target was rumored to be amongst its audience. You and Barnes were on the first flight to Germany within minutes.

Bucky had pulled you through the crowd moving along to the thundering music in the background and halted at the edge of the bar. His grip on your shoulder tightened once he’d caught the man’s attention and you winced, his fingers digging a little too deep for your liking.

The bartender scanned you over and took in your frame, making you feel smaller than you had already displayed yourself to be. It took him a while to conclude but when he took in Bucky’s domineering gaze, a look as if to say Deny me, I dare you, he nodded once and wrote something down on a napkin, sliding it over to Bucky.

Scum. All of them.

You nearly blew your cover trying to throw Bucky a look but you refrained from the hellfire clawing its way out of you. You had to be perfectly in control, emotions and beliefs aside. You were a damsel and you had to make certain they believed that. You knew they were watching; they always were.

“Relax,” Bucky hissed, pulling you under his arm and bringing his lips to your ear.

“When you pretend you’re the one being put up for auction, then you can tell me to relax,” you muttered, never looking up from the ground.

“I have been.” When you paused your movement, he pulled away to scan the room, “Nothing’s gonna happen to you. I promise.” He led you backstage and turned the corner to a dimly lit hallway, barren of any decoration in sharp contrast to every other section of the building, “Besides, once they realize how insufferable you are, they’ll be begging me to take you back,”

He opened an iron door and pushed you into the room, sending you tumbling down onto the carpet. He tsked, stepping over you and not looking back after shutting the door behind himself. You counted thirteen pairs of feet and judging by the way some of them were turned towards you, they had to be watching. You observed your hands for a second, counting slowly until you figured you’d stalled long enough and sent your trembling gaze to the exit. Bucky let out a low chuckle and clasped his hand around your upper arm, launching you back onto your feet and twisting your body to face him.

Oh, darling, German fluently escaped his tongue and you nearly rolled your eyes at the condescending tone settled in his words, You know better than that, don’t you?

His hold tightened and you winced, holding back the whimper in your throat. If you saw any hint of a bruise forming on your arm, you would give him hell later . . . and possibly even if you didn’t.

You bit your tongue and let him lead you towards a leather chair before he pulled you swiftly down onto his lap where his hand remained on your thigh, brushing the inside softly. Had you not been so annoyed, you’d have been humiliated at all the stares devouring the scene unfolding before them.

Good girl, he drawled and pressed your back flat up against his chest where he could put you on display.

You knew you should’ve been annoyed, or at least settled so into your role as his temporary whore-for-sale that the sensation coming alive between your thighs shouldn’t have made an appearance. But sometimes, the way Bucky brought his voice down real low and cooed an insult or jest your way just had an affect that your body would not deny. It kept you awake a lot.

Instead, you swallowed hard and let yourself be splayed against him. You ignored the scent of sandalwood in his cologne.

Your body trembled from the cold breeze floating around in the room and you shifted in Bucky’s lap to block everyone’s sight from the way your chest reacted to the change in temperature.

Don’t be shy, he murmured and removed your arms from your breasts, letting the thin, practically see-through fabric show you to the world.

“Buc-” You started, your panic creeping through the cracks at the cheshire sneers sent your way, but at the first sign of your discomfort, he retracted his hands and twisted you around gently, throwing your legs over the side of the chair and spreading them but forcing your upper half to face him. Effectively, cutting your chest off from their line of sight.

You trembled out a sigh and he grabbed your face tightly, drawing your eyes to his. He examined you, his hardened gaze shouting words he couldn’t currently say. But you understood. He could be a jerk, but he wasn’t a bad man.

Your body instinctively leaned into him for warmth as another breeze engulfed you, resulting in a shiver that made its way up your spine. “Are they still looking?” you inquired and he gripped your neck with a ferocity that made you squirm in his lap. Fuck.

He pulled your ear to his lips and licked the helix. You whimpered. “No,” he whispered, running his thumb along your jawline, “But if you don’t quit fucking squirming you’re gonna have a problem, Doll,”

You opened your mouth in question when you felt a sudden twitch on your backside and you swallowed. Hard. He never broke eye contact with you, instead choosing to raise a brow in mocking. Your chest heaved up and down and how you could feel his breath grazing on your cheek almost had you rubbing your legs together for some form of desperate friction. No, you had to keep yourself composed, keep the act going. But he’d seen it. All of it.

You nod your head and slowed your breathing down until he released his grip around your throat and turned his attention towards the dim stage. You leaned back into him and followed suit, making sure to keep your attention downcast and appear disheveled.

“There,” Bucky whispered after a few minutes and you lifted your head only to find the man you had come all this way for walking straight towards you.

Like a moth to a flame.

“How much?” The older man inquired, his grotesque gaze settled on your spread legs.

Bucky looked up at the balding man as if this was the first time he’d noticed his presence, “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?”

The man lifted his brow, or what would’ve been, and smiled wickedly, “I’ll give you double your price if you give her to me now,” he offered, his eyes slithering up to the apex of your thighs and this time you didn’t have to fake the shiver running up your spine.

A small smirk formed on Bucky’s face and he waved his hand dismissively at him, “Get in line,”

The old man sneered but Bucky was right, most everyone had their attention fixated on what was happening currently and it was apparent there was, indeed, a line.

Bucky rested his gloved hand on your upper thigh and gripped tight, whether to refrain from hitting the guy or just to touch you, he wasn’t sure but he couldn’t keep you away when the man said, “I’ll give you four times the asking price but I want her now,”

Bucky’s grip on your thigh tightened and you squeaked at the pain, jumping slightly in his lap. “How about I give her to you for free for ten minutes and you tell me if you can handle her,”

You jerked your head towards Bucky and furrowed your brows. Free? Dick. You nearly scoffed.

The man gripped onto your calf and you shifted to kick his hand away when Bucky’s own shot out and and ripped his off of you, “Don’t touch my stuff,” he spit and the man let out a yell but that only spurred Bucky on and he tightened his fist, “Until terms are agreed upon, she remains mine to do with as I please. Understood?”

The man nodded hastily and Bucky threw you off his lap when he stood up. “Anyone else?” Bucky shouted to the room, daring others to test his limits when it came to you. After a few moments of silence Bucky scoffed, “I didn’t fucking think so,”

Bucky’s grip on the man remained and he stared down at the hunched figure, “Now, you,” he addressed and the room remained silent. This was allowed here.

Normally, merchandise couldn’t be touched until it was purchased. No buying before the auction, no discussing what you’re offering, no negotiating but most importantly don’t try to steal from anyone. These are criminals and that being said, they handle things amongst themselves. They know the rules and the risks they take breaking them.

So, when Bucky drags the poor bastard away, you follow right behind him. Not a protest to be heard. Bucky throws open the door we entered through and finds the nearest room before chucking the HYDRA agent inside and locking the door behind you.

The room was brightly lit, with all four walls a dull cream color and dark brown couches strewn casually about. There’s no real order to this place. All cement corners and LED bulbs. Pure business.

“Let ‘em know,” Bucky orders and you turn around to argue only to find the man pulling a gun out of his jacket pocket.

You jerk suddenly and kick Bucky square in the stomach, launching him towards one of the couches just as a shot rings out. You blanch at the sound, the noise filling your head and drowning everything else out. You hear yelling but you can’t make out the words, only the panic intermingled within them. Your hand reaches out around you and you grip the small button lined into your thin clothing, pressing it four times how you’d been instructed.

Everything moved slowly and people began filing into the room. How did they get here so fast? No. It wasn’t possible, they were a quarter mile down the road, there was no way they were your backup.

Hands began flying in the air and you were picked up and dropped multiple times, each time landing harder than the last. You tried to blink back the spinning but the blows landing on your face and torso made it all the worse.

Instinctively, you threw your hands up to protect your face and fought to find some footing to help. Bucky was good but he wasn’t a God, he would need help. When the first blow met your forearms you reached out to grasp the hand and used your other to drive your fist right into the person’s nose. The bone crunched under your blow.

You took a hit, then another when you managed to analyze the enemy’s fight pattern and waited until he left himself open before driving your knee into his rib cage. He bent over in pain and you grabbed him by the hair, hearing another crack when you shoved your elbow upwards against his nose.

You heard a shout and whipped your head over to see Bucky on his back, a looming figure with a gun aimed straight towards him. You galvanized towards them and threw yourself in the air, using your weight to kick him off of Bucky when another shot rang out.

Bucky shot up and crushed the gun with his metal arm. You scoured the room for the familiar HYDRA agent but found him nowhere. You shot out of the room, knocking into an opposing wall as you turned the corner and ducked when the sound of a bullet whizzed past you.

This is not going good. You had lost your target and rummaged through room after room until you’d become lost. Fuck. Where the hell did he run off to? You winced after breaking out into a sprint but pressed on, not allowing yourself to slow down. There was no way you were going to fail this mission, especially after coming so close to success.

Sweat trailed down your face and your muscles screamed at you to halt, their exhaustion beginning to wear you down. Your breathing grew rapid and your vision blurred and just as you went to lean on a wall to rest, your shoulder exploded out in pain and you collapsed with a cry.

“Dirty whore,” the HYDRA man seethed, a cane raised over his head. He brought it down and you spun to the side, feeling the air breeze past your ear.

Your hand latched onto the cane and you shoved it into his gut, pushing him away. SHIELD wanted this guy alive, so alive they would receive him. That didn’t mean he had to come in one piece though.

You tore the walker out of his hand just as he tumbled onto his ass. You stood up, grunting along the way and hovered over his body, fear sprawled along his features.

“You can either stay still or get beat with your own cane, it’s your choice,” you offered, aching to bring the walker down onto his face. “Please test me. Please.” You begged.

His gaze shifted between you and the weapon and he brought his trembling hands up in defeat. He must’ve been an agent of some Intelligence branch because his fighting abilities were evidently subpar at best.

You sighed, sad to see the opportunity go but brought the cane down none the less. “That’s unfortunate,”

You turned your attention to the sound of running coming around the corner and moved to drag and hide your captive in a nearby closet only to roll your eyes when Bucky came ‘round. You tossed the cane back and forth between your hands and smiled proudly towards the agent on the floor.

“Look who I caught,” you toyed and were met with a grunt.

“Only because you let him get away,” he retorted, pulling the balding man up to his feet.

Everything began to slow and the hellfire you’d kept under mounds of ice had finally melted through its freezing cage. “What?”

He turned his back towards you and trudged the hesitant man behind him towards the exit.

“I said,” you hollered, not caring how the halls carried your echo, “What?”

“I heard what you said,” he called back to you, not bothering to turn around.

And there you were left, frozen and dumbfounded for five solid minutes before you could pull yourself together enough to stomp your way back towards the rendezvous point. You remained hazy for the most part while debriefing. You tried to recount everything but the way your anger engulfed you in its flame obscured your memory so you kept it short.

It was quickly brought up that SHIELD captured more HYDRA agents than expected and were gonna be at max capacity so you and Bucky had to stay at a base a few miles down the road. You grumbled in compliance but Bucky didn’t respond, not even a godforsaken grunt.

What SHIELD had failed to mention though, was that this bunker was clearly meant for one. It barely counted as a room. There was a small bathroom in the corner just big enough for a shower and toilet. No sink. And a small counter with just enough space for a stove, microwave and radio. If you were to lay down vertically or horizontally you’d nearly be touching wall each way. Not to mention the singular bed.

And that’s how you got to where you were now. Miniscule room. Exhausted body. Drained mind. Patience long gone.

You huffed and dropped your bag in front of the entrance before walking to the bathroom and turning to slam the door closed. You turned the faucet on and ripped the wig off, discarding your clothes in a pile before stepping into the shower. The warm water was nice and welcoming but your body already felt aflame so you twisted the knob and held your breath when the cold stream trickled down your body. It was difficult to breathe at first, but your body soon adjusted to the temperature and you began wiping the muck off your skin with the bar of soap supplied. But that’s all the was supplied. Clearly, this place was meant to be a quick pit stop.

You sat on the hard floor as the water streamed onto your body. You could nearly fall asleep to its rhythm; It was only when your head hit the wall that you realized you were so you begrudgingly stood up and shut off the water. You grabbed the only towel in the bathroom and pat yourself dry, noticing just then that you left your clothes outside.

You let out a long sigh and twisted open the doorknob to find Bucky toying with the radio on the counter; not even purposefully, just looking for something to do while he waited.

You opened your mouth to ask him to hand you your bag but after what he said to you earlier you’d sooner eat hot coals than ask him to do anything for you. You stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped neatly around your chest and you bent over to open your bag. The shuffling on the radio stopped.

“You could’ve at least left me some warm water,” he grumbled and you rolled your eyes.

You searched in your bag for the fresh clothes residing there only to turn around when you found them and have the bathroom door shut in your face.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You shouted, pounding your fist against the door.

You could hear the water running and you groaned, pounding harder. The door opened for a split second and you were hit in the face with the clothes you’d left inside only for it to instantly be slammed shut again.

You punched the door with all the frustration built up over the past few hours and felt the wood crack with your force. Why did this man have to be incredibly baffling? You were not nearly paid enough to deal with such an unbearable partner. He would have you bald from stress before you knew it.

You spent the next few minutes grumbling to yourself after you changed and scribbled your frustration onto a small notebook you took with you everywhere. It was only when you heard the water shut off did you remember something. You still had the only towel. A villainous smirk tugged at your lips and you placed the folded towel on the edge of the bed, away from the door.

Then you heard the creak. “I will walk out naked if you don’t give me the towel,” Bucky threatened.

You shrugged despite him not being able to see you from your position on the bed, “I’ll just laugh at your dick,”

“You weren’t laughing earlier,” he shot back.

Oh. So he did remember. Good. You thought he’d gotten amnesia within the past few hours, maybe he was just too ashamed to mention it.

“Too disgusted to insult. Plus, I was playing a character,”

“Fine,” he responded and quickly came into view, haughtily sauntering over to your side and you shouted.

“Dear God!” You held the towel up to block your sight of his barren body. It was disgusting. He was all wet, hair dripping onto his muscled torso, water gleaming off his taut skin, 5 o’clock shadow drenched and straight out of a wet dream. Jesus.

“Prude,” he commented, snatching the towel from your grasp and wrapping it around himself.

“Respectable,” you corrected, crossing your arms and shoving him away. “You get the floor,”

He lifted his duffle off the ground and rummaged through it. “Then I get the blanket,”

“You get fuck all,” you stated, flipping off the lamp beside you and snuggling into the warm cot.

When the shuffling stopped and the bathroom light was shut off, you shut your eyes and let the wear of the day grab at you, lulling you into the beginning of slumber. That is, until the blanket was hauled from around you, damn near throwing you onto the floor. You shouted out and caught yourself last minute.

“Barnes!” You yelled, steadying yourself and reaching over the edge to grab the blanket back. Your hand fisted at the faux fur and you pulled with all your might to no avail.

He swatted you away as though you were a pesky fly and reached over to turn the light of the lamp on. You glowered at him and stood, wrapping the blanket around your arm and pulling upwards. Your arm strained to its capacity but the man on the floor didn’t budge. Only turned his back to you and shut his eyes. You reached over yourself and flipped the switch of the lamp, once again immersing yourself in the comforting darkness.

Bucky stiffened and opened his eyes then turned and froze you in your spot with his stare. He reached around and lit the lamp, slowly retracting his arm and daring you to turn it off again. So you did.

He yanked the blanket from your grasp and threw you back onto the bed, bringing light into the room. “Light stays on,” he growled.

“No! You’ve had your goddamn way since you stepped foot into this room. Light goes off and I get the blanket!” You shouted, not concerned about anyone else hearing considering the room was soundproof.

“No. You get the bed so I get the blanket. Tell me how that doesn’t make sense,” he countered.

You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of admitting that it did, in fact, make sense. The floor here was wooden and clearly uncomfortable, plus he hadn’t even argued about the bed situation.

You retreated, “Fine, light still goes off,”

“No,”

“Yes,”

Silence fell between the two of you but you weren’t budging. Barnes had faced plenty of monsters, he could handle the dark.

“I need the noise to fall asleep,” he admitted and it was then you could hear the slight hum the bulb emitted.

You didn’t speak for a while but reared back and pulled out your phone, “What do you want to listen to?” You scrolled through a few sounds you had stored on your phone, “We’ve got: nature sounds, frequencies, guided meditations, etc. You name it, but I’m not sleeping with this forsaken light on,”

Bucky studied you, his expression changing a mile a minute but the one of indifference conquered, “Rain,”

You nodded once and selected the audio, placing the phone face up on the nightstand and turning the light off for the last time. Hopefully. You hunkered down into the thin mattress and reached down, grasping at the thick blanket. When you pulled, there was some give. He’d let you get just enough needed to cover your body if you laid at the very edge and your hand hovered in the air when you laid your arm over the side.

Minutes flew by with your eyes shut and the exhaustion slithered over your body but your mind ran wild with the events from earlier. You tried not to get angry or sad or . . . bothered. Your breathing deepened when you began to succumb to your body’s fatigue and you drifted inch by inch into the welcoming void lulling your name.

You didn’t hear when he shifted, only managed to register the faint tracing of his fingertips on your hand before finally giving out.

You weren’t sure what time it was when you opened your eyes for the first time that night. This regularly happened. You’d wake up multiple times during the night to shift positions or throw off the sheets, no matter how insignificant the desire, your body always found a way to wake you for it.

You opened your eyes slowly to a hazy vision and blinked at the sitting figure on the floor, “Bucky?” You croaked, bringing a hand up to wipe at your face, “What time is it?”

“It’s almost one, go back to sleep,”

“What are you doing?” You persisted, ignoring his demand and sitting up slowly, “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Couldn’t,”

A heartbeat. Then another. And another. He didn’t care to elaborate.

“Do you want the bed?” You offered, stretching yourself out and already placing yourself down on the floor, “It’s too hot up there, anyway,”

His attention turned to you for the first time but you’d already began closing your eyes, not really having the energy to argue with him. You could hear shuffling from his spot and the ground disappeared below you, strong hands grasping your body and lifting you up to place you gently back onto the cot.

“I prefer the floor,” he insisted, wrapping the blanket around you, “Besides, you’re a horrendous liar,”

You didn’t hold back the singular chuckle, your haze still enveloping you. “Then why aren’t you sleeping?”

He sat at the foot of the bed, his hand hovering over your leg in hesitation, “It’s complicated.” He dropped his hand to his side.

“Isn’t the rain helping?” you mumbled, your sight now adjusting to the dark.

“Yes,”

“Then what?”

“I just . . . don’t want to wake you,”

“Well, I’m already awake if that makes you feel better,” you jeered, a small smile forming on your lips.

“It doesn’t,”

“Nothing does,” you retorted, the inevitable annoyance you always felt when conversing with him already made its way up into your tone.

He scoffed and stood from the bed, placing himself in the same spot on the floor with his head leaned up against the wall and his arm resting on his perched knee.

“Oh, so now you can’t handle a little attitude,” your tone came out incredulous, “You didn’t have any issues earlier when you blamed me for that guy’s escape. Which, he didn’t even get to do, might I add,”

“I was projecting,” he replied, gaze still focused on the door opposite to him.

You blinked, “Are you so tired that you’re actually admitting to being a dick?”

“I know I can be a dick, but you threw yourself straight into the line of fire twice today. So I don’t really give a shit if I was mean to you,”

“I only did that because you almost got shot twice today. Don’t take your anger out on me for your incompetence. Just say ‘thank you’ and move on already,”

“Incompetence?” His head jerked in your direction. “What was incompetent was that you couldn’t keep yourself composed,”

You sat up. “What in the hell are you talking about? My behavior is what got our target to basically give himself up to us! It was me that trapped him, not you!” His composure tensed and you crossed your arms over your chest, “You’re just mad your dick got hard so if anything you’re the one who couldn’t keep their compos-” His hand was wrapped around your throat and you were pinned to the mattress before you could finish your sentence.

“Shut the fuck up,” he hissed at you, his face mere inches from yours.

“Why?” You spoke hoarsely around his tightening grip, “Does the Big Bad Wolf not like that he was turned on? Who’s the prude now?”

“Turned on?” He spat, his free hand resting by your head to cage you in, “You think what you did earlier turned me on?”

You grasped at the hand around your throat and pried slightly to speak, “Fight me or fuck me, Barnes. But stop lying to yourself, it’s getting old,”

The room seemed to freeze over and Bucky paused. His hesitation was enough to elicit the fire from earlier and your legs squirmed a little underneath him. God, you hoped he chose the latter.

Then his lips crashed against yours.

You squeaked at the sudden onslaught but threw your arms around his shoulders and pulled him in tighter against you. He dropped when you intertwined your legs, his full weight pressing against you deliciously. You ground up against him, your core aching from the previous hours and the small friction elicited a moan from the both of you.

“So impatient,” he scolded, bringing the hand from around your throat down to your hips and pressing you into the bed. “What a whore,”

His breath danced along your cheek and you mewled at his words. Gods, he was going to be the death of you. Or the beginning.

You breathed in deeply, his sandalwood scent intoxicating you in a manner that alcohol never could. When you drank, you were just drunk. But when you took a sip from the tall glass that was Bucky, it brought you to life. Your body sang melodies wherever you were plastered against each other and your skin burned with need.

Touch me, your body screamed, touch me.

“Fuck off,” you groaned and Bucky jerked your head to the side, exposing your neck for him to scavenge.

The goosebumps that danced across your skin when he ran his warm tongue up from the curve of your neck to the bottom of your ear brought an arrogant smirk onto Bucky’s face. You ran your fingers through his hair and tugged when he reached a particularly sensitive spot that had your legs shaking when he kissed it sloppily.

Your mouth hung open in silent pleasure and your breaths were short and rapid, your body betraying all forms of control you previously had over yourself. The hand that wasn’t residing in his hair trailed down his muscled arm and you gripped at the brawn this man possessed. His skin reminisced lightly of silk despite the rough texture of his hands.

The same hands that now made its way into your hair and tugged at the strands at the base of your neck, jolting your chin higher into the air. Your grip tightened around his biceps and the strength they emitted sent a pool rushing to your core. You continued hunting until you found the hem of his black, cotton shirt and you made your way up his taut abdomen. You let out a sigh and he jumped lightly at the sensation of your cool fingertips across his scorching skin. It was a nice contrast for him.

You gripped at the shirt and hastily ripped the cotton upward. Bucky broke away from his descent down to your chest to let you remove the fabric and you’d suddenly wished you’d turned the lights on first. He mimicked your action and tossed your shirt in a deserted corner of the room to potentially be abandoned. You gasped when the cold air of the room grazed upon the perked mounds of your breasts.

His lips returned to their spot on the dip of your neck and his tongue slithered down in between your breasts. Your breath hitched when his wet muscle made its way up to the apex of your chest. His right hand mirrored his tongue and swirled around your nipple, his teeth pulling eagerly every so often and you hissed at the delectable pain. Your eyes devoured the scene unfolding on your chest and you reached over to flick the light on, desperate for a clearer image.

Bucky halted and his metal arm reached over to switch the light back off but you swatted his hand away and he backed up lightly, his irritation evident on his face.

“I want to watch,” you grumbled and shifted up to bring your lips back up to his. He let you. He pushed back lightly with his own lips and leaned in sync with your movements. He parted his mouth slightly and you followed suit, letting him lead his way into yours with the same muscle he’d just had flicking across your breasts.

The light went off.

You pushed him away and shot towards the switch but metal met your wrist firmly enough to keep you in place. “Bucky.” You wrestled against his hold and turned your full attention back to the figure hovering above, “I want to see you,”

Despite the darkness, you noticed his mouth twitch but his grip on your wrist remained solid. You sprawled back onto the bed and wrapped your free hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down onto you, pressing his surprisingly soft lips onto yours. You broke apart, his lips a hair’s breadth away from your own. “I want to see you,”

He didn’t move, only scanned your face over a few times and you brought him back down into a kiss. This one wasn’t like before. This one was warm, soft, patient. A ballet compared to its previous mosh pit. He danced along with you, an admission hidden somewhere in his tenderness.

You hadn’t realized you’d been freed of his hold until you were wrapping that arm over his shoulder and the sound of a light humming began.

“Fucker,” you jeered and the previous gentleness dissipated.

“Shut up,” he ordered, pinning you back onto the bed and resumed his ministration on your breasts.

The moan slipped past your lips at the sight and your chest heaved upwards, desperate for more stimulation. You licked your lips at how his mouth encased your nipple, his tongue flicking against the perked skin and you dropped your head back, shutting your eyes. You centered all of your attention anywhere that his bare skin touched your body and rubbed your aching clit against his v-line.

Your chest was pressed against the mattress before you could register what happened and the hard smack that met your ass evoked a yelp. Bucky pressed fully against your backside and he ground his dick down into your ass. He groaned at the sensation and you raised your ass onto him. You yelped again when Bucky ripped your leggings down and smacked the exposed skin on your ass.

“Try something like that again and I’ll gag you around my cock ‘til you’re crying,” he growled, “Understood?”

You nodded, wide-eyed and a mewling mess from the threatening promise of this God.

“Good girl,” he cooed, rubbing at the raw skin. “Now stay still for Daddy,”

Bucky’s hand lingered on your reddening ass and the mattress dipped when he shifted to your side. He traced gentle circles onto your backside and pressed his lips on your shoulder blade, the butterfly kisses making their way down towards your spine and then lower. Your breathing grew uneven from the sheer amount of restraint you displayed. Your grip on the edge of the bed tightened when his tongue dragged from the point where your thigh and ass met all the way up to the bottom of your spine.

“Fuck,” You shuddered, white-knuckling the blanket beneath you.

Your skin blazed when you were met with another harsh slap. You mewled at the sensation, loving the fire that spread across your flesh and relaxed when his metal hand cooled the area.

Then his teeth bit into the cooling flesh and you jerked away despite yourself. Bucky tsked lowly and you chuckled at the hint of fear sprouting in your chest; you did not want to see whatever sinister expression resided on his face.

A strong hand gripped the roots of your hair and hauled you up. You followed his direction and knelt onto the ground between Bucky’s sprawled out legs, settling in your new position.

“Oh, Doll,” he chastised, “you were so close,”

“That shouldn’t count,” you retorted while Bucky pulled the blanket off the bed and lifted you up with his metal arm, shoving the barrier between your knees and the hard ground.

“But it does.” His hands dove into his underwear and sprung his cock out onto your lips. “Now get to work,”

Your eyes widened at the sight before you and you had to physically hold back from gulping. You were ashamed to admit your mouth watered in anticipation. You lifted your hands from his sculpted thighs and wrapped them around his length, enveloping just the tip past your parted lips. Bucky sighed and twitched in your mouth.

You welcomed him in fully, or as much as you could anyway, and got straight to work, not bothering to act abashed at your desire. Your tongue swirled around his tip and you leaned into him until he hit the back of your mouth but you continued on, gagging around him when he’d gotten inside your throat. Bucky groaned when your throat tightened around him and he threw his head back, using his flesh hand to guide you up and down his shaft, showing you what he liked and didn’t.

“Fuck, Doll,” he groaned, “Just how I imagined your mouth would feel,”

You pulled off him to comment when he shoved you all the way down to the hilt and you threw your hands up onto his thighs to hold yourself back. He used his metal arm to hold himself up and thrusted up into your salivating mouth desperately. He continuously hit the back of your throat and thick saliva coated his cock. Just as he promised, tears prickled at the corners of your eyes and he didn’t stop until your cheeks were drenched in the liquid.

You let your jaw hang open, your tongue no longer swiveling around meticulous spots that you knew would make his legs buckle. No, you let him have the reigns. Let him fuck your mouth ‘til your throat grew bruised and jaw ached with fatigue. You committed his cries of pleasure to memory, the sounds euphoric to your ears.

He lifted his head and stared down at you with half-closed eyes. He was in heaven and you knew it. He watched you, how the tears trailed down, how your hands gripped at his thighs, how you stuck out your tongue just as you’d made it to the base of his cock to lick his balls in the most intoxicating way. Fuck. You were the intoxicating one. You brought out this side of him. This carnal desire that became him until he’d had to step out of the room just to compose himself. And he didn’t like being out of control. That’s why he always kept you at an arm’s distance.

But now, watching as you sat between him with your mouth agape like the good girl that you were for him, he knew he’d never deny himself this pleasure again. Especially since you were so fucking good at it.

He groaned, pulling you off his cock and grabbed tightly at your cheeks, nearly pinching your mouth together. “Tongue out.” He growled, waiting for your compliance.

Your jaw ached with exhaustion but you managed to stick out the wet muscle as he pulled you closer into him and watched when he parted his lips above you, letting the saliva trail down from his mouth into yours.

“Swallow,” he ordered.

But it was already done, and you left your mouth hanging open for more.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Bucky grumbled, putting his face right up against yours and feeding you once again; this time with a sloppy kiss that coated both your mouths in saliva.

He brought you up from the floor and tossed you onto the bed before settling between your legs. The excitement in your eyes grew and he indulged in every minute of it. Bucky’s hand trailed down from your lower abdomen right above your pubic bone and pressed his palm into your neglected clit. The cry you let out was the unholiest thing he’d ever heard.

He slid his finger under the waistband of your underwear and flitted his gaze back up to your eyes, “Can I?”

You nodded eagerly, dumbfounded that he would even ask and fought the temptation to grab your phone from the nightstand and record everything that was about to unfold.

At the first nod, Bucky slid your underwear down your legs and made a show of bringing the material up to his face. Your own went red hot and you hid behind your hands, poking through every millisecond to shamefully watch. He threw the panties into his open duffel and you squirmed in anticipation.

“Remember the rules?” Bucky asked, brow lifted and already descending to your inner thigh.

You nodded again.

“I need to hear it, Doll,” he mumbled, kissing the inner part of your thigh, each placement closer and closer to where you needed him most.

“Yes,” you whimpered out, “I remember the rules,”

Bucky wanted to dive right in, he really did, but the way you sprawled yourself out so vulnerable for him, it incited a new pace that he wanted to follow. So, he did. He looked at you for a few moments, watched how the anticipation danced in your eyes, how your legs shook in wait and how you were already so goddamn wet for him.

“This all for me?” he teased, mesmerized at your desire for him.

You dropped a hand down to your side, near where his hands were wrapped around your thighs to keep you in place - and against his face. He cocked his head to the side, waiting for your answer.

You nodded sheepishly and when he lifted an eyebrow in mock confusion you said, “You. Just you,”

Like music to his ears. Just him. You weren’t for anyone else. He thought he felt his heart palpitate.

He lowered himself down to your core and kissed your lip, drawing a desperate plea from you. You couldn’t wait anymore, couldn’t deal with the teasing. You were wet enough, needy enough, ready enough to take him, all of him. You’d been ready damn near the moment you first laid eyes on his arrogant smirk.

“Buck - please,” you cried, drawling out the final word.

The first kiss placed upon your soaked cunt erupted a sigh of relief and you laid back on the pillow, your eyes closed and mind gone with the sensation of those sloppy kisses blessing your needs. He flattened his tongue on your lips and licked upwards, stopping when your hips twitched into his mouth.

“Sorry!” You apologized, fighting the desire to grind into his wet muscle. He’d just gotten started and you certainly didn’t want it to end so soon.

He lifted his gaze up to you and you bit into your fist at the view, using the extremity to hold back your moans. He flicked his attention down again and repeated his motion, lapping at your fluids ‘til his beard was soaked in it. He shook his head into your cunt and his nose rubbed along your clit. The mewling that left your mouth urged him on and when you felt his muscle prodding at your entrance you threw your head back.

“Please, Bucky.” You begged, bringing a hand up to tease your nipple.

He prodded some more, his tongue gliding up from your clit and back down to your entrance, poking through enough to frustrate you. He wanted you to break for him. To lose all composure and control and just let him. He wanted you to submit to him but it wasn’t just that, it was more that he wanted to destroy you for any future experience you may have without him. He wanted you to come back to him, to need him, to beg for him and leave you with the understanding that nothing - no one - could compare to him. He wanted you. To himself.

So, when he could no longer refrain and had to use his metal arm to hold your hips down from squirming beneath him, he slipped two thick, rough fingers into your begging cunt. And the sound you emitted caused that carnal instinct to claw at the barriers caging it in.

Your hand shot down, tangling itself into his hair and pushing him harder against you. He allowed it. Your thighs held him in place, crushing him with your soft skin and he groaned at the warmth you gave off. You pulled your hand away from your mouth and grabbed at his metal one resting on your pubic bone, pulling it up to your chest and wrapping his fingers on the sensitive bud for him to tease. He slowly retracted from your chest and brought it back down onto your hips and you huffed in annoyance. You looked down at Bucky but his eyes were shut, completely engrossed in the feast before him. You bucked when his fingers glazed across that sensitive spot inside your velvety walls.

“There!” You cried, your fist tightening in his hair when the all-too-familiar wave of ecstasy began to pool together, waiting for its release.

Bucky complied, dragging the pads of his fingers up against that spot over and over again. Your legs caged him in tighter as his tongue swirled over the hyper-sensitive bundle of nerves and you cried out at the way your body tensed.

“Fuck,” you cried, your hands desperately grasping onto Bucky’s metal wrist and tugging at the roots of his hair. Bucky’s groan of pleasure was what tipped you over the edge.

You gasped when the pool building released, your body shaking with euphoria and the flood crashed down onto you. And apparently, onto Bucky as well. He pulled his mouth away but continued rubbing at your clit when warm liquid squirted onto his face and his expression of surprise mirrored your own.

When Bucky looked up at you, your face burned with embarrassment and you threw your head back, using your hand to cover your countenance. Not to mention the sight of him with your juices all over his mouth was one of the hottest things you’d ever witnessed.

Bucky chuckled at your sheepish apology and removed your hand from your face, bringing his soaked mouth up to yours and having you taste yourself. You devoured each other, your arms wrapped tightly around the other, pulling so fiercely at the innate desire to become one in shared pleasure. He could feel his pride swell at your hidden confession. You’d never squirted before and he was lucky enough to be the one to give you that experience for the first time.

You clawed at him, divulging in the warmth his body radiated and intoxicating yourself in everything that was Bucky. You couldn’t get enough of it, of him. It was nearly too much.

His hand trailed up to your gaping mouth and he inserted his fingers, “Clean them,” he ordered.

Your hand gripped his wrist and pulled his fingers deeper into your mouth, never breaking eye contact with him, loving the way he ate up everything he was seeing. You noticed the way he swallowed.

He retracted his hand and wrapped it gently behind your head so you were resting on him. He brought his full weight down onto your body and a warmth emanated in your chest when he brought his lips up against your forehead, each kiss closer and closer to your lips until they met their destination. When you parted your mouth against his, it wasn’t merely an action of carnal desire, it was like you were exchanging life forces. Merging and meeting in a manner that had your body exploding and crying out for more of the faint familiarity. Like seeing an old friend for the first time in years.

Bucky looked down between your bodies at where you were about to connect before staring back up at you, taking you in as if he would never have this opportunity again. His thumb brushed your cheek and came to a rest on your bottom lip. “Ready?”

You chuckled, “Fuck me,”

He shoved inside in one clean motion and a breath of pleasure slid past both of your lips.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hand tightening slightly around your neck and he pulled out slowly then shot back inside and you moaned.

You were still so sensitive from your previous climax that every brush against your clit sent you into a whirlwind of pleasure, the sensations shooting through every nerve in your body.

“Bucky,” you whined when his pace quickened and the sheer force of his thrusts drove you deeper into euphoria.

He filled you just right, his girth and length impressive and you wondered why you hadn’t tried to screw him earlier. He slid past your tight walls, each thrust causing the room to echo with the sounds of skin slapping and moans of ecstasy.

He kept his actions controlled, not wanting to build up to something so intense just for it to fall short and end fast. No. Despite how good you felt wrapped around his aching and swollen cock, despite how warm and welcoming you were, how you spread yourself out for him to consume, he had to leash himself. This was going to be just as good for you as it was for him.

He kissed you one last time before gripping the back of your knees and bringing your thighs up to your chest, a shout of praise falling off your lips. He was drunk on the sight of his cock going in and out of your cunt and he threw his head back with a groan.

“What a fucking pretty pussy,” he breathed out and you whimpered, biting your lip at the welcome profanities.

At this angle, he was fucking against your g-spot and using his pubic bone to rub against your clit and watching the thin layer of sweat sheen off his skin was all too much to keep yourself put together. His eyebrows scrunched together and you caught him taking in your form, watching how your pleasure displayed itself on your face for him to bear witness to. Only him.

He growled at the intrusion of thoughts that came to him. He pictured someone else in his position, someone else witnessing you so vulnerable and open to them, someone else fucking you and making you beg for them. It disgusted him. He brought his torso down and latched his teeth to your neck, biting down hard enough to have you tearing up.

“Mine,” he growled into your ear and lulled his head forward when you tightened around him.

A sinister smirk came to his face and he licked the shell of your ear, your breathy moans feeding him, “You like that?” He asked, pistoling further into your cunt and you shouted at the increase of pace, “You like when I tell you who you belong to?”

Your mouth hung agape and the one arm wrapped around his shoulder pulled him closer to you, your desperation for his warmth taking control. “Fuck . . . off,” you hissed between breaths.

He pulled out and yanked you up by your hair, twisting you around and pressing your torso into the wall but keeping your ass propped up for him to admire. You hissed at the pain when a sharp smack met your ass and your hands gripped at the wall for any way to ground yourself and prevent from becoming putty in his hands.

Another hard smack met your ass and you lurched forward to get away from the sting. Bucky kept your head pinned to the cement, his hand holding your cheek from scraping the wall but applying a pressure that had your tongue lolling out of your mouth.

You moaned at the intrusion in your pussy and he plummeted in and out, a mix of your grunts and groans bouncing around the room. His pace constantly changed. One second it was fast, the next it was slow but filling, going so far as to hit your cervix a few times and leave you a crying mess under his hold. Your shoulder scraped along the wall and you fought to push away only to have your chest slammed harder against the cement.

You brought a hand out, reaching behind yourself and grasping for Bucky’s hip, pushing him deeper into you when he slowed. Your nails dug into his flesh and the sound of his hiss shot straight to your core.

“What a goddamn whore,” he spat, bringing his teeth down onto your neck and you gripped at his hair.

You laughed at his statement, “You’re the one that can’t get enough of this pussy. Why so desperate to claim it? Afraid I'll fuck someone else?” Bucky pulled you back and slammed you against the wall with vigor, causing you to flinch

He stopped his thrusts altogether, “My patience only goes so far, Doll,” he threatened, tugging at your hair and you bit back a cry, “Choose your words wisely,”

You nodded hastily, the rough texture of the wall digging into your cheek and splitting skin. You wriggled up against him to continue moving but he retracted completely and flipped you over so he was laying on the bed and you were straddling him.

“Move,” he ordered, his hands digging bruises into your waist.

You leaned over, pressing your chest against his to lift your hips up and down on him but he pushed you back up and held your arms behind your back to keep you in place. You whimpered but the cry quieted when you rubbed your clit against him and your pussy clenched at the friction. You moaned out a breathy fuck and swiveled your hips around his, noting how much deeper he filled you in this position.

“Buck-” you huffed, eyes glued to the glistening abs beneath you. “I’m gonna cum,”

“Already?” He jeered, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

You’d lost all energy to sneer at him, your focus solely on how the sensation grew and began pooling in your cunt. “Cock . . . so good,” you breathed out, barely able to keep yourself from melting into him.

“What was that, Doll?” He stilled your movements and you groaned in annoyance.

You wriggled in his hold and you could tell by the furrow of his brow that he was fighting to keep control as well. You leaned over him, your lips hovering over his, “Mine,”

His grip flew to the back of your neck and he crashed your lips onto his, giving you full reign again. You bounced your hips on his dick, slamming down vigorously and rubbing your clit in effect. It didn’t take long for your climax to build again.

“’M gonna . . .” you whispered and Bucky placed you back up, gripping your hips and swiveling you around how you were earlier.

“Cum, Doll,” he allowed, “Cum all over this cock,”

You cried out, your toes curling as the dam in your core snapped and your climax washed over you. You hadn’t realized your fingers were intertwined with Bucky's until you came back down from your high, your chest heaving for breath.

He sat up slowly and pressed his lips against your neck. “You’re beautiful,”

Your body tensed at his words and you pulled away to give him a look of confusion. But he didn’t take his statement back, only slipped his hands around your back and gently placed you onto the bed, hovering over you.

He moved with caution, like his gentleness might scare you off if he touched you too tenderly or stared too long in admiration. But he couldn’t help it, he did admire you.

He spread your legs open and nestled between them, pushing into you slowly until your hips met and you both breathed out. His movements weren’t nearly as brutal as they were earlier, these thrusts were slow and deep and full of intention. He brought his torso down onto yours and you wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing him closer to you.

He ran his hand, the only one he allowed himself to touch you affectionately with, through your hair and stared down at you, waiting. His gaze shifted between your lips to your eyes and he ran his thumb delicately along your mouth.

You looked at him then, really looked at him with fresh eyes and your heart leapt into your throat at the realization. “Kiss me,” you whispered and he lowered himself onto your lips, setting off an explosion in your chest.

“I’m yours,” he whispered, not able to bring himself to look at you, “I’ve been yours,”

You opened your mouth to respond but he silenced you with a deep thrust and a moan erupted instead. He quickened his pace, watching where you connected and pushed deeper and harder, your cries of pleasure driving him. He had to fuck you, he couldn’t love you, he couldn’t make love to you, just fuck. That’s it. He couldn’t allow himself to replay your look of shock at his confession, though the scene would surely be on loop for the next few days until he could get over it. Just fuck. Nothing more. Not with that look of disbelief on your face.

He held himself up with his forearms but you pressed him against you and wrapped your legs tighter around him. “Harder,” you whispered and he complied.

He groaned when your tits bounced and brought his mouth to a nipple, the faint taste of sweat lingering on your skin. You brought his metal hand up to your chest and made him grip the flesh there but he pulled it back and placed it beside your head instead.

“Bucky,” you whimpered and grabbed his hand again, bringing his open palm up to your lips and placing delicate kisses on the metal. “You can feel with it, right?”

He nodded, hesitance sprawled on his face.

“Then touch me,” you urged, bringing the hand down between your bodies and pressing the cold metal against your clit, “Feel me,”

His brows furrowed slightly but the look of your certainty forced him to dismiss his own perceptions of his body; or rather, that arm. And when he began rubbing circles into your bundle of nerves the expression on your face made him hate it a little less. Only a little.

You stared up at him, his pace growing erratic and sloppy and you knew he was close. “You wanna cum?”

He nodded, his hot breath coming out haggard and strained. You placed your hand on his cheek and brought him up to your kiss.

“Then cum,”

He shook his head, “You first,” he swirled his finger around your swollen clit and you gasped at the force of his thrust.

Your body tensed and you centered all your focus on his ministrations, “A little more pressure,” you directed and he quickly found a pressure that had you wobbling in the knees. “Close,” you murmured, gripping Bucky’s side and bringing your lips up to his neck to pepper the skin there.

He groaned and judging by the way his dick twitched inside you, you knew he wasn’t far behind.

“Bucky,” you whispered, pulling his attention towards you and his gaze brought you closer to the edge, “I’m yours,”

He blinked and his pace faltered for half a beat. He examined your facial expression, like he didn’t believe the words you’d spoken. Not like he couldn’t believe them, but like you’d said them just to appease him.

You placed your forehead against his, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath to center yourself in the haze of this fucking. “Yours,” you repeated, all the emotion residing in your chest poured into the singular word.

And then he was back to drilling you into the mattress, a new vigor fueling his thrusts. You cried out and Bucky pressed his sweaty torso flat against your own and it felt like the essence, the being, in your chest intermingled with his own and all the climaxes you’d previously experienced couldn’t hold a match to the flame, the intensity, the rawness of the one that washed over the both of you in that moment.

Bucky moaned out, his hips bucking into yours and you rode out both of your highs. The sensation consuming and overwhelming and welcome on both ends as it flooded through your bodies, meeting at your point of contact.

His arms flexed above you with the ferocity of his climax and the display had you writhing beneath him, already desperate for more.

“Buck,” you whispered when his breathing evened out after he collapsed onto you.

He didn’t respond, afraid it had all been a dream, a trick, despite still being inside you. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to shatter the perfection of this moment. What if you’d only said that to get him to finish faster? What if you’d only fed him what he wanted to hear? What if-

“Buck,” you repeated, pulling him from his daze and he lifted his head only slightly. You gripped his chin lightly and forced him to look you in the eye. “You’re . . . mine?”

He wanted to shake his head, to tell you that he got caught up in the moment but instead he said, “Yours,” because he knew anything else would be a lie and he was tired of lying.

You studied him and nodded, “Yours,” you stated, already rolling your eyes from the smirk forming on his face, “Unfortunately,”

He brought your face to his and planted a tender kiss on your lips. He started shifting his position and grabbed the underwear he’d been wearing earlier before pulling out and using the cloth to clean the mess pooling out of you. But not before taking a mental picture, of course.

After a few minutes of laying together, his hand playing with a few strands of hair, you felt the warm welcome of sleep beginning to drag you into its embrace. You opened your eyes groggily and looked up at Bucky who was already looking down at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I know about your night terrors,” you whispered and his actions halted momentarily before returning to brush through your hair, “I hear you sometimes. And I understand why you don’t want to go to sleep but,” you sat up slowly and placed the thick blanket down on the floor, dragging the pillow down with you and patting the open space beside you, “you should rest. I’ll be here to calm you or stay up with you. Whichever one you need,”

He didn’t move at first, his ears drowning out any thought he could have while processing what you’d said. He’d stayed silent so long you’d thought you’d crossed a line.

“I can always sleep on the bed if you’d prefer, though,”

Bucky shook himself from his thoughts and edged closer to the floor, slowly descending into the available space and wrapping the blanket around the both of you as much as he could. “No,” he said, “I want you here,”

You hummed in response and snuggled into his waiting arms, lightly wrapping your own around him, making sure to kiss the part of himself he hated the most before fatigue swept you up into its clutches. Bucky followed soon after.

6K notes · View notes

raindrvq · 2 years ago

Text

mischa headcanon time !!

except its all just me projecting random things onto him wooooo

ik i already said he was lactose intolerant but also wanna mention that (like most lactose intolerant ppl) he just does not care. can and will eat a shit ton of dairy and someone will be like 'hey isn't that gonna mess up your stomach?' n hes just like 'lol yea'

weird abt eye contact so sometimes he wont be looking at you during a conversation but sometimes hes just, intensely stare at you, for like no reason. if u ask abt it he'll just shrug but it can be very frightening when you dont notice and all of a sudden you turn and see him just like 😶

will also creepy stare at you if he wants to stop doing something without having to actually say that

for example he hates when people make mouth noises (like loud chewing) so he will just stare at you until you get creeped out n stop

he is trans (real not fake) !!!!!

gets dysphoric over like, small insignificant things but will try n correct it in order to fele more masc

like the way he stands (started putting his hands in his pockets and yes doing the dick grab), how he writes (purposefully writes fast so its more scribbly n messy), how he takes off his shirt (pulling it up from the back of his neck) and other random things that do not rly matter

also type of guy to try out multiple diy binding methods bc theres no way his adoptive parents r buying him one (they probably dont even know hes trans tbh) and he definitely wont ask so instead he resorts to other (probably unsafe) methods

hates when his hair gets even a little too long bc not only does it make him dysphoric but he also hates the feeling of hair in his face or down his neck n shoulders

if he goes too long without a haircut he will just end up putting it up but he learns how to rock the ponytail (without feeling dysphoric too 👍)

also he is ace,,,, bc im ace and i want him to be i have no explanation for this one idc if it doesn't make sense he's ace in my heart

constantly has his earbuds in, likes to be constantly be blasting music and has a hard time working without it (he needs the constant stimulation)

loves to chew on things as a form of stimming

straws ? bottle caps ? pens ? destroyed

loves to eat ice as well (this one is more encouraged bc he wont be accidentally consuming plastic this way)

if he cannot find anything to chew on sometimes he just ends up biting his lips n the inside of his cheeks and he has sharp teeth so his mouth is just kinda messed up

secretly rly likes legos

he will spend hours just building bc he will get fixated on it now he has to finish it

also he is a batman fan but he is NOT a comic dudebro joker stan ok

he loves collecting things he deems sentimental

like a ticket stub from when the choir went to see a movie together ? keeping it. a random pretty rock someone found and gave to him ? keeping it

keeps all of them in a little box in his room

ok this was longer than i intended so im stopping it here for now ! ill will probably post some about the whole choir i just had a lot of mischa ones bc projection 🫶

#some of these r little oddly specific but thats ok #pushing the trans mischa agenda #he is just like me fr #ride the cyclone #rtc #mischa bachinski #mischa rtc #rtc headcanons

131 notes · View notes

poursomesunaonme · 3 years ago

Note

18(oral sex)+37 w oikawa and iwazumi where oikawa doesn't know how to make reader cum and mentions that to iwa, who offers himself to show how is done😤🥵

JESUS CHRIST NONNIE THIS WAS SUCHA BIG BRAINED IDEA I LOVE U IM GONNA STEAL UR BRAIN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT EHEHEHEHEHEH

send me a character and 1-2 numbers & i'll write you a lil drabble<3

wc: 797

cw: nsfw, minors dni (pls have age in bio or dm it to me), oral sex (female receiving), cucking

“zu zu!” you call from the couch at the sight of the man coming through the door with toru. “what are you doing here?”

the men share a look before toru turns to you with a sheepish grin. “i may have mentioned… something… at one time or another… and iwa… uh… offered his assistance.”

you raise an eyebrow at the cryptic answer, but shrug off toru’s behavior and turn back to the show you’re fixated on. the boys don’t hesitate to drop their stuff at the door and kick off their shoes, coming to rest on either side of you.

there’s a certain tension in the air - one that hangs thickly around you. you don’t remember anything in the house needing to be fixed, if that's what toru had referred to earlier. so instead, you just wait for the truth to come to light.

that certainly doesn’t take long.

toru’s hands creep over your thigh, squeezing the muscle. you turn to him and see a lazy smile creep across his lips. he leans in and kisses you once, twice, before you pull away and jerk your head towards iwa.

“it’s okay, just let it happen.”

“let what happen?” your question goes unanswered as toru kisses you again, leaving iwa to his own devices.

you feel a hand on your other thigh, prying your legs open. even with your eyes closed, you know it’s not toru’s. his hands are soft, which is rare for a setter. this hand is rough.

you pull away from the kiss to find iwa lifting himself off the couch to settle between your legs.

“um, what are you doing?”

a hand on your cheek steers your gaze back to toru. “iwa’s just helping us out. he said that he’d, uh… show me the ropes.”

you laugh and understand. “so that’s what this is about.”

toru smiles cheekily, thumb running along the underside of your jaw. “so… do you mind?”

“i guess not.” you shrug, lifting your hips off the couch so that iwa can pull your shorts and panties off. “do you mind?”

“anything to help me please my princess.” his voice is sickeningly sweet as his lips meet yours again. you lean into the kiss, shrugging off the peculiar feeling of iwa’s hands wrapping around your thighs.

“you can tell me to stop anytime,” he pipes up for the first time since arriving. you nod, too entranced in the little thing toru does with his teeth on your lips.

iwa’s breath is hot on your cunt as he hesitates for a moment before pressing a kiss to your folds. you squirm at the sensation, but toru’s arms wrapping around you provide an ample anchor to his lips.

the slippery muscle of a tongue slides between your folds and you gasp, letting the sound be swallowed into toru’s mouth. iwa doesn’t hold back for long, starting to weasel his way between your thighs to get more comfortable.

as much as he hates to admit it, toru doesn’t do a good job of eating you out. he tries, he really does, but after an hour, sometimes more, of burying his face in your cunt, it just doesn’t get you off. and toru’s not the person to get his partner go unsatisfied. which is why, you assume, he had recruited iwaizumi as help.

you hate to enjoy the way his tongue swirls around your clit, how his lips close perfectly around the throbbing bud, but you know that in the end, it will only serve to help toru bring you over the same crest.

your eyes flash open at a particularly poignant move iwa does with his tongue only to find that toru watches his friend out of the corner of his eye. you pull back and lick his spit off your lips.

“y’know,” you mutter, “if you just wanna watch…”

“oh, thank god you said that,” toru grins, “you know i’m a visual learner.”

you smile at his eagerness and lean into his chest, reveling in the feeling of his hands roaming over your body. he rolls your nipples between his fingers. the sensation brings an extra amount of arousal to your buzzing body. it isn’t long before iwa brings you to the edge.

“you’re close?” toru asks against your neck. he brings his head up to take in the sight of your face, finding a hazy look and a soft smile. “oh, you are!”

you laugh and pull him in for a kiss, lifting your hips closer to iwa’s face so that he can finish the job. the pretty sounds pour from your lips into toru’s mouth and he swallows them greedily, knowing that the next time you cum like that, it’s gonna be his face buried in your legs that makes you.

#haikyuu #haikyuu oikawa #haikyuu iwaizumi #hq #hq oikawa #hq iwaizumi #oikawa smut #iwaizumi smut #haikyuu smut #hq smut #oikawa x reader #oikawa x you #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x you #oikawa x reader x iwaizumi #iwaizumi x reader x oikawa #oikawa x you x iwaizumi #iwaizumi x you x oikawa #🪐beanie writes!

353 notes · View notes

theshelbyclan · 3 years ago

Text

Black History

Summary: I’m not very good with words. That’s the one thing you should know about me, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid

(gif by @nofckingfighting)

A/N: Anon requested: Firstly, ILYSM💖💖💖💖ur an amazing writer!!!!!!! If u are taking in requests, could you do one where a female of colour is in the garrisons and people are maybe being racist to her and Tommy stands up for her? Something like that? If not it’s totally fine. Love you!! Okay, so I changed it a little. I love writing for any reader of colour and unfortunately, there’s not much fanfic out there for it, but I also really wanted to write about a woman being really into history? And I really wanted to avoid all the cliches... So I combined both ideas. BUT, I’m not black myself, so if anything isn’t correct here or if I got some of the history wrong, please let me know. Hope you like it!

Words: 2108

***

I’m not very good with words. Even though I like stories about people and places, a lot. That’s the one thing you should know about me, that I don’t talk much, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid. It just means I’m in my head a lot.

Let me tell you a story: In 1922, Birmingham was sometimes referred to as ‘the Black Country’. It’s because of all the smoke, the soot and the factories, you see. People who worked here were always covered in dirt, just like the houses and the streets: everything in Birmingham had turned black. But to be more precise, the Black Country is a much bigger area, the birthplace of industry, that made Britain wealthy. Just not us. Coal mines and factories, steel mills and brickworks: filth turned to gold for the king. I always think that the name, the Black Country, has a romantic ring to it. But that’s not why we came here. Because even though the streets may be black, none of the people really were. People like me, people of colour, we still stood out like a sore thumb among the others.

“Watch where you’re going, love!” “Sorry,” I mumbled, apologizing to the man I’d walked into, but hardly any sound came from my lips. And with eyes cast down, I hurried along.

As I walked through those streets, I was thinking about all of this. I’ve often been accused of being a dreamer. My father used to tell me I have my head in the clouds too much. But it wasn’t figments of the imagination I was interested in, not really. I like the stories that buildings and streets could tell. I love learning about people who have done great things, who have managed to change something in the world. Needless to say, I like history.

And then I saw my friend, the one who worked with me at the Austin. She called out my name, “Y/N!”

I gave her a small nod, which was more than I’d do for anyone else. More than anything, I hated attracting attention to myself, but she was always so upbeat, so friendly, so for her I made an exception.

She took my arm happily and whispered, “Let’s go get a drink, eh?” “We can’t!” I whispered, a little shocked, “not just us two…” But she looked at me with this twinkle in her beautiful blue eyes, “Oi, Billy! Come with us, yeah? To the Garrison!” I hunched over even more, like I wanted to become completely invisible, at the loudness of her voice. Billy came over almost at once and he practically skipped ahead of us over to the pub.

As I felt the familiar anxiety creep into my bones, I tried to focus on something that felt more safe and more secure. So, let me tell you a little more about this area. Obviously, we’re known for our factories, but did you know Dickens actually wrote about the chimneys! He wrote they “poured out their plague of smoke, obscured the light, and made foul the melancholy air.”It was in his book… “Y/N! Come on,” and she practically dragged me inside the Garrison.

But as soon as we entered, I felt how people didn’t fixate on my loud companions, but on me. And I knew instantly it was all due to the colour of my skin. When I came here with my brother from Jamaica, and after he’d fought as a soldier in the war, we never knew it would be like this. We never would have thought you could feel this lonely in a crowd, all day, every day.

The barman looked as uncomfortable as I felt. He rubbed the back of his head as he tried to decide. Eventually he said, “You can’t drink here.”

“Why?” my friend immediately jumped on him.

“Well…” the barman struggled for a second to find the words, “I can’t serve a woman alone.” She gestured around in a broad manner, “Look around you. She’s not alone, is she?” “I’m sorry, miss…” I had so many things to say, but all that came out was me practically begging my friend, “Let’s just go?”

“No, why can’t she just…” But I already knew why.

And then one man in the back finally said what everyone else was thinking, “He means blacks are not welcome. Go and find your own place to drink!” And I felt my blood turn cold. Here are some interesting facts for you: In 1919, just after the war, the first ‘race riots’ started in England. This started in South Shields and from there, it spread like some virus to the bigger cities where groups of minorities lived. These violent riots, where many died, were aimed at everyone who wasn’t white: Arabs, Asians and blacks, all those who came to this country through the ports. But that’s not all; even in America, the Caribbean and South-Africa that summer race riots erupted. And idiotically enough, they often resulted in the deportation of many immigrants. That year, the English police arrested 155 black men, 80 white men and only nine white women, even though black people were clearly only defending themselves. Still, half of the black men were acquitted during trial, so I suppose we ought to be thankful for that…

My thoughts were rudely interrupted by the stranger who appeared next to me. I noticed the cloud of cigarette smoke before I even saw the man. Then I realised it was Thomas Shelby himself, and I practically flinched.

“What’s the problem, Harry?” he inquired in his deep voice. “This girl. She says she wants a drink, Mr. Shelby…” “Then serve the lady her drink,” he emphasized the word ‘lady’ and if it hadn’t been a Shelby who had spoken the words, I’d be flattered. But I knew I had the ruthless leader of the Peaky Blinders in front of me, so I knew when to be frightened. Then he turned to me, “What would you like to drink?” I opened my mouth to reply, but no words came out. “It’s not up to him,” Thomas Shelby said, “this is our pub. And anyone with good intentions is welcome. So, tell me, and I’ll make sure you get it.” “There really is no need, Mr. Shelby,” I finally managed. For a moment he only looked at me. Then he put out his cigarette, took off his coat and made his way behind the bar. And before the barman or anyone could react, he poured me a gin himself and handed it to me across the bar. I only stared at him. He in turn lit another cigarette and frowned, “I won’t have any kind of prejudice in my pub, you understand? All are equal here.” And his blue eyes seemed to look right through me as he spoke.

Let me tell you about someone my father told me about: Ignatius Sancho. Now his story truly is stranger than fiction. In 1729 he was born on a transatlantic ship used to carry slaves, which was headed to the Spanish colony of New Granada. His mother died shortly after arrival and his father killed himself soon after. When Sancho was two years old, he was taken by the man who claimed to own him and given to three old women in Greenwich. A duke who often visited these women became interested in the boy and his education, and when he was 20 years old, he went to work at the duke’s house, Montagu House, as a butler. During this time, he learned all about music, poetry and literature. After the duke’s death, Sancho inherited some money. Eventually he married this West-Indian woman and became a devoted husband and father. And, not to forget, with the help of the Montagu’s, he opened up his own shop in 1774, which made him a man of independent means, which earned him the right to vote. And so he did, the first black man ever to vote, in 1774 and 1780.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” Only then did I realise he’d made his way to the other side of the bar once again and was now indeed standing next to me. I could smell him, feel him almost, that’s how close he was. I shook my head timidly in reply.

Thomas inhaled slowly and breathed out the smoke, “Good.” Finally, I worked up the courage to say softly, “Neither do you.”

“Nope.” And before I could stop myself, I smiled at him. He returned the smile and pointed at me, squinting his eyes a little, he said, “But you think a lot.” “I suppose so?” “What about?” he asked, and he sounded purely interested, which caught me completely off-guard.

Suddenly, I felt my usual defences dropping, “history,” I confessed.

“History, eh?” he downed his whiskey, “what does a woman like you know about history?” This hurt, so I’m afraid I snapped a little, “A woman like me?” Poor, black and with no education, he meant.

This reminded me of another great man, one who was continually being underestimated as well: James McCune Smith. He was born in 1813 to a mother who was being kept as a slave and his father claimed to be her owner. He grew up with his mother, but when he was 14 years old, he became a free man due to the laws changing in New York. Interestingly enough, because his father was white, he was sometimes classified as white and sometimes as black, depending on the year. Either way, he excelled at school, but still none of the New York universities would accept him because of the colour of his skin. And that’s how he ended up in Glasgow, where he graduated in medicine in 1830. This made him the first Afro-American doctor in America who’d gone to university and he used his knowledge to work for the Colored Orphan Asylum for over 20 years. But I said none of this out loud. After a long silence, Thomas said, “I’ve hurt you.”

“Yes,” I replied meekly. “I apologize.”

I’m afraid I smiled again, “It’s alright. Mr. Shelby” I said. “Tommy.”

Another long silence followed, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

“So, here’s my confession,” he finally broke the silence, “I’ve been trying to impress you, but you’re a hard woman to get to know. So what does a man have to do, to get a look inside your head, eh?” About a million thoughts went through my head in a split second. I suppose I was expected to say something witty now, something clever and something quick, but I had nothing. The truth was, I wasn’t very witty or clever, especially not around men I hardly knew. So I did what I always do and decided to just be honest, “Why would you want to impress me?” “Why not? You’re the most interesting girl in the room. Everyone else bores me.” And in that moment, I suddenly wished I did know how to flirt. There’s one woman I really look up to, one who has such a different life from mine, but sometimes I pretend I’m her. We are both women of colour after all and born around the same time… Her name is Florence Mills and she’s the Queen of Happiness of the American cabaret. Even though her parents weren’t, she was born a free woman in Washington DC. When she was young, she and her sisters formed a vaudeville act, known as the Mills Sisters. Florence was he only one to continue on as an entertainer. For a while, she was even a part of the Panama Four, you know, the group that Ada ‘Bricktop’ Smith was also a part of, the woman who later owned her very own club in Paris? But that’s a different story entirely… Florence went on to join the Tennessee Ten and eventually gained fame through her part in ‘Shuffle Along’, the first all-black Broadway hit. But she has no plans to stop there. Oh no, she’s now trying to get the evening shows of the Plantation Club, where she and her husband work, on Broadway as well. Imagine being that inventive and creative, and brave too!

“That,” he pointed at me again, with those piercing eyes trying to search my soul, “you did it again.” “Did what?” “The thinking,” he waved a hand, “the fucking disappearing into your head thing.”

“I do do that,” I mumbled with a shy smile. “How about you let me in, eh?” Did I dare to be brave? I did, but I have no idea why. But I finally worked up the courage to make an exception for this intimidating but soft man, and I said, “Have you ever heard of Bessie Coleman?” And just like that, we talked all night. And not a single person bothered or interrupted me again.

***

Masterlist

#peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinder #peaky blinders #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinder imagine #tommy shelby imagine #poc reader #peaky blinders fluff #cillian murphy #black history

593 notes · View notes

writertothemaximum · 3 years ago

Note

hiiiii! could i request some headcanons for mayoi as a sub? i absolutely adore your writing btw!!

>blush

thank u,,, and thank you for the request!!

Mayoi as a sub

cw: (nsfw/18+, gender neutral reader)

-Mayoi is a bit of a skittish sub. Just as he does normally, his emotions read very easily on his face, it’s so hard to contain his nerves, you know! He doesn’t want to look like a creep but that’s just how he shows excitement, okay? It’s embarrassing to him how excited he gets. How excited he gets for you to step on his face, for you to praise and humiliate him. He really loves it, he really does.

-Mayoi has a bit of an oral fixation. He loves sucking on things, specifically your fingers. When you fuck, don’t hesitate to shut his reckless moans up with two or three of your fingers. He’ll lather them up in his spit, carefully caressing, massaging them, just as he would giving oral. But it’s closer like this, more intimate.

-Mayoi is afraid that his teeth are going to get in the way, so his oral fixation definitely freaks him out sometimes. He wants to give you oral, but what if he accidentally nibbles down? He doesn’t want to hurt you, he doesn’t want to accidentally nick you.

-You could get him a dental guard for oral, but for other activities, a ball gag is perfect for him. That you can see the little pricks at the end of his teeth peeking out. That he rolls the thing with his tongue, drool slowly tickling out and falling on his lap.

-Mayoi is a sub who needs a lot of aftercare. He’s just so sensitive to this kind of thing, so make sure to give him a lot of hugs and kisses afterwards, he’ll need it! He gets all sorts of intrusive thoughts, so someone just telling him that it’s okay to think about things, even if they are things he doesn’t want to act out in real life.

-In truth, the biggest fear Mayoi has is to himself, so don’t let him be alone too often, because he gets into his own head. Sometimes, a good hug, a lovely chat, a lot of patience is all you need to get him in that friendly non-stressed mood again.

#enstars #enstars x reader #enstars headcanon #mayoi ayase #mayoi x reader #w2tmhcs

160 notes · View notes

aenaxes · 3 years ago

Note

omg!! congrats on 200!!!! 🥰🥰 ur my fav crosshair writer so: crosshair + trust, with a gender neutral reader? nsfw or not, it's up to u!! congrats again 🎉🎆🎉

kinesthesia

[crosshair x gn!reader] with precision, there is control, and with control, there is tension, not easily soothed. you take it into your own hands to prove that wrong.

warnings: nsfw, fellatio, (kind of) sub!cross

w/c: 3.0k

a/n: prince my he a r t 🥺💕 ily bb ! this was also a super fun prompt to write hehe, and look i openly accept that i’m a pillow princess bottom, but i think i would enjoy making crosshair squirm. uno reverse card on his oral fixation—mine now.

“I’m still not entirely sold on this,” Crosshair admits as he takes a seat at the edge of your bunk. His toothpick bobs anxiously between his lips, chewed down flat where his lips brush up against the bleached wood. It’s not often that this breed of restlessness finds hold: stiff shoulders and hands folded tight over his lap.

Nerves.

“That’s why we have the safeword,” you quip from across your quarters, voice rising as you struggle to twist out of your heavy uniform jacket.

(Un)surprisingly, Crosshair makes for a quick study. Beneath the stony, oftentimes sullen disposition, he’s a simple man. Of course, that simplicity didn’t necessarily limit himself from branching out into an actual person, but you could boil him down to one thing and one thing alone: control. Whether it was his genetic acuity that shaped him into the sniper persona or vice versa, control centered him, grounded him, tied him so close to his sense of duty and personhood that sometimes it was hard to tell the two apart.

So when you had offered two rotations prior to take the reins—offered both as something new and the hypothetical of release from, well, everything that kept him in a perpetually alert state of coiled tension—you honestly hadn’t expected for Crosshair to pause, rolling his toothpick thoughtfully between his teeth, and accept.

There’s certainly a part of you that hopes the manufactured brevity to your tone is enough to soothe the anxiety radiating from where Crosshair makes himself prim and small on your bed, smaller still without the bulk of his dark armor weighed over his shoulders. But, against your better judgement, a low-lying anticipation simmers at the base of your lungs when you finally shuck the day’s sweat and blaster smoke to the side.

He’s seen you undone under him time and time again, beads of sweat following the smug lines of his expression as he bent you to his—and, to be entirely fair, your own—pleasure. And as satisfying as that arrangement has proven itself to be, curiosity has always been that single, nagging vice at the back of your head.

Who can blame you for wanting a taste?

“You remember it, right?”

“Yeah,” he says, and you catch the heavy dregs of uncertainty (perhaps even bashfulness, ha) dragging at his voice.

“Then say it,” you prod. You gently nudge the point of your knee up against Crosshair’s calf and offer him a mirthful glance. And when that doesn’t seem to banish his withering hesitance, you drop down onto the bunk beside him, grasping his hand in yours and squeezing snug.

“I—” he clears his throat with a soft wince: embarrassment. “I don’t think I’ll need it.”

“Cross,” you warn. Because if you were going to do this, you were going to do this right.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters under his breath, scrubbing his palm over the highest points of his cheeks. You wonder if the warmth over his cheeks is the same as your own, desirous and shy as you venture into those dark, uncertain places hand in hand. “Tooka, happy?”

“Very happy,” you grin, and you lean close to press a quick peck to the corner of his mouth.

Crosshair leans towards you, lips parted to chase your touch, more, more. But he’ll have his fill, and you’re quick to dart away, leaving him even more disoriented than he already is, all wide eyes that seek you like fading light.

You’re tempted to indulge him because it’s not often that he looks like a kicked loth cat (and he does a damn good impression when he does). But you manage to stuff down the creeping sympathy, opting instead to reach into the pocket of your trousers and produce a well-worn headband.

“Please tell me that’s not Hunter’s.” The rosy edge of desire vanishes from Crosshair’s voice as he catches sight of the broad black swatch of fabric in your palm. In its place, the testing edge of judgement so often home in Crosshair’s snide play.

“Ew, no—what? That’d be weird. And gross. Who do you think I am?”

That seems to do what your previous efforts could not, and your heart jumps when Crosshair responds with a soft snort and shrugs. He’s not resentful, not in the slightest. It’s just trepidation, jumping into uncharted waters with nothing but the trust that your hand, snug over his, would hold fast.

But the laughter settles, drawing back to reveal something that hums quiet between the small eternity between you. Even with your thigh pressed close against Crosshair’s own, you feel him drawing away, hesitant and wanting all at once. You gently pull his hand between you, squeezing once.

“Trust me?” you murmur.

Crosshair offers you a tremulous look, more nervous than apprehensive. You suppose it’s only fitting of him that relinquishing his steady grip over control might be more appealing in concept than on the eve of practice. Nonetheless, when you meet his gaze, you find the kind of uncertainty that heralds excitement, careful but enamored all the same. He nods.

“Then let me take care of you.”

Finally, as you raise your hands to his temples, pressing the dark fabric over his eyes, the tension pulls away from his coiled muscles, dropping his shoulders and bowing his head as you reach around him and tie a knot over the back of his silvery hair. He exhales long and slow as the knot settles snug over his scalp, warmed by the creases left behind by your fingertips and the sudden comfort yet complete unpredictability that shrouds his senses.

Testing the waters, you bring one hand to his cheek, just barely ghosting your fingertips over the lean lines of his jaw, and you are rewarded with a full-bodied shudder that shocks through Crosshair’s form as his lips gently part around his toothpick. Without that precious ability to see, he sits in your palm at your every whim.

You lean forward, gently biting your teeth around the tapered free end of his toothpick, and you feel him swallow hard when you free it from his mouth and drop it to the floor.

“Trust me.”

Chest heaving, he nods again.

“Safeword?”

This time, there is no snark to accompany a begrudging response. “Tooka.” Instead, his voice dips breathy and low between the long breadths between his soft exhales, his beating heart.

“Good boy.”

You surprise yourself at how natural the praise feels, rolling from your tongue and rising over the ambient hum of the ship around you. It fills your chest with something like affection, bordered pride that only swells as you watch him shudder, his lips parting just a little wider to pass that barely-there whimper riding on his exhale.

The hard planes of his body, that star map you’ve committed to the deepest parts of your heart, are familiar terrain under your skin as you flatten your palms over the sharp jut of his collar and travel lower. You pause the heels of your palms over the base of his ribs, pressing softly against the quickening rise and fall of his chest. Satisfaction curls sweet and rich over the tip of your tongue as his stuttering inhale shifts the air around you.

With slow, firm force, you push him backwards onto the bunk, Crosshair’s elbows catching his slow descent over the dark grey sheets until finally drops his head back onto the firm mattress. His chest heaves.

Your fingertips pass over the sinew and soft scar of his abdomen, chasing how his breathing expands from his chest and leaches tension over the length of his torso. You’re certain this isn’t new, not when your intimacy has you stealing the other’s breaths between stuttering gasps. But to feel it under your palms, thrumming and deep—it sets your nerves on fire.

Control. It’s wholly and entirely yours.

You still as the pads of your fingers catch the faint ridge of his waistband. And a part of you is smug with the power of reversal, that it wasn’t Crosshair offering you a knowing smirk as he parted your thighs and pressed close, that it was you, privy to only the deepest intimacy Crosshair could offer.

But it’s exactly that which keeps the power from rushing to your head, stymying the teasing mischief for something warm in your stomach when you trail lower and gently cup over the straining bulge in his blacks. And it grows fonder when Crosshair’s legs jerk with a labored puff of breath, the same one he breathes into your ear when he finally pushes up deep inside you and presses his skin close against yours. He whines, a straining, soft noise through his bitten lips, and you’ve teased long enough.

Crosshair makes a soft noise, somewhere between a gasp and a whining moan, when you finally hook your fingers over the hem of the dark fabric and expose the curved strain of his cock. He’s so open, you think as you reach forwards (though, you suppose being deprived of the one sense that reigned king would do that to you).

You don’t need to be able to see the half of his face rising above the bridge of his nose to envision the soft knit of his dark brows, eyes squeezed shut and lashes fluttering with every soft noise that passes his lips. You don’t need to see the half of his face bound under that broad swath of fabric to envision how his expression breaks from restraint to unbridled euphoria when you trace the edge of your nail down the underside of his cock.

“Please,” you think you hear him whisper past a breathy moan.

Whatever he might have had prepared, the whole gamut of biting, bratty demand to wide-eyed pleas, tumbles back into his throat when you finally climb onto the bunk by his hips, lick the flat of your tongue over your palm, and wrap it snug around the middle of Crosshair’s cock. Instead, you watch with a satisfied awe as he jerks up into your touch, spit-slick lips parted in a silent cry.

“You want my hand or my mouth?” you croon, pumping slowly from the thick base of his erection to the ruddy tip. You want him to feel every quiver of your touch as you run your thumb over the pearly drop of precome beaded at the crown of his cock, reveling in his shudder beneath you. You want to be the only thing he feels.

“Mouth,” he chokes out. “Please.”

“You’re so polite today,” you muse, reaching up with your free hand to rub your thumb over the plush bitten skin of his bottom lip. Emboldened, you slip your finger past his lips, grazing over his teeth as you push the pad of your thumb over his tongue, all the while slowly working your hand over his cock. “The good boy gets what he wants, then. Right?”

For a brief moment, something like disbelief occupies the warm air between you—you, amazed at how easy it is to hold the reins tight; him, stunned that somehow, you in control was as good, if not better, than being the commandeering weight to push your face into the pillows.

Crosshair nods, trembling as you squeeze softly over the base of his cock.

“I need to hear it, mesh’la.”

The last line of his restraint crumbles at the sound: one only ever given from him to you, yet suddenly brought back to him with the full brunt of lust, affection, the secret words you’ve come to call your own. Crosshair bucks up into your hand with a low groan, gasping soft and breathy when you slip your thumb from his mouth and hold him down to the mattress.

“Yes, please.”

You smile and dip low.

Unlike the slow deliberation of your earlier touch, you seal your lips over his ruddy cockhead with one smooth motion, pressing your tongue flat against the underside and hollowing your cheeks. And the heady taste of salt, of trembling anticipation, of him, only sweetens when you flick your eyes up to catch Crosshair tip up his chin, dig his heels into the mattress, and sob.

You sink his cock deeper into your mouth, achingly slow while you continue to work your fist around the base of his cock, and close in a way that coaxes soft, whimpering noises from his lips as he turns his head and clenches his jaw.

Flicking your eyes upwards, a pang of regret shocks through your chest that you aren’t able to see Crosshair come undone from the slightest of touches, tame in comparison to some of your particularly energetic nights. But you do away with the thought as quickly as it comes as his blunt cockhead brushes over the back of your tongue.

His pleasure has always been yours, yours his, you think as you pull back, just until your lips part around the tip of his cock while he shifts and gasps beneath you. You’ll have your turn soon enough.

Before you can sink back down, swallow him as deep as you can, the air by your cheek shifts, and expecting the worst, you lift your chin. But where you expected some stifled yellow light, Crosshair’s fingers feel blindly around you until they find purchase over your cheek. His relief is palpable as his stuttering touch curls over your skin and holds you close.

You smile.

“Trust me?” you ask again, your lips mouthing softly over his cock, catching thick smears of precome over your skin.

“I trust you,” he whispers.

Crosshair cries out, hoarse and as loud as he’s been all night, as you drop your mouth near-midway down the straining length of his cock in one motion, lavishing your tongue under his pulse. His hand tenses over your jaw, blunt nails digging light into your skin as his fingers curl with that bone-deep shock of pleasure. And if the breathy, desperate noises he whimpers into the alcove of the bunk are of any indication, you have a good feeling he’ll want to do this again.

You moan around him in answer. It doesn’t matter to you that his brothers might hear, only a few panels of durasteel away and connected by the reverb of a narrow ship corridor. They probably do hear, but all that matters now is Crosshair, coming impossibly more undone under your tongue as he runs his trembling thumb over the skin of your cheek.

His hips buck up towards you, catching the back of your throat with a soft sting that reaches your nose. If you weren’t so desperate, you might have pinned him down harder or pulled away entirely to let him think about what he had done. But as much as you want to chase this power play, hearing him lose himself to you has you desperate for his touch.

You follow him with every uneven jerk and thrust up into the wet heat of your mouth, letting him take his fill. You simply stroke firmer as his skin warms over your tongue. It’s all so hot, the air heady and thick as you breathe in sharp through your nose and lean into his palm, and you wonder what it feels like, anchored to nothing but you, his sole light in a world gone dark.

His motions fall uneven, his hips twisting against your touch, his breaths becoming deeper, louder as they bounce over the steel ceiling overhead. He’s close.

You twist your fist over his cock, redoubling your efforts. You sink down so far over his cock that your eyes water as you crush the head up against the back of your throat. Heavy and thick, it muffles down a soft gag for you—it’s the deepest you’ve ever taken him. Crosshair notices, and he nearly wails.

He’s been good, you decide as you all but choke around him. He can take that coveted control back. You gently rub his hand, unspoken assent, and his hand slides up your jaw to finds purchase at the back of your head to fuck you down onto him in earnest.

And you take it, eyes blurring with tears and shallow inhales through your nose, holding still and letting him fuck over your tongue until he’s taken his fill. It doesn’t take long for him to spill down your throat, a low, hoarse groan passed between his lips as you struggle to breathe between every dutiful swallow of his thick come down your throat.

“Good boy,” you rasp as you pull the blindfold from over his head.

Crosshair meets you with unfocused eyes, full of wonder and a shaky haze that finds focus on you alone in the low light. Over the ache in your knees, you crawl up to meet him, collapsing down beside him with a soft sigh. He meets you with habit, practiced and true as he tips down his chin and presses his lips to yours, tasting himself on your skin when he swipes his tongue over your lip.

“How was that?” you whisper, breathing soft over his lips.

You tilt your head up enough to catch your nose over Crosshair’s. He still meets you with that same stupor, but you see it begin to mellow into something other than the shock of enjoyment in submission in a man who has only ever known control to be his. It’s quiet and raw, splitting open your chest with that rare kind of warmth that the broad expanse of space and war leave little space to grow.

Yours, whispered and cradled close between your beating hearts, yours alone.

“I’ll remember the safeword,” Crosshair says finally, his voice distant and soft as he still rises out of the aftershocks of his orgasm. But in that weary daze, you catch the rosy relaxation, vulnerable and yet increasingly less rare in your palms. Relief, pride, joy, honeyed goodness rises to the apples of your cheeks at the sound.

“I still think I won’t need it, though.” And you both laugh, curling close.

#hm. i want to peg him now #i still dont know how to tag posts but. i do write better when im significantly inebriated #anyways hehe hope u enjoy!!#i'd also like to send a special thanks to those ppl on youtube who make reverb/slowed playlists *chefs kiss* phenomenal #crosshair x reader #the bad batch x reader #bobathots #yaej.writes

201 notes · View notes

divinerulerluvr · 4 years ago

Text

NSFW Alphabet w/ Kit Walker

Requested by @kitwalker02

This is clearly going to be smutty so you have been forewarned.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

I don't care what you say, this man would do anything to keep you content and comfortable.

He'd hold you in his arms, play with your hair, whatever you wanted, he'd do.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His would be his mouth.

He is very good with his tongue.

He would like your shoulders and neck.

Kit loves to leave little bite marks on your skin and pepper kisses over your shoulders all the time.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He prefers cumming in you because of his breeding kink.

The idea of getting you pregnant is his favorite thing to think about.

Also fine with cumming in your mouth but only during a blow job.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I feel like he's secretly into damn near anything.

Just as long as he retains some type of control in the situation.

I can't explain it, I just get the feeling being powerless is not enjoyable to him in any way sexual or otherwise.

Likes fucking you for hours.

Like, hours.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He's experienced.

Not like man-whore experienced, but he's seen and done a thing or two.

As i said, being good with your tongue comes with practice.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Who doesn't love missionary?

The eye contact, the closeness... fuck yes please.

Probably really enjoys it when you ride him just so he can watch you shaking easily.

Likes fucking you on tables/counters.

Again, can't explain it. Maybe it's that kitchen scene but I just have that feeling.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Not entirely goofy, but not entirely serious all the time, either.

Always smiling because he enjoys sex very much.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Just trims it because he really doesn't care.

Also, unrelated, but he's not the type to care if you shave or not. I just know it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Insanely intimate.

He'll pet your cheek and keep eye contact.

Whispering praises to you (he's definitely a soft dom)

Has a thing for being as close to you as possible.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I feel like he very rarely does it.

Doesn't think it's weird or anything, he just prefers the real thing.

When you aren't with him, he'll resort to it.

Only if it was the last thing available.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

As I said, he's for sure a soft dom.

Edging

Candle wax

Touching you secretly in public

Teasing

Exhibitionism

Breeding kink

Telling you what to wear

Being in control

Having you suck on his fingers

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The bed, a classic

Public bathrooms

The shower

On the front porch of his house

Anywhere where there is a risk of being caught, really.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Cute lingerie

Begging

When you get needy and touchy

Watching you get squirmy in your seat

When you pant his name

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Nothing that would harm you in any way.

Wouldn't dare to.

He might consider it if rules were established and you were on board, though.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Loves getting oral

Primarily because he loves how pretty you look doing it.

Loves the fact you have an oral fixation.

Would tease and torment you by having you suck on his fingers instead of on his dick.

But really enjoys giving oral because knowing he affects you like that drives him nuts.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sweet, baby. Slow and sweet.

He doesn't like aggression so slow would be his go-to.

Most of the time.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

If he really needs you, a quickie is fine.

Prefers normal sex and making it last but sometimes, there isn't an opportunity for it.

He can make you cum like fucking clockwork, too.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Yes.

No condom breeding kink hello

Trying new things all the time.

I.E. toys, different positions, different kinks.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Slut for long and draining sex.

I'd say anywhere from 3-7 rounds. 7 on a good day.

Very good at holding off on cumming to prolong your pleasure.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Very much yes.

I don't think he owns any, but he'd be very down to use a toy on you.

He does have handcuffs and likes to use them a lot.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

His favorite kink.

Teasing touches are his specialty.

In public, he'd have a hand on your thigh and would slowly creep his hand up.

Whispers into your ear dirty things.

"Wanna know what I'll do when we get home?"

"Your skin is so soft, doll. So precious,"

Let's just say the build-up makes the actual sex feel like pure fucking heaven.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Breathy moans I just know it.

Mumbles curse words.

Or your name.

Groans and grunts a lot as well.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Having sex while high is his favorite thing ever.

Makes everything feel so much better.

He likes how your bloodshot eyes water and the dazed smile on your lips as he fucks you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Toned muscles on his chest and abs.

Nice arms.

Like, really nice.

Not a doubt in my mind he has a big dick.

Someone had to say it.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Normal, maybe a little above.

Always down with having sex though.

If you're horny, he's more than happy to help.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Likes to lull you to sleep after.

Praising you about how good you had done and kissing your shoulders and neck.

Falls asleep only after you do.

#kit walker #ahs #asylum #request #smutty #what i said it right i take no criticism #400 follower special #kai anderson #evan peters

188 notes · View notes

gloves94 · 4 years ago

Text

A Slytherin [Harry x Slytherin!Reader]

Anonymous Requested:

hi idk if you do these but could u write abt Harry x slytherin oc :) it can be any topic u want angst fluff smut or whatever... I haven’t been able to find anything with Harry and a slytherin girl it’s crazy 💔💔

Rating: PG Warnings: Fluff! Words: 2490 Pairing: Harry x Slytherin!Reader A/N: Hope you like it! Proud of my House! I’ve never really read Harry fanfic so I hope I captured his character right!

Some say being a Slytherin is a curse, but others, truly wise individuals, would differ.

Some sneer and look down at Slytherins for being the House associated with antiquated prejudice and outgrown wizarding ideologies from another time. The House of the Evil, The House of You-Know-Who, The Heirs of Salazar Slytherin.

Ambition. Cunning. Leadership. Resourcefulness.

Are the traits that one’s branded with a crest bearing an emerald snake above their hearts cherish. Traits that can allow one to go far and succeed in whatever it is the witch or wizard’s most deep desires is, regardless of the darkness or the apparent impossibility of the goal.

Nothing is impossible for a Slytherin.

Not even such a feat such as making Harry Potter fall in love.

xxx

“I want him,” The Slytherin confidently claimed her objective from across the Great Hall. She ate her food mindlessly a determined glint in her eyes.

“Who?” Millicent Bullstrode asked squinting her eyes to try and see who her chamber mate could possibly be referring to. The other Slytherin girls attempted to catch a glimpse of whomever she could’ve been referring to.

“Potter?” Pansy Parkinson gagged and turned her head back quickly to grimace in horror to her friend.

“Yes,” She admitted with an overconfident smirk stretching on her lips.

Pansy gaped in horror bringing a hand to her mouth. “Salazar’s beard,” She gasped shaking her head. “But why?” “He’s so arrogant and thinks he’s untouchable,” She scoffed bitterly at Dumbledore’s favorite. “Saint Potter… He’s not even fully one of our kind,” She spat referring to his lack of blood status.

The infatuated Slytherin ignored her and continued to gaze from a far. She was currently fixating on Harry’s permanently messy hair.

“I don’t care.”

She really didn’t. None of that mattered to her. Didn’t know what it was she liked about Harry so much. Her not so secret crush had always been a part of her, kind of like an itch on your nose. It’s right in your face, comes and goes, but you can’t quite put your finger in it. Maybe it was his loyalty to his friends, his bravery, maybe it was how unwaveringly kind he seemed to be to everyone, even to her despite the fact they were both in rivaling Houses. Or maybe it was something else. He was also easy on the eyes.

“Oh, you know how she is,” Daphne Greengrass sighed with an amused smile as she drank her cup of tea. “Loves chasing waterfalls, maybe just as much as Potter loves breaking the rules.”

“It’s never going to happen,” Daphne added lightly nudging her friend. “You know, that right?”

All Slytherin girls arched their eyebrows in agreement.

“That’s okay,” She smiled confidently. “I like the chase.”

Stunned Millicent shook her head in disbelief, “This I gotta see.”

“Ugh!” Pansy exclaimed frustrated. “You’re going to give the House a bad name!” She protested. “Not to mention we’ll probably lose points!”

From across the Great Hall, Ron Weasley elbowed his distraught best friend. Harry was as per usual deep in thought, stressed and distracted by the fact that there was a psychopath plotting to hunt him down (and no not the Slytherin girl).

“She’s starring at you again mate,” Ron spoke in a low voice leaning over.

“Who?” Harry asked not quite paying attention to his surroundings.

“Do you ever pay attention?” Hermione asked looking over her shoulder over to the Slytherin table.

“That Slytherin girl.” Ron also starred. “What did you do to her, she seems- angry?”

Hermione rolled her eyes dramatically and shook her head. “Honestly, the both of you,” Sometimes she struggled to believe that the three of them had somehow managed to outsmart the Dark Lord for more than a handful of years now. Both completely oblivious. Hermione closed her book shut and shaking her head and packed up her stuff. She would let the two of them figure this one out.

“Now what?” Ron asked raising his hands. “What’d I say?”

Harry shrugged just as confused. He turned away from Ron and raised his gaze to meet the Slytherin girl’s. He was surprised however to find that she did not look away. Instead, she kept her gaze steady and a slow smile stretched across her features. There was a mischievous look in her eyes a confident allure that entrapped him and wouldn’t allow him to tear his eyes away.

It was then that he learned she would be nothing but trouble.

Xxx

Trouble always seemed to have a way of finding him.

Trouble had an alluring look.

Trouble was approaching. Harry wasn’t sure if she bumped into him or if he was the one to not mind his step.

Trouble had found him.

“Oh,” She said accidentally dropping the books she had been carrying. “Merlin,” She muttered innocently under her breath kneeling and picking up her scattered notes and texts.

“I’m sorry,” Harry apologized bending down and being the gentleman, he was helping her pick up her books. Snitches and Witches: Women in Quidditch, Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts, and It’s a Muggle’s World.

Wow, all of these books- they were all topics he was interested in. “You’re-“ He began to acknowledge her name.

“Thanks Harry,” She thanked and took her book from his hand. “You know my name?” The Gryffindork seemed a little startled by this.

“Well, of course I do,” She tugged a strand of hair behind her ear. “I mean, it’s in our History of Magic book,” She smiled at him sweetly and stood up.

Ah, yes of course.

Harry was about to ask her another question, but she left him standing with the word on the tip of his tongue.

“I have to go,” She batted her eyelashes at him. “Nice running into you Harry,” she smiled at him before walking away. There it was again that teasing smile that seemed to scream danger, those crazy eyes that seemed to peer into his soul and the trailing scent of sweet perfume he had smelled somewhere before as she walked away from him and turned back to flash him a smile he wouldn’t forget. To his surprise Harry found she had forgotten a parchment behind. He called for her, but she had already vanished around the corridor.

Curious he picked up the note and unfolded it.

‘Meet me in the Forbidden Books Section at Midnight.’

Xxx

Of course, it had been planned.

Everything leading up to this event had been planned. It had been weeks of flirting from a distance. From little innocent looks to even smiling at each other from across the classroom.

Only a Slytherin would be resourceful enough to ask around what Harry Potter’s interest where, what his timetables looked like, where he spent most of his time, who his closest friends are, did he have any love interest?

Ginny Weasley who?

“Oi, Blaise,” Our protagonist said to her friend during History of Magic. “Didn’t you say you found girl Weasley to be attractive?”

Blaise simply shot her a glare. Why on Earth would he ever go for a blood traitor such as Weasley? “I bet you even a handsome bloke like yourself wouldn’t be able to woo her,” She gave Zabini a sly look. He ignored her. “I guess even she’s out of your reach Zabini,” she let out a sigh slightly dropping her shoulders.

Determined. Unaware of the manipulation. That made Blaise Zabini take Ginny Weasley out of the picture. At least temporarily which was part of the Slytherin’s ambitious plan.

That meant she wouldn’t be a distraction anymore.

It was midnight and the Slytherin girl patiently awaited hidden in the Forbidden Books section. She was careful not to be seen when leaving the Slytherin dormitory. It would be unfortunate if a prefect on duty or even worse if Snape himself caught her sneaking out.

Even worse, caught her sneaking out to see Harry Potter.

Hearing footsteps, she turned around yet saw no one. Just dusty books and moonlight creeping through the large windows. She was alone in the library, or so it seemed.

Eyes wide, she held her wand ready to light the room or attack if necessary.

There was no one there.

Paranoid she once again lowered her guard. It seemed like Harry was late, but he was definitely showing. She had no doubt about it. Everything had been calculated and carefully planned. He was at least that much of a man to reject her to her face and not stand her up.

Another wooden creak.

Turning once again this time with her wand lifted, she knew there was definitely somebody watching her.

“Who goes there?” She barked her tone demanding.

She wasn’t expecting a small yell to be caught in the back of her throat when a hand was placed on her mouth suddenly silencing her. Harry magically appeared before her eyes unraveling from an invisible cloak.

“Shhh….” He whispered holding her close. “Snape is here.”

Both turned to look towards the entrance of the Forbidden section where they could see light creep through the opening door.

Without any hesitation Harry pulled the invisible cloak over both of them hiding them from any prying eyes. The two pressed their bodies against the wall of books. Shoulders rubbing together from the closeness. She could smell the scent of his shampoo. What was that delicious scent sandalwood? The Slytherin’s breath hitched as her heart began to race. This had not been part of the plan.

She didn’t even want to think about what Snape would do to her. The two might even be expelled having been found in such an inappropriate setting.

“I know Potter is grandiosely skulking around Professor.” “You best be right Malfoy,” Snape sneered back at his student as the two carefully looked around the room. The Professor seemed more irritated than ever, the circles under his eyes darker from lack of sleep.

The Slytherin cursed under her breath. Leave it to Draco to want to bust Potter in the act of sneaking out. No doubt the selfish prick didn’t mind her being part of the collateral as long as Potter suffered.

“I thought I heard something,” Draco said passing right in front of them. Nervous, the girl clung to Harry’s arm tightly squeezing it as the two held their breaths. One wrong move, a sneeze a loud breath and both would be in serious trouble.

“I heard he was meeting a girl here,” Malfoy continued. His head rapidly turning around as he scanned the room for any clue that Harry might be here.

Harry turned his head and then whispered, “I don’t think they’re leaving any time soon,” not that she minded being like this all night. When Snape and Malfoy were a safe distance away. His closeness and hot breath on her ear made the girl’s skin curl with goosebumps. Her grip on his arm relaxed slightly. Using her cunning the Slytherin quickly devised a plan.

“Not on my watch,” she muttered sticking her wand to poke out of the cloak. She pointed at the entrance of the library from a far and with some quick spell work made the door open and-

SLAM!

The slam shattered the loud silence in the room and instantly Malfoy and Snape turned towards it. “They’re leaving!” Draco exclaimed as the two fell for the red herring and rushed out of the room with their wands out.

Neither Harry nor the Slytherin moved an inch. Both remained still petrified in their closeness waiting to be sure the Slytherins were gone. An eternal minute passed before Harry let out a loud breath of relief. Laughing, the girl removed the cloak, the Gryffindor couldn’t help but chuckle at the fact they had almost gotten caught. He watched her in the dim moonlight appreciating how proud she looked at her accomplishment.

Realizing this she looked at him too, this time shyly, tugging a lose strand of hair behind her ear. Both had almost forgotten why they were here.

“So, you came?” She approached him boldly.

He couldn’t remove her eyes from hers and suddenly Harry felt cornered by her presence.

“We’d be good together, don’t you think?” She said playing with the insides of her sleeves. Harry swallowed hard, suddenly losing his voice. “See, that’s why I came,” He managed to say, his voice dropping to a lower tone.

There was so much on Harry’s plate always. Everyone around him was constantly in danger. He was a Gryffindor, and she was a Slytherin, both were supposed to be natural enemies. His friends would hate her and hers already hated him. Any information any activity – with so many Slytherins involved in You-Know-Who’s doing it was especially dangerous for her. But why did he want to go against the logical choice? Why did he want to say yes to her so badly?

“What if..” He began but couldn’t bring himself to spiel his miserable thoughts to her. “I’ll break your heart,” he shook his head regretfully.

Not to mention those moment when You-Know-Who... Those dark flashes he couldn’t control. He could hurt her.

He was expecting her to falter, to step down and walk away but instead she laughed a little, almost with arrogance. “Nobody breaks my heart,” She paused. “But maybe I’ll break yours,” She smiled coyly reaching for the edge of his crimson robes.

“I’m sorry,” He sincerely apologized to her.

Nodding bitterly, she finally stepped away with her head lowered with the embarrassment from his rejection, her eyes avoiding his perturbing green ones. Accepting they were star crossed lovers.

Feeling guilty Harry tried to make his rejection less painful.

“It would never work out,” he began to explain. “We’re too different, our Houses are enemies, and then there’s Voldem-“

“So, you don’t deny it?” She interrupted him. This time glaring at him with a terrifying fearlessness. They weren’t the eyes of somebody that had accepted rejection. He looked struck by her determination.

“You don’t deny you’re just as attracted to me as I am to you?” If he accepted, she would step down, she would leave him alone. However- if he didn’t deny his feelings…

Harry was quiet for a moment before speaking. “I don’t,” He admitted truthfully.

The Slytherin couldn’t help but smile at his confession. “Then?” She took his warm hands in hers. They were larger, square, welcoming and well fitting against hers like a complete puzzle. “So what? Who cares what the others think? I don’t,” Her smile grew, and she leaned in closer to him. So close her voice also dropped. “Besides, like I said, we’d be good together. Together there’s nothing we can’t handle. Even You-K-“ She reassured him with boldness. “Even Voldemort,” speaking the taboo name tasted odd to her.

Her hand was greeted by the cold absence of his.

Maybe this had all been one foul idea…

Maybe he was right.

Feeling his hand caress her face she stood struck by the gentle gesture. He spoke her name so quietly she almost didn’t hear him. “Can I kiss you?” He asked tenderly. His fingers tracing her cheek before advancing to bury into the hair on the nape of her neck.

She responded by leaning forward, brushing her nose against his and pressing her lips against his. She didn't mind his glasses, she didn’t mind this one bit. The Slytherin held him close her arms gently slithering up and clinging around his neck greedily holding him. He held her head in place tilting it to the side as their lips touched in a sweet kiss in the empty darkness. His lips were so soft, welcoming, they moved against hers perfectly, even gently nabbed at hers. It was everything she had dreamt about.

She smiled into the kiss, after all, a Slytherin always gets what they want.

xxx

Hope you liked it!

Harry Potter Masterlist

My Masterlist

77 notes · View notes

hyperfixationtimego · 4 years ago

Note

Alright we’re trying this angst thing again

Diamond Brothers Angst because I said so

Both Daiya and Mondo have huge self esteem issues bc of the crash

Both think stuff along the lines of what the fuck I could have prevented that

Neither Daiya nor Mondo can sleep very well because when they hear vehicles driving past and the occasional screeching tires they’re back at the scene of the accident

They hear a semi truck rumbling past? Suddenly neither of the brothers remember how to move or breathe properly

They both survived the crash but they were both injured severely bc fuck dude that was a truck that hit them

The Crazy Diamonds witnessed the whole thing and they were Worried™️

And we all know how the Owadas hate being vulnerable

Neither of the brothers could actively ride their motorcycles for a long time after the crash because they couldn’t handle it emotionally

They played off their mental recovery time as time in the hospital

Daiya made Mondo promise not to get back on his motorcycle, much less the road, until he was 100% sure that he was prepared to handle it because what if there’s another freak accident that neither of them have control over

Mondo made Daiya promise the exact same thing because He Cares™️

Mondo has reoccurring nightmares about the crash and often sees Daiya dead in those nightmares

The gang shows up in the nightmares too and they’ve all been hit and it’s all Mondo’s fault and he couldn’t be a good leader because he wasn’t strong enough and why couldn’t he just be more like his brother god fucking dammit

Sometimes he sees Taka or Chihiro in place of Daiya and the Diamonds and that Absolutely Terrifies Him™️

Daiya has reoccurring thoughts about hijacking a truck to hit the driver who hurt him and his little brother

He wants them to feel all the same pain and more that they put the Diamond Brothers through

Daiya has breakdowns over this because even if he is a gang leader, he would not go that far

cue the Am I A Bad Person Complex™️

Mondo does not let himself stim

He doesn’t think it’s manly and it definitely doesn’t fit the Tough Guy™️ act

This leads to worsened focus and next thing you know he and Daiya are having a yelling match at home because if Mondo’s grades drop any lower he’ll be expelled soon and Daiya just wants the best for his brother but nothing works out the way it was planned

One time Mondo received a popsicle stick and paper heart from Taka

He was extremely happy

When he got back to his dorm he was that happy that he was shaking and then oh shit

Mondo broke it

He snapped the popsicle sticks in half

the note that Taka wrote,, it got ripped in the process

Mondo full on sobbed over this for an hour at the least

Actual

Real

Tears

He broke something that Taka— not just his bf, but his best friend— had worked so hard on to make just for him and he fucking broke it like a shit for brains idiot

Mondo is terrified of hurting his friends

Because what if he forgets to take his adhd meds one day and his emotional dysregulation is all fucked up and he has an outburst again and actually hurts his friends

Or what if he takes 2+ doses by accident and focuses too hard and is left staring at one (1) spot and everyone hates him and what if they think he’s a creep

Mondo hates going out of his dorm at night because what if someone else is out and they have a flashlight and now they’re pointing it at him and it’s bright and those are headlights and that’s

that’s his brother

on the ground

not moving

Mondo will start shaking and he’ll break down hyperventilating or freeze on the spot

Either way, he hates being vulnerable

Whaddaya think? :D was that enough angst?

also can you tell that i kin Daiya on the dl bc i too got hit by a moving vehicle to save my young mer sibling from being hit /lh but also srs lmfo

HEY TINK??? HEY TINK????????

GodDAMN make me cry over this shit oKAY-

also sorry this took ✨forever✨ I had to gather my Thoughts™️ and my brain did not want to work today 😌

also before we get into my things, tw for trauma (obviously), unhealthy coping mechanisms, underage smoking/drug relapse/smoking as a crutch, and suicidal ideation (passive, but still there)

First of all, y e a h oh my god?? There is literally so much internalized guilt for both of them,,,,,like they rlly do have episodes sometimes where they just. Play over the events of what lead up to the crash in their heads and fixate on what they could have done differently,,,,,even though in the moment they both did their best? Like “well, I shouldn’t have taken us down this street” or “if I had acted quicker, maybe it wouldn’t have happened” and.....yeah those thoughts really fuck with them, y’know?

and 100% that unexpected/overwhelming vehicle noises and/or presences are nearly debilitating. Honestly, I imagine that Mondo can’t go hang out with Leon and Taka or whoever else if said people are hanging out in Kaz’s workshop. Owada’s only ever been in there once and immediately had to leave when he heard Kazuichi starting an engine he was working on. Not to mention being surrounded by a shit ton of vehicles, even if they were idle, had kept him on-edge the entire thirty seconds he was able to handle it.

They both deal with a lot of phantom pain, as well. Like something triggers them and suddenly, even if they’re able to remain in the moment and keep conscious of their surroundings, they somehow feel every ache, every twinge of pain, every breaking bone, or bruised patch of skin that they felt on that day. It’s a lot more prominent in Daiya than it is with Mondo, but they do both experience it!

And neither one lets the other know when they’re feeling like shit or having an episode because 😌 Daiya. wants to be strong. for his little brother. and Mondo. sees his brother basically functioning like a typical person. and figures that there’s something wrong with him. because he can’t get over what happened.

Takemichi is absolute shit with Emotions and being vulnerable or getting people to open up to him, but he’s like..........internally these bitches are Not Okay what the fuck am I supposed to do about it???? So he kind of...tries to hint to both of them that he’s worried? Without making it obvious or embarrassing them, but he’s like.......fuck these assholes.......making me be the one to make them realize they need help goddamnit........

And michi exhibiting a change in behavior is pretty 👀 because. it’s michi I mean he’s not just gonna change the way he talks in front of u for nothing, u know? So both Daiya and Mondo are actually able to pick up on it, although their reactions differ pretty greatly.

Like Daiya’s first thought is “wow, he’s worried, that’s really sweet of him. Better convince him everything’s okay.”

Meanwhile Mondo’s is “wow, he’s worried. my stupid emotional turmoil is that obvious. he must think I’m some sorta fuckin idiot for not being able to get over it. or selfish. or both. yeah, probably both.”

Also I think Daiya’s pretty perceptive in general? Like he can Tell™️ that something’s going on with his brother, but........yeah emotional conversations....vulnerability......that’s rlly neither of their strong suits. + he also figures that if it were something mondo were really really really having trouble with, he would come talk to him!

And so Daiya has absolutely no concept of just how Not Good his brother is doing right now hbbvvvv

So he settles for being like “I’m just gonna stay strong and act like the memories and intrusive thoughts aren’t affecting me in any way because I want to be a good role model” (which. is not healthy obv)

oh g o d the nightmares

they are so horrible and vivid and concentrated at times that Mondo simply.....refuses to sleep. He’s exhausted, both mentally and physically, and yet he can’t bring himself to close his eyes because he knows what he’ll see if he does.

And of course it affects him to the point that his friends start to become worried. Like Taka notices a stark increase in tardiness or general absences, and, after an initial assumption that it was simply Mondo choosing not to care about his academics again, realized that there was probably a lot more going on than he realized. He really, really wanted to bring it up and let his boyfriend know that he’ll always be there for him no matter what, but he couldn’t quite figure out how to articulate it properly. The farthest he gets is with the question, “is everything okay?”

And as much as Mondo wants to respond to him by saying that no, in fact, everything is not okay, everything sucks and everything hurts and he’s tired and he hates himself and sometimes he wishes that the crash had killed him, but that’s selfish so he should shut up- he just.....can’t bring himself to open himself up like that. Yes, he and Ishi are dating, so logically he should be able to tell him all this, but.....it’s so much. It’s too much. Too much to think, too much to feel, let alone try to explain. So he shuts himself up with a quick, curt, “Yeah.”

And....Taka knows he’s lying. He’s not sure how he knows, but he does. And it hurts to see someone he loves so much in such a state of anguish, and basically be unable to do anything about it because....how is he supposed to respond? What is he supposed to say? Navigating everyday interaction is difficult enough without having to improv something that could affect his partner’s mental health indefinitely. So....he does his best. Which isn’t enough, really, but it’s something.

“You can tell me anything.”

Mondo wants to believe him.

—

Another side of that same coin is Mondo skipping class a lot more than is typical for him. It’s almost always with Leon, but he’s also begun slipping away on his own, occasionally, as well, now.

And....y’know, at first, Leon thought it was super rad that Owada and he were skipping more! Like it used to be that Kuwata would offer for them to miss the next class, and Mondo’s usual answer would be ‘not today,’ and then Leon would keep bugging him about it until Mondo either gave in or told him to fuck off.

But....there’s just something about how it went from Leon being constantly shut down, to being told yes around the first few times the idea was brought up, to how, suddenly, Kuwata wasn’t even the one asking, anymore. It’s....depressing? Uncomfortable?

There’s also the fact that hanging out while they’re cutting just....isn’t as fun as it used to be? Leon’ll crack jokes or come up with stupid dares, and Mondo’s responses will be noncommittal at best. And Leon’s had enough experience with sleep deprivation to know it in his friends when he sees it.

He’s never been put in this situation before - usually it’s kuwata having some sort of stupid episode and usually it’s owada who’ll tell him to chill the fuck out and think rationally about things, but....Mondo acts a lot different when he’s upset than Leon does. He smokes more. Cuts himself off from everyone. Doesn’t engage with anything.

It’s different with people like Toko, or Makoto, or Kaz, because Leon knows what they need. He knows whether or not they need vulnerability, or a physical presence, or tough love, or tactile grounding, or a willing ear or shoulder to cry on, but with Mondo......he just isn’t sure.

So Leon doesn’t comment.

——-

Chihiro’s probably the one to get him to open up about it ngl.

ANYWAY-

y e a h Daiya intrusive thoughts?????? fuck yeah???? absolutely??????

god yeah I rlly feel him on that ngl hbhdbdbdbbb

and MONDO DARLING 🥺

god okay it SUCKS because????? he doesn’t judge his friends for stimming????? Like he sees his friends fidgeting or repeating phrases or rocking back and forth and he’s like???? Hell yeah you go u funky kid ilysm

But when it comes to himself????? he’s like if I do anything aside from stay perfectly still, I’m weird and bad and a failure so I simply Will Not

he’s wrong but it doesn’t change the fact that he feels that way ❤️

hhhvhvvdd I’m also a slut for daiya doing his best as a makeshift parental figure,,,,,,,like fuck dude okay,,,,,,as an older sibling who also loves and cares about their younger sibs but often finds emotionally connecting with them to be difficult,,,,,,,,,mood??? And having all of that amplified by rlly being his younger bro's only support in his home life,,,,,,,like ok mr. owada go off

he feels a lot of pressure to get it right and make sure that Mondo's doing okay, so the grades really worry him. but, of course, grades are a touchy subject with mondo regardless, so as u said it devolves into arguments and yelling and a lot of defensiveness!!

and god okay,,,,,,,the heart rlly got me,,,,,,,like that hurt. it rlly hurt man okay damn

honestly??? I think that might be the thing that gets him to break. like that might be his final straw.

because when they meet up again, Ishi asks him about it and whether or not he liked it. And Mondo just.

fucking.

breaks.

down.

He’s shaking and he’s crying and there’s snot running down his nose and this is so ugly and so not manly but he can’t stop. he can’t stop. Because there is this sweet, gentle, kind, sweet, beautiful, darling, sweet man before him who did something so nice for him, something he didn’t deserve, and he destroyed it.

Like he destroys everything.

And so when Taka panics and asks him what’s wrong (yes Ishi gets worried that he did something bad and yes ishi also gets worried that his boyfriend didn’t like the present because hdbdvdvd kin 💛) owada just. spills everything. and he doesn’t even begin with the gift??? he starts with apologies upon apologies, many of them incoherent, and many of them with Mondo not even certain what he’s apologizing for, just that he knows he needs to

and ofc Taka is like o-o because wow ok

but after his initial shock, and after Mondo has thoroughly cried himself out and explained everything he could stand to explain at that point in time, Taka just......holds him. And strokes his face, brushing away the tears that have not yet dried, simply offering his body as a weight, as something for Mondo to ground himself with. And it works.

And Taka insists that Mondo has nothing to apologize for, only that he wishes Mondo would have told him what was going on sooner. Because he wants to help. And hearing that just gets Owada’s waterworks going all over again, but he’s still got Ishi there with him. He hasn’t scared him off.

And it’s more than enough.

—

and UGH yeah????? yes absolutely absolutely okay okay so,,,,,,,,mondo comorbid adhd/depression/anxiety

like sir 🤝

got me fucked up smh

honestly he’s probably not diagnosed with the depression or anxiety, either, until something like the incident with ishi prompts him to realize oh wow I’m not okay actually

so yes he 100% does???

he constantly has all of these what if situations swirling around in his brain about what might happen if he fucks up, or does something that he doesn’t qualify as fucking up in the moment, but leads to something awful or painful or harmful for someone else, and he’s just??????? g o d

82 notes · View notes

jasperwhitcock · 4 years ago

Text

equinox | chapter 07 –– “a cruel god, a wrathful goddess”

here is chapter six of my bella as a vampire and edward as a human fanfic inspired by an au that @bellasredchevy posted. you can read the new chapter on AO3 or here. i post updates on AO3 or on tumblr using the #equinoxjw tag. but it seems 10/10 times my tag does not work, so that is a fun mystery for me to solve.

oof... sometimes u get distracted and then ur sister gets married and then u get unmotivated & d*pressed and forget to update ur fanfic for over three months... my bad y'all... sorry for the wait hehe. i hope it is worth it. again, i'm so thankful for the comments & i read them all. i get too shy to respond, but i WILL. i just need to talk myself up first. i love u. thank u. hehe. ♡♡♡ merry christmas/happy holidays if i fail u again before the 25th. i WANT to update more frequently. my catchphrase these days is "i'm trying my best," so... i'm trying my best.

this is for the sweet anons who slide into my ask box & ask me questions abt my fanfic. and for taryn, who consistently reminds me that there are people wanting to read this seeing as she is one of those people, kim, who i am so desperate to impress that i began working on a new chapter once she started to read my fanfic, and kae, because without her, this fanfic would never have existed in the first place. i love how i'm writing this as though it's the intro to an actual book when it's literally just chapter seven. ok, i will shut up now so u can read. love u. again.

07 A CRUEL GOD, A WRATHFUL GODDESS

In great contrast to the noisy ambience of the other students in the hallway, we were silent on our walk to our shared biology class. I wondered how conscious Edward was of the stares and whispers focused on our proximity to one another, but my guess was that he was very much conscious of it. I intentionally ignored glancing in any direction that I sensed one of my siblings’ presence, although I figured it was mostly paranoia driving me to feel as though we were about to cross paths. Holding my breath to more easily walk beside Edward left my senses impaired to the ability to pinpoint their location.

I was lucky that for the majority of my immortal life, I’d managed to escape unwanted attention. But now, it seemed that precious luck had finally run out. Maybe embarrassment had been creeping up on me, maliciously building itself up all these years, waiting until just the right moment to rear its ugly head and exact revenge that immorality had stolen its favorite object of humiliation to torment. But here it was, ensuring that I was finally catching up on feeling awkward and out of step, a feeling I experienced for what seemed like the entirety of my human life. I thought once I’d been changed, I’d never feel this way again, but becoming misaligned with my family made me feel bashful to parade my defiance in their faces. I had operated better under no scrutiny as a mortal and was surprised to realize that that still held true as an immortal as well. Because though there was now never a struggle of staying upright or a risk of tripping over my own feet, that didn’t prevent me from feeling self-conscious as I walked beside Edward. Although for different reasons –– it was too mortifying to consider what my family might make of what my actions suggested about my feelings towards Edward.

And yet still, I would put up with the ridicule and disapproval of my siblings if it meant I could listen to Edward speak his silly philosophical theology, his questioning of god and existence, for just a few more hours. If I were going to be teased over Alice’s visions regardless, I might as well find out what I can about this pretentious boy before I leave him alone forever. If only to understand why his moving to this small town threatened to warp my own future so much. In losing night and in losing death, there were so very little anomalies in the endless amount of time I’d been given. So what would it hurt to allow myself to fixate on this minuscule difference in my life for just awhile?

It could hurt Edward, a more selfless part of myself reminded me. If indulging myself was playing with fire, I was being justly punished with the way flames were efflorescing the inside of my dry, burning throat.

If a god did exist, why would it make sense for such a being to craft someone like Edward with his perceptivity, and send him off to this small town, home to a secret such as ours? If a god did exist, why it would be fair for such a being to craft someone like Edward, someone who tempted me both in bloodlust and in curiosity, and send him off to this small town, home to the very vampire who desperately wished to kill him most? If a god did exist, if our kind had fallen short of heaven, I could understand why sending Edward into our path –– and more specifically, my path –– could be some kind of punishment. But what I couldn’t understand is why a god would allow someone as innocent as Edward to be endangered for the sake of bringing a sinful, undead creature to justice. It seemed the only reasonable explanation would be that a god probably did not exist.

And how could there be? I was on the precipice of falling into temptation with every step further in the hallway and every question he asked and answered. I could never not be very much aware of the fact –– especially now with his body merely inches from my side and his sweet fragrance blooming both deliciously and relentlessly in the air. And even as I impossibly withstood the lure of his blood, how was I meant to ignore the irresistibility of his mind and how inexplicably concerned I was to understand it? It seemed like a very cruel experiment of free will and knowledge –– far too cruel to allow much room for the kind of god Edward hoped for.

I frowned as I realized that this experiment wasn’t that of a cruel god’s but that of a cruel vampire, and I felt very much like a vampire as the sound of his heartbeat was so appealing that it made my mouth water.

“Do the stares bother you?” Edward spoke quietly to me as we weaved throughout the hallway. Easily distracted, his question was able to pull the more civilized parts of myself together, though this was probably also in thanks to my choosing not to utilize my sense of smell. I found it funny that at least one of his thoughts had been in a similar vicinity. But of course, the rest of his thoughts were probably free of all consuming agony and struggle. For all his curiosity about morality, to inflict this existence upon him would probably devour him in misery. At least as a human, despite whatever conclusions he may come to, there was still some hope to be had for an afterlife. This thought should have been dark and depressing, but because it made Alice’s vision seem like a complete hoax, I almost found it funny. How would Edward ever end up like me?

“Oh, no,” I swallowed the venom in my mouth. “I live for attention.” I watched from the corner of my eyes as his gaze flickered over to me, the ever present half smile appearing on his face at my joke. My answer came out so comfortably as though I was used to this, when in reality, the student body for the most part had grown accustomed to ignoring me. And, of course, there was nothing comfortable about the demanding, aching dryness in my mouth or the burning in my nostrils. “How about you?”

“Likewise,” he joked, laughing. “This is interesting –– their fascination. I understood their interest on my first day because I’d guess a new addition to the student body in a town this small is something of a rarity, but today, walking by your side is garnering even more attention. Is it a once in a lifetime opportunity to have Bella Cullen walk you to class?”

“You’re just so observant, aren’t you?” I rolled my eyes, though the corners of my mouths pulled up despite myself. “And I’m not walking you to class. I’m walking to a class I just so happen to share with you, so don’t get the wrong idea. I think they’re just surprised because they’re probably under the impression that I don’t play nice with others.”

“And do you?”

“You tell me,” I replied, pausing to face him beside a wall of lockers next to the entrance of our biology classroom. As he stopped beside me, a gust of air from a passing student walking hastily down the hallway sent his scent reeling into me at an unfortunate moment where I’d chosen to breathe in. My muscles tensed to spring, and I desperately anchored myself to the floor as my mind fell into disarray.

“Nicely enough,” Edward winked naturally as though we’d been the best of friends since his first day. The demanding thirst was intruding on my awareness, and the desperation for something wet and hot and delicious in my desiccated throat was so dizzying that his voice sounded as though it were underwater. With an effort as though I were swimming through drying cement, I resurfaced, just barely proving my dominion over the desire. I focused on his voice so that it’d become clearer, forcing myself to take another excruciating breath in and exhale the fire out. “I will say I am honored to be the exception –– to be plucked from the masses by the renowned, reclusive Bella Cullen.”

With torturous effort, I snorted as though I wasn’t fighting everything within me to keep him alive. I breathed in again heavily, allowing my body to become a pyre so that I could speak. “Alright, that’s enough. Stop saying my name like that. And you’ve lost the privilege. I am never walking you to class again,” I rolled my eyes even though my joke could very much be the truth. The bunching of my muscles, the twitching of my hands, and the fierce pain in my throat reminded me of the fact. Before he could point out the contradiction of what I’d previously clarified, I sighed. “Let’s take this quiz.”

His pretty green eyes were alive with mischief and enlightened with what must be more answers to questions he hadn’t outright asked me as he turned to enter the classroom. I followed behind him towards our shared table.

Air from the vent rushed out, thrusting the scent of his blood wafting into my face again. I paused for an indistinguishable moment as I battled agony, murderousness, monstrosity. Holy fuck. What was I trying to prove! Was it really worth this? Swallowing hard, I sat beside him as though nothing happened. My suffering was so great that Emmett could have brutally ripped my arm off, he could have beat me with it, and I wouldn’t have noticed nor felt a thing. I could have been set on fire, and it’d feel like sinking into a cool pool of water on an even cooler day. I was already burning alive, my body acting as a furnace, and I was imprisoned inside it.

Without intending to, I sighed aloud, exhaling as though it would smother the flames. It was a stupid, attention seeking thing to do. Humans sighed to expel air or express some sadness or relief or exhaustion, so when my family emitted an audible breath, we did so as a means of blending in. But to breath out in a way to clue Edward into the fact something was plaguing me… it was a stupid invitation for more questions. And these were questions I had no intention of sharing the answers to. I felt his eyes on me, but before he could say anything, Mr. Molina began passing out quizzes face down on our lab tables as students continued to pile in from lunch.

“Alright, class. Today we have a pop quiz–– oh, come on, guys, don’t groan. You will have the opportunity to make corrections after these have been graded. This is just an assessment of what you’ve retained from this unit so far. You will have the entire period to complete–– thanks for joining us, Mr. Patterson, glad you could fit my class into your busy schedule. Why don’t you take your seat? –– You will have the entire period to complete your quiz. If you finish early, feel free to get a head start on this weekend’s homework! I’ve written the reading down on the board. Aw, I’m sure you’re all moaning because you’re disappointed at how light of an assignment it is because I just know how very excited you all are to continue your passionate pursuit of studying biology. Alright, now that everyone’s settled–– wait a minute––” Mr. Molina paused, raising his pointer finger in the air, his eyes squinted in anticipation. Three seconds later, the bell signaled the beginning of class. “Begin!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Edward reluctantly turn away from me. In an elegant script, he wrote his name at the top of the paper and began his quiz. I turned away from him to look at my own paper, preparing myself to uncomfortably hold my breath for the next hour. The difference this made in my thirst was almost insignificant, but enough so that it gave me a tiny more leverage in my control. I smoothed out the pucker on my forehead with the eraser from my pencil, accidentally snapping the rubber off against my face.

Absentmindedly, I began to breeze through the assessment, circling the correct answers, but my mind was more absorbed in the warmth of sitting beside Edward. Aside from the affliction of doing so, it was too pleasurable to have sat beside him so often and for so long today. I enjoyed the toastiness like a lizard basking in the sun. It made me recall the muddy human memory of laying out on a blanket in my backyard beneath my beloved blue Arizona sky, hiding beneath the small shade of a book. Not the blistering heat of a summertime Phoenix sun, but the warmth of the first day of spring. But the heat of Edward’s body alone was enough to fill my mouth with venom, so I tried to refocus my attention onto my quiz.

When I turned to the last page of questions, a motion beside me diverted my concentration once again. I peeked over, turning my head slightly in Edward’s direction to see what it was. As he thought over one of the questions, his right hand was moving peculiarly as he lifted and dropped down his long fingers almost as though he were impatiently tapping each digit one by one along the tabletop. Except the movement was more exact and calculatingly random. Engrossed, I watched as his his soft, fragile skin rippled over the muscle, the tendons appearing and disappearing with every bizarre movement. It took me a moment to make the connection between the large grand piano in his home and the motion of his hands. I realized he was miming piano movements while he thought through his answers. There was something both weird, funny, and endearing about this. I smiled to myself, not having the required oxygen to quietly laugh.

I felt his curious eyes flicker over to me and watched peripherally as he raised his eyebrows. I shook my head, biting down on my lip to unsuccessfully fight the smile, and returned to completing my quiz.

I finished a moment later and impatiently waited another ten minutes or so before I could turn in my work. I tried to ignore Edward for this small period of time at least, mentally reading myself the opening chapter to Wuthering Heights. Even though the words were committed to my memory, it was still never as good as actually reading from the book itself.

Once I’d decided an appropriate enough time had passed, I stood up to walk my quiz to the completed basket on Mr. Molina’s desk. Even having waited, I was still the first to finish the examination.

“Thank you,” the teacher whispered without breaking his focus away from the crossword puzzle he peered through his glasses at. I breathed in now that I’d placed some distance between myself and Edward, gladly facing the cool, fresh air from the vent.

“Neophyte,” I whispered back now that I’d replenished my oxygen supply.

“Excuse me?” He glanced up, his slightly aged face confused.

“Neophyte,” I repeated. “Eight across, two down.”

I took in one last clean breath and walked back to my seat as he tapped his pen across the squares of the space, mouthing his count of the letters to check if the word fit.

As soon as I took my place in my seat again, Edward stood up to walk his own quiz to the basket.

I wanted to watch him, but instead I forced myself to unzip my backpack and retrieve the biology textbook.

Busying myself with the assigned chapters, deciding to actually read them so as to not feed into my invasive Edward obsession, I couldn’t help but listen as Edward too placed his own textbook on the countertop.

I heard the scribble of pen on paper as he began to write what I imagined were notes until his large hand slid the paper over to me beneath the wall of my hair spilling over the desk. Well, I wouldn’t ignore him if he was the one deciding to bother me.

You know I’m pretty certain that cheating is a violation of the student handbook, but I’ll let you get away with it just this once.

I turned to glance at his face to see if he were serious. His eyes were warm and inviting, his mouth in the same crooked smile.

I took the piece of paper and looked around for my writing utensil that had gone missing somehow. My eyes zeroed in on a suspicious, tiny pile of wood dust on my side of the desk. When had I brutalized my pencil? He held his hand out to offer his own pen, and I accepted it, carefully plucking it from his fingers without making contact.

I wasn’t cheating. You were doing something funny. And what do you know about the student handbook? You’re new.

I slid the paper and pen back to him and watched as he combed a hand through his bronze hair, reading my response. The smile grew wider as he construed the biting tone of my note.

Can I be let in on the joke? Edward wrote, turning to look at me once he was done. Again I was prisoner, though this time not to my own body. I was momentarily held hostage by the beauty and warmth of his light green eyes. I was understanding more and more the attraction the other students had for him. If I had a soul, it was as though he were staring straight into it.

I recovered, placing my hand atop the desk and then wiggling my fingers as though I were weaving my way through a very complicated piano piece.

Oh, Edward mouthed, immediately understanding. He silently laughed and placed his left hand to his forehead briefly as if to hide his face in mock embarrassment. The ink from the pen spilled onto the paper as he began to write again.

In my defense, there’s research that supports classical music puts students in a heightened emotional state, making them more receptive to information and helping them focus.

That’s very nerdy of you. I scribbled back, the corners of my lips pulled upwards.

I know. As I read the words on the notebook paper, we both laughed a little too loudly for the quietness of the room.

“Please remain silent for your classmates still working,” Mr. Molina stage-whispered from his desk, his eyes still fixated on the crossword puzzle.

It’s a bad habit. Edward tacked on to his message. I beamed. I knew a thing or two about bad habits today. I was appreciative of this silent conversation on paper; it made it easier to be beside him without needing to breathe to speak aloud.

What were you playing? I scrawled.

Clair de Lune. Edward wrote back. His thick eyebrows raised as my eyes lit up, and he continued writing. You know Debussy?

My mother used to play a lot of classical music around the house. It was one of my favorites.

It’s one of my favorites, too. Edward’s eyes were a little sad and lost in thought, and he smiled softly.

I was shocked by the change in expression and weirdly desperate to return the brightness back to his eyes. The burn in my throat was almost forgettable in the face of my concern. Almost, but not quite. He turned his head down to write on the paper again.

You said Rosalie played piano. You never learned? He turned to look at me, his expression curious. I shook my head and shrugged, reaching for the pen.

I didn’t think I had the coordination for it. While this was true for the time I was human, it wasn’t true now. Still, even though my days stretched into endless nights, I hadn’t yet devoted time to any instrument as an immortal.

Edward read the paper, his long pointer finger tracing the line beneath the words as he did so. He held his large hand out, and I dropped the pen into it.

I’ll show you sometime. Edward half smiled at me, his eyes sweet and earnest.

Knowing I shouldn’t be allowing him to think making a plans with me was an option, I reached for the pen to tell him that it was alright, but I froze as he suddenly moved to drop the pen and take my hand. Though he should have been the one hesitant and cautious as though approaching a dangerous, wounded animal, I held perfectly still as though he were the danger, and I needed to play dead for protection. You can’t play dead if you are dead, I thought to myself.

My body tensed as my hand was enveloped in the heat of his much larger palm, uncertain as to what he was doing. My muscles screamed at me as I clenched my free hand into a tight fist, terrified of myself.

A shiver rippled through him as he felt the chill of my frozen fingers, and I twitched the hand in his possession, wanting to yank it away to protect him from the iciness but not wanting to alert him with the swiftness of the motion.

He smiled mysteriously at the spasm as though he somehow expected it. I wanted to ask him what he was thinking but didn’t want to risk breathing. My control could too easily be lost. Besides, I was scared that if I were to open my mouth, I’d end up screaming.

I felt him push slightly and realized he wished for me to curl my fingers, so with great concentration and the acute awareness of his fragility, I moved my stony hand into the shape he directed, my fingers curved slightly beneath his like a relaxed talon. I didn’t like the shape; it was odd and inhuman and made me think of the violence I could cause.

But it wasn’t a claw. Because once my hand was positioned the way he wanted, he began to slowly place pressure on my fingers, and I dipped and rose them accordingly to carefully move with his. I watched as the two of our hands together played what I imagined must be the opening chords to Clair de Lune.

The disconcerting emptiness in my chest soared at the bizarre pleasure of this touch, and a weird sensation tickled my scalp, moving swiftly down my spine to my entire body.

My muscles tightened violently and then relaxed, sending a shiver to ripple through me. It was too much pleasure and too much pain as my throat ached and I leaned into the warmth.

Embarrassed and not wanting to push my luck, I cautiously pulled my hand slowly away. He lifted his hand to allow me to escape as though I couldn’t just break his hand to do so, a half-smile pulling on his lips. I pretended not to notice the goosebumps on his arms.

See? he mouthed before deciding to whisper. “You could do it.”

I forced myself to smile and then turned away for the rest of the hour, trying to keep from doing anything stupid like looking at him or killing him. I’d completely forgotten where we were.

When the bell finally rung, I collected my things atop the desk hastily. Edward reached for my backpack and held it up for me.

“Thanks,” I murmured as I dumped my books into the bag. Before I could take it from him, he slid it onto his back and nodded his head once for me to go forward.

Feeling awkward, I turned and allowed him to follow me to the door. I was lucky to walk in front of him, taking the opportunity to breath again as the vent blew out in front of my face.

Exiting the classroom, I paused for a second when I saw Emmett waiting for me across the hallway rather than his typical spot beside the wall of lockers next to our shared Spanish classroom. Even though I was well aware of the fact I’d been dangling my irresponsibility in their faces all day, I still felt as though I was being caught in the act.

Emmett’s eyebrows raised as his golden eyes watched Edward follow behind me, carrying my backpack. I crossed the hallway reluctantly towards my big brother.

“Hello,” I greeted him, avoiding his eyes. I felt smaller than ever beside him with my head down, and yet not small enough as I wished to disappear.

“Hey, little sis,” Emmett began uncertainly, though I glanced up to see his full lips were beginning to stretch into a smile that I didn’t like. “Who’s that with you?”

“Uh…”

“I’m Edward Masen,” the lanky human boy introduced himself confidently as he stopped beside me. “And you must be––”

“Emmett,” my brother interrupted, grinning as though he always so comfortably interacted with humans. This was all too weird, but he looked to be enjoying it far too much. His desire to mess with me and his confidence in Alice’s visions seemed to override the abnormality of speaking to a student so amicably. I watched as he breathed in and shot me a meaningful look. I grimaced.

I opened my mouth to put an end to this torturously awkward interaction, but Emmett interrupted again.

“It’s nice to see you made a friend,” he began, an evil glint in his eyes as he watched my face. I was confused as to where he was going with this because our entire family would come across as misanthropic to the rest of the school, so why should it matter to him. He turned his attention to look at Edward who was closer in height to him. “You know, we worry about her––”

“Okay, let’s go to Spanish,” I cut him off quickly. “Edward, can I have my bag, please?”

Without looking at him, I reached for my backpack as he offered it and threw it over my shoulder, heading down the hallway. It was a massive relief to put some distance between myself and Edward. My thoughts were clearer, and I could breathe freely.

Emmett burst into laughter, his guffaws booming in the hallway. Several students paused in fear making me concerned about Edward’s reaction to my giant of a sibling, but I relaxed when I heard Edward chuckling along with him.

“Um, see you,” Emmett said to Edward before his steady, near silent footfall followed after me.

Even moving at a lethargic human pace, he caught up to me quickly.

“That wasn’t funny,” I grumbled.

“What the hell are you doing?” Emmett chuckled, ignoring my question.

“What the hell are you doing? What was that back there?”

“I don’t know. That was weird, but not as weird as you playing with your food.”

I hissed quietly.

“Damn, I’m kidding, Bells. But seriously, what are you doing? What happened to your high and noble speech about doing the right thing and staying away from the kid? I thought Esme was about to produce real tears. It even softened Rose.”

“Ugh, don’t talk to me about Rosalie right now. She’s been giving me dirty looks all day. It makes me feel awful. I already feel bad!”

“Well, I don’t really care what you do either way so––” I looked at him questionably. “I mean, sure, I want you to do the right thing, whatever that means. I don’t want you to feel miserable. But on one end, I didn’t really mind so much what happened to me.”

“Rosalie did,” I countered.

“Yeah, Rose did,” he acquiesced quietly.

“Anyways, I’m not having that conversation. I wasn’t talking to him today to test whether or not he’s worth it. That’s… unethical.”

“So what were you doing?”

“I don’t know,” I groaned in answer.

Emmett laughed.

“You’re weird these days, Bella.”

“You’re weird everyday,” I quipped back before sighing. “I don’t know. He’s weird, too. I guess… I’m not making any decisions, at all, but if Alice told you what she told me… wouldn’t you be curious?”

Emmett thought it over. “Yeah, I think so. But I also don’t think I’d have even made it to this point,” he admitted. I winced.

“It’s kind of unfair for me to care more about satiating my curiosity and dance with the devil this way, right?”

“Well…he may not know it, but isn’t it more so that Edward’s the one dancing with the devil?”

“Yeah,” I agreed, frowning as we walked into our Spanish class. “I guess it is.”

I made the decision to avoid thinking of Edward for the remaining hour of school. I paid very little attention in Spanish, returning to the familiar mind-numbing boredom that classes had been prior to the last few days. Now that it was in stark contrast to the sudden life breathed into my time at Forks High School by my fixation with Edward, the tedium was no longer something dealt with indifferently and sluggishly. Now, it left me feeling restless, and it almost pained me how laborious it was to sit through a life I wasn’t an active participant in. It was nowhere near the pain of dealing with the excruciating thirst I had around my bronze-haired lab partner, but it almost tampered with my thoughts more knowing I’d feel less miserable if I spent this time analyzing every word Edward shared with me, every fluctuation of his tone, every glint in his perceptive eyes, every expression on his pretty face… But I was becoming too obsessive. The same hunger for adventure that made me fall in love with reading must be what was leading me to so treacherously, so impetuously dive into exploring this insignificant and yet cataclysmic difference in my life.

As though it had a personal vendetta against me, time moved even more lethargically than it ever had before, but finally, the bell signaling the end of school rang. Emmett’s eyes shot a concerned look at me as I rose from my seat too quickly, and I immediately felt embarrassed again. The cautious reminder in his expression made me feel childish as Emmett was never one to care much about bending the rules.

“See you at home, I guess,” he shook his head, giving me one last look that seemed to suggest I’d lost it.

“See you,” I mumbled, slinging my bag over my shoulder. Leaving Emmett behind to wait for Rosalie, I weaved through the crowded hallway and out to the parking lot. Students were bundling together and squealing at the chilling air as tiny, fluffy snowflakes fluttered down from the overcast sky. The floor of the parking lot was almost as glassy as yesterday as the rain from this afternoon had melted into a thin layer of icy mush. Though there was hardly enough snow for a decent snowball fight, some of the rowdier students were bundling up a pitiful pile of snow to form pathetic snowballs in their fists.

I nearly skipped to the pearly white vehicle parked beside Rosalie’s overly conspicuous crimson car which was forming a small crowd of admirers. Leaning against the trunk of the car, I watched the front doors of the school to look for Edward.

The tangle of reddish-brown hair was easy to spot because of its strange metallic tint as he strolled out of the building with Naomi, the student who’d provided him with the information about my family on his first day. He had his coat folded over his arm, revealing how form fitting his light tan turtleneck was. He truly was a very attractive boy. It was odd that I hadn’t really paid much attention initially. With his dazzling face and tall, lean frame, Edward was pretty enough that for the vampires who searched for exquisitely beautiful humans to create into even more stunning immortals, he could probably be a contender for someone to collect.

Thinking of how Emmett questioned my motives today, I quickly banished the idea of Edward as an immortal from my mind, even if it was only a hypothetical inspired by my observation.

Edward paused, asking Naomi if she could hold on to his backpack for a moment. When she grabbed it, he pulled on his long black coat, and fiddled with the collar. Recollecting his backpack, he slid it onto one shoulder, then rubbed his hands together, blowing the warm air from his mouth to heat them up. Thinking of the sweetness of the smell of his breath made me remember to take in swallows of fresh air before he made his way over to me.

As he was distracted momentarily, I watched as a stray snowball flew towards Edward’s head. I was overcome with the urge to intercept it in the event it may hit him too harshly and knock him to the pavement, but flying across the parking lot inhumanly fast twice in one week was probably not the way to go about correcting my mistakes.

The soggy snowball crashed into Edward’s hair, exploding into shards of ice and water that slid down his prominent cheekbone. I laughed aloud at his shocked expression as the curtain bangs framing his face were immediately drenched, darkening his hair into a brown color. Once he’d realized what happened, his face broke into a good-humored smile.

“Holy shit! Sorry, Edward!” The classmate who had thrown the snowball with poor aim called out.

“No worries!” Edward called back. He shook his head, chuckling as he wiped the water from his face. As he laughed, his eyes found the space where I waited and brightened seeing that I, too, was enjoying the moment.

“Hey, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he told Naomi, who was too beside herself in tears of laughter to reply.

Edward sauntered over towards me, and I inhaled deeply as a fortuitous whisper of wind blew from the tree line. I held onto the notes of crisp eucalyptus, fresh snow, and cedar wood, trying to distract my mind from the offensively mouthwatering scents approaching me.

Edward was a coordinated human, but even he lost his footing on the icy pavement. His body slid forward for a moment, but I stepped towards him to close the space between us and caught him by the elbow.

He looked up from his boots against the frozen parking lot into my eyes, startled momentarily at the swiftness in which I had appeared. Then, his full lips lifted into a crooked smile that creased his astonishing green eyes into half moons. I let go immediately and took a big step back to ensure a safer distance between myself and the warmth of his fragile body. It had been a risky movement, but somehow in comparison to yesterday, it didn’t seem to matter as much. I figured our classmates were too involved in their gawking at the details of my sister’s car or their feeble, slushy snowball fight to notice, and oddly, I didn’t care that Edward had seen. It was beginning to feel too late to keep up certain pretenses.

Although, it wasn’t too late, and it shouldn’t feel that way. I reminded myself I still had every intention of leaving Edward alone once I’d figured out what was so compelling about our paths crossing that had Alice’s visions spiraling in a confusing jumble. I took another step back slowly.

“Thank you,” Edward said, his eyes humored with another secret he didn’t seem willing to share. “You keep saving me.”

“Well, let’s not make this damsel in distress thing habitual,” I snorted, turning so that he couldn’t see the smile forming on my face. I felt shy about showcasing any comfort or happiness in his presence now that I was reminded of how fleeting this experimental friendship was, but I wondered if subconsciously I wanted him to catch me in my misery and ask me to explain, though I wasn’t certain why I wanted to sabotage myself like that. I opened my door and turned to look at him again. “You coming?”

Before he could answer, I dipped into the driver’s seat, and breathed in one last time. Well, once this was all over, I could finally stop inhaling dramatically as though they were truly my last, dying breaths. The air was mostly clean of his scent, but I knew that regardless, the heat of his body would be enough to disrupt my comfort and control. As the thought crossed my mind, I painfully swallowed back the venom pooling beneath my tongue.

Edward swerved through the crowd obsessing over Rosalie’s car and opened the passenger door, sliding into his seat. As he placed his backpack on the floor and fiddled with his seatbelt, I made sure to adjust the air conditioning so that the heat could warm Edward from the frigid Forks air. Though for me, just being in his presence made the intimate interior of the car feel as though I were again sitting by his fireplace.

“That’s a beautiful car,” he murmured. “Is it an M8?”

“Uh, it’s a BMW?” I asked uncertainly as though he’d spoken another language.

Edward grinned as though he wanted to laugh but didn’t want to make me angry. Rosalie would have loved to answer all his questions if he too had an interest in cars. Would have loved to, if she wasn’t deeply offended by my actions or if I had any intention of Edward meeting any more of my family members.

“Ready?” I bit my lip as I forced out any inconsiderate plots of murder that threatened to distract me from being a defensive driver.

“Mhm,” Edward answered.

I reversed out of the parking slot slowly, but as I looked in the rearview once I’d straightened out, I saw the fleeting image of Rosalie’s exquisitely beautiful and exceptionally angry face. I quickly readjusted the mirror to remove my sister’s reflection and sped out of the parking lot in a way that could have taken out a few unlucky students if I didn’t have above average years of driving experience.

Peripherally, I watched as Edward’s thick eyebrows raised, but he decided not to question me. Once we’d reached the main road, I slowed my speed so as not to rush through this time, even though I knew for his safety and my sanity, I should. As I drove, his right hand moved in odd shapes again against the arm rest of the passenger side door as though he were playing piano once more.

I decided to bite and use up some of my limited air supply.

“What are you playing?”

“Clair de Lune again,” he replied. Then, he began to hum the melody aloud for me as he moved his hand.

I thought to offer to play the song for him through the speakers, but I decided against it as I listened to Edward’s soft, velvety voice hum beautifully through the song, breaking the silence.

The ugly, slush-like falling of snow transformed into a falling of rainwater, and Edward’s voice was orchestrated by a lovely symphony of raindrops.

Before his voice could weave into the more involved moments of the piece, Edward stopped.

I looked over at him, curious for the reason as to why. His face was turned away from me so that all I could see was his untidy bronze hair as he gazed out the window. I pulled in front of his driveway and parked against the curb.

Miraculously, I’d made it again. Carefully, I inhaled through my nose to experiment with my control. The sweet bouquet of the boy’s blood was potent and even more mouthwatering than usual from the snow turned rain that’d wet his hair. I hadn’t considered the possibility that he could smell better than before, and I kept myself from groaning aloud as I dug my nails into my own palms. The tingling sensation in my nose was as though I’d sniffed some powerful chemical, the burning sensation in my throat as though I’d taken a long drag of a cigarette. But more painful. More demanding. Desire, need flew from my core out towards my extremities, and the beating of his heart pumping the blood through his body drummed loudly in my ears. It seemed to move through me, my frigid body almost twitching with every pulse, ready to lunge forward and crush his neck to my lips.

“What was your mother like?” He asked me suddenly, his voice soft. Edward turned from the window to face me, and I was bewildered by the intensity of his expression. His eyes were light and beautiful against the gloomy grey of the sky, and they squinted slightly as though studying my face like this information was absolutely essential. But this was not what stunned me, as I’d already seen the severity of this expression before in our ephemeral time together. It was the unexpected vulnerability of his stunning face. The more time I spent looking at him, the more I realized how beautiful this human boy really was. And it seemed a great tragedy for this beautiful boy to harbor such devastation in his eyes.

Whereas previously in his presence, my thoughts had become incoherent due to a lapse in control, now my thoughts were incoherent in distress and desperation to understand what had gone wrong and how I could fix it. I was momentarily dumbfounded, but I pulled myself together after the soft sound of a few droplets of rain against the roof reminded me that he was waiting for an answer.

“Well, she looked a lot like me, but prettier,” I began stupidly. He raised his eyebrows. “Or at least, she used to look a lot like me, and I used to look a lot like her. I don’t so much anymore.” It’d been so long since I’d really spoken about my mom, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to laugh or cry. I knew I should have made some comment about whether or not she looked like Esme or Emmett since our story made us siblings, but I didn’t want to taint the rarity of sharing who she was with a lie.

“She was more outgoing than I am,” I continued, thinking through the foggy memories I held onto from my human life.

“That’s difficult to believe,” Edward teased quietly, his lips curving into a half smile.

I laughed, listening to the melodic sound of it, thinking of how it symbolized how very much different I was now from the human girl my mother knew.

“I was always very shy,” I smiled, before speaking up again, caught in the echoes of my past. “She was brave and irresponsible and slightly eccentric. And she was a very unpredictable cook!”

I laughed aloud again thinking of some minor explosions in our tiny kitchen and some questionable dishes. Edward laughed too, but when our laughter faded into the falling of the rain, my smile faded.

“She wasn’t perfect,” I admitted. “I think I recognize now that she was very fallible. I worshipped her when I was younger, but when I think back, I do see how in some of the ways she raised me, I was done a disservice… I grew up too fast. When she died––“ I sighed, feeling insincere and guilty about perpetuating this lie when I really should have said when I died, “––Esme became more of a mother to me, and even Rosalie’s been more traditionally nurturing than my mom ever was… But still, she was my best friend.”

“You miss her,” he murmured simply. I met his gentle eyes.

“Yes,” I bit my lip.

“How old are you, Bella?” Edward asked. “And not the formulaic, theorized version where you were born in your thirties. How old are you really?”

I tensed, wondering if he was asking this again because he’d taken note of how I didn’t directly answer this question the last time he asked.

“Seventeen,” I answered automatically.

“You don’t seem seventeen,” he responded, reproachful.

The tension left my body at the tone of his voice. I smiled again easily.

“Sorry?” I asked, biting my lip to hide the smile, unsure of how to respond.

Edward chuckled and the subtle crinkles by his eyes lit up his face. “Well, I wish you’d been given a happier, normal childhood.”

“I’m fine,” I shrugged, brushing it off. “I hardly remember most of it, and what I do remember reminds me that I probably didn’t have much chance at a normal childhood to begin with. I was terribly shy, remember.

“I did do girl scouts, though….Oh, and ballet briefly,” I admitted, unsure as to why I was volunteering so much information about myself. Wasn’t the purpose of me sitting here to uncover information about him?

“Why does that make you… embarrassed?” Edward’s eyebrows pulled up.

For an odd moment, I felt betrayed by the flush of my cheeks before I realized there was no blood rushing to my face. I blinked, bewildered by the peculiarity of this long buried instinct to become frustrated with my easy blushes when I hadn’t blushed for years. I felt self conscious as I wondered what Edward saw reading my expression to so perfectly decipher my feelings.

“I was very uncoordinated,” I dismissed his question as I fought the urge for my hand to flutter to touch my cool cheek.

“Now that truly is difficult to believe,” Edward half-smiled. “I can’t imagine I’ve seen anyone as graceful as you.”

I laughed aloud at his compliment, though I didn’t doubt his sincerity. I knew this was true of myself. It was true of all of our kind to appear fluid and effortless, but still, no one had ever applied the word to me. My vampiric poise was irrelevant and unimpressive to my family, and the very few humans brave enough to overcome their nerves to compliment me typically found their words to fail them.

“You’re very odd,” I beamed.

“What do you mean?” The bronze-haired boy asked, again wanting to be let in on the secret. While I had an insatiable thirst, it seemed he had an insatiable curiosity.

“How old are you really? Your word choice is bizarre for someone your age, you know.”

“Oh,” he laughed easily. “Well, I’m actually not seventeen. I’m eighteen. But I’ll try to strictly adhere to a more teenage vernacular, so I can compliment you in a more acceptable way from now on.”

I looked out at the dim light of the brewing storm, my smile fading as I decided that I should probably allow him to escape me before I did something I’d regret. But I knew I wasn’t resolved enough to completely leave him alone. He made me monopolize too much of the conversation, and I wasn’t satisfied with what I knew about him yet.

I sighed aloud, and Edward, too, looked out at the rain darkened sky.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” he asked hopefully, making the assumption that our conversation was coming to an end.

“Yes,” I promised reluctantly. My eyes flickered back over to his pretty face, studying the lines of his strong jaw, his chiseled cheekbones, his full lips, committing this inconsequential face to memory as I silently resolved that this should be –– and would be –– one of the last times I’d allow myself to be this close to him. Tomorrow may well be the very last.

Likewise, as though his thoughts were in the same vein, his beautiful green eyes studied my face as well, though he did so in that mysterious way of his where he looked at me as though hoping to read my mind.

He sighed, then collected his backpack. Edward opened the door, stepping out into the bitterly cold weather. A shiver ran through his lanky body, making my body tense with perverse excitement. I cringed away from the deadly instinct and swallowed against the dryness of my yearning throat.

Edward’s tall, lean frame leaned down to peek into the car.

“Goodnight, Bella,” he spoke softly.

“Goodnight, Edward,” I almost whispered, gazing into the beauty of his dazzling green eyes.

Edward smiled his half smile, and closed the door, escaping into the building torrent of rain.

I gasped in relief at his absence, then stiffened realizing how the cab of the car was still heavily perfumed with his scent. I took in another deep breath, forcing myself to confront the burning thirst again, willing myself to manage it. I sighed as I hit the gas, making Edward disappear behind me.

Both my control and the rain pour strengthened significantly as I turned onto the long drive leading to my house. I grimaced as I wondered how I’d face my family and explain the complete reversal of what I’d promised to do. I didn’t have time to consider for much longer as suddenly, a figure appeared instantaneously in the drive. I slammed my foot on the brake immediately in shock at its appearance, not wanting to total yet another car against one of my siblings.

I peered through the windshield, unable to see through the complete downpour that submerged my vehicle as though it were underwater. It was annoying for my perfect sight to be obstructed by anything, rainwater or even the transparent windshield because of my eyes’ desire to focus on the microscopic scratches.

The car violently screeched against the muddy pavement, and it looked as though we would have to bid this car goodbye until the figure hidden by the storm placed their hands out on the car roughly and forced it to a stop. The tires screamed in protest, and the metal groaned as it warped into the shape of the palms. I listened as it unnaturally bent again in a piercing moan as the figure fixed the indentions they’d created.

My windshield wipers swatted away a flood of water. Finally, I could make out my sister Rosalie, her hair dripping wet down her back like a supermodel who’d just emerged from a pool on the cover of Sports Illustrated. Her exquisite face was absolutely furious.

I gulped, feeling like a child who’d just been discovered sneaking home past curfew.

I felt uncertain as to what to do and why she’d chosen to stop me here. Surely she could wait for us to be under the cover of the garage before she chastised me. Not wanting to be drenched by the rain, I revved the engine to ask her to move aside, but the car didn’t inch forward against her strength. Beginning to feel annoyed, I revved the engine again loudly and for longer, but still, she didn’t move.

“Rose,” I hissed as I hit the brake again so that the car could roar viciously in the storm, only to be cut off by the voice of my adopted mother.

“Girls!” I couldn’t see Esme through the obscured glass behind the downpour, but even with the barrage of the rain, I could hear her lithe steps run furiously to the front porch. “Please!”

Rose’s head snapped up to look in Esme’s direction before turning to glance unhappily back at me. She stepped aside, and I sped into the garage, parking the car hastily.

I exited immediately and went to expect the damage to the front of the hood. It was only a minuscule bend from having been pushed and prodded back and forth, and I was positive Rosalie could make it look like new, though why it had been necessary to punish the car was beyond me. It wasn’t even mine.

I wheeled around once I’d heard the near-silent steps of her run, a wave of anger making me forget my guilt.

“Are you insane?!” I demanded.

“I could ask the same of you, Bella!” Now free from the obscurity of the rain, I could see in perfect detail the stunning fury of her glorious face. Her golden hair had been darkened by the rain, and it was slicked back effortlessly, like a glittering waterfall down to the middle of her back. She looked like a wrathful god, but I couldn’t find it in my stubbornness to care about how valid her anger may be.

“Okay, but did you have to take it out on the car? What did it ever do to you! You couldn’t have waited another twenty seconds to confront me? Well, you have my attention now, Rosalie, so say whatever it is you want to say!”

“You’re just unbelievable, Bella!”

“He’s not going to say anything, Rose! We already talked about this yesterday. You heard Alice! He’s not a threat to you and Emmett, so I don’t understand why you’re taking this so personally.”

“Exactly, Bella. I heard Alice. Which is precisely why I fail to understand as to why you wouldn’t understand why I’d take it so personally. After all these years of sisterhood, how can you not understand how I feel about this?”

I frowned, my forehead puckering, but still, I retained my anger. She huffed, continuing.

“If it was an inevitability, I’d understand. However, it hurts me deeply that you recognize the choice that you have. The choice that Edward has. And still, you’re willing to play with his mortality as though it were a game, when I never had that choice.”

I froze, the realization dawning on me that she was right. No matter the ways in which I tried to justify my actions or spin my intentions, she was right. Another part of my mind acknowledged that while I was aware of right and wrong, I wasn’t certain that what was right would be enough to keep me away anymore.

We stared each other down much like we had yesterday. Only today, rather than anger, her face was contorted in hurt, and mine was contorted in hopelessness.

“But… you found Emmett when he was still human…” I weakly protested, selfishly trying to highlight the irony, though I knew it was pointless as I wasn’t advocating for Edward to be changed either. That was too complicated a thought to wrap my mind around. But whatever may happen –– and I was still very much aware of the worst of possibilities –– I didn’t want my sister to hate me for it.

“He was dying, Bella,” Rosalie whispered. The anger on her face had completely faded, and in its place, pain marked her eyebrows, her full lips, her golden, sad eyes. In her sadness, she looked like a work of art, like one of those paintings of a weeping saint. “It’s not the same.”

I didn’t have a response to that, and I felt as though I was at an impasse, both with myself and with Rosalie. Because I knew the promises I’d made and broken, but I knew the promise I’d made to Edward today, and I had no willpower, no desire, and no intention to break that promise.

“You may not feel anything for him now,” Rosalie began, her eyes intently fierce as they bore into mine to warn me. Only this warning felt significantly more horrible than I’d imagined it may be, because it wasn’t made in anger, but in desperation and love. “But if Alice is right, you will. And it seems to me a horrible way to repay someone you love to steal their life, their future, their soul from them. You should leave him alone now while you still can, because once you love him… it’ll only hurt more one way or another. And you’ll have to live with that for the rest of your existence. I know I have.”

And with that, Rose turned, her face cold and sad, and she left the garage.

#equinoxjw #twilight fanfiction #twilight renaissance #twilight au #twilight fanfic #the twilight saga #twilight saga #twilight #edbella #edward cullen #bella swan #edbella fanfic

64 notes · View notes