#that red looks brown to me help | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tteokdoroki · 9 months ago

Text

࣪𖤐๋࣭ — JOCK BF!YUUJI ENTRY #10. babies, lots of ‘em.

about. the all star jock has an intense breeding kink that leads him to confess the plans he has for he and his weird girlfriend’s future. ( 2.5K )

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! nsfw, smut, angst if you squint, characters aged up to 20s, breeding kink, unprotected sex, cum play, praise, jock bf!yuuji, weird girl + fem!reader - the brain rot continues !! inspired by @kweenkatsuki-fics recent yuuji thirsting hehe <3

“‘mma give you babies… lots of ‘em,” yuuji slurs, his hips ramming into yours at a bruising, unprecedented pace.

beneath your shaky fingertips, the muscles of your boyfriend’s back ripple with his movements — his strength as he uses the headboard for leverage to fuck into your sloppy, sweltering heat of your sex. you’re flat on your back, his heavy and weighty body hanging over yours protectively while itadori traps you between the blazing heat in his chest and the sweaty bed sheets below. whenever yuuji gets in the mood like this, possessive and hungry for you ( and nobody else but you ), in the mood to keep you all to himself — you can’t help but succumb to each one of his touches and wet kisses.

you can’t help the way your body trembles in the cage of his muscular arms while his abs ripple against your tummy and his pelvis tacks deliciously to your swollen clit. the bed creaks beneath the sloppy affair of your grinding bodies and somehow, within the mess of sex and love, your freehands link and squeeze to ground one another. “the way you’re suckin’ me in, god, honey,” yuuji coos, his words tickle the shell of your ear delicately, contrasting with the carnivorous way his deep brown eyes drink you in when he pulls back slightly to look at you, silver chain and dog tags dangling above your hot face, as if he’s picturing you nice and full of him and his seed. “so selfish, you don’t wanna let me pull out. you want this cum…yeah?”

in that moment, you think you might cum, all because of the breathy whimpers from your lover that ghost over your dampened cupid’s bow ( wet from kisses ) — accompanied by the sensation of his hard-on bullying its way into your tight, quivering little hole. there’s a keen smile that spreads across yuuji’s plush lips when you nod your head ‘yes’ in response, you feel his excitement and desire for you deepen when the entire length of him twitches inside of you — pulsating as small spurts of precum begin to line your lewdly squelching walls.

“i knew you would, you’re such a good girl…and you’re all mine, how lucky am i? that you’re all. fucking. mine.” for a boy so sweet and gentlemanly outside of the bedroom, itadori is always sure to fuck you nasty and raw whilst making you feel like the most adored person on the planet. yuuji’s sailor-mouth-like praises are slurred and sinful, a tale tale sign that he’s already pussy drunk as he sheaths inch after inch within you. you can hardly blame him, not when your body adjusts to yuuji so perfectly — silken pussy stretching over the blue spiralling veins on his heavy cock. “mine to love, mine to fuck, mine to breed.” he tells you through seraphic gripes too.

“ohmygod!” you squeal, voice ringing hoarsely in your throat. your cunt spills honey molasses and sweet nectar against your ravaged sexes, juices intertwining with the small pink tufts of yuuji’s happy trail as his bright red tip bears down harshly on your gummy g-spot — providing him with the lube he needs to make love to you properly. “baby…i c-can’t!”

just as you moan out again, legs squeezing around your boyfriend’s slender waist — yuuji’s blushing face ducks into your neck, making quick work of marking up your skin…because if he looks at your face, the way your brows crease softly and your lips part in a gentle ‘o’, and sees the way it twists with mounting pleasure. he won’t be able to hold off for much longer, he’ll lose his mind and fuck you too hard for either of you to cope. he knows that you can take it, manage to take all of his seed and all of his love — but if yuuji snaps, he’ll be pounding into you until he’s shooting blanks.

with your hands traversing upwards into yuuji’s sea of pink curls and over his smooth undercut, he reacts with his golden eyes rolling back into the dark depths of his skull — temporarily locking away your sunlight that brings warmth to your dorm. a familiar heat prickles underneath the surface of your skin like a thousand tiny needles as you pant out your words, pleading with bambi as you look up at yuuji. “i want your cum, yuuji, i want you to…hah… fill me up ‘n get me pregnant…” there’s a feeling painfully seated above your abdomen, a burning sensation of mounting pleasure like a wound desperate to be licked and soothed by itadori.

by grinding up against him, sticky clit smearing over his tense stomach and golden abs, you think that you might garner some relief — but you only feel teased and taunted when the jock pulls his cock from the snugness of your tight head to slap his milky cockhead against your pulsing mound proudly.

“don’t say it like that, fuck, baby,” yuuji all but groans, lashes fluttering at the slick sound your cunt makes with each love tap. beads of his precum ooze over you in another form of claim, glazing you in yuuji’s scent and taste. some of it even drips from your abused hole as it clenches around nothing, desperate to be filled by all that your boyfriend has to offer. “there’s so much… s’leaking out of you. gonna have to keep you on my dick always, give you all my babies.” the rose haired man can’t even hear himself speak, not over the sound of blood rushing through his ears — carrying sex crazed hormones. certainly not over your sweet sighs that form a melody with the pap, pap, pap of your pussy as he slowly sinks back into you — building up a steady rhythm to his thrusts, like an ocean’s regular tide.

yuuji can’t stop rambling, saying whatever lustful thought sits at the forefront of his mind. having you splayed out beneath him like this, your nipples pert against his firm chest and your breasts bouncing with every forceful lunge of his hips forward — it drives him up a wall. “gonna look so pretty ‘n round when you’re full of me. i’ll put a ring on it, make you my pretty wife — holy fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight. you like it when i talk to you like that, huh?” the thick vein on the underside of his shaft presses deliciously up against pleasure spots that only yuuji knows about, never leaving you unsatisfied, not even for a moment as his body rocks passionately into yours.

tanned skin and hard muscle feel slippery underneath your trembling hands. you don’t know what to hold onto, don’t know how to ground yourself when you feel this good and yuuji’s cock skilfully dives into your sopping heat — promises of the future, a wedding and family hand in the humid air buzzing between you both but is best said by the way itadori’s body dsnces with your own, his arousal soaked signature lining your rippling walls.

“need that so bad, yuuji! need you so bad… please fill me up, i want it inside.” you hiccup and demand, hardly able to speak through it all. the bed moans and groans just like you do, every time itadori’s dick pumps in and pulls out of your dripping, greedy hole — coated in a layer of foamy white. using your elbows as leverage, you work your hips down to meet yuuji in a slick and sensual dance, clenching at every inch of him that assails your insides until delight crackles over your hazy brain.

“god, baby please…if you keep talking like that i’m gonna—“ yuuji whines from deep within his chest, the sound resonating through you and shooting straight down to your creamy cunt that clamps down on him, pulling little droplets of precum from his sensitive tip.

your next words have the jock pounding into you with new vigour, desperate to give you everything that you want. “d-don’t pull out, yuuji. inside.”

“ahh, okay,” he whimpers as his voice rises in pitch, brown eyes stinging with tears. his golden arms flex as they lift you by the apex of your thighs — dragging you back onto his cock and it’s unforgiving pace. itadori presses his forehead to yours, caramel eyes shining with tears that gleam in the afternoon sunlight breaking through the curtains of your dorm. “okay, okay fuck. okay, oh god — h-honey, i’m…fuck! i-im cumming!” he stumbles over his every word, the pink haired jock’s entire world shattering into smaller glass fragments as he finally hits his peak. thick waves of white flood your womb, hot and viscous and lighting you up from the inside out. it coats your swollen pussy lips in an opaque layer that smears along your inner thighs, pouring endlessly from yuuji’s fat cock and breeder’s balls.

effectively breeding you.

still humping at you relentlessly and not daring to leave you far behind, yuuji tacks two of his fingers to your clit and caresses it in smooth circles, searing his name into you forever. he never lets up, fucking his cum into your womb with languid thrusts — bulbous and mushroomed cockhead spurting his hot seet against your g-spot as it grazes the epicentre of your pleasure over and over again. yuuji holds you in his arms while your vision clears, replaced by only blinding flashes of white and accompanied by an empty scream rattling around in your throat. your arousal spurts out of you in generous and clear streams, nearly forcing yuuji’s cock from your tight, rippling walls — painting both you and him in your juices.

your boyfriend can barely hold himself above you as you both finally come down, flopping onto you and trapping you against the sex soiled matress for cuddles.

“we can’t have babies, yuuji,” you laugh happily, letting out a puff of air from deep within your chest once you’re finally able to catch your breath. “not right now, we’re too young and we’re still in college!”

“well duh, not right now…” he muses, kissing your jaw and your neck and every part of you that he’s marked up and bruised. “but like afterwards…yanno? a few years down the line when we both have jobs. i’m gonna be pro and you’ll be a sexy career woman. ‘n i’ll make so much money that you can take all the time off you want. make sure you’re nice and taken care of and—“

giggling, the sweet melodies of your laughter cut through your boyfriend’s wistful rambling.

“what’s so funny?”

“it’s just…you’ve really got this all planned out, huh?” you reach a hand up to cup itadori’s sweaty cheek, brushing a thumb over the rough scarring at the corner of his mouth. he leans into you, much like a cat seeking physical touch, and you scratch just under his chin. “you want to be with me for that long?”

“i mean…yeah. i want you for the rest of my life. i thought that was obvious,” yuuji manages to say while you squish his cheeks and play about with his face, sounding a little dejected. “don’t you? … don’t you want that with me?”

your smile drops as you shift to your elbows, immediately dead set on reassuring your usually confident boyfriend. “of course i want that with gou. i want everything with you, it’s just that…” you chew on your words, push them around the cavern of your mouth as it dries with nervousness. “it’s just that… i’m still so different to you, i’m still not…conventional by any means. so i just thought… by the time college was over you’d—“

“i’d get bored of you?”

yuuji looks almost offended, his pink and kiss-swollen lips pushed forward into a pout and his dark brows drawn together in the centre of his forehead. falling back onto the sheets, one of his hands sink into the pillow supporting your head as you lay flat on your back — you feel it tremble with an emotion you can’t quite place on his face. is it anger? hurt? annoyance? either way, your heart hammers in your chest and crawls it’s way up your throat. you feel nauseous at the prospect of even upsetting yuuji — especially after the loving sex you’ve just had.

a croak in your throat replaces your sweet voice, you’re not sure if it’s because of how you’d been previously screaming your boyfriend’s name or because of how nervous you’ve suddenly become. “y-yeah,” you say slowly. “that.”

“how could you even think that?” yuuji breathes steadily, the corner of his mouth twitching into a frown but you can’t bare to look at him any longer — casting your gaze to the side.

shaking your head, you blink back tears you hadn’t even known were there. “i don’t… i don’t know. forget it, pretend i never said anything.”

itadori bends at the neck to reach you, tutting into the air as it cools down and loses its feverish taste for lust. his nose bumps yours, the pair of them becoming neighbours while his breath coasts across your face almost comfortingly.

“when i say i want you, i mean it. forever,” he confesses, like a reflex, like the natural reflex that his brain has to make his heart beat. “i want you to be my wife after all this. you’re not just some college fling to me. i want to buy you a house, a big ring, keep you comfortable for the rest of my life. i decided on that when i first met you,” a calloused finger and thumb tilt your chin to the perfect angle, making you look at him, your gaze falling into a mahogany one belonging only to your doting partner. “i don't care how long it takes to prove this to you… but you’re the love of my life, so have a little faith in me. okay?”

yuuji takes your hand in his, placing your palm on the left side of his chest where the muscle keeping him alive races for you. the only girl in the room. the only girl in his worlds. his dog tags jingle at the movement but his eyes on you remain unwavering and so full of commitment. you’d be stupid not to believe him now.

“okay,” you affirm sweetly, tilting your head a little further in a silent ask. you want a kiss. “i love you, yuuji.”

“and i love you right back,” he mumbles against your lips without skipping a beat, slotting your mouths together perfectly in a gentle chaste kiss. “now baby, please stop asking me to cum inside, you know i can’t help it and we can’t have babies just yet,” yuuji whines and collapses on top of you with a huff.

“you’re the one who said you wanted to give me babies!”

“and you’re the one who keeps feeding into my breeding kink, let’s not get it twisted here!”

and all throughout your playful bickering, yuuji stays nestled deep inside of you — keeping you plugged full. of both his cum and his love.

#tteokdoroki #itadori x reader #itadori smut #yuuji itadori smut #yuuji itadori x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #itadori yuuji smut #yuuji itadori x you #itadori yuuji x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #itadori x you #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #⋆｡°✩ — jock bf!yuuji

5K notes · View notes

strawberrypoundtown · 6 months ago

Note

Alright, hear me out I am thinking... Werebear. I just can't get my mind off of the idea of a werebear with his little round ears and fuzzy tail who gets disturbed while trying to hibernate (Which he's admittedly not very good at)

That's it, take it and run girly~

(OH it's just a quick one shot- sike, this was a lot longer than I planned and I had to cut some of it for another time lol I should have made it two parts, but whatevs

Enjoy the show - Strawberry 🍓)

Dummies Guide To Hibernation

Clayton Briggs x Fem!Reader

You move into a new apartment complex and notice your next-door neighbor being a lot more secluded and withdrawn lately as the winter creeps in. One late night, as you're walking through the hall to your door, you notice the door to his apartment is wide open...

Contains: unprotected sex, breeding kink, size kink, light free use kink (?)

You had moved into this apartment complex just shy of 3 months ago. You were still getting your bearings, having not lived completely alone before. You always had roommates or family living with you, so finally being completely alone was strange. Your apartment complex wasn't very big. There were only two other apartments on your side of the hall, yours sandwiched between the two.

The older werewolf woman that lived on your right seemed to be pretty calm and quiet, albeit a bit paranoid. She looked to be about 40-50 years old, but could have been older. You hadn't seen her leave the complex property before, so you just chalked it up to her being a bit of a recluse. You occasionally grab her mail for her when she asks, and she's always grateful, giving you a handful of candy before sending you on your way.

The man that lived on your left was a very different story. You two had met late at night when he offered to help you move a very large chair that you had bought a few days after you moved in. You were struggling to get it into the elevator after regretting that you had ordered the orc size for the chair and not werewolf of something. Damn you and your enjoyment of large furniture.

A large, burly man with a bushy brown beard had appeared behind you during your struggle. His curly golden brown hair was short and messy. He seemed to be around a staggering 7'3" tall, easily towering over you. He was wearing jeans, a t-shirt, steel-toe workboots, and a reflective vest that people used on construction sites. Of course, you assumed that he just got off of work and was getting impatient with you hogging the only elevator. You were about to apologize for being in his way and try to get the chair out of the way when he put his massive hand on your forehead, gently moving you out of the way. With a faint grunt, he easily moves the chair into the elevator. He stands in the elevator with the chair next to him and enough space for you to stand next to him. He holds the elevator door open for you as he stares at you. He notices you hesitating and looks away from you, his dirt covered cheeks turning a bit red as he looked away from you. He was still waiting for you.

"O-oh. Thank you." You said softly with a smile as you looked up at him and stepped into the elevator. You clicked the button for your floor, and he nodded in response as he moved his arm, letting the door close. "You must be one of my neighbors. I just moved in about a week ago. It's a pleasure to meet you."

He let out another grunt as he nodded once again, only glancing at your occasionally as he avoided touching you in the cramped elevator. Saying he was a large man as an understatement. You had to strain your neck to look up at him, but looking at eye level or lower was even worse. He was built like a truck with a nice layer of chubbiness. He seemed so soft, so nice to hug. You just wanted him to pick you up and hold you. It was hard to focus on anything but him as his chest was only inches away from your face. You could tell that he had a very strong build, and you love a large dad bod. He was covered in dirt and sweat, but his scent was still a bit too nice for your comfort.

As the elevator doors opened, you found yourself trying to scramble out the door and out of the way as quickly as possible. You had let out a sigh of relief, trying to calm your racing heart as he lifted the chair out of the elevator with ease. He immediately started walking towards your door.

You quickly got out your keys and jogged down the hall to open your door. He moved quickly, so he was already at your door by the time you got there. Once your door was open, you led him inside your cozy apartment and towards your livingroom. As he stepped inside, he was surprised at the decore you already had up. Pictures and posters and a few fake plants with fairy lights pinned to the ceiling.

After he put down the chair where you told him to, he noticed the rest of your furniture. It was all fairly large, at least the size for most werewolves, but all covered in pillows and blankets to make it cozy. He felt like just looking at your apartment would make him fall asleep. He needed to leave. Your heart sank a bit, following him as he immediately turned to walk towards the front door.

"Thank you for your help! I don't know what I would have done if you didn't help me. I'm sorry I bothered you on your way home-" You say, but he cuts you off by holding out his hand to you to shake. You take it gently, and he begins to speak.

"Don't worry about it. If you ever need help with anything, I live next door on your left. Apartment 400. I'm pretty handy." He says softly as he looks down at you with a blank expression. His voice was deep and intimidating, but it made you feel safe and warm. His hand was big and rough, but he held your soft hand so gently, like he was worried about hurting you.

"Oh, thank you. I really appreciate that. Um... could I get your name? My name is (Y/n)." You say with a smile, staring up at him as your other hand comes up to rest on top of his. His cheeks turn a bit red once again as he stares at your hands for a moment before looking back into your eyes.

"I-I'm Clayton..." He says shyly before pulling his hand away and taking a step back. "It was nice to meet you (Y/n). I need to go." He said bluntly, his eyes avoiding yours as he rushed off to his apartment door. For such a large man, he sure was quick. You didn't even have a chance to say anything before you heard his door slam shut. You worried you angered him, but based on his pink cheeks, you assumed that he was just shy.

Over the next month, you would start conversations with him whenever you would see him. He would always stand and listen until you were done talking. Occasionally, you would mention that you were trying to do something in your apartment and would ask what kind of tools you would need. He would tell you, seemingly happy that he could give you advice. However, he never seemed to let you take his advice, because before you could even get the tools you needed, he would be over with his toolbox ready to go.

Need a shelf put up? He did it. Need your sink unclogged? No problem. He got it cleared. Need your lock replaced because your ex found out where you lived? He replaced your entire door and got you a doorbell camera.

He never accepted any money from you, always saying he just wanted to be a good neighbor and make sure you were safe. He did, however, accept food. You always made him a big plate of whatever you were eating that night. He always seemed to enjoy it after he got home, the plates returning to your front door completely clean the next morning.

However, as the fall passed and the winter started, you saw Clayton less and less. Whenever you would see him, he'd look absolutely exhausted, and you had noticed him getting thinner. He also started to occasionally walk around with his cute stubby tail and round ears out due to how little energy he had. You had found out from your other neighbor that Clayton was a werebear, so the winter season made him exhausted all the time. You felt bad for asking for so much of his time while he should have been preparing for hibernation, so you took it upon yourself to make sure he was eating enough.

Every day, you brought a container of food over to his door and left it in front of his door. You would leave a note on the container before knocking and running off so you didn't bother him further. The clean, empty containers would show up in front of your door the next day with a note that just said 'thank you'.

What you didn't know was how much it actually meant to him that you had been helping him in return. He had always struggled with his hibernation, having been raised by a pack of werewolves after his parents adopted him. They did their best, but he was never really taught how to hibernate properly. It didn't help that he had insomnia, which was very inconvenient for the big guy when it came to his hibernation time. Thankfully, during the winter, his construction jobs slowed down a bit, but it still took a lot out of him. Cooking himself dinner at the end of a long day was out of the question, so he usually got take out or nothing at all.

Imagine his surprise when he started getting food dropped off at his door every night. He loved your food. Everything you made was delicious, and he always licked his plate clean. You were so sweet with how you helped take care of him. The smell of the fantastic food you cooked flooding the hallway was amazing, but your scent had him even more entranced.

Ever since you had moved next door, just your scent from the hallway was enough to comfort him. He had already thought you were cute when you moved in, but as time went on, he fell for you even harder. Your more domestic side showing lately had been the killer for him, though. You would check in on him and give him food, a reassuring touch, like the angel you were. He wanted to help take care of you like you took care of him. He wanted you. He needed you. He always had such a hard time leaving your apartment because of how cozy it was. The moment he would walk in, he would feel like he could pass out on the floor and still be comfortable. He wished he could sleep in your orc sized bed with you and show you how much he cares about you.

He would listen unintentionally as you would take a shower or get ready for bed. The walls were so thin, and with his hearing as good as it was, it was impossible for him to ignore your whimpers from the other side of the wall whenever you'd be masturbating. Whenever he had gone in to help you put up a shelf in your bedroom, he could smell the arousal in the air from when you had given yourself an orgasm shortly before he arrived. He struggled to hide his erection the whole time. Just imagining what you did to yourself when you were alone made his dick throb in his jeans. Being able to smell that you were ovulating didn't help.

He knew what everything meant. You were his mate. He just had no idea how to tell you without sounding completely insane. You were just a human. A very soft, sweet human that surely only had the best intentions whenever they would interact. If only he knew how further he was from the truth. You had wanted him just as badly, if not more, but didn't want to make him uncomfortable. He just seemed shy to you, and you didn't want to scare him off. For such a big guy like him, you had hoped food would win him over. Every time you had him over to help fix something you didn't understand, you would fantasize about him driving his cock into you and letting out all his pent-up frustrations. And cum.

Once you found out he was a werebear, you did some serious research. You learned about how he needed a cozy environment he could use as a 'den' and how much he needed to eat. Werebears didn't sleep 24 hours a day, but they needed at least 10-14 hours of sleep every night to function somewhat normally during the day. They tend to need to eat a lot to keep up a healthy layer of fat. They can also get very, very backed up if they don't have a mate to hibernate with as they typically don't socialize during this time. You didn't know what his apartment looked like, as he had never invited you over, but you wanted to make your home as inviting to him as possible for when he came over. Especially your bedroom.

You were happy you rented in a monster-friendly apartment building due to the fact that you had an orc sized bed from the last place you lived in. It was at least 9' long, and you were always swimming in it, so you always had it loaded with pillows and stuffed animals and soft blankets. You figured that if you got some extra large blankets for him to use, he would be more inclined to come over.

But lately, he was so tired he had let his ears and tail show, his arms and chest extra hairy as it peaked out of his clothing. He was trying to conserve energy, and you noticed him not snoring much at night when he should have been sleeping, but still going to work in the morning with dark circles under his eyes. You also noticed that as the next full moon approached, he was struggling more and more to hold it together. He was nearly falling asleep standing up and more shuffled than walked to his apartment. You started making more and more food for him to leave by his door for when he got home.

Tonight was a full moon, so you knew you had to make him a lot of food because he was going to fully tranform tonight. The containers had started coming back broken with apology notes and money attached, so tonight you had gotten some disposable containers. You made him a huge spread of various roasted vegetables and fish and put all the containers in front of his door, saying that if he needed to, he could crash at your place.

That leads you to this moment, you standing outside Clayton's door. You heard him stumble home about 20 minutes ago and growling for about 15 minutes until a loud thud hit the floor. It shook your apartment, and you instantly rushed over to see if he was okay. You noticed the door was cracked open and hesitantly pushed the door open. Your jaw dropped as you saw his living conditions. It was clean, but barely had any furniture to keep clean in the first place. All he had was a large futon in the livingroom and a TV with a gaming set up.

You hear groaning coming from what you assume to be the bedroom as you carefully creep in. You peer down the hallway to see a large furry mass in the dark. A mess of ripped apart food containers were scattered down the hallway to in front of the bed. You gingerly made your way down the hallway as you tried to get a better look at him. You could tell he was already fully transformed, and it almost sounded like he was... whining? As you got closer, you noticed that he was so big half his giant furry body was hanging off the bed. He was facing away from you, but you could hear him panting and whining as his nubby tail wiggled. He was a giant ball of fur and you slowly walked up to his face. His head was huge when he was transformed. He looked like an adorable grizzlybear, minus the giant sharp claws.

"C-clayton?" His eyes snap open at the sound of your voice. Your sweet, beautiful voice. "Are you okay?... I heard a loud thud, and your door was open..." You were so kind. He couldn't believe you actually walked in here to check on him. He didn't know what to do. He was embarrassed at how his place looked. He had been so tired lately he hadn't wanted to do anything special for his hibernation, but he was regretting it now.

He bashfully looks away from you and scoots his head closer to you. You crouch down and gently run your fingers through his fur. His fur was so soft you gently rest you head on top of his as she scratched the fur around his neck. He lets out an odd growl that almost sounds like a purr as he nuzzles into your chest. He inhales your comforting scent deeply. You smell so sweet... He had to carefully pull his face away from your chest before he tried to rip your tank top off. He had noticed you weren't wearing a bra and wanted to know what your breast looked like so badly. He caught himself staring at your chest before looking up at you with his beautiful golden eyes.

"C-can I crash with you? Please?... this is bad..." His voice was hoarse as he groaned. He regret pushing his body so much and ignoring his need for a proper den. He knew your place would be perfect based on what he had seen so far. Not only that, but he would be able to convince you to share your large bed with him. It had been so long since he could cuddle anyone during hibernation...

"Of course you can. I just need you to follow me." You said softly, and you went to stand up. He stood up with you, and you couldn't help but freeze for a moment as you took in his large form. He was nearly 9' tall, staring down at you as he breathed heavily. All he had on were some boxers that were way too small once he was transformed. You could see the outline of his thick cock through the fabric. He put one of his giant hands on your shoulder and sleepily followed you next door to your apartment, being sure to at least close his door before he leaves.

Upon stepping into your apartment, he has to use his hands on your wall to stabilize himself. Walking through the threshold of your home and being hit with a wall of your scent was overwhelming. He stumbled through your apartment as carefully as possible, trying not to knock anything over. You had to guide him to your bedroom, him ducking a bit through the doorways. As he saw your bed, he let out a sigh of relief. The mass of pillows and giant blankets looked so welcoming.

"I-I hope it'll be okay. At least better than your place..." You let out a soft giggle as you opened up the bed more for him to crawl in. He didn't waste another moment before carefully crawling onto your bed. The bed dipped under his immense weight. You thanked yourself for getting a reinforced bedframe when you got your giant bed.

"Oh fuck." He groaned out as he fully laid down, his body going limp as he finally felt his body fully relax for the first time in ages. Fully stretched out, he's just as tall as the bed, but all the pillows and blankets with the softness of the mattress are perfect. He feels like he's in heaven as he turns onto his side and closes his eyes. His breathing began to get heavier, and you assume he's already starting to fall asleep. You grab the biggest blanket you have from your couch and as you lay it over him, his eyes slowly open. He stares at you for a moment as your body is illuminated in the moonlight peering in from your window. He hadn't really gotten a good look at you yet, and it was a good thing that he didn't. He wouldn't have been able to make it over to your apartment if he noticed you were only wearing a tanktop and tight boxer shorts. He could already feel himself getting hard under the covers, your scent overwhelming as he let out a soft groan.

"Clayton? Are you okay?" You ask with a worried tone. Your caring eyes are so beautiful in the moonlight. In a flash, you were pulled under him while letting out a loud yelp. He was proped up on his elbow on his side next to you, his other hand on your hip as he leaned over you. He held your body so close to his, trying his best not to rip your clothes off of you immediately. He leans down and nuzzles his face into your neck so all he can smell is you. He was annoyed at how your scent was so comforting but wouldn't let him sleep. He was pent-up, and you were his mate that made a den just for him... he needed to do something or he felt like he was gonna explode.

He moved one of his knees in between yours as he stared into your eyes, running his hand from your hip to your thigh to guide it to hook over his leg. Goosebumps appear all over your body as you feel his sharp claws drag across your skin. As you were held there on your back, you could feel his hard cock against your thigh. Fuck you were turned on. You didn't know what to do but stare back into his glowing eyes and follow his lead. He leaned in close to your face, bearing his sharp teeth as he struggles to find his words.

"I really need your help tonight (Y/n)..." He mumbles as he moves from smelling your hair to burying his nose in your collarbone.

"Look, I'm flattered... v-very flattered, but I'm not really a fan of one night stands." You say nervously, knowing that you'd want way more than just one night with him. His large, rough tongue rakes up the side of your neck, making you let out an involuntary moan.

"Who said I wanted a one night stand?" His hot breath brushes against your neck, causing goosebumps to go down your body. "I want you.. All of you... Always." His teeth ran across the skin in the crook of your neck as he inhaled your scent deeply. "If you want me, I'll stay... please..." He pleads with a deep growl. He sounds so desperate for you. You wouldn't have thought the stoic man next door would be reduced to a horny, cuddly mess, but here you are. "My mate..." He growls as he palms one of your breasts through your thin tank top, careful not to scratch you with his claws. The pressure of his body against yours is overwhelming in the best way, every touch lighting you on fire as you couldn't help but let out soft moans.

"P-please stay Clayton..." You begged as your self-control went out the window, grinding your hot mound against his leg. Your words and actions made him suck in a breath, pausing as he stared at you. He suddenly turned onto his back, pulling you on top of him to straddle his waist. He used his claws to rip a huge hole in your shorts, exposing your dripping wet pussy. You pulled your tanktop off quickly before he ripped that off while he ripped away his boxers. His massive cock sprang to life, smacking against your wet pussy lips softly. He pulled himself up to bring you in for a kiss, groaning as he

You bit your lip before grinding your cunt down along his dick. It was too dark for you to see properly, but his dick felt similar to a werewolf's dick, but much bigger. You hadn't taken someone that big before, so you were secretly happy that you were in the middle of masturbating when you heard him come home...

"Oh fuck." He strained his head back against the bed as he moaned. His hands reached up to hold your hips in place, rolling his hips back against you to get more friction against his sensitive cock. His hands were massive, both of them nearly completely encircling your waist as he held you in place. He fought against the urge to use you like a living fleshlight immediately. He felt like he was getting high off the scent of your arousal.

You brace your hands on his soft forearms as you find your footing by his sides. His waist is too big for you to straddle normally, but you don't care. You're gonna do your best. You were getting impatient, as he could feel from how his cock was completely drenched from your juices. He raises his head up to look at you, letting out soft whimpers as you pull your heat away from his needy dick. You earn a low growl from him as you decided to grab his cock and line his dripping tip up with your aching hole. His grip on your hips tightens, and you feel his claws threaten to break your soft skin. He applauded his self control in his crazed state, although every fiber of his being was telling him to just bury his cock deep inside you now. He needed you so badly.

You press yourself down on his dick, your arousal and his precum acting as lube. His cock slides into your pussy easier than he expected, but you're still struggling to take his size. His cock was so thick it stretched your pussy to the absolute limit and you were loving every second. You had only taken him about halfway, and yiu didn'tknow how much more you could take. You were trying to hold your moans as much as possible, but the attempt was futile. You groaned out in pleasure as the shape of his cock rubbed against your g-spot with every movement.

Clayton stared at you hungrily, growl in his throat that resonated through his whole body. You could swear you felt his dick vibrate, but then again, it might have been your walls fluttering to accommodate his size.

He suddenly snaps his hips up into yours, his hands on your hips keeping you in place as he buries his cock into you up to his knot. The drastic shock to your body made you scream out in pleasure. Your pussy stung as you felt the bulge at the base of his cock press against your pussy. You feel him shudder under you as you clenched your pussy around his length. You're given very little time to adjust before he starts moving your hips for you.

"F-fuck, I'm sorry... I can't control myself right now... you drive me fucking crazy... you're so fucking tight..." He growls as he watches your boobs bounce in front of him. He may have you on top, but he's the one in control. He holds your hips so firmly it may leave bruises, using your body as his personal sex toy. He is so desperate to cum, wanting nothing more than to fill you up and get you pregnant.

He wanted you to be the mom to his cubs. You were so sweet and kind. You could teach them how to make a den much better than he could. You felt so amazing stretched out on his dick. You were just so addicting.

Every movement he made you do made you feel just as crazy as him. His cock hit all the right places, your pussy quivering around him as you felt yourself getting close to cumming. Every slight curve and bend of his dick felt like heaven as he bounced you faster to chase his own release.

"I'm so close. I'm not pulling out. I want you to take my knot and have my cub..." He grunts, whimpering as you feel his dick twitch inside you. He's close, and so are you.

"Y-yes please! I want your cum in me, please! Make me cum!" You beg him, completely giving into the pleasure. You couldn't take it anymore. You were so close it almost hurt.

"Rub your clit for me, honey." He orders and you don't think twice before one of your hands finds your clit, your fingers working your sensitive clit while he works you. It only takes a few more seconds before you throw your head back, moaning like a bitch in heat as your orgasm washes over you like a tsunami. As you begin to cum, he snaps his hips up to meet yours, thrusting his huge knot into your already strained pussy. The rough action causes you to scream, squirting all over his crotch as your quivering pussy milked his cock. His dick throbbed inside you as he let out a roar, his claws scratching your hips while he came deeper than anyone had before. He filled your plugged up pussy so much your belly bulged slightly. You both struggle to catch your breath as his grip on you slowly relaxed. He couldn't help but stare at you and your beautiful body, your sweat shining in the moonlight through the window.

"I hope you're okay... I didn't hurt you, did I?" He groans out, a bit worried that in his haze he went too far. Your exhausted giggle eases him slightly.

"I'm more than okay..." You admit with a grin. Clayton chuckles in response as he feels his knot start to go down, letting him slip his cock out of you. You whimper and whine as he pulls his cock out, suddenly feeling every empty as his cum pours out of your used hole. He lets out a relieved sigh as he turns onto his side and pulls you close to him.

"I'm glad you're okay..." He whispers to you as he stares into your eyes with adoration mixed with exhaustion. You can't help but smile as his large body and thick fur make you feel like you have a living weighted blanket. His presence was just so comforting to you.

"I hope you don't mind hibernating with me." You say. He pulls you in close as he arranges the pillows and blankets around the two of you, using his arm as a pillow for you. He finally pulls the blanket over the two of you and wraps his other arm around you.

"Honey, I don't think I could have hibernated without you..." He says softly, ending in a yawn as you both settled in to get some sleep. As you two embraced each other, sweaty and satisfied, you couldn't stop thinking about how Clayton would be a really good dad. You secretly hope his seed already got you pregnant as you fell asleep cuddled into his chest. He took another good look at your gorgeous face before drifting off to sleep himself. Both of you were soon dreaming of your belly swollen with his cub and little kids running around.

He could get used to this.

#monster boyfriend #monster fucker #monster x reader #monster imagine #monster smut #werebear #werebear bf

3K notes · View notes

sunrizef1 · 5 months ago

Text

Milk and Sugar

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Not edited, cursing maybe, the ex gf isn’t anyone specific don’t @ me

Summary: Max is tired of his persistent ex girlfriend and friends that are maybe a little too empathetic about his breakup. What better way to scare them off than getting a new girlfriend? But he doesn’t actually want a new relationship. Enter: you. The perfect (fake) new girlfriend.

Word Count: 9.6k

Authors Note: this fic was kicking my ass im gonna be so fr. It took forever and I just couldn’t write the ending for some reason. Hopefully now that this is up, I can do something else lmfao

You were just doing a favor for a friend.

Or that’s what you had told yourself when Max had originally asked you to go along with his stupid idea. You hadn’t even really wanted to agree, by the way. He had just needed your help so badly and that’s what friends are for, right?

So that’s how you’d ended up in his garage, Red Bull hat pulled tightly over your head as you watched his car sail around the track in Brazil, the season well under way.

You’d met Max a few years back. You’d moved into the apartment next to his, not even blinking as your eyes scanned over the future world champion, too focused on your dog trying his best to distract you from the heavy box in your hands.

“Apollo! Stop!” You sighed at the dog as he jumped at your legs, trying his hardest to knock the box full of dog food and treats out of your arms. The dog, not knowing English, didn’t listen, of course, continuing his assault on your calves.

The box tilts in your grasp, coming dangerously close to falling out of your arms. But suddenly, the weight is lifted away and Apollo seems to turn his attention to whatever had relieved you from your struggle, giving you the opportunity to pull the small dog into your grasp, trying your best to calm his rowdiness down.

Once you’ve gotten the dog to calm down a significant amount, you look up to see who’d saved you from hours of cleaning loose dog food off the floor during your first day in your new apartment. You’re met with bright blue eyes staring back at you, a concerned look on the strangers face.

You’re too worried about the pretty man in front of you to even worry about Apollo as he starts to nibble lightly on your jacket.

“Are you okay?” And then he speaks for the first time and you’re captivated. Not in a love-at-first-sight way, of course. More of a this-guy-might-be-perfect kind of way.

You nod, gently separating your dogs mouth off your hoodie string, petting his, most-likely, empty head warmly, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. This little guy just really wanted that food, I guess.”

The stranger laughs, moving the box in his arms to rest against his hip, “I’m more of a cat person, anyway.”

You fake a wince, shaking your head with a frown, “Ahh, guess we can’t be friends then, mysterious stranger. Im a dog person all the way.”

He laughs again, grinning warmly, “Any way I could help you with this? Can’t imagine it’s easy moving in with a dog running around.”

Your eyes widen at his words, your hand fumbling to fish the key to your new apartment out of your pocket, “Only if you’re free! I wouldn’t want to bother my new neighbor on my first day.”

Your neighbor shakes his head, light brown hair falling down on his forehead, “It’s no big deal, I’m surprisingly free today.”

You smile, pushing the door to your apartment open, setting Apollo down as you enter. The dog immediately starts to scope out the area, bounding up and down the halls, his collar jangling loudly as he does. You hear the man enter behind you, watching as he walks over and places the box of dog food on the counter in the kitchen.

“Usually I learn a man’s name before I invite him into my apartment,” you smirk, laughing as a blush coats your neighbors face. He takes the few steps back over to close the gap between you, sticking out a calloused hand toward you.

“I’m Max.”

You smile, repeating his name before reciting your own, clasping your hand in his much rougher one, tilting your head up at him as you shake, letting go after a few moments.

“It’s nice to meet you max,” you say, smiling as you see Max’s face light up happily, “How inclined would you be to helping me get the rest of my boxes?”

Max laughs as he sees the sweet grin on your face, shaking his head as he moves toward the door, “I’d love to help, y/n. Can’t have my new favorite neighbor moving in alone, can I?”

Your face splits into a grin as you follow him toward the exit, turning to make sure Apollo was comfortably inside the apartment so he wouldn’t try and run away before closing the door behind you.

Max did help you that day, the moving in process going substantially quicker with the help of the athlete. He even invited you over to his place for dinner, explaining that it’d be too much of a hassle for you to make dinner after moving in all day. You didn’t bring up the fact he’d been moving all day as well, simply following him next door instead.

That had been three years ago and you’d been friends ever since. It was a casual friendship, more moved by the proximity than anything else.

He’d had to explain f1 to you, you being completely unfamiliar with the sport despite having moved to Monaco, probably the place with the most connection to it. Now, you’d casually watch his races as you worked or ate dinner, not entirely sure what was going on but supporting your friend anyway.

He’d also eventually asked you to watch his cats for him, Jimmy and Sassy being surprisingly friendly with your puppy. Max had been scared about introducing them, prefacing with many statements about how much the cats hated dogs and that it really wouldnt be a problem if you couldn’t watch them if they hated each other.

All that talk went out the window when the first thing the pets did when they met each other was take a nap.

It was January when it happened. You had been sitting calmly in your apartment, watching Bridgerton and eating pasta, your work computer abandoned to the side of the couch. You had a blanket pulled over your lap, a hot mug of tea sitting on the coffee table in front of you. Rare snow fell softly outside your window, albeit not very much snow but snow nonetheless.

You were very content.

This, of course, all came crashing down when you heard the sound of your apartment door banging open, heavy footsteps signaling the arrival of your neighbor. You’d given him a key for emergencies, although you couldn’t possibly imagine what could warrant an emergency at this time.

You roll your eyes as you hear him approach, setting your pasta down on the table and grabbing the remote to pause your show, turning as Max throws himself down on the couch next to you.

“Hello, Max. Can I help you?” You sigh, trying to force a smile onto your face. Max seems to catch your discontent and grimaces, wincing away slightly.

“Bad time?”

You let out a breath, not able to stay mad at the Dutch man for very long, “Maybe a little, but it’s fine, really. Did you need something?”

Max nods, sitting up straighter, “I may or may not have a formal request. Neighbor to neighbor.”

You furrow your eyebrows at his response, noting his slightly nervous behavior, “Okay?”

He takes a deep breath before speaking, his eyes trailing over toward where your tv was currently paused, “You know how I just went through that breakup, right?”

You hum, all too familiar with the aforementioned breakup, having had Max barge into your apartment for comfort food and movie marathons more than a few nights in the wake of his, now ex, girlfriends departure.

“Well,” Max starts and you can sense the hesitation in his tone but considering he had interrupted your night, you opted to let him flounder, “It’s been weird on the grid since then.”

“Okay,” you hum, eyes glancing over his face and catching the way he grimaces.

“Ever since the break-up, all the guys have been looking at me like I’m a child, you know? Like I might fall apart any second. Even though I’m completely fine!”

You stare, knowing more than anyone else, that he wasn’t very fine for a while, although he’d miraculously recovered over the past few months. You also stared in hopes he’d soon get to the point of the conversation.

“They also keep trying to set me up with their friends as if I need a rebound when I would really rather stay single,” Max groans, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. Your furrow your eyebrows, wondering where this could be going.

Max glances up, eyes avoiding yours at all costs, “I was wondering if you could, maybe..”

Max trails off, wincing slightly. You stare straight ahead at him blankly, waiting for him to finish his request. He does eventually mumble something under his breath and you lean forward, eyebrows raised.

“Sorry?”

Max grumbles, annoyed and you roll your eyes at the attitude of the man disrupting your own night.

“Could you pretend to be my girlfriend for a while?” Max rushes out, hands carding through his hair nervously, “Just long enough for the guys to leave me alone, you don’t even have to do anything, maybe just come to Brazil and Monaco-“

Max continues to ramble on for a few seconds, words seeming to fall out of his mouth unceremoniously before he’s cut off by you interrupting him.

“Max!” You raise your voice slightly in an attempt to talk to over him. Max freezes, looking at your face for the first time since he’s crashed through your front door, “I’ll do it.”

He stares at you blankly for a few moments, trying to process your words, “Really?”

You shrug, teeth digging into your lip as you turn your head toward the large window across the room that overlooked the darkened city of Monte Carlo, “Why not? You’re my friend. Plus I work remotely and who doesn’t want to travel around the world to all those different cities?”

Max’s face lights up at your response, his lips forming a huge grin. He rolls over into a lying position, practically star-fishing on your couch, “Thank you so much! I owe you one.”

You hum, fighting the smile on your lips as you watch him close his eyes calmly. You slip up from the couch quietly, padding over to the kitchen to grab something.

“Where are you going? Did I scare you off already?” You hear Max call as you walk away. As you walk back over, his eyes are still closed though, signaling that he didn’t really think he’d scared you off.

He does open his eyes as you set the bowl of leftover pasta and a fork on his chest before grabbing your own and sitting down, grabbing the remote to press play. He glances over as you settle into the couch and move your blanket over your lap before he sits up. You take a bite of your pasta as you continue to watch your show. Max takes a second but he eventually digs in as well, sitting up in order to grasp the bowl better.

Even after the pastas finished, you both sit back on the couch in order to finish the show. You glance over at Max, his eyes still locked onto the screen.

What had you gotten yourself into?

————

“Are you ready?”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you sit in the passengers seat of Max’s car, the hoards outside having no idea what was waiting for them inside. You slide your sunglasses onto your nose, hoping they’d hide at least a little bit of the anxiety flowing through you.

You nod, turning your head toward Max in the drivers seat, “Yeah, I’m good.”

Max hums, not entirely convinced but also aware he had no other option but to believe you considering he’s the one who’d asked you to do this. He opens his door, stepping out and sliding his own sunglasses on. You watch as he walks around the front of the car before stopping in front of your door and pulling it open. You pause for a moment but eventually step out, trying not to wince as the bright sun hits you.

You immediately step into his path, falling into stride next to him as you both walk toward the entrance. You hear the car lock behind you and watch Max pocket the keys.

The bright Miami sun beats down on your skin, causing you to wish you’d opted for a thinner shirt. Max had originally proposed for your first race to be Monaco but you had decided it was better to appear earlier than later for his sake. Plus, you’d always enjoyed Miami and were up for the idea of traveling there. You’d also originally planned to buy your own plane tickets but Max was quick to shut that one down.

As you both approached the turnstiles, Max pulls his lanyard out of his pocket. You don’t even notice as he pulls you inside the paddock, too busy trying not to notice the cameras surrounding you. Flashes come from all around you, the incessant clicks echoing through your head.

You finally do notice that Max hasn’t let go of your hand after he pulled you into the paddock. You grasp his hand a little tighter and he pulls you closer into his side as a response. When heat starts to rise to your face, you decide to blame it on the Miami sun.

As you both walk toward the Red Bull hospitality, heads turn to watch you walk by. You can feel people’s eyes trailing after you, locked on your unfamiliar form. Everything new in the paddock very quickly became a spectacle. Especially when it involved the current world champion.

You’re sure you’ll see pictures of yourself splashed all across the internet when you wake up in Max’s hotel room the next day. You’re sure your mom will send you whatever article they’ll attach your name to, no doubt hounding you for information about your new celebrity “boyfriend”.

You’d been curled up in Max’s hotel room the whole weekend, occasionally dipping out to get food with him between events. He’d wanted you to come to the track since Thursday but you weren’t entirely sure you were ready to step out as “Max Verstappens new girlfriend” until you’d woken up Sunday morning.

You’d woken up before Max, somehow. As you laid in your plush hotel room bed, you could hear Max’s soft breathing from the other bed filtering through the silence of the morning. Just outside the window, the city of Miami was waking up. At least, the early birds were.

You and Max had slept in the same room enough over the years, Max randomly crashing at your place pretty often, that when he suggested you getting a different room, you’d immediately turned him down. You were telling yourself it was just because it was nice to have the comfort of a friend but something deep down knew that that wasn’t the only reason.

You let the only sounds be his breathing and the light hum of the air on unit for a few more minutes while you woke up. You slid out of the bed as silently as possible, your feet padding quietly against the carpeted floor. You pull the door open to the balcony slowly, stepping out before closing it behind you. The sun is still pretty low in the sky but it still makes you flinch as it seeps into your eyes.

You sink into one of the two chairs out on the balcony, pulling your knees up to your chest and resting your chin on top, letting your thoughts run wild.

You watch Miami move below you, the sun slowly shining down brighter and brighter, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.

You weren’t entirely sure why you’d agreed to this idea so quickly. With every day that passed, you wished more and more that you hadn’t. Doubt seeped through you with every second you watched Max from the hotel television. He was just so good at his job and such a cool, wonderful person and athlete. How could you keep up with him? The press would be insistent and non-stop invasive. Fans would, no doubt, dogpile on you as well, both warning to know everything about you as well as rip you apart. You start to wonder if there was a single positive of this for you.

The door slides open behind you and you can hear Max moving onto the balcony beside you. You don’t glance over, only moving your gaze away from the skyline as a mug is held in front of your face. You glance down at it, spotting the coffee inside before you grasp the mug out of his hands gently. The ceramic warms your hands, the steam from the liquid splaying across your face.

“There was only those little creamer pods,” Max hums as he takes a sip of his own mug, leaning against the bannister in front of you, “Hope that’s okay.”

You chew at your lip, taking a sip of your own mug, humming lightly as your gaze locks on his back, “That’s fine, thanks.”

You’d usually take your coffee with milk and a spoonful of sugar but you’d had enough gas station or hotel room coffee that you’d be able to survive with just the creamer pods.

You watch Max’s side profile as he stares out at the city, the sun bouncing off the edges and planes of his face and perfectly lighting up his eyes. You bask in quiet that settles between you, sipping at your coffee periodically. You don’t quickly forget the kindness of his gesture. Actually, the action stays in your head for longer than it probably should, mind running wild as you think about his motives.

You dismiss it, though, not wanting to linger on something that probably meant nothing.

“You coming to the race today?” Max turns around to face you, his back leaning against the rail he’d just been looking out over.

Your eyes trace him as he turns, evaluating his early morning form. As you look at this man, your friend, you think about the coffee in your hands. You think about the times he’d dogsat Apollo despite hating dogs, the days he’d come over just to keep you company when you were homesick, when he’d attempted to cook you soup when you’d been sick despite his complete inability to cook soup, you even think back to the first day you’d met when he’d helped you move in despite having known you for all of thirty seconds.

As all those memories passed through your mind, you suddenly remember why you’d agreed to do this in the first place.

“Yeah, I am,” you reply, taking a long sip of your coffee and hiding your grin as one of his own makes its way onto his lips.

————

That had been earlier that morning and know you were sat in Red Bull, watching as Max’s car passes the finish line in second. You’d been biting your nails the whole time, worry seeping through you. You weren’t the biggest formula 1 nerd but Max had forced you to watch enough old races for you to get what was going on. You’d even started watching his races when he was gone, something that had taken you months to admit.

Because of Max’s insistence, you knew enough to grimace as the safety car came out. You were right to grimace, of course, as Lando was quick to pass your friend, taking the lead and the win. Max, for what it’s worth, didn’t seem too angry about the result. You were aware of Landos lack of wins, seeing why his winning would make everyone happy, even the losers. Not that you were too happy, you’d only ever and only ever would cheer for Max, even if Lando was deserving of a win of his own.

Max doesn’t get asked about you during interviews. At least, not directly. He gets asked how life had been and he answers with a vague answer about love and how great life has been. You know he’s talking out of his ass but you’re grinning anyway, not able to hold back you mind from thinking about a world where everything he was saying was true.

“Landos gonna have a big celebration,” Max starts as he gets back to you after the podium, walking you both back toward his room so he can change, “He’ll probably be awake for the next 72 hours.”

You smile lightly, resting a tired head against his sweaty shoulder, “Good for him, seems like he really deserves it.”

Max nods with a pleasant look on his face, “Yeah, I’m not even that mad about losing. Nothing I could’ve done really. Im just glad he got his win.”

You nod, taking a breath in order to hold back the yawn threatening to leave your mouth, “You should go to his party, I’ll just go grab some dinner and head back to get some sleep.”

You both stop as you reach his room, Max facing you as he leans back against the door to open it. You notice the deep furrow in his eyebrows as he locks eyes with you, “What are you talking about?”

You furrow your own eyebrows as a response, tilting your head to the side, “You should go celebrate with your friend? Go have fun, Max!”

He shakes his head as he enters the room, quickly gathering his things to go take a quick shower, “Why would I celebrate a loss with a coworker when I can get some quality time with a friend instead? I’d rather celebrate a win with you instead of a loss without you. Trust me, you’ll be there to see me win.”

You’re already at a loss for words at his response but your rendered speechless as Max pulls his fireproofs off, tossing the shirt to the side passively. He turns away from you and you watch his muscles ripple under his skin, your face hearing greatly. His arms flex as he reaches for something and you have to bite your lip to keep your mouth closed. Your eyes are wide as he turns to glance over his shoulder at you, “That okay?”

At the risk of sounding like an idiot if you attempt to respond with words, you simply nod, eyes moving toward the floor. You don’t notice the smirk that forms on his lips as he catches your stare.

“I’m gonna shower and then we can leave,” he calls out over his shoulder as he walks into his bathroom. Your eyes are still locked onto the floor. You hear the sound of water pattering against the floor just after the door shuts.

You take a large sip of your water bottle, trying to wet your drying throat and keep the heat in your face at bay. You feel like you might be going crazy, the image of Max’s shirtless back etched into your mind.

Jesus Christ.

————

“What do you wanna watch?” Max mumbles through a mouth full of pizza, his hand coming up to covering it as he speaks.

You shrug, “I don’t know.”

Max shrugs as well, grabbing the remote off the nightstand and passively flickering through the channels as he swallows his bite of pizza, “Come get some food.”

He gestures toward the box of pizza on the edge of his bed with the remote, glancing toward you sitting in your own bed, watching him instead of the tv. You slide off the bed, taking the few steps it takes to get to his own and gently settling on the side he wasn’t currently sitting on.

Max watches you move, humming as you grasp a piece from the pizza box before he turns his attention back to the screen. You don’t notice as he settles on a movie, too busy trying not to absolutely scarf down the food in your hand.

Your eyes do leave the slice to glance over at Max, legs outstretched with his back firmly against the headboard. He’s wearing a Red Bull hoodie, even managing to wear team merch in his own bedroom. He’s also got some old basketball shorts, a faded logo sitting on the upper thigh that, no matter how much you try, you can’t understand.

You look away when you hear the familiar sound of Lightning McQueen echoing out of the television speakers. You quickly catch sight of the Italian formula car, deducing that Max has chosen Cars 2, of all movies.

You try your best not to laugh but a giggle escapes you anyway, causing you to bury your head in your shoulder to try and hide your grin.

“What?” Max asks you and you look forward again, eyes locked onto the movie, “What’s so funny?”

Your head turns toward the driver who’s grin is now matching your own, “You chose probably the only movie on here that uses the words “Grand Prix” can’t even get away from racing in your hotel room.”

He feigns offense for a few moments before reaching forward to grab another piece of pizza and sliding down into more of a lying position, “It’s a good movie.”

You both turn to the screen for a few moments but the second Lewis Hamilton’s voice rings out in the silence, you laugh loudly, Max groaning beside you.

You quickly dissolve into giggles, trying your hardest to reign it in but when you look over and see the amused frown on Max’s face, you’re right back into it again, Max laughing in response.

You both do eventually settle down, watching the movie and eating your food together. Even after the pizza box is empty and max moves to set it on the table, you don’t move from your spot, using the reasoning that it’s just easier to see the screen from his bed.

You try not to notice the proximity between you. You’d been holding hands all day and you’d pressed several kisses to his cheeks and forehead, being near him shouldn’t bother you. But when you shift slightly closer just to get more comfortable and Max’s arm falls down over your shoulder, you freeze, keeping as still as you can.

He doesn’t move his arm through the rest of the movie. Not that you’d know, considering you drift off with about half an hour to go. But Max doesn’t notice that either, considering how he fell asleep just after.

You wake up before him again the next morning, don’t the same thing you’d done the day before and walking out to the balcony. Max does the same thing he did as well, walking out with two mugs grasped gently in his grip.

When you take the mug from him, you try not to think about the fact you’d woken up limbs tangled with his and your face pressed into his chest.

————

The São Paulo Grand Prix.

It had been 6 months of this charade with Max. That’s right, you’d managed to suffer through 6 whole months of pretending to be his girlfriend. There’s been countless headlines from various news sites, trying their best to figure out every single detail about your life and relationship with Max.

The only thing keeping your mind together was the root of the problem himself and your prolonged roommate, Max.

He was actually really lovely. Every time you suggested a different room for his sake, you’d end up right where you were the week before, in a bed across from his. You’d also kept the same morning routine every day, waking up before Max and sitting out on the balcony until he brought coffee out for both of you.

He’d eventually gotten to a point where he sat in the chair next to you as opposed to standing up and leaning against the railing. There was still little conversation, though, you both enjoying the silence of an early morning instead.

This specific morning, you were watching the city of São Paulo move along below you. Goosebumps raised slightly as the wind-chilled November air nipped at the skin on your arms. The sun hadn’t completely rose yet and the previous nights rain had left the air colder than it should’ve been. You found yourself rubbing your hands over your arms and wishing you’d worn something other than a t-shirt.

The door slides open behind you and you take the mug as it’s placed in your eye line, grateful for the heat of the mug to warm up your cold hands. You lower your face toward the mug, letting the steam warm up your wind-chilled skin. You go to take a sip but it burns at your lips when you tilt the mug, causing you to set it down on the small table in order for it to cool for a few moments.

After you set it down, something lands in your lap. You look down, holding the item up and quickly recognizing it as one of Max’s Red Bull hoodies. You glance over at him but he’s still looking out over the city below, sipping passively at his mug of black coffee.

You look back down at the item of clothing, glancing between it and the owner for a few seconds before deciding to slip it on, your cold skin winning out over any reasonable thought that would tell you not to wear it.

The hoodies too big for you and it smells like Max but you don’t really seem to mind either of those things. Especially as your skin heats as the fabric passes over it.

Once you’ve got the hoodie on, you pick up your coffee again, blowing on it slightly to cool it down. You raise the cup to your lips, letting the warm liquid flow into your mouth.

You hum at the taste, quickly noticing that it tastes different than usual. You furrow your eyebrows, taking another sip. The oh-so wonderful taste that you’d missed so dearly over the past 6 months takes over your tastebuds. The taste of real milk and sugar.

You hum pleasantly, grasping the cup tightly. You glance over toward the man who’d handed you the drink, “Is this milk and sugar?”

Max glances toward you for a split-second before he looks back over the city, taking a sip of his own coffee, “Yeah, that’s how you like it, right? You always drink it like that back home.”

You ignore the jolt in your stomach when Max refers to the Monaco apartments as a shared home. You bite your lip with an affirmative hum, “Where’d you get milk and sugar?”

“Couldn’t sleep last night, went for a walk. There’s a corner store down the block and I picked some up,” Max says it casually, like it’s not the most considerate anyone had been of you, maybe ever.

You stare at him for a few moments, trying to ignore the warm feeling in your chest as you imagine him thinking about you enough to buy coffee ingredients the way you liked them.

As you sat outside, in his hoodie, sipping on the coffee he had made and handed to you, you finally accept what you’d been trying to deny for six months, if not longer.

You were in love with Max Verstappen.

You longed for the domesticity that was so present on mornings like these. You wanted to live this life with him all the time. You didn’t just want to fall asleep beside him after a race but you wanted to be able to press your lips against his when he won instead of the light touches you’d flutter against his cheek. You wanted to wear his hoodies all the time, not just when you were cold and forgot one of your own. You wanted to stop pretending in front of his friends. You wanted the hushed whispers to be sweet nothings instead of scheming and planning.

You wanted this life with him. All the time.

“Max-” you start but you’re quickly cut off by Max as he speaks instead.

“My ex is going to be at this race,” he states and you close your mouth, deflating slightly as you look away, “Just wanted to prepare you in case we run into her. You could also, um, probably stop coming once you scare her off.”

You nod meekly, taking a sip of your coffee. What had once been your idea of a sanctuary with the silence of the morning is now too quiet, allowing your thoughts to be the only noise in your head, images of Max’s ex rolling around aimlessly.

You stand up quickly, taking rushed steps back into the room. You down the last sips of your coffee and slide it onto the table, moving hurriedly around the room to gather your things for a shower. You vaguely notice Max walking back into the room with a confused look but you don’t even look up as you rush into the bathroom, “I’m taking a shower.”

“Okay?” Max says as you close the door behind you. You don’t notice the frown on his face as he disappears from view.

You’re too busy throwing off his hoodie and turning the shower to practically scalding heat, trying your hardest to rid yourself of thoughts about a life with Max, thoughts of his ex-girlfriend or thoughts about the stupid coffee he’d handed you and how stupid you were to be reading so much into it.

For a moment there, you’d thought that Max was enjoying this as much as you were. But his words were quick to remind you that you were only there to do a favour for him. He is only there to get his friends and his ex off his back. After that, you were free to go. It even vaguely sounded like Max didn’t want you to come back around the next weekend.

Why else would he have said that? Why else would he have suggested you stop coming? Especially just after talking about his ex. It was a stark reminder that you were only a tool for him to mess with his ex. She was the one he’d loved, you were just a girl he knew.

You stay under the scalding water long enough for the mirrors to fog and your fingertips to prune. Your cuticles sting from where the hot water had made its way into the raw skin, the cuts still fresh from where you’d been anxiously picking at them.

You only pull yourself from the water when you start to sway from the heat, your head going light and an ache echoing through your skull.

————

A few hours later, you’re by Max’s side again, although there’s a slightly larger distance between you than usual.

That would change soon, no doubt, when Max spotted his ex, pulling you close to attempt to show his devotion to your fake relationship.

But for now, you're an arms-length away, hoping that pushing him away would also push away your own feelings.

Max can't grasp even an idea as to why you were acting like this. Did you really want this to be over that badly? He knew he'd mentioned the idea of your… situation ending but he didn't think you'd be this eager to get away from him.

At the first camera flash, you take a step closer to Max, knowing how even the smallest hint of discontent between you would be twisted for headlines and it would end with your concerned mother calling you fifty times to check on your relationship after seeing an article on Facebook.

So you step closer, reaching over to intertwine your hands. Max doesn't resist and you try not to read into the gentle squeeze he replies with.

Brazils nice. Or at least, you assume. You'd been too distracted to take much notice. But you do notice the fans yelling from all around. Lively crowds sway and shout in the distance, hues of blue and black and orange all represented amongst the groups.

Max leads you through the paddock, determination clear in his steps. It was most likely just his own determination not to talk to anyone, especially a certain ex-girlfriend.

You both get to Red Bull without an unwanted interaction and the second you're out of the public eye, you're dropping his hand, none the wiser to the confused look on the driver's face.

The tension's palpable in his small room. Awkward conversation flows, your words biting and curt. Neither of you wants to address the obvious undertones your words contain. One of hostility and unshared secrets. But you manage to survive until Max has to leave to get ready for the race and you follow just a few minutes later, making your way to watch said race.

The race is fine. Max wins, but you were never in doubt about that. He was starting from pole, it'd be pretty hard for him to lose. Lando finished just a few seconds behind him, having closed the gap a bit after getting past George.

As the team starts to leave to go greet Max, Christian Horner pulls you along, saying something about Max wanting you at the barrier after the race. You're sure its just so he can put on a show for his ex.

But you follow along anyway, trying not to stumble in your heels as Christian walks along a lot faster than you'd want to.

You pass through other teams and friends and guests or the drivers, waving slightly at people you’d gotten to know over the past six months. The thought of not seeing any of these people again after you and Max faked a breakup made your stomach hurt but you ignore it, trying to tell yourself it was for the better.

When Christian reaches the team, he guides you both through the crowd, smiling politely at the engineers as he slides by.

It seems you both reach the barrier just in time, as Max is parking when you come to a stop. You watch as he pulls himself out of the car, cheering a bit to the fans around as he stands atop it. When he pulls off his helmet and balaclava, you try your hardest not to smile at the pure joy on his face.

He glances over his shoulder at something you can't see before he turns and catches your eye, quickly moving in your direction. Before you can even say a word, he's set his helmet down and wrapped both his hands around the sides of your face, pulling it toward his own. His lips are warm, the heat of the race still emanating off of him. You dismiss the sweat in his hair as you wrap a hand softly around the nape of his neck, tangling your fingers in his locks. Your other hand rests on the side of his face, your thumb tracing the marks his helmet had left around his eyes.

You pull away first, glancing up into his eyes with a gentle smile, “Good job, you did amazing Max.”

His face heats and he glances away with a light chuckle, “Thank you, baby. I'm glad you're here.”

You wish he'd stop calling you that. At least for the sake of your heart jumping in your chest every time he does.

He looks away but your eyes are still firmly locked on the side of his face, tracing the familiar path around his features that they'd forged over the past six months. The same path they took every morning when you watched him look out over whatever city you were in that weekend. The same path they took when he fell asleep first during a movie in hopes of memorizing every detail before you slunk back into your own bed to fall asleep, the image of his face still etched into your mind.

But as you stare up at Max, trying to memorize the puzzle pieces of his face while he talks to Christian, you realize how futile of an endeavour it is. Not matter how hard you try, you'll never get the slope of his nose just right in your memories. You'll never get the right shade of turquoise for his eyes. The sandy-dark-blond of his hair will fade away until it was nothing in your mind but the shade of your coffee in the morning instead of the colour of his hair.

Maybe you should find a different apartment. Surely, Monaco had a different apartment complex that was far enough away from Max to rid yourself of the incessant thoughts of him that constantly plagued your love-adled brain.

Throughout all of that, you’d almost forgotten you were in love with him.

But when Max turns back to you, a glint in his eyes and a bright smile gracing his lips, you're suddenly all too aware of that fact.

“I’ll see you in a minute, yeah?”

You nod, smile slowly drifting as he walks away to get weighed and do all the usual post-race theatrics.

Christian pats his hand on your shoulder firmly, smiling as you turn around, “Let’s get to the podium, kid.”

You let Christian lead you away, yet again making his way through the crowd to get you both to the front.

The podium celebration is cute, Max’s happiness practically contagious. Lando and George are enthralled as well, the Brits both happy to back on the podium once again.

But when Max leans over to spray the champagne on the team, you put your hands over your face as Christian laughs beside you, both of you trying to avoid the sticky liquid as much as possible.

You peel away from the crowd after Max walks off, trying to find your way to wherever Max had gone.

As you'd left, you'd wandered away from Christian, who knew the paddock much better than you did. This was your first time here and you found yourself looking around for any sign of the Red Bull driver or, at least, a familiar face who could point you in the right direction.

It takes you a few minutes to gain your bearings but when you hear the familiar sound of Max’s voice, you go that direction, turning a corner to see his face.

And you do see him, post-race glow and all. But it's not just him you find. Standing entirely too close to him with her hand resting on his shoulder, is Max’s ex-girlfriend. She's smiling warmly, nodding animatedly at whatever it is Max is saying. Which, from constantly talking to him, you know is not worth the reaction she's giving him.

He's glancing around, clearly not comfortable with the situation. You huff, looking around before conceding and walking over to the pair. Were you maybe taking your time a little bit? Yeah, but you really didn't want to do this.

You roll your eyes when you catch Max’s eye and a relieved look rolls over his face, “Hey, baby.”

Max uses your arrival as an excuse to take a step back, swinging his arm around your shoulder. He's still covered in champagne and sweat but you ignore it, “Hey, Max.”

You finally glance up to meet the eye of the woman in front of you, her eyes narrowed as she looks between you, “Oh my god, hi! You must be Max’s ex!”

She rolls her eyes before smiling tightly with a nod of her head, “Yeah, I am. You must be his new girlfriend.”

You hum affirmatively, smiling wide as you glance over to the man beside you, “I am, yeah. He's just so perfect. We’re so happy together!”

She narrows her eyes again, glancing you up and down before her eyes stop on your face. You roll your head to the side to rest your temple on his shoulder, resting one of your hands against his chest.

“Well, I’m happy you moved on, Max,” She says, turning her entire attention to the man in question, “You seem… perfect together.”

Max gleams, nodding as he leans in to kiss your cheek, “Yeah, I’m really happy.”

His ex chews on her bottom lip for a few moments before huffing and moving away, turning to shout over her shoulder as she walks away, “Have a great life, Max!”

“Thanks, I guess!” Max replies, laughing as soon as the woman is out of earshot. He pulls away from your side, turning to fully face you.

“Thank you!” Max cheers, grasping your shoulders with his hands, “Did you see her face? She was so pissed that I'd moved on.”

You hum, letting him be happy by himself while you stood quietly, “Yeah, you're welcome.”

You peel away from Max, turning to go back to the car park so you can leave. You don't say anything to Max before you walk away, leaving him to jog to catch up to you.

“You okay?” He asks once he's by your side again. You glance over, catching the concerned look on his face.

“Yeah,” you nod curtly, looking back ahead, “Yeah, I'm fine.”

He doesn't seem convinced but he leaves it be, turning away as well.

He pretends not to notice when you coincidentally step away after he tries to grab your hand.

While Max debriefs, you text one of your friends to ask if you could stay with her for a few days when you got back to Monaco. After this fake relationship was over, you needed to get away from Max for a while just to try and push away the growing feelings you have for the Dutch man.

And with the departure of Max’s ex, you'd served your purpose and you could finally get out of Max’s life and give him the solitude he so longed for.

The ride back to the hotel is quiet, the only noise being the sound of your nails tapping against the screen of your phone. Max glances over periodically but you eventually set your phone down, choosing to stare out the window as the dark streets of Brazil pass by quickly.

When you get back to the hotel, you open the car door before Max can get it for you like he usually does. He sends you another glance, trailing passively behind as you walk in front of him. You both pass through the lobby and the elevator, your steps determined and much quicker than Max really wanted to be walking.

He's still riding the high of his win and the defeat of his ex-girlfriend but you're in your own mind, too sick to your stomach to be happy for him.

You pull out the spare room key when you arrive at the room, pressing it against the sensor before shoving the door open roughly, letting it fall against Max behind you who catches it.

You toss the key on the table by the door and set your phone down beside it. You still don't turn around as you throw the jacket he had let you borrow down on his bed.

"What is your problem?" You hear Max’s voice ring out in the otherwise quiet room. Annoyance paints his words, causing you to pause for a split-second.

"I don't have a problem." You say, cringing when you catch how much of a lie it sounds. You move on, though, pulling your suitcase out from under the bed and unzipping it.

Max scoffs, raising a disbelieving eyebrow, "Are you sure? Because it really feels like you do."

"It's nothing, Max." You reply sharply, walking into the attached bathroom, grateful to get away from his gaze for a second.

You come back out, your toiletry bag in hand. You set it down in your suitcase and stand up, walking over to the closet and pulling your clothes off the rack. The sound of the hangers hitting together echoes through your head, only contributing to the headache that had been growing since your revelation that morning.

Max finally catches onto what you're doing and speaks, his voice almost panicked, "What are you doing?"

"Leaving."

"What, already? Why?" You try not to be swayed by the hurt in his voice, turning around and walking past him to set your clothes down in your case.

He follows you over, stepping closer as you stand up. You try and step past him but he puts his arm out, stopping you in your tracks. You concede with a sigh, finally looking him in his eyes.

"It doesn't matter, Max.”

"But it does! What's wrong?" You finally step past him, on your way to go gather the rest of your things but his question makes you turn your head as you walk away.

"Max! It doesn't matter!" You immediately regret how loud your voice is but this wasn't exactly the time to be thinking about the people next door.

Max shakes his head, following you as you walk toward the doot in order to grab your shoes, "No, no, no. You've been like this all day and I can't think of a reason why. Do you really want to get away from me that badly?"

Your face twists, causing you to shake your head as you walk away, praying he wont follow you this time, "No, Max, that's not-"

He doesn't completely follow you but he does step a bit closer, shaking his head with a loud groan, "Then enlighten me! What could possibly happened in the past day that's making you act like this? Why are you leaving? Why won't you tell me? I thought we were supposed to be in this together! Why are you-"

"Because I'm in love with you, Max!" You shout, finally turning to face him as you say it, making eye contact with him for the first time since you'd walked in.

Silence falls between you and you toss your shoes down, covering your face with one of your hands. For a second, you think that Max might never respond, your stomach turning at the thought.

How hard could it be to find a different apartment in Monaco?

"What?" Max’s voice is soft and you look back to him, trying to will your frustrated tears not to fall.

"I'm in love with you! I fell in love with you and I know you don't feel the same. You only wanted me to do this to placate your friends and scare away your ex and now im getting out of your hair. I'm leaving you alone like you wanted in the first place,” Tears finally drip down your face and you don't bother to wipe them away, knowing there was only more where they came from. You look away as you explain, eyes locked onto the carpet beneath you, not wanting to face your embarrassment head-on.

"What are you talking about?" At Max’s purely confused tone, you look back to his face, teeth digging sharply into your bottom lip.

His face is soft, confusion etched into the furrow between his brows. Your stomach flips and you swallow, trying to rebuild the confidence you’d had at the start of your outburst.

The hotel room suddenly feels too cold, the air causing you to rub your hands over your shoulders in order to suppress the goosebumps that had started to rise. When you do speak again, your voice is soft, volume just above a whisper.

"This morning. You said I could stop coming after this race. And I did my job, I scared away your ex. You don't need me,” you trail off at the end of your statement, your voice breaking slightly as you shake your head, tears streaming out of your closed eyes and down your cheeks.

You expect Max to agree, to send you away, to end your friendship out of pure embarrassment after your decleration.

But he doesn't.

His voice is soft, just as yours was. His words are hushed but the emotion behind them seeps through every single word.

"I do, though. I do need you."

You look up, eyes widening at his statement. You can do nothing but stare as he steps closer, his hands grasping the sides of your face. Your own hands reach up to hold his wrists, just wanting to hold him someway.

He raises an eyebrow gently, quirking his head to ask for silent permission. You nod and its only a split-second before he's leaning down, pressing his lips against yours.

His hands cradle the back of your head, pulling you impossibly closer. Your heart threatens to beat out of your chest, his kiss causing your brain to practically melt. You mold together, leaning as close to him as you can as your hold conveys months and months of pent-up and hidden emotions.

As he pulls away, your lips want to chase his but you hold back, your eyes flickering open as he leans his forehead against yours. Neither of your speak for a few moments, silence settling between the two of you ask you bask in the adoration between you.

Max’s hand drifts back to your jaw, his thumb drifting across your cheekbone passively. You see his eyes look up and you glance up as well, catching his sparkling gaze in yours.

“I love you,” the words tumble out of his mouth, falling smoothly out of the lips you oh-so wished he would press against your own once again, “I'm in love with you. I fell for you during this whole thing, everything about you.”

You go to respond but he cuts you off, shaking his head lightly.

“I only told you that you could stop coming because I thought you'd grown tired of all this,” he takes a deep breath before continuing, leaning slightly into your hand that had drifted into his hair, “But I'm kind of glad I did.”

You furrow your eyebrows, quirking your head. Max pauses, allowing you the chance to admire every feature of his face, turning his freckles into constellations that you'd willingly stargaze in for hours. His hair is tousled from where your fingers had tangled in it and his lips are red from being pressed against yours. His teeth dig into said lip as he thinks before responding. You'd honestly be fine if he never finished his thought and you got to just look at him forever.

But he does finish his thought, the look in his eyes making your heart jump, "Because I don't want to pretend anymore."

You wait a moment, giving him the chance to take it back in case this was a joke, in case he didn't really mean it. But he doesn't take it back, he doesn't laugh.

And so you nod, "I want to do this with you for real, Max. I don't want to lie to anyone anymore, I want to celebrate with you after a race, not because people expect me to, but because I love you."

Max lights up, his face splitting into a wide grin at your words. Before you can react, his arms are around you and your feet are lifted off the ground as Max basically throws you onto the bed beside you.

Your laugh echoes through the hotel room, punctuated by the sound of Max flopping down next to you. You continue to giggle, glancing down to meet Max’s eyes, a special glint shining through.

You calm down after a few seconds as Max continures to gaze at you. When silence finally comes over you, Max leans up to rest on his elbows as you sit up slightly to look down at him.

“I love you too, by the way,” He says softly, “Dont know if you noticed.”

You hum, biting your lip to hold back your laugh, “I assumed so, yeah.”

You laugh as Max huffs, reaching a hand up to pull you down beside him, “Shut up.”

And you do, going quiet as your lips meet his. Later that night, as your both lying in bed, together this time, you fall asleep with your head against his chest, basking in the long-lastint but newly-confessed love between you.

The next morning, you wake up before Max, as you'd done so often. You slip out of his hold and pad over softly to the balcony, sliding on one of his hoodies before you open the sliding door.

You sink into one of the two chairs, looking out over the city of Sao Paulo as it slowly wakes up. The sun peeks out over the horizon, adding light to the previously dark morning.

Eventually, the door slides open behind you and you don’t even have to look to know it’s Max. But you look anyway, happy to take any chance to observe the man.

You take the mug from his offering hand, grasping the warm ceramic tightly. Max doesn’t walk over to the railing, instead moving toward the chair next to you. Before he sits down, he slides it over, pushing it as close to your chair as it could go. He sits down and you twist to sit sideways, leaning your legs over the arm of the chair. Max gently pulls your ankles over his chair to rest in his lap before he takes a long sip of his coffee.

You take a long sip of your own mug as well, letting the taste of the coffee coat your throat and warm your heart.

Milk and sugar, just the way you like it.

——————

Tags: @evie-119 @casperlikej

#scheduled #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #formula 1 #max verstappen x fem!reader #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x reader

3K notes · View notes

matchingbatbites · 12 days ago

Text

I saw this post and started thinking about vet tech Steve who helps this odd but cute couple with their dog who has swallowed something it shouldn't have. When they finally get the rottweiler to throw up the panties - a pair of lacy, forest green boy shorts - the room goes completely silent.

Steve, having heard stories similar to this, thinks that he's about to witness this girl realizing that her boyfriend is cheating on her. Instead the man whirls around to the woman with the most betrayed expression and says "Chrissy! You promised!"

Chrissy shrinks back, her face rapidly turning red as she says "I'm sorry! You were out so I went to the bar with Katie and she introduced me to this girl and she was so fucking hot, Eddie, I couldn't not bring her home!"

The man, Eddie, throws his hands up and says "We made a pact! You broke a holy bond! You shattered my faith in you!"

"It's No Nut November, Eddie, not some sacred oath!"

"Exactly! Do you know how many hot guys I've seen and walked away from because I thought Oh I can't betray Chrissy, it would crush her spirit!"

Steve rapidly realizes what's going on here, and while part of him wants to just leave so they can work this out, the other part of him stops and looks Eddie over. Takes in the messy hair and the nice hands and the cropped band shirt that exposes just enough of his midriff to make Steve interested.

"I'll help you get even, if you want," he finds himself saying, cutting through the bickering and silencing them instantly. Steve sees Eddie's own quick assessment of Steve's person, sees how brown eyes pause on his neck and arms and thighs.

Then he grins, big and sharp and says "I'm more than happy to take you up on that, sweetheart. Are you free tonight?"

#steve helps eddie get even then eddie and chrissy reactivate their pact #they go on dates for the rest of the month and its actually really nice for steve #getting to know someone without the looming pressure of sex (except for the first time of course)#but as soon as dec 1st hits you know he drags eddie to his place and they make up for lost time #joey writes #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham

2K notes · View notes

mommynott · 10 days ago

Text

Thin Ice

Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: Your friends drag you to a hockey game, but halfway through you lock eyes with Theo. You can’t help but feel a strong pull toward him. Deciding to shoot your shot with the player.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, SMUT, Chars 18+, Hockey AU, flirting, tons of tension, explicit language, hockey!theo, dom!theo

A/N: Starting this series for my babe @amiableness I hope you enjoy it because this is just the start! Also BIG shoutout to my girl @westcanaan82 for the hockey!theo render. Definitely go Check out her page because she makes me DROOOOL

The arena was packed, and the noise was overwhelming as you sat in your seat, begrudgingly dragged there by your friends. You were scrolling through your phone, totally uninterested in the game unfolding before you.

But then… it seemed out of nowhere. A tall and muscular figure on the ice caught your attention. Fuck he’s hot. It was player number 13, Theo, whose piercing eyes were fixed on you through his helmet.

You felt a smirk growing on your lips before he nodded his head up at you and skated along the ice. Shuffling a puck with his hockey stick with ease. The game going on. Fuck maybe this game isn’t too boring. You held your phone in your hand but your gaze settled on him on the ice. Suddenly gaining an interest in this sport.

After he shot a puck into the goal he pumped his fist in the air but you swore he looked over at you. Throwing you a flirty wink. And trust me, he fucking did. At this point, Theodore was trying to show off for you. Hoping he would get your attention. Craving your attention.

The game ended, and his team had won the match. But after all the eyefucking you two did you wanted to stay back in hopes to see that same player. “I’ll catch up with you guys later!” Your friends gave you a knowing look while they walked out. You slowly moved around the now quiet arena.

A few minutes later, you started to feel defeated, thinking he must’ve left but that’s when you heard a low and deep Italian accent. “I noticed you in the crowd…Seemed to be pretty glued to that phone of yours.”

Bright cherry red painted across your cheeks as you turned around. Quickly tucking your phone away in your purse, you gave the hockey player a small sheepish smile. “Uh…Yeah, sorry…It’s just not really my thing I guess.”

But when your gaze settled upon the player, he wasn’t in the same gear from on the ice. Oh no. he was now in a tight under-armor top, showing off his muscular and toned torso along with a pair of black sweatpants. Freshly out of the shower, his brown locks clung to his forehead. The smell of his body wash was rich and intoxicating as it wafted all around you. Fuck me.

“Not your thing, huh? What is your thing then?”

Theo asked, his taunting tone hinting with flirtatiousness. Feeling the way your heart skipped from his words. His deep voice. Fucking hell. You hesitated for a moment, your fingers anxiously playing with the rings you wore. “I don’t know…Reading…Movies.”

Replying to the Italian, he ran a hand through his wavy hair, slicking it back and giving you a charming smile. “A reader. Interesting….” Theodore said in the same teasing tone before sticking out his hand and you matched him, giving your own and shaking it. The second your hands met, a spark pulsated through your body.

“Nott. Theodore Nott. But you can call me Theo, Cara.”

The charming accent rolled off his tongue smoothly as you both exchanged names. You crossed your arms over your chest, shifting your weight to one leg. Bringing your confidence out. Something you always had. “Anyways…What’s interesting about me reading?” You asked, giving him a bratty little grin.

Theo cocked an eyebrow, scoffing under his breath as he took a step before you. Eyeing you up and down fully. “Ah, I’m not sure. Just interesting…What do you like to read?” He questioned as he casually leaned closer toward you.

You tried to focus but his voice, his words were so smooth it sent little shivers down your spine. "Umm… mostly romance— Stuff like that." You mentally chastised yourself for sounding so fucking cliche. He seemed very interested in you…Maybe even so much so that you could get some hockey player action.

Theo gave you a lazy smile and your heart fluttered, feeling the tension building between you both. "Romance, huh? That’s fitting." You raised an eyebrow, confused. What the fuck was he on about? “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, leaning even closer towards you. “You look like the romantic type….Soft…sweet— Y’know?.” Your cheeks burned again. Was he flirting with you? This couldn’t possibly be real. This was something out of the novels you’d read.

“Oh— Thanks I guess?” A sea of giggles freed from your lush lips. The same ones Theo’s eyes were burning into now. He stalked toward you as you walked back until you were pinned against the white brick wall of the ice rink.

He carefully took a strand of your hair, wrapping it around his pointer finger while his tongue poked the inside of his cheek. “Can I get the pretty girl's number, hm?” He asked, remaining not only charming but… cocky. Drawing you to him even more.

It seemed that your confidence exuded his own to creep out. But fuck did you like it. A confident man like this? Damn. “Huh…I’m not sure. Can you?” Teasing him right back you subtly bit your lower lip to fight back the giggles that wanted to escape from within.

“Fuckin’ tease. Isn’t that right?”

Theodore now pinned both of his hands above your head, practically towering over your tiny frame. “Perhaps just a little bit…” Breathing out your words, your gaze danced along with his ocean eyes. Feeling your heart thump hard against your chest.

“I like a tease…A challenge…” His tone now held something of mischief, giving him a different vibe. And fuck, your whole body was fucking feeling it. “Yeah?” You asked, bringing out more of your sultry tone, keeping your lips slightly parted as you glanced down to his own.

That was it. Theo was going to come in hot. Make his move. Smash his lips to yours. But just as he was millimeters away from ravishing you a loud shout was heard. “—Nott! Back in the locker room!” His fucking coach. What a cock block. Theo rolled his eyes and cursed in Italian under his breath.

“We aren’t finished here…” He replied to you lowly, throwing up his pointer finger to his coach. He reached into his pocket. Pulling out a pen and taking your arm. Feeling the tickle of his scribbling, He wrote something on it as you sat there dumbfounded.

Once he was done, you scanned over your forearm. In sloppy handwriting was written his number followed by “Text me, Tesoro ;)” giggling at his little winky face as you nodded your head.

With that, he walked off with his coach to the locker room. That night you got home thinking of everything and anything that could have happened if his damn trainer didn’t interrupt you two. That’s when you decided to send him a flirty yet risky text…

Ahhhh the start of hockey!theo 🏒🥅⛸️

Really hope y’all enjoyed im too excited to continue on with this au! ATP I have so many and STILL have some In the back of my mind help lol

As always asks and requests are open my sweet peas 💋

Divider pinned in my masterlist🌙

2K notes · View notes

choerrypuffs · 2 months ago

Text

red velvet hearts.

pairing: bad boy!donghyuck x baker!reader

genre: fluff, slight angst

word count: 7.7k

synopsis: you patch up a boy with a bloody nose and bruised knuckles, only to find out that he has quite the sweet tooth.

author’s note: why do i keep injuring hyuck in all my fics lmao??? anyways i tried to write his character a bit differently than i usually do to challenge myself so please let me know how you guys like it! also remember, ladies: this is fiction. you cannot fix him <3

warning(s): brief description of injuries, mentions of violence, maximum amounts of cringe and melodrama

playlist: all my ghosts by lizzy mcalpine ― heart eyes by coin ― close to you by gracie abrams ― sidelines by phoebe bridgers ― the alchemy by taylor swift

RECIPE 1. TIRAMISU

“This is not what I meant when I said you need your back blown out.”

“Not funny. I almost died,” you grumble as you wrap the back brace around your torso. You hate the immediate relief you feel from the support it provides, no longer able to tell yourself that it’s really not as bad as it seems―which only makes you angrier.

“Throwing your back out while lifting a giant bag of flour and nearly getting crushed to death by said flour is genuinely the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Yeri, your best friend (derogatory), snorts as she shakes her head. “I wish you had cameras in the storage room because I want to see that shit so bad.”

“Thank you for the brace. You can get the hell out now.” You roll your eyes.

“So, what are you going to do now? Aren’t you swamped with orders?” Yeri asks, ignoring you completely.

You have no clue what you’re going to do now. It isn’t just orders you have to worry about fulfilling; it’s also the freshly baked pastries that you have to sell every morning. After a year of blood, sweat, and tears, the bakery that you built from the ground up is finally starting to gain some stable business. So, of course, you chose now of all times to try to lift a bag of flour over your shoulder like you were Dwayne The Rock Johnson.

“I think I’ll have to hire some temporary help,” you answer begrudgingly.

“You could sound less like someone is holding you at gunpoint,” Yeri snorts, “Come on. It had to happen sooner or later anyway.”

“I was handling things just fine on my own.”

“Were you, though?” Yeri raises an eyebrow, gesturing to your current state.

You fear you walked right into that one. “Shut up and help me make some posters.”

The two of you eventually manage to whip up some haphazard “Help Wanted” posters, the letters written in glitter pen and Yeri’s clumsy bubble text. You tried your best to fill in the empty gaps on the construction paper by placing Pompompurin stickers that you normally give to customers’ kids all over it. The posters look like a nine-year-old girl’s school project gone wrong, but you hope it’s charming enough to catch some attention.

By the time you and Yeri finish hanging up all the posters, the sun is already starting to set, and all you want to do is go home and put a heating pad on your back. After saying bye to Yeri, you start making your way back to the bakery to lock up. Once you arrive, you notice a figure dressed in black slumped over in front of the door. You can see their shoulders rise up and down as they take in labored breaths, leaning against the glass door for support.

Every rational fiber in your being screams at you to not approach the stranger alone, but it’s not like you can just leave this person at the front of your place of business. Cautiously taking a step forward, you squat down to eye level with the stranger, wincing slightly from back pain. Through the sweaty and matted mess of his brown fringe, you can see that the stranger is a young man around your age. However, his face is absolutely battered: bloody (and almost certainly broken) nose, split lip, black eye swollen shut, and a jagged cut on his cheek. If he notices your presence, he doesn’t show it, keeping his head hung down.

Gingerly placing a hand on his arm, you give him a small shake. “Excuse me? Are you okay? Do you need me to call an ambulance?”

His brows furrow, and he opens an eye (the only one he’s probably able to open) with a wince before lifting a finger and putting it against his lips. You notice that his knuckles are completely scraped raw.

“Not so loud. I’m okay,” he answers.

“You don’t look―”

As if on cue, his stomach rumbles with a guttural growl that slowly drawls into a sputtering gurgle before dying out all together―leaving a long silence to hang between the two of you.

After another beat, he gives you a sheepish smile. “You got anything to eat?”

You stare at him for a moment; his face is flushed, pink all the way down to his neck.

And like a stupid horror movie character who opens the door to a room that clearly screams danger, you nod.

Fortunately, he―Donghyuck, as he introduced himself―ends up not being a crazy ax murderer.

Unfortunately, you find yourself awkwardly sitting in your closed bakery with a virtual stranger, fiddling with a first aid kit while watching him absolutely devour a piece of leftover tiramisu that you had in your fridge. If the situation wasn’t so insane, you might actually think it was pretty funny. For someone who looks the way he does, this current picture of Donghyuck absolutely doesn’t suit him―bruised chipmunk cheeks stuffed with ladyfingers and cocoa powder stuck on his split lip.

When he’s finished, Donghyuck looks over at you with a mesmerized expression on his face, as if you just fed him ambrosia. There’s a softness to his face that you didn’t think could exist underneath all that grime and dried blood.

“That was…delicious,” he breathes.

“Thanks,” you snort, pushing a glass of water towards him. Unsurprisingly, he chugs it in the blink of an eye. “I still think you should get those injuries checked out, though.”

“Nah, I’ll rub a little spit in them and it’ll be fine,” he shrugs.

“Don’t be gross,” you sigh, scooting your chair closer to him as you set the first aid kit on the table. “Now, come here.”

Donghyuck reluctantly dips his head, and you carefully cup his jaw for support, disinfecting and applying ointment on the cuts and scrapes on his face. You also clean up the dried blood near his nostrils and on his bottom lip, and he doesn’t flinch even when you accidentally brush tender areas like his broken nose or the gash on his mouth. Instead, he stays perfectly still, leaned back in the chair with his forearms resting on his thighs and fingers nonchalantly laced together.

He keeps his gaze trained on something past your shoulder, and you also try your best to focus, but it’s hard to keep yourself from staring―especially when his demeanor has changed so much. He’s so calm and quiet in such a cold, ruthless manner, as if he’s physically steeling himself from pain―like he’s done this a million times before. Occasionally, you feel his eyes swipe across your face when he thinks you’re not paying attention, and it occurs to you how close the two of you are. Suddenly, you’re acutely aware of the heat of his skin against your palm and fingertips, and you rip your hand away from his jaw.

Clearing your throat, you move onto his hands, dabbing his raw knuckles with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol before placing large band-aids on them. Despite your best efforts, it’s hard not to notice how slim his long fingers are or how surprisingly clean his nail beds are for someone who’s covered in blood. You keep your head completely bent, fighting the urge of looking up and possibly meeting his eyes.

“There, all done,” you announce a little too loudly.

“Thank you,” he says softly, “for the cake and for this. For helping me.”

“Don’t worry about it. I didn’t do much,” you blurt, still avoiding eye contact as you clean up the table. However, you notice in your peripheral that his gaze follows your movements, almost hesitantly, before he asks:

“So, you’re hiring?”

You click the first-aid kit shut, blinking a few times before turning back to him. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

“I―yeah. How did you know that?” you ask, puzzled by such a random question.

Donghyuck points at a poster that you didn’t even know you left here, sitting on the table right behind you. You realize that he was probably looking at it while you were patching him up.

“That poster that says ‘help wanted.’ With the Pompompurin stickers. I’m actually in between jobs right now, so if you would have me―”

“You know Pompompurin?” you interrupt him. It’s not that important and should not stand out to you as much as it does. Yet, you can’t help but grin at the fact that someone like him knows about a tubby Golden Retriever character with a name that sounds like a mashup of the English language’s most adorable onomatopeias.

Donghyuck trails off, stiffening as if you just found out his deepest, darkest secret. He opens his mouth slightly, trying to speak but unable to formulate a response―an excuse, rather. Instead, he just lets out an airy cough, putting a hand over his mouth and turning away from you in an attempt to obscure his face. Despite his best efforts, he can’t hide his glowing red ears and the way his earlier coldness melts away.

“I―yeah,” he responds, words slightly muffled by his hand.

You struggle to maintain your composure as you gnaw on your bottom lip to keep from laughing. Fighting a smile in your voice, you finally say:

“The pay won’t be that much, but you’ll get a bunch of free desserts at the end of the day. Are you okay with that?”

It takes him a moment to process that you’re offering him the job, and you watch his eyes light up and a warm smile overtake his face. There’s still a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks, clashing with the purple bruising and swelling of his injuries.

“I’d love nothing more.”

Suddenly, it occurs to you that Donghyuck somewhat reminds you of a tiramisu.

He may look a bit rugged and grimey, bitter like coffee, but in actuality, underneath it all, he’s soft and fluffy (but not too sweet) like a mascarpone filling.

RECIPE 2. BLUEBERRY PIE

“Are you out of your mind?”

You cringe away from your phone, hurriedly turning the volume down. “Damn, you don’t have to scream like that.”

“You should be the one screaming,” Yeri hollers. “I better not come over one day and find your body stuffed in the freezer or something.”

“I thought you wanted me to hire someone!”

“Not some random dude off the side of the street who was covered in injuries and doesn’t even have any baking experience,” Yeri hisses.

“I don’t need him to bake. I just have him working the front counter and doing all the heavy lifting when I get my ingredient shipments,” you protest. “Did you think I would really just hand over all my orders to some random dude and go party it up in Cancún or something?”

Yeri is silent for several seconds before asking, “He’s hot, isn’t he?”

“What?”

“So you did know what I meant when I said you needed your back blown out.” You can hear the smugness in her voice.

“Yeri,” you say tiredly, “please be serious.”

“I am serious. You’re the one being unserious,” she retorts. “Yesterday, you acted like you would rather sacrifice your firstborn child before hiring a part-timer, and now look at you. Dickmatized.”

“Okay, I’m hanging up now.”

“So, when do I get to meet him―”

You quickly hit the button to end the call and shove your phone into your pocket, letting out an exasperated sigh. You definitely won’t be hearing the end of that for a while. Your face feels warm for some reason, and you decide that you need a coffee break. After you finish making it, you pour yourself and Donghyuck a cup.

You peek your head out from the curtain that separates the kitchen and the front counter to see if Donghyuck is busy. He’s politely chatting with an elderly woman, and your eyes nearly pop out of your head when he takes out the entire tray of egg tarts in the glass display and wraps it up for her. The woman happily hands him a wad of bills and waves him goodbye. After putting the cash in the register, Donghyuck turns around and catches you in the middle of gawking.

“Oh, Y/N. I was actually just about to head back there. We’re out of egg tarts for the display,” he says nonchalantly.

“Uh, yeah, I can see that,” you whisper loudly, “Was that Mrs. Kim? Why the hell did she order a dozen egg tarts? That woman can barely finish a single cookie.”

Donghyuck blinks, clearly confused, whispering back, “She asked for my recommendation, so I said egg tarts since no one had bought any yet, and she said she would take all of them.”

You pause, things finally clicking. Grinning knowingly, you say, “You know, having you work the front is doing wonders for sales.”

“I don’t understand.” He furrows his brows.

You laugh, handing him his cup of coffee. “I’m talking about your face card, Donghyuck. You’re too handsome, so you’re flustering the customers.”

“Are we not whispering anymore?” he asks awkwardly. “Besides, that’s not true. Look at the state of my face right now.”

His injuries have faded significantly, but the bruising and cuts are still there. You want to tell him that superficial wounds can’t mask the warmth in his caramel-brown eyes, the fullness of his cheeks and the sharp jawline, and the air of mystery that enshrouds him and draws people in.

But you don’t.

“Well, for someone who’s only been working here for two weeks, you’re doing superb. Injuries or not.”

And it’s true. You’ve always preferred to work alone because you’re the only one who understands how you want things done. You naturally assumed it would be a hassle and a waste of time to try to explain to someone else when you could just do it yourself, but Donghyuck never seems to need an explanation. In fact, he knows before even you.

He gets to the bakery three hours before you, cleans and preps all the equipment you need for the day, unloads the ingredient shipments, and is already manning the front counter by the time you arrive like it was no big deal at all. He also seems to have a sixth sense of knowing when you’re about to do something you shouldn’t be, even though you downplayed your back injury. He’s somehow always there―moving all the stuff you keep on the top shelf to somewhere within your reach even though you insisted that the rickety wooden step stool you use is perfectly safe, cleaning up a glass beaker that you accidentally shattered, taking out the trash during his breaks, checking in on you when you skip lunch. He even turned down his first paycheck, saying it’s repayment for patching him up and feeding him.

Donghyuck is so perfect that sometimes you wonder if you’re being set up, like maybe he’s secretly embezzling money from the cash register―which would be a more viable theory if he didn’t drive an Audi to work everyday.

“Thanks for the compliment. And the coffee,” Donghyuck says, snapping you out of your thoughts. He gingerly takes a sip and makes a strangled noise, a mixture being choking and retching, before slapping a hand over his mouth.

“Are you okay? Was it too hot?” you ask worriedly.

“No, it’s just…really bitter,” he mumbles, words muffled in his hand.

“Oh,” you blink, “Sorry. I drink black coffee, so I forgot to ask if you wanted creamer and sugar. Come on, there’s some in the back.”

The two of you head to the kitchen, and you watch him dump an exorbitant amount of creamer and sugar in his coffee, the dark roast swirling into something more akin to milk tea.

“You know, there might be some chocolate milk in the fridge if you’d rather that,” you tease.

His head shoots up, those doe eyes lighting up. “Really?”

“No,” you trail off awkwardly, “Sorry, I'm just messing with you.”

It’s a bit adorable that you can visibly see him being disappointed in there not being chocolate milk before growing embarrassed, looking down at his cup. He turns away from you, but you can see the flush on the back of his neck.

“You really have a sweet tooth, huh?” you laugh.

“Pretty lame, right?”

“Why would that be lame? You’re talking to someone who owns a bakery, in case you forgot.”

Donghyuck smiles at you, and it’s sugary sweet like buttercream frosting. He looks at you like you just said the most wonderful thing in the world; in fact, he always makes you feel like that, no matter what you say or do. “I guess you’re right.”

“What’s your favorite dessert?” you blurt, needing a distraction urgently.

He pauses briefly. “I don’t think I have one.”

That actually surprises you. “You don’t? Even though you love sweets so much?”

He laughs, the sound harsh and rough, and it almost makes you flinch. “I’ve never really had an opportunity to have many until now.”

There’s clearly weight behind his words, but you know you’re not in a position to ask any further. A selfish part of you wants to be important enough to him that you are in a position to know more, but you’re all too aware about him very purposefully keeping you at arm’s length.

“Well, you have plenty of time to find out,” you quickly continue, pretending not to notice. “Actually, I’m going to a blueberry farm tomorrow because I’m thinking about adding blueberry pie to the menu. When I get back, I’ll bake one for you, and you can be the first to taste test it!”

“You’re going by yourself?” Donghyuck raises an eyebrow.

“Of course. Who else would I go with?”

“Me. I’ll go with you,” he replies immediately.

“But it’s, like, a forty-five-minute bus ride to the farm. Plus, coming with me to get ingredients isn’t part of your job description anyway,” you explain.

“I can’t come with you on my own free time?” he asks, tilting his head. “Besides, I’m worried about you overexerting yourself with that back injury. A bumpy bus ride definitely isn’t going to help, so I’ll drive us there.”

“You’re going to drive that fancy ass car to a farm? You do realize it’s going to be dirt roads, right?” You cross your arms.

“I think I’ll live. Besides, what makes you think this is the only fancy ass car I own?” He gives you an amused smile.

“You’re joking, right?” You stare at him.

He hesitates for a moment. “Yes.”

“That doesn’t sound―”

“What time are we leaving tomorrow morning?”

“...Seven.”

Unsurprisingly, Donghyuck picks you up right on time, not a minute too early or late. As the universe would have it, it rained the night prior―meaning all the dirt roads are now rivers of mud. You wince every time you heard a splat of mud hit Donghyuck’s pristine white car, but he seems to pay no mind to it. The two of you arrive at the farm within twenty minutes (he found a shortcut), and because you came so early, you get the entire farm to yourselves. The staff arms both of you with a large wicker basket each before setting you loose onto the massive property.

“Okay, make sure to pick the fat ones. The small ones are super tart, so avoid those,” you instruct Donghyuck. “We’re going to fill these baskets to the brim and get our money’s worth.”

“You got it, Captain.” He salutes.

You give him a determined nod and a thumbs up before turning to your respective side and beginning to pick the blueberries. The two of you work without much fanfare or conversation, and it’s a silence that lingers between you comfortably. It reassures you to hear the sound of the bushes rustling from Donghyuck working; his companionship alone relaxes you.

Eventually, when the sun starts peeking through and the weather grows warmer, both of you decide to take a break. You find a spot in the shade before sitting down, pulling out snacks and bottles of water from a backpack Donghyuck brought along.

“I have a surprise for you,” you tell him, trying to hide a smile. “Close your eyes.”

He eyes you suspiciously but does so anyway. You fish out a handful of unripe blueberries wrapped in a handkerchief from your pocket and feed some to him. His reaction is nearly instant the moment he starts chewing them; you watch as his face puckers up from how sour they are and his entire body shrivels into itself, a shudder running through him. He’s polite enough to not spit them out, but you’re not polite enough to resist pointing and laughing at him. Throwing your head back, you laugh so hard that your stomach starts to hurt.

“Oh my God, your face!”

“Ugh,” Donghyuck groans, taking a big gulp of his water. “I should’ve known you had sinister intentions from the start.”

“I didn’t think you’d react like that,” you finally manage to say after catching your breath. “You really can’t handle anything except for sweet stuff.”

“Are you having fun bullying me?” He rolls his eyes.

“So much fun,” you say in a sing-song voice.

Donghyuck tries to continue feigning annoyance, but he can’t help the low chuckle that rumbles in his chest. His eyes always soften when he looks at you, and his gaze is intimate like a lover’s―gentle, tender, unwavering, and vulnerable. But his warmth is always fleeting, and he only allows you glimpses of it through the unmoving walls that he’s erected around himself.

You wish he wouldn’t indulge you so, terrified you’ll try to cross the line he’s drawn between the two of you.

“What are you thinking about?” Donghyuck asks, trying to read your expression

“About the delicious pie I’m about to make when we get back,” you smile.

“I see,” he responds, though it’s clear he isn’t convinced. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“You better be. This is how I’m paying you back for driving me here,” you nod.

“Instead of that, pay me back by telling me what your favorite dessert is,” he suddenly says. “I do still want the pie, though.”

“That was random,” you snort. “Why do you want to know my favorite dessert?”

“Because you asked me, but you never told me yours.”

You suppose he has a point, but you find it ironic that he wants to know more about you when he refuses to offer you even a modicum of information about himself. Despite this, you tell him anyway because you are obviously the fool here.

“If you must know, it’s red velvet cake,” you sigh.

“Why?”

You don’t answer at first, carefully thinking about if you’re ready to be vulnerable in front of him―still a virtual stranger. A virtual stranger who loves sweets. A virtual stranger who is a bit of a messy eater. A virtual stranger who knows Pompompurin. A virtual stranger who worries about you even when he’s not on the clock. A virtual stranger who gently tells you to be careful whenever you try to do something dangerous, whispering, “I’ll do it instead.” A virtual stranger who allows his luxury car to be caked in mud for you.

“Because it’s the dessert that made me realize I want to do this for the rest of my life,” you finally say. “I baked it for my mom’s birthday, and I think I ended up being more excited than her.”

Donghyuck stays quiet, gauging your reaction.

“I was in college, studying to be a doctor like everyone else in my family. So, like a dumb young person who thought that dreams were more important than money, I dropped out of college and went to culinary school. My parents told me I was ruining mine and their lives, disowned me, yada-yada―a bunch of depressing stuff, you know. Eventually, I graduated, took out a huge loan, and opened up my own bakery. Worked a bunch of part-time jobs until my business could stand on its own. Now here I am. Still in debt, though,” you laugh awkwardly. “But I’m not doing too shabby. I was able to hire you, so at least I have a little cash to spare.”

He still doesn’t say anything, so you find yourself starting to ramble. You’re really not sure what possessed you to trauma dump on him like that.

“You know, a lot of people talk shit about red velvet cake because they say the only thing that makes it special is the red food coloring,” you hurriedly explain, “but that’s not true. The cream cheese frosting is super important too. Also, I always say love is the most important ingredient of all. As a baker, you’re kind of baring your heart to the customer, and isn’t it kind of cute that red velvet cake is red like a heart? Okay, please say something now or else I think I’m going to projectile vomit.”

Donghyuck reaches over and brushes a sweaty lock of hair out of your face. His fingers brush over your temple, which makes you sharply suck in a breath. You almost lean into his touch, but you catch yourself. His hand slightly lingers on the side of your neck, like he wants to bring your face closer, but he eventually pulls away.

He searches your face, and you’re not sure what he’s looking for―if anything. Rather, perhaps he’s not searching. Perhaps he’s committing your features to his memory, as if the way you look right now is something he wants to remember forever.

“You’ve worked hard, Y/N,” he says softly, voice slightly hoarse. “This is long overdue, but congratulations. You achieved your dream, and don’t let anyone ever discount that. Not even yourself.”

You wonder how long you’ve waited to hear that. You’re not even sure you knew you needed to hear that. But when Donghyuck says it, it hits you just how long and hard you’ve worked all on your own without a single break. Throughout the years, you’ve really only ever heard, “I’m sorry that happened.” When was the last time someone congratulated you? When was the last time you congratulated yourself?

You surge forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying your face in his shoulder. Donghyuck cradles you against him, one hand wound tightly around your waist while the other is tangled in your hair. You can feel his chest rise up and down as he holds you. He smells like lavender soap and a bit earthy from being outside, and the warmth of his skin against your cheek makes you want to close your eyes and fall asleep in his arms.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“No, thank you,” he murmurs into your hair.

You’re not sure why he’s thanking you instead, but what you are sure of is that you’re crossing the line, taking a step towards him and wondering if he’ll meet you halfway.

“Tada!” you announce cheerfully, setting down the freshly baked blueberry pie onto the table.

Donghyuck claps excitedly. “Holy shit, it looks amazing.”

“I’m still trying to figure out the right portions for the filling, so let me know if you think there’s too much or little,” you tell him as you hand him a slice.

Without even answering you, he stabs his fork into the pie and almost eats the entire slice in one bite, seemingly unbothered by the steam still rising from it.

“Be careful. You’re going to burn your tastebuds off. I’m not letting you eat it for shits and giggles, you know. This is for research purposes.” You cross your arms.

“It’s perfect, Y/N. I’m serious,” Donghyuck says after swallowing. “The filling isn’t too sweet, and the crust is airy and light.”

“Well, alright, Gordon Ramsay. I think we’re going to be adding a new menu item then,” you smile. “Think you can get Mrs. Kim to buy a dozen of these?”

“I don’t think she’ll need much convincing with how good these taste.”

“You’re so easy,” you tease. “All I need to do is feed you. Anyways, I’m going to clean up here, but you should head home. It’s getting late, and you wake up way earlier than me.”

“I’ll help,” he insists.

“Go,” you order, pointing at the door. “I can handle it.”

He looks conflicted but eventually relents when you threaten to physically kick him out. Before he leaves, he turns back to you and says, “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Why do you keep thanking me?” you laugh.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had this.”

“What? A blueberry pie?”

Donghyuck pauses, a slight wonder in his expression, as if he’s realizing his answer for the first time as well.

“Peace.”

And you think maybe this is a step forward for him too.

RECIPE 3. CREAM PUFF

It’s quite surreal how easily and naturally you and Donghyuck fall into a routine together. Somehow, in the blink of an eye, two weeks becomes two months. You’ve learned the little things about him, like how he always swipes some icing before you can fill up the piping bag or that he’s not a coffee drinker at all (more of a hot cocoa person) or that he purses his lips when a dessert he’s testing tastes off (no matter how hard he tries to hide it) or that he involuntarily sticks his arm out in front of you when he wants to stop you from doing something you shouldn’t.

You also notice that he sometimes comes into work with injuries. They’re not nearly as bad as the first time you met him, but it’s hard to ignore a bruised cheek or bloodied knuckles. He always has a reason for them, whether it’s tripping down the stairs or accidentally falling down and scraping his hands on the concrete. You can tell by the way he laughs it off that he doesn’t plan on telling you the truth, so you laugh with him. The two of you, having taken only a step towards one another, find yourselves completely immobile now.

He always does this: envelops you like a cloud but disappears the moment you reach out for him.

You’re honestly not sure why he’s still here. Your injury has long healed, and he clearly doesn’t need the abysmal pay you’re giving him. He feels like he’ll slip away at any moment, fleeting like a warm spring breeze, and you suppose time flies by when you know it’s limited. Despite knowing that, you can’t help but desperately want him to stay.

“I think it’s cute how hard he’s working,” Yeri randomly says one day as she eyes Donghyuck prepare orders in the front. He’s in the middle of a lunchtime rush, so he doesn’t even notice the two of you watching him like weirdos.

“Well, that’s what I’m paying him to do,” you reply, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, I think the money is the least of his worries here,” she hums, taking a sip of her coffee.

She has a point, but you’re pretty sure she’s implying something else as well. Just as you go to ask her what exactly she means, you hear a loud clatter. Flinching, you turn your attention back to Donghyuck and realize that he’s dropped a tray on the floor. However, the tray is the last thing on your mind when you see the expression on his face. It’s a mixture of horror, anger, and almost sadness―like he’s finally come face-to-face with whatever he’s been running from. It makes your blood run cold.

Donghyuck is looking at a boy around his age; the boy has dark hair, a mole under his eye, and a grim expression. More importantly, he’s covered in injuries too.

“Who is that?” Yeri whispers. “Why does Donghyuck look like he’s seen a ghost?”

Maybe because he has, you want to tell her.

Donghyuck grabs the boy's arm, squeezing so tightly that his knuckles turn white, and mumbles something to him. When he turns around and meets your eyes, he looks pained and fearful as if you witnessed something you shouldn’t have.

“Is it okay if I take my break early today?” he asks calmly, though the tremor in his voice gives him away.

You nod hesitantly, unable to force yourself to speak. You watch him as he drags the boy out; when he passes you, you can tell how tightly his body is wound right now. His jaw is clenched, a muscle spasming as he tries to control himself, and every step he takes seems labored. He’s running on pure adrenaline right now, like he’s physically steeling himself.

However, you don’t think he’s ever appeared so incredibly alone before. As you watch his back disappear further and further from your view, you’re unsure if he’ll ever return, and you never imagined how terrifying that would be.

The cream puffs aren’t rising.

You’re crouched in front of the oven, watching the dough remain flat and lifeless. You should’ve known better than to attempt to make cream puffs on such a shitty day, especially when pastries like these are so sensitive to the environment and atmosphere. Even though you know you should probably just scrap them and try again, you wait for just a little longer, hoping that maybe if you wish hard enough that they’ll magically start to rise.

But then again you suppose that no matter how hard you try, no matter how careful you are, no matter how perfect the batter is, no matter how much time you spend time piping them, no matter how much you want them to rise, they won’t.

You decide that Donghyuck isn’t like a tiramisu at all; he’s sensitive and delicate and elusive and frustrating like a cream puff.

“Y/N, they’re burning.”

Losing your balance and nearly falling over, you gasp loudly. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even hear Donghyuck walk into the kitchen, nor did you smell the undeniable scent of something being burnt to a crisp.

“Oh, fu―!” you curse, hurriedly opening the oven and casually suffocating both you and Donghyuck with a hot plume of air. Sputtering, you look around and grab a random rag from the sink before reaching for the cream puffs.

“Wait, stop!” Donghyuck stops you with an outstretched arm, his hand pressed to your side. “Let me do it.”

He gently takes the rag from your hand and removes the tray of charred cream puffs from the oven, dumping them into the trash before putting the tray in the sink and running some water on it―just how you like it.

Letting out a relieved sigh, he turns back to you and asks, “Are you okay? It’s not like you to make a mistake like that. You didn’t get burned anywhere, did you?”

When you don’t answer immediately, Donghyuck rushes forward and grabs your hands, carefully examining your fingers and arms. “Wait, are you hurt? Where? Tell me where you got burned. We have to cool it down with some lukewarm water. And don’t just say you’re fine. Burns are not a joke, Y/N―why are you looking at me like that?”

His hands are calloused and rough, and you can still see scabs from where he tore his knuckles, yet he touches you like you’re the delicate one. He’s covered in fresh and old wounds, yet he looks so panicked at the thought of you having a scratch.

“Shut up,” you whisper furiously, ripping your hands away from him. “From now on, don’t ask me another question. It’s my turn to ask you questions.”

He blinks, a bit stunned by your reaction, but it’s clear he knows what you’re about to say. He goes to reach for you again but decides against it. “Okay.”

“Who was that guy?” you demand. “Why are you always covered in injuries? Why did you lie to me? Who are you?”

“He’s an old friend,” Donghyuck starts quietly.

“Do you treat all your friends like that?”

“When I don’t want to see them.”

You wait for him to continue.

“Before I met you, he and I and a few of our other friends worked…odd jobs for cash,” he explains, and he looks like he’s choking on every word. “The jobs usually entailed us hurting people and also getting hurt. I did a lot of shit I wasn’t proud of. At the time, I didn’t really care. It was just nice to feel something, whether it was the adrenaline rush from doing the punching or the pain from being punched. I got a bunch of money, bought a bunch of expensive stuff, but none of it mattered. Eventually, I just felt nothing again. I didn’t even have the energy to loathe myself anymore. So, I took one last job, got the shit kicked out of me, and then I left. That’s when you found me―”

He inhales, and his eyes flicker towards you. He gazes at you so longingly, as if you were impossibly out of his reach, that you can’t help but involuntarily take a step towards him.

But he steps back.

“I thought that working here would make me feel like a human being again, but I didn’t realize how much I would―” He pauses again. “I thought working here would be a nice reset for me, but I naively thought that I could completely leave my past behind. My friends eventually found me, and I guess I care about those reckless assholes more than I thought because they managed to convince me to take on a few more jobs with them. That’s why I’ve been coming to work with injuries. But I’m done. I cut them off for good when they walked into this bakery. I don’t want…I don’t want our past to tarnish this place. I want to keep this place a beautiful, warm, and pure safe haven that you worked so hard for it to be. That’s why I lied to you, Y/N. I’m a coward to the bone, and I was envious of you. I was ashamed to admit it to you. You, who had the courage to chase after your dream. You, who had the kindness to help a good-for-nothing asshole like me. I only want you to have happy memories from now on, and I am not one of them.”

“Are you going to leave?” you ask softly.

“I probably should,” he answers shakily.

“What’s stopping you?”

“Just…one reason.”

“When you say it like that, it makes it sound like the reason is me.”

Donghyuck laughs bitterly, and his eyes drag across your face like every movement hurts him.

“You know it’s you. It’s always been you.”

When you reach for his hand, he turns away like just the warmth from your body heat burns him. So instead, you take a step back.

“I won’t ask you to stay, Donghyuck, I won’t chase you. I’m going to wait right here, and it’s up to you if you're going to meet me halfway.”

RECIPE 4. RED VELVET CAKE

When your alarm clock goes off the next morning, you seriously consider just not showing up to work. It’s not like you can be fired for being a no-show when you’re your own boss, after all.

And it’s not like you have any employees who will be expecting you.

You’ll just apologize to Mrs. Kim and your other regulars later. You’re allowed to have a day where you just rot in bed and feel sorry for yourself.

However, no matter how much you tell yourself that, you find yourself crawling out of bed and getting ready anyway. You can’t seem to brutally crush that small glimmer of hope that Donghyuck might still be there, no matter how hard you try. When you see yourself in the mirror, you recoil in horror. Your eyes are almost swollen shut from the amount of crying you did last night, and your face is sallow and lifeless.

So much for putting on a brave face, you think wryly to yourself. You tried so hard to look tough, when in reality, you bawled your eyes out and even considered praying to God for Donghyuck to stay. It’s a humiliating and humbling reality check.

“Stand up right now,” you sharply tell yourself in the mirror. “He’s just some guy. Get it together.”

You do your best to clean up your appearance and make the trek over to the bakery. It takes another internal pep talk before you can make your way to the door. After you finally walk up, you see that the lights inside are off. Your stomach sinks, and your eyes start to burn. Even though you’re holding the handle, you can’t bring yourself to open the door. It’s an outcome that you expected, yet you wonder why it hurts so badly.

“You liar,” you mumble to yourself, “You said you only wanted me to have happy memories.”

Once you make your way inside, you numbly head towards the kitchen, trying to remember what exactly you have to do today. Oh right, now that he’s not here, you also have to make sure all the ingredients are prepped first.

When you walk into the kitchen, you do a double-take.

The whole place looks like it’s been completely ransacked: used pans and utensils piled up in the sink, two opened boxes of cake mix, containers of ingredients without lids on on the tables, random lumps of flour and egg shells strewn about―

And right in front of the oven is Donghyuck, flour in his hair and frosting on his nose. He’s holding a cake stand with…you think it’s supposed to be a cake on it? The shape is mangled and haphazardly cut, but it has echoes of a heart. The frosting is a hot mess, as if a bird with diarrhea shat all over the cake. The batter is clearly underbaked and makes the cake look gooey in a bad way.

“Um, I promise I’ll clean all of this up in a second, but I wanted to surprise you,” Donghyuck starts awkwardly. “It’s not perfect, but I tried making a red velvet cake for you.”

You stare at him, still not sure how to react.

“You once said that baking is like baring your heart to the customer and that love is the most important ingredient of all,” he laughs softly to himself. “I think love is the only ingredient I managed to get right, but I’m baring my heart to you now, Y/N. I’m sorry I hid everything and lied to you, but I’m in love with you. Hopelessly so. All my life, I’ve chased a feeling, not knowing what it was. But now I do. I don’t think I knew how to feel until I met you. I never once thought I would ever have a purpose in my life, but you make me want to be a normal, proper member of society. Your dream is my dream. I want to wake up at 5AM and sell egg tarts with you for the rest of my life, if you’ll have me.”

Donghyuck sets the cake down on a table in front of you, and you notice that his fingers are dyed red from the food coloring. It almost reminds you of when you first met him, except his injuries have been replaced with red food coloring, flour, and cream cheese frosting.

“This cake is terrible,” you smile, “how did you butcher it that badly when you used cake mix?”

You watch him blush all the way down to his neck, as he sheepishly looks away. “Don’t make fun of me. I really tried my best. I stayed up watching tutorials―”

Leaning across the table, you cup his face with both hands and kiss him, brushing your thumbs across his cheekbones. He tastes like frosting, hot cocoa, and your prayers being answered. The way he kisses you back is bruising, dizzying and knocking any coherent thought out of your head, his hands finding your hips and anchoring you to him. He kisses you like you’re the sweetest and most wonderful thing he’s ever tasted.

When you finally pull away, it takes you a moment to regain feeling in your legs. Donghyuck presses his forehead against yours, lips brushing against yours once again as the two of you try to catch your breath.

“I think I’m going to have to fire you, though,” you whisper. “You know, with me being your boss and all. The power dynamic is too weird.”

He hums, pausing for thought. “Then how about I become your business partner?”

“What?”

Donghyuck reaches into his pocket and fishes out his wallet, pulling out a shiny and fancy-looking credit card. He hands it to you without much fanfare.

“I have a lot of money, you know. So I’m going to invest in your business. Use it as you’d like,” he casually announces.

You stare at him, your jaw hanging wide open. He never tried to hide from you that he was rich, but he never told you that he was rich rich.

“Well, damn! Why didn’t you show me this earlier? I would have forgiven you a lot sooner,” you tease, slapping him on the arm. “Are you sure you want to give this to me? I’m quite the gold-digger, you know.”

“When I told you to use it as you’d like, I meant me as well,” Donghyuck replies, shrugging.

“You’re insane.” You hope he can’t tell how much your face is burning up.

“I guess I am,” he laughs, and you don’t think he’s ever looked so free. You want to tell him that you hope he only has happy memories from now on too. You want to tell him that you’ll rewrite all of his scars with sugary and fluffy desserts so that they won’t ever hurt again.

And for the first time in your life, you feel it too.

Peace.

EXTRA

“So, have you figured out what your favorite dessert is?”

Donghyuck stirs slightly, groaning, as he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. He slips his hand under your shirt (well, technically it’s his shirt) and rests it on your bare hip bone.

“Why aren’t you asleep?”

“Because I’m curious.”

“If I answer, will you let me rest?”

“Depends on how good your answer is.”

“Blueberry pie. That’s my answer.”

You smile against the crook of his neck.

“Why?”

“Because it’s the dessert that made me realize I want to do this for the rest of my life.”

#nct imagines #nct scenarios #haechan fluff #haechan angst #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 angst #nct 127 imagines #haechan #nct #choerrypuffs

2K notes · View notes

strcwbrryklss · 2 months ago

Text

୨୧﹕ forgive me .ᐟ oneshot

pairing ; father charlie mayhew x fem!reader contains ; tension , smut ( oral m receiving ) a/n ; i rewatched fleabag season two and HAD to write this for my own sake ( also havent proofread this,, so just ignore any mistakes pls. summary ; it has been 160 days since your last confession.

the soft hum of hymns filled the stone walls of the church, echoing through the vast, candlelit space. the congregation sat quietly, hands folded in prayer or resting on their laps, their eyes fixed on the alter.

the heavy scent of incense hung in the air, weaving between the polished wooden pews, where you sat toward the back, trying to focus on the words of the sermon. the light from the stained glass windows poured in, casting delicate hues of red, blue, and gold across the congregation, illuminating the man at the front of the church.

father charlie.

your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at him, your fingers nervously gripping the edge of the pew. you had tried to stop coming to mass, but something always drew you back here—drew you back to him. each week, you told yourself it would be different. you would listen to the sermon, find solace in his words, and leave without this gnawing ache in your chest.

but it never worked.

father charlie stood at the altar, the bible held firmly in his hands as he delivered his message, his voice deep and smooth, filling the grand space with a quiet authority. his tone was soft, but it held power, a magnetic pull that kept everyone’s attention on him. but while the others listened intently to the words of faith, of virtue and devotion, your mind was far from holy thoughts.

your eyes traced the lines of his jaw, the way the sunlight caught in his brown hair, making the strands shine beneath the dim lighting of the cathedral. his features were sharp but kind, his strong brows furrowed in concentration as he spoke about resisting the temptations of the flesh.

temptation.

the word reverberated through you, sending a jolt of heat to your core. temptation, the feeling you knew far too well. father charlie’s hands moved as he gestured lightly with his sermon, and you found yourself imagining those hands on you, instead of the bible. you swallowed hard, pulse quickening as your thoughts drifted to places you knew they shouldn’t go, especially here — especially with him.

he was the very definition of unattainable, a man sworn to a life of celibacy, of purity. and yet, you couldn’t stop the thoughts that rushed through your mind every time you looked at him. every sunday, you sat in the same pew, feeling that same magnetic pull toward him, a pull you couldn’t explain and couldn’t resist.

his robes hung loosely on his tall, lean frame, the fabric shifting with each subtle movement he made. beneath them, you knew there was something stronger, something more human than the holy image he portrayed. and the thought of that made your stomach twist with desire.

you could barely breathe, the church suddenly feeling too warm, too confined. you bit your lip, eyes darting to the floor as you tried to steady your racing thoughts. this was wrong. so wrong. but you couldn’t help it. every word that came from his lips only seemed to make it worse, sending your mind spiraling deeper into a fantasy you had tried so hard to bury.

you imagined it so clearly now — being alone with him after the congregation had gone. the church would be empty, the candles burning low, the flickering flames casting long shadows along the stone walls. you would step toward him, heart pounding, and when your hand brushed his, you’d feel the heat of his skin, the tension between you palpable. he would hesitate, of course. his vows, his faith — they would hold him back for a moment. but then, in the quiet of the empty church, his restraint would finally break.

your pulse raced as the image flashed vividly in your mind: his hands on you, pulling you close, his lips crashing into yours with all the pent-up passion he had kept locked away for so long. the forbidden thrill of it sent a shiver down your spine, your breath coming faster as you quickly glanced back up at him, half-expecting to see him watching you, knowing your every sinful thought.

but he wasn’t. father charlie’s gaze was still fixed on the congregation, his words steady as he spoke about virtue, about control.

you looked across the church, towards one of the many paintings of god, his expression seeming almost disappointed. you felt a flush of guilt, heat rising to your cheeks. how could you sit here, in a place meant for worship, and think these things? how could you look at him — father charlie — and imagine him like that? it was wrong. but that only seemed to make the ache in your chest grow stronger, the desire burning hotter with each passing moment.

the service was drawing to a close, and your heart pounded as you realised you would soon have to face him. father charlie always stood at the door after mass, offering a handshake and a few kind words to each person who passed. every week, that brief moment of contact set your skin on fire, leaving you wanting more.

and then you saw him — father charlie, standing by the entrance, his eyes warm and kind as he greeted the parishioners. you swallowed hard, heart racing as you approached. his gaze shifted to you, and for a moment, the rest of the world seemed to blur at the edges, leaving only the two of you.

"god bless you, y/n" father charlie said softly, his voice sending a shiver down your spine as his hand extended toward yours.

you hesitated for the briefest moment, your breath catching in your throat as your hand slipped into his. his grip was firm but gentle, the warmth of his skin sending a spark of electricity through you. you looked up into his eyes, searching for… something. some sign that he could feel the same pull, the same tension that had been building between you for months. but his expression was as serene as ever, his smile kind and distant.

"thank you, father," you murmured, your voice barely audible as you let go of his hand, your fingers tingling where they had touched him, before turning around to leave the sacred building. however, you stopped in your tracks.

turning towards him, you spoke timidly, "actually, father.."

as you approached, father charlie glanced up and saw you, his warm smile instantly making your heart skip a beat. his dark eyes met yours, and you felt that familiar pull, a flutter in your stomach that made your knees weak.

"yes?," he responded kindly, his voice a calm, steady presence that filled the space between you.

"father," you began, your voice shaking slightly as you stepped closer. "i was wondering if… there’s any chance i could confess later?"

there. you’d said it. the words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you were certain he could see right through you — into your mind, your thoughts, your desires. you tried to keep your expression neutral, but the tension coiled in your chest made it nearly impossible to hide how nervous you were.

father charlie’s smile softened, a gentle, almost unreadable look crossing his face as he studied you. he took a small step closer, lowering his voice slightly as if sensing the weight of what you were carrying. "of course," he said, his tone compassionate, "confession is always available for those who seek it. Would you like to meet later this afternoon?"

the way he said it — just us — made your stomach flip. you nodded, unable to fully trust your voice at the moment. your throat felt tight, your thoughts tangled. "yes. that would be… good."

his gaze lingered on you for just a moment longer, his eyes holding yours in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. there was nothing inappropriate about it, nothing overt, and yet you couldn’t help but feel as if there was something deeper there, hidden beneath the surface of his composed expression. you tried to ignore the way your body reacted to it, the way your skin seemed to burn with the need for more than just words.

"come by around eight," he said, his voice soft but firm, as if he was giving you permission to unburden yourself in a way you hadn’t before. "we can speak privately in the confessional."

your heart raced as he said it, the reality of what you were asking for sinking in. it wasn’t just confession — not for you. It was a way to be close to him, a way to sit in that small, private space, separated only by the thin barrier of the confessional screen. the idea of it — of being so close, alone, with him — made your chest tighten with anticipation.

you swallowed hard, nodding again. "thank you, father," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

he gave you one last kind, reassuring smile before you turned to leave, the echo of his words still ringing in your ears as you made your way toward the exit. as you stepped out into the cool air, your body still tingling with the thought of what was to come, your mind raced. confession wasn’t supposed to feel like this — like a secret thrill, a forbidden opportunity. but that’s exactly how it felt.

and it wasn’t just the confession itself. it was him. the way he carried himself with such calm authority, the way his voice seemed to wrap around you, pulling you deeper into your thoughts. you had tried to fight it, tried to deny it, but there was no use anymore.

you wanted him.

by the time the clock struck eight, you found yourself back at the church, your heart racing as you made your way inside. the church was mostly empty now, the quiet stillness of the afternoon wrapping around you like a heavy blanket. you could hear your own footsteps echoing softly as you walked down the aisle toward the confessional booth.

you hesitated for just a moment before stepping inside, the small, intimate space feeling even smaller than usual. the soft rustle of father charlie’s robes reached your ears as he entered the adjacent booth, and your breath hitched in your throat. the thin screen between you offered a sense of privacy, but it did nothing to stop the electricity that buzzed in the air.

"whenever you’re ready," came his voice, low and soothing, sending a shiver through you.

your mind raced, the words you had rehearsed suddenly seeming inadequate. how could you confess these feelings to him? How could you possibly admit that the sin you carried was him? the thought alone made your throat tighten, but you knew you couldn’t back out now.

"forgive me, father, for i have sinned…" you began, your voice shaky, barely more than a whisper, "it has been 160 days since my last confession"

you weren’t sure how you were going to get through this confession, but one thing was certain — the desire that burned inside you wasn’t something that could be easily absolved.

you hesitated, grappling with the words that felt so heavy on your tongue. "i've been having… thoughts," you started, feeling your cheeks flush. "sinful thoughts that i know i shouldn’t be having."

"sinful thoughts about someone?" he asked, his voice a mixture of curiosity and caution.

"yes," you admitted, heat creeping up your cheeks. "someone i shouldn’t be thinking about. i know it’s wrong, but i can’t help it."

"tell me more," father charlie encouraged, his tone gentle but firm, as if he could sense the struggle within you.

"it’s... complicated,” you continued, feeling a knot tighten in your stomach. "i’ve been trying to push these feelings away, but every time i see him, it’s like i’m drawn to him in a way i know isn’t right."

"why do you believe these feelings are wrong?” he asked, and you could hear the slightest hint of tension in his voice, a challenge that made your heart race.

"because he’s... celibate,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "and i shouldn’t feel this way about him. but i do."

the silence that followed was deafening. you could almost hear the clock ticking, each second feeling like an eternity. you held your breath, waiting for his response, feeling the heat of your confession hang in the air between you, "i don't know what to do, father. these thoughts won't go away"

the scent of incense swirled around you like a comforting yet suffocating blanket. you could hear the soft rustle of the priest’s robes on the other side of the screen. he took a deep breath.

"kneel"

the unexpected command took you by surprise. your heart raced at the thought, a mix of anxiety and anticipation flooding your senses. "kneel?" you echoed, trying to process his words.

"i want you to kneel."

you hesitated for just a moment, but something in his voice compelled you to comply. slowly, you knelt before the screen, feeling the coolness of the floor beneath your knees. your heart raced, each beat echoing in your ears as you sensed the shift in the air around you.

the curtain opened slightly, and father charlie stepped into view, his expression unreadable. the light from the candle illuminated his features, and for a moment, you were taken aback by the intensity in his gaze. there was a hunger there, a spark that made your pulse quicken.

father charlie looked down at you, bringing his hand down to your chin and tilting your head upwards to look him in the eyes. as the moment hung in the air, your heart raced, a wild drumbeat echoing in your ears. you could feel the heat radiating between you both, a magnetic pull that left you breathless. anticipation coursed through your veins, mingling with a desperate thrill that made your pulse quicken.

unexpectedly, he leaned down, stopping only inches away from your lips, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. you looked down at father charlie's parted lips, before looking back up at his eyes, glistening in the candlelight. your thoughts raced, much more sinful than they were before.

and just like that, father charlie closed the gap between you in a slow but passionate kiss. it felt as if you were breathing each other's air, your fingers moving up and tracing his arm. he then pulled away. you almost followed him, desperate for more, but you couldn't.

looking up at him, your heart raced, a needy look in your eyes.

the sound of father charlie unbuckling his belt rang through the church; anyone who walks in would know what was happening. but you didn't care.

he unzipped his pants before pulling them down, just past his underwear, the thin fabric revealing his large bulge. your was mouth already salivating at the thought of it. father charlie looked down at you with a nod, giving you permission.

your fingers made their way towards his waistband, slowly curling underneath his clothing before slowly pulling them down, just enough to reveal his erection.

gasping slightly at the size of him, you hesitated, your heart quickening.

father charlie moved his hand to the back of your head, urging you.

you couldn't wait any longer. you took deep breath before licking his tip, the taste of his pre-cum giving you the need for more.

desperately, your mouth took as much of him as it could, causing him to let out a soft moan as his tip touched the back of your throat. you looked up at him. the sight of him looking down at you with so much lust, so much greed in his eyes caused your stomach to flutter.

he grabbed onto the back of your hair, lightly pushing you back and forth before picking up momentum. father charlie threw his head back in pleasure, before looking into your eyes once again.

you moaned as the pace grew faster, causing his eyebrows to furrow at the vibration. and with that, he released, the warmth of it running down your throat.

looking up at him with admiration, he smiled slightly.

you knew this wasn't the last time.

#nicholas chavez #nicholas chavez x reader #father charlie mayhew #father charlie x reader #father charlie smut #grotesquerie #nicholas alexander chavez #777 #݁₊ ⊹ ݁˖ ⋆ strcwbrryklss

1K notes · View notes

thevillainswhore · 3 months ago

Text

Revenge Sweeter Than Honey

Pairing: College!Bucky Barnes x MILF!Reader

Word Count: 9.2k

Summary: When Bucky’s professor unfairly grades his college assignment, ruining his perfect GPA, he finds a way to get revenge — And doesn’t his sweet little wife look delicious?

Warnings: Bucky POV, revenge plot, age gap, older!reader, flirting, cheating, kissing, smut, mommy kink, nipple play, oral sex (fem receiving), ass play, spanking, p in v sex, recording of sex, cum play.

Author’s Note: Unbeta’d. Dividers by @saradika. Hi, lovelies! It’s been a while 🤍 This is by far not my best work, but I started it at the beginning of the year and finally finished it and decided to let it go before I convince myself not to post it.

Also, I have little to no knowledge about the education system outside of the UK, since I’m British. So please excuse any facts I may have gotten wrong, this was purely for the smut 😅

The arms of the leather chair Bucky was sitting on creaked, straining under the tense grip of his fingers. Fury coursed through every muscle of his body, boiling his blood until he was sure steam was blowing out of his ears.

He had been sitting in his professor’s office for thirty whole minutes and not once had the man had the decency to look him in the eye and tell him a good enough reason for the C- marked on his most recent assignment. Thinking about it, he wasn’t even sure if his professor had ever made eye contact with him before; certain that he wouldn’t be able to recognise him if he ever looked at him.

Bucky was a straight A student, working towards the perfect GPA to graduate with full honors and claim the job of his dreams. And yet, the second since his professor had licked his finger and slapped the stack of papers — stained with a ring of coffee that wasn’t there when he handed it in — on Bucky’s desk, his whole world had been turned upside down.

He remembered his frenzy, the whirlwind of erratically flicking through each page and trying to find a single comment or suggestion that could help explain the low grade. But there was nothing. Only a forbidden red-inked C- that had taunted him ever since.

Immediately, Bucky had booked an office session, since his professor was strict on the rules of when and where to discuss anything other than current class material. There must have been a mistake he reasoned with himself in the beginning — maybe a mix up with another student or maybe his professor had missed a chunk of his work because surely that godforsaken C- wasn’t right.

However, Bucky soon came to realise in the thirty long minutes of his office session, that it wasn’t a mistake. In fact, it was the most generous grade received of the whole class.

“Sir.” He attempted once again to get through to his professor. “With all due respect, I worked extremely hard on his assignment. Every variable is valid, I ran through each test multiple times to gain an accurate representation. My method has been executed perfectly.” He swallowed the dryness in his throat. “I can’t understand why I’ve been graded so low.”

Dr Parker couldn’t have seemed less interested if he tried, the keys of his computer clicking away aimlessly as his brown eyes were glued to the screen. “For the last time, if you don’t understand what is wrong with your assignment, then I can’t help you.”

Bucky discreetly gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. The logic his professor spewed made absolutely no sense. He took a calming breath before he responded. “I’m not sure I can understand what exactly is wrong with my work if there’s no feedback to go off, Sir.”

Dr Parker sighed, seemingly fed up with the conversation. “It's not for me to serve you on a silver platter. If you want a mentor who gives you a free ride or has to hold your hand through a grade then it seems like college isn’t the place for you, James.”

The material of the chair almost ripped where Bucky’s nails began to furiously dig in. He never wanted a hand to hold or a free ride during his time in college; the bare minimum he expected was to at least have some kind of evaluation or support that offered more than a lousy grade that wasn’t fair.

Out of options, he desperately pleaded with his professor once again. “Sir, all I’m asking for is a reason for my grade being low. My GPA has been perfect all year and this assignment has made it take a huge hit. Please understand.”

Still, Dr Parker continued uselessly typing away without looking at him. “There’s nothing I can do for you, Mr Barnes.”

Bucky’s words came out jumbled as he jumped to offer an alternative. “What about— What if I did something for extra credit! You know? Just for— to boost my GPA back up?”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Bucky was at the end of his tether and his throat began to tighten. “Please, Sir—I need—“

“What you need to do is move on from this assignment and work harder on the next one.” Dr Parker interrupted him coldly as he suddenly stood, packing his papers into his satchel. “My office hours are over and I have somewhere to be, so if you wouldn’t mind shutting the door behind you when you leave that would be great. Goodbye.” With that, his professor walked around the desk and out of the door without a second glance.

Tears sprung to Bucky’s eyes while he sat there, staring mindlessly at the now empty chair behind the desk in front of him. He forced the lump building in his chest down, never having felt so defeated in his life. Throughout his years of education, he had sacrificed, placed everything that wasn’t important on the back burner; holidays, parties, normal friendships, just to put his future career first and for what? For one complete asshole to decide he didn’t care enough about his job or students to fuck him over?

He shot out of his seat and paced over the carpeted floor. All of his dedication to his studies had been pointless — the thought burned through his mind and wounded him. All his life he had worked hard and this is how he had been repaid. The soles of his shoes thudded heavily until he came to a stop, running his hands down his face in despair.

When Bucky opened his eyes, he blinked until his blurred vision became clear, finding himself in front of the floor to ceiling bookcase that panned over the length of the full wall. Sighing at a complete loss on what to do, his eye flitted over the polished ornaments in front of him.

As he trailed over the neatly placed trophies and certificates, a scoff left his mouth — bitter and venomous. Every one of the awarded achievements built his resentment even more. The pretentiousness was aggravating.

He was about to walk away, go for a stroll with some fresh air to try and cool himself down and think properly. But just as he was going to leave, his eagle eye caught a small wooden picture frame shoved to the very back corner of the shelf, hardly noticeable with everything else taking front and center and ultimately hiding it.

Bucky glanced over his shoulder, making sure his professor had really left before stepping forward. His nosiness had gotten the better of him and now his interest was peaked. Careful not to knock over any ornaments, he plucked out the frame and blew off the dust that had accumulated over the picture for god knows how long.

To his surprise, it was a photograph of Dr Parker, many years younger and dressed in a tuxedo. Next to him, a stunning woman with the biggest smile on her face, dressed in an ivory, white dress.

Bucky’s eyes flew wide open while his jaw unhinged in shock.

Dr Parker had a wife?

Now that he thought about it, his professor did wear a gold band around his finger; one that the sun caught during a lecture one time and blinded Bucky enough to choke while he was drinking his coffee.

Studying the photo some more, Bucky only focused on the woman, one with kind eyes, pretty lips and a body to kill for; silhouetted in a gown that complimented her figure amazingly. He was utterly blown away.

The picture was at least ten years old, he summarised. His professor looked way younger than he did now, with frown lines and dark circles underneath his eyes. But he couldn’t get over how beautiful his wife was and how the hell he had managed to snag her with his douchebag personality. His mind ran a million miles per hour.

For all Bucky knew, you could have been just like your husband; just as dull and just as unbearable. It was only rational, because no one in their right mind would willingly be with a man like that.

He stared at you through the glass and tilted his head in thought, until the cogs started to turn. What if? he asked himself. What if he got his comeuppance somehow?

As soon as the thought presented itself, he batted it away, shaking his head and placing the photo frame back in its place.

But as he stood the frame upon the shelf, his hand stayed with it, unable to let go of the nagging idea that had now taken root in his mind.

What if you were his perfect route for revenge?

Looking out towards the window of the office, the setting sun beamed in. Bucky followed the streams of light that shined through, one landing on another photograph, larger in size of a chocolate haired boy with bright eyes. While he resembled Dr Parker, the boy’s eyes were all yours, kind and filled with light. The kid looked around the same age as himself, in a lab coat that had the same emblem as Bucky’s college.

A plan began to quickly form in his mind, each piece and detail intricately connected together to create the most beautiful retribution. The biggest fuck you to his professor for screwing him over.

Bucky sheathed his hands into his front pockets, running his tongue over his teeth with the most evil grin on his face. Dr Parker was going to get what he rightfully deserved.

Vengeance.

Having met up after their last classes of the day, Bucky followed Peter into his home when he opened the door, the droolworthy aroma of a home cooked meal slinking into his senses and making his stomach grumble.

It was now routine for him to come round to the Parker residence every week on a Friday afternoon. Once you found out your son had a new friend at college, you had extended the invitation to Bucky as Peter had recited. And of course, it would be rude of him to refuse.

The execution of his plan had come together seamlessly, almost too perfectly. It was just his luck that a clumsy Peter Parker happened to bump into Bucky on campus in a rush to his next class, spilling his coffee onto the ground and offering to buy him a new one.

Since then, he had made it his mission to become closer to Peter and soon enough, it was the night of his first dinner with you.

Before that first meeting, he had drilled it into his head that his scheme of revenge was strictly business; to get in and out and call it a day. But that went down the drain when he rounded the corner to the kitchen to introduce himself and he choked on his words when you spun around on your heels.

Bucky still remembered that moment, the first time he laid eyes on you in the cutest sundress, decorated with daisies that hugged your waist sinfully. The way your tits practically spilled out the damn thing stuck with him too.

You were a vision, a sight for sore eyes — the photograph in his professor’s office did not do you justice even with ten years added on. Then, as soon as you bounced over to him and pulled him into a hug that made his dick hard, his initial intentions went out the window. He was a goner and he knew one time wouldn’t be enough of you.

However, when it came down to dinner, Bucky was admittedly nervous. It wasn’t only just meeting you in the flesh and having his expectations blown out of the water that threw him off balance, the inevitable of seeing his professor outside of college worried him. His plan for revenge could have fallen through as soon as he met him. They almost did. If that would have been the case, Bucky wasn’t sure what his next steps would be.

But when he sat down at the dining table, his professor had only just noticed another guest in his home. Bucky remembered the slight sweat of his palms, the dryness of his throat as your husband looked at him over his newspaper and cocked his head; a familiarity brewing between them. Those couple of seconds lasted longer than he cared for. Then, unexpectedly, Dr Parker brushed him off and went straight back to reading his paper — evidently deeming Bucky unrecognisable and only a new friend of his son’s.

That memory still offended him slightly. There wasn’t a hint of recognition, even though he had fucked Bucky’s chances of attaining his dream career.

Snapping out of his memory, Bucky quickly shook his jacket off, taking care to hang it neatly on the coat rack and made a beeline to the kitchen.

“Dude. I know you like my mom’s cooking but damn.” Peter shook his head with laughter but Bucky ignored him in favour of something of much higher importance.

Stepping into the kitchen, he immediately found you balancing on your tiptoes, trying to reach the spice rack on the highest shelf. The skirt of your dress inched up your thighs and he couldn’t help but stare unabashedly at a sneak peak of your white g-string.

Clearing his throat, Bucky held out his arms wide and acted casual with a wide smile. “Where’s my favourite girl?”

His heart jumped as you snapped your head around, grinning wide once you saw who it was. “Bucky!” you cheerfully sang. “Hi, sweetie. I’m so happy you made it.”

You have no idea how happy I am to see you too, he groaned internally. “What do you take me for? Like I would ever miss your cookin’, Mrs Parker,” he teased aloud.

Raising an eyebrow playfully, you cocked your hip and crossed your arms over each other. “What have I told you about that, hm? Call me Honey, sweetheart. All my friends do.”

Bucky held his arms up to placate you. “Forgive me. Your food is too damn good to pass up, Honey.”

You rolled your eyes lightheartedly and turned back around to try and pluck the thyme from the top shelf. “You and that charm, boy. You’re gonna be the death of some poor college girl one day.”

Noticing your struggle, Bucky took the opportunity to come up behind you and reach over your head. His lips perfectly aligned with your ear and so with a sly hand to your waist, he grabbed the jar of herbs and placed them onto the counter in front of you while he whispered, “What if I’m not into college girls?”

Bucky heard the sharp inhale you tried so hard to smother, but it was useless with the proximity between you. It was instinct to then squeeze your hip, listening for your sweet whimper he lived to be the cause of.

The moment lasted only a couple seconds longer until Peter called out for you from the hallway. “Hi, Mom. We’re home if you hadn’t already noticed.”

Breaking away from Bucky sharply, you held a shaky hand to your chest. “H-Hey P, how was your week?”

Small incidents as such repeated themselves every week. You and Bucky would find yourselves — or he would create them — in intimate, dangerous positions that wouldn’t be explainable to your son or your husband should they ever catch you.

Which only made the game all the more exciting for him.

“Mom,” Peter whined while he walked into the kitchen. “Can you please not call me that when I have friends around?”

Bucky held his laughter behind his hand when you passed your son by, pinching his cheek and putting on a baby voice. “Oh, but you’re just so cute!”

However, that smile was soon wiped away from his face when the front door opened, immediately slamming shut with a loud bang. “I’m home, Honey,” your husband yelled.

Your name on another man’s lips left a sour taste in Bucky’s mouth. He had come to learn that your nickname was born from your old college roommate who had affectionately bestowed it upon you after your love of baking dessert treats.

The story was adorable, one he had soaked in with all the details you offered him. But your husband and his boring, monotonous tone turned even the sweetest name into something unpleasant.

With his keen eye, Bucky had spotted the fake smile you plastered on your face to greet your husband, even when he walked straight past you without a hug or a kiss and into his usual chair at the dining table.

“Glad your home safe, love,” you quickly offered him a half assed hello and headed back towards the kitchen to grab the meat out of the oven.

“Hey.” Bucky shot forward before you could grab the handle and slid the oven mitts laying on the counter onto his hands. “I got this, don’t worry about it.”

You paused to look at him like he had grown another head. “Bucky, I've done this a million times. I’m perfectly capable.”

“I know you are, beautiful.” He didn’t miss the way your lips parted from his compliment, reserved for your moments alone. “Doesn’t mean you should have to. Lemme do it, please.”

It didn’t take much for you to relent, already flustered enough to give in to him. Stepping aside, you made room for Bucky to take the dish out of the oven and place it on the worktop.

“Smells fuckin’ delicious, Honey.” You gently swatted his arm for his colourful language, but he couldn’t help test the waters as he stared directly into your eyes. “Hopefully tastes as good as she looks.”

What he didn’t expect was for you to retort back with a quick wit. “Oh, don’t worry about that. She’s as juicy as they get.”

These interactions were just considered harmless flirting to you. Bucky knew you had no idea that he went home and fucked his fist, replaying these exact moments in his head. He licked his lips with a groan. “I bet she is.”

“Where the hell is this damn food, woman? I’m eating away here!” your husband barked from the dining table.

Bucky gritted his teeth while he watched you bow your head in embarrassment. “Just plating up now. It won’t be much longer, dear!”

Turning back to Bucky, you smiled apologetically. “Sorry about that, he gets a little grumpy when he’s hungry.”

He couldn’t believe you were apologising for that son of a bitch, though this was a regular occurrence by now; excusing your husband’s wrongdoings even if you were ashamed of it.

Placing his hand over yours, Bucky told you firmly, “Don’t think for one second that you have to apologise to me, Honey.” The next words he grumbled under his breath. “Especially never on behalf of that fucker.”

Your free hand smoothed over the skirt of your dress, a nervous habit of yours when you were upset.

Bucky recognised your unease and took initiative to derail the conversation. “What do you need me to take?” he asked while rolling the sleeves of his shirt up.

You looked at him then, quick to protest and shake your head. “No, sweetheart. You’ve done enough, honestly. Go sit down and—”

“Honey.” Bucky held your hand, rubbing his thumb over your skin. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll help you. I’m all yours.”

Sighing defeatedly, you nodded your head to the foil covered dishes on top of the counter. “The vegetables and mashed potatoes could do with taking to the table.”

Bucky grinned wide, all teeth and brought your hand up to place a kiss to the back of it. “Good girl.”

A shudder ran down your spine that he didn’t miss, the hitch of your breath that blew the front strands of his hair giving you away. With a wink, he backed away to grab the dishes, piling them in his arms, along with a couple extra to take to the dining table.

Soon enough, a full roast dinner was set out, steaming hot and ready to be eaten.

Peter was already sitting on the chair by his Dad’s side, speaking animatedly about his recent discoveries on his science assignment for class. You always sat opposite your husband, which meant the only free seat that Bucky could take was opposite Peter and next to you.

Not that he was complaining.

He steadily pulled the chair out and sat down. It wasn’t exactly a coincidence that he brushed against you, not when he shuffled his chair as close as possible to you without raising suspicion. “Everything looks incredible,” he whispered as he leaned into you.

The grip you had on your cutlery faltered. Bucky reveled in your bashfulness, always competing with himself to see how much he could make you squirm. So he smirked when you gulped, peeking at him from the corner of your eye. “T-Thank you, Bucky.”

Your son‘s voice brought you out of your flustered state “—So I was right, Dad! My results actually confirmed my hypothesis.”

You cleared your throat and chimed in cheerfully when your husband only answered with an uninterested hum. “That’s amazing news, P!” With a stern tone, you addressed your husband this time. “Aren’t you proud of him, love?”

But instead of congratulating him, your husband turned the page of his newspaper while shoveling food into his mouth. “Mhm. He did good, I guess.”

Luckily, Peter didn’t notice or bat an eye to his father. Bucky had witnessed over the few weeks he had been invited over for dinner that your son had enough support from you alone to keep his spirits uplifted.

You decided not to bite and move on with the conversation, mouth open about to speak when your husband suddenly laid his newspaper down and spoke over you. “You know, I’ve had the worst week at work.”

Frustrated, your fingers clenched tightly around your knife. “Oh yeah?”

Dr Parker blew out an irritating sigh. “The students this week—god—I had a flock of them at my door, complaining about their grades being too low.”

Bucky felt the blood in his veins begin to boil. Normally he would tune out the grating voice of your husband, but he couldn’t help but listen to something that directly involved him — unknowingly to his professor.

“I mean, I can’t help that their work isn’t up to par. What do they want me to do? Mollycoddle them?” he scoffed. “If they come crying to me for help all the time then they may as well cut their losses and drop out. They’re only wasting their own money.”

The loud clink of your cutlery dropping against the plate cut through the tense atmosphere. “Are you serious right now?”

“Dad,” Peter cringed, obviously uncomfortable. “You can’t say that.”

“I’m not saying anything that’s not true.” Dr Parker shrugged.

“It is your job to guide your students—who are paying thousands for their education by the way—and give them feedback to help them improve,” you shot back, heatedly.

Bucky’s chest puffed out in pride. Though he couldn’t outwardly say anything, he was proud of you for inadvertently defending him — even if you didn’t know it.

Your husband’s tone turned biting towards you, however. “I’m not their babysitter, Honey.”

But you stood your ground. “No you’re not. You’re their teacher and they look to you for guidance. It's the bare minimum your job requires.”

A weighted silence fell over the dinner table while you and your husband glared at each other until the chime of a text cut through the awkwardness.

Dr Parker retrieved his phone from his pocket and read his message. After a couple of seconds, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and threw it onto his plate. “I’ve got to go back into the office. Emergency.”

“What?” you asked in disbelief. “But you’ve only just come home.”

“Well, unlike some, I can’t just slack off at home all day.”

Bucky watched out of the corner of his eye as your mouth dropped open in shock at your husband’s barely hidden jab. Unrestrained anger filled his veins as he had to hold back. Though the urge to fly over the table at Dr Parker was hanging on by a thread.

Is this what life was like at home for you? A husband who so obviously didn’t care for you while you made his life as comfortable as possible. And Peter, a son who held his tongue while he stiffly carried on eating his dinner and not defending his own mother?

Bucky looked to you as you quickly regathered yourself, blinking away the tears building over your waterline and pretending like you weren’t hurt.

Your husband passed over his harmful statement as nonchalantly as he said it while lifting out of his seat. “Don’t wait up for me, I’ll be home late.”

And just as rudely as he came home, he walked out, the slam of the door reverberating through the house.

It wasn’t a minute after that when Peter also received a text. After reading the message, his eyes lit up with excitement. Bucky knew well enough what that face meant — Peter was getting lucky. “Hey mom, is it okay if I go out? Hang with my friends for the night?”

The dinner you laboured over had already gone out the window once your husband had ruined it. Of course it didn’t bother you as much that your son wanted to leave too. “Of course, sweetie.” You stood up and collected the half empty plates from the table robotically. “Just be careful and let me know when you’re there.”

With a dejected sigh that only Bucky noticed, you gathered the rest of the cutlery and took them to the kitchen, beginning to fill the sink to wash up.

Peter waited until you were out of ear shot to whisper, “Dude, MJ asked me to come round tonight. I think she finally wants it!” Bucky held back a cringe. “You think it’s cool if I shoot off? You can make your own way home, right?”

Bucky couldn’t have given a single fuck where Peter went or what he did right now. All he cared about, as he shot discreet glances of you in the kitchen washing the plates, was your wellbeing. “Sure, Parker. I can figure it out.”

“Awesome!” Peter laughed before whipping out of his seat and running towards the door. “Catch you Monday, pal!”

The house grew silent apart from the departing slam of the door, this time by your son. As soon as Peter was gone, Bucky instantly left his seat to join you.

He leaned his shoulder against the archway of the kitchen. “You okay, Honey?”

Looking towards him in surprise, your eyes held onto a last tendril of hope that someone hadn’t let you be alone. “Sweetheart, I thought you would have left with P.”

Bucky shook his head with a fond smile, the curls at the top of his head bouncing with the movement. “Of course not. I’ve got nothing better to do with my Friday night than spend time with a gorgeous woman.”

He caught the tightening of your lips, as though you were holding back your flustered smile. “Oh, stop that. You flatter me.”

“I can’t help it. You make a man go weak. What can I say?”

“Are you flirting with me?” you laughed incredulously.

“And what if I was?” Bucky noticed the way your eyes latched onto the sight of his shirt, tightening over his arms as he crossed them over each other. “Would you like it?”

Your eyes flicked up to his, holding his intense gaze for a few seconds before you huffed a breath and began cleaning the dishes again. “You’re cute, Bucky.”

Bucky licked his lips and ravaged your form silhouetted in your fitted dress. “Wouldn’t exactly be the word I would use, but I’ll take it from you.”

A rare giggle, only let out in his presence, escaped you. “Scram would you? You don’t want to be spending your Friday night with your friend’s mom, sweetie.”

Testing the waters, Bucky let slip exactly what was on his mind. “Actually, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Your hand stilled, chest rising and falling at a faster pace than before. “Oh, if only I was twenty years younger,” you chuckled quietly to yourself, not expecting for Bucky to overhear.

Jackpot, he smirked to himself.

Walking to the kitchen island, Bucky leaned his elbow on the counter beside you. “What would you do, Mrs Parker?”

You jumped with a yelp, visibly surprised to have received a response so close; eyes blown wide as they flitted over Bucky’s face in panic. “E-Excuse me?”

Bucky closed the distance between you even further. He leaned over the sink to turn the running water off. “I said,” he whispered huskily, keeping consistent eye contact with you. “What would you do if you were twenty years younger?”

“I—I um,” your breathing started to become heavy while Bucky stared shamelessly at you. “It’s just an expression, sweetie,” you laughed, shaking your head to try and brush the comment off. “I d-didn’t mean it like that—“

“No?” He watched carefully as your eyes darted around, trying so hard not to look at him. “How did you mean it then?”

The spotlight Bucky was intentionally putting on you made you falter, even more so when he tucked your hair behind your ear and let his hand linger over your collarbone.

“C’mon, tell me. I don’t bite.” A sadistic smirk adorned his face while you stared at his lips. “Unless you want me to, of course.”

“I s-swear, Bucky.” Your voice was breathless with the heat of his stare. “There was nothing behind it, I—”

“I don’t believe you.” Bucky backed you against the sink, trapping you with his arms on each side of your waist. “I think,” he rasped, teasingly trailing his fingers up the bare skin of your arms. “That you would let me bend you over this counter right here and fuck you senseless.”

The wind was audibly knocked from your lungs as you gasped. Words failed you, stuttering over yourself which was most amusing to Bucky.

Nonetheless, your eyes still followed him with a glaze, hooked onto every word that left his lips. “I think you’d let me take you from behind. Stuff your pretty pussy full with my fat cock.” He grabbed your hand and pressed it against the bulge in his trousers. “You feel that, huh? How good it would feel to take all a’me, pretty mama?”

Bucky watched as your eyes fluttered and you bit your lip — the last of your reserve hanging by a thread. One more deadly blow to your empty head and you would be putty in his hands.

Any remaining distance between you disappeared as he placed wet kisses from the pulse of your neck up to the corner of your mouth. “I think—” he whispered against your lips, his next words uttered in his most seductive voice. “I think you’d let me do it. Right. Fuckin’. Now.”

You placed your hands over the shirt on his chest to push him away; a mistake he imagined as you alternatively began bundling the material up with clenched fists. “Bucky—“ you painfully uttered with your eyes squeezed shut. You shook your head, as though that would help you. “This—this isn’t right. You’re my son’s friend and I n-need you to leave—“

“Look at me.” Bucky slid his hands over your neck, holding your jaw with his thumbs to tilt your head up. Slowly, your eyes squinted open and he saw the confliction clear as day in your glossy eyes, the battle you were facing in your mind. “You’re practically melting in my hands, Honey. You just gotta give in. We’ve been playin’ this game for far too long now, don’t you think?”

There was no escaping his blue eyes when you tried to look away once again and he firmly guided your gaze back to him. “None of that, now. Do as I say.”

Your expression was tortured — torn between right and wrong, pleasure and sin. Bucky knew you were good, a dutiful housewife and loyal to a fault to a man who didn’t deserve it.

Where had that gotten you? Whilst the revenge plan was hot on his mind — the very reason he had meticulously planned everything up to this exact moment — he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth that he was getting something extra out of this. You.

“We shouldn’t do this,” you pleaded painfully, still with a wild spark in your eye. “We can’t do this.”

“You know what I’m not hearing, Honey?” Bucky asked. “I’m not hearing that you don’t want to do it.”

You shook your head frantically with wide eyes until he tightened his grip on your cheeks. “I’m gonna give you one chance to answer me.” He squeezed your cheeks until your lips puckered. “You want me to fuck you, baby?”

Desire rolled through your eyes as your thighs clenched together. Though you still tried to deny your need for him. “Bucky—”

“Ah, ah. I want an answer.”

Bucky watched as your throat bobbed. Your nostrils flared with your harsh breaths and your breasts heaved up and down with exerted force. Seconds went by, the two of you staring at each other before you finally answered. “Yes.”

The two of you burst into the master bedroom — the one you shared with your husband, kissing erratically while your hands fumbled through Bucky’s hair.

He moaned deeply, pushing you against the wall, and turning feral over the feel of you as he kneaded your body. “You’re so fuckin’ hot,” he hummed against your lips.

Your head thumped back against the wall, chest heaving while you tried to catch your breath. All of Bucky’s attention was drawn to your chest. “Has anyone ever told you you’ve got the most perfect tits?”

Choking on your spit, you stumbled over your words, so adorably oblivious to your own attraction. “I—I didn’t realise—um, t—thank you—”

Bucky laughed, shaking his head before quickly ripping down your dress to your waist with force. Your upper body was bare, free for him to roam his rabid eyes over your naked tits.

“Bucky!” Your squeal of shock was followed by you hastily trying to cover your chest with your hands.

But a scowling Bucky immediately ripped them away; offended you would dare try to keep them from him. “Don’t you dare fuckin’ cover yourself up, Honey.”

He could tell it was intense for you, to be so thoroughly desired and the thought that you had never received this much attention before made him angry once again.

“It’s been a while,” you mumbled. The mousy confession only heightened Bucky’s fury towards your pathetic husband.

Delicately, he kissed you and began to trail his lips down the slope of your neck. “Ain’t gotta worry about that. I’ll take care of you.”

Slowly descending, Bucky laved his tongue over your peaked nipple, sucking it into his mouth and letting it go with a pop. Your breast bounced with the motion and he squeezed his dick over his trousers with a groan. “Look at you, Honey. You’re a fuckin’ goddess.”

Bucky’s tunnel vision made whatever you said next pointless. Grabbing your tits, he buried his head in between them, relishing in your softness. He peppered his kisses across to your other nipple and swirled his tongue around the peak.

Your legs crumbled, the sensation overwhelming for you. The thought that Bucky could get you off by just playing with your tits made his cock even harder. But he had so much more in store for you.

“Why don’t you take off your dress, baby?” he murmured into your skin. “Want you to kneel on the bed for me, alright?”

You nodded shakily. Bucky hovered over your breasts a couple of seconds more, savouring the feel of you before stepping backwards to give you space to move.

With a deep breath, you walked on unsteady legs towards your bed, letting your dress shimmy down your body on your way. Your back was turned to Bucky and he salaciously eyed your figure, each and every curve of your body. He internally created a map of your stretch marks and imperfections that only made him more crazed for you.

The mattress sank down while you knelt onto it carefully. Bucky watched the arch of your back intently, the flesh of your ass rounding out from your position.

Forget the damn reason he plotted this very moment, he was just excited to finally get a taste of you.

Your quiet murmur sounded over Bucky’s thoughts. “I’m ready.”

Biting his lip, he strolled forward until he came to a stop behind you. Still fully clothed, Bucky desperately singed the picture in front of him into his mind. He held so much power in that moment, and it felt like a dream that he had you bent over solely for him.

Bucky leaned over your form, beginning to place delicate kisses down your back. He basked in the goosebumps that arose on your skin. “How the fuck are you real?” he murmured to himself.

With a shaky sigh, you whispered, “I still don’t know about this.”

Chuckling, Bucky finally dropped down to his knees, ignoring your reluctance to eye the flimsy piece of material covering your pussy. Hooking a finger inside your underwear, he peeled it away and held it to the side. “Oh, fuck me.”

You squirmed in place as the cold air hit you in your most vulnerable state. Your raw scent clogged Bucky’s nose and his eyes rolled to the back of his head in bliss. “Can’t fuckin’ wait any longer, Honey. Gotta know how you taste.”

Surging forward, Bucky buried himself between your thighs. You screamed in retaliation to the feel of his tongue snaking its way through your folds and he was sure he hadn’t heard a better sound.

He explored every inch of your cunt, unwilling to leave the heaven you so graciously granted him. But it was the sensation of Bucky’s tongue beginning to ease its way inside your hole that made you vocal once again.

“My husband—“ you called out, obvious to Bucky that you were trying to clear your conscience of guilt. But he knew you couldn’t care less about him — you didn’t even mention the fucker once while you were too busy feeling sorry for your son in the kitchen and making silly excuses to not let him have his way with you.

Landing a harsh smack to the top of your thigh, Bucky savored your squeal of shock. “Don’t act like you give a fuck about him now, Honey. Who’s the one eating your pussy this good, hm?” He ran two fingers down the middle of your folds, biting his lip at the wetness coating them. When your only answer was a moan muffled by your pillow, he spanked you again in the same place with more force. “Answer me.”

“You, Bucky!” you instantly shouted out. “You’re the one eating my pussy so good!”

“There we go. That wasn’t so hard was it?” He eased over the marks beginning to bloom on your skin and smiled to himself. “Call me James, though. I like it better.”

Without letting you reply, Bucky dived back in, fucking your pussy with his tongue. You reached back to hold your asscheeks open with each hand, desperate to have him go deeper into your hole. The glint from the diamond of your wedding ring caught his attention and he smirked into your cunt; the reminder that you were married only fuelled his arousal even more.

“Fuck, baby,” he spoke into your cunt. “You really are sweet, ain’t ya? Taste fuckin’ incredible.”

The filthy sounds of slurps and moans filled the room. Bucky was a starved beast, held back and pushed to the edge for too long and every little bit of anger and resentment that had built in his body from your husband’s treatment was taken out on you.

It only boosted his ego when you grinded your cunt back against him too. His cock jumped with excitement with how fucking dirty you truly were. You had been locked up too, he remembered. Stuck holding back your true self for a shitty excuse of a man.

Bucky grunted deeply before licking a wide stripe from your clit, slowly running through your pussy lips and reaching higher towards the puckered hole that twitched with anticipation.

“Oh!” you exclaimed aloud in surprise. Bucky thought he may have gone too far, then. But once you relaxed and backed yourself into his tongue, he smiled wickedly.

“You like that, filthy girl?” he laughed, darkly. “Should’ve known you’d be a little freak.”

Bucky circled the tip of his tongue teasingly around your asshole, moaning at your eagerness when you tried to reach further back with your hands and drag him closer.

“Don’t tease,” you gasped, out of breath. “Please, I want more. Gimmie more.”

Almost immediately, Bucky complied, ripping your hands away with vigor to replace them with his. He spreaded your asscheeks wide and lapped at your tight hole.

“Fuck yes—oh my god, James—yes!”

The depravity was obscene and disgusting and Bucky absolutely loved it. Never had he been more turned on and he decided then and there that this wasn’t going to be a one and done deal. He wanted you to be his.

A string of saliva connected Bucky’s mouth to your ass as he reluctantly backed away. The slick that had poured out of you smothered his chin and cheeks and Bucky happily licked his lips with a groan. “Baby, as much as I wanna keep eating your ass, I need to feel your pretty little cunt wrapped around my cock.”

You whimpered while your pussy clenched with a need to be filled. Bucky watched your cute little hole flutter. “Put it in me,” you slurred. “Need your cock.”

He wasted no time unfastening his jeans to pull them down enough until his dick bobbed out of its confines. Bucky caught you peeking your head around, trying to catch a glimpse of his cock, but he spanked your ass and bit his lip with amusement at your scream. “Not yet, baby. You’ll get a chance to see it when I fuck your throat later.”

You squirmed impatiently, needy moans escaping you and Bucky couldn’t hold back any longer. Grabbing his cock, he began to push the fat head of his length inside you.

A loud gasp tore from your throat and your pussy instantly tried to suck him in deeper. Your walls, tight and warm, hugged his dick like a vice. “You’re—oh my fucking god—how are you so big?”

The smirk that donned Bucky’s face was lethal. He had you right where he wanted you. And yet his eye rolled back all the same, savouring the flutter of your tight hole around him.

“This is all for you, baby,” he breathily whispered, bullying his way deeper into your pussy. “Get me so fuckin’ hard everytime I see you. Cookin’ in them pretty little dresses. Just wanna lift your skirt up and fuck you wherever I want.”

Your moans both fell into sync as Bucky finally slid his cock all the way to the hilt. You couldn’t stop squirming and it drove him crazy.

“You need to move,” you begged in between pants. “Please, I can’t stay still.”

Bucky licked his teeth with desire blazing through him. “Since you asked so nicely, Honey.”

Without the decency to ease you into it, Bucky instantly set a brutal pace. He looked down, admiring the thick coating of your juices lathering his dick and he willed himself not to blow his load so fast. He tightly closed his eyes, adjusted his stance and began to fuck you.

You were quick to grab ahold of whatever you could, scrambling for purchase within the sheets, but you were useless to try to stop how your head buried into the bed. The force of Bucky’s thrusts were too violent and so you surrendered to what was inevitable, letting yourself drool over the cotton.

“Bu—CKY!” your cry of surprise when he lifted his foot onto the bed, allowing him a better angle to fuck you, was music to his ears.

“What’s’a matter, baby?” Bucky mocked. “Thought you were a big girl, huh? Can’t handle me?”

Your reply was instant. “I can! I can, I promise, I promise!”

“Then shut the fuck up and take it.”

Bucky didn’t know where to look, he was spoilt for choice. To watch your eyes roll back in ecstasy? To concentrate on the shlick shlick of your soaked cunt? Ultimately, his eyes were glued to the jiggle of your ass, his hands soon following as though he was hypnotised. How it so perfectly met his hips without a falt in rhythm.

“Fuck me—this ass is heaven, baby. You been hiding it from me all this time?”

There was no answer this time, at least not a coherent one. Bucky was instead graced with your constant squeaks and groans — a woman too invested in a physical gratification she had so sadly been starved of.

Bucky chuckled. “Ain’t gotta answer, Honey. The sounds comin’ outta that mouth are keeping my dick happy enough.”

He almost forgot the end goal of his proposition in the midst of the delectable feel of your cunt. With a sudden bolt of clarification as he felt a vibration against his leg, Bucky kept one hand on your hip while he reached for his phone in his pocket with the other. Keeping up the pace of his thrusts, you were clueless as he unlocked it and opened the camera app.

“Now, Honey, I want you to really scream my name, okay? Wanna hear how good I’m makin’ you feel. Can you do that for me?”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded, dumbly. “C-Can do that for you, James.”

He grinned wickedly and threw his head back. “Just like that. Good fuckin’ girl.” Looking back down at you through the phone screen, he hovered his finger over the record button and brought his other hand down hard on your ass. “Go on then, baby. Put on a show for me.”

If Bucky thought you were a fucking treat before, his mind was blown once you began to take the reigns of your own pleasure. Bucky hardly had to move and you still plunged yourself onto his cock with an unmatched enthusiasm to anyone else he had fucked. He could hardly keep his hand that held the phone up from shaking. The combined sounds coming from the both of you were insane.

None of his wet dreams could compare to his reality. “You—shit—you’re killing me, Honey.”

You must not have heard him because you decided to torture him even more by arching your back just that little bit further.

Bucky thought he was a goner, soon to approach his end. But he couldn’t let that happen. He was far from done with you yet.

Propping one foot up onto the bed for better leverage, he gathered his restraint and began to drive forward once more. He felt high.

“That husband of yours ever fuck you like this, huh?” Bucky demanded. “Can he make you leak all over his dick like a fuckin’ slut?”

You violently shook your head from side to side, like the thought of your husband left a sour taste in your mouth you wanted to get rid of. “Nuh-uh,” you whimpered, popping your ass up even more to take as much as you could. “O-Only you.”

“Tell him, baby.” Bucky noticed too late that he had slipped up, too gone off the feel of your cunt wrapped snug around his dick. But you hadn’t seemed to realise his mistake either and the thought that you were too much of a wreck from his cock to comprehend who he was talking about made him even harder. “Let him know who’s balls deep in your tight, slutty pussy.”

“Oh, fuck—please, please—you, James, it’s you. Please, it’s you!”

“Atta girl,” he cooed, hoarsely. “Look at the fuckin’ mess you’re makin’ on me.”

Bucky reached down to where the two of you were connected with his free hand, sweeping the copious amount of your slick gathered in a ring around the bottom of his cock. “Here.” He leant forward, one palm up towards you with his phone still in his other hand out of your view. “Open your mouth, pretty mama.”

You slightly turned your head with your tongue sticking out wide and eagerly sucked the juices off his hand with a long moan.

Managing to get all of it on camera, Bucky watched as you licked between his fingers, not wasting a drop. “Holy fuck,” he grunted deeply. “You’ll really do anything I say, won’t you?”

You bobbed your head up and down, eventually letting his fingers go, clean as a whistle.

“What a fuckin’ filthy whore. You’re perfect for me.”

You backed yourself onto Bucky’s cock, meeting his thrusts perfectly while the meat of your ass clapped against his toned waist. “You’re a needy little thing, ain’t you baby?”

“Anythin’ you want,” you slurred. “Can be whatever you need.”

“Poor mommy hasn’t been treated this good in a long time I can tell.” Bucky gripped your ass harshly with his hand, jiggling the flesh for his own satisfaction. “Women like you, need putting in their place on a daily basis. Need a good fuckin’ to keep them happy.”

“Yes!” you agreed, firmly. “Mommy needs to be fucked like this all the time.”

Unbelievable. Bucky didn’t even have to try to add salt into the wound. He couldn’t help the continuous conspicuous messages that he could easily pass off to you. “This is what happens when you don’t take care of your wife.”

Harsh slaps echoed in your bedroom. The two of you could only share the raw sounds that left your mouths in your haze of the thrill as the string between you pulled tighter and tighter.

“I’m—so—close,” you murmured with all your depleted energy.

Bucky didn’t need the confirmation when he could feel the rapid pulses of your walls that squeezed him. He knew your orgasm was clutching at its straws and he was so close himself. The blood from his head had long since made its way to his dick and his composure was swiftly deflating.

“Want that cum,” he garbled as his mouth hung open. “I’ve been such a good boy, mommy. Give it to me, please.”

You whined loudly, like a dog in heat. But your voices became lost on each other. That didn’t stop Bucky from losing his inhibitions out loud.

Thrust. “I’ve been such,” thrust. “A good,” thrust. “Boy.”

The wound up ball of tension in your lower stomach exploded in a series of screams and violent shivering that overtook your whole nervous system and the very sensation brought Bucky to his defeat.

The muscles in his legs failed him as they turned to jelly. Bucky let out the sluttiest moan he’s ever experienced in his life and all but collapsed onto your sweat slicked body. He could feel his cock shooting a constant stream of cum into your cunt with seemingly no end in sight.

“Fuck,” he whimpered into your ear. Slowly, his conscience came back to life and the flow of his load finally came to a stop.

The two of you laid still, only the heavy panting serving to fill the silence. After a couple of minutes, Bucky kissed your shoulder blade, before lifting himself up. He gathered the strength to gently retrieve his length from your hole that still strangled him.

Bucky was reminded of the phone that was still recording in his hand and he quickly made sure to get the winning money shot of his load dripping out of your pulsing hole while he wholly detached himself from you.

He was only human to push his finger into your cunt, he thought, letting himself gather himself on his own fingers.

Flipping the camera around to himself, Bucky put his coated finger in his mouth, sucking your combined juices and humming and letting it go with a pop. He laughed, out of breath, his red cheeks and mussed hair only adding to the depravity of the video. “Y’know some people should really keep an eye on their wives. You never know what they’re up to in their spare time. Ain’t that right, Honey?”

Bucky knew you were out of it — he watched on while you buried your head in the sheets, rubbing your thighs together as aftershocks made your body twitch. Your needy, high pitched keens bounced off the walls. “Wan’ more of your cock, James—please—need you to fuck me again.”

He licked his lips in delight, the sight of your ass wiggling with his cum leaking out of you and your unprompted addition to the recording filling him with glee.

“Well,” he sighed, turning back to the camera and shrugging with no remorse. “You heard the wife. Duty calls.” With a cocky wink, he ended the recording with a final farewell. “See you in class, Professor.”

Bucky exited his camera app and quickly brought up his emails, scouring through to a saved draft and attaching the video link. After pressing send, he shut off his phone, making sure any future notifications would be silenced before throwing it to the ground with a careless thump.

“Baby,” you whimpered, looking behind you to search for him. “What are you doing? I said I wanna be fucked again.”

Undressing the rest of his clothes, Bucky stalked towards you, kneeling onto the bed and effortlessly flipping you over to kiss you deeply to share your combined tastes. “Don’t worry, mommy,” he breathed into your mouth. “I’ll take care of you now.”

Meanwhile at his college, a new email popped up on Dr Parker’s computer screen, shrouding the dark office with a white glow in the late night. With an exhausted huff, he looked up from grading papers — all of them marked with a C or lower — and squinted his eyes at the bright screen.

New Email from James Buchanan Barnes

He rolled his eyes with a sigh. The name was familiar as he thought back to the day the kid almost cried in his office, complaining about his poorly-graded assignment and his GPA; Dr Parker had gossiped with Professor Stark in his department on his dinner break, recounting the annoying way this particular student had whined like a baby. Though he couldn’t quite remember how James looked, unable to place him among the hundreds of pupils he taught.

Amused curiosity ran through him, wondering what his student had to moan about this time and so with a sadistic smirk, he clicked on the link, waiting until his message came up.

Though that smirk was quickly replaced with a frown when the email finally loaded with an attachment.

They say revenge is a dish best served cold. But I like mine warm, tight and sweet.

Just like Honey.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

jjunieworld · 2 months ago

Text

BLOODSTRUCK ˒˒ 엔하이픈

❝ 𝗶𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𓈓 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗏𝖺𝗆𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝖻𝗂𝗍𝖾.

p ‎⸝⸝⸝ 엔하이픈 hyung line 𝑥 fem!reader ꔛ g ‎⸝⸝⸝ vampire au, vampire!enha, established relationship, suggestive ── blood, biting, dry humping, kissing, skinship ╱ ❨ 𝓂.list ❩

✉️ ⦂ happy spooky month hehe!! i lovee vampires!!!! expect a lot more vampire stuff since it seems you guys want it based on this poll! i think it would be fun to do a part two where they turn her into a vampire (>人<) enjoy!!

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ︵͡ 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 (⌒‿⌒)♡

𓏲 𖧷ˊ HEESEUNG

it was an hour until dawn and your boyfriend still wasn’t home. worry etched at the corners of your being and you paced around your shared apartment in wait. you had been blowing up his phone for the past three hours to no avail and you were sick with worry that something might’ve happened to him. just when you were about to go out into the night and find him yourself, he and jake busted through your front door—heeseung completely bloodied.

“oh my god!” you exclaimed as you rushed towards them, helping jake carry heeseung to the couch. “what happened?! where have you been? i’ve been calling you for hours!” the words flew out your mouth a mile a minute and you couldn’t stop them.

heeseung groaned with pain from all the cuts and wounds he had. “werewolves…” he trailed off hoarsely as you lifted off his shirt to inspect the damage.

“he got attacked on the way home,” jake said, and you could tell the guilt was eating him alive. there wasn’t a scratch on him. “i literally only left him alone for a minute—one minute, and i come back outside to see wolves on top of him.”

you raced to the kitchen and put some paper towels under the water at the sink. “it’s okay, jake, it wasn’t your fault,” you reassured. you came back to the two of them and handed jake the wet towels. “all that matters is that he’s alive.”

“not technically,” heeseung joked before going into a fit of coughs. you and jake glared at him.

you pulled up the sleeve of your shirt and held it at his mouth. “drink,” you said firmly. it was the only way to insure his wounds healed. jake began wiping the blood off of him.

heeseung pushed your arm away a little, shaking his head. “i-i can’t—”

“drink,” you and jake demanded at the same time and you pressed your arm against his mouth. cautiously, heeseung grabbed your arm with his hands, darting you a hesitant look. you watched as his fangs elongated and caught the light before sinking down into your skin.

you winced as your eyes traveled down to his bloodied torso. one by one, the wounds started to close and heal and heeseung eyes got more red. you started to feel lightheaded and stumbled towards heeseung, nearly falling over. he immediately let go of your arm and steadied you. “i’ll get more towels,” jake murmured.

“don’t scare me like that again,” you spoke, sitting down next to heeseung on the couch. he smiled at you, mouth covered in blood, “i’m sorry, i don’t plan on getting attacked by werewolves again.” you playfully nudged him, the two of you laughing.

𓏲 𖧷ˊ JAY

you always thought there was something a little weird about your boyfriend. how you could really only see him when the the last ray of sun dropped below the horizon, how sometimes his eyes would look more of a garnet color than brown, how cold he always was, and even sometimes how his teeth seemed sharper than the average person’s.

he would have an excuse for all of it. he’s night owl, he spends his whole day working so he can only see you at night, the light is playing a trick on your eyes, he’s always been this cold, or his teeth are just more pointier than the average. but still, something didn’t sit right with you.

you remembered the night you were cooking dinner together and the blade you were cutting veggies with just so happened to accidentally slice a bit of your finger. “oh!” you gasped, pulling your finger close to you as droplets of blood formed at the cut. you turned to jay and noticed his weird behavior, assuming it was worry. “don’t worry, it’s nothing serious!” you reassured.

jay quickly excused himself to the bathroom and didn’t come out until you wound was all cleaned and wrapped up.

it was little things such as that that had pointed you in the direction of something else—something… supernatural. you had to test your theory, so you decided to plan a little vacation for the two of you and begged for weeks for jay to say yes, and he finally relented.

he seemed a little moody and there was bags under his eyes like he hasn’t slept a wink since you started begging him to join you. and now that you were looking, his eyes were definitely a garnet color. you pulled him in for a kiss and subtly pushed your tongue past his lips. sharpness.

you only had one more test to do to truly confirm your suspicions.

a loud, and slightly painful, gasp ripped from your throat as blood poured down your arm. jay rushed in the kitchen, fast as lightning and his eyes widened at the scene. you looked at him with furrowed brows, trying to keep the smirk off your face at the way his eyes grew a more darker red.

without even thinking, and before you could even blink, jay’s mouth was on your arm. your blood covered his mouth and dripped down his chin as he lapped all of it up. your eyes widened and you finally let the smile form on your face. “i knew it!” you said, victorious.

jay’s eyes darted up to yours and you watched them slowly lighten to more of a scarlet. he removed his mouth from your arm, the wound somehow sealed, and knitted his brows together. “how did you find out?”

“well, besides the obvious?” you joked while motioning to all of the blood. “you didn’t hide it that well.”

“so this was all part of your plan?” jay asked. you nodded smugly. jay hummed, lifting your arm towards his mouth. “i see,” he said before sinking his teeth back into your skin.

𓏲 𖧷ˊ JAKE

you were so irresistible to jake—so alluring. he just couldn’t get enough of you.

your lips moved in sync and he couldn’t help but try to pull you as close as he could just to get more. you hummed a little and pushed away from him and jake remembered that you still, in fact, needed to breathe. he removed his hand from the back of your head, pupils blown wide and no doubt the dark red he was accustomed to having every time he was in your presence.

inhaling deeply, you whimpered slightly as jake’s lips attached to your neck, right where the thumping of your heart could be felt and the best source of your blood ran through. you knew jake was always careful, especially with you, but no matter how many times you told him that it was okay to take a little bite, he wouldn’t.

“it’s bad enough already being near you,” he said, “i can barely control myself as it is.”

now it seems he was fighting his primal urges hard. you felt the slight prick of his fangs against your skin as his kisses on your neck turned to slight nips. he pushed your chest into his and you could feel him inhale deeply.

“it’s okay,” you muttered lowly, still catching your breath.

jake pulled back and you say his scarlet eyes, seemingly darker than they were moments before. he shook his head slightly. you nodded more and guided his head back to your neck. “it is,” you reassured.

you inhaled, preparing yourself for the sharp pain that you expected his fangs piercing into your skin would have. once they did, you let out a gasp. jake held you tightly, lapping at the blood pouring from your neck. you felt his tongue lick every drop, leaving none to spare.

before he could get too carried away, jake pulled back, his mouth and chin dripping. “see,” you smiled. “i told you it would be okay.”

“no,” jake murmured, licking his lips. “cause now that i’ve had a taste, i’m never gonna be able to get enough.”

𓏲 𖧷ˊ SUNGHOON

you were awoken by the presence of something standing over you, making fear creep deep into your beating heart. you reached over to the other side of the bed. when you felt the empty bed you cracked your eyes open, confused. very slowly, you turned towards where you felt the presence near the side of the bed.

above you, with wide eyes so red they were borderline black, stood your trembling boyfriend as he stared down at you. your brows drew together as you blinked a couple times. he looked pale and almost sickly. the hollows of his cheeks were more prominent and when he licked his dry lips you saw the white of his fangs. immediately, you could tell that he hasn’t been feeding like he said he was. “sunghoon?” you meekly asked, eyes widening at the state of him.

you reached out to touch his hand and in a flash he was flying across the room, back pressed hard against the wall of your shared bedroom. you sighed softly, “why didn’t you tell me you haven’t been feeding?” sunghoon remained silent as he tried to not let his primal nature overcome him and devour you. you sighed again.

pushing the covers off of you, you scoot towards the end of the bed and sunghoon tried to push himself farther into the wall. you pulled down the sleeve of your nightgown off your shoulder and fully expose your neck to him. “here… drink,” you say softly.

his scarlet eyes are more visible as the moonlight shines onto him. there’s slight veins under his eyes that appear at your request and his mouth opens, tongue dancing across his long and sharp fangs. ultimately, sunghoon turns his head and shakes it a little, his gaze finally tearing away from you.

you lean closer to him. “drink,” you demand more firmly and his eyes snaps to yours. “it’s okay,” you add, “you won’t hurt me, i know it.”

relentlessly, sunghoon takes hesitant steps towards you, his eyes hyper-focused on your neck and the delicious blood pumping through your veins. sunghoon cups your face gently with his cold hands and his eyes dart to yours. you give him a slight nod of reassurance. sunghoon then buries his face into the crook of your neck, his nose rubbing up your neck and sending a chill down your spine.

sunghoon pressed a chaste kiss to your neck before you felt his fangs bite into you. a gasp leaves your parted lips and your eyes flutter closed. sunghoon has never fed from you before, but you think you could get use to the feeling as pure bliss overwhelms your senses. you start to feel your body go numb as he laps at the blood trailing down your neck. sunghoon holds you tightly to his chest as he makes sure he gets every last drop he possibly can.

when he’s finished, you feel limp and your eyes are barely open. sunghoon lays you back onto the bed and kisses at your neck again before surfacing from your neck to assess the damage. his mouth is messy and red with your blood, the liquid dripping down his neck as he licks his lips. “better?” you ask him woozily, your eyes closing fully as sleep tries to whisk you away.

“better,” sunghoon replies, and you feel his arms hook under your back and legs before you’re falling into a deep sleep.

∿ [ continue on to . . . masterlist , taglist , request ] ︵͡ 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 (⌒‿⌒)♡

🏷️﹙ want to be added to my permanent taglist? click here ﹚ @jjunberry @gothgyuu @gyuuberries @beargyuuzz @kittyhyuka @dani-is-tired @riaawr @yeonjunsfox @nxzz-skz @jakeswifez @rapmonie2047 @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @skaterhoon @aaa-sia @jeonghaniehaee @todorokiskitten @onlyhyunjin @lilyuwon @who-tf-soddhi @americanojake @in-somnias-world @ghstzzn @chaconadine @inkigayocamman @won4me @usnve @aduh0308 @jiryunie @minaateez

2K notes · View notes