#the night i decided i wanted to make it i got an email from michaels that they had a sale on beads LOL meant 2 be | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

avintagekiss24 · 3 years ago

Text

the truth of lust woman to man.

the details;

sub!bucky barnes x black!Dom!reader.

10,347 words.

18+ ONLY, smut, Dom/sub dynamics, sex toys (a lot of sex toys lol), pegging, hand job, blow job, crying kink, slight degradation/humiliation kink, teasing, sex work, body worship, biting kink.

for @navegandoaciegas maneater challenge:

ingredients → body worship + "so fucking tight" + "you're such a pathetic little slut" + "look at you drooling all over yourself"

notes from the author;

i know i said i was gonna post on bucky's birthday, but i decided that i hated the format i had, so decided to change it 🤷🏾‍♀️. a few days late, but nonetheless, happy birthday to this man. please enjoy :)

credits;

consent/18+ banners by @maysdigitalarts / line divider by @firefly-graphics

one thing in life you must understand

the truth of lust woman to man

so open the door and you will see

there are no secrets make your move

set me free

~ michael jackson in the closet

The vibration of the phone fills the bathroom as you stand in the mirror. Fluffy white towel wrapped around your body, hair wet— ringlets bouncing with each stroke of the comb as Spotify rolls through your playlist. You’re tempted to ignore it for a while, your phone, as wash day is a beast of its own. Shampoo, rinse, shampoo again, rinse, conditioner, rinse, a five minute leave in conditioner, rinse. Comb through. A twenty minute hot oil treatment. Rinse. Comb through again. Then comes the hard part. Either let it air dry and deal with the frizz and wild, braid it and have your fingers go numb, or blow dry and straighten it which’ll take up the next two and a half hours and cuts into your Netflix time.

The phone vibrates again with the unread message.

You’re off tonight— just like every Friday night for as long as anyone can remember because it’s wash day. Everybody knows that. But your phone is vibrating anyway. It vibrates again in quick succession; another text. So you snatch it up with a huff and an eye roll, ready to cuss out whoever isn’t respecting the one boundary you have.

I know it’s Friday… but I just got back in town… really need to see you

Please

You feel bad as soon as you read his name, let alone his messages. Three dots are still bouncing on the screen as your thumbs dance across the glass.

I’ll pay extra… please extend my sincerest apologies to your hair

He’s being a shit. You can read his dry ass tone through the screen. This is his little way of apologizing for intruding on your personal time… but a boy has needs. Obviously.

Text Nat, you reply, deleting your original and kinda mean (even for you), message, You can apologize in person.

He doesn’t text back.

Blow dry and straighten it is.

A few minutes later, the phone vibrates again. A text from Nat.

I have a request for you tonight… says you’ve green lighted this? Please confirm

Confirmed— overtime rates for the entire evening

Got it. Contract to follow

You flip off vibrate, not wanting to miss another text. There’s something behind them— a little desperation, maybe? He needs you, but he’s still going to wait the time it takes to do your hair.

Gotta punish him somehow.

The swish on an incoming email fills the bathroom as you pull out your blow dryer and hair straightener. Grabbing the phone again, you click into the PDF, skim the details— overtime rates applied, extra fees for a last minute booking and personnel accommodations— then tap above your printed name just below Natasha’s signature, and turn your phone in your hands. You slide your finger across the glass, leaving behind a swift, girly signature. A few more taps and a loud swoosh later, your contract is sent back to Natasha, awaiting the signature of your client.

Within minutes, another text flashes across the screen.

All set. Yelena will meet you at the destination. Stark Towers, 1245 E. Manhattan St, Midtown Manhattan, NYC. APT 1514

You’re all too familiar with the Stark Towers apartment building. An exclusive property in the heart of New York City. Luxury apartments that never seem to come available for rent— to the general public that is— not that a few overly rich, overly confident assholes haven’t tried. No, you have to be a specific type of human to get Tony Stark to even take a second glance at your application. A certain human of the hero variety.

It’s a tall building. Looks as if it’s made completely out of glass. There’s too many floors and too many apartments for the six or seven super humans that the world knows about— makes you wonder just how much Mr. Tony Stark knows about this flying green rock and how little the puny humans actually know about the super ones... maybe there’s more. But, you don’t get paid to ask questions. You just get paid to stalk the halls of Stark Towers and make very big, very strong men lick your boots until they cry.

A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth at the very thought.

There’s a blonde standing just outside the door of the luxury apartment building, hands shoved in the pockets of her black leather jacket, the permanent scowl she dons etched on her face, “This one must be special to get you out on a Friday night.”

A small smile curves onto your lips as you step onto the curb, “Well, he’s got a big dick if that’s what you’re asking.”

Yelena scrunches her face, lip snarled as she rolls her eyes and scoffs, “This is why I hate working with you,” she holds out her hand to you, wiggles her fingers, “Wrist.”

You push up the sleeve of your own leather jacket, clearing your throat as your ponytail blows in the wind. Yelena wraps a device around your wrist, something like a fit bit but a little more high tech. Her eyes bouncing between her phone and your face as she syncs the two devices, “Your hair looks nice.”

“Thank you,” you smile, tossing your head a bit to make it move, “I finally pulled the trigger on that $500 straightener and tried a new shampoo. All good?”

The bracelet around your wrist dings and vibrates quick before Yelena shoves her phone into her back pocket, “Good. Let’s go.”

One good thing about Stark Towers is the anonymity of the building. Security codes get changed daily, and each door, stairwell, or elevator requires a different one. The front door is a four digit code, the elevator, a pattern. Floor fifteen is a seven digit code plus voice recognition by the one and only—

“Jarvis,” you smile gently as Yelena leans against the wall of the elevator, “It’s been a while, darling.”

“It has,” Jarvis’ smooth voice fills the metal box, “It’s nice to hear your voice again. May I have the seven digit code please?”

“0743926,” you read slowly, glancing down at the text from Nat.

“Thank you, and the additional four digit pin please?”

“1918.”

It goes quiet for a few moments, Jarvis running his specs to confirm your answers and voice, “Thank you, and your companion? May I have a name and their one time guest passcode please?”

“Yelena Belova,” she answers with a huff, pushing away from the wall, “37624. Open the door, Jarvis.”

“Ah, Ms. Belova, how lovely to see you again,” Jarvis answers, “Enjoy the evening, ladies.”

Just like that, the elevator doors slide open to floor fifteen. Yelena trails you as you move with purpose. Confident strides, setting your tone. When you reach the door, you don’t even have to knock. You hear Jarvis’ muffled voice announcing your arrival to the person inside and then heavy footsteps. Locks sliding back into the doorframe.

The door opens within seconds and you’re bathed in a warm light, “Hi baby,” you purr, when your eyes meet a pair of steel blues.

He just smirks in return, before sliding those eyes to the short blonde behind you, “Christ,”

“Nice to see you too,” Yelena fake smiles. She grabs your wrist and lifts it eye level, “This,” she points towards the sleek device around your wrist, “Is a direct link to my phone. It records every vital in the human body— heart rate, oxygen levels, body temperature, and blood pressure—,”

“Yeah, yeah,” he holds up his hand, “I got it, do we have to go through this every time?”

Yelena doesn’t miss a beat, “If her heart rate goes above one hundred and twenty five beats in any one minute time span, I’m coming through this door. If her breathing hitches for longer than twenty seconds, I’m coming through this door. Temperature play isn’t on your list of kinks, so if her’s drops even one degree—”

“Let me guess,” your client sighs, pushing the door open wider to expose his scantily clad body— only a pair of black boxer briefs covering his most intimate. He crosses his arms over his broad chest, a hint of gold glinting underneath the hallway lights, “You’re coming through my door?”

“And throwing you out of the window,” she drops your hand and digs out her phone, “She can also click one button on the bracelet or her phone and I’m snapping you in half like a twig,” she taps on her phone, starting the timer linked to Natasha’s computer, “Time starts now, and ends when I see her face again. Fingerprint, please.”

He doesn’t argue. Just places his thumb onto the screen of her phone and lets his eyes wander your frame as you push your finger onto the glass as well once he’s finished. Yelena walks off without a word— not a smile, not a second glance— leaving you and one Bucky Barnes to stare at one another.

He steps aside and you saunter in, pulling off the backpack and jacket and tossing them to the floor as you glance around his spacious bachelor pad. You turn to face him, blinking slow as your eyes search his face. Watching him as the power balance shifts on a dime. His eyes go all soft and nervous, barely able to maintain contact before those dark lashes rest on his suddenly flushed cheeks.

“Aww,” you purr, stepping up to him, cupping his cheek in your palm, “My sweet boy missed me, huh?”

Bucky nods soft, nuzzling into your touch, “It’s been too long.”

“You’re a busy boy, that’s okay,” you push your hand into his short hair, a smile tugging on your lips as his eyes flutter and lips part, a small moan in the back of his throat, “Somebody has to save the world.”

“Lucky me,” he whispers, turning his head gently to meet your fingers, to feel them.

You grab a fistful of his soft hair, yank his head back without warning, making him grunt, “Don’t think that superhero status means we still don’t have rules, baby,” you push in real close, lips brushing right up against the shell of his ear, “Greet me properly.”

The words are barely off the tip of your tongue before he’s on his knees. Large hands caressing your calf beneath your tight black jeans. Thick fingers and wide palms pushing up and around your thighs, hips, back to your ass before he leans down and kisses your combat boot. Then he looks up at you, blinking all sweet and innocent, hands gripping your hips like if he lets go he’ll fall straight through the floor.

You smile, eyes soft as you stroke his cheek and chin with the backs of your fingers, “Good boy.”

He lights up at the praise. A quick, sheepish smile. Batting his eyes as a pink blush blooms across his cheeks. So pretty. You tap him just underneath his chin to get him to stand, peering down at him through your lashes and then setting your gaze directly on him as he looms over you. Bucky still averts your eyes slightly, falling nervous after mere seconds before having to look away.

You love him like this.

So big, but so small. All at the same time.

You kiss him hard, lacing your fingers back into his hair and pulling gently. His top lip between yours as your tongue slides along the roof of his mouth. You moan into his wet mouth, push your body into his so he can feel you. To reassure him. Let him know that it’s okay. He can relax— you’re here now.

Bucky melts into you as he takes your lead, letting you control the moment— but careful to mind his manners. Even though those fingers of his are itching to touch, to grope and fondle, he keeps them by his sides. Waiting for his cue. He still loses himself in your mouth all the same. Moans into you. Hisses when you bite down on his fleshy bottom lip just a little too hard, but he shivers because it feels good.

And you love that too. How responsive this big man is. You pull away from him when you’ve had your fill— and when his cock is pressing into your thigh. A devilish smile creeps onto your face, soft but mischievous eyes batting up at him as your fingers trace the band of his boxers. A low giggle bubbling up in your throat as you walk those fingers down over the thick outline of the impressive cock print pushing against soft material.

You cup him without warning— squeeze his cock and balls hard as a sharp, quick breath chokes in his throat. The soft metal of the tips of his fingers clinking against his palm as he balls his hands by his sides.

“Oh Bucky baby,” you sigh happy, releasing your grip to slide your hand along his cock, massage that heavy sac before teasing his cockhead and the cute little wet spot that’s appeared within the last few minutes, “I hope you’re ready for me, cuz I sure have missed you,” you turn on your heel, releasing him completely from your grasp, “Come, and bring my bag.”

The loud zip of your jeans bounces off the walls of the quiet apartment as you move through the living room, past the kitchen and down the hall. The plain white cropped t-shirt covering your torso slips over your head easy, falls to the floor with a soft heap somewhere near the threshold of his bedroom (he’ll stop to pick it up because that’s what good boys do).

Once in the room, you turn on your heel, tilt your head and set your eyes on him again as he moves through the threshold. He places your bag on the bed, folds your shirt quickly and places it in the chair in the corner of his room before he tosses your leather jacket over the back. Then, he’s right back in front of you. Ready for his next orders.

You point towards the floor and he obeys without question. Head down, hands flat on his thighs, fingers spaced just so. You take a few steps toward the bed, but as you pass him can’t help but run your fingers through that soft, brown, freshly clipped hair. He moans, real little and soft, and a smile breaks onto your face as you move away from him and unzip your Christian Louboutin backpack.

A sigh pushes through your nose, a hum vibrating at the back of your throat as you unpack slowly, lining up the toys and random pieces of clothing side by side. Black mesh thigh high stockings for you. Leather harness. Glass butt plug. Nipple clamps— his favorite. A new dildo, one that as soon as you saw it when scrolling through your favorite online sex shop, you thought instantly of Bucky. The Sinnovator Rhino. Black, silver, and pink in color, nubs carved on the underside of the soft silicone. Huge— ten inches long, almost eleven inches in girth at its widest part.

Perfect for cock sluts like Bucky Barnes.

There’s a bottle of water based lube. A four-in-one misting sanitizing spray (a good Dom is a clean Dom). One hitachi wand, and an array of soft bondage rope. Pinks, blues, greens, pretty colors for a pretty boy. An expandable spreader bar, and finally, one pair of men’s thigh high stockings— red, three little white stripes at the top of each. You grab your pair of stockings and pad back over to the stoic Bucky, breathing deep but easy. Centered. You reach out, tap him on his shoulder to get him to raise his head.

“Help me get ready, baby.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You stand still, both hands on his shoulders as he sits up on his knees, his nose at your belly button. Two strong hands slip around your waist and dip inside of your jeans, pushing the thick material down over your ass, greedy fingers and palms squeezing your flesh to cop a quick feel.

The punishment is swift. His stubbly chin yanked upwards and then, a quick slap— all fingers and really no force at all— across his face. It’s not about pain with Bucky, he’s had his fill of punches and slaps, down right beatings when he stepped out of line. No, it’s not about the pain, but the shame of not following the rules. Of disobeying a direct order. A distant call to his days with HYDRA, except, he can control it now. He can decide when he wants to toe this invisible line, when he wants the sharp retaliation. He can be a disobedient soldier, all while feeling good about it.

“You know better,” you hiss, eyes and lips hard as you point your finger in his face, “Apologize—”

“ —I’m sorry,” he interrupts quickly, big blue eyes batting up at you, chest rising and falling a little harder, a little faster, that red blush creeping through his creamy peach skin, “I’m sorry. Thank you for correcting me.”

You drag your thumb over his lips, back and forth, real slow, watching as his eyes flutter again, “Such a good boy.”

Reinforcement is also big with Bucky. Another hum whirs deep in the back of his throat as he takes a big, deep breath and rolls his shoulders. That’s something he never got back then, and something he might not ever really get used to deep down, but it’s starting to feel better. He’s getting better about it— trying harder each and every time the two of you are together to accept the words. To believe them. The tiny little hum is proof that it’s starting to work.

“All is forgiven, bunny,” you smile, “Now come on, let’s stop wasting time, shall we?”

There’s a small smile on his blushed face. His bottom lip stuck between his white teeth, the soft skin going red and white from the pressure, “Yes ma’am,” he answers quietly.

Bucky waits until your hands are back on his shoulders before he’s tugging at your black jeans again. He lifts each leg one by one, a strong hand wrapped around each naked thigh as he pulls the rough denim over each foot. Folds them up real nice and places them just to his left before he accepts the thin, sheer stockings from your fingers.

He takes his time. Lifts your right foot and rests it on his hard thigh as he bunches the expensive material in his hands before he rolls it up over your manicured toes, foot and ankle. Shimmies the black stocking up your calf, over your knee, and up to your thigh, his fingers glancing along your skin all the while. There’s a soft little rub of his palm against the back of your thigh before he adjusts the stocking on your leg, making sure it’s straight and smooth, that there’s no kinks or bunched material, and then moves on to your other leg.

The soft pad of your feet against the carpet fills the room once more as your back at the end of the bed, harness in hand. You hand it over to him, place your hands back on his wide shoulders, lift your right leg as he holds it open. The velvet lining on the inside of the leather is so soft— comforting even. Makes you take a deeper breath and close your eyes for a beat longer than a blink. This is home. This is center. This is confidence.

Bucky adjusts the straps to your hips with skill, just barely flicking his eyes up to yours to get a handle on whether or not he needs to sinch them tighter. After all the time together, he just kinda knows. He turns you in his hands and starts lacing up the back, tugging hard on the string for the ultimate tightness— corset like. When he’s finished, he turns you again, hands gripping your sides, fingers gently indenting the meat of your waist. And then, like the good little bunny he is, he drops them to his sides and bats those big, pretty blue eyes and long, dark lashes up at you.

“Ma’am?”

Your thumb finds the little dimple in his chin and another wide smile cracks his face. It makes you go all warm, the smile. There’s probably all of three people on the planet that have seen this smile, and although you’d probably never say it out loud, you’re kinda proud to be one of them. You push your chin forward, smiling soft, “Bed.”

There isn’t a shred of hesitation. Following behind him, you stop at the edge of the bed, taking a deep breath as you eye the arsenal spread out before you. The mattress dips under his weight, the toys bouncing and rolling a little as two hundred and something pounds of man positions himself around them.

“You know, baby,” you start, plucking the red stockings from their place, “Since it’s been such a long time since we’ve seen each other, I think I need to take it a little slow tonight. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Bucky hates it when you take it slow. The semi-hard breath that pushes through his nose further demonstrates his displeasure, but, he doesn’t dare say it, “Yes.”

The curt answer makes you laugh as you climb onto the bed and between his outstretched legs. You grab a small chunk of skin between your index and thumb, just on the inside of his thigh. Pinch him so hard he jumps, muscles tensing as he sounds from the sharp, instant pain, “Don’t,” you start slow, pinching harder, “be rude. Yes, what?”

“Yes ma’am,” the words rush out of his mouth in a hurry, eyes squinted, teeth grinding against teeth, “Yes ma’am!”

“You better watch that smart mouth.”

You dress him in his red stockings, fix them all nice and straight, your fingers “slipping” to his inner thighs, scratching and pinching at the tender skin— his cock twitching at each little indiscretion of your hands. Soft laughter bubbles up in your throat, little moans of satisfaction as the wet spot on his black boxers grows bigger. You push his legs up so they’re bent at the knee, his feet flat on the mattress and push them open so you can wiggle in between.

Your hands find his knees and push down his thighs, right to his hips before raking your nails back upward to the bend. They make their way back down his thighs again and to his hips, but don’t stop this time. No, those fingers and palms keep roaming, over a perfect set of abs, up to two pronounced, hard tits until they fall on either side of him, the mattress catching your weight as you lean over him to kiss that mouth.

It’s sloppy and wet, the kiss, as you grind your cunt against his cock. Real slow. Back and forth as you release his now red lips with a loud smack. You keep your face close to his, lips barely out of his reach as your hips roll against him. Bucky’s teeth dig into his bottom lip, his eyelashes settling on his reddened cheeks as you push your face into the little nook between his jaw and neck. You kiss him once, twice, three times, real quick before your tongue darts out against his skin, licking a path before you kiss him again, this time harder. Punctuating it with a deep thrust from your hips.

He hisses, body tightening, hips jerking slightly as you suck a pretty bruise into his skin. He pushes his hips upward, into the leather and the wetness of your cunt, staining his underwear further with his excitement.

Your teeth scrape across his throat while you grab his wrists and pin them up over his head. It’s ridiculous really. One little twitch of his wrist and he’d be free of your grasp— your strength absolutely no match to his— but he doesn’t even try. He just relaxes more, practically melts into the mattress and underneath your power.

A wet tongue slithers just below his ear, a quick, purposeful blow of air to dry and cool the hot, wet spot. Bucky shivers, grunts and moans while bated breaths choke up in his throat as your cunt slides over the full length of his cock, pinned against his stomach. His hips rock more. Faster, harder, as your mouth and tongue and teeth move down his chest. Through the smattering of dark hair, over the little nicks and silvery scars that litter the wide canvas.

“Fuck,” he groans, kinda garbled and strained when your lips wrap around his right nipple to suck the cute little nub and massage it with your tongue as you tighten your hands around his wrists some more, “Fuck, I—”

He’s just a mumbling mess now. Cock jumping in his tight boxers, hot droplets of precum leaking through the material. The mattress dips with his thrusting hips, snaps right back into place when he lifts, but sinks again just as quick. He’s vibrating. Body humming. Blood rushing as you sink your teeth into the side of one of those perfect tits. He’s hot all over. Whiny and desperate to cum as he squeezes his legs around you.

But it isn’t time yet.

You lean back— keep his hands pinned over his head for a second more before you push away completely and leave him humping nothing but air. He slams his fists down by his sides, swallows hard as you laugh at him, “Aww, honey,” you patronize, grabbing his cheeks and shaking his head back and forth, “Poor wittle baby, you mad at me? Huh?”

He shakes his head, but keeps his eyes closed, licking his lips as shaky breaths push between his teeth, “No ma’am.”

“No?” you purr, pushing on the inside of his knees to push those legs open wider before you fall onto your hands. You nuzzle your face against his thigh, wrap your arm around it and press your lips against the firm muscle, “Are you sure?” it’s a whisper. Eyes batting all sweet as you lean up and blow warm air against his cock.

Bucky tenses, stomach and thighs flexing as he grunts in frustration. You palm his sac, squeeze it, before you drag your hand flat along his cock, all the way to the tip and then back to his balls again.

“No ma’am,” he quips, but it’s weak and all trembly, “I’m not— ah!”

A firm, deep bite to the inside of his naked thigh steals the words right off his tongue. His legs tense up again, hips lifting from the mattress as you send your eyes up his long body. His head is torqued just a little— tipped back and rolled a tad to the side so his chin is jutted towards the ceiling. There’s little crinkles in the corners of his eyes, his lips zipped up tight as you can only imagine him grinding those perfect teeth against one another to dull the pain.

Bucky’s always been one for dramatics. The slightest little slap or scratch sends him wailing. You’re sure your love bite is nothing more than what a mosquito bite is to a Rhino. Barely a prick, if there’s really any acknowledgement of the bite at all from said Rhino— or… could he be leaning into it? The pain. After years of ignoring it, shrugging it off. Becoming numb to it all, so in actuality, after a while, he never really felt anything. Not a fist to his jaw, or a knife to his thigh. No sore bones and deep muscle bruises after rolling, kicking, punching, falling, jumping. Nothing. Just learned to not register it because what did it matter anyway?

Now he’s alive. Flesh, blood and bone. Hypersensitive and whiney. Screeching at the mere thought of your teeth in his thigh again and manicured nails digging into skin that’s now meant to feel. His eyes leak from the frustration, the pent up anxiety, the final release you’ve provided week after week for only Natatsha knows just how long. Laughter and tension and tears and relief— he’s alive. And he wants to feel it.

So you bite him again, because it is about the pain. You palm his sac, massage his heavy balls slow as you drag your wet tongue and swollen lips around the now hot skin where your teeth just were. Wrap your fingers around his thick cock and pump him through his boxers as his chest hitches. He starts to tremble, cute noises bubbling in his throat as he tries to keep calm but the white sheets below are knotted firm in his grip. Any more tension in fact, and those metal digits will rip this poor little sheet in two.

With a lingering kiss on the inside of his knee, you pull away again. Twist around on your knees to pluck the glass butt plug and cleaning spray from its place in the toy line up. You spritz it slow with the sanitizing spray, feeling sharp, eager eyes on you all the while, his impatience growing tangible. He’s breathing hard, audibly so. His poor bottom lip clamped between his teeth again, so hard that you’d be surprised if it doesn’t end up bleeding. You still take your time though, twisting and turning the plug between your fingers, seemingly eyeing every inch of the custom blown glass just to annoy him further.

“Back in a flash, buttercup,” with that, you’re off the bed and padding into the bathroom, cutting your eyes just in time to catch him taking a hard swallow, “Patience is a virtue,” you call in a sing song tone as you flip on the water and wait for it to heat.

Your facetious nature added with Bucky’s surly attitude really makes for a great evening— always has. You dip the anal toy to and fro beneath the warm water more times than necessary just to waste a little more time— to get him really yappy and rude. A few more minutes tick by as you pretend to not know where he keeps his hand towels, opening and closing drawers loudly and then finishing off the Oscar worthy act with an “Ah, here they are!”

Two blue eyes meet yours again as you lean against the door frame, right leg crossed over the left as you start to dry the plug. You lift it up into the light, rub out an imaginary spot. Turn it between your fingers, squinting and wiping like it’s the finest piece of crystal known to man and not something that’s gonna be shoved up his ass in a few minutes.

After it’s clean, and you mean clean, you skip back towards the bed and climb on top, wiggling between his legs again as you reach for the band of his boxers. Bucky lifts his hips without having to be asked as you pull them half way down his thigh, snapping the elastic band against his skin playfully.

“Alright baby boy,” you murmur, flipping the cap of the small bottle of lube, “Relax for me.”

You start with your fingers first, slathered up with the gel. Run them between his cheeks, eyes snapping towards his and a smile curling on your lips when he jumps at the contact. Index and middle fingers find his warm, tight rim, already fluttering with anticipation, and gently stroke him. Prep him up real nice and wet— getting his chest hitching and those sweet little sounds to burble through him again, his cock jumping within seconds of your touch.

With a little glob of lube on the tip of the plug, you toss the bottle behind you and push the glass between his legs, still bent at the knee and but falling further and further open as he starts to melt away again, his brain going to static and fuzz as he’s safe and warm with you again at last.

Push, push, push. Slowly, slowly, slowly. His mouth falls open, head tipping back again as his body spreads, forms around the glass toy. You flatten a palm against his knee, fingers stroking the thin, delicate skin there as you fill him up.

It isn’t enough to satisfy the whore in him, but the heel of the plug finally rests against his hot rim. You give his sac another squeeze, pump his shaft and sweep the pads of your fingers over his wet, red tip as a sweet hum vibrates in his throat. Just to get him to jump again, to gasp and shiver all sweet like, you give his cockhead a kiss, make sure your tongue barely breezes against the sensitive skin before you pull away to shimmy his boxers back up— another loud snap of the elastic band around his waist.

You nuzzle your cheek against the inside of his thigh. Press three soft kisses there as you rake your nails up and down the back of it before sitting up straight enough to grab the next piece from your arsenal before venturing up his body— a kiss here, a slippery tongue there, greedy fingers scratching, gripping, groping everywhere— until you find that broad chest once more. You push your fingers through the soft hair splashed along his tits before lightly brushing your fingers over his left nipple. Pushing up on your knees, you throw a leg over his waist to straddle him, resting every pound you have to offer on his stomach.

He can certainly take it.

Bucky keeps his eyes closed as you explore him with your hands. Flat palms gliding over pecs and shoulders, squeezing a thick bicep— tracing the singular vein that protrudes against his skin. When you lift the soft black metal arm, oh, those blue eyes pop open again. Find you quick.

He’s always been self conscious of it— since the day you met him. It wasn’t all shiny and new then. No, it was old and heavy, silver with that pesky red star. A red, jagged, thick scar joining flesh and metal that crept down into his pec and back— which made for a lot of uncomfortable nights, tossing and turning. Already strained, tired muscles burning with an old, burdensome pain. It changed him, that arm. The way he touched (or didn’t touch) things; not wanting to hurt or break anything without realizing. Altered how he moved, how he walked. A new, distinctive gait that gave him away whenever he wanted just a little anonymity. Long sleeve shirts, jackets, and gloves became his permanent wardrobe.

Don’t touch it, he warned the first time you’d met, that’s my only… thing.

The arm is a hard no?

Very hard.

Hm, ok. We’ll work on that.

And now you have that vibranium limb in your hand, the tip of his index finger between your teeth, lips wrapped around the digit as you suck lightly, taking it all deep into your mouth. The chain of the nipple clamps dangling from your fingertips click gently against his forearm as you take a second black and gold finger into your mouth.

He whimpers. Bucks his hips into your ass soft as your tongue swirls around his fingers, your free hand pushing down, then back up his long arm. A far cry from don’t touch it… and that makes you all tingly. He trusts you; and you feel like that’s hard to come by from a hundred year old killing machine.

You drop his arm, let him grab a hold of your thigh as you push your hands from his hard stomach up to his chest again, just kinda feeling his thick skin and trained muscles before you start to tease his left nipple. Rubbing it a little harder, pinching and teasing until it’s ready for a weighted clamp. You flip your eyes from his chest to his face, watching him as you tighten the grip of the clamp, moving the slider upward until his face breaks from the squeeze. His teeth grinding again, crinkles in the corners of his eyes, a hiss slips through his teeth.

Just for good measure, you push the slider up just a tick further, until his entire body tenses underneath you. That’s the sweet spot. You fix him up real pretty, get that second nipple locked into its clamp and give the silver chain a tug— just to make him squirm. His handsome face breaking again, hips rolling as the sharp pain of the clamps starts to settle with the fullness the plug in his ass provides.

He wiggles, tightening the grip he still has on your thighs, his breath starting to rush again as he grows impatient, that deep itch just barely being tickled.

Climbing off, you settle on your knees between his legs, which have now fallen flat against the mattress. You push them open a smidge, let him flex his feet and adjust as you grab yet another toy to once again push him right up against his threshold. You were sorta on the fence about making him cry tonight— it’s been a while and he’s all pent up and anxious… you like to take it a little easy on him in situations like this. But he’s definitely going to cry tonight. The sadist in you won’t have it any other way.

The soft buzz of the hitachi wand fills the room and sends a shiver right through him. You scoot back towards the edge of the bed so your feet dangle off and prop up on your elbows, your face— mouth and all— maybe an inch from his throbbing cock. Your ass in the air.

“Where to start,” you wonder aloud with a huff, “Maybe,” you sing, skimming the wand up the inside of his thigh, “Here?”

Bucky’s legs jerk, close in a little around you at the vibration as he pushes his hips down into the mattress hard when you stop just at his balls.

“Or maybe here,” you continue, placing the silicone head of the toy on his stomach, running it from hip to hip, tracing the elastic band of his underwear.

“Aht, fuck,” it’s throaty, but a little rushed. He’s falling fast, “Plea—“

“ —No? Maybe here then,”

Back to the inside of his thigh, but the left one this time. You drag it underneath his sac real fast, just barely letting him feel it before you pull it away completely. Tease him again by running it along the cock print in his nearly ruined underwear. Over the large wet spot and then back down the front of his thigh.

You pull it away again and the absence is just too much for the burly man. Bucky slams his fist into the mattress, “Please,”

Giggling, you tilt your head, place your chin in the palm of your hand, “Please what, bunny?”

“Goddamnit,”

“Aht, aht, aht,” you warn, pinching the inside of his thigh, “I warned you earlier— watch that mouth, James.”

Bucky slaps his hands over his face, rubs his eyes and cheeks hard before he drops his heavy limbs back to the mattress. He’s getting huffy. Lashes wet, cheeks a deep red, chest heavy and heaving again. His hips wiggle down into the mattress, all the more aware of that plug— filling him not nearly enough.

“You’re such a pathetic little slut, you know that?” you laugh, tickling the inside of his thigh, laughing harder when he jumps, “Can’t take two minutes of a little foreplay.”

You give into him all the same. The vibrating silicone head meets a weeping cockhead through the thin black boxers. His whole body stiffens as you hold the wand still against him, moaning all sweet and low as his cock starts jumping again. You push the wand down his length, over his drawn up balls then back up to his tip. Drag it back and forth along his stomach as he squirms— toes spreading out, drawing his legs up before stretching them out long again, fingers flexing from tight balls to flat against the mattress on either side of him.

He grows louder as the minutes tick by. Groaning and whimpering, gasping when you grab him again, lifting his cock from his stomach, squeezing and stroking as you push the wand against his mushroom head. You move it around slow, circling his sensitive tip as you keep a firm hold of him, pulling the wand away and then pressing it against him again in quick succession, jerking his cock with your hand all the while.

“Guh— g— od,” he pants, grabbing the side of the mattress with his metal hand, “I’m gonna fuckin— ugh, I’m,”

“You’re not coming unless I say so, bunny,” you smile, pushing the vibrator back down his cock, over his balls real slow, “Those are the rules.”

He grunts in response, knowing what’s coming but is too weak to stop it. Too warm and fuzzy to really want to stop it— this is what he pays for after all.

The vibrator falls next to Bucky’s side as you dig your fingers underneath the band of his boxers again. It’s a little harder to drag them down his long legs, but the minute his cock springs free you find the strength to shimmy them down his limp body. He’s shiny and wet, a deep bloom of red all over. Gorgeous.

He’s warm— hot even— when you wrap your fingers around his cock, palm his full sac with the other hand. You take a deep breath, push it out audibly as you stroke him slowly, tilting your head and batting your big brown eyes when his hips start to buck with your rhythm. A wet tongue finds his hot flesh, licks from the base of his cock all the way up, up, up to his tip, a salty plop of cum dribbling from his slit when the two meet.

You suck on the head, then take him whole before he can even realize it’s happening. Slip him right down your throat with ease (you’re a professional after all) as you find the magic wand again and press it against his taint. You hum lightly as you pull your mouth off of him to tease his slit with your flicking tongue before you swallow him up again.

Being the good little bunny Bucky Barnes is, he tempers himself. He’s used to it really, holding himself back. Keeping those pesky little demons at bay— but he’s starting to struggle. Thighs are getting shaky. Hips are faltering more and more as they roll and buck. He’s getting whiny all over again, high-pitched and almost helpless. Urgent, trembling, honeyed little moans spewing out of him as your throat massages him, lips and tongue swirl, suck and slurp on him, all while the deep vibrations of the silicone headed wand rock through him.

He freezes up suddenly, muscles tensing all over as a shaky, drawn-out moan passes through his lips, a quick gasp following. His cock jumps in your mouth out of anticipation— it’s right there. So close that you both can taste it. Flesh and metal fingers dig into the mattress, sheets all bunched up under his palms, barely withstanding the force of his grasp.

If you swirl your tongue just once. Move that vibrator a centimeter of an inch, and you’ll have a mouth and throat full of cum.

Sounds fun— for both you and Bucky.

But you didn’t say so. So, naturally…

“Fuck! Don’t—“ his voice breaks underneath the strain of a ruined orgasm. He just kinda breaks after that. As soon as you empty your mouth of him, his face contorts with the tears and sobs of his frustration. He cries openly and loudly as you click off the vibrator— like the sweet little angel he is, “I’ve— ” he begs, inhaling deep between each sob that wracks his body, “ —I’ve been so good… I n-need to… this isn’t f-fair— please, just,”

“Aww, sweetie. You’ll be okay. I promise,” you purr, moving up to perch on his stomach again.

Your lips find his forehead, his cheeks, the bridge of his nose before pecking at his mouth. Once, twice, three, four times— they’re always so soft and red when he’s all achy and sweet like this. You could just eat up every little sob and squeak and choke that pours from him, “Such a good little puppy,” you murmur, kissing him one last time before rolling off of him and planting your feet on the carpet.

There’s a body length mirror in the corner of his room, propped up by the two adjoining walls. He bought it just for you— well, for your dates. Bucky Barnes, left to his own devices, wouldn't have any mirrors, let alone one that spans nearly the entire length of the wall. What’s the point? I know what I look like. But little, soft bunny Bucky Barnes? Oh, he likes seeing himself stripped down to the barest of all that is human. Likes to watch his body lurch forward with each thrust from behind. Etches the lines and wrinkles in his skin as his face breaks from the ecstasy of your hard fuck in his mind— how it scrunches up in pain, in relief, in anticipation. All for you. All because of you.

He’s flesh, blood and bone you see. Not only does he want to feel it, he wants to see it too.

A deep breath fills your lungs. You hold it in, one, two, three seconds before pushing it out through your nose— totally content. Bucky sniffles behind you, sobs still squeaking out of him as you saunter back into the bathroom to wet another hand towel. You wring it out, move back into the room and stand at the edge of the bed. Time for what he really pays you for.

Sanitizing spray and warm hand towel in one hand, pink and black dildo in the other, you move to the mirror and start to prep. The soft spritzes of the spray seem to fill the room, drowning out Bucky’s cries. Twisting and turning the huge cock in your hand, you douse it thoroughly before you wipe at it, making sure every little nod carved into the silicone, every little nook gets the proper attention. For good measure, you traipse back into the bathroom, stick it underneath the warm water to clean the surface again before you lock the base into the silver ring of your harness. You give your cock a few good tugs to make sure it’s snug and secure. Bucky’s cranky enough— let your dick fall off while he’s trying to get off and see how well that goes.

“Alright puppy,” you coo, back at the edge of the bed, collecting some rope, “On your knees.”

His limbs are liquid. Muscles hot and sore for the constant flexing and straining from your teasing. But he manages to perch on his knees, his arms unable and unwilling to hold him up. He slumps forward, pushing the side of his blotchy red face into the sheets and mattress, his shoulders bearing most of his weight.

You push your hand down his spine, right down to his neck and give it a squeeze before moving your fingers into his hair. You smile a little when you see him visibly relax into your touch— eyes flutter closed, a soft but deep, purposed breath releasing from his mouth. He even moans a bit, feeling safe and soothed by your fingertips.

“You’re doing good, baby. Still with me?” a pathetic head shake is all you receive, “Use your words, please.”

Bucky gets all choked up, the words strangled and chopped as his eyes blur with tears again, “Good, I’m g-good,”

“We’re almost there, honey.” your voice soft and warm, fingers pulling from his hair and back up his spine real slow, “I’m gonna give you what you want bunny, but I need those hands first.”

There’s no struggle. No back talk, no pouting or huffing. Bucky just places his hands in the small of his back, crossing his left wrist over the right and flexing his fingers slow. You lift his hands gently, slipping the pink bondage rope underneath his wrists and circle it around them, starting your single column tie. Breathing easy and slow, you work the soft rope around his wrists, the tip of your cock pressed right up against his tight sac the entire time. His cock jumps every now and again, his hot hole fluttering with anticipation as he sniffles and hums with his tears.

When you’re finished, you give your handiwork a hard tug, the knot holding firm— for a regular human anyway. Bucky could snap it with a twitch of his wrist if he really wanted to, but that Bucky is suppressed entirely too deep tonight. You lean back to take a look at him, drag your nails up and down his stocking clad thighs, then up to his bare ass to give that little booty a squeeze. Finding the lube again, you squeeze a dollop onto the tip of your pink and black, ribbed for his pleasure, cock and stroke it slow, spreading the slick right down to the base before pushing some out onto the tips of your fingers.

Bucky jumps slightly when your fingers find his rim. He lets out a long, semi-focused breath as you prep him real nice, your eyes flickering towards the mirror, “Look at yourself, beautiful,” you whisper, grabbing your cock in your hand, “This is your favorite part,” your voice thick.

Wet, thick lashes flutter as he cranes his neck a little to see himself. To see you. Blue eyes peer on as you push closer to him, your thighs right up against his. You spread his ass open with both hands. Drag your pretty, fake cock from his heavy balls to his asshole— then push. Slow. Hard. Watching the mirror as Bucky’s face screws up in pleasure and pain. Deep wrinkles carve into his forehead, his mouth falling open as he squeezes those eyes shut before popping them open again, blinking furiously.

You don’t stop until his ass is flush against your harness. All ten inches— completely gone. Have you mentioned how much you love cock sluts like Bucky Barnes?

He’s all whimpery and whiney again. Huffing and choking on his own sounds. Balled fists pull lightly on the restraints around his wrists. He struggles to keep his eyes open, but tries hard, blinking fast as he groans deep, “G-od, please. Please, please,” he begs, metal fingers clinking against a metal palm, “Fuck me, please. Fuck me good.”

Fuck him good, you will.

You rock into him, the mattress starting to squeak with the weight and the movement. His body lunges forward with each stroke, his mouth falling wider and wider open as you fuck him deep. Make him take each and every inch from tip to base with each push of your hips. Your rhythm is slow, pushing him forward, pulling him back by his hips, letting him feel the girth, the carved nubs.

“So fuckin’ tight,” you purr, leveling your palm against his ass, the sharp sound slapping off the walls, “Feel good? Huh, do I feel good baby?”

He doesn’t answer, can’t really. He just nods frantically, hands still balled in the small of his back, the side of his face pressed into the mattress as groans choke up in his throat. Soon, you aren’t moving fast enough. Bucky starts pushing back into your hips, faster, harder. To the point where you stop moving all together, just let him fuck himself back onto your cock as you watch in the mirror. You spank him again, and then quickly a third time, his fair skin starting to turn a shade of red. So responsive.

“I asked you a question, soldier.”

A shiver passes through him. Bucky knows that tone, honeyed and smooth, but menacing all the same. He fucks back into you again, real slow, “Guh— god, yes.”

You snatch a fistful of hair and yank hard, “Yes, what?”

“Yes ma’am,” he whimpers, lunging forward when you snap your hips, pushing deep, deep, deep, “S’good, feels good.”

“Good boy,” your words don’t reflect your actions though. Praising him while pulling completely out of his hot hole, eyeing the wet spot on the sheets from his weeping cock. He whines, on the brink of tears again when you tap the inside of his right thigh, “Lay flat, on your tummy.”

He doesn’t waste a second. Cock pinned between his stomach and the mattress, legs spreading wide as you climb over him, throwing your legs on the outside of his while you enter him again. You flatten your body to his, tits and stomach pressed against his muscular back as you start bucking back into him, your lips just at the shell of his ear. Moans drip like honey from your mouth, the tip of your tongue flicking at his ear before you suck the lobe right into your mouth, your fingers dripping back into his hair.

There’s a wet little sound, a squeak of your silicone cock pushing into his wet asshole. Bucky buries his face into the sheets and mattress as he groans deep before taking the duvet into his mouth to muffle the noise. You pick up your pace, pushing up onto your knees and resting your hands on his back to hold your weight as you lean forward to fuck him hard. Your thighs slapping against his, adding to the filthy noises of your sex.

Then, in an instant, you slow down again. Wanting him to feel it all. Pull all the way out of him and plunge back in, Bucky’s eager hips pushing upward to help you sink in. You fall forward, kissing the back of his neck, his jaw lazy and sloppy. Purring in his ear, telling him he’s a good little boy, how happy you make him as you speed up once more.

You pull out of him again, but push off the edge of the bed, grabbing the last and final toy. You don’t even have to give him any instructions— it almost makes you laugh. He maneuvers up onto his knees and scuttles to the edge of the bed where he throws his feet on to the soft carpet, standing as you drop down to your knees. You pull the spreader bar out as far as it goes, so he can’t clamp those legs and thighs together to cop a feel before you’re ready for him too. You make quick work of it, wrapping the velcro cuffs around his ankles and giving them a quick tug before your back on your feet, sliding behind him and pushing him forward a few steps.

Eager fingers find his hips, push around to his stomach and then up to chest, just to feel him as you eye your bodies in the mirror. He’s flushed all over, his face blotchy and red, eyelashes clumped together as he breathes heavy through his open mouth. You flatten your palm over his heart, rest your nose and lips against his shoulder blade as you peak over his shoulder.

His cock is nearly purple he’s so hard. Balls hot to the touch and heavy as you roll them between your free fingers and give them a squeeze. You pump his cock a few times, the pads of your fingers teasing his cockhead and pushing away the beads of milky precum before you stick them right in your mouth, linking eyes with his as you clean them up. A soft giggle bubbling in your throat as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath at the sight.

You grab your cock with one hand, push lightly on his shoulder with the other to coax him to lean forward. You slide in easy he’s so wet and open. He keeps his eyes on your reflections in the mirror as you fuck into him again, him pushing back to meet your thrusts. Torture is on your mind, but he’s been through enough… for now. So you grab his swinging cock and start to pump him as you fuck him from behind, grab his sac with your other hand between his legs.

Bucky’s mewling in minutes, high-pitched and unrestrained as you push him to the brink. Throws his head back and lets his mouth hang as you set a brutal pace that he’s all too eager to meet. He gets louder, more desperate, right on the edge as you jerk his cock with the tunnel your palm makes, teasing that weeping slit and slutty, sensitive cockhead with feathersoft fingers. His asshole squelching from the slick lube and monster silicone cock massaging his insides and that sweet little deep spot.

“Look at you,” you coo, “Drooling all over yourself. You ready, sweet boy? You wanna cum, baby?”

He’s a mess. A shuddering, groaning, panting mess. Keening and cursing, gasping and hissing with every flick of your wrist and stab of your hips.

“That’s it, baby boy. Those are the moans I love to hear,” you continue to coax, “Come on baby, give it to me. You’ve earned it. Come on.” You put every ounce of your weight into your thrusts, wrist twisting up and down his cock as you squeeze his sac.

“I’m— fuck, i’m gonna,” Bucky stutters, voice breaking as a sob sticks in his throat, “Ma’am i— i’m gon—”

He can’t even finish the sentence. Every muscle he has tenses, body stiffening up quick before he cums. Red, hot cock jumping in your hand with each spurt, spilling to the floor. You fuck him right through it, with your hips and hand, wanting to drain that sac of every last drop. Bucky loses control, but only now, snapping the soft bondage rope in two. But you don’t stop, not until he’s shaking, twitching and tensing, sobbing when he’s overstimulated and it starts to hurt.

You anchor a hand in the center of his chest again, press your forehead into his shoulder, your pumping hand and hips finally starting to slow, “You’re such a pretty boy,” you murmur through kisses, “Such a good, good boy, bunny.”

He gets heavy. Limbs and muscles turning to goo. You pull out of him one last time, remove the cuffs from around his ankles and let him fall back onto the mattress, where he turns into a puddle of mush. Melts into the duvet and pillows and sheets. Lets the soft cocoon and soothe him as he cries again— just to get it all out.

You strip out of your harness, unsnap the hooks and let it pool around your feet. In all your nakedness, you climb back onto the mattress, over the sobbing man and curl around him, wrapping him up and pulling him into your chest. Fingertips push into his hair and scratch at his scalp as your lips find his forehead.

“Sweet, sweet, boy,” you murmur over and over again.

He nuzzles into you, his face right into your chest and tits. Throws his arms around your waist and pulls you close. Holds you tight. And he just cries. Because it feels good. Because he can. Because he’s safe, and it’s really the first time in over eighty years he’s felt anything like this. Safe. Comfortable. Vulnerable. So he cries— because he feels good.

“Your hair smells nice,” Bucky whispers after a long while, sniffling a little, eyes red and wet, lashes clumpy.

You laugh but it’s low and kinda slow as you drag your lips back and forth along his forehead, still scratching at his scalp and wiping his soft hair back and away, “Thanks baby, new shampoo.”

“I like it curly though,” he shrugs a little, “Or the braids.”

Your laughter grows, “Well excuse the fuck outta me, Barnes. I thought I called the shots around here, bud.”

“You do, I just… y’know,” you can feel him smiling into your skin, tightening his grip around your body.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll make sure Nat adds it to your file.”

“Thank you.”

It’s heavy and light, the thank you, all at the same time. It means so much, but also nothing at all because of the timing. He could just be playing along with the joke— or thanking you for fucking him into oblivion, taking the weight of the world off his shoulders for just one night. Letting him be him. You’ll never really know which way he wants it to go.

Or maybe you do and just don’t wanna admit it. That you like being here more than you should. That you like being the one to strip him down to flesh, blood and bone.

But that’s all for another day.

“Can you stay?”

You take a breath. Let it out slow and easy. Place another kiss to his forehead and drag your free hand up and down his arm, “If you need me bunny, I’m here. You know that.”

“Let Vladimir know she’s in for a long night.”

“That’s not funny,” you giggle, fumbling around on the nightstand for your phone, “I’m telling her you said that.”

Bucky yawns, nuzzles deep into your body as he settles in, “I can take her.”

Gonna be an all nighter. I can have Bucky get you a guest pass.

Dinner too. You ok? Need me?

No ma’am. I’ll text you in the morning.

спокойной ночи

“Jarvis?” Bucky pipes up, his voice heavy and laced with sleep as he nuzzles in again.

“Mr. Barnes?”

“Set Yelena Belova up in a guest suite, please.”

“She wants dinner too,” you smile.

Bucky sighs heavily, “Whatever she orders for dinner, charge to Steve’s apartment.”

You slap his arm playfully, your laughter filling the room, “That’s not nice!”

“Yes, Mr. Barnes,” Jarvis’ calm voice rings through the room, “I’ll contact Ms. Belova. Have a pleasant evening.”

“We good?” Bucky asks, yawning.

“We good,” you smile, “Get some sleep, soldier. We still got a couple rounds to go.”

You feel him smile into your skin, “Yes ma’am.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x smut

596 notes · View notes

ptergwen · 4 years ago

Note

hi my love! i was wondering if you could do something to do with teacher!tom and teacher!reader, where they’re dating but their students don’t know it, until they see one of them walk past the others zoom class or something. it’s okay if you’re not accepting requests atm! 💛

caught in the act

w/c: 1.0k

warnings: one swear and suggestive joke

a/n: hi sorry this took me a little! if only you could hear the way i squealed when i read itttgvsfs i adore the concept :,)

tom’s alarm goes off before yours, shrieking at him to start his day. he’s insistent on waking up early because it’s the key to success, and he has to set a good example. you’re more of a roll out of bed and turn on the computer kind of girl. you have pretty different teaching techniques, but it keeps your work lives fresh. there’s never a dull moment after you receive school emails or attend a meeting.

you’re an english teacher, and tom teaches history. you both teach the same grade, though. a lot of your students have you both, so you come up quite often in each other’s classes. your assignments sometimes go hand in hand together also. whether it be his students using writing techniques you taught them, your students doing essays based on events he covered, you work together all the time.

you like to plan your lessons together over wine and many, many kisses. it’s honestly super fun.

you’ve got a bunch of tweens on your hands, which means they gossip. that includes about school faculty, you and tom meeting the requirements. there was once a rumor circulating that you both have your own families and started an affair. you laughed it off because it was so elaborate and so not true. but, you never confirmed or denied if you’re a couple.

“please turn that off. please, please, please,” you whine as the alarm buzzes in your ear. tom retrieves his phone with a chuckle. “since you asked so nicely.” after putting on his glasses to see the screen, he snoozes it. he then leans over and presses a warm kiss to your temple. “‘m gonna make a quick breakfast, if you’d like to join.” although that sounds nice, his healthy eggs aren’t worth losing sleep for.

“i wouldn’t,” you hum, tilting your head up to peck his lips. tom smiles against yours, you turning onto your other side. “right,” he mumbles to himself. “still want your cuppa?” he’s taken the liberty of making you tea each morning because you don’t give yourself enough time to do it. you nod lazily in response, eyes drooping shut. “mhm, thanks. love you.” “love you more.”

he makes his way to the kitchen while you head back to dreamland.

you’re awoken a little later to a mug of tea on one side of you and tom on the other. he shakes your shoulder gently, grimacing when you kick your covers around in protest. your first class isn’t for another hour. “ugh, what?” you groan at him. tom runs his fingers down your arm apologetically. “have you seen my, erm, yellow button up anywhere?” you open your eyes only so you can roll them, in a lighthearted way.

you pay tom back for the morning tea by laying out his outfits every night. he’s pretty forgetful about those things, right now being an example.

“on the dresser. have a good day, mr. holland.” you shoot him a grin over your shoulder. tom pushes his glasses up and squeezes your arm. “i will, thanks. tea’s right there when you want it.” he’s hopped out of bed to change before you can say another word. now, there’s a man who’s committed to the craft.

once you finally get up, tom is halfway through his first class. he’s talking about what sounds like some revolution, sat at your desk. you love to listen to him teach and sip your earl grey. he makes history actually interesting, recounting things like they’re one of his wild stories. even the most difficult kids pay attention. he’s got a gift, and getting to witness him use it is a treat on its own.

it’s tempting to keep watching, though you should probably use the bathroom before your class. you wait until the kids are doing independent work, and head in. tom calls everyone back to go over the questions while you’re gone. he’s usually done by now, only someone didn’t understand the last one. that means class goes over a bit.

unaware of this, you come into the room with a toothbrush in your mouth and paste coating your lips.

“no, don’t worry. i’ve recorded the lesson so you can watch-“ tom cuts himself off when you appear in his camera tile. amusement instantly flashes across everyone’s faces. you’re still scrubbing at your teeth without a clue. “um, love? i haven’t finished,” he lets you know quietly, your eyes going wide. “sorry!” you say through a mouthful of toothpaste.

you dodge off camera quickly after. it’s too late, the damage has already been done. “hey, was that ms. y/l/n?” michael asks, one of your more outspoken students. he tries to look for you in the reflection of tom’s glasses. “it’s... well...” tom glances back at you. not sure what to tell him, you only offer a shrug. he decides to change the subject.

“you know what, i’m gonna let you guys go. we’ve gone over!” he plasters on a grin. his face feels hot, having so many eyes on it. another student unmutes herself, snickering. “that’s gotta be her! look at him, he’s blushing!” “mr. holland has a girlfriend,” someone else sings to him. other kids point and laugh along.

this is all in good fun, and their reaction is sweet. at the same time, you’d rather not have your students see you like this. you wipe your mouth clean and wince as tom endures their remarks, cheeks burning pink on the screen. this is the first time he’s out of things to say.

“maybe they’re just hooking up-“ “ok!” tom yells over michael, moving his curser to the end call button. “see everyone tomorrow, same time!” he leaves the class and immediately lets out the biggest sigh. his rosy face is hidden in his hands now, you coming over to the desk. you put a comforting hand on his back.

“sorry about that,” tom murmurs, taking his hands away. “i’m the one who crashed your lesson,” you dismiss him and sling both arms around his neck from behind. he rests his head on one of your arms and looks up at you. “i held class late.” “well, that is your job.” your remark earns a low laugh from him. the hint of a smile crosses his face. “god, what are we gonna do?” you cringe at the situation.

“i don’t know, but i really need to. i’m about to see these little shits... again.”

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland au #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #tom holland request #teacher!tom

801 notes · View notes

pbandjesse · 11 months ago

Text

I'm having kind of a hard time right now. I'm coughing again after not coughing all day and I'm really upset. I just want to sleep. I could barely sleep last night and it was horrible. I felt like I was choking but it wasn't just once or twice it was almost bear constant. I tried the lidocaine multiple times and it was just making me feel worse and worse. It was t even numbing anymore. I tried to have a rice krispie and a mouthful of yogurt and that seemed to help a little. But it was not a good night.

I'm actually shocked how good I felt this morning though. Even after barely sleeping I was doing really good and I would actually continue to feel good for most of the morning.

James has made me a little sandwich for breakfast and packed me a hotdog for lunch. Which didn't end up being enough food but it was fine. We would leave together and things were good.

It is going to be interesting getting used to my new commute. It's really hard different in the begining. 4 extra miles give or take. But I left 10 minutes later then I really should have and got stuck in traffic from a one car accident. Ah well. No one was waiting for me at camp and I would still beat everyone else.

I spent the first part of the hour printing my guides for my workshop tomorrow. And working on my daily drawing. Elizabeth surprised me by coming in early but she was planning on leaving early. Alexi would also leave early today. And Heather. Everyone would have plans today.

It was not a bad day. I felt great. I went up to the arts building and collected some materials for tomorrow and some other things I had been holding there that I need. Mainly jewelery tools and my wagon.

Sarah was making this origami things and asked me to bring her some paper. So I brought down a nice new pack of construction paper so she could go crazy.

I would get to work on some research for grants we could apply to. Which ended up being a lot more different then I expected. Sarah was having better luck getting more specific ones. But I would find a few as well and it was mostly just nice having something to do.

While I was having lunch Joe came in and he wanted to hear about my trip but also why I was gone the last couple days. Got to tell him about how scary being sick was. It was very kind of him to ask.

I would work on a housewarming registry for a bit. And look into some valentine's day things. And I went for a walk.

It was beautiful out but I was starting to cough again. I was still okay for another couple hours but I was starting to lose it again. And that was really upsetting.

Alexi was very concerned with my cough. But my rhumatologist called me and she said that she was worried about me when she got my email, I really appreciated her reaching out, but she mostly just reassured me that the cough would be the longest part but that it sounded like I was doing better. So I was able to reassure Alexi, but also be realistic that if I need to go it was okay.

I would stay til 330 though. After I lost motivation for looking at grants. And didn't have anything else to research. And was just looking at little stained glass ornaments on eBay and decided I could spend my time better running my errands.

So that is what I did. I said goodbye to Sarah and Elizabeth, Alexi had already left and Heather had gone to pick up Sophie. And I was off.

I went to Michael's first and got the last paints I needed. They were on sale to do that was nice. And then drove down the road to go to the Amish market but it was wildly packed. So I just got my soap and headed out. Didn't even get a pretzel the line was so long!

Honestly though I probably wouldn't have enjoyed it because my sense of taste has been weird all day. I think I had overdone it with the lidocaine last night. Everything was off and overly salty. The pretzel probably just wouldn't have been nice.

I continued down the street and went to target. Which was also to busy. Couldn't even get a basket. But I got everything in my list. Stayed pretty close to the list. Even had a coupon that made it so the two things I got that weren't on my list were basically free.

I had planning on going to the apartment to pick up some stuff but I was out of energy. I wanted to go home.

And that is what I did. The drive back was a little long but I got a good parking space. Which allowed me to meet our neighbor from down the road. She's lived here for 30+ years! She seems incredibly kind and smart. She worked in the neurology department at Johns Hopkins! She also said that this is a great block with really nice people and so far that has been my experience too.

We chatted for a bit and eventually James came out to help carry things in. They talked to our neighbor too and it was just really nice.

James wouldn't stay home long though. They would take the car to go get a few groceries we missed and get paper towels, and go and feed the aquatics and get some stuff since so could not.

While James was gone I mostly just chilled. I had a roll. I moved things in the studio from one side of the room to the other so we would have room later when we would finally put up the curtains. I would move two of the hooks in the bathroom so we have somewhere to put the towels. And I measured out where the tiles I am going to put on the wall will go. I just love seeing everything coming together.

Me and Sweetp played for a little while on the stairs. But he kept putting up like he was freaked out. And then when James got back I had to pick Sweetp up to bring him upstairs and he looked terrified when I went to him and he puffed up so bad??? I have no idea why he keeps getting upset. I know it's the move but I really would love for him to be comfortable.

James would make us dinner. I had requested the vegan fish sticks and a Caeser salad and they made themselves a little pizza. I would hang out in the living room and we just talked and did our own things but were together.

Eventually we would start figuring out the curtains. This did not go amazing. First the long black rod didn't look right in the living room. And I was frustrated.

And then we went to the studio to hang the fancy swing out curtains and those were going great until they didn't. And I am now sure they need to move over. But we don't have any more anchors so we will have to wait until James make a stop at ace tomorrow.

The other issue is I wasn't paying attention when James was measuring the second one and it's like 2 inches higher then the first and looks terrible. I was pretty upset but mostly I was just frustrated that James was being so down in themselves. Like well fix it tomorrow. It's fine. You are stressing me out.

Like at one point they were taking down the curtains that the last owners left behind and I was like hey what if we moved these brackets to the living room. And they kept saying the pole would fit. And I'm like what are you talking about we take down the other one and put these ones there? But they just kept saying that the pole wouldn't fit and I am just like why are we focusing on the other pole??? What are you talking about about?? And I got pretty frustrated with them which wasn't fair but I was mad that they weren't understanding what should have been straight forward.

They finally got me but I was really upset. I know a lot of it was the coughing has started up in earnest. I felt unsettled and couldn't get comfortable in my body. I also just felt mad that people keep saying something about how I'm going to have James building this and that when I talk about my home plans. But I am the one building things!! James is doing things because I can't reach them! I'm the handy one! I hate that people act like I'm not capable. I'm just short! And if my ladder was here I would have just done it by myself.

I would calm down. And we were able to get the curtains up in the living room from the front windows and they look great. But I was still not in a good head space.

I stayed downstairs for a while. But when I came back I was feeling worse. Coughing. Uncomfortable. Annoyed about everything.

I took a shower but the lukewarm water was not helping. I hope we can figure that out soon.

I am in bed now. I am coughing and upset about it but I am hoping I can fall asleep and feel good again tomorrow. Because I have a workshop and I'm looking forward to it even if I'm very nervous! I hope I have everything I need. But it's not until noon so I have time to double check.

I am hoping that the morning I can chill and do some more organizing here. I also just don't want to push it and make myself feel worse. And I am hoping that sleep makes it easier to have a good day.

I hope you are all sleep good. I love you all. Goodnight.

2 notes · View notes

queenoftheworldisdead · 4 years ago

Text

Lane close

Note: Inspired by @sapphirescrolls https://sapphirescrolls.tumblr.com/post/633710107595767808/i-had-an-obnoxious-encounter-whilst-driving-so-ya

Summary: Going home there is always traffic.

Warning: bondage, forced sex, non consent, kidnapping

Dark Thor x reader

It felt like you had been stuck in the car for over an hour. It was so infuriating that one lane could clog up traffic so badly.Throwing your head back on the seat you start to stare aimlessly at the taillights in front of you.

Incoming traffic rushed by, but out going was yet again a drag. You could've sworn the construction workers were just fucking about instead of working. If there were any other options as a home route you would have taken it, but unfortunately there wasn't one.

Since the weather had been unusually fair you decide to roll the windows down.

"Hey Siri, play my rush hour playlist" you call out to your cell.

The robotic voice came alive on your command, changing from the radio to your music. Tapping your finger on the steering wheel in time with the beat you sing to yourself while sitting through this slow torture.

"HEY!" Someone called out. Checking your rear-view you scanned to see if someone behind you was trying to get your attention. From what you saw the driver behind you seemed to be on his phone so maybe you were just hearing things.

"HEY!" Even with the music blaring that voice pierced through.

Scanning all around this time your eyes land on a giant of a man in an orange safety vest and hard hat. One of the road workers was waving his hands in the air trying to signal you. Scrunching your brow you look at him curiously. His bright smile was certainly infectious as he began dancing when your attention was focused on him. He was surprisingly on beat, but the sight of it was so goofy you had to laugh and the more you watched goaded him to do more.

*HONK HONK HONK

"Okay, okay" you say to the car behind you even though they couldn't hear you. Turning your focus back on the road and get in gear. He had distracted you so much that you hadn't noticed traffic move on a bit. Without giving him another glance you drive onward to home.

The construction on the road had been going on for over a month and you truly couldn't tell what they were working on out there. At least it never hindered you going into work. As you passed the closed lane in the morning you would glance over at the abandoned equipment while you wait at the light to change colors again.

When you were in the office your days were filled with meeting after meeting. The first one was just about to start and you were the only one in the conference room. Walking over to the window you watched the construction workers start their day along the outstretched roadway.

"Hey Y/N, you coming to lunch with us tomorrow?" Cathy's voice broke you from your trance at the window.

"What's going on tomorrow?"

"Tiffany is having a going away lunch. It's going to be at Zoe's kitchen since it's just right across the street"

"Ugh I hate that place, but I will go."

Moving from the window you take the seat next to her at the conference table. "Do you take Woodway avenue to go home?" You ask the curly haired accountant as she opens her laptop.

"I used to, but the traffic has been so bad." She answered. "I normally go over to Sam's since it's the other way. By the time I leave there traffic is normally cleared out."

"Oh, wow. How long has this been going on?" You integrate her.

"I had been dropping hints to him for a while, then one late night a few weeks ago"Cathy's mysterious grin spread on her lip.

"Cathy! In the office" you try and lower your voice after the shock. She only shrugs while you shake your head in disapproval. "Any who I was sitting in traffic yesterday and heard someone shouting. I look over to see this road worker shouting at me then he starts dancing like a fool."

"Was he cute though?"

"That’s besides the point"

"So he was cute then...Next time take a picture I wanna see this construction hottie" she jokingly asked as more people started to file into the conference room.

When you got into your car at the end of the day you were happy to leave, but not excited about what lay ahead. Your gas indicator was dangerously low today and you cursed yourself for not filling up your tank last night. You knew it was enough to get home, but the gas at the station a few blocks from here was cheaper than the one by your apartment.

As the dead lock breaks to allow you to drive more than a few inches you signal so that you can get over in time to reach the station.

Pulling in you parked in front of the pump. The tank was on the passenger side so you walked around, popped the cap and grabbed the hose.

The bell on the gas station door chimed behind you. Spilling from the doors a group of road workers presumably on break or grabbing snacks for their journey home. Your head reflexively turned towards the noise then your eyes locked with the golden haired goofball from yesterday. When he saw you his face lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Hey!" he shouted and waved at you excitedly dancing his dance making you snort. When your hear the click from the hose you turn away. Pulling out the nozzil you put it away and walk to get back into your car. Glancing up you spot him looking back at you, waving goodbye as he and his group walk over to a large red pickup truck. You wave back then startup reluctantly ready to sit through this traffic jam again.

In the rear-view you spot the massive truck he got into. It trailed a few cars behind, but it wasn't hard to miss.

Even after you broke free of the jam it seemed to be heading in the same direction as you. To ease your mind you drive into McDonald just before your turn off point. It was another late night of coming home and cooking for yourself wasn't going to happen.

After you placed your order through the speaker you see his car pull in too.

You are just being paranoid. He is probably hungry. You're overthinking things.

Paying for your food you then leave and speed on toward your street. Peeking at your rear-view you spot his truck again in the far distance.

Calm down. This is a popular road a lot of people take this route.

Shaking off the paranoia as you spot your street sign. Signaling you pull into the turning lane. As you waited at the light you watch as the truck gets closer, but the light turns green before you can see if he gets into the same lane. Turning on your street you breathe a sigh of relief when you saw it kept going straight instead of turning down your road.

The next day lunch came around before you knew it. Leaving your desk you go and grab Cathy. When you do she's shamelessly flirting with her new office bae, Sam.

"You ready to go or..." You ask leaving enough space for innuendo as you poke your head in through Sam's office.

"Yes, yes" Cathy turns to you pouting. "I'll see you tonight" she pecked him on the cheek before heading to the elevator with you.

Exiting the office you two head out toward Zoe's, chatting about the usual office gossip. The bustling sound of the road work buzzed around your office building. The walk to Zoe's would be brief, but noise and the smell of tar had you regretting the choice to go out for lunch.

"Oh my gawd there he is" you point in the direction of the statuesque blonde currently jack hammering the road. In his bright orange vest you could see pools of sweat seep through. His sleeves clung to his toned arms, his muscles flexed as the machine pounded and you wondered what the rest of him looked like underneath.

"Oh damn" Cathy exclaimed practically drooling at the sight of him. You had to nudge her ribs to stop her from staring.

The pedestrian light turned green as you two approached allowing your little group to cross the street. As your pumps hit pavement you heard his distinct call. Cathy turned her head to look before you did. When your eyes landed on him, he did his little dance this time adding in a crotch grab then blowing you a kiss. The shock of the lewd gesture had you both scrunching your faces in disgust before turning away and continuing on. He shouted at you more but you refused to give him anymore attention.

You checked your traffic app to see if there was anyway to avoid Woodway, but all the road lines were colored red. Signaling that they would be just as bad as going around.

Instead of sitting in traffic again you decided to stay in the office later. Spending an hour in the office sounded better than an hour in traffic.

You passed the time shooting off a few emails, scheduling a few client meetings and reading through some paper work you had put off earlier in the day. Checking your watch after all that done you were satisfied that enough time had passed so you pack up to leave.

Pulling out of the parking garage you were relieved that traffic had indeed cleared up. Though it was late you were tired of fast food. With all the road work you found it easier to get drive through than cook. Breaking from routine you head to the grocery store.

Walking down the various aisles while you load up your cart. The smell of fabric softener wafted through the air. The fragrant smell reminding you that you were running low on detergent.

Going down the aisle you find your favorite brand and smell the clean scent of the box.

"Hey!" The familiar voice of the construction worker startled you causing you to drop the box of detergent on the floor. "Oh sorry" his accent caught you off guard as well, he had only ever said one word to you before this point. Walking up closer as you bent to pickup the box.

"It's OK." As you rose to straighten. Your eyes roamed his stature you noticed he held a case of beer in one hand and his cell in the other. From the distance in your car you had thought he was tall, but now as he stood so close you had to crane your neck to meet his gaze.

"I just want to say sorry for the other day...I was trying to do that Michael Jackson dance and well..." He trailed off.

"That's what that was?" You cocked a brow at him. "Michael would probably roll over in his grave if he knew." You playfully kid him. He erupted with such laughter you were slightly embarrassed at the volume.

Clutching the detergent close to your chest you take one step back while he took one step forward. He stopped laughing and just smiled down at you.

"My name's Thor"

"I'm Y/N"

There was a thick silence that fell before you spoke again. "Well, I should go" you move your cart and start to push it away.

"You're checking out right me too" his smile was so infectious, but you couldn’t match his energy.

He followed beside you as you made your way to the checkout line. His presence almost suffocating as he walked quietly next to you.

He waited behind you in line and you thanked your lucky stars there wasn't anything embarrassing in your cart this time around. When the cashier finished you waved him goodbye and walked off as fast as you could, but he caught up to you before you could exit the automatic doors.

In the dim light of the parking lot his pickup truck stuck out like a sore thumb in the distance. Luckily it was on the opposite aisle from yours.

"Sooo news on when that road might be fixed?" You try and break the awkward silence.

"Oh I don't know. I just do the work they don't tell me anything" he answered rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well, I guess I will see you tomorrow" you say as you approach your car. Waving goodbye you separate and push your cart to the back of your car. He looked like he wanted to say something more, but you had already started on your jaunt to the trunk.

Loading the car you peer over to see Thor in his truck lit by the light of his cellphone through his windshield. After closing the trunk you hop in the car. Starting the car you ready yourself to back out.

*POP

"What the fuck?" You exclaimed as your car gyrated in a peculiar manner. A worried crinkle rested on your forehead as you contemplated the obvious.

Putting the car back in park you take your phone and get out to examine the tires. The front driver side was fine, but when you walked to the rear the back was tattered and flat. Bending down you look for what could have caused such damage.

"You okay?” Thor boomed from behind you. His branch of an arm resting on his open window as he watches you bent over examining the flattened wheel. His truck now parked beside yours.

"Yeah, just a flat." You reassured him. You unlock your phone and lookup triple A while Thor hops out of his truck. "I have someone coming it's fine Thor" you try and wave him off, but he doesn't leave. Thor's arm wraps around your waist pulling you flush to his chest. Your phone drops from the surprise embrace. "What the hell are you doing?" You shout at him while digging your nails into his arm as you try and pry free.

He didn't answer you and the more you struggled the tighter his hold seemed to be as he inched closer to his vehicle. Thor opened the back door of his truck with one hand as you fought to get out of his other. Your feet lifted from the ground as he brought you up and tossed you in. When your back hit the leather of the seat you rise on your elbow and scurry backwards until your back hit the opposite window. Turning to open that door Thor yanks your ankle so hard that your entire body lays flat along the cushion again.

You somehow free your ankle and kick over a tool box behind the passenger seat in the process. The contents spilling in and out of the truck. The next kick landed in the center of his chest, but he catches it right before its impact.

"This isn't funny Thor let me go!" You demand. Thor ignored you and proceeded to pull off your shoe. Once removed he then tosses it over his shoulder.

His eyes stayed laser focused on you while he placed kisses on the top of your foot then trailed them gently down your leg. You try freeing yourself from his clutches again until Thor stopped. You watched on as he opened his mouth wide on your thigh then sinking his teeth into your meaty flesh. You whale loudly from the pain then shoot forward to grab a fist full of hair. Pulling it as hard as you can until his hands encircle your wrist. Pushing them together he holds them with one hand while the other digs through the mess of tools on the floor.

"You know you were always the highlight of my day?"

Your eyes grew wide at the sight of the thick white plastic strips. Twisting and thrashing under him he only scoffs at your attempts. Looping the zip tie around your wrists then around the handle of the back door. The tightness of the restraints only increased as you struggled, your fingers starting to tingle at the loss of circulation.

"Construction was actually supposed to be finished a long time ago, but I made sure to get the project delayed."

Hovering over you once he locked you in place his once infectious smile turned sinister. Lowering himself back down his meaty palm glided up and down your exposed thigh. Pushing your skirt past your waist he starts to pull your panties down as your legs continue to flail. Catching your knees with his hands he forces your knees to bend so that he could comfortably wedge himself in-between.

"You don't have to do this. You don't have to do this" your words were filled with panic and fear. There was nowhere to move as his head lowered down.

"Wait, wait. I have money. Just in my purse" you sob. "Thor your a nice guy please, donnnnnnnnnnn't" your whiny sobs did nothing to stop his assault.

He flung your panties out of the door and stared at your folds before lowering himself further. His hot breath sending shivers up your spine.

He hummed as he flattened his tongue on your folds. Your hips bucked involuntarily when he sunk his tongue inside you.

Dipping it in and out causing a moan to spring from your lips. No matter how hard you begged he did not relent it was as if your protests urged him on. Holding your legs apart you felt his fingers dig into you. The pain of his grasp and the overwhelming sensation of his tongue drove you mad.

"Oh sweetheart you taste so sweet." He said pulling back from your panting form.

Your shirt was still tucked in your skirt so Thor haphazardly pushed it up and out. Moving the fabric halfway up your neck to expose your breast. When he pulled down on your bra a strap broke.

"Sorry about that" Thor chuckled as he took both breast in his hand, pushing them together then began kneading them like dough. He hissed as he played with you as your protest fell on deaf ear.

Moving his head down to your chest Thor rubbed his course beard harshly over your breast. Inhaling each deeply before trailing kisses all around the top. His hands released your breast and you watched on in horror as he tossed his shirt, pushed his pants down his waist along with his boxers.

"No no no" you cry out as Thor pushed up almost level with you. The weight of him almost crushing your chest. His hand clasped your chin and forced your head forward to face him when you tried looking away.

"I am going to make you so happy Sweetheart"

The back door remained open as he pressed the head of his cock into your mound. Feeling the pressure of him pushing into you Thor devoured your lips before you could let out another cry for help.

Thor took his time as he eased into you. His tongue invading your mouth as you felt him stretch you. He smelled of sweat and tar. His hair cascaded over you while his hands roamed your body. Squeezing and pinching on your fatty flesh so hard that your body jerked and jolted.

Thor's speed increased as time went on and you felt your pussy grip and hold him. Betraying you to take pleasure from his forceful violation. His cock plunged deeper and deeper as your cries turned to heavy mewls. He pulled away from your lips with a deep groan.

"That's it Sweetheart" he praised as your cunt gripped his cock repeatedly. "Mmmmmmm Fuck shit!" You came around his cock unwantedly while he continued to praise you for being such a good girl for him.

Your pussy grew wetter as you stayed at the mercy of his control. Thor moved to plant one hand on the window and snuck the other under your ass. When he gripped your cheek hard your back arched and the move allowed him to sink deeper into you. The truck rocked as he fucked harder into you. "Hear how wet you are for me." His cock ravished you, stretching you beyond your limits.

"MMMm shit!" You exclaimed as you came again around his pounding cock. As your cunt squeezed his dick you felt his cock begin to twitch inside of you. Then a warmth overflowed inside your convulsing pussy. Thor's hold would surely leave bruises as he dug into you. As a warmness bloomed in your core he stilled himself and as it leaked out he plopped down on top of you, crushing you under his weight, you felt his seed seep out of you.

After another few minutes he got up and off you. Putting on his discarded shirt and pulling up his pants. He slid out of the back seat closing the door leaving you still bound.

You heard him pop the trunk of your car and the familiar sound of plastic bags. It took a while before he reappeared at the drivers door and got in.

"All right I moved your groceries! Let's go home we both have work tomorrow." He said then started the trucks engine and set off out of the parking lot.

#dark thor x reader #black writer #dark!thor x reader #smut #dark smut #dark!thor x black!reader #dark thor x black reader #Dark!Thor x black reader #Dark Thor x black!reader

466 notes · View notes

moonbeambucky · 4 years ago

Text

I Promise (Part 2/2)

Pairing: Chris Beck x Reader Word Count: 4722 Warnings: fluff, light angst, pregnancy

Summary: Before heading to Mars Chris Beck reconnects with his best friend, unaware of the outcome of their night together. With the burden of his mission will Chris make a promise he can’t keep?

A/N: A big thank you to my love Allie @all1e23 for beta reading 🍕❤️ gif source (x)

PART 1

In the months that passed Chris had been able to keep up on email with a bit more regularity though it still took some time in between messages. Video calls were less frequent but you still had them. You stood back from your laptop and faced sideways, lifting your shirt to reveal the protrusion of your growing belly.

His smile was bittersweet, wishing he could be there in person to watch you grow, to feel when the baby starts kicking. You were having a boy and decided to name him Oliver. After you first spoke Chris waited for you to tell your family first before he told his over email, and you followed up with a visit to see them.

His parents, Michael and Lori, were so happy to see you again. They always knew you and Chris were close but now with a grandchild on the way they were thrilled. Along with your parents they offered help immediately, everyone overwhelming you with to-do lists and essential shopping you hadn’t thought about at that point.

“My dad’s going to help make the storage room a nursery.”

Your apartment was technically a one bedroom but there was a small room adjacent to yours you’ve been using as extra space to hold anything random you couldn’t find a spot for anywhere else. It was on the narrow side and currently overcrowded with junk, not the most picturesque nursery but it would have to do for now, as soon as you get rid of things to make space.

“I wish I was there to help you,” he sighed, not speaking solely about helping you clean. “We’ll be descending for Mars soon so I won’t be able to keep in touch until we get back on the Hermes.”

You understood. Chris would be there for about a month and you assumed it would take a little longer to hear back from him once they got back on board to begin their journey back.

It was an unassuming morning at home. You were trying to find a comfortable position on your couch, adjusting the cushion you bought for extra support. You’re tired, finding it harder to fall asleep comfortably with a bigger belly. At 24 weeks your baby was apparently practicing to be a soccer player, his kicks growing stronger every day. You loved this part of pregnancy but you also couldn’t deny how terrible you felt. Your feet started swelling, your skin was itchy and you thought you were going crazy every time you tried to read but the words were blurring. Changes were expected but not in the way you always thought.

A news report breaks on TV, a red banner that flashes words that have your heart beating rapidly – ARES III ASTRONAUTS COMING HOME. Tears flood your eyes as you hear the news, Mark Watney is dead. Nausea washes over your body in waves and you clutch your stomach, forgetting to breathe until you hear that Chris was safe. You exhale with relief though your heart aches for the crew and Mark’s family. You rubbed your belly in gentle circles, speaking softly to let Oliver know that Daddy was alright and he was coming home.

It was late December when Chris finally had a chance to call you. Tears glisten in his eyes as he sees you, thanking you for the picture you emailed him from your latest sonogram. The 3D technology showed a clear picture of Oliver’s sweet face and Chris longed to meet him. Your belly had grown as well, with less than three months to go before your due date.

The nursery was complete and you really owed a lot to your family and Chris’ for helping it come together. Chloe arranged a baby shower which helped fill the nursery with everything you needed, from drawers full of diapers to a wardrobe of clothes, a lot of space themed outfits you couldn’t wait to send Chris pictures of.

Though you were overjoyed at everyone being there it was hard to keep up a smile. Everyone knew the situation and there was no way getting around the fact that he wouldn’t be home for another year. Still you pushed on and tried not to dwell on what you couldn’t change.

“Wow,” Chris marveled as you showed him your bump. “You’re so much bigger since I last saw you.” The flat, unamused expression you shot Chris made him quickly stutter on his words. “I meant your bump, it’s… you look beautiful, I promise.” You smiled a little, trusting him even if you didn’t quite believe it all the time.

Catching up came to a halt when Chris began to open up about what happened. You knew it was coming. It was ubiquitous in the news cycle but hearing it from Chris directly made your stomach churn. You wished you could be there, to wipe away his tears and hold him close as he mourned for his friend. You wished even more that you could tell him the truth… Mark was alive.

You received communication from NASA just before the public learned about it though you were specifically instructed not to tell Chris about the information. According to them the crew needed to focus on their mission home and honestly you thought it was a bunch of bullshit. You felt nauseous the whole time speaking to Chris, trying to hide the truth you so desperately wanted to tell him. Lying was not something you and Chris ever did to each other and every second you held your tongue felt like you were betraying all the years of your friendship.

When the call ended you shut your laptop, hanging your head low and breaking down into tears. It was a deep, messy faced cry with guttural sobs. You were crying for everything. For Mark, mistakenly left to die on a planet of isolation, for Chris and lying to his face, for Oliver who can’t have his father around like you wanted him to be.

As time went on you felt better, emailing and speaking to Chris whenever he could. It’s February and your heart feels lighter as you await the video connection. You try not to get sentimental with Valentine’s Day having just passed. You and Chris are not anything officially, just two adults who have known each other their whole lives having a baby… but the idea doesn’t scare you.

You think back to your thirtieth birthday and what would have happened if you were single. Would Chris have mentioned the promise? It’s a silly thought. He was so busy with his career he probably wouldn’t have gone through with it but you can’t help thinking about the “what if.” And now you were single, single and pregnant with his child, so what if…

Your thoughts are cut off immediately when you actually see Chris. His eyes were rimmed red, eyes glistening with tears that made the tiny red veins scattered across the whites of his eyes look like they were bleeding.

“Mark is alive,” his voice shuddered through a heaving sob.

Your mouth dropped open as you listened in shock. How does he know?

Chris rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, eyes squeezing tight as he exhaled another heavy sigh. “I’m the one that called it, did you know that? I told Commander Lewis he was dead and they knew…”

His words dropped, his voice failing to speak but Chris’ grief turned to anger just as quickly. “They knew… they knew for two goddamn months that he was alive! Do you know how that feels?”

Your heart was breaking for him even more and there was nothing you could do but offer words of comfort as he vented. “Chris I’m so sorry. Who told you?”

“Mitch Henderson, our flight director, he– wait.” Chris’ body stiffened, eyes narrowing at the screen. “What do you mean who? Did… did you know?”

You dropped your head in shame, unable to answer him in words.

“You knew? Y/N look at me!” he shouted.

Your head snapped up to see Chris’ nostrils flaring, jaw clenched tight. “You knew my friend was alive and you didn’t tell me?” he grit through his teeth, anger burning hotter than the sun.

“I’m sorry Chris, I couldn’t.”

He scoffed, cutting off your explanation. His tone raised to a level he’s never taken with you before. “You couldn’t what, Y/N? You looked me in the eye and lied to me about everything!”

Though Chris may have been justified in his anger it shouldn't have been directed at you. Just as quickly you retorted, “I’m not the only one Chris! Everyone knows, your parents, Chloe; this isn’t on me. NASA told us not to say anything to distract you.”

“Oh but telling me you’re pregnant wasn’t a distraction?” he snapped.

Chris knew he made a mistake but it was too late, the words came out and he couldn’t take them back. He watched you sink in your chair, your lips beginning to quiver. You dropped your head down to hide the tears but he could see them leaving wet puddles on the fabric of your shirt.

He was upset, feeling guilty about leaving Mark stranded even though he knows there was nothing he could have done. His biometer was damaged, he thought… they all thought he was dead and if they didn’t leave they’d all have died too. There was nothing he could do to change the past but this isn’t what he wanted.

Chris was angry and frustrated with everything. He wanted his friend to be safe on the Hermes, he wanted this mission to be over, he wanted… to be with you. You were due in three weeks and the closer the date got the more he hated being up in space when all he wanted was to be by your side.

“Y/N… Y/N please… I’m sorry,” he sniffled, wiping away fresh tears that began to fall. “I didn’t mean to take this out on you… please…”

Tears still fell as you lifted your head slowly towards the screen to find Chris looking just as upset as you were. You cleared your throat, wiping the wetness away from your cheek as you spoke, “If you don’t want to do this–”

“No!” he cut you off immediately, “Y/N please, I was wrong. I was upset and I didn’t mean that. I want this more than anything. I’m sorry.”

The sincerity was clear in the depths of his eyes, staring at you as if he was unworthy of your gaze. You took a moment to think of what he’s going through; the world had time to process everything that was happening with Mark but for Chris this was new and upsetting and you understood.

“I’m sorry too. I never wanted to lie to you.”

“Stop, you don’t have to apologize, I was an asshole.” Chris immediately stops your protests and you let him, feeling yourself smile again the longer you continue to speak. “I miss you a lot, do you know that?” His smile returned as he spoke, asking how you were feeling with your upcoming due date.

Your smile stretches wider across your face. “I miss you too. I’m…” The smile curbs a bit as you let out a sigh. “I’m nervous honestly, excited but scared I guess, I don’t know. I know it’s unrealistic and maybe even a bit selfish to say but I feel like if you were here I’d be a lot better.”

He apologizes again though you find yourself doing the same, not meaning to add to the guilt he already lives with. “I wish I could be there but I know you’re going to get through it, and Oliver already has the best mom in the world.”

Your mouth gasped open and you placed your hand on your bump. “He just kicked when you said that, I’m not even kidding!”

“See, it’s true,” he grinned widely.

There was a faint noise in the background and you saw Chris looking off to the side. When he turned back to face the screen you could tell by the tension in his face that he was needed for something.

“I have to go now, but… I love you Y/N.”

Though you’ve heard those words so many times before and have spoken them yourself, this time they felt different. You wondered if he meant to put that new emotion behind it and if you felt the same.

There wasn’t much time to ponder these thoughts as two weeks later you were in the hospital, with your mom and Chloe by your side getting you through labor. It was an excruciating ordeal with contractions that were so intense you were in tears. They helped you breathe through them, letting you squeeze their hands as you received an epidural and finally a few hours later it was time to push. Chloe recorded the birth over your shoulder for Chris and with a strangled cry Oliver came into the world.

Tears of joy ran down your cheeks as you held him against you. He was beautiful and you could see so much of Chris in him already. A bittersweet sob wracked through you, wishing he was there.

Chris called the whole crew in to see photos of Oliver as he opened his email. There were a ton, his family making sure they took pictures from every angle. There were close ups of his little toes, pictures of him sleeping and Chris’ favorites of you holding him.

“Congratulations Beck!” “Welcome to fatherhood.” “He’s beautiful.”

Chris saved some things for himself like Oliver’s birth and a special message you sent him. The phone was held out in front of you, the unforgiving hospital lights showing off how tired you looked but to Chris you were beautiful and shining as bright as the stars.

“We did it.” Your voice was soft and strained, but you still pushed on to speak to him. The camera flipped towards the bassinet beside your bed with Oliver sleeping peacefully. “Say hi to Daddy,” you whispered softly. There were a few moments of silence watching him sleep, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft giggle as Oliver’s mouth twitched. “I can’t wait for you to meet him Chris,” the camera flipped around again, “I know you’re going to be an amazing father. I love you so much.”

When the video ended Chris couldn’t help but kiss the screen, wishing it was your lips that his were pressed against. He’s eagerly counting the days and soon enough he would be.

Chris sat uncomfortably in his chair, elbow resting on the glossy white table as his hand covers his mouth, hiding the worry and tension of his lips. He feels like he swallowed a bag of rocks, his stomach is tense and tight, cramping in all the worst ways. He tried to hide it, shifting in his chair as he listens to his Commander lay out a plan to save Mark.

It goes directly against NASA’s orders and he’s not sure what the consequences would be for mutiny but he doesn’t care about that, not if it means they can rescue their friend.

“...If we do everything perfectly we add 533 days to our mission, 533 more days before we see our families again, 533 days of unplanned space travel where anything could go wrong.. If it’s mission critical, we die.”

He shifts again, his stomach twisting in all directions as he ponders what to do. He missed your pregnancy, Oliver’s birth. He could be home in six months and his heart swells at the thought. He is ready to happily spend his nights changing diapers and preparing bottles, bonding with his son and allowing you the sleep you need.

Chris’ shoulders slump. He doesn’t know much about fatherhood but he does know he wants to be someone Oliver could look up to and he wouldn’t be that person if he didn’t stay true to his heart and make a tough decision.

“Well, it has to be unanimous,” Commander Lewis said, scanning her head to lock eyes with each member of the crew.

It would be another year and a half before Chris saw you and Oliver and the thought hurts him deeply but he knows it’s for the best. “Let’s go get him,” he said, his voice wavering between excitement and trepidation. He knew this was right and he hoped you would believe him.

Once the Hermes corrected their course it was official and NASA knew they would have to send them the resupply probe for their extended mission. Now all Chris had to do was tell you.

It was hard to watch the tears stream down your face as you broke down, you weren’t even able to wipe them with Oliver sleeping in your arms. Chris is crying too, looking at the sweet face of the son he has to wait even longer to meet. You know why he’s doing this and you can’t exactly be mad at him. Even growing up Chris was always the person to do the right thing no matter the consequence.

“Y/N… if anything happens…”

“No!” you cut him off, letting out your anguish as softly as you could so you didn’t disturb Oliver. “Chris, don’t say that.” Your eyes pleaded with him, hating that he made you even consider the worst.

“Please, if anything happens I want you to know that you and Oliver…” His voice gives out, even Chris has a hard time accepting a very possible reality. “I made sure you’ll be taken care of.”

He stared straight through you and you understood what he meant. Adjusting your grip on Oliver, you quickly wiped the wetness from your cheek and rubbed at your nose. “You have to come back to us, promise me.”

“I promise,” he replied with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He wants to keep his promise but it’s not something he can guarantee. Oliver stirs in your arms, his face twisting as he lets out a piercing cry as if he also knew the stakes at hand.

You soothe your son as best as you could, feeling he needed a diaper change. Before saying goodbye you looked into Chris’ eyes through the screen, wishing you could reach out and cup his cheek as you proclaimed, “I love you, Chris.” You meant every word, more than ever before.

His cheeks pulled into a warm smile as he said it back. The screen goes dark and he sits quietly starting his countdown over for the day he can say it to you again in person.

A year has passed and you’re sitting on the floor with Oliver in your lap, holding a book out in front of you. This was your nightly routine before bed, letting him pick out a story from his little shelf against the wall and reading it together. He was very interested at this age, helping you turn the pages or pointing at the pictures that you would describe and try to get him to repeat.

He’s grown so much and every day you find more ways he looks like Chris, especially when he scrunches his nose, putting up a fuss when eating bananas.

Oliver’s first birthday was two months ago, it was a small party at Chris’ parents house filled with cake and presents but the best gift was that Chris was able to call in. You cried immediately, holding Oliver up to the screen and pointing at Chris. “Dada! Look Oliver it’s Dada!”

There were pictures of Chris in your house and every time you passed them you would show Oliver, hoping the connection would eventually sink in. Oliver grinned at the screen showing off four tiny teeth in the center of his smile. “Oliver it’s Daddy!” Chris said, waving his hands. “Hey buddy. I love you Oliver. I’ll see you soon.”

It didn’t feel real that Chris was actually coming home this year since he’s been gone for so long. You’ve been keeping in touch, emailing him as many pictures and videos of Oliver as you could. Everyone loved the professional shots taken when he was six months old, dressed in pajamas printed with planets on them, holding a bottle shaped like a spaceship. In others he was dressed as an astronaut tethered to a bright and colorful rocketship laying against a starry background made to look like he was floating in space, just like his Dad.

With Oliver in bed you went to the kitchen to make yourself something to eat though you could barely focus. You were on edge, watching the live stream of Mark Watney’s rescue on your phone.

Your head lifted to the TV as you waited like the rest of the world, watching the rescue in real time. It took an hour before there was confirmation that Mark was safely on board and the relief brought tears to your eyes. The whole world was celebrating and you couldn’t imagine how happy Chris and his crew were to get him back and soon enough Chris would be home too.

While some people were opening up presents on Christmas morning you were opening suitcases and getting ready to pack things for yourself and Oliver to fly to Houston to see Chris. The crew landed two days ago and seeing footage of him being pulled from the capsule brought tears to your eyes. You pointed to the screen for Oliver, “Who’s that? That’s…”

His face lit up, his little hand slapping at the screen as his squeaky voice said, “It’s Daddy!”

“That’s right. Good job!” you beamed, planting a kiss to his soft cheek.

Oliver did a lot of growing up in the last year. He was a few months shy of two, a little ball of energy that brought smiles everywhere he went. He was playful and kind, he loved to splash bubbles during bathtime, and wiggle his body to music.

Chris was able to see his emerging personality whenever you spoke to each other. Oliver was shy at first and a little confused, looking back at you instead of the screen as Chris was trying to talk to him. It took a lot of patience but you got there, pointing at Chris and saying “It’s Daddy!” enough times for Oliver to finally recognize him. Chris would smile and wave, calling him his little buddy and Oliver waved back. He was hesitant at first but regular video calls normalized their relationship and soon Oliver would press his lips to your laptop, leaving a big wet kiss on the screen meant for his Dad.

It was hard knowing Chris was back on Earth but you couldn't see him yet. He was undergoing physical evaluations and you were certain more testing would be necessary in the future considering he and the Ares III crew have set a record, spending nearly three times the amount in space than ever before. You chuckled to yourself, knowing Chris would probably want to take on the study himself although part of you knew he was more anxious to spend time with you and Oliver, a thought that made your heart swell.

A week later and you were at the Johnson Space Center, in a waiting room meant for the family of returning astronauts. Oliver is playing with Aunt “Coey” as he called her, holding his spacecraft toy and making it fly above armrests of the row of blue chairs you’re so tired of staring at. Whenever you heard noise in the hallway you quickly rushed towards Oliver, brushing his hair in place with your hands and adjusting the bottom of his striped blue shirt.

This time you were right to be prepared as a man opened the door. You all scrambled to stand up, holding Oliver in front of you with your hands on his shoulders. The man nodded, giving a quick smile and suddenly you felt overcome with nerves. After two and a half years you were finally about to see Chris again and your heart was beating wildly. You tried to steady your breaths, holding a nervous smile as you waited for him to walk through the door.

The moment he did you were overcome with emotion, bursting out with tears of joy, a smile stretching from ear to ear. He was here, he was actually here. Chris had a smile that beamed as bright as the stars, his eyes glistening with tears as he looked at you and Oliver who had grown restless of standing and made his way into his grandpa’s arms.

Chris walked unsteadily towards you, thinking Oliver could probably walk better than he can at the moment as he was still adjusting to gravity. You ran forward meeting him more than halfway, throwing your arms around him for a crushing hug. As you cried against his chest your own legs nearly gave out when you felt his arms around you.

“I missed you so much,” you muffled against his shirt, pulling yourself back to stare into his eyes once more.

“I love you,” he said, a clear admission of the feelings in his heart, no longer meant with platonic innocence.

You were always close and while the two of you never saw each other as anything but friends it certainly surprised everyone around you when you didn’t end up together. Things were different now and you both felt the shift in your relationship since he’s been away. It was more than the bond you had by having a child together; Chris always had a place in your heart and you wondered why it took this long to see it.

“I love you too,” you cried again, feeling the relief of his lips against yours as they pressed together for a sweet and long overdue kiss.

Lori kissed her son, hugging him quickly as did Chloe who was eager to record Chris and Oliver’s first official introduction on her phone. Michael placed him down and you kneeled beside Oliver. Chris eased himself down, feeling his heart pounding like a drum in his ears. In the last few years he’s been through countless stressful situations, none of which were more nerve wracking than meeting his son for the first time.

There’s a nervous look on Oliver’s face as a room full of people are all watching him and he turns to look at you, his eyes pleading for help. You reassured him that everything was okay and like the many times you’ve done in the past you pointed towards Chris. Your voice wavered as the words you spoke bubbled out of your throat, “Oliver, this is your Daddy.”

Chris smiled softly, keeping a short distance between himself and Oliver because he didn’t want to overwhelm him. It was clear Oliver was unsure of what to do, looking back and forth between you and Chris.

“Hey buddy, it’s me. I’m your Daddy,” Chris said and finally Oliver’s face lit up with recognition.

He grinned, waving to Chris in front of him as they had done through the screen so many times before. With a proud smile Oliver picked up the hem of his shirt, exposing his tummy and strung together a sentence of mostly recognizable words that meant, “I have a belly button!”

A tear squeezed out from the corner of Chris’ eyes as he laughed, “Yeah you do buddy!”

The ice was broken between them and Chris looked over his shoulder at someone who discreetly handed him something behind his back.

“I’m so happy to meet you Oliver. This is for you,” Chris said, handing over a teddy bear dressed as an astronaut.

He jumped as he took the bear, squeezing it in his arms with the happiest smile. With some encouragement you had him thank Chris and Oliver pursed his lips forward to kiss Chris’ cheek. Oliver let Chris hug him and he smiled through his tears, finally experiencing what he’s been imagining for years, holding his son in his arms.

Chris thought his days among the stars were over but together with you and Oliver he’s surrounded by a whole galaxy of love. Each day shines brighter than the last and Chris has no doubt that one day soon he will finally keep his promise.

#chris beck x reader #chris beck fanfiction #chris beck fluff #dad!chris beck #chris beck x you

533 notes · View notes

ziracona · 3 years ago

Note

So um, What exactly would the ILM gang do if they run into the people of Haddonfield(like Tommy, Lindsey, or Sheriff Brackett) who see the vicious monster who killed several people in 1978 is their friend now? Also i'm not sure Tapp would just be cool letting Michael walk after going through hell to stop the Jigsaw cult. Even in the original film I can't really say Michael is ''less'' responsible than Amanda or John. He's still got a lot to answer for even if he didn't become as bad as other timelines.

As. Per. My. Last. Email!

I’m done answering this stupidass question!

I have been very clear, many times, on my opinion here. If you’ve actually read all of ILM and paid attention, you’ll see what goes on with Tapp and what he does. And OG 1978 Michael being ‘just as’ responsible as human adults raised in normal society making their own choices of their own free will Amanda Young and fucking JOHN KRAMER is the most laughable opinion I’ve heard all year!!! And I don’t mean since Jan I mean the full last 365 days!

He was a six year old child with a mental illness he tried to get help for, at an age /scientifically/ too young to have a complete grasp of mortality—let alone ethics, was ignored by his family, and killed once. He was then abandoned by his parents and left in the solo care of a man who, in canon, decided within the first six months of knowing him that he was the personification of evil in a human body, and for those religious reasons ignored the diagnosis of, in canon, every other doctor at Smith’s Grove, kept him in solitary confinement in a tiny room aside from himself, threatened him constantly, gaslit him about his illness, and accused and insisted he was evil and dying to kill again for the next Fifteen. FUCKING. YEARS. That’s almost his /entire/ childhood development. You don’t even retain that many memories before age 6. I’m not saying he hasn’t done bad stuff, he has, but he was almost literally grown in a test tube by Doctor Loomis to be a thing with the sole purpose of breaking out and killing his sister. He didn’t have a chance. He had no access to other information, to other choices. He was overdosed on a level that worsens psychosis symptoms and can cause permanent brain damage. He isn’t ‘as accountable’ as actual human scum fucking JOHN KRAMER, who was a pissbaby so mad his life didn’t turn out like he wanted that he kidnapped every vulnerable person he could find that needed help, and every person who’d ever sneezed in his direction in a way he considered somehow rude, and tortured them to death under the completely false guise of ‘getting them to value their lives.’

If you don’t like me and my opinions, go away! But you’re wrong, I’m right, and I’m sick of this dumbass conversation. Tapp didn’t give a shit about Michael ‘paying’ at the end of ILM, like he didn’t care about Legion being given clemency. He cared more about Laurie getting what she needed to be okay, and felt sympathy over the whole situation. Plus, in a very real way, he served 40 years of very torturous jail time in the realm. ALSO, to compare Tapp’s pain over betrayal from friends like Hoffman, loss of Kerry and Eric and Sing, and the entire state of New Jersey’s incredibly horrific losses to years of kidnappings terrorism and torture for the most selfish and sadistic of reasons, and his struggle to push back against that all, to Michael Myers stabbing four people to death one night in 1978, is ridiculous and high key gross. Calling what Michael did remotely comparable to Jigsaw’s crimes horrifically diminishes the incredible awfulness of it and what everyone exposed to it went through!

Stop asking me this fucking question I’ve answered it before, and it’s really, really annoying, especially if you won’t even do it nicely or out of good faith curiosity like the first asker so politely did.

‘Vicious Monster’ my ass—he was just some 21 year old with atrophied leg muscles and superhuman strength trying to get the voices in his head to shut up for the first time in 18 years.

#ask #anonymous #Michael Myers #I have been so clear how sick I am of this STOP. ASKING. something I’ve ANSWERED. TEN. TIMES. BEFORE #HALLOWEEN 1978 #dead by daylight #in living memory (spoilers)#in living memory (fic)#in living memory #ilm spoilers #you don’t have to agree with me! but I’m sure not FUCKINNNGD gonna agree with you!!#disclaimer since apparently no one READS my answers: this is about OG/H20/DbD Michael. not all timelines have the same version of the man #like I love to talk about my thoughts on stuff and I’m happy to elaborate on details of stuff I haven’t covered in general or to talk about #my interpretations and reasons but STOP coming in here like little bitches going ‘Uhm Actually Michael Myers is Awful & I don’t get why u #don’t think so’ it’s rude annoying and OVERBEARING. piss off

12 notes · View notes

maxineswritingcenter · 4 years ago

Text

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 4

I’m really chugging these out. Mostly because its practically written already. But I will let you know that in the original, I did write in “blue orbs” so you can assume how much I had to fix.

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

“Um, hi.” I said, very surprised and confused that he was here.

“We need to talk.”

“As you mentioned. But we can’t talk here, you are a suspect in a crime and this is the sheriff’s house.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Then can I get my jacket back, since you don’t want to be associated with a criminal.” This was the first time he had shown any sort of emotion besides seriousness. Granted, it was condescending.

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to be associated with you.” I handed him his jacket, a little sad to see it go, “You saved my life, I just don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“A little late for that.” He said, putting his jacket on.

“What’s going on?” I asked, stepping closer to him. He looked at me warily (as if he needed to be wary of me) but didn’t move away.

“You wouldn’t understand.” Usually, I would reply ‘then make me understand’, but I was still on the fence about him. He perked up a bit, like he was hearing something.

“Here.” He held out his closed hand, I held mine out and he dropped my locket into my hands. I gasped, reaching up to my neck and realized it wasn’t there. I looked down at the locket.

“Oh my god, thank you. I would have never forgiven myself if I lost-” I looked up and realized I was talking to no one, “And you disappeared. Okay.” My phone beeped in my pocket and saw a text from Stiles move across the screen.

“Scott woke up in the woods and ran into a swimming pool this morning.” I read aloud. This town was starting to just become weirder and weirder. It was a nice distraction from my own personal life, but now it was getting borderline concerning.

At practice, Stiles filled in Scott and I on what he had heard over the police radio. The body, or half of the body, had been sent into the LA coroner’s office where the lad had found animal hair, specifically wolf hair. Scott wasn’t paying too much attention though, he looked like he was in his own little world.

It was the first scrimmage game of the year and Coach was pretty excited, which wasn’t his usual tune. As the game started, I watched Scott pull off the craziest moves I had ever seen attempted on the field. He was moving so incredibly fast and he even flipped over someone and scored a goal at the same time! Finstock looked like his head was about to explode, which meant that he was happy. Or at least I think so. In a time out, he waved Scott over.

“What in god’s name was that? This is a lacrosse field. You wanna try out for some gymnastics team?”

“No, Coach.” Scott said. What I found weird was that his breathing was that of someone who had normal lungs and never had a breathing problem in his life. That just gave me a weird feeling, something that would stick with me for the rest of the night.

“What the hell was that?” Coach asked, motioning to the field.

“I-I don’t know. I guess trying to make the shot.”

“Yeah, well, you made the shot. And guess what? You’re startin’, buddy.” Coach smiled, slapping a shocked Scott’s shoulder, “You made first line.”

Scott grinned looking between Finstock and me. I put on a smile. I was happy for Scott, but there was too much weird going on.

I managed to beat Stiles home, even though he was driving like a maniac. I grabbed his arm as he walked up the driveway, “What is going on?” He shook my arm off.

“Leave me alone.” He grumbled, stomping through the house, up to his room and slamming the door shut. It was times like this that knowing Stiles well came in handy. He was pissed. And talking to him about it had a ten percent chance of working. They had put him in therapy when his mom died and the therapist told Uncle Noah that when Stiles was mad, it would be better to let him cool off on his own.

Scott was at the door soon after, after letting him in, I patted his shoulder, “Good luck.” I could hear the arguing from my room, but the words were muffled by insulation. Things used to be so normal before, but it seems like the fires in this town caused unnatural things to occur.

Maybe it was time I asked Derek some weird questions. Was this a good idea? Absolutely not. Regardless, I needed answers.

As I drove the dark back roads to get to the Hale house, I noticed that the moon was full. I hummed absentmindedly to my music and argued with myself on whether or not this was a good idea. It probably wasn’t.

I debated on whether or not to knock. The door was already halfway open and the whole back of the house was practically missing. I opted to knock.

“Derek?” I called, after stepping inside, “Derek, it’s (Y/N). We need to talk. There are a lot of weird things going on and I need answers.” I turned and when I saw Derek standing right behind me, I thought my heart almost stopped.

“Jesus, you gotta stop doing that.” I sighed in relief.

“What are you doing here?” That seemed to be his favorite question to ask, “Didn’t your parents tell you not to go out on full moons?” Oddly specific. But it was true, my parents never let me go out on a full moon. And when I was younger they would drop me off at Uncle Noah’s house, they called it a date night.

“Actually, yes. How did you know that?” I narrowed my eyes at him.

“You need to go home. Now.” He turned me around, pushing me towards the door.

“Hey hey hey, no no no.” I dug my heels into the floor, “I came here to talk to you. Something weird is going on and it involves you. I know it does.”

“You could not have come at a worse time.” He grumbled.

“Listen here, Hale, I came here for answers and I intend to get them so I’m not going anywhere until-” I was cut off by Derek throwing me over his shoulder and hurriedly taking me outside. I pounded his back with my hands and kicked my legs. But he was too strong for me to move.

“Put me down! Derek!” He growled and set me back on my feet in front of my car door. He slammed his hands on the car, caging me between the door and his body. He was so warm, actually radiating heat. I tried to fight the blush that was creeping on my cheeks.

“Why are you so stubborn?” He raised his eyebrows. He was so close and his actions made me speechless, “And why aren’t you scared of me? If you were smart you would go out of your way to avoid me like everyone else.” I finally found my voice.

“Well, clearly I’m not like everyone else. I can see that something fishy is going on. Scott is practically bouncing off the walls all after being attacked by something in the woods. And you were talking about something in the woods so that means you know what it is, so tell me!” I shouted the last bit. Our eyes locked. It was hard not to look away, his stare was so intense.

He sighed, “Fine.” He backed away, the cool night bringing a chill back after being so close to him.

“Meet me in the woods by your house tomorrow. I’ll answer your questions.”

“All of my questions?” I asked, a small tremble in my voice.

“Don’t push it.” He looked around, clenching and unclenching his hands, “Now go home.” And I did, I got in my car and left. I was going to get my answers.

“Arrested?!” I shouted in disbelief. I’m sure Uncle Noah took the phone from his ear.

“We had to take him in. That body in the woods was his sister, Laura.” He said. Laura Hale was a name I vaguely recognized, but I never met her before.

“We aren’t convicting him, but he’s already a suspect in his family’s deaths and now that we found his sister, he doesn’t look entirely innocent.”

“Derek wouldn’t hurt anybody.”

“(Y/N), you don’t know that.”

“He didn’t hurt me. He brought me to the hospital.”

“And that is one of the reasons why I am giving him the benefit of the doubt.” He said, then sighed, “Look, we don’t have anything to hold him over night. We’re just getting his statement and then he’s free to go. As long as he doesn’t leave the area. Now I gotta go, I’ll see you at home.”

“Okay, see you later.” I hung up the phone and fell back on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. Derek couldn’t have killed his sister. Especially cutting her in half. Or at least, that’s what I hoped. It scared me though, to think that Derek could be capable of that. But, no, he couldn’t be. He was the victim of happenstance. I think. But Laura had been out there a while, so the possibility of Michael was high. By running was he trying to frame Derek?

They found wolf fur on Laura’s body and while it doesn’t explain who killed it did say something about the area. It seems like the wolf population is coming back. They could have come from somewhere else in search of food or maybe the national wildlife service moved them in to control the deer population. I feel like everyone would have heard about that though, at least an email or something.

After dinner, I decided to go into the woods to see if Derek would actually meet up with me. I told Stiles that I was going on a walk to clear my head. A few minutes into the woods, I decided to wait instead on a boulder in a clearing near the creek. I had only been there maybe ten minutes when I heard the footsteps approaching. I smiled and stood.

“Now is it that hard to make your presence known?” I turned and stared, but the person I was looking at was not Derek. It was Michael.

He smiled, tilting his head to the side, “Hey, sweetheart. Miss me?”

“Stay away from me.” My body started to tremble, “Stay back!” I backed up, keeping my eyes on him but cursed myself when my back hit a tree. Michael closed the gap between us, leaning closer. I turned my head away, listening to him sniff my hair.

“You smell so good.” He hummed.

“Get away from me.” Tears made their way down my cheeks.

“C’mon. Just relax.” He placed his hands on either side of my face.

“No, NO!” I screamed, and shoved him. He fell back a few feet, looking surprised at my strength. I looked down at my hands, then him. He was pissed.

“Alright, enough fooling around.” He got up and I started running. I didn’t get too far, Michael had always been fast. I heard him stumble, but he grabbed my foot, bringing me down to the ground.

“HELP!” I screamed, “SOMEBODY!”

“Nah, not this time.” he dragged me up from the ground, wrapping his arms around my body and beginning to drag me towards the creek. I struggled, thrashing my torso and legs.

“HELP! DEREK!” I shouted, hoping that he was nearby, coming to meet with me like he said he would. Michael turned me in his arms, gripping tight.

“Derek Hale? You shacking up with that freak?!” He shook me.

“Michael, please, please, let me go, please.” I begged, my pleads were met with a sharp slap with the back of his hand. I yelped.

“HELP!” I cried again.

“Shut up! I said shut up-” A loud roar cut him off, his grip loosening. It sounded like a bear, but when I looked to the source, my heart started to pound more than it already was.

It was Derek, but he wasn’t entirely himself, not human. His eyes were a bright, glowing blue, his face was different. His brow bone was more pronounced. His hair grew down the sides of his face. his ears were pointed. He had large sharp fangs on his canines. He had claws on his hands.

Derek leapt from the hill that he stood on, landing on all fours and letting out another hellish roar. He came towards us, Michael shoved me towards Derek, starting to run the other way. But Derek maneuvered around me, chasing after him. The chase went down a hill, towards the creek. What I heard next was Michael’s screaming and then a heavy sounding thud. I stood there for a while, still trying to process what the hell was happening. What is he?

My eyes shot back up to the hill, Derek was walking upright, his face and hands back to normal. I stayed in my spot, waiting for him to come up to me. He stopped, he was breathing heavily through his nose. I looked over at him, he was splattered with blood. I grabbed his hand, seeing normal fingernails and hands. My eyes then went to his face, I touched his cheeks. No more hair growing down. His eyes were back to their normal green. Derek slowly took my hands in his, bringing them back down to my sides.

“What-What are you?” I whispered, not trusting my voice.

He looked at me for a moment before answering, “I’m a werewolf.” I left out a deep breath. Letting his words settle into my mind.

“Are you okay?” He asked softly. I could only nod, still speechless. He softly brushed his fingers over my cheek where Michael hit me, I winced. It was already starting to feel sore.

“Are you scared now?” He asked. I should be. I should be running for the hills. It was insanity to even believe in werewolves and yet, here one stood in front of me.

I shook my head, “No. I do have questions though. Um, you answered one of them.” I ran a hand through my hair. He nodded, placing his hand softly on my lower back.

“Let’s get you home.” We started walking, but I stopped us.

“Wait, no, we can’t go there. I can’t bring you to my house. My uncle could be there and when he sees you covered in blood, he will arrest you.” I thought for a moment, “Dammit.” I had to think of something, something to protect him. Whether he saved me or not, he still killed Michael and that was still murder.

“I got it.” I said, “Can you climb well?”

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

Read part 5 here!

Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are appreciated!

Thanks so much for reading and the next part should be out soon :)

YSM Taglist

@nyotamalfoy

@fruitloopzzz

#derek hale x reader #teen wolf fic #teen wolf #derek hale #maxineswritingcenter

62 notes · View notes

infernwetrust · 4 years ago

Text

In His Office [Michael Langdon x Fem Reader]

Summary: A recent change in your shift allows for you to have lunch with Michael at his brand new dealership.

Warnings: SMUT, SMUT, SMUT. Swearing. I think that’s about it.

WC: 2.5k

A/N: This idea came to me recently today lol. We all know Michael Langdon isn’t a stranger to a little office sex. I imagined this one with F&R Michael. Thank you for reading! -Juno

Michael walked around his dealership, hands clasped behind his back as he silently studied his employees at work. Not wanting Michael to always stress over his job as the anti-Christ, you convinced him to pursue something else that he was interested in. Why not start a business, he had thought. He decided that he would own a decent sized car lot, divided into 3 sections; luxury, middle-class, and pre-owned vehicles. The business took off well as he constantly won awards throughout the year whether it be for most sales or outstanding customer service.

He could feel the eyes burning into him as he walked passed, from employees and customers alike. He knew he was attractive. He knew that some of his workers wanted to screw him, but he paid their nasty thoughts no mind. He dressed in all black as usual. A black button up shirt that hugged his figure perfectly, tight black jeans, sporting the Michael Kors belt you had gotten him for his birthday, and his favorite pair of black dress shoes to go with it. He never went anywhere without wearing the platinum chain, which proudly displayed his last name, around his neck. That was also a gift from you.

His hands shifted behind his back and his thumb brushed against his wedding band, causing him smile a little bit as he finished walking the floor, returning to his office and taking a seat at his desk. He looked down at the wedding band, reminding himself of the passionate encounter that the two of you had shared a few nights ago.

"Michael..." you whispered against his lips as he lay comfortably between your legs.

"Hmm, my love?" he questioned, his blue eyes meeting yours, his lips not moving an inch away from yours.

"I want you to wear your ring while you make love to me. I want to see it. I want to be reminded of your commitment to me." He smiled against your lips because funny enough, it was something he always thought of too. Normally he would take it off to avoid it flying off his finger due to any sudden hand movements while the two of you got lost in each other.

"You don't have to tell me twice."

"I have your weekly sales report, Mr. Langdon." his lovely Ms. Mead said, walking into his office and gently placing the folder on his desk. He smiled warmly at her, taking a bite of his now cold bagel before moving the folder closer to him. It was only right that he made her head of the financials. She was so good with numbers and always had Michael's files correctly placed together.

"Now you know you don't have to call me that." he said to her. "Michael, Mike, even son, works just fine for me."

"I know." she said. "But we're in your place of business, my dear. I will always address you with respect."

"You're too good to me, you know that?" All she could do was smile. "Took care of me when no one else would, never left my side, always provided for me. I won't ever be able to thank you enough." She was going to say something else when Michael's front desk receptionist walked into his office, his shirt drenched in coffee.

"Jeremy what the fuck happened to you?"Michael questioned, furrowing his eyebrows as one of his first impression's of his establishment was now completely a mess. "You can't fucking greet people like that. What type of business do you think I'm running here?"

"There's a woman, in the lobby." he began, out of breath. "She keeps demanding that I direct you to her office and that she's your wife. I think she's crazy, but I tried letting her know that you're a very busy man and that she'd have to call in advance to meet with you, but she wouldn't take no for an answer." A smile crept its way across Michael's face as he snapped his fingers, restoring Jeremy's outfit back to its original state. Yup. That was you.

"Yeah, that sounds like my wife." Michael said, grinning alongside Ms. Mead. "Perhaps you should of listened to her the first time."

"But sir, I was just trying to-,"

"Ah ah. I've heard enough. Walk her back here and make sure you get nothing else thrown on you for the rest of the day or your fired. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir." Jeremy said lowly, turning to exit Michael's office and get you.

"These fucking new hires, huh?" Michael questioned, looking at Ms. Mead.

"You let Jeff and Mutt do the hiring when you really should pass that job along to Gallant. He would make sure the right people were working here."

"That he would. That he would..." Michael agreed, rubbing underneath his chin. And then you walked into the room. With a recent shift change, you now got off at 2PM, which means you were able to meet Michael for his lunches that he took at 2:30. He stared at you, smiling devilishly, running his fingers across his bottom lip.

"You're lucky I don't fire you my fucking self." you said to Jeremy as he escorted you in.

"My apologies, Mrs. Langdon." he said, with his head low.

"Yeah, whatever. You can get out now." He wasted no time, quickly leaving the room, accidentally bumping into the side of the door, causing the 3 of you to giggle. "Ugh, Michael, don't tell me you're still chewing on that bagel I sent you to work with." You walked over to his desk, engulfing Ms. Mead into a tight hug, which she gladly returned before planting a kiss on your cheek.

"I'll leave you two, to it." she said, giving Michael a nod before leaving the room, shutting the door behind her.

"Why so bossy today?" Michael questioned, sitting up in his chair and resting his hands on his desk, admiring your unique figure.

"Between work today and your stupid front desk agent, I'm just ready to eat lunch with you and for you to come home."

"It was that bad today?"

"If I could throw my computer out of the window with no consequences, I would." Michael chuckled, grabbing his bag of Panera Bread. You knew his favorite. Turkey Bacon Bravo, with avocado, extra, extra, avocado. Cheddar Broccoli soup and a Coke.

"You and me both, my Queen." Michael grabbed a remote, the one that control the shades in his office. He lowered them, half way, just so that no one walking by would be able to peak in at the two of you. "Staying with me until I get off at 5 or do you just want to take my car and go home and then come back for me?”

"You know I am. I've missed you terribly today."

"Is that why my front desk boy ended up covered in coffee?" The two of you looked at each other with a grin. "A temper just like mine. Mrs. Langdon, I love it, just as much as I love you."

"I love you too." you responded. "My temper is how I keep things in order."

"Mmmm." Michael hummed. "Tell me about it."

After lunch, Michael returned to his duties, going over his sales reports, moving things where they needed to go, and sending out emails and reminders. You loved watching him work. You loved how fast his fingers moved a crossed the keys and how his gaze never broke away from the task at hand. You were mainly focused on his outfit choice for today. You had no idea he would be leaving the house in an outfit that pointed out ALL of his features. Though he was soft, you could still see the full outline of his length through his jeans when he sat down. His chest, outlined against his shirt perfectly, you could just make out his nipples. The size of Michael's thighs drove you insane, that you couldn't help but come over in the chair you were sitting in and start rubbing them.

His focus still didn't break and while you knew he preferred to stay focused on his work, today it didn't seem like he cared. He allowed you to rub his thigh, his breathing slightly increasing as he typed up a inventory report. When he paused for a moment, wanting to crack his knuckles, you took the opportunity to spin his chair around so that it was facing you. The both of you immediately made eye contact, but no words were spoken. You could read his face and he could read yours. You were both on on the same page. He grabbed another remote, this time the stereo remote, turning it on, leaving the music at a reasonable volume.

Your hands were already fumbling with his belt as you got it unclasped. You quickly unbuttoned his jeans, Michael kicking off his shoes and moving them to the side. You pulled them down, bringing his boxers down with his, revealing his semi-hard cock. And all you did was touch him. You knew how much Michael craved you, both intimately and non-intimately. He was weak underneath your touch most of the time. You got on your knees in front of him, hands on his thighs as you slowly took him into your mouth. He let out a Godly sigh, leaning his head back as you got to work on him.

"Ssssh." you said, popping him out of your mouth. "It seems to be a busy day for you. You don't want your customers to know what's going on behind your office doors do you?"

"And what if I do?" Michael questioned, his cock twitching from missing your mouth.

"Well let's pretend you don't. No noises. Can you do that for me, daddy?" Michael's jaw clenched at the name and he bit his lip slightly. Silent Michael was sight to see. While extremely audible Michael was one of your favorites, nothing beat looking up at him and watching as he expressed his pleasure with his face and body.

You took him back into your mouth, slowly bobbing your head up and down on his length. Michael's jaw dropped. He desperately wanted to moan. He wanted you to know how good you were making him feel, but he kept it quiet. He slowly unbuttoned his shirt, never taking his eyes off you. He didn't bother to take it off, his chest and torso for the most part exposed, his chain landing perfectly in the middle of chest. You licked up and down the sides of his shaft, using your hand to stroke circles around his spit glazed tip. The sound of the wetness drove the both of you crazy. Your own arousal soaked through your panties.

Putting him back in your mouth, you sucked on just his tip, using both of your hands to stroke the rest of his length. Looking up at him, he looked so beautiful. He was breathing heavily as he peered back down at you, running his hand through his hair, his hips starting to thrust upwards in your hand to try and match your pace. His foot found its way between your legs and using his big toe, he slowly rubbed it across your clit, causing you to moan lowly around him, the vibrations ripping through him.

You were sucking faster now, moving your hands faster. He gripped both sides of his office chair, before deciding to let them go, wanting his hands wrapped up in your hair instead. You moved your hands, knowing what he was wanting to do. Welcoming it. And you loved watching him do it too. His thrusts in your mouth started off slow and gently, before they became rough and fast. You looked up at Michael again, who was now breathing so rapidly you thought that maybe he could be hyperventilating. You could see him mouthing the word fuck over and over and over.

He stood up abruptly, pulling you up with him before smashing his lips onto yours, immediately sliding his tongue into your mouth, the two of you fighting for dominance. He was quick to rid you of your clothes before pulling his shirt all the way off. With a quick wave of his hand, everything that was now on his desk, was on his office sofa, neatly stacked so that he could return to it lately. He picked you up, setting you down on his desk.

"Now can you do the same for me?" he asked, quickly sliding into you, catching you off guard. Sensing your impending loud moan he quickly put a hand over your mouth. "No noises yes? Or I'll stop and we'll have to finish this at home." You nodded against his hand and he slowly moved in and out of you at a rhythmic pace. You pulled him by the back of his neck, closer to you, putting your lips directly against his ear. His hands roamed all over you, squeezing your breasts, playing with your nipples as he gradually increased the pace at which he fucked you. Your hands travelled up and down his back when suddenly he grabbed them, pinning them above your head.

You swore the desk was inching farther and farther away from the area it resided in as he now pounded into you relentlessly and you could help but let out a cry of pleasure, or at least you tried to, but Michael knew you all to well. He used his powers to keep you quiet, your mouth wanting to make noise, but nothing but breaths and pants coming out.

"Poor, girl." Michael said between breaths. "Dishing out challenges you can't even do yourself. Now look, I have to use my powers to keep your mouth shut. Pathetic. You enjoy being my little office toy?" You nodded vigorously. Not only had your shift change allowed you to have lunch with Michael, but it was just the fact that you were now able to spend the rest of his work filled day with him, sex or no sex.

"That's what I thought." he continued, his pounding becoming sloppier and sloppier as he neared his climax, you not following too far behind. When he let your hands go, they immediately found their way to his hair, giving it a sharp tug to which he inhaled sharply to stop himself from cursing. You grabbed him by his throat, pulling him back down towards you as you neared your orgasm, foreheads pressed against each other with nothing but pure love and lust in the both of your eyes.

You let go first, squirming violently against Michael, who sloppily kissed you following his own release shortly after, breathing and panting loudly in each other's mouths. You both rode out your orgasms until the pleasure was completely gone.

"This shift change is going to be so much fun." Michael said as he rested his face in your neck.

"So much fun, Mr. Langdon. So much fun." you said back.

Taglist: @jimmason @angelicmichael @whatcodysaid @theneverendinghunger

#cody fern #american horror story #cody fern imagine #ahs #ahs apocalypse #michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon smut #michael langdon x reader

240 notes · View notes