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cynettic · 3 years

Text

Stay with Me pt.3

Summary - You manage to escape from Scaramouche, if only for a moment before you realize there’s no escape. It only takes until you’re sitting back in your regular spot that you know what you need to do.

Pairings - Kitsune!Reader x Yan!Scaramouche

Warnings - Suggestive content, mentions of death, swearing, slight gore / blood

A/N - Its really hard to make this depressing while I’m vibing to Rasputin. Like no joke- I have it on one of the 1 hour playlists :D

Here you’ll find - pt.1 and pt.2

He’d left a key.

Scaramouche didnt make mistakes, not while he had you captive in the vicinity of his bedroom. He didnt have room for mistakes, not when you were watching his every movement while he was in your line of sight.

Sure, he mightve killed a person or two in front of you, but those were necessary mistakes. There was a sign on the door, it specified not to enter. You’d understand that, right?

Thats what he thought at least, lulling himself into belief after belief that you’d be there waiting for him every time. That you’d welcome him with open arms, even if there were chains ensnaring your wrists. That you’d accept your fate at his hands and submit yourself to him.

The Balladeer was a fool.

He’d kept you there for too long, and while you searched for an easy way to escape, time sent your head spinning. Into a spiral that begged only for the wind against your face, back laying on dirt with the familiar chirping up birds waking you up in the morning.

You wanted to go outside.

And when push comes to shove, you had to risk a little more to make it happen. Lure him into bed with kisses while your hands unbuttoned his vest. But what he believed to be alluring contacts was just your way of finding the keys hidden in the back pocket of his shorts.

It wasnt hard to find the one to your cuffs while he was asleep, cuddled in your chest with both arms around your waist as if to get you to stay put. You took the key, hiding them back in his clothing and hoping he didnt notice.

He didnt say anything the next day.

You werent going to wait any longer.

“Oh for fucks sake, why won't the goddamn door open?”

The room was left in tatters behind you, a little gift for Scaramouche once he got back. Turns out a pair of chains can smash up a lot of things, and rage can be used as a great source of strength when contained for such a long time.

But you’d done more than throw the blankets around, cut up the drawers and smash open the windows. Because your fists had bled red when you punched through the glass, puncturing your skin. Your knuckles were an ugly red, bruising already.

Ah, Scaramouche deserved a much better gift.

Gruesome as it was, you rubbed your knuckles against the pale walls. Till the blood stopped coming, till there was a nice little message for the boy which you held so dearly to your heart.

‘Balladeer.’

The first time you’d found out about him being a harbinger he’d told you not to call him by that name. You weren’t someone he associated with by work, you were a treasure to him. That’s why you continued to call him as he pleased, although the temptation always arose.

You were no longer his.

Shoving the door with your hand again, palm fiddling with the handle and groaning when it hardly budged. “Stupid,” you grumbled when the knob began to loosen. Backing up, you charged with your shoulder to the door, full force as the momentum broke the hinges. The door fell down with you along with it.

It was expected, you’d been stuck in the room for a long time, and thats considering you’d sat on the ground for decades. Your body was slight numb, muscles sore and unused for so long.

“You a-arent supposed to leave your room!”

A young man stood in the hallway along with a woman who looked relatively the same age. The two were wearing uniforms, flinching when you stood up from the debris and off the door. “Excuse me?” You asked, voice unnecessarily icy and stern. But you couldnt care less, you were going to get out of this house, damn anyone who stood in your way.

They both continued to shake when you walked towards them, staggering from side to side. The woman stepped up in front of the man, presenting a brave face. “If you leave the mansion, the harbinger will kill us all!”

“Well then I expect you should be on your way then. Actually…” you gestured to the maze of hallways. “You can lead the way.”

“What…?”

Your hand went limp to your side, an exasperated looking momentarily crossing your face before you sighed. “Im not staying trapped in that room, I’m sorry if that ruins your life, but frankly you're not the one stuck in there are you?” You took an extra step just to intimidate them, eyes wide to make the appearance of crazy. “It would be a great help if you showed me where he hid my vision too.”

“We can show you to the door…” The man began, “But the whereabouts of your vision are unknown, he wouldnt tell us something like that.”

A gift bestowed from the gods, a piece to help me thrive with my ambitions and pursue my goals.

Gone.

You really wished you’d taken to clawing out Scaramouche’s face instead, but you’d take what you got. Right now your main priority was getting out of this place, even if it meant leaving a piece of you behind.

“Door.” Your voice was raspy and there was a terrible feeling that crawled up to your throat, but you didnt have time to be emotional. “Show me where the door is… please.”

The conflict in their eyes dissipates by the time they lead you along, mumbling words between themselves. You didnt bother to try eavesdropping, you were so, so tired. You wanted to go home.

Anywhere. Anywhere but here.

It took a few minutes until you were standing in front of a grand door, almost twice the size of you and just as wide. You then began to notice the decorational plants and furniture that filled the empty space, there wasn't an inch of dust. Even though you could tell none of it was used.

“Hurry,” the man warned when you paused. “I dont know when our master is coming back, but if its soon, we’ll all be screwed.”

You couldnt feel your head as you numbly nodded, hand clenching the knob and flinging the set of doors open. “Thank you,” you merely mumbled, taking your first step out of the house in what felt like forever.

The days after that were a blur, the area around Scaramouche’s house were nothing but void. Empty and filled with forests and vast plains. You knew he didnt like people or socializing in general, but to this extent?

Your only option was to run.

Let your feet take you somewhere, anywhere. It was a constant pattern of running and taking breaks, leaning on a tree and gasping in a few breaths before you were again scurrying through the forest.

And yet you felt better than you’d felt in past months that you’d been stuck with Scaramouche.

Food became any boar you came across, the claws you’d spent so long hiding with Scaramouche coming to unleash a wrath beyond your comprehension. Till the animal was cut to shreds and no meat was left even to eat. You’d slaughtered it, without intention to eat or benefit for it, you’d killed it just to kill.

“I’m sorry,” you’d sobbed into the ground where you’d buried the harmless animal. Forehead pressed into the dirt as you pleaded for forgiveness to whatever archons would accept it. You couldn't even remember what archons you were supposed to pray to. “Forgive me- forgive me…”

But eventually you found your way around to somewhere you knew. Territory of Inazuma where you could find your way back, back home.

Where was home?

You’d been on the run from the vision hunt decree, abandoning your post for the Kitsune Saiguu for such a thing. Even now that you could return without a vision and as no threat under the decree…

You’d sacrificed everything for your vision.

Where were you to go now…?

Rain patted down, the trees providing only a slight cover as stray drops fell into your matted dirty hair. You didnt mind, it hid the tears that slid down your lifeless face, feet taking you into the far meadows of your hometown. Till you plopped down underneath a tree, knees curled to your chest and arms hugging them close. You were crying.

You were home.

____________________

“Awh,” a ginger haired murmured, elbow resting on the cool wood of the tabletop. “Is little Mouchie sad? I heard your kitty cat escaped~”

A death wish, even fatui that idly minded themselves around the bar knew it. Sipping cold drinks and swirling their cups, the soft chatter was nothing but a distraction from the main course of events. That being the smaller Harbinger who sat sulking in his seat, hunched over with a drink in hand. He’d drank far more than what was on the counter, but everytime he finished a glass, he’d smash it on the ground, watching the fragile glass shatter into pieces.

“I dont have a cat,'' was his only response, tone daring Childe to pursue further. To give him a reason to start throwing the glass in his face instead.

And Childe was an idiot when it came to challenging someone.

“No cat?” The rest of the drink in the taller harbinger’s glass was gone when he threw his head back. “Hmmm, I cant think of what else could’ve had you so enraptured in returning home then~!”

Scaramouche didnt respond, uneven bangs shadowing the bags under his eyes. “Stronger,” he said instead, elbow on the counter and hand outstretched for something. When there was no movement from the man managing the wine, the harbinger looked up. “I need something stronger to drink,” he repeated, voice seething.

“Of c-course!”

The glass was nestled in Scaramouche’s palm in no time, fingers curling around the circular form to down it in seconds. The drink merely slid down his throat in one movement, alcohol burning his senses. It didn’t matter, he was numbed by the growing rage inside of him.

Finally, he turned to the ginger haired boy, eyes hazily dancing along the counter till it reached his fingertips. Up his hand and along his arm, till Scaramouche was staring right into Childe’s eyes. “They escaped,” he admitted softly. “But it’s alright, because I sent something that’ll bring them back.”

Childe paused, raising his drink up away from his lips to pose a question. Hesitation danced along his features before he brought the glass back, he’d rather not provoke the shorter male any further. Wasn’t like he could interfere anyway.

____________________

“That… that…”

It was preposterous, having returned to that same spot for a day or two and heading back to the hometown you’d once lived in. The one Scaramouche had lived in. There shouldn’t have been an issue, you were solely gathering supplies for the sake of it, ambition driving you to travel far far away.

Out of Inazuma.

It was your new beginning, convincing yourself that you didn't need a vision. Finding some sort of purpose before Scaramouche shattered the vision and your life along with it. You’d seen how people had reacted when it had been ingrained in the statue, neutralized and broken. They lost hope, purpose and aspirations for anything new.

It’s not like the Raiden Shogun took my vision.

But you’d taken that fact for granted, expecting some sort of new start without Scaramouche. A victory, getting away from him just for a split second and getting out of Inazuma altogether, you’d never see him again.

Until you got his message.

“How the hell…” You crushed the note until it was just crumbled paper in your hand, slowly leaning on the stone wall. “Piece of shit… what kind of person even…”

Not only did he manage to find you, but without making his presence known, he’d tugged at your one weakness with an ease that had you down on your knees.

You threw the paper to the ground, deliberate as you stared past the alleyway. Pensive as you considered your options. Damn, what options did you even have? You’d been an idiot to underestimate Scaramouche, he wasn’t a child, you knew that… but archons he seemed like one when he was with you. Shown you a vulnerability he wanted only you to see. But maybe that had been part of his plan all along, until all you believed was his soft demeanor.

He may act like a child, but he’s a harbinger.

You stared down at the crumbled piece of paper in disgust.

Not only that, but he has no regard for human life.

Either way, you’d lived decades more than him. You could face him, you would present yourself to him just as he expected you to. Even when everything in you rejected the idea, sobbed at the thought of returning to that house, those chains. Being locked up and confined only for the purpose of coddling a small boy, a selfish boy, a cruel boy.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

You’d figure out a way, and this time you wouldn’t rule out the option of his death.

———————

Oh darling Y/n, how have you been?

I hope this letter reaches you rather soon, we both have much to discuss, no? About me, about you, and much more. You see, I’ve taken up quite a distaste to your little friends. Stone statues in Inazuma as small as Kitsunes truly hold no purpose, what will they do, come back to life? Haha, I should think not. I’ve already arranged to have them demolished, who knows what kind of material they might possess. Ah, and of course I’d show you the finishing product, unless you’re willing to come and have a chat with me once more? Under the Sakura tree like we used to, you’ve waited years, I believe you can wait for me?

I hope this letter reaches you in best interests. I’m always looking out for you after all.

Sincerely, your Balladeer

——————

It was raining.

Beautiful weather as you lay sitting there, feet crossed and tucked in the same you’d often do. After all, there was no need to fear the vision hunt decree or the Raiden Shogun. Let them come, let them take care of you before Scaramouche did.

You werent cold, not when the cold drops dampened your clothing, slipping down the length of your spine and drenching your face. Despite having lived in a luxury residency for such a long time, this was where you were most comfortable, enduring whatever the weather had for you, taking it with a smile. Because you were waiting…

The Kitsune Saiguu was a distant memory.

You were waiting for Scaramouche, the young boy that often bound into the field in lengthy strides, childlike wonder in his eyes. The one who’d cried when the other kids pushed him away, the one that just wanted to be praised. You’d held him in your arms, and now, even knowing the results, you wouldnt have done differently.

He was just a boy.

Just a boy when he joined the fatui, looking for praise that he was given. He created chaos and bellowed orders with a cruelty that was highly looked upon. Told that he was doing well, so he continued to do so.

He’s just a boy.

You wished you’d held him in your arms, if not only for a tad longer. Shield him away from the wrongness of the world, if only for one last time.

Banishing away your hatred for him was hard.

But you found it under the tree, rain soon dimming down to a clouded cold breeze that swept through the meadow. You’d hated him while stuck in the mansion, but you could now see it from a larger point of view. What he did was wrong of course, but you could remember him so vividly now. His small form giggling, tiny arms around your neck.

“Play with me!”

Was it your fault?

For not holding him tighter? For trying to rectify his bad doings and teach him what was wrong and right? Maybe if your grip was firmer, if you’d spoken to him about the warmth he’d given you that day when playing cards...

“Lazy ass.”

Burying down that pile of worry and insecurities, you took a deep breath in to relax. The edge of your lip perked up, only slightly. “Still terrible with your social skills arent you?”

Slowly securing a dry space under the three with you, Scaramouche sat down. His features were the same ones you’d grown accustomed to at his mansion. Rich clothes, sharp eyes, and the baby face that refused to go away. His movements were soft as he pulled out a deck of cards. The two of you didnt speak as he distributed them between you both. It was tense… no, it felt too much like the warmth form long ago to be tense. You only wished the situation to be different.

“I love you.”

But you could only offer a bitter smile to his words. “I love my vision,” you replied. “I love the Kitsune Saiguu, and I love my friends.”

His touch was gentle when his fingers came to gently cradle your cheek. Holding your face dearly as he peered into your eyes, his were soft. Different from the cruelty he held within, the hatred that burned and destruction that seeked to explode.

You saw a little boy.

Your hand came to press his hand further against your cheek, till you slid his palm to your lips. He appeared so calm when you pressed the first kiss, lips tracing the lines along his palm with all the care in the world.

But you needed to change your view, see him as the man he now was. As the man he had become.

“I love you,” he repeated, and you let go of his hand. It fell limp by his side, cards all but forgotten. There was a much more pressing matter at hand, because you truly needed to see him as he was.

It was necessary if you planned to kill him.

#genshin impact #genshin impact hc #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact oneshots #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #kitsune reader #yandere scaramouche #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #reader x scaramouche #scaramouche angst #writing #angst

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hollandsmushroom · 3 years

Note

Okay well this is me requesting the bench press fix blurb whatever it is lol, I don’t mind if there’s no smut, up to you and how you feel while writing it, thanks!

Both Fucking Bench Press || T.H.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, 69, filthy, cum eating(obvi), oral both fem and masc receiving

Word Count: 1650

A/n: Third installment of my accidental series about Y/n and readers at home gym debauchery, I don't know how this came to be but you guys seemed to love it so I hope you like this one just as well. It isn't necessary to read these but this is part 1 and 2: Mouth Fucking Pushups Mother Fucking Squats

give feedback here and read more here

At this point you and Tom should have learned that you are incapable of working out together, it was always gonna end up with pants on the floor and cum smeared faces but you let that slip your mind as you both made your way down to the in home gym, preparing for your respective workout routines. You knew it wasn’t going to end with you both having completed your planned activities but you also knew that it was going to end with you having had some form of work out, a much more pleasurable one than you had mapped out.

You wished that you could have held out longer than you did, laying on the floor trying to focus more on the burn in your abs than the soft grunts of exertion that were leaving Tom’s perfect lips but your attempts were useless, back falling onto the padded floor one final time and bending your neck backwards, catching a glimpse of Tom over your shoulder, your eyes able to see directly up the leg of his loose fitting workout shorts. You could see all the way to the swell of his peachy bum and where the hair on his legs got thicker as it hit around the base of his dick. Your mind wandered as you noted this, why wasn’t he wearing boxers?

You pushed up from where you had lain, standing up and moving towards Tom, swinging one leg over his waist and bracketing Tom’s hips with your knees, your cunt hovering just above his apparently already hard cock. Tom’s eyes widened at your sudden presence but didn’t question it, racking up the bar and eyeing your finger as it scratched its way down his chest tantalizingly slow. His sore hand grabbed your wrist gently, bringing it to his lips and placing a soft kiss to the flesh just over where he could feel your heartbeat.

“What are you doing, love?” Tom muttered, eyes you through the shade of his interwoven lashes.

“Wondering” your response was short, prompting a raised eyebrow and a nip at your skin.

“What are you wondering?” you shook your hand free of Tom’s gentle grip, going to squeeze his flexed muscle as you leaned forward, lips dancing like a flame near his own as you uttered your inquiry.

“Could my superhero boyfriend bench press me?” your eyes were locked with his as you spoke but flickered downwards as finished, watching how his lip became entrapped between his teeth, a wicked grin over taking his face as his hands trailed down your sides, gripping into your hips and picking you up. Tom’s biceps flexed deliciously as he hoisted you up above him, pressing you up so your abdomen was above his face, shirt loosening and exposing the sweaty skin to his eager eyes. He had been watching you, you just didn’t realize, like before when he had placed himself between your legs and the moment devolved in your cunt smearing across his face.

“He most definitely can” Tom growled, unlocking the joint of his elbow and letting you lower towards his face, your legs straightened out so you didn’t fall off of his flattened palms as he pressed you back up again.

“Holy fuck” the words slipped past you lips on instinct, in pure awe of your partners strength, the exhibition of his power sending a heat to the plush between your legs, hieghtening the sensation of your heartbeat in you finger tips as you held them out, head ducked down to be able to witness the strain and tensing of Tom’s bicep, loving how if moved under his taught tan skin.

“Holy fuck is right” Tom uttered and you heard the swish of his unfitted workout shorts, drawing your eyes to the prominent bulge that laid beneath the breathable fabric, bringing your mind back to the glimpse of him that you saw earlier from your position of the floor.

“You’re hard” you didn’t realize the words were coming out of your mouth until you heard Tom chuckle, legs shifting with anticipation and need.

“Uh, yeah, I um, yeah” Tom choked on his words, the rare spark of anxiety burning in his chest as if you hadn’t rode his face and he hadn’t fucked your mouth in the last month.

“I’m soaking” you muttered in assurance, an appeal to help douse the flame of insecurity that your boyfriend seemed to be fueling and it seemed to snap him right out of it, his eyes widening immediately.

“Yeah?” the tone of his voice had completely changed, and shred of doubt dissipating entirely as he twisted your body above his, spinning you like a baton as if it was the easiest thing in the world ceasing as your bodies laid parallel, pointing in opposite directions. “Let me see” the sly syllables trailed past his lips as he brought you down, your knees instinctively bending and resting on the work out bench so that your knees bracketed Tom’s face.

Tom’s cock was in your face, trapped beneath the constraining fabric of his shorts, an alluring sight that had your mouth watering instantly. You pressed one hand into the cushioned bench, using your other hand to cup his cock, his length practically jumped at your touch. A shiver etched its way down your spine as Tom’s fingers curled into the hem of your pants, tugging down at the tight fabric, your panties coming with, as he exposed your core to himself, and your description was apt, you were soaking.

“Fuck, baby, you’re not just soaking your dripping” his hands massaged yoru ass cheeks as he pulled you down close to his facd, close enough that his tongue was able to swipe through your folds and gather your arousal in his tongue, the taste earning a hum from the depths of his chest. A strangled moan escaped your mouth and Tom joined in, the sensation forcing your hand to tighten around his hard on.

“Tommy, are we-” you stopped, choking on the fact that Tom’s lips were now wrapped around your bundle of nerves, sucking as he let kitten licks press through his pout. “Are we going to do this?” you were finally able to get out, your hand shaking as pleasure coursed through your veins, fingers slipping underneath the fabric and near Tom’s heated cock, pulling down the waistband till it was resting beneath Tom’s balls.

“I thought we already were,” he mumbled, his face still buried in your cunt as he traced your folds with the flexed tip of his tongue. You smiled widely as you listened to Tom’s words, leaning down and taking Tom’s leaking tip into your mouth, the salty taste of precum blooming across your taste buds as you began to suck intently. Your actions made Tom moan loudly into your cunt, jaw opening wide and sending the humming sensation through your cunt. His cock was heavy on your tongue, the weightiness of emboldened and libido flushed flesh. You were both devolving into moaning messes, spit and arousal dripping mouth and cunt alike, an exchange of the most animalistic kind, and it was burning its way through you. The fact that when you bent your head just right, licking at the side of his cock with intensity, you could watch Tom eat you from between your bodies was exciting and intensifying every freeling your body was experiencing.

Tom dragged his tongue from your clits, swirling the taught muscle downwards till it drew circles of your spasming entrance, teasing the hole as he dipped into it slowly. He rocked his head as he did so, pressing the crook of his nose to your clit but it wasn’t enough to satiate him, he needed more, yearning to drown between your thighs. His hands snaked their way around your thighs, pulling you down towards him as he pressed down on the rounds of your ass. The pressure on your clit eased the pain of desire and fed the flames of your orgasm that were dancing in your lower abdomen.

“Tommy!” you whimpered, pulling off of his cock just enough to be able to moan out his name, a warning that you were close and you knew that he was as well purely by the way he was humming into your cunt and how his cock was twitching in front of your face.

“Me too baby, let go” he assured, as you took his cock back into your mouth you felt the world shatter around you, the only real feeling was that of Tom’s tongue and his dick in your mouth, sliding in and out as you somehow managed to maintain the movement even through the mind bending pleasure. You both came hard, your juices being lapped up as Tom continued to relentlessly lick, your mouth filling with cum as hot white strings painted the inside of your mouth, the salty tang grounding you from slipping off into a pleasure induced haze.

Eventually you had both drained yourselves, no energy left in your euphoric bodies as you somehow ended up on the floor of the room. Your chin pressed into Tom’s pec as you looked up at him with largely dilated pupils and he looked back at you with the same.

“I don’t think we can work out together anymore, Tommy” you muttered, your fingers tracing indiscernible patterns across his heaving chest.

“What? Why?” Tom asked, his arms wrapping around your shoulder and pulling you closer to him.

“Well it never really ends up with us working out” you tried to remind him.

“But doesn’t it though? Cause I feel like I worked out and your legs are still shaking like you squatted 1000 pounds, so I actually think we should work out together more” Tom chuckled, pinching your side and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“You are insatiable” you poked him back.

“And you like it”

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wkemeup · 4 years

Text

Crawl Home to Her

summary: Stranded without coms, alone, and bleeding out in the middle of a Russian snow storm, Bucky is content to let nature take its course. Only you won’t seem to let him go. pairing: bucky x reader word count: 8k warnings: passive suicidal thoughts, hallucinations, ghosts???, its all very confusing but humor me ok, a/n: based on Work Song by Hozier ✨

No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her

Laid amongst old wooden floors rotted in decades of weathering and the whistling brush of wind sweeping in steady drift of snow from the open doorway, Bucky wondered whether he might have preferred the coffin of ice Hydra once shoved him in for storage.

The chill nestled deep into his bones and he tried not to focus on the small puff of breath as it touched over chapped, cracked lips. It was the only warmth he had left and that, too, was leaving him.

It was getting hard to breath under the sting of freezing temperatures barreling into the cabin; sharp, like crystals had formed in his lungs and punctured into his chest from the inside. The fireplace long extinguished, his rifle laid in a heap amongst his tactical vest and gear too far out of reach. He was unprepared when the mercenaries barreled in through the windows, leaving shattered glass along the floor, safe house exposed to the elements of a Russian winter.

He’d stopped shaking an hour ago, which he knew was a bad sign. His body had given up on fabricating false heat through the tremors in his arm and legs, the twitches of his breaths, the chattering of his teeth. The serum only did so much before he was left with the frayed remnants of his humanity to cover the slack.

Bucky’s fingers dipped down and glazed over a thick, warm pool at his stomach. He pulled his hand back to find an unsettling, deep red coating his skin. It was warm to the touch and it dripped down along his fingertips into his palms, soaking into the dried patches.

A violent cough suddenly broke through his chest and Bucky’s head fell back to the floorboards, a dull ache in his stomach from the effort. He could taste copper on his tongue as a fuzziness began to take over, like he was floating on the edge of a cloud, somewhere high up in the sky. It was a pleasant feeling, he decided, a break from the world that had not shown him kindness in nearly a century.

He stared up at the ceiling, at the blades of a fan lined in decades of dust, as it spun around and around and around and around and —

“What the hell are you doing?”

Bucky jolted awake, a sharp flinch through this nervous system like the current of electricity. Eyes wide open, he turned to find a figure sitting on the loveseat to his left. The fabric was torn in the trajectory of dozens of bullets, cotton lining oozing out the cushions and littered amongst the snow. It was too dark to see but the dim flicker of the swaying light in the kitchen illuminated the corner for only a second. It was enough to still his heart.

“Y/n?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, a scowl on your face as lips pursed together.

“Hey Buck.”

No.

No. That—that can’t be right...

You were wearing a SHEILD crewneck with a rip on the hem of the sleeve, faded in color from the wash, and a pair of sleep shorts he’d seen you in dozens of times. The slight imprint of a pillow case fold on your cheek, your hair a little out of place in sleep, and cast in the glow of sunshine through his bedroom window despite the stars littering the night sky outside the cabin’s door.

It was what you were wearing when he left on assignment two weeks prior. He knew because he memorized every moment he left you behind.

There was always that uncertainty, that knowledge that every mission could be his last, so he took the time to bring you with him; a memory, an image, of you laying under rustled sheets, curled up against his pillow with that pout on your lips as you told him ‘five more minutes, baby’ when he was already ten late.

He held that memory close because he could feel himself slipping. The blood pooling at his stomach was seeping into the floor beneath him and he felt dizzy, the spin of the fan above him throwing him off balance even as he laid completely still. It was the last good thing he had left -- this image of you -- because he knew it was time to let go, time to let the universe make things right again, to take him from the time he never belonged in.

There was a relief in that... almost.

"You’re not giving up, are you?”

Bucky gritted his teeth as your voice pulled him back sharply from the edge of dreamless sleep. He glanced over to you and found there wasn’t a trace of goosebumps on your skin amongst the snow sliding along the floorboards by your feet. You were unbothered by the rush of wind barreling in through the open door though it picked up in the small wisps of your hair, carrying them away from your face before it settled again.

“This isn’t happening. You’re not real,” Bucky chanted under his breath, but the way you were looking at him—Jesus—he'd seen that look too many times before. The pinch of your brows, the slight tug of your cheek between your teeth, your eyes narrowing down on him from a distance, never in anger, but determination.

Bucky closed his eyes, clenched his jaw real tight, but he could still hear as you push yourself up off the couch, the slight squeak of floorboards under your feet as you paced. Bucky dared to steal a glimpse and you were kneeling down over one of the mercenaries he was able to get a shot in before hell broke loose. You pursed your lips, tilted your head just so, and pulled off his helmet to get a better look. It rolled a good few feet before it hit a sudden stop against the edge of the couch.

It was the wind, he told himself. His mind was playing tricks on him again.

“Jesus, they make ‘em big around here,” you murmured to yourself before you pressed two fingers to the side of the man's neck. You started ruffling through his pockets for weapons and Bucky could hear the jingle of coins in his pockets, the swish of the fabric. He was certain he’d gone mad.

“You need to get warm, Buck,” you told him and a coat dropped down on his left. “You’ll die if you don’t.”

“You’re not real,” he argued, keeping his eyes closed, hoping that you’d just disappear and let him die in peace. “You’re... you’re in my head.”

It was hard enough knowing he was going to die in Russia of all places before you ever knew he was in trouble, hard enough to imagine you crying over his body as his skin paled to blue and grey, hard enough that he’d already said his last goodbye, already had the last kiss from your lips…

“It doesn’t matter if I’m in your head or not, Bucky,” you warned, though he was almost certain he could feel the warmth of your breath touch his skin as you leaned down next to him. “You’ll die if you stay here. Do you understand? You’ll die."

Your hand slid into his hair and he could feel the trace of your fingertips, your nails, on his scalp; combing through locks matted in blood and dirt and drawing shivers in his spine untouched by the cold.

He whimpered, tears burning at the corner of his eyes, because you were right there and somehow not at all. He didn’t want to say goodbye but his energy was draining. It slipped from him in every breath, the pain becoming a tired memory and he knew his body was giving in.

He’d spent so much time fighting in his life. He just wanted to rest. That’s all. Just some time to rest...

“Bucky!”

He snapped awake, heart beating frantically for a few minutes before it lulled again; his breaths too short, too far apart.

You were hovering over him, hair falling down into your face and there was real fear in your eyes. Your hands settled on his chest, trying to draw his attention back to you and he was certain he could feel the pressure of it, the grip of your fingers to the fabric of his shirt. The touch of a ghost.

“You need to get up. We’ve got to get you out of here,” you ordered, hands fumbling for the coat you dropped by his side and trying to drape it over him, but he pushed your hands away. You sat back on your heels, wide eyed, desperate.

“I’m already dying, sweetheart,” Bucky choked out, voice raspy and raw. “There's nothing left to do. Coms are out... nearest town is a dozen miles away... I’m-- fuck—I've got at least four bullets in me. This is it, honey. I’m-- I’m sorry...”

It hurt as he said it and he dared himself to meet your eye. Draped in sunlight and all that was ever good in his life, you were an ethereal wonder; a stunning image of the women he left behind, even if his mind was fading on the edge of insanity. It was nice, he thought, to see this memory of you one last time, to hold onto it tighter as the darkness gently carried him away from this world.

His hand lifted slowly, wanting to touch you one last time, and he was surprised when it didn’t slip straight through you like a ghost, but instead, landed tenderly against your cheek. So tangible, warm to icy chill of his hand, he could feel the clench in your jaw, the strain of the muscle, the divot of a scar by your ear.

A final blessing he didn’t deserve.

“Bullshit.”

He winced as you grabbed a firm hold of his wrist and pulled it from your face. Everything started to hurt again, in his chest, his stomach. He was falling apart.

“I’m so sorry, honey, I’m—I’m not making it out of—”

“Bull. Shit.”

You slammed your hands to the floor beside him and suddenly, you were up and rummaging through the kitchen, tossing old utensils around and making a mess of the withering cabinets. You tore them to shreds, emptied the drawers onto the floor, the shattering of glass and the crash of metal to tile in an unsettling scream.

“You don’t get to do this. Do you hear me? Not after all you went through! Just to die in fucking Russia!”

Bucky swallowed though it tasted like bile. You tossed out the mugs from a cabinet with the swipe of your hand and the sound they made as they crashed to the floor skipped several beats in Bucky’s dimly beating heart.

“Sweetheart,” Bucky tried again, voice falling on empty, a whisper, “no one’s comin’...”

“Then you fucking get up and get to a goddamn phone!”

You froze then, your hand curling around whatever you were looking for with a sigh of relief. As you stomped back over to him, Bucky looked down at your grasp to find two sets of hand towels and an ace bandage clutched in your grip.

You were grumbling under your breath as you sank down to your knees. Hands shaking, you pushed up at the thin fabric of Bucky’s shirt. He didn’t even hiss as the cold air touched his skin. That wasn’t good.

You pressed a towel to his open wounds, hard enough for Bucky to groan at the impact and he bit down hard on his tongue. There was no apology as you wiped away the pools of blood, tossing aside the soaked towel to the corner and pressing down a new one in its place. You were angry, furious even, and Bucky had only seen you like this once before.

The Hydra base in Siberia. He was surrounded, ordering you to get back to the jet without him though he had no clear path to an exit. It was a diversion, one you saw through instantly, because he had no intention of leaving that warehouse, not as long as you made it out alive. You almost killed him yourself by the time the last Hydra agent fell to the floor. Panting, covered in blood, you had slapped him hard across the face before you gripped at his shoulders and kissed him.

The first kiss between you.

The beginning of it all.

Fitting it should end like this, too.

“Sit up,” you demanded, pulling Bucky back from his memories.

He sighed as he stared up at you, your teeth gritted as you pressed down harder to his wounds. Everything hurt. He couldn’t move, could barely breathe.

“Sit. Up.”

“I can’t,” he whimpered, voice breaking in the effort. “I-- I can't, honey. I’m sorry. Just—Just let me go. It’s time, Y/n. It’s okay…”

There was a silence, one that carried over the scream of the wind outside and the scratch of tree branches against the shattered windowpanes. Bucky’s own breaths were shallow, raw and wheezing through his lungs, and they sat in pained contrast to your silent, elongated inhales, the seconds you held them before you released it. He could have heard a pin drop even over the whistling wind and the mess in his chest.

“No.”

Bucky swallowed back the dryness in his throat. “No?”

“No,” you gritted out, sinking back onto your heels. “No! You don’t get to just give up, Bucky. You don’t get to leave me behind!”

“You’re not even here...”

You clenched your teeth, biting on the inside of your cheek. “Maybe not. But you know exactly where I am back home, don’t you?”

Bucky’s jaw wired shut in an instant. It was what he’d been avoiding, why he clung so hard to the image of you as he left, the glow of the sunlight on your skin and the sleepy mess in your hair. The perfect memory to take when him as he died, but it was being ripped from him, torn away in an instant because as you knelt beside him, your ghost began to change.

Dark circles colored under your eyes, a sunken look hollowing in at your cheeks and temples. Your hair fell down from the bun at your crown and braided down the side, a nervous habit you’d taken up to keep your hands busy when you were anxious. Lines formed on your lips, cracking along the center; broken skin now exposed on your knuckles from a restless night in the gym.

Tear tracks burned down your cheeks; some old, some fresh, and your eyes were bloodshot red.

“Please, stop,” he begged, trying to will his mind to give him the memory he had before.

“You know what this is doing to me,” you told him. “You missed your checkpoint eight hours ago, Bucky. We both know what that means. We both know I’m scared out of my mind for you. I’m panicking. I’m desperate to find you and you’re going to give up before I can.”

Bucky closed his eyes, choking back tears as he pictured you frantically pacing back and forth in the intel room next to Steve, waiting by the satellite phone, waiting on a call that would never come. His coms had been destroyed in the shootout, torn and shattered under the boot of a Russian enforcer. There was no way to get word to you, no way for you to track his location. He was entirely on his own.

You would have figured that out by now, too.

He could practically hear your voice as you shouted for an update every few minutes, biting the head off of an Agent who dared to give you any answer outside of Bucky being found safe and on his way home to you. He could see you clenching at your fists, digging your nails into flesh, and shrugging off Steve as he tried to ease your distress. You’d be terrified, with a deep kind of unsettling dread burning like a hole in your stomach. He knew, because it was how he felt when you were on assignment. It was agonizing.

“Don’t do this, Bucky,” you said quietly, softer now, begging. “Don’t give up. Don’t—Don’t leave me.”

He could hardly keep his eyes open, every breath drawing him further away.

“You’ll be okay,” he said slowly, achingly, though a flash of shock widened your eyes. “You’ll be okay without me.”

Bucky’s fingers crawled along the floor to you, nails digging through a mess of blood and splinters before the curled sweetly around the palm of your hand. He squeezed it gently, the most he could manage, and he watched with a fading smile as you stared down to where he held you.

“How could you say that?” you whispered, gaze glued to blood stained hands. You swallowed, a tear slipping past your eye as you turned to find ocean blue. “How could you possibly think that would be true? You’re my life, Bucky. I need you. You can’t—Please, baby. You have to come home to me. You have to.”

“You’ll move on,” he exhaled, closing his eyes as the exhaustion started to pull him under. “It might take some time, but you’ll be fine, honey. You don’t need me. You never did.”

“That’s not true—”

“You were always too good for me,” he chuckled sadly to himself. “At least now you can find someone who really deserves you…”

“Dammit, Bucky!” you cried, hands gripping into the fabric of his shirt and shaking him until he opened his eyes again. “You don’t get to just throw your life away because you have some backwards, fucked up notion that you’re not good enough to love me because newsflash, you idiot, I don’t care! I love you! I love every goddamn part of you and there is not a person on this planet, or any other, that I want to love me the way that you do!”

There was a silence that followed. The whistling wind and the scratch of branches on exposed windows the only solace between you. Your features softened, your hands releasing from his shirt and you gently patted his shoulder, running your fingers along his neck to touch the side of his face. He leaned into the palm of your head, jaw quivering as he bit back tears.

“Why are you here?” he whimpered, voice cracking as a sob crawled its way through his spine. “Why-- Why won’t you just let me go?”

Tears spilled out the corners of Bucky’s sides, sliding down along his temples and soaking into his hair. He was exhausted and aching and – god—he just wanted to sleep.

You smiled sweetly at him, brushed the hair from his eyes. “It’s you, Bucky, don’t you get that? I’m in your head, remember? I’m apart of you. Stop fighting yourself and come with me. Let me help you survive this. It’s why you brought me here in the first place.”

“No... that’s…” Bucky shook his head, heart racing a little faster, “that’s crazy.”

“Crazier than talking to yourself?” you chuckled light-heartedly. “It’s been you this whole time, Buck. Look.”

You gestured to the floor leading into the kitchen, and sure enough, there was a trail of bloody footprints in the size of his combat boots leading into the mess of shattered mugs and scattered utensils. His palms had tiny pieces of broken glass in them, colored in the paint of the kitchenware on the floor.

Then, you showed him the wrapped bandage at his stomach, the one with his own bloody fingerprints at the clasp. He’d done it all himself.

“Your imagination can’t do all that for you, baby,” you said, a soft smile on your face, though it faded to something solemn as he stared at you in shock. “You’re dying, Buck, really dying and I know you’re scared. I know you want to come home. Stop fighting me. Stop fighting yourself.”

“I don’t--” he swallowed, though his throat was dry and it burned amongst the cold air, “I don’t understand…”

“The mind is a funny thing,” you shrugged. “It does what it has to, to keep you alive. This is what you needed, to be reminded of the love you have waiting for you back home when you survive this.”

You nodded to the edge of the cabin, and sure enough, there was Steve standing at the door. Hands tucked into his pockets, wearing the thin white shirt and suspenders from their youth, though it looked a little funny now on the man he was today. He was smiling, that hopeful kind of look in his eye that Bucky never quite learned how to replicate.

Sam stood next to him, hand on Steve’s shoulder, smirk plastered across his face as he nodded at Bucky; the strange and varying brotherhood between the two of them full of bickering fights and unbridled loyalty.

Natasha was on Sam’s left, arms folded, scowl present as her eyes flickered down to the mess of bodies littering the floor. She raised an eyebrow at the burly looking soldier you’d rummaged through the pocket of— or, or maybe it was Bucky, he was still trying to wrap his head around it – and nodded as if she were impressed.

Then, there was Shuri and T’Challa. Lang and Barton. Wanda and Vision. Peter Parker sneaking his way in behind Steve, looking just damn excited to be standing in the presence of Captain America. Even Tony Stark stood in the corner of the cabin; arms crossed, sunglasses on, observing from a careful distance, but still present.

“You’re not alone, Bucky,” you said quietly, drawing his attention back to you. “Not here. Not at home. Please don’t give up on your family. Don’t give up on all you’ve built. We’re waiting for you, honey. Come home.”

A blur in his vision, Bucky couldn’t quite focus on your silhouette, not until you tenderly brushed the tears from his eyes, droplets on the edges of long lashes. He clenched his jaw, searching for a stronger breath as you held his face. Your lips pressed down to his forehead and he found his strength again.

“Okay.”

Bucky grabbed onto the edge of the couch and pulled until his muscles were at their limit. A scream tore threw him, his body raw and broken and falling apart at the seams. It burned in his throat, in his chest, and it echoed deep into the empty cabin. It was no louder than the wind outside.

“Okay,” he repeated as he sat up with his back pressed against the couch. He clutched at his stomach, heavy breaths in his lungs. The bandages were holding up, with little leakage onto his palm in all the effort.

When he looked back over to you, he found you smiling, proud, though your appearance had changed again.

Your hair was pulled down to a bun at the nape of your neck, a few strands falling out the sides. Dressed in a large winter coat with a thick fur around the hood and mittens on your hands; the navy-blue jacket you’d worn in your mission in the Swiss Alps last year where you’d convinced Bucky to stick around a few extra days in the blizzarding cold. You’d told him then how much you loved the snow, the mountains, but mostly the hot chocolate, the fireplaces, the snuggling in close to him at night. It was a pleasant memory.

Bucky smiled back at you, though it took most of his strength. He turned to look at Steve and the rest of his family, but they were gone, disappeared to thin air and his stomach lurched as he quickly shot his eyes back to you.

“You ready, baby?” you asked him sweetly, nodding towards the door.

“Stay with me. Please.” He felt childish as the words left him, talking to what amounted to nothing more than particles of snowfall and thin air, but it carried his whole world.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you replied, as if it was never a choice at all, and you offered your hand.

Bucky nodded, stringing together all the strength he had left in his body and slipped his hand into yours. He tried not to think of the logistics of it all, how he was really getting up on his own because you weren’t here to tug him to his feet. It created a dull ache in the back of his head and he figured he better not mess with the remaining functioning pieces of himself. Let his mind get him through this, even if he felt absolutely insane.

“Put the jacket on, honey,” you told him, bending down to grab the coat of the mercenary you’d swiped earlier. “It’ll be a long walk in the cold.”

“Y-yeah, okay.”

The wind barreled in from the open door and it pushed at the little balance Bucky had left, leaving him to sway unsteadily, grunting at the pain that resulted in his stomach. He clutched at the wrapped bandages, relieved when fresh blood did not add to the stains on his fingers and palm.

“Time to go,” you urged him, nodding to the door. “Let’s get you home, yeah?”

Bucky stared out into the blanket of darkness beyond the door, the snow falling and dancing amongst the violent sweeps of wind, illuminated by starlight untouched by the pollution of a city. He didn’t know where to go, but you promised you’d guide him; a piece of his subconscious that must have picked up on a sign along the road at some point, he figured.

As he made his way to the brutal cold, shivers tremoring in his spine and his feet limping dragging along the floor, facing a journey across miles of exposed land, he was thankful he wasn’t alone.

***

Bucky had never been so cold in his goddamn life; not even when Hydra would put him on ice.

It had been a relief then, a dreamless sleep and safety away from his captures, but this – this was torture in itself. His boots dragged through two feet of snow, the winds picking up the further he trudged out into the darkness. He wrapped the scarf tighter around his face, trying to shield himself from the cold, though ice crystals had formed on his lashes.

Everything hurt and each step was more painful than the last, but he kept moving.

“You’re almost there!” you shouted over the scream of the wind in his ears. You were smiling, jogging out a few paces ahead. It was easier for his feet to carry him when it was you he was walking towards. “Come on, sweetheart. One more mile. That’s it.”

Bucky panted, his breaths far too labored, his head feeling quite fuzzy, but as he looked over your shoulder, he spotted a light in the distance. Blurred by the snowfall, but still clear as day. A gas station with half the letters missing in its name. His saving grace.

“I’m coming, baby,” he whispered and for the first time, he wasn’t talking to the mirage beside him, but the woman waiting thousands of miles away.

Picking up in pace, Bucky pushed himself harder than he’d ever tested the limits of his body before. He knew that without the serum, he would have been dead before he even left the cabin. There were few moments Bucky was ever thankful for the hell he’d been through. This – giving him a second chance to get home to the love of his life – was one of them.

“Careful,” you warned him, gesturing to the trail of red droplets in his wake; blood that had seeped out from the soaked bandages at his stomach and trailed down under his coat to the snow below, marking his path.

Bucky nodded, determined as he finally broke through to solid ground, to dirt roads plowed just enough from the snow, and sprinted the rest of the way. You were on his heels, cheering him on like you did when he first got back on a treadmill after he broke his leg in New Mexico last year. He was smiling so wide it hurt his cheeks, laughing as artificial light illuminated his path.

He shoved his shoulder to the door, winced at the sound of the bell above, and charged straight up to the counter.

A man in a thick overcoat and a fur hat stood behind the counter, reading a newspaper quietly to himself, and paid no mind to the man frantically rushing up to him. He glanced up in Bucky’s direction, eyes flickering to the blood trailing in his wake, before turning back to his paper.

“Phone,” Bucky panted. “I need a phone.”

The man didn’t respond.

“Russian, Buck,” you reminded him quietly to his right.

“фона,” Bucky tried again, slamming his hand down on the table.

The man rolled his eyes and set the paper down. Stone cold expression, he took his time as he muddled around behind the counter, leaving Bucky on edge. You nodded at him, running a hand along his arm to keep him calm.

Then, the man set a flip phone down on the counter. He didn’t say another word as he sat back onto his stool and picked up the paper again.

Bucky grabbed the phone and quickly stumbled his way back to the far end of the convenience stores. Brushing up against rows of chips and shouldered a few to the ground, he was starting to lose his balance again. The dizziness was kicking in and it became evident as he tried to dial the SHEILD emergency call number and kept hitting the wrong numbers.

“Breathe,” you said softly as Bucky started to panic. “Try again.”

Deep inhale in, Bucky typed the ten digits and held the phone to his ear. It rang three times.

“Good morning,” a voice replied, deep and clinical, “this is Sandbox Bakery. What can I get for you?”

Bucky leaned his forehead to the glass of the freezers, cold compress on his skin touching a blaze of heat.

When did he start sweating? When did it start to soak through his clothes?

There was a stickiness under his feet and Bucky glanced down to find blood dripping down from the edge of his coat and staining the dull-white of the plaster floors. Dark red seeping into the cracks between tiles, filtering through years of dirt and dust and muddied tracks. The outline of his boots in perfect pattern.

“Good morning,” the voice said again, “this is Sandbox Bakery. What can I get for you?”

Bucky swallowed, trying to find his voice, but he was sure he’d left it behind in the cabin. He could hardly hold himself up, his hand slipping on the handle of the freezer doors, nearly taking him down to the ground amongst the blood and dirt.

Under hooded, heavy eyes, Bucky glanced over at you as you nodded encouragingly at him, but there was two of you; swaying over one another, blurred, out of focus.

“Good morning, this is—”

“Baklava,” Bucky muttered the code word between labored breaths, the meaning of it sitting somewhere along the line of I shouldn’t be alive but I am – Fucking come get me. The dizziness was starting to take hold on his body and he leaned his shoulder against the freezer doors in search of the cold glass to offset the burning heat on his skin.

A darkness started to tunnel at his vision, thick black rings closing in around him and he tried to grip at the handles on the doors, but he missed each time; his fingers too weak to grip onto the edge, his vision swaying and doubling over.

The agent on the other end of the phone was asking him questions, but they barely registered, like white noise no louder than the burrowing winds past the door. Bucky clutched at the handle, phone slipping from his grasp as it fell to the ground. He stumbled backwards, hitting a tower of plastic cups as they collapsed around him.

“Bucky, lie down,” you warned gently as he struggled to hold himself up.

“I’m—I’m okay,” he gasped, voice barely a whisper, unintelligible, before the darkness caved in completely and he met the floor.

***

When Bucky came to again, it was to hands gripping harshly at his arms, at his legs, dragging his body onto a rock-hard surface that smelled of plastic and the sting of sterilizing alcohol. Pain ripped through his stomach at the sudden movement and he whimpered quietly, painful breaths in, lips quivering as he tried to bite down hard on the dried, cracked surface; the movement jarring enough to make him wish he was back in the cabin amongst the snow and broken glass.

But there was a hand encasing his. One that was soft, impossibly gentle, a slight squeeze, and Bucky realized there were voices around him. Muffled, barking orders, but they were distant, like an echo at the edge of a ravine. They were too far away for him to hear.

All except one.

“Stop it! Jesus, you’re hurting him,” one of the voices warned; soft and melodic, even within the tension, within the slight tremor of panic. It was a voice that called to him, as the grip on his forearm tightened, and Bucky forced his eyes open.

He was seeing double, couldn’t quite focus on what was right in front of him, but he could see the three agents dressed in black combat vests huddled over him, strapping him on the stretcher while a petite Englishwoman with mousey brown hair and slender fingers worked to stabilize the mess at his stomach.

Then, he focused on the voice to his left, the kind voice, the familiar voice – yours.

“We’ve got to get him out of here, Simmons,” you urged, glancing back at the doors to the shop and the chaos of broken aisles in between. “God knows how long he’s been here like this...”

“I just need to stabilize him before we make a break for the jet,” the woman with the quiet English accent replied. She pressed down hard on Bucky’s stomach and he was surprised to find he didn’t feel a thing.

Bucky swallowed back the dryness in his throat, trying to find his own voice, catch your attention in some way, but you didn’t seem to notice him watching you.

“It’s been ten hours since he missed the checkpoint. Ten hours,” you stressed, your free hand reaching up to brush back hairs from your face, tucking them behind your ear. It was then Bucky noticed the braid sitting over your shoulder, the dark tactical suit, and the discoloration under your eyes. There were marks in the shape of crescent moons on your hand from where you’d dug your nails to your skin. You looked tired, scared; it was different than how you appeared when Bucky collapsed.

You gritted your teeth, brushing away tears Bucky so desperately wanted to reach to wipe away if he could only move.

“We don’t know how much blood he’s lost or— or if he has internal bleeding or--”

You froze suddenly, words pulled right out of your mouth as Bucky’s hand twitched under your grip. Slowly, you turned to meet his eye with a kind of panicked shock and relief and an array of complex emotion.

“Bucky?”

He nodded, a weak smile on his face.

You nearly cried. “Oh, thank God you’re--”

“You stayed,” Bucky muttered, voice groggy and slurred. A tired smile etching up against broken lips.

You blinked, biting back your tongue as your eyes shot over at Simmons. She shrugged, working quietly to reseal the bandages at Bucky’s stomach. There was a smile on Bucky’s lips, broken and cracked in dried blood, almost hazy, like he was floating high above in the clouds.

“Honey, I’m here now,” you told him, voice a little cautious, but Bucky shook his head, though his vision was starting to leave him again, the comforting pull of darkness wrapping its arm around him.

“You... you really stayed with me...” His voice was barley a whisper.

Your eyes widened, a fear taking over and your quickly snapped your attention back to the agents surrounding him.

"We need to get him out of here, now,” you ordered as Bucky’s eyes started to flutter closed again and he did not return the grip to your hand when you squeezed. Sudden movements and he was lifted into the air, though your grip on his hand did not leave him.

He fell back to the darkness before the cold air of Russian winter could touch his skin.

***

The first thought Bucky registered was that he was warm. Not warm enough for sweat to form on his brow, but enough so that a chill didn’t press its way into his bones, enough that the thin layer of a freshly washed blanket draped over his legs chased away the goosebumps on his arms.

He blinked his eyes open gently to take in the stream of light from the window to his left and the reflection held against bare, white walls. The room was not one he knew and quiet murmuring of strangers passing by outside in a language he couldn’t place didn’t help the rush of panic etching up through his veins.

Bucky turned to his left to see a monitor carrying his heartrate and the increasingly frantic rhythm of his pulse. There was a bruised mark on his right forearm around an IV that stemmed to a bag hanging over his head.

Could be filled with anything, he reminded himself. Always on the defense. It was how he stayed alive.

A hand settled against his stomach to find it wrapped in bandages, no longer searing in pain, but still sore; a dull ache left behind to remind him it was real, that he’d been shot and left for dead in the frozen wastelands of Russia, that he’d walked miles alone in a blizzard and found comfort in the ghost of –

Bucky jolted upright, a hiss pulling swiftly from clenched teeth as a sharp pain reemerged at his stomach. He groaned, breaths coming in a little heavier now as he glanced around the empty room. Up at the open door ahead of him, he watched as stray physicians and nurses passed by in white lab coats talking quietly amongst themselves in... German, maybe? His brain was too foggy to register much of anything.

“Y/n?” he called in search of your ghost, but his voice was too weak, he could barely hear it himself.

Kicking the blankets away from his legs, Bucky felt a chill sweep up his spine. The pain was excruciating, but he’d been through worse. He ripped the IV from his arm. He kept his hands gripped tight to the mattress, setting his bare feet to the cold floor and wincing as the pain in his stomach worsened with every movement.

But he needed to get out of here. He needed to get home to you. He’d promised.

He set his stance to the ground, careful to hold himself up on the edge of the bedframe, but his legs were shaky under him, muscles unused and tired and so incredibly useless, his left hand started to warp the plastic of the railing in his frustration.

“Bucky?”

Wide eyes shot to the door to find you standing in its frame, a Styrofoam cup of coffee in your hand, lips parted in shock. Your hair was swept to the side in a long braid, dark circles hanging under your eyes, your clothes wrinkled with days of use.

He tried to speak, but suddenly, his hold on the bed frame gave out. The smell of dark roasted coffee beans filled the air before he even met the ground and his skin touched the ice of tile flooring. Sharp pain in his hip and a heat of embarrassment in his cheeks, Bucky tried to find an ounce of his dignity on the ground.

You slid up on your knees beside him; coffee cup noticeably missing from your hands as it laid in a puddle by the door to his room.

“Jesus, Buck, what were you thinking?” you gasped, hands roaming down over his arms, fingers warm to the touch from the coffee you’d held between your palms. A worry line creased in your forehead, lip tugged between your teeth as you grazed your touch over his face, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones and jawline in concentration as you inspected for damage.

Bucky closed his eyes, a little lost in the feeling of it as he leaned into your touch, missing you and wondering how he could possibly feel that heat from your skin.

“You’re lucky you didn’t reopen your stitches,” you murmured, hands touching gently at his wrapped bandaged around his waist. It was still white, at least, so that was something. The scowl on your face was a comfort, something familiar, and he was thankful to have it.

But there were small differences he noticed as you tried to help him back up into the bed. Like how when the light from the window touched your skin, it reflected a little differently, got caught in your eyes and you’d have to squint away from it. Or how there was a new scratch on your jawline he hadn’t seen before. You huffed a hair away from your face as you struggled to life him back to his feet and it fell back into your line of sight almost instantly.

“Give me a sec, I’ll be right back,” you told him before you pressed a quick kiss to his forehead, hands sinking into his hair. It felt so real, he almost convinced himself you were really there.

When you came back into the room, a nurse was at your side, hands planted firmly on her lips.

“I thought you were joking,” the nurse huffed in a thick German accent, exchanging a glance with you. You shrugged, scowl present but lips curved up in a smirk. The nurse groaned, sinking down to the floor to grab Bucky’s arm. “Why would I expect a man who’s been under for nearly a week to just up and walk out the room? Huh? I wouldn’t! No one is that foolish, Sergeant Barnes.”

You were laughing quietly beside her as you helped to guide Bucky back up into the bed. As he settled back into place, he found himself watching you intently as you conversed with the nurse. She told you keep your eyes on him, that he was a flight risk, and that she’d be back to check on him again soon. You nodded, thanking her for her time and quickly pulled up a chair beside his bed.

“You've got terrible timing. You know that, right?” you chuckled, shaking your head. “I haven’t left this room for days, Buck, and the second I go to get coffee, you decide to wake up.”

“How long?” he asked quietly and the smile faded from your cheeks.

“Five days,” you told him. “Almost six.”

“Longer since I missed the checkpoint, then,” he reasoned, pinching at his brows. “We should get moving again. I’ve got to get home.”

“What? No,” you said quickly, leaning forward in your chair in an attempt to set your hand on him, but he pushed it away. It seemed to surprise you because you paused for a moment before you said, “Bucky, you’re still healing. You need time before we can—”

“I didn’t almost bleed out in a goddamn cabin in middle of Russia just to end up trapped in some hospital in Germany and still not make it home!”

Bucky threw the blanket off of him again, pushing himself to the edge.

You rushed forward, grabbed a hold of his shins before he could swing his legs off the side of the bed. Your grip was forceful, but not enough to hurt. You planted your hip down on the bed to block his path.

“We’re staying here, Buck,” you pressed, a slight tremor in your voice. “You almost died.”

“Why are you arguing with me about this now?” Bucky groaned and the flash of confusion on your face went unnoticed. “You’re the one that convinced me I had get home, aren’t you? You’re the one who wouldn’t just let me die and made me walk into a fuckin’ blizzard while I was bleeding out! I have to get home to you, right? That’s what you said! I’m not giving up on her – or, or us – or... fuck it— on myself, ok? Whether you’re with me or not. I have to get home to her. Even if I have to fucking crawl.”

Through the frantic swelling in his chest, the heavy pants of his breath, and the dizziness forming back in his head, Bucky didn’t register how quiet you’d become until his eyes flickered over to you. Your body was rigid, lips parted just slightly, a semblance of shock in your eyes and Bucky’s stomach sank.

“Is that... Is that what you meant when you said ‘I stayed with you’? Back in the gas station in Russia? Do you... Do you think you’re just imagining me here?” you asked slowly and a burning heat ached into his cheeks. Something like shame or embarrassment or guilt, but none of it stronger than the relief that coursed through his veins as your hand reached out for him, fingers encasing his. Smaller than his own, warmer, and so real he could feel the divots of your lifeline and old scars and the soothing trace of your nails. Tangible. Real.

“I...” Bucky started, stealing a glance up at your eyes before they darted back down to your hands wrapped so tenderly around him. He exhaled a heavy breath. “I don’t know.”

“Oh, honey,” you sighed, bringing his hands up to your lips and kissing sweetly at his knuckles. You pressed the chill of his fist to your cheek and he could feel the warmth burning there. The way you watched him, with eyes so filled with the kind of love and adoration he’d longed for his entire life, it was enough to mend his heart whole.

“I’m here, Bucky,” you whispered, another kiss to the tips of his fingers and it took the breath straight from his lungs. “I’m really here, honey. Your mind isn’t playing tricks on you anymore. You’re not alone.”

Bucky nodded, watching as you peppered kissed along his hands, over flesh and metal like they were one in the same.

“It felt so real...” he murmured, sinking into the way your hand stretched up along his arm, rising over his neck like the crest of ocean waves, and rested to his cheek. He leaned further into the touch.

“I know,” you soothed, your thumb tracing over his cheekbone. “But I’m here now, love. You found your way home.”

Bucky nodded, shifting in the bed just enough for you to crawl in beside him. The dull ache in his stomach lingered, but he didn’t mind, not when you curled up into the crook of his neck, your hand gliding down over the marred scarring on his shoulder, your breath warm against his collar.

“Home,” he echoed, the word slipping from behind broken lips, a curve of a smile etching into his cheeks. He leaned his cheek to the crown of your head, eyes closing in a relief that spread through his chest and through the very ends of his body in a gentle kind of warmth he could only ever hope to find with you resting in his arms.

He found his way home.

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes

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whumpiary · 3 years

Text

content warning: noncon/dubcon vibes, intimate whumper, sensory deprivation

Cassius’ knees have long since gone numb, kneeling in the center of the bedroom like this. His shoulders are shaking from holding his hands so tensely behind himself, his spine aches from keeping himself upright. His thighs had been cramping, earlier. Whether they’ve stopped now or he’s just stopped feeling it, he can’t really be sure.

He could rest. If he wanted. Sit back on his calves instead of kneeling up. But… that wasn't the agreement.

“Would you like to kneel or be strung up?”

He hasn’t seen it, but he’d bet another hour on the floor here that the ribbon he holds between his fingers matches the one around his eyes. Red silk. Or satin maybe. To be honest, he doesn’t know the difference. Shiny and slippery and soft. He rubs it between his thumb and forefinger, little circles over and over, as he holds it taught, the change of grain in the fabric oddly soothing and the one solid thing he has left to hold on to.

“Would you like me to tie your wrists together or would you like to hold the ribbon in place?”

It’s freezing in here. He keeps shaking. Bone-deep cold. He’d assumed, maybe stupidly, that the fire would be left going while Christopher was gone. That the heating in the room would stay on. That the fucking window was going to stay closed. Maybe it would’ve if he’d chosen differently.

“Naked for an hour, or clothed for two?”

There’s a part of him that’s glad for the noise cancelling headphones. For one thing, at least, his ears are still warm. Which is more than he can say for any other part of him. For another, the white noise isn’t as bad as he’d expected. He loathes the blindfold usually. Hates that he can’t see anything, can’t track anything, every noise a could-be-threat that he can’t help but stay hyper vigilant to. The static is a relief in comparison, a neutral wash that fades everything out to grey. Well, almost everything.

“Shame we can’t take away that last little sense of yours, isn’t it?”

There’s only a small part of him that’s startled by Christopher’s return. The rest has been waiting for him patiently the whole time, tiny shreds of sensory information filtering through the grey wash of the cold and the dark and the static. The vibrating creak through a floorboard shifting. The deepening of shadow behind the blindfold. And louder, brighter, more vibrant than all of it, the thrum, thrum, thrum of all the things Christopher wants. Fucking ravenous. Cass has never understood how one person could be so hungry all the time and not starve.

I’ll be what you want, I’ll be what you need.

Let me feed you, let me feed you, let me feed you.

He feels himself readjust, spine straightening automatically much to the protest of the muscles in his back. His breath picks up, sitting high in his chest. His nostrils glare, blindfold A shiver runs over his skin, sets it on fire, reminds each cell to wake up. Spike of adrenaline preparing him to run from the tiger that he can’t see. As though he could run now, on the long-numb legs.

Christopher doesn't touch him at first. Cassius feels himself bristling with the need for it.

The first thing that happens is a light bump of the headphones that makes him flinch in fright. Then a pause. Then they’re lifted away and the deafening cacophony of roomtone and the rest of the world floods his ears and makes him gasp, nearly in pain with it. He can’t tell if everything’s louder without the static or just horribly, horribly silent but his whole body sways with the dizzy nausea it sets through him.

He whimpers. Christopher shushes him gently. He tries to tilt his cheek into a nonexistent hand, desperate for the reality of touch.

“Did you move, darling boy?”

It takes him a minute to remember to respond, to shake his head. But when he does, he does so with fervour.

No, he didn’t move. He was good today. Wasn’t he good today? Please.

“Did he move?”

A question over his head, to the back of the room, to someone Cassius hadn’t been given the privilege of knowing was there. He nearly turns his head to look. He catches himself a few millimetres to the right and stills, clenching his jaw.

He was good today. Wasn’t he good today?

There must be an answer in the affirmative Cassius doesn’t hear because Christopher’s fingers press into the soft patch of skin just under his jaw and tilt his head up. He’s kissed tenderly, deeply, softly, violently. He doesn’t drop the ribbon.

He can imagine Christopher’s smile against his lips, his glittering eyes.

“I’m so proud of you”

He wishes the praise didn’t make his heart sing. Wishes, too, that it wasn’t just his heart the words set alight.

Christopher’s hand pushes back lazily through his hair and he tries not to lean into it but he does all the same. The man’s fingers trail down along his neck, across his shoulders. The touch is like a prayer. Like he’s being prayed to. Like he’s something holy.

Venerated. Sacrosanct. Divine.

“You know one of my friends has his boy do this for hours and hours on end. Usually with a gag of some description…” The man’s fingers brush against Cassius’ lips and he parts them just a little, jaw soft and slack. Christopher presses his fingers past his boy’s teeth, pressing down on his tongue. Pushing in further. “It’s quite the sight.”

Cassius opens his mouth wider. Relaxes his tongue. Sucks. He can hear the soft gasp of Christopher’s breath, the tug of his lust. What he wants. What he restrains from. The man’s fingers press further in.

“His boy doesn’t need incentive, though,” Christopher continues, voice thick with desire. “He’ll wait and wait like a good boy with nothing but the promise that it’ll be over soon. Isn’t that lovely?”

Are you going to be good for me today? Are you going to earn it?

Cass wonders if his lips have gone purple in the cold or if they’re still the plump pink Christopher adores so much. When he was a kid his lips were always going purple. Cass used to secretly like the look of it.

"You’ve been so good for me today, haven’t you? Indulging me like this,” Christopher says. He runs his fingers through Cassius’ hair, back and back until they’re tangled loosely at the back of his skull, ready to tug and pull and push as he pleases. He’s been good. He’s been good. Please, he’s been so good.

It’s the retreating of Christopher’s fingers, rather than the pressing in, that threaten to make Cass gag. He nearly does. Nearly. He doesn’t.

“M’sorry,” he says, pressing forward into the hand at his cheek. The word comes from nowhere, falling from his lips unbidden. His head feels full of the static that left. “Sorry, I’m so sorry”

Christopher hums in his throat, thumb running across Cassius’ cheek to catch a tear that’s slid down past the blindfold. “What are you sorry for, my love?”

He shakes his head and turns his face until he can press it into the man’s palm. He holds back a useless whine. His body shakes with a voiceless sob instead.

What the fuck? What the fuck, what the fuck? Why was he being like this? He wasn’t even hurt today.

Please, for the love of God. Wasn’t he good?

“Oh, darling, you’ve gotten yourself all worked up for nothing, haven’t you?”

He whines, cries, sobs. “Please.”

“Please what?”

Tell me I’m good.

“Please ju-” he gags on nothing and his breath hitches. Even behind the blindfold, he screws his eyes shut. He wants the static back. “Help me.”

Christopher hums and cards fingers through Cassus’ hair again, settles a warm palm on his cheek. “Of course,” he says. “Always.”

Bullshit. Still, Cass accepts the kiss that’s laid to his lips like it’s his last chance for air before drowning. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.

Christopher tilts Cassius’ head up with two fingers under his jaw, both still slick with spit. “Now, would you like to see Henri now or-"

“Tomorrow,” Cass says, all but cries out. He can’t say why he feels so desperate. “Please. Tomorrow.”

“Are you sure, darling?” the man asks, lips like hot coals against the curve of his shoulder. “That wasn’t what you wanted earlier.”

“Please, don’t. I don’t want to see him. Please, I don’t want him to see me like thi-”

“Shhh, it’s okay,” his voice is so careful and soft. Like a whisper. His fingers skirt the blindfold and don’t lift it. “Tomorrow, then.”

Don’t touch me, don’t look at me, don’t come near me.

“What do you need, my love?”

Stay with me, hold me, don’t leave.

“You,” he says, unbidden, unprompted, unburdened right now of the shame that comes with admitting it. “Please. For fuck’s sake. I need you.”

Christopher hums again, the self satisfaction so thick in his voice it’s practically dripping.

I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.

“Come on, darling boy, let’s get you to bed.”

I love you, I love you, please love me too.

“For what it’s worth, I think you look divine.”

#cassius #christopher #implied or referenced noncon #sensory deprivation #intimate whumper #thank you everyone for your input in which piece i should finish!#tucker fun and josiah angst will hopefully see the light on day soon also #ily #wip to wob

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daisiesandshakes · 3 years

Text

Ikevamp fanfiction

One step closer part 2

Pairing: William Shakespeare & female reader

Summary: after confessing your feelings for each other (part one) it's going to be a wild night...

Words: about 4k

Rating: 18+ /NSFW PLEASE DON'T READ WHEN YOU'RE UNDER THAT AGE!

Tags/warnings: smut (you have been warned), sex, oral sex, (vampire) biting, overstimulation, mentions of cum & blood, light bonding

Special thanks to: lovely @yanderepuck for rereading and helping me with this 4k monster 💖 and for inspiring me with her simping post to put my thoughts into words 🙏💖

Enshrouded in his arms it is a silent carriage ride to Shakespeare's house. Neither of you speak a word, exchanging affection is the only expression of your feelings.

William caresses your silken locks as you reach out to touch his gorgeous face again. Is this really happening?

You're with him, HIM!

He holds you in his arms and he loves you!

Sighing, you trace the lines of his delicate lips with your fingertips. Why does the carriage take so long?

Locking eyes, William holds your hand in place, kissing every finger. His lips ghost over your knuckles, traveling over your fingertips to graze them with his fangs and the tip of his tongue.

Mismatched eyes, now like burning flames, swallow every provoked reaction.

His intense, sensual glance full of sweet promises is already enough to let the muscles in your lower belly clench and you whimper.

Dammit - this man is way too sexy.

His pupils grow wide at the noise that escapes your lips.

You could cut the sexual tension with a knife right now. Grabbing you by your hair at your neck he pulls you into a kiss.

At first it starts as a soft and tender touch, but then William's teasing tongue dances over your lips again and again.

You shift your legs due to the sweet sensation between your thighs.

Wanting more, you take his tongue in a sudden motion between your lips, sucking at the tip, then pushing your own hungrily against his.

Shakespeare moans loudly with pleasure.

Tightening the grip in your hair he pushes you down into the seat, kissing you deeply with feral desire. You can feel his other hand moving from your waist up to your chest, caressing the form of your breast through the fabric of your dress.

At this moment the carriage stops.

Slowly Will tears himself from the kiss and pulls you up.

"To tempt me with these cunning wiles...tis is a dangerous game of yours." He whispers into your ear.

"Though I'm begging you to show me more, it inspires me to make you mad with pleasure. Be assured my dear, I'm looking forward to pay back a tenfold the passion you intend to grace me with '', his voice seductive with bare desire. You swallow.

With a blank mind and weak legs you let Will help you out of the carriage and lead you the way to the house entrance, the bubbling excitement inside your stomach growing with every second.

As the door closes behind you, Will takes his jacket off and ties his hair up with a ribbon.

You turn around, unsure what to do with yourself, looking at the exquisite interior.

"Do you need something, my dear? A drink mayhap?"

Somehow his voice sounds unusually deep and suppressed.

You're turning back to face him "No thank you William, I am f-"

Your back slams against the door and you gasp in surprise. Shakespeare presses himself against you, his nose almost touching yours, you can feel his hot breath on your skin. While he pins your wrists with one hand over your head, his other hand moves from your waist up to your chest, dancing over your curves. Not breaking eye contact his fingertips trail the way up to your face, stroking your cheekbones and the lines of your lips with the lightest, tender touch.

He frowns "I am sorry... I fear I can't be that gentle servant you deserve my goddess..." his voice husky.

Your heartbeat drums in your ears and you lick your lips, his gaze immediately glued to your mouth.

"You bewitched tis pathetic wretch... making me shiver with lust, begging for even the barest brush of your skin".

William slowly pushes a knee between your legs to spread them.

"It is my eager wish now to favour you with tis sensation in return." He purrs as he lifts his leg between your thighs to press it softly against your womanhood, his hand now cupping your breast.

Your entire body trembles with want.

His lustvoll gaze still glued to your lips, as if he awaits words of a magic spell from them to set him free, unable to make a further move without them.

Tears of unbearable anticipation sting in your eyes.

"Don't hold back William, I am yours, here at your mercy. I love you and I want you so bad, I need you!"

With a cry he kisses you with untamed desire, pushing his tongue deep into your mouth to intertwine with yours. You bury your free hand in his soft maroon hair, trying to pull him even closer.

Lifting one of your legs around his hip, he bucks against you and your juices ruin your panties as you feel his throbbing erection. His lips leave your mouth, traveling along your jaw to your neck, his tongue leaving wet stripes on your skin.

Letting your wrist go Shakespeare breaks the kiss and yanks with one fierce move of your dress and corset down to your waist. You gasp at the act and the sensation of cool air on your bare breasts.

Feeling embarrassed you close your eyes and lift your arms to cover your chest.

"Don't.. I beg you" you stop at his pleading voice.

As you open your eyes to meet his gaze, the pure adoration lying in it shocks you and sends shivers down your spine.

He takes a step forward, hovering his hands above your chest.

"Oh my sweet darling, tis is such a breathtaking sight, it would inspire any artist's mind to create masterpieces.. " his fingertips graze slightly over your collarbones.

"I don't dare pretty neigh to touch your delicate form".

Nearly shy words, barely a whisper.

"If you don't touch me right now William, I'm sure I'll attack you instead" you growl, surprised by your own boldness.

He chuckles delightfully as he takes you in his arms.

"So greedy and eager, hm? Shush darling... Let tis bewitched wretch take his time to worship you..." he purrs at the sensitive spot behind your earlobe.

His tongue travels from your earlobe to your jaw, up to your lips to slip eager in between, kissing you senseless and you let yourself drown in the pleasure. Cupping and squeezing your breasts, his thumbs teases your nipples, making you dizzy with desire.

Not breaking the dance of tongues, your trembling fingers try to open the buttons of his shirt, hungry to touch his skin.

Impatient you just rip it open and as your fingers touch his solid chest you moan into the kiss.

Will pulls away laughing.

"Never thought to imagine you would desire tis body of mine this much." He smiles at your lips.

He has no idea.

His hands leave your skin only for a few seconds to take his shirt off.

Then again he presses his body against yours and heat waves run through you as his hot chest touches your bare skin, brushing over your stiff nipples and William's mouth captures yours with the greed of a starving man.

You let your fingertips travel over the sides of his upper body, down to his abs, noticing him breathing hard.

You break from the kiss, leaning the head back to watch his wide-eyed expression while your hands slowly travel to his loins.

Panting, with slight open lips he shifts a bit, giving you more space to go further.

One of your hands moves over his arousal to enfold it through the fabric of his pants. You hold your breath at the size.

He lays his hand on top of yours, pressing his pulsing manhood into the palm of your hand.

His hot tongue slides teasingly over your lips with whimpering noises as he rocks his hips.

Abruptly Shakespeare lifts the bottom of your dress and you hear the ripping sound of fabric at your panties, only a split second before a finger enters your tight wetness.

You cry out.

"Fuck!" Your hips roll against his hand as he bends the digit.

"Not yet, my greedy temptress" he hisses next to your lips, pulling his finger out, licking it clean.

William moans at the taste of your sweet juices and his intense stare with burning eyes forces you to look away, unable to bear this carnal sight anymore.

He cups your breasts again, sucking your nipples, letting his tongue dance around them and you squeeze your eyes shut with a groan.

Kneeling down he tears the rest of your clothes to shreds, stroking the sides of your hips with affection. His nose brushes over your thighs up to your loins, followed by his tongue. Lifting one of your legs over his shoulder he intrudes two fingers into your heat.

"Ah... so wet with juices sweet as honey and so tight on my fingers alone..., you're truly a divine relish." he murmurs before his tongue slips over your swollen clit.

Desperately trying to steady yourself you grab the doorframe and dove the other hand into his hair.

His digits moving in and out, heading deeper searching for the sweet spot that let you see stars, your wetness dripping down your thighs. With a flat, dancing tongue he moans against your sensitive nub.

"W- William... I can't..." breathless you roll your hips frantically at his hand to bring his fingers rubbing over the secret spot deep inside your aching core with every slight move.

You feel a tingle building up in your lower belly and back arching you grab his hair as you come down hard.

Crying out loudly, your walls clenched around his fingers, your wetness spreads over his hand.

Shakespeare pulls his fingers out, licking your folds and then his fingers to achieve every drop your body offers.

While waves of the aftershock run through your form, your shaky legs fail you.

He lifts you up into his arms, leaning his forehead against yours as he carries you into his bedroom.

"It only has begun, my dearie" he whispers, lying your body carefully down onto the silken sheets.

Hovering his body over yours his enchanting, mismatched eyes study every detail of your form, filled with love and adoration.

Graceful fingers floating over your chest, your breasts down to your belly, sliding over your hips to your thighs.

You weep as he reaches your knees, forcing them apart with gentle pressure, to spread them more for him.

To lie this bare, in such a vulnerable state open to his intense view, makes you shiver and yet you can feel more wetness drip over your slit.

"Never before have I seen such beauty, lying spreaded before me, bathed in moonlight." He confesses with a husky voice, kissing softly on your knees.

"Let me drown in you, my beautiful. I desire to get lost in your embrace, wishing never to be found again" his tongue caresses your thighs.

With piercing eyes Will observes every tiny move you make as he spreads your legs more and slides a finger into your heat again. You grip the sheets.

"Tis is mine, mine alone" he whispers fiercely, easing his finger in and out, hitting your hidden, sweet spot over and over again as he gazes down at you with glowy eyes, watching you closely, absorbing your slightest reaction.

You whimper "Will.. oh god.. I'm about to .. Aaah.. cum again!"

How did he find out so fast how to pleasure you the most?

"Who do you belong to? Scream it for me, my greedy temptress"

Ardent spoken words and his skilled finger sending you over the edge, tears of passion roll over your cheeks

"You!! I only belong to you Will!! Oh god.."

The world around you stops existing and you fall apart as the juices of your third climax spill again over his hand.

He lifts his wet fingers up, eyeing them stunned.

His hungry gaze darts to your glistening entry and with a groan he dives in, licking your slit up to your oversensitive nub, to caress it with soft, circling moves.

You squirm, trying to get away, overwhelmed from this stimulation. But his hands around your thighs push your hips down, holding you in place with an iron grip.

You're sure you can't take this overstimulation anymore.

Tears rise up again and you cry out "William! P- please... Too much!"

You begged him to stop, but you nearly yelped as his tongue left you.

Sensing the warmth of his body as he climbs on top of you, you cup his face and lean up to lavish his delicate features over and over with lovingly kisses, smiling shaky before your lips find his.

Without ceasing his hands travel over your curves, leaving burning traces on your skin.

Cupping your breast in his palm and giving it rough squeezes, he lifts your leg around his hip with his other hand, pressing his covered arousal against your entrance, making you feel the aching emptiness inside of you.

"Please...Will..."

"Hm? Please what my impatient goddess?" he asks teasingly, rolling his hips up again. You never imagined you were able to desire someone this much.

"Don't.. tease.. I need you! I'm begging you...! I beg you to make me yours!" You manage to whimper with a broken voice.

He freezes at your confession, staring into your eyes with a feral light in his gaze.

"To hear those tempting words from thyne sweet lips..."

His mouth claims yours with a fervent kiss, leaving you breathless.

"As my Queen wishes, I'm your servant at your command" he purrs.

Sitting up he pushes his pants down, kicking them off in a quick motion, to be over you again in seconds. You lay your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and you sense the tip of his throbbing cock against your slit.

"Please, take me, please..." you breathe, thinking you can't stand another second without having him inside of you.

Guiding his cock with one hand to your entrance, he pushes the tip inside.

You throw your head back and mewl, trying to pull him closer with your legs.

With a slow but firm motion he enters you fully. Gasping for air, you try to relax, letting the muscles of your tight core adjust to his size.

William breathes hard, strands of wet hair fall into his face and his sweaty chest glistens in the moonlight.

"By all the gods, you must be created for my shape only... Aah.. .to feel your lustful tightness around me..."

Shakespeare didn't move yet, making you mad with desire and you think he knows it.

You buck your hips up hard to his and he groans.

"Move." you hiss at his mouth, biting softly his lower lip, digging your nails into the delicate flesh of his rear.

William loses all remaining reason. You could see it in his eyes.

Reaching down to take your hands, he pins them down over your head, holding your wrists with one hand. He pulls back until only the tip of his member remains inside, watching you as he pushes back into your heat unbearable slowly.

You sigh in delight by the sensation of feeling every inch of him. Pulling back again, Shakespeare lifts your hips to change the angle, instantly meeting the hidden, sensitive spot inside as he thrusts deep into you.

Your mind goes blank, eyes wide open as you moan out his name and a pleased smile appears on his lips before they capture yours in a messy kiss.

With every fierce thrust into you, his body slides over yours, the warmth of his chest brushing over your stiff nipples makes your toes curl.

His mouth travels down to your neck, leaving his tongue across your tender skin lovingly. He inhales the sweet scent that comes from that delicate place and before you can tell what he's about to do, his fangs plunge your skin.

"William... Not while.."

Barely noticing the short prick, you scream because of the unearthly pleasure that follows, spreading through you, setting every nerve alight.

You almost pass out, mind and body overwhelmed and overstimulated. The orgasm that hits you tears you in pieces, leaving you shattered and shaking.

The walls of your core clench around William's cock rapidly and you hear yourself crying out like a wounded animal, while your release drips down your thighs onto the sheets.

The waves of the aftershock doesn't seem to end, blissful tears spilling out of your eyes but you don't notice them.

The playwright leans down, his soft lips kissing the corners of your eyes fondly, to wipe your tears away with them.

"So sensitive to my touch and bite... I have to admit, I didn't presume to affect you this much", he murmurs at your skin.

You shift your head to meet his eyes, surprised to find joyful tears glistening in them.

"You affect me this way because I love you so madly, William".

Groaning loud he intertwined his fingers with yours, holding your hands down next to your head. His hips buck again against yours while kissing you fiercely, messy, senseless.

The nerves in your now oversensitive core spread with every stroke of his member arousing tingles through you, making you moan constantly.

Your whole lower belly seems to be on fire and you can feel the pleasure grow again.

Such rapture shouldn't be possible!

You throw your head back to expose your neck for his hungry tongue , trailing burning lines on your skin.

"I love you, I love you so much Will... ", you grind your hips to meet his slow, but forceful thrusts.

He let go of your hands, holding you against him, his eyes sparkling. You smile at each other between sensual kisses, tongues dancing together. At your lips he whispers "My darling, my goddess...fair maiden only mine, I love you more than you can imagine".

Suddenly William increases the speed of his deep thrusts and you gasp, the air filled with the sounds of slapping, wet skin and cries of pure pleasure.

"Oh f-.. oh god, you feel so good Will!"

Something changes in him at your words.

With fiery eyes and a moan on his lips he grabs the back of your knees, pushing them to your chest, desperately trying to get even deeper into you.

This new position allowed him to hit with every stroke the sweet spot deep inside your heat, making your vision blurry with stars.

Holding onto his slim shoulders as if your life depends on it, you breath his name again and again.

You dig your nails into his tender flesh when an incredible tingle starts to rise and the coil deep inside tightens.

"Ah.. I'm so close! More, I need more!"

His wet hair falls over his face as he slams forcefully into you. "So...as... I am! My love, let me hear your sweet voice, scream for me!"

Attacking your chest with love bites William pierces your nipples with his fangs and sends you with another hard stroke over the edge, licking up the blood from your sweaty, tender skin.

Intensified by the nibbles of his fangs, your orgasm crashes on you with a force beyond belief and you scream his name, voice cracking. Waves of rapture let your walls clench without cease and William groans out loud as the muscles of your core milks him, drawing out his climax instantly. With a few final, deep thrusts he buried himself deep inside you, moaning and shuddering in your arms.

You pass out as your ravaged body still rocks with the afterwaves, your blank mind dragged into a blissful abyss with nothing left in it but him.

It seems to be late in the morning as you slowly open your eyes. Stretching your body you notice that you're alone, William has already left the bed.

Instantly you are aware of the sore feeling in your lower belly and in between your legs. Heat rises up your cheeks as the past night comes to your mind and a pleased sensation runs through you.

'As you regained consciousness again, Shakespeare showered every inch of your form with loving kisses, begging you for forgiveness, that he wasn't able to stop himself, for being so reckless and feral in his desire for you. After you reassured him several times that there was nothing to forgive at all, Will claimed your body over and over in the most tender and affectionate ways until the morning dawned. He took possession of your body and soul while he breathed sweet nothings to your skin, words spoken with so much love and adoration, made you weak and your heart raced.'

With a dreamy expression on your face from those sweet memories, you pull your aching frame out of the bed as you realize that there's nothing left you could wear. William ripped every piece of fabric from your body last night.

Clueless you look around and to your surprise you find one of William's shirts on a chair, neatly folded with a red salvia flower on it. Your heart swells at this thoughtful and sweet gesture.

But how did he find out you love herbal blossoms? You never mentioned it?

After taking a shower you pull his shirt over, inhaling the scent of lavender and sweet sandalwood on it. For sure it is far too long and too big, but you are happy being able to wear it and maybe you can ask William later for pants.

With still damp hair you stepped on your tiptoes through Shakespeare's house, finding him writing at the kitchen table.

Standing quietly in the doorframe you soak up the view, William properly suited, his glance focused on the papers before him, silken strands of his maroon hair falling over his face shining in the sunlight.

You could stand here forever, only watching him. Then you notice he draped all kinds of sweets, fruits and bread on the counter, fresh brewed tea steaming in the pot. When did he manage to get and do all that? Did he even get some sleep?

Suddenly he looks up, giving you a sweet smile.

"There you are, my dearie. Come here."

Standing up William offers you a hand and as you step in to take it, he lets his gaze roam over you. "My my, I have to admit, the shirt suits you." He also takes a step closer, pulling you into his arms.

Listening to his heartbeat, a sigh escapes your lips. "Oh, this feels so good..."

He hums, his hands caressing your back. "Are you feeling well, darling? Didn't I go too hard on you?" he asks, his voice faint and concerned.

"Everything is fine William. Really." You smile at his chest. "To be honest, it was the luckiest night of my life."

Sensing his heavy exhale, you continue "Don't worry, I have a well trained body, I can take a lot."

As you lift your face to meet his eyes, you can see him cocking an eyebrow, giving you a meaningful look.

"Oh, I've been fully aware since last night, my love." A smile curls at the corners of his lips.

Uh, this conversation takes an unexpected steamy turn...

But then he lifts your hand to nuzzle his cheek in it, closing his eyes. "Please forgive me for ruining your beautiful dress. I've already sent a carriage to our dear Comte, to get some of your clothes and dresses. It must be back in a while".

When did he do all that??

"When you are able to suit yourself properly, I'd like to take you out." He kisses your palm softly.

"But the rehearsal? Your play? We should be there soon. The others will be waiting for us..." You frown.

"Oh don't worry about that my muse. Yesterday morning I informed all troupers they'll have a day off today."

You are relieved. But-

Wait - what? Already yesterday morning? You look puzzled, but then ...

"Okay, you've planned the entire thing out, haven't you? How could you tell how it would end?"

Shakespeare looks down, avoiding your eyes for the first time and a faint blush appears on his cheeks.

"I couldn't. "

He inhales sharply. "For certain I wished for a 'happy ending', to say so. A day off would have been delightful in that case, being able to spend some pleasant time together. It happened to end in a way more blissful than I could ever imagine." He cleared his throat. "And for the case I was mistaken, I thought a day off would've been good for my wounded heart to recover." He swallows. "Are you mad at me now?"

Oh, William!

Your vision turns blurry with tears. Blinking them away you throw your arms around his neck. "I am so happy you made it this way, that you forced me to react. I would never be bold enough to confess my love to you, Will. I love you, my heart belongs to you."

He wraps his arms around your body, holding you tight like a lifeline and kisses your temple.

"And mine is yours" he nuzzles his cheek into your hair. "As well as my soul and my love. All of me is yours, always and evermore."

Affectionately William kisses your forehead and you lift your chin. Your lips meet in a sweet kiss and his hands start to travel over your form, abruptly stopping at your hips.

He moves with you, changing the direction and you feel the table behind you.

"May I ask you something, my dear?" He asks at your lips and you only nod in response.

"What are you exactly wearing under my shirt?"

You freeze, feeling your cheeks growing hot.

"N- nothing... there was only this shirt on the chair..." You stutter.

"Hmmm.. hmm.. " he hums in your ear, "and you didn't notice the shortened pants I left for you in the bathroom?"

You- Wait... No you can't remember you saw something like that in the bath.

His hands travel further down to your thighs "Oh what a pity, I gave my best to trim it to your height tis morning..." he murmurs at your ear as his hands grab you to lift your body with a swift move on the table, settling himself between your legs. You gasp and your heart began to race with incredible speed.

"Don't you think you'll deserve a little punishment for your ignorant manner?" he asks, mischievous and yanks his shirt you're wearing completely open.

Your blood rushes through you, skin flushed from excitement and embarrassment at the same time.

With fervent eyes Will takes his time to soak up the sight of you, before he cups your face with a greedy grasp, claiming your lips in a fiery kiss.

His tongue slides inside, exploring and teasing, and you moan into his kiss as his graceful fingers dance over your exposed curves.

You entwine your hands in his silken locks, feeling a familiar pulsing heat rising up between your thighs again.

Pushing your upper body gently down on the table, he breaks the kiss to caress your breasts with his tongue, cupping them roughly with his hands. Your breath is coming in huffs and you close your eyes with a whimper as William bucks his hips against your sex.

Then he let go of your body to take a ribbon out of his shirt pocket.

At first you think he's about to tie his hair up, but he takes your wrists instead, tying them together over your head, up to a candle holder on the wall. Your eyes grow wide and a tremor runs through your form as he watches you intensely, swallowing your reactions.

Lying bare and helpless in front of him, being at the mercy of his hands and burning eyes, let your pleasure and excitement increase into the infinite.

"My goddess, my temptress..." he whispers as his fingertips slide over your chest, "You've robbed me, of all pieces of heart and mind, sweet bandit mine."

Fingertips moving down further to your belly.

You can feel your wetness already dripping out and you're unsure if you should be this aroused, considering the glowing soreness in your core.

The fingertips reach your loins, and a thumb circles ever so slightly over your sweet nub, his gaze filled with feral desire glued to your sex. Crying out, you tear your eyes away, unable to stand his view. Never before had anyone looked at you this way, craving and starving for you.

Kneeling down Shakespeare kisses the inside of your leg up from your knee, while his hands roam up and down the outside of your thighs. His lips stop at the apex of your inner thigh for a second.

"Such a sweet and alluring scent of yours my darling" he purrs at your delicate skin, shifts a bit to give your slit a quick but firm lick up to your sensitive nub.

Moaning out loud you have to resist the urge to close your legs around him.

"All of you is mine, mine alone," he breathes at your sex, sending shivers down your spine.

His mouth and tongue travel back to the apex of your inner thigh and William burrows his fangs into your soft skin.

Yelping you buck your hips. At this vulnerable spot it is more painful at first, but the waves of the following, overwhelming pleasure washes your mind away.

You cry out his name and your love for him repetitious as he greedy draws your blood, moaning and grunting at your skin.

Mind slipping you begin to realize what it means to love him and to be loved by William Shakespeare in return, but you are more than willing to take whatever it costs.

Thank you for reading! ♡

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp shakespeare #ikemen vampire shakespeare #ikevamp fanfic #ikevamp smut #ikemen vampire smut #ikevamp shakespeare x reader #reader insert #ikevamp william

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yee-fxcking-haw · 4 years

Note

a hard dom hitoshi pls?? maybe some rewarding in the end...

SAY NO MORE.

•Love Me Like You•

Summary: Just some Daddy Hitoshi being a hard dom, then getting real sweet.

Pairing: Hitoshi Shinsou x FemReader (both 18+)

Warnings: Dom Hitoshi, Sub reader, Daddy kink (shocking I know), light bondage, impact play, creampie, unprotected sex, mild degradation, mild dumbification, a dash of spit play.

Word Count: 1,816

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Your thighs tremble, unreliable as you kneel. Your wrists ache, bound behind you for what has felt like eternity. Still, you don't move. You sit pretty and shake.

Hitoshi's hot breath is on your neck, one hand grasps your hip as the other adjusts the vibrator he's holding against your clit.

Your head falls forward and you sniffle against his sweat slicked shoulder. Your cunt honest to god hurts as it clamps around his painfully hard cock.

Hitoshi came home in a particularly sadistic mood. A very unique kind, though. Whenever he was in this mood, he would usually have your whole body bound, mouth gagged, and your pussy brutalized. Today, however, it was slightly different.

Today he was full of authority, he wanted you to obey according to your own free will, he wanted you to be good for the sake of being good. He didn't want you bound, he wanted to feel you squirm, watch you twitch, make you hurt.

"D-Daddy, please." You roll your head on his shoulder, crying into his neck as the hand on your hip tightens.

"No." His voice is short, harsh, unyielding.

You nod and whimper, body driven mad by how long he's had you hanging off the edge. You straddle his lap, impaled by his length as he works his toy against your clit.

"Do you really need more? Are you really that fucking greedy?" His voice rumbles in his chest, dripping with disdain.

You open your mouth to respond, but he cuts you off with a harsh slap to your ass. You choke out a moan, the sting only making you tighten around him, only pushing you closer to the ecstasy he won't let you taste.

"Oh baby, I love the way that pussy tells me what you like." He lets out a breathy, condescending laugh before striking you again.

"You like that, little one? You like it when I bust your ass for you?" He smooths his hand over the reddened skin, chuckling when you let out a gentle sob as he flicks the speed of the vibrator up.

"I- C-Can't hold it." Your body jolts as you stutter out the confession, feeling the first flutters of your orgasm, cursing your disobedient body.

"That's a damn shame." He says thoughtfully.

Then, just as your body is about to ignite, he rips the vibrator away, then he plants his hand on your chest and pushes you off of his lap.

"You were behaving so well, you just had to ruin it, didn't you?" He crawls over you as you collapse onto your back, arms bending uncomfortably behind you.

"I'm sorry! Fuck- I'm sorry, it felt too good, it felt too good." Hot tears soak your face as you thrash on the mattress.

He grabs your jaw with a crushing grip. His eyes are wild, full of rage and impatience.

"Then you tell me, you tell me when it feels too good. You do not cum without fucking permission, you got that, slut?" His words drip from his lips like venom, biting and melting your skin.

"Yes s-sir." You sniffle, searching his face for even an ounce of mercy.

He pulls his hand away a little too fast, only to crack the back of his hand across your face. Your head whips to the side, you can't catch your breath or focus, you barely feel his hands hook under your knees as he pushes your legs up and apart.

"You didn't fucking earn this." He says before lining himself up with your dripping cunt, he pushes in with a low groan.

His fingers gorge themselves on your legs, his eyes devour your quaking form. You're nothing but clay to him, soft and moldable, anything he wants you to be.

"What do you say?" He asks, leaning against the backs of your thighs as he settles your legs over each shoulder.

"Tha-ank you." Your breath catches when he sinks all the way in, kissing your most sensitive spots with the tip of his thick length.

"Is that it, kitten? That the spot that gets you all fucked up?" His tone is mocking as he pulls his hips back. You nod frantically, desperate for him to fill you again.

And he does.

He fucks into you recklessly, he doesn't hold back in the slightest. He watches you cry and squirm and beg, and he fucking loves it.

Your body lights up, every inch of you catches fire as he breathes fire into your limbs. Every thrust in sends new shocks of pleasure to your very soul. All you can do is lay there and take it, especially with your arms bound and your legs so well contained by his body.

"You're so well behaved when you've got a cock inside you." He teases, turning his face so he can mouth at your calf.

"I wanna be good- wanna be good for you." You admit between sobs and moans, fisting at the sheets behind your back as he decimates your core.

Something in him snaps then, something depraved, something feral. He throws your legs off of his shoulders before grabbing you by the hips and flipping you onto your front suddenly.

You let him throw you around like the ragdoll you are, whimpering as you push yourself up onto your knees, keeping your back arched how he likes.

He growls as his hands slide up the backs of your thighs, his breath is hot on your pussy, taunting you with what could be.

"You're a good little whore when you want to be." He spits onto your clit with malice.

You turn your head so you can glance back at him, he runs his fingers up through the mess he's made between your legs. His eyes stay on yours as his middle finger plays at your clit, chuckling when you jump and whine.

"Beg me for it." He breathes, giving a confident nod down to his pretty dick.

"Please- I need it, I'll stay just like this, I'll take it, I promise I'll be so good just please let me have your cock." You blabber, only slightly worried it might be overkill, but your body is screaming for him.

His eyebrows raise and his lip twitches into an amused smirk.

"You sure look pretty when you're falling apart." He muses as he settles behind you, lining himself up with your hole once again.

"Please, please, please." The last plea is a broken, shredded cry. It rips from your throat with a sob as he finally sinks in again, ridding you of the emptiness you feel without him.

"You're a terrible little thing." He sighs, his nonchalant tone contrasting harshly with the urgent way he thrusts into you.

His pace is immediately merciless, the angle is brilliant, the sensation makes your skin run hot. Your toes curl and your wrists tug at the binds, your body desperate for the kind of freedom only Hitoshi can provide.

"Beg. Me. For. It." He barks out, cracking a palm down against your ass.

"I feel that cunt squeezin' me, don't you dare cum without asking. Learn a damn lesson for once." He sneers.

"P-please, Daddy please, lemme cum on your cock, lemme cum." You gasp out, trying with everything you have to hold off the electric euphoria creeping up your spine.

He grabs your wrists with one hand, and your hair with the other. He leans back slightly and lifts your torso up with him, suspending your upper body off of the bed as he hammers away at your weeping center.

"Do it, cum on that cock, cum on that fucking cock." His words become hurried and unsteady as he inches towards his own undoing.

And then it all shatters. The two of you cry and groan and grab as you fall apart, your sexes pulse and flutter in time, heat consumes you both and it's everything.

"That's my girl, that's a good girl." He praises as his hips stutter, slowing into an easy roll as he works you through your orgasms.

He lowers you down again as your walls continue to contract around his length as he fills you up beautifully, making you feel so impossibly complete.

His mouth is hot and sloppy as he kisses down your spine, making you shiver and arch into him.

"You did so good, you're so damn good for me." He smiles against your skin, reveling in the tightness of your cunt around him.

His hands work at the binds on your wrists, freeing them almost immediately. You sigh at the relief, letting them fall down as the rest of your body collapses.

"Easy, I gotcha." Hitoshi whispers, hands on your sides as he lays you down and slides out of you.

He's pulling you into his chest instantly, issing the top of your head as his hands rub soothing lines up and down your sweat soaked back.

"Baby, that was so perfect, you were so perfect." He says between soft kisses.

"I'm sorry I almost came without permission, it just felt so good." You say, hands clawing at his skin as you bury your face into his neck.

"Hey, listen to me." He says sternly, one hand coming up to hold you cheek and force you to make eye contact.

"You're not in trouble, I just needed you to listen, you listened so well afterwards." He reassures you. His eyes are soft now, honest and full of safety.

"I'd say you even deserve a back rub for being such a good girl." He says, a smile playing at his lips when you light up at the suggestion.

"Please?" You ask, voice sweet and eyes full of hope, it makes his heart melt.

"Anything, whatever you need." He promises, he gets you settled on the bed after he cleans you with a warm cloth.

He throws on a pair of basketball shorts before he straddles the backs of your thighs. You cross your aching arms under your head so you can watch him work. He looks so stunning, all milky skin and lavender hues as, it's absolutely mesmerizing.

"Thank you, Daddy." You sigh as he presses his lotion covered hands into your tight muscles.

He smoothes and rubs, working every bit of pain and tension out of you.

"Thank you, for being so damn good, kitten."

He takes his time with you, capable hands work with soft lips as he loves the aches out of your body. He brings you back down so sweetly, easing you into such a warm fuzzy headspace. Soon, your wrapped in his clothes, drifting into sleep as he whispers sweet nothings into your freshly washed hair.

Hitoshi is nothing short of heaven on earth, you're sure of that. He could be so rough, so demanding, but god he could be so soft, so caring. You love him for that, you always will.

#my hero academia #hitoshi shinsou #shinsou #my hero smut #shinsou smut #shinsou x reader #shinsou x you #my hero academia smut #domsub #shinsou hitoshi #mha shinsou

451 notes · View notes

feliix · 4 years

Text

Breaking Point ↠ Lee Minho

↠ minho x female reader

↠ genre: smut, pwp ↠ Rating: M (18+)

↠ word count: 1.9k

↠ warnings: dom!minho, sub!reader, bondage, masturbation, unprotected sex, semi-public sex (they’re in a gym idk), ruined orgasm, degradation, dirty talk, manhandling, rough sex, finger sucking, cum play, cum eating

↠ a/n: written as a request for my drabble game♡

“Minho we’ve been here for two hours, can we be done now?” You whine, plopping down onto the seat of the chest machine while Minho stands before you, chest heaving as he recovers from the circuit he’s just finished.

“Come on. Two more sets,” he replies as he grabs the bottle of water to his right, swiftly twisting the cap off and pouring the liquid into his mouth. Your eyes draw to a stare as you examine him closely; his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows while sweat glistens in the space made from parted hair on his forehead. Damp pieces of his chocolate hair stick to the sides of his face, the perspiration making it seem darker than normal. Every part of him is enticing.

Before you decided to come to the gym with Minho you knew it would be a bad idea. He’s far too distracting. How are you supposed to pay any attention to what comes next in the circuit as he stands beside you looking like that? It’s nearly impossible to focus on anything else but him. Dark clothes cling to his figure, every muscle of his toned stomach exposed, and you stood close enough to make out every fine detail. It’s a blessing and a curse.

“Maybe we should take a short break,” you suggest, puffing your chest forward in hopes to gain his attention. A smirk lands on your lips when you notice his eyes wander down to the cleavage exposed by your sports bra. You knew what you could be getting into by coming here, so dressing the part was an important part of the plan.

Rolling your head back to expose more of yourself to him, you hear him force a hard breath past his lips. “What makes you think you deserve a break?”

Minho challenges, his defined biceps crossing over his chest. Heat shoots to your core – at this rate you won’t be able to stand looking at him like this much longer. In attempts to hold whatever shred of sanity you have left, you squeeze your thighs together, trying your best to ease the growing ache between your legs. Unfortunately your actions do not go unnoticed; though the way his tongue brushes against his bottom lip, tells you that you might be in for a treat.

“Maybe if you just did what I said in the first place and focused on the exercise, you wouldn't be squeezing your thighs together like a little whore.” Minho paces over to you, towering over your figure as he uncrosses his arms and places a hand on the bar adjacent to your head.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stutter, eyes forcing their way to the ground to avoid eye contact with him. You swallow thickly, tempted to just reach out in front of you, but you know better. As he leans down, narrowing the distance between your bodies, you lift your eyes to meet his. The gap between you quickly vanishes as you feel his hot breath on your lips, begging to be claimed by his own.

One hand stabilizes his body against the machine as the other grazes down the back of your neck, holding your gaze to his. So badly you want to lean forward and sweep your lips against his, but again, you know better. And you know what would happen if you act without asking. With this position he has you in now, there’s no intention of Minho giving up control.

His eyes narrow to slits once he breaks his gaze with yours. Suddenly he’s standing up to search the left side of the room for something, digging through a black crate and muttering to himself. The suspense grows in your core as you watch him tear through the equipment, but all that ends when you hear a short, sadistic chuckle pass by his lips. When he turns, two blue resistance bands rest in his palms, a smirk settled on his lips while his breathing grows heavy. Biting your lip in anticipation, you hold your eyes on him, watching his paces move towards you.

Without a word spoken, he takes one of your hands in his, extending your arm upwards and holding it up to the cold metal of the chest machine. The smooth elastic of the blue band meets your wrist, and suddenly you know exactly what this is for. The elastic is carefully wrapped around your wrist and then tied to the machine in a firm knot.

“Pull,” Minho instructs. So you do, jerk your wrist forward as hard as you can to test the security of the band. When it doesn’t move, Minho nods in approval, reaching for your other hand to take the same measures.

Arousal has fully taken over you, soaking through your thin panties and spandex and beginning to leak onto the bench under you. You struggle to find relief, thighs unable to squeeze together any harder to relieve the tension building in your core.

Just as your eyes are beginning to fall shut, you feel his calloused hands on each of your knees, prying your legs apart from relieving the ache. His eyes graze your form, spread so open and wide for him. It’s becoming hard to sit still, the desire racking at your nerves causing you to shift in your seat as your cunt begins clenching around nothing at all. The sight of you writhing under his control makes him feel so powerful – the stiffness pressing against the confines of his short goes to show.

Looping a finger under your waistband, he rips your leggings down your legs in one go, unable to wait or tease you any longer. His tongue grazes his lips as his eyes meet your dripping core, dragging a finger down your slit to collect your essence.

“Suck,” he seeths, holding his finger up to your parting lips as you take his finger in your mouth, darting your tongue across the digit. It’s becoming increasingly harder to keep your legs spread, unconsciously trying to find comfort as you watch the bulge form against his shorts. Your core is already aching so badly for him – and he hasn’t even properly touched you yet.

In one swift movement, he pulls down the garments of his lower half, erection springing to light as his clothing pools around his ankles. Once more he reaches forward, gathering more of your arousal to use to stroke his cock. You bite your tongue to keep yourself quiet, knowing well that your whimpers will only make Minho more upset. His head falls back in bliss once his fingers wrap around his thick member, lips parting to let out a soft moan before clenching his teeth together. Watching his hand grope his thick shaft is enough for you. You accept defeat by resting your head back against the seat, but the throbbing of your neglected cunt still pleads to be filled with him.

“Minho please,” you beg, widening your legs further in hopes it will entice him forward, “please, just fuck me now.” Words stammer past your lips unknowingly, thoughts too heavy with lust that clouds your better judgment.

“If you want to act like a whore that's how you’ll be treated,” He challenges, gripping his hands on each of your thighs and lining his tip up at your entrance. Whimpers draw past your lips as you’re unable to hold your shaking body together.

But all is out of your control as he wraps your legs around his waist. His member plunges into you fast and hard, bottoming out on the first stroke without giving you much time to adjust.

“Fuck!” You catch your lip between your teeth, biting down hard to hold back a yelp. The elastic binding your wrists to the cold metal is beyond irritating, all you want is to reach out and run your hands across his toned abdomen; which is fortunately in your line of sight.

He releases a grunt as he withdraws his cock and thrusts into you once more, just as fast and hard as last time. Back arching off the seat, you’ll do anything to get as close to him as possible. You want to scream being held like this, so frustrated that you have nothing to hold onto while he’s gripping your thighs with such fervor. There will definitely be small bruises left behind from the pads of his fingers pushing deeply into your skin – that’s without a doubt. But you’ve never paid them much mind before, it’ll be a nice reminder of how good he made you feel when you wake up tomorrow.

His hands rake up your legs to grip your hips, steadying your body so he can thrust into you more rhythmically. Your core clenches tightly around his length each time he sinks into you; the knot in your stomach becoming tighter and tighter each time he presses against the sweet spot deep inside you.

“Stop moving you fucking slut,” he gripes. You didn’t even notice that you’ve been bucking your hips up to meet each of his thrusts. Before you’re able to continue he is pushing you back onto the bench with an annoyed growl. The unconscious chase of your release is chomping at the bit.

Sounds of his balls slapping hard against your ass fills the room as his pace quickens. The force of his thrusts doesn't ease up as his grip on your waist grows harsher, forcing your body down harder onto his cock. Moans fly past your lips, the band in your stomach threatening to snap with each sharp movement of his hips.

“Minho,” you whine, “I’m so close.” Looking up at him past your eyelashes, you pray that he decides to be nice and let you finish. The dark and focused look in his stare tells you he’s close there too. His jaw clenches, eager to meet his release as he fucks deeply into you.

“Hold it,” Minho orders, earning an exhausted sigh from you in response. You’re sure you’ve never wanted to cum so badly in your life, but if you lose control now he’ll never let you live it down.

Quickly his hands tighten around your thighs, squeezing your legs around his waist and forcing your pussy to clench harder around his member. A wail escapes your lips, unable to hold back any longer, and he knows you’re about to disobey his orders.

Just as the tension is reaching a breaking point, he removes his shaft from your core, leaving you completely empty and throbbing around nothing. Your jaw drops in dismay, unable to form a coherent thought as his hands drop your legs to the ground. Before you can figure out how to speak, his hand is already wrapped around his cock, pumping it until white-hot spurts of cum are landing on your stomach. Eyes widening in shock, you watch as each drop falls from his member and onto your supple skin.

“Next time listen when I tell you not to come yet, slut,” Minho sneers, cock softening as he stands proudly over the mess he’s made on your body.

↠ A/N this fic has been rewritten from my BTS fic Unresolved Tension

#minho smut #lee know smut #stray kids smut #kwritersworldnet #kdiner #kafenetwork #skz smut #skz x reader #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #straykidsland #lee know x reader #minho x reader #minho oneshot #stray kids oneshot

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pandoras-princess · 4 years

Text

Next Best Thing (Tommy Shelby x fem!reader, John Shelby x fem!reader)

*gif not mine//credit to the owner

A/N: Woop wooop! Helloooo my lovely peoples!! 🌸 yes I am wayyy overly excited because this part just came out so effortlessly so I am hyper af 💃💃 I am very happy to welcome you to part three, and while it may seem a little lacklustre, it’s the lead up to the final part which will be show stopping material and I hope you’ll agree 🤗 you have all been so nice and absolutely amazing about this fic and I appreciate it so much I can’t wait to bring you part four 🥰🥰🥰 but let me shut up and get to it. Happy Reading Peoples! 🥳🥳 as ever I appreciate every like, reblog and follow, feedback is always welcome 😌

P.S: Y/N/N = your nickname

Summary: Fantasies are shattered and dreams come true as Y/N navigates her way through this messy love triangle...

Pairing: (OOC) Tommy Shelby x fem!reader, John Shelby x fem!reader

Warnings: Violence, swearing, blood, alcohol

PART ONE PART TWO PART FOUR

━◦ ♡ ◦━◦ ♡ ◦━◦━◦ ♡ ◦━◦ ♡ ◦━

“What can I get ya?” You shout to the burly man on the other side of the bar.

“Two whiskeys and a pint of beer love!”

The buzz of the crowd continues to drown out your voice, which not only made your job unnecessarily hard, but also provided a little tune for the tiny men occupying your skull to hammer away to, so it turns out.

Little hairs lining your throat were long since singed and a dull ache seeps through the bones in your feet as you set about preparing the next round of drinks.

Quickly scanning the area to your left, a smile spreads across your face when you land on the pair of ice blue eyes you were after, his cheeky wink inspiring a new burst of energy in your overworked muscles.

That smile drops as quickly as it spreads; the once friendly and loving gaze of your best friend now replaced with a cold glare.

In the weeks that had followed your last encounter John hadn’t been near or by the house, and every time you had a shift at the Garrison he was conveniently held up elsewhere. It was the longest you’d ever gone without speaking to him and it was safe to say you couldn’t take much more.

One of these days you’d have your old Johnny back, you thought.

One of these days...

“Where’ve all the glasses gone?”

“Out there.”

Harry’s thumb jerks in the direction of the ever growing crowd, earning an all too familiar groan in response.

‘Get a job you said... it’ll be fun you said... it’s just pulling pints!’

You disappear into the sea of people grumbling to yourself, only managing to grab four empty pints before you begin to carve a route back. Your struggle - along with your mood - was only to be made worse as you near two men in the midst of an argument, the stench of beer and stale cigarettes rudely invading your senses.

“Excuse me!”

“What yerr shaying about me wife” the large man slurs, entirely oblivious to your presence behind him.

“Excuse me!”

Nothing.

“Excuse m-”

You watch, frozen in horror, as his fist connects with the second man’s jaw, sending the large brute hurtling into you.

Crashing to the ground, a pained scream tears from your throat.

Tommy - who was engrossed in a conversation with his two brothers - hadn’t witnessed you get hurt, but he definitely heard it.

He shoves his way through the crowd until he is met with your body hunched over, quietly whimpering as you attempt to dislodge shards of glass from your right palm. His eyes follow the steady stream of blood trickling down your arm and any facade he held about your relationship quickly fades away.

“You’ve hurt my girl.”

He rounds on the man responsible, nostrils flaring and lips snarling as he reaches for the deadly cap atop his head.

Despite being a good foot taller, the stranger shrinks away, vigorously shaking his head as he rushes to apologise.

“I’m so-sorry Tom real sorry. It- it was an accident I didn’t know she was y-yours ho-honest!”

“I suggest you leave.” Tommy spits out. “That goes for everyone. Leave, now!”

The once jolly punters trip over themselves to squeeze through the narrow doors. Within a matter of minutes the pub is empty and Tommy is crouched at your side inspecting the cuts.

John remains in his seat, jaw set and knuckles white, as Tommy scoops you up and disappears into the office.

He carefully lowers you onto the desk; a warm kiss lingering on your forehead as he’s tending to your injuries.

“You’re okay Princess” he mumbles wrapping a bandage around your hand. Whether he was reassuring you or himself you weren’t quite sure. But thoughts of any kind are banished from your mind as he draws you into a kiss.

His lips are chapped and salty as they move against yours. It was slow and it was sweet. It was the kind of kiss that called every hair to attention; the kind of kiss that replays in your mind as you drift to sleep.

Without warning Tommy is ripped away from you, an involuntary yelp slipping out at the sudden loss of contact. Brain scrambling to make sense of it all you soon zone in on John’s forearm tight against Tommy’s throat pinning him to the wall.

“You bastard! I warned you- I warned you to stay away from her! She’s not one of your little whores you can pick up and fuck off when you get bored. I fucking told you to stay away!”

“What do you mean, you warned him?”

The quietness that followed easily could’ve been passed off as nobody hearing your question. And it probably would’ve been, if you hadn’t seen the slight drop of John’s head.

It was physically impossible for him to ignore you; it always had been.

Tommy took this opportunity to push his younger brother away and the two men stood glaring daggers at each other, embroiled in an argument only they were privy to.

“Tommy, what’s he talking about?!” You ask your boyfriend, who was now unable to meet your eye.

Once again your question is met with silence.

“Will somebody bloody answer me!”

Your small hands ball into fists at your sides as you look between them.

John’s face softens when he finally looks at you, the confusion that passes over your delicate features serving to break his heart further.

The guilt that flashes in his eyes as he threads a hand through his hair adds to your impatience. “Well get on with it then!”

“He knew, Y/N/N, that you liked him. He knew because he read your diary. He already knew and he had it all planned out in his little fucking mind the minute you asked him for the job. Why’d ye think he said yes? I told him-” an accusatory finger points at Tom standing a few feet away “-you weren’t to be played with, and now look!”

You fail to register John lunging at Tom. You fail to register the scuffle that ensues as a result. You fail to register Polly screaming at the top of her lungs to separate the brawling idiots.

Piece by piece, memory by memory, your new found utopia crumbles between your fingers and you stand, completely oblivious to your surroundings, as everything clicks into place.

“You knew?” You whisper, inching towards Tommy.

He watches you shift from confusion to anger to disgust as the revelation sinks in, shredding through the trust he’d so effortlessly built. And he was utterly powerless to stop it.

“The whole time... you knew? When you came to me and- and asked me to... you knew?!”

His mouth opens, but the words escape him.

With a final shake of your head, your trembling figure retreats from the office; the following slam of the double doors eliciting a flinch from everyone.

The parilysis subsides, and he jams his finger into John’s chest. “You have no fucking idea.”

“Y/N wait.”

Your feet cry out and your muscles scream in protest as you storm down the cobbled road, Tommy hot on your heels. But with the searing pain in your hand creeping up your wrist, you push on, desperate to escape any person with Shelby as their last name.

“Y/N please I can explain!”

“You can explain? You can explain?!” Shrieking you finally give in to the blind rage that threatens to consume you.

“You can explain what exactly Thomas? You can explain how you violated every ounce of trust we’ve ever had? You can explain how you thought it’d be a good old laugh to have me convince the man I was hopelessly in love with to marry someone else?! You can explain how the past 7 months - everything between us - was one big lie! You don’t need to explain anything Tom, honest. It all seems pretty fucking clear to me.”

Tommy watches your hands wave and point and clap and throw themselves in the air as the anger pours out of your every word. See, it was a tough one for him really. On the one hand, he’d really fucked up and the least he could do was pay attention to the scolding he was rightfully due. On the other, you were so god-damned irresistible when you were angry it was driving him mad.

“God Tommy! I thought you were different! I actually thought you were fucking different. I thought you loved me, not as a lie, not out of fear, but honest true love. And that’s the worst part, really Tom, it’s not that you pulled the wool over my eyes, no no, it’s that I fooled myself into thinking this was actually real! I should’ve known I was just another pawn in your stupid game.”

Whirling around, you resume your getaway.

“If this was all a game, why would I have this?”

When your body slowly turns back to face him, Tommy knows the argument is done.

“What are you...” your voice trails off as you find Tom on one knee in the middle of the deserted street.

He held a little black box, and in that little black box sat a gold ring set with a diamond so flawless it remained sparkling under the gloomy skies of Small Heath, and a sapphire so blue you’d get lost at sea if you dared to stare too long.

“I do love you Y/N, have done for a while. Not as a game, not until I get bored, just honest true love.”

Tommy moves to stand in front of you, stopping inches from the tip of your nose. He takes your left hand and slides the ring onto your fourth finger with ease, pausing to admire the look of the gold metal against your smooth skin.

“I had to ask you to convince John or you’d still be in love with him today, wasting away oblivious to how much you’re really worth. Yes I had a plan when this started, but I could never have planned falling in love with you-”

Chapped lips graze over your knuckles, kissing each one softly.

“-I could never have planned the amount of time I spend thinking about you in your absence-”

His lips brush over your wrist, leaving pecks along the length your arm.

“-and I could never plan the desperate need to hold you in my arms, to see your smile and hear your laugh and cherish you, because you’re the only thing in this god foresaken world that can keep the storms at bay.”

His feather-light kisses trail over your shoulder and along the curve of your neck, stopping just above your lips in an undeclared challenge. You close the distance, hungrily drawing his bottom lip between your teeth as his fingers tug at your roots, deepening the kiss.

The intoxicating taste of sweet smoke and Irish whiskey sweeps over your tastebuds and you tangle your fingers in his soft brown tresses.

Reluctantly separating a few seconds later, you’re both left panting as you make up for the lack of air. His hands make themselves at home on your waist, whilst yours settle comfortably on his chest.

“You know... I never did say yes” you smirk, twisting the gold band around your finger.

“Mm it was implied.”

So caught up in the joys of young love were you and your fiancé, that you failed to notice the wooden doorway supporting John’s weight as he watched in the distance...

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idesofrevolution · 4 years

Text

Welp as you can guess, Biker TF won the poll. So here we go kids.

It’d been weeks since I had... become who I am today. I’m still learning how to wield the power that Miss Marie had given me- and there were a few mistakes made along the way. But at the end of the day, I’d grown into a much more competent practitioner, so I decided one drunken evening to treat myself. After a delicious evening with a hunky biker bear, I’d convinced him to let me have his spare set of wheels. Riding came naturally to me- the open road and the wind rushing against me gives such a sense of freedom. It’s hard to explain. We still ride down the backroads outside of town just about once a week, although I’m sure the cruising spot in the bayou clearing does certainly help instigate such rides.

It was one summer afternoon after one such ride and rendezvous, wafting with the stench of sweat and sex, that I came across a young hitchhiker. He was young, maybe 21 or so with gorgeous ebony skin and a lean slender frame. I pulled over, and he quickly ran over to me.

“Hey, are you going as far as town?” His voice was frail and weak. A timbre of defeat echoed from the back of his throat, he’d clearly been through a lot.

“Sure am. Here, hop on and take the spare helmet.” I smiled at him, and he coyly avoided my glance. He awkwardly mounted the bike, nearly tipping us over. “Never ridden before? Aight, put your arms here, and keep your feet up.” I gently guided his wrists around my waist and he tightly held on, nearly knocking the wind out of me. As we took off, he clutched me even tighter. Riding down the road, I could sense he was a broken kid. The air of sadness permeated his energy, and shaded every ounce of his body language. I don’t think he ever realized just how beautiful a soul he had.

About ten minutes of riding, I noticed we were nearly running on fumes. Luckily, an exit sign harked a little good fortune with a Shell station off the road. We pulled over at the nearest gas pump, and dismounted.

“I’m gonna fill up, take this and get yourself something to eat man, you’re skin and bones!” I handed him a $20, and he looked at me as if I had three horns and purple skin. He blushed and walked toward the convenience store, but turned back to ask if I needed anything.

I looked at him, standing there against the cinderblock building and decided that he would get the help he deserved. If from nobody else, he would get it from me. I shook my head no, and he entered the store. Filling the tank took all of five minutes before it had topped off. I slid my card in, paid my dues and started to put my gloves back on before I noticed he had not come back out. To my left was another bike, sitting vacant and alone. Alarm bells went off and I rushed into the convenience store.

I opened the door and could immediately hear the shouting. Behind the counter some teenage dumbass was fuckin around on his phone, not thinking a thing of the brazen diatribe that was filling the room. There, behind the wall of Doritos, Pretzels, and Slim Jims was the young kid, and a big hulking stag of a man shouting with his chest all puffed up like a blowfish. The foul, revolting shit that spewed from that mans mouth was beyond anything that I’d care to repeat in any way here, but when I say it was in reference to his ancestry I’m sure you can fill in the blanks. Grabbing his shoulder like a vice grip, I was about to teach this man what’s what.

“I think it’s time for you pipe the fuck down.” The man turned to me, covered in grease and stinking from days of riding in the summer heat. You know the type, ripped up and stained wife beater with tight, patched jeans; topped off with big beat up harness boots that were clearly two sizes too big. He sneered, sizing me up to see where his chances were in this fight.

“Ahh, so you’re gonna be this little fuck’s hero, huh? You’re gonna be his WHITE knight, huh? See, I’m just letting him know that in these parts, it’d be best if he just fucked right off.” I’ll be the first to acknowledge that I have a bit of a temper issue which can get the best of me.. In the particular instance, however, I’d say I’m proud as all hell that I held that white trash by the throat about a sold foot above the ground. Tossing him aside, he landed against the aisle shelves like a ragdoll. I smirked, and figured out just how I would help this young man.

“Come on over, kid.” I waved him over, and he sheepishly plodded over to us. The racist tried in vain to pull himself up off the ground, but my size 13 Vans against his big burly chest had him pinned like a mouse in a trap. “I think this man needs a bit of an education, don’t you?” The kid smiled, looking down. I gently held his chin up. “And you need a confidence boost.”

“Ah, your fuckin’ queers too! I shoulda gue...” I shoved my foot into his stupid maw, silencing him for the last time. I turned to my soon to be apprentice and smiled. I pushed a bit harder, watching my shoe sink further and further into that piece of shit’s mouth, before my entire foot was engulfed by his stretched head. The kid looked in awe as our prey squirmed and fought, and I think it was at this point that the situation clicked in his mind.

“Yeah, hows my foot taste, bitch? They sure stink to high hell, they’re my favorite pair. Kinda jealous of you to be honest.” I wriggled my foot inside his head, watching the outline of my high tops slide around under his skin. I’d played around with him long enough. I turned to the kid, who I’d noticed was tenting ever so slightly and winked. “Might wanna get rid of your threads, bud, you’re not gonna need ‘em.” With a quick jerk of my knee, my foot slipped out of his mouth, his head returning to normal.

“You stupid fucks, I’m gonna fuckin kill you!” He would never get the chance. In fact, he was about to learn first hand what it’s like to have a healthy amount of melanin. With his clothes chucked aside, and his manhood at full mast, the kid walked toward the writing man. He gingerly put a single toe into his mouth, and pushed. His foot slipped effortlessly into the man’s throat, and quickly tugging at the corners of his mouth, he slipped foot number two in. The man was wriggling like a worm, I’m sure desperately trying to spew empty threats to ward us off. The sight of the kid’s lowering ass onto his stretched face caused a little bit of a muffled shriek to escape his cords. Now, musky, sweaty hitchhiker ass would be a treat to me on even the worst of days, but evidently some just can’t appreciate it’s mouthwatering flavor and scent. With his crack nuzzled right down on the good old boy’s nose, he began to pull on the man’s legs.

I watched proudly as his feet slipped downward, distorting his muscles under the tight confines of his jeans, before a sharp pop landed them inside the destroyed boots. They fit perfectly now, and I could just begin to smell the strong funk of greasy, funky socks and feet. The kid kept sliding into his body, his midsection growing and seemingly inflating with strong muscles. The old tank began to tear and rip, before it was shredded by the sheer mass of the inked, mocha colored abs and pecs that prominently burst forward.

The kid’s face was in full elation, as he squeezed his arms down the throat, pulling the skin above his shoulders with a loud snap. His arms slipped into place; thick biceps and forearms bubbling outward from the man’s already impressive musculature. His tatted hands flexed, the new sensation of calloused fingertips and meaty palms seemingly fascinated him as he began to rub his new body.

I removed my foot from my new friend’s chest, and helped him up. This man was a beast! Towering to a massive 6′5, he was bigger, broader, and stronger than me- and I’ll admit... it was hot seeing this hulking, musky hunk standing before me with the youthful, boyish face of an early twenty-something. I eagerly awaited the final stretch as he pawed the whimpering final mask of the former racist’s face. Grabbing it by the nose, he pulled ever so slowly, savoring every second the slimy flesh slipped over his head until it snapped loudly into place. He adjusted his new face as the dark complexion flowed up his neck and across his scalp and jaw. He opened his dark brown eyes and smiled a million dollar smile at me.

“Now this is what I’m talkin’ about man!” The only word that came to my mind was stunning. His exterior finally matched his interior: sexy, proud, and strong. “Oh shit...” He looked downward, and within seconds I knew exactly what the issue was. Speaking from experience, not all the adjustments are as easy, so I decided my assistance was required. Getting down onto my knees, I unzipped his jeans, pulling them down. It revealed the yellowed, reeking jockstrap beneath which nearly concealed the problem area.

Glued down behind his skin was the outline of his cock and balls. Just as I thought. Pulling down the jockstrap, I grabbed the hollow shaft and sac, tugging it up and down. Little by little his cock slid toward the chasm before it fully slipped in with a loud schlorp! When I tell you that cock grew into a footlong dong in seconds... with two sweat-dripping golf balls hanging low to garnish... I couldn’t restrain myself. I took it in my mouth, licking up every droplet of salty sweet sweat, pumping the precum out of it like a faucet. He grabbed the back of my head, thrusting his horse cock down my throat, fucking it like a fleshlight. His smelly balls slapped against my chin, and I could feel them engorging, getting ready to blow.

And blow they did. Rope after rope. Straight down my throat. Every cup of it was whatever sadness, whatever insecurities, whatever weights held him down; now completely purged. He pulled out and I pulled my apprentice into deep kiss. This is who he truly was, and it was a fitting circumstance for it to happen. We turned to the slackjawed cashier, who evidently witnessed everything. I tossed him a $100, and we left. Hopping on our bikes, we headed back to town. The things I was going to teach dear Antoine here were going to blow his mind, and potentially his load too.

Okay kids. So there you have it. This was a long motherfucker and I’m sure it’s the longest I’ve ever written. If you haven’t guessed by now, each installment of Sebastian’s stories will be focused on punishing hate. This is what’s brought me out of retirement, and this is what I love writing now. I’ll of course listen to the feedback that y’all have provided me- I will do one-offs still. In fact, I’ll probably do a one-off next. Let me know what y’all think in my askbox. Thank you guys so much for all the support you’ve shown me.

#male possession #male bodysuit #racial transformation #racial change #male transformation #male takeover #biker #jockification #biker tf #male tf #body possession #revenge #original #musk #musky #scentplay

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vinciwolf · 4 years

Text

Bruised but Not Broken

Pairing: Cody x fem!medic!Reader

Warnings: 18+, light smut, angst, violence, blood, gore, death, alcohol, depression

Tags: @sunburstcody I wrote this for you.

You’re on the battlefield of war again. Covering your mouth with a gloved hand, your lungs forcibly expel the thick smoke. Blaster bolts whizz past your head as you crouch behind a fallen AT-RT walker. The clone trooper slumped against the machine groans in agony, head flopping to the side, as you try to ease his pain with a numbing injection.

With a steady, confident voice, you say, “You’ll be alright.”

But deep down, you tremble. Please, not another one, not another one.

You didn’t want another trooper to die. He was just a goddamn shiny! You wave down a passing clone trooper for help. Both of you take the wrists of the fallen clone and drag him behind the thick vegetation where the rest of the wounded were placed.

You take off the trooper’s helmet to assess his wounds. The damage is severe, like most wounds you have already become desensitized to. His neck looks like an unraveled mess of shredded muscle and tissue, jagged and pointing in unnatural directions. The blaster bolt that clipped him left his neck looking life a half-spere, bleeding profusely. While tossing backwards the flap to your medical bag, the absence of supplies cruelly laughs at your surprised face and sends a cold wave of dread over your skin. The entire bag is empty.

Trying not to make it obvious to the soldier, you advert your gaze and swallow the hard clump in the back of your throat. This clone trooper is doomed and there is nothing your can do about it. Rationally, you decide to return to the battlefield to save other potential survivors. No time to waste on the already dead. Before you can run back into the fray, the clone trooper clasps your wrist. You pause for a second, then kneel back down and grip the clone trooper’s hand tightly. Tears burn the back of your eyes.

“I—I don’t want to die,” he gurgles. “I don’t want to be forgotten.”

His face is a carbon copy of Jango Fett, but he has an intricate rose tattoo that stretches from his brow, over the side of his head, and down behind his ear. You also note his eyes to be a very rich earthy color, like when the soil is dark and saturated with water after a hard rain. But his beauty is short lived when ground-shaking explosions and echoing shouts from the other clone troopers sucks you back into reality. The clone’s eyes turn red and begin to wiggle with heavy tears.

Deep down, the terrible pit in your stomach wants to lurch forward and trade your life with this clone. So, at least, he could experience life without fear, or missions, or being taught that he’s disposable in the grand scheme of this war he never asked for.

“I won’t let you be forgotten—” your thumb brushes the tears falling form his eyes.

Despite his pain, he weakly smiles at the thought that someone – somehow in his pathetically short lifespan – actually cares for him, then he shut his eyes forever.

A single tear, heavy with thousands of memories like this one, burns the side on your cheek until in finally drops off your chin and absorbs into the blood soaked ground.

You didn’t even get his CT number… not even his nickname.

Blinking once, you bury these feelings into a deep place for another time. For now, you need to focus.

You remembered the look Cody gave you when your battalion returned to the shuttle. The standard white attire you wore is stained with blood and soot. He is truly a sight for sore eyes. Halfheartedly grinning, shoulders slumping in relief, you are happy he survived. The thought of another innocent becoming a casualty of war turns your stomach. Luckily, the few clone troopers who managed to survive are either put into medical capsules or hobble into the arms of their fellow brothers. You shuffle towards the commander and plop your head on his shoulder. He squeezes you in his arms then helps you into the LAAT. This planet was devastating, but it was won. You should feel good, but all you feel is painful exhaustion in your shaky legs and feeble lungs. Not to mention the invisible weight creeping onto your shoulders.

It is like this every time, all over again… and again… and again.

Guilt fills your aching heart like an overstuffed balloon. It is like clockwork. This stabbing pang in your chest rises intensely and fades after every mission. You rub the unseen soreness with your palm as the refresher gushes hot water over your squatted, naked body, the steam cleansing your lungs. It is not enough to cure the pain however, but you need to rid your physical self of all the grime – all the evidence – of the soldiers you could not save today. The dense mist shields your vulnerable form and the heavy pattering of the water drowns out your whimpers as you cry away the horrible events that plague your mind.

This… this small, private space in the refresher… had to be enough.

It is your only fortunate curtesy in these dark times.

Your first mission was on Kashyyyk and you were absolutely mesmerized by how densely forested one planet could be. Given that the temperature here was nothing like what you experienced at home, by the time your squad rendezvoused at the main base, your cloths had already become drenched with sweat. Taking a swipe to your forehead with the back of your hand, you began to understand why none of the other medic graduates willingly chose this planet. The only graduate on the list was you.

The commander glances at you.

“So, now the Republic is sending anybody these days. Pathetic,” he scoffs, probably eyeing you up and down under his helmet.

“I wanted clone medics, not greenhorns who’ll shit their pants the moment they land on the battlefield.”

Taking a step forward, Shots, the head medic, points at the commander.

“Oi! Watch it. She finished at the top her class at the academy and is one of my best trainees I’ve had on the field. She might not be a clone, but I’d entrust her with my life. Plus, the Republic needs all the help it can get.”

The commander dismissively waves at the both of you while turning on his heel and mumbling an agitated ‘whatever’ under his breath. Letting out a deep sigh and closing your eyes, you unclench your fists that you didn’t realize had formed during this rude confrontation. Shots turns towards you and pats his hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t be intimidated by these guys—” he points over his shoulder at the clone troopers with his thumb “—war does this to us clones sometimes. Makes us hard inside—” his fist thumps twice over his heart.

“Okay, when all hell breaks loose, just stay hot on my tail,” Shots whispers into your ear while your squad slowly proceeds through the thick vegetation. This was it. You first time on a real battlefront against the Separatists.

Keeping your eyes ahead, your mind did not process the sudden explosion of brain matter that splattered on your face. You look to the side, towards its origin. Shots, the clone medic who had been your mentor since day one, the clone medic who never doubted your medical training, is flat on his back on the ground. The brain matter came from him. Shots’ face, a face you had conversed with just seconds ago, is now perfectly hollowed out by a blaster bolt. You crouch down and stare at the dead clone medic, hands shaking profoundly.

He is not dead. This is not real. No way!

No amount of medical training could prepare your for losing a loved one.

Screaming grounds your focus. The blasters firing, the yelling, the smoke entering your lungs, the whole world rapidly woke up in your ears and everything is very loud again.

“Where the kriffin’ hell are these blasts coming from?” a clone trooper hollers while shooting into the forest, his brothers scrambling to find shelter behind the trees.

“It’s an ambush!”

“We need a medic!”

You run towards the clone troopers ducked behind a fallen log. Immediately, your adrenaline kicks in and you remember where you are, what you need to do. Pulling out supplies, you patch up their fallen comrade, but when everything seems to be smoothing out, a trooper bellows, “GET DOWN!”

You look up and spot the missile flying right towards your face.

You jolt awake with a startled gasp. Gulping down air, you realize that you are in your barracks. Safe…safe…for now. Looking down, you sigh at the state of your shirt. A dark stain in the fabric trails down your chest, sticking to your damp skin. You stand up and change into a clean shirt before heading over to the sink.

After splashing your face with some cold water, you peer at yourself in the mirror. Exhaustion looks back at you. The purple bags under your eyes only seem to become worse as this war drags on. Nothing can make this night worse. As if on cue, the rapping at your door frightens you out of your thoughts.

Stepping over to your room door, you click a button and it hisses open. You wipe your face with your hand, massaging the soreness out of your puffy eyes, and sigh a soft ‘what’ at the commander standing in front of you.

“You’re needed in the med bay,” Cody states.

Grunting in response, you turn around and begin to put on your uniform in silence. The commander steps into your room, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’m worried about you. You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

You face Cody while aggressively putting your hair into a quick, messy bun.

“Did Kenobi put you up to this? Now he’s sending his commander to spy on a poor ‘lil, sleep deprived medic, huh?” you spit while adjusting your boots too tightly.

Cody does not respond and a twinge of guilt shoots through your stomach. Looking over to the commander, he is gripping his helmet a little too firmly and his eyes are adverted… deeply hurt.

“Oh, Cody… I didn’t mean that…” you confess, shoulders sagging.

Standing up, you cup Cody’s cheek and lift his chin to look at you— “It’s just… I don’t know actually…” I’m actually tired of burying myself beneath all this death.

“You haven’t been yourself.” He overlaps your hand with his large one, eyes softening.

“None of us have—” you let go of his cheek and wrap your arms around his armored torso, nudging your head close to his heart with a long exhale “—I’m sorry that I snapped.”

Cody’s free hand rubs slowly down your back as he pecks your forehead. Releasing each other, you gaze up at the commander and force a tiny grin.

Cody’s eyes sag downwards. “I… don’t know what to say.” I don’t know how to make things better for us.

“There’s nothing you can say.” I want to tell you that everything hurts.

As you veer around his presence, you pat his armored shoulder before disappearing into the corridor of the attack cruiser. Your heart screams for Cody to stop you from walking away. It feels like magnets pulling you back into that room, tugging your body to turn around and go back to explain everything. Inside your mind, however, you are blank of thought and ignore your instincts. The only thing filling the void is the agonizing screams and last words from the clone troopers you couldn’t save.

THE WAR IS OVER!

GRIEVOUS DEAD!

CHANCELLOR ARRESTED FOR TREASON!

Coruscant is in the midst of wild and loud celebration. At 79’s, the clone troopers drink and sing until they fall over, but Cody merely sits and stares at his untouched shot of alcohol in a private corner. Somewhere in the background commotion, Rex dances on a tabletop with two twi’lek, which makes the crowd of clones howl even louder. The floor screeches when the commander abruptly pushes his chair back to leave the bar. Nobody seems to notice his absence in all the partying.

Outside, confetti falls from the sky while rockets pop and squeal into the air, lighting up the night. Cody walks alone and passes the multitude of citizens embracing each other. None are the wiser about the commander walking by them – a soldier who helped end the war – as he navigates through the streets of Coruscant. He doesn’t mind though because there is only one person on Cody’s mind that he wants to see.

Standing in front of your apartment door, Cody hesitates for a moment before finally unlocking it and treading inside. He places his helmet on the kitchen counter and looks around. So many memories reside in this small place. Your couch still remains were it was the last time he visited your home. That couch where he kissed you for the first time and decided that this is the only person he wants for the rest of his life. Shaking his head with a fond smile, he continues his investigation.

Sliding open the door to your bedroom, the commander expects the worst when his eyes glance towards an empty bottle of wine abandoned on the floor. He scans the room and finds shattered pieces of glass littering the carpet, a red dot staining the nearby wall. The commander assumes that you must have obliterated the wine glass in your fit of drunken rage. Holding his breath, Cody’s eyes widen at the dried-up specks of blood accompanying the mess. He finally takes a step past the bedroom threshold and notices the outline of your body beneath the mattress covers.

Your body becomes larger as Cody slowly advances closer to the bed, boots dodging the sharp pieces of glass. He notices your arm, hand wrapped in gauze, poking out of the mountain of blankets. His fingers gently brush your wrist. Sighing with relief, the commander relaxes from the light thump of your pulse against his fingers. You groan in sleepy annoyance from his cold touch and retreat your arm into the safety under your huddled-up covers. Cody grins slightly in amusement. Pulling up a chair next to your bed, he tenderly shakes your shoulder to waken you.

Slowly but surely, you peel your heavy eyelids open with a throaty groan then glance up at the commander sitting close beside your bed. You say nothing and just await the reason why he is in your room on this particular night. Cody closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before finally breaking the stillness.

“The war’s over. I thought I’d find you with the rest of the boys celebrating, but you never showed.”

Looking at your damaged hand, you remark, “I was… busy.”

“If there’s anything on your chest, you can tell me about it.”

“It’s all over now. The war’s over. There’s nothing to talk about anymore.”

“No!” Cody snaps. “Somethin’s eating you alive inside. I’ve noticed! And—and—” his voice softens “— I want to help… Please… I love you.”

That I love you stung.

You give up hiding it. He already knows and there is no point keeping secrets from the man you adore… the man you trust.

“This day isn’t fair! We won, so what? I’ve never felt less accomplished in my entire life—” your fingers dig into the bedsheets “—I couldn’t save them—” you blink away the squirming tears obscuring your vision “—they all died and never got to see the end.”

Cody understands immediately who you are talking about. The clones. His brothers.

“We were bred for this—”

“Y’all are more than just stupid numbers, Cody! He had a name! They all did!”

You scream in agony into your mattress as your walls come tumbling down. After a moment of letting go of the pain, small hiccups pipe from your aching chest as you slowly calm yourself down.

“It’s hard being the one who survives. That’s a burden I – all my brothers – will have to carry. But not you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Not knowing how else to help you, he lifts his hand and slips his fingers beneath yours, helping you ease your grip on the poor mattress. His thumb rubs gentle circles into your skin while the atmosphere goes still again. Unspoken understanding passes between the two of you. No words had to be exchanged as you share this silent moment with the commander.

Then, in the dead quiet, tears filter down your cheeks. You did not know where they came from, but you didn’t feel sick anymore.

Cody is there. He takes off his boots and armor and slips into the bed, wrapping you with the most protective hug. This warm space inside his arms calm you, but the tears still fall. Peering up into the commander’s face, you giggle uncontrollably when he kisses your red, puffy eyes. He keeps kissing you until all the tears are dry and you stop crying, then he slows down and takes his time. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you embrace the commander and the hands running up your sides.

Cody's body rocks together with yours in slow, sensual movements. Your arms firmly grip around the commander’s torso as he takes care of you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear while warmly caging you beneath his weight.

His strong arms bend backwards to hold your thighs with his calloused hands. The affection in his thrusts is unrushed. His hips roll in big, smooth circles to memorize your walls, to memorize the way you softly whimper and pant from the endearing pleasure he gives you.

You are his world. He wants nothing more than to keep you here in this moment forever to show how much he loves you. Luckily, he'll have so much more time to do so now since the war is over.

Your head lulls back into the soft pillow, mouth agape, as you allow yourself this moment to unwind. As Cody's cock delves rhythmically into your folds, you moan with each stroke. The tip of your ears heat up from the way this man above you tickles your neck with feather light kisses. He strokes your thighs with his thumbs, making sure not to buck too harshly into your hips. Tears begin to burn your eyes again.

This man is making love to you.

Cody – after everything he has been through in this war – still somehow retained his gentleness. But now he is sharing some of it with you in order for you to heal.

The commander continues to whisper into your ear as you silence your whimpers in his chest, hands coming to rest on his pecs to feel more sheltered and secure under him.

"Everything will be okay," is all that he repeats. "Everything will be okay."

Smiling, you believe him while he gently wipes away your tears with his thumb.

#commander cody x reader #commander cody fanfiction #commander cody #commander cody x you #the clone wars fanfiction #star wars fanfiction

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paper-n-ashes · 3 years

Text

sparks and embers - chapter 6

Characters: Poe Dameron x Original Female Character, Kylo Ren x Original Female Character

Story Tags: Explicit (18+), Canon Compliant/Divergent (Set after TLJ), First Person POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Porn with Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren hates Poe Dameron

Chapter 6 - Ruin

Words: 5.9k

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Mentions of war/death, kissing, a healthy dose of the ‘sharing a bed’ trope, ANGST, sexual education because who doesn’t want to read about that in fanfiction, vague description of a female medical procedure

Read on AO3 or Start from the beginning

A softened sigh left me, knowing it was probably time to let Poe say his piece. He’d been so silent until now that I felt compelled to hear what had been stirring inside his mind while I’d held him in quiet contempt.

“Alright. I’m listening.”

He flicked on one of the dimmed lamps next to the bed, a gentle glow illuminating the room, watching as he proceeded to carefully extricate himself from under the sheets, the soreness as a result of the rehab we’d performed today now evident in his concentrated expression.

I drew myself up into a seated position on the sofa as he made his way to sit on the small table at my front, not attempting to meet my eyes until he’d slowly placed himself down on the metal. His face was less than a meter from mine, pupils drifting upwards until finally, our stares locked.

“I’m sorry,” he declared, his words heavy. “I understand why you’re angry. I get it, okay? Years of battle after battle, fight after fight, it becomes difficult to consider those working under the First Order’s control as people. People with families, loved ones, even children. They appear as targets, there simply to be eliminated. And it’s you or them. Either you perish, or you put the rational thought into the back of your mind and fight back.”

Poe glanced down, fixated to the floor, his jaw tight. “I do think about it sometimes, the people I’ve... murdered. I’ve spent sleepless nights wondering if killing in the name of freedom was a good enough reason to send people to an early death. When you don’t see their faces it’s…. easier. You don’t see the bloodshed, the corpses. You just see the fiery explosion of their ships fading into the black void of space.”

I stayed rigid in the sofa, hands clutching the into cushions. It was difficult to hold down the simmer of anger that boiled in my stomach, since everything so far only reinforced what I felt like I’d determined hours ago. Even while my demeanour remained stormy, Poe continued.

“All I heard in my childhood was my father reminding me of the way he and my mother fought for what they believed to be right. Both of them lived and battled through a time like ours, under the thumb of a regime hungry for power, sparing no innocents in their pursuit of it.” He became lost in memory, the aura drifting around him stained with a subtle sorrow. “‘People were hurting. People were suffering. Your father and I couldn’t sit and do nothing.’ That’s what my mother had told me, a child of two, as her reasoning for joining the Alliance in their efforts to push back against what threatened all type of freedom in this galaxy. My parents offered to sacrifice their lives on the tiniest shred of hope that me, and every other being on every planet, would see peace in their lifetime.”

His eyes finally shifted back to focus on mine. They were determined, yet soft, the chocolate fibers of his irises melting together. “I just... wanted to be like her. Like them. I wanted to do what they did. I wanted them to be proud of me, to have faith that their legacy would live on after they were gone. To provide freedom and peace like they had. Even if that meant sacrificing my own life, even if that meant killing those who opposed it. I had to. I had to join the people that wanted the same thing as me.”

A growing ferocity began to radiate, his voice severe. “I witnessed so many of my fellow soldiers, my friends, die thoughtlessly at the hands of others. And I wanted them to feel the same pain that I felt. Is it hypocritical? Of course, I know that. Is it cruel? Yes, murder is rarely not. But it's in the name of protection, defiance against control from an overpowering force. Those who fight with the First Order, who take over planets and kill innocents for the sake of power, they know what they’re doing. They know the consequences, the outcome, the hold the galaxy will be strangled under if they succeed. And they do it anyway. Our cause isn’t more noble, it’s self-defence. We’re trying to protect the ones who aren’t able to fight back, and those who don’t deserve to be born into a world that will crush them into submission.”

Poe’s features turned darker, leaning in close. “I will never stop thinking about the lives I’ve taken. I will never not hold myself accountable for the sins I’ve committed. But I will also not sit and do nothing. I don’t need you to accept it, but at least try to understand. You and I want the same thing, in the end, to save as many people as possible in our short lifetime. I’m just doing the best I can to see that through.”

While I instinctively took a breath in preparation to speak, nothing came. He’d rendered me speechless.

I had no reply to give, no counterargument, no flaw to point out. His honesty floored me, raw emotion and long-felt guilt rising up for me to observe so openly. The pain behind his eyes seemed so much more acute than any of the other injuries he’d sustained, not trying to shield it from my view as he spoke.

I tried to find words, anything to articulate my forgiveness. Because I did understand. He’d made me see it, the same anguish over death that I felt. But he’d also made me realise what a coward I was.

Against the people who would kill him or control him, he fought back. While I hid myself away under the guise of selflessness.

I thought I was the hero of my story, giving up my home, my old life, for the benefit of the downtrodden people of this planet. In reality, I was a scared little girl, too gutless to push back against those I, and so many others in this galaxy, feared. And here Poe was, putting himself in harm’s way, every day, in the hopes that he could take away our fear forever.

He began to rise in front of me, taking my lack of reply as an answer in itself. He seemed despondent, his face sullen as he turned to limp back to the bed.

A different kind of fury coursed through me, fury at myself for how easily I’d judged him, at how cruelly I’d treated him.

I couldn’t let the night end this way.

I picked myself up from the sofa and quickly lunged at his wrist, pulling him to face me. He was surprised, glancing with wide eyes to where my hand had caught him, then to my face. I tried desperately to convey it there, everything I wanted to say, struggling to find my voice. Poe waited for me to speak the words I clearly had sitting on the edge of my tongue, but everything I conjured didn’t seem to be enough, the jumbled thoughts swirling incoherently in my mind, never letting me quite grasp onto them long enough to form exactly what I needed to express.

Tension filled the space between us, thick and overwhelming. I soon began outlining the lines of his face, the crease currently stuck in his brow, the curve of his nose, the contour of his jaw, the arch of his lips.

My hands found themselves catching each side of his face, pulling his mouth to mine in a desperate kiss.

I’d held it back for so long, too long, now unable to deny the burning urge to melt my lips into his. He was alarmed at first, his mouth frozen from movement as he comprehended my sudden attack.

Yet quickly he was syncing his lips fluidly with mine, a hand rising to clutch the back of my neck, pulling me closer. His casted arm curled around my waist, pressing my body into his, feeling the heat radiating off his chest.

The fire in my lower abdomen roared into bright red flames again, spreading into the rest of my body like molten lava. He tasted even better than I’d imagined, our tongues beginning to find each other through parted mouths. Fingers moved into his hair, hungrily grasping at the curled strands, causing a low moan to seep from his throat. The sound made me even more forceful in my need for his lips to be connected with mine, barely having time to breathe in-between our eager kisses.

I wanted to have him, all of him, so deeply it was painful, the searing burn lighting up in my veins.

Don’t do this Alexys. It will ruin you.

My breath hitched as I reluctantly pulled away, looking up, seeing his pupils swollen. He was cautious then, moving his hand from my neck to push a strand of hair behind my ear, almost if at any moment I would flee from his embrace.

And that’s what half of me was begging to do, the other screaming at me to lock our lips together again. I felt split into two, a cracking beginning to divide me roughly in the middle.

I could see Poe searching through my gaze, trying to assess my thoughts, whether it was safe to continue. He leaned in gradually, testing my reaction. I didn’t recoil this time. I didn’t want to.

His lips melted into mine, less insistent than before, although somehow just as intimate. Inhibitions lowered, my hands slid down to his chest, noticing the hard muscles underneath my palms and feeling the fire inside me surge. I wanted to feel the bare skin underneath, to have it pressed against my own. To explore the other parts of him covered by clothes. To forget even for a short time that this was wrong, that I shouldn’t be doing this.

Poe gently withdrew, leaning his forehead into mine. “I know.”

“Know what?”

He exhaled a long breath. “I know you don’t want to do this.”

I replaced my hands to his cheeks. “You have no idea how much I want this. How much I want you.” The truth of the words made me feel both vulnerable and safe, for the first time giving in to the yearning I’d hoped to keep locked inside my chest.

He tensed, a slight tremble in the arm that curved around my body. But his face grew sombre, almost... sad. “You don’t. Not completely. I can feel you wanting to hold back,” he murmured. “I can feel your fear.”

I swallowed hard, unable to refute him. “…I’m sorry. I want to. But I just… I can’t."

We both looked down, my confirmation making the tone of our connection shift. He was silent for what felt like a long time, and we stayed motionless in our embrace, neither wanting it to end, knowing it was inevitable that we would have to part.

“Why?” he breathed. “Why are you afraid?”

I wanted to be honest with him, like he had been for me, so much the sensation felt like it was clawing out from inside me, determined to burst through the skin. But there was a barrier there, one I had forged long ago. Unyielding and impenetrable to anything or anyone.

Although, I felt another realisation simmer to the surface of my mind, one that was not nearly as exposing, but still true.

“You’re going to leave. And I have to stay here. I don’t… I don’t want that to hurt any more than it has to.”

It seemed to hit him then, like he hadn’t let the thought enter his mind before. The awareness of our predicament shone brightly in his eyes, a light switch flickering on.

His hand moved to my cheek, grazing his thumb softly against the skin, my heart throbbing inside its cage at his light touch. I watched as eyes scanned over my face, back and forth, as if memorising the features. It was then I knew he’d come to the same conclusion.

It wouldn’t be long before we would part, most likely to never see each other again. If we went any further, if we crossed that line, the pain of saying goodbye would become so much more unbearable.

Almost simultaneously, we let our hold on each other loosen, the disappointment in the air almost palatable on my tongue. The smouldering inside had burnt out, suffocated by the gloom weighing heavy in my chest. Poe took my hand in his, his eyes pleading. “Can I ask one thing of you?’

I moved my head in a slow nod.

“Sleep in this bed with me tonight. Just sleep. I promise.” It was an earnest request, his face imploring and unguarded.

In contempt of the voice in my head bellowing at me that this was a terrible idea, I agreed. “Okay.”

Together we tentatively walked to each side of the mattress, making no rush to slip under the covers and settle into the pillows. I faced away, fearing if I looked at Poe's charming face any longer, I would surrender to the pull of desire that never seemed to relent. I didn’t know how I was ever going to be able to fall asleep like this, his body radiating an energy that vibrated into the space between us, keeping me all too aware of his presence.

There was movement, a dip in the mattress, Poe’s arms curling around my torso, pulling me close. His face buried itself into my hair, the warmth of his gradual exhale sending charged shivers down my spine. Placing my arms over his, silently accepting his embrace, I felt my heart thump a calming glow through my chest, all the way to the end of my limbs.

I’d never felt so peaceful, so whole, becoming lost in the comfort of his hold, wishing I could bask in it forever.

But reality bit at me, cold and uninvited, reminding me of the goodbye I would have to give soon enough.

We were still entangled when consciousness came again, the dim light of early sunrise leaking through my window. Poe’s arms circled around me, my body fitting perfectly into his.

He was still asleep, his face resting just at the back of my head, slow breaths bristling into my hair. I relished the feeling of it all, trying to commit it to my memory.

I stayed there, motionless, waiting for time to run out, knowing I would be chasing the feeling of this in the months, maybe years, to come. Thinking about his future absence made me terrifyingly lonely, even with his arms wrapped around now.

Eventually the seconds ticked down to my chronometer alarm buzzing, rustling Poe awake from his slumber. I assumed he would begin to move, pulling away, this one night that bonded us together finally ending. Yet he stayed as unmoving as I had been, the only indication he had awoken the increased depth of his inhale, a small tense of his muscles. I went to move, to switch the screeching sound off, but he clutched me back into his chest, squeezing tight.

As much as my heart thumped at the pressure of his hips into mine, the noise of my alarm was grating. “Let me turn it off,” I whispered. “I’ll come right back.”

Poe loosened his grip reluctantly, allowing me to reach over to the screeching machine and mute its sound. I settled back comfortably into his arms again, as he nuzzled his face into my neck, lips faintly placing a kiss on the skin.

“Poe… please… don’t…”

His sigh whistled past my neck. “Come with me, when I leave.”

It annoyed me, his fleeting demand so easily spoken. As if I could suddenly give up all that encompassed my life before he appeared, the beings that depended on me. But his voice was so sincere, so entreating in the early morning, that the irritation dashed away from the forefront of my mind.

“You know I can’t do that.”

He acknowledged my answer in the shift of his body from around me, moving himself out of the bed we had shared for the night and leaving me alone underneath the sheets.

It burned, the unprecedented disconnection of his shape from mine, my chest forming into a black hole in the realisation I might never feel him that close again.

I wanted to let my emotion to take over, to give in to the pain that rushed to me now as the finality of our night cradled together became evident. But I refused to release it, my resolve from the night before holding strong. I knew I’d made it harder by giving in to Poe's innocent plea of sharing a slumber within his embrace, but I wasn’t going to let our farewell completely ruin me.

With a forced composure, I rose from my bedside, focusing on the appointments scheduled to fill my day. Through my haze I recalled many of them being young female patients in need of birth control. I would somehow have to shut Poe away, wanting to give these women the privacy they deserved.

Poe and I appeared to use the ‘freshers at the same time, the searing heat I usually liked being showered with restrained no matter how high I pushed the temperature button. Eventually I’d readied myself for the workday ahead, deciding on a pencil skirt and lightened blue blouse tucked into the waist, working my hair into a ponytail.

It was when I’d begun making breakfast, for both myself and all the company that I kept in the clinic at the moment, that Poe emerged back into my quarters in a set of dark black hospital clothes. I glanced at him only briefly as he entered, hearing him pull out a chair, not daring to look at his face yet.

“Smells good,” he uttered, breaking the silence that existed in exemption to the sautéed chicken eggs and nuna bacon sizzling in the large pan in front of me.

“It’s almost ready,” I remarked, feeling completely the disconnection between us in his tone. Half of me was glad he accepted the separation we needed to make, the other mourning the severed bond we had formed in the connection of our bodies. But I had to let it go, whatever was left of the fragile link that survived the night.

I continued preparing the hot meal, separating the foodstuff between Poe and Vixur’s crew. Once I’d gently placed a share in front of Poe at the table, a smile meeting him fleetingly, I took the rest with me, balancing the four dishes on my hands and forearms, moving cautiously through the hallway.

With impeccable timing Vixur and his students were conversing between each other, obviously having woken just before I came to greet them.

“I’ve got breakfast for you all,” I announced, setting it down at the meeting table across from my computer. It was generally used as a place I could sit with patients and their families when giving them their diagnosis or explaining treatment plans, but today it would have to work as a secondary dining table. All four men jabbered back thankyous as they moved quickly to sit and eat, their appreciation evident in the way they gulped down the meal without hesitation. I returned to my quarters to find Poe picking lazily at his food, only a few bites eaten.

“Does it taste bad?” I asked from behind him, before circling to my seat at the table.

He looked up swiftly, as if I’d startled him. He must have been deeply lost in thought not to hear me treading down the hallway.

“It’s delicious,” he urged. “I’m just… not that hungry.”

“Are you feeling alright? Are you still sore? Are you-“

“Alex, I’m fine,” he interrupted. “You can’t fix a bad mood with any of your treatments.”

I looked at him curiously. “Bad mood?”

Did I do that to him?

“Did you not sleep well?”

He didn’t answer me right away, a subtle scowl settling in his lips. “It was actually... the most restful sleep I’ve had in a long time.”

I fought the urge to beam at him, a smile waiting to form, but the gloomy expression he wore held it down. I had to agree with him - it truly was the most comfortable rest I’d experienced in recent memory. And knowing I would never feel that peaceful, dreamless slumber in his arms again made me fully understand why he was frowning.

“Thank you so much for the meal Alex. I just... don’t have an appetite right now.” Poe rose from his seat and took his plate to clean, his sombre mood spilling into my body and taking over. Wringing his hands dry, He turned back to me. “Is it still alright if I keep using your office to continue working on BB-8?”

I nodded. “It would actually be preferable. Most of my patients today are women, and I need privacy for their appointments. I’ll let you know when it’s safe to come out, okay?”

Poe understood what I’d only hinted at. “Sure thing. I won’t step a foot out that room without your permission.”

A kind smile formed on his lips, but it fell as he moved from my quarters, leaving me to my breakfast, which now seemed extremely unappetizing.

“Well, Kaia, you’ve got a couple of options,” I started. It was my 5th appointment of the day, and I was starting to lose all hope in the young generation that followed mine. “You can get the implant, which lasts 5 years and protects you from pregnancy. But it can be a painful procedure, and unfortunately the implant itself is quite expensive. There are injections which last 3 months, but you’ll have to see me again in that time frame. I know that’s hard for you being from the South village. But there’s always prophylactics, which your partner has to use, every separate time you want to be intimate.”

Kaia was a 17-year-old human girl who had obviously not been taught any helpful sex education. Although, that wasn’t uncommon in these villages.

“But, like,” she began to question. “Can’t he just, like, not, um, finish in there?”

I drew in a deep breath. This wasn’t the first time I’d explained this today. “Technically yes, if he withdraws from you before that moment comes, it does lessen the chance of pregnancy. But Kaia, there’s a lot of fluid already leaking from him before then, fluid that can contain sperm. It doesn’t protect you. Not fully.”

Kaia was thoughtful, taking in my words. “But what if he doesn’t want to use the sheath?”

“Well... that’s his decision. But then you have to make yours. A decision that you’re more than allowed to make. One night could lead to either a future of motherhood or even diseases that could cause a great deal of damage to your body.”

“Ew,” Kaia recoiled. “I mean, I get what you’re saying. But Miss Jago, haven’t you ever been so swept up in the moment that you didn’t think about any of that?”

My jaw clenched, catching me off guard with her question. None of the other women had posed it to me. “It’s not been an issue for me,” I said flatly.

“Because of the birth control, right?” she surmised. “Which one do you use then?”

Oof, caught me out again.

“I don’t have the need for it. Kaia, this is not about me-”

“Wait, what?” she gasped. “But you’re so pretty?”

I soaked my voice in its professional tone. “This is your appointment Kaia, we’re not here to discuss my personal life.”

Kaia refused to comply. “But you’ve done it, right?”

I sighed, irritated. “Yes Kaia, but we took all the necessary precautions.”

“Well that doesn’t make it sound very fun,” Kaia huffed.

I tried desperately to hold back the aversion wanting to show on my face. It hadn’t been fun. It was clunky, awkward and somewhat painful. And I felt a spike of envy that this teenager already seemed to have had better experience with the opposite sex than I did.

“Look, your options are there. If I had to choose one, and I was with a partner I could trust had nothing that could spread to me, I’d go with the implant.”

She contemplated my advice, pulling her hands up to let her chin rest on them. “I think you’re right Miss Jago. But my parents would never help me pay for it.”

“That’s alright,” I replied, already knowing the home situation Kaia found herself in. She’d made the trek to my clinic alone, without her parent’s knowledge, just to see me for this single reason. I doubted they even knew she had a boyfriend. “How about I put the implant in today, and we figure out payment later?”

Kaia’s face lit up, eyes brimming with delight. “Really?”

I smiled at her and nodded.

“Thank you!” she squealed, face barely containing her excitement.

Really, this was for both her benefit and my own. I wasn’t about to face her parents when it would ultimately be me providing the news their daughter was pregnant. I didn’t want Kaia to go through that, a young pregnancy in a poor village after her parents would most likely cast her out.

“Remember I said this can be a painful procedure, and you’ll be sore for a day or two afterwards.”

Kaia nodded, understanding, yet unable to hold back her joy.

I worked my way through the process of setting her implant, my mind on autopilot while I thought more about the question Kaia innocently queried. I’d never come close to the type of desire that would have caused me to throw away all caution and rational thought. Not until-

“Hey Alex!” I heard from the other side of the curtain I’d drawn for Kaia’s discretion. “I know I said I wouldn’t come out until you said, but I’ve got something I need to show you.”

Poe’s voice was exuberant and proud, annoyingly unaware of the fact I had my hand in a very delicate place. My eyes shot to Kaia’s, her cheeks already flushing red with mortification.

“Poe!” I fumed, not hiding my anger. “I asked you to do one thing!”

I sensed his panic from behind the fabric separating us. “Kriff! Sorry!” His voice changed when he spoke next, a hurried whisper. “BB, come back here! We can’t show her yet!”

A streaming mechanical movement could be heard in my periphery, turning my head to see a shadow moving along the bottom of the curtain. I took the moment to stop what I was doing, covering Kaia with a sheet.

I was thankful I did that when the BB-8 droid slip through a break in the drape, caring little for what Poe had ordered him to do. His little head sat hovering above his balled body, for the first time actually staying in position. The photoreceptor, which looked like a singular eye, was also finally lit as he zoomed closer. While an impressed smirk started to beam as I realised Poe had managed to get his little friend working, it was rapidly overtaken by irritation at the droid’s lack of courtesy.

Poe was cursing under his breath, then apologetic. “Alex and uh, patient, I am so sorry. BB, get out of there!” BB-8 let out a few indiscernible beeps, a language I didn’t understand, although Poe seemed to. “I don’t care! They need privacy. You can see her later!” he hollered.

The droid made what sounded like a high-pitched huff as its head dropped, like it knew it had been scolded. Its head swivelled around on top it’s body and rolled away, again sliding through the break in the curtain.

“Come on, back this way.” I listened to the combination of footsteps and mechanical whirring move back into the hallway, a door eventually clicking closed. Looking apologetically back to Kaia, her face was still stunned at the intrusion.

“I am so sorry. I told him to stay put until my appointments were over. It’s okay if you want to stop for a moment,” I offered, trying to stay as calm as possible.

Kaia blinked purposefully a few times before being able to focus back to me. “No it’s okay. I’m ready.”

I admired her composure, while I remained silently boiling under the surface.

“What the hell Poe?” I snarled, barging into my office where Poe sat, seemingly interrupting a conversation he was having with BB-8. I’d clawed my anger into submission for the rest of Kaia’s appointment, but now it was ready to surge outward.

Poe stood, arms held up in surrender. “I know! I’m sorry! I didn’t think, and it was just really bad timing.” BB-8 beeped in what sounded like agreeance, rolling around from behind the office desk into my view.

“It was the worst timing!” I snapped. “That girl was 17, in a very vulnerable position, and you scared the living daylights out of her!”

“I know, and I can’t apologise enough Alex, really!” His face was pleading, brown eyes soft yet desperate. “I was just so excited about BB working again, and I wanted to show you.”

His sincerity disarmed me, my fury sizzling down, suffocated by his apology. I took a slow breath in, eyes closed, reigning it in further. “Please don’t disregard my instructions again,” I grumbled.

He nodded, as did BB-8, and my eyes focused on the droid. He was oddly cute in his appearance, his small beeps already annoyingly adorable. “Hello,” I greeted, all frustration now clean from my voice. “My name is Alexys.” I kneeled down to his eye level and he immediately wheeled directly in front of me, beeping somewhat of his own introduction.

“He said it’s nice to meet you,” Poe clarified, still hesitant at the easy change in my mood.

I looked up at him, curious. “You can understand those sounds he makes?”

“Most of it,” Poe answered. “It’s a form of Binary. Having him with me for so long helped me grow accustomed to the pitch and time changes in his beeps.”

My eyebrows rose, fascinated. “That’s so impressive.” BB-8 squealed in uneven time, his eye looking over to Poe, who almost looked bashful. “What? What did he say?”

He shot BB-8 an irritated look before meeting his eyes to mine. “It’s nothing important. His circuits are still a little fried.”

I wasn’t convinced, but then again I didn’t speak droid. "I'm glad you got him working,” I said earnestly, pleased there hadn’t been any type of casualty from his crash.

Poe sighed, relieved. “Me too. He’s the best co-pilot I’ve ever had.”

BB-8 whistled happily, evidently pleased with the praise, and its sweetness made me smile.

“Alexys?” Vixur suddenly called, his voice echoing down the hall. “Are you back there?”

I left Poe and BB-8 without a word, finding Vixur standing at the hallway entrance, his clothes smeared in dirt and dark grease. “Everything okay?”

Vixur nodded, evidently tired, still an accomplished grin filled his face. “We’re done actually. The comm-tower’s fixed.”

I wanted to smile back, to show my appreciation for his hard work, but it all became too hard to fake anymore.

This was it, the beginning of my goodbye to Poe. He would now be able to contact the Resistance, his friends, and he would soon be gone from my life just as suddenly as he arrived.

I forced the tears back as I hugged Vixur, doing all I could to hide my pain and show some kind of gratitude for the selfless work he had done.

Somehow Vixur sensed the turmoil simmering through me, patting my back softly. He pulled out of our embrace, speaking softly enough so Poe wouldn’t hear. “You needed this done for him, didn’t you?”

I nodded, the sadness hard to contain on my face. Vixur’s own expression was sympathetic as he squeezed my arm reassuringly. I didn’t need to explain anything, he just seemed to know.

“If it’s meant to be, you’ll find each other again.”

I drew in a long breath, furiously smothering the need to cry. I wanted to thank him more, for giving his time to me for little in return, but I couldn’t say the words out of fear the sudden sorrow would overwhelm me if I spoke out loud.

Vixur understood this, giving me a caring smile as he took his leave. “Well, we best be heading back to the village. I’ll see you sometime soon Alex. If I don’t, I wish you luck.”

And he was gone, the clinic door closing behind him, leaving me frozen in dread. A large part of me was reluctant to tell Poe the ‘good news’, but he’d waited long enough for his rescue from this planet.

I didn’t need to turn around to know he’d slinked out of the office to find me stuck where I stood, BB-8’s soft whirring following him.

“The comm-tower is ready, isn’t it?” Poe asked gently.

I forced myself to smile as I turned around, Poe’s expression not showing the relief I would have expected.

“Sure is,” I replied, the hint of quiver in my voice. “You can finally go home.”

I saw Poe’s lip tremble as he too attempted a smile, the disappointment in his eyes more indicative of his actual reaction to my answer.

Neither of us spoke for a long time, BB-8 looking back and forth quizzically, a few unsure beeps finally pierced in Poe’s direction. The sounds knocked us back into reality, as I moved to find the transmitter I’d stashed back into my tech station after determining its redundancy days ago.

The memories felt foreign, like they were from a different age. So little time had changed me so much, making me feel the most unstable and fragile I had felt in so long, on the verge of tipping into an overwhelming pain.

Poe had watched me in silence, unmoving. I eventually shifted the transmitter into his arms, an extremely aged, large box with an array of dusty buttons poking out of the rusted metal.

“It’s old, but it still works,” I insisted in a monotone, the emotion sucked from my voice. Poe only nodded, and gave me one last despairing glance as he turned away, carrying the machine into the study, BB-8 trailing behind him.

When the door closed, I couldn’t hold onto it any longer, the overpowering misery bursting free, its icy presence consuming me in a singular moment, the cold burn stinging as a few tears trickled down my cheeks.

What did I tell you?

The tears came faster at the sound of the voice, it’s condescension only making the suffering more excruciating.

No.

You’re wrong. I’m stronger than this.

I wiped away the errant tears defiantly, pulling myself together at the seams that had broken a few minutes ago, calming my breathing, trying to settle the trembling on inhale.

I’d made it through so much worse, pushed past crushing loneliness, fear and sadness, to make myself more resilient than I was behaving now. And I wasn’t going to let myself be caught in this vortex of emotion any longer.

I will not let this ruin me.

Next Chapter

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#poe dameron #poe dameron x original female character #kylo ren #kylo ren x original female character #star wars #star wars fanfiction #adcu #adcu fanfiction #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x female reader #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x female reader #I SWEAR KYLO IS COMING OKAY THIS IS A SLOW BURN

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cognacdelights · 4 years

Text

because she’s casual [5]

the romantic tirades of indie routledge series masterlist

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add yourself to my taglist

she’s casual by the hunna

summary: armed with a bottle of jack daniels, indie and jj embark on a drunken midnight adventure. after settling in the local park, they can’t resist each other’s allure any longer.

warnings: sexual content. public sex. swearing.

A thick, star-sprinkled blanket of obsidian had consumed the humid heavens above as the imperious, incandescent gaze of July’s Buck Moon bore down on the unmarked dirt roads of The Cut. The air was oppressive and muggy as a tepid, unrelenting breeze circulated throughout the silt-covered back roads, offering little to no relief against the suffocating swelter. A natural, dulcet melody of placid, cadenced waves slapping against the jagged, craggy shoreline and the occasional, gentle swooshing of the leaves rustling against one another filled the desolate streets - drowning out the solemn, sombre silence of the witching hours.

Leisurely, she placed one cautious, Converse-clad foot in front of the other as she walked atop the rugged, uneven stones of the crumbling wall. The dainty, lavender-painted fingertips of her right hand had laced themselves securely with his in an attempt to steady her stumbling, tipsy silhouette, as her left hand remained coiled firmly around the elongated neck of the Jack Daniels bottle. An intense, concentrated expression contorted the doll-like features of her caramel complexion - forcing her full, neatly shaped eyebrows to meet as they furrowed together and the tip of her whiskey-soaked tongue to peek through the gloss-coated confines of her peach-coloured lips.

Without so much as a sliver of a warning, she halted - taking several drawn-out seconds to centre her precariously tipsy balance. The loose, nonchalant grip she held around his meaty, ring-clad fingers tightened as she brought the cool rim of the bottle to her nude-painted lips, taking a long, generous swig. An invigorating, burning sensation grazed against the half-healed scratches as the honey-coloured liquor trickled carelessly down her throat - compelling the corners of her plump, luscious lips upwards into a wicked smile before she persistently proceeded in her intoxicated obstacle course.

Several inebriated stumbles later, the youthful Routledge girl had reached the abrupt edge of the dishevelled dry stone wall. She tentatively manoeuvred her petite frame around the single, pointed stone to face the winding, sand-coated road, her bright, mahogany doe eyes watching the shaggy-haired blonde intently as his boot-clad feet came to a casual stop. An emphatic half-giggle and half-squeal erupted from the depths of her whiskey-drowned throat as she leapt from the small height of the jagged dry stone wall - the golden, saccharine liquor spilling from the cap-less bottle as she retreated to the safe haven of the pothole-riddled tarmac, simultaneously dampening the tangled ends of her chestnut tresses and drenching the scandalously thin fabric of her low-cut dress in the process.

“Hey, hey, quiet, pretty girl,” his soothing, husky tone hushed her - the rough, calloused pad of his thumb tenderly caressing circles against the delicate skin of her palm, “we don’t want the neighbours waking up and calling the cops.” Her glazed-over, umber eyes peered upwards into his - the luminous, amber speckles glimmering celestially under the silver light of the full moon - as she guided his comforting, burly arm around her petite, flannel-covered shoulders. His thin, rose-tinted lips placed a soft, adoring peck against her temple as they continued their aimless wandering of the dark, vacant streets.

Reaching the dry, untamed grasslands of the children’s playground, they settled themselves on the rotted, wooden bench by the rusted swing set frame. His shirt-clad back pressed comfortably against the cool, pine wood of the seat as the doe-eyed, cinnamon-haired vixen perched herself atop his lap without any indication of hesitation - her exposed, sun-kissed legs draping themselves sideways across his muscular thighs. His brawny, possessive arm rested nonchalantly against the defined concave of her waistline as his gentle, unclipped fingertips absent-mindedly toyed with the revealing hemline of her sable-coloured dress.

Once again, she brought the frigid rim of the half-consumed liquor bottle to her gloss-coated lips, taking several lavish gulps of the sweet, fruit-infused whiskey. As she revelled in the exhilarating, fiery tingle that laced the lining of her throat, she tilted the square bottle towards him - encouraging him to take a drink. His large, paw-like palm grasped the body of bottle, bringing the gloss-stained, glass lips to his own. Lackadaisically, he chugged several mouthfuls of the sweet, syrup-like liquor, unphased by the warm, hearty buzz occupying his chest in it’s wake. Her adoring, mocha eyes watched him intently - shamelessly admiring the faint, whiskey-drenched lines of stubble that graced his upper lip and jawline, and the cadenced bobbing of his pronounced Adam’s Apple as he swallowed the infamous alcohol with ease.

It was only a mere few seconds later that his clumsy, yearning hand delved into the vast, junk-littered expanse of his cargo shorts pocket. Retrieving the crumpled, almost empty packet of cigarettes and engraved Zippo lighter, he retreated from the cloth confines. Effortlessly, he flicked the crinkled cardboard packaging open with his thumb, pulling the penultimate nicotine stick from the metallic foil and gently placing it between his chapped, coral-tinted lips. His thumb grazed the delicate clip of the personalised Zippo lighter, igniting the meager flame; he brought the floundering, wavering glint to the tobacco shreds, taking a deep inhale of the noxious, toxic fumes to ensure it was well and truly lit. She continued to observe his every move attentively, admiration evident within the luminous, golden speckles of her sorrel orbs.

Eventually, the audacious, tenacious virago grew tired of his lack of attention as he savoured every last nicotine-laced drag of his cigarette, grasping the half-smoked butt between her lilac-painted fingertips and dabbing the burning embers against rotting pine wood of the bench. Positive that the remaining shreds of tobacco were no longer ablaze, she carelessly discarded the whiskey-soaked butt within the over-grown blades of grass. JJ opened his mouth almost instantly, poised and ready to both protest against and question her dauntless, brazen actions - but before he could string his reprimanding words together, her velvet, taupe-toned lips pressed against his.

Cupping her blush-tinted cheek with his clammy, bear-like palm, their amorous embrace gradually transitioned from a passionately sweet kiss to an ardent, fervid affair. His pointed, pearly teeth bit down on the lipstick-coated flesh of her bottom lip, tugging roughly on the delicate, sensitive skin. A salacious, yearning whine escaped from the very core of her strained vocal chords - offering him the perfect opportunity to slide his whiskey-soaked tongue into her mouth. She welcomed his assertive, dominant tongue with open arms, allowing him to lustfully caress her tongue with his own. Her dainty, periwinkle fingertips latched onto the stained, off-white cotton of his long-sleeved t-shirt, her voluminous, braless chest pressing against the chiselled muscles of his abdomen - the titanium balls of her nipple piercings protruding through the thin, raven fabric.

The sun-drenched, love-marked skin of her exposed thighs tingled under the searing touch of his devilish, meandering hands - the calloused, unclipped tips of his ring-clad fingers encroaching on the scandalously short hemline of her tight, figure-hugging dress. He gave the hickey-littered, caramel plains of her thighs a fervent, zealous squeeze before continuing their ascent towards the patterned, crimson lace of her g-string thong. His sumptuous, cavalier attempt to trace a teasing trail along her damp, hankering folds was thwarted by the tight, commanding grip of her dainty palms around his watch-adorning wrist. A smug, sultry smirk curved the corners of her swollen, glacé lips upwards as she retreated from their intense, sensuous embrace, “no, tonight it’s my turn to make you cum.”

“That’s fine by me, babe,” his masterful tongue swiped the whiskey-sodden trace of her impassioned lips from his own, as his low, husky tone rasped a response. His dark, cobalt eyes cast over with lust and desire, watching intently as her petite, curvaceous figure leisurely slinked between his parted legs, settling on her knees, on the unkempt, grass plains of the park. An loud, involuntary moan slipped between his thin, chapped lips - a subconscious reaction to the ungodly, sinful sight of the umber-eyed, caramel-complexioned beauty in such a devilish position.

She fumbled with the stiff, metal clasp of his belt in her drunken, inebriated state, having to focus her whole, undivided attention on the trivial task at hand as she worked the ripped and tattered leather free. The tip of her spirit-laced tongue peeked timidly through the confines of her swollen, nude-toned lips as she tugged hastily at the tense, rigid zipper. Eagerly pushing the several layers of clothing out of her way, her clouded, mahogany eyes peered upwards at the anticipation-filled blonde, seeking his permission. He sent her a craving, impatient nod the instant his dark, indigo eyes met with hers.

Her dainty palm snaked itself around the flaccid base of dick, the mere contact alone sending an invigorating rush of blood throughout his member. She began to sensually caress the entirety of his length with gentle, leisurely strokes - however, her pace gradually began to increase as deep, husky grunts of encouragement resonated from the depths of his throat. An ardent flush of heat consumed her intimate area upon hearing the low, pleasure-filled noises, the intricately embroidered material of her thong dampening with each salacious groan.

Her taunting tongue tantalised the very tip of his cock, circling the head in painfully languid motions and placing soft, delicate kisses against the sensitive skin. She proceeded to take the tip into her mouth, continuing to swirl her salacious, teasing tongue around the head as she sensuously sucked on the hypersensitive fragment of his length - impishly neglecting the further expanse of his inches. His meaty, paw-like hands grasped the eroded edge of the bench with a monstrously tight grip - the rough, scarred skin of knuckles turning a sickly shade of alabaster out of pure frustration. A raspy, petulant growl erupted from the deep, yearning caverns of his stomach, his tone authoritative and demanding, “Indie.”

Spurred on by his deep, domineering voice, she took as much of his poised, hard length into her mouth as she could, her warm, sensual palms working the remaining few inches of his bulging span. A barrage of emphatic, enraptured moans filled the otherwise eery silence of the unkempt, neglected grassland as she continued her salacious assault on his hardened dick - dauntlessly daring to take more of his poised, pulsing cock into her mouth with each rhythmic, fast-paced bob of her head. He threw his head back in pure, elated ecstasy, his shaggy, tousled locks tickling against the corroded, pine back rest.

Thrusting his hips upwards in a subconscious, euphoric daze, he vigorously forced the entirety of his solid, throbbing length into her unsuspecting mouth, the pre-cum-coated tip pushing it’s way into the tight, restricted dimensions of her throat. Unprepared and unexpected, a loud, dissatisfied groan surpassed her swollen, luscious lips. He, however, mistook her throaty vocals as a sinful sign of pleasure - tangling his large, ring-clad fingers within the matted length of her cascading, cinnamon waves as he applied a gentle pressure against the nape of her neck, compelling her bobbing head to meet with his rapid, rigorous bucks. Her throat soon relaxed it’s whiskey-drowned muscles as she leisurely eased into the comfortable synchronisation of the rhythm, a tidal wave of adrenaline surging through her veins from the ungodly, sensuous experience.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” his assertive, commanding tone praised her - the telltale, familiar surge of euphoria building within the depths of his stomach, “keep going.” As she persisted in taking the entire span of his hardened, bulging length into her mouth, an inharmonious limerick of profanities circulated the open, desolate area - the eager frustrations of his much-anticipated release gradually consuming him. As the elated surge of delirium proceeded to build within him, one final, zealous thrust into the relaxed depths of her throat tipped him over the metaphorical edge. “Fucking hell, Indie,” his deep, enamored tone rasped as the thick, viscous juices of his cum dripping down her throat, his cadenced thrusts slowing with each lackluster buck of his hips.

Retrieving his now flaccid, saliva-soaked length from between her gloss-coated lips, he tucked himself back into the fabric confines of his boxers. Forcing the stiff, uncooperative zip back up, he spoke again, “that dirty little mouth of yours is going to be the fucking death of me, Indie Routledge.” A complacent, pleased with herself smirk plastered itself across the very foundations of her prominent, doll-like features of her sun-kissed, caramel complexion, satisfied with his reaction. The rough pad of his ring-adorning thumb tenderly swiped across the corner of her mouth - ridding her angelic face of any evidence of their sensuously sinful tryst before placing a soft, loving peck against her full, luscious lips.

A mischievous glint occupied the glistening, amber speckles of her eyes as her dark, coffee-coloured orbs peered upwards into his, “can we stop at Russo’s on our way home and get some twinkies?” It was the most stereotypical, unapologetically Indie thing that the breath-taking brunette had ever uttered; despite being enthralled in her bid to embrace all things devilish, illicit and beyond her years, she still remained angelic, innocently niave and pleased by the simplest of things at heart.

“If that’s what you want, pretty girl.”

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writingsbychlo · 4 years

Text

after hours | mitch rapp

word count; 10,853

summary; at a bachelorette party, you get a little more than just a striptease.

notes; a little while ago, @samstaylor was daydreaming in the groupchat about mitch as a stripper, and of course, I couldn’t miss the chance to write it.

warnings; smut, striptease, that's about it.

The man standing at your hotel room door was without a doubt one of the most attractive men you had ever seen in your life.

Messy hair atop his head, long enough to run his fingers through, just long enough to have that kind of sexy bedhead look that never failed to make you weak, dark tresses you wanted to tangle your fingers into. His eyes were fixed on you, skin pale despite the sun-centred place you both lived in, and skin marred with perfect imperfections, moles and freckles decorating his skin. With whiskey coloured eyes that seemed to practically sparkle as he watched you, and plump pink lips that looked kiss-bitten and swollen already, the man was practically dripping sex, and you were certain your eyes were wide, jaw hanging open as you looked at him, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

A dark smirk was sat on his lips as he stared down at you, darkened eyes dragging slowly along your body, and settling on the silk sash that was sitting over your torso. “Maid of honour, huh? That’s a shame, I was kinda’ hoping it was you that I’d get to strip for tonight.”

“I’d still let you.”

“Oh, you would, huh?” He licked over his lips, dragging his lower lip between his teeth, his smirk only widening. “There’s always after hours for what we want, isn’t there? So, are you going to let me in? I’d really like to start taking my clothes off for you.”

“You’re one hell of a flirt..” Your words trailed off, and he let out a breathy laugh, straightening up from where he was leaning on the doorframe and offering his hand out to you.

“Mitch.”

“(Y/N).”

Your hand slipped into his, and he brought your fingers up to his lips, one eye dropping in a lazy wink as he pressed a kiss to your knuckles, lifting your hand up to sit on his shoulder as he stepped in a little closer to you, humming under his breath as though considering the situation. “Pretty name, pretty girl. It’s a good night, tonight.”

“You keep flirting with me and I might have to drag you away for a private show, Mitch. I don’t think my best friend would be very impressed if she didn’t get her dance.” Your own hand came up to rest on his chest, the space between the two of you practically non-existent, and he looked between your hand on his body and your eyes, his gaze only seeming to somehow darken further. “I promised her a hot stripper, and so far, I’m delivering. I’d hate to crash the bachelorette party by dragging away the main event.”

“I’d be happy to let you drag me away, but I guess you’re right.” His breath was washing over your face as he spoke, your sights flicking between his own and his lips, before you were swallowing thickly and pulling away. It was like a magnet, the pull you had to this man was like something you’d never experience before, and yet you’d known him for mere minutes. With what little shred of self-control you had left, you scrunched up the hand in his shirt, offering him a final smirk as you dragged him into the hotel room, smoothing your hand down his chest to remove the wrinkles, and taking a step back from him as the pair of you rounded the corner and the noises o the party going on within came back into your hearing range.

The second the other girls’ eyes were laid onto him, the loud chatter and laughter had turned into hollers and whistles, Mitch’s ego only seeming to be fuelled by it, his chest puffing up and smirk becoming a wide toothy grin as he stepped into the room, glancing around for the speaker that the phone playing music was hooked up to, patting at his pocket absentmindedly for his own phone.

“Now which of you gorgeous ladies is the one getting married tomorrow?”

He had a way with women, you could tell from the way they were all already practically swooning, including your best friend, despite the ring on her finger and the vows she had memorised for less than 24 hours from now, her eyes were dragging along him shamelessly, head to toe, drinking in every delicious detail of him in the same way you had. “That would be me.”

“I shoulda’ guessed, you are just beautiful. I’m not surprised someone put a ring on you, I would have too.” He took her hand in his, smoothing his thumb over her fingers and rubbing over the pretty gem on the band sat on her finger, and she let out a giggle, a noise you’d never heard her make before but her cheeks were flushed and eyes wide as she looked up at him, and he placed her hand back down in her lap with a smirk for only her to enjoy. “I like to do these a little differently. I don’t have a set routine or song list. It changes with each client. I like to meet every girls needs.”

“Oh, fuck.”

A round of laughter went up across the room as the curse spilled from her mouth before she could stop it, and you plucked your phone up from the speaker, the soft music you’d been playing beforehand was cut short, and Mitch seemed to be the only one who noticed, his eyes flicking to yours momentarily, a small nod of thanks from him, before he was redirecting his attention back to the bride to be. “That okay with you?”

“So okay.”

“Great.” He fished into his pocket for his phone, handing it over to you to hook up to speaker, before stripping the lightweight black jacket he wore down his arms, ducking his head at the ay the girls all applauded and encouraged him, even as he simply removed the garment to hang over the back of the chair. “Do you have any song preference, or do you just want me to pick?”

“Y-Your choice.” Her eyes were no longer on his, instead, where you were sure all the girls’ gazes were, much like your own, taking in the way the light t-shirt was all but stretched across his chest, perky nipples pressing to thin fabric, sleeves stretching around his biceps and looking like he might rip straight through the seams as his arms flexed with simple movements, and you managed to drag your gaze away from his body to finishing fixing up his phone on the speaker cord.

“I have some good songs to dance to, I think you’ll like them.” He was standing back to his full height, rubbing his hands together and glancing around all of the ladies with a coy look, knowing exactly the effect he was having on them all. “Now, what about touching? Do you like to touch?”

He picked up her hand, placing her palm flat on his stomach, her fingers dragging over the taut and solid muscle you just knew lay beneath his shirt, her breath audibly hitching as she did, before she was nodding, face now bright red as she looked up at him. “I like to touch.”

“You want me to show you where you can touch?” She nodded, licking over her lips and closing her mouth quickly, offering up her other hand to him as he held his own ou for it, long and nimble fingers wrapping around her wrist. The breath of the other women in the room all seemed to be collectively held, a dreamy sigh let out as he pulled your best friend to her feet, her legs shaky underneath her as he placed both of her hands on his shoulders, pausing for only a second as her fingers squeezed lightly.

He was soon dragging on along his arm, all the way to his wrist, and the other along his chest, down to the middle of his stomach, around about where you expected his navel to be through his shirt, before he was pulling her in close, an embarrassingly needy sound leaving her as his chest pressed up to hers, and he pushed her arms around behind him. Her hands roamed over his back, nails scratching lightly as she all but trembled under his gaze, his eyes fixed on her and only her, the loose baby hairs that had come free from her up-do with the chaos of the night were moving softly with each breath he let out to wash over her skin.

“Nowhere else, okay? You gotta’ promise me before we start, babe.”

The pet name sounded on from his tongue, like he was used to saying it, but it didn’t quite suit him, though you assumed that would be about right, just flirty rough to get paid but not the way he would treat an actual girlfriend, and that was more than enough for you. The lady of the hour nodded, sinking back into her seat as he beamed, before clapping his hands and finally looking back up over the others gathered in the room, all of whom seemed to preen under his gaze.

“Let’s get some music going, shall we? Let me choose some songs, you ladies can get yourselves some fresh drinks, and then we can have some real fun.” He didn’t wait for a response, the clinks of champagne bottles and glasses being more than enough to clue him in that they’d taken his suggestion, and he was making his way back over to you, stare holding with your own, the cock-sure way that he carried himself made you feel like you were being hunted, a predator closing in on its prey, and you were more than happy to play that game with him.

He pressed you in against the counter, his body never actually touching you but you could feel the heat rolling off of him as he stood close, taking his phone from your hand and scrolling through his apps, bringing up his music as he seemed to consider his options, smirk only widening each time you let out a breath of gasped a little when he shifted fractionally closer.

“Why don’t you check over these songs for me, kitten? Tell me if you think they match your mood for the night.”

Kitten.

Now that was a pet name that sounded like pure honey and sugar and everything sweet as it rolled off of his tongue with ease, sinful thoughts flashing through your mind as you gazed up at him, before nodding happily and taking the device back, turning the screen to face you as you scrolled through the small collection of tunes that he’d chosen.

“I think that your choice in music is fuckin’ awesome.” Your words were mumbled under your breath, barely meant to be spoken out loud, but he let out a happy little sound at your praise, and you placed the phone down on the counter, twisting to face him and giving him the sweetest look you could, clearly seeming to have its effect because his cocky look faltered for a second, causing him to swallow thickly and clear his throat, his eyes dipping away from your own before he could bring them back up.

“I’m glad you approve.”

Even his voice was deep, practically dripping arousal, the man was like sex on legs, and you were just dying to know what was under his clothes, to watch him strip down and move. He wasn’t overly muscled, but his veiny arms, dark hair and cheeky smirk were more than enough to tip any girl over the edge, even in addition to the taut and lean body with clear upkeep and maintenance.

He was just fit enough without it being excessive, and he seemed or know exactly how attractive he was, because he was never once shy or awkward of himself, never cowering or backing away with his insecurities. He was proud on his skin, happy with his body, and you just loved the self-confidence he wore like a crown.

“If it were me, I’d want something a little slower. More sensual, the sort of thing you can dance to as well as strip to, but the girls will love these songs, I promise you that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Deep and raspy, his words were all but purred out, and you didn’t get a chance to reply before a set of manicured nails and a glass of bubbling champagne were being waved in front of your face, snapping your attention away from the man so that you could look down to the drink and take it from her and offering your thanks. She was giving you a pointed stare, clearly wanting to move on with the night, and you could understand that, so you slipped away from Mitch with one final gaze, full of heat and intensity, before you were taking your seat and grinning when one of the bridesmaids adjusted the lights a little lower for you all.

Once the music started up, you could physically feel the atmosphere in the room changing. What had once been heavy anticipation had become crackling electricity, his body beginning to sway a little as he got himself ready for his dance, letting the rhythm flow over him.

In only the blink of an eye, his nervous beginnings had transformed into fluid movements that were well-rehearsed. There wasn’t a single jagger or jerk, his body rolling and twisting without fault, and you took a deep and steadying breath, already feeling your heart beginning to race, a desperate bid to calm yourself.

That was blown out of the window, however, when he reached a hand up behind his head, his arms stretching and biceps seeming like they were all but birthing out of the dark t-shirt that was tight around his upper arms. Peeling it up, he moved deliberately slowly, rocking his hips back and forth as he inches the thin material higher and higher, bit by bit revealing peeks of toned muscle and taut pale flesh that was marred with beauty marks in the form of constellations of moles.

Tossing it out towards the girls, a squeal of excitement rose up in a wave across the room around you, and the material hung over the back of a chair, long forgotten as the real entertainment began.

It was rolls of hips, his body moving in fluid ways that you couldn't tear your eyes off of, and you weren’t sure where to look at any given moment. His muscles flexed and rolled under his skin, the wicked smirk on his lips never left, eyes dark and fixed on your own as your mouth hung open. You knew how you must look, you felt like you were on the verge of drooling just from looking at him, watching the sensual way he could roll his body and twist his hips, every movement he made matching the tempo of the music, hard-hitting notes making him jerk his hips forwards in time with the music, thrusting up into the air in a way that had your mind blanking with thoughts of him fucking into you in the same, his body shifting and twisting with each little action he took.

Your fingers were gripping onto the champagne glass with such force that you worried you may break it, rapt attention and hooded eyes as you watched his eye drop into a seductive wink while he was looking at you, licking over his lower lip slowly and being sure to put a little extra effort into the way his hips thrust up in the air as he watched you drink him in with rapt attention. The heat in the room seemed overwhelming, one of your hands coming up to tug at the front of your blouse, popping open a further button and pulling the light material away from your body, his lips being caught between his teeth as his eyes dropped down to scan slowly across your chest, fixing on the exposed bit of cleavage now peeking out from your top, before he was swallowing thickly and letting that same filthy smirk come back to haunt you as he looked back up to you once again.

The grey sweats he was wearing were hanging low around his hips, black boxer briefs complimenting pale skin perfectly, matching the dark hairs that trailed down low, and in some kind of retaliation, he held your eyes with a dead stare, smirking when he felt your friends hand’s land on his body, shuddering slightly as her nails raked down over solid planes of muscles, but he was licking the pad of his thumb, grinning cheekily around his own finger and dragging it down his own body, knowing that your eyeline was following the wet digit.

Hooking it into the waistband of his underwear and sweats, he pulled them down a little, just enough to flash you the dark patch of hair sitting gourd the base of his cock, cheers going up in the room around you both, but it all seemed entirely irrelevant, because it was all muffled, background noise as everything came secondary to you and him. He was all but fucking you with his eyes, every move was simply a teasing preview of what you could be having later that night should you choose to do so, and you were absolute fucking choosing to do so.

Letting the elastic snap back into place against his skin, he let out a small and quiet moan, just enough to tease the other women around you, all, before he was finally pulling his gaze away from you to face back to the others. Taking the bride-to-be’s hands in his own, he took them down his hips, all the way from his chest, her fingers dragging over his nipples and through the hair that was scattered over his chest, down to his sides, where he wrapped her fingers around the waistband of his grey sweats, giving her a cheeky nod and standing tall, dragging one hand through his hair as the song changed, silence taking over the room for only a second as you all practically held your breaths in anticipation.

In perfect timing with the first note of the next song, she leaned down, dragging his sweats all the way to his ankles, cheers going up in the room, and he cupped her face with a single hand, dragging the same thumb that had been between his lips only a minute ago along her jaw, letting her tip her head into his hand needily, and he chuckled under his breath, rolling his hips from side to side once again.

“Good girl.”

You weren’t the only that all but keened at the way he purred out the words, little sighs and whimpers taking off around the room, and you brought your glass up to your lips, downing the rest of the drink, and instead of refilling it, you simply clutched the bottle. The most genuine smile you’d seen all night raced his lips as he watched you do so, and for a second he seemed to falter, struggling to hold in a laugh as you raised the rim to your lips, taking a deep swig and holding his gaze. A single drip escaped your lips, making its way along your chin, you caught it with a single finger, making an excessive show of sucking the digit between your lips, the colour that had been staining them smeared around your finger a little as you sucked it down. He took in a sharp intake of breath, and somehow, his commitment to his dance only seemed to grow, like a competition between you both, who could flirt with the other more while everyone else was still in the room, who could drive the other a little more insane, and you were taking the challenge.

Uncrossing your legs, you parted them for just a second, fully aware of how short your skirt was, his eyes dropping down to the place you were only covered by a thin scrap of lace, his jaw dropping and a sweet moan leaving him for only a second, and he played it off like it was intentional, winking at the girls who made sounds of approval in return, and you were crossing them back closed before he had a chance to turn back to you, his eyes seeming to darken and narrow at the offering of a challenge.

With determination, he lifted your friend out of her seat, pulling her in close to him as he kicked his sweatpants away from himself, her head rolling back as he dipped his own down, never actually touching his mouth to her neck, but he twisted them around, sideways so the others could still see the way he was moving, and you could see his eyes watching you, everything you needed to know was being converted in the way he was looking at you, the way you knew he’d already decided exactly how he was going to take you, exactly how you’d sound screaming out his name and just how he was going to make it happen. He was already picturing you in nothing but the lace panties you wore, the same way you were picturing him in just his boxers, only the two of you in the room.

It was a treat for her, but a show for you.

He wanted you to see how he would hold you, how he would take care of you before taking you apart. He was giving you a visual demonstration of how everything would go down between you both, while simultaneously giving you nothing. His skin was coated in a light layer of shining sweat, his face seeming to glow under the low lights, and the flick of his lips up when he finally looked away from you was enough to confirm to you that he knew exactly how much you were longing for his attention to be back on you anytime he looked away, and how much he loved it when he finally redirected his gaze to your own, already to find you watching him needily.

Leaning forwards in your seat, he groaned out audibly as your breasts fell forward in your bra, plump and soft under his sights, and you purposefully pressed the cold neck of the bottle between them against your skin, a hungry look flashing over his face. Every place your friend touched, every place he touched her, every movement of their bodies as he directed her until she was too flustered and aroused to even stand up anymore was something you knew you would get more of, better of, later.

The music came to an end, no more songs playing as the loop had come to an end, and the time you had paid for seemed far too short, the girls all letting out dismal sounds of disappointment, and he let out a breathless laugh, brushing the sweaty hair away from his forehead and taking a little bow at the hoots they all let out at the simple action. Your best friend was red-cheeked and panting, fanning herself with legs crossed suspiciously tightly, but then again, every single one of the women around you looked utterly destroyed from the show, and they’d all simply been there to watch on.

It was a sight to behold, watching them all g about fixing themselves drinks and trying their best to drag their eyes away from his lean body and sweaty skin, fanning themselves and adjusting the lights, opening windows and walking round in a bid to ease themselves the aches and desires they’d never get fulfilled.

But, you would.

His sweatpants were tugged back up his legs, shirt still hanging over the back of one of the chairs, and you scooped it up with a single finger, holding the material between your fingers and making your way over to him, his back turned to you as he undid his phone from the extension cord and tucked it into his back pocket.

“I believe this is yours.”

He spun around to face you, a megawatt grin shown to you once again as he took it from your hand, his movements particularly slow and sexy as he pulled it back on over his head, his fingers and arms brushing against your own as he lowered the material down and over his arms. “I think you affected me more than I affected them.”

His voice as slightly scratchy, and you offered the bottle you were still holding out to him, gaze transfixed on the way his lips wrapped around the rim as he took a gulp of champagne, licking over wet and pink lips once he was finished, before pressing it back into your hands with a wink. “Oh, I don’t know ‘bout that. You drove them pretty crazy.”

“And what about you?”

“I loved it.” You confirmed, his eyes lighting up a little bit at the confession, before he was dragging his fingertips along your arm carefully, being sure that he was out of the lingering sights of the others in the room as their chatter took up once again.

“Good, I’d love to do a private dance for you, sometime.” You knew what he meant, not having to struggle to read between the lines, what with the way he was looking at you and the whispered tone of his voice, the spark between you both being undeniable.

“Bachelorette party ends in an hour. I’ll be in room 703 in one hour and thirty.”

“I’ll be there.”

“I can’t wait.”

He beamed, glancing around before slipping a hand down to pinch at your ass, chuckling under his breath at the squeal you let out when you jumped in shock, before wet lips were pressing a kiss to the spot just below your ear. “Neither can I, kitten.”

As promised, an hour and a half later, three quick knocks on your hotel door signalled his arrival, and you swung the wood open, a low whistle leaving his lips as he looked over you. He looked much the same as before, his jacket swung over his shoulder as he leaned against the doorframe, a bottle of vodka in his other hand, but he was nibbling on a plush pink lip as he took every bit of you in, committing the sight to memory.

You had changed, slipping on the best silky night set you owned, a lacey camisole and a pair of shirts, perfect for the heat and perfect for tempting hot strippers you’d only met a few hours ago into fucking you like you deserved to be fucked.

“You’re wearing the sash.” Two of his fingers hooked under the light piece of cloth sitting around your torso, ‘maid of honour’ printed into the fabric and he used it to pull you a little closer to him, standing up to his full height and leaning over you.

“You seemed rather fond of it before.”

“I was wondering what you’d look like in just the sash.” He beamed, and you hooked your own fingers into his belt loops, pulling him into the room and kicking the door shut behind him.

“Why don’t you come and find out, then?”

He let out a little growl in response, a sound that shot right through you and straight to your core, igniting that heat back up within you once again. His jacket dropped to the ground and the bottle of vodka he’d been holding was discarded to sit on the unit, both of his hands taking your face in a gentle hold. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you all night.”

“So do it.”

That was all the confirmation he needed his lips descending onto yours in a passionate kiss. It was hot, and perfectly executed, the way his mouth was meshing with your own was enough to make your knees go weak and body tremble a little under his touch. Those same hands that had been on your face were now moving down your body, large palms burning through the silk covering your body as he smoothed over your ribs, you breathing hitching as he dragged them down, before he was squeezing at your hips.

Your own hands came up to grab at the fabric of his shirt, pulling him into you until there was no space left, the heat in the room almost suffocating, as though he wasn’t kissing away the breath from your lungs with every kiss he delivered or you. Your feet were moving underneath you before you could get your brain to catch up, the edge of your bedsheets brushing the backs of your legs when you finally snapped away, pulling aqua to peer up at the man before you. His lips were swollen, eyes dark and blown with lust as he gave short pants for breath, his own gaze taking you in with much the same desperation you were taking with him.

“Been thinkin’ about you all night. All the things we could do, the ways I could have you.”

“Tell me about that.”

He grinned, pressing a long but chaste kiss to your lips, before presenting his phone to you, scrolling through it as you distracted yourself by moving your lips along his neck, licking at the skin that has the slightly salty taste of sweat lingering there, and he let out a little moan for just you to hear when your teeth grazed his skin.

Soft notes building sweet melodies filled the room as he put down the phone on the counter beside the vodka. Fingers under your chin tipped your head up so that he could catch your mouth in a simple kiss once again, and you whimpered into his mouth at the delicacy of it all.

“I put a few songs together, something like you said. Slower and sexier.”

“You built me a playlist. That’s like giving a girl a mixtape, but it isn’t ‘82.” He let out a chuckle against your lips, hands dipping underneath the edge of your shirt to brush over bare skin, sending shivers along your spine until you were once again finding yourself melting into his touch. “I like it.”

“Yeah?” You nodded humming happily when you felt him smile into the kiss, before he was taking your hands in his, wrapping them around his neck and his own around your waist, swaying the two of you gently as he danced the tips of his fingers along your spine beneath the light material clad on your body. “I wanted you in so many ways. Thought about taking you hard and fast, because I bet you’d sound so good screaming out for me as I fuck you, but then I decided, I’d rather make the most of our time. Take you apart slowly and carefully, make you mine.”

“I’m already yours.”

He let out a sigh against your mouth, the swaying between you both stopping for only a second as he let out a primal sound in the back of his throat, peeling your shirt up and over your head, dropping it to the floor and smirking as he placed the banned back over your body. He smoothed it down on your body, thumbs brushing over your already pebbled nipples, and he seemed to light up at the noise you made in response, arching up into his hands. “Why do you have such an effect on me, hm? I meet tons of chicks every day, but there’s just something about you..”

Your arms wrapped back around his neck, pulling his mouth back to your own before he had even finished talking, and he moaned happily into your mouth, parting his lips before you even had to ask, his tongue dipping out to tangle with your own once again as your bodies moulded around one another, limbs tangling together as you danced slowly to the sensual music that was vibrating around the room.

“What do you want out of tonight, hm? Tell me what you need.”

“Ideally? I’d really like you to fuck me, I know it’s your job to get girls hot and bothered but you have an effect on me that no guy has ever had before.” He was happy, his chest puffing out a little in pride from your compliments, and you grinned up at him, tugging at the edges of his t-shirt and inching it up his chest. “But, I get it if you don’t want to. I’d be more than happy to just lay about and talk. And make out a bit. Obviously.”

“Obviously.” He echoed, rolling his eyes fondly and lifting his arms up so that you could peel the tight material off of his body, the fabric being more like painted on as it moved across his body, muscles flexing under your gaze and your mouth growing dry, and you were a little shocked to find heat crawling up his cheeks as it fell away, and his eyes wide a she looked at you. “You’d really be happy to just lay with me and talk?”

“Yeah. Is that what you want to do?”

You took a step back from him, just a small one, but he growled out, closing in on you quickly and stepping further into your space than he had been before, your bodies colliding and tumbling back onto the bed behind you, bodies pressed together slickly and propping himself up above you. “Maybe after, but I definitely want to fuck you first.”

“Thank fuck, because I’ve been dying to know what you’ve got hidden away.” You cupped him through his sweats, hardening cock twitching in your hand as he rolled his hips down into your palm, grunting under his breath and letting his eyes flutter shut as your fingers squeezed around his length.

He pulled away, mumbling his regrets under his breath but muffing his own sounds of dismay as his lips pressed wet marks along your throat, tongue flicking out to soothe at each place he bit and sucked at, careful not to leave marks that would show up in your wedding photos tomorrow. Closing his mouth over one of your nipples, he lapped at the perky bud eagerly, your back arching up, one hand coming down to weave into his hair as you pressed up into him.

“Oh, fuck. I knew your mouth was gonna’ be my downfall tonight.”

“Yeah? Just wait until I fuck you. With my fingers or my cock.” The words left tremors along your skin, only spurring on your pleasure, and a sob of his name slipped from you while he switched to the other side, leaving your breasts wet and coated in goosebumps as a light breeze of cool air washed over your slick skin.

“Cocky much?”

“No, I just know that I have a great dick, and I know my hands drive chicks wild.” He winked at you as he made his way back up into your eyesight, settling himself between your thighs and grinding down into you, dragging his stiff erection across your covered core, the layers of clothes between you becoming your most hated enemy as you wished nothing was blocking you, wishing for skin on skin, his cock sliding into you. “Wanna’ taste you. That’s okay?”

“It’s so much more than okay.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Use that pretty mouth to purr for me, kitten.” You let out a broken sound at the words he mumbled into your skin, kissing down your torso and running his fingers over the silk banner still clad on your body, hanging at an odd angle as you laid down but he seemed to be appreciating it nonetheless. “Finally gon’ get to see what you look like in just this sash. Been picturing it all night.”

You lifted your hips up for him as he hooked his fingers under the edge of the silk and lace trim, pulling your shorts away on your smooth and freshly shaven legs, cursing under his breath as he found your lack of underwear. You dropped your thighs open, dragging your fingers through your sodden folds and parting them before his eyes, watching as his jaw dropped open and he all but drooled at the sight, taking a deep breath as he palmed himself through his sweats.

“Oh, fuck.” His own hands found your thighs, massaging the muscle softly as he moved his way up, supple and plush skin tensing under his fingers as he lay down, hot breath fanning over your core and making you shudder with the anticipation. “I want to take my time with you, but I don’t want you to cum tonight unless it's on my cock, do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Such a good girl.” His praise made you quiver, your eyes closing and a loud moan slipping from you as he dragged his tongue along your centre, swirling the muscle around your hole and dipping into you for only a second before he was lapping at the built-up slick and moving up to nibble at your clit, and you felt boneless underneath him. You were melting into the covers, both hands in his hair and your thighs clamped around his head, mumbling your own praise for his wicked ministrations already.

It was in the way his tongue moved, teeth grazing you flesh and lips sucking in tandem, and your mind was spinning. Head pressed back into the bedding and lips parted to let out your noises of contentment, you were somehow never more relaxed and utterly rigid at the same time. Your body was stiff as you rolled your hips up into his mouth rhythmically, your clit bumping against the tip of his nose each time he - or you - shifted, needy sighs being the sweet plea that left you every time, and he only worked harder after each one to make it happen again.

He was drinking up the reactions you made, flicking his tongue against you before finally slipping it within you, your walls clenching around him and you cried out his name as he groaned against you, juices leaking from you as he did and he happily took in the tease of you as your flowed for him. “Fuck, you taste so good.”

You barely caught his words, before he was delving back into you once again, and your hips left the bed, your heels digging in further as you whined and squirmed underneath him. Thick biceps pressed to your thighs as he wrapped his arms around your legs to hold your body to him, his stubbled jaw scratching at the insides of your thighs in a delicious way that would leave behind red and raw skin in the morning, the kind of burn that would remind you the entire of the following day of the sinful activities you were partaking in tonight. “Holy fuck, Mitch.”

“That’s right, call out my name, sweetheart. Tell everyone who’s making you feel this good.”

“Mitch!”

It came out as a squeal this time, two of his fingers prodding at your weeping entrance and slipping in with little hesitation, sinking until they couldn't move any further, and you let out deep and needy sound at the feeling of being filled already, even if it wasn’t enough to make you scream out yet. He wiggled the digits within you, pressing deeper and more full than your own fingers would, and your body jerked roughly when the tips brushed over your sweet spot while exploring your inner walls.

He seemed to know exactly what had drawn your reaction, and he placed a cheeky bite to your hip bone as he pressed his grin into your skin, revelling in the way you were trembling under him, clenching around his fingers as you neared your peak, each sound and shake only feeding his ego.

“You close for me, baby?”

“S’ close.”

Your words were slurring together, and he pumped his finger slowly, scissoring them and stretching you out as he dragged his fingers over your walls, scratching lightly with blunt nails and exploring every inch of your core that he could reach, finding every spot that made you tick and tremble for him. “Ready for my cock, hm? Ready to explode for me?”

“Please, I need it. I need you so bad. Please, Mitch!”

“Okay, kitten. I’ll give you what you need.”

His fingers were pulled from you, drawing a cry from your lips as the climax you had been so close to came winding down, and you propped yourself up your elbows to watch him. He was sucking on his fingers, offering you a lazy wink as he caught your gaze fixed on him, and his body began to move to the music still playing in the background. It was even slower, more torturous, than it had been at the party, because now he was really taking his time.

His thumbs hooked under the waistband of his sweats, and he dropped them down toned and muscled thighs, kicking off everything around his feet and ankles until nothing but a pair of tight boxers covered his body. His cock was straining against the fabric, the front damp from the precum he was leaking and you felt yourself go weak all over just at the sight of his cock pressing into the material, your thighs clamping shut and rubbing together as you nibbled on your lower lip.

Reaching one foot out, you poked at his hip, using your toes to push the material down a little bit as you whined, and he took your ankle in his hand, pulling you further down the bed until he could lean over you, placing a sweet kiss to your lips that soon became just as filthy as the rest of the night had been. His lips mouth was dominant and rough against yours, scratchy stubble dragging over the soft skin of your cheeks each time he pushed you back down, backing your body into the bed, the taste of yourself washing over your taste buds as his tongue traced your own, making sure you were getting just as much of your own taste as he’d had.

“I got you, baby.” You hummed into his mouth, feeling him pull away, dragging his hands over your body slowly until not a single part of him was touching you, and you pried your eyes back open, forcing yourself to look up at him, a knowing grin on his face as he slowly pushed down his boxers.

A thick, flushed cock sprung up from the second he released himself, skin slick with smeared precum and the tip and angry red, bouncing in the cool air as he freed himself of the final restraints. You feel your breath leave you in a huff, eyes half-lidded as you collapsed back into the mattress, singing one hand over your eyes and dipping the other between clenched thighs, pushing a single digit into yourself in a bid to relieve some of the built-up tension.

“No, no, no. I didn’t say you could touch yourself, did I?” He tutted, pulling a condom from his pocket and tearing it open, letting the foil flutter away to the floor as he rolled the rubbed onto his length. Plucking your hand from where you had been pleasing yourself, his knees found the bed either side of your body, pulling your finger up to his mouth and sucking it between plush pink lips. His hair was flopping slightly into his face as he peered down at you, but your eyes were falling shut anyway as his tongue cleaned off your skin of your juices, praises about the way you tasted leaving him but you didn’t bother to listen to him, because you were too busy focusing on the heat consuming you, and the man who had lit the fire.

“Can’t help it, you’re teasing and I’m needy.”

He grinned at your words, long and thin fingers swiping his hair out of his face, only for it to fall back down into place, and he supported himself on one hand as he used the other to line himself up at your entrance, the swollen head of his cock nudging at your clit and dragging through your soaked heat. “Fuck, you’re so warm and wet already.”

“Would be better if you fucked me.”

He snapped his hips into yours, a loud cry of his name falling from you as he sunk to full depth in only a second, stretching you out and filling you entirely, your eyes rolling back in your head and lips parted. You felt like the breath had been punched out of you as he’d sunk in, your back arching up and legs clamping around his waist in a quick movement, holding him close and tight to your body.

His own grunts and groans of blissful pleasure rang out in a mix with your own, harmonising together perfectly and bouncing off of the walls. His face dipped down to press into your neck, tongue swiping at your skin as the two of you took a second to adjust. Your walls were fluttering around him, squeezing at his length and dragging him in, his eyelashes tickling your skin as his own eyes closed, and scruffy hairs lining his chin leaving scrapes of red along your shoulder.

“Holy shit, I feel like I’m in Heaven, but you are pure fucking sin wrapped up in a pretty package.” His words were a little shaky when he spoke, and you hooked your own arms under his, nails digging into his back and he pressed up into your touch, before finally forcing himself to move, circling his hips a little as he found his balance, before his hips were slipping away from yours slowly, torturous for you both. “Fuck, you’re incredible.”

“I could say the same thing about you.” Your words were whispered out, trailing off as his cock dragged to your entrance, almost slipping from you, before he was slamming himself back into you with ease, your bodies sliding together with a beautiful friction, your tits pressed up to his chest, hips pressed together and nails raking down his back. You were clinging to him, his name like a mantra of your lips as he set a steady pace.

The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, quick and steady, the harmony accompanied by the sounds each of you let out, spurring one another on as he drove himself into you on repeat. He was long and thick, tapping against your sweet spot without effort, angling himself once he found it so that he could pound against it on repeat. You were already close, the orgasm you’d been denied before was now coming back to claim you with a vengeance as trembles wracked your body, the pleasure you were feeling was making you quiver underneath him.

“You feel so good.”

He pushed himself up enough to be able to smirk at you, his face a little flushed and skin lines with a thin layer of sweat, before his eyes were sweeping over your face, and he was dipping down to press his lips to your own. Despite the rapid rhythm he held while fucking into you, his lips moved slowly and passionately over your own. It was like a love song, sweet and steady and tempting as you drowned in his touch, one of your hands shifting from his back to cup your jaw.

His tongue trailed over your lower lip, asking permission to play with your own, to which you eagerly granted, and he sighed happily into your mouth as the muscles dragged tentatively over one another. It was delicate, teasing together as the way your body quivered and clung to his was opposed by the frantically needy way his mouth was meeting your own. He was breathing life into your body while simultaneously stealing your breath away, and the combination of feelings raging through you all became too much.

You felt your climax crashing around you before you even realised it, rolling your hips up to meet his own as you tried to drag out your peak, feeling his thrusts grow sloppy as you clenched and tightened around him. He was kneeling up, hands holding your thighs wide open as he watched with rapt attention at the way his cock was sliding in and out of you, coated in your juices as your body moved erratically at the overstimulation, and he cursed under his breath at the sight.

Pulling out of you for only a second, he flipped you over onto your stomach, large hands roaming over your body, one gripping you hip tightly as the other pushed down between your shoulder blades, flattening you into the bed and slipping up higher to lace into your hair. Easing himself back into you, your tightened walls made everything feel heightened, your eyes rolling back and screams of desperation muffled by the covers beneath you, his fingers become a fist where they were tangled within the strands and you pushed your hips back into his, fucking yourself fon his cock as you tried to take the high you needed, despite only just coming down from your first.

He allowed you to do so, mumbling praises under his breath as he watched you slam yourself back onto his length, only to pull yourself almost off, whining each time his tip dragged at the rim of your entrance, before you were seating yourself on his dick once again.

When the pace had become too slow, he pulled both hands back, gripping your hips with such force there would be purple patches in their place in the morning, before he was setting a brutal pace. Clearly, the urge to take you slowly and romantically had flown out of the window because he was letting out the urgent groans of a man that was close to unravelling as he pounded into you, and your own noises - something between sobs and screams - were finally released when you tipped your head to the side and rested your cheek against the cushioned bedding.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. So good for me, you’re incredible!” He punctuated each word with a particularly deep and harsh thrust, your eyes lining with tears as the electricity in your body lit you up like lights on a tree, every nerve crackling and sparking with energy as your fingers clenched in the sheets and you pushed yourself back into him.

“Fuck, Mitch! Just like that! Oh, God..”

You felt this one coming, felt the waves take you over as you squeezed your eyes shut, everything going silent as your mind went fuzzy and body went numb, your pleasure surging through you for pure ecstasy as you came undone once again. He leaned over you, panting and pressing his mouth along your spine in movements that resembled kisses, his hand slipping around to push down on your neglected button, your body going stiff as it all became too much, and that seemed to throw him over the edge too.

Your body clamped around him like a vice grip, warm and wet and flooding with arousal just for him broke his walls, and his voice was raspy and deep, sounding so pornographic you felt yourself blushing despite everything that had already happened as he moaned your name, stilling within you and filling the rubber on his cock with his cum.

When the shaking between you both had dulled down enough for him to regain some strength, he pulled himself out of you, ridding himself of the condom and wrapping it in a few tissues as he padded his way across the room to the bathroom, and you fell down into the mattress, absolutely exhausted and thoroughly spent yet entirely satisfied, your body singing out in bliss.

Only a second later, you felt nimble fingers wrap around your ankle, pulling your legs apart before a warm cloth was swiping over your heat, and this time, you did feel your face flush with heat, a low and embarrassed laugh slipping from you. “What are you doing?”

“Taking care of you.” He spoke it like it was obvious, pressing a kiss to your temple before discarding the cloth across the room, and you watched him carefully, letting him pull you up into a sitting position, stripping the banner over your head and meeting your gaze, an eyebrow raising carefully. “What?”

“Nothing, I’m just.. not used to this, I guess.”

“One night stands with strippers in Vegas?” He joked, and you rolled your eyes fondly, watching as he tugged his boxers back up his legs, followed by his sweatpants, before he was scooping up the various other items scattered around the room.

“No, this whole sweet and caring thing. You’re different. I like it.” It was his turn to blush at your words, and instead of acknowledging them, he moved on, holding up his t-shirt as well as your silk camisole from before.

“Are these actually your pyjamas, or did you just wear them to look sexy?”

“Both? They’re not the most comfortable pyjamas, but they’re good for the heat.” He nodded at your thoughts, before passing you the shorts and dropping the top on the edge of the bed, offering you his t-shirt instead.

“You can wear mine, if you’d like? If you’re still up for that ‘chat’ we spoke about, that is.”

“I would love that, actually.” You accepted the material, tugging your shorts up your legs and pulling on his shirt, enjoying the way the soft cotton brushed over your skin, and he swiped up the bottle of vodka he’d brought as well as the room service menus, wiggling his eyebrows as you patted the spot next to you, the pair of you snuggling up into the fluffy pillows beside one another.

“Good, because I have a whole bunch of questions, there’s a lot I want to know about you.”

“Oh, yeah?” You laughed at his words, and he cracked the top of the bottle open, offering you the fresh bottle for the first sip, making sure you could see him open it, like a true gentleman, despite the first opinion that ‘stripper in Vegas’ gave off, and he was surprising you with every act.

“Yeah.”

“Well, we do have all night.”

The morning had come far too quickly for your liking, the sunlight just a little too bright and the blaring of your phone across the room was just a little too loud, and you stumbled over the carpet to find the device, shutting it off, considering getting back into bed for just a moment, before the realisation of the day came crashing back to you.

“Oh, my God! It’s the wedding day!”

A deep groan came from the pile of blankets, pillows and cushions on the bed in response. Making you way back over, you ran a single finger along his cheekbone, watching as his eyes cracked open to look at you, squinting and blinking against the light, but with a huff, he shifted himself a little more to be able to offer you a sweet smile.

“My best friend is getting married today!”

“She is indeed.” His morning voice was like something out of a wet dream, and you groaned under your breath, the same deep and raspy tone that had come progressively through the late hours as you’d slipped towards the point of being exhausted, before crashing only a few hours prior.

The night all came flooding back to you, bits and pieces, remembering just how long the two of you had talked for, sitting up among the pillows and sharing the food and drinks, nibbling on the snacks and telling jokes. Then, as the hour ticked by, you’d ended up cradled into his chest, previously light stories and fun facts from your lives had become deep confessions and longing wishes about the future and the past, your cheek pressed or his skin as he weaved a hand through your hair, your legs tangled together as you curled up under the blankets.

The sky had been lighting up with pale hues of colour, the sun threatening to rise before you’d finally stopped spilling the deepest secrets of your hearts to one another and instead remained wrapped up in every bit of each other as you drifted off for a few hours to snooze before the big day began. Now, you were practically bouncing on the tips of your toes, renewed with a fresh energy and excitement for the day.

“I have to be at breakfast in ten minutes!”

You were ducking into the bathroom only a second later, brushing your hair and tying it up in a messy bun atop your head, washing your face and preparing yourself for the hair and makeup you’d be having done once you’d eaten, scrubbing your teeth quickly and listening to the rustling of material on the other room.

When you emerged, you found he’d made the bed, the sheets straightened and pillows arranged tidily, his shoes already on his feet and phone tucked into his pocket. The plates from last night had been piled back up onto the trolley and pushed out into the corridor, the room neat and clean once again.

“You seem excited.”

“I am! I’m a maid of honour, and my friend is getting married! I couldn't be happier. Also, there’s going to be pastries at breakfast.” He beamed at your words, and you peeled his shirt up and over your head, neither of you caring for your nudity as you handed it back to him, letting him shrug it on and pull it down over his body, a mumble about it being warm and cosy barely reaching your ears. “You want to see my dress?”

“Of course, kitten.”

You flashed him a grin, winking at him in a playful response, before you were removing the silky shorts from your body too. Tossing them onto the bed for later, you rifled through your luggage for a fresh set of underwear, clipping your bra on and tugging the lace up your legs, before taking the plastic-covered dress from the wardrobe, the only garment you’d bothered to hang up.

Unzipping the wrap carefully, you freed your dress, shaking it out to free it of any wrinkles and holding it up before him, a low whistle sounding in appreciation as he reached out two fingers, brushing his knuckles against the cleek and velvety material. Undoing the zipper, you stepped into it with caution, easing your arms into the sleeves and leaving the back hanging open, choosing instead to push your feet into your heels, standing up to your full height before him, showing off the entire outfit.

“What do you think?” You did a little twirl, and he stepped towards you while your back was turned, pressing a kiss to your exposed shoulder before fasting the dress up for you, spinning you in his arms so that you were face to face.

“You’re beautiful.”

Instead of responding, you leaned into him, your lips meeting his in a chaste kiss. It was just a press of your lips to his, a happy hum on his lips as your mouth worked together in a slow dance, before a knocking at your door and the sounds of the other bridesmaids on the other side prompted you both to pull away, and you cleared your throat, telling them all to go onwards, and that you’d catch up with them in a moment.

“That’s your call.”

“Yes, it is.”

“I should go.” You gaped at him, eyes wide as he took a step back from you, and you instead reached out and took his wrist, pulling his movements to a halt as he looked at you curiously.

“Can I get your number, or something?”

“You already have my number.” He gave you a look as though you were supposed to know what that meant, your eyebrows furrowing and lips closing into a thin line as the tension between you both grew, and he let out a sigh, running a hand over his face. “Just call the same number and ask for me for your next event. I’ll be there.”

“Wait, what?” The cloud of confusion cleared very quickly, and you offered him a gentle smile, stepping into his space and raising a hand up to his cheek, his body a little stiff as he watched you. “I don’t want the club number, I want your number. I want to see you again.”

“But, why?”

His voice cracked a little when he spoke, and you swore your heart did the same, your thumb rubbing over his cheekbone carefully, and he tipped his head just barely in order to lean into your palm a little more, his eyes scanning yours with curiosity. “I was thinking maybe we could go to dinner, or something a little less cheesy. Like, go-karting, or a picnic.”

“Like a date?”

“Is that okay?” It was your turn to be nervous, and he let out a breathless laugh, ducking his head for only a second, before he was wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you into him, burying his face in your hair.

“Yeah, that’s so fucking okay with me.” He pressed a few kisses to your hairline, sighing happily against your skin as he all but sagged into you, clinging to you as you held him tightly. “Girls don’t really want to date me, because of the whole stripper thing. I’ve been alone for a long time, and I really like you.”

“I don’t care what you do for a job, honey. As long as I’m the only one you’re kissing and curling up with at night, you can do whatever you want.”

He pulled away, holding your face in his hands and fixing you with a gaze so intense and deep that you felt your knees go a little weak beneath you. “I promise. I’m really good in relationships, I just haven’t had the chance in so long. I’ll never hurt you, I swear it.”

You could only nod, lips flicking at the corners, and your voice hoarse as you finally managed to mumble out a response; “Kiss me, already.”

He did as told, smiling into the exchange as your mouth pressed together, a dance of their own being choreographed by your hearts, his hands holding your cheeks tightly as your own gripped at any space you could get, his chest, his hips, his back. You were dragging him closer, pulling him into you and holding on tightly.

It wasn’t like the kisses from the night before - hot and frantic and rushed, or like the ones from earlier - longing and anxious and lazy. Instead, it was slow and reassuring and passionate, easing his fears and your own as the two of you simply held onto one another, before your commitments for the day came rushing back, forcing you to snap away and drag a whine from the man before you.

“No, that was good. Let’s keep doing that.”

“Hm, maybe later, baby. I have a wedding to get to. The maid of honour can’t be late!” He sighed lowly, stealing another peck before he was backing off, hands raised as he licked at his lips to gain every bit of your taste, his eyes sweeping over you with admiration. “You know, I still have a plus one to the wedding.”

“Not this late you don’t.” He teased, running his hands over your sides affectionately as you swung your bag up onto your shoulder.

“One quick call to the reception and I’m sure we can squeeze in an extra seat and meal. If you’re interested.. that is?”

“You don’t think it would be weird if you took the stripper from her bachelorette to the party? You don’t think you’ll be judged?” His voice was light, and the slight drip of fear and worry dripping back into his tone, and you’d only just managed to ease that anxiety, before you were lacing your fingers with his and pulling him toward the door of your room.

“To hell with what they think. We’re all that matters.”

“You really are perfect for me.” His words were spoken like a dreamy sigh, and you rolled your eyes with no heat behind the action, closing the door behind you both and leaving the pair of you standing in the hotel halls. You leaned up, brushing your lips to his cheek, and leaving him with a slightly red face and a cheesy grin that he was trying to hide. “Give me your phone.”

You handed him over the device, and he punched in his number, finishing it off with a ridiculous selfie before he was handing it back to you, dragging the tips of his finger over your own when you touched, being sure to drag out even the simple bit of contact.

“Text me the details, kitten, I’ll be there.”

“Can’t wait.”

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