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anneapocalypse · 2 years ago

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It's really fascinating, looking back at my first impressions of Inquisition.

(Long rambling reflections follow!)

For one thing I had forgotten just how much trouble I had initially with the combat mechanics, with how different they were from the first two games. I was really struggling, and I think that had to have affected how the early game hit for me--it's difficult to take in a lot of the details when you're just trying to get a handle on the controls. It's always a challenge for me re-training my brain and muscle memory for a new game, but I think I'm much better at it now--these days I'm pretty frequently hopping back and forth between Dragon Age and FFXIV, very different games, without more than some hiccups.

I was playing exclusively on console at the time, and despite Inquisition's control scheme skewing heavily toward console, I much prefer it on PC. But I prefer basically everything on PC these days if I can get it. And still, the first time I played Inquisition on PC, I had to plug in a controller. Now I'm quite comfortable keyboard-and-mousing it, but it was a more difficult adjustment for DAI than for the previous two games, which I picked up pretty quickly.

It's genuinely funny reading my frustrated old liveblogs about TPKing in the Hinterlands, because... I've just reached that area in my replay, I'm playing the same character at the same difficulty level, I haven't even touched the companions' tactics yet, and I'm having no trouble taking down enemies. Even back then, I was like "This is just me being Bad at Games," and well, it was. :P I kinda have to conclude that I'm just plain Better at Games now! (The fact that on this playthrough I immediately crafted my own armor and weapons, which even with the most basic of materials still well outstrip the default kit, might also have something to do with it.)

One thing that has not changed: I hated the tac cam then and I hate it now. :P I still basically never use it in Inquisition.

Another thing that was clearly a big adjustment for me was just... this updated, higher-res vision of the world. In one of my early liveblogs I described it as feeling like "a weird fever dream about Thedas" rather than Thedas. Eight years and five playthroughs later, Inquisition is now fully integrated into my mental landscape of Thedas and I don't feel that way at all. Inquisition added a lot of new stuff, and it certainly recontextualized a lot of things we knew about the universe, but it doesn't on the whole feel like a departure from some pure vision to me; it's just a part of it.

I see a lot of criticisms and complaints in my early liveblogs. There are some that I still agree with. There are a lot of things that would be addressed, explained, or otherwise resolved later in the game. Like early on I talked about not being a big fan of "Chosen One" narratives, and in fact it turns out that the Inquisitor isn't a Chosen One at all, or at least it feels to me very intentionally written so that you can reject that reading, and the whole concept of Chosenness gets pretty thoroughly deconstructed later on. I made a crack about Haven having all these rough-hewn single-room cottages with fancy gilt-framed portraits on the wall--but even that starts to make more sense when I am reminded that Haven has been under the control of an Orlesian nobleman who married the Fereldan lady who owned the land, and in the intervening ten years it has become a pilgrimage destination for Andrastians with the means to make the trip--many of them likely Orlesian. That just wasn't something I was going to put together on my first clumsy playthrough, but now I see it. I do still have some lingering dislike for the word "Inquisition" being used for this organization and the whole game--I still kinda think it has a bit too much real-world baggage attached to it--but I've softened a little on that since playing Trespasser because I do think the game itself is meant to be subtly critical of the Inquisition as an institution. I was put off by how Leliana had grown away from her Origins self, but I've really completely come around on that since coming to better understand the things she's experienced in the intervening years. I read certain things as narrative framing the audience was meant to agree with which I now read as simply subjective in-character opinions (and which sometimes even have pushback from other characters.) I was really harsh on "The Dawn Will Come," which I read a lot differently now than I did then. I even unthinkingly repeated that now-extremely-tired joke about how there are barely any dragons in Dragon Age, which, embarrassing. :P (To be fair I didn't know about all the high dragons yet, but uh, still.)

I can confidently say today that the hair options are indeed bad--but also that they looked way worse on console. I stand behind wishing female dwarves were a bit broader and stockier, and I know I'm not alone in that. I was also mad about the continuing lack of dwarf romances, on which point I do have to concede that 2014!Anne was extremely valid. (I hadn't yet discovered the Harding mini-mance at the time, but that's still not a full romance).

I also said this:

For real though unless Skyhold has been protected by some kind of ancient elven magic, I can’t believe this game seriously expects me to believe this enormous and highly defensible fortress that is strategically placed near the Orlesian border has just lain empty for decades--

lol.

Going in, I see that I had pretty low expectations for the story but was really excited about the characters. Which isn't a bad approach to take necessarily (the characters are indeed great) but I also think I let a lot of the fandom climate at the time really... poison the well for me. When everyone's experiencing new canon for the first time, criticisms are inevitable and normal, but they can also get amplified and then sort of codified by that amplification and consensus to the point where, when the thing is actually addressed or resolved later in the story, it has an uphill battle to shake that already-crystallized idea that Thing Bad. (And that's to say nothing of the collective effect of so many people going in already having decided before the game came out that it would be Bad.) There are Thing Bad takes about Inquisition that are still common to this day, which I would have agreed with on that first playthrough, but no longer do because I've come to read them in a different light. More than anything, I regret being swayed by all the Sera hate I saw on my dash at the time to the point that I was honestly kind of afraid to give myself a chance to like her. When I finally did give Sera a chance I fell completely in love with her and she's ended up being one of my all-time faves.

Apart from that though, I was really loving the characters. I loved Cassandra, I loved Vivienne, I was digging the Josephine romance hard (and I'm so excited to finally finish it).

I actually put out a post asking followers to tell me if it was safe to proceed to close the Breach without finishing the Hinterlands because it seemed way too early to be endgame and I didn't want to lose any quests!

I wandered away from my first playthrough (and kinda from Dragon Age overall) somewhere mid-game, after "Here Lies the Abyss" but before "Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts." Looking at my old liveblogs I see that I was really loving my character, Calla Cadash; I made a lot of enthusiastic posts about her and her romance and friendships and I was even writing a ficlet series, and yet I do think that I was struggling a bit with her motivation to be in the Inquisition. Now that I've brought her back for a do-over, I think Calla is a great character that I'm going to love playing; she just wasn't a great first character for this game. Eleanor Trevelyan was the kind of character I needed to get me through my first playthrough: faithful but baffled, terrified but compassionate, a character who meshed easily with the plot and was motivated to do all the sidequests and most importantly had nowhere else to go. She was a perfect First Character. And once I knew the game and the story, it was easy enough to make up reasons why my other Inquisitors would stick around and become invested, and I got to start exploring other perspectives--but I needed that kind of First Character to get to know the story first. (Being a multi-world-state mess does work out well for me here. 😉)

As a part of this playthrough, I recreated my very first Warden, Jolene Cousland, and replayed her on PC. She is probably one of the more boring Wardens I've created, but it was fun to revisit her all the same, and more importantly she was a perfectly good First Character to introduce me to the game and the world. She worked. I still like her. I never really had a First Hawke, exactly, since I played Default Hawke the first time (super out of character for me but a friend at the time talked me into it; "Default Male Hawke is the best Hawke" was very much a Thing at the time 🙄). So I went ahead and made myself a new Hawke, Mallory, to fit into what is now my Rogues Gallery world state, and had a blast with her. And now, I'm back to Calla to finally give her the full story she deserves.

I've read through my old Calla posts, and some thing about her are definitely going to change, because I no longer have that First Playthrough pressure to see everything sitting on me. I get to focus on building the character, and seeing new things, and having fun with her.

It's been fun, if surreal and weird in some ways, to revisit that first playthrough and what my first thoughts on the game were, and how much my view of it has changed. I will certainly have all of this in mind when Dreadwolf comes out, and I have it in my hands and am experiencing it (and probably trying to learn a new combat system) for the first time.

#anne plays dai #many thoughts

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casspurrjoybell-33 · 8 months ago

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Wreckless - It's been a Rough Week

*Warning Adult Content*

Emmett

Finnegan has woken up twice.

That may not be accurate.

He's gotten out of bed twice.

Once he went to the bathroom and this time he went downstairs.

I hope he's been sleeping in between but I'm starting to worry he's not.

"Darling?"

He's standing in front of the window and jumps a bit when I speak even though I said it softly.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you up."

"Not worried about it. Can't sleep?"

"No."

"The alarm is on and I'm here, Finnegan."

I'm not stupid though... I know that's now how sleep or fear works.

"Come here and snuggle."

He does, thankfully and I wrap him up.

He smells so good... it's his cologne.

He has fancy shit that wears forever but luckily he doesn't overdo it.

I can only smell it now because we're practically molded together.

I have to kick the sheet off, the window AC can't keep up with this much shared body heat but I'm fine with that.

"Thanks. I'll sleep better tomorrow night."

I'm not sure if he's reassuring me or convincing himself.

"Probably. It's Sunday, maybe you can sneak a nap in."

"Yeah, after Mass I should. Sounds decadent. Thought about working but I'm not sure I have enough brain."

"No, I draw the line at working. Cartoon, snack, snuggle, all good."

Twenty minutes later I'm back asleep.

It's been a rough week.

Finnegan is busy.

He's only left the house with me one morning... he's been gone when I woke up every other day.

On Wednesday he was home for dinner but he's starting to worry me... there's working hard and then working yourself to death.

He's not sleeping great.

I'm not either.

The more I worry about him, the less sleep I get.

It's a vicious cycle.

Friday night and finally, he sleeps well.

He falls asleep before me and practically doesn't move all night.

No wonder, he's got to be exhausted.

Luckily I got dinner and some lovies into him before then and I don't have to work this Saturday so it's all good.

Maybe we're over the hump.. hump... I'm awful.

I spend most of Saturday trying to woo 'Little Finn' out.

I make little pancakes, we play Lego Harry Potter and I offer to take him to play mini-golf or go bowling and hit the arcade but he turns me down.

Mostly, I spend the day ignoring my birthday.

I don't have some sob story about not celebrating... I just don't.

It seems pointless to me.

All I've done is breathe for another year and that doesn't seem cake and balloon worthy.

At least Finnegan sleeps well even if there's no appearance of 'Little Finn'.

I miss that kid.

Finnegan can't be happy without him... he can't be.

********

Finnegan is at Mass which is good... he always seems a bit calmer when he comes back and this week he definitely needs some peace and calm.

Just before he's due home, Andy rings the bell.

I know it's Andy because his face pops up on my damn cell-phone.

I swear, there absolutely is such a thing as too much technology.

I let him in and he has pizza and beer and a Styrofoam container holding a piece of cake.

It's nice of him, really.

It's also weird.

I text Finnegan that Andy is over so he's not surprised when he gets home and ten minutes later he walks in the door.

"Hey Emmett, Andy. Ooh, is there any pizza left?"

"Yeah."

He beelines for the kitchen while my brain screams at me that you can't eat pizza in good clothes.

"Hey, is it your birthday, Andy?"

He's leaning against the door frame, pizza folded.

He's so cute but his question is gonna cause trouble.

He must have seen the cake... shit.

Andy just laughs.

"Nah. It's just this ass-hole's," he teases, tapping my beer.

Shit, now I drink.

At least it gives me a minute although it's really hard to think while chugging.

Finnegan waits until I'm finished and then very slowly, like he's trying not to yell, says...

"It's your birthday?"

Now I have to make it worse.

This is not how I wanted today to go.

"Yesterday."

Andy's eyes are wide, he realizes the severity of what's going on and just puts his bottle down.

"I just remembered, I've gotta.. uh.."

"I'd leave too, Andy... if I was you and after just dropping that bomb-shell," I joke.

"But thanks.... it was nice of you to think of me."

"You should have come by the alley last night like you said you would... then I wouldn't have had to cart this crap over here. Uh, see you later Finnegan."

I don't know where to start but as soon as the door closes I work on limiting the most recent damage.

"He asked me to and I said I might."

He's put his pizza down, shit.

His arms are crossed over his chest and he's mad.

"Look, some people make a big deal out of birthdays but I don't. I didn't want to do anything."

He's still quiet and it's somehow worse than him yelling.

I give him a minute but no, nothing.

Eventually he just walks past me and heads upstairs.

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diilchasp · 1 year ago

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alright just wanna preface this by saying this post is made on the basis of a myriad of half baked thoughts that have flitted through my brain over the years. my relationship with god and religion is confusing even to myself. and i think the conversation surrounding god and religion will never reach a common ground. these are my thoughts only, which can and probably will change in the future.

given the current trend, the number of people who consider themselves religious is dropping and will continue to do so in the future, at probably an even more accelerating rate.

here's the thing, although i do agree that a LOT of issues are caused directly or indirectly due to religion, i think a lot of people hold themselves back in the fear of karm.

that being said, a lot of perpetrators of violence are religious (not even counting violence that can be directly linked to religious beliefs)

BUT. we can say that as time goes by, education will be more accessible which can be linked to increase in tolerance. moreover the very obvious and rapid denunciation of religion will also lead to the power being taken away from religious individuals. the blind and unyielding trust in them will be replaced with scrutiny.

moreover, religious fanaticism will probably take a hit too.

as for unrelated crimes committed by religious individuals, i think they can be countered with education and (hopefully) better justice systems. talks of therapy and mental health have also started to loose the stigma surrounding them and although it may take quite some time to get to the peak, i think we're steadily heading that way.

all pluses upto here right?

yeah so let's say atheism is at its peak right now. this is how things can slowly start to descend.

nietchze argues- that humans enjoy being wicked just for the sake of being wicked or- the carnal delight “de faire le mal pour le plaisir de le faire,” to act wicked for the pleasure of being wicked.

a lot of times a myriad of torture and execution methods were displayed in royal marriages and festivals as a sick form of entertainment.

he argues is that bad conscience, in its developed form as the feeling of guilt, particularly associated with Christianity, is a form of legitimized cruelty turned inwards upon oneself. Nietzsche posits a fundamental human tendency to experience pleasure in inflicting suffering. He assigns the origins of bad conscience to ‘internalization’, in which aggressive instincts, curbed by civilized society, express themselves towards the self. The Christian God is invented as the perpetual guarantee of our deserving punishment for having aggressive animal instincts. Thus, bad conscience gains its value from the same origin as the instincts it opposes. (src)

now without having a god to cater to, will we slowly start loosing are morality, morality that quite possibly originated as a response to fear of god and what waits for us beyond death.

this may sound stupid because it is almost like we were born with a moral compass that was etched into our brains, but that is not the case.

and i am not saying that as soon as atheism takes over people will start torturing one another.

ok wait lemme bring out my notes from the gay science by nietchze lol-

[the parables of a madman]

so the arguments that have been put forward go something like this-

[alright so the graph above doesn't represent time frame (obviously) and is a very rough representation of what i am trying to convey]

but something that we havent considered yet is spirituality. i do think that religion will probably loose its pedestal in the next century, but imo, spirituality will not traverse the same path.

a society devoid of religion is not synonymous with a society devoid of suffering. and that is what spirituality does. it provides comfort of a meaning.

"People want to escape suffering, but if they can’t get out of it, they want to find meaning,” Norenzayan says. “For some reason, religion seems to give meaning to suffering – much more so than any secular ideal or belief that we know of.”

ok now i want to argue that people are being more cynical ab religion due to a number if stuff, moreover, spirituality as a whole is a more fluid and inclusive term for a myriad of varying beliefs.

as for suffering, that is something i agree with whole heartedly. the only thing that tethers me to theism is the hope that justice is served somewhere somehow. my mind refuses to even entertain the possibility of death being the final stage, because it just makes the world so much worse than it already is

But even if the world’s troubles were miraculously solved and we all led peaceful lives in equity, religion would probably still be around. This is because a god-shaped hole seems to exist in our species’ neuropsychology, thanks to a quirk of our evolution. Understanding this requires a delve into “dual process theory”. This psychological staple states that we have two very basic forms of thought: System 1 and System 2. System 2 evolved relatively recently. It’s the voice in our head – the narrator who never seems to shut up – that enables us to plan and think logically. In addition to helping us navigate the dangers of the world and find a mate, some scholars think that System 1 also enabled religions to evolve and perpetuate. System 1, for example, makes us instinctually primed to see life forces – a phenomenon called hypersensitive agency detection – everywhere we go, regardless of whether they’re there or not. Millennia ago, that tendency probably helped us avoid concealed danger, such as lions crouched in the grass or venomous snakes concealed in the bush. But it also made us vulnerable to inferring the existence of invisible agents – whether they took the form of a benevolent god watching over us, an unappeased ancestor punishing us with a drought or a monster lurking in the shadows. “A Scandinavian psychologist colleague of mine who is an atheist told me that his three-year-old daughter recently walked up to him and said, ‘God is everywhere all of the time.’ He and his wife couldn’t figure out where she’d gotten that idea from,” says Justin Barrett, director of the Thrive Center for Human Development at Fuller Theological Seminary in Pasadena, California, and author of Born Believers. “For his daughter, god was an elderly woman, so you know she didn’t get it from the Lutheran church.” For all of these reasons, many scholars believe that religion arose as “a byproduct of our cognitive disposition”, says Robert McCauley, director of the Center for Mind, Brain and Culture at Emory University in Atlanta, Georgia, and author of Why Religion Is Natural and Science Is Not. “Religions are cultural arrangements that evolved to engage and exploit these natural capacities in humans.” src

what i mean to say is that even though we might be able to get rid of religion, i dont think we'll ever truly get over spirituality.

“With education, exposure to science and critical thinking, people might stop trusting their intuitions,” Norenzayan says. “But the intuitions are there.”

this poses a challenge to everything i said above the graph (for the better of course)

#gods: devotion and blasphemy

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taechaos · 3 years ago

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Web of Lies

from Textbook Love drabble series

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: Soyeon is honest, Taehyung is using his last breaths to tell you the truth, and Jungkook is lying. It seems that everything you know boils down to Jungkook lying.

warnings: angst, panic attack, dry humping, the TINIEST bit of fluff

word count: 4.3k

Obstacles are inevitable in relationships; there’s always something that must go wrong. They can come in the form of arguments, disagreements, actions, or people like Taehyung. One physical obstacle that always knows when Jungkook is with you.

A few days after the fight between the two close friends, Taehyung’s nose somewhat healed and Jungkook doesn’t shy away from you as frequently. What’s the point when the people he tried to hide you from found out about his relationship with you anyway? The only reason he doesn’t approach you every time he sees you is because: 1. He doesn’t enjoy being clingy; that would mean he likes being around you all the time which he refuses to admit. 2. You would probably get tired of him and stop loving him. 3. He kissed your friend who always sits next to you outside.

Now that he’s taking most of his opportunities to talk to you, and maybe kiss you, Taehyung is growing restless. Every time Jungkook is with you, so is Taehyung. Some. Fucking. How.

To name one of the busts: when Jungkook was kissing you in the university’s hallway two days ago, Taehyung popped in out of nowhere and shouted, “Get a room, you sluts!” It made for a good laugh between the students, especially when Jungkook ran after him out of the building.

Another time is when Jungkook was watching you work in the yard and Taehyung joined you two to ask about that “one hot friend of yours”. You ended up telling him about Soyeon and Minnie while Jungkook glared at Taehyung that conveyed a clear message: Don’t. So, he didn’t. It didn’t have anything to do with getting elbowed when you weren’t looking.

It was because that would ruin the fun, and he has a sense of purpose while roaming the entire campus to make his fourth bust of the week. He’s searched the hot and empty spots, but he just can’t find the passionate couple anywhere. If he can’t keep disrupting their displays of affection, how will Jungkook get annoyed enough to spill the truth to you? You deserve that much, and if you still accept him, then Taehyung’s out of the picture.

Why can’t Jungkook see that?

For starters, one of the reasons is Jungkook is distracted and growing very irritated by the heavy stare he feels digging into his skin. Who the fuck is watching him? He thought it would be nice to keep you company in the main campus library by controlling your hand under the table over his clothed erection while you skim through your textbook for a light revision, but a pair of eyes behind a bookshelf won’t stop glaring into his soul through thick frames that he can’t see.

He blows out a breath and screws his eyes shut. His jaw clenches and you immediately catch on, worriedly asking, “What’s wrong?”

“Someone’s fucking watching me and I can’t get off,” he grits. Your cheeks heat and grow crimson when you glance down at your occupied hand, palmed by his bigger one in a tight grip.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, “we can go to my dorm, if you’d like? Whatever you want.” In an act of comfort, you stupidly start caressing his length until he stands up.

“Gotta confront the fucker.”

Right when he raises his foot to take a step in the direction that his senses lead him to, Taehyung joins in on the mission. “Who are we confronting?” he asks casually with an arm over Soyeon’s shoulder, who is trying to suppress a grimace at the intervention. Jungkook glances at him and then your friend before sucking his teeth and rolling his eyes.

You grin brightly at the greeting and explain, “Someone's watching him. He’s going to find the stalker.”

“Might’ve been me, oops,” Taehyung raises his brows guiltily before slumping on a wooden chair adjacent to you, looking around the spacious area that makes him feel too loud. When he notices Soyeon still standing, he tells her, “come, sit,” and pats the seat next to him. She does so timidly. “Isn’t it so wonderful—”

“Why are you here?” Jungkook interrupts, but Taehyung continues, “—that we’re forming a friend group of our own? We’re all so familiar with each other.”

“Oh, Soyeon hasn’t met Jungkook yet.”

Taehyung narrows his eyes at you with a scrunch of his nose. “Sure about that?” Jungkook strides behind his chair and starts massaging his shoulders; a very harsh massage that has him holding back a wince. “Oh, Kook, that’s a bit rough. Tell me, is he like this in bed too?”

You gape at him in surprise, bashful because your lover doesn’t kiss and tell, and he doesn’t look too happy about it either.

“Tae…” Jungkook snarls.

“Well, is he, Soyeon?”

The library’s silence graces your table as everyone falls quiet, if you don’t count Taehyung’s groans at Jungkook’s bruising hold that is. Soyeon’s jaw drops and her eyes widen at the sudden switch in your gaze, searching for answers from her. “That’s not funny, Taehyung,” she breaks the silence with her blunt statement.

“Don’t mind him, baby, he has brain damage,” Jungkook spits and brings a hand up to Taehyung’s hair to yank it back. “I’m going to fucking kill you,” he whispers in his ear.

Your features begin to soften from its hard expression until Taehyung smiles wickedly at you. “Oh yeah, it wasn’t sex, was it? It was a tongue battle-” His voice cuts off the moment Jungkook starts choking him with his elbow, and his gags fall on deaf ears. Soyeon tries to push him off, but you’re just blank because Jungkook isn’t denying it; it was as if he was expecting it, trying to stop him all along.

The sudden interest in your friend, the constant interruptions, the hits…

“Soyeon?” you call quietly with welling up tears. “Did you kiss him?”

Your best friend doesn’t lie, and apparently neither does Taehyung. Does Jungkook lie? You’re conflicted between living in bliss, ignoring the dying man in front of you because your boyfriend might have kissed Soyeon, and facing reality by asking the hard questions.

Her hands are still tugging on his shirt to save Taehyung, but her persistence weakens when she looks at you: guilty and… exposed? “I didn’t know it was him,” she confesses. It is indirect, and doesn’t reveal much except that she kissed the one man she wasn’t supposed to.

“When?”

“The party,” Taehyung wheezes as he struggles against Jungkook’s arm, his nails drawing blood on his skin. His face is red from the lack of oxygen but he isn’t worried about dying.

“Oh, he put you up to this, didn’t he?” Jungkook speaks through clenched teeth to Soyeon. “They’re setting me up, and who the fuck is watching me?!”

You stand up slowly and close your textbook with a soft thud, packing your materials so graciously. Your hands are shaking, but the tears blurring your vision don’t matter to you. Soyeon is honest, Taehyung is using his last breaths to tell you the truth, and Jungkook is lying. You sling your bag over your shoulder and trudge to the exit, counting your steps to calm down. You ignore Jungkook asking you where you’re going, Taehyung gasping for breath, and Soyeon telling him to leave you alone. It’s all muffled and you’re too sad to care.

It’s a case of he said she said, but your heart is siding with your friends with how painfully it pounds against your chest. Your trust in Jungkook couldn’t have been that fragile, could it? Why did it break with one sentence?

Heavy footfalls follow you beyond the exit, but you’re too distracted by trying to move your legs steadily to notice. It isn’t important enough to distract you from someone calling your name though, or the light weight of a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Hm?” you say without looking up, frozen in your steps.

“A-Are you okay?” A smooth voice asks.

“I’m a bit sad,” your voice cracks and wavers from holding back a meltdown, “hurt.” You want to recognize the blurred image of the man standing next to you, so you blink and a tear sheds from each eye. “I told you to never talk to me again, Jimin.” You feel overwhelmed, and yet the memory of the blackmail has little impact on your mess of emotions, but it doesn't help you feel better either.

“Sorry,” he breathes, “I still don’t understand why, but you can do the talking for me. Wh-what happened?”

“Why do you ask? So you can use that against me too?” you scoff through the lump in your throat. Confusion washes his soft features, so you add, “maybe another handjob for it?” You shrug off his hand and continue your walk of shame.

“I-I’ve never used anything against you, what are you talking about?” He’s chasing after you and it’s a bit of help in swaying your thoughts in a different direction, and your emotions towards anger and disbelief instead.

“Does a video ring a bell? The one you threatened to leak if I didn’t touch your…” You groan to yourself and quicken your pace towards your dorm. Maybe you could mope comfortably in there without the annoying presence of an arch enemy, who is feeding you more lies than you’re capable of consuming in one day.

“What? I never— Listen, I deleted that video the second I received it. Whoever told you that was lying, please!”

It seems that everything you know boils down to Jungkook lying. His love was a lie too, apparently. Maybe the Jungkook you know is just one big fat lie who can’t seem to tell you the truth in any moment you’ve been with him. How many times do you need to hear from others and yourself that Jungkook is lying?

“I know,” you whimper and run off.

Once Taehyung catches his breath after coughing for a minute straight with a fresh bruise blossoming on his neck, he interrupts the hushed argument between Jungkook and Soyeon by asking, “Where’d she go?”

“I don’t know, but you’re going straight to hell once I fucking kill you for good,” Jungkook fumes with flushed cheeks.

“If you die by murder, you go straight to Heaven. How do you not know this?” His voice is low from the assault and his throat aches, but he still attempts to lighten the mood.

“I swear to fucking God, Taehyung—” Jungkook stops his threat when he sees Soyeon sneakily walking away. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“Air,” Soyeon vaguely answers.

“Bullshit.” Jungkook tries to go after her, wanting to be the first to find your dorm so she doesn't say more about that night, but Taehyung holds onto his wrist to stop him.

“She needs time—”

“Fuck off.”

When Jungkook begins to walk off after yanking off his hand, Taehyung immediately searches around the room and takes out a pen from a cup on the reception desk before jumping Jungkook from behind just as he was about to leave. They struggle against each other and start rolling around, but Taehyung is driven by adrenaline as he grounds himself on top of him. He holds him down with his legs and uncaps the pen to start writing on his forehead.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Everyone in the library peeks at the commotion due to Jungkook’s loud yell, but neither of them pay mind as he tries to move away from the pen.

“See if she takes you seriously with dick written on your forehead,” Taehyung chuckles before sprinting off with him hot on his tail. Jungkook is stronger, but Taehyung is much faster as he loses him pretty quickly by hiding in an occupied lecture hall. The professor looks at him questioningly but he thinks fast and breathlessly asks the students, “Is Jeon Jungkook here? The headmaster is looking for him.” Some people search for him, but when no one makes a peep, he escapes the room and Jungkook’s wrath.

Now to go to your dorm before Jungkook scrubs off the ink…

“I didn’t know his name,” Soyeon murmurs while fidgeting with her fingers. When she came in the room, you were muffling your sobs with your pillow and all she saw was your jerking shoulders. She tried to comfort you, to hug you, but you weren’t exactly being friendly, and the setting is pretty much the same except she’s sitting on your bed while you still cry. “I asked people what he looked like, but it was just a description of every guy in the room. He wasn’t around for them to point at, and so I thought maybe he didn’t come. Then this guy kisses me on this couch, feels guilty about it, and tells me his name. I-I didn’t know it was Jungkook. He left for you anyway…”

Her attempt at consolation is fruitless because it only makes you cry harder. She rubs your back soothingly before standing up. “I’ll check up on you later. Let me know if you need anything, okay?” You nod against your stained pillow.

The moment she opens the door, Taehyung’s fist misses her head by an inch. “Oops,” he says before gently pushing her aside by her shoulder and entering. His eyes fall on your fetal position first thing and he pouts at you. “Aw, baby—”

“She doesn’t want to talk right now.”

“I’m good company,” he dismisses her with a flick of his wrist, “you can go.”

She rolls her eyes before shutting the door, and it’s only you and him now. Your hiccups fill the room as he sadly watches you, a quiet sigh leaving his mouth. “I tried to tell you. Well, I tried to get him to tell you.”

“Y-You said,” you snivel against the sheet, “th-that he was whipped for me.”

I said that to get you to open up. Even in his head it sounds cruel, so he rethinks his response with a grimace. “Jungkook told me he liked you.” Maybe shifting the blame wasn’t exactly much better, especially since he told him that after the claim, but you have enough on your plate.

“H-He told me he loved me,” you hiccup, releasing your death grip on the poor pillow. It’s a mask rather than a silencer now. Taehyung widens his eyes to himself and purses his lips. He takes Soyeon’s former seat and turns you on your back. His heart sinks a little when he sees your face: red nose, heavy lids, bloodshot eyes and quivering lips with messy hair. You look really pretty to him right now. “He lies so much. H-He even made me give Jimin a handjob.”

“Made you?” he repeats with his thumb drawing circular patterns on your collarbone.

You nod. “It’s a long story, and I don’t want to talk about it. It was horrible.”

His brows furrow at your tone. “That’s so fucked up... Man, you need to avoid him.”

“Jimin?”

“Jungkook. That’s too twisted, even for him. You’re an angel…” his palm reaches for your cheek and his thumb continues its soothing motions. “You didn’t deserve it.”

“Thank you,” you mouth and fresh tears brim as you try to swallow. It feels like you’re sick all over again, except there’s no misunderstanding to clear this time. He wipes a stray teardrop and smiles down at you; it’s a relaxing gesture. You close your eyes and hold onto his wrist, snuggling into his warm hand.

“I sound really cheesy, don’t I?” he chuckles. “Can’t lie, wish I had someone call me an angel after I caught my ex cheating on me.”

An involuntary giggle erupts from your mouth at his joke. “You’re an angel, Taehyung. An angel in disguise.” You peek at him before fluttering your eyes shut again. A pursed smile graces his lips, and he’s convinced he isn’t interested in you romantically, that it was just an invisible force drawing him closer to you, that he wasn’t the one aiming for your lips until a pound on the door resounds in the room.

You flinch away from his hand and he pulls back instantly; both of your heads shoot to the source of the noise.

“Open up!” Jungkook yells and continues fisting the door. “Open the fucking door!” Taehyung holds a finger against his lips, signalling you to stay silent until he leaves. “I want to talk. Open the door… please.” Neither of you say anything.

“Fine,” he agrees, “don’t talk. I’ll talk, but at least give me a sign that you’re here.” Before Taehyung can stop you, you rush to the door and knock once. You hear him slide down the door, presumably leaning his back against it and sitting on the floor. “Okay. I’m sor— They were lying—” you slam your fist against the door in denial. “Okay! But they weren’t telling the whole truth back there. I was um… on drugs. I was really fucking high, okay?”

“Yet your high-self still managed to yell at me! Clearly you weren’t high out of your mind,” you snap menacingly. He flinches at your sudden shut-down; he’s never heard you yell at him before, nor has he ever been the victim of your anger. It makes his heart drop.

“That was like, three hours after I got high! I was practically sober, plus, you weren’t talking to me that day!”

“I had lost my voice! I didn’t want you to get sick—"

“I DIDN’T FUCKING KNOW THAT!”

He gulps at your silence and inhales a deep breath to calm down. He hears you sniffle on the other side. “I-I didn’t know that. You wouldn’t kiss me, wouldn’t talk to me, and I didn’t know why. I thought you stopped loving me and… that really upset me.” He sighs to himself because he’s never opened up so honestly and it’s difficult, but he doesn’t exactly have a choice. It just feels so embarrassing.

Taehyung opens the window of your dorm and climbs out. You don’t see or hear it happen, too invested in your argument to even remember his existence. “Do you remember what I told you the night we did it for the first time?”

His face scrunches as he tries to replay the events beside the sex. The corner of his lip tugs upwards when he recalls you calling him a slut, but he’s still clueless as to why you’re bringing it up. You don’t leave him in the dark for long. “I told you I wouldn’t forgive you a second time.” He gnaws on his lip as his palms feel clammy with nervous sweat.

“W-We weren’t dating then,” he tries to justify. “I didn’t need forgiveness then. You’re so unfair!” He stands up and knocks with his fist again. “Let’s talk it out face to face, I’ll explain everything. You’re putting me at a disadvantage! Don’t you want clarity? Don’t you want this to work out?!” He starts chanting your name when you don’t answer. “I will break down this fucking door if you don’t open it,” he doesn’t sound nearly as intimidating as he usually does when threatening; he sounds more like he’s a second away from breaking down himself. “No, no… please. I-I’ll kiss another girl if you break up with me! You don’t want that, right? So just open the door.”

His tough façade crumbles the longer you ignore him, and he can’t believe the heavy weight he feels all over his body wants to leave in the form of tears. It stings in his eyes but he doesn’t dare let them fall. “You’re so fucking cruel!” He twists the door handle violently; desperately. A dry sob escapes him as he kicks the door one last time. “Oh God, oh God…” he tries to breathe but it doesn’t enter his lungs. It’s like being choked with a noose as he gasps and a tear runs down his cheek. His wheezes become so loud that you start hearing them and grow concerned.

You consider the possibility that it’s one of his tactics, trying to manipulate you, but you open the door anyway. It’s a slight crack and you barely get a look at him before he pushes it open completely and forces his way in. He sits on your bed and his shoulders hunch, breaths still shallow. “I didn’t mean it. I don’t like her, never did, I only— I was mad, and I couldn’t go through with it, and I’ve never shown you affection b-because I’ve only ever received it from you—” you hush his rambling with a hug, but he continues with his head against your stomach anyway, “I’ve never been in a relationship and I’m a fucking mess and I understand why you wouldn’t want to be with me, but please don’t leave me. I’ll do my homework, I’ll stop being mean, I won’t even talk if you don’t want me to, but please don’t stop talking to me.”

“Jungkook…” you trail in shock. “I’m here. Take a deep breath.” When he tries, it’s so shaky that it makes you tear up for the umpteenth time. You’re a mess with him. “In and out, love, in and out.” You would do it with him like an instructor, but it’s not possible when he’s squeezing your waist so tightly. It takes a few minutes for him to relax his grip and he looks up at you pitifully. “It’s okay,” you assure and pet his hair, “you’re okay.”

“I’m sorry. I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“I love you most,” he exhales. “I mean… I realized that night, that I only want to be with…”

“I get it,” you whisper to comfort him, knowing he has struggles with expressing himself, but he doesn’t stop. He wants to get it off his chest, and he quietly tells you, “I kissed another girl when I wanted to make you jealous, and then another to forget. I don’t want to do that, I mean I only want to kiss… you.”

You initiate it first by leaning down to peck his lips, and you don’t pull away too far. You peck him again, and then start kissing him. He’s never been this slow with you before, but the panic attack must have drained him. It’s the way that he doesn’t immediately turn it heated with the intent of taking it to the third base that warms your heart. He’s hesitant and taking his time, mindful of your reactions because you’re in control for once. You’re aware of how vulnerable he is being with you, and he conveys that with the gentle press of his lips.

He whimpers into the kiss, and it’s so quiet and mournful that you lean back but he chases after you. He doesn’t want to stop like you’d assumed, so you place your knees on either side of him and hover over his thighs. Even his hands are hesitant as he lightly sits you down on his lap by pulling your waist. You smile against him and with his submission, you swipe your tongue across his lip. He opens for you. You roll your tongue around his, and he eventually begins to suck on yours. There’s a pit in your stomach that confuses you; is it arousal? Flattery? You feel so special because you know he hasn’t been like this with anyone else; so powerless and passive.

It’s passionate. You inch your body a little closer to him and he grunts when you brush against his crotch before settling down. This isn’t about sexual needs, and you don’t treat it as such but your body has a mind of its own with its constant shuffling that turns him on. He doesn’t want to feel that way, but his hips have a subtle way of thrusting beneath you. His hums rumble and you kiss him harder, losing all your senses except for the warmth of his skin. You don’t notice him controlling the movement of your hips because he’s taking it slow, and you don’t need to know why he’s quietly moaning into you.

At least no one’s watching him now.

You pull back in surprise when he groans loudly, and you know he’s back to himself as his actions grow rough. You’re practically jumping when he grinds on you with his spit all over your mouth because of his explorative tongue. From past experience, you’ve figured out that Jungkook is more honest when he’s in the heat of the moment, so you inquire against his lips, “Why did you lie to me about Jimin?”

“That fucking freak,” he growls, “I needed a reason to get you to hate him. He didn’t stop you when it happened, did he?”

Still manipulative. “Will you do the same with Taehyung?”

“No, I,” his thrusts slow down, “I’m gonna, err…” He looks at you for help.

“You’re gonna be a good boy and talk things out with him, right?”

“Right,” he breathes, “talk.” He slams his lips against yours again, and it’s not long before he sighs at his climax with your cooperation. There’s a small patch growing on his pants through his underwear, and he cusses when he notices it. He pecks you one last time before hugging you and laying on the bed, cuddling you like a blanket. “Do you forgive me?”

You rest your head on his chest and feel his pulse to contemplate. He brings a hand up to your hair and starts running his fingers through it, unbothered by your lack of answer. “I’ll make it up to you,” he says. “Do you…” he clears his throat, “do you maybe want to have dinner with me?”

“Like a date?” you tease with a grin.

“Yes.”

“There’s my answer,” you lift your head to wink up at him. “But if you test me again, I’ll break your heart just as you did mine. Don’t worry though,” you whisper, “I’ll never leave you.”

#bts imagines #bts scenarios #jeon jungkook #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts fic #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook imagines #jjk smut #jeon jungkook smut #bts #networkbangtan

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oneofthosesimps · 4 years ago

Text

The Animal in Him

pairing: levi x fem!reader I nsfw

word count: 1986

summary: after erwin stares at you all day, levi's dark side takes over

warnings: anal, rough sex, dirtytalk, swearing, public sex, exposure/ humiliation, sub x dom

authors note: short stories suit me better, i think. and this time i really felt it again. besides, i wanted to try something anal, because it seems to me that this is rather rare among fanfictions (for whatever reason). if you like it, i might do part II, because i've already started <3

all credits to the artist of this pic

(unfortunately, i don't know who it's from. if anyone can help me further, feel free to write me)

-----

The sky is red orange, the sun is low and casts its last rays over the hills. Your hair shines as it falls down your back and individual strands wrap around your face over your shoulder. How beautiful it must look outside, you think to yourself, as your hands claw into the straw beneath you. A warm breeze comes in from outside, swirls around you, and continues to make its way down the hallway behind you. Far away you hear birds singing their songs as the sound of flesh hitting flesh almost drowns out the rest. The hand in your hair gets harder, gripping tighter, pulling at your scalp. You give in to the tugging, your head falling back into your neck, and a long moan escapes you. You hear the click of hooves and a horse snorting, disturbed by your sounds.

"Shut your mouth," it hisses behind you and your head is pulled back even further so you can see the wooden ceiling above you. Of course, you don't see a single spider web.

You moan louder and your legs begin to wobble beneath you. The hand loosens and joins the other one gripping your hip. Strong hands dig into the skin beneath them and you gasp.

"Everyone hears you, you little slut. Didn't I tell you to keep your mouth shut?".

"I-I'm sorry, sir."

At that word, his hands grip harder, leaving marks on your skin, clawing into your flesh. The thick cock inside you bores deeper into your creamy cunt, the angle changing slightly as it presses forward on your G-spot with each thrust. You drop your head forward, peering at the bale of straw below you with your image wobbling. Your half-open blouse shows just enough. Your bra sits uncomfortably under your breasts, pushing them up as they jiggle from front to back.

Your pussy feels drained, sore, as Levi thrusts indispensably into it. His eyebrows are drawn together, his teeth slightly bared as his dark gaze keeps wandering from his cock inside you, to your ass, to your back, to your face he can barely see, and back again. His brain tries to memorize every single spot on you and preserve that scene like a brand. Beads of sweat form on his forehead.

The knot in your belly tightens and more juice flows out of your core, making you even wetter. The next thrust hits differently, better, deeper. You moan loudly again, which is shattered by a slap to your ass. "Fuck, pet," he growls. His big hands grip your shoulders and he pulls you toward him, stopping his thrusts. His hot breath hits your neck, enveloping you. His hands drop to your breasts, trapping them. Your hard nipples stick forward and he pulls on them, almost painfully. Your eyes roll into your skull.

"What can your brain actually remember?" he hisses. "You can't keep your mouth shut. You can't stay standing on your own legs so I can fuck you. Hell, you can't even hold back in front of other men." The pain in your nipples intensifies as he pulls harder on them and you bite your lower lip. You squeeze your eyes shut and taste blood.

"I'm going to show Erwin what's mine, shit," he growls again. "If I catch him touching you one more time - no, if I catch him looking at you one more time, I'm going to break his bones." You whimper beneath him before he pulls his hands away and places them on your hips, but doesn't continue. The feeling of not having come, floods through you. It's no longer enough just to have his cock inside you. You want, no, need to come. You squirm slightly in his arms, trying to push his cock deeper inside you, more pressure. "Please, more, sir", you beg.

A deep, dark sound comes from his throat. His cock twitches inside you and he hears you sigh out. His gaze falls outside, out of the stable into the distance to the headquarters building. You follow him in confusion, seeing a few cadets walking around, lunch seems to be over. If you could see his face, you would notice through his half-closed eyes that there is no more of the silver left in his eyes. His pupils are blown, his look as dark as night.

"You know what, pet, you want to be heard all the time because you can't keep your damn mouth shut. Now you have the opportunity to give everyone a show." With his cock still buried deep inside, he drags you to your to the open stall door, out of your safe corner. The air is a little cooler now, circling around your nipples, which are hard again. You try to pull your blouse closed with your hands, but Levi pushes them aside, opens it again. "Oi, you don't want to do that".

"L-levi, no, please don't, it's not the same," you stammer.

"Ohh, it's not the same, she says. Stop whining."

You shiver a little and his body heat comes to you. You press against him tighter, hoping that no one around you will accidentally lay their eyes on you. You're aware that you're far away and probably no one could see anything, but the excitement inside you is rising anyway.

"I have another, better idea," he murmurs in your ear before pulling his cock out of you. You mewl at the loss of something inside you and are about to turn around when Levi takes your hips in his hands again and holds you tight.

"Bend over and spread your ass." Renewed confusion reflects on your face and Levi clicks his tongue in annoyance. He presses his hand into the small of your back and bends your torso forward. Your hands settle on your ass cheeks, spreading them for him, and he enjoys the sight.

"You know, pet," he murmurs as his hands caress your skin, "Erwin's gaze has been on your ass most of the time today. A thought popped into my head. I wonder what it feels like."

Your eyes widen as his glans touches your little hole. Your legs start to shake at the touch and your hands dig into your flesh. You look back over your shoulder at him. He rubs his cock back and forth, spreading your and his juice as a lubricant. In addition, he collects his saliva and spits on your most intimate place. His gaze falls on your face and he holds your gaze as he gently pushes and his tip enters you. You wince your face, but not in pain. This is different, the feeling is hard to describe. Your asshole is way, way too tight for him. Every single ring of your muscle is sucking him into you step by step, taking him captive. Levi's expression was indescribable. He had never felt anything like this before. You had always been tight, but this is a different act. A moan escapes him and you look at him. His eyes are closed and his lips are slightly parted. Your cheeks turn a deep red and he pushes further, your eyes twisting and you hold onto the frame of the door.

Reaching the end, he pauses for a moment, waiting for you to accept him a bit and for your body to get used to him before he slowly pulls his cock out again and repeats the motion. His body is screaming at him to be faster, to fuck you hard, to stretch your hole, but he wants to at least give you a few thrusts. Again, you feel every muscle accepting him, but this time much more easily. This repeats a few times before the first harder thrust comes. You finally groan out and that breaks the ice.

Levi increases his speed, the thrusts get harder, he literally fucks you away from him. His hands grip your waist to hold you back in place.

"I can see why Erwin keeps looking at your ass all the time," he growls. "He's probably dreaming about taking you like this. Any man would dream of fucking that hole if they knew how good it felt." At these words you moan loudly, your words lost in the surroundings and your anal muscle twitches. His moans get louder and he clenches his teeth. Around you, you hear the snorting of a horse again and you blush again as you think about what you are doing right now in this place. Never again would you have another connection with the stable.

"Fuck, pet, more of that. You are so infinitely tight." Levi's hand in the small of your back pushes you down harder and your ass comes further towards him. In the distance you can see more of your comrades and wonder all the way inside if they can hear and see you. What would you do if they could? The better question should be what would Levi do?

This sex is very different from others. The knot in your stomach isn't forming, there's no orgasm in sight, but the feeling was still one of the most pleasurable you've ever felt in your life. And Levi's reaction makes it all worth it either way. He looks like he's floating in heaven. His eyes fall on his cock in your asshole and he almost comes. He gives himself two slow thrusts, memorizing the image of your hole swallowing him before pulling his cock out. He has to pull himself together, he wants to enjoy this longer after all. At the sight of your little hole pulsing and trying to grasp the emptiness, the knot almost explodes again and the air in his lungs is forced out of him. He is speechless. He won't be able to stand another minute. He had never seen anything so erotic. Your face covered with a blush looks at him and his heart skips a beat. He now regrets using your hole for the first time here in the open. No one but him will ever see you like this, he swears to himself. What was he thinking, fucking you here? You deserved more. Never again, he tells himself, before thrusting into you again with one smooth thrust and fucking you like a madman. Your moans become uncontrolled, louder. He has only one thought: to fill you. To fill your asshole with his juice. To show Erwin that you belong to him, will belong to him forever. God, he loves you so incredibly. He loves your cunt as it milks him. He loves your asshole as it sucks around him.

Another thrust, another thrust, another thrust. The knot in his belly loosens, his juice squirts into you, filling you to the top. It's too much, which is why it's being pushed out the sides of his shaft as he tries to survive his orgasm. It almost knocks him out, the world spinning, coming apart at the seams. He clings to you for a constant point and you moan with him at the sounds he makes.

When he regains consciousness, he looks into your eyes, which sparkle at him, and he pulls out of you. Again, your asshole twitches at the loss and he would love to start all over again. Your body relaxes a bit and your back aches from the bad posture. It's already dawning on you how your butt will feel tomorrow.

"I'm sorry you didn't come," he murmurs, pulling you into his arms. His lips meet your forehead and he pulls your blouse down over your breasts. You snuggle up to him and enjoy his tender touch. He looks past you at the wet spot you just left on the floor - a mixture of your juice and his sperm. The animal in him takes hold again and overcomes him. His lips meet your ear, "I'll take you inside now, and then we'll repeat."

#aot fanfiction #attack on titan #snk x reader #shingeki no kyoujin #levi smut #levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi x you #levi x y/n #levi heichou

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muffindaddystyles · 3 years ago

Text

Tell me you love me, before I go.

A/N: A very short smutty writing I had in my swirling whole night, which unapologetically I ended up writing in the wee hours of dark.

Summary: Harry and Y/N are rivals -- very passive aggressive enemies. When on a mission Y/N breaks into his room he had no choice but to punish her.

AU: Rivals to lovers, dark sci-fi, angry rough sex, spanking and spitting, reassurance kink and unrequited love.

A war between two groups. Left one with nothing but a tech base and other with almost everything. So the Arsonists raid the Phantoms' buildings to steal food items and necessary fuels for their people since they're mostly unarmed due to lack of weapons they try to use their brain as much as possible.

Y/N works in one of the tech bases of Arsonists and right now she's standing with her five more mates trying to figure out how to break through these large gates of the villain's building, one of his most strong headquarters.

They've to collect some data before another truck of fuel arrives for Phantoms next Wednesday so they could have access to it without doing much effort.

Once sneaking in successfully because the two guards were too muddled in gossiping their arsess about their maiden. The building's nothing too extravagant, sleek and able to live, dimmed to an unpleasant light indicating everyone inside it is sleeping.

She barges into the villain's room easily and almost had all the information in her hands from his drawers when the door to the room banged close, startling her at spot and the frames of her glasses fell on the carpeted floor.

"Shit."

"D'ya think cursing would take ye' out of here? if so you're down bad" Her heart sinks in when his cold insensate voice booms within the walls — a heavy boot comes crushing her glasses, again and again mercilessly.

Her blood boils. Because, what the fuck. Doesn't he have any manners?

"Do you think I need my glasses to punch the shit out of you, you prick!!" She pounced at him, almost breaking his nose into a splitted eiffel tower but he dodged it, twisting her wrists at her back and snatching the files from her sneering menacingly —- letting her painful grunts fly over his head without any remorse.

"Well, well." She yelps when he tightens his grip angrily, "Look what cat dragged in come little mousey we're going to have some fun." She didn't know until now that someone could be this strong as he puts her in a chair like a rag doll binding her with no escape out.

She tries to squirm and wriggle her butt out but he just tuts standing tall and evil in front of her, she rakes her gaze slowly up to his tanned biceps and clavicles popping from underneath his flimsy shirt, matted curls grazing his shoulders.

"Oh no, trust me sweetheart, you're going to want to stay strapped in here. We're going to find out how many times an Arsonist can break –- and for the fact my people will kill you on the spot if you step out of my room." Shiver runs down her body from fear and he chuckles, flopping onto the edge of his bed, man spreading, leaning onto the heels of his palms behind him.

"You're pathetic!" She spits out. Full of venom.

"Pfft, a thief telling me that 'm pathetic." He shakes his head and she's despising his audacity as if he rules the world. She could kick him square in his sexy face but the thing's she's bound to this damn uncomfy chair.

"Atleast, I don't go on killing people." She grumps and it's like she pushed a button when his irises turn pitch dark. Her eyes widen in astonishment, reeking with fear when he leaves his spot in a thunder striding towards her furiously and drags the chair closer to him, almost lifting it inches above floor.

The next thing she knows that a gun is resting against her temple ready to be fired, "Ye' really that desperate fo' me to prove it to you, huh?" He growls, hooded gaze following the gun that's sliding down her cheek and the way her breath wavers —- lips trembles, nose twitches he knows he's fucked.

"Will it hurt?" If she's going to die it better be an easy way.

His eyes soften at that. Taking in the rosy features of her, the plushiness and squishiness of her skin that his fingers feels like dipping into cream. The women of Phantom aren't like this; they're built differently to fight and kill who wrongs them -- they're almost heartless at this point.

"Dunno, You'll get to know after taking one." He shrugs like it's not a biggie tipping her chin with the gun's pointer and her eyelids slip shuts. She couldn't cry. Even her dead body wouldn't forgive her if she would cry infront of her worst enemy for the last time.

"I hate you, Harry. I'd never ever forgive you for kidnapping my cat when we were small." There she said it. If she's gonna die soon she better let it off her chest. Before it could hit him right in the wound he builds a shield fast arguing back with a stoic chuckle.

"Guilt tripping wouldn't help, darling." He tuts patting her cheek with the gun's barrel —- funny case it's empty of bullets. He just shooted all of them whilst doing target practice.

"Fuck you." She yells.

"It'd take much more action than just undressing me naked with your bare eyes." He squeaks dramatically. Stepping away and pouts when she huffs trying to kick her feet in his direction.

"Not my fault that you're a perv."

He pouts feigning fake disappointment putting a hand on his chest, "You're such a grudge holder."

"Think about 10 ways to fuck me until then 'm heading to make amends for you -- see what they offer in return of their precious nerd." He smirks, it's sad such a gorgeous face could be such evil she thinks.

When he comes back she's fallen asleep from getting tired and exhausted being trapped in the same spot for hours, "Sorry, peaches but they don't want you back –- even told me to kill you if that what it ta —- oooh" He halts in his tracks closing the door behind him quietly not to wake her up and pads softly towards her, putting her dangling head back gently in a comfortable position and tucks a strand of her hair that's tickling her nose behind her ear.

You're not supposed to act that way with your enemy, you FUCKER.

His brain screams but his heart says otherwise.

She has changed. She never cries anymore. Everytime they kidnapped her or she ended up being caught from his henchmen —- she'd always need company to make her feel less frightened from the hollowness of their buildings, would cry when they'd lock her up in dark rooms.

It's awfully hurtful how once bestfriends turns into rivals just because of a conflict that ruined their and their families lives.

She has been doing all of this for people who doesn't even care about her. They're using her and many others like her to build a nuclear power plant so they could become intimidating.

He retires to sleep. Debating in his sleep whether he should just free her and tell her to sleep in one of the rooms of the buildings but soon the possibilities died when he was high in his slumber.

He groans, knuckling the sleepiness away from his eyes. He woke up from loud the thumping and found Y/N trying to break the door knob, he winces covering his ears when she screams watching him lunge towards her in rush.

His chocolate curls bouncing atop his head. His emerald eyes speaking with morning's gold and lips ripe like cherry. His brows kinked in annoyance and expression pinched in rage.

"You're confident." He rasps out in his morning husk and slams his hands on either side of her head trapping, cornering her between him and the wall.

"Did you really think it was going to be this easy." He nothing but purres, pushing her against the door. She gasps abruptly aware of their height differences moreso the radiation of power he daunts that she ignored her whole life.

"Hmm." He hummed. Eyes black with intimidation burning her under the intensity of it, he keeps his focus on her, smirking. "It suits you. This trying to fight me, desperation is a beautiful look on you."

"Fuck you."

"I mean if, ask nicely." His smile is sweetly honey and lethal if you ask me.

She glares at him with blazing daggers, "This isn't the way you make people love you." Her chest heaving with his heat close to her and his scent enveloping her.

"Love?" He laughs fondly even, crinkled forming by his eyes and he breathes out when she hovers her dry lips over his's, "Sweet thing this isn't about love — if ye ask me far from that." He's lying. He's full of bullshit.

"And yet you don't touch me or hurt me." She squints her eyes up at him wrecking her brain how to slip away from his hold, "If you beg so." He simpers awfully lewd for her. Sure as rock for what he said with his whole chest.

"Come get me then!" She trips him aside and rushes for the door when he pushes her into it tightening his hand around her throat, it's aching him to tell her the truth but he wants to let her know her worth. He rests his forehead against her's muttering a rumble deep within his chest, "They don't want you Y/N." Her windpipes squeezes painfully. The statement punching her lungs. Tears springing in her eyes.

"You're lying!!" She looks up at him shattered and desperate.

He caresses his knuckles against her tear stained cheek, "Shh, shh baby I'll always want you even if they don't — " He jerks back when she blows hit at his brawny chest yelling at him.

"It's because of you!! You, you, you." He sighs. Grabbing her wrists and pining them above her head, "Shut up, please." His chillness irks her more and she nips at him feastly.

"Make me." So he does. When her eyes drift up at his determined ones it takes her breath away and she knew it was over for her.

His lips catches her's in a hard kiss, driving them apart with the force of it. Nothing gentle mind mushing about it rather pricking needles into her skin with the severeness of it. She feels the door rattling against her back when he shifts, pushing her against it with his hips, every thought of her exploding into white noise of want and lust. The dark curl of desire twisting in her stomach and pearling sweat on her neck. With the last thread of restraint in herself she tries to pull away.

"No." He says bringing her lips back to his's. Cupping her cheeks to deepen the kiss and it's ardent as before not loosing it's spark, she slips her hands under his shirt — pulling him closer and the low groan at the back of his throat, a small pleading noise of want sets her skin on fire.

"Fuck me." She mewls. Trying to latch on his body like a kitten with it's dainty paws.

He glides his clammy palms down her bum and grabs her thighs wrapping them around his waist. Not breaking the kiss but tasting ever dulcet corners of her mouth and creating heavenly noises.

The next thing they know she's crawling back with the help of her bum to settle in the nest of pillows and he's fumbling with his belt buckle quite aggressively, she tugs the hem of his shirt down not satiated enough from having his lips on her and meanders her fingers in his hair to pull at them roughly in order to flush her chest up against his's.

"Never thought your sheets would have smelled other than sex." Because, genuinely. They smell that of fresh mint and roses.

"So, you think of me doing dirty on this bed you're laying at the moment?" He asks mock and degradation evident in his tone, "D'ya get wet dreamin' 'bout me railin' ye' to death?" He grazes his teeth along her jaw and sucks at her earlobe counting in her silence.

"Shut up." She gasps, probably from the abrupt press of his bulge against the inside of her thigh.

"Make me then." He growls. Fisting the hem of her hoodie and pulls it over her head throwing it among his skinny jeans. Her head falls back and lips tremble from the effect of slap he landed at her outer thigh —-- she knows she can't shut him.

Though he knows that her single command and he'd be at his knees for her.

When she clings to him for dear life and whimpers in his ear softly, his eyes widen in realization and he leans away to watch her expressions diffuse into manifold emotions. His nose scrunches up and he holds back his cooes for her.

She's a subby. A cute one.

Her eyes blink open to the sight of him out of his boxers and it waters her mouth —- her mind manipulating her to lunge forward and take his heavy member in her palm to give a good suck to his shiny crimson head.

Down her throat. Nestle her nose against the trim patch of hair under his balls.

"Like what y'see, doll?" He highers his chin quite smug about her staring and she hates him for that, "Pretty cocky for someone who likes staring at his enemy's tits." Her voice groggy. She wheezes a squeak through her nose when Harry pulls his shirt over his head revealing toned pecs and abs -- skin sewn with tats.

Unfortunately, she doesn't get to stare at it for longer when that shirt comes wrapping around her eyes blocking her sight.

He can never let her have nice things would he?

"Wanted to gag your mouth with it … but I'd rather love hearing you moan fo' daddy." He nips at her collarbones -- sucking it harshly to leave a prominent mark. His calloused hand rubs over her tummy smiling against her skin when she jolts and lets a little squeal slip.

His cock drips precome at her tummy and her breath shudders into heavy pants when the tip of his cock dipped in her belly button nudging it.

"Ha —- " He glides his sticky head down her happy trail and slips his large palm into her panties cupping her with his middle finger teasing her entrance, "Couldn't hear you!" He ducks down to put his ear near her lips and drums the pads of his digits against her cheek.

She huffs and squirms for a second then moans breathily when he spanks the side of her hip leaving a sting, "Oh my god, daddy." His grin victorious and he lowers down to smudge his lips against her parted ones -- kissing her tongue and humming around it.

She's somewhere it's hard to configure out, in between paradise and wonderland.

"Tell me princess, what d'I do with you in your filthy dreams?" He grabs her jaw patching gentle pecks against her lips and he slops his finger into her throbbing pussy, "Fuckin' drippin' down ye' bum fo' me." She cries out trying to hook her thigh around him but he hisses slapping her cunt hardly -- turning her into a thrashing mess. She's trying hard to suppress the bitter-sweet sensation of her own body getting out of control and her glistening pussy lips flutter erratically creating sloppy noises.

She squirts drenching the sheets underneath them and her panties.

He slides his arm under her arching back pushing her up against his chest with a jerk, "Daddy's askin' you somethin'." He grits, propping his knee in between her thighs to rub it against her soaking centre.

She gulps, licking her dry lips, "You–your rings … ah!" Her whimpers are muffled against his chest and he twists his thumb in tight circles to smear her wetness from her slit to clitoris, "What 'bout them, doll?"

How does she tell him she liked what he did earlier.

"Daddy, please … " She whines blindly searching for his face but he grips her wrists in his one hand and groans, "How's daddy gonna make you feel good when you don't tell him, pet?" He takes a kitten lick of her perky nipple. Teasing her areola with the tip of his cold tongue against her warm sweaty body —- he laps at it hungrily then creates a suckling noises, the noises, his slobbery tongue on her body, his fingers curled inside her pussy and the thick humidity is too overwhelming, she feels like fainting.

She wants him, inside her needy pussy.

She can't take the teasing anymore.

"Spanking! I – I liked it when you did it, please." He kisses her nipple for the last time before smashing his mouth against her's in a fervent sinfulness and parts away with a smooching noise to sit back on his heels, "It wasn't that hard was it? Just a word and I could give you my whole world." The sincerity in his voice makes her want to hug him and kiss him for lifetime but for now he has other plans as he rips her panties away moaning obscenely gruff at the sight of her pussy weeping for him to pound his cock inside her, so ready and full of dripping honeyed wetness for him.

"Your safe word is clouds." He whispers in her ear. He knows her limits and her resistance but by any chance he'd cross it he'd never forgive himself, "What's it?" He asks and she says in wavering, "Clouds."

"Atta girl." He pets her cheek.

Her nail scratches the side of his hands that are pinning her down when he spits on her already damp cunt, a loud noise resonates along with her needy cries when his free hand adorned in jewels came spanking her pussy and her pelvis remains lifted in air bathing in the sting of metal and the throb rattling in her whole core.

"This's what you wanted?" He kisses his teeth slapping her slick clit again and again, "To be roughed up by daddy, hmm." She bobs her head squirming and wriggling. Her words struck in her throat.

"To be manhandled." He hums a growlish moan tasting his own fingers coated in her juices, "I'll show you what being manhandled really feels like." He promises her. She gasps a sweet yelp when he flips her over and throws her bum up.

His cock rubbing against her thigh and her heartbeat fastens, anticipating something, crimping the sheets in her fists and mewls into the mattress when he spanks her ass loving the way it jiggles stroking it afterwards to subside the burn down before landing another brutal one.

She bolts her eyes shut throwing back her hips at him and he lays all the way over her back pushing her down on the bed, her cum trickling down the inside of her thigh, "Want daddy's cock?" He asks. Slicking the head of his prick up and down her asshole and slit.

When she nods vigorously he bumps it in furious circles against her swollen bundle of nerves, "Then beg fo' it," He says intimidatingly and she doesn't waste a second before blabbering shamelessly.

"Daddy … please I want your massive cock inside me, all of it." In her entire lifetime -- she never once uttered these kind of words.

His heart mushes into a puddle seeing her a babbling mess and grabby hands for him, he kisses her gently speaking to her with foremost affectionate, "shh, shh moppet. You could have it anytime you want it, daddy's g'na fill you to rim with his cum and make you keep it there for hours with his prick still snug inside your little pussy, just made for him, c'mere...yeah just like that." He lays her back gently that her front is facing him now and wraps his hand around her calve raising it and pushing it against her chest firmly.

A series of pornographic moans and whimpers echoes in his bedroom when he seathes inside her slowly stretching her out in by inch leaving a burn behind her pulsating walls, their breath laboured breaths mingling, "Fuck you're so warm baby —-- hugging daddy's cock so good." He whines looking down where they're connected and knotted. His stomach twists and turns, his hips stiffens and he resists from pushing inside her when she's not ready but her milking him with her wetness isn't doing him any mercy too.

She gropes his ass, nudging him to move and their teeths clanks, temples falls against eachother and lips whisper prayers of their unrequited love when he pulls all the way back to pound back inside her roughly.

"You're daddy's good girl, making him feel so good. I want to keep you to myself. all of you and cherish you, make love to you, w'na mark you however I want." He groans eyes rolling back under his closed lids grinding his hips against her's in rhythmic pleasuring motions to give her clit stimulations and she cries out feeling another bursting orgasm bubbling in her tummy.

"'M gonna cum, daddy!" She tugs at his roots and he drives more maniacly inside her, "Squirt around daddy's cock pet, so your pussy could swallow it deeper inside you." The headboard of bed hits against the wall vigorously and she digs her heels deeper into the dimples at his back moaning at the top of her lungs when she gushes all over his dick making more squelching, soapy, dirty noises of him raming inside her.

She desires for more.

She has become one little insatiable thing.

His balls smacks against her bum and his thursts turn faster to chase his high, "Fuck, fuck, fuck." He curses nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck and keeps his hand around his throat with the slight pressure of claimation.

"Come fo' me again." He spanks her ass and she clamps shut down at him pushing him to the edge of ecstasy, "Squeezing me so tight -- gimme more, I know you can princess." Her legs tremble around his waist when she crampies around him and his cock's head strokes against her sweet spot doing wonders to just topple her off real quick.

"Daddy!" She feels floaty and foggy head coming on his cock for the many times she has forgotten. Her mind blocking out even the weak shuddering whimpers and beaten moans of Harry as he reaches his orgasm unloading inside her -- his cum sticking thickly to her walls and some of it oozing outside of her pussy hole but he pumps it back with lazy strokes.

He lifts his smushed face from the dip of her neck, his own curls sweaty against the nape of his neck and he smoothes his palms down her sides to calm her, his lips brushing featherly against the corner of her mouth as she keeps on blabbering something.

When he tries to pull out gently she cries out pawing at his shoulders, "Daddy no!" He caresses her sweaty hair back and gets rid of her blindfold, pecking her nose sweetly.

He wants to take care of her. He yearned to have her like this for years. He has to bring her back from her sub-space before it's too late.

"It's no daddy anymore, petal. I'll crush you in this position — " Carefully he tries to retreat but stop when she says in a very dejected feeble voice, bottom lip wobbling and tears springing at the corners of her eyes, "You don't want me too?" OH NO. This's what Harry was afraid about. A breakdown. He saw the storm coming but didn't know it could be this worst right when she's in her sub-space.

His face pales at that. His state in frenzy and panic.

"No bubba. I want you my precious girl -- s'just you're gonna get tired like this, hmm. 'N I have so much to show you and make you meet new people -- couldn't have me baby walkin' on her wobbly legs for whole day could I?" He cups her cheeks tenderly and smiles down at her warmly smothering her in devoted kisses.

"Promise, daddy?" She sniffles staring up at him with doe innocent eyes and he shakes his head, "Harry sweet angel, come back to me moppet." He keeps his gaze locked with her's, gliding his thumb delicately against her cheeks and seals his promise with a kiss.

"Promise."

She lets him pull out and he shushes her wrecked whimpers with his lips. Falling to side with a large puff of breather and embraces her with his arm slinged around her shoulders protectively and she hides her face in his chest, mumbling incoherent things and he tries to stay with her emotionally and physically much as possible -- assuring her and soothing her with his sweet nothings.

"Harry." She whispers softly and his ears perks up at that looking down at her with most loving eyes, "Hi baby." He giggles quietly kissing the tip of her nose and she sniffs cuddling into him.

"Sorry —- " He shakes his head pinching her chin to make her look up.

"You don't have to darling -- s'okay, everything's alright." After, making sure she's okay and giving her million re-assurances because he loves to he cleaned her with a damp wash rag.

"Such a pretty babe." He makes her blush treating her as if she's a china glass doll who'd break at his slightest poke and showers her in praises and kisses because dunno who got her self-esteem and confidence like that but that person sure needs to get punched in their face.

"Did I hurt you?" He asks tenderly applying a thin layer of cream on her red imprints. She shakes her intervining her fingers into his's one by one and kisses his knuckle, "No."

"Good." He chuckles as if he was holding his breath.

"How bout you take a lil nap and I see if I could bring us some brekkie, hmm?" He's gonna break his own rule. Taking food from mess area to your rooms and taking long showers was never allowed, having lights on after 12 because of the risk of attacks.

"'M not hungry, please stay." Her eyes half open and her face buried into his scented pillow, "Dunno. But to me you look like y'could faint any time soon." He says sternly pulling a snugly clean duvet over her body.

"Okie but come back quick."

"Don't worry. In a snap I'll be infront of you."

It's her fourth day here. She came out of his room to socialize just a day before and she realized from the nasty glowers thrown her way that not a single person likes her.

But it felt like spending a lifespan with Harry. To fill the emptiness of all those moments of their childhood together they lost once after the war.

She got to know he's the best cuddler and likes to be a small spoon, she loves to jetpack him. He seems rather scary and is scary when he's commanding people off -- they wouldn't dare but to speak a word over him but he's this big softie Y/N likes to squish in their privacy.

He got her glasses fixed and put them over her nose with a mishevious kiss, she was unable to not to grin when he murmered against her lips, "Now you could punch me with your glasses on."

"Seems like I don't have to do that anymore." She shrugged squealing afterwards when he threw her over his shoulder tickling her till all she coul see was him and stars.

It was all going on track until now when she was passing through the lobby to go to Harry who's practicing out in field, "What are you doing here Alex?" She asks angrily grabbing his arm and he tells her feeling relieved she's okay, "I'm here to take you back."

"But they don't want me back." She grits, he catches her wrist pleading her sadly, "We want you back -- Nia waits for you daily." Nia is his five years daughter.

"I know that … but — " How she's gonna tell him she's in love with one person they despise with their whole hearts.

"But what — "

"Alex!!" He was in the midst when she sees a bullet approaching his way from the side of his shoulder and screeches loudly pushing him aside, the bullet makes it's home in her chest.

It was fired from Harry's gun with his own hands that were loving on her an hour ago. Life drains out of his body and he feels sickness approaching to split his throat, knees turning weak as he stares his shaking hand in horror.

Before, he could do anything another bullet hits Y/N in shoulder knocking her to floor and this time it was one of his people, the shot was fired on instinct.

"Put your gun down!!" He shouts at him shoving him away with a single forceful push and strides towards where the love of his life's laying in a pool of blood.

He pulls his hair maniacly, falling to his knees and pulls her up in his lap cradling her head gently to press his lips against her forehead, "No,no,no,no baby." He sobs wiping his tears away harshly to see her properly.

"Ouch. It actually hurts." She gives him a frail smile raising her shaky hand to cup his cheek.

Will it hurt?

You'll get to know after taking one.

He wishes he could takes his words back.

"You'll be fine, you're okay, 'm so so sorry moppet. Didn't-- didn't know y'were standing behind him, bu –-- but s'...s'okay yeah —-- call the doctor!! Why nobody has called him yet!!!" His scream thunders aggressively as everyone watches their commander this defenceless and vulnerable infront of them for the first time in shock.

"It's not your fault, okay?" She manages to speak groaning and eyes rolling back from pain residing in her bones torturesly, he cries out like a wounded puppy patting her cheek to keep her awake, "Please stay with me baby, please." Her chest tightens. His chest tightens from the fear of loosing her and he stands up carrying her bridal style tumbling his way on wobbly legs towards the medical ward in the building.

His tears shiny droplets on her skin and she nuzzles into his fragrance for the last time.

"There was no happy ending to this," She murmurs. Any, sign of life fading from inside her and replacing her eyes with stoness.

He brings her closer to himself, "hey, hey now none of that -- you're not leaving. 'M not letting you leave." He kicks open the door and lays her limp body on the stretcher. Snapping his head outrageously in every direction to find any doctor but none and drags his palms down his teary face.

He couldn't stop crying.

He's loosing the sunlight of his bleak life he must protect her at all costs.

But, life's prize is something that would have him selling all of what he had worked for and still he'd be unable to even bring her back from cold dark earth.

"Shit. Shit ---– I'll patch you up myself. I know how to take a bullet out — " He creates a ruckus around to collect stuff, "Harry! Harry! listen to me." but her hollow anguish calls for him breaks him at last.

"How about you spend these last few minutes with me because 'm really 'bout to die commander." She tries to keep her anxious voice cheery but fails drastically coughing blood, "Don't say that baby -- I just got you, don't leave me, don't make me hate myself again." Sad tears trickles down her cheeks and he feels like fainting imagining the pain, agony and fear she's suffering from.

She's hating to leave him.

"Maybe in afterlife, we could have a nice homely house, long warm baths and two smol kittens —- and oh I forgive you for kidnapping my cat." She admires him for the last time wiping his tears away and tries to lift his head that's lowered into shame.

She's so fond of him at the moment.

She gulps, trying to gasp for oxygen feeling her heartbeat drop to zero, pleading him, "Tell me you love me before I go." His bloodshot eyes snap to her's and his chest heaves ruggedly with heartbreaking sobs -- his words full of sorrow tasting the bitterness of goodbye on her lips streaking away the blood on her mouth.

"I love you so much, baby. Never stopped. Never will." She cries at last kissing him back with all the blood she has left pumping to her heart and tries to exchange the words but it was too late before she lost it all -- cold in his loving embrace.

"Stay…." He begs praying like he did never before.

"Y/N!!" He screams trying to shake her alive and hugs his angel to himself with mournful wails.

Everyone standing outside the room knows that they'll never see this Harry again.

#harry styles smut #harry styles #harry styles one shots #harry styles dirty imagines #harry smut #You guys are gonna hate me for this #i cried too #pls fetch some tissue before reading

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years ago

Text

friends? no.

HANK ‘TRANQ’ LOZA.

MAYANS MC ┃ USEFUL LINKS

❝ request by @queenbeered: Dear Aurora, you gorgeous, amazing queen. I absolutely love your prompts list, so many fun ideas and I can't wait to see what you come up with. Can I please request number one on your smut list with Hank? Need some big guy in my life. 😘😘😘

❝ prompt: “Friends? No, I don’t think so. Friends don’t know the way you taste”.

❝ words: about 1.2k.

❝ warnings: nsfw, unprotected sex, mention of bodily fluids, language.

❝ a / n: as always, don’t forget to comment and reblog if you liked it!

“Friends?”

Tranq hasn't given you a chance to welcome him when his question has been launched as soon as you've opened the front door of your house. He has a shoulder rested against the frame, frowning. His chest falls and rises a little bit furious, breathing through his nostrils as he glances at you. Needing a couple of seconds to figure out what he is talking about, you tilt your head like a confused dog, sticking out the spoon stained with ice cream from your mouth.

“You told Mariela we are friends?”

“Oh, oh… oh”. Now you get it. “Aren't we?”

“Friends? No, I don’t think so. Friends don’t know the way you taste”.

Hank comes in without needing an invitation, grabbing the spoon to throw it somewhere and kicking the door close. He's angry. He's going to put it on you and you aren't going to complain. Briefly squatting, he places his huge and strong hands around the back of your thighs, to push you onto his body. Tranq collides his lips on yours, invading your mouth with his playful and keen tongue, drinking a raspy gasp that borns in your throat.

Yes, you told that girl that you were only friends because you weren't anything else than relief for each other in the small hours. You've been in love with him ever since —I mean, how couldn't you? You let him enter your life, you helped him whenever he needed it, but you weren't expecting him to have the same sentiments. Apparently, you have been wrong the whole time.

The Mexican sits on your sofa keeping you on your lap, as his hands squeeze your ass with so much desire contained about to show you what's the real thing between the two of you. “Stopped being friends the first time you moaned my name, sweetheart”.

Hank is so hard under the rough fabric of his jeans that the friction is causing your brain to collapse. He is forcing you to swing your hips, needing to hear those sweets noises you can't control anytime he gives you all his attention. Commonly, he's the lovable man on earth. He worships you —your body—, he takes his time, he pushes your limits with so much tenderness that you can't live without him anymore. But your insecurities have killed you anytime you've compared yourself with Mariela. An exuberant woman with charisma and power beaming. How could you compete against her?

The metallic noise his belt being undone provokes brings you back to reality. The sweetest melody on earth. Pulling yourself away with a lack of oxygen more than evident, you stand up on your bare feet to strip yourself. It doesn't take you too long, at all times under his lustful dark gaze, watching you toss your t-shirt somewhere and pull your panties down by your thighs. Tranq only rolls his jeans and boxers to his ankles; he knows about that kink you have of being fully naked for him while he's still on that leather kutte you love.

“Com'ere”. He demands whilst pumping himself with his right hand, using the left to grab your wrist and push you on top of him.

You can't help but giggle in a low tone, cutting off your laughs with an unexpected deep thrust. He has pressed your body down, practically impaling you with all his length. And he is big. He's too big. You normally need a couple of seconds to adjust your walls to his hard dick, but this time Hank is mad, very mad at you. The bitter sensation he has been carrying the whole day from one side to another because you said you are only friends, has made him feel angrier as the time has passed by till meeting you again.

He doesn't let you breathe. He doesn't let you mold your soaked pussy to his thickness. He forces you to swing your hips back and forth, dancing and bouncing over his cock. His huge fingers are nailed in your skin as he has reclined his back on the sofa, having a better view of your breasts jumping slightly with every move. Tranq loves every inch of your body, but these two are his favorite part. He could spend hours sleeping on them —or sucking, biting, licking, playing with them.

As his chest falls and rises breathless, his grunts fill your living room creating a filthy song with your moan and your pleas. Putting your hands on both sides of his neck, leaning forward a little, you devour his lips as the pace becomes faster and deeper. There's no man who can make you feel this good, this fill, this satisfied. There's no man who can give you the pleasure Tranq gives you. You both know it. And there's no man who can treat you better than him —with so much carelessness, love and adoration.

You know you won't last for too long as every pound is well-aimed to your g-spot, making you cry out his name whenever he forces you to go more downward. He knows exactly what he's doing. Giving you a lesson. Making you desire him more and more, so you won't dare again in your life to say that you're only friends.

And before you can react, Tranq has turned your bodies in such a master move, pinning your back to the sofa without pulling himself out from you. Now, he's between your legs, buried deep inside you as much as he can. A hand pulling your hair, five fingers gripping your throat, a tongue invading your mouth and his twitching huge cock splitting your tight cunt in two. Your eyes are rolled to the back of your head, while Tranq continues drinking your begs asking for more, and more, and more.

You're closer than you think of cumming, not needing anything else in life right now. And as his pushes become rougher, hitting your guts with no mercy, you let yourself go with a loud and pleased whining.

“Shit… that's it, preciosa… cream my dick… c'mon”. Hank grunts onto your ear, not stopping until he can release his own seed straight to your soul.

You feel filled by a warm sensation, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him down; inside you, deeper. That's the best sensation after a quickly with him. Spend some more seconds with Tranq balls-buried into you, with all his weight over your body as he tries to catch back his breathing. Then, the soft mood comes back. He's not annoyed anymore, although he's still not understanding why you said what you said. Hank spreads sloppy kisses all around your face, tiredly stroking the sides of your thighs while he goes just a little more deeper causing you to moan against his neck.

“You feel it, ah?” He whispers huskily, caressing your ear with the tip of his nose. “This dick is only yours… Can you feel it, mi amor?”

You nod your head exhausted, tightening the grip around his waist. You want him closer. You want to melt your bodies into the same anatomy. You need him all the time; physical and psychologically. It's something that you can't explain, but you can't get rid of either.

“Good… Don't make me explain it twice”.

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MAYANS MC: @multiyfandomgirl40 @countryash345 @skyofficialxx @lovebennycolonmiguelgalindo @bellisperennis0 @chibsytelford @trulysuccubus @purrrrfect @witching-hour @leathercladmenfics @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @queenbeered @sesamepancakes @gemini0410 @pinguinstudiert @oscars-wifeyyy @meteora-fc @lozaa94 @arveeee @joupym @hanster1998 @missswritings @arana-alpha @lucillewinchester @theocatkov @telfordlowmans @tclaerh @aurelie-celine

#tranq loza x reader #hank tranq loza x reader #mayans mc x reader #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader

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knockknockchicagopd · 4 years ago

Text

❛ WHO'S THE ALPHA? ❜

❚❙ REQUEST BY ANON: hi there💞 can i request where reader and antiono dawson are dating in secret and she's pregnant and now they getting it on with some smut in his office and her father hank catches them with some angst please

❚❙ ANTONIO DAWSON MASTERLIST.

❚❙ WORDS: about 1.9k

❚❙ NOTES: There's no smut because I couldn't imagine the situation of being caught in the act, also keeping in mind that reader is Hank's daughter. There's no way Antonio would take that kind of risk.

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place, or something that it makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted.

❚❙ GIF credits: to the author.

❚❙ Tag list: @melblacc @rebelwrites @skyofficialxx @sesamepancakes @scarletsoldierrr @mondefantastique @that-chick212 @enbyamaro @anotherfan07 @ocetevasgirl @sophie-writes @destynelseclipsa @jadakiss13. If you want to be added to my tag list, send me a message.

Since you knew this morning that you're pregnant, you haven't stopped thinking about how you are going to say it to Antonio. It's not a big deal, but it means that your father will know it too. And that's a real problem. But the happiness inside you doesn't let you worry now about that. It's been a long year hiding it from him and maybe it's a good way for him to discover it.

Honestly, you can't wait till coming to his house to tell him and, by the time it is, your father must be in your home already. So you decide to drive to the District. Antonio has to be there, since he hasn't text you yet. Leaving your car in the private parking, you walk in by the back door, going upstairs straight to the Intelligence Unit, passing away what they call the cage and the interview rooms. You can't contain the smile curving up your lips when you find your boyfriend very focused on something in his computer, writing down some kind of notes in a report. He doesn't even notice your presence, till you're in front of him.

“Voight left ten minutes ago”. He says, keeping up appearances just in case someone can hear you.

“We're alone”. You reply raising both eyebrows.

Leaning back on his chair to check both sides of his office, he drags his seat away from his desk enough for you to sit on his lap. Infected by your smile, Antonio can't help but draw the same gesture while placing an arm around your waist and his other hand on the back of your head. He's delighted to see you after a long day of paperwork and his ass stuck on his chair. Sometimes he doesn't know if it is worse to be there or to be in the street. But you're his reward, so he doesn't complain.

His lips find yours in a sigh, purring against them when he feels your warm wrapping him. The only thing he needs. His kisses are soft, slow, gentle. Just like his caresses. Just like him all the time. You found the most tender man you could ask for, and you thank God every day of your life. He takes care of you like no one else, with the most minimal details, without asking anything back. You two are made for each other, that's a fact.

“Antonio… baby, I have to tell you something”.

“Can't it wait?” He mumbles pecking your lips once and again, watching him bite his in the short meantime of meeting again.

“Yeah, actually for… like seven months, more or less”.

With his mouth on yours but not moving a single inch, he pulls himself away from you frowning confused. Your boyfriend doesn't last longer than two seconds to put his brain cells to work and connects the dots. His gesture changes from playful and joy to a big pout, as his eyes are filled up with tears.

“Dios mío”.

It's the first time you watch him crying since you know him, for more than eight years. You don't doubt cleaning the tears that fall down by his cheek, as his sobs become a little constant.

“Are you sure?” He asks with a broken tone of voice, tilting his head for a moment. You just nod in silence. “When did… you know?”

“This morning. I'm two months now… Are you… happy?”

“Of course I am, princesa”. Lively laughing, he urges you to stand up to do the same and push you into a tight hug between his arms.

Of course, it wasn't something you two planned. And of course, it wasn't something you two were expecting. But you have never felt this blissfulness in your life. You're in a rollercoaster of emotions right now, just like your boyfriend who doesn't know what to say, nor what to do more than to spread a bunch of kisses all around your face trying to transmit you every single thing he is feeling right now.

Since Laura left him, Antonio thought he would never be loved with so much intensity, and then, you clapped eyes on each other. You know him ever since practically, but that time was different. You had a rare day in the hospital and he had closed a two-months investigation satisfactory. But you were tired like never before, feeling vulnerable and with a mix of emotions roaming your bodies. You came to the District looking for your father, but he was gone to celebrate already, so he offered himself to drive you home. And it just simply happened.

One year after, you're expecting your first baby. And probably not the last.

“Making friends?”

The well known tone of voice of your father interrupts your moment. Your bodies are frozen against the other, putting distance between both slowly. Gulping and turning toward the sergeant, you watch him waving a hand waiting for an answer. The tip of his tongue licks his teeth, arching an eyebrow as his face hardens. You aren't able to say anything, looking at your boyfriend who seems more terrified than you, rubbing his forehead.

“Hm…”

Your father grabs his gun from the holster on his belt, taking the safety off. You know he's just pressuring you to talk, but you block his possible target by putting ahead of Antonio. Just in case.

“Dad… Dad, list—listen”.

“I'm listening, baby girl”. He scoffs, placing his hands crossed under his abdomen.

“We… Uh…” Your heart is racing so fast that you're afraid to collapse, until you feel one of Antonio's hands hold yours, placing himself by your side. “We're together… like… a couple”.

“You're not anymore. Go home and wait for me there”.

“Da—”.

“Don't make me say it twice, (Y/N)”.

“Go. We will talk later, I promise you”. Your boyfriend's whisper doesn't make you feel convinced, but you obey in silence not being another option.

With your arms around your abdomen and your hands trembling tangled on your own uniform, you leave the District looking back every two seconds. It's not like Hank controls your life, but this is a question of honor, and you trust in Antonio. You know they need to be alone to talk some sense into him. But you also know what is going to happen.

Two long hours sitting on your sofa, desperate with your phone between both fingers waiting for a call, a text, anything. You knew it wasn't a good idea to hide it from your father, but to be honest, you didn't know that Antonio and you could go that far. The baby wasn't something planned, it just happened. You haven't even had time to react, but you still have some hope. Hank would never forbid you to continue this relationship now that you're pregnant. Though you know it's not going to be easy for him to assimilate it.

When the lights of a big SUV illuminates the street and the facade of your house, you don't lose time getting up from your seat to run to the entrance, opening the door and waiting for your father to say something as he steps out of his car. He doesn't look happy, not at all. You've lied to him all this time and you're aware of how hurt his ego is right now. It's going to cost you more than a sorry to bring back his trust in you. Licking your bottom lip in silence, you can't help but go downstairs to meet him on his path.

Hank has his hands kept in the pocket of his jeans with a rough and disappointed gesture in his face. You aren't sure what to say, being just a couple steps away from him.

“Maybe Antonio tripped and broke his nose”. He just says with feigned innocence, causing you to arch an eyebrow and cross your arms on your chest. “He's in the Chicago Med. You should go”.

Your father is about to pass you away to the inside when you stop him by a hand on his chest, pushing him back to face you.

“You're still my favorite man on earth”. You mumble bowing your head down for a second, till he holds your hand to place a kiss on the back of it.

“That's why he isn't dead, princess”.

“Isn't it because I am pregnant, and he is the father?” Not trying to contain a soft grin, you grab his other hand to lace your fingers with his and place them on your belly, knowing it's going to work.

“His grandfather is more than enough”. Hank replies squinting at you, before tilting his head to press a kiss on your forehead.

Leaving the front of your house straight to your car, he waits for you outside till you abandon your neighborhood to take the highway and reach the hospital faster. You're ashamed, you can't lie, but if your father didn't have a single scratch means that Antonio didn't hit him back, which is good. He still knows who the alpha is. You can go against the world, but not against Hank Voight. That's a fact. Everybody in Chicago knows it.

Not caring too much about how you park your car, your legs move quicker to the Emergencies being received by Will, who is trying to not laugh pressing both lips against the other. Making you a sign with a silent congratulations, your eyes travel around the open doors till finding Antonio sitting on a stretcher with his head bowed down, swinging his feet.

Knocking on the white metallic frame, you stick your head out of it with a sweet smile on the corner of your lips. “Need a ride back home, inspector?”

“May I need a nurse too”.

His brown eyes have a shine that only appears in them when he sees you after a long, long day; when he's about to be hugged by you, kissed, touched, loved. Putting down from the stretcher, you help your boyfriend to wear his jacket and zip it up over his torso.

“You okay?” Feeling your cheeks burning because of the shame, you put both hands on his neck to take a look of his nose covered with a gauze.

“He just threatened me and punched me. Honestly, I thought he would bring me to a remote place to make me dig my own grave. I think it did quite well, don't you?”

Antonio's positivism makes you laugh, nodding with your chin. Holding your arms and taking them to his mouth, he kisses both with so much care and tenderness, before tilting his head to catch your lips between his. At first, it's weird and awkward for you to be kissen for him in public, after a year hiding it. But it only lasts a short second. You can't wait to stop containing your impulses for hugging him and holding his hand and calling him amor in front of all; not in front of your dad, obviously. You're too young to die.

#lemme know what you think in a comment! ⚡#chicago pd #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd x reader #antonio dawson #antonio dawson x reader #antonio dawson imagine

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razrbladekiss · 3 years ago

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Tyrants | Chapter Four - Peril

WORD COUNT: 5.1k

WARNINGS: Mentions of death, drug use, Tig being Tig. The usual SOA shit. Sorry Donna..

She always saw the beauty in darkness. The lugubrious belle that came alongside the moon and stars and whatever else lurked amidst the murk of nighttime.

Isla was cliche in that sense.

She was cliche in the sense that she adored watching the sun set, swallowed by the mountains and high-rise buildings as the evening fell and Charming was painted black.

And maybe it was mostly melancholic because of the horrors that swathed that small town, but it was still beautiful nonetheless.

She still liked to bask in the scenery, to discern the marvel of her home, from the highest point she could access. And, sometimes, she liked to take somebody along with her so she wasn't completely alone.

"Why'd you still come up here?" Ope asked, pulling himself onto the roof as she sat with her back to the wall--puffing on a cigarette.

"Because it's quiet." She was content, comfortable with her response. "And whenever I'm looking for Jax, or Gem, or my dad--or they're looking for me--this is where we're almost always found. Just people watching, or reminiscing, or having a few minutes to ourselves away from the chaos downstairs."

It wasn't an unknown safe space--Gemma had told her that JT and Clay would climb up there during the earliest days of the club--but it was special.

Jax, Opie, and Isla spent time up there as kids, too. Because they were bastards and were always running from their fathers--and den mother--and the roof of the clubhouse was their go-to.

She never really got out of that habit. She'd spend hours up there if she could, just watching as Charming bustled beneath her. And she liked that it was separate to the garage, but everyone knew where to find her if they needed her.

"It clears your head, being up here." She added. "I have got so much shit going on right now--between work, and my personal life--but coming up here is like a refreshment, I guess."

Opie understood what she meant because he was also seeking comfort in the night. Riding through dusk, spending time alone on his bike as he cruised the streets of his quaint town, relishing in the darkness because it was strangely comforting to him.

He liked to be alone. His thoughts were brutal and they seared his brain left and fucking right, but he liked his own company.

"Wish I thought about comin' up here when I was released from holding." The man chuckled, balancing a cigarette between his lips. "Stahl grilled the fuck outta me."

"She did?"

"Yeah. She really fuckin' did." He added, grunting as smoke blew from his nostrils. "Did she get you? I know she got Gemma."

"Nope, she didn't. I don't know why, though. She interrogated everyone else. Starting to feel a little left out."

Opie chuckled, smiling a bit. "Be glad. It's obvious that she's used to getting what she wants."

"And did you give it to her?"

"Fuck no." Isla smiled. Proud. "She can cross-examine me all she fuckin' wants—I'll never sell the club out."

"They know that, Ope."

"I know." Half confidently, he nodded. "Just—Stahl made me second guess it all, y'know?"

Nobody in Charming--aside from the PD--knew where that despicable bitch came from, and nobody cared to ask.

What they did know, though, was that she had her heart set on making that town a living fucking hell as she strived to eradicate the Sons of Anarchy by getting to its members.

She'd grilled everyone she could've. She cornered Gemma when she was out running errands, leaving the grocery store with a sour taste in her mouth when Teller told her where to fucking shove it.

Same went for Jax, and Clay, and Chibs, and Tig, and...Well, all of them told her to get fucked, actually.

None of them caved. None of them wanted to sell the club out because there was no reason to.

Well, there was a reason to, but no desire to.

There'd been murders. Three, to be specific. And one of them just happened to be a police officer--which was quite unlucky, but it wasn't awful.

They hated cops.

What they hated more, however, was the idea of getting caught by them. And Clay was. Somehow, anyway.

Piney's old "friend"--Nate Meineke--needed quality, albeit illegal, guns with no traceability to attack the convoy that was transporting one of his friends from point A to point B. And it went as swimmingly as possible...

Until June Stahl was put on the case and found that idiot's phone at the scene after dropping it mid-ambush.

Clay just happened to be the last person he had called. Which then caused the investigation to point toward Charming.

They all knew the Sons were guilty of supplying those weapons. Who else would it have been? They were known for running illegal firearms without batch numbers from a quaint Californian town whose name didn't quite fit its image.

It was blatant, though nobody gave it up.

But Stahl tried her damndest to get answers. And when she didn't, she targeted the member that she saw to be the most vulnerable--after a hit went wrong and he failed to cover his tracks--and Opie just happened to be that guy.

She questioned him for hours. She practically held the man captive in that little cell until he caved. But he didn't--and he wasn't going to, either.

He was loyal. That's one of the reasons why Jax wanted to patch him back in.

"Yeah, I know." Isla got to her feet when she heard Tig yelling for her downstairs. "But you're the strongest guy I know, Ope. I don't think Stahl, of all people, is gonna get to you."

He shrugged her off, flicking the butt of his cigarette to the gravelly ground of the roof.

Opie had changed. Not much, and it wasn't very apparent, but he'd changed. Chino had changed him, she thought.

He was still dedicated to his club, still in love with the reaper and the responsibility that came with the patch--but Opie Winston lacked that flicker of enthusiasm now.

"How does your dad feel about you being back at the table?"

"Said he's proud of me."

He was a man of very, very few words. But the tone that he took--the sheer relief twined into contentment--spoke a greater volume.

Piney would always support his son, feel a sense of gratification from his involvement in the club. And, of course, Ope felt grateful to be back--but it was different now.

He'd served time for his club. Donna consistently argued that they sold him out and that he was fucking stupid for running back into the arms of SAMCRO.

But it was his brotherhood. The Sons of Anarchy were his family--his lifeline. He was nothing if not blessed to be patched back in.

"And I guess that wife of yours isn't too happy about it?"

"How'd you reach that conclusion?"

"Well," she ignored that Tig was waiting for her, standing directly in front of him. "If she was genuinely thrilled about you being back here, she'd have been coming to Gemma's dinners, and spending more time at the clubhouse with us. But she isn't, and I'm starting to realize that she probably hates me now."

His head shook. "She doesn't hate you. It's just...It's just raw. Weird being back, I think."

"She didn't even have to leave. She knows that."

Donna did know that. But there was always something about Gemma. About the way she let things slide so often, how she felt that she had Clay so pussy whipped that he'd be at her every beck and call--but, really, that was redundant. Because Gemma let him get away with fucking murder.

Literally.

"Is she gonna be there tonight?

"Of course. She wouldn't miss Jax's son coming home." He got up, reaching for her hands. "Sorry that she's been so distant with you, Isla. But she's just been stressed out--money worries and the kids and stuff, y'know?"

"Yeah, I know."

Donna wasn't traditionally a worrier. But five years worth of finances, being a single mom, and fretting over her husband potentially not making it out of prison alive, just did that to a woman.

"Anything I can do to help?"

"I don't think so." Grateful for her offering, though recognizing how damn stubborn his wife was, he conceded. "Thanks, though."

"Anytime. And if you change your mind, or need me, you know where I am--"

"Isla!"

"He is getting on my last fucking nerve today." She groaned, flipping Tig off as she looked over the ledge. "I'm coming! Give me a minute!"

"I've given you plenty of minutes! Just get your ass down here!"

"Just go," Ope chuckled, leaning down to peck her cheek. "We can have this talk another time."

Isla turned back to him, frowning. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. Go 'n talk to him--I'll see you tonight."

He was such a nice guy. So considerate, kind.

She loved him a lot.

The flouncy sundress rose to the middle of her thighs as she sauntered through the clubhouse, hearing Trager talking--rather conspicuously, though slightly muffled--to somebody on his cell.

"C'mon, Tiggy. Why'd you yell at me?"

He waved his hand to shut her up, gesturing for the blonde to follow him out of the clubhouse and toward his bike.

"Yeah, cool. K, brother--see 'ya later. Bye." He hung up and slid the phone into the pocket of his cut, swiveling to face Isla with a smile. "You ready?"

"For what?"

"The party?" Tig told her, watching confusion sweep over her face. "I'm taking you over 'cuz you want a drink and don't wanna drive home after? And that you're probably gonna end up heading home with Juice, or something--"

"Juice?"

"It always happens," he shrugged, pointing at the helmet he set out for her at the back of his bike. "We all head out, you get too drunk, you take a liking to Juicy, and you try to ride his dick."

"What?" Isla got herself situated behind him as he got on first, her arms wound around his waist. "That was one time. I've only slept with him once, and I told you it'd never happen again."

"And why is that?"

Her cheeks flushed red, the engine revving sending vibrations through her entire frame.

"Because he was too gentle." Tig's foot collided with the kickstand.

"And the little Catholic girl likes it rough."

She felt the solid gold crucifix burning a hole into her chest.

"Yes. I like it rough." He groaned, leaning into her. She swatted at his chest over his shoulder, laughing heartily. "Just take me to see the baby, dickhead."

The bike sped out of the lot and Isla was loving the thrill of being on two wheels. She'd always liked being stuck to the back of somebody's Harley--but she'd never own one herself.

Isla was like Gemma. She felt stable enough riding with somebody, but riding alone--being in control of the motorcycle--was fucking terrifying.

Jax and Opie had encouraged her to take a ride at one point, but it didn't end very well, and Chibs spent the best part of two hours trying to stitch his daughter back up whilst Gemma castigated the two imbeciles who thought it was even reminiscent of a good idea.

Weaving through traffic gracefully, freely, was appealing to her, however. But she wouldn't be caught dead--alone--on a fucking bike.

Plus, she quite enjoyed being taken places. Escorted by a member of the club. It was safe.

The wind whirred and whipped around them, and she wished she didn't make the effort with her hair tonight. It was ruined, tousled to within an inch of its life, and she dreaded the thought of having to brush the knots out in Jax's bathroom.

Still, commuting via Harley was a hell of a lot quicker and had a few more benefits than commuting via car.

But the looks that they got were piercing. Horrible. Mainly from Hale stationed beside his squad car, watching as Isla and Tig raced down the freeway.

"He likes you." He spoke over the roaring engine when he hit the first stop light all night. "He hates that you've never given him a chance--"

"He's a cop, and I'm the outlaw's daughter. I've been raised to hate his kind."

Tig nodded his approval, setting off once again when the light switched to green and all opposing traffic stood still.

At one strange point in time, David Hale had his sights set on Isla Telford. He was in love with her. Completely besotted.

And she never gave him a second glance because, for one, she wasn't interested. He hated that she was so close to Jax and Opie, but not him, and he wished that she'd push herself away from the bad guys to grow closer to the heroic law-enforcer.

But he was a control freak above everything else, and Isla was just a free-spirit. She was loyal to her friends and family but she didn't want to get tied down, and she didn't want to become friendly with a fucking cop.

The only cop she liked was crooked. And Unser was in a similar spot to her--a little too affiliated with SAMCRO, but not completely doted on. Though, they were both strangely essential fixtures, and Clay would've been lost without them.

"Juice is here." Tig taunted as he helped her off the bike, holding her hand when she stumbled over herself a little. "Try to keep those panties on."

"Can't make any promises, Tiger." Her growl was seductive, though he knew that she was fucking with him.

She'd given up rebuking his claims, instead feeding into them because, with Trager, she couldn't seem to win. He was sleazy, and she loved that back and forth.

What she loved more, though, was that he was comfortable. He was a strange man, and nobody really understood just where he came from, but Isla liked that she could make jokes of any kind around him. He was easy to get along with. Easy to love.

And, man, did she love Alex Trager.

"If you do fuck him, though, would you make a video?"

Isla stepped into Jax's front room, turning on her heels. "Who said that we haven't already got one?"

She chuckled and wandered into the party, leaving Tig with a few convoluted thoughts and even more raunchy questions.

"Fuck. Gemma taught her well." He grumbled under his breath, reaching for the beer in Half-Sack's hand.

He slumped on the couch, motioning for his usual lay to sit in his lap as he watched Juice fawn over his little blonde friend making conversation with some other random woman already.

"Yeah, totally..." she agreed with whatever the girl was saying, but her eyes were glued on Tara. Just floating around the party.

She felt bad that the doctor was alone. Despite all that she thought of her, being out of ones depth in such an intimidating setting wasn't very nice. And Isla was an empath.

"D'ya think anyone 'round here has any nail glue?"

"Gemma might." She smiled, pointing toward the kitchen.

Grateful that she managed to shake that one off, Isla weaved through the small conclave and sat beside Tara, offering a friendly face during a time of such discomfiture.

Her heart was aching, the sheer nervousness was palpable, and she knew that Tara felt the same way too.

But Isla just sucked it up. Because she wanted to talk to her, and had to be the one to initiate it.

"Thanks for coming." Her smile was wide, genuine.

She offered a beer to the brunette, hoping that she'd take it.

"Thanks for asking me here." Tara accepted it, glad that Isla remembered she wasn't particularly a wine girl like herself.

Christ. This is awkward.

"Trust me, you were the first person I asked to come tonight."

"How so?"

"Well," a little bit more comfortably, she faced her completely, "you've literally nursed Abel back to health. You've been there every step of the way. You've been the best surgeon. And, as much as I hate to say it, you helped Wendy so much, Tara. I'm really thankful for all that you've done for this family."

"It's my job." She tried to brush the comments off, but her heart definitely fluttered at the praise.

Isla never changed. She was still the sweetest soul, she thought.

"I know, but you've had it rough with this lot--with Gemma, I mean."

"She isn't anything I can't handle." Confidently, she asserted.

"I know, and I'm glad that you're able to stand your ground." Reluctant, a hand landed against Tara's palm.

She jolted a little bit, but softened into the embrace.

It was comfy, warm. Prosperous, perhaps, because it meant something. Tara not jerking away and leaving once Isla offered a friendly embrace, was promising.

They spoke about the baby for a little while, and shared a few laughs at Tig's expense. It was strange, really. To be talking to her ex-best friend was strange, but she'd missed it.

Donna joined the mix, too, and it was starting to feel like old times. Isla recognized that they'd never slip back into that routine, the dedication to one another that they'd known when they were kids--but it was nice.

The conversation stuttered and it wasn't able to flow as freely as what she might've liked, but it was a start.

To know that she had something resembling an acquaintanceship with two women she admired, was nice.

And Jax introducing his baby to his brand new home, to his extended family that were already so fucking dedicated to him, was just the most wonderful thing ever.

"What about a beer?" Clay joked, holding the bottle close to Abel. Jax laughed, though he shook his hand away. "What? Grandpa can't give him his first beer?"

"No, he can't."

"I'll take it, though. If you're offerin'." Chibs grabbed the Budweiser and twisted the cap with the leather grip of his glove.

He gestured to Isla, tipping it toward her. "Want some?"

"No, you're alright." She went back to her wine, smiling at that little bundle of happiness in Jax's arms, wondering how the hell he'd gotten to be in this position now.

But it was because of Tara. Her commitment, her talent, and sheer want to help that angel through the roughest patch that a baby could have possibly been thrust into.

How Gemma could still loathe that girl--after everything she did--was beyond her completely.

Tara was the unlikeliest hero in Abel's story.

"Why is it that every time I see you, your highlights get more chunky?" Gemma smiled at the comment, turning to see her favorite girl, flaunting the most beautiful smile.

She handed Isla the bottle of whatever wine Chibs could get this evening, unable to quit beaming at the thought of her grandson finally being at home. Where he belonged.

"I told you I'd do them for you, Gem."

"I know," she nodded, playing with a few strands of hair, "I was gonna ask you, but you've been a little distant this week--didn't wanna add to your workload, baby."

"That's super considerate of you. Are you alright?" Isla teased, holding a hand to Gemma's forehead.

She slapped it away with a laugh. "Fuck you. I'm always considerate."

"Sure you are. That's why Wendy is here, right?"

"No," her head shook, "she's here 'cuz this is her house. If I had it my way, she'd be out on her ass faster than what you could even say 'crank whore.'"

Isla wiped at her lips with the back of her hand, tipping her head toward the blonde in the living room.

"I thought you made sure she was gonna be here tonight?" Confused, she quizzed.

She was under the impression that Wendy was starting to grow on her. After she'd tried to kill her, of course.

"I did," Gem confirmed. "But only because I knew it'd be awkward between her and Tara."

Amazed, or maybe fucking horrified, Isla simply glared at her.

It should've been obvious to her--plain as day--that Gemma Teller doing a good thing was simply a bullshit facade, built in order to take away from the fact she wanted to do an inherently bad thing.

But Isla liked to see the good in people, so it wasn't. And that really was one of her mot fatal flaws.

"She thanked me for letting her stay, too."

"And what'd you say to her?" Almost as if she didn't want to know the answer, she asked.

Black nails danced along the rim of her wine glass as she leaned against the counter, watching everybody enjoy themselves as they bitched and moaned.

"That she's lucky to be alive."

"Jesus, Gem," her head shook disparagingly, disappointed perhaps.

But being surprised that the woman made a threatening comment toward Wendy, was just as stupid as being surprised at Tig for fucking another hooker during his free time.

"You've gotta keep her close, ma. She's the mother of your grandson, the woman your son did love at one point."

Ma. The word rolled off her tongue unintentionally most of the time, but she didn't hate it.

Gemma was the mother figure in her life--hell, she was the mother figure in a few of the Sons' lives--and it didn't feel weird using that around her. It was affectionate. She adored it.

"Jax never loved her," matter of fact, she retorted. "They got drunk together. They smoked dope together. They didn't love one another--"

"They got married." Isla reminded her. "They have a kid together. They have a lot of history."

"Just because they have history, doesn't mean they love one another. You've got history with him."

Her chuckle was throaty, almost a full-on splutter. "We have not got that same history--we're friends, Gem, you know that's different."

She supposed the blonde was right.

There was hell of a contrast between friends for life and friends with benefits--and Gemma knew that. She just didn't like that Jax gravitated toward Wendy when he'd always had Isla right there in front of him.

Though, she was more than aware that the pair didn't look at each other that way--she still lauded the thought of the two together.

"I still hate her."

"I know," Isla laughed at Gemma's irritability, sipping on her wine, enjoying the sight of everybody having a damn good time.

"She's checking into rehab, too."

"Really? Where?"

"Some place in Oakland, I think." Gemma added, smiling at Clay when he wandered over to the pair. "But you didn't hear that from me."

"You think she's gonna stick to it?"

"Couldn't tell 'ya." He answered for his wife, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to Isla's cheek. "She's determined though, I'll give her that."

"Yeah?" His nod was optimistic--strange for Clay Morrow. "Well, I'm glad she's working on herself, anyway. She's got potential."

"You hate her."

"I know." She didn't refute the assertion. "But I'm still happy for her."

At least somebody is.

She wasn't lying. Wendy was a good girl, a woman tortured for no good reason. And she felt for her, she really did.

It'd been a shock, finding out that she was pregnant. But it wasn't like they weren't expecting it--what with the rate she and Jax were going at it.

From the start, Isla and Gemma were worried. She was notorious for her crank habit and the girls thought she was going to kill herself before she had the chance to see her son into the world.

And that almost happened, didn't it?

The doctors at St. Thomas were fucking miracle workers--Isla was on pins and needles waiting for a call to say that Wendy and Abel were okay.

But she tried not to dwell on that, now. They were both as healthy and Abel was as happy as he could've been, so Isla was content. She wasn't pleased, but she was comfortable with the way that things were going.

Tara, however.

"No!" She yelled, backing out of the nursery. "No, fuck you, Jax."

Juice stumbled backward when she nudged him out of the way, pulling her purse from the kitchen counter.

Isla and Gemma couldn't not stare.

"Tara, c'mon!" Jax called after her, but it was too late.

The front door had been slammed shut and the party came to a complete standstill. A thickening tension was shrouding the group, and things were only just starting to simmer.

"What was that all about?" The blonde asked Juice, leaning against the island.

She didn't want to prove Tig to be right but, after a few glasses of wine, Juan Carlos Ortiz was starting to pique her interests.

He swallowed thickly, watching Clay leave the room. "He said something about Wendy--wanting to keep whatever it is that he and Tara have going on the down low so it doesn't set her off, or something."

Makes sense.

"He has a point. She's doing really well lately." He continued. "Jax would hate to stunt her progress by shoving his relationship with Tara in her face."

Isla was rattled.

Jax hadn't talked to her in days, and she wasn't aware that so much had changed. She wasn't aware that he had established a relationship with Tara Knowles.

Again.

You know what they're like--like two fucking magnets or something. They always find a way back to one another.

She was too irritated to reside in that same room as Gemma, now. Knowing the conversation she'd initiate the second that Juice left was too fucking much. So she left first, instead.

The living room was almost empty. Just Clay, Bobby, Tig, and Chibs sat around the couches as Donna, the kids, and Ope were preparing to set off.

Everything was annoying her, now. She hadn't made the effort with Donna all night, but she was pissed that she hadn't started to say goodbye to her yet.

Isla was so fucking irritated that she didn't even want to talk to Tig, or her father. So she didn't.

"Where're you going, petal?" Chibs asked, hindering her plan to keep her mouth shut for the rest of the night. He knew that she'd crack a smile at the nickname.

"I was just wandering. Not really sure what to do with myself."

"Come sit down," he gestured to the space between himself and Tig, and wound an arm around her when she met the leather. "I've missed 'ya."

"Tonight? Or just in general."

"In general. It's been a few days, love."

"I know, I'm sorry." Her head rested against his Sgt. At Arms patch, and she sighed. "Work has been so fucking busy and I feel like I haven't gotten a moment to myself this week."

Isla only worked a part-time gig at some shitty salon just on the outskirts of Charming--edging into Stockton--but she hated her job.

She hated driving into the city every morning and evening, wasting a fuck ton of her paycheck on gas when, really, there was no point.

She hated her cunt boss.

Hated her cunt clients.

She hated that nobody really spoke to her because of who her father was. And when they did speak to her, it was almost like they were scared. Of Isla.

Gemma had always promised her that there was a space at the auto shop for her had she needed it, but she couldn't think of anything worse than having to answer to Gemma and Clay every single day.

Well, more than what she already was, anyway.

"Who'd 'a thought that being a hairdresser was so demanding?"

"Me, apparently." She joked, watching Tig get up and leave the room.

It'd turned somber. A little too bleak for her liking, but she guessed that everyone felt a bit awkward after Tara stamped out and Jax sat on his porch. Alone. With a bottle of whiskey.

She hated the hold that woman had over him sometimes. The way he was so fucking devoted to Tara Knowles that she could literally slap him, scream in his face, and ruin his son's homecoming party--and he would still pine for her.

She'd never understand that.

And she didn't understand how such a lively bunch of individuals had mellowed out over the course of two hours, either.

The party had disappeared. Dissipated into nothing and the atmosphere she once lauded was completely dead in the water.

It was fucking grim, and she couldn't wait to head home.

"Can I come with you tonight?"

"Why'd you even ask? Y'know you're welcome to come home with your old man whenever you want." Chibs told her a little bit stern, though it was essentially full of love.

She just smiled up at him, a bit buzzed. But she was having a good-ish time and who was he to chastise her for drinking a little too much tonight?

"Wanna head off now?"

"Yeah--lemme just say 'bye' to Gemma."

"Alright, I'll be out front. Don't forget your purse." He reminded, knowing she was too ditsy for her own good.

Chibs helped her to her feet, letting go of her hand only to part ways for a few moments.

Her mood was perking up, now. The prospect of being able to spend a few hours with her dad after a long fucking day, was just the best.

And she'd really missed him. Missed the time they once had an abundance of. Missed the evenings that they'd spend talking, drinking, watching movies, doing the generic father daughter activities.

They hadn't had that for a while, and it was truly a blessing that it was within reach tonight.

Well. It was within reach for all of five minutes.

"Oh my God--" Gemma's cell slipped from between black nails and bounced across the table. Saturated hues were locked on Isla, and her head shook.

"What?"

"There's--there's been an accident." She managed to muster out. "Or, maybe a drive-by, I don't know, but Donna--"

"Donna?" Piney's attention was snatched at the mention of his daughter-in-law. He stood up. "What about her?"

Isla knew the answer. She knew what Gemma was going to say because it was just the usual now, wasn't it?

Being affiliated with SAMCRO just did that to somebody. Man, woman, child. They didn't fucking care.

"She's--Piney, she's dead."

#tig trager #tig trager fanfiction #tig trager fic #sons of anarchy fic #sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy fandom #sons of anarchy #jax teller x oc #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller

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getitinbusan · 5 years ago

Text

Studio Sessions 3

It's Min Yoongi's birthday and you're ready to give him whatever he wants. When he makes a sarcastic wish while blowing out the candles he didn't think you'd take it seriously. But he's glad you did.

When word spreads about these special "Studio Sessions" everyone wants to collaborate. A chaptered 0T7 smut.

These stand alone but you won't want to miss reading all of them!

The Collaborators

Part One : Taehyung

Part Two: Jimin

This one gets a bit rough 18+

The Namjoon & Hoseok Collaboration

You made your way through the maze of BigHit hallways, mission: Hobi and Joon.

The practice rooms were all on the lower levels, fully equipped with cameras, sound systems, mirrors and everything else you'd need to make your "video". Inhaling deeply you pushed the doors open, this was going to be a challenge.

Hobi was working on choreo and Joon was on his phone, their attention shifting to you when you locked the door. "Are we in trouble?" Namjoon laughed.

"I guess that depends on how you look at it." you answered. "I'm going to cut to the chase guys, we need to have sex."

Namjoon laughed nervously, "I guess it's been a while but I wouldn't say I need to."

Chiming in Hobi added, "I just had sex last week...and you and Yoongi have sex all the time?" You walked over to the motion sensor camera and flicked it on, enabling the direct share.

"I mean, we have to have sex together."

They stared at each other and both started laughing. "Is this some kind of joke?"

The stereo was next, syncing it to your Bluetooth you put on your makeout playlist and sent Yoongi his link to watch the recording. "No joke, it's Yoongi's birthday wish that I get the shit fucked out of me."

Hobi grabbed a bottle of water, "I don't believe it, why us? This has to be a set up."

You walked over to him grabbing the bottle,"It's no fucking joke Hoseok, I just found out that my boyfriend and you fucked, now I want my turn."

Namjoon's face went completely red, "is this your first time finding that information out too?" you questioned him.

"So this is a revenge thing? Because that was years ago, it's not like he cheated on you." Hope was getting defensive.

"Not revenge at all actually, I just don't think it's fair that he's had your dick in his ass and I haven't." Walking over to the lights you turned the dimmer switch.

"I don't think I need to be involved in this." Namjoon moved to the door.

"Listen, call Taehyung, just ask, ask him about how he got to fuck me while Yoongi watched."

Their jaws dropped and neither moved to make that call. Holding up your phone you hit Tae's contact and put it on speaker. He answered "hello" groggily, "Hey, were you sleeping? Did I tire you out today?" you asked.

He chuckled, "You did, I'm just resting up in case you want to go again."

You raised your eyebrow at Joon, "I do, that's why I'm calling. I need your help."

You could hear him shifting, "Fuck Y/N, Yoongi wasn't kidding. You really are insatiable. Where do you want me? Are you still in the studio?"

You giggled at his exuberance, "Sorry Tae, you already had your turn. I'm here with Hobi and Joon and it seems they're not as eager as you were."

"Namjoons a prude, and I'm pretty sure that while Hope swings both ways, he prefers guys." Tae's deep voice carried through the studio.

"Hey asshole you're on speaker." Hope countered back.

Tae chuckled, "You're liars if you're going to pretend you haven't thought about it. Yoongi Hyung is giving you a free pass to fuck his girlfriend and...ten out of ten, I highly recommend it."

_______________________________

Yoongi watched the livelink, his monitor displaying you circling the two men like prey. They were reluctantly giving in to your advances as you dissolved what little will power they had. He had to give them credit for at least questioning your motives unlike Jimin and Taehyung.

_______________________________

Hanging up the call with Taehyung you waited for their answer.

Hoseok moved towards you while looking into the camera to address Yoongi. "So you never told her that we used to be a thing? You didn't want to tell her why we always chose each other as roommates? Too embarrassed to tell her how good I used to fuck you?"

He was standing in front of you, "Show me Hoseok, show me how he liked to be fucked, please...I want it...want you."

Grabbing your hair and pulling your head back he licked from your collar bone to your chin. "Does he still like it rough?" You went weak in the knees, you'd never expected this from happy little Hobi.

Namjoon was standing by the door contemplating whether or not he should flee the room. His phone vibrated.

Yoongi: It's okay, just fuck her.

Mentally wrestling his morals Joon moved to the makeup chair.

Hobi lifted your dress and pulled your underwear down. "Oh look Joon, she's got a really pretty shaved pussy."

He stuck his finger between your legs and quickly dipped it inside you. "Wet little slut." He said as he pulled out the slick covered digit and licked it clean.

"She's tasty Yoongi, If she were mine I'd never take my face out of her cunt."

He certainly knew what he was doing, a perpetual showman. You wondered how Yoongi was feeling watching the performance being put on just for him?

Grabbing your hair again he pulled you over to Namjoon, "I think our leader needs some convincing."

Joon didn't want to look you in the eye, he really was a prude. Removing every piece of clothing you stood naked presenting yourself before him, "You don't have to do this Y/N." His face finally turning to meet yours.

"I want to," you let your fingers caress your breast, "Don't you want me Joon?" Leaning over you brushed his cheek and moved in to place a small delicate kiss on his lips.

Dropping your hand between his thighs you could feel his swelling bulge. "Haven't you wondered what it would feel like to be inside me…" you undid his zipper, "I know you've heard Yoongi and I through the hotel wall. Did you ever get off listening to us fuck?"

He groaned, his dick was full and ready, all sensibility shifting from his brain to his crotch. He grabbed your head with his large hand and pulled you onto his lips kissing you. "You have no idea how many times I've had to touch myself listening to you cum."

Hoseok stood pants down, already stroking himself. "Let's get these off," you motioned to their clothes.

Standing up you finally got a look at both their bodies. You always knew Joon was thick, his body was muscular but you never expected him to have a fat cock. The anticipation of him stretching you out made you somehow impossibly hornier.

Hobi was very much like his frame, long and thin, the kind of cock that could hit deep. He, just like you, was completely clean shaven.

Dropping to your knees you grabbed them, one in each hand. Your mouth moving back and forth trying to give them equal attention. Every now and again you'd make sure to stare into the camera, reminding Yoongi that it was him on your mind. Saliva dripping off their cocks as they praised you, you wondered, was he watching?

Helping you up from your knees both men stationed themselves on either side of your body. A sheer wave of ecstasy ran through you as they each attached themselves to a nipple.

"Oh my god, fuck, someone needs to fucking get their fingers inside me... I'm going to cum so hard."

As good as having your tits sucked felt, having them both sucked at the same time was mind blowing.

Hope's long fingers made their way inside you pumping and rubbing your g spot mercilessly until you squirted all over the studio floor.

"Are you ready to get that ass fucked now baby?" Hoseok looked at you with greed in his eyes.

Taking Joon by the hand and leading him to the bench you pumped his cock, "only if I can take you both at the same time."

Both men moaned audibly at the idea. "Lay down on your back," you instructed Joon. Straddling him you sank down slowly onto his red weeping dick.

As predicted, he filled you perfectly, pussy lips stretched around him tightly. Hobi stood back cupping his balls waiting his turn.

"Fuck Joon your cock is phenomenal." Your cunt was so needy he slid in and out of you with ease, covered in your thick cream.

"Are you ready Hope?" He grinned like the Cheshire cat moving behind you.

Sticking his fingers in your mouth he stroked them over your tongue. Pulling them back out, strands of saliva landed on your back before he eagerly stuck his pointer straight into your ass.

"Nice and relaxed, I bet Yoongi fucks your little hole all the time doesn't he?"

When you didn't respond he sharply smacked you leaving a bright red welt across your ass cheek.

"Fucking answer me." He was unexpectedly rough, but it was okay. You wouldn't let him break you.

The Second finger went in deep and fast with no warning as you gasped for breath. Joon pulled your face down, "relax and focus on me."

The contrast between Joon's gentle ways and Hobi's roughness created a perfect balance of pleasure and pain. Leaning into him you kissed his lips as Hobi began pushing his cock into you.

"Good girl," he purred as he picked up speed. "Who's better at fucking your ass...hmmm me or Yoongi?"

You didn't answer and his hand struck you again. "I asked you a fucking question baby girl?"

Tears rolled down your cheek landing on Joons face. "You need to answer me."

Trying to distract yourself, you pressed your lips to Joons and ground yourself into his pubic mound stimulating your clit. Pulling your hair and yanking you away from Joon he asked again.

"Yoongi!

_______________________________

Was it going too far? He couldn't tell. You hadn't used the safe word but he had never been this rough with you. When you called his name he jumped from his chair ready to run to the practice room. Hand about to turn the handle your words made him go back to watching.

_______________________________

"Fucking Yoongi! Your cock is nothing compared to his."

Another hard slap landed across your flesh but this time you laughed. "Is that all you have?"

Fucking yourself harder against him you refused to let him have the upper hand. "No wonder he never told me about you if this is all you've got."

Aggression and anger filling the air, you were all erotically charged. Everyone thrusting harder and faster you came, squeezing Namjoon inside you. "Can I cum in you?" He panted. No sooner than the yes left your lips his cum was shooting inside you. Hoseok was hanging onto your hips like a vice as he found his end pulling out and cumming on your back.

_______________________________

Yoongi left his studio in a rush to collect you. He knew your physical tiredness would be compounded by the emotionally draining exhaustion from this round. He just wanted to take care of you.

_______________________________

Joon hugged you while Hoseok apologized for taking things too far. Reassuring him everything was okay between you, you kissed his cheek.

Turning the lock and twisting the handle Yoongi stood waiting. He pulled you into his embrace and kissed your forehead, "Are you okay, do you want to stop?"

You kissed the back of his hand, "Do you really think I'm going to give up when I'm one away from Jeon Jungkook?"

_______________________________

Jin

Jungkook

Yoongi

@phoenicia1533

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world-of-aus · 5 years ago

Text

You’re My Mission One-shot Soul Mate AU!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 4,932

Warnings: violence, angst, fluff, here lies a twist

Author’s Note: Anything italicized is something occurring in the past! Here it is finally, i’ll be honest i’m not sure how i’m feeling about it but i decided to step out of a comfort zone and do a twist that i hope i made obvious enough. Literally last minute while i was editing i had the brilliant idea to change the ending and well, i hope it doesn't suck to bad lol. I hope you’ll enjoy it none the less, behind the screen coming out tomorrow!

You awoke with a pounding head; a pained groan fell from your lips as you tried to move your aching body. Panic seeped into you when you found you couldn't move your arms, pins and needles prickling at your fingers as you struggled with the ties that had you bound. You looked around with wide eyes, but there wasn’t much to make out in the dimly lit room. You scourged your hazy brain for something, anything to tell you how you had ended up here in this situation. Your eyes widened in horror.

You quickened your pace as you pushed yourself into the sea of bodies, you pushed against them as you tried to get away from his watchful eyes. You felt the coldness of his stare on you, watching you, studying you, much like the day before, he had only continued to draw closer as the week had passed. At first you had just thought you had stumbled upon the most mysterious man, with the most marvelous crystal blue eyes. Though when you were walking through the minuscule isles of your streets corner market and bumped into him once more you had chalked it up to fate playing games. The third and fourth time had you biting your lip with nervousness, surely you would have seen this man before if he really did have the same schedule as you, unless, you had shaken your head of those thoughts, it couldn’t be. You had decided to swallow down your nerves and approach him on the fifth day, you hadn’t known he was there until you felt a chill run up your spine, the feel of eyes watching your every move as you ordered your favorite caffeinated drink from the overly friendly barista. Sure enough when you had handed your payment to the cashier, you chanced a glance over your shoulder to already find his gaze on yours, he had your breath catching in your throat.

You moved off stiffly to the side to allow the next customer to move up, you gazed away from the predatory eyes focusing on the baristas behind the bar, you took a deep breath deciding that you would go over to the mysterious man and confront him, in your mind there was simply no explanation for why he was always appearing in locations you had never seen him before. Your name was called and you took uneasy steps forward taking the warm cup from the smiling teen. Turning on your heel you steeled yourself as you made your way towards the man sitting in the middle of the local coffee house. Taking a breath, you found your words, “excuse me,” you voiced warmly, “ I feel like I've seen a lot of you in places I've never seen you before, and maybe that’s just a coincidence, do I know you?” you questioned.

His eyes were locked on yours as he shook his head once, you swallowed fingers tapping on your Styrofoam cup nervously.

“are you-” you paused, “are you following me?” you questioned voice dropping.

Your nearly dropped the hot drink in your hands when his head nodded once, rather than questioning him any further you probably did the last thing you should have done, you ran. Your heart was racing in your chest as you raced out the doors and onto the busy streets. You looked behind you with wide eyes to see he was feet away. You quickened your pace, continuing to push through the crowds, eventually the crowd thinned the closer you got to home. You didn’t dare chance a glance back over your shoulder, you already knew he would be there. With a thrumming heart you continued to push forward, the heels of your ankle high boots thumping against the cemented side walk. If you strained your ears enough you could hear the pair of feet trailing you.

You were still another 3 blocks from your home, you began to grow desperate as the people on the streets became fewer and fewer. You did what could be described as your next biggest mistake, the one that was going to do you in. You ran, and in your hurry to get away from him you truly weren't thinking, and you ran into an alleyway, a choked sob fell from your lips as your hit a dead end. You baked away from the stoned brick, silent tears fell from your eyes, a silent gasp fell from your lips when you backed into something hard behind you. Turning ever so slowly, you looked up with wide eyes, your mouth fell open in a scream but nothing ever came as the world around you went black.

The sound of a steel door slamming had you jumping in the wooden chair you had been bound too. You waited with baited breath as you heard heavy footsteps approach you. He appeared under the single industrial pendant light. His eyes were set, jaw stiff, nostrils flaring as he looked you over, your body tensed when they landed on the knife in his hands.

“You know, you almost had me thinking I had gone after the wrong person,” he grunted.

Your eyes widened slightly, a look of horror coming over your features, “i don’t even know who you are, what do you want?” you whimpered.

His jaw clenched, “cut the shit and drop the façade y/n, it's just me and you,”

You quivered in your chair, “i- I don’t know what you’re talking about, how do you know my name?” you questioned shakily, “please just let me go I swear I won’t tell anyone anything I sw-”

A fist to the face cut off your words, your head snapped to the side, blood seeped from your split lip.

Your jaw clenched, spitting the blood that had gathered in your mouth you turned your head back towards him, he was closer now.

You adjusted yourself in the uncomfortable chair, “did you really forget that I can’t feel the pain you inflict on me?” you glared.

Though Bucky’s face had remained the same stoic stare, his eyes looked away from yours, you scoffed. “You know you could jeopardize this entire mission for us right, what the hell are you even doing Barnes, what the hell is all of this?” you questioned pulling at the restraints.

He let out a tense breath through his lips, “I just,” his fist clenched at his side, “I just needed to make sure you were okay,”

A sarcastic laugh left your lips, “and this,” you growled tugging at the restraints, “this is your way of making sure I was okay, didn’t think you cared, if I recall it was you fleeing the moment you found out we were s-”

“don't say it,” he growled, eyes growing dark as he glared at you.

You shook your head at the man in front of you, “see you still haven’t accepted it,” you muttered, “yet here we are, with me tied to a fucking chair because you wanted to make sure I was okay.”

The two of you grew quiet as you murdered one another with the intensity of killer eyes, “can you untie me my arms uncomfortable,” you muttered. Though Bucky personally couldn’t inflict any pain on you the ropes binding your hands now that was another story.

Bucky didn’t utter a word as he went behind you to cut the restraints, your arms fell limp at your sides, a inaudible pained groan fell from your lips. You pushed yourself up on wobby legs, gathering your bearings. Once the feeling had returned to your numbed limbs, you turned to face the stoic man next to you. It took you a second to reel your hand back, your fist flying into the side of Bucky’s cheek throwing him off guard, your foot was the next thing to swing taking a direct hit into the middle of his chest sending him flying a few feet back.

A growl left his lips as he stood, a pained expression on his face, “that’s what you get Barnes,” you hissed standing your ground, “it's been a damn year, and now all of a sudden you decide to “care”, if you even want to call it that,”

“y/n” he tried

“I don’t want to hear it,” you muttered, “does the team even know you’re here, that you’ve been following me?” You seethed, “Pierce could very well have caught on, he has eyes on me, it’s been a year and the asshole still doesn’t trust me, and now you showing up out of the blue to come check up on me, what the hell bucky!”

You could see his façade fall the longer he stared at you, “the team hasn’t heard from you, they were worried,”

An angry groan tore from your lips, “fuck you Barnes, why is it so hard for you to give into your feelings,” you yelled, “the teams well aware I wouldn’t be in contact until I got everything I needed to frame pierce, and IF they were worried why not send someone else, why YOU!”

Bucky stood unmoving, he didn’t know what to say, what could he say after he pushed you away.

You sat on his untouched bed, fingers twiddling in your lap as you waited for him. You were lost in your head as you went over the words you’d like to share with him, to express to him. There were so many emotions coursing through you, but the one shining through the brightest was disbelief. You had heard the stories, seen the headlines, even witnessed the love of two souls becoming one, you had just never thought it was in the books for you, you had never felt that tug towards someone, and you had been okay with it. Until today; you had never trained with Bucky, it was usually Natasha and occasionally Steve if he was willing to get rough housed. So when you had been informed that Steve and Natasha would be out of the tower for a few hours, you decided to try and coax the guarded soldier out of the confines of his room.

Bucky was always very guarded, you only ever saw him really let his walls down around Steve and that in itself was a rare occurrence, so having him here in the training room with you and watching him crack the smallest resemblance of a smile at you had you nearly falling to your feet.

“don’t let your guard down, keep your stance,” he murmured from his end of the mat.

This had been going on for the last thirty minutes, you two had yet to touch, you had just been dancing around one another, taunting, critiquing, building each other up for the first initial contact. Having had enough of this dance you two were doing you took the first step towards him, he was quicker though his foot sweeping you off your feet, your back and head meeting the mat instantly, but that’s not what had your breath catching in your throat. It was the chilling thought that you had felt no pain from his hit, it took the impact to bring any sort of pain to the forefront.

“you let your guard down?” he smirked reaching his hand out to you.

In your confused fueled driven state, instead of taking Bucky’s hand, you drove the palm of your hand into his cheek, the slap resonating through the room. Bucky looked at you wide eyed, “did you-” you took in shaky breath, “did you feel that?”

Bucky didn’t say anything as he retracted his hand, you had your answer the second he bolted out the door without so much as a word.

The door creaking open had you looking up, Bucky froze at the door, his eyes glued to your form, he closed the door ever so slowly behind him. He didn’t say anything as he stood there, just staring “You’ve heard the stories, haven't you?” you questioned, he didn’t say anything just continued to stare, “when two soulmates are meant to connect, there will be no pain, instead there will be joy in your soul, laughter, calmness, inspiration so much so that there will be hope in front of you, it will be like a beacon,” he still remained stoic in front of you, you were beginning to grow nervous, “ Bucky, I didn’t feel the moment you took me down, I only felt when my body hit the mat, and you can’t tell me that you felt, the slap to your face,” you murmured.

“it doesn’t mean we’re soulmates, it doesn’t-” he glared, pausing over his words as if he knew he might regret them.

Though you knew what he was getting at, what he was doing, and it didn’t keep your face from falling, “you can’t stand there and tell me you don’t feel it, that there’s not something there,” you murmured.

“what,” he grunted, “what do you want to be there y/n, there’s nothing there,” he hissed, “we’re barely even friends, we can barely call each other acquaintances, and now you want me to call us soulmates?”

His eyes were only growing colder, “it’s never going to happen, there’s just no way, all of it is just made up,”

“but buc-”

“but nothing y/n” he growled effectively quieting you, “there’s nothing there, no tug, no feelings drawing me to you, nothing,” he hissed, “so drop it, we’re not soulmates, you not feeling pain and me not feeling your wimpy punches means nothing, it just means you need to work harder, that’s, it,”

“But b-”

“drop it y/n” he grunted stepping closer to you, “there’s no connection between you and I, whatever it is you think you’re feeling it’s not real, so drop it,”

A part of you had started to believe maybe you had made this feeling up, because while soulmates were supposed to be the last person to bring you any semblance of pain, the ache growing in your chest, the ache in your soul was too much for you to bear.

You nodded numbly at him head casted down as your lower lip wobbled, eyes growing glassy with unshed tears. You didn’t murmur another word as you stood from his bed, you stepped around him, needing to get out, but the more steps you took away from him, the louder the crys of your soul got, the tug was overbearing as you pulled open his door stepping out silently as you let it click behind you.

Bucky had been caught off guard at not feeling the pain from your slap, you had been right, he had seen the articles, heard the stories, he just didn’t think it would ever happen to him, that he would meet his soulmate. Truth was Bucky had been overwhelmed at the thought of meeting his soulmate, and to discover that you been in front of him all this time really had thrown him. After everything Bucky had been through, all the trial and tribulations life had put him through he didn’t think he was deserving of having someone his soul was bound to, especially not someone like you. You were a pure soul, he didn’t want to taint you, to hurt you like the many people he had, but isn't that what he had done. He had pushed you away because he was scared of hurting you, of the evil that lurked in the hidden shadows hurting you.

“I’m sorry,” he tried head casted down, a scoff fell from your lips, his eyes darting up to yours.

“You're sorry?” you questioned exasperated, after you rejected me, rejected our tie, you’re sorry, well I'm sorry to say Bucky, but it’s a little too late,”

Tears were threatening to well in your eyes, it pained you to even have those words fall from your mouth, but what’s a little more pain.

“y/n”

“No Barnes, don’t you think you’ve put me through enough, why are you even here?” you questioned again growing agitated with this back and forth, “a year ago you couldn’t even bring yourself to acknowledge me after I tried to get you to open up about the possibility of us being soulmates and you pushed me away, the week before I was sent on this mission I had barely even caught so much as a glance of you, but now you’re here, and for what, what are you here for,” Your arms flew up in the air in frustration, “you can’t tell me it's because you finally decided to acknowledge any feelings because that would be a lie, you can’t even admit to being here to check on me because YOU wanted to see if I was okay, no you’re here because the team was worried not because you were.”

Bucky couldn’t find the words, he knew he had been wrong in pushing you away, he knew what could happen if either of you fought the strong connection that two soulmates had towards one another, but that’s exactly what he was doing. What had he expected though, was he expecting you to just run into open arms, forgive him as if the pain he put you through was nothing, he knew you would be upset, he just never thought he would be on the receiving end of your anger.

Your phone pinging in your pocket brought the both of you out of your angered states, you groaned as you reached for it, eyes widening slightly as you looked over the message, “shit” you muttered.

You turned on your heel, you needed to get out of here quick, Bucky was quick to notice your leave reaching out to a get a grip on your bicep. You turned to glare at him with storm filled eyes, “Let go Barnes,” you growled.

“No y/n we need to talk about this,”

You let out a harsh forced laugh, “I don’t want to talk anymore Bucky, you’ve already caused me enough trouble, and now pierce may very well have my head because of you,” you hissed, “do us both a favor and go,” you said ripping your hand free from his hold. You didn’t look back, you knew if you did, this whole mission could go sideways. Once you were out of sight of his watchful eyes, you pulled out your burner typing three in three urgent letters to Steve; S.O.S. ,just like you had gone over.

Your head snapped to the side a pained hiss leaving your lips, “you must think me a fool y/n, did you really think I wouldn’t find out,” he questioned beady eyes trained on your bloodied face. Did you really think I wouldn’t be keeping tabs on you this entire time, that you wouldn’t have a watchful eye over you, I have eyes everywhere, inside the office and definitely out, I need to make sure I know who’s been sent to work for me” he hissed dealing another blow to the side of your face. After receiving the message from Pierce you knew you were in for it when you actually came face to face with the man. You just didn’t realize how bad it would get, you could only hope that Steve would get your message and know how to locate you before your time ran out.

“took you long enough, surprised you didn’t confront me sooner, you know with you having a watchful eye on me,” you snarked spitting out a glob of blood at his feet.

You took another backhand to the face, your head cocking to the side from the force, “I'd watch your words very carefully agent, though the year that you’ve been under me you havent watched much of what you let out” he hissed, “you think you have the upper hand here, that you’re not just a pawn to the bigger picture?”

“What are you on about?” you gritted.

A laugh left his lips in the form of a scoff, his hand grabbed at your chin roughly, “you really think you’re the one with the upper hand here, that you would be getting anything out of me I've been watching you, hearing you y/n?” he laughed, “you really should have watched what you said in the dead of night in a hushed tone into the damned burner phone of yours.”

Your faced scrunched in confusion, “the winter soldier,” he hissed shaking your head, your eyes widened “all this time you thought you’d be getting an upper hand on me, oh but how the tables have turned agent, oh how they have turned,”

Your faced morphed from confusion to anger, “you bastard you won’t get away with this!” you yelled.

He got in your face then gripping your cheeks tightly, “oh but I already have, and you’re going to have a front seat agent, and don’t worry I'll make sure your death is slow and painful, shouldn’t have to wait much longer,” he grunted swinging you around to the door. You waited with baited breath, but soon gunfire was ringing through the cemented walls outside the door you were being held in. You could hear thumps of bodies heavily flying into the walls and floors, suddenly the rooms door you were being held in was kicked down with heavy force. Bucky and Steve stood at the door way, their breathing heavy as they glared at the man behind you.

“so glad the two of you could make it,” he spoke from behind you, “shall we get this show on the road?” he questioned. A click sounded through the room, your eyes met Steve’s and then they moved over to Bucky’s, your eyes used the words that you couldn’t speak in that moment.

Желание. Ржавый. Семнадцать.

The minute those words sounded through the room, it threw all of you into action, well you and Steve, Bucky was a frozen mass of muscle at the door. You watched with wide eyes as Steve raced to you, Pierce sidestepping him as he went to stand closer Bucky.

Рассвет. Печь. Девять. Добросердечный.

The next four words had Steve working at the restraints bounding you to the steel chair, “Steve hurry!” you rushed watching Bucky’s eyes grow darker, face growing colder. Steve cut and pulled at the string the fastest that he could, whispering into your ear, reassuring you that the two of you would be okay. You weren’t sure if you believed him, did he really think you could pull this off, even you were beginning to think maybe there had been faults in this missions plan.

Возвращение на родину. Один. Товарный вагон Солдат.

You were pulled from your restraints at the last second, a tense silence washed over you before chaos broke loose. Steve pushed you off to the side when Bucky charged him, “y/n go get out of here,” Steve grunted attempting to dodge his friend's hits. “Go!” he grunted, though you didn’t get far when Pierce lunged for you at the door, a pistol in his hands stalled you, but it was the gun going off where Steve and Bucky stood that froze you. You looked over in horror, as blood seeped from the middle of Steve’s suit, you rushed forward, Pierce not stopping you as you fell to your feet, hand pressing down onto the bleeding wound. Your fingers were stained in blood as it poured from his suit. It wasn’t long before Bucky was turning on you his fingers weaving in your hair as he threw you into the corner of the wall. If even for a second you were glad you couldn’t feel the pain, that he was about to bring. He didn’t waste a single second as he went at you, his hands merciless as they rained down on you. Your eyes widened as you saw him reach for the gun, the same gun he had just shot Steve with, you looked over to Steve while still trying to hold off Buckys towering frame, a cry fell from your lips as you saw the captain slouched over, eyes closed, breathing coming out unbelievably slow. Your eyes then looked past Bucky’s shoulder to see Pierce at the door a smug smirk on his face as he watched the scene.

You continued to shove at Bucky’s hand that held the gun, trying to fight it off though you knew the imminent was near and no training could have ever prepared you for it. A fist to the face had you falling to the floor his gun aimed at you, it took less than a second before a round was going off, a pain coursing through your body, you were falling off to the side, your sight increasingly going blurry. You watched Bucky walk stoically over to Pierce gun still clenched tightly In his hand, your eyes were rolling as the darkness pulled at you, luring you in, the last thing to ring through your mind was the sound of a round going off, another body falling to the floor.

Your body screamed in protest, eyes twitching behind your closed lids, your groggy head moved slightly the cotton pillow a welcome. With the strength you could muster up you fought your heavy eyes cracking them open ever so slightly. Two bodies hovered next to you, you pushed a little harder, your eyes finally fluttering open. Steve was the first to greet your line of sight, a small smile pulling at his lips, “how you feeling?” he questioned.

“Like absolute death, what the hell did Bucky shoot me with?” you groaned.

Steve scratched the back of his head, “you might want to ask Stark when we get back to the tower, if it was enough to take me down, can’t imagine what it would have done to you, what it did to you.”

You nodded your head, not trusting your body to do more with the haze it was still in, “hey at the briefing do you think we could bring up how uncomfortably sticky dyed corn starch with chocolate syrup is, I get it’s the most believable but my goodness, my clothes feels like a second layer of skin.”

Steve laughed at that, “noted, I'll definitely need a good scrub down myself, I was honestly worried with how quickly the concoction was seeping through my suit, had you not obstructed Pierce’s view he could have caught on.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, Steve could sense the underlying question dancing on the tip of your tongue, his head fell slightly, “Bucky took care of Pierce,” he murmured. Your eyes glanced at Bucky where he stood off on Steve’s side, he was staring intently at your form, had he been staring this entire time?

“Actually,” Steve said suddenly, “we should be approaching the tower soon, so I'll give you two sometime,” he murmured, offering you a small smile patting Bucky on the back before he was moving away from the two of you.

Bucky moved up to the spot Steve had been in, “sorry about all this doll,” he murmured indicating the bruises that adorned your face.

“No need to apologize Bucky, I'm just glad this mission didn’t go sideways, I was worried for a minute that he had caught on to the actual plan we had set, its been a year of this, I forget half of the stuff I said to Steve over the phone” you groaned as you adjusted yourself on the cot. Bucky offered you a helping hand as he pulled you into a sitting position, your body slouching against the seat.

“Well we all held our part pretty well, especially you, I almost thought I had messed up all over again, it all felt so real” he murmured.

“You know,” you spoke drawing his eyes up to yours as you pulled at the intel device buried in the crevices of you ear, “I’m still mad at you for pushing me away the way you did," you added a teasing glint in your eye, “i think this mission may have sparked the underlying anger I still have,”

Bucky pushed at you shoulder slightly, “don’t start,” he warned “see I told tony it would be a bad idea to involve our history like this, do you know how bad I wanted to break character with those words spilling from your mouth?” he questioned, “I actually did, when I said that we needed to talk, but then you walked away and you didn’t turn back and its like something in me snapped again and I knew I needed to keep it together to see the mission through, I almost thought I had messed it all up because I couldn’t bear the fact at you being mad at me.”

An understanding smile pulled at the corner of your lips, “well then it’s a good thing we worked past all your mess, before we took on this mission,” you teased, though you could tell there was still some underlying insecurities in Bucky’s eyes. Your hands reached for his, “It was just a mission buck, yeah the words we shared held some truth, but we worked through those issues did we not?” you questioned. You saw him nod his head slowly, “it’s been a year of having to live out a past that we would rather keep behind us,” you sighed, “a past that was hard for both of us but hey we worked through those struggles then we can definitely work through it now.”

“i fought hard for you then, i’ll fight hard for you now,” you murmured bringing his hand to your lips.

YMM Tag-list: @lovely-geek

#you're my mission #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes one-shot #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes soulmate au #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfiction au

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pxndmonium · 5 years ago

Text

Numinous — Bucky Barnes

Summary: "Numinous (adj): describing an experience which makes you fearful, yet fascinated. Awed yet attracted. The powerful personal feeling of being overwhelmed and inspired."

Maybe love is like rain. Sometimes gentle, sometimes torrential, steady, joyous, filling the earth, collecting in underground springs. Sometimes unwanted, unexpected. When it rains, when we love, life grows.

James is lost in himself, torned between the unknown, divided into two. When Corinne comes into his life, he feels right, weightless.

Yes, maybe love is like rain. And if love is like rain, James's love for her is a whole storm.

Warnings: descriptions of violence, mental illnesses, abuse.

Pairing: James "Bucky" Barnes/OC.

Words: about 1K.

A/N: Finally I had the courage to post something I really love writing. I have pre-written chapters and I'll decide when to post the next one once I finish another, that way I'll always have chapters to post and motivation to keep writing. The thingy I used was downloaded on Google so if it belongs to you, just text me and I'll work it out. @sophieisinlove and @just-call-me-mr-snoopy-pants are always supporting me when it comes to writing so my full love for both of you, my babies. Also, love and feedbacks are always welcomed! Have fun 🍑✨

Chapter I

It was a very quiet night in Budapest streets. Until he passed in front of that alley.

Keep walking, the rude voice inside his head says. It has nothing to do with you.

Yet, there he is, still like a statue, heavy breathing and fists clenched while the cry goes on and on, the rustling of fabrics and fists meeting flesh, the woman's whimpers echoing painfully in his ears. He tries to move his feet foraward, to keep walking because it has nothing to do with him. But he stays, he's paralyzed.

The sounds come to a stop, there's only the deadly silence and a faint choir of cicadas.

You can't save everyone, another voice reasons, totally different from the first one, softer. But you can try.

And he does, marching back to said alley he tried so bad to ignore, he's not sneaky, he wants them to know he's coming. He wants them to fear his arrival, all heavy boots and stoic stance.

But there's no one other than the woman curled up in fetal position, trembling incessantly.

He approaches her, crawling to make himself look smaller. He then notices her beautiful beige coat all ruined by crimson, her skirt clustered up her waist and stockings with wholes all around, knees scrapped and bleeding just as bad as her nose and lips. Dark stains bloom all over her fragile frame and he hisses when she still tries to get on her feet, fails and falls back facing the concrete with an agonizing mewl.

His hand touch her shoulder first and, although strange and cold, she doesn't flinch, not anymore, she can barely breathe, internally surprised that what she expected to be the final punch that would blow her out actually came out very much delicate.

Registering the friendly grip, her eyelids flutter open and she stares dead into his bloody image, pupils blown wide thanks to the seringe with probably some drug that would keep her meek like a puppy.

"You need a doctor", he warns. To her, it sounds like he's under water, she could feel the thin line of red hot blood running down her ears and into her hairline.

"No... No hospitals...", she managed to mouth it silently. It ache too much, her jaw and throat, she felt like her teeth would just fall off her mouth if she tried to speak again.

Before she could process, the agonizing pain in her stomach remembered her of those men's words. They said you would come, they did, she thinks to herself. This was definately the soldat they were talking about while breaking trough her. Yes, they did said he was coming and although there was zero description of his features, she knew it was the man whose gentle hands were scooping her up now, tightly pressing her against his firm chest.

Everything twinged, burning muscles as she writted under him, trying to make him let her fall back to the ground. She couldn't scream at him to run away before they came back, she couldn't even stand alone. She didn't want them to hurt him like they did to her, her broken ribs were enough for the night. Her body was dying from exhaustion, she could feel the numbness beginning to take over her every cell, slowly, dreadfully seeping into her brain. She was tired, so tired of fighting with this man's warmth, so she gave in.

When her eyes darted open back to consciousness, she felt dizzy and heavy on that worned out matress. Her favorite trench-coat had been discarded to the floor next to the door, so had her pair of oxfords. The room was poor in decoration and furniture, lacking that hint of a homey place, walls with huge such stains of infiltration she could feel the humidity in her cheeks, but the thick blankets covering her lower half had a faint flowery scent and she caught herself smiling to it.

Steps could be heard outside the bedroom she was in, careful, almost as if the person on the other side was tiptoeing not to bother her slumber. She kicked the blankets over, the best way possible without yaking her own leg off, and drank in the sight of her ragged form. Besides looking, smeling and feeling disgusting, the person had ripped off the rest of the thin fabric that covered her sore legs, where once was only open wounds and dirt, now rested pure white, clean bandages. Purple bruises tinted over her muscles like galaxies but there was nothing sexy or poetic about them resting there, nor in her fractured collarbones or her tired members.

In her head lingered only fear and pain, flashes of the bad things those men did to her, the touches and the violent hunger, their vile laughter after abusing her and leaving her there to die in the street. She felt the same panic, the same terror that coursed trough her veins like lava when they pushed her into that alley by the hair — her hand rose from her lap and ventured on her scalp, where the ghosts of harsh male fingers had gripped, she quivered intensely —, their rough russian words spat at her with every single hit would haunt her for weeks.

Russian words... Her brain snapped again and she remembered clearly why she shouldn't be there, wherever she was, and that someone was in danger.

Rolling out of the bed, she crumbled over trying to reach the door with still so sheaky steps and knocked everything out of her way with loud thumps in the process. The gentle-handed as she so called him was there in no time, bursting the door open to find her supporting herself on the fragile shelves with little to no books, his wide eyes on her trying to walk after loosing so much blood are shocked and he gulps, rushing over. The plate of eggs long forgotten, crashed on the cheap carpet. She motions him to stop.

"You need to go", she forces out, voice coming out awfully hoarse. Her dramatic self hating how weak and not at all romantic it sounded.

"I can't."

"You must!" She then collapses on the floor, stitches she didn't knew that were under her shirt ripping over from the sudden movements and blood gushing out from it, running down her bare legs.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes romance #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #oc #dark academia aesthetic #mutant oc #smut #sebastian stan

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