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shirks-all-responsibilities · 2 years ago

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K look, I read this standalone, having not read the series so far, and um...you know when you read something that SO perfectly hits every single one of your buttons it's as though it was written just for you? TWAS ME, at the end of this chapter, hands over my eyes with my head hanging down, breathing deep, trying to collect mahself and not completely lose my MINDDD over this. And to come to this chapter fresh, the way their dynamic unfolds was de-light-ful to read...

Just...the way you convey that awful, aching feeling of being "not enough" for someone, of not being their equal, feeling so behind, too weak, the way it feels so shameful, like something is so deeply wrong with you...to feel this way with JOEL MILLER in THAT WORLD is a WHOLE THING that ups the depth of the feeling to a 10.

So to have THE MAN THAT IS JOEL MILLER react the way he does, admiring her talents and what she brings to the table, relishing and reveling in her softness and submission, letting her melt into it, transforming it into something more, earning it, praising her and flipping any negative connotations on their head, turning submission into strength, HIS DIALOGUE is imprinted in my BRAIN NOW, SWEET HOLY STARS:

“See honey, you’re not too soft. Someone so soft couldn’t take it this hard.” His words are punctuated with a grunt, as fucks into you harder. “Wouldn’t let me fuck ‘em all the ways I want like you do.”

Hall of fame smut dialogue right here, I have ASCENDED to another plane, asdfpajsodfiasjd;flaksdj;flsdjkdj;aljfksddkkdkdkdkkd. 🥵🥵

My WORD how I love the way you write this particular kind of dynamic they have here, I can insta-recognize your style and I am VIBING with it. Thank youuuuu so much for sharing what is most certainly the furthest thing from garbage that could be!

Short Days, Long Nights: 7

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

Series Masterlist

a/n: Thank you endlessly, as always, to @mourningbirds1 for being so patient and kind with me, and for guiding me in the right directions when I'm stuck. And to @the-ginger-hedge-witch for reading this through and reassuring me it's not the 9 page garbage that I wanted to delete. Enjoy! ❤

“Just let me –” he starts, frowning in frustration when you jerk your hand away, reflexively tightening your fist into a ball to cradle it against your chest.

“It’s just –” He sighs, a long tired thing that only older men have mastered. “I’ll be fast. You won’t even feel it.”

“I’ve heard that before, Miller,” you say without thinking, and his head jerks up, his eyes narrowing.

“Bullshit, honey,” he replies, reaching for your hand again. You give it to him, making him tug a little to unfurl it into the palm of his hand. “Wasn’t me you heard that from.”

“No, you’re right,” you agree, giving him a small, knowing smile. “Not you.”

He winks, pressing his thumb into the base of the sliver to see if it will present itself and you hiss in pain, letting out a whimper.

You know you’re being absurd, but you can’t help it.

It’s just a sliver, and in the grand scheme of things, you have been subjected to much worse. Much worse. But it was huge and unexpected and buried itself in your palm so deep that it brought instant tears to your eyes and that – those tears – were what made you feel the most fragile.

When was the last time something that happened to you made you cry?

Once you started, you couldn’t stop.

His eyes flick up to your face, his brow knit with gentle concern and his thumb strokes the heel of your hand, making it blossom open for him. You keep your eyes fixed on the movement, willing the tears that blur your vision to stop – but they won’t. A hot trail slips down over your cheek, another one following it and you feel so foolish and embarrassed you tilt your head to the side, trying to hide your face.

“Hey.”

His hand comes up, gently nudging your face back to him and he wipes the small drop resting on the curve of your cheek away. “I promise I’ll be gentle. We can’t let it sit in there, okay? Don’t want to get it infected.”

You nod, taking a breath.

Steeling yourself, you let your hand relax in his and shift your eyes to focus on anything but the sight of your palm: the leaves on the trees, dappled with sunlight. The winding vines in the garden, reaching their way towards the sky. The weather worn deck, with its dried out planks and its rickety stairs and then you’re looking at the railing, the source of the sliver, with a shudder.

“Stay still,” he murmurs, low and focused.

His hands are so big in comparison to yours, and his fingers brush the surface of your palm with more delicacy than they look capable of. He presses again into the skin at the base of the sliver with his thumb, his eyes flicking up to your face for a moment before dropping back down to the task at hand and when he digs the tip of his knife into your skin, you clench your eyes shut.

“Breathe, honey,” he rumbles.

You do, a deep inhale as he works quickly to peel the skin back just enough to grab the wood and then he’s sliding it out; his knife tossed onto the ground next to him.

Blood seeps slick into the cracks of your hand, a small pool gathering in the center of it and he’s ready for it with a clean piece of cloth, pressing it into place.

“You seem like you’ve done this before,” you say, balling your hand up around the fabric.

He works a spool of gauze open, motioning with a jerk of his chin for you to give back your hand.

“Taken a sliver out?” he asks, eyebrows raised. “I don’t think I even feel them anymore. My hands are pretty rough, always have been. I used to have to do it all the time for –,” he pauses, his expression falling into something more solemn and you wait for him to continue the sentence, but he doesn’t. Instead, he stays quiet for a moment, his jaw shifting subtly under the scruff of his beard. “I’ve had plenty of em’ before. You get used to it.”

Working quickly to wind the gauze around the width of your hand a couple times, he secures it in place and before you can take your hand back, he’s bending to press his lips over the top.

This – this is what you were talking about. Not the deft competency in which he removed the sliver, but the care infused in the action. Like he had practice soothing frayed nerves and touching with gentle hands, had practice in the softness it required. This life wouldn’t have taught him those skills.

The heat of his mouth is a fleeting thing against your skin, his whiskers brushing the cup of your palm and he pulls back, giving you a smile.

“You okay to keep going?”

You test your hand, flexing your fingers a couple of times and nod, standing up. “Yea, I’m good. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replies easily, sliding his knife back into the holster.

Making your way over to the garden, you kneel beside it and start on the task you were headed for before you got the sliver. Weeds have snuck in, worming their way between the plants and you work diligently, ignoring the catch of your bandage on the stalks. The pain radiating from your palm throbs, a pulse beating in time with your heart and you frown, frustrated.

You should be used to pain by now, you scold yourself.

Joel’s gone back to what he was doing when he heard your yelp of pain and you glance over at where he squats next to the base of the deck, checking for rotted wood with an obviously trained eye. His movements are precise, his hands feeling along the splintered wood with a practiced, deft touch and the comment he made about slivers comes back to you.

In comparison to yours, you can’t imagine everything that his hands have been through and done, but you do know some of the things they have and thinking about it, you feel another hot wash of embarrassment at your previous tears.

You think about all the infected Joel has killed without a thought, all the people he’s probably done the same to just to survive. He’s told you about some of them with zero regret in his voice and you know it to be true, because what was there to regret? They would have done the same to him. You don’t begrudge him of his choices, but rather admire him for them. That same ruthlessness is responsible for keeping you alive for this long, and you wish you only had a fraction of it.

The pile of limp, broken foliage grows beside you, dirt crammed under your fingernails as you keep going and the ground is cool and crumbly, letting the weeds slip through easily.

The tears came instantly when that wood pierced and embedded itself in your skin, and the shock of them startled you just as much as the pain did. When was the last time you allowed yourself the luxury of crying? No point in it because it wouldn’t help your situation; no one around to soothe and reassure you but the damp cover of your pillow in your old, shitty QZ apartment; no use in letting the pain seep into your chest deep enough to seep out through your eyes because it did nothing for you.

You used to think that leaving yourself soft was a strength — a sort of quiet, delicate resilience in the face of harsh realities — and while you still think there was something admirable in it once, you know it’s more foolish than anything now. Softness is seen as a weakness in this world, and you tried for so long to bury your vulnerabilities and your hurt but the last couple months have unearthed those dormant feelings. You wonder if it bothers him.

The act of him pressing his lips to your palm takes on a new meaning: how long until he gets tired of having to care for you like a child? How long until he decides that he’d be better off with a partner of equal footing?

He hasn’t said anything to make you think that, but self doubt always wins over logic, and your anxiety easily dismisses the ways in which he has only indulged you. While you’ve been here: allowing you to pick and choose the chores you can stomach, tucking your face into the crook of his shoulder to help you sleep, working out that sliver without so much as a disappointed frown. The way he’s always done it: shielded you from violence as much as possible while on the road together, never making you be the one to kill unless you had to.

The sun shines bright above you, sweat damping the roots of your hair and you get to the edges of the weeds; the bandage already blackened with dirt, the edges of it slightly frayed. Pulling the rest, you gather the pile in your hands and walk them over to the edge of the woods, dumping them there.

You can feel his eyes tracking you, and afraid that if you look up and see pity in them that you’ll start crying again, you avoid looking back as you pass him, heading back inside.

—

You had been in a bad mood since he patched your hand up and unable to figure out why, it bothers him. Worry pulls at the edges of his thoughts, nags and picks at him as he works, and he skates carefully around the edge, giving you your space.

Several sections of the deck have rotted, and while he didn’t have the lumber needed for repairs, he took what he could from where he could spare. Busying himself with the task, he is surprised at how much of his skill comes back to him. His hands move of their own accord; the familiar actions of ripping out nails to pull up boards, sawing them to fit the sections he needs, hammering them back into place. Much more pleasant than anything he had ever done on work duty in the QZ, his hands knew this and it was nice to do something that he hadn’t taught them how to do out of desperation.

He grips the source of your sliver, the warped, dry railing to the side of the deck stairs and tugs it off with more force than needed. Even as rotted as it is, waste isn’t a concept and he mentally saves it for tinder, tossing it into the grass.

You had been off since you woke up this morning; images of you cycling quickly through his mind: the solemness to your expression, your unusual quietness. It got worse after the sliver, your back to him as you worked in the garden and then avoiding his gaze before wordlessly passing him to head inside the cabin. He doesn’t think you were crying, but he frowns, unsure.

Picking up one of the large tree branches that fell in the storm, he measures it along the section where he needs it and then cuts it to fit. A tricky job to nail it into place by himself, he gives it a tug when he’s done to test its strength, and deciding it needs a few more nails to hold it in place, he goes in search of more.

He looks for you on the couch when he walks inside, hesitating for a second when you’re not there. Coming to find you, he peers into your doorway to see you curled up on your bed asleep, your bandaged hand resting in a loose curl under your chin and his expression softens as he lingers in the doorway for a moment before letting you be.

Rummaging through the drawers in the kitchen, he finds a small box of nails and pulls it out; a silent longing for deck screws and the wide aisles of a hardware store on a weekend morning. Sunlight streams through the open window, the beam catching on the amber liquid in the whiskey bottle and it glows, inviting and warm.

Looking at it for a moment, he gets an idea and snatching it off the counter, he goes back outside.

–

It’s late afternoon when you wake up from your nap, Joel lightly shaking your shoulder.

“Hey,” he says, his voice husky and low. “I wanna show you something.”

The dense fog of disorientation that comes with every midday nap makes you slow moving, his hand finding yours to lead you outside to the deck, and when you see what he’s set up, your first true smile of the day curls along the edges of your mouth.

“What’s this?”

“You seemed like you weren’t having the best day, so I…..well, I did what I could.” His hand scrubs the back of his neck, his eyes on your face and in another first for the day, his expression looks unsure. “It’s not a lot, but I thought it would be nice?”

He’s brought the blankets from the couch outside, draping them over the wooden bench on the deck, along with a couple of ratty throw pillows for cushioning and a table is set up next to it, with canned fruit from the pantry next to some meat that he’s cooked. To the side of the plates rest two small glasses.

“Hungry?” he asks, motioning for you to sit.

Eating together in companionable silence, the meat is flavored with herbs that you had grown, a small delicacy compared to the bland, unseasoned flavor that you had been tasting for months now and you tell him so, smiling inward at the obvious pride on his face. He takes the dishes when you’re done, setting them to the side and you watch as he walks down the stairs, taking in the new railing that he installed this afternoon. Touched, your eyes follow him down to the bank, where he kneels by the water and wondering what he’s doing, you smile when he turns around with the bottle of whiskey in his hands, coming back to join you.

Pouring two drinks, he then sits down, handing the bottle to you.

“Here,” he says, curving the grip of your injured hand over the ice cold glass. It soothes the dull, throbbing ache instantly and your body relaxes against the bench, your cheek coming to rest on his shoulder. Handing you your glass, the two of you watch as the sun sets.

Color streaks across the horizon, sunlight barely hanging on in the glimmers of white that touch the ripples in the water and you take a swallow of your drink, savoring the cold, thick slide of it down your throat.

“Your hand feel better?” he asks, lifting his arm for you, tucking you into his side.

You nod, grateful for him and everything he’s done and guilt for the way you’ve been acting today creeps up into your chest. “Thank you. For all of this. I’m sorry I haven’t been very –”

He shakes his head, silently cutting you off. “Hey, no. Don’t gotta be sorry. We all have bad days.”

You fit yourself closer to him, taking another drink and when your glasses are empty, he refills them.

“I’m glad the sky cooperated,” he says idly, tucking you into his side. The whiskey has made you loose and pliant, content. You hum in agreement, the drink softening the edges of your mood, but it doesn’t make it disappear entirely. The worry that’s sat inside you all day is still there, and before you know it, you’re voicing it aloud.

“Am I too soft?”

Your lips brush against his flannel, the words so quiet that if it was his right ear that was facing you, he wouldn’t have been able to hear them.

“What?” he asks, looking down at you.

“Today, when I got that sliver.” You pull your bottom lip into your mouth, squeezing the cold bottle in your hand and you keep your gaze down, ashamed. “When I cried about it.” Your eyes come up to meet his, searching. “That was crazy, right? I mean, who does that? Over a sliver.”

He shrugs, setting his glass down before reaching out to touch you. His hand curves over your cheek, his thumb following the line of your cheekbone and then it drifts down, squeezing your shoulder in affirmation. “I don’t know. It was deep, I bet it fuckin’ hurt.”

You laugh at his blunt response, placing your drink between your knees to take his hand in yours. Pulling it close, you brush your lips across his knuckles, giving them a kiss.

“Why are you worried about bein’ too soft?” he asks, and then it’s your turn to shrug.

“I just….I can’t stop thinking about it. About being a burden to you, and I don’t ever want that, you know? I want to be useful and strong, and I feel like –”

His frown deepens, his expression turning serious as he shifts to face you. “Hey. You could never be a burden, okay? Look at everything you’ve done.” He motions towards the garden. “I couldn’t have done that. I didn’t even think it was possible to do that, it never even crossed my mind as something we could do and then you did it.”

He pulls you closer to him, his mouth dropping down next to your ear.

‘Look at it, honey,” he murmurs, making sure you’re looking at the garden. “You did that.”

Your vision swims with tears, his words soothing the restless waters of your worries just like he soothed your hand today.

“Maybe before you had to be tough, but not here. Not with me. I got you.”

You look up at him and he kisses you; tears sliding down your cheeks when you shut your eyes. His tongue slides against yours, his thumb streaking damp over your cheek where he’s wiped the tear away and you deepen it, pouring your gratefulness directly into him. Dusk settles around the two of you, the world a wash of muted darks and the familiar chirp of crickets is a background to your shadowed figures; pressed together, before pulling apart.

“Is this how you used to court ladies before everything happened?”

“Court?” he asks, offended. “How old do you think I am?”

You laugh over the end of his question, setting your glass to the side. “Oh stop. You know what I mean.”

The edge of his mouth lifts as he looks out at the water. “I mean, it’s nice isn’t it? Romantic?”

“Joel Miller,” you sigh with a smile, shaking your head. “A born again romantic.”

“Now hang on, honey,” he stops you, and you laugh again, the sound floating into the darkness. Taking a quick sip from the now warming bottle in your hand, you pretend to hold it out for him before you pull it away and then you’re scrambling to set it down on the boards by your feet while he leans into you with a grin, pushing you down onto the bench beneath him. You fight against his strong grip, the weight of his body pinning you down and his mouth finds the crook of your neck, burying his face there as you laugh underneath him.

He peppers kisses along your skin, your laugh slowing as it slips into something softer and lower and when he looks up at the change of sound, you lift your head for a kiss.

–

Clothing peeled off and tossed onto the floor, he guides you down onto his bed and chases the soft embrace of your body as it curls around him. His mouth tastes everything it can reach: the round of your shoulder, the delicate skin over your ribs, the crease of your thigh. His knees ache as he kneels on the worn carpet beside the bed, dragging your body closer to the edge and then he’s tasting the very heart of you; slick and salt weeping on his tongue.

His hooded eyes watch from between your thighs as you arch, his hand mapping the curve of your hip before sliding over your belly and up, his palm seeking out the weight of your breast. The skin there is petal soft, molding to his greedy touch and his mouth matches the need in his hands, his tongue delving deeper as his hand squeezes. Your gasps sound so pretty in the dark, so sweet yet filthy and he forces your legs open wider with his shoulders, pressing his face tighter against you.

“Fuck,” you whine, your fingers threading into his hair and when you start to rock your hips against his mouth, a low, insistent heat gathers at the base of his spine. His cock throbs against his thigh, two thick fingers slipping inside you to stroke with a crook and when you come with a wordless cry, he ignores the protest of his knees and quickly crawls back up onto the bed.

Caging you in, he settles on top of your body and for a moment, relishes the way you feel beneath him.

Dazed and pliant, warmth held in your hooded eyes, a smile curled at the edge of your mouth - you look so soft underneath him. It makes him want to protect you, shield your body with his and ward off everything that seeks to hurt you – but it also makes him hard, knowing the softness is just for him.

His, and his alone.

He kisses you breathless, waiting until you’re restlessly grinding against each other with need and when he pulls back to guide you onto your stomach, you automatically try to rise to your hands and knees, but he splays his hand over your back, pushing you back down. You stretch out on the bed, the strong inside of his thighs pressing along the outside of yours when he straddles you from behind and the stiff weight of his cock drags along the curve of your ass, his hands reaching beneath you to tug your hips up.

Leaning forward, his mouth follows the dip of your spine, his teeth catching on your shoulder blade before he soothes it with a kiss and his hand works itself between you and the mattress, seeking out your clit. He grins against your skin when he finds it, the weight of his body draped over your back and then he’s notching himself against your entrance, groaning when he feels how wet you are.

“You take me so fucking well, honey,” he says, his lips dragging over your shoulder blade as he presses inside with a relieved groan that sounds loud over your whine when your back arches to allow him deeper. You take him down to the base, the squeeze of your cunt unbearably tight in this position and he already knows he isn’t going to last long. The plush give of your ass fits the hollow of his hips, his fingers working your clit in firm, competent swirls and when you clench around him, he shoves in deeper; the weight of his body a rhythmic grind on top of yours, his torso flush with your back as he strokes, strokes, strokes.

“Harder,” you moan, turning your head as far as you can underneath him and he nods, widening his knees for purchase. His hand drifts down to grip your hip, and he obeys, forcing the air from your lungs with each push inside.

Your strength arouses him; your blatant need. You’re soft hearted – so soft, softer than he could have ever imagined – and somehow the contrast of that paired with the way you’re arching beneath him and begging for more makes him almost lightheaded with lust.

He loves that way you’re both.

Innocence preserved, while begging to be filled.

Tender and sweet, while begging for it harder.

He can give you both – protection and his body. Take care of every need you have.

“Like this?” he says, taking pride in your inability to answer him. “See honey, you’re not too soft. Someone so soft couldn’t take it this hard.” His words are punctuated with a grunt, as fucks into you harder. “Wouldn’t let me fuck ‘em all the ways I want like you do.”

His praise makes your eyes slip shut, a shiver rolling through your body as it goes straight to your core and you arch your back to take him deeper.

“That’s my good fuckin’ girl,” he groans, breathless above you. “You’re so fuckin’ good for me. So good.”

Your hands fist the sheet, your mouth open in a pant and slick pools between his fingers underneath you, your thighs tensing between his. He keeps going, burying his face into the nape of your neck to whisper endless praises and the grind of his hips slows down, but he forces himself deeper, stretching you around him. He can’t stop his hips from seeking out the tight fist of your slick cunt, his nose filled with your scent and when he feels you come underneath him, his stomach tenses with his own impending release.

He wants nothing more than to bury himself deep and come inside you, his hips automatically following the urge of his cock but he knows he can’t. Christ, he can’t.

“Where do you want it?” he asks, his hips grinding, grinding, grinding.

“Oh god –” you cry, your voice hoarse. “In my mouth, please, in my mouth.”

He’s quick to pull out, his strong hand guiding you onto your back and you’ve barely slid into place with your face beneath his cock before he’s coming with a groan, one hand braced on the wall as the other works with a slick, rapid pump.

Moonlight floods into his bedroom, shadows pooling in the dips and valleys of the bed and his spend glimmers milky white on your skin, pooling in streaks. When you lift your hand to push it into your mouth, the edge of your bandage gets in the way and he watches as you tug it gently off your hand, tossing it onto the floor.

The skin underneath is raw and exposed, the wound still fresh and watching as you use your other hand to clean your face with lingering sucks, he bends to press a kiss to the spot he carved out earlier; your palm fitting his mouth just right.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #took me a day to recover #to even be able to reblog this #joel praising your softness as strength #what do i have to pay to live here #for the rest of my days #ficrec #heavy breathing

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solxamber · 3 months ago

Note

Could you do adeuce & the overblot gang (separately) trying one of those period cramp simulators like in those videos?

Overblot Gang + Adeuce + Rollo trying period simulators!

part 2 with vice housewardens + Kalim

I found the idea funny and added Rollo for funsies, I hope you don't mind <3

Adeuce

Ace, being the daredevil he is, straps on the period cramp simulator first with a cocky grin. “How bad can it be?” he says, glancing at you like this is no big deal.

The moment you turn it on, though, his face transforms. “W-What the—” he gasps, doubling over like someone just punched him in the gut. “Okay, okay, this is—AHHH, NOPE, TURN IT OFF!” He’s flailing now, hands waving in panic as he tries to yank the device off, hopping around like a fish out of water.

Deuce, meanwhile, watches with wide eyes, realizing it’s his turn next. “Uh, maybe we shouldn’t—”

“Nah, nah, Deuce, you gotta try it,” Ace wheezes between pained groans. “It’s character building!”

Deuce, ever the trooper, reluctantly puts it on. At first, he’s stoic. “I can handle this. It’s just a simulation—OH MY SEVENS!” He crumples into a chair, gripping his stomach as though his life depends on it, tears actually forming in his eyes. “HOW DO PEOPLE LIVE LIKE THIS?!”

Ace, still recovering on the floor, gives him a thumbs up. “We’re never… talking back to anyone going through this… ever again.”

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle approaches the simulator with the same seriousness he applies to everything else. “This is for educational purposes,” he declares, strapping it on confidently. “I’ll endure it to better understand—”

The moment it starts, his face turns a deep crimson—not from anger, but from sheer pain. His knees buckle, and he grips the nearest chair for dear life, a strained gasp escaping his lips. “T-This can’t be real,” he mutters through gritted teeth. “This is…an injustice to all rules of nature!”

By level three, he’s gasping for air, holding onto the table as if it’s his only lifeline. “TURN IT OFF! THIS SHOULD BE ILLEGAL!”

You switch it off, and Riddle stands there, disheveled and panting, brushing his hair back. “We shall… never speak of this again,” he declares, with his pride barely intact.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona sits back with a smug grin as you offer him the simulator. “Tch, weaklings. I’ve dealt with worse.” he says, lounging lazily as he straps it on. His confidence is off the charts—until you turn it on.

His ears immediately flatten, his eyes go wide, and his whole body tenses up. “The hell is this?!” he growls, clutching his stomach with one hand while the other grips the couch.

By level two, he’s sweating and lowkey whimpering. “Turn it off, turn it off right now.” His tail is thrashing, and there’s no trace of his former bravado. “Whoever made this… is a sadist.”

When you finally switch it off, he glares at you, still slumped on the couch, breathing heavily. “If you tell anyone about this, herbivore, I swear…”

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul, ever the schemer, thinks he’s prepared for anything. “This is merely an experiment,” he says, carefully adjusting his glasses as he straps the simulator on. “I’ll be able to handle it with ease.”

As soon as it starts, though, his confident smirk falters. His back stiffens, and he clutches the arms of his chair, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. “Th-This is...more than I anticipated,” he gasps, his face pale as he tries to remain composed.

By the time you hit level three, Azul’s glasses are askew, and he’s gripping the edge of his desk like his life depends on it. “MAKE IT STOP! I’LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING! HALF-PRICE AT MONSTRO LOUNGE, JUST TURN IT OFF!”

Jamil Viper

Jamil raises an eyebrow at the challenge but doesn’t say no. “This is nothing,” he mumbles, strapping the device on like it’s a task on his daily to-do list. You turn it on, and for a few seconds, he seems unfazed. His poker face is strong.

But as the intensity increases, you see his eye twitch. Then, he’s hunched over, muttering a stream of complaints under his breath, his face contorted in a rare expression of suffering. “This… this is inhuman,” he grits out, shaking his head. “I could’ve been cooking, cleaning, or literally anything else.”

At level four, he’s pressing a hand against his stomach, sweating bullets. “How do people get anything done like this? Who’s responsible for this?!”

Vil Schoenheit

Vil, in true Vil fashion, approaches the whole thing with poise. “I can handle this,” he says, strapping the simulator on like it’s a designer belt. “How painful could it really—”

The second the simulator starts, his perfect posture falters, and he sits down immediately, eyes wide in disbelief. “Oh. My. Sevens. This is—”

By level three, he’s doubled over, one hand gripping his stomach and the other clutching his chest dramatically. “This is unbearable! This pain would ruin anyone’s complexion!”

His voice is full of horror as he waves a trembling hand. “Turn it off before it does permanent damage!”

Idia Shroud

Idia’s hair is already flickering with anxiety the moment you suggest he try the simulator. “Y-You’re joking, right? No way!” But you convince him, and he reluctantly straps it on “I’m going to die, I just know it.”

When you turn it on, his reaction is immediate. His hair flares bright neon pink, and he lets out the most dramatic yelp you’ve ever heard. “OH NO, THIS IS IT! THIS IS HOW I GO!” He’s rolling on the floor, clutching his stomach like he’s in the final boss battle of his life.

By level four, he’s practically pleading. “I surrender! I’m done! Game over! JUST TURN IT OFF!” His hair is flashing so brightly it could power a small city.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus approaches the simulator with a curious expression. “A device that mimics pain? Fascinating.” He straps it on with a regal air, as if this is just another strange mortal custom he’s willing to experience.

The moment it starts, though, he pauses. His eyes widen slightly, and he places a hand over his stomach. “This… is quite intense,” he admits, his voice calm but strained.

As the levels increase, his stoic expression falters, and he’s soon gripping the edge of the nearest surface. “Is this…what humans endure regularly?” he asks in disbelief. By the time it reaches full strength, he’s staring at you in awe. “You must be incredibly strong to endure this.”

The storm outside, coincidentally, seems to match his inner turmoil.

Rollo Flamme

Rollo looks at the period cramp simulator with his usual air of disdain. "I fail to see the point of this exercise," he says, folding his arms. But with a raised eyebrow from you, he sighs and reluctantly agrees. “Fine. If only to demonstrate that I can endure whatever nonsense you find amusing.”

He straps it on, looking every bit like he’s about to endure a great trial of fortitude. "Proceed," he says, as if commanding an army.

At level one, Rollo barely flinches. He keeps his usual stoic expression. "Is that all?" he asks, voice flat. But as you increase the intensity, his composure begins to crack. By level three, he’s shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His jaw tightens, but he's still maintaining his dignity—barely.

"Interesting... sensation," he mutters between clenched teeth, trying to keep his voice steady.

By level four, the calm façade is gone. Rollo’s knuckles are white from gripping the arms of the chair, and his expression is a mix of panic and fury. "This... device is an affront to decency!" he hisses, his face reddening. "Surely no one can focus through such—"

You take it up one more notch.

"TURN IT OFF THIS INSTANT!" Rollo practically yells, his voice cracking as he doubles over, utterly betrayed by his own pride. His normally regal posture is completely gone, replaced by a man clinging to survival.

When you finally switch off the simulator, he’s left panting and disheveled, glaring at you like you’ve committed a personal offense. "That... was barbaric," he wheezes, trying to regain his composure. “I’ll never question your complaints again. That was… inhumane.” He straightens his robes and avoids eye contact, the flush in his cheeks refusing to fade.

"Honestly," he mutters, still flustered, "what vile invention is this world coming to?"

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moonchildstyles · 2 months ago

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pomegrante part two: y/n finally convinces harry to go out with her and her friends, but the night really starts when they make it home

wordcount: 9.2k+

—————

"What's for dinner tonight?"

(Y/N) peeked over Harry's shoulder, her hands landing on his back to keep her steady. There was a whole empty stretch of counter she could have stationed herself, where a well enough view would have shown her what he was doing at the stove, and yet she chose the option to put her hands on him and let him breathe in the bouquet of her scent.

His lungs squeezed on instinct.

"Jus'—uh—some macaroni and cheese. Thought it would be easy and all," he murmured, attempting to keep his voice even and mind from wandering.

It had been a week since the drunken night in his bedroom had turned into the morning spent between his sheets, and yet Harry wasn't sure he'd ever actually recovered. Every now and again, when a particularly vivid memory of her hand fisted around him came to the forefront of his mind, he was out of commission for a few moments, something akin to an aftershock racing up his spine.

(Y/N) definitely wasn't making it any easier to move past the intimate moment with the way she seemed to have completely forgone any kind of barrier that had previously kept her from being touchy-feely with him. It was moments like this—with her hands on his back in the middle of the kitchen—that had plagued him and kept him stuck on the week prior.

Most mornings now included a lingering hug goodbye with a kiss to his cheek. The days where he beat her home, she would make a point to come and say hello to him once she'd returned from her own work day. Cuddling on the couch during a show or movie, was something that no longer required any build up; from the moment they sat down, she was at his side with her shoulder bumping his and knee skimming the cuff of his own with every shift of her form.

Tonight, she held no hesitation before she was draping herself over his form, the warmth of her body sinking into him. Instinctively, he wanted to melt and relax, allow his bones to go malleable so that he could wrap around her the way he wanted. At the same moment, his spine went stiff, keeping him at attention as he was unwilling to miss even a single brush of her fingers.

"That sounds good, H," she smiled, decidedly much more at ease than her counterpart, "Do you want any help?"

"No, I've got it," he swallowed, curling his mouth into a smile as he turned his face to find her gaze already trained right on him, "Thank you, though."

"Okay," she sighed, dropping down from her tip toes and edging out towards the living room, "I guess I can just watch our show then."

He laughed at her exaggerated show, playing along as if she were the one doing the hard work for the night. "I hope y'can manage."

"We'll see" she sang just before sweeping out of the space and taking the butterflies in Harry's stomach along with her.

His chest deflated as a deep breath left his lungs. It was embarrassing to admit that, from just the smallest moment, his cock had stirred for no other reason than the fact that it was (Y/N) that had touched him. There was a part of him that figured that after that night in his bed, that he would have been freed from that lingering kind of desire; that he would have gotten everything out of his system and would have been able to move on as only her friend, but everything appeared to only have intensified.

That's why every touch and every moment seemed to make a larger mark on him. More often than not, he was transported right back to his sheets, (Y/N) tucked to his side and his chest heaving. He knew what she felt like—the touch of her hands, the heat of her skin, the pump of her heart—and he wasn't going to be able to easily forget that.

A furrow appeared in his brow as he forced himself to focus on the task at hand. He needed to finish making dinner, and then he would worry about (Y/N) and what it meant that he couldn't look at her now without a rosy glow glossing over his vision.

—————

Scratching his head, Harry stared at his laptop screen. A spreadsheet illuminated his face.

While he loved his project team and enjoyed his department colleagues, there were times—just like this one—that made him wonder if he was going to be driven mad on their account. The equations and rules posted in each of these cells made little to no sense, he couldn't fathom why Tylor would think this was good enough to pass along an—

"Boo!"

A fumbled curse fell from Harry's mouth as he practically jumped out of his skin. Snapping his head to look over his shoulder as he roughly pulled his headphones off of his head, he saw (Y/N) giving him a goofy grin, biting back a laugh.

Harry let out a heavy sigh, his heart rate settling back to normal.

"Did I get you?" she giggled, her hands still on his shoulder though now her grip turned into a massaging roll.

"Yeah," he laughed, sagging in his chair, " Y'scared the shit out of me."

Her laughter only bubbled brighter. "Sorry, I couldn't help myself."

"'S alright." He shook his head as his eyes followed (Y/N) as she fell back to sit on his bed, "You're home early."

"Yeah," she sang, propping herself up with a hand behind her on his mattress, "My supervisor let me go early since I finished all of my reports yesterday."

"That's nice," he smiled, making a point not to focus on the fact that seeing her in his bed elicited a much different reaction than it used to. "What are y'gonna do with all of your extra free time?"

Something sparkled in her eyes then, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth though she made an effort to keep it from stretching wide. "That's what I came to talk to you about actually."

"Yeah?" A flush crept up the base of his throat.

"Yeah," she chirped, "I talked to Rue and Kim, and I think we might go out tonight. They're bringing a couple of friends and I think Kim is asking her roommate to come too."

"That'll be fun," Harry encouraged, pretending everything that happened after her last girls night didn't happen. "Y'gonna be here for dinner then, or do y'want me to save the leftovers for tomorrow?"

"Actually," she started, canting her head with a blink of her eyes, "I was wondering if you might want to come with me tonight."

Harry's mouth suddenly ran dry. (Y/N) had talked about him joining her and her friends on a night out many different times, but he never gave it much thought. He was never one for big parties or crowded clubs, even during his university days. He was sure (Y/N) knew as much.

He fumbled for an answer—a kind way to decline her invitation once more—, though (Y/N) seemingly met him halfway and cut him off.

"I know you don't usually like going out like this," she started, eyes turning pleading, "But, I really, really think you'd have a good time. The bars we pick are fun, I mean it." He watched as her expression shifted, a glint passing through her eyes though her smile turned coy. "And you could meet someone, you know."

That was the first illusion to any facet of the conversation that had taken place in his bedroom that week and a half ago. She wanted him to meet someone, still?

While Harry had been well aware that what had transpired wasn't going to, and didn't change a single thing between them, she also hadn't again brought up the idea of setting him up. He had figured that now that she knew his secret, that she understood why he wasn't looking to find a random person in a bar, or be set up through anyone.

(And, maybe there was the smallest, most minuscule part of him that hoped that, maybe, she was no longer interested in seeing him with someone else anymore. That, maybe she had found the same book he had pulled, and was working herself to the same page. A futile hope, he supposed).

"I don't know, (Y/N)," he sighed, bringing his knuckle up to brush the tip of his nose, "I've still got a lot I need to get done today."

He dared to match her gaze from where his eyes had skated over her shoulder. Her glittery, pretty, clear eyes didn't shy away from him. Her lashes flared when she blinked at him, a small gape to her lips.

"Please, H," she murmured, a small curl touching the corner of her mouth, "You're really going to make me beg—just for a couple of hours of your time?"

Harry swallowed, making a point to drop his gaze from hers. Beg? She was going to beg for him?

Why would she say that? Was she trying to make him fall to the floor? Light on fire?

A warm flush crept up his neck. "Beg?" he choked out.

"I will if you really want me to," she offered, amusement in her voice though Harry wasn't finding the joke.

"No, no, 's alright," he rushed out, sparing himself and his briefs the trouble, "Y'really want me to go?"

"Of course, I do!" Harry hadn't realized how the air had stilled, or the way her voice had dropped until she suddenly perked up. The cheer now injected in her tone was a stark difference to whatever it was that had been between them just a moment before. "I promise you'd have so much fun; if anything we'll get to have a night out for the first time in forever."

Truthfully, did he really think he was going to be able to say no? Especially when she sat so prettily on his bed and was willing to beg for him.

He took in a deep breath, as if he were taking on a heavy burden before he looked to (Y/N) with thinned lips. "Okay."

It was the joy and excitement that lit her up that had Harry feeling certain in his decision. He'd never had a chance.

"Harry, really?! I'm so excited!" She popped up from his bed only to hug him as best she could while he was still stationed in his desk chair.

He only hesitated for a moment, his limbs stiff for a breath before he succumbed to the warmth. Feeling the strands of hair on the crown of her head tickling the tip of his nose strung memories back to the front of his mind, the kind that had his heart plunging against his ribs just as she pulled away.

"I'm going to tell everyone, and I'll let you know what time and everything." Her chattering voice filled his room even as she began towards his door. "We should probably eat before we go out, but I'll let you know what we figure out." She paused in the threshold. "Are you excited?"

The way she was looking at him, grin wide and eyes bright, he was only able to answer honestly. "Very excited."

With one more grin over her shoulder, she disappeared out of view.

Harry had his eyes fixed to the door frame for a lingering moment. His lungs expanded at full capacity for the first time since she had barged in, his heart beginning to even out. He blinked as he attempted to get back to work, urging himself to focus on something familiar before he was going to have to deal with the deal he made for the night.

When she was sitting in front of him, the perspective of a smoky bar with her sounded fun and exciting. Now he was alone with the reality of a sticky, overpriced bar being his plans for the night, he could only hope that his original excitement prevailed.

—————

(Y/N) had her hand wrapped around Harry's wrist as she led them through the congested line in front of the bartop. He couldn't help but to mumble his sorrys and excuse mes despite knowing not a single person was listening. Holding up the rear, Harry could see ahead to where Rue and her roommate lead the charge, followed by Kim, and her boyfriend, along with Cora and her brother. The usual suspects in (Y/N)'s life; some he met back when they were both in university, others she met through work.

Meeting up outside of the bar didn't leave much room for small talk and catching up before they were herded inside, but it was long enough for Harry to see the surprise that crossed Rue and Kim's faces. They hadn't believed that he was really going to show up tonight. And, he couldn't blame them, even if it did make him feel a bit sheepish; he hoped none of them had an ill opinion of him because of that.

The so-called bar that had been chosen for the night was verging on a night club with the way the music was pounding loud through the room. There wasn't a designated spot for dancing , but it appeared the space had been made with the way there were few tables in the room aside from the bartop and the booths lining the room. The empty space before the DJ became the dancefloor, their warm bodies swaying and moving together. Other than strobing party lights, the bar was left in the dark.

Rue, thanks to a connection with one of the bouncers and a bartender, was able to sweep them through the congestion in the bar to find an empty booth in the back. It was secluded, behind the large speakers of the DJ. Harry was sure he was going to have a ringing in his ears for the rest of the weekend after this, but it was a preferable spot compared to just standing around while others pushed around.

"This good?!" Rue shouted to the line behind her (or at least Harry figured she shouted, he was just making do with reading her lips).

It only took a few nodding heads before the group took over the vinyl seating. (Y/N) kept him close, pulling him to sit on the end of the curving booth beside her. She grinned up at him, her teeth splashed in flickers of blue and magenta thanks to the lights above.

"What do you think!?" she bubbled, close enough that Harry could just hear the octaves of her voice.

"'S a lot," he answered, ducking down to hover his lips by her ear, "A little sticky."

She laughed at his words. "Yeah, I never wear cute shoes here. Thank you for coming, though."

The way she smiled at him made up for the sweat already beginning to slick the back of his head, and the way the soles of his shoes may never be the same after this. When she looked up at him with eyes sparkling, grin wide, he wondered why he'd never said yes to a night like this before.

"(Y/N)!"

Whipping their heads to look across the table, Cora's brother, Colin had his gaze on (Y/N). The planes of his face were highlighted under the beams of strobing light, long shadows cast by the length of his lashes and the point of his chin. Harry knew Colin was a good looking man, and maybe that was why he felt a pinch of jealousy sting the middle of his chest. Especially when he smiled at (Y/N) like that; Harry wondered if that was what he looked like when he gazed at her too.

"I'm going to the bar, what do you want?"

She rattled off a simple order, something fruity and sweet that he knew was her favorite. As soon as she finished though, she looked at Harry, brows raised in question. "What do you want?"

Flicking his eyes to Colin, Harry saw the way his lips thinned. Maybe it was because (Y/N)'s attention was spread elsewhere. Or, it could just be the way his face looked, Harry reminded himself.

Nonetheless, Harry met Colin's eyes across the table and shared his own order. "Thank you," he smiled, even if Colin didn't give more than a nod of acknowledgment.

He and Cora excused themselves a moment later, heading back into the throes of patrons towards the bar.

Harry didn't want to, but he had a feeling he was going to be keeping an eye on him through the night.

At his side, (Y/N) bumped him to grab his attention. "You're going to dance with me tonight, right?"

A smile crept onto the corners of his mouth. "I don't know, (Y/N)," he drawled, "Are y'sure you're ready for everyone to know 'm a better dancer than you?"

She let out a peal of laughter, bright and tinkling compared to the heavy bass rattling through his bones. "I guess I'll have to manage," she teased, both of them knowing the truth about his coordination, "I promise I'll get out of your way when people start cutting in to take my place with you."

Harry played along, graciously accepting her offer. "I think that's best for the both of us." With a moment's hesitation, he gently laid his hand on her knee. While (Y/N) didn't even blink at the contact, Harry could feel his heart rate jumping as if he wasn't the one who had made the first move.

Especially when she threw her head back laughing and leaned right into his touch, angling her body just so, he questioned if there were any others in the room.

As if Harry would accept anyone else's hand tonight.

—————

Bringing the small black straw to her pursed lips, (Y/N) bit back her laughter as she saw Harry move horrendously so to the music pumping around them. Tonight's game apparently was going to be one where they threw out the worst moves they could, leaving the other to replicate them and make them that much more uncoordinated. It wasn't the right game to play if they were attempting to catch anyone's eye, but that was far from Harry's mind at the moment. All he wanted was to keep (Y/N) having fun.

Rue, Kim, and the others weren't very far away with Colin and Kim's boyfriend having taken to staying in the booth to stake claim of the space. It wasn't hard to catch Colin looking (Y/N)'s way more than once. Even if he didn't seem particularly happy with the fact she had been sticking with Harry through most of the night, Colin hadn't tried anything more than watching on with a slight pinch to his features.

Just as (Y/N) was going to match his move and add on something extra ridiculous, her eyes lit up, flicking over his shoulder. Spitting the chewed up straw from her mouth, she crossed the few steps between them with a giddy smile. She gestured him to lean down for her, leaving his ear level with her mouth.

"There's a girl behind you that's been looking at you! I just saw her say something to one of her friends and point at you," (Y/N) bubbled, almost stumbling over her words, "I think she's going to come over here!"

Harry wanted to match her excitement. He wanted to look at her smile and offer up his own. But there was nothing about this revelation that made him as excited as she wanted him to be. Was it nice to be admired, and have someone know nothing about him and still want to get to know him just from one look? Sure.

But, if that person wasn't (Y/N), he didn't have much interest.

"I can leave if you want," she rattled on, "So she doesn't feel weird coming over here!"

"No, no," Harry immediately fired off, "'S alright. I want to keep dancing with you."

It was a simple admission, one that could be easily shared between friends, but felt loaded falling from his tongue.

"But, H," (Y/N) countered, "This is the best time to meet new people! It might be fun to have someone other than me hanging around, don't you think?"

Immediately, Harry wanted to say no. It wouldn't be very fun in his opinion, to retrace all of his vulnerabilities and secrets to be shared with someone else when (Y/N) was right there. She already knew any and everything there was to know about him, he didn't need to share any more.

His silence was taken the wrong way by (Y/N). A gentle hand settled on his shoulder. "If you're still nervous about what you told me, I promise you'll be fine. Don't let it stop you from meeting a nice girl." She paused for a moment, Harry's throat bobbing as he swallowed around his dry tongue. "I can still help you with all of... that, anyway. If that makes you feel better."

Suddenly, he could feel the heavy beat of his heart as it matched the bass of the music pouring from the speakers. What kind of twisted pep talk; one where she was encouraging him to meet other women and to not hold back due to his lack of prowess, while also offering to help him get some of those firsts off of his plate.

He took in a heavy breath, grateful that he could still glean notes of her perfume over the rest of the sticky, smoky scent that filled the bar. "Yeah?" he breathed, already getting much too wrapped up in the implications of her offer.

"Of course," she bubbled, entirely too bright for where his mind was going, "You don't have to worry about things like that. If any girl is worth your time, she'd never feel any kind of way about that part of you."

Harry gave a slight shake of his head. "No—um—I mean... Y'really mean y'still want to help me?"

(Y/N) reared back just enough to catch his eye, her half finished drink left to the wayside as she chewed on her bottom lip instead. "Of course."

It verged on embarrassing how just those two innocuous words were able to cause a stirring in his stomach, his pants needing an adjustment.

Before he had a chance to say anything in response, Harry felt a hand settle on his arm. (Y/N)'s expression loosened, her eyes widening when she saw whoever was behind him. She didn't say anything before she urged him with her hand on his shoulder to turn around, a bounce of her brows.

Forcing himself to turn over his shoulder, Harry found a pretty girl with lengthy brown hair and honey eyes looking up at him. Her skin was powdered and highlighted to perfection, her lips a juicy pink with blush to match. Her lashes flared around her eyes, like a cat's eye.

"Hi," she smiled, bouncing on the tips of her toes, "Sorry if I'm interrupting. I hope this isn't weird, but you're just really cute; my friends have been telling me to come and talk to you since we came in."

Harry wanted so badly to feel flattered. He wanted to feel a flush go up his cheeks and warm his already glistening skin. But, he just didn't.

All he felt was reluctance when (Y/N) excused herself, muttering that she was going back to the table.

"Um," Harry fumbled, forcing a dimpled smile onto his cheeks, "Thank you. I think you're cute, too."

It was true, the compliment. Though that was where it stopped. She was a pretty girl, but not the one he wanted.

She let out a sweet giggle, her drink sloshing in hand. "Do you want to dance?"

He couldn't help but to cut a look over his shoulder, finding (Y/N) sitting with Colin and Rue's roommate. An encouraging smile beamed from her features.

He swallowed thickly. She wanted him to take this girl up on her offer.

Honestly, he would have, if not for that smile on her face. As pretty as this girl was, she wasn't ever going to have the same creased by her eyes, the same crinkle to her nose, the same grin on her face. She wasn't the one that he saw himself readily watching reality dating shows with. She wasn't the one he wanted to end his night with. Not when (Y/N) was right there; not when she was the one he trusted the most.

"Actually," Harry started, morphing his features into an apology before the actual words even left his mouth, "I came here for a friend's birthday tonight; not really trying to meet anyone tonight."

The lie came out less than smooth, but it appeared that was all the explanation the girl required.

Her lips formed an O as she gazed up at him. "I see, no worries," she bubbled off, shaking her head, "I totally get it! Maybe I could give you my number or something? So next time you go out, you can just text me if you want to meet up."

Harry felt terribly guilty the more sweet and understanding she was. Rejection had never been and would never be his strong suit. And he wasn't going to be able to hone his skills tonight.

"Sure," he choked out, already unlocking his phone to be passed along to her hands.

She happily tapped away at his screen as she added her number to his contacts, a winking emoji stamped at the end of her name (Viola, he learned).

"Have a fun night!" she beamed at him before leaving to rejoin her friends.

Following suit, Harry pretended he didn't feel any eyes on him as he retreated towards (Y/N) in the booth. It was then that he caught the wolfish smile on Colin's face dissipate when he realized Harry was on his way back.

"What happened?" (Y/N) chirped, throwing a glance around him towards the woman he retreated from.

Harry shrugged, sliding into the booth at her side. "She and her friends are leaving soon. She gave me her number."

(Y/N) clasped her hands in a giddy clap. "No way! She so likes you, H! I'm so happy for you!"

It was cute, the way she bubbled his praises, as if he'd done anything at all to warrant the approach from Viola.

"When are you going to text her?" She leaned towards him (and away from Colin) with a conspiratorial smile.

Once again, Harry lifted his shoulders in a shrug. He dropped his gaze from hers, hoping she wouldn't press for more explanation when he answered, "Not sure yet."

"Oh," (Y/N) sounded, drooping some, "Well, wh—"

Just then, thankfully so, Kim approached the table with clear eyes, her boyfriend draped around her with his own gaze looking much less coherent. "Hey, I think I'm going to take him home," she shouted to (Y/N) over the music, "Do you want to ride with us, or are you going to stay? I think Rue and Cora are planning on staying until last call."

(Y/N) immediately looked towards Harry, brows raised in question. "Are you ready to go home? Or did you want to stay?"

He gave a small cant of his head, warmed by the attention she gave him. "'M alright with whatever y'want to do."

Before he even finished speaking, (Y/N) shook her head with a roll of her eyes. "No, H. What do you want to do?"

Rolling his lips between his teeth, Harry didn't stand a chance before his mind wandered right back to the offer she made to him on the dance floor. He... Well, he would never assume that (Y/N) would drop and follow through right away, though there was a higher chance if they weren't in public.

"I could be ready to go home, if you are."

(Y/N)'s features softened into a smile. "Okay," she said just before turning to Kim, "We'll go home with you, if that's alright."

It was her turn to drop a hand on his knee, a slight squeeze of her fingers around the cuff. That was all it took to have his stomach tightening and heart choking his throat.

Harry wondered if he would always be this easy, or if it was just (Y/N).

Hopefully, going home early would help him find out.

—————

Harry waved one last time to Kim and her boyfriend before they drove off. Behind him, on the small tiled space just past the threshold, (Y/N) struggled with her teetering heels.

"Are y'alright?" he murmured as he closed the door, the lock clicking into place a moment later.

"Kinda," she sighed, "Hold on." Just as he turned to face her, (Y/N) placed her hand on his abdomen. Her fingers pressed through the material of his top just over the ridges of muscles lining his torso, steadying herself as she carefully attempted to shuck her shoes off.

His lungs stunted, his eyes dropping to where she was just short of kneeling in front of him. The last time she touched him so low on his stomach was when he had guided her palm down his abdomen before she had taken his cock in her fist. The memory had his throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly.

"Sorry," she muttered, looking up at him through the fan of her lashes, a curtain of her hair hanging over her features, "I didn't want to sit on the floor—I don't think I would have gotten up."

He knew he was supposed to laugh along, especially when she let out a breathy laugh as she was finally able to kick off her shoes. Kicking her shoes to the side, she gave a chummy pat to his stomach before she rose to her full height. When she met his gaze, her demeanor was decidedly brighter and lighter than the direction his thoughts had taken.

"What's wrong?" she immediately chirped, her brows slanting as she gazed up at him.

Harry forced himself back into the moment, blinking back into the middle of his home. "Um," he coughed, turning away from her prying eyes, "Nothing—sorry, I zoned out."

"Are you sure?" (Y/N) pressed, canting her head. Her eyes fell from his face and down the line of his neck. "Do you feel hot? You're turning red, H."

A streak of guilt trickled through his system. She was genuinely concerned for him while he was a moment away from allowing himself to imagine if she had actually dropped to her knees in front of him and made good on the offer she extended only hours prior.

Shaking his head, he tried his best to fight off the natural reactions his body gave when it came to his roommate. "'M alright, really. Jus' a little tired, I think."

(Y/N) initially seemed to buy his excuse, but in that same moment, he saw something flash across her gaze. Her concerned features shifted until there was a sly smile on her lips, brows bouncing above her accusing eyes.

"Ohhh, I see," she sang as she all but bounced on her toes, "You want to go talk to your new girlfriend."

His eyes widened at her accusation. What map had she used to get to that destination?

"Th-That's not—'M not—"

"It's alright, I get it," she teased, putting her hands up as if in surrender, "I'll let you get to bed. Just let me know if you need any help deciphering what the amount of i's in her Hi mean, or if the exclamation points mean she's flirting or just happy."

Harry swallowed, shaking his head. "'M not—I don't... She was nice, but I don't think 'm going to text her."

"And, that's alright!" she bubbled, realizing he wasn't planning on playing into her chiding, "I was only teasing. At least you put yourself out there, that's all that matters."

A short smile touched the corners of his lips. He wasn't very interested in putting himself out there when what he wanted was right here at home. "Thanks," he mumbled nonetheless.

Her expression grew gentle then, the look of a best friend who wanted to know what was going on in her companion's head. No more teasing was going on as far as he could see. "Why are you all flustered then? You didn't drink much tonight, but it's okay if you're feeling sick."

"No, I—" he cut himself off before he stumbled into revealing the truth. "'S nothing."

(Y/N) was skeptical, that much was obvious on her face. "Harry."

"(Y/N), 'm fine."

She canted her head, looking up at him through fanned lashes. "Harry."

"(Y/N)."

"Harry, there's no way anything you're thinking can be that bad, that you can't even tell me."

There was something in the lilt of her voice, the way she so innocently pushed to know more about him in that moment. Harry wasn't sure what exactly it was, but there wasn't much fight left but the time she finished speaking.

Truly, once again, he'd laid bare each and every of his secrets and most embarrassing moments before her. What was one more?

For a split second, he thought back into that crowded bar.

I can still help you with all of... that, anyway.

He could still feel the fan of her breath tickling across his neck. He saw the way her lashes fluttered as she looked up at him with clear eyes. He saw the sincerity in her irises—both just before in the bar, as well as when she was wrapped up in his sheets.

All of this because he had the breath taken away from him when he saw her almost kneel in front of him when taking off her shoes.

"H—"

"I was thinking about you," he rushed out, unintentionally cutting her off, "And, the—uh—thing y'said at the bar. About... helping me."

A look of confusion struck her expression before she seemingly caught up. Her eyes brightened, a near imperceptible drop of her gaze down his form before she returned to his face.

"Oh. Are you... right now?"

They both knew the answer to her question. The suspicion only confirmed when he didn't offer any response.

Her socked feet shifted over the carpet, the front door still only mere feet away. A small reminder that he'd not even fully made it into his home before he was taken by the sight of her alone.

"You want... me?"

The genuine curiosity in her tone was enough to have Harry's insides beginning to roil. Of course, he wanted her; she was the only person he can remember wanting enough to act this vulnerable.

"Um, yeah," he answered, tongue fumbling over the words, "By the door, you were... almost on your knees."

Peeking at her, Harry gauged her reaction to his admission.

He watched as she blinked, lashes fluttering. Her eyes dropped down from his eyes, skipping to his pelvis. Harry didn't have to follow her gaze to know that she was seeing the slight semi he was sporting through his trousers.

"Really?" she chirped, looking up at him through her wispy lashes.

Harry shrugged, only a single corner of his lips daring to give a slight curl. "Back at the bar," he started, "Y'said... y'still wanted to help, so."

He didn't need to say more, not when a light entered (Y/N)'s gaze. She tilted her head as she looked up at him. A sweet smile bloomed over her lips.

"And you've just been thinking about that?"

His smile turned sheepish. He didn't think this was the time to really detail just how often she was on his mind.

A sparkling laugh fell from her lips then. "C'mon then, H," she bubbled, taking his hand in hers.

Something akin to a daze fell over his body. Harry didn't feel a single breath of hesitation as he followed (Y/N) from the front door. All he did was follow her steps to their sofa, his eyes unabashedly landing on her backside and the way her skirt hugged her hips.

"You said you liked me on my knees, right?"

Harry didn't think before he was humming a confirmation.

"Then I have an idea for something new tonight."

It was then that she dragged him to sit down on the sofa. Harry blinked, unsure of what to do with his hands before (Y/N) took her spot before him. On her knees.

His heart was reeled right up to his throat. She wasn't...

With her knees cushioned by their plush area rug (one she bought into the equation when she moved in), she scooted towards him. Her skirt rolled up over the smooth skin of her thighs, revealing more and more of her, parts that Harry couldn't help but to imagine gripping and squeezing in the heat of the moment.

"Is this okay?" she asked, so sweet and kind. Her hands landed on the cuffs of his knees.

"Um," Harry started, his mouth incredibly dry as it fell into a gape as he gazed down at her, "Yeah—Yes. Really okay."

The smile on her lips was so pretty. It wasn't fair that she would just look like that, not when she was working her hands up his thighs.

"You're funny, H."

He wanted to respond, really. But then she started undoing the fastenings of his trousers. He could do nothing other than watch her manicured fingers unbutton the waist and pull down the zipper. His cock stirred even just from the slight brushes of her hands.

Goosebumps erupted on his skin when she started pulling down his pants. Harry could feel her eyes on him when he lifted his hips to help her along, the kind of warm feeling that had his spine stringing up straight.

The warmth was no doubt becoming visible on his skin, a flush creeping up from the base of his throat to the apples of his cheeks. His lips were parted, breaths coming out in quiet puffs as (Y/N)'s deft fingers crept up his thighs. The inky tiger tattooed on the meat of his leg was delicately traced with the tip of her fingernail. His cock jumped.

"You said you've never done anything before?" she pressed, her voice drawing him in as if he weren't already hooked.

Harry swallowed, his throat bobbing. "Other than what we've done, yeah."

"Okay," she sounded, her fingers now creeping under the hem of his briefs, "We'll figure out what you like then. If I do something that feels good, just tell me and I'll keep doing it."

She said it so simply, as if they weren't talking about what he was going to feel when she put him in her mouth. The feel of her touch under the legs of his briefs was enough to have his toes curling in his shoes, his hands reaching for the fallen throw blanket behind him.

Had it really only been a week or so since they were holed up in his bedroom? His body reacted to her like he was starved, hungering for even a brush of her hand over his bare skin. Had he really thought that having her once was going to be enough to get her out of his system? Had he thought that just one touch was going to be enough?

Harry practically sunk into the sofa when she pulled one of her hands from the leg of his underwear and instead brushed over the bulge of his cock. He felt the press of her hand over his length, the ridge of his head pressing into her palm. The catch of her nails over his thigh as she scratched down over his tattoo was felt through his body, his bottom lip being caught between his teeth.

He was only slightly aware of her eyes skipping up to land on his face while his own were trained on her hand palming his length through his boxers. The material began to stretch further as he stiffened against her touch, the cut at the front of his underwear pulling open.

When the first blurt of precum stained the front, Harry felt more of that heat creep up his skin.

"Sorry," he murmured, already anticipating the mess that he was going to have to clean up tonight.

"Why?" she asked, so easily with her eyes peeking up at him.

So badly did Harry want to answer her, but she also decided to hook her fingers underneath the waist of his underwear in that same moment the question was posed. His mind went momentarily blank. All he could process was the catch of her nails over his hip bones, the drag of the material over his sensitized length, the fact that it was (Y/N).

Her question was lost when they both turned to focus on his cock as it bobbed free of the confines of his boxers. The head was already ruddy, veins roping around the length. Thank god he had just trimmed up down there before going out.

"Okay?"

Blinking back to the world, Harry looked to (Y/N) with a gape to his lips. "Huh?"

Her smile was too pretty to be fair. Especially not when she was seemingly bracing herself from her spot on her knees between his legs. "You're okay?"

"Y-Yeah," he breathed, mouth moving faster than his head, "'M so okay—so fucking okay. I've been thinking about this all week."

Her brows shot up over her eyes, light flitting through her eyes. "Really? Even when you were talking to your girlfriend tonight?"

He knew, in the back of his mind, that she was teasing him. The way she said the word full of extra sing-song syllables, the same way she would have teased him if he weren't half naked. But there was absolutely no room in his head where he could find any joke to play along.

"I was thinking about y'the whole time," he confessed, "She—She's not you."

"Harry," she crooned, her eyes soft and rounded, "You can't talk like that. Not when I'm about to suck you off; you'll make me cry instead. And not in a hot way."

Unable to hold back any more, Harry let out a flowing moan. The gravel of his voice filled their home, disrupting the hushed tones they had been using before.

Why would she say that? When he was barely holding everything together, why would she say that?

He couldn't keep his mind from wandering to the idea of her blinking back tears with her lips stretched around his cock. Harry never wanted to see her shed any tears—especially over him—but this idea, full of smudged mascara and glossy eyes, didn't sound so bad at all.

His composure being something just out of reach, Harry didn't have a chance before he could feel the breath of (Y/N)'s slight laugh fanning across his heated length. Just barely was he able to force himself to peel his eyes open to catch sight of her pressing her lips to the head of his cock.

It was a gentle kiss, the same kind that she would plant on his cheek when in a particularly touchy mood. Not the kind of thing that should have made the muscles banding his thighs and blocking his abdomen grow exponentially tighter.

Harry tightly clutched the throw blanket at his sides, the material thinning against the force of his fingers. Nothing could have prepared him for how deeply something so simple affected him.

(Y/N) continued with only a small crease appearing between her brows. She kissed the crown of his length more than once, dragging the pillows of her pretty lips over the heated skin. As innocent as the act appeared, it was immediately stomach twisting when he saw the way the thin strings of his cum connected her mouth to his head. The gloss she had lost back at the bar, was back in the form of Harry's own pleasure.

Pinning his bottom lip between his teeth, he watched with clenched hands while (Y/N)'s own moved along the strength of his thighs. One stayed braced over the ink of his tiger, fingertips denting the plush skin in an anchoring touch. The other continued on until her fist was wrapped around the base.

A swift breath was sucked in through his nose at the touch. Once again, he was reminded that his hand paled in comparison to hers. No one else in the world could be as soft, as gentle, as firm, as perfect as she was.

Her name fell from his lips in crooning prayers, Harry sinking further into the cushion.

Though he was sure his lungs stopped only a heartbeat later. Silence fell over the house, Harry's mouth dropped open in a soundless moan as she took her kissing a step further and tucked his head between her lips.

The heat of her mouth felt scorching over his sensitive skin, her soothing tongue laving over him. Her hand at the base of his cock worked up and over his length in lingering strokes.

Why hadn't anyone told him it could feel like this? No wonder there were millions of videos on seedy sites just about this subject alone. After last week, he doubted any pleasure could top that, and yet, here he was.

Before he had a chance to become accustomed to the feel of her mouth, (Y/N) pulled away with a soft pop of her lips. She kept her hand moving along his length as she gazed up at him, head canted.

"Do you want me to go deeper? Or do you like that?" she murmured, her voice lingering and warm.

"Deeper, deeper," he rushed out, lips slicked and swollen.

She didn't give anything more than a short smile before Harry watched as she dipped her head and took him back between her lips.

A moan of her name fell from his lips, sandwiched between swears too jumbled to make much sense of. True to her offer, she lingered over his head for only a moment before she surged forward, taking him deeper. Harry felt hypersensitive at that moment.

He swore he could feel each bud on her tongue pillowing against his sensitive length. The gentle suction of her cheeks hollowing out around him. The coaxing of her throat as she swallowed him down the further she took him.

Saliva dripped down his length, slicking her hand as she continued the rhythmic pumping. Harry couldn't look away, but could barely keep his eyes open.

Watching her felt like looking into the sun—like he was going to go blind, like he couldn't watch for longer than a moment before was going to lose it. But, he couldn't look away. He was lucky enough to have had her touch once, let alone twice. He couldn't act like this was ever going to happen a third time. He had to savor each and every moment.

Even when he felt the tight channel of her throat closing around the very tip of his cock, he forced his eyes to stay open. Even when he saw that moment that had his muscles going taut with (Y/N)'s eyes growing glossy. It should have broken his heart to see her blinking back tears, but he only felt the winding of the pit of his stomach.

Twice in a row, he was not going to be able to last. Twice in a row was he going to embarrass himself in front of his ultimate dream girl.

But, god, was it worth it.

"(Y/N), I—"

She cut him off with a slight gag closing her throat, enough for her to pull off for a steadying breath. Her mouth was slick and swollen, dropped in a gape as she dragged in breath after breath.

"Sorry," she mumbled, continuing the strokes of her hand, "Scared myself. I just need a second."

"Don't be sorry, don't be sorry," he muttered, finally giving in and throwing his head back with his eyes screwed shut. Precum streamed out of his cock, vein throbbing "You're perfect, love. So perfect."

The breathy laugh she let out was watery. "Thanks, H. You're perfect, too."

He should have felt silly, having given out such rambling praise right now, when it would no doubt sound like the lusty thoughts of a horny mind. Not like the honesty that slipped out in a vulnerable moment.

Though, he didn't have any longer than a pair of heartbeats to dwell before (Y/N) wiped any and all thoughts from his head. The glorious, wonderful, perfect heat of her mouth enveloped him once more. She sucked around him, matching the tight grip of her fist around his base.

"Fuck, fuck, (Y/N)," he chattered, surprised he hadn't ripped a hole in the fabric of the throw blanket puddled around him, "'M gonna cum, 'm sorry, 'm sorry. Y'don't hav-have to—"

Pulling off of him just enough to press her pursed lips to the tip again, (Y/N) shook her head. "I want to. It's okay, honey. Do whatever you want."

Maybe it was the vibration of her voice echoing around his length, or the sight of her pretty mouth parting for her soft tongue to lick over his head, or the encouragement that she wanted to take his cum—whatever it was, was all he needed. The bunched muscles lining his bones finally gave way, releasing him like a rubber band snapping as his hips lifted from the cushion.

He unraveled on the sofa, a warning on his lips that didn't make it in time before the first rope spurted out of him. His lungs were stunted as he watched the first dredge released over her mouth, following the line of her nose and dripping to the shape of her lips. (Y/N) closed her eyes, a soft gasp falling from her pretty, swollen, glazed lips. It was only a second before she tucked the head of his cock back between her lips, swallowing the rest of his release.

She continued the stroke of her hand, working him through the throes without lagging. Every pump of his release was swallowed down by (Y/N), the motion sending aftershocks through him. The grip she held on his thigh, with her nails digging into the skin was the only bite of clarity offered in that moment.

The world felt so small then, consisting of only he and (Y/N) and the throw blanket he was never going to complain about being balled up on the sofa ever again. There could never be anything else worthy of his attention when (Y/N) looked up at him with glossy eyes, bottom lashes clumping together. All with the traces of his cum having painted over her face.

"What the fuck?" Harry breathed out, a slight bit of delirious laughter falling from his lungs as he melted against the couch. His head fell back against the cushion, fingers cramping as he unravelled from the throw blanket.

Pulling away with a pop, (Y/N) allowed him to come down without the distraction of her touch.

"Good what the fuck? Or bad?" she breathed, letting go of his leg with one final squeeze.

"Good," Harry cemented with a nod, "So good."

Sucking in a deep breath, he pulled his head from where it had lolled against the cushions. Just in time to see her swiping her fingers through the mess on her face, licking his cum from her fingers.

Maybe his head was still in the clouds, the lack of oxygen having made him delirious and impulsive, but Harry didn't give a second thought before he was leaning down and pressing his lips to hers.

He could taste something salty and heady on her mouth, but he didn't care. There had been plenty of times before this that Harry wanted to kiss her, but this was the first time he couldn't find a single reason not to. He was convinced that this was the only way he could possibly show her how much he appreciated, and revered, and cared for her after she did such an act for him.

Her skin was just a touch sticky as he cradled her cheeks between his palms, their swollen lips sealed together. The very tip of his nose grazed the bridge of her own as he tipped his head just enough.

By the time his head caught up to his body, he realized she had gone stiff, mouth parted as if in the process of gasping.

A string of curses ran through his head. What was he thinking? Is he stupid? Or just so horny and touch starved, this seemed like a good idea?

Just as he made a move to pull away, (Y/N) pressed forward, kissing back. Matching his movements, she tilted her head and pursed her lips. It was Harry's turn to feel the slight gaze of her nose tracing his skin. The creases in their lips lined up perfectly, fitting together like jigsaw pieces.

Now was far from the time to confess just how many times he pictured and wondered what it would be like to kiss (Y/N), but suffice to say, the reality was galaxies better than the fantasy.

It was a short kiss, lasting only long enough for Harry to hear his heartbeat in his ears before he pulled back.

(Y/N)'s eyes were bright as she gazed up at him. "What was that for?" she whispered, voice croaky.

Harry shook his head. He could go on, listing for days, though maybe that was for another time.

"Jus' thank you."

The smile that bloomed over her mouth was sweet and sticky, glossed by saliva and a mess Harry was going to feel more guilty over once his head was clear.

"You're silly, H," she murmured, tipping her chin just enough to peck his lips, "You're welcome." With that, she stood to the full of her height, Harry's hands falling back to his sides. "I'll be right back. I'm going to clean up my face, but maybe we could have a sleepover out here tonight?"

It was the way she looked at him, like this was just another night of bonding with her best friend, that was going to make his heart both bloat and break.

Harry nodded instinctively. "That sounds like fun, (Y/N)."

She bounced in her spot with a chattery cheer before starting off to her room, promising to be back in just a moment.

He watched her bedroom door swing closed behind her, left alone in the quiet of the living room. Harry made an effort to put himself back together, underwear and pants pulled back up though he didn't bother to refasten them before he started towards his own bedroom. He needed to gather a few things for their sleepover, and that was what he was going to focus on and not the buzzing of his lips. Not the way his legs felt like jelly, his lungs rivaling the pounding of his heart.

How much of a fool was he? He was never going to be able to keep from crossing that flimsy, self-appointed line that reminded him that she was nothing more than his roommate and wasn't going to ever be anything else. That boundary was miles behind him, unable to be seen. Not anymore, at least.

Not after tonight.

—————

figs are the roman symbol of Dionysus, god of wine, and priapus, satyr of sexual desire

ahhhhh thank u sm for reading! sorry for any mistakes and I cant wait hear what everyone thinks! any fun ideas or requests pleaseeeee send them in!

927 notes · View notes

imawreck · 15 days ago

Text

Darkness

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Reader

Summary: You're left with flushed cheeks and a shared secret with the darkest part of Bucky Barnes... and you want more.

Author's Note: You guys fucking DEVOURED the last one so this is the sequel to the previous part, His. It makes more sense if you read the other first! If you like this content, drop a comment or an ask and I'll be sure to write more like it in the future! It gets a little feral and I won't apologize for it. Also, there is possibly a part three on the table if this ship sails like the last.

Warnings: Choking kink, metal arm kink, Cursing, mentions self loathing/guilt (it’s Bucky, kinda normal), Possessive!Winter Soldier, hair pulling, fingering, Dominant!Winter Soldier, hickeys, bruising, PnV, praise kink if you squint, licking, oral (fem receiving), knife play (?) and probably some more but those are the big ones.

Word Count: 6,899

It had been two days.

Two days since you’d tried and failed to lure the Winter Soldier into a cell. Two days since you’d felt his hands on your body.

Two days since he’d given you a taste of what you could have.

He’d left his mark on more than just your skin. Though bruises and love bites littered your neck, it was your mind that he’d left the most impact on.

There was hardly a moment you weren’t thinking about him, about Winter. About what would’ve happened if the agents hadn’t stormed the stairwell. If he’d been able to keep going.

And you wondered if you’d ever get another chance to see.

Bucky had recovered, his mind once more his own. You didn’t know if he remembered, or if he would say anything to you even if he did. It’d been radio silence from everyone in the tower other than Steve, who’d been checking in on you to make sure you were really alright. You were sure Thor would be here hounding you if he was on the planet too.

Apparently, the earpiece had fallen out a little after he’d cornered you. So Steve and whoever else that was watching over you didn’t hear much of the conversation you’d exchanged with the assassin. They’d had to rely on the cameras, which hadn’t been able to see you past the wall of a man caging you between his arms.

Which means none of them had seen what had happened, that this was something only you carried the knowledge of. A small part of you was relieved.

That still left one question unanswered: Did Bucky remember?

A sharp knock jolted you from your thoughts, dragging you back to the present.

Blowing out a breath, you got up and headed towards the door. “Steve, I told you I’m fine. I—“

But when you opened the door, it wasn’t Steve on the other side.

It was strange how different those blue eyes were when it was Bucky at the wheel instead of Winter. Lively, pooling with emotion where you’d seen cold calculation and unbridled lust just days before.

It was guilt swimming in those eyes now, red rimmed and bloodshot. His dark hair was disheveled like he’d been running his fingers through it all afternoon, and he wore a loose pair of sweats and a black long sleeve despite the summer heat.

He looked scared and out of place standing in the hall.

“I—uh, hey.” A poor attempted smile wobbled onto his face, and he brought his flesh hand up to run through his hair—a nervous habit he had when he was uncomfortable or anxious — just like you’d guessed. “Can we talk?”

You opened your mouth to answer him but no words left it. You could only stare up at him and nod, feet shuffling back to pull the door open further.

Bucky’s frame squeezed through the door and he padded further into your space with wandering eyes and furrowed brows.

It was impossible not to notice the changes you’d made in the last few months since your breakup. Bucky used to frequently stay with you, favoring your bright and comforting space over his own empty room. You liked your knick-knacks, and you were a sucker for creature comforts so you always had the softest blankets and the fluffiest pillows. And you’d always made sure Bucky had things he liked in your space.

You used to keep his favorite coffee stocked in the mini breakfast bar you’d made on a bar cart, and his favorite pillow and throw blanket was always neatly folded in the armchair by the window. You’d even set out copies of his favorite books in case he wanted to relax in your room instead of the commons area or his own space.

But now it was gone. The little pieces of him you’d made room for were removed along with the photos that used to line your walls and bookcase. Save for the one, of course.

And it stung to see the reality of what he’d done, the choice he’d made now reflected in the absence of everything he’d built with you.

He pried his eyes away from the empty shelves of your bookcase and glanced back at you, shuffling his feet awkwardly. “I… Steve said that I went after you when I got back.”

His statement hung in the air for a few seconds, silence crowding you both and making him tense his shoulders the longer it remained.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, “I can’t imagine how awful that was for you. I-I never wanted you to see me like that. That- He’s not me, okay? God, I’m so sorry.” His fingers scraped over his scalp as he clenched his teeth, turning away and pacing a few steps.

Bucky couldn’t look at you, not after what he’d done. What he’d forced you to witness. He’d never wanted you to see him like that. It was one of his worst nightmares when you had been dating, and now it was a brutal reality.

“Bucky,” you started, but he cut you off.

“Did I hurt you? Did… did I do something to you?”

It struck you then that he didn’t remember what he’d done. What Winter had done. And your room was too dark at the moment to see what remained painted on your skin from the encounter.

You were both relieved, and utterly frustrated. Now what do you do? ‘Oh yeah, Bucky! I let you finger me with your metal arm in a stairwell for shits and giggles while you were all killer mode. No biggie.’ And then what, ask for him to do it again?

Yeah, definitely not.

“You didn’t hurt me, Bucky.” Your legs moved on their own accord, drawn forward by his obvious distress and the instinctual need to sooth his worries. “I’m fine, really.”

Bucky finally turned to face you, his eyes filled with sorrow. He chewed his cheek, his eyes searching your face for any hint of a lie. “I can't remember what happened, there's just glimpses.” His voice lowered, softened by the weight of his words and the fear woven in his tone. “But I can feel him. Stronger than before. Something’s different this time.”

You stilled at that, eyes glued to the side of his face.

“I can feel what he felt. I-it's like he’s just behind a curtain.” His right arm came up, his index finger tapping his temple, “Waiting.”

The haunted look in his eyes twisted a knife of guilt in your gut. You didn’t want him to feel guilty for what had happened, but it was unfortunately normal for Bucky. You understood it, respected his boundaries and his need to do anything he could to keep you safe. But you wanted exactly what he was keeping from you.

You wanted it so badly.

Could you tell him? Could you confide in him this secret you’d kept from lovers in the past? Something so twisted that you’d only shared it with someone equally as sadistic as you were flawed? Bucky was so much more important to you than any of them had been. You… you felt deeply for him. And it was obvious that the unknown was weighing on him heavily.

One more look at his shattered expression gave you your answer.

With a frustrated huff, you reached for his hand. You tugged it from where it’d curled itself into his hair again, and led him to the edge of your bed. “Bucky,” you started, keeping your voice as gentle as you could. “I need to tell you something. It’s going to be hard to understand, and you’ll probably think very differently of me, but I think it might lessen the burden I can see you’re putting on yourself.”

Bucky’s eyes fixed on you. Those brows furrowed over confused and tortured eyes, but it was obvious that he would listen.

You bit your lip, beginning to sweat as the nerves rattled through you. “First of all, I… I haven’t told anyone this. It’s not something I’m proud of, but rather something that just is. And it didn’t start with you. I mean—,” you let out a sound of frustration, “Fuck, I mean I didn’t date you because of it. It just sort of grew more complicated as we got closer.”

Those brows furrowed more and twisted his face into more concern than anything.

You kept going. “When you came after me, I was scared. Of course I would be.” You winced at the hurt that flashed in his eyes, but continued on, “But I also… I liked it.”

A shaky, bitter laugh left you. “I liked the chase. I liked it when he cornered me against the wall, when he—,” you paused, a feeling akin to resignation and begrudging acceptance settling into your bones. Your eyes found his metal hand, gazing at the light bouncing off the silver metal. “When he choked me with that hand.”

You buried your face in your palms, tears of shame threatening to leak from your eyes. “You didn’t hurt me. He didn’t hurt me, Bucky. He just brought to light these things I thought I’d kept from you.”

With another breath, one that felt like needles sinking into your lungs, you went on. “He made me feel good, Buck, in all the ways I’d always hoped you would someday. I feel like the worst person in the world for thinking that, for feeling the way I do, but I can’t help it.”

You couldn’t meet his eyes. Shame was writhing in your stomach and threatening to consume you. Tears pricked your eyes and wet your palms that still remained pressed to your face.

Bucky didn’t say a word, and you just let the silence thicken the air. You’d already said everything there was to say.

Your sin was bared for his judgment. “I get that you don’t want to be with me anymore—“

“That’s a lie.”

Your head snapped up at that, teary eyes wide as you took in his surprised expression. An expression you watched morph into confusion, and then something else. Realization, maybe.

Bucky went on, “I never wanted to stop being with you, Y/N.”

A piece of you settled deep in your soul at that confession, and you leaned in to listen. Every word from his lips an answer to the question haunting your every thought for the past three months.

“On that mission, we came across intel that there might be a mole in the tower and that they were going to try and trigger the Winter Soldier. I… I was scared, Y/N.” Grief washed over his face as he folded his hands together, knuckles turning white. “I was so scared that you’d see me like that and be afraid of me. I was terrified of hurting you, of— of killing you, that I had to make it look like you didn’t matter to me. I had to make it real, so that whoever saw you and I would think you didn’t matter and leave you alone. I was trying to make you less of a target.”

Your heart thundered in your chest at his confession, at the thought that these past two months of utter disaster had been the result of Bucky trying to protect you from himself.

“You could’ve talked to me,” you muttered, sniffing and wiping your face in a poor attempt to rid it of the mascara you knew had run. “You could’ve told me what was going on.”

Bucky’s head shook, “There wasn’t time. You have to understand.”

You nodded, even if you didn’t truly understand. The guilt and remorse on his face told you he was on the edge of crumbling, and if agreeing with him kept him from breaking, you’d give it to him.

Another long silence blanketed the two of you. You watched his face, his eyes, as his mind mulled over the information you had exchanged with him.

Those blue eyes found your’s after a while, something steely in them that wasn’t there before. “Friday?”

The AI of Stark Tower answered politely, “Yes, Mr. Barnes?”

“Initiate Soldier Protocol in Y/N’s room and cut camera feed. Don’t alert anyone.”

Soldier Protocol.

Your eyes widened, and a chill ran over your skin. Soldier Protocol was something Bucky had come up with when you’d first started dating. It was a safety protocol installed into yours and his own room to ensure that if the Winter Soldier was triggered, it would keep whoever was in the room safe, or keep whoever was trying to get inside from entering. It was a double edged sword, really, because if you were trapped in the room with him, then you couldn’t get out. Bucky had made sure to teach you some basic self defense moves on the very slim chance that would ever happen and had shown you ways that you could use to evade and make an escape to the bathroom if needed. Even though you’d thought of all the holes in the protocol, you couldn’t bear to voice them if it helped ease Bucky’s nerves knowing that if something were to happen, that you’d have an extra wall to keep him from getting to you.

“Confirm Command; Soldier Protocol, Miss Y/N?”

You hesitated, voice wavering just the slightest as you whispered, “Are you sure?”

Bucky nodded slowly, giving you the confidence you needed to answer the AI.

“Confirm Soldier Protocol, Friday. No alerts or cameras.”

The calming voice answered once more. “Command Confirmed. Soldier Protocol initiated.”

Your eyes followed the windows as metal safety doors shut out the dim light of the day. One after another they locked out the outside world and left the two of you inside the confines of your bedroom.

You and Bucky, and your confessions.

“He wants out, Y/N.” It was barely a whisper, but the low timbre of Bucky’s voice reverberated in your bones. “He wants you.”

There was concern laced in his words, but there was also more. So much more that you knew you’d have to talk about later. You’d have time to unpack all of this, what it means for the two of you, later. Right now?

Right now you needed Winter as desperately as you needed air.

“What… How can I help you, Bucky?” Your hands shook at the thought of Winter's return. Of what it would bring.

Bucky pulled his lip between his teeth, his hands running through his hair before twisting themselves in his lap. His eyes were wide, as if he didn’t quite believe he would say the words spilling from his own mouth. “I want you to trigger the Winter Soldier. Feeling him there— it’s driving me mad. An-and now that we know he won’t hurt you and that you… you want him—.”

You reached for his hand, concerned that if he kept squeezing them as tight as he was that he’d break bone. “Bucky, it’s okay.” You tilted your head, smiling softly at him, “Take a breath. There’s a few things I want to set straight before we jump into this.”

His voice lowered, “Okay.”

Bucky was obviously torn up over this whole thing. And as excited as you were to repeat what went on in that stairwell, this was someone you cared about for more than just sex.

This was Bucky.

This was the man who’d apologized with the biggest bouquet of flowers you’d ever laid eyes on the day after your first encounter with Winter. The same man who’d apologized for months after with cute little notes and trinkets he knew you loved and still kept in that shoebox under your bed. The exact same man you’d opened your heart to one Saturday night over a tub of butterscotch ice cream and the third playthrough of your favorite movie. He didn’t complain that you’d watched it back to back either.

This was the man you’d fallen in love with in just a few short months.

The realization settled into your heart, and that warm tingly feeling swept over you as you tightened your hold on his flesh hand and reached for his metal one too.

Bucky hesitated, jerking it away for a moment before allowing you to tug it into your lap. “Buck,” you started, thumbs swiping over his hands in slow calming paths. “It isn’t just the Winter Soldier I like about you. You know that, right? Because if you don’t, I’ve failed as your lover. And as your friend.”

Those blue eyes darted between your own, searching there like a man searching for salvation. You gave his hands another squeeze, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I… I love you, Bucky. You. I think I’ve known for a while now. I was just too scared to admit it out loud. I haven’t had the best run with guys in the past, and you’re so good that I was afraid I’d ruin you somehow.”

Your eyes fell to your joined hands, and this time he was the one to squeeze back.

“I know it’s kind of shitty timing, but I need you to understand that I’m not with you for any other reason other than the simple fact that I adore you, Bucky Barnes. Everything about you.” You shook your head, frowning. “I meant it when I told you I wasn’t with you just because of Winter. I’ve always had this attraction to… well, you know. Dating you just made it more difficult to hide when you were obviously so uncomfortable with it. I didn’t want to make things hard for you. I just wanted you to be happy.”

“Doll,” he mumbled, the name drawing your eyes to him. You’d always loved it when he called you that. “Say it again.”

You frowned, confused for a moment, before a small smile drew itself onto your face. “I love you, Bucky.”

A choked sound fell from his lips before his arms circled around your waist and pulled you into his lap, his face inches from yours. “Again. Say it again,” he begged, his breath fanned over your face as his fingers fisted the back of your shirt. “Please, doll, say it again.”

You folded your legs around his hips, threading your fingers into his hair and peppering kisses on his face. “I love you.”

“Me?” It was the most broken sound you’d ever heard.

You grabbed his face, tilting it up to look at you and tried your best to pour every ounce of love into your expression. “You, James. I love you. I’ll say it a billion times if I have to until I get it through that ridiculously handsome head of yours.”

He laughed at that, broken as it sounded. “I love you too, Y/N. God, I fucking love you.”

Soft lips crashed into yours, dancing a familiar dance as his flesh hand slipped under your shirt and glided up your spine. Your breath caught as the cool sensation of his metal fingers followed after it, his arm wrapping around your back. You smiled against his lips, leaning into him more.

You nearly pouted when he pulled away.

“Y/N,” those eyes, less uncertain and more determined now, swept over your face. “I want you to trigger him.”

You frowned, “But Bucky, you—.”

“I need this.” His voice was surprisingly steady, “I need to do this otherwise it’ll drive me mad. Feeling him there— Jesus, it’s like someone’s scraping a knife against my skull.”

Metal fingers drew circles against your back, “Are you okay with… with seeing him again? I’m not confident enough to do what he did yet. I need more time to come to terms with the damage this hand has done.” He pulled the appendage away, looking it over before his eyes found you again. “But I… I can tell he won’t hurt you. I can feel it,” he pulled his flesh hand away and pressed it over his heart. “Right here.”

He laughed, almost incredulously. “Even the Winter Soldier has fallen in love with you.”

All you could hear was the pounding of your heart in your ears. He wanted you to trigger the Winter Soldier. He said that he loved you, and that Winter did too.

It would really fucking suck if you were dreaming.

“I don’t know your words,” you mumbled, suddenly shy in the light of his proclamation.

This time, the smile he gave was one that reminded you of those old photos from the 40s you’d seen in the history museum. The one where the left side crooks up a bit more than the right. He didn’t release you, but instead wrapped his left arm around your hips and leaned back to rifle through the top drawer of your nightstand for the notepad you always left in there.

He pulled it back to himself and released you only long enough to scribble down a few words and tear off the page. “You’ll have to memorize them. I don’t want them to leave this room.”

You nodded, because of course he wouldn’t and you’d rather swallow hot coals than ever betray him. Your eyes scanned the page a dozen times when he handed it to you, lips moving in silence as you played with the foreign vowels.

All the while those strong hands of his trailed along your back and hips, sometimes exploring your upper thigh.

It made your mind foggy, and you had to keep yourself from squinting to focus.

After you’d finally memorized them, you remove yourself from Bucky’s lap and padded over to your bookcase. You snagged the candle lighter from a shelf, and then removed the bag from your trash bin. It took a few tries, but once the lighter ignited, you let the flames eat away at the page before dropping it into the bin and watching until it was nothing but ash at the bottom.

You could hear a breath of relief leave the soldier from where he remained seated at the edge of your bed. He looked somewhat relaxed, but a tension still ran along his shoulders.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You returned to the bed, smiling a bit as his arms wrapped around the back of your thighs.

Bucky hummed, low and steady. “M’sure, Doll.” He leaned his head against your stomach, and your hands found his hair on instinct.

He hummed again at the touch, and his arms tightened around your legs before he lifted you. Bucky turned quickly, one knee coming up onto the bed before he laid you down with a thump on the mattress.

You smiled, laughing a little as you bounced from the sudden drop. Bucky grinned back, his eyes shining. “Missed you, you know. I’m sorry for not telling you.” He leaned over you, hands planting on either side of your head. Nothing but honesty shined in those blue eyes as he looked down at you. “I’m sorry for wasting three months, and I promise I won’t do that again.”

Butterflies stirred in your belly, and you could feel the flush of heat on your neck as you leaned up and planted a kiss on his lips, “Better not.”

Before you could think much of it, Bucky reached over and flicked the lamp on. You were too busy feeling fuzzy inside that you’d forgotten the very prominent marks littering the delicate flesh of your neck.

Marks that would always make Bucky drown in guilt.

“Fuck, doll.”

He stared at your neck, horror painting his face in the lamplight. His body lifted until he was sitting on his knees over you, hands resting on his lap like he didn’t know what to do with them as he took in the damage he’d left.

This is exactly what you didn’t want to happen. “Hey, no—,” you gripped the front of his shirt, the sudden motion catching him off guard as you pulled yourself up to his face, forcing him to look you in the eyes. You would’ve liked to yank him back over you, but you lacked the ability to battle his serum-enhanced strength. Sitting up did just fine.

“You don’t get to feel guilty for this. Not now, and not anytime after this if you… if we’re serious about doing this.” You stared him down, unwilling to allow him even a glance away. “I told you, I liked it. I told you that it didn’t hurt. You need to trust me as much as I trust you in this. That’s the only way this,” you motioned between you both, “is going to work.” You lowered your voice, nearly mumbling the last part. “I can’t take another step back, Buck. Not after three months, and definitely not after that.”

Bucky’s eyes danced between yours for a few moments. They darted down to your marred skin and back again several times before he blew out a breath and nodded reluctantly.

Your shoulders eased too.

“Now come back here and kiss me, soldier. Your girl’s in need.” You smiled, quirking a playful brow in an attempt to draw him back in.

It worked. That smile pulled at his lips, small at first but quickly blooming as you began peppering his jaw with kisses.

The kisses started gentle and exploring, and the touches soft and sweet. You hadn’t felt his skin against yours for three long months, save for two days ago, and you’d missed everything that made him Bucky.

You’d missed how the stubble of his chin brushed your cheeks when you kissed, and how he held your face like you were the most precious thing he’d ever touched. Delicate and worthy of worship.

You’d missed him so much it hurt.

“Bucky,” you panted, tugging his shirt as you kissed him. “I love you.”

A deep, rumbling groan left him, and his tongue swept across your bottom lip. “I love you, Y/N. So damn much.”

His flesh hand cupped the back of your neck and guided your head to the side so he could place the tenderest kisses over each hickey Winter had left. “He’s a brute,” Bucky mumbled against the column of your throat, stealing your breath. “If he hurts you–.”

“He won’t, James.” You pressed your forehead to his shoulder, biting your lip as his flesh hand trailed all the way from your neck to the base of your spine. “I know it.”

You only got a hum in response before his lips crashed into yours again. Bucky’s hands were everywhere, confident and warm on one side and tentative and gentle with the other, much colder one. The contrast sent delicious tingles along your skin wherever he touched and only served to heighten your anticipation.

This was the first time Bucky himself had allowed so much of a brush of his metal arm against you, let alone tender touch.

His palms mapped every dip and crest of your body, his touch growing more needy with each sweep of his skin against yours. His tongue slid over your lips again, a silent request that you were all too happy to accept.

You couldn’t help the satisfied sound that escaped you as the taste of him swept over you, familiar and strong. Things only hastened from there. It was like a switch had flipped and he couldn’t bear not to have his hands on you.

He kissed you hard, chasing you with lips and tongue like a man starved. The feather light touches of his hands turned more firm as he held your hips and pulled you closer. Bucky’s chest heaved, his breaths fanning over you between kisses in hot puffs.

You could tell he was still holding back. That he needed this as much as the burning need in your core told you that you did. “Bucky,” the sound was practically a whine, “Please.”

His fingers curled against your hips, “Fuck. Okay, okay.” Wet kisses were trailed down your neck as his hands slipped beneath your shirt to sweep calloused thumbs over your aching nipples. “Say them, doll. Say the words.”

You deserved a fucking gold metal for succeeding to pull your mind out of the fog he’d clouded your brain with. It always happened with him. Your mind just short circuited every time he cast you a heated glance, and this? Well, it was a miracle you could remember your own name.

You opened your mouth, the words you’d memorized tumbling out one after another.

“Longing.” Bucky grunted, but didn’t stop in his ministrations as you spoke the next.

“Rusted.” Another grunt, and a tremor through his shoulders, but his lips never left your skin. In fact, it just seemed to spur him further as his hands tugged your shirt down to reveal the delicate skin of your breasts.

“Furn-,” you gasped as his lips locked onto a nipple, tongue teasing expertly over the nub. “Furnace.”

The hum he released sent skittering tingles across your body in the most delicious way.

“Finish, baby.”

Fucking hell. What was the next word?

“Daybreak,” his hands lowered to your ass and held it firmly against him as he licked and sucked the sensitive skin of your breasts, never missing a beat. “Seventeen.”

Those devilish hands dragged lower, fingers trailing along the seam of your panties through your leggings and along the underside of your thighs where they met the curve of your ass. Inches from where you needed him most.

You could barely suck in a breath, utterly overwhelmed by the sensation of his mouth on your skin and those hands mapping your body in agonizingly slow strokes that sent waves of need straight to your core. “Benign,” his body arched over yours, easing you into the mattress, “Nine.”

Another shudder this time, and you could see the ripple of muscle beneath that tight black shirt. God did you want it off of him.

“Homecoming.”

A groan, and a shake of his head. It was the first indicator that he was uncomfortable.

You hesitated at the pained sound, but you didn’t have time to ask a thing though. Not when his head snapped up and those wide, wild blue eyes found yours. “Don’t stop,” he panted, cheeks flushed.

So you didn’t.

“One.”

Wet lips trailed kisses down the exposed skin of your stomach, the tips of his dark hair trailing down as he kissed past your naval and kept going. Lower, lower, lower…

“Freight Car.” The words sounded strangled in your throat through your labored breathing.

The kisses stopped abruptly, and Bucky’s body went stock still.

You weren’t even sure he was breathing until the even rush of an exhale swept against your stomach.

And then he chuckled.

It wasn’t the kind you’d normally hear from Bucky. It wasn’t filled with joy, or playfulness. This one sounded depraved and downright corrupt.

The hairs on your neck raised, and that sharp bite of panic jolted through you as you stared down at his large frame hovering over you. You couldn’t see his face from this angle, and the lack of any hint of what was going through his head only heightened the tension building in your body.

“Told you, didn’t I?” His voice was a rumble in the silence, and you gasped when his tongue swept a path up the center of your belly. “You fucking need me.”

Cold fingers hooked the waistband of your leggings and shucked them off in one quick motion, the cool air assaulting your exposed skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake. You simply stared up at him and tried to remember to breathe beneath the weight of his eyes on your body.

Those cold, lust-lidded eyes.

“Winter,” you breathed, a thrum of excitement mingling with the nerves tingling under your skin. The ache you felt was at the forefront of your mind. Bucky’s gentle touches had served to stir the need that was already brewing.

Now, Winter has come to finish the job.

He smiled, slow and sultry. “Needy little thing, aren't you, Dollface?”

You bit your lip as heat crept up your neck.

Winter’s body rose to his knees, his hands curling around your thighs in a bruising grip and lifting them over his shoulders. You yelped, but it didn’t stop him. Those thick corded forearms locked your legs in place over his shoulders, his face centimeters from your core and the stubble of his jaw tickling your thighs.

You were almost certain you'd soaked through the thin pair of panties you wore.

His hands dragged up your thighs, fingers slipping beneath the fabric at your hips as he held your eyes.

And then he ripped them at the seams. The puny fabric fell to the mattress in tatters, and all you could do was gawk at him.

“Don’t wear those when you’re with me.” Winter ordered against your thigh, his tongue swiping a path up the inner stripe of skin.

The action sent another wave of want through you, the anticipation of what he was going to do serving to build your nerves higher and higher.

He drew you closer by your hips, humming against your skin. The sweep of hot air over you was a welcome sensation and you arched into it. Your heart pounded, and the angle in which your body was held, your head still resting against the mattress along with your shoulders, made it hard to think.

Winter stopped just short of brushing his lips over your sensitive clit. You could’ve cried right then and there. Blinking up at him, you caught the wicked grin plastered on his face.

The soldier above you looked downright god-like bathed in the dim light of the room. His eyes gleamed, and that silver arm danced with every move he made. Every devious stroke of cool fingers against your body.

You knew this exact image would be carved into your mind for the rest of your life.

“Beg for it,” he ordered, his grip turning nearly bruising. “Tell me how badly you want it.” His lips brushed your core, just a whisper of scruff on your sensitive skin.

You squirmed in response, chasing the feeling. Normally, you would rather die than beg a man for anything. But Winter? He had a special way of breaking you down. “Please, Winter, please. I-I want you. I want you to–.”

He didn’t even let you finish before his tongue delved into your core.

You felt every sweep, every brush of that expert muscle laving over you. Desperate, needy sounds were echoing through your room, and a part of you knew they were yours. That they were spilling from your parted lips in broken sentences begging him for more. You were too focused on where his tongue toyed with you to care about anything else, though. Every pass of his tongue on your clit, or a sweep against your clenching walls made it harder and harder to ground yourself.

You were crawling closer and closer to the edge.

Your fingers were curled into the bedspread, and your hips ground into his face and bucked against the solid grip of his arms over your thighs. Winter groaned into your heat, the rumbling vibrations pushing you closer to euphoria.

Dazed, you tried to focus on his face, tried to make out his features in your love-drunk state.

Winter's eyes were closed, and his face never came up once for air. Not even when you could feel his chest shuttering, and those muffled grunts became more frequent.

And God did they feel good.

Your chest heaved, your legs trying and failing to move an inch against his iron grip. As those vibrating groans shoved you over the edge with a cry.

Your brain couldn’t focus, not with all the blood rushing through your head and the thundering sound of your own heart in your ears, or the blissful sensation of release crashing over you in waves.

“So dirty, Dollface. Letting me ruin you like this.” Winter eased his grip on your shaky legs, his hands dragging up your thighs to grip your hips. “Letting me brand you, taste you…” He licked his lips, tasting you on his stubbled face. His body leaned forward, your legs parting around his hips as he planted a burning kiss to your lips, “Fucking perfect.”

You panted, blinking to focus on his words as you came back to yourself.

Winter was lifting himself off of you, his eyes raking over your disheveled form as he slipped off the bed and stood to his full height. Those blue eyes held nothing but burning desire, muscles flexing as he yanked off his shirt and rewarded you with the view of his sweat slicked torso.

The sight was erotic. His hair damp with sweat, and his face glossy with the remnants of your release, chest heaving as he sucked in much needed air.

Winter reached forward, his cool fingers wrapping around your ankle and tugging you towards the edge of the bed with a wicked grin. “Gonna make you come again, Dollface. Need to hear those pretty sounds you make.” His flesh hand grabbed your calf, pulling you closer. “Wanna hear my name on your lips again, and again, and again.”

His metal fingers gripped your thigh hard enough to leave bruises, but that didn’t bother you. You loved the reminders that littered your skin from the last time Winter branded you with his affections, and you relished each one that would follow.

With a quick, strong motion, he flipped you on your stomach. Your chest bounced against the bedsheets, the friction against your pebbled nipples sent a jolt of pleasure down to your toes making you moan into the comforter as he brought your hips up and adjusted your knees against the bed.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” He panted, pressing himself against your ass.

You could feel him through the sweats still hanging from his hips. The length of him pressed firmly against you, brushing your sensitive core and making you groan again. You wanted to feel him, needed to know what it was like to be with Winter the same way you craved intimacy with his counterpart.

“Please,” You begged.

With a grunt, the sweats were yanked down and he thrust harshly, seating himself completely in one swift motion.

His moan rumbles through you, setting your nerves alight. “Oh god…”

And then he starts moving.

One stark difference between James Buchanan Barnes and The Winter Soldier, was that one was gentle and kind, and everything you’d want in the man you’d take home to meet your parents. And the other? The other was the kind of man that would carve his name into your skin with a smile and defile you in unspeakable ways, rough and raw.

Winter snapped his hips at a breakneck pace, pulling out only to plunge back in with a force that made you see stars. Your mouth hung open in a silent scream, clinging to the sheets as he drove you into the mattress. His cock hit all the right places, those quick, constant motions driving you closer and closer to another release. His grunts and puffs of breath only added momentum.

Tears pricked your eyes, your heart hammering and your skin on fire as pleasure coursed through you, building higher and higher.

A cold palm slipped along your belly, snaking its way between your breasts and firmly wrapping around your neck, squeezing those delicate pressure points that made your head spin. He lifted you from the mattress, his pace halting almost completely as your back met his heaving chest.

Winter’s raw voice met your ears as you whimpered at the loss of friction, teetering on the edge of sanity as your core wept for attention. “Gonna cum if I keep that up, Dollface.” His voice is choppy, puffs of air hitting the side of your neck as he talks. “Feel so fuckin’ good.”

His dick pushes in again, dragging slowly along your walls as he groans in your ear, your own voice joining him in a broken harmony. “‘M gonna need this every time. Need to feel your tight cunt, hear your pretty cries…” His tongue darted out to slide over your cheek, swiping up a tear that had fallen from your damp lashes, “Taste you every. Single. Time.”

Those hips snapped back into their brutal pace, slamming against your ass as he clutched your frail neck in his metal hand, the other coming up to grip your hair and tug your head back as he sucked more love bites along your neck.

You moan, tears of pleasure falling from your lashes as you near the edge. Winter’s grunts and shaky breath vaguely registering that he’s nearly there himself.

He sinks his teeth into the juncture of your neck, the combination of pain and utter pleasure shoving you over the precipice as you open your mouth in a scream. That metal hand snakes up to stifle it as his hips jerk a few more agonizing thrusts before shuddering with his strangled moan.

You’re left limp and breathless, utterly spent and draped over his arm with your head lolling against his strong and heaving shoulder.

Winter slips from you, repositioning you on the bed like an offering on an unholy altar. With his hair plastered against his forehead, those dark strands utterly soaked with sweat, he smiles down at you.

“Again.”

Tags<3

@mrsnikstan / @sunnyhummingbee / @millercontracting / @veysxrge / @almosttoopizza / @tiredsleepyandreading / @lauratang / @buckyssugarchick / @tranquilty / @8crazy-freak8 @thatonewriterchick / @kennysbadkitten / @black-cat-2 / @urbanleftovers / @hellsenthero / @knowingnothingnoel / @appeys-world / @bubblegumbeautyqueen / @rianxx / @ponyosmom35 / @atomicwinter2213 / @ariana-l / @savannahrilee-blog

#sequel #fanfic #smut #winter soldier #marvel #bucky barnes #drama #the avengers #x reader #x yn #mcu #bucky barnes smut #update #marvel mcu

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milkb0nny · 12 days ago

Text

Don't Leave...

... kissing as an act of desperation

Pairing: Dean x fem!reader

Summary: You were unconscious after a demon attack, and the brothers worried terribly about you. Dean, so scared to lose you, confessed his love through a passionate kiss, hoping you'd wake up.

Note: Another kissing prompt, this one being a little darker. But my, I love this so much!

Content: reader not knowing Dean‘s love for her, Dean being anxious, comfort, angst, injuries, first kiss

Word count: ~1,4k

Unconscious and still, as if you were a corpse, you lay in the motel bed. Your limbs were close to your body, your body wrapped in the thick blanket, a heating pad close to your feet.

What had happened? Why were you in this state of emergency? Why weren’t you as lively as you usually were? All those questions remained unanswered to you, as you slept deeply, your breath slow and steady.

You had been traveling with the Winchester brothers for quite some time. Not that you actively participated in the hunts and dangerous activities; you were an excellent person with perfect social skills. You had developed into the person of the group who would speak with others to gather clues. You could read people as if they were an open book, making them spill out whatever their memories had hidden away.

Though, why were you in this state then? As your consciousness recovered, you heard voices in the background. You couldn’t focus on them at first, as your head hurt. A defeating ache circled from your forehead to your neck, making your mere presence terribly painful. You couldn’t open your eyes… everything felt like you were in a fever dream.

But then you were able to piece the mumbles into clear words, and the voices belonged to Sam and Dean. The dim light of the motel room flickered softly as Dean and Sam sat at the small table, the tension heavy in the air. The door to the bathroom was cracked open, and the faint sound of water running could be heard in the background.

Dean's eyes never left you, his hands tightly gripping the edge of the table.

Sam sat across from Dean, his voice calm but concerned, "Dean, we’ve been over this. She’s strong. She’s gonna be fine. You just need to give her time."

"Time? She could’ve died, Sam. You didn’t see the way she looked at me... like she was already slipping away." He paused, running a hand through his hair, his voice dropping lower. "I could’ve lost her. I almost did."

Why was Dean speaking so softly about you? Did he truly care so much about you?

"You’re not gonna lose her, Dean. She’s one of the toughest people I know. Sure, she can’t fight, but her mind is stronger than ours. She’ll make it."

"It’s not about being tough, Sam. She’s… she’s everything. I can’t lose her. I can’t. She means more to me than…" His voice caught, and he paused, trying to keep it together. "I don’t know what I’d do without her."

What did he say? Was this a dream?

Sam looked at his brother, his expression softer. He knew Dean’s soft spot... You. "You’re not gonna have to do that. You just need to give her time to heal. She’s not gone. She’s right there." He nodded toward the bed, where you acted as if you weren’t mentally available. You wanted to know more, but your body was too weak to move in any way.

Dean’s eyes flickered to you, his expression darkening. "I know. But what if she doesn’t wake up? What if…" He trailed off, his voice barely a whisper, raw with emotion.

He was at his lowest.

"What if I wasn’t fast enough? What if I couldn’t protect her like I should have?"

"Dean, you can’t blame yourself. You did everything you could. We all did. It’s the job. It’s dangerous. You know that. We couldn’t predict that demon breaking in somehow and doing that to her. But you also know she’s not the type to give up without a fight."

Dean nodded and softly agreed. "She fights. She always fights." His throat tightened, and he cleared it. "I don’t want to be the reason she has to keep fighting. I want to be the one who keeps her safe. I want to be the one who makes sure she doesn’t get hurt." He exhaled sharply, his voice barely audible. "I don’t know if I can live with myself if I fail her. She’s become family. More than that."

Sam sighed, looking at you, so peacefully lying there. "I know, man. But you’ve gotta stop torturing yourself. She’s gonna wake up, and when she does, you’re gonna be the first thing she needs. She’s not gonna want you beating yourself up."

There was a long silence between them, the weight of Dean’s worry thick in the air. Your heart was racing. Hearing all those words coming from Dean was like being struck, like you’d fallen victim to Cupid’s arrow. However, it felt illegal listening to them, especially since they didn’t know you heard everything.

Sam stood up, his voice gentle. "She’s not gone, Dean. She’s right here. And when she wakes up, you’ll be right here for her. Just like always. I’ll get some more painkillers and dinner for us. Call me when she wakes up."

Dean didn’t respond at first, his eyes glued to you. He was still struggling, the fear of losing you overwhelming his every thought. But Sam’s words seemed to sink in, just enough to make him take a breath. Dean stood up slowly, moving toward the bed, his gaze softening as he kneeled beside you.

Quietly, Sam disengaged from the motel room, driving off in the Impala.

Dean was so close to you, his smell embedding you in a dream. Your body felt so warm, as if you were burning from the inside.

Dean whispered, almost to himself, "Come on, sweetheart. Wake up. I need you. I need you to be okay."

He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his thumb gently tracing over your skin. His voice trembled, but he kept it steady.

"I can’t do this without you."

The room fell silent once more, with only the sound of your steady breaths filling the space.

Dean looked down at you, his gaze soft but filled with a sharp kind of pain. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin, and before you could register what was happening, his lips were pressed against your very own.

The kiss was brief but laden with everything he was feeling: the fear, the relief, the need to feel your warmth against him. It was a kiss that trembled with the desperation of someone who had almost lost you.

He needed you, and silently confessing to you was his sort of comfort. He needed to feel your warmth in some way, to prove you weren’t vanishing from his life.

But then, as if unable to help himself, he leaned in further, his lips brushing softly over yours, tasting the sweetness of you, desperate for a connection. You could feel the heat of his kiss, but you couldn’t respond… not yet. You were too far gone in the haze of unconsciousness, barely aware of the world around you.

Suddenly, you felt a hot tear drop onto your face, one that didn’t belong to you, but to the man who was craving your life.

"Don’t do that to me. Please don’t leave me."

His words broke through the fog in your mind, and though you were still too weak to move, there was a stirring inside you… a pull, a recognition of what was happening. Dean kissed you again, this time deeper, slower, as if trying to pour all of his emotions into the kiss.

Oh, how he missed you already. His hands slid around your neck, cupping your face as he poured his fear, his regret, his love into you.

Your eyes fluttered beneath your eyelids, the sensation of Dean’s lips lingering. You tried to open your eyes, but it was hard; everything was still a blur.

Dean pulled away slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his breath ragged and uneven.

"God, I need you to wake up. Please."

You finally managed to open your eyes, the world coming into focus just enough for you to see the look of sheer desperation on his face. His green eyes were wide.

Dean froze, his breath catching in his throat as he stared at you, his lips parting in disbelief. For a moment, time seemed to stop… his expression softening, the tension melting away as he processed the fact that you were still with him.

"You’re… you’re awake."

You nodded slowly, trying to smile despite the pain in your body. But Dean didn’t smile back right away. Instead, he pressed his lips to your forehead, his breath shaky as he whispered something to himself.

"Thank god…"

Your heart clenched at his words, and you reached up, placing your hand over his. The simple touch seemed to ground him, to remind him that you were still here, still with him. Dean looked down at you, his eyes soft, yet still filled with so much emotion. And for a moment, there was nothing else in the world but the two of you.

Dean exhaled, a breath of relief, and this time, when he smiled at you, it was full of love, full of life, and full of the hope that you’d always be by his side.

#supernatural dean #dean angst #sam and dean #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #supernatural #spn fanfic

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belovedhoon · 5 months ago

Text

simulation

pairing: camboy! sunghoon x bff! reader genre: smut, fluff fandom: enhypen wc: 4100+ contains: smut, fluff, unprotected sex (just dont do this), recording of sex, perv y/n, roughish sex, choking, slight size kink taglist: @st1llm0nster , @hmusunoo , @lonelybutterflytae divider credit: @cafekitsune

synopsis: sunghoon is a very popular camboy with a huge following unbeknownst to his best friend y/n. what happens when y/n stumbles across ‘iceprince02’? what happens when she realizes it’s her best friend sunghoon, surely she’ll stop watching right?

fic under the cut >>>>>

Y/N was scrolling through a popular cam sight when she stumbled across ‘iceprince02’ who was live at the moment of her endless scrolling to find something or rather someone good to get a quick self-made orgasm through. What made her click on this particular camboy was his pale-toned stomach and pretty cock. She clicked on his live after it had prompted her to make an account, and she came up with the username ‘xo_darling_xo’ on a whim. When she was finally able to click on the live, her eyes widened at the man’s deep husky voice. ‘He sounds so hot’ she thought to herself. She watched as he had his hand wrapped around his long pale cock, the girth looked like it would stretch her out just right. Y/N got comfortable in her bed, up against her headboard, and began to slowly bring her hand down her chest slowly.

Y/N brought her hands to the waistband of her sleep shorts before stopping. Was she really about to get off to some random dude jacking his shit on camera? Yes, yes she was, Y/N was down bad, so very down bad… You slid your hands down towards your waistband again this time not hesitating to slip your hand into your shorts and rub gently against your throbbing clit, mentally patting yourself on the back for forgoing panties tonight. You observed your laptop screen closely as the man on screen who called himself ‘ice prince’ dragged his hand slowly up and down his cock, squeezing at the base when he would feel himself getting close to his high. He didn’t want to come so quickly and ruin the fun so soon, he knew that he could go again after he came but he really didn’t feel like overstimulating himself too much today…so he just stuck to edging himself. You watched entranced at the sight of his buff arms flexing every time he stroked his very hard cock. How were you feeling so close just from rubbing your clit? That’s unheard of for you, it usually never being enough stimulation for you. You continued to watch with bated breath as he moved his hand faster, his deep groans and grunts going straight to your cunt. The closer ‘ice prince’ got to his high the higher-pitched his moans got and you swear you’ve never heard something so melodic and beautiful.

You could tell the very moment he was about to reach his peak by the way his stomach tensed and by his staccato moans. You were right because a few seconds later you watched as he let out one last loud groan and his thick white release squirted out spilling onto his hands and stomach. You let out a moan of your own as you came to the sight. ‘Ice prince’ stayed mostly silent while he was recovering letting out an occasional whine as he moved his hand very slowly up and down his spent length to draw out his orgasm.

As ‘ice prince’ got up off his bed to turn the live off, you noticed something in his room that shook you to your core…it’s just a coincidence, right? There is no way that you just saw the flag you had made for your best friend on his wall behind ‘ice prince’ when he moved to grab tissues right? There’s no way at all…You studied the room that this ‘ice prince’ guy was in and the realization dawned on you, wondering how you didn’t put it together sooner that this was Sunghoon…your best friend and roommate. The voice alone should have brought up some red flags but I guess in your lust-haze you didn’t even notice. Before you could process what was going through your head, ‘ice prince’ or Sunghoon rather ended the live. The post-nut clarity hitting you hard. There is no way you just came to the image of your best friend Sunghoon jerking off in his room…

You truly didn’t know how to feel about the whole situation, on one hand, you felt guilty for watching your best friend jack off, but on the other hand, you felt even more turned on at the fact that it was indeed your best friend you had just watched climax on camera… How will you face Sunghoon after this without remembering his pretty moans every time he talks?

You stayed in your room for a few seconds longer before deciding to go knock on Sunghoon’s door just to confirm it was him, not directly but just to see if there were any clues to confirm what you had just witnessed. When you knocked on his door, you heard a quiet ‘one second’ and then a few seconds after he opened the door still shirtless btw… You stayed quiet just staring at his toned chest. Sunghoon raised a thick eyebrow at your silence and intense gaze.

“Y/N? You good? Do you need something? I’m kinda in the middle of something…” Sunghoon said his voice confused yet rushed. He really didn’t need you finding out about his ‘secret’ job right now…even if it did pay the bills. He still had his camera set up, and the tissues by his bed, he hadn’t had time to get rid of the evidence before you came knocking at his door. Your eyes flitted up to his at his words, breaking you out of your filthy thoughts. You gave him one last glance before pushing past him into his room before he could protest to see his camera set up in front of his bed and you froze at the sight. Guess your suspicions were right… it was him you had just watched masturbate on camera for thousands of people. You would have never expected this from Park Sunghoon.

You stood there staring at the camera before your eyes were drawn to the tissues on his bedside table and then the flag that you had just seen on his porn live… Sunghoon watched as you observed his room and being the clever guy he is put everything together and realized you must have stumbled across his cam page. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and then turning to you and noticing your flushed face, sweaty neck, and your eyes blown wide with lust. He smirked, you weren’t disgusted no you were far from it…no you were clearly aroused. You had to of watched the full live through there’s no way you hadn’t or you wouldn’t have realized it was him.

“Y/N…I know you know what you just saw was me…and quite frankly I think you liked it, like the little pervert that you are…” Sunghoon said, his tone smug. Your eyes widened at his words, you hadn’t expected him to know you knew about his dirty little secret. You started to protest but before you could finish your sentence, he was suddenly right in front of you his breath fanning over your face. You stared up into his eyes and watched as they darkened at your flustered reaction. You truly couldn’t help the little whine that escaped your lips when he brought one of his hands to your waist and the other to your face caressing your cheek.

Sunghoon looked into your eyes gazing intensely as he brought his lips closer to your own, giving you time to back away if you wished to, if anything you moved slightly closer. He took that as initiative and closed the gap between you two crushing his lips to your own. You moaned into his mouth at the feeling of his soft plump lips on your own. You opened your mouth as soon as you felt him brushing his tongue on your bottom lip asking for entrance. Sunghoon slipped his tongue into your mouth pulling you closer to his body where you could feel his cock growing hard against your stomach. Finally, he pulled away so that the two of you could catch your breath.

“Now that you know my little secret, you should join me one day hm?” Sunghoon said with a smirk, chuckling darkly at the way you panicked. You stuttered not knowing how to react or what to say. There was no way in hell Sunghoon just insinuated you joining him… You just stared at him your eyes comically wide and he just laughed at your reaction before leading your stiff body to his bedroom door and all but pushing you out and closing it, you could hear the sound of it locking seconds later. You stood outside his door frozen, not properly processing what had just happened. You shook out of the weird feeling before going to your room and masturbating a second time remembering how Sunghoon’s lips felt on your own before drifting off to bed, with you guessed it…thoughts of your best friend once again.

The next few days passed by in a blur with exams coming up right around the corner. Your mind is finally preoccupied with something other than that odd situation that conspired with Sunghoon. Sunghoon seemed to forget about what had happened or maybe he was just that good at pretending it didn’t happen. It was pretty awkward for you the next morning, not knowing how to react to what had happened, but with Sunghoon he made it pretty easy to get over the initial awkwardness. The next passing days got better and better and finally, you and Sunghoon were back to your normal dynamic, well as close to normal as you could get with the fact that you couldn’t help but continue to watch his lives…not that he knew of course…you’d never let him know that fact.

Exams came and went for the both of you and finally, the semester was over which you couldn’t be happier about. Now you could relax and not have to worry about studying so much. Now that you didn’t have the distractions of exams…your mind went straight back to the night Sunghoon kissed you with so much passion and the words he said to you…surely he was joking right…? The way he said it, it seemed like he was being serious, but he also hasn’t asked you since so you were conflicted. Was you supposed to ask him? Were you supposed to go to him? At this point you had to find out, your mind was just so plagued with Sunghoon that you just couldn’t resist knowing if he was telling the truth and actually really did want you to make a video with him. So you did what any logical person would do…you walked out of your room clad in pink lacy lingerie and a matching silk robe and marched your way over to Sunghoon’s room and knocked on the door.

You heard shuffling around before the door was opened and Sunghoon was stood there bare-chested once again, bringing a sense of deja vu to you. He stared at you expectantly waiting for you to say something. You both just stood there for a few seconds more before you finally mustered up the courage to ask him what you were there to ask, the confidence from before leaving as soon as you saw Sunghoon’s pale bare chest. God, you were so down bad.

“I…Uh…I was uh…wondering if you were…if you were being serious about what you said a couple of weeks ago…” You finally stuttered out, your voice barely above a whisper. One of his eyebrows rose at your muttered words, processing what you said before a sinister grin appeared on his face. He studied how you couldn’t even look him in the eyes and how your hands were twitching with nerves. Suddenly you felt him lift your head to make you gaze straight into his dark eyes.

“Ah, I thought you’d never come crawling back…I was dead serious about what I said. I was actually just about to start another live, which I know you knew, seeing that you watch every one of my shows and know my schedule.” Sunghoon said, his tone cocky. Your eyes widened at that, how did he know that you watched all of his lives? He smiled at your shocked expression.

“You think you’re sneaky ‘darling’… you left my page up on your laptop when I borrowed it, I saw your user name…’xo_darling_xo’ very cute by the way. It suits you. I noticed every time you would join in Y/N, made me that much harder to know that my pervy little best friend was touching herself while watching me…” Sunghoon said seductively, his voice almost a growl at the end. Oh how he wished you knew that every time he did one of his cam shows he was touching himself to the thought of you in your room, your small fingers buried inside your wet cunt moaning out his name.

Sunghoon opened his door wider, gesturing you to walk inside his room. You gulped walked in slowly and stopped once you heard the door close and lock. Your senses were heightened it seemed like, your nerves going haywire. You listened closely to Sunghoon’s footsteps as he walked closer to you, and then suddenly the footsteps stopped and you felt goosebumps arise at the feeling of his hot breath fanning across the back of your neck. You shivered at the feeling of Sunghoon gently turning you around, his touch scorching your skin, the feeling electric.

“Are you sure you want this Y/N? We don’t have to film this…” Sunghoon said softly, wanting to make sure you were sure and comfortable. You nodded your head eagerly, the thought of Sunghoon claiming you in front of his thousands of fans made you uncomfortably wet. Sunghoon clicked his tongue.

“Use your words, pretty girl.” Sunghoon said sternly, holding your face in his hand and squeezing your cheeks roughly. You whined at the feeling of his rough hand on your face.

“Yes Sunghoon…I want this…please take me on live…” You let out with a whimper. Sunghoon groaned at your desperation, his cock growing impossibly harder at your pleas. He smirked before moving his hand from your face bringing his hands down to your plump ass grabbing it firmly before pulling away from you entirely, you moaning at the loss of his body heat and touch.

“Alright baby, I’m going to start the live normally and then I’m going to announce that you’re joining…then I’m going to absolutely ruin you…” Sunghoon said his tone sultry and deep. You smiled and nodded at his words signaling you heard him loud and clear. He smiled back before he turned on the camera and his laptop, starting the live.

“Hi, my loves…we’re doing something different tonight. I have a special guest joining tonight’s live, someone very dear and special to me…I hope you all can treat her with as much enthusiasm as you do I.” Sunghoon said out loud to his streamers. He looked up at you before gesturing you to join him on the bed, to which you shyly did.

You sat on the bed beside Sunghoon, and he looked over at you smiling brightly then you both turned to the laptop to read the comments flooding in. ‘she’s so pretty…what should we address her as?’ one of the comments asked. Sunghoon thought before telling them to call you ‘darling’ seeing as that was the name you used when you first encountered his cam shows. You continued to watch as comments kept coming in commenting about how you and ‘ice prince’ were so cute together and how you two seemed like a perfect fit. There were also the dirty comments about how they wished for ‘ice prince’ to ruin you. So that’s exactly what Sunghoon planned to do…

Sunghoon gently laid you on your back on his bed, looking into your eyes for discomfort the whole time he did so. You looked up at him with eager, desperate eyes, Sunghoon’s eyes darkening in desire. He undid your robe slowly revealing your pretty lingerie-clad body, and he groaned at the sight of you all dolled up for him. He slipped the robe off your body completely and brought his hands to your bra and unclipped it taking that off as well. His eyes zeroed in on your hard nipples and he couldn’t help but bring his mouth to the right one and begin sucking roughly, his hand going to the other one massaging it with a firm grip. You moaned out at the feeling of his tongue swirling around your erect nipple. Your hips rose trying to seek friction on your needy cunt, Sunghoon hissing at the feeling of your warmth grinding against his hard cock. Sunghoon let go of your nipple with a pop before he brought his hands to your soaked panties and slid them down your legs, tossing them on the floor beside your robe. He took off his pants, leaving him in just his briefs, and then placed his lips on yours kissing you intensely. Sunghoon began to grind his clothed cock into your clit and you couldn’t stop the whines that escaped your lips, the feeling so intense.

“Please…” You begged him, you felt like you were going to explode with how pent-up you were. Sunghoon just smirked down at you, enjoying his teasing torture on you and your body, you were just so responsive to his touch, and that made him impossibly harder. Suddenly he pulled away from you and you protested at the feeling of his body warmth gone. He just clicked his teeth and pulled his briefs down, throwing them on the floor. You could feel your mouth watering at the sight of his thick pale cock…the one you’ve been fantasizing about for weeks… You needed him in your mouth right now or you think you might die.

Sunghoon noticed the feral look in your eyes, knowing what you wanted at that moment. He moved over to where you were lying on the bed and stood and front of you in a way that was blocking the camera setup. You got up on your knees crawling toward him, you bent down toward his throbbing cock, your ass in the air. You looked up at Sunghoon through your eyelashes and studied his face and how he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. You move your hand towards him and gripped his large cock in your grasp, your hand looking tiny compared to his length. He moaned as soon as you made contact with him. You smiled innocently up at him as you brought your mouth to his pink tip. You took him further into your mouth before pulling off and then doing it again. Sunghoon got tired of your teasing real quick and grabbed your hair and pushed you further onto his cock. You gagged at the sudden intrusion and moved your hands to his thick muscular thighs gripping on for dear life as Sunghoon began to thrust his hips harshly, his tip hitting the back of your throat repeatedly.

Sunghoon let out deep grunts at the exertion of his thrusts and he let out an occasional long drawn-out moan at the feeling of your throat constricting around his throbbing cock. You weren’t any better honestly, letting out moans and whines at the way Sunghoon was abusing your throat. You could feel yourself dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets below you. Sunghoon’s moans grew higher in pitch the closer he got to his climax before he suddenly groaned out that he was about to cum. He grabbed your head forcing you all the way onto his cock and cumming inside your mouth, his cock pulsating at the intensity of it. You let out a moan at the feeling of his warm cum coating your throat and mouth. Sunghoon pulled out of your mouth slowly and moaned at the sight of his cum pooling at the sides of your mouth. He then pulled you up and crashed his mouth onto yours, not caring that he had just come into your mouth.

Sunghoon pulled away from the kiss and pushed you back onto the bed crawling between your spread legs. He started to kiss up your thighs, avoiding where you needed him most. If you were going to tease him, he was gonna do it 10x worse…

“Please…I need you…” You whimpered out grasping his hair between your fingers and tugging him closer to your core. Sunghoon moaned at the stinging on his scalp. Finally, he brought his mouth to your clit, licking it softly before taking it into his mouth and sucking on it harshly. You yelled a quick ‘fuck!’ at the feeling. Sunghoon looked up into your eyes as he brought two of his fingers to your slick entrance and pushed them inside you. You were a moaning, squirming mess as Sunghoon feasted on you. You could feel your high fast approaching, so you warned him, but before you could reach your much-needed high, Sunghoon removed his fingers and let go of your clit with a loud pop. Your eyes shot open at the feeling of your high being stolen away from you so rudely. Sunghoon just smirked at you, popping his finger into his mouth and moaning at your taste.

“If you want to cum, you’re going to cum on my cock darling…” Sunghoon said smugly, raising an eyebrow. You sighed nodding your head. Sunghoon then climbed on top of you, his chain dangling above your face and you couldn’t help but whine at how sexy he looked with his hair mussed up and his eyes blown wide with lust for you. You felt as Sunghoon aligned himself with your entrance, pushing just the tip inside you. Your eyes closed at the feeling of your walls adjusting to his head. Sunghoon slowly began to push himself into you, grunting at how tight you felt around him. You whimpered as you struggled to adjust to his huge size.

“Shh darling, you’re okay…You can take it…” Sunghoon wheezed out, trying so hard not to just thrust forward. You just felt so good around him, so tight. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he was bottomed out inside you. He stayed still for a few more moments so that you could completely adjust before he began to thrust into you at a steady pace. You kept moaning loudly at the feeling of his cock dragging in and out of your walls. You could feel your high approaching once more, still feeling sensitive from your high being taken away earlier. Sunghoon could feel himself getting close as well, but he wanted you to come before he did, so he brought one of his hands to your clit and began to run it harshly. He picked up his pace until he was pounding into you as hard as he could, his headboard hitting against the wall in a repeated ‘thump, thump, thump’ sound. Sunghoon brought his other hand up to your neck, squeezing slightly and that was your downfall, being pushed over the edge as soon as you felt him choking you. You screamed out as you let your orgasm take over your body, clenching around Sunghoon tightly, your juices soaking his cock as you came hard. Sunghoon lets out a long drawn-out groan at the feeling, cumming right after you. You could feel his warm cum painting your walls and moaned at the oversensitivity. Sunghoon thrust a few more times to draw out both of your orgasms, pushing his cum deeper inside you, before pulling out of you.

Sunghoon said goodbye to the viewers and then turned off the camera. He then walked into his ensuite bathroom and grabbed a wet rag to clean you up. He walked back to where you were passed out on his bed in exhaustion. He smiled softly at the sight. You were so cute to him and he couldn’t help but fall more in love with you at that moment…you looked so peaceful and content. Sunghoon cleaned you up gently, slipping one of his shirts onto your sleeping body putting on a pair of boxers onto himself, and slipping into the bed beside you pulling you towards him. One of your eyes opened at the motions and you let out a small yawn and snuggled closer to him with a cute happy smile on your face. Sunghoon pulled the covers onto you both and thought about how you two were going to have to talk in the morning about what had conspired, but for now, he was going to hold you close to him. So he did just that drifting off to sleep, exhaustion taking over him. He didn’t know what the future would hold for you two but as long as you were happy, he was happy…

#enhypen smut #enhypen #kpop smut #kpop fluff #enhypen fluff #sunghoon smut #enhypen scenarios #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enha #enha x reader #enha imagines #kpop #kpop fic

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prentisssbxtch · 27 days ago

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An experience.

summary: the woman you slept with the night before, ends up being your boss.

relationship: wanda x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, hits to smut, lil make out, uhh i think that’s it? bad writing <3

this is my first time writing a fanfic so… bear with me

also not proofread !!

part 2?

─── ⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰ ───

waking up confused and disoriented, i looked around my surroundings to see i was in my living room… naked.

i turned to see a naked woman’s back facing me as she lied passed out. i could see she had gorgeous red hair; which was going in every direction possible.

the color of her hair suddenly brought back memories or the night before:

the two of us stumbled through my apartment door before my back was pressed up against it. wanda’s lips never left mine as she gripped my waist, which definitely left bruises.

as her lips moved down towards my neck, i let out a soft moan, gripping her hair tightly between my fingers.

i let out a soft whimper as she nipped my neck. i could feel her lips turn up into a grin before i pulled her head back up to kiss me.

i suddenly snapped back to the present when i noticed the woman on my floor moving. wanda is her name, if i remember correctly.

i quickly pulled the blanket off her body to cover my own. i threw a pillow down to cover her ass, giving her at least some decency.

i wrapped the blanket around my body before standing as wanda began to full awaken.

i moved to stand behind my couch as i watch wanda wake up. she turned her head towards me after a moment of silence.

she has gorgeous eyes

“hey, um i have to be somewhere really soon, so if you wouldn’t mind, uh, leaving… that’d be great,” i said awkwardly, trying to avoid small talk.

“what don’t wanna go for round two?” was her only response, with the most cockiest smirk i’d ever seen.

i felt my eyes widen before quickly recovering, “as great as that sounds, i have somewhere to be. so i’m gonna go to my bathroom and take a shower, and when i come back, you’re going to be gone. okay?” i said as i slowly started backing away towards the bathroom.

she gave a small sigh before standing, completely nude. i quickly turned to give her privacy after being caught off guard.

“uh it was great meeting you…” i paused not wanting to get her name wrong.

“wanda” she said, filling in the blank, while she picked up her belongings.

“wanda,” i said repeating after her as i slowly turned to look back at her. “well, bye.”

was my final response as i turned to leave to the bathroom, again.

——

after my… eventful morning, i quickly rushed through my shower before putting on work appropriate clothes.

i was starting an internship at a law firm here in new york. it was one of the biggest companies in the city, Maximoff Industries.

the fancy name already had my scared, but the fact of a whole new building, which could make or break my career… i felt as if i could throw up at any moment.

i was luckily able to grab a taxi, before having a small panic attack in the car. i put my headphones in, turning on music to hopefully calm my nerves.

it didn’t.

as the taxi pulled up outside the building, i felt as if i was shitting bricks.

i turned to pay the driver before quickly exiting the car.

i slowly walked towards the building, trying to even my breathing as i neared the main entrance.

the second i walked through the door, i was greeted by marble floors with a gorgeous chandelier.

i walked to the front dest asking where to go. she told me all the interns were to go to the 5th floor, where we would meet Ms. Maximoff, the owner of the building.

i nodded my head before saying a quiet thank you. i moved towards the elevator, quickly pressing the button calling it to my floor.

once the doors opened i stepped in, pressing the button for the fifth floor before leaning against the back wall.

suddenly i began to realize i had no idea what any of the maximoffs looked like. they had a very house hold name, everyone knew of who they are. i thought of googling the name before realizing it was pretty pointless. i would be seeing her in person in just a few minutes.

as the elevator dinged, alerting me of my arrival to the fifth floor, i felt my anxiety suddenly jump even higher than before.

which i didn’t think was possible, but clearly it was.

i stepped out as i politely smiled at the people getting in. i saw another front desk for the floor, quickly making my way towards the woman sitting there. she quickly directed me towards a room off to the left, which already had several people sitting around it. i gave a small thank you before walking to the area.

i looked for an open seat before quickly sitting. as time passed more people began to walk into the room. once the clock on the wall turned to 2:30, two people walked into the room.

the first, a tall man with blond hair, slightly blocking the person behind them.

the person being him stepped to stand beside him, i cast a glance to the woman who stepped out. only for my jaw to drop once i realized who it was.

the woman from this morning. wanda.

the man cleared her throat, regaining my attention, “this will be the internship that could potentially make or break your future. you have all been picked on how well you did in school. do not think because you are here, you’re safe of future problems. we will not hesitate to let you go, if we see fit.”

i turned my attention back to the woman standing next to the man, seeing her already looking at me. i could tell from her expression, she too was surprised by my presence. within a blink, she looked completely neutral.

this was definitely going to be an experience.

─── ⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰ ───

thank you for reading🫶🏻

if you want a part two lemme know!!

#wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximommy #marvel #wanda maximoff x reader #x reader #fanfic

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peachesofteal · 25 days ago

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Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley/female reader

"Simon?"

Your voice wavers, rich with uncertainty, and he's around the corner into the kitchen before you can blink. "What is it?"

"I... do we still have the large blue mixing bowls?" Orion is between your legs, arms curled around each knee. He's been doing this since you got home, positioning himself so he's almost always touching you, a tether desperate to remain unbroken.

His nightmares are back, too. And yours are worse. Only Nix sleeps soundly, Simon hardly sleeps at all.

"I wanted to make muffins." He finds them in the top cabinet, and then shifts his attention to his boy who clings to you.

"Want to go outside for a bit Ry? Let mama make you some muffins for later?" Orion shakes his head, fingers tightening on your sweatpants. You give Simon a pained expression, and he crouches to be eye level with his son, knees cracking. "She'll be right here when you're done, little man, and I'm here, remember? We have to share." Share. It's the only concept he's managed to come up with that makes sense after Orion tearfully confessed he has to be able to see his mum in order to 'save' her.

So now they share the responsibility. Two men of the house. Two of Mama's protectors.

Simon doesn't know what else to do. He put him in therapy months ago, but his son is slow to trust now, fear and danger lurking around every corner in his mind.

"I'll push you on the swing. Want to get your jacket?" You pet his head soothingly.

"It's okay Ry. Go play for a little bit and when you're done you can have a muffin, how's that sound?" He shrugs, but finally unglues himself and toddles to the door to get his coat on.

Simon takes the opportunity to pull you into his chest. "She's due to get up soon," he murmurs, tracing your spine, "just yell and I'll-"

"I can- I'll get her."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah... I want to." You've been locked in a delicate dance with the baby. A slow, unsteady, hesitant dance. Sometimes, you hold her, you rock her, you change her. Sometimes, she's crying in her crib, and you're standing in the doorway of her room, frozen, eyes wide and wet. He catches you studying your body in the mirror when you think he's not looking, hand pressed to your belly, thumb stroking your scar.

"I can come back in." He presses a slow kiss to your forehead.

"It's okay. If I need you, I'll let you know."

You're tired by the time evening rolls around, and once the kids are down, he settles you beneath the covers beside him, enjoying the heat of your body, the way you fit to him. It doesn't take much to exhaust you, but the doctors assure it's normal, you're recovering well, you'll be okay.

It's a funny thing, to be told you'll be well, that you'll recover. He remembers it, how the words were so confusing when a war was raging in his mind, when he was being torn to pieces over and over again every time he closed his eyes.

"Do you think she knows who I am?" He does. The hospital encouraged as much skin to skin as possible, going as far as letting Nix live in your room for weeks just so she could sleep on your chest, and it soothed her like nothing else.

Those things don't matter. What matters is the reality of the situation, your losses. The loss of her first cry, her breath on this earth. The loss of watching her roll over for the first time, her first smile, her first giggle. All of these moments have been stolen from you, and there's no way to give them back, no matter how hard he tries.

"Yeah, mama. I think she knows." You lapse into silence, breaths slowing, limbs relaxing, and he thinks you might be asleep when you whisper into his skin.

"Does it ever go away?"

"No." He croaks. He can't lie, not to you. "No, it doesn't, but it does change. Eventually, it's not a wound, it's a layer. The pain becomes something else, but it never goes away." You sniffle, but don't respond.

It's the last thing he says to you before you fall asleep.

He wakes instinctively to an empty bed. Cold sweat immediately breaks out across his skin, stomach churning in a storm of panic.

Lightning rarely strikes twice, but that doesn't mean it couldn't.

But before he can fully start calculating and preparing a plan, he hears your voice down the hall.

You're in Nix's room, in the rocking chair, baby tucked against your chest, cradled in your arms. You rub her back, twirl her hair, kiss her cheek, all while cooing into her ear, and when you catch his eye, he sees a well of emotion, love, longing, sadness. Grief. So much grief.

"Y'alright?" He whispers from the edge of the room, and you nod. It feels like a moment he shouldn't intrude on, a sacred, special thing not meant for him.

And that's good.

"I'm okay." You reassure him, trying to imbue your words with strength. It's enough for him.

He takes one last look at his girls before he closes door.

And then he smiles.

#peaches writes #through me #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader

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atlabeth · 9 months ago

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take my breath away

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: you help spencer train for his fitness exam. he kind of just wants to kiss you.

a/n: some fluff (and something short) after i broke my own heart (and my brain) in my last hotch fic! i’m truly in my criminal minds era. enjoy

wc: 1.3k

warning(s): reader is a runner so im sorry to my unathletic friends. but this is all fluff

“Spence,” you said, unable to bite back your smile, “how are you this bad at running?”

“I’m—” he held up a finger as he caught his breath and shook his head. “I’m not bad at running. My form… is perfect.”

“We barely made it a mile in,” you said, and you chuckled as he keeled over, his hands on his knees. “It can’t be that perfect.”

“It is,” he insisted, on the edge of wheezing. “I’m just unathletic.”

“You never did sports as a kid?”

“I graduated high school at twelve,” Spencer breathed. “I was too busy studying. Reading. Doing anything other than sports.” He looked at you and shook his head. “And I’m not crazy like you.”

Your smile only grew. “You should put your hands over your head. It helps get more air in.”

“That’s actually a rumor.” He shook his head again. “When you raise your arms, muscles that contribute… to the bucket handle movement of your ribs—” He heaved a sigh, his brows furrowing, and again, you held back a smile. You were sure this was one of his only weaknesses. “—they’re not able to function properly.”

“Alright, genius,” you said, mockingly but with love. “Recover however you like. You clearly need it.”

Spencer pouted as he straightened up, his whole face contorted in discomfort. When your boyfriend asked you to help him train for his upcoming fitness test, you didn’t think much of it—you got a full ride through college because of track, and you keep healthy with morning runs, so you were happy to help.

You’d thought about straight up offering a myriad of times—mostly after bearing witness to his attempts at running in the field. One time, the two of you were paired up to do some interviews, and it ended in a chase. By the time Spencer caught up, nearly dying on the sidewalk, you already had the unsub subdued and cuffed.

(It took him a while to live that down with Morgan.)

Spencer was gifted at other things, sure—not just everyone is a classified genius with an eidetic memory, and he’s the youngest recruit in history—and you loved him more than anything. But you couldn’t not make fun of him, just a little bit.

His face was still red, his glasses fogging up a bit from the humidity, and his hair was a mess, so you moved closer in order to brush the stray strands out of his face.

“Running isn’t my thing,” he said. “Well— fitness isn’t my thing. I’ve got everything else covered.”

“Oh yeah?” You started smoothing back the strands of his hair, and you offered a crooked smile. “Then why are we out here trying to improve your mile time?”

“Because it would be nice if Gideon doesn’t have to get all my fitness stuff waived again, and if I want that, I need the help.” His eyes didn’t leave yours, and once you finished, your hands lingered on his cheeks. You nudged his glasses back up to their spot. “And I think I’d run a marathon and die trying if it meant I got to spend more time with you.”

Your eyebrows rose. “If you want to run a marathon, I could probably get you there. It would take a lot of time together, though.”

“Please, no,” Spencer breathed. “Just the time together part.”

You grinned, and you patted him on the cheek before you pulled away. “Running is good for the soul. Why do you think I’m so happy all the time?”

“Well, this morning you said you were happy because of me,” he said. “Yesterday, it was because we had our first case-free weekend in two months. The other day—”

“That coffee I had?” you interrupted.

He nodded. “How’d you know?”

“Because you made it for me,” you said, “and I love it when you do that.”

Spencer shrugged. “You do it all the time for me. It’s only fair.”

“But that’s proof,” you said. “Running does make you happy.”

“Running does release endorphins, but anyone who likes it is crazy,” he repeated.

“That doesn’t sound scientifically backed.”

“The way I feel right now beats science,” Spencer huffed. “And you’re not happy all the time. You frowned 23 times while writing up your last report.”

You raised your eyebrows. “You were watching me? And counting?”

He shrugged. “You’re nice to watch.”

“Very smooth, Dr. Reid,” you said cloyingly. “But flattery won’t get you out of this.”

“I’m not trying to get out of anything!” he defended. You stared at him, and he held up his hands. “Okay— only halfway. But you are nice to watch. That’s why I’m still here.”

“If you’re watching me while we run, that might be why you’re doing so badly,” you said, amused.

“No—I think it’s the only thing keeping me going.”

“You don’t really look like you’re still going,” you said wryly. “You should be good at this. You’ve got long legs.”

Spencer shook his head as he screwed his eyes shut. He let out one last breathy sigh, and you hoped he’d finally recovered. “Also largely a rumor. It’s more about leg strength compared to bodyweight—long legs help with lengthy strides, but you need to generate enough torque to move faster than with shorter legs.”

You smiled. “You’ve still got facts? Even while you’re dying?”

“Mostly because Elle’s said it before too. She says I look like a baby giraffe learning how to walk when I run.” Spencer shook his head again. “I think the only thing my height is good for is getting things off of shelves.”

For once, you tried to reign in your joking. “Is there anything I can do to help? I don’t want this whole thing to be miserable for you. Running should be fun.”

“We can stop doing this?” he suggested. “I can let go of what’s left of my pride, get all my fitness stuff waived again, and go back to figuring out cases in an air conditioned conference room?”

You smiled, and you moved closer. “How about this?”

Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but you pulled him in for a kiss by the front of his shirt, effectively cutting him off. He hesitated for less than a split second, but his hands fell to your waist as he brought you in closer.

When you let go and moved away, he still had them there, and he was smiling like an idiot.

“Does that help?” you asked innocently, tilting your head.

“Yeah,” Spencer said, nodding rapidly. “Uh— yeah. I actually think I could go for another mile now.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you ruffled his hair, messing up your earlier work. “I’d love to test that, pretty boy, but I don’t think you can make it another mile.”

Spencer shook his head. “If you keep kissing me like that, I think I can make it through that marathon you mentioned.”

“Sure I don’t take your breath away too badly?” you teased.

“I have some facts for that, but I don’t think they apply.” His lips curved up, and the redness from exertion mixed with his steadily rising blush. “Because you, uh— you did take my breath away the first time I saw you.”

“I should start calling you loverboy with material like that,” you mused. “Morgan’s annoyed that I took pretty boy from him.”

Spencer grimaced. “Just thinking of Morgan seeing me like this makes me want to get back at it. I can’t deal with any more of his teasing.”

“But my teasing’s okay?”

He frowned. “Of course. It— it’s kind of why I fell for you.”

“Ah,” you nodded. “That’s why you’re still at this. You don’t like things being handed to you.”

His cheeks darkened again, and you laughed as you leaned in to peck him on the lips one more time.

“Alright, loverboy,” you said. “Ready to get back at it?”

“No,” he said affirmatively. “But I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

“Not if you want to pass,” you said wryly, and you gestured back at the trail with your head. “But you know what they say—one step at a time.”

Spencer grumbled, and he shook his arms out again. “Fine. As long as those steps are with you.”

You smiled. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

#i know this scene in the show does not happen in s2 but i alsoooo do not care lol. canon continuity is dead to me in my fics #s2 spence my beloved<3 #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fluff #x reader #sadie writes

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robo-writing · 2 months ago

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Inspired by this post from @logansbaby

Lumberjack! Logan but it’s this version—older, wiser beyond his years and then some, still that rambunctious young man at heart but when your age grows, so does your patience. While his lines may be deeper and his hair might be ashen, he’s still every bit the man you fell in love with.

Just you, him, and the home he’s built for the both of you.

It’s quiet, peaceful, surrounded by the sounds of nature, the hum of the wind passing through the leaves. He’s got a warm fireplace for the winter, but that ain’t enough for him, no, how else is he gonna stay warm?

Gotta stay warm, darling. Wouldn’t want your old man to freeze to death, would ya?

So it’s then that Logan enjoys the advantages of secluded living—no neighbors to call a noise complaint when he’s got you on his lap.

The fireplace lights your skin with an amber glow, casting your features in such a pretty light, the sight of you leaving him in awe. His fingertips dance against your supple flesh, admiring, but not leading. He’d rather watch you do the work, enjoying how you tremble with each bounce of your hips, holding onto his shoulders for dear life. A small part of him almost takes pity on you, fingertips burning with greed as they close against your hips.

It would be so easy to take control, have you boneless and crying on his cock—it’s what he would’ve done when he was younger. It would be so easy, he thinks to himself, allowing himself this one moment of weakness, thrusting up into you when your hips fall. One experimental thrust upward, and you seize up, your lips forming a small “o” before moaning his name just how he likes it.

it would be so easy, he thinks to himself as your entire being arches, exposes itself to him. It would be so easy—

—but then it wouldn’t be nearly as fun now, would it?

He wouldn’t be able to see you shakily recover, wouldn’t feel your nails scratch at his shoulders, wouldn’t feel how you take a shaky little breath before continuing your languid pace. He wouldn’t have the pleasure to feel your pussy twitch against his length, to feel you shake with increasing need.

So, no matter how many times you beg him to fuck you properly, he won’t. Even when you kiss him so sweetly it reminds him of your nickname, honey, he won’t indulge in the saccarine temptation that is you.

No, he’d much rather you sit all nice and pretty and warm his cock like a good girl.

Logan may be older now, but he’s still the same man that loves watching his girl.

#robo writes #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #fell in love with a fictional man mid fic chat am I cooked

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sturnioz · 2 months ago

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fan!reader stumbles across pornstar!chris’ page.

to say you're bored is a understatement.

for hours, you've been cooped up in your room, the familiar four walls boring you to death as you drift between mindless scrolling on social media, making half-hearted snacks, and tidying up your personal space — each task offering only small moments of distraction before you're back to square one.

you're sprawled out on your soft blanket, one hand resting lazily on your belly while the other clutches your phone, your fingers flicking through an endless stream of posts, your interest wavering with each monotone post, until something catches your eye.

you're sprawled out on top of your comforter, one hand resting on your belly and the other holding your phone, doing another scrolling sensation for an hour, each swipe feeling more monotonous than the last until something catches your eye.

you tilt your head, propping it up on your pillow and squint at a tweet that mentions a @/chr1s and how the user, funnily enough, claims that he's made their lives a lot less boring and more fulfilling with his videos.

intrigued, you click on the name, and your heart skips a beat as you're brought to the creator's page, your eyes widening in surprise at the amount of lewd videos that flash across your screen, each thumbnail more enticing than the last.

in a sudden rush, your slam your phone against your chest, feeling a flutter of anxiety as you stare up at the ceiling, as if expecting someone to burst through the door and catch you. but the silence in your home reassures you — you know you're alone, and that comforting realisation nudges you to lift your phone back to your face.

you click on a random video, your mouth drying as you watch chris lay naked across his desk chair, lazily stroking his cock as he looks directly into the camera, a grin on his face and bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

your eyes drift down to his cock as he teases the underside with his thumb, pre-cum beading at his tip and you swallow thickly, your own hand moving down your stomach and slipping between your legs, rubbing yourself through your panties — gasping when you feel how wet you already are.

"fuuuck, ma. you watchin' me?" the raspiness of his voice startles you a little, and you make a quiet noise as you watch him pick up the pace, his hips moving as he fucks his fist with soft grunts.

the strokes of his hand becomes more quicker and rougher, and you can't help but follow close behind, rubbing your clit faster as your own hips start to buck against your fingers as you hear the lewd, wet sounds of chris' slick hand pumping his cock and his heavy panting, mixing in with the sounds of your increasingly ragged breathing.

"m'gonna cum f'you.." you hear him whisper, and his eyes roll back in bliss as with a few frenzied thrusts, cum spurts from his tip, splattering across his stomach and chest with a whine.

you gasp, a muffled cry seeping past your lips as your body shudders, your orgasm suddenly ripping through your body, causing your thighs to clamp around your hand as your ground your palm harder against your throbbing clit, soaking your fingers through your panties as waves of pleasure crashes over you.

panting heavily, you slowly pull your hand away, your eyes wide as you stare at the sticky evidence of your release on your fingers — something you haven't been able to achieve in a long time — before turning your attention back to your phone screen, seeing chris milk the last drops of cum onto his stomach before he slumps back with a shaky breath, spent.

it takes him a moment to recover, and your breath catches in your throat when he leans toward the camera, giving the most prettiest grin before pressing a soft, chaste kiss to the lens before turning it off.

the sudden silence envelops you, leaving you momentarily stunned as you lie still on the bed, trying to process what just happened as your eyes lock on the replay icon pulsing on the screen.

blinking slowly, you swallow thickly, the dry sensation in your throat intensifying and you clear it as you navigate towards his dms, your heart thrumming in your chest as you type in your post-orgasm bliss;

@/yourusername | 17:59thank you for making me cum

you don't expect a reply from someone like him — after all, he has a decent following and like receives countless dms daily, many of which are probably a little freaky and intense. you assume your dm will get lost with the others, and with a deep exhale, you continue with your day, even following his account and subscribing to his onlyfans for future content.

days pass, and one evening, you find yourself in the bathroom, freshly out of the shower, brushing your teeth as you hear your phone ping. you continue scrubbing with one hand while the other reaches for your phone resting on the counter, and you pull up your notification bar, almost choking on your toothpaste and your heart nearly stopping when you see a reply from him.

@/chr1s | 20:32 ur welcome baby

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pochaccoups · 10 months ago

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achilles’ heel — choi seungcheol

pairing — choi seungcheol x fem!reader

summary — after a knee surgery, your boyfriend feels off about his body. you’re determined to show him just how much you love it.

wc — 3.1k

warnings — nsfw content. minors dni. smut, established relationship, light angst, fluff, body insecurity, body worship, petnames (baby, pretty girl), oral sex (m receiving), creampie

author’s note — hi i still think about when cheol said in a live that he wears big hoodies bc he’s insecure of his body and im still upset because i need him to know that he makes couprangs (ME) feel insane over his body that’s sooo big and strong ok enjoy

Something is bothering Seungcheol.

You’ve been with your boyfriend long enough to reasonably suspect when there’s something on his mind, and while he’s gotten relatively good at putting on a front to his members, it’s a little harder for him to conceal his thoughts from you. You, who’s ever observant and aware of his habits. You, who, when Seungcheol is sick with something even if non-contagious, somehow coincidentally feel the same symptoms. You, who is practically empathetically connected with him.

It’s not hard to notice that he’s been distant, though. Ever since he’d been able to walk again after his surgery, he’s had a weird edge to him that was never there before, like a rescue dog with trust issues.

By no means had he become neglectful to you. Not once had he stopped treating you like you were his entire world, but it was all in the way his hugs weren’t as tight as usual. He insisted he didn’t need help with things like showering or dressing anymore—which was fair since he could walk now, but when you’d asked if he wanted to join you in the shower, suddenly he was too tired. Once upon a time you couldn’t even finish the question before he was stripped naked and next to you.

You don’t remember the last time you’d been intimate with him. The moment your lips would make their way to his neck after a soft makeout, he’d ease you away from him, gently confessing that he just wasn’t in the mood, that he was just too tired again.

And that’s fine with you—you’d die before disrespecting the boundaries which are so crucial to your relationship. You did miss him though, and deep down, something in your heart had told you that, along with everything else, something was not right.

You’re curled into his side one night when you find the courage to confront him.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Your suspicions are confirmed the moment his chest stiffens under your cheek.

“I know… Why?” he asks, hesitant, as though he’s walking on eggshells.

“I feel like you’ve been acting, I don’t know, off. I’m worried about you, Cheollie,” you admit, poking your finger into his torso.

Three of his breaths, full of contemplation, fill the air before he speaks again.

“It’s my body,” he says. “I don’t like how much bigger I’ve gotten.”

You bolt upright, staring dead into his eyes with daggers in yours.

“That’s why you’ve been so squirmish?”

He nods his head, pouting absentmindedly, then continues. “I’ve just felt… gross.”

It takes everything in you not to smack him across the face. Your hands ball into fists, your face growing hot as rage bubbles and stirs beneath your skin. You climb on top of him, trapping his waist between your thighs as you sit upon him.

“Choi Seungcheol, you’re so stupid.” There’s an air of affection in your words, but you hope they’re stern enough to get through to him.

He groans as he hides his face in the fabric of his hoodie. “This is why I didn’t tell you.”

“Because you knew it was stupid? Cheol, you were in rehab recovering from surgery. You literally couldn’t walk for weeks. Besides, you’re acting like it’s a bad thing that you’ve gotten ‘bigger’,” you say, fingers wrapping around his wrists so you can pull his hands away from his face. “Do you know how feral you’ve been making me feel recently?”

“Feral?!” he says, eyes widening as he fails to stifle an adorable giggle.

“Your shoulders are so broad now and it drives me fucking crazy,” you say, falling into a fit of your own laughter because the sound of your boyfriend’s laugh is more contagious than any sickness.

Lacing your fingers with his, your expression hardens. In the rich brown of his eyes, his insecurity finally rears itself to you—and you’re determined to destroy every last shred of it.

“Love everything about your body, Cheol. Love when you cuddle me and hug me with your big arms, makes me feel so safe,” you confess, your smile radiating warmth. Your fingers squeeze his ones.

“Love how you can carry me around, on your back, in your arms…” You let go of his hands to flatten your palms against his stomach, smoothing up his torso slowly. His own hands, eager to never be empty, find your hips, his fingers pinching softly at you through your leggings.

“Love your thick thighs, love sitting in your lap…” You’ve reached his chest now and Seungcheol is smirking — he’s well aware of your obsession with this part of him.

“Love when you throw me around, manhandle me like a ragdoll, pin me down…” You’re grasping at his shoulders now, leaning forward until there’s hardly an inch between your faces.

“Love when you spank me…”

It’s then that something in Seungcheol shifts. His pants grow tighter, his hips shifting underneath you as you straddle him. He likes to think he’s a man of self-control, even when it comes to your antics. But there are times where he abandons all discipline — right now, his head is cloudy because he hasn’t let you touch him in weeks.

“You’ve been depriving me of cock all this time because you’ve been eating too good?” you say, scoffing as you reach for the hem of Seungcheol’s hoodie to tug at it. You pause, glancing at him for approval. Still with a dash of hesitation he sits up, helping you shrug it over his head, exposing himself to you.

“Don’t get too bratty, I can keep depriving you,” he retorts, but it’s playful.

It’s like your first time with him all over again. All you’d gotten over the past few weeks were glimpses of his bare skin, a peek as he came out of the shower or changed or when his shirt lifted up as he stretched. He’s always been a little modest, but never to this extent.

The sight of his bare form knocks every last breath from your lungs. He’s always been beautiful—strong and dependable, now even more so. His body has always given you the urge to get on your knees and worship and pray to him like the Greeks did, now it feels as though you were born to do just that.

Then there’s a pang of violence, too, because he hasn’t even changed that drastically. He’s a little softer in his tummy, his arms a little thicker, but that’s all, really. It’s definitely not something for him to have been hiding out of disgust. Of course, it’s not all too difficult to deduce why he felt it necessary to do it—he’s an idol. It’s his job to look picturesque and perfect and flawless. His mind is bound to become mean, to turn to cruel lies of not being good enough.

Your lips leave a trail along his skin, from his collarbones, to his chest, and down his abdomen. Your hope is that each kiss will help chase away Seungcheol’s every last insecurity. It’s naive of you, perhaps, because it will take a lot more than just this to unravel what he has convinced himself of. At the very least, it’s a start.

You paw at the band of his sweats, lips hovering below his belly button as you glance up at him.

“Can I take them off?”

A nervous pause. Then, “do it,” he says, sighing softly.

And then you’re pulling them down his legs, down his thick, hard thighs—the ones made for you to sit on.

His boxers come next, but not before you ask for his explicit permission again. More than ever, you’re utterly dedicated to his comfort.

It’s instinct how your hand reaches for his cock, heavy as your fingers wrap around it and so thick that your fingertips don’t even touch. The sight of it which you’ve missed so much, pretty, pink, and veiny, has you drooling already, your teeth baring down on your bottom lip. You’re aching between your legs.

You need him inside you or you might die.

Seungcheol’s eyes sparkle as he watches your lips leave wet kisses along his length, pecking along the veins as you make your way up, then spoiling his tip with sweet smooches and kitten licks in between.

“Missed you, Cheol,” you tell him, breathy and tender.

“I know,” he says, then you take his cock past your lips and he hisses as the warmth of your mouth greets him.

He doesn’t realise how much he’s missed this, missed you, until his tip bumps the back of your throat and you’re choking around him despite not even having half of him in your mouth yet. His hand flies to grab a fistful of your hair, still managing to treat you gently as he pulls you back.

“Easy, pretty girl,” he pleads, the rasp in his voice instilling within you an urge to listen. His effect on you is trance-like, his honeyed voice irresistible.

You blink up at him, batting your tear-brimmed lashes at him, knowing how it makes his heart swell. You take him slowly this time, one hand stroking at his base so that no inch of him is left untouched, and you swallow him little by little.

Seungcheol lets out a low groan, a gorgeous sound that makes the world spin around you. It rushes straight to your core, burning through you, turning you hungrier, greedier.

You can’t help but slip one of your hands down between your thighs, sliding your fingers between your folds which you find practically dripping. Your fingertips dance over your clit, circling it softly before you dip two of your digits inside to feed the insatiable flame that burns in your core.

“Fuck, baby,” Seungcheol groans, catching sight of the way your fingers pump in and out of your dripping hole. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

He doesn’t need to tell you—his cock twitches in your mouth as he speaks.

The sheer size and thickness of your boyfriend’s length always proves challenging for you, but the heat emanating from deep within your core begs for you to spoil him—because his pleasure is equally yours—and has you burying him all the way down your throat in spite of the tears that spring to your eyes and the clench of your oesophagus around him.

And the thing about Seungcheol is that his mere existence is enough to toss you out of your mind, to make you throw all morals out the window until you’re no better than a cat in heat.

He lets out a noise that’s part-laugh and part-moan as your nose nuzzles against the wiry hairs of his happy trail, never failing to be caught off guard by your eagerness even after years of being your lover. His hand settles on your cheek, at the corner of your lips that are stretched around his girth, his thumb drawing soft strokes on your skin.

“I said go easy,” he says, voice strained, but he chuckles amusedly through his words.

You bob your head back up, popping off of him briefly. Webs of glimmering spit connect your lips with his cock, and Seungcheol thinks you’ve never looked prettier. He can’t help but brush his thumb over your swollen lips while his eyes drink you in with a tender gleam.

“Can’t help myself,” you reply, smiling coyly, then the next moment you’re back on him again, swirling your tongue around his tip.

You pull your fingers from your pussy momentarily to drag your nails along his thighs, so thick and heavy with muscle that you’re certain when you sink them into his skin he feels no more than a soft scratch. It helps when you swallow him whole again, helps keep your tears at bay just a little, helps the muscles of your throat relax so that you can bob your head up and down his length the way both you and him like it.

You don’t go too fast lest he pulls you away for ignoring his pleas, but there’s also no need for you to go too fast. Yes, you’ve missed him, missed having him like this, missed touching him, but right now that’s not what you’re concerned about. All that spurs you on is the want —the need—to make Seungcheol feel as desirable as he is to you.

So you take him steadily, at a pace that’s enough to get him worked up and simultaneously lets your affection drip from every drag of your mouth along his length, lets you taste every inch of him and every drop of his salty precum. Your soft moans muffled by his cock merge with his ones, breathy and whiny, broken up by praises and light mewls of your name.

One of your hands moves between your legs again, squelching as your fingers enter your throbbing cunt once more.

You refuse to break your eyes away from his, as though averting your gaze from him even for a second would mean he would vanish before you. It’s also Seungcheol’s Achilles’ heel—look into his eyes and he doesn’t stand a chance against you.

You could predict the way curses start spilling from his lips and the way his cock starts to throb lightly in your mouth and the way his hips start to buck every time his tip reaches the back of your throat. When it comes to you, he’s weak and he will never hide it.

“Baby, I’m close,” he says, a near whisper.

His confession prompts you to pull your mouth off of him and he whimpers, pouting shamelessly like a kicked puppy. Some alpha leader.

“You’re really teasing me right now?”

“Cheollie… You’ve been ignoring me for weeks and you think I’d just let you cum like that?” you say, but your voice is full of playfulness. You want to make up for the affection you haven’t been able to give him for so long, yet a part of you wants to get back at him a little.

“I’ll remember this,” he grins.

“I know you will,” you tell him as you clamber up his legs until you’re straddling his waist, bending forward to press a chaste kiss to his mouth and pouting at him. “What if I want you to finish inside me though?”

“Then let me prep you first,” he insists, giant hands finding your hips and drawing circles with his thumbs. He’s about to flip you over onto your back, but you shake your head and press a hand to his chest to keep him still.

“I’ve already prepped myself, Cheollie, you wanna taste?”

Before he can bicker back, you push your soaked fingers between his lips and into his mouth, and he sucks them subconsciously, lapping up every last drop of your arousal with a moan.

When his mouth is free of your fingers, he smiles.

“I still wanna touch you,” he rasps, resolute.

You lean over him until your mouth is on his again, but this time your lips slide sloppily against one anothers’ from the mess of saliva and cum that drips from them. Your hands travel up his torso, palms smoothing over his bare flesh, but touching him is not enough.

“I wanna take care of you, Seungcheol, so please just let me,” you whisper against his lips, grinding your hips over his cock where it lays against his abdomen.

“Okay, okay,” he surrenders, sighing as your lips drop down to his neck and nip at his tender skin there. “But I’m eating you out for at least two hours next time.”

You perk back up to shoot him an unamused look, in spite of the fact that it’s really a win-win situation for you. You just hate that there’s no budging your boyfriend’s stubbornness.

“I love you,” he says, lips curling into a ghost of a smirk.

And here is your Achilles heel, because you’re just a girl, after all. A girl not immune to her breathtaking lover’s sweet words, whose heart sways at his whispers of affection to her—to only her.

Warmth floods your veins. The need to be one with him becomes urgent.

Grasping onto Seungcheol’s broad shoulders, you sink down upon him, inch by inch until he’s bottomed out inside you and your moans of relief are perfectly in sync. He grips your hips so hard they’ll probably bruise, no doubt having become unused to how sweetly your warm walls envelop his cock like a hug. Meanwhile you’ve forgotten how his dick, in all its thickness, is capable of punching the air from your lungs.

Still, there’s no hesitation in the way you start to bounce your hips on him and it’s not long before the burning stretch fizzles into a glowing pleasure in the pit of your stomach.

When you’re above him like this, you’re able to take in the sight of all of him. His biceps, bulky and thick, his shoulders, sturdy and broad. Every inch of him is so perfect that you wonder how he’s all yours. You hate to think about how he could have possibly felt disgusted by himself. If he wasn’t already yours in real life, he would be in your dreams, exactly as he is as he lays beneath you.

It’s overwhelming. Feeling him again after so many weeks, the way his cock drives into you so deliciously, his sculpture-like body—you’re not sure what does it, probably a mixture of everything, but before you know it your pussy is clamping down on him and your entire body quivers with a wave of

“Fuck, I’m cumming too, baby, I’m right with you,” he utters, staring at you as if you descended straight from Heaven.

“No,” you say, and your hips halt their bouncing, yet your fingers are still toying with your clit as you recover from your orgasm.

Seungcheol whines at the cruelty of it.

“Not until you agree this body is sexy,” you say, teasing, grinding your hips painfully slowly along his cock—certainly not enough to keep up any kind of stimulation.

He gives a pained, exasperated laugh, and thinks fuck, he’s in love with you. He’s not sure what he’s done, maybe saved a life or two in a past life, but even that seems like it’s not enough for him to deserve you.

The way your walls squeeze down on his cock makes his head spin. If he doesn’t cum soon he thinks he might die.

“It is, okay? I love this body. Now please, please, keep going,” he blurts out, stroking his hands up and down your thighs sweetly, pouting up at you so irresistibly.

“Say it’s sexy.”

He whines again, painfully desperate. His voice breaks when he repeats your words; “my body is sexy.”

You smile like a little minx when you start to bounce up and down him again, even harder this time. Seungcheol moans, such a gorgeous sound, and before long he’s grasping at your waist and pulling you flush against him as his cock throbs and he fills you up with spurts of his warm seed.

As he comes back down with heavy breaths, you pepper his neck and jawline with saccharine kisses.

“I love you,” you say, relishing in the weight and warmth of his strong arms wrapped around your nude body, in the feeling of his soft yet firm torso that’s one with your own. “You’re perfect to me.”

#svthub #scoups x reader #scoups smut #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol smut #scoups x you #seungcheol x you #svt smut #seventeen smut #scoups imagines #scoups fanfic #[୨୧] — starring: seungcheol

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