#who hugs you and hides you under his coat when | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

getosbicth · 10 days ago

Text

𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐧. (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞.)

𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨

part 1: sharing is caring; part 2: dinner; part 3: devotion (coming soon!)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

His other lover left a message for you, carved into the flesh of your beloved, love-bites on his neck and scratches on his chest and back...

"I want to meet him."

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,876

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: 18+ ONLY, NSFW! CONTENT, MDNI, infidelity, unprotected sex, cucking (just a lil), polyamory, threesomes, weird pillow talk

a/n: part two is out! decided to write a part three soon upon the request of an anon.

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠.

He smells of cherry liquor when he returns home. He'd give the excuse he's meeting with his allies for staying out so late, plotting the downfall of Jujutsu Society and those damned higher-ups who cast him out as a child. But you know he only drinks whiskey and red wine, yet the bitter-sweet taste on his lips gets you drunk and you have no choice but to ignore the infidelity happening behind your back.

He'd call out his name when he's asleep. He dreamt of him so many times you'd lost count but stayed awake every night to see if something had changed- if he'd call out your name instead. Sometimes you'd wake him up, tell him he was yelling in his sleep and that it scared you. Then he'd kiss your forehead and apologize, pull you closer and hug you like you were the one he wanted to be with.

You'd find notes in his coat pockets, saying where and when to meet, it was as if he wasn't even trying to hide it. You knew, though, that this man your lover was seeing was a secret that could never come to light. You were the one by his side, you were the one everyone knew about. You held onto that belief like it was your lifeline, like it mattered at all when you knew your position was only temporary. A distraction from the cruel reality that Suguru couldn't be with him.

It turned you bitter. How sweet it must've been to meet each other against all odds, to still want to be close to one another after everything they've been through. To meet under the veil of secrecy, so intimate and heart-wrenching. You didn't want to share, yet it felt horrible to think about stepping in between them, knowing full well he wouldn't choose you in the end.

So you stay silent and taste the bitter taste of cherry liquor on his lips, smell the faint scent of cinnamon and vanilla in his hair. Your heart aches with the thought of sharing your beloved, the man you so deeply adored. Then again, it fuels a fire within you, something you've never felt before, and every night turns into a chance to prove your love for him.

You surrender your body and your soul and he takes you for all you're worth, kissing you and loving you more and more passionately each time your bodies find themselves tangled in the cold darkness of your shared bedroom. You get addicted to the thought of him with his other lover, fully aware that, truthfully, you are the other. It gets you going and you become someone you don't recognize, you coax him into bed whenever you feel him straying. You make him feel so good he calls out your name in desperation, satiated and still craving more, you give, you give and you take from him.

You become malicious in the way you love him, taking control and denying him satisfaction, making him beg for it.

Until one night he comes home late, drunk and disheveled. You see the bites on his neck, the scratches on his back when he takes his shirt off and you feel rage boil in your blood. His other lover left a message for you, carved into the flesh of your beloved and your eyes tear up. How could he disrespect you so blatantly? You feel helpless and betrayed by a person you've never seen before, the one who took a part of your beloved already and was trying to take more.

“I want to meet him.”

You can tell you've just turned his world upside down with only one sentence because he freezes and then let's his hair down to cover the marks on his neck.

“Who?”

You're already naked in bed, waiting for him, but you stand up and walk over to stop him from putting on his T-shirt. You yank it from him and throw it on the ground, “He can't do this. I don't want to see it, Suguru.” You say with a wobbly voice, dragging your finger across the scratches on his chest.

He takes your wrist to stop you from touching him. “I don't know what you're talking about.” His eyes have turned cold and the emptiness in his voice makes your stomach turn with unease.

“Suguru, I didn't say anything. I've let you be with him because I know there is no other way. But I don't want to have to see how he touched you and-” You feel sick to your stomach. “I want to meet him.”

His gaze softens and he hums, contemplating how to proceed. “How long have you known?”

You huff in frustration, not believing he thought you were that stupid when the signs were so obvious. He wasn't even trying to hide it and he had the gall to ask you how long you've known. “Since forever. That's why I believe I deserve to meet the man my lover is trying to hide from me.”

He chuckles, placing his hand on your bare back and tracing his fingers down your spine. “How do you think you two should meet?” He says and pulls you into him, fueling that fire in the pit of your stomach with every graze of his cold fingers against your burning skin.

You feel yourself mellowing out, “Dinner?” You whisper as he leads you to your bed, making you crash onto it as he sneaks between your legs and starts kissing your thighs. “I don't know what would be appropriate.”

He drags his tongue along your inner thigh and you squirm, feeling frustrated about the conversation at hand but not wanting to make him stop what he's doing at the same time. If you're being honest, it excites you to know it's your turn, that he wouldn't simply leave you hanging after having his fill of this elusive man you were talking about.

“Would you want me to bring him here?”

Your heart skips a beat because you know exactly what he's insinuating. “I-” Your words get stuck in your throat when he starts licking and sucking on your most sensitive place, but you manage to keep talking. “I d-don't know. I- Ah, fuck.” You grab his hair and grind against his tongue, hearing him chuckle at your desperation.

He's greedy in the way he consumes you and his greed appears as generosity. He's doing this for his own satisfaction, because it fuels his pride to know you need him so bad you'd consider letting his other lover in just to keep him for yourself too. You love the way he loves you, though, you love that you can call him yours as well and that he wouldn't leave you, no matter how perverse the reasoning behind all of that is.

“Would you want to meet him at dinner, and then you can decide if we come back here?” He hovers over you, on his knees and completely naked now, rubbing himself between your folds before plunging in with a low groan of satisfaction.

You watch his head fall back and inspect the red marks on his chest and the love bites on his neck; you feel yourself tighten around him. When you think about it, there's something sexually devious about knowing someone else is just as depraved as you, who would surrender to sharing this man just to get a piece of him. And you understand that person, because this is Suguru and you could never give him up.

“Yes.” You whisper, “I want to know more about him, though. What is he like?”

He looks down at you as he spreads your legs and buries himself deep inside, “Right now?” His cheeks are tinted red, as if he feels embarrassed to tell you about the man he believed he was cheating on you with.

“You don't think I'd like him?”

He hums, “He's very high maintenence.” He says as he rocks his hips slowly into you and you whimper at the intoxicating friction. “He's very pretty and he knows it.” He twitches inside of you when you groan in response, satisfied with the way this is turning out. “He likes women, too, so that won't be a problem. You can have your fun with him, too.”

You feel yourself blush and cover your face, “You wouldn't mind?”

He chuckles, bending down to kiss your breasts and neck, “Why would I mind? I would love to see that. Two of my favorite people together… I don't know what I'd do…”

You whimper and drop your hands from your eyes to see he's smiling at you, mischief dancing around in his eyes. “Tell me more.”

He nods and picks up his pace, whispering in your ear as you feel yourself slowly unraveling under him. “He's needy. He likes begging me for more, just like you.” Suguru kisses your neck, goosebumps all over your body as you listen to him whisper perverse things about his other lover into your ear. “He always tastes sweet because he loves sugar more than anything.” He fucks you even faster and harder and holds your legs down so you can't close them as you scream his name. “He's the strongest sorcerer of today, but such a little pretty princess when he needs me.” He chuckles, “Is that enough for you?”

You shake your head, “More. Tell me about-” You scream out when he hits a spot inside of you that hurts and feels incredible at the same time. You're falling apart, feeling so dirty and so depraved while you listen to your sweet Suguru tell you about how nasty he'd been behind your back. It makes you feel new types of pleasure, something so deviant and sinful that it makes your legs quiver as Suguru fucks you feverishly into the mattress. You're jealous, but your curiosity overcomes it and you need to know every detail about this man and what he's been up to with your Suguru.

“You want to know about how I fuck him, hm, baby?” He whispers and you feel him twitch inside of you as he thinks about it, “He likes it rough, wherever and whenever. He's not like you in that regard, I know you love being at home. He likes when I fuck him in my car. That's when he gets loud, I think it turns him on to be put into uncomfortable positions.”

You whine as you imagine it, a pretty boy being fucked mercilessly by your lover in the back of a black Mercedes, uncomfortable and yet drowning in pleasure. It turns you on to envision it because you're a voyeur at heart, you'd love to see all of Suguru when he's so riled up and adamant at making someone scream his name.

“Oh, f-u-uck-” you cry out, “Keep talking, I'm almost there, Sugu-”

He kisses your neck, breathing heavily, “Me too, baby.” He mutters, “I can show you how he likes it, if you want, it's easier than talking.”

You nod rapidly and he flips you over instantly, pushing your face into the pillow as he pulls your ass up and bends your spine into an uncomfortable position, penetrating you even deeper than before once he enters again.

You feel your eyes tear up from the pain, but pleasure prevails and he continues his deranged pace, the slapping of skin echoing in the silence of the dark room. “Yeah, just like this, oh my-” he groans and pulls you by your hair to your knees, “Or like this,” he says and bites your neck as his hand wraps around it and cuts off your airway until you're lightheaded. Your spine is still bent at an angle that makes your insides stretch and you feel how tight you are around him, even though his pace never let's up.

You're a whimpering, bumbling mess as you completely lose yourself to him, unable to talk or even think at all.

“Oh, both of you feel so divine, I couldn't let go of one or the other.” He groans next to your ear, pushing you forward until you're pressed up to the wall, the cold contrasting the scalding hot skin of his torso against your back. “I'm close baby-”

You whine as you feel his thrusts subside in speed but not intensity, your legs shake and you cry out one final time before coming undone on his cock as he fills you up with himself and his cum, feeling fuller than you've ever felt before.

He doesn't stop after he's done, though, he likes to feel your insides flutter around him and loves overestimulating himself with your sweet pussy until it simply hurts to have you anymore. His movement is slow, it gives you butterflies at how tender he becomes. His hands are exploring your body, grabbing your breasts and thighs, fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he takes in the sweet scent in your hair. He's reveling in the sensation of your tender body against his and shaking from the captivating pleasure.

“I want to meet him,” You whisper again and make him laugh.

“You can meet him, honey.” He kisses the back of your neck and sneaks his fingers between your legs to touch you, making you whimper in protest, tired and fucked out. But he loves torturing you, so he doesn't stop. “You'll see, you'll get along just fine…” He keeps kissing you and touching you and your legs are shaking again.

“Sugu-ru-” you choke out, clawing at the wall, “Too much-”

“I know, honey, just a bit more…” He whispers into your ear, “You know I love to see you like this, so pretty.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as his fingers move skillfully to make you come once again, keeping himself nestled deep within your guts. You feel full, and he tells you you're so good for letting him torture you to his hearts content. “So sweet,” his lips graze your neck and you shudder, “So warm, hmm… I could stay inside of you forever.”

You moan at the thought, and he starts moving again, slowly, making sure you feel every little detail of him sliding against your insides. It's sensual and his hands are like hot lava dripping down your body, melting you entirely. He shows you there's no need to be jealous, no need to feel bad about sharing when he's got so much to give and when he needs both of you equally.

“Do you feel better now, sweetheart?” He kisses your cheek, hugging you tightly.

You nod in response and turn around to face him. “I feel better, my love.” You say and kiss him, tasting the sugar on his tongue from the one who'd had him before you. “You're right, he does taste sweet.” You mutter, gazing at his lips and wondering how much sweeter he'd taste if you kissed him directly. It's a passing thought and you feel the jealousy prod at your heart once again, but you blame Suguru for these kinds of thoughts. He's the one who could manipulate you into being just as perverse as him. The question was whether you minded or not.

“Oh, really?” He chuckles as you push him down on the bed and climb on top of him, pulling the sheets over your naked bodies and snuggling into his warm embrace.

You sigh, “Sugu… Did you tell him about me?”

He sighs as well, “I didn't think of the possibility that you might be okay with that.”

You frown and sit up on top of him, “So he doesn't know about me at all? You didn't bother hiding the fact that you're seeing him from me.”

He looks guilty for a second, “I think he knows. He would've let me know if it was an issue. Just like you didn't up until now. You know him and I can't be together for real, so…”

You roll your eyes, “But you are. You screw him wherever and whenever, right?” You cross your hands over your chest and he looks down at your breasts, suddenly distracted from the serious matter at hand. “My eyes are up here.” You say in a deadpan voice.

“Yeah,” he pulls your arm for you to lay down again, “But we aren't public. Nobody knows except you. And I'll say I'd like it to stay that way, even though I know you won't tell.”

You give him a peck on the lips and smile softly, “I'd never.”

He smiles back, “So, dinner?”

You nod, “Dinner."

a/n: thank you for reading! part 2 is out! part 3 coming soon!

#geto suguru #suguru geto #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader x gojo satoru #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #gojo x reader smut #geto x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x reader x geto #fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #gojo smut #geto smut #jjk

275 notes · View notes

marauroon · 7 months ago

Note

hello !!! can i request a right person, wrong time with siri? maybe they broke up because of the war... and the reason is because siri doesn't want to put the reader into danger and then they meet again, all grown up and they still have feelings for each other and Siri has to grovel to win reader back again? And it ends with a happy ending (please) (Siri was the one who broke the relationship and reader was really hurt) it's very long yet vauge 😅

A CALL TO ARMS — S.BLACK

sirius black was the love of your life, and you were his. but sometimes higher priorities—and deep-seeded anxiety—can get in the way. but the invisible string of fate always brings people back together.

cw — fem!reader, details of the first wizard of war, reader and sirius have a messy and complicated relationship, harsh arguments, character death mentions, happy ending

sirius black x reader || hurt/comfort || 6.2k || requests open!!

a/n — let’s just pretend sirius doesn’t get avada’d like three weeks after this fic ends

The war put a strain on everybody. Some people had to leave their families to join the fight, some had to hide away to protect themselves from the Death Eaters.

Some didn’t have a family, anyone to worry about them coming home at the end of the day.

They threw themselves into it the hardest.

Then there was you and Sirius, a pair of outcasts who found solitude in each other. A pair who paid no greater devotion than protecting the people that you cared about from the ravages of Voldemort’s uprising.

You were barely eighteen when you both joined the Order, fresh out of Hogwarts and straight into the line of fire after the group had been offered a spot in Voldemort’s army and refused, leaving every one of you with a target on your back.

By the time you were twenty it almost seemed fruitless, with James and Lily being sent into hiding to protect them and their son under Dumbledore’s direct orders under fear for their continued safety and a Fidelius Charm placed over them to keep them safe. Sirius denied being their secret keeper with the explanation of it being too obvious a choice. What a mistake that was.

Then order members started dying.

And it all began to fall apart.

The brass framed picture in the entrance of the Black family home offered Sirius no empathy as he escaped the bitterness that October was serving him, the laughing faces of his friends and self-proclaimed family only serving to make his already dwindling morale dampen further.

Twenty-two people in the picture. And how many remained? Fourteen. In the span of five months.

It was Dorcus and Marlene that really did him over, and he could barely so much as glance in the direction of their hopeful smiles without feeling like he was going to throw up.

The trudging of his feet up the wooden stairs was proof enough of his arrival for any present members of the Order to hear, too fatigued and all together bleak at the continued state he was living in to announce his presence verbally.

“Sirius, sweetheart, you’re home thank goodness,” Not even the warmth of your arms around him or the relief in your voice as you pulled his head into your shoulder could satiate him anymore.

You shouldn’t have to be relieved that he walked through the door.

You shouldn’t have to hug him like it’s your final goodbye every time he leaves.

Every time you leave.

You didn’t deserve that. And neither did he.

“Godric you’re freezing, come and sit down,” You pull Sirius into his childhood bedroom with all of the care of a feather floating on a pool of water, squeezing his hands in yours like you’re trying to transfer your own heat to him.

He follows you with no real resistance, though he doesn’t make any move by himself, and you have to push his shoulders down to get him to sit in front of the lit fireplace that would hopefully quell the chill echoing across his skin.

You help him remove his coat with a sigh, dark frown lines marking your features as you take a seat beside him and rest the side of your head against his shoulder, your hand gently tracing over his to capture his palm in your own. He doesn’t return the small squeeze of your fingers.

You can’t blame him for being so dismal, the situation was something that nobody could make it through without a gargantuan crack in their emotional shield, but seeing Sirius display his almost funereal sentiment so fervently without so much as a hint of a mask was devastating.

Displaying even the tiniest glimmer of hopefulness was what allowed the Order to survive for so long, and Sirius couldn’t even muster that.

“Harry said his first word today,” You try to keep the conversation positive, ignore the downfall of everything around you and keep focusing on the small wins. “Dada of course, apparently Lily was pretty miffed,” You punctuate your sentence with a small laugh, although it’s more pathetic than genuine and even you can tell you’re doing a horrible job of trying to uplift Sirius’ spirit.

“They sent over a picture, Remus has it if you’d like to see—”

“Just stop.” Sirius shakes his head sharply, pulling his hand from yours and standing with his back to you.

“Sirius—”

“I don’t know why you keep trying to pretend that everything’s okay, it’s not. Our friends are dying and you’re acting like its completely fine.” There’s more malice in his voice than he’s intending, and logically you know that he doesn’t really mean to get so angry at you. It wasn’t you that was the problem, it was the world in which you were living.

But logic can often times get overridden by other facets.

“I am trying to stop anyone else from dying.” Your words are more desperate than harsh, and they’re not laced in anger like Sirius’ are, but they carry just the same amount of conviction. “If we lose hope then we may as well just hand ourselves over…”

There’s a stuttered exhale as you trail off, and Sirius swears he hears your voice crack as you try to take his hand in yours again. “I can’t bear to see you like this…”

“You should leave the Order.”

You’re almost not sure you heard him.

“What?”

“You don’t belong here, you’re not fit for this,” He sounds almost resigned, and his shoulders drop just enough that you’re not sure he really believes what he’s saying. “You should leave before you get hurt.”

There’s a moment where all you can really do is let out a breath of astonishment, and then there’s an overwhelming need to defend yourself against Sirius’ accusation. “I am perfectly fit for this, Dumbledore agreed that—”

“Well I don’t agree with it!” He cuts you off harshly, turning around so that you can see the anguish that’s drenching his features. “People are dying, our friends are dying, and you are on the goddamn list of whose next.”

He takes your upper arms in his hand and shakes you like it’s going to make you see his point, practically shouting at you as he desperately tries to get you to see his point of view. “You are a brilliant witch, and you are in so much danger that it makes me want to rip my heart out so I don’t have to worry about you any more—”

His rant doesn’t stop once his hands halt, and they stay gripped uncomfortably tight around your biceps to the point where you’re sure it’ll bruise. “Dorcus died because she was brilliant, Marlene died because her father was a muggle, you are like the two of them wrapped up in a package practically serving yourself up to the Death Eaters every time you step out of this goddamn house and I cannot take it anymore.”

Sirius practically pants as his yelling comes to a halt, and he almost immediately regrets getting riled up as he sees the reflection of the fireplace in your glassed over eyes.

“I love you. I love you so much and I can’t live like this anymore.” His hands move from your arms to cup the sides of your face, and you flinch at the contact like you’re afraid he’s going to hurt you.

It breaks Sirius’ heart.

“The Order is falling apart love… I don’t want you to be here when it collapses,”

You pull his hands from your face with yours at his wrists, shaking your head as you blink through clouds of tears. “I’m not leaving the Order, Sirius. You really think I would abandon my friends like that? My family? You?”

“Then I’ll make one of the hard choices for you,” Sirius lets his hands fall to his sides on your prompting, taking a step back from you to hide them in the pockets of his jeans. “I’m breaking up with you.”

“What—” There’s nothing but absolute betrayal written across your face, and Sirius almost breaks down immediately. “Sirius—”

“If you want to stay here and watch shit hit the fan then be my guest, but I will not put myself through watching your downfall.” He doesn’t give you the courtesy of replying before opening and slamming the door behind him as he leaves, but you’re not sure you’d be able to articulate anything even if he did, your only response being the start of a sob that echoes off of the empty walls and back into your ears to amplify your own anguish.

You move your belongings out of his room that same evening, taking refuge under Remus’ open arms as you cried yourself into an uneasy slumber, so emotionally exhausted that you could barely formulate any sense of coherency.

Lily and James died two days later.

The news hit you like a truck when Dumbledore relayed it to you, and whilst most of the Order were left in a blanket of shock, Sirius took off in a rage before he could even finish his sentence.

It was enough for you to push the grief aside to not cost you any more.

“Sirius wait—” You weave your way through the others and past Dumbledore to rush after him, the first words either of you had spoken in the other’s direction since the argument. “Where on earth do you think you’re going the Death Eaters might still be there—”

“I hope they are.” Sirius’ tone drips with venom as he pulls his motorcycle helmet from the coat rack at the front door, and you just barely catch his wrist before he has the chance to leave.

“You’re going on a suicide mission—”

“They murdered my brother, I have nothing to lose.” He again leaves the conversation with a slammed door, and you don’t know whether the possibility of his death or the fact that he’d seemingly accepted it hurt you more.

He had nothing to lose.

It was the biggest insult he could’ve possibly left you with.

And it’s all he did leave you with.

For twelve years.

You grieved the loss of Sirius like you did James and Lily, like he too had entered into an early grave of which he would never return. Azkaban may as well have been.

You were angry at first, disgustingly loathing the thought of what those twelve poor muggles had to endure as their final moments. You were less empathetic towards Peter’s fate, although your grief for him was replaced with a deep-seeded betrayal that sunk into your muscles all the same.

Then it settled into an uneven weight in the bottom of your chest, something that you carried with you from that point onward.

You moved out of England soon after, with nothing but a silent vow to Remus that if Voldemort were to ever return, that you’d be there, a final standing against the allegiance that stole your life from you.

You couldn’t stay there anymore, every street of London reminded you of him, of them, of all the people that you lost and how the prime years of your young adulthood were unceremoniously ripped from you under the false belief that you could actually make a difference.

As weeks turned into months, and then into years, there were days that passed where you didn’t think of what happened, of how your previous life had fallen apart and left you as a shell of yourself, and eventually, you managed to pick up the pieces and live your life like it hadn’t happened.

Apart from a single shard of your heart that had lodged itself at 12 Grimmauld Place, underneath the black silk sheets you and Sirius once shared.

You were thirty three when a letter from R.J.Lupin was sent through the letterbox of your house, and it was like those twelve years of growth and acceptance disappeared in an instant.

—

‘I hope this letter finds you well, I know I promised to contact you only for something of the upmost urgence regarding the resurgence of you know who, but I believe this is appropriately important.

Wormtail is alive. He was the one who caused those muggles to die without reason. Which leaves no question of Padfoot’s innocence.

I don’t know if you have kept up with the wizarding news, but he escaped from Azkaban, and is in a safe and secure location known only by the Order.

I understand if this news is too much for you to digest, but he has asked me personally for your consideration in returning to the place where everything began.

Yours sincerely,

R.J.Lupin’

—

The aftermath of your reading was a mess of shallow breaths and an elevated heart rate.

Panic.

You hadn’t felt so horrible since the day that James and Lily had died, the day one of your closest friends betrayed you and the love of your life was taken away presumably to never be seen again.

And now he was just out there? You were just adjusting to living without him, and now he was being thrust back into your life by his own doing.

He threw you away right before your house of cards toppled, and now he was trying to worm his way back into your life?

It took you almost three weeks of staring at the sheet of parchment before you made a decision, and it ended with the letter going up in flames and you watching on with a sunken expression, no tears left to cry over the man who’d ruined you.

All of those months where you’d pondered, where you’d asked yourself over and over again what might’ve happened if you’d have just not spoken to Sirius that day, if you’d just let him rest like he’d obviously wanted rather than try pathetically to lift his mood.

If it might’ve meant he would regard you as something to live for and stop him from blindly running off to avenge James and Lily without a second thought.

All of it went straight down the drain. Because you could have him back if you wanted. But you didn’t. You didn’t want to go back and see him again because the minute his name invaded your mind all you could think about was that god awful argument and it’s aftermath.

And it ripped you apart every single time.

—

“She’s not coming Pads…” Remus’ hand on Sirius’ shoulder was almost apprehensive as he gave it a soft squeeze.

It was almost three months of having to watch Sirius treat the front door like it was his lifeline, his head turning at the smallest creak of the wood in the fruitless hope that when it opened you would be on the other side.

“I know…” Sirius lets out a small, pathetic laugh as he rakes his fingers through his hair, his facade of indifference threatening to break with every breath he took. “Can’t blame me for trying though right?” His voice betrays his devastation, tone wavering and quiet, cracking when he tries to push it to sound more convicting.

“Pads…”

“I’m fine,” Sirius shakes his head with a dismissive hand, clearing his throat and blinking away the starts of tears from the corners of his eyes. “I’m gonna go get some sleep, gonna need all I can get if we’re gonna fight these sons of bitches hey?” Sirius nudges Remus with his elbow as he plays a characature of his former self, although it’s poorly executed at best.

“Yeah…” Remus consciously suppresses a sympathetic sigh that tries to escape his mouth, pressing his lips together. “Goodnight Pads,”

“G’night Moony,”

—

There’s eighteen months of radio silence before another letter is slotted through your door, and you have half the mind to burn it on sight when the familiar red seal is left face up on your patio tiling, but the handwriting on the back wasn’t Remus’, and it was definitely not Sirius’ either.

The scrawl of your address was almost unmistakably Dumbledore’s, and you were left in an emotional state of uneven limbo as you debated why he of all people would be personally sending you a letter.

Logically, you already knew the reason, but your brain chose to ignore that logic as you ripped the envelope open, only for that denial to be thrown right back at your face once the seal of the Order inked itself into the folded parchment.

You didn’t even need to read the letter to know what was inside it.

Three words.

Invitatio ad arma.

A call to arms.

You barely remember packing your bags, leaving the sense of normalcy you’d built over the past fourteen years to throw yourself back into the line of fire and more devastatingly, right back to Sirius Black.

The train ride to England almost felt like a fever dream, your body left in a state of dissociation where you couldn’t discern whether your actions were real or just a part of some vivid nightmare that you couldn’t wake from no matter how much you tossed and turned.

And by the time you reached the front door of number 12 Grimmauld Place it felt like you were right back where you started, just barely twenty one thrust into a war that could leave you in your grave at any unfortunate minute.

It felt almost foreign to you as you entered, the hallways that once proved to be your substitute home reduced to unfamiliar sights covered in dust and peeling wallpaper. There was no brass lamps to warm the sight, no picture of your closest friends on the wall, not even the mirror that had been hung beside the door had survived, reduced to a half shattered mess that hadn’t been replaced under higher priorities.

“Oh—” The slightly surprised sentiment draws you away from your almost depressing nostalgia, drawn instead towards an almost perfect capture of teenage James Potter, down to the slanted circular glasses sat over his nose bridge.

It’s enough for you to genuinely consider for a second that you’d actually stepped back in time, right into your graduation year when you were all so young and full of hope.

But it couldn’t be James. As much as your heart desperately wished it was.

“You’re another member of the original Order of the Phoenix right?” The boy takes a few steps towards you, wonder still lingering in his eyes despite the film of knowledge that cloud them. Knowledge of just how unfortunately dark the world actually is. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m—”

”Harry…” Your interruption is barely more than a breath of air as you take in the sight of one of your closest friend’s child, a child that he never got to see grow into an almost perfect replica of himself. “You look just like your father…”

There’s a mix of shock and a small amount of sadness in his expression at your statement, and it’s enough for the glimpses of Lily to shine through in his demeanour. “Thank you,”

It’s enough for your eyes to well with tears, and you blink them away with a small clearing of your throat to regain your composure in front of the boy. He didn’t need to see you cry over the fact that he looked like one of your dead friends with the personality of another. That wasn’t fair.

“It’s nice to finally meet you Harry, properly,” You extend your hand almost hesitantly as you introduce yourself, and he takes it graciously in his own with a small sympathetic smile. Being proxy comforted by a teenager, how pathetic.

“It’s nice to meet you too, my parents have good friends,” You give the boy a small nod with a small, sad smile, and he mirrors it himself in turn.

“I’m so sorry, you didn’t deserve any of this,” You let your hand rest on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly in a terrible attempt at consoling the sadness riddling his expression. “You’re just a boy Harry,”

“I know,” He gives a small sigh and a more confident smile, sympathy lingering in the creases of his cheeks in a perfectly Lily fashion. “I’m sorry for your loss too, I know they probably meant a great deal to you,”

“They still do, that’s why I’m here,”

“Thank you,” He sounds more confident in his thanks this time, more determined, and the remnants of his parents continue to show on full display as his focus returns to the reason you’d arrived here in the first place. “We’re about to sit down for dinner, join us?”

“I’ll be there shortly,” You give Harry a small nod and another small squeeze of his shoulder before excusing yourself up the stairs to leave your belongings.

—

“Good evening everyone,” Your voice is taught and awkwardly flat as you push open the door to the dining room, and you stand there with your hands wrung together behind your back as your eyes flicker over the room.

There are so many people that the table is almost entirely too crowded, and a mix of familiar and unfamiliar faces in your presence, although those who do recognise you leave their seats almost immediately to greet you properly.

“It’s good to see you,” Remus reaches you first, wrapping you in a secure hug that you happily return with your own.

“It’s good to see you too, Remus, it’s been too long,”

“Welcome back, we need all of the human shields we can get,” Mad Eye’s reuinionative statement is much less heart felt, but you give him a small laugh and a “Thank you,” nonetheless.

Then there was Sirius. Stood at his chair, not daring to walk into your little bubble under fear of whatever consequences that might come from it.

He looked almost as you remembered him, but he was leaner, more gaunt, his hair more unruly and his skin even more paper-white than the almost impossibly pale complexion of his teenage years.

He was still Sirius, but he was different, and it took less than half a second of eye contact for him to realise that you were different too.

“Welcome back,” His voice is hesitant, almost catching in his throat as his brain catches up to the fact that you’re stood in front of him, less than ten feet away after all of those years he’d spent desperately dreaming of what it would feel like to have you in his arms again.

Now you were here. And you were a stranger.

“Thank you,”

Dinner progresses pretty much how you expected, a mix of awkwardly introducing yourself to the Order’s new members and horrifically failing at avoiding eye contact with Sirius from across the table.

Then the topic of interest moves to the Order’s plans, and things seem to spin into a downwards spiral all too quickly.

“We don’t have enough members to reliably be able to pull this off,” The argument was entirely valid from a logical standpoint, a weakness that quite a few of the Order seemed to have choice opinions about.

“Yeah well we’re not getting any new members are we?” Sirius leans back in his chair exasperatedly. “With the way Fudge is portraying Dumbledore and the lack of official credibility, we’re on our own here, there’s no use in waiting around,”

“I’m inclined to agree, we all know you know who isn’t going to waste any time,

“It’s reckless,” You shake your head with furrowed eyebrows. “We not ready to face something like that head on.”

“We’re never going to be ready,” Sirius shakes his head with a sigh. “We have to take action before he has the chance to build himself back to where he was all those years ago.”

“Sirius is right, we need to do something,” Sirius gestures towards Harry’s response like it’s the final nail in the coffin against your reasoning.

“Harry, sweetheart, I appreciate your enthusiasm but you don’t know the extent of what we’re dealing with,” Your voice is as gentle as it is assertive, not wanting to put him down too much but also wanting to make sure he understood the true extent of what was going on.

“He killed my friend in front of me—”

“And he’s killed dozens of ours,” You shake your head softly but firmly. “Jumping in without a plan is only going to make things worse, trust me.”

He seems more than a little shot down, but he gives you a small nod of understanding nonetheless as he backs down from his standing.

Sirius doesn’t pay you the same mind.

“So you’re suggesting we just wait in hiding for what, forever? We need to act,”

“The last time you ‘acted’, Sirius, you spent twelve years in Azkaban for it.” Your rebuttal holds none of the softness that was present when you were talking to Harry, and you can see it eroding the calcified shield behind Sirius’s eyes.

“That wasn’t my fault,” Sirius presses his teeth together to keep himself from raising his voice, his back straightening alongside his defensiveness. “At least I’m trying to do something, if you don’t want to contribute maybe you shouldn’t be a part of the Order at all,”

“I will not have this argument with you again Sirius!” His chastation seems to finally get under your skin as you rise yourself from your chair with your hands on the dining table, ignorantly ignoring the uncomfortable gazes of everyone else present as you’re forced back into that evening fourteen years go all over again.

“Okay, I think it’s time we called it a night,” Remus, seemingly the only normally functioning person at the table, rises from his chair slowly, taking your shoulders in his hands to guide you away from the group and calm you down.

“Yes right you are Remus,” Molly stands up with a nod that’s almost too enthusiastic clasping her hands together. “Off to bed, all of you,”

You can practically hear the lingering exasperation in Remus’ breathing as he leads you up the stairs and into the room he was staying in, and the second he shut the door behind you you knew what you were in for.

“You need to speak to him.”

“I know,”

“Properly.”

“I know,”

You’re sure the sigh you let out echoes across the house’s first floor, and it’s enough for Remus’ eyes to shift into displaying a concerning amount of sympathy in your direction.

“He misses you, you know,” Remus takes a seat on the edge of his bed with a soft sigh. “He said the thought of seeing you again was the only thing that got him through Azkaban,”

“Yeah well he wouldn’t’ve gone there in the first place if he hadn’t’ve been such a hot-headed twat,” You wouldn’t lie that Remus’ statement didn’t hit you a little where it hurt, but the lingering anger towards Sirius’ situation was clearly still more forefront in your mind.

“It’s a carried trait in all of us ’m‘fraid,” Remus tilts his head knowingly, and you have half the mind to roll your eyes at the clear implication of what he’s saying.

But he isn’t wrong, not really.

“You know where to find him,”

There’s a small moment of silence, then a sigh. “Do I have to?”

“The longer you wait the worse it’ll be,”

Sometimes you hate how logical Remus can be.

With another sigh and a loll of your head, you reluctantly stuff your hands in your pockets and turn towards the bedroom door, muttering a soft—and only half genuine—“thanks,” in his direction as you leave.

The wooden door that barricaded you from the former love of your life felt more like steel than anything else. Tall, dark, and intimidating to the point where you couldn’t even consciously lift your hand to knock against it under the blood rushing behind your ears from how fast your heart was pounding in your ribcage.

It really shouldn’t be so scary, you’d spent weeks, months in that room when you’d originally joined the Order, yet now it felt entirely foreign to you.

Maybe it was the fact that the wood was slowly rotting away with how unkept it was. Maybe it was the knowledge of what—who—was on the other side of it. Or maybe, your mind was just so completely and utterly fucked that the idea of confronting the consequences of your own actions was more nerve-wracking than the idea of standing face to face in a death match with Voldemort himself.

You stand there staring dumbly at the door for almost two minutes, and when it opens your eyes widen like it’s a new form of magic that you’d never encountered.

Sirius halts halfway out the door, arm stretched straight with the doorknob still in hand as his face seems to go through an insurmountable number of emotions in the half-second it takes for him to realise you’re there.

You don’t say anything as you make eye-contact, head immediately ducking downward and stepping aside so that he can leave without you blocking his path, but he just stays there, staring at you like you had been the door, and it was becoming increasingly uncomfortable by the second.

You clear your throat with a feigned cough, pursing your lips together with a muttered “excuse me,” as you turn around to leave, but Sirius catches your wrist in his hand before you even manage to take the first step.

“Wait—” He loosens his grasp almost immediately after he feels a resistance, but his eyes convey just how determined he was to keep you where you were. “Let’s talk, please?”

There’s a hint of desperation in his tone, and you almost crumble on that alone, but you manage to maintain your composure with a small shake of your head and a gentle pull of your wrist from his hand. “I don’t think it’s worth it Sirius, not anymore,”

“Don’t say that, we can fix this,” Sirius mirrors your head shake with his own. “You just need to talk to me,”

“I tried talking to you Sirius, and look where it got us,” You gesture between the two of you with exasperation in your tone.

There’s a small pause where the two of you share and almost identical mask of composure over your agony.

“It just wasn’t meant to be, that’s it,”

“That’s not true,” Sirius shakes his head again, more confidently this time, and his inky black curls bounce against his shoulders like they’re trying to torment you with the memories of your fingers raking through them. “We can fix this, us, we just have to try,”

“I don’t want to argue with you anymore,” You lower your gaze away from his so you don’t have to see the heartbreak in his irises. “Especially not over this…”

“Then don’t, let’s work this out properly, like adults,” He reaches out his hand cautiously towards yours, and you flinch away as your fingers make contact. “Please,”

“Sirius…”

“I’m sorry.” Sirius lets out a heavy, pathetic breath as he retreats his hand to run it through his hair. “I am so sorry. I made the biggest mistake of my life and it cost me the person that I love more than life and I have suffered the consequences of it every day for the last fourteen years.”

Sirius lets his hands fall to his side with a start, voice beginning to tremble under the strain of his emotions as he desperately tries to voice everything that he’d bottled up over the last decade and a half before you leave him to rot in his own depression again. “I spent every hour in Azkaban imagining what it would be like to see you again, to hear your voice, to hold you and tell you that you’re the one thing in this goddamn hell that we live in that actually makes anything worth fighting for,”

The breaths between his words are shallow and weak, and your expression starts to blur as his eyes glass over with the beginnings of tears. “I love you so much, and I’m so— sorry that you had to live through everything I forced on you and I just—“ He takes a sharp, stuttering breath in. “—I need you to know that I will spend the rest of my life devoted to you, to correcting what I’ve done even if you don’t so much as spare me a glance,”

He’s not sure when the tears started running over his eyelids, but he can feel them fall in drops to dapple the ivory skin of his fingers. “And if I die tomorrow, I’ll take whatever punishment hell has to give me so that you can rest easy,”

The end of his rant is echoed by laboured breathing and a horrific attempt at muffling a sob that leaves his throat, bouncing off the walls of the hallway to settle into your muscles as you stand stationary in an astonished silence.

You’re not sure what to say. You’re not sure there’s anything you can say. How on earth are you supposed to respond to something like that? Something so desperate and raw and real?

Sirius Black, after fourteen years of radio silence, still loved you like you’d never parted.

“Sirius…”

And you’d be absolutely damned if you weren’t the same.

“I forgive you…”

It’s like a tsunami of relief ravages Sirius’ body at your words, barely a whisper escaping your mouth but invading his ear canals like a nuclear explosion, and it’s enough for that sliver of composure remaining to erode under the waves of his tears until he’s sobbing into his hands, hunched over with trembling shoulders as he lets everything go all at once.

“I’m so sorry—“

His final apology is doused in so much heartbreak it might as well rip your heart right out of your chest, and your at his side almost immediately, gently pulling his hand from his face to pull his head into your shoulder with a soft shush of consolation.

He clings to you like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance to, tears damping the shoulder of your shirt and his arms wrapped so tightly around your torso you’re not sure he intends to ever let go. You’re not sure you’d complain if he didn’t.

That familiar musky scent of cigarettes and faux leather hits your nose once he’s close enough, and that’s where you break too, silent tears streaming down your face as you bury your nose in his hair.

You’re eternally grateful that everyone on this floor of the house is already asleep, either that or just polite enough not to interrupt the two of you out in the hallway, because the state the both of you were in was definitely not meant to be seen by other people.

A desolate, broken side to the two of you only trusted in the company of the other.

“Stay with me tonight, please…” His plea is barely more than a mutter against your shoulder, and you’re sure he wouldn’t even have to ask to know what your answer would be.

And so you find yourself back where you started, tangled up underneath the silky black sheets of Sirius’ bed in the warmth of his embrace, that tiny shard of your heart finally recovered and back in it’s rightful place.

Right where you belong.

#marauders #marauders fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #sirius black x reader #sirius black #sirius black angst #asks 🪶

702 notes · View notes

lostinlads · 4 days ago

Text

Fluffy Treatment

Synopsis: Leaving for a month to travel around the world had been a breath of fresh air, but returning to your family's home is where your heart resided. Your first day back had been hectic, a grand meal with all of your parent's wealthy friends would be held to honor your return. But as you are getting ready, your family's cat butler, Zayne, has come to your side to help you. The mutual missing and longing couldn't be denied as it flowed between the both of you. He would obey his master.

Tags: zayne x femme!reader, MDNI IF YOU ARE A MINOR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED, smut, catboy!zayne, footjob, footplay, p in v, unprotected sex, master/servant play, secret relationship, aphrodisiac (catnip), no use of y/n

Words: 4.4k

an: Here is my fic of zayne's latest catboy card! this isnt completely accurate to the card just taking some inspiration from it, but i hope you enjoy either way!

ao3 | Yes, Cat Caretaker mini series | kofi

One month has come and gone - traveling the world, visiting friends, partying through the night. It honestly felt like a never-ending dream, but this morning when your driver pulled up to your family's estate, you couldn't help but feel relieved.

One face has been plaguing your thoughts. Well, let's admit it, it's been more than just a face.

Memories of his hands running over your naked flesh, his hot mouth on yours to silence your moans, soft ears and a bushy tail that drew goosebumps across your skin. You craved him. Dashing hazel eyes that looked at you like you were the finest meal he has ever seen, wanting to feast on you.

Those same eyes that stared at you now through the mirror in your bedroom as you tried on your dinner gown. Not hiding any shame as they sweep over every single blessed inch of your jaw dropping body.

You stare back, eyes drawing over his wide shoulders, his broad chest, the thick arms that are pulled behind his back.

The tension in the air between you both is almost electric, one spark could send the entire room ablaze.

Your fingers twitch at your side, wanting to turn around and reach towards him. Pull him to you just so you can feel him under your fingertips again. Something so forbidden between the both of you yet so sweet and delicious, addictive. You had no intentions of sleeping with your family's cat butler, but the way he falls apart under your touch, breath hitching as he whimpers your name. How could you control yourself?

"How do I look?" You ask, not turning but meeting his eyes in the mirror. They flick up, pouring his heart out in them. The corners of his mouth lift, barely but just enough for you to notice.

"Breath taking as always, my lady." Heart racing in your chest, but you know he can hear it, his sensitive ears flicking to the beat like a drum. Smoothing your hands over your dress, you give yourself one final onceover, making sure every hair is put in place, your dress falling where it's supposed to and hugging what it needs to.

Satisfied, you turn, letting your eyes run up Zayne's tall figure. He stands there unmoving as always, forced to remain stoic, to not give in. Maybe that's what drew you to him, wanting to break down his reserve and find the man deep within, or maybe it was that he is undeniably attractive. Sharp jaw matching his sharp eyes, large, sure hands, legs that go on for days. Something so magnetic drawing you to him.

"I got you something, you know." A smile playing on your painted lips, because who could honestly forget their favorite cat butler in a month without bringing him a gift in return. He cocks an eyebrow towards you.

"Oh?" Lips pulling up in that barely there smile again. "No need to come baring gifts, my lady. Just being graced by your presence once more is a gift in itself." The flush that coated your cheeks were more than enough, feelings showing without speaking words. You smile up at him, grabbing the small box from the bed and placing it in his hands.

"It's an 'I missed you' present," Words so quiet, almost as if you were scared of getting caught. Zayne looks at you for a moment, pausing as he feels the weight in his hands, eyes searching yours.

Slowly, Zayne pulls the lid off and sets it on your bed. You watch as his hazel eyes dilate, nostrils flaring at the scent of catnip. Taking the box from his hands, you hold the cat wand, the bell jingling softly as you move. His eyes darkening, zeroing in on it as you toss the box onto your bed.

Though he is every bit man, he was still part feline, crumbling and growing hungry over the intoxicating scent of the drug. He doesn't indulge often in treats or toys, but something cracked in his composure every time catnip swirled in his senses.

His ears twitch as you shake the wand, trying so hard to keep his eyes locked on yours but ultimately failing as you draw the wand up. A ragged breath releases from his lungs almost as if he was holding it. You move, reaching your arm higher towards his head and shake it again. His body shifts, zoned in on the movement and the scent of the toy. Playing like this had always been so pleasuring to you, watching as he fights off his instincts and tries to remain loyal to his orders.

You move again, walking back, drawing him to you as you shake the toy in front of your own face. His eyes fighting to stay locked on yours but ultimately failing as he snaps them back. His large, glove clad hand reaches out, just barely missing the wand as you pull it away, higher in the air out of his reach. He straightens at once, looming over you with his massive height, brows pinched together tight in disbelief. You got him right where you wanted him, clouded his mind and drew him to you. Tossing the now useless toy to the side you straighten your back, sizing him up.

Zayne walks towards you, eyes dark and jaw set. Footsteps so sure and precise. Times like these he looked almost intimidating, not being able to help it as you took a few steps back.

Suddenly you trip, unstrapped heel slipping off of your stocking covered foot. You look down, the shoe laying helpless between the both of you. Sighing you walk to the wide armchair lining the wall, a few steps behind you. Crossing your legs and propping your head in your palm. Zayne walks to you, eyes softening and ears drooping to a more relaxed position.

"Do you know what this cat likes most?" He sighs out, voice hushed.

"Catnip? Or a cat wand?" Though you knew where he was going, you wanted to play this game, this push and pull you both ended up in. His chuckle is breathy, ears twitching in delight as he looks away for just a moment.

"Neither," Leaning forward hands caging you in, a smile playing on his lips. "He likes his owner more than anything else." Thick bushy tail swaying lazily behind him, face so close to yours you can feel the heat of his breath as it washes over your face.

"You made my shoe come off," Eyes drawing down at the discarded shoe, ignoring his advances.

Obeying, he kneels down, picking up your far too expensive heel, inspecting it as he holds it in his hands. You take the opportunity to reach forward, attempting to grasp his velvet like ears. But he is too fast, twitching them just out of reach, his eyes playful as he catches you in the act.

"Looks like someone hasn't forgotten about touching his ears," The low rumble of his words make your stomach flip. The slow swishes of his tail taunting you from behind him. "A cat won't fulfill all your requests."

"Really?" You lean forward again, pinching the base of his ear softly before rubbing soothing circles in it. A sharp hiss through his teeth at the contact, making you drop your hand back down to your side. His comes up, caressing the spot, eyes soft and sad.

"It hurts..." Zayne's ears had always been sensitive, the slightest touch always drawing a quiet gasp from him.

You look down, expectantly as you eye your shoeless foot.

"Help me put on this shoe," Lifting your leg, toes pointed towards his hand as you wait.

"All right." His large hand coming to clasp around the back of your ankle, lifting your foot up as he bends slightly. Lips placing a firm kiss through your stockings, goose bumps rising, drawing out a dull pulse between your legs. "At your service, my lady."

His fingers delicately dance up your arched sole, towards your heel before curling back around your ankle once more, catching your breath in your throat. Cheeks on fire as you watch him with such an intensity, sliding the toe of the shoe over yours, fixing the strap securely on your ankle with a smile playing on his lips. His long fingers dancing along your clothed skin. He looks up at you, a pink blush dusting over his cheeks as he lets out a chuckle.

"Your hands..." Zayne looks down at them, letting your foot fall back to the floor. Brows drawing back together in the smallest movement. "They still smell like catnip."

"They do?" You ask in a teasing tone, reaching your index finger forward. Running it along his bottom lip, his hand grasps yours, mouth falling open as he gasps out. Zayne pulls your hand closer, finger resting just between his lips.

Then you feel his teeth, a small nip to your skin. Not enough to cause blood but just enough for you to let out a shocked gasp, stomach flipping in delight. You pull your hand back a few inches, making him look up at you. Hazel eyes consumed in nothing but lust from the aphrodisiac and the scent of you. Pink blush dusting over his nose.

"Ow! You know, a good cat butler doesn't bite its owner," You scold with a scoff, eyes flicking to the side for just a moment. But then a rough, wet tongue laps at your skin. The hot stripe of saliva tingles on your skin as you stare at him, trying your hardest to not squeeze your slick thighs together, to not give in and let him know just how bad you need him inside of you.

"This is how I express my affection," Zayne says matter-of-factly, his barely there smile making a return as his tail shows his emotions behind him.

You pull your hand from his grasp, lunging forward as you take his face in your hands. His ears quickly airplane in shock at your movements.

"Then let me express my affection," You command, shaking his head lightly to the side. "You like that?"

A breathy moan slips from his lips as you caress his cheeks, his eyes slowly blinking in affection at you. The undeniable smile tugging at your lips as you watch him indulge, letting you warm his skin with yours finally. A deep rumbling purr emanating from his chest as he basks in your touch.

"Besides affection," Pausing, your hand still, cupping his cheek with one as the other ghosts down towards his chin. "I'm curious, do cats feel possessive towards their owners?" Voice dropping an octave, slow and sultry as you lean in and lift his chin, watching his eyes widen.

Your cat butler smiles, wrapping his fingers around the wrist that cupped his face, clothed thumb brushing over your silky flesh.

"Of course," Voice so sweet, a million emotions dancing behind it as he speaks. "Just like this..." He nuzzles into your awaiting hand before continuing, a heavy breath drawing in his lungs. "What this gesture means is - this is mine." Eyes meeting yours at the word 'mine'; possessive and claiming. His thick tail swishing behind faster. Zayne places a kiss to your open palm before he nuzzles back into it, the purr becoming so strong it vibrates in your hand.

"Mmm," You hum, a smirk on your lips as you shake your head. "Kitty, I think you're confused, you're all mine." Words forming a purr as you lean in, faces so close you could smell his scent. Another slow, loving blink of his eyes, his tail coming around to brush up your calf.

"You have no idea how much I've missed this," The raw emotion in his eyes almost makes you pull back, his smile falling.

You wished you could tell him you loved him, throw all the back and forth aside, throw aside how forbidden it would be to expose your relationship with your family's butler. But him melting into your touch, telling you how he missed your skin on his with those fucking bone melting eyes. Just pour your heart to him, leave everything behind for him.

But that wasn't possible. So, you stone your emotions, forcing a smirk on your lips.

"Why don't you show me?" Thumb brushing just under his eyes as you push him, trying to get him to indulge, take as much as he wants from you.

Zayne's fingers curl around your ankle, pulling your foot forward towards him as he lets out a hot pant of breath. As he grinds against you, his hard erection presses onto your shin. You feel him shutter from the contact, his eyes rolling closed as he presses his face more into your palm, open lips on your skin, feeling every exhale.

Slipping your foot out of your unbuckled shoe, you pull back, hand falling from his face as your back presses against the chair. His eyes flutter open, the slightest pout at the loss of contact from both your hand and shin. But he remains still, refusing to reach out and pull you back to him, diving in for friction. Through his black slacks, you can make out the tent growing at his groin.

"Already so worked up..." You tsk, shaking your head from side to side, clicking your tongue. "What will we do about that, hm?" Cocking your head to the side, you cross your legs, shoeless foot over the other, tapping it up and down teasing him.

"Please... my lady," He reaches up, fingers drifting up, dusting over your heel, down your arch and latching around your clothed toes. His empty hand clenches at his side, refusing to touch himself as he begs you for any sort of relief.

With a sigh you uncross your legs, bringing your foot to his chest with his fingers still attached. The shaky, uneven breath could be felt through his suit as you run your foot down his chest and stomach towards the place he needed you the most. Ears sloping as they relax under the building pleasure inside of him.

Finally, you press your foot to his groin, feeling his lengthy erection under your hot skin. He sighs, shifting his hips just slightly enough to get the smallest friction. The smile that spread on your lips couldn't be helped, the mingling emotions of his pleasure and the excited anticipation bubbling inside of you. The month had been too long, the nights too expansive, and Zayne too far away. But here he is, already falling apart, breaking down his walls for you just over a touch. Drool worthy cock so hard, so ready for you. You shift your foot, dragging it down to his base, watching the shudder run under his shoulders. The length mapping itself out under your toes, but far too many layers separated it for your liking.

"Strip," You command, voice nothing higher than a breath. In an instant, he shrugs his coat off, fingers fiddling with the buttons of his shirt before that too has been discarded. He rises to his knees, thumbing the button of his slacks open, unzipping, then pulling them down along with his boxers. But you stop him there, raising your heeled foot up, right in front of his erect cock. "Fuck it," Eyes locked on his, your chest rising and falling as you wait for him to obey.

The slick between your thighs growing as you drink him in, deep pink tip inches away from your foot, in need of release. Veins wrapping around his massive length, your mind already drifting to how they feel, every single inch of him a delicious pleasure that you needed inside of you.

Zayne shifts to the side, hands holding your heel still as he slips the tip of his cock between your clothed foot and your shoe. The groan that graces your ears has you gripping your hands at your side is enough to get your mind reeling, trying to control your urges of pushing him down and fucking yourself on him, losing all sense of control and just give in.

"Feels so good," He groans out through is teeth as he sinks himself to the hilt, pausing there as he catches his breath. His member hot against your arched sole, blood pumping through his veins.

After a moment, his hips shift, pulling back before thrusting forward, fucking your foot. The friction of his cock through your stockings sent tingles up your spine, shifting in your seat as the uncomfortable thrumming of arousal pooled between your thighs. Watching himself fuck his cock in your shoe, the way his mouth hung open as his chest rose and fell with every heavy breath. You never wanted it to end, not being able to get enough after being deprived for so long.

Zayne's fingers tighten as you flex your toes, tightening your arch, making the small opening even smaller. He groans out, brows pinching as his pace picks up, cock head disappearing and reappearing as he continues. After you're done, you'd have to toss your stockings away, the wetness growing on them from his leaking cock head soiling them, unable to wear them. But the thought of walking into the dining hall, stockings stained with his precum, a claim of him, made your stomach flip. You flex your toes again, drawing a hungry moan from him as you watch the beads of sweat form at his brows. Eyes trailing down his bare chest, down his flexing stomach, and landing on his freshly shaved groin. You wanted to reach out, run your nails down his skin and watch his muscles seize as he fights back his orgasm.

"Fuck," He swears under his breath, hips moving faster, bumping into the side of your foot, stockings already soaked as his cock easily slides between. You could see how painfully erect he was, feel it. Tip flushed with the rush of blood, aching to release, cock twitching after every few thrusts.

"You like fucking my feet?" Cooing, his eyes snap to yours, a smile playing on your lips. Your fingers brushing the hair from his damp forehead.

"Love it," Your butler breathes out, hips never stilling, but growing sloppy, the rhythm stalling every once in a while. "Love it, my lady." He repeats with a grunt, hips jerking with a harsh thrust.

You could tell how close he was, the jerky movements, the rising and falling of his chest in jagged breaths, his hazel eyes cloudy and glossy in a haze. If you didn't stop him, he'd cum all over your foot, leaving nothing left for you. Just that thought alone was more than enough for you to stop him, gripping his strong, muscular arm to still his movements. His ears shifted to the side, confusion and frustration, eyes slowly dragging to your reddened face.

"Go lay on the bed," Voice sounding distant, you command him. With a swish of his tail he obliges, slowly pulling his aching cock from your shoe and pushing himself up to stand. Shucking the rest of his clothes off, he walks towards your bed - your eyes never leaving his naked frame, raking in every inch. From his tight, toned ass, his fluffy tail that swayed with every footstep, to his muscular back and his wide shoulders. Every single aspect of this man made your core ache for him, like he was made just to pleasure you.

Not wasting time, you rise to your feet, discarding your lone shoe and pad over to him. Zayne sat on the edge of your massive bed, large thigs spread, red, angry cock resting against his stomach as he allowed himself to be used. You slot yourself between his thighs, hands resting on his shoulders as you feel the heat of his body radiate around you. His hands cup the back of your knees, you can feel how clammy they were through the thin, skintight fabric. Hands pushing you to him, lifting your legs to climb onto his bare lap, hovering just over his wet cock. His face leaning in, lips hovering over yours, teasing.

"Let me please you, mistress," Breath washing over you, filling your lungs as you inhale him. Before you know it, his hands reach up, fingers curling around your tights. The rip of them sounded so overwhelmingly loud in your silent room, almost echoing off the walls. The moan that slipped from your lips wasn't intentional, eyes rolling back as your muscles almost giving out from just the action alone. You could hear his chuckle through the cloud of arousal in your mind, almost taunting at how quickly you fall while he's in control.

That wakes you up, snapping out of the fog. You push him back onto the mattress, a woosh of breath leaving his lungs as he falls, eyes widening and ears standing to attention. Not wasting any time, you reach between your bodies and push your panties to the side, guiding his cock inside of your soaked cunt. He fills you slowly, pushing through your walls, knocking your head back as you try to control yourself from being too loud. Your family was here after all, floating around the house, getting last minute preparations finished for your welcome home party. But somehow that only turned you on even more, fucking your cat butler while you should be getting dressed, ruining your clothes just so he could cum inside of you again.

Zayne's hands grip your hips, desperate for more. Once you take him completely, he hisses through his teeth, thick thighs tensing beneath your body, willing himself not to release yet. You wouldn't last long either, one entire month without his cock inside of you made your stamina nonexistent, just him alone inside of you now, you could feel the familiar tight coil binding on itself in your core. As you both catch your breath, your small hand runs up his chest, so smooth under your touch, freshly shaved how you told him you liked it. You fought back a smile, not giving into your emotions, not yet. Instead, you keep going higher, hand resting at the base of his throat, feeling the groan he lets out as you tighten your fingers slightly, feeling the jump of his cock at the movement. A rumbling purr in his chest, vibrations so strong you can feel them jitter up your arm.

He couldn't hold back any longer, tightening his hands around your hips, bucking his hard cock deep inside of you. Throwing your head back you cry out, eyes wide as you can feel him brush against that mind numbing spot inside of you, his head kissing it with every movement. He thrusts again, a low growl as he grinds his teeth together, your body jumping with his hips. He is relentless, pounding himself in your pussy at a desperate attempt to chase both of your highs, them building together in an almost perfect sync. Drawing the most beautiful noises from your lips, sending his predator instincts into a frenzy, feeding on them as he fights for more.

"Oh!" You cry, falling to his chest, burying your face into his damp neck, his cock hitting impossibly deeper into your quivering cunt. You could taste it, your orgasm looming over you as you try to meet his now sloppy thrusts.

"'M close-" He hisses out, hands repositioning onto your ass, fingers sinking into the fatty flesh. He pushes you down, meeting his thrusts as the lewd wet slapping of your bodies bounce around the room. Anyone standing in the hall would be able to hear, but you couldn't give less of a care right now, the way he fucks himself inside of you dumbing your brain and making you drool. His tail brushing against your foot as it swipes up your leg, curling around you in need to touch you. Your hand grips his chest, nails sinking in as your mouth falls open into an O, orgasm on the tip of your tongue.

"Zayne-" You try to choke out, a whimper cutting your words of as your eyes roll back. "Coming!" Is all you manage before the hot heat runs over your body, curling your toes and burying your face into his neck as you cry out. The gush of wetness between the both of you only intensifying the noises your bodies made as his last few thrusts fuck himself inside of you. Then you feel the first hot rope, a deep groan ripping from his throat as his cock leaks into you. You feel how it pulsates, the throbbing only making the last lick of your orgasm even more intense, legs shaking just from his feeling alone. Zayne's strong arms wrap around you, holding you both still as he empties completely inside of you.

The both of you lay like that, breath heavy as you can feel his load seeping out of your abused hole, cock softening inside. His arms stay locked around you, not wanting to let you go just yet, or maybe ever again now that he finally has you back. But right now, you don't mind, listening to his rapid beating heart, feeling his damp skin on yours, the scent of him surrounding you.

"I love you," Your ears almost don't catch those three little words. Said so lightly it could've been a blowing breeze through the room. But his unmistakable voice is what blessed your ears. Body growing hot, his confession slipping out. You don't move, shock settling in your bones. "I know it's inappropriate, I understand if you want me to leave, my lady. But I couldn't-" You cut him off, pushing yourself from his chest, both of your arms holding you up, caging him in.

The smile on your lips seemed to relax him, eyes softening, ears relaxing - even his tail lightly thumped against the bed.

"I love you," You whisper, watching the flush bloom on his face, lips falling open in a gasp. You were finally able to admit it, after months of sneaking around and shoving your emotions deep down your throat, they felt so easy as they flowed from your mouth.

His sudden movement shocked you, a shriek squealing from your lips as he lifts you and flips you onto your back. He hovers over you with a lazy smile, one only ever reserved for these secret moments with you. Without stopping himself, he leans in and kisses you, lips molding together like puzzle pieces, your heart pounding in your chest but your skin growing warm.

Cupping his face, you give in. Allowing yourself to bask in his love while he was here with you. Never wanting it to end.

267 notes · View notes

anakinstwinklebunny · 1 month ago

Text

Pairing: stalker!mafia!anakin x f!reader

Author's note: here we gooooo. Also, if you wanted me to add you to the tag list and I didn't, please remind me here. Tumblr doesn't show me every notification and I'm not sure if I caught everyone :((

The rain was coming down in sheets, slicking the pavement of the city streets as you hurried home from your shift at the boutique. Your umbrella was flimsy, barely holding up against the wind, and you hugged your coat tighter around yourself, cursing the weather. It was late—later than usual—and the city had taken on that eerie quiet it did when most people had already gone home for the night.

You didn’t see him, not at first. He was too good at hiding, too practiced at blending into the shadows. But ANAKIN SKYWALKER was there, as he had been every night for the past few months, watching you from a distance. His sharp blue eyes tracked your every movement, cataloging the way your hair clung to your damp skin, the way you shivered against the cold.

You were a creature of habit, something he admired about you. Every day, you left your tiny apartment at precisely 7:45 AM, walked the same route to the boutique where you worked, and spent your day folding clothes and helping customers. You were polite, even kind, but there was a sadness in your eyes that Anakin found himself obsessing over. What had hurt you? Who had dared to dim the light in your eyes?

He had to know. He had to protect you.

Tonight, he was closer than usual, close enough that he could almost reach out and touch you if he wanted. But he didn’t. Not yet. He had learned patience over the years, something that wasn’t easy for a man like him. But for you, he would wait.

As you rounded a corner, a gust of wind blew your umbrella inside out, and you let out a frustrated groan. Muttering curses under your breath, you gave up on the umbrella and tossed it into a nearby trash can. You were soaked now, hair sticking to your face, coat heavy with rain, and all you wanted was to be home, wrapped in a blanket with a cup of tea.

But then you noticed something—someone was following you.

Your heart began to race, and you quickened your pace, glancing over your shoulder. You couldn’t see anyone, but the feeling was there, crawling up your spine. You were being watched.

Anakin saw the moment fear gripped you, saw how your eyes widened, how your breathing became shallow. His heart clenched painfully in his chest. He didn’t want you to be afraid, especially not of him. But he knew he couldn’t stay hidden any longer, not when you were so close to panicking.

Stepping out of the shadows, he called out, “Are you alright, miss?”

You jumped, spinning around to face him. The sight of him—tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in an expensive, perfectly tailored suit—gave you pause. He didn’t look like someone who belonged in a dark alley. In fact, he looked like he’d just stepped out of a magazine. His hair was slightly damp from the rain, and a few stray curls clung to his forehead. His eyes, a striking shade of blue, were fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“I—um, I’m fine,” you stammered, taking a step back. “Just trying to get home.”

Anakin smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s dangerous out here alone at this hour,” he said, his voice smooth, almost soothing. “Let me walk you home. It’s not safe.”

You hesitated. There was something about him that made you uneasy, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. He was handsome, almost impossibly so, but there was an edge to him, something dark lurking beneath the surface.

“I’m fine, really,” you said, trying to sound confident. “My apartment is just a few blocks away.”

“Yet I’ll feel better knowing you made it home safely,” he insisted, stepping closer. His presence was overwhelming, a mix of warmth and something colder, something that sent a shiver down your spine. “Please. I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened to you.”

His concern seemed genuine, and in the back of your mind, you knew that refusing him might be a mistake. Reluctantly, you nodded. “Okay…thank..you.”

Anakin’s smile widened, but there was still something unsettling in his eyes as he fell into step beside you. He didn’t say much as you walked, just made idle conversation about the weather, asking about your job at the boutique. He was charming, attentive, but there was a tension in the air, something unspoken but undeniable. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew more about you than he was letting on.

When you finally reached your apartment building, you turned to thank him, but the words died on your lips. Anakin was staring at you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. He was close—too close—and you could feel the heat radiating off him despite the cold night air.

“Goodnight, miss,” he said softly, his voice like velvet. “I’ll see you around.”

Before you could respond, he was already walking away, disappearing into the night as quickly as he had appeared. You watched him go, a strange mix of relief and disappointment swirling in your chest. There was something about him that drew you in, even as every instinct screamed at you to stay away.

As you unlocked the door to your apartment, you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder one last time. The street was empty, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still there, watching you from the shadows.

Little did you know, Anakin was indeed still watching, his heart pounding with the thrill of the encounter. He had seen the way your eyes lingered on him, the way your breath hitched when he got too close. You were drawn to him, even if you didn’t realize it yet. And soon, he would make sure that you were his.

No one else could have you. Not now. Not ever.

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @anakinskwkler

(if you want to be removed or added then don't be shy and let me know 💋)

346 notes · View notes

court-jobi · 2 months ago

Text

For Your Eyes Only

💥Poll Reveal: Birthday Special💥

Pairing: Bakugou x tattooed!reader (fitting theme for biker!reader, no?)

Words: 2.2k

Rating: 18+ (heavy smexy insinuations near the end)

Warnings: NSFWish, reunited lovers, partial undressing, body worship, tattoos, possessive!Bakugou, basically foreplay, implied sexual touch, reunited and it feels so good

Summary:

Someone's missed their Pro-Hero while he's been off lighting up villains for seven weeks straight. The meantime does gives you the brilliant idea for a gorgeous new tattoo, though... all for your darling hero as a birthday present while he's away on mission, so you can keep the freshly inked secret close to your chest. Pretty nice surprise waiting for Bakugou to unwrap when he gets home, yeah?

A/N: Remember THIS POLL? Y'all gave me some splendid direction, thanks so much to everyone who voted! Might still very well run with some leftover ideas and make another fic for our other recipient (Birdie Boy Hawks), but hope you enjoy the winner~

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on Ao3

"Ready for a surprise?"

Shrugging off his shoulder strap, Bakugou stares after you in snarky disbelief. He hasn’t even taken his shoes off yet, dammit. Still, he can’t help but smile.

"Hmm a surprise, huh? Takes a lot to surprise me, sweet thing…"

"Oh, I think I've done it this time,” you swing your hips on your way to the kitchen. “You haven't noticed it yet in all our calls- though I guess you haven't really had much chance to, lately."

"Tch– don't remind me,” he toes off his travel shoes by the table. “This whole ‘secret agent’ bullshit took way longer than I thought it would- been dying to get back to you. Haven't talked to you in days, or had decent reception enough to look at a photo in weeks; forget anything else. Speaking of…c’mere you.”

Bakugou slinks towards you, though you back up away from him, tugging your yukata taught from the back so he couldn't make a grab for it.

“What’re you runnin’ way for, heh??”

"Not letting you spoil it so fast there, babe~!”

You hop onto the kitchen counter with a couple careful adjustments to the overlapping ends of your robe, –sweet, sexy appeal coating your words.

"If you're gonna unwrap it, you've got to have a good view."

Bakugou teased the tip of his canines with an appreciative chuckle.

"You're my present, are ya?"

"Something like that."

Bakugou eyed you over with sneaky wonder. What on earth could you be hiding.

His attention trailed down your legs- socked, but otherwise bare. He steps closer to you, wedging between your legs with a forceful jut of his hips, and cups your jaw into a long, starved kiss. You won't be getting out from under his grasp anytime soon, he's makin’ damn sure of that.

It’s not your first kiss since Bakugou’s arrival through the door, but deeper than that quickie peck you'd given him at first sight. You’d hugged him tight around the neck in perfect bliss after such a long separation– only to dart away, killing any of his plans to never let you go.

That long-awaited kiss of greeting was kept painfully brief by Bakugou’s standards– followed immediately by your retreat to the kitchen, where you’re now acting the most secretive you ever have in your entire relationship.

He'd be crushed if he wasn't so confused.

Parting, he rumbles directly into your waiting mouth.

"What are you up to, pretty?"

"No funny business. Just a great surprise."

You’re toying with his hoodie’s knotted ends, cinching and uncinching the knots and seeking shy permission to strip him. Bakugou lets you, shedding his pullover that reeks of airport and leaving him in the black compression shirt he could trademark- wrinkled, half-rucked up his abs, and perfect.

To his surprise, you seem pleased enough with this level of undress and stop tugging on him altogether. At the moment where he’d expected you to slip his pants loose next, you merely push him back into place between your knees. Doing so allows the space to scoot just so towards the edge of the counter.

You brace back on your palms, posture up and cutting your sights down to where his hands trail across your waist: he’s calculating your moves for hints, few as they are.

"Go on and open it."

Bakugou's brow still worked together as he fought his edging smile.

What on earth could this be? His first best guess would be something sexy to wear, but he honestly finds that pointless since nothing lasts that long on you, anyhow. A laced-up view would be the most mouthwatering sight for the man who’s been starved of you for seven straight weeks… but he reckons this has to hold bigger shock factor.

Following your lead and gentle instruction, Bakugou sweeps an eager hand back with a jerk to untie your sash and then bends over to divide the curtain of your kimono to your hips, granting him the sweet heat of your calves, knees, thighs, and--

Bakugou's jaw goes slack.

Atop your left leg, creased at the flesh of your hip lay his intended surprise: a fully realized tattoo of gorgeous black and grayed ink.

The center of it all bore a gorgeously stylized pawprint -left empty of pigment for contrast- digging in slightly to the flesh, deliciously possessive, as if the full body were howling its word of ‘mine’ into the night.

Claiming its territory. Guarding its beloved.

Naturally, the design didn't stop there. The paw and its indentions laid surrounded by a burst of swirls and sparks resembling firework patterns: some as sunbursts, some as residual trails of light intermixing with haze. The most notable hailed the shape of ‘Dynamight’s fanned accents– mimicking the rays of the earth’s brightest star– known by just about every folklore believer for strength and victory.

This shading is impeccable: saturated to perfection and a gorgeous display of artistry. There are billows of ombre smoke that spread throughout the design, creating a nebulous effect throughout the background, leaning into uncanny imagery of a certain someone’s quirk.

Each element features his take on ‘lucky charms’~ branded right there on your skin.

The symbol was divine… and for a man with a faster tongue unafraid to speak his mind, Bakugou has no words.

Dumbstruck and in utter awe, Bakugou's fingers trail in slow motion towards your newest addition of skin ink. He releases a breath he hadn't realized he was holding back, crouching subconsciously to one side, revealing more and more skin with the lift of the kimono. The hipband of your underwear cut off the very spiky peak of a spark, but it didn't hide much of the body of the tattoo- all was plenty visible from the hip, down your thigh.

You sneak in a cautious breath with proud anticipation, drinking in Bakugou's every soft reaction. A little huff escapes your nose seeing your partner’s mouth hung open from the moment he locks sight of your leg– sights which have never parted since.

Not to speak, not to swallow, barely to blink.

"Happy birthday, Katsuki~" you nearly sing.

Finally, Bakugou tears himself from his trance to lock into your brilliant eyes, their bright points muted in this low light by the kitchen window.

"When-- hah- ho-?"

"You were gone almost two months, honey," you reminded with a twinge of sultry pride. "Once you got orders on the op, I booked the outline, then another session for the fill. Healed up just in time for you to come crashing in the door."

With your non-balancing hand, you twine your fingers over his, swiping over the lower half of the tattoo. The movement matches the curve of the curling tufts of smoke laid there.

Bakugou follows as you move his hand along by your guidance, leading him lazily until you trace it down to the bottom, not wanting to cover up anything.

Taking a slow knee to study it with careful hands cupping your thighs, you coo light in your chest with a loving stroke on your hero’s arm as Bakugou gets comfortable on his knees.

"This-- this is days worth of work, for you.." Bakugou muttered breathlessly.

"‘Bout three full days, start to finish. Larza did such a good job, didn’t they." you beam, crediting your artist. With a little sparkle, you hedge your newly revealed excitement, "--Do you like it?"

Bakugou's squint through his surprised joy was adorable- though he'd deny ever resembling anything close to the word.

"Sweet’eart... S'fucking gorgeous."

His weak slack-jawed look turned into a grin, which drives up into a breathless laugh.

But Bakugou is not done marveling yet…

You rake through his wild hair lovingly, doubling the intimate experience.

“Three days,” he husks, "That's a long time, angel. You stayed so still for this one- there's not a stroke outta place."

Recounting each of your other tattoos that lie either on both your arms or other bits of tender skin, this piece held significantly more ‘natural cushion’ to work with.

"Probably hurt the least of any of them, honestly. M'not gonna lie n’ say it was a breeze near the hip..but hell, was the finished product worth it."

At this, Bakugou finally shows an emotion other than ‘want’- a flash of concern tents his brow and firms his lips as he lifts up to you.

You could laugh about it now; all discomfort is long gone after the insanely prickly healing process.

"Not too much of course! Just the usual. But the itching- oof, that wasn't funny. Had to hide out here for the first two days- couldn't wear any clothes over it yet. Just me, your pillow, my Kindle, and a vat of lotion to keep me from going out of my mind from the blistering. N’ I couldn’t handle talking to you, or else y-"

“-You faked a head cold, you crafty little DUMBASS!!”

Bakugou pieced together your ‘random’ excuse for those days when he’d tried to touch base with you.

The sidenote of spending that much time alone -wearing next to nothing- sends Bakugou reeling into lust again in a heartbeat; all while you giggle at your successful ruse.

Gifts to your lifemate have all carried meaning and touched on every part of his identity. Whether it was a symbol of your connection, or a splurge that he’d been pining for but far too tight-fisted to award himself, you stepped in and would take extra care into a special, well-thought out present on these occasions you felt were worth celebrating– even if he’d sooner forget.

Bakugou’s arrival home landing on his birthday was a true afterthought to him; but not to you.

Your skin laid newly adorned with more stunning art– but more notably, laid nearly bare under his hands. Right where he craved them, and right where he could smell your very essence - just a little closer.

It’s no secret how much he loves every inch of you -inside and out- and in every curve and crevasse… and it’s here that his brain clicks together why you’d sat so precariously on the counter now.

Bakugou thanks you with his whole chest, the lovesick aura glowing even more beautiful with its rawness.

"This is absolutely beautiful- I love it, baby,” your striking boyfriend declares the impact your gift has had on him, "Fuck me, this is-- first the rings, then the new gauntlets, now this?"

"Well, anyone can see those first two in broad daylight,” you sass… then softer, “This one's just for you, Kats..."

"Damn right it is," Bakugou leans down, eyeing you before laying a euphoric kiss on the tip of your hipbone.

Heated lips kiss the same spot again, slower this time. Then another, further down. And again, and again- covering the art with wet lovemarks. You've moisturized the tattoo expertly, treating it with an essence of mango and verbena filling his senses– and a light coconutty taste, as he'd learned from the last time you'd gotten one done on your shoulder.

Passing over the wolf’s claws, Bakugou bared his teeth ever so much, rumbling a happy growl to make you laugh- then moan. Pleasure, adoration, obsession.

With a flash of crimson up to you, Bakugou hungered low and deeper still,

"Sounds like torture, angel. Don't know how you invite that sorta pain over and over…”

Affected by his slow worship along your leg, you subconsciously tuck that leg in; anything to give him more space to cover, make sure nothing is missed.

“I keep tellin’ ya, it's not too bad. You’d look pretty hot with some ink, yourself.”

While the man disagrees with a playful sarcasm, his respect for both your thoughtfulness -and pain tolerance- is enough to get him hard.

Bakugou fantasizes about the whole process: taking a wildly rapid pen to you, laid on your side naked from the waist down, drawn u[on as a living, breathing canvas… all with the sole intention to be marked for his eyes only, forever.

Three whole days.. Bakugou mulls over the work you’ve done. The statement you’ve made with this gift. The proud look in your eyes that doesn’t regret a single stroke, and has chosen to celebrate its claim on your body by giving him full rights to every inch of you…

“Wasn’t even ‘ere to hold your hand through it…” Bakugou offers sweetly. He would have been at your side, had he not been off saving the world yet again.

A touch of dominance comes through his observation, eliciting a delightful reaction he knows will follow. You affirm; giving a sweet, pliant moan of agreement, while you shake your head in a ‘no’ for your past loneliness. You’re ordinarily plenty self-sufficient even in his absences, but play the role of the left-behind lover adorably well.

While one powerful hand teases needy fingers over the seam of your underwear with the intent to rip them off and another reaches for your ankle with plans to chuck it over his shoulder, the birthday boy relishes in the sights, sounds, and feel of you already–

“...I should make up for your troubles now, shouldn't I?” Bakugou rumbles like spring’s telltale thunder in front of your core, ready and waiting to taste, “Gotta thank you properly, yeah?"

#bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #bakugo smut #bakugou smut #katsuki smut #spicy dynamight #mha bakugou

180 notes · View notes

greenwitchfromthewoods · 1 month ago

Text

night visit. l General Marcus Acacius

💔 a few ways to break your heart 💔

Summary: he decided to show you your place

Warnings: angst, knife, attempted rape, many bad words

A/N: sorry for these scribbles. I hope that despite everything you will stay with me.

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

a few ways to break a heart [masterlist]

When you heard the sound of hooves in the yard of your house, you felt uneasy. It was late and you weren't expecting guests, the appearance of someone could only mean that something bad had happened.

The commotion behind the door to your chamber lasted for some time and finally Caius appeared in the doorway, bowing low and declaring that General Acacius had arrived.

"Let him enter." you said, getting up from the ottoman.

Although your heart was glad at the sound of that name, a strange fear still crawled under your skin. After a moment, however, you saw the face of your beloved.

He was wearing a traveling cloak, and his furrowed brows meant that something was troubling him.

"Marcus! Good to see you." you said, approaching him and kissing his cheek, you immediately smelled the sweet scent of wine from him. "What brings you here at such a late hour? You were supposed to be at the feast with the senators and other politicians."

There was something strange about him. He didn't react to your greeting, he didn't hug you like he always did.

The coat he took off landed on the table where the remains of your dinner were still resting. Marcus walked a few steps before answering anything.

"I was at the feast." he announced, his voice low and strangely dark. "And I came straight to you."

"That's nice, but I'm afraid I don't understand." you replied, folding your arms over your chest. "Is something wrong?"

"Maybe you'll tell me? Maybe you'll tell me your secrets, love?" eyes dark as night were watching you predatorily. Marcus took a few steps towards you, and you instinctively stepped back. "Senator Augustus had a lot to say about you."

You frowned. You knew this man perfectly.

Augustus was like a slippery snake among other politicians, and every conversation with him was equal to a bite, the venom dulled the senses of the listeners, and he always achieved what he wanted.

"And what did he say?" you asked, although you already felt that it was nothing good. It couldn't be since Marcus was standing in front of you in such a state.

In a few steps he covered the distance between you, and you stepped back so abruptly that you hit your back against the chest of drawers standing behind you. A few candles fell and rolled on the floor.

"You had a good time in Rome when I was in the barracks last week, didn't you?" he hissed through clenched teeth "I didn't expect my woman to spread her legs in front of half of Rome. That she's no better than the cheapest prostitute. Augustus told me everything, love."

"You're talking nonsense!" you choked out, totally surprised, but also outraged by Marcus' words "You're drunk or crazy, or both! Did you believe him?"

"Senator Titus said the same thing."

"Because he's just as fake as Augustus! Marcus..." you placed your hands on his chest. You felt his heart pounding, how he breathed rapidly. "You know perfectly well that I love only you. I couldn't... Gods! I can't believe we're even talking about this!"

The flames of the torch were reflected in his angry gaze. Up until now, you knew that Marcus wouldn't hurt you, but at that moment, anything was possible.

"You don't seem convincing to me." he said finally, and you sensed a threat in his voice. "I think you might want to hide something from me... Maybe that you’re just a whore who..."

A muffled crack echoed through the room as you slapped him. Anger was already coursing through your veins. The man you loved not only hurt you, but also doubted your loyalty to him. This was madness!

"Get out of here. You're drunk!" you said, trying to hide the trembling in your voice.

However, when Marcus looked at you again, you felt like every one of his opponents must have felt. Fear almost paralyzed you.

Marcus was fast, much faster and stronger than you. He grabbed your arms tightly and pushed you against the wall, then pressed his whole body against you.

"I should have shown you your place a long time ago!" he growled, "I will not be the laughing stock of Rome, because my beloved is a whore! I will teach you humility and respect for me!"

"Marcus!" you groaned feeling how he violently began to pull up your robe, exposing your thighs.

You guessed what he wanted to do. There was only one way a man could show a woman his superiority. You couldn't let that happen.

You loved him more than your life, but you didn't want him to humiliate you like that, you didn't want him to take you like a wild barbarian.

"I was too good to you, too understanding. I loved you and I thought you loved me too..." he babbled as his hands brutally spread your thighs apart "But it's over now. Do you hear me? You'll learn your place, love."

At the last moment, your outstretched hand caught one of the torches fixed in the wall and you struck Marcus with all your might. Sparks rained down on both of you, and he shielded his face, trying to keep them from getting into his eyes.

You took advantage of this and got out of your trap. You grabbed the knife lying on the table and moved away from Marcus, pointing the blade at him.

"Get out of here!" you shouted, tears glistening in your eyes "I don't want to see you here!"

Marcus turned around and looked at you with pity. "Do you think you can hurt me with this?" he sneered, looking at the blade.

Desperation led you to one possible decision. When you pointed the blade at you, Marcus' eyes widened.

"Give it to me..." he said, extending his hand toward you "You'll only hurt yourself..."

"I'd rather stab myself with a knife than let you do what you want to do!" you growled "How could you do this to me, Marcus?!"

"My love..."

"Augustus got furious because I rejected his advances in public, and you believed every word of that man!" you continued, fingers tightly clenching the handle. He noticed how your hands were shaking and didn't risk coming closer. "You believed him, not me!"

"But he..." he began uncertainly, but you interrupted him again.

"How dare you doubt my love and loyalty! I never gave you a reason to doubt it!"

The woman standing before him was extremely desperate, ready to do anything. You were ready to take your life to defend your honor.

"My love, my goddess..." Marcus' voice was almost soothing.

He whispered these words to you when you were tangled in the sheets, when he kissed your body tenderly. At that moment, however, they were arrowheads pointed at you.

"Get out of here! I don't want to see you anymore!"

Something strange flashed in his eyes. For a split second, you thought you saw your Marcus, your beloved, in that look. However, you didn't lower your blade. He took his cloak and quickly left, leaving you in total despair.

The blade fell from your hands and hit the floor as you slumped down, crying.

redemption : night visit. l General Marcus Acacius

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

#general marcus acacius x fem!reader #general acacius #general marcus acacius #marcus acacius #marcus acacius x reader #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #pedro pascal #a few ways to break a heart

162 notes · View notes

mysouleaten · 7 months ago

Text

DOC AND BOSS pt.one

mafia boss! izana x doctor! reader

summary ... finding an injured member of the tenjiku yakuza hiding in an alleyway beside your apartment you decide to help... not knowing he's the one in charge..

warnings ... blood, and bullets??

an ... sooo this was inspired by DEAD GIRL'S BEACH by @kokoch4n3l but this fic is a lot more fluff... lol and inspired by an undertake fic I read a long time ago Bedside Manners and Guns by @absurdmageart .... :)

tenjiku was one of the biggest yakuza's that ran tokyo they were second compared to toman

but still one of the biggest when it came to land and property and one of their properties was your apartment-- your home

most who lived in this apartment building paid their bill to tenjiku, as they were the ones who kept this building from being destroyed by the government and leading to you being homeless

you were very grateful for the fact they protected this apartment building... it was the cheapest and the closest to your job and university

around 8:45pm you finally were able to leave your job and drive back in the rainy night, ready to get in your comfort outfit and watch crime moves for the rest of the night and maybe order some yellow rice and soup to eat while you watch....

finally parked in front of your building and looking outside the window to see the harsh rain pouring down

you can only imagine how cold it is outside your warm car...

looking behind your driver's seat and reaching for your umbrella to fight back the pouring rain from soaking you

"alright.. let's just hope I don't get completely soaked through.."

quickly opening the car door and rushing to open the umbrella over you, shutting the door and pressing onto your car key to hear the 'beep!' of the car locking

blowing a breath you start to carefully walk towards the stairs that lead to your apartment, careful not to slip and bust your ass on the pavement

hearing a loud groan made you freeze in place and hearing another over the rushing rain made you tense again before you quickly walked up the stairs and ran into your apartment... you weren't risking any horror movie shenanigans..

putting your bag down onto the bench under your coat hanger

turning your head toward the door and the guilty conscience starts to eat you up

what if someone was in need of help? you're not a doctor for nothing..

you groan in annoyance and throw your white coat on the floor before taking the raincoat hanging on the coat hanger and quickly putting it on

slamming the door behind yourself and cussing out: "I hate being a damn doctor..!"

hugging your wait to fight the cold rain and carefully walking down the stairs

"hopefully it's just the fucking wind and no one is actually here so I can go take my ass upstairs and--" cutting your rant short when turning the corner and seeing someone laying on the muddy ground

drenched and shivering the person was also groaning in pain

"crap.." you whisper and slowly begin to walk toward the person still being cautious and mindful of who this person you were going to help was

crouching down, careful to not touch the muddy water below

examing the man who was shakily breathing through his mouth and scrunching his eyes shut

his white long hair was muddied up and drenched

you looked down to see him holding his abdomen--blood was soaking his uniform, he was wearing the uniform of a tenjiku leader... craaaaaap...

pulling your phone out of your pocket and covering it from the rain you dial the number but a hand quickly grabs your wrist and tries to shake the phone out of your hand "ACK!!"

quickly standing up and backing away, letting your phone drop near the man

his eyes were a beautiful shade of lavender and they were staring daggers right into your own eyes.. but they softened quickly

you swallow the built-up saliva in your mouth "you've been shot.. you need to go to the hospital" your voice a soft whisper

he shakes his head "no..." no? this man really wants a painful death?

"you-" "you..help me" the man cuts you off

"what!? wait- no! I can't! I don't have the-" your rambling gets cut off with a soft "try" from the man

were you really going to drag a muddy wet mafia man up the stairs and into your apartment?..

you sigh as the man has been staring at you for the past couple of minutes after his 'removing bullets' procedure

he was lying on his back with towels beneath him soaking up the dirty water that dripped off of him, bandages wrapped around his entire abdomen and he was facing his head toward you

he would shiver from the cold and you weren't sure if you wanted to get him a blanket.. and get it soaked.. maybe you should towel him off properly before getting him a blanket

you stood up and began to walk away from the white-haired man that occupied your other couch..

"[name]?... where are you going?.."

you froze, how the hell does he know your name?..

ughhhh i'm not sure how i like this... AHH I WISH I KNEW HOW TO WRITE MY THOUGHTS BETTER....

>:(

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo rev fluff #tokyo revengers izana #izana x reader #izana kurokawa #izana kurokawa x reader

316 notes · View notes

maplegracefour · 5 months ago

Text

Two Idiots and a Wedding | Part Three

Summary: You and Schlatt meet the parents, go for lunch and then decide to do something with your evening together

Warnings: Stern parents & bullies

Word Count: ~1340

Author's Note: It's more filler I know but the good stuff is coming!!!!!

Part One and Two

“Darling! It’s so good to see you!” Your mother calls out when you climb out of the car to the fancy restaurant. “Feels like forever.”

“Hi Mum,” You chuckle nervously, accepting her hug.

“And who is this handsome devil…?” She asks, pulling away from you to let her eyes rake over Schlatt’s body.

Schlatt chuckles, holding his hand out to your mother. “I’m Jay,” he says. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Good things?” She asks, laughing as she pulls him into a hug instead.

“Only the best.” He responds.

She grins as she looks back at you, a silent look to you to tell you ‘he’s a good one’. You blush, unable to hide it. Schlatt looks up and notices before turning to your father.

“Nice to meet you, sir.” He says, holding his hand out once again. Your father accepts, shaking his hand firmly.

“No need for formalities, son. Nice to meet you too. Treating my kid well?” He asks, raising an eyebrow, not yet letting go of Schlatt’s hand.

“Of course,” Schlatt responds with a smile. “They’re an angel.”

Your father gives him a stern nod, pulling his hand away.

You all head inside, you feel a hand on the small of your back as you step foot into the restaurant. You turn your head and realise it’s Schlatt doing so. He raises an eyebrow, as though questioning if there’s an issue. You turn your attention back to the hostess, now with a gentle blush spread across your cheeks.

Sitting down at the table, you see Schlatt taking a seat beside you. You look nervous, and he wishes he could alleviate it.

You all chat, small talk that you wish you didn’t have to have. There’s questions you prepared for, of course. How did you meet? So, you’re one of those streamer things too?

But then there’s one question that hits you like a freight train, one you couldn’t have prepared for considering as far as your parents are aware, you’ve only been dating a couple months.

“So, you're serious about them, Jay?” Your dad asks, stern look as he pushes another fry into his mouth. “What’s your plan? Are you gonna propose?”

“Dad, c’mon that’s not-...” You try to interject, stop this line of questioning.

Schlatt places a hand on your leg under the table, it isn’t subtle. It’s intentional. “No, no. It’s okay.” He says, giving you a smile. “I am serious about them, sir. Obviously, it’s still early days, I don’t want to put words in their mouth and make assumptions but I care about them a lot. I definitely don’t see why I wouldn’t propose in the future.” He shrugs, giving your thigh a squeeze.

You blush, looking down at your meal. That felt very… real? You’ve gotta give the guy credit, the man is a good actor.

“Alright.” Your dad responds, not smiling but seemingly satisfied with Schlatt’s answer.

The rest of the meal is okay, the tension alleviated after your parents seem to approve of Schlatt, which is only half the battle you suppose.

When returning for the bathroom, you notice your dad and Schlatt having a hushed discussion, you furrow your eyebrows in confusion as you walk over. Oh God. They know. You’re gonna be humiliated.

“I’m telling you, it’s fine. I really don’t mind.” Schlatt chuckles.

Your father looks up as you approach. “Is everything okay?” You ask hesitantly.

“Your boyfriend just picked up the entire bill.” Your mother tells you, your father looks exasperatedly back up at you.

You look at Schlatt who just shrugs, like it’s no big deal at all. “Jay…” You sigh.

“I wanted to.” Schlatt tells you.

“Well, that’s very kind, Jay. Thank you.” Your mother says, as she picks up her coat. “We have to head off, picking up the flower arrangements for your cousin. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Your parents rush off, your father grumbling about the bill still as he leaves. You soon collect your bag and jacket as you and Schlatt head off also. You glance at him, the distance between you increasing as your parents drive out of the parking lot.

“You really didn’t have to do that, Jay.” You sigh, rolling your eyes. “I’ll venmo you the money when we get back to the hotel.”

He laughs back at you. “Don’t be ridiculous. I meant it, I wanted to pay.”

You pause your movements as you reach the car, leaning against the passenger side door. “I told you I’d pay for everything.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

You groan as you get into the car, throwing your bag into the back. “Anyway, we have the evening to ourselves. Anything you wanna do?”

“Heard there’s a bowling alley nearby.” He suggests, rolling his sleeves up before putting the car into gear. He says that like he didn’t look up things to do in the area, just as an excuse to spend more time with you.

You nod, getting comfortable in the seat. Though, you think about it for a moment. “We are in my hometown though.” You say, looking over. “We might see people that are going to be there tomorrow..”

“Okay, and?” He says, beginning to drive out the parking lot. He clearly isn’t getting it.

“So, we can’t just be friends if we go to the bowling alley.” You explain, voice slow as though you’re having to spell it out to him.

He chuckles, rubbing his chin with his free hand. “So, we’ve still gotta pretend that we’re a couple there, too?” You nod, feeling guilty. “That’s fine.”

You look at him, slightly confused. But you choose not to question it.

When you pull up to the bowling alley, Schlatt spins around and takes your hand in his. There’s no one around at the moment, but there might be, so you accept it.

Going inside, your mind is immediately cast back to being a teenager here. There wasn’t much to do when you were a kid so you spent many an evening in this exact bowling alley. It still smells the same.

Schlatt squeezes your hand as he pulls you to the reception. You follow him and stand quietly as he pays for a couple games.

“Oh my god, (Y/N)!” You hear a shriek from the other side of the room. Oh no. Oh god no, please. It’s Alyssa.

You pull your hand from Schlatt’s turning to face the shrieking woman running over. She envelops you in a hug, shit-eating grin across her face. “How are you? Are you here for Sarah’s wedding?” She asks, her voice is just as annoying as you remembered it being.

“Yeah,” You laugh nervously, tucking some hair behind your ear. Alyssa is a stark reminder of why you left your hometown, she was an awful bully back in the day. You just hope she lost some of her terrible tendencies from teenagehood in the past few years.

Schlatt wraps an arm around your waist, sensing your discomfort. “Hey, doll. We need to get to our lane.”

“You have a boyfriend?” Alyssa asks, eyes trailing over Schlatt as though she was looking at her next meal. So, she hasn’t changed a bit, then.

“This is Jay. Jay, this is Alyssa.” You introduce the two of them and she smiles, going in for a hug.

Schlatt reluctantly pulls his arm from you to accept her hug awkwardly. “Nice to meet you.” He says, though you can tell he doesn’t mean it.

She grins up at him as she pulls away. “See you tomorrow.” She purses her lips, voice low and sultry.

As she turns away, you can’t help but roll your eyes. “The fuck was that?” Schlatt laughs, almost in disbelief.

“That was Alyssa.” You groan. “And that was her flirting with you. I wouldn’t bother with her. At least wait until after the wedding if you want to.”

He looks at you with the most insulted look. “You serious?” He says, eyebrows raised. “Why would I want her when I have you, eh?”

PART FOUR HERE

#schlatt x reader #jschlatt x reader #schlatt x y/n #maplegracefour #two idiots and a wedding

206 notes · View notes

holorform2009 · 9 days ago

Text

Run, run dear reader.

You ran as fast as you can. Now you may start asking questions like— Why are you running? Who is chasing you? What is going on?

Well.

To answer your question.

You stole a man's wallet.

No. No! Don't you dare ask question on that one! Remember, our dear Y/N over there is homeless.

So don't blame the poor child. Okay?

Now back to our poor reader.

You pushed some people away and mutter an apology when you heard them cursed under their breath.

You can hear the man shouted at you from behind. You needed him to be lost. Lost in a sea of crowded people, or find something that you can hide. Through slitted rectangle holes on your box mask, you saw a black hat and a conductor clothing. It's Ingo. Shouldn't Emmet be with ingo? That's rare.

A light bulb appeared on top of your head as you suddenly have an idea to make the man lose a sight on you.

You quickly ran up to Ingo and harshly tug on his long coat in a hurry manner catching his attention, Ingo looked down at you as he raised his brow.

"Is something the matter, child?" He noticed your panicked movements as you then suddenly grab his long coat, opening it wide and hides inside.

A man came to him and asked frantically if he saw a kid with a box on their head. Realizing your situation, he lied to the man by saying "They went that way." And pointed to the wrong direction. The man thanked him and quickly walked away in the false direction.

As soon as the man was gone, you came out of your hiding spot. "Who was that?" Ingo asked as he adjusted his hat a bit, his eyes hardened and his brow furrowed but not at you, It's actually to the man. What did he want from you? He wanted to asked you but prefer not to.

You looked at him in the eyes and shrugged innocently. As if you didn't steal the man's wallet....

He was about to ask you once more but you caught him off by giving him a quick hug to his side before darting away from Ingo. Is someone after you? He thought to himself.

". . . . ."

He will have to report this to Emmet about you.

#yandere x reader #platonic yandere #ingo x reader #platonic yandere x reader #Emmet x reader #Child reader #Homeless!Reader #This is purely platonic #Yandere Ingo #Yandere Emmet #Pokemon x reader #Pokemon #Art is mine #artist on tumblr #art on tumblr #Fanfiction #Gn reader

95 notes · View notes

notafunkiller · 2 years ago

Text

false god

Summary: On the night of your movie premiere, you and director Bucky finally get closer.

Pairing: director!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader

Warnings: 18+, age gap (r is 24, Bucky is 35), teasing, dirty talk, pet names, fingering, nipples play, oral sex (the reader receiving), clit play, come eating, metal arm kink, no condom (but they are both clean and the reader is on birth control), alcohol (but neither is even tipsy), aftercare, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 8.7K

story masterlist

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: Bucky's look is obviously inspired by Sebastian's appearance at the Sharper premiere in London. The dark prince vibes and that hair... ahhh!

An extra thank you to @marvelouslizzie and @lavenderhaze967 for being my beta readers and for the endless support.

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

It wasn’t your intention to interrupt him at first, but he was going to notice you anyway and you didn’t want him to think you are actively ignoring him. Because you obviously aren’t. How could you?

“Hi.”

Your voice is really low, but he hears you nonetheless, stopping mid-sentence when he turns his head and sees you so close. “Hey.”

Not only do his eyes get bigger, but there’s also a huge smile that spreads all over his face as he leans in to give you a quick hug. And you clearly aren’t prepared for physical contact at all, especially for the cheek kiss that follows the embrace.

“It’s so nice to see you.”

“Nice to see you, too!” His strong perfume hits you, and you hope the camera doesn’t catch your red face as you both pull back.

“You look amazing!” He’s not even attempting to hide the fact he checks you out. His eyes try not to linger too much on your chest, hips, or legs since the slit of the dress exposes a little bit of skin. The last thing he wants is for you to feel uncomfortable and think he’s a creep.

But you are too busy staring at him to notice. He doesn’t wear a simple suit. No, he went for a freaking villain...ish look that drives you crazy. It’s an all-black outfit: from the Prada blouse he wears under his suit, to his gloves, elegant coat, and Chelsea boots. And that hair? That hairstyle looks absolutely fantastic on him.

“I love this so much!” You say with a grin while gesturing to his body.

He bites his lip shily. “Oh my god… Thank you.”

You turn your head to the woman who is supposed to interview him and whisper a “Sorry”, but she doesn’t seem to mind at all. She watches your interaction with a genuinely warm smile on her face.

Bucky, though? He unexpectedly takes two steps toward you, and you see the camera move to catch you both. “Look, guys,” he points out his index finger in your direction. “She’s the one that gave life to this project, the one you should watch it for. Her performance is unbelievable! No one could have done it better.”

If you think you were blushing visibly until now, you’re wrong. Your cheeks get so hot that you have to refrain with all you have from touching them.

“This means so much.” You give him a quick, thankful look before shifting to the camera. “This man,” It’s your turn to point out to him. “...is incredible. His past projects and now False God… Everything he makes is golden. I am very thankful he believed in me and gave me a shot. He’s the best director I have ever worked with, and I really hope you’ll enjoy this movie.”

He thanks you with a tilt of his head and his folded hands, very grateful for your words, and you have to wave goodbye when your first interviewer calls your name.

Bucky shakes his head. “So where were we?”

The rest of the red-carpet interviews go well, with Bucky keeping an eye on you from distance, fully aware of how nervous you must feel since it’s your first premiere as the lead actress. But you mask it perfectly, making jokes and complimenting people now and then. And everyone loves you.

But the introduction in the theater makes you sweaty as Bucky presents you with an encouraging smile. You are the last one and the journalists are already recording. You pray you’ll not make a fool of yourself in front of everyone and fall while climbing the stairs. Thankfully, you don’t, and Bucky tries not to laugh when he sees you breathing out in relief. You watch him place the card he was holding in the pocket of his coat before raising his microphone to speak for a bit about the experience of directing and co-writing, about the cast, the messages, and how thankful he is to his loyal audience, but also the one that will form after this film. You can’t lie and say you’re listening to his speech entirely since you’re often distracted by some hair strands or his beard… His smile is a killer, too. You try to focus as much as you can, though, and when it’s your castmates’ turn, you actively nod and smile. When they pass the mic to you, you try to be as honest and professional as you can, thanking everyone for being there, supporting you, and believing in you. Of course, you praise Bucky extra much. If it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t be standing here, and you’ve learned so many things from him. He’s such a wonderful and understanding director, always informed and always looking to improve himself and adapt.

But sometimes you wish you didn’t work with him… simply because in your delusional mind, maybe you’d stand a chance.

You don’t know why you chose to stay at the after-party. It’s not like you have your friends or family with you since you’re out of the country, and you haven’t had much contact with even half of these people. But maybe it’s an opportunity to get out of your comfort zone and make some new connections. Plus, you can freely observe Bucky outside the workplace.

Some journalists and photographers are still here, but he seems more relaxed. He enjoys having a chat and taking pics with a few actors he worked with in the past, and after he’s done, he invites you and the rest of the cast to join him.

The photographer is very friendly as she tries to arrange you, and you end up in the middle, right next to him.

You gasp when you feel his arm wrapping around your waist so that he doesn’t cover your dress with his coat.

Fuck… He makes focusing so hard.

You don’t know when you developed this crush, to be honest. You worked with him for more than five months, almost every day and everything was professional, sometimes friendly. But nothing more. He’s never even jokingly flirted with you or anyone else on set. He’s not a creep. He’s a really cool —single— guy and it’s so easy to forget how who he is.

You don’t even realize that you’re frowning until you feel Bucky’s fingers tickling you over the dress, making you burst into giggles.

Without thinking twice, you sneak your arm under his coat and return the gesture. He doesn’t chuckle as you did, but he smirks. And that smirk is so charming and sensual you feel like you won a prestigious award.

The photographer approves immediately, giving you a thumbs up, and after a few minutes, you finish. But Bucky makes you all stay in the same position as he takes his phone out of his pocket. He gives it to Steve after he opens the camera and returns next to you.

Unexpectedly, you feel him leaning in as he lets his hand rest on your back. “Should I tickle you again to get that gorgeous smile on camera, doll?”

And just like that, you’re left red and speechless by James Bucky Barnes.

Your sister’s reaction to the selfie makes you smile. She didn’t waste any time and commented on how you got lucky enough to take a photo with the dark prince of the film industry. Such a perfect nickname based on how he looks tonight.

“You’ve changed.” You jump when you hear the dark prince himself right in your ear all of a sudden. You lock your screen and turn to look at him.

“W-what?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to catch you off guard. I meant your dress.” You nod in response and immediately remark he’s no longer wearing his coat. That suit looks so, so good up close. But he still has his gloves on, which makes you sad.

You read a little about his metal arm before your audition and you’ve noticed he always had his hands covered on set, so you assume he’s not quite comfortable showing it in public. You only saw it in a few pictures taken by paps in New York, at a restaurant, around two years ago. “May I sit down?”

“Of course.” You clear your throat and look at the table in front of you. He brought two glasses of wine with him. “Is that for me?”

He gives you a teasing smirk before taking a sip. “There’s no one else sitting here, is there?”

“I didn’t want to assume. Thank you.” You smile shily, ignoring his playful rhetorical question, and follow his example, raising the glass to your lips. Surprisingly, it tastes better than you expected, but you don’t drink more. You didn’t eat almost anything tonight and the last thing you want is to feel sick.

“You’re welcome, I thought you’d like this.”

“I do.” You look him in the eyes as you speak. “Very thoughtful of you.”

If Bucky senses your nervousness, which is probably very obvious, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he keeps glancing at you in a way that makes you think he wants you to keep talking. But you don’t. He caught you off guard coming here and offering you wine. It’s a nice gesture: him wanting to check on you and chit-chat a bit, but you don’t know how you’re supposed to act. Especially when you have this consuming urge to touch the strands of his hair that keep returning to his face despite Bucky’s many attempts to keep them still, tucked behind his ears.

“It’s not as good as Natasha’s, but that’s all they have here.” You smile, remembering the day on set when you finished filming a super draining emotional scene after a couple of hours, and Natasha came to take you home. It was the second time she met Bucky, and she offered to take you, him, and the very few members that could come to a small pub, after seeing your exhausted faces. You had dinner and the best wine you have ever tasted. And it was so cheap!

“I didn’t expect it to be.” You straighten your back.

“How comes she left you alone?”

“Well, she has a full week at the agency, she wasn’t even supposed to be here.” But she came anyway because you’re more than her client. She became one of your closest friends shortly after she discovered you at the acting camp. And she’s been with you through every rejection, every small part you got, and now this.

“What about your family? I expected to see them here, I know they were excited. Is everyone okay?”

You smile, raising and shaking your phone a little before putting it in your pocket. “I was actually talking to my sister when you came. They’re all good, thank you for asking.”

“Oh, I’m sorry for interrupting.” His wrinkles make him look extra attractive when he raises his eyebrows, frowns, or smiles. You noticed that on set… But in this context? So close? It’s even more challenging for you to keep a neutral face.

“No, no. I am actually glad you came to me, I was planning to leave in a few minutes since it’s late, but I really wanted to thank you for your words today and overall, for the opportunity.” Your voice is shaking, full of emotion, and he immediately leans in, invading your personal space, and reaches for your hands.

Fuck... He’s touching you! He’s actually touching you.

“Don’t ever thank people for something you’ve earned and deserve.” His voice is so gentle and low, making the words hit you even harder. “Alright, doll?”

You nod, breathless, but he doesn’t accept it, squeezing your hand to get your attention. He wants to hear you say it out loud.

“Alright.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise you.”

With a playful smirk on his face, he lets go of your hands slowly and pulls back. “Good girl.”

And right at that moment, you want to screw everything and go for it… You are so worked up and tired of refraining from even thinking about it, that you don’t care how scandalous it would be if you jumped to kiss him right there. At least, you’d satisfy this need. For once…

You sigh, mortified. Even if you had the courage to do it, you don’t even know if he likes you like this. He’s been friendly and trying to make you comfortable tonight, and your mind went in another direction.

He probably had so many people in the industry hitting on him, but he was never photographed with them. You don’t know if it’s his personal ‘policy’ or if he is just discreet, and you shouldn’t think about it. But you do, it’s impossible not to.

You need to leave before you’ll start actually indulging yourself in this… fantasy.

You smile, raising from the couch. “Thank you for the wine. It was a wonderful night, but it’s getting way too late.”

And as soon as you finish the phrase, he’s up too, arranging his suit jacket. “You’re right. It’s really late.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing you in New York.”

“Me too. At least we’ll be home.” His expression shows how fond he is of the city, and it warms you up. “I already miss it and I’ve been gone for one day.”

You gasp. “You arrived yesterday?”

“Nope, I wish. I landed last night because I had to take care of some additional stuff.”

You’ve been here for two days and you could barely sleep. You can’t imagine how tired he is and you really admire him for not turning down any interview today, but you guess he’s experienced this before.

“Wow, what are you doing still standing here?” You ask jokingly and he looks you straight in the eyes.

“Maybe I was just waiting for you to decide to head out so we can leave together.”

And, of course, you’re taken aback for a few seconds, trying to decide how to answer him. Since he’s in a good mood, you place your hand right over your heart and playfully say:

“Aww, you’re offering to take me to my hotel, Mr. Barnes? You’re so thoughtful.”

“I do actually.” He replies and takes a few steps until he’s by your side. “Sharon is driving, and since we’re all staying at the same place, I wanted to see if you want to come.”

You mentally slap yourself. He’s just being a nice person while you fantasize about kissing him in front of everyone. And as much as you want to find an excuse, you know it would make no sense. It’d be a short ride, plus you really like Sharon. She’s not only a great writer but also a great, fun person. Bucky wanted her on set all the time in case she came up with new lines or scenes as she watched you.

You smile. “I’d appreciate that.”

“Perfect, let’s get your coat.”

He insists on carrying your bag all the way to your door after you say your goodbyes to Sharon. Bucky’s room is just one level higher, so there isn’t much of a bother. You can’t help yourself but steal a few glances at him as you walk together. You even catch him looking back at you a couple of times, which makes you childishly happy. You realize your crush is getting even bigger tonight and you don’t know how you’ll put an end to it.

You’re right about to open your door when your stomach starts to ramble, and Bucky almost drops your bag out of laughter.

“Hungry?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. You bite your lip not to groan, then give him an embarrassed smile. “A little.”

“So the fancy appetizers weren’t enough?” You know he’s teasing you by his tone and the playful grin he displays, so you let out a short laugh.

“Nope. I haven’t eaten since lunch.”

You didn’t have time, truth be told, but you’ll eat a great breakfast tomorrow. Now you’re just gonna take a bath and update Nat that you’re going to bed.

Bucky shakes his head disapprovingly. “This is not good for you at all. Your poor stomach should sue you.”

You snort. “I need to find a good lawyer then.”

“Well, if you could eat anything right now, what would it be?”

“Why are you doing this?” You fake complain, trying to match his dramatic vibe. It’s a fun way to end your night.

“Just curious.”

“Burgers and fries. But chicken, not beef.” You say without hesitation and extend your hands so you can take your bag. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re very welcome.” He gives you one of his sweetest smiles ever and you almost melt on the spot. You’re definitely crushing on him even harder now.

You look at him one more time before finally going inside. “Good night, Bucky. See you in New York.”

“Good night, doll.”

But you don’t have to wait two days to see him again. Because a few minutes after you get in bed, just watching random Tik Tok videos, he’s back, whispering your name while knocking on your door.

You literally jump, letting your phone on the nightstand, and arrange your clothes as you move.

You wonder if you forgot anything or maybe something dropped from your bag, but when you checked, everything seemed right in place.

Then why would he be here? Is he okay?

You’re even more surprised to see him leaning against the side of the wall when you open the door. “Hi.”

“Hi.” You wave toward the bag he’s holding with a curious look. “What’s this?”

“Burgers.”

“What?”

“I got us burgers and fries. And soda, of course. May I come in?” He asks so casually as if you’ve done this one thousand times before.

“I…” You’re so overwhelmed by this simple gesture, especially since it’s coming from him, that you don’t know how to react.

“Hey, it’s totally okay if you don’t feel like eating with me, alright? I can just give you your food and-”

You haven’t even realized you are frowning until you saw his worried expression, so you immediately cut him off. You don’t want him to get the wrong idea. “No, no. This is so sweet and unexpected. You… You really didn’t have to, thank you so much.”

“So I can come in?” His grin is so playful and confident again that you find yourself smiling back like a fool.

“Of course.” You step back so he can follow you inside, then you close the door. “Bucky, you have the flight tomorrow, too, right?”

“Yes.” He answers as he lets the bag down on the bed and starts taking his shoes and coat off. You watch him carefully, trying to keep your thoughts as innocent as possible, but it’s very challenging. He’s so hot and cute, and he brought you food despite being tired as fuck.

“Jesus, Bucky.”

“What, doll?”

Not doll again… You’re clearly gonna die tonight. A heart attack caused by this dark prince.

You clear your throat. “You really didn’t have to.”

“Nope, but I wanted to. Plus, you’re not the only one who’s hungry.” He unbuttons his jacket quickly, then rolls up his sleeves a little as you take the food out, placing it on the empty bag you use now as a tablecloth. “You weren’t sleeping, right?”

“No, I was chilling.” You assure him with a smile, waiting for him to join you on the bed. And he does, crossing his legs as he leans in to unwrap his burger.

“Fuck, I’m starving.” His cute, desperate tone makes you chuckle as you watch him smell the food.

He seems so comfortable around you like this, and you don’t think you’ll ever erase this image from your mind. Fuck this man!

“What?”

You giggle again. “You’re about to eat a huge burger all dressed up in Prada.” Sitting on my bed, you want to add, but you keep it to yourself. You don’t want to weird him out in any way.

“At two in the morning, with a gorgeous woman. What can I say? I love my life.”

You don’t know how to answer for a few seconds, but you’re too tempted to match his energy to pass on this opportunity. What can go bad? It’s not like a little flirting will make him think low of you since he started this... And he called you doll. You have every right to play along.

“Maybe I’m the lucky one.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows as soon as you finish your sentence, and you try to hide your smile with a napkin, pretending to clean your mouth.

“W-what?”

Oh my god, his cheeks are getting flushed! You want to congratulate yourself on this. You didn’t expect him to get flattered by a simple phrase, he’s so adorable.

“I said that maybe I’m the lucky one.” You repeat shily while staring at his hands. You notice he took off the glove he was wearing on his right hand. “I mean, I’m eating burgers with this handsome, super amazing guy, who didn’t let me starve.”

When you move your eyes to his face and see that his cheeks are even redder now, you giggle. Until he leans in and steals a few fries from you.

“Hey!” You pretend to be offended. “Give them back.” But before you can take them back, he’s shoving them in his mouth, and you both start laughing.

You spend the next twenty minutes in the same good mood: finishing eating while laughing at some set memories and making a chewing gum balloons contest like two kids before talking a little about your plans.

“You’re sure you can tell me?”

“Unless you’re planning to tell anyone,” You say jokingly. He’s in this industry, it’s not like he’s gonna release the info to the press. And he’s not in any competition with other directors. If there’s something you learned about Bucky super fast is that he’s a really healthy person. His mindset is not to be better than others and this is why he is so good at what he does.

In response, Bucky brings his thumb and forefinger together and moves them in a closing zipper gesture across his mouth.

“Well, to be honest, I don’t know if I’m even gonna make it to the shortlist.” You shrug your shoulders. You know how tough it is. “Nat heard some big names are auditioning, too.”

“Like?”

“Wanda Maximoff, Jennifer Walters… Yelena Belova.”

“Well,” He gives you an encouraging smile. “You had tough competition for False God, too, but you got it, didn’t you?”

You nod, remembering how exciting and scary it was. “But I have to keep my hopes low, you know? Not all directors have your patience or your willingness to take risks.”

It’s the truth. You have no connections and your past projects —if you don’t count this one— are not good enough. But you’re gonna try anyway.

“What character?”

“I'll read for both sisters, actually. What about you?”

“I have some meetings next week, but I still don’t know if I’ll accept it. The script is kinda weak.” Bucky sighs. “Can I take off my jacket? It’s really hot.”

“Of course.” It’s really hot indeed even though you have the AC on, which is surprising. It’s raining outside and it’s February…

You shamelessly watch him undress and almost groan at the sight of him in that semi-transparent black blouse. Jesus, he looks so freaking good, it’s just unreal.

“So yeah, I’m trying to be careful about what films I’m choosing. I’ve got an offer for a show, too, but I don’t know much yet. I’d love to collaborate with Sam Wilson.”

You heard about Sam a couple of times from Nat. He’s a great producer.

“Okay, random. What’s your dream vacation right now?”

“Dream vacation?” He frowns as if he’s never heard those words before in his life.

“Yes, where would you like to go and chill at this moment?”

He thinks about it for a few seconds, biting his bottom lip all thoughtfully, probably recalling all those places he’s visited and wants to visit as well.

“Italy or Greece. Somewhere warmer at least.” He giggles, leaning in unconsciously, and he’s suddenly so, so close to you. You can’t help but stare at him as that slight movement makes his hair strands fall on his face again, and you think dramatically that you’d die if you didn’t touch him right now. Right fucking now!

And you do, but you’re so gentle he doesn’t even realize you’re touching him until you bring your other hand to his face, letting go of his hair to you stroke his cheeks.

You swear he stops breathing for a few seconds as his lips half-open, and that’s when all your second thoughts and fears go out of the window. It’s your chance to be brave and go for it. He’s not a creep, nor the type of person who would take advantage of you. And you’ve flirted a few times tonight… Plus, he can reject you anytime.

So you look at his mouth, then up, into his eyes, waiting for him to say something, maybe a no, because there’s no way he doesn’t realize what’s your intention. But instead, he moves his left hand to the back of your head, holding you tightly as he presses his lips against yours.

You close your eyes instinctively, opening your mouth as your fingers go straight into his hair. It’s the perfect length and so soft… you can pull it without any effort. The feel of his tongue and his hands on your hips make you let out a soft moan right in his mouth as he pulls you onto his lap.

Your legs part even more, and you don’t even realize you’re rubbing on one of his thighs until he groans. Your lips are crushing, and crushing, and crushing. It’s hot and magnetic… out of a dream. And he’s so good at it! You’re literally sad when you have to pull apart to breathe a little more.

“Jesus, doll.” His eyes are glowing. You can’t help yourself but touch his face again, stroking his beard, surprised that it didn’t tickle you while kissing.

“Hmm?”

“I don’t want to sound creepy or anything, but I wanted to do this for some time.” He outlines your lips with his thumb, and you try very hard not to open your mouth. You’re talking now, this can wait for a bit more.

“I wanted to do this for a long time, Bucky. You don’t sound like a creep.” You pause, changing your expression completely, catching him off guard. “Unless you gave me the role because you wanted to get into my pants.”

The way his lips part in shock and horror, his eyes widening, full of panic immediately makes you feel bad for faking this indignation. “No, no. I’m sorry if this is what-”

He tries to move, nervously, thinking you want space, but you interrupt him.

“Bucky, I know you.” You caress his face over and over again. His reaction itself shows what type of person he is, so your gut is not wrong. “It was a bad joke, I know you wouldn’t do this.”

He lets out a deep breath as he realizes you mean it, and his hands return to your waist, pulling you closer to his chest. “You scared me, doll. I would never do anything to make you feel uncomfortable. Especially since we worked together and I’m…” He pauses, but you still realize what he wants to say.

Older. And yes, you were in the same project, but he has no power over your career. Never had, and never will. And no actress or actor that worked with him has ever said publicly or privately anything bad about him. You know he’s not a prick.

“I leaned in first.” You whisper.

“But I flirted with you first… and I am the one who kissed you.”

You snort, dropping your hands just to give him a big smooch. “You’re adorable.”

“Adorable?”

“Yes. Very adorable.”

Bucky’s hands lower from your hips to your ass without warning, making you rub on his thigh again. And it feels so good. You wonder how long it would take you to come if you started to dry hump for real.

“You’re very adorable, too. And beautiful.” His lips are touching your neck now. Barely. But the sensation of his warm breath and beard on your skin drives you absolutely crazy. You need to fuck him.

You’ve been craving this for so long… you didn’t even realize how much until now. So you can be as excited and impatient as you want.

“Bucky.” You moan his name. “I want you.”

“Hmm?”

You raise your head, desperate for more. “I want you. Now.”

“Wait, are you sure?” He tries to read any sign of discomfort or doubt in your eyes, but he finds none. You really want to do this.

“Positive.”

“Okay, but let me get this out before we do something more. Anytime you have second thoughts or you don’t feel good, please, tell me and I’ll stop. If you don’t want to go all the way in-”

You interrupt him. “You mean sex? Because I’ve just told you how much I want you.”

“I know, but things can change and I’m just making sure you know this.”

He’s serious and thoughtful, reminding you of how he was on set. He always asked if you and the rest of the cast feel okay and tried to adjust based on your level of comfort.

“The director in you jumped.” You giggle, then caress his face again. “I know you, Mr. Barnes, and I trust you. But I really need you to do something because I’m getting impatient.”

He nods, biting his lip, and you can’t refrain from leaning in and biting that lip yourself. Just a little. He moans, relaxing under you, as he realizes you’re honest, so he stops thinking and buries his head in the crook of your neck. Your hands find their way to his shoulders when you feel him starting to leave a trail of little kisses on your skin.

“I need you naked,” he whispers before pulling away so he can already start taking off your T-shirt. You raise your arms to help him and in no time, the air hits your breasts.

Bucky’s eyes immediately go right to your nipples, followed by his hands.

“Fuck.”

“We will, don’t worry.” He laughs, squeezing your left breast enough to make you whimper, but in the next second, he frowns, groaning.

“What’s wrong?” You try not to panic. Is he hurt? Did he change his mind? What’s happening?

“I-I don’t think we can do this tonight, doll.” He sounds frustrated, but you don’t understand. He seems to enjoy this very much. And he’s so hard…

You’re trying to keep your voice under control as you speak. “Did I do anything wrong?”

“No, no.” He pecks you immediately, his gloved hand stroking your hair. “Nothing like that. I just don’t have a condom on me. I didn’t expect…”

You bite your bottom lip, trying not to giggle. Good to know he’s careful, keeping it safe. “I’m clean and on the pill.” It’s worth a try to see if he’d be willing to do it with you.

A big smile spreads over his face. “I’m clean, too, promise.”

“I said I trust you, Mr. Barnes, didn’t I?” Your glance falls on his bulge without realizing it. “So let’s see you in action.”

Of course he snorts at your set semi-joke. And of course you laugh. “Funny.”

“Thanks, now let’s see you naked.” You toy with the edge of his blouse, excited to finally be able to touch his skin. You’ve wanted this for so long… But he’s so tense all of a sudden. And he’s trembling. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you sure you want to see me completely naked?”

“What?” You ask surprised. What kind of question is that? “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“This.” He waves his left hand as if it’s supposed to mean something bad. His metal arm could never scare you. It’s a part of him, and he should not be ashamed he’s a survivor. Then he slowly takes the glove off, waiting for your reaction. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, I can put it back on and I take off only my pants.”

You’ve never wanted to slap anyone more than those people who made him feel like he has to hide and feel ashamed of his arm. It’s absolutely mind-blowing how protective you feel over this man, but you don’t care if it’s crazy.

“Bucky, what the fuck? I want to see all of you. I don’t… I don’t get how this would make me uncomfortable at all,” you say softly, covering his metal hand with yours. It’s colder obviously, but it actually feels really nice.

“It’s my entire arm, doll…” He smiles unsure as he stares at your hands. “You probably know about the accident.”

“A little.” You look him in the eyes, wanting him to see you’re one hundred percent honest about what you’re gonna say. “But unless you feel uncomfortable, don’t worry about me. Or anyone else in general.”

He nods, a little unsure, but he still takes off his blouse, letting it fall on the floor. Your eyes go slowly from his abdomen all the way up to his chest, shoulders, then arm.

“Can I touch it?”

“What?” His voice is low and soft, full of surprise as he’s fidgeting. His metal fingers move exactly like his flesh ones, which makes you wonder how they’ll feel on your skin.

“Can I touch it?” You blurt out. You’re running out of patience… this is how much you want to feel him. And you really hope you’ll manage to make him more comfortable by the end of the night.

“You want to? Of course you can, but you don’t-”

“You’re joking?” You immediately brought your hand to his metal forearm and start stroking, curious. “Oh my god, the gold feels different.” He almost laughs seeing you so giggly. You’re not disgusted or bothered, you’re like a happy kid, and Bucky’s never seen anything more lovely than that expression you have. And he made that happen! “Why are you hiding this beauty, Bucky?”

He shrugs. “I don’t want to make people feel weird.”

“Screw them! What about how you feel?” You don’t even care how loud you are. You’re really upset about this. Why should he hide? Why should he be sorry and care about what strangers feel when they obviously have no decency? You know it’s rich coming from you, a person who’s been worrying about others your whole life, but he deserves more. “Think about what you want! If they are dumb enough not to like it, then they can look away.”

“It’s not just that, many pity me.” He sighs, and you quickly realize that this probably hurts him even more. It would if you were him.

“Well, they should envy you,” you say, making sure you keep eye contact. “Fuck, this is so cool, what else can it do?”

“You want to find out?” Bucky winks at you, moving his metal arm to your hip. The coldness feels so good on your skin that you can’t help yourself but moan.

“Dirty mind!”

“So you don’t?”

You giggle, aware of what he means, but you need something else right now. “Later.”

“Ihm.” He smiles mischievously, bringing his flesh arm to your pants so fast you basically fall with your back on the bed. “You have a point. Now it’s time for something else.” And just like that, you’re sitting naked and wet in your hotel room with Bucky Barnes, waiting for him to finally fuck you.

“Aren’t you gonna take these off?” You whimper, wanting to touch him through his pants, but before your fingers can make contact, you see him getting off the bed. “What?”

And then he kneels. He fucking kneels in front of you as he drags you quickly toward the edge of the bed.

“I’m gonna eat you, is that okay?” He looks feral somehow as he asks, his eyes glowing. “Please.”

You raise a little, shifting your weight on your elbows so you can see him better. He really wants this… you.

“Y-yeah. You can.” Of course, he can.

You moan as soon as you feel his lips on your calf, his beard rubbing on your skin as he leaves kisses all the way up to your thigh.

You close your eyes when his hand finds its way to your entrance.

“May I?”

You nod immediately and shiver when you feel his perfectly curled-up index flesh finger starting to move inside you. He’s trying to explore what you like while continuing to kiss and lick your inner thigh, but it’s torturously slow. And you can’t take it.

“Bucky.” It’s all you say, basically asking him to move a little faster or add another finger.

“You’re so wet.”

“Yes, and I need more. Add another finger.” Your voice is barely a whisper, but he still hears you. Yet, he doesn’t give you what you ask for.

“I like how you smell.” He mumbles as if he’s talking to himself. And maybe he is, you don’t know and you don’t have the time to ask since he takes his finger out, grabs your thighs, spreading your legs so he can fit his shoulders between them, and then puts his mouth directly on your pussy.

Just like that.

“Fuck.” Your hands basically fly to his hair as your hips lift to meet his tongue just as quickly. Not even your body anticipated the change, but it feels so good. His hands go to your ass, trying to stop you from moving, but it’s so hard. He licks so fast that you can’t control your reactions.

“You taste so fucking good.” He lets out a moan against your skin, and you’re not okay. His tongue is absolutely perfect. Especially when he moves it all the way up to your clit. You can’t believe how more comfortable your body actually gets every second he spends touching it. You really want this man.

“Bucky…” You flinch, shocked when you feel his flesh finger back inside you while he starts licking your clit faster. You grab his hair even harder, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Can I die here?” You can barely understand what he says because he speaks without taking his mouth off your clit.

“Faster.”

He moans and starts flickering his tongue in circles quicker than before while adding a second finger inside you. Then a third. And you feel so good you don’t even realize you’re basically suffocating him with your thighs.

“S-sorry.” You manage to say between whimpers, but he is too absorbed in what he’s doing to even hear you. When his fingers hit a new angle, you pull his hair so hard he gasps, yet he doesn’t stop. “Just like that. Just like that.” You repeat frenetically until you finally come with a loud moan. But Bucky doesn’t stop his movements at all, thrusting his fingers even faster as he sucks on your clit until you finish coming.

You open your eyes slowly to watch him kiss his way up to your neck, spending extra time licking your nipples, one by one. His wet beard feels actually good on your sweaty skin.

“I wanna mark you up, pretty girl. I want to… Fuck.” His lips are right below your ear as he speaks, sucking on a small spot. He doesn’t do it hard enough nor does he use his teeth to leave a hickey, but it’s still hot. Very teenager…ish from him.

“I want to fuck, too.” You laugh and you feel his smile.

“You need to sit on my face the next time.”

The next time?

“I’d suffocate you.” You choose to ignore the hole in your stomach when he moves his head back so he can look into your eyes. So blue... “Maybe hover,” you offer, but you’re not sure that’d be safe for him. He needs to breathe. And would there even be a next time?

“I feel offended. You think I can’t handle you?” He sounds offended, too, and honest. “If I can’t, then let me die happily, woman. We don’t do hover, okay?”

You snort at his words, but he seems so serious, you can’t make fun of him now. Especially after he gave you one of the most intense orgasms of your life.

“Okay.”

“Good, now taste yourself.” He grins before leaning in to kiss you. You open your mouth as soon as you feel his tongue licking your bottom lip, then you drop your hands to his ass and squeeze. “Fuck,” he breaks the kiss, all breathless.

“Take them off, Bucky. I need you to fuck me.” You’ve never said these words before, but you don’t feel ashamed at all. It’s hot to be able to voice out your needs and wishes like this.

He nods twice as he gets off you to do what you told him. And in less than a minute, he’s standing naked and very hard, staring at you.

“You can tell me to stop anytime,” he reminds you as he gets back in bed.

“You look so hot. Especially with your hair all messed up.”

“Thank you.” He grabs a pillow that he places under your head before positioning himself between your already spread legs. “You’re ready for me, doll?”

“What do you think?”

“I think I’m gonna make sure you’ll use that mouth for other things than mocking.”

You feel him at your entrance and fight the need to close your eyes just so you can stare at him. “For example?”

“Moaning, begging… crying out my name.” He doesn’t give you the chance to answer with a challenging remark because he’s sliding inside you. And he’s so… thick.

“Easy,” you whisper, shocked by how full you started to feel and he’s barely even halfway through. But he doesn’t seem to hear you as he thrusts even more way too quickly. “James, I said easy.”

He groans when he feels your arms wrapping around his neck and kisses your nose. “Sorry, baby. I didn’t realize.”

Baby? Fuck me… Don’t freak out!

“It’s okay.”

“I’m gonna be gentle.” He promises you, lowering his lips to yours.

“I’m not made of glass, you know? And you can start moving.” You raise your head to look at him, but he lowers his at the same time, and you end up hitting your foreheads so hard, you see stars.

“Ah.” He groans in pain.

“Is your head made of metal too?”

Bucky’s laugh is so cute and contagious that you also start laughing. But then you lift your hips, trying to create some friction and he freezes.

“You feel so fucking good.”

“Then move!” You complain and before you can do something about it again, his grip on your hips stops you.

“How do you want it?” A normal question since you’ve never done this together before, but it frustrates you.

“Just fucking move, James.” You’re close to crying at this point. This man is finally inside you and he’s holding back. “Fucking move!”

“Fuck, say that again.” He tilts his head back as he asks.

“Make me.” And then he finally gives you what you want and starts moving back and forth, trying to see what makes you moan the most. Long strokes. Deep short strokes. Fast. Slow. And you love them all in different ways because he’s really good at it. Like really good.

“James, please…” You grab him by the chin with one hand so you can kiss him properly, but also to try keeping your voice a little down for a bit. You didn’t know you can be this loud, and you’re a little embarrassed. But he seems to enjoy that way too much.

“Come on, doll, talk to me. Please... go on.” You feel his teeth on the skin of your neck while he keeps moving his hips faster and faster every time.

“Bucky.”

He sucks on the same spot, and this time, there’s no way he’s not gonna leave a hickey. But you don’t care. Not even a little.

“Yes?”

“James, please.” You close your eyes, your moans louder than before, and Bucky realizes you’re so close again.

“What do you want, sweetheart? Tell me and it's yours.”

Holy fuck, that mouth will be the death of you.

But can you tell him? You don’t want to push him too far. “I d-don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Try me.”

“P-please, just... let's just focus on this.” You trace his back with your right hand, trying to distract him.

“Only if you tell me.”

You sigh, knowing he won’t let it go, so your fingers slide down between your bodies. You can touch your clit yourself, no need to ask him to do it. But before you can reach it, he stops your hand with his.

“Hands in my hair, doll. I can do this for you.” His voice is so hoarse and gentle, opposite to his thrusts.

“Use your other hand, Bucky,” you manage to breathe out, shocking him.

“What?”

“Please. I want- fuck, please, James, I want to come… Metal fingers, please.”

He doesn’t ask twice, thanks God, giving you exactly what you crave. And you welcome his cold touch by arching your back in pleasure and kissing his shoulder.

“I f-feel you everywhere.”

“You do? You like the way I fill you?” He barely finds the power to ask. He thrusts so fast that he’s breathless.

“Oh, fuck. Yes. Yes, Bucky, it feels so good.” The pace of his fingers is quicker too, and it’s like something electrocuted you when he lightly pinches your clit. “Bucky, don’t stop. Please, I’m coming. I’m coming...”

You don’t even realize what’s happening to you when the orgasm hits you. You’re crying and basically screaming at this point, and not even biting into his shoulder can keep your voice down. All you can feel is pleasure. So much pleasure everywhere… It’s blinding. How is it possible?

“What a good girl you are… coming all over my cock, asking nicely for my fingers.”

You can barely breathe when you come back to him. When you can open your eyes and watch him so close, too. When you can grab his ass and make him move faster.

“Come for me.” Your other hand caresses his face: forehead, cheek, beard, lips. “James.” You moan when his head lowers until his mouth can wrap around one of your nipples. And that sound is enough for him to finally let it go. You don’t expect him to be this loud, though, and you smile like a fool, stroking his hair patiently.

You’ve never had someone coming inside you before, truth be told. You had bareback sex once or twice with your first boyfriend, but he always pulled out, so this sensation is new.

“Wow.” He opens his eyes to look at you.

“Wow,” you repeat as he pulls out slowly, but it still makes you hiss. You’re still full of his come… You’re supposed to go shower or at least clean yourself with a towel, right? Maybe you can wait for a little.

But then you feel his cold hand back at your entrance all of a sudden, and two fingers slide inside.

What is he doing?

He surprises you even more as he places the metal fingers covered in come on your lips, but you open your mouth without hesitation. Bucky smiles, which warms your heart before you start sucking on his fingers properly.

After a few seconds, satisfied, Bucky takes them out and immediately moves his hand down, between your bodies.

“You're such a good girl when you want, doll.” Then he kisses you fervently, almost falling on top of you. “Eating my come… tasting us.”

“I don’t even know what to say.”

“Speechless. Even better.” His grin is wide and playful, lighting up his face. He pecks you one more time before leaving the bed. “I’ll be right back.”

You watch him as he walks to the bathroom, and he clearly has the hottest ass you’ve ever seen. And you got to touch it.

You wonder if he wants to leave right after or maybe… You sigh.

As much as you’d want more of this, of him in general, you’re not gonna push him. Even if that was all, it was good. He’s a very thoughtful and skilled man. A perfect combination with that face.

“How are you feeling?” He’s coming back, all freshen up, with a semi-wet towel in his hand, and before you can answer, he’s spreading your legs carefully, then starts cleaning you. “Sore?”

“A little,” you whisper, surprised by his gesture, and he lifts his head.

“Going shy on me, doll?”

“You didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to.” He interrupts you with a smile, taking the towel away. “Maybe next time I can clean you up differently.” And he winks.

Next time…

“What do you mean?”

He comes back, slipping into bed next to you, and licks his lips. “What do you think? Gonna let me?”

Does he mean licking? “How?”

“With my tongue, of course.”

You bite your lip not to moan at the image he’s just planted in your mind. He’s driving you crazy just like that.

“Why not? It sounds so hot. But when’s ‘next time’?”

“Whenever you want.” He smiles, his hair draping all over the pillow as he turns to the side to look at you.

You blush. “I didn’t expect it.”

“What? Me making you come like that or wanting more with you?” He pauses. “I am older than you. A bit more than a decade… But I want to remind you it’s totally okay not to desire more than sex or this. You can always tell me to fuck off.”

You immediately frown. “You’re not a creep, Bucky, we’ve already established that. The age gap is irrelevant in your case since you’re a good man with a healthy mindset, who doesn’t constantly go for younger women.”

His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “To be honest, I’ve never dated anyone more than four years younger than me.”

You peck him on his red nose. “That’s what I mean. And I trust you. I’m willing to take this shot because I think it’s worth it. The press talks anyway. Whatever it will be, it will be.”

“I think it’s worth it too, doll.” You feel his lips on your forehead. “Very much. Now let's go to sleep, it’s so late.”

“Good night.” You cover both of you with the sheet.

“Good night.”

2K notes · View notes

mayajadewrites · 6 months ago

Text

could've been you: aizawa x fem!reader x hawks

summary: You're the new teacher at UA with a rocky past with one of their beloved teachers, Shouta Aizawa aka Eraserhead. You'd rather never see him again but alas, such is life. You also meet Keigo, aka Hawks, who is the opposite of Aizawa. Smiley, golden retriever energy. Nothing could go wrong... right? relationships: aizawa x fem!reader, hawks x fem!reader warnings: some chapters will be NSFW, they will have a warning on them in bold. not many descriptions of reader, other than she's midsize.

ao3

TAG LIST:

@come-away-with-me87, @kxshdoll, @evilsanzu, @friendly-neighborhood-turtle, @lili-pond,

@the-unhinged-raccoon @falling4fandoms

CHAPTER SEVEN

this is a super smutty chapter and i'm not sorry

Your fingers grazed the petals of the roses that Keigo got you. You placed the vase in the middle of your dining table and they were undoubtably the center of attention.

Keigo is a rose. Stunning, adored by most people, and gives whoever receives them an immense sense of adornment.

Shouta is an Azalea. Specifically purple Azaleas. They need more shade in order to flourish, but they are absolute stunning once in full bloom. Azaleas also never receive a quarter of the love and recognition that roses do.

You pour yourself a glass of white wine after your first day as a teacher at UA. You're now in a cream colored lounge set consisting of pants that hug your curves and a tank to.

As you swirl your glass you glance at your phone. You're not sure why you're hoping to see Aizawa's name - he doesn't have your number and you refused to give it to him.

Keigo's name flashed on the screen. You slid the arrow to the right to answer the FaceTime call.

"Hi." You smile as you answer the phone. Keigo is in the air, you can tell by his dark red wings moving through the air.

"Tell me all about your first day!" He smiled into his phone. His yellow goggles moved with his cheeks.

"You're too cute. Well, it was good! Then I got a gorgeous bouquet of flowers from a man that just so happens to fly."

"He sounds like a keeper." Keigo flashed his teeth. Your heart rate increased when he said that. You didn't know if you wanted him to be your boyfriend. You didn't know if you wanted a boyfriend period.

Did you want to have this conversation now?

No.

So you don't.

"How's patrol going?" You changed the subject. Keigo's lips slightly lowered as his smile faded. Not too much, but noticable enough.

"It's going pretty well. League of Villains seem to be in hiding. Which worries me."

"Well at least it's quiet for now." You sigh thinking about Shigaraki. How much pain he was feeling, that in turn you had to feel but only temporarily.

"Please get home safe, Kei." You pressed your chin into your palm as you leaned on the counter. Keigo smiled at the screen - his honey coated eyes shining under the moonlight.

"I miss you." Keigo said softly.

"I miss you too. Come over on Friday and you can sleepover since it's not a school night." This makes Keigo smile form ear to ear.

"It's a date." He takes flight and you notice the screen moving slightly.

"Keigo please hang up if you're gonna fly while on FaceTime, I feel like I'm gonna be sick." You giggle.

"Sorry, I fly when I get excited." He stops moving, presumably leanding on the ground. "Have a good night baby bird."

"You too Kei. Be safe, please." You press the red button on your screen to hang up, leaving your phone on the counter.

One glass of wine turns into two. Two turns into three.

Three turns into knocking on Shouta's door.

Your body felt fuzzy. You could control your actions (mostly) but you felt more... free.

So why wouldn't you knock on Shouta's door at 11 PM?

You pressed your knuckles to the door and knocked semi-quietly.

"Eraserrrrrr." You sing as you plant your hands on your hips.

You hear footsteps and then suddenly the door is open.

Shouta is standing in front of you wearing a black t-shirt, sweatpants and slippers.

"Why are you knocking on my door at 11 PM? No boyfriend tonight?"

"I don't have a boyfriend silly." You look past his shoulder into his room. "I've never seen your room so I wanted to see it!"

"At 11 o'clock at night?"

"Yes. Why do you keep mentioning the time?"

Aizawa stared at you for a few moments, analyzing your face. "You're drunk?"

"I've had 1... 2... 3 glasses of wine!" You held up three fingers in front of his face.

Aizawa grabbed the hand you were holding up and pulled you into his room.

It's spotless, but very dark. He has one light in the corner that's on next to a comfy looking chair and a book. His kitchen is the same as yours, just decorated different.

"You're so clean." You press a finger to his counter.

"Did you think I would be dirty?"

You shook your head and plopped on his couch. "No. I don't know what I was expecting." You shrug your shoulders. Shouta sat next to you and placed a glass of water on his coffee table.

Your eyes wandered to his chest, his muscles filling out his shirt perfectly. His biceps peeked out of the sleeves, something you didn't know turned you on.

But the wetness in between your legs would say different.

His hair was in the low ponytail that it was this morning that made you cross your legs. You must've looked like you were squirming.

"Are you okay?" Aizawa leaned back on the couch and extended his arm behind you. You bit your bottom lip at his movements, unable to hold it in any longer.

"I want you to touch me." You blurt out. Aizawa stared at you through his lidded eyes.

After a few silent moments, he spoke.

"Show me where." He moved his body closer to you, your hips touching. You grab his large, heavy hand and bring it to your body.

"Here." You pressed his index and middle finger to your lips. "Here." You moved his hand to your chest, goosebumps growing along the skin of your tits. "Here." You slowly brought his hand to your aching, wet core. His fingers grazed your clothed heat gently, causing a moan to escape your lips.

"I haven't even truly touched you and I have you moaning already. How long have you been thinking about this?" Shouta's body covered yours as he brought the hand that you were using to show him where you wanted to be touched, to your cheek. His other arm is still laying behind you on the couch.

"I've thought about it a lot."

Why were you admitting this.

You could smell the mint of his toothpaste as he leaned in to rub his nose on yours, something you take note of. He did this before. He loves to kiss with his nose first. It's cute.

"Have you thought about it?" You tilt your head to the side and wrap your arms around his neck, letting your fingers drag through his hair.

"Only every day. Hourly, probably." He whispered and kissed your lips slowly. You take no time to deepen the kiss, opening your mouth to let his tongue in.

You're needy and he knows it. You felt his lips form into a smirk as he slid his tongue into your mouth, one hand in your hair, the other gripping your hip tightly.

You drag one of your hands down his chest to his lap where you feel his erection pressing against his sweatpants. You smile into the kiss with satisfaction, knowing you caused Shouta Aizawa to get hard.

"You're not touching that tonight." He whispers and moves your hand to his chest as he brings his mouth to your neck, leaving sloppy kisses and bites. In your drunk state, you're not thinking about the bruises he will leave behind.

"Why nottttttt." You whine as he bites down on your skin, rougher this time.

"I want you to be sober when you see it. So you remember." His words are hot against your skin as his large hand grazes your clothed core. You whimper with need, knowing your panties are soaked at this point just from kissing him.

"I need something, Shouta." You throw your head back when you feel his tongue drag along your neck to your chest, leaving bites along the front of both of your tits. He looked up at you for approval to take your shirt off, to which you nodded.

Your touches are turning desperate. You're about to come and he has barely touched you. You feverishly pulled him into you, dragging your fingernails along his back.

Aizawa pulled your shirt down, your tits bouncing out of them. He needs two hands for these, maybe three, but he's not complaining.

He left hot kisses along your right breast before he took your sensitive nub in his mouth, sucking and biting as he kneaded your other breast. Your cheeks were red from arousal as he kissed down your soft stomach to the top of your pants. He kissed your cloth core with a smirk on his face.

"You are such an ass." You squirm as he moves to his knees on the floor. Your thick thighs encase his head as he uses one hand to spread your legs apart, pulling your pants down to your ankles.

Aizawa sees your black laced panties and runs his fingers over the fabric. "These are pretty. Too bad they're about to be ruined." He pulled the side of your panties and watched them break with ease.

The sound of your panties breaking sobered you up just a little.

"Hey! These were my favorites." You whined as you looked down at him. He looked like an angel between your legs, his tired eyes gazing up at you as he planted one of his hands on your thigh.

"I'll buy you more." He mumbled as his nose grazed your entrance. You moaned quietly as you felt his tongue slide past your folds. His other hand kneaded your breast with his calloused fingertips.

Aizawa dragged his tongue down your slit, letting all of your juices fill his tastebuds. You place your hand on top of his head as he devours you.

This man is starved.

He turns his attention to your clit, wrapping his lips around the sensitive nub. Your breath hitches as his lips attach to your clit, while he inserts two of his long, thick digits into your aching pussy.

"Shouta," You moan as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you.

"You taste so good, baby." He mumbles as he laps up your juices. You watch his lidded eyes find yours as he continues to destroy your pussy with his tongue. His stubble tickled your thighs as he buried himself into you using his tongue.

You feel the knot in your stomach about to break as you buck your hips into his face. "Shouta, fuck, I'm about to come."

"Not yet." His words vibrate against your body.

"The fuck you mean not yet? I can't control-" His thrusts his fingers into you, curling them once they're burried in your pussy. "Aizawa, please." You whine.

He ignored you, his mouth sucking on your clit and his fingers pumping in and out of you. "I know you can do it, Princess. Don't come until I say so."

You felt the knot in your stomach grow tighter as you heard the squelches of his tongue against your clit. Your hand gripped his raven hair, pulling it gently as pleasure ripped through your body. You bit down on your bottom lip, hoping it was enough to stop you from coming.

"See you are a good listener." He smirked against your pussy. "Tell me what you want, baby."

"I want to come. Shouta, I want to come." You moaned as your toes curled. You were so close. "Please."

"Go." Was all Aizawa said before you had the most mind blowing, body changing, rippling orgasm. The knot in your stomach finally broke. You were seeing every color in the rainbow. This was euphoria.

Aizawa lapped up your juices as your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave. He sucked on your sensitive, overstimulated clit, sure to drink up all you had.

His hands gripped your thick, plush thighs as you he took his last slurp of your sex. His nails dug into your skin when he finally removed himself from your pussy, his face lathered in your arousal.

He wasted no time bringing his lips to yours.

"Taste yourself." He mumbled against your mouth as he slid his tongue inside of yours. "I could live between your legs and never get hungry."

Your mouth was greedy with his kisses, drunk off of not only wine but also his mouth.

Reluctantly, Aizawa pulls away from you slowly. His cheeks are a shade of red that matches his bloodshot eyes. You whimper at the loss of his touch, knowing that this was ending.

"Goodnight Princess." He kissed your forehead gently before standing up. You sat on his couch for a moment, your pussy devoured to the bone, your body bruised from love bites, and your mind was a mess.

"Night." You pull your top and pants up, and you leave.

Without another word.

#aizawa x reader #aizawa #eraserhead #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa x reader #bnha shouta aizawa #mha hawks #keigo takami #mha takami keigo #keigo x reader #hawks x reader #mha fanfiction #mha fanfic #aizawa smut #shouta aizawa smut #shouta aizawa #aizawa fanfiction #aizawa mha #could've been you

199 notes · View notes

moraxsthrone · 2 years ago

Text

✧:･.☽ ･ﾟ TITLE — something precious in return

✧:･.☽ ･ﾟ PAIRING — d. ragnvindr x f!reader

✧:･.☽ ･ﾟ WC — 5.7k

✧:･.☽ ･ﾟ WARNINGS/NOTES — nsfw. mdni. virgin!diluc. virgin!reader. mutual pining. childhood friends to lovers. light angst to comfort to smut to fluff. outdoor sex at night. flashbacks in italics. SLOW BURN, just how diluc likes it. from his very first time, he's always been such a naturally passionate lover.

here on your stargazing hill, the night breeze is colder than you had anticipated when you opted to bring the thin blanket upon which you presently sit. you’d worn long sleeves, but hadn’t accounted for how much cooler the air would feel against your face once the tears began to flow.

normally you’d be at angel’s share right about now, sitting at the bar and shooting the shit with your best friend while he works. but under the current circumstances, diluc’s presence would only serve to drive the knife deeper: a cruel reminder of the love you could have had if only he returned your affection. then perhaps you wouldn’t be sitting here all alone, holding the broken shards of your heart in your hands because you never even would’ve looked twice at the other guy. instead, now it’s doubly broken - first by the guy who just broke up with you, then by the knowledge that the one you really want - your first choice - would always be just out of reach. you almost resent diluc because he has no idea that every time he smiles at you, your heart skips a beat even as it bleeds for him.

you shiver and pull your knees in close to your chest, arms hugging your legs as you look out at the stars.

“you’ll catch your death sitting out here like this.”

you squeak and nearly jump out of your skin before putting your hand over your heart and breathing a sigh of relief.

“you scared the shit out of me, luc!” you chide as he snickers and drapes his coat over your shoulders. you playfully slap his arm as he sits down beside you. “it’s not funny! don’t sneak up on me like that!”

you quickly wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand, turning his smile upside down as his eyebrows knit. you were hoping he wouldn’t notice you’d been crying, but it’s diluc. he notices things. especially when it comes to you.

“what’s wrong, y/n?”

his body heat feels nice, his warmth enveloping you as you pull his coat tighter around yourself. “shouldn’t you be at the tavern?” you scoff, wishing he would just go away but scooting over to give him more room in spite of yourself. this would all be so much easier if he didn’t care about you so much.

“not when my friend doesn’t show up there on a friday night.” a new hairline crack snakes through your heart at the word ‘friend’. “i haven’t seen hair nor hide of you all week. now, talk to me. why are you crying? do i need to go kick someone’s ass?”

you fight the smile that threatens to betray you, and he notices…of course.

“i feel passed over, luc,” you mutter, looking down at your hands, “like i’ll only ever be second best. i want to be someone’s first choice, every time. forever, not just for a few months.”

your words tug at his heart. if you only knew. “so would it be safe to assume things didn’t work out between you and what’s-his-name?”

you chuckle. even though you dated “what’s-his-name” for almost a year, diluc has always “forgotten” his name no matter how many times you’ve reminded him. clearly he's never thought much of the guy. and for good reason, it turns out.

“seeing as how he dumped me for another girl, your assumption would be safe indeed,” you answer, choking on your last word as fresh tears begin to well up.

“hey now,” diluc says softly, pulling you in, “come here.”

leaning into him, you lay your head against his chest where his voice sounds so much closer, deeper. balling his shirt in your fist, you tuck your head under his chin just like you’ve done since you were both little, and you cry.

outside of family, diluc has always been your most reliable source of comfort. generally speaking, he’s never really been the most affectionate person. but when it comes to you he’s made a lot of exceptions. since his father died last year, not many people get to see diluc’s smile or hear his laugh, but you do. the two of you have pretty much been inseparable since you were 7 and he was 8.

you'd gotten stuck in a tree after climbing it, too scared to climb back down. you sat there and cried for about half an hour when another little girl with long, bright red hair and pretty, big carmine eyes came along and helped you down. you had a couple of scrapes on your knees and elbows and were too shaken up to walk home. so your new friend carried you on her back.

you’ll never forget the way her thick hair tickled your face and made you giggle every time there was a breeze. it was only when you got back home and introduced your new friend to your mom as “she” that diluc’s face turned a shade that rivaled the color of his hair and he said, a little indignantly you might add, “he! i’m a boy!”

to this day you still tease him about what a pretty girl he could pass for, albeit one with a very deep voice. he does not find it funny.

however, at the present moment, neither of you are laughing. with his strong arms wrapped around you, you hear his heartbeat quicken.

“i happen to have it on good authority that you are someone’s first choice.”

“you do? i am?” you sniff and look up at him, your watery eyes following the strong line of his jaw as he trains his gaze on the starry canopy above.

his affirmative hum vibrates against your ear, which is still pressed to his chest. why is his heart beating so fast?

with your curiosity piqued, you lift your head. “who?”

“not telling.”

“how mature.”

a breathy laugh escapes his scrunched-up nose as he looks down at you again. “shut up.”

“c’mon, luc, at least give me a hint! is it someone i know?”

“yes.”

“really?” diluc’s hold on you loosens when you straighten up again. “is it someone i know from the tavern or the winery?”

“both.”

that doesn’t narrow it down much. “is it a guy or a girl?” you press.

“definitely a guy,” he says pointedly.

“what color is his hair?”

“i’ll only answer yes or no questions…”

“why can’t you just tell me?”

“because i’m not so sure he wants you to know.”

you scoff. “that’s stupid. why wouldn’t he want me to know?”

“maybe he’s afraid you won’t want to be friends with him anym-” shit, he thinks, too far. the brief flash of panic in his eyes isn’t lost on you. “in any case,” he says, clearing his throat, “you’re nursing a broken heart so it’s too soon to-”

“diluc,” you interrupt him. “is it you?”

he scoffs, eyebrows knitting. “pfssh…no!” he instantly turns away from you lest you see the blush that he can feel rushing to his face.

“aww, luc! you’re blushing!” you tease, leaning around him to try and see his face. you believed him when he said it’s not him (thinking otherwise would’ve been wishful indeed), but tormenting him a little because of how cute it is that he gets so easily flustered. giggling, you bring a hand to his jaw in an effort to turn his face towards you again. “you’re totally blushing, i can see how red your face-“

before you can finish your taunt, your senses are suddenly filled with diluc ragnvindr. his bottom lip is pressed between yours as he kisses you, the scent of wine-stained oak barrels filling your nostrils. you’re so stunned that you forget to kiss him back and he pulls away, unable to make eye contact.

“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, moving to get up and leave to avoid making things any worse, but you grab his hand. he stops, but doesn’t turn around. he’s still too embarrassed to face you.

“how long?” your voice is soft, almost a whisper, afraid if you speak too loudly you’ll wake up to find this has all been a dream.

“since that night in the water…”

archons, that long? you were barely teenagers that summer.

you’d snuck out of your respective homes to go night swimming. you met at the beach south of dawn winery, near the waterfall, before removing all but your swimwear that you’d each worn under your clothes.

you both stood on one of the boulders and agreed to jump in on the count of three, but when the moment of truth came you chickened out, letting diluc jump in by himself. when he surfaced you were still standing on the rock, looking down and laughing at him. he swam to the shore and by the time you realized what he was doing, it was too late. he was coming right for you but the only escape was jumping into the water.

you put your hands out, still giggling. “n-no! diluc, no don’t do it!”

a dark grin spread across his face as he grabbed your bare waist. you screamed as he tossed you into the water before jumping in behind you.

you surfaced and as soon as you could touch the bottom you pushed your wet hair out of your face and turned towards the laughing boy. you called him a few choice names while splashing water towards his face, but he just ended up tackling you. you’re still not sure how it happened, but you found yourself in waist-deep water, still laughing with diluc’s hands perched on your hips to steady you when he suddenly leaned down and kissed you.

the feeling of lips - his lips - pressed against your own made you feel like you were floating even as your toes curled into the sediment beneath them. you were both inexperienced, neither of you having kissed anyone before. it only lasted a few seconds, but to the two of you it felt like forever, each rapid beat of your hearts lasting lifetimes. but when you placed your palm flat against his bare chest, diluc pulled away and trudged out of the water.

you watched him, confused and still in shock by what just happened. with his back turned to you, he started getting dressed.

you were still anchored in the water, suddenly feeling cold. “luc?”

he balled his hair into his fists to wring the excess water out before looking back at you, but only with a glance. “i uh- i have to go.”

“diluc, what-”

“just…get dressed and let’s go.” he sounded angry. “i’m not leaving you out here alone. it's too dangerous.”

you frowned, hugging yourself as you walked out of the water. your head was swimming, reeling as you slowly made your way towards your own pile of clothes.

he walked you home that night and neither of you have spoken a word of it since.

until now.

“i thought you hated it,” you say, collecting the excess length of his coat sleeves in your fidgeting hands.

“i didn’t hate it!” he corrects you a little too quickly, then lowers his voice. “i…i liked it.”

“then why the hell did you act so weird about it and want to leave?”

he averts his eyes, but doesn’t say anything.

“diluc, why?” you plead, new tears - different tears - pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“i…” he knows the question has been burning at the back of your mind for years. an explanation is long overdue. he lowers his gaze from the stars overhead and mumbles something that you can’t quite understand.

“i didn’t hear you.”

“i got hard,” he repeats.

“you-” did you just hear him correctly? “you got hard?”

he has mixed feelings about hearing you say those words. it’s embarrassing, but also…it sounds sexy when you say it.

“so you’ve been breaking my heart for the past 5 years because you popped a boner?”

his eyes shift to yours before quickly looking away again. “i’m sorry.”

“you’re sorry?” you ask incredulously. “diluc, do you have any idea how confused i was? that was my first kiss and i’ve always wanted to cherish it, but you robbed me of that! you took something so precious to me and turned it into something shameful! all because your dick got hard?”

“i didn’t want you to see it, or worse, feel it. we- our bodies were so close. i didn’t want you to think i was a creep.” his apologetic eyes meet yours. “i didn’t mean to hurt you.”

you hazard a glance at his lap, but his leg is bent such that it makes it impossible to tell. “are you hard now?” your voice is quieter, conveying genuine curiosity.

his eyes snap to yours. “no!” do you really think a peck on the lips is enough to arouse him? “it was just a quick kiss…tch!”

“don’t act so offended! that’s all it took back then!”

“i was 14 for fuck’s sake!”

thing is though, you want to make him hard again. the thought that you’d had that effect on him back then - with just a simple kiss - sends a pang of desire coursing through your core. you get to your knees and inch closer to his side, diluc’s crimson eyes following your every move. putting your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, you lean in and place the softest kiss on his parted lips.

he doesn’t even feel like he deserves to kiss you again. aren’t you mad at him? why would you reward him with such a sweet gift after what he’d put you through?

you pull back just enough to look at him and whisper, “kiss me, diluc. like you mean it this time.”

he tilts his head, slotting his lips with yours once again as you both close your eyes. your mouths begin to move and diluc’s hand comes to rest on the back of your neck, his warm thumb ghosting over your ear.

your mouths open, breathing each other’s air before slowly sealing your lips together again. you drag your thumbs down the sides of his neck as he cranes it to get closer, kissing you a bit harder. as if reading each other’s desires, the tips of your tongues brush together the next time your lips part and pretty soon they’re swirling in a slow, sensual dance.

diluc’s hands drift down to your waist, pulling you closer to straddle his lap. you settle down, the tiniest of whines leaving your mouth when you feel his semi-hard bulge press into the back of your thigh. your kisses grow increasingly passionate by the second as though trying to make up for lost time.

changing the tilt of his head to deepen the kiss, diluc wraps you into his arms completely. this time, there is no sign of him backing out. his confidence is sexy, his tongue intoxicating. your hands are in his hair where they’ve wanted to be for so long. he grips your back and pulls you flush against him. you roll your hips against him, making him moan in your mouth as you feel his building erection jump against the back of your thigh.

diluc huffs and you find yourself on your back, legs still straddling his hips. your tongues push over and around each other, quickened breaths mixing together when he reaches down momentarily and adjusts himself. in this position his cock is now pressing firmly against your moistening center, making you keenly aware of how close your bodies are, how ready you are for one another.

the sweet, breathy mewl diluc pulls from you when he grinds his clothed erection against your clit goes straight to his dick, making it throb for you in his pants. he ruts again, slowly, willing you to feel him, no longer shy and too far gone to pretend he isn’t aroused. he wants you to know he’s hard for you; needs you to know how badly he’s wanted you and for how long. you have no idea how many times he has whispered your name while lying in his own bed, eyes closed with his hands in his boxers wishing they were yours. more than that, though, he needs you to know how much he cares for you.

diluc ragnvindr has never been a man of many words. but perhaps now, here on this grassy knoll, with your hands in his hair, his lip between your teeth, your hearts pressed together and pounding for one another - diluc can finally show you all the things he’s wanted to say.

one of his hands wanders the length of your waist, gripping your side as he massages his way down to your hip. he squeezes you there, making you sigh and roll your hips up to meet his when his thumb presses into the crease of your leg. you’re both panting into your open-mouthed kiss, lips red and swollen, impatiently trying to get closer and closer as though you can will your clothing out of the way.

but you’re too needy to wait until the fabric barriers can be worn down with time, so you take matters into your own shaky hands and start unbuttoning the collar of diluc’s shirt. with a grunt, he lifts himself up to help things along, quickly removing his shirt before reaching down to help you out of yours. you’re already working your bra off as your eyes traverse the expanse of his naked chest and sculpted abs.

his skin is pale and smooth save for the dips between his muscles and the thin line of red hair beneath his navel. diluc’s fiery mane is draped over his broad shoulders, tickling your chest when he presses his naked torso to yours and recaptures your lips with his. he’s burning up, his blushing skin so very hot to the touch that you almost flinch. his scorching hand massages its way to your breast, squeezing and kneading it gently while he dips down to take the other into the wet heat of his mouth. you gasp, eyes rolling back as you arch your back off the relatively cool lining of his coat, pushing your chest into his touch. your hands are exploring his back, dragging the impressions of your fingertips across his pale skin, digging and pulling at him as if he could get any closer.

blazing a trail of wet kisses along your neck, diluc’s lips find yours once again only to release a quiet moan inside your mouth when your fingers slide inside the front of his pants. he lifts his hips slightly, encouraging your exploration of his body, shivering as your digits thread through his coarse patch of hair before spreading around the wide base of his hard cock. you wrap your fingers around him, sighing at the feeling of his heavy girth in your hand; his hot, velvety skin sliding over the rock hard length of his shaft as you slowly stroke him.

diluc hums, eyes screwing shut as he presses his forehead to yours, mind buzzing at the sensation of your soft hand pumping him. you work your way closer to his tip, pussy clenching at his deep groan when the edge of his glans catches on the opening of your grip. inside his underwear, you can feel the cool slick of his precum against your knuckles as more begins to coat the inside of your fist. diluc swears under his breath, moving his hips more quickly, unable to resist the sheer pleasure of your tight grip around his slippery cockhead.

“mm-y/n,” he whispers, burying his face against your neck. “hhhh shit…”

a few hurried thrusts later, you feel the rhythmic twitching of his cock and with a low, extended groan, diluc covers your hand with his warm release. you slow your pace but keep your fist tight, milking the last of his orgasm from his cock as his hot breaths come hard and fast against your neck.

when he’s fully spent, he jolts out of your grip and huffs out a small laugh, indicating his sensitivity. you slowly pull your hand from his pants, leaving a trail of his cum along his stomach but neither of you care.

“that was really hot,” you muse with a small smile.

nuzzling your ear, he mumbles, “can i touch you?”

your eyes slide closed, sighing. “i really want you to, yes.”

diluc leaves a couple of kisses on the corner of your mouth before raising up onto his knees. his chest rises and falls, still catching his breath as he unfastens your pants. you lift your hips to aid him when he curls his fingers around your waistband and works your bottoms down the curve of your ass and hips before ridding you of them entirely.

you watch as he unbuckles his belt and removes the rest of his own clothing, biting your lip when his half-hard cock bounces out of his cum-stained underwear. he looks down at you, lips parted as his lust-blown vermillion eyes take in every inch of your naked form. feeling vulnerable and self-conscious, you close your legs and fold your arms over your breasts.

“s-stop staring, diluc,” you mutter, looking away with a bashful smile. “you’re embarrassing me.”

you feel his hands on your closed thighs, not pulling them apart but caressing them in an effort to make you feel less uncomfortable.

“i’m sorry, it’s just-” he begins to stumble on his words but presses on, “...the way you’re glowing in the moonlight. you look like a goddess.” he leans down, letting his lips ghost over your skin as he whispers, “please don’t hide yourself; you’re lovely.”

there’s no fighting the smile that spreads across your face at his words. you willingly open your legs and arms, pulling him close for a kiss. propping himself on his forearm, his other hand touches you, roaming your naked body, claiming every peak and valley, conquering you with his hands inch by scorching inch.

he feels you tremble beneath him as the backs of his fingers rake along your inner thigh. you gasp, interrupting your lazy kissing when the pad of diluc’s thumb grazes your clit. he slides his digit down between your folds before returning to your tiny, engorged tip. he repeats the process a few more times, spreading your slick along your pink slit while driving you out of your mind.

he’s dragging the tip of his thumb in little circles over your clit now, swallowing your whines, his full erection returning as you buck your hips for him. with his thumb still on your clit, he presses the tip of his middle finger against your opening, slowly pushing it in a little before withdrawing, back and forth until he’s knuckle deep inside your slippery heat. you’re gripping his biceps, hanging on for dear life while he drinks your moans and sighs, tasting the sounds of your pleasure on his tongue like a fine wine.

“hhhhnn~ luc…”

he moves to your ear as he works a second finger inside you, a pleased hum escaping him when he hears his name, laced with lust and desire, pour from your lips. there’s a deep ache building inside your lower belly that you’ve never felt before. diluc presses deeper inside you, reveling in the sensation of your slick walls clenching around his fingers. it feels like you’re chasing something but you need more. his fingers are providing a delicious stretch, but it’s just not quite enough.

“diluc, please…” you whisper breathlessly, “...put it in.” he raises his head from your collarbone and meets your lust-filled gaze. “need you, luc. want you inside me~”

“you mean…” if you weren’t so drunk on desire, you’d laugh at the almost comical look on his face when he raises his eyebrows. “...my cock?”

you cup his cheeks in your palms and hum affirmatively with a breathy ‘yes’. “i want you…want you to be my first.”

“wait, you’re still…?”

you nod. “i’ve always wanted you to be my first everything.”

his heart blooms, swelling against his ribcage at your confession. with a furrowed brow, he kisses you. “i’ve always wanted the same; you’ll be my first too.” he slowly pulls his fingers out of you and squares his hips with yours, nestling his readied cock between your slick folds. “i’m sorry it took me so long to-”

you bring your fingers to his lips, shushing him. “better late than never,” you tell him with a reassuring smile as you press your lips to his again. your breath stutters when the head of his cock nudges your clit. “claim me, diluc.”

he deepens the kiss with a sigh, his cock leaking to mix with your need, getting slicker with every languid roll of his hips. he reaches between your bodies, his eyes darting to yours, watching for the slightest hint of discomfort or change of mind as he pushes his pink, drooling tip to your opening and begins to push inside you.

you both moan, fingertips curling into one another’s flesh as your tight ring stretches around his thick, virgin cockhead before finally surrendering with a soft pop.

in all his fantasies of this moment, nothing could’ve prepared diluc for the intoxicating texture and heat of your cunt as it spreads around him. “so…” he sucks air between his teeth at your relentless clenching, “...tight.”

meanwhile, you’ve never felt such overwhelming pressure and fullness as his cock invades your virgin pussy. you hold your breath as the young, inexperienced male pushes deeper inside you, digging your nails into the skin of his back. the stretch is too much, too fast.

he halts all movement, crimson eyes widening when he hears the muffled whimper in your throat. “shit. are you okay? does it hurt?”

you wince, trying to soldier through the pain. you’ve heard that if it hurts you have to take deep breaths and try to relax; tensing only makes it worse. “a- a little.”

“maybe we should stop,” he says as he begins to pull out.

“no!” you blurt, hooking your ankles behind diluc’s thighs to impede his withdrawal. “no,” you repeat, more quietly this time, collecting yourself. “just…be still for a moment and i think i’ll be okay.”

“you want me to keep it in?” he’s watching you like a hawk for your reactions. the last thing in the world he wants to do is hurt you.

your eyes slide closed and nod, the pain already starting to give way to a dull, tolerable pressure. diluc waits, holding himself still as he kisses your face, his soft lips grazing your eyelids while he threads his fingers through your hair. your death grip on the flesh of his back subsides as you inwardly remind yourself to breathe. even when you move your hips a little, diluc keeps still, putting your comfort and pleasure ahead of his own feral urges, content to let you guide his pace.

little by little, you work yourself further down his thick length until your clit rubs against the red thatch of hair around his base. the added stimulation sends a surge of pleasure through your core, that new ache returning, making you ready and craving just a little more.

you kiss behind diluc’s jaw, just beneath his ear before murmuring to him, “make love to me, diluc.”

and so, on a cool blanket under the stars and moon, not too far from the vineyard with only the crystalflies to bear witness, you and diluc take something from each other while giving something far more precious in return.

diluc’s hips undulate, rocking back and forth, his butt muscles flexing with each forward thrust. the crimson hair at the base of his dick is shiny with your slick as it rubs your swollen clit. your toes curl, heels digging into his thighs like a jockey spurring on her steed to go faster, faster.

“more- nnhhm- more…”

he’s on his forearms, cradling your back, his hands framing your ears when he opens his eyes to look at you from above. “you sure?”

“please, yes, i need it…” your back arches, eyes closing when you feel your core squeeze him and you’re chasing that unknown something again. “need you to fuck me harder, luc.”

your lover's eyes widen momentarily at your direct, wanton words. he finds it incredibly sexy and briefly wonders how else your mouth might surprise him. he’s pumping his cock into you a little faster now, his hand cradling the back of your neck, the pad of his thumb ghosting along your jawline.

“i need you to tell me if i go too far…”

you nod, and he raises up onto his hands, caging you beneath him to give himself more leverage as he begins to thrust into you faster still. your moans and whimpers travel straight down his spine, urging him to go harder until you can hear the wet claps of skin, sloppy and lewd.

“gods, y/n…” diluc grunts, feeling that familiar coil winding dangerously tight at the base of his spine, searing and ready to snap. “i think i’m going to…” he swears through his moan as his balls tighten.

as new lovers tend to do, he slips out of you unintentionally, his hot seed spurting in long threads over your belly. he’s still rocking his hips, dragging his jerking cock between your folds, smearing his cum along your pussy lips as more of it spills out. he’s sighing, trying so hard to be quiet, but as the last of his sperm dribbles out of his cockhead it catches and slides back inside you. he lets out an open-mouthed groan as your tight heat sucks his sensitive, cum-coated tip back in.

but he doesn’t stop.

his eyes are screwed shut, gritting his teeth to fight the overstim because your warm cunt just feels so damn good, his dick doesn’t soften in the slightest.

you’re keening for him, making his toes curl with how sweet you sound for him, his name passing your lips in broken whimpers. diluc’s inhibitions are almost entirely gone at this point. he’s fucking into you with abandon, sloppy because it’s his first time. threads of his cum connect your bellies, joining you, hot and sticky. traces of it have mixed with your slick, making his thick cock nice and slippery as it drags and pulls at your tightening walls.

that something has been building low, so low in your belly. an ache so dull and so deep, a pressure you’ve never felt before. your squelching walls have been closing in with every delectable tug of diluc’s fat cock.

“ohh…hhnn~diluc?” you keen.

“yeah?” he pants, still thrusting, addicted to the soft, velvety slick of your pussy sucking him in harder.

“h-harder…just a little harder…”

he wants to get on his knees, push your thighs back, and fuck you properly, but this time is special and he would rather stay close to you, even through his haze of wanton lust and unbridled passion. so instead, he bends his knees out beside you, panting with the occasional grunt against the pulsing artery in your neck as he presses hard against your cervix with every pump of his cock.

“gods, y/n,” he whispers, “you feel so…so good.”

he shifts, angling the curve of his cock just right against a spot deep inside you that you didn’t even know existed until now. the last thing you remember is watching the rich boy’s lean abs flexing, sweat dripping down his sides as he humps his slick shaft in and out, in and out, in and out. he drives you right up to a terrible height until you feel...

weightless.

you’re hanging in the air just before the freefall when a sharp heat courses out from your center to the very ends of your nerves at lightspeed. you barely hear yourself cry out for him as your walls convulse and spasm around his length. he watches, wide-eyed as he fucks you through your first orgasm, slow and deep with full, passionate thrusts. the sound of his name falling desperately from your lips, the sounds of all your shared fluids - sweat, slick, cum, tears - they go right to his head as his hips keep right on snapping into yours.

“gonna~ mmnnhh~ make me cum again~” a strangled groan escapes diluc’s open lips.

shame you’ll never get to see just how tightly his little asshole winks while his cock jerks his cum inside your pussy for the very first time, painting your walls creamy white. his thick seed leaks from your tight opening as you continue to glide on his cock from below. you kiss him, his quick breaths catching in his throat as he rides out his orgasm.

your lips graze as you both come down from your respective highs together, noses nudging between lazy kisses. diluc rolls off of you, some of his warm seed oozing out of you when his softening dick slips out. he rests his hand above your hip and pulls you to him until the side of your face is pressed against his warm chest, his heart still thumping at a fast pace. you place tender butterfly kisses against his flushed skin as he presses his lips to the top of your head. you lie there together, basking in the long-desired feeling of being in each other’s arms, two sweaty bodies shimmering in the moonlight as you mindlessly trace your names on the other’s back until diluc feels you shiver.

“come on,” he says, sitting up. “let’s get dressed and go back to my place for a hot bath.”

slipping your shirt on, you hesitate. “but…adelinde and the others…they’ll know.”

zipping his pants before shoving his soiled boxers into his pocket, he says, “they already know. they’ve been hounding me about us for years.”

you look up at him, a wide grin gracing your features. “'us'? really?”

he simply nods with a smirk, holding his coat open as you slip it on again. it’s heavy, but the weight is comforting and familiar, protective like armor. “i think nothing would make them happier.”

you help him fold your blanket before wrapping your arms around his waist. “will you carry me on your back?” you ask, standing on your tiptoes to punctuate your request with a kiss.

“of course,” he chuckles softly, kissing you back before turning around and crouching. “hop on.”

with your legs hooked over his arms, he carries you back to the winery. you prop your chin on his shoulder, catching your scent on him and giggling every time his hair tickles your face in the breeze.

✧:･.☽ ･ﾟ diluc m.list

✧:･.☽ ･ﾟ happy birthday to diluc! it's after midnight where i am, but it's still his bday somewhere! please consider reblogging if you enjoyed reading this. thank you, loves! 💋

1K notes · View notes

leviathanleva · 6 months ago

Text

Daisy

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem Reader [DARK FIC]

Description: Cooper Howard was not a kind man, he cared for nobody, but himself. Then he found you, a lost little dove, barefoot and crying, torn dress and big innocent eyes staring at him like he was a hero. He knew you’d be a burden, he knew you couldn’t survive in the wasteland, he was doing you a favor.

But he couldn’t pull the fucking trigger...

........................

[5.7k words]

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Chapter 8 "The Lie"

It’s been a journey.

Parched and starved, you’d been dragging your feet over the desolate wasteland deep into the night. The promise of a guesthouse only a mile or two away keeping your spirits up and your soreness to a minimum. Your head was still fuzzy with the trauma, as expected after taking such a brutal blow.

A pale coat of dust covers your boots, the blood has ceased oozing and now clings to your hair and skin like haunting war paint.

Cooper hadn’t said a peep about what had happened earlier, didn’t complain about you keeping his hand hostage either, just let you soak his glove in sweat while indulging in chain-smoking.

The lights coming from the inn are a beacon in the darkness, they slice through the shadow of the night, beckoning you with whispers of a bed and a full night of sleep. An exasperated sigh leaves you when you finally see it.

It was once a farmhouse. Large three-story mansion built of wood and reinforced by steel sheets only after the apocalypse. There’s a barn to the side, presumably turned into storage, a handful of soil beds from which vegetables are sprouting, a small herd of brahmin lay huddled in a corner, under a flimsy tin roof, sleeping in the remnants of a stable. A large rusty gate hugged by a sturdy fence, electric too once you were close enough to hear the distinct buzz. The generator rumbles behind a locked door in the ground, the basement if your speculations are correct.

It’s a fine establishment by today’s standards, well-known for offering respite for travelers because it was plopped in the middle of nowhere.

Regardless of the newfound relief, your pace stays the same, too achy and drained to rush towards the finish line. It’s a slow and agonizing walk, feels like an eternity, but as you climb the front porch steps you crack a smile. Your hand is promptly released and you take your usual place behind the ghoul, the medical folder still pinched under your armpit and looking like an old pancake.

The rich yellow hues shining through the dirty windows illuminate the creaky wooden boards beneath your shoes, the old benches on either end of the porch, and the large urns hosting a blooming tato plant each. There’s a mud-caked mat at the entrance and you can scarcely make out a “welcome” sign beneath all the grime.

Cooper spares you a glance over his shoulder, heavy-lidded eyes and husky tone indicating he’s just as exhausted as you.

“Don’ wander. No talkin’ t’ strangers.”

“Got it.” you nod, suppress the urge to hold onto his coat, and follow after him through the door.

You’re flooded with cigar smoke and the smell of spirit. Methodical chatter hangs in the air, mixing with the fluent jazz from the jukebox, random paintings are strewn across the walls, hiding the peeling wallpaper, some of the hanging lights are intact, some are missing their glass domes. Simple wooden chairs and circular tables, mostly vacant aside from a few rugged personas stuffed in the darker crooks of the establishment.

You take in everything under lowered lashes and caved-in shoulders.

It’s a cozy place, an oasis nestled along the road, a lovely little safehouse that welcomes any who have the caps.

The bar looks out of place, it’s too new and polished compared to everything else, dark oak shining under the soft glare of the old lightbulbs. A plethora of bottles are on display behind it, most of their labels scratched out or simply missing.

“Where’s Monique?” Cooper rests a palm against the counter and cocks his head to the female ghoul absentmindedly wiping at a glass with a stained rag.

“Holy Moly…”

You’re awestruck at the sight. She’s the second ghoul you’d ever seen and a woman at that. Despite the decomposition, she’s still retained her feminine features, one could even call her exotically beautiful. Donned in a full-body apron, a turquoise polo peaks under it; her eyes are sunken but lively, however the veiny red sclera makes you cringe. It just looks damn painful.

“Nice to see you too, Cooper.” she barks a laugh, her voice – distorted by radiation, but still cheery and friendly. “She went to bed so I took over. What’ll it be?”

“Got any rooms left?”

You’ve decided to focus on the hand-drawn menu hoisted above the liquor cabinet, scrunching your nose at the radroach skewers and cricket potato stew. There isn’t much that would suit your pallet, especially not the yao guai jerky. What even is a yao guai? Another overgrown bug?

The drinks have more variety than the food, even though most are alcohol. There’s still just plain water, specified as ‘mostly rad free’, then there’s tato and cactus juice. The options aren’t mouth-watering, but the drawings next to the headers are cute, some of them are even colored in.

“Got two, lucky for you.” she pauses then and the friendliness on her gaunt face gives way to confusion. She leans to the side as you step out of Cooper’s shadow to get a better view of the menu, her mouth shrinks out of its prickly smirk. “Oh, hello.” her curiosity quickly blossoms into sweet glee as she stares you down with startling warmth, then tosses the bounty hunter a passing comment. “Made a new friend, I see.”

You stiffen as the realization of her attention on you sinks in. Rolling your eyes to her, you find her beaming and you can’t help but return her welcoming smile with an awkward one. You fix your slouched posture, straighten up because first impressions are important, and give a polite nod.

“Mitzi, good to meet you. And you are?” she’s all giddy grins and wavy hands, finding you as a good treat after a long time of only having gruff wastelanders as customers. And you’re more than happy to humor her, she matches your character perfectly and you feel her filling up your energy levels instantly.

Your lips part as you fully intend to reciprocate her brightened mood.

“I’m – ”

“–An annoyance.” a dismissive scoff, one which has you shoot Cooper a nasty look. He’s indifferent, doesn’t bat an eye at you, instead nudges his chin at the untouched bourbon bottle. “I’ll take that one, room too, don’ care which one.”

Mitzie turns to reach for the bottle and sets it down next to the bounty hunter before sifting through the ledger hidden behind the counter. Keeping the privacy of her customers comes as a nice surprise. She mumbles something soft, supposedly checking the available rooms, then looks up at you.

“Shower or nah?”

“Excus – ” you blurt, then stop and suppress the need to ask for elaboration. “Shower.”

If she was alluding to the possibility of taking a proper bath, you’d cry. After months of rubbing soap into your sweat and using saliva to wash out toothpaste, you felt disgusting. Dirt had accumulated in places you didn’t even know existed and all of this excluded the greasy mess your hair had become. At times, you wanted to crawl out of your skin with how crusty you were.

And the stench was a whole other story you fought valiantly to ignore.

“Gotcha.” she hums and stuffs her hand into a jar before pulling out a large, rusted key and handing it to Cooper. “Master bedroom, second floor to the left.” her baby blues dart back to you. “Just so you know, showers cost extra.”

You hear the disgruntled groan and your expression sours.

Of all the things he dismissed to save up on caps, basic hygiene was one which you fiercely disagreed with. You’d already had this conversation multiple times, him walking around smelling like a dumpster fire with no regard for how that made him look was unacceptable. His clothes needed washing, he needed washing, and you’d scrub him clean if you didn’t know he’d stab you if you so much as tried to bring your soap bar anywhere near him. Both of you were in dire need of a proper bath. You’d work him into the idea, you’d already succeeded once when you were less acquainted.

With a sigh, you blindly pat the side of your backpack in search of the pocket holding your caps.

“How much?”

“Thirty per shower.” she answers simply, then perks up to holler at a behemoth of a man waving her over from the back of the bar. “I’ll be right there!”

“Deal.” you chirp and point at the menu. “And a cup of brahmin bone broth, please and thank you.”

“Right away.” Mitzi graces you with another cheeky smile before rushing past the counter and through a door to the kitchen.

You’re close enough for the smell of roasting meat and herbs to waft into your nose, your stomach twists with hunger and gargles in protest. You clear your throat in embarrassment, the jazz music does a wonderful job of disguising the ugly toon. A clatter of pots comes from behind the kitchen door followed by a meager slur of curses that has you hoping your order wasn’t the cause.

After gathering enough caps, you extend your arm to leave them next to the register. Your attempt is shot down by a sharp slap to the knuckles, you glance up at Cooper and prepare to debate why you should be allowed to wash up and spend the money for it. He snuffs out your bubbling protests with a stern look and a dismissive flick of his wrist.

Mitzi reappears shortly after with a tray in hand.

“Here you are.” she lays down a steaming tin can in front of you and scoots to the register, which is mostly used for decoration. “You want the total or separate tabs?” she scribbles down each of your amounts and lifts her eyes to Cooper.

“Total.” he gruffs out and litters the free space on the bar with scoops of caps fished out from his bandolier.

You have to bite down on your bottom lip to prevent a grin and tuck away your money. He definitely knew how to turn your legs to pudding and tie your tongue into submission. Sadly now that meant you couldn’t complain for at least a week.

“Hundred-fifty. Oh!” the waitress sloppily wraps a rag around your drink and squeezes it in place. “Here. I tend to forget smooth-skins have more delicate hands.” she winks at you and proceeds to gather up the payment, combing through it with a long bony finger and counting. “We’ll get to know each other another time.”

Once she was sure of the amount, Mitzi stuffs it all in the hefty pickle jar labeled ‘earnings’, then sealed it shut and stored it somewhere around her feet. She’s back to polishing shot glasses, gives both of you a ginger smile and nudges her head towards the staircase to the right of the counter.

“Enjoy your stay.”

You take the broth and let your fingers soak in the warmth as you follow behind Cooper with bated breath and a spring to your step.

A bed and a shower, you were being spoiled tonight. The covers and sheets are probably old, the room itself is most likely slowly rotting away and covered in grime and dust, but it’s heaven compared to sleeping on the ground with one eye open due to threats skulking about. The last time you’d managed to get a full night of sleep was back in Tillburry, and just the thought of being undisturbed had you going through a plethora of pleasant jitters.

You give the greasy drink, your dinner, a good sniff while climbing to the second floor.

It’s not an aroma that makes you salivate, but you’ve missed the luxury of warm food and the herbs do well at overpowering the stench of boiled beef. Even under the weak light in the corridor, you can tell it’s fatty enough to keep you sated for a while, it’ll have to do. The can is used as a cup for hot drinks, the broth came from elsewhere, either that or you were scammed into eating dog food judging by the peeling-off sticker of a poodle.

You thump over a long red carpet rolled out on the floor, squint at the hacked cough coming from one of the rooms, and then stop a foot away from the ghoul.

He jams the key in and after a deft click, the door creaks open.

Your refuge for the night isn’t as bad as you’d imagined. The bedding is mostly white minus a few stains, the wallpaper is torn a tad, but intact and it’s all relatively clean, there’s even a few trinkets lying about to bring more life. A wall clock is hung above the curved sofa next to the window, it’s not working but it is a nice touch. There’s a night lamp on one of the nightstands, a wide drawer, an ashtray on the table along with two more chairs in case there were more than two bodies in the room. There’s even a deck of cards next to the crystal alcohol glasses.

You watch Cooper set down the bourbon and slouch against the couch with a long exhale before shrugging off his hat and coat and letting his eyes shut for a moment.

“Darn hell, what a day…”

Safety is painted in his mannerisms, you smile adoringly at him and shut the door behind you.

True to her word, there indeed was a bathroom. You switch the lights on and peek inside. The tiles are cracked or missing, it’s old but clean and there’s a bottle of Rad-X among the diluted shampoo bottles. Lovely!

You hear a ripple and whirl your head to see the ghoul lighting a cigarette. His feet are perched up on the table and crossed, his bandolier thrown over the backrest of the sofa, he takes a long drag and strains to push open the window.

“You know Mitzi?” you ask and shed your backpack with a delighted moan before kneeling to zip it open. With your trusty Vaseline and a tiny vodka bottle in your free hand, you join him on the couch, sitting on the opposite end to give him as much space as possible.

“Hm? Sure I do, met some years ago.” he twists to partially face you and pinches the smoke between his lips before grabbing for the bourbon. “Thought you’d wash up first thing. Changed yer mind?”

You chuckle at that and dab the vodka into your palm before rubbing it between your fingers. It’s a mundane little habit you picked up since you learned vodka specifically was almost pure spirit nowadays. Considering the unthinkable things you touched on the hour, from blood to dirt and worse, and without a sink to wash your hands, you needed this at least before eating.

“I’ll shower later. Wanna take a breather first.” you cradle the broth to your chest and take another good whiff before sighing. “Plus, I’d like to drink this before it goes cold.”

“Hope you know tha’ ain’t all brahmin, Darlin’.”

“Let me stay ignorant, please.” you mumble before taking a long sip.

Cooper cackles but decides not to ruin your dinner. You watch him pour a glass of bourbon for himself, mull, and then pour a second one before setting it next to you.

“Mm?” you give him a crooked look, frown with scrunched eyebrows.

“Heavy broth goes good with booze.” he gestures for you to take the offer with a keen smirk. “ ‘Bout time we pop your cherry anyway.”

“Gosh, don’t call it that!” you hiss through a flustered face, but take the glass and ignore his mocking grin.

The jukebox can still be heard from the main floor, it calms your apprehension and you twirl in your spot to open the window fully, looking to the sky for further comfort. You’re intentionally stalling as you swish the bourbon around, elbows rested on the windowsill and gaze lifted to the cluster of stars. A chilly breeze caresses your bare shoulders and you shudder.

“Thought you’d get bored gawkin’ at nothing by now.” The ghoul spits, watching you like a hawk because he refuses to miss your first time trying alcohol. You wish he wasn’t, it adds unnecessary expectations and you’re unaware of how exactly you’re supposed to react. By the smell alone, you’re guessing it won’t taste pleasant.

“I’ll never get tired of the sky.” you muse out loud with an unreadable expression, then face him briefly. “Has it changed over the years?”

You don’t know how old he is, he’s refused to disclose that with you, but from the subtle hints in the past, it’s been longer than the average person. You wish he’s looser, that he trusts you enough to share more about who he is and where he comes from. He seems to know almost everyone you’ve crossed paths with, could work with any weapon and traversed the wasteland without a compass or map and still know exactly where he’s going.

“ ‘Sides the radstorms, not much.” he rolls his tongue over a mouthful of bourbon, then audibly swallows and scowls. He raises his glass towards you, waiting for you to mimic him. “ ‘Nough stallin’ ya pansy, it ain’t poison. Drink.”

Your nose is already wrinkled at the idea, but you oblige him by lifting the drink to your lips. Holding your breath you take a tiny sip and your skin explodes in goosebumps before the fire registers on your tongue. Your taste buds feel defiled, the foulness makes your eyes pop open and you spit before the urge to gag crawls too high up your throat.

First impression: No.

“Ugh…Ew!” a hand clasps over your mouth, obscuring both disbelief at the fact you’d spat straight against the window and pain at the utter nastiness of the flavor. You take the rag wrapped around your now lukewarm broth and wipe off the evidence with urgency. “How do you like this stuff? It’s awful!”

He’s cracking up a storm on the other end of the sofa, having burst into such an abrupt fit that half his drink was running down his vest. You sneer through a glare, hoping he catches your translucent reflection in the glass and feels at least a drop of remorse for your misfortune.

“Glad to make you laugh.”

He tries to say something, a snippy remark most likely, but his gullet is too dry and nothing comes out when his mouth parts. He washes down the hoarseness with another swig of alcohol and tries again.

“You’re doin’ it all wrong.” he’s all up in your beginner technique, even though you weren’t open to be taught how to become a proper alcoholic. Nasty habit that, but he’s given you no choice. “Gotta let it rest on yer tongue, enjoy the taste ‘n go slow.” he can see you sulking even with your back turned to him, can practically smell the discomfort and annoyance emanating from you.

He tones down the decibels when you refuse to face him. Unlike you, Cooper finds the concept of convincing you that drinking is a fun pastime activity strangely thrilling. That, and he’s a horrid old man who selfishly craves to claim all your first experiences, no matter what they are. It’s a vile desire and he’s aware, but the longer you exist in his presence the further his obsessive protectiveness develops. He chalked it up to you being dumb and defenseless, it was natural to become possessive of you and want to keep you safe.

He’d be caught dead before he let some mangy bastard touch you before him or be present for your first cigarette. And he’d take this revelation to the grave because he was too prideful to admit to his urges. This was for your protection, better him, a person you trusted, than anyone else.

“Come ‘ere.” he takes off his gloves and extends a hand to you, beckoning you in the softest way he can muster. “I’ll teach ya.”

You look back at him and the angry frustration simmers down to mild irritation when you notice he’s reaching for you. Tasting that nightmarish poison again makes you queasy, you don’t want to and you’re fussy, but falter for him once more with the intent of giving it another go and then never again.

He’s paid for your dinner, bed, and shower, it’s only fair to entertain his stupid ideas. That doesn’t mean you’re going to smile through the whole thing though, no, you’ll grimace until the end.

He shifts until his feet are firmly planted on the floor as you round the table.

“One last time.”

“Last time.” he repeats through a haggard breath and as soon as your fingers dip into his open palm he spreads his legs farther apart to accommodate a plan you were blissfully unaware of. “Promise, Sweet pea…”

He coaxes you closer, tugging on your hand until you’re standing between his legs, radiating confusion. Guilt prickles his heart, you don’t deserve to be manipulated into succumbing to his perverse advances. It wasn’t even a good lie. Teaching you how to enjoy bourbon…a load of horse shit, but what were the odds that you’d so pliantly let him desecrate you once the concussion and fatigue didn’t stand in the way of clear thinking?

You were vulnerable now and he was a fiend for taking advantage. He’d deal with the consequences later.

The concentration carving his expression is hidden under the guise of darkness as he gently lures you down until you’re hesitantly sitting on his thigh. An arm coils around your waist to keep you in place, you’re face to face and the ringing in your ears increases, completely deafening the music from downstairs. Blunt fingers melt into your supple flesh, deliberately massaging away the prolonged day. You’d had it rough today, poor little thing, you needed some good kneading.

He’d give it to you. Whatever the hell you wanted, you’d have it.

Rotten man. Defiler.

He shakes the thoughts away and feeds on the sugary lavender hints beneath the sweat clinging to your body.

You’re engulfed in warmth and finally, you can put a name to the ever-present musk he carries around – bourbon and cigarettes; the smell of home. Your hands are resting in your lap, pinching at your dress in a nervous tick as you fight to keep eye contact. Inexplicable tension writhes in the air, it chokes you with sadistic glee.

Cooper’s studying your features as they twist, searching for something specific in the involuntary muscle twitches.

“You don’ like it, you call quits. Got it?” he speaks softly, but with authority, already taking another sip and letting it rest in his mouth.

You’re no less lost than you were two minutes ago, left to wonder what he means because your glass is on the other side of the table. But now he’s mute with alcohol and unable to elaborate verbally so you simply nod in understanding.

“Got it.”

No cheeky smirks or mischief is dancing in his eyes. He’s the most serious you’ve ever seen him, it’s nerve-wracking, you’re left to blindly follow his guidance and you trust him, but anticipation has no boundaries. The bedroom turns stuffy and his once welcomed heat is forming sweat on your forehead and pinching at random nerves throughout your body.

He glides a hand to the back of your neck, holds it with solemn tenderness. You make a pathetic noise when he leans you back until you’re cradled in the safety of his arms without leverage, hovering above the sofa as he watches over you with a mellow look.

“Tha’s it…steady, Pretty girl.”

You’re rigid and hesitant in his embrace, don’t know what to do except give in and let him work you like a puppet. It’s humiliating, you want to be an active participant, give him what he wants without him having to hold your hand, but you can’t. The only soothing thought that comes to mind is that he’s a dominant man, he probably doesn’t mind.

Probably even likes it like this.

“This okay, Sweetheart?”

You barely register he’s asked a question, the gravel in his voice seizes your breath.

“Yeah…Yes?”

The ghoul is languid and gentle when he leans forward, taking his time, but you notice the twitch in his fingers, the hidden urgency behind the façade he’s adopted to not scare you away. But he’s still a rugged man, you can tell by the callouses on his palms and the leathery skin on his face as it rubs against yours.

It’s a peck at first, makes you tingle all over. He barely brushes his chapped lips against yours, testing the waters, and dulling your awareness with patience before he shatters and ruins your innocence. But you’re too enticing for your own good. You don’t startle; cling to his vest instead and shiver with a milky moan and his resolve cracks.

With a ravenous snarl, he squishes you against his chest when you offer no protests and the hands that held you are now clutching. He kisses you with a bruising need, changing into a brutish oaf as his tenderness fades. Your mouth opens in a gasp and he lets the bourbon seep past his teeth and ravage your taste buds. The flavor is the last thing on your mind as he devours you whole, a few droplets escape from the corner of your lips and trail down your jaw until they soak into your hairline. Starved of everything soft and sweet, he gorges and palps, litters you with clumsy bruises because he’s forgotten how to handle someone such as you.

He tilts his head to one side and his tongue glides past your teeth to twirl around yours, forcing you to open wide. His eyes are hidden behind squeezed lids, leaving him purposefully blind to your current expression. He didn’t want to see rejection, didn’t want to know if you were disgusted but too fearful to pull away. All he needed was just one moment of indulgence disguised as him teaching you to drink. Let him feast upon you for a bit and he will never touch you again afterward, he swears it.

It’s just to show you how to enjoy a good glass of alcohol.

But you weren’t stupid, you already knew this was all a charade. It’s agonizing when you wrap your arms around his shoulders and clutch at his back. You’re klutzy in your love, a shaking mess as you try to match his pace, but this is too new and with an absent mind, instinct can only tell you so much. Still, you fill his cavernous maw with high-tuned chirps of affection and you’re so pleased despite the uncertainty, you’re aching for him, you’re just as starved if not more.

Cooper wasn’t prepared for reciprocation, it leaves him boneless and barely holding you both steady.

You let your eyes close as well and guzzle down the remainder of the booze from his mouth. A strained growl reverberates in his throat as he cuts down the urge to buck into you. Too soon, not yet. He’s taken enough from you for one night.

You suck in a breath as your knees turn to jelly. Your thighs are quaking; he presses one hand against them to soothe you and earns a muffled mewl. It’s raw lightning, sparking over your skin and making your clothes feel so damn constricting. You’re clawing at your tights, scratching at his sleeves, turned feral with lust and lilting pleas in his chewed-up ear.

A clash of teeth and jerking tongues, muffled sounds of indulged wants and thinned nerves.

He’s intoxicating, gruff to the bone and you avidly drink in everything he offers.

“Greedy little thing…” he rasps over deep breaths once he’s pulled away enough to take in your possum-like state. “So how’d you like the bourbon?”

A dull ache forms in your core at his sweet derogatory coo. You bite the side of your cheek to stifle the vulgar rattle trying to escape the confines of your heaving chest.

He lifts you into a proper sitting position and readjusts your dress back over your legs because he’s a gentleman tonight.

You’re a mixture of labored inhalations and sputtered words, struggling to descend to normalcy and proper manners. It takes you a moment to find your voice, you speak before thinking, high on a newfound addiction – him and his taste and his smell and everything that had to do with him. The knots in your stomach ease, but you’re still absently fiddling with the straps of his vest while trying to regain composure.

“Can we…” you shrink as his heavy gaze makes your throat tighten, lower your eyes in bashfulness but your insides burn and you need that fire sated. It’s his fault you’re like this, him and his sinful vulgarities. “Can you show me again?”

He croons a laugh and bloats with pride, doesn’t even care to take a shot before he latches onto you again.

“Needy girl…So pretty f’ me.”

You’re the one with the lingering hands now, sigh in relief when he violates your mouth again as if being apart had been torture. Nimble fingers intrude on his spine, slipping beneath the loose collar of his shirt and mapping out the marred flesh like it’s a piece of art. He shudders in your hold, mouths something that gets lost among the vocal sloppiness emitting from your feverish kisses.

You’re too eager at the mixed saliva dribbling down your chin, too delighted when he pauses to lick it off and keep you partly decent as he suffocates on his passion. You cage him between your thighs like it’s only natural, nestle down on him because he’s your new throne and he shoves a hand between your bodies to adjust his straining erection before you find out how desperate he is. You’re too spread and willing, unaware of the debauchery your actions hint towards.

He’s a man gone wild beneath you, boiling and unchained and drinking in your wanton display. A blank canvas for you to paint whatever you wished on as you submit to cravings he’d unraveled. He was a perverse bastard, stole your first kiss and hadn’t even made it proper, but there was nothing right in this world anyway. You returned his advances, you were happy, the rest be damned.

You leave his scalding tongue and nipping teeth to pepper his bony face with butterfly pecks. He’s a silent enjoyer, lets you drown him now that you were unleashed, with a ghost of a smile and lazy blinks, mild and content. Time slips past in a blur until you’re finally satisfied, having pruned and memorized every inch of his face.

You’re studying his features while cupping his jaw when the haze fades and you register just how many lines you’d crossed. His hardness digs into your thigh and you wince because you’d climbed him like a mountain, sat on him like he was just a chair and not someone you held dear. You’d taken advantage of his docile form, oblivious to the fact that this was what he’d hoped for from the start. You’d treated him like a tool to cater to your horniness without ever considering how much strain you’d put on him.

Maybe you weren’t as smart as he’d thought. No, that wasn’t it. You trusted him too much. Took his every word as fact.

Your heart is pounding and the trembling returns with twice the vigor as your serene smile dies.

“Oh my God…Jeez! I’m so sorry. Wait! I– ” you blabber while prying away with clumsy movements. You’re sure you’re about to have a heart attack and die on the spot.

What have you done?!

Why didn’t he stop you? Why did he look so high when you’d forced yourself on him without even asking for his consent? All he’d done was try to ease you into drinking and you’d thrown yourself at him like a…

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t even ask you…Why didn’t you say – Sorry. I’m – ”

“Whoaw there, Cowgirl.” he springs to action, forced out of his delightful trance by the utter horror written in your eyes. He grips you before you manage to stand, coercing you in a bear hug. Opposite to your shaken state, he rounds up your skittishness with honeyed words and caring touches. “Easy now, Sweetness. All’s fine, easy…easy.”

He stuffs you in the crook of his neck as you sputter more apologies, nuzzles his cheek in your hair and coos. You’re inconsolable for a time, badmouthing yourself because you knew no better and it’s heartwrenching because it’s his fault for taking advantage of your trust. He rocks you into silence while chuckling, criminally unapologetic.

“Now if I didn’ want any o‘ this I would’a kicked you off long time ago. ‘S okay, Sweet pea, all’s fine.” he palms himself until you can’t feel the incessant poke anymore, the scowls at his meager self-control. “Damn thing got a mind of i’s own.”

You hum in response, whiney and weak. He snorts at your deflated mood, to think his boner would be the cause of worry is comical. He lets a jab slip to bait you out of the cesspool of self-bludgeoning you’d thrown yourself in. He could be truthful and lay out the entire farce before you, but that came with the change you’d never let him near you again. Cooper isn’t a good man, nor a truthful man and what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you.

“Now quit yer mopin’, you’re ruinin’ m’ shirt.”

It does the trick. You stiffen against him and choke because how dare he.

“Asshole!” you recoil and land a weak fist against his shoulder. “You’re the one always ruining everything. I’m thinking about your comfort and your consent and trying to be nice and all you ever do is mock me. Awful man! You don’t even use the toothbrush I gave you. And you’re horrible company too.”

He’s laughing for the countless time that night, catches your wrist, then your other one, stifling your tantrum. A grin peeks beneath your stern glare, his high spirits are too contagious, and you wrestle against his unweaving hold without much zest.

“Too bad.” he gives you one good jerk and you faceplant into his neck, then rests his chin against the top of your head and you can hear the cocky smirk forming. “Is either me or the wasteland, Darlin’, and the wasteland don’ give no kisses, trust me.”

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Chapter 9 >>>

🌼 Daisy Masterlist 🌼

Masterlist

Tag list: @bountydroid @windierhades @ultimatreality @gruffle1 @v3lv3tf0x

@fallout-girl219 @one-of-thewalkingdead @robin-the-enby @savanahc @whatthefuckkrichard

@rockst4rkitty @lisnamavka @lomlbillieeilish @itsyellow @cloudroomblog

@skykaykay @i-just-like-to-read @landlockedmermaid77 @enaelyork @maeplaysbass

@sgt-barnesveins @alastorsw1f3 @villainofmyownstory

#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #x reader #the ghoul fanfic #fallout fanfic #cooper howard fic #cooper howard #the ghoul fallout #cooper howard fanfiction

202 notes · View notes