#NOBODY EVER TOLD ME! HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW!
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How I'm Looking At You, Part 1
Summary: You were long considered a spinster. Your family was desperate for money, and you were their only option. Sending you to work for a newcomer who was not part of the Amish community was risky, and it brought forth the gossip. Ari didn't seem to care what others thought about him, but he did care what they thought about you. Making your innocent crush and close proximity a bit more...harder. But can you convince him and yourself that the feelings are worth it? But what if it is just a crush? Do you even care anymore? Or are you ready to risk it all and leave the community?
Pairings: Ari Levinson X Reader
Rating: mild
Warnings: gossip, questioning religious teachings, language, sexual tension, 18+ ONLY
Word Count: 4.1K
Series Masterlist
*dividers created by @firefly-graphics
Ari takes a deep breath as he looks around. A whole lot of nothing. Land as far as the eye can see, neighbors weren’t close. He is in over his head. It was a great deal, and it made sense at the time, but now that he has sweat dripping down his face, blisters on his fingers, and more sun on his neck that his mom would deem necessary he realizes this was just a dumb idea.
The outside of the homestead is one thing, but the inside is unkempt and a complete disaster. He didn’t even know where to begin. Overwhelming didn’t even seem a strong enough word to describe the mess he is in. It is getting lonely out here, and the farmhands he hired aren’t helping much on the home or the kind of loneliness he feels. Life out here is different.
“I don’t think you’re gonna make it,” Jacob, one of the more vocal boys that Ari hired. Ari didn’t need anything that this life could bring him. In fact everyone here would probably shit themselves if they knew how much he is worth. Sometimes you just need an escape from the city life. “You look like you’re gonna melt away.”
“I’m thinking,” Ari gruffs out. The outside is fine. It is looking great, and the only reason he is even out here helping is his doctor told him stress was going to kill him. How is this not stressful?
“What’re you thinking about?”
“What do you know about keeping a house?” The young man stares at Ari awkwardly before looking at the other two men confused. They shuffle around nervously, looking down at the tilled land, “Did I say something?”
“I don’t think you understand the roles here,” Ari shrugs his shoulders, and the two boys that he couldn’t be bothered to learn their name since they didn’t talk to him before return back to their work.
“Care to enlighten me?”
“I don’t think what I’m suggesting will happen,” Ari squirts as he looks at the vastness of the land. He’d take any suggestion at this point, or whatever he had to offer.
“I don’t need suggestions, I asked to be enlightened.”
Jacob points to himself, but starts scratching his head after, “We don’t do housework. That’s for the women.”
“So I should find a woman to hire for the house,” the other boys start to chuckle, but remain working. “I think I missed something.”
“It won’t help,” Jacob shrugs his shoulders, as he grabs up his tool.
“Why?”
“If you think you’re going to get a married woman in a single English man’s home, you’re crazy. If you think you’re going to get an unmarried woman in a single English man’s home, you’re insane. Nobody would ever let their wife or their daughter in your home.”
Ari closes his eyes slowly. This way of life is confusing for him. He doesn’t want to tie a woman up in his bed and have his way with her, well — no, he wants help for his home. “Why wouldn’t they?”
“Have you looked at yourself? You’re like a man from the forbidden books. You bring out lustful thoughts in a woman. How are they to remain pure when there’s an English man that embodies everything they’re not supposed to have?”
“I don’t know how to use my stove though,” Jacob shrugs his shoulders. He didn’t see how any man would let a woman in his life ever be in Ari’s home. Especially not alone. “If I were to try, where would one go look for a woman that is unwed and needs a job?” The other boys laugh again, but Jacob points out into the distance.
“There’s only one person I can think of. A family that only had one daughter, no sons. They’re…well, they could use some charity. Their farm is quite small,” Ari hears one of the boys whistle, and chooses to ignore them. “She works at the general store.”
It isn’t the most ideal place to look, but it is the only one for now. What is the worst they could say? No. “You boys got this here?” All three give him a nod, there is so much nodding with everyone here, and he starts walking to his truck. He wasn’t going to go the horse drawn carriage route with transportation. And this isn’t a flashy truck. Old and rusty, and now he had a bit more hope of finding help for the inside of his farm. Maybe.
You can hear the giggles from the front of the general store. It was always about you, and they never tried to hide the way that they giggled and carried on about you. You weren’t supposed to gossip, and yet they always did about you. You were told you were too old to wed, and you weren’t a man and couldn’t help your father on the farm. And you weren’t the most demure because you spoke to everyone, and no matter what you did it was never right. And everyone wanted to point it out.
All you can bear to do is hold your head up high and try not to let the giggles and the random sound of your name off their sinning mouths to not affect you. Unfortunately it did every time, deep into your heart. You didn’t have friends, except the people that come into your store, and it made you long for something besides loneliness.
You wished you would have taken off long ago, but your parents didn’t deserve that. You had dreams of getting married young and having lots of little boys to help your father out. Had told your parents you could do the labor, but they felt you were better suited here. So hear you stay constantly hearing the drone of pious women being anything but that.
It is all politics and a game, and you quite frankly were sick of it. Sick of the constant need to be perfect as a human when it was literally impossible. So instead you pretend as if this is the life that you wanted. Living in a modern world, but acting as if you’re in the past. If anyone knew about your thoughts on wanting to break free, you’d be shunned, and you just couldn’t afford that.
It isn’t too often that you hear a rumble of an old Ford truck nearby, or the slamming of a door, or the fact that the giggling stops, and you see a gaggle of young women start to waddle away from the general store. And you can’t help but think, good riddance. The fact that they wanted to linger here while they whispered and giggled about your life that didn’t interfere with theirs is cruel. You always had to be the peak of perfection, while they were marking off the commandments like it was their job.
Booming footsteps isn’t unusual. What is unusual is the man that walks through the general store door, and you have a combination of looking too long and needing to look away immediately. Your eyes dart to his face, and then the countertop. Studying him and the wood grain in equal amounts.
Noticing the sticky sheen on his skin, and the random droplets of sweat dragging down his neck. Noticing his hair damp with said sweat, and still looking so fluffy. He walks over to a cooler, and pulls out a bottle of soda. Doesn’t bother to pay for it first, just pops the top, and leans his head back. His Adam’s apple moves with every gulp, and you know you look too long because his dark blue eyes shift towards you, and he winks.
Looking down at the counter, heat courses up your neck. Swirling around your ears, and your throat tightens. You need water. Even alcohol at this point. You had stolen a few sips before, and always heard it helps in situations such as these. Something is happening to your body that you just can’t explain, and you can’t even glance at him anymore.
“Ma’am?”
“Mhmm,” your response comes out whispered and pitiful, and you’re still unable to meet his gaze. A sudden urge to sit down, and let your body curl into itself pops up, and you need an exit. Air. Air would be really nice right now.
“I want to pay for the soda, but also a few more. My hired hands would like a treat,” why did the word hands sound so — delicious? Does that even make sense?
“Sure,” your body goes on autopilot as you start to ring him up. Still not daring to look at him. You’d crack, you just know it. You would be a puddle on the floor if you even tried. “Are you new?” How that sentence was even able to come out of your mouth is a mystery. Your throat is so dry and in need of rehydration immediately.
“Yeah. I bought the old Yoder farm, right at the edge of the town,” of course he did. The most coveted of farms, and even that is a sin. Too big of a farm for a single man. Did he mean to convert? Or was it too good of a purchase to not make the investment?
“That’s actually why I’m here. Darling, you think you can look at me?” Oh. Hearing a name usually saved for your parents to use for you, sounds very different from his silky voice. Your eyes shift up to look at him, and he’s even more handsome close up. You shouldn’t be worried about someone’s appearance, but he also should have his buttons done up a bit more. Too much of his gloriously tanned rippling chest is showing. He is all man. And the butterflies that erupt in your stomach makes you recall the gossipers’ talk of you being alone forever.
Those girls would not fare well if the elders knew what they were doing. But seeing this man, and his beard wet with soda, and the heavy feeling in your unseen areas, makes you quickly ask the heaven’s for forgiveness. You didn’t ask for that feeling though, it just happened. Your body is reacting to the way he looks and that close proximity to him.
“Why are you here?”
“I have hired hands for the outside, but the home itself — well it has much left to be desired. I don’t know what I’m doing in an Amish home,” you nod your head, a giddy smirk tickling the edge of your mouth, and he returns the smile. It’s a struggle to continue to look at him with how attractive you find him when he smiles. He’s handsome. Very handsome, “Yeah, I don’t know how to keep an Amish home. So this is very different.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” you didn’t. You didn’t know at all what he was referring to. English people can be so tricky with their words. No need in trying to sway a thought, just be blatantly honest about what you need.
“Well, I hired some boys to take care of the outside. I was needing to hire a woman for the home,” oh. Your sight goes back to the counter, and you shake your head no. “I didn’t even proposition you.”
“Sir, I don’t know if you are aware of our culture, but that would be — no woman should be alone with you,” it is true. It wouldn’t matter if she was married or not, it would be highly frowned upon. He didn’t know what he was asking. But even you being here in this general store, alone with him would be frowned upon. You wondered. “But some of our men are a bit more relaxed than others.”
“Is your husband?”
“I’m not married.”
“So could I hire you? I’d pay double of whatever you’re making here,” tempting. Sinful. And you want it. You wouldn’t have to listen to the gossip of those girls. Gossip would happen, you know it would. But you wouldn’t have to hear it. That sounds lovely. And you could become a ‘fulfilled Amish woman’ because you were keeping up a household. You wouldn’t be a complete failure.
“You’d have to ask my father for permission.”
“Are you not grown?”
Now it’s time for your overly sweet smile. If only he knew how there is a huge part of you that is ready to run away from this life. You are grown, and the fact you are telling another grown human that he had to ask your father for permission is obnoxious. “You truly don’t understand. I will need his permission to be alone in a man’s home. Appeal to his better nature. But yes, I would very much like to be out of here.”
And you want to be around him more. Like a rope that had wrapped around you and was going to jerk you into his thick broad chest. You would very much like that. Maybe a bit too much. You shouldn’t desire and lust after this man, but he is not grown like the boys here.
“So if I talk to your father, and he agrees…”
“What’s your name?”
“Ari Levinson,” my goodness. You need to repent for your body’s misbehavior. But for right now you’re trying not to melt away.
“Yes, Mr. Levinson. I would like to keep your house up.”
“So here’s the kitchen,” you smile kindly as you take everything in. The house is just a bit more grand than most in the area. The land is plentiful. The Yoders’ were a bit more modern, which is why they didn’t do well in this more traditional area.
“And, I really don’t need to explain this all to you, do I?”
“Not particularly,” you answer. Your eyes take in everything. Almost envisioning what a real English home would look like. Peeking into the sitting room, and going back to his really tall and thick stature. Having to look quickly away from him because he is staring too intently at you.
“What time are you wanting me to start working? Are you desiring breakfast?” That was an odd choice of words that you’re using. Desire is something you have been feeling lately, and you don’t fully understand the feelings. Or whatever is happening to your body, you just know that you enjoy looking at him. “Or lunch? Or dinner?”
“All three would be appreciative, but not a requirement,” you give him a head nod, starting to open up cabinets. You cringe. This isn’t how you were taught, but you can’t help it. He was in dire need of assistance, you see. “I apologize, Darling. Maybe I can give you some money, and you furnish the kitchen properly?”
“I would need to.”
“You do whatever you need, Darling. You just tell me what you need me to do,” he keeps using that name with you. You never feel this way when your parents call you that. This weird knot in your stomach that twists and twists, and your breathing isn’t normal. You’re just standing here staring at this man, and that is all.
“Is everything okay? Did I say something? I’m not good at this?”
“No, the um…I’d need to go into town,” shuffling your feet around you try to look at him, and try to ignore the burning in your throat, and between your thighs? What even is this?
“Okay,” that’s all he has to say. And you can’t end it there for several reasons. One of which is because you don’t want him to go. “Darling, you’re going to have to talk to me. I can tell there’s something you need.”
“Town is a few miles away,” he nods. Still not understanding what you’re needing. Did you even understand? “And you need a lot,” he blinks owlishly at you, and you try to swallow a completely dry mouth, “I don’t have a way to get there and bring everything back.”
“Oh, of course. I’m sorry, Darling,” that name again. You almost want to start counting how many times he uses it a day. His hand touches your shoulder as he steps past you to grab his keys, and you inadvertently bite your lip. “Can you ride in the truck? Is that allowed? Do I have to get a horse and buggy?”
“A truck is fine,” your voice is so breathless as you follow him towards the outside. Ready to head towards town, and hopefully to get everything you would need.
“I’ve got to tell the boys I’ll be leaving. You go on, and get in the truck,” walking outside with your eyes focused downward, you walk towards his truck. Trying not to look at the boys from the church, but they are most definitely looking at you.
Staring so intently they don’t notice Ari walking right up to them, and Jacob looks too long for Ari’s comfort, “What’s she doing here?”
“I took your advice. She’ll be keeping the house up.”
“Like a wife?” Jacob removes his hat, continuing to stare at you casually getting in his truck. Your eyes are still downcast, and your unmoving face still looking straight ahead and not at the boys. “So her parents agreed to this, and she’s just getting in your car.”
“I just met her and you’re talking about wives. No, I’m taking her to town to get the things she’ll need here. You boys continue to do the work, and I’ll return,” he nods to each of them, and they all gawk as he walks towards the truck, and you give them one solid glance, and they return to their work. Not making it too obvious that they are looking at you.
Opening the truck door, you watch as his thick body hops in. Looking at his legs, and how thick they look sitting down, and you weave your fingers together. Looking down at your own lap when Ari looks towards you, “You seem uncomfortable.”
“They are watching us, Mr. Levinson.”
“Should you not be in the truck with me? And please, call me Ari.”
“You’ll find out soon enough that for a community that teaches against gossiping, they will truly gossip. Carry on,” getting out of the sight of the farm, you feel comfortable enough to sit up. The gossip will always happen, you just learned to accept that. Continuing to glance at him, and you can’t stop. It’s unexplainable, but you aren’t the only one.
His dark blue orbs find a way to look towards you, and even smirks, “Do you only ever wear the dress and bonnet?”
“Just when I’m awake. Why?”
“Is it comfortable?” Not really. But it could be worse.
“It’s not uncomfortable,” you can’t truly be honest. So you feel.
“I see. But you don’t particularly enjoy it,” at least he understood what you meant. “So the women here, they’re job is to learn to keep a house, and then you marry off and do just that?”
“Yes,” it makes it sound so simple, and you almost want to curse what a quaint life you live. You weren’t given the opportunity to have dreams or want more. The dream was to marry, have kids, have your own home. You even wonder if your desires to marry was because you were told that’s what you did.
“Hmm,” he contemplates, paying attention to the road even though he’s more interested in your thoughts on this topic. You didn’t seem to have the same goals as the other people here.
“It’s not a horrible life.”
“I guess not.”
“It has its perks,” you argue. “It’s beautiful out here. We have the ability to ignore the noise that everyone else surrounds themselves in. I might not have the luxury of having my own dreams, but being a wife and mother, and keeping a house up is an honorable life,” it was, if not boring in ways. You never had the chance to explore something more.
“I didn’t say it wasn’t. But you’re not married. Is there a reason?” You turn to look at him. Actually, look. Had there been a man in the community that looked like him, you might have considered it. This is just silly because now you’re being someone who judges another based on looks. “You don’t have to answer.”
“My father isn’t like most,” you have a good father. Older than most of the ones who had children your age. “I think a part of him didn’t want to see me unhappy. I had a few interested for my hand in marriage, but I didn’t want them, and he didn’t make me Mary them.”
“Why didn’t you want them?”
“It’s easy for men here to get away with their indiscretions. And I don’t want to marry out of duty, or have to bear children with a man I can’t stand to look at. That’s what they all want. Just a wife and her to birth his last name.”
“You mean sex. It’s what most men want.”
“Sex?” You look at him confused, shaking your head, “No, I mean children. Extending your legacy,” Ari chuckles, giving you a devious smile, and your chest constricts. “What?”
“Do you know what sex is?”
“I…I assure you that we’ve been talking too much,” you gulp, wishing that you could arrive in town faster. You aren’t sure what he’s talking about, but you are sure that you feel like you’re going to combust. There is a thickness in the cab that you can’t explain. A fiery pain that settles below your stomach, and…other places.
“So you don’t?”
“Ari, is this an appropriate conversation?”
“I’m assuming that it’s not, judging by your reaction, but I am now curious. Do you know how bearing children comes to happen?”
“I live on a farm, I’m well aware of how breeding works,” he snorts, and you turn to face him quickly, “What is so funny?”
“That you’re referring to it as breeding. I suppose that’s true, but with humans it can be so much more.”
“What does that mean?” The truck drifts to the side of the dirt road, and your thumbs twiddle nervously. The air becomes even thicker when he leans in closer to you. “Ari?”
“I’ll take it easy on you this time,” what does that even mean? Putting the truck into park, he faces you. “Has anyone, man or woman just made everything in your belly float around? Like there’s this weirdness inside of you, pricking your skin whenever they’re around, and your throat dries up, and you can’t talk, and…”
“Your belly feels empty like you need something to fill something inside of you,” Ari clears his throat, looking down at your lap, watching as your thighs twitch around.
“Yes. Exactly like you need to be filled with something.”
“I feel — have felt that way,” you agree, trying not to let him know that it is in fact him making you feel that way. “But it doesn’t always seem pleasant when the animals mate.”
“I assure you if a man knows what he’s doing it can be very pleasurable to you,” a noise you have never heard before squeaks out of your mouth, and you look down at your lap again. Heat didn’t even describe what you are feeling. A roaring fire or volcano getting ready to erupt, and the need to go to the bathroom to clean yourself is more accurate. What is going on with your body?
“If he knows what he’s doing he can take you to another plane of existence,” Ari has been in this odd town for a few weeks, and not so much as glanced at a woman since. Judging by your reaction you are understanding exactly what he is talking about. He adjusts his pants, turning back to look straight ahead. He is also getting uncomfortable, but not because of you. His uncomfort is himself. Hopefully for the same reasons you appear to wiggle around too much.
“The way he could make you feel without ever — entering your body. It's a pleasure beyond your wildest dreams. Learning another person’s body can be fun. It can be paradise.”
“Should we be having this conversation?”
“Probably not. So maybe we keep it to ourselves, and I’ll buy you something besides that dress to wear?” The ideas he has mulling in his mind of what he could put you in, he’s downright ashamed of.
“I could only wear them inside your house.”
“I was only wanting you to wear them for me anyways, Darling,” fuck. He’s fucking fucked. A quick flash of you submissively getting to your knees as he paints your lips with precum comes to his mind. Your mouth slowly opens as you innocently let his cock breach your lips. Looking so pretty as you stare up at him. Fuck.
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.
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Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @pandaxnienke @rogersbarber @buckybarnesisdaddy @theinheriteddutchess
#how I'm looking at you#ari levinson#ari levinson x reader#ari levinson x fem!reader#ari levinson x female reader#ari levinson x y/n#ari levinson x you#ari levinson fics#ari levinson fanfic#ari levinson fic#ari levinson fanfiction#chris evans#chris evans character#red sea diving resort#amish au
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Tomorrow
So tomorrow I’m speaking with the Queen Bee from The Yield. I haven’t spoken with her for quite a few years and the relationship is, uneasy and silent.
The Yield is in the process of being acquired by Yamaha (yes the global fuxkoff automotive, robotics etc corporation). As a result of the mismanagement, ego and hubris of the Queen Bee, all shares except for Yamaha shares are worthless, zero, zip, nada. Everyone is walking away with nothing, except for Ros who has already ripped over a million dollars out, but that’s another story!
There were three of us who started The Yield. John, myself and Ros. We needed the skills and experience of all of us to get it off the ground. Without us, Yamaha would not have a company to be acquiring.
When we agreed to follow Ros when she begged us with words “I can’t do this without you.” we were offered shares, and in particular specified “Founders Shares”. We paid a nominal fee and they were supposed to be the final compensation where we would financially realise the years of underpayment and slaving that we put into The Yield when and if it was ever acquired.
We will get nothing.
John wrote to the chair of The Yield stating our case, he got a platitude filled response about the good of all shareholders bla bla bla.
The message is that legal advice is clear that our Founder shares, as ordinary shares, are useless. There will be no special recompense as an ordinary shareholder.
Ros finally called John yesterday and his response was that John paying $15 for 150,000 shares and me paying $5 for 50,000 shares was not an investment in The Yield but a mechanism to be repaid at a later date for “free”.
So Ros said to John: send her a letter stating (only) his case based only on a goodwill request for recompense for the 15 months he worked for fuck all. Which he’s now done.
Apparently this means that this now separates our claims as founders.
However, this leaves me and what I should or might do. Yes, I’m bitter and hurt and angry and want to tell Ros exactly what I think of her manipulative and selfish behaviour to get what she wanted and demand a share. The other half is terrified as I just don’t really believe I deserve anything. I was the gullible fool who listened and believed her when she told me she needed me, that no-one else could help her like I could, and that she would make sure that I was taken care of. Fuck that stings, after all I’ve learned, I fell for her honeyed words. I believed what I wanted to believe and heard what I wanted to hear.
But hurt pride and bitterness aside. I don’t know what to say to her tomorrow. How to ask for what I believe (maybe) I deserve, not to beg and grovel but to appeal to a better side of her that I have yet to see?
But then I know it won’t make a scrap of difference, she doesn’t a fuck, a global multinational like Yamaha certainly doesn’t give a fuck about a nobody like me. So do I swallow my pride and ask the same as John or shut up and keep my pride in tact.
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Me too, buddy. Me too.
#that issue made me feel really sad even though ik it’s supposed to be funny#he’s just like me fr#it’s issue 31 from Young Justice 1998 btw#Urgh I want to grab him by the shoulders and squeeze him so tight and tell him YOURE NOT TOO MUCH!!!!#I dunno and then he goes and messes up a few times cause he didn’t have enough information#and it’s like#THATS HOW I FEEL IN LIFE!#NOBODY EVER TOLD ME! HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW!#and then the ppl just kinda keep shushing him if he asks for an explanation!!!!#BUT HE JUST WANTS TO HELP!!#AND NOBODY LISTENS TO HIS STRUGGLES!!!#bart allen#impulse#dc#young justice#young just us#yj98#I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS!
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Breaking news!
Local autistic has been informed by faer queerplatonic partner that emoticons and emojis are not, in fact, some sort of secret language that everyone but fae knows, but are instead literally just things that people use as a text replacement for real-life expressions.
Local autistic was not previously aware of this, despite the fact that she has been using the internet for most of her life.
Local autistic now feels like a fool for missing something so obvious.
#in my defence#nobody has ever told me this before#how was i supposed to know#emojis#emoticons#autism#autistic#actually autistic#...was this even the autism or do i just live under a rock#i may just live under a rock
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he literally. fucking. he wants to be better but he doesn’t know how. he wants romance deep down but he doesn’t know how to be romantic. he’s in love but he can’t even recognize it. he wants to be softer but he’s all hard edges and he just doesn’t know how!! he doesn’t know how to make himself gentle!!! he doesn’t fucking know!!!!
#and here comes this GUY who just knows everything and is everything he never even knew Ed wanted because he never TOLD him#and he thought he fucking NEEDED to be sharp and hard and cold like a shard of glass because nobody fucking TOLD him there was another way#nobody ever bothered to teach him how to be tender and Ed presumably never asked for it so how was he fucking supposed to KNOW.#how was he supposed to know!! how to be any different!!!!!#how could Ed possibly ever choose him now that he has all the tenderness he wants and Izzy is too mangled to ever be soft again!!!!!#how!!!!#he’s fucking lost and he doesn’t even know how to fight this battle!!!#izzy hands#ofmd#sorry but cons comments have been making me INSANE#and it’s 2am and I just can’t handle this right now#he literally wants to be better. he wants to love he wants to be loved but he doesn’t know how….#something something when you train your dog for the pit fights then leave it on the street to go adopt a pretty little lapdog instead#I’ve just. had many discussions with my friend ab this concept and it murders me every tim wand cons fucking comments are just making it#so much worse
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That feeling that you can't even write fan fiction for Link Click until the finale of the 10th season because canon will threaten to unravel every headcanon you wrote by the next episode.
#Link Click#Listen fam#how LG and CXS got around to a) finding out about each other's powers the first time and b) deciding hand contact is the way to go#Did they discover hand contact actually made a difference than CXS just clapping his own hands and how#Heck did CXS even *know* he COULD time travel until LG came into the picture#These thoughts have plagued me since S1 E1#I have theories about episode 9 but I am le tired of them retconning the plot every other business week lol#Of course Lu Guang Knows Everything(tm) I think that is the only real unverified theory that we can say for certain will not be retconned#A reminder that they STILL haven't conclusively told us if all people in that world are aware that there are some among them with powers#Or is it something that only the police know of and keep under wraps from the general public#It sure feels like it's meant to be hidden and yet it feels like nobody's ever surprised when someone else with powers just toddles by#This world building is kinda all over the place#I suppose fanfics still work if one is just writing a scenario rather than a story that may build on the questions still unanswered
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#not to ‘i’m not autistic but i believe in their beliefs’ at three in the morning but i’ve had the striking realisation over the past week#that i actually haven’t got the faintest idea why people like me. i mean i know they do. but i was having a conversation with my father#about how nice someone was— i think the dentist because i hadn’t been in ages— and i guess i sounded surprised because he said#‘people do like you harri.’ and i realised i couldn’t make sense of it as a lump statement#i have to assume it’s for the same reasons i like them. but i’m realising that i can’t put names to them in the way they undoubtedly can#this isn’t me trying to be self-absorbed i’m not looking to be told i am likeable i’m just aware for perhaps the first time that i can’t#actually sensibly dissect the dynamics behind someone liking me. i suppose in many ways i’ve always felt like it’s sort of none of my#business. i think that’s how it used to work when i was in love too but that was also because i was a doormat#i know people like me and i’m very lucky to have that. trying really hard not to sound like a serial killer i don’t know why this is so#peculiar to me. i can’t wrap my tongue around it without sounding weirdly clinical#i suppose it’s because i’m still not wholly convinced that i’m a human being. i think it’s very old and at my centre.#and people like me but they don’t see me— or totally understand me. nobody ever has. but now i’m just saying things#people come and go in my life. i’m only really learning how to reach out myself#not that i’m passive i don’t think you could say that. but i’m observational first and foremost. i like to look— so it’s hard to think about#being looked at. a little
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hi so this started as a life update and then turned into a major vent and i am very sorry so i am putting it under a cut. content warning for medical stuff and surgery and also college and also generally being upset
oh hey arthur update the medical issues i’ve been vaguing about for the past like week are officially not life threatening or anything and will be getting resolved in a surgery this tuesday. so recovering from that will be a super fun way to spend the last three weeks leading into my senior year, which i really badly overbooked with babysitting nearly every day and working my pizza job extra hours, both of which jobs are the kind where just calling in sick for one day causes actual problems for real people in ways that other jobs maybe wouldn’t. so i’m taking off both my jobs on the actual day of the surgery but otherwise i’m just. powering through it all
#starting on monday i’m taking on a whole other family to babysit on top of everything else!! wasn’t planning on a surgery in the midst#on the bright side maybe the money i make from the extra work will maybe possibly kinda sorta make a dent in the fees for all the#surgery and appointment costs even my fifteen minute visit at the cvs pharmacy cost a hundred freaking dollars#so umm let’s hope that the working i’ve been doing this summer amounts to a little more than just. not being in debt#also the family i babysit for hasn’t texted me back after i told them i had to schedule the surgery during a time i was supposed to be#babysitting. and i think they will understand but i feel terrible because they’re supposed to be able to count on me#and i also don’t want them to know i have a surgery because then they will ask me questions and i want my relationship with this family#to start and end with how i do puzzles with their kids. i don’t want to talk to them about scary personal stuff#plus what if they try to send me a care package or something they think i’m a cis girl named ari they wouldn’t know they have to be discreet#and i don’t want people irl to know about the surgery before it happens because then they’ll ask to see it and i don’t want them to see it#because at work i’ve been wearing a mask and nobody knows i’ve had a potentially cancerous growth for a freaking month#and anyway it’s not cancer or anything it’s just my stupid macrophages but i don’t want people to see it or talk to me about it until it’s#gone. in other news my older sister starts college on monday at the local community college that i will probably go to despite my efforts#so. no anxiety here tonight why in the world would i be terrified about anything right now what are you talking about how could there ever#(/s)#i sincerely hope everyone here is doing okay. i am sorry for kind of venting but i have been holding this stuff in a little bit too long#two people total outside from me and my family know what’s going on and i’m not looking to have any more irls find out#but i am bursting at the seams and a little bit terrified. not to mention the stupid college everything piling up on me right now it’s just#a little bit much. anyway the medical world is ridiculous and stupid and if i have to be on hold with one more surgeons office i will cry#and i’m just kind of here. i’ll put a thing at the top so that nobody has to read this. and trigger warnings and everything#and i really hope everyone is okay i am sorry for being a little too much right now#vent tw#medical tw#ask to tag#anyway i’m going to bed really soon i just. really really needed to yell about how much everything is. even if it’s going to get fixed#me. my post. mine.#delete later
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crying shouldnt cause headaches, thats just cruel honestly.
#the bin#i went through to figure out costs more and im most likely not gonna be abek to bring almost any of my belongings#i can probably manage to at least bring my pets. my sisters boyfriends cat cant tow and it doesnt have a lot of space in it so im not gonna#have much room for anything at all. i guess maybe its a good thing my sister wont be coming then :/#honestly. im not actually THAT upset. he seems fairly chill and respectful of my boundaries. moreso than my fuckin sister is. not that thats#hard to accomplish. if i set a boundry with her she will most likely break it repeatedly and then also refuse to apologize#im still uncomfortable with it but not much more than i was with going with her anyway. i van just keep earbuds in the whole time probably#im really upset that ill have to leave my stuff here though. with her. i hate that. and im also probably not gonna have a bed when i move#and ill be sleeping on the concrete basement floor so uh. that sucks. a lot. my aunt probably has an air mattress i casn borror for a bit#im also probably gonna see if i can convince my sister to let me take one of her beta fish and the one tank she has for it. its a small tank#so i could easily bring it. its too smalm for the poor thing but its gonna be in that if it comes with me or her so. and i wanna get it#something better. ive become pretty attached to it after taking care of it for the past 4 months. ugh the fact she just ditched me with her#fish pissed me off so much too. not to mention the snakes were supposed to be a shared pet but she just stopped dling anything ever and it#became exclusively my responsibility to care for them and pay for all their stuff. she should not have pets of any kinda#im trying blt to be really upset. i can hopefully bring my most important belongings at least. his car isnt THAT small. and then ill only#need to pay for the gas and thats it and i can definitely afford that. hhhh. ill figure it out. i hate this :/#my head hurts so bad from having a 2 hour long meltdown. im so upset over our whole relationship and everything#she just keeps doing selfish things over and over again and treating me like an idiot for not knowing things she didnt tell me#specifically treating me like im stupid for not knowing she isnt gonna be able do what she specifically told me she could#im im so mad at her for the ditching me and the repeatedly taking advantage of me specifically for money and fucking me over#wnd everything before that. our whole relationship. im seo stressed abt this. i have nobody now.#i hate her so much. im glad i can clearly see how abusive things have always been bug it doenst make it sting any less#and it doenst helo the fact she continues this behavior now too
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run for your life
Mob!Bucky x Reader
Summary: He was away from the city for a while, chasing after some bastards who betrayed him. But the traitors were no longer breathing now and Bucky Barnes was finally able to come home to the city he ruled. Mostly, he was excited to come back and see his girl again. However when he got to the strip club where you worked as a waitress, he didn’t find you there. They told him you didn’t work there anymore. No one knew where you went, or why you left. Nobody even knew your real name. Now it was up to him to search the whole wide world to find a nameless girl – one he was obsessively, mindlessly in love with.
Themes: slight stalker!bucky, possessive!bucky, mild degrading kink, smut, FLUFF, opposite aesthetics, mild daddy kink (nicknames only), cosy little town vibes
a/n: some fluffy mob!bucky to end the year <3 Thank you so much for always supporting my silly little fics. Merry Christmas my darlings, and happy New Year!! See you soon ;)
He didn't know where exactly he would end up locating you, but finding you in a cosy, small, coastal town in the south of France was not on his list.
You being the owner of a gourmet bakery was not on his list either. Bucky was confused, surprised, but mostly confused. How did this happen? At first, when Sam came to deliver him the news of your location that morning, Bucky didn’t believe him. Had Sam not been Bucky’s oldest, most loyal friend Bucky would’ve never believed him at all.
“I’m gonna need you to stop being a dumbass and go find this girl!” Sam, ever the voice of reason yelled at Bucky who had been drowning in his sorrows. “It’s been months, and I can’t keep covering for your ass. I have my own shit to do, my own men to command.” He used that cool, authoritative voice of his. “Pull yourself together, Buck. Go find her.”
Sam was right. Of course he was. He always was. And it had really been months since that damned night…
—
Bucky couldn’t wait to get out of his plane the moment it landed. It was late at night, but the perfect time to go to the club. He had missed it. Well, not the whole club really. Bucky had missed you.
He had a… special connection with you. His girl. His only girl. His favourite girl.
This time, he thought, he would do whatever he can to solidify whatever was happening between the two of you. Maybe he’d even get you to go on a real date with him. Maybe that would lead to something more. He was smiling to himself just thinking about it.
He often thought back to the night you met. He was at the club after a long day of being the dark ruler he was. All he wanted was a drink and a pretty woman on his lap. That’s when he found you.
Right as he walked in, you caught his eye. Walking around serving drinks, wearing a little see-through red dress that brought every man you walked past to his knees.
Once he got to his booth, Bucky called you over. You walked towards him sheepishly.
“I’ve never seen you around here before, beautiful.” He said, patting his thigh. He noticed the way you hesitated. Must be new, he thought.
You carefully perched on his lap, holding your empty metal tray to your chest. Bucky smirked as he looked at it, like you were putting a makeshift barrier between the two of you. When you remained quiet and squirmy, Bucky spoke up again.
“Come on, babygirl. Talk to me, it’s okay.” He whispered at his nuzzled your neck. “I don’t bite. Unless you ask nicely, then I might.”
His warm breath against your skin tickled. You chuckled as you pulled away to look at him. “Um, I’m just a waitress. I’m not supposed to…” You trailed off. Both of you were aware of the no-contact ‘rule’. But there was a natural, unexplainable spark there that neither of you could ignore.
“Hmm,” His chest rumbled. “How about we go somewhere private?” He whispered into your ear and noticed the way you shivered.
You hung your head, clutching your metal tray. “Waitresses aren’t supposed to go into the VIP rooms, sir.” You said quietly, just loud enough for him to hear you above the sensual music.
Bucky smirked. Then leaned in and whispered, “I suppose I can bend the rules a little given I co-own the club.”
You froze and went to stand up immediately, already apologising but he wrapped his arm around your waist, keeping you on his lap.
“It’s okay, babygirl. You’re not in trouble, I promise.”
The two of you ended up in one of the VIP rooms. Nothing happened, you just kissed and talked and kissed some more. Bucky promised to come back. And he did. For months. Again and again and each time he did, you were drawn to him like he was gravity from the very moment he walked into the room.
And that night he landed after being away for weeks, he expected you to run right into his arms the moment he’d enter the club like you always did. He even got you a nice little gift to make up for the time that he’d been away. It was a rare, red diamond choker. He could already imagine how it would look around your neck. Like a brand. His.
But then he got to the club. And he noticed everyone was avoiding his eyes almost anxiously. And his girl was nowhere to be seen. He searched for you in the main area for a while, then even searched the VIP rooms, vowing to commit horrible crimes if he ever found you in there with another man.
But no.
He called Sam, who co-owned the club, and Sam had no idea who he was talking about. Bucky asked the staff members, and one bartender finally told him that you’d resigned a few weeks ago. And no one knew where you went. He asked for your full name, but no one knew that either.
Not even Sam. “I didn’t even know we had a new waitress, Buck. I have more important shit to worry about.” He’d said, adding to the burning sensation in Bucky’s chest.
“She left me.”
Sam had no idea what his best friend was babbling about. And during the many months that followed, Bucky was a mess. A mess like Sam had never seen before. Frantically scanning country after country, searching for a girl with no name. He was in love, and he wasn’t giving up. He would find his girl come what may.
—
But now Bucky knew where you were.
And he was more confused than ever. He had even more questions.
Bucky spent a whole week in that little town. Watching you, learning your routine, observing and questioning. He disguised himself as a local and always kept his distance even though his hands itched to touch you.
At first he was bothered by how you were fine with living the same day everyday. Your routine seemed boring at first, but the more he watched, the more he realised it was sort of therapeutic. The normality of it all.
He rented an apartment on the other side of the street from your bakery, and he spent hours watching you.
You lived right above the bakery. A quaint apartment, with flower pots all around the french windows. Sometimes when you forgot to turn the lights off at night, Bucky spent the whole night spying on you, counting your breaths as you slept on your couch in front of the TV.
You’d wake up at the crack of dawn, then you’d feed your dogs. He noticed you had two. Lazy, both of them. Then you’d get downstairs and within half an hour, the cool air that entered his apartment carried the smell of the sea and baked goods.
All he wanted was to cross the cobblestone street and drag you to his bed, demand answers while fucking some sense into you. But the more he watched you, the more his anger diminished. Temporarily.
The genuine smile on your face as you served your loyal customers all day, especially the ones who always came early in the morning on their way to work. The occasional sound of your voice or your laughter that slipped past whenever someone didn’t close the door right. The sound of children squealing and laughing whenever you gave away leftover baked goods or donuts in the evenings. How you knew almost everyone by name. How sometimes you invited neighbours over for wine nights. How you went on little walks in late, cool evenings, forcing your lazy pets to walk but then ending up having to carry them on the way back. They were spoiled, he realised. He hated to admit that he was jealous of the damned dogs who got so much of your attention while he starved for it.
He wasn’t angry by the end of that first week of spying, he was just hurting. How dare you live a whole new life without him? How dare you laugh and seem like you don’t miss him? He’d just spent months looking for you and here you were, just going about your day like you didn’t care? Like none of those nights you’d spent together mattered?
Meanwhile he was shaking just reminiscing the way your touch felt across his skin. He remembered the first time the two of you crossed that line in one of the VIP rooms…
You were wearing that red dress again. Fucking tease, he hissed each time you moved or squirmed on his lap.
“Baby, please,” He groaned. “Just… let me touch you. Daddy will make you feel good, so good babygirl, I promise.” He pleaded, hands caressing your soft, warm thighs.
You shook your head, popping another one of those chocolates he brought you into your mouth and sucking your fingers after. Torturing him.
“We can’t,” You insisted, with nothing but mischief in your eyes as you looked at him. “You made these rules yourself, remember?” You chuckled when he groaned again when you straddled him properly.
“I don’t give a shit about rules.” He hissed, nuzzling your neck. Slowly, he kissed up and down your neck. “I just wanna taste you. That’s it. Just a taste.”
That’s how he found himself on his knees, face in between your thighs. His skilled tongue making you whine and whimper as you tugged on his hair. Bucky hummed in appreciation the more he tasted you.
“Come on daddy’s face, baby…”
That’s it.
Bucky decided he would go see you the next morning. He would drag you back home if he had to, but he wouldn’t spend another day without you. Who did you think you were? No one just tosses him aside like this. He’d remind you who he was and then you’d both go home right away.
—
Bucky woke up to a thunderstorm. Weather around here was unpredictable. He got out of bed and immediately looked outside to find your bakery empty. No customers in sight because of the heavy rain, lightning and thunder. The golden light was on though.
He decided it was time to go have a talk with you. He promised not to lose his temper. He would go in there calmly, talk it out with you. Ask you what the fuck you are doing here, and then he’d take you home.
But that ended up not happening.
Bucky crossed the slippery cobblestone street, walked into your comforting, sweet smelling bakery and froze. He froze right there at the entrance.
As did you. Standing there behind the wooden counter, oven mittens in your hand and apron in another, you stared at Bucky with nothing but pure shock and surprise on your face. A thousand thoughts, mainly questions, crossed your mind.
What is he doing here? How did he find you? Why is he dressed casually like a local, wearing soft colours instead of his usual suits? How long has he been here? What is he doing here?
You let out a little gasp. “Bucky?”
Wrong move, apparently. Because his demeanour changed in a nanosecond. His calm and collected-ness was forgotten instantly. Jaws clenched, with a murderous look in his eyes, he walked closer, more like charged at you, and around the counter before you could even get a word out.
He had you pinned to the nearest wall before you could process it all. Knocking down a framed picture in the process. Towering above you, he looked like he was beyond pissed.
“Bucky, I—,”
“Shut up.” He hissed, voice cold with bitterness and anger. He watched how you shivered when he pinned your wrists to the wall on either side of your head. “Shut the fuck up.”
He leaned closer, chest pressing against yours leaving no space in between. He closed his eyes and sighed for a moment, trying his hardest to see reason but he was angry. So angry he couldn’t think.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He spoke with such a low voice that you trembled against him, causing him to tighten his grip around your wrists, surely bruising them. You didn’t care.
You winced, “I can explain.” Fuck, you’d missed him too. It had been months since you last saw him. He was just as handsome as you remembered. His hair was a little longer now, his beard a little thicker. But he made your heart race just the same. “Please Bucky,” You whispered, “let me explain everything to you.”
“No.” He growled before pressing his mouth to yours, angrily. Like he wanted his kiss to hurt. And it did.
His rough facial hair scratched your skin, his teeth nibbled on and bit your lips. His hands damn near crushed your wrists in his strong grip. And he didn’t give you even the briefest second to breathe. He kissed you just like how he imagined he would do once he found you. Ravenously. Pouring everything he felt into it. Desperation, anger, hurt, obsession. He couldn’t get enough.
“Bucky…” You gasped against his lips when he finally pulled away. Breathing fast, you tried to get a look at him but he just seemed even more angry.
“Turn around,” He mumbled, forcing you to turn around anyway. Fuck, the sight of you in that long, flowy, sundress was doing things to him. He was never this bothered when you used to parade around in your little see-through dresses, but somehow the sight of you in this pink, floral dress was making him act like a caveman.
His movements were rash and angry. He almost tore your dress off of you while he shoved his rough hand in between your legs and touched you where you desperately wanted him to. You whined and trembled against the cool wall when he slid a finger in, fucking you with it while he hissed into your ear.
“I should punish you for what you did to me,” His deep voice made his chest rumble against your back. “I should tie you up and fuck you however I want.”
Your dress was partially off, bunched and only hanging on around your waist. Being so dishevelled made this even dirtier. You were moaning by now, hoping the heavy rain would blur your actions from anyone who walked by the shop. Or god forbid, walk in.
“How dare you think you can just leave me?” He demanded, sliding another finger inside you and making your body come alive.
You were embarrassingly wet at this point, and the sounds your body made as he finger-fucked you were lewd. But you couldn’t get enough.
More, more, more. You mentally chanted.
Bucky wasn’t having the silent treatment, so he smacked your thigh to get your attention. You yelped. Your skin stung as he smacked it again, on the same spot. Harder this time. You cried out even louder as he kept taunting you. “Answer me, you fucking brat!” His lips brushed against the back of your neck as he spoke. “Why did you leave me?”
You cried as he kept fucking you with his fingers you even as you came. His fingers sliding in and out with ease now. The sounds you made were wanton. “You… you left first.” You tried to argue. But failed miserably.
He chuckled in that dark and dangerous way of his. “I left for work.” He said, “And I promised you I’d be back.” He reached deeper inside you, curling his fingers just enough to make you mutter incoherent things. “Why didn’t you wait for me?”
“Please, please, please…” You begged. “Please I need to come, Bucky please.”
“Oh?” He chuckled again, slowing down his movements purposely. “No one touched you, huh?” He playfully bit on your exposed shoulder. “You’re so fucking wet it’s dripping down my hand, babygirl.” He boasted. “Is it because no one has touched you these past few months? Hmm?”
“Yes…” You had tears streaming down your face, and you nodded breathlessly. “Please…”
But instead of making you come all over his fingers, Bucky pulled away for a brief moment. You couldn’t see him, but you could hear him undoing his trousers. And moments later, he was rubbing the tip of his cock against your wet folds. You shivered in pleasure.
“I’m gonna teach you what happens to people who think they can run from me, babygirl.” He growled as he pushed his cock into you, making you cry out loud as he stretched you out.
After months of not having him, right now he felt huge inside you. Just like that, memories of nights spent with him came flooding back in. You moaned as his fingers found your clit again, rubbing it in sync with his thrusts.
His hand gripped you by the hips, holding you against him as he sped up into you, fucking you like he hated you. Like it was punishment. He dipped his head into the crook of your neck and licked, and bit on your skin as he fucked into you relentlessly, earning more and more moans out of you each time his cock stroked your walls.
“Did you think I’d never find you?” He asked, fucking into you. “I bet you thought you’d gotten rid of me, hmm?”
You’d missed him too. He could tell by the way you were starting to clench around him already. Bucky nibbled at the skin under your ear and you lost all control you had left. Your thoughts became cloudy and all you could focus on was how good he felt inside you.
“See, it didn’t have to be like this, baby…” he mumbled angrily against your skin while he fucked you like an animal, “I could be nice and gentle with your body, but you just had to be a fucking brat and leave me with no warning.” He spat, growling in your ear as he pounded into you, your chest slamming into the wall with each thrust. It hurt in the best way.
“You feel so fucking good, baby,” He moaned against your ear and the sound sent shivers down your back. Your legs started to shake as he quickened his pace, pounding into you mercilessly.
The pleasure, the pain, the heat of him… was too much and you couldn’t hold back anymore.
“Bucky–,” You choked on your words as you came undone, walls clenching around him, and a loud moan erupting from your mouth as he made you come hard. It was almost blinding.
His thrusts became irregular as he came right after you did, cock throbbing against your pulsating walls, moaning out loud when he felt your walls pulsating violently around him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” He came while biting down hard on your shoulder. So hard that even you cried out, still coming down from your high as you felt him spill deep inside you.
That bite on your shoulder hurt. And like a chain reaction, everything began to hurt. Having him here hurt. Memories of being with him in the city, in the dark rooms of that club hurt. Realising how fast your life changed hurt.
You didn’t realise you were sobbing quietly until you heard Bucky apologising profusely. Suddenly no longer angry. No longer feeling betrayed.
“Fuck, baby. I’m so sorry.” He kissed that sore spot softly, his bite mark on your shoulder repeatedly as he wrapped his arms around you, securing you in the comfort of his embrace. “I don’t know what came over me, babygirl. I’m so sorry, please look at me. Hey, hey,” He pulled away and turned you so you faced him, still with tears in your eyes. “Babygirl, I’m so sorry.” He whispered, wiping your tears away, then kissing your face repeatedly.
You remained like that for a few minutes. Arms wrapped around one another, standing there against that wall while it rained like hell outside. Bucky didn’t stop apologising.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been an animal like this with you, I—,”
You cut him off finally, “Shh, it’s okay.” You pulled away from his warm chest to look up at him. “I needed this.” You said, sniffling as you gently cupped his rough cheek, caressing his face with your thumb. “I needed you like this.”
He just hugged you close again, kissing the top of your head. “I’m sorry.” He apologised one final time. “I’ll listen, I promise. I’ll listen to whatever you have to say.”
You smiled faintly at him. “Then I should lock up down here and we can go upstairs. I don’t want to scare my neighbours by risking them finding us like this.” You looked down at your partially torn dress and Bucky’s unbuttoned trousers.
Much to your surprise, Bucky said, “You go ahead, I’ll close and lock up.”
You frowned at him even as you desperately tried to get the top of your sundress to cover your chest. “You wouldn’t know how to…” You trailed off as realisation set in. He was a calculated, smart man. He didn’t just apparate on your doorstep with no planning. “You’ve been watching me.” You stated, raising an eyebrow at him.
Bucky gave you a rare, guilty look.
You sighed and shook your head. “I guess I chose this life by getting involved with you.” You gave him a faint smile. “Alright then, lock it. Leave the key in the little basket by the door.” You started walking towards the stairs, then turned around again and said, “Make sure the windows are properly locked too, because of the rain and stuff.”
“Yes ma’am,” Bucky nodded.
You smirked at him.
With that you took the stairs and Bucky watched you go with a fond smile on his face. No one ever ordered him around. He hated it. But coming from you, he quite liked it.
Bucky chuckled at himself because never in his life had he ever imagined he would one day be closing up a bakery in a small town, all for the woman he’s obsessively in love with. But he didn’t mind it one bit.
After following your instructions and double checking the windows, he made his way upstairs as well. Again, he didn’t know what he expected your place to look like – and all that spying only allowed him glimpses of your apartment – but he never expected your space to look so…
Pink. With occasional gold accents. Pale pink couch, the one you often fell asleep on while watching TV, and fluffy white pillows and rugs to go with. Paintings hanging on even paler pink walls. The kitchen he couldn’t quite see but he assumed it’d have to be all white. Pink dog beds, with fluffy balls of brown fur sleeping on them – wearing pink collars no less.
He couldn’t see your bedroom from the living room given the door was closed but given the pink, fluffy robe and socks you wore he could imagine just how pink it must be.
“It’s so girly.” He commented, as if surprised. Maybe he was a little. After all, he knew you as the seductive goddess he met almost every night at the club. He never realised that it was all just a show, that it was all just a persona at work. In a way, stepping into your space felt so intimate. He liked it.
You chuckled. “Coquette, please.” You corrected as you handed him a glass of red wine while he took a seat beside you. He did look a little out of place in your apartment, a dark and broody man like him. But then again, he was here and that’s all that mattered.
He turned to look at you and couldn’t resist holding your hand and pulling you onto his lap again. “Come here,” He said, “I’ve missed you.”
As you straddled his lap, your robe exposed some of your shoulder and Bucky saw the very noticeable bite mark he left on you. He grimaced when he saw it. He placed his wine glass to the side and traced the bite mark with his thumb carefully.
“I’m sorry, babygirl.” He whispered, leaning in to nuzzle your neck and kiss the bite mark. And breathe in your scent. Fuck, he’d missed it so much. “You smell a little different. Fruitier.”
You giggled when his hair tickled your skin. “I made blueberry compote earlier this morning. Perhaps that’s why.”
You could feel him smiling against your skin. Then he pulled away to look at you. His hands shamelessly slid under your robe, eager to touch your skin. Relishing it this time, not in a feral hurry like he was earlier. He seemed visibly calmer too.
“We used to spend hours like this at the club, remember?” He spoke, and immediately you were overwhelmed with nostalgia.
Hours, days, weeks, months. Some days back then you would wake up in the morning already excited to see Bucky in the evening. And it wasn’t because it was all sexual. So many nights all you two did was drink, laugh and talk about everything. He once told you that apart from Sam, you were his only real friend.
Bucky kissed you, breaking you out of your reverie surely thinking of the past as well. It was a slow, gentle kiss. It was consuming you. His hands caressed your thighs which were still a little sore from earlier. You winced in pain when he massaged the spot where he spanked you.
Bucky pulled away from the kiss, apologising again as he kissed down your chin. “I’m sorry, babygirl.”
You smiled at him after taking a sip of your wine. “Stop pretending as if we were always vanilla or that this is scandalous in any way shape or form.” You chuckled as you leaned in to whisper in his ear, “We both know this was nothing compared to how we used to be.”
Bucky smiled, a little sadly. “I missed you.” He repeated. “Tell me,” He said, “Tell me everything.”
You finished your wine. “What do you want to know?”
“Why did you start working at the club?” He caught the look of sadness that suddenly appeared on your face upon hearing the question.
“I… I had to drop out of uni because my grandparents fell sick.” You explained. “Mom and dad were travelling for work at the time, and I was the only one who could take care of grandma and grandpa. The treatments and all ended up costing a little more than what we had so I needed a job that paid well, I also needed one that would allow me to be flexible with my time so I could take care of my grandparents.”
Bucky nodded, “Hence the club.”
You nodded in confirmation.
“Your parents never intervened? So you could finish your education?” He questioned.
“No.” You said, almost emotionless. “When they found out what I was doing, where I was working to earn the extra money we needed… they kind of disowned me. And vowed to never talk to me again.” You chuckled, humourlessly.
“They don’t deserve you.” Bucky said quickly, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you close. “You were so brave baby, I wish you would’ve told me all of this.”
You slid your fingers into his hair and massaged his scalp gently. “You were already taking care of me.” You said, “You mended my heart a little each night when I saw you.”
“I wish I could’ve done more.” He kissed along your collarbones, then froze again as if he remembered something. “I almost forgot,” He said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a sleek black box. “I got you something.” Then clarified, “Well, I got you this months ago. I would’ve given it to you had you not run away from me.”
You rolled your eyes at him, “I didn’t run from you, I–,”
He cut you off with a finger on your lips. “Tell me about that part in a minute,” He opened the slender black box to reveal the red diamond choker inside. “I had this made for you.” He watched your face intently.
“Bucky…” You hesitantly reached for it, running your fingers over the beauty of it. It was a simple design. Elegant, timeless. Way too expensive. “I can’t take this,” You began protesting, “It’s too much.”
Bucky made a face and said, “Oh shut up.” He was already clasping it around your neck before you could protest any further. “It’s a gift from daddy,” He whispered against the corner of your lips. “You deserve it, babygirl.”
When he pulled away to look at you, his heart almost broke again at the sight of the tears in your eyes.
“What is it?” He asked, wiping your tears away for the second time today. “Is it that ugly?”
You laughed through the tears. “No, it’s the prettiest thing I own.” You sniffled. “The only piece of real jewellery in fact.” You leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
“Remind me to get you a whole collection.” Bucky pulled you closer and kissed you deeply.
Then it turned into something more and by the time the afternoon rolled around, the two of you had lost count how many times you’d made love on your pink couch. Slow touches and cuddles, and soft kisses always resulted in the two of you fucking again.
—
In the late afternoon, while snacking on random things Bucky realised you still hadn’t explained how you ended up here.
“Grandma and grandpa’s bakery.” You explained, watching the rain pour outside. “They left it to me. They died within weeks of each other,” You said with a melancholic smile on your face, “I always knew that would happen. They loved each other too much to live without one another for too long.”
You turned to look at Bucky who pulled you onto his lap again and held you as tightly as possible. You weren’t crying this time, but being held felt nice.
You continued, “I had funerals to plan, I had to pack up my life and move all the way here, I had to take on the responsibility of the bakery and renovate this apartment. And you were already gone at the time so…” You sighed. “I didn’t know if I should leave a note or not. I didn’t know if you were actually coming back or–,”
“I would never abandon you. I thought you knew that.” Bucky said, a little annoyed at that. “I made you a promise, did you not–,”
You couldn’t help but argue, “Yeah well, I didn’t know if what we had was real enough for you to come back to.”
Bucky frowned. “Baby…”
You gave him a small smile, and pressed your forehead against his, rubbing your noses together. “I know now. It is.”
When you finally pulled away from his addicting embrace you said, “I’m gonna get started on dinner. You can shower in there,” You pointed at your bedroom door as you got up from the couch. Bucky tried to grab you again but you pulled away laughing. “The weather is clearing up, we can have dinner outside on the patio.”
You threw him a wink and made your way into the kitchen.
Bucky finally got up and walked into your bedroom. Just as he imagined, the place was all white, gold, and pink. He actually laughed when he walked into the bathroom and found it pale pink as well. He’d grown to love it too by now.
–
You were busy at the stove, making your best seafood pasta, when you felt strong arms wrapping around you from behind.
“How’d you like my bedroom?” You asked, smirking already as you pictured him in your very girly space.
“It’s very pink. The bed looks comfy,” He whispered into your ear, “I’m gonna fuck you in it later.”
You chuckled and passed him another glass of wine. As you turned to face him again, you couldn’t help but laugh out loud. There he was, one of the scariest men you knew, standing in your grandma-core kitchen, wearing a fluffy white robe with pink clouds on it.
Bucky rolled his eyes, “Oh don’t comment on it. I can already hear Sam laughing his ass off and he’s not even here.”
You laughed even harder before you kissed his cheek. “It suits you.” You said. Then you handed him a couple of plates and pointed at the patio which could be seen from the kitchen window, “Can you set the table?”
He finished his wine and then mumbled on his way out like a grumpy old man, “First close the bakery, now set the table,” He shouted from outside, “You know, if this whole thing was your elaborate plan to hire me as your domestic helper, you could’ve just asked, babygirl.”
You laughed at him from inside the kitchen. You shook your head as you watched him. Wearing your fluffy robe, setting the small table on your patio. The view of the ocean from that patio was to die for, and the setting sun was just sublime. The golden lights you’d hung above the cute little dining area added to the cosy atmosphere. Now with the weather a lot nicer than it was hours ago, you could hear the small town coming alive again. Voice and laughter, children cycling down the cobblestone.
And Bucky. Bucky was here too. Winking at you from the patio. And you thought your life had ended when your parents disowned you. You scoffed at the thought. Then you thanked whatever god was listening for bringing Bucky back to you.
—
During dinner, Bucky filled you in on what he was up to while you were gone. And you did the same. One bottle of wine turned into two, then you and Bucky laughed at random things while you did the dishes.
Then you found yourselves in your bed. And like he promised, Bucky made love to you there as well.
His muscular body hovered above yours. He looked down at you with nothing but love and desire in his eyes as you undid the ridiculous robe to let his cock out. He was hard already.
“Think I like you a lot in this robe.” You teased.
Bucky laughed before leaning in for a kiss again. He nibbled along your skin, from your mouth to your neck as he parted your legs and slid into you.
You gasped as your walls welcomed him perfectly. He was nice and snug inside you, stretching you out in a way that had you whining and whimpering under him in no time.
Bucky laced your fingers together and pinned both your hands above your head on your pink covers as he sped up into you. Your eyes rolled back once he started moving in and out of you. Taking his sweet time, loving the way his warm skin rubbed against yours.
He leaned in and kissed your lips again, groaning and panting against your lips as he fucked you slowly. “I love you.” He breathed against your mouth. “So fucking much.” He kissed along your skin and moaned into your ear as he sped up. “I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.”
“Oh Buck,” You smiled up at him, “I love you.”
“You’re mine.” He whispered, leaning down to kiss you as he made you come again.
“And you’re mine.”
—
You woke up some time in the middle of the night, thirsty after all that wine from earlier. But the moment you sat up to get out of bed, Bucky woke up too. Asking in his groggy voice, which you had never heard before but concluded that it was kind of hot, “Where are you going? What is it?”
You smiled and kissed his forehead while getting out of bed, “Just thirsty. I’ll be right back.”
Bucky got up after you, getting out of bed as well. “I’m coming too.” He said, “I worry this girly room might engulf me if you leave me here alone.” He joked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he followed you out and into the kitchen.
Truth is, he didn’t want to be apart from you for even a second.
You handed him a glass of cold water while you put some water to boil to make tea. Some green tea should put the two of you right back to sleep, you thought.
So there you were in your cosy kitchen, wrapped in a soft blanket. Bucky leaned against the counter watching you. He was shirtless, just in some white, cotton pyjama pants that you lent him. They didn’t fit him at all but something about him in your clothes made him seem adorable.
You were both quiet. But you could feel Bucky thinking. He looked like he was trying to find the right way to ask you something. You didn’t know what. But he had that little frown on his forehead. You wanted to kiss it away.
“What is it?” You asked.
Bucky avoided your eyes, choosing to stare at the floor instead as he asked, “Do you think… I mean, would you ever come back home?”
Ah. The few moments of silence which followed were heavy. You didn’t like how that question put some kind of metaphorical distance between the two of you.
So you took a few steps and leaned into him. You placed your hands on his muscular, toned chest and said, “This is home, for me.” You gave him the truth. “That city was never home now that I think about it.” You smiled faintly, “The only good part was you.”
Bucky nodded. “So,” He began, then stopped to clear his throat and spoke again, “You won’t ever leave this place?”
You slid your hands up across his skin, feeling the warm, strong muscles underneath your palm. You traced his collar bones, then his neck and finally cupped his face in your hands. He wrapped his arms loosely around your middle.
“I love it here, Bucky.” You stated. “It’s quiet, and peaceful. It looks boring at first but it’s what I’ve always wanted.” You said. “Plus my grandparents left me this, it’s all I have of them.” You paused for a while, hating that look of hurt in his ocean blue eyes. “I won’t leave. This is my home now.”
Bucky was quiet. Even his breathing was slow.
You let go of him, took a step back and said, “Maybe you should head back.” It felt like the words sliced you from the inside. It hurt to even utter them. “You have a life there.” You gave him a sad smile. Followed by a faint chuckle. “Unless you want to take up fishing then I’m afraid there’s nothing for you here.”
He scoffed. “There’s you.” He said as if that was more than enough.
“Bucky.” You warned.
He shook his head, then reached for his phone which he’d forgotten in the kitchen earlier tonight. “Sam will probably fly out here to beat me up when I tell him.” He spoke, none of what he said made sense to you though.
“What are you–,”
“And he’ll have to work twice as much. But he’ll do great, I know. He’s Sam after all, strongest man I know.” Bucky carried on, ignoring your questions as he typed away on his phone. “I’ll do as much as I can from here, maybe fly back to the city once or twice a year to show my face.”
“Bucky,” You warned again, “What are you talking—,”
Bucky continued, cutting you off each time you tried to get a word in. “I’ll have to call my people, actually I have a lot of phone calls to make if–,”
You cut him off this time, stepping closer to him again and grabbing him by his broad shoulders. “What are you talking about?”
Bucky gave you a lovesick smile. “Well if you’re not going back to the city, neither am I.” He answered. You froze. He continued. “I’ll have to buy us a bigger home somewhere around here. We’ll keep the apartment and bakery of course, but maybe we could use some staff to help with maintenance and to keep the bakery running.”
He made a mental, makeshift plan while you had silent tears streaming down your face.
He continued, “We’ll get you back in uni, whichever one you want and whichever offers distance learning because there’s no way I’m letting you live on some campus away from me.” He paused, then said, “I’ll have to actually take up fishing. Maybe I’ll buy a few boats, you know I always wanted to be a yacht broker.” He sounded almost… hopeful. “Retirement sounds nice.”
You sniffled. “Buck…”
Bucky kept talking while he gently caressed your back. “I’ll have to learn French,” He groaned, “At this grown age.” He added. “I’ll have to know what's a chocolate croissant and what’s a pain au chocolat if I want to occasionally help out with the bakery. I can’t be uncultured while my wife is this connoisseur, you know? The locals will laugh at me.”
“Wife?” You questioned through tears and a faint, barely there smile.
He rolled his eyes. “Baby, I’m wearing your clothes, sleeping in your girly room, eating off of your floral plates.” He explained, “If you don’t marry me, I will lose my reputation.” He joked.
You laughed, and sobbed as you threw your arms around him, hugging him as tightly as you could.
“You don’t have to do this.” You spoke through tears. Your heart felt so full, you didn’t know how to handle a man like Bucky changing the course of his life for you. All for you.
Bucky hugged you back, kissing the top of your head. “I want to.” He said, “I have to. Otherwise you’ll run away again.” He teased.
You laughed quietly. “I won’t.” You said firmly.
“Good,” He sighed, squeezing you tightly in his arms before letting go. “Now I have to tell Sam.” He looked genuinely worried.
You giggled, then leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Tell him in the morning.” You whispered, your hands already trailing down to the waistband of the pyjama pants.
Bucky chuckled before leaning in to kiss you, deeply. “Okay baby,” He whispered, forgetting everything else as he got lost in you all over again.
He made love to you right there in the kitchen, sliding in between your legs as you sat on the edge of the counter. Slow and gentle. Kissing you softly, making a mess of you as he made you come over and over and over again. Whispering against your heated skin, your wet, open mouth, “You’re mine…”
“All yours,” You answered, holding him tightly. Your nails scratching down his back, your skin burning in all the best ways as his beard scratched it each time he kissed you.
This time, he made you a different promise.
“If you chose to run again, you better run for your life and pray I never find you, babygirl…” He whispered into your ear as he slid inside you again. His cock made it hard for you to focus on anything else but you tried your hardest to hear him out. “Because I won’t be this kind if I ever have to hunt for you again.”
You laughed, but ended up moaning as he bit down on your other shoulder this time. Marking you as his again.
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x reader#mob!bucky#bucky barnes au#bucky barnes imagine#bucky x reader
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I can't sleep
#tortured by ingrained reminders about how I'm broken and can't do anything right#ruminating over how I'm not really a person#I'm more of a piece of property for my mother and i need to be strong so she can have consistent emotional support#i don't know how to live on my own because i was never taught#i don't kmow how to love myself because i have only ever been taught to bottle my feelings later#i can't even cry because I'll only get yelled at and told I'm doing it all for attention#don't even get me started on how it's obviously nobody cares about me as a person#i suppose people just assume I'm doi g okay because i haven't been institutionalized#but i have to admit the fact that people who “care about me” never make the effort to check on me even once a month is painful#i will never be anything more than a burden to others#people should be glad I'm not wasting my time seeking love and attention that i do not deserve and have not earned#maybe things will be better when I'm gone
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I just realized I hate myself
#cw self loathing#i- fuck man I knew but it just set in#After years of hiding my emotions and interests and trying to love everyone I realize that it’s okay to be annoying#I shouldn’t have been bullied. I was 11. I got fucked up by so many people and it all came crashing down tonight#I just want love but I don’t even know how#After being ignored. Being ‘funny’ and being patronized. Being fucking degraded by my sister- who was supposed to care for me#Being stuck in that goddamn cabin and being told “you’re the reason they have so much gray hair”and everyone agreeing#Having to call my dad. He’s the only one who understood my situation. Yelling into the trees. Watching gravity falls. Watching Mabel and#Dipper. Wondering why that never happened with me. I was 12.#Loving my sisters. Asking for the same back. Comforting them. Being 11. Them yelling at me to solve their argument. Create a slideshow#On why they should stop fighting. Crying over the screams. Being alone. Being 11. Showing it to them. “Don’t use :3. It’s for furries.”#Posting this shit on tumblr because nobody ever interacts with me on here.#Never get apologies. Ask for one lifeline. The person I helped throughout their last time living here. Praying PRAYING that they talk medow#Down*#“It’s not as bad as you’re making it seem. Stop crying and grow up.” Being 11. Opening a jar of sleeping pills. Petting my dogs.#Texting my online roleplay group my final words. Telling them I loved them. Watching the sun. ‘Mom doesn’t love me’ as I eat the gummies#Hoping she will. Hoping I get an obituary for not being annoying. Hoping I’m a martyr. Waiting. Watching my favorite videos. Being 11.#Hanging up on my sister. Trying to be inconspicuous. Creeping up the stairs. Breaking the child safety lock. Being 11. Being 12 being 13#Mom creeping into my room. Saying sorry but I can’t skip school tomorrow. It’s been hours since I took the gummies#I ask her to read a story book. She agrees. I’m 10 again. On the beach with my class. I have a crush on one of my best friends. Mom still#Loves me. I’m not lazy or a slacker(I’m still not. Self love. It’s okay to slack off) My friend grabs giant kelp and uses it as a weapon#The book ends. I’m not dead. I want to go back there. In a quiet voice “mom? I ate the melatonin gummies.” She knows it’s on purpose.#Hospital food. Being 11. Psychology students in my hospital room. I’m a fucking exam. 2 of them. Living normal lives. Writing a plan for me#Mom talking for me. Her being wrong.#I need to love myself.
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before you know about women, you hear that you do not need to love the man, just that you need to love him through his manhood. which is to say you have seen the future painted in lamb's blood over your eyes - how your mother shoots you a look about your father's inability to cook right. how your aunt holds her wineglass and says i'm gonna kill em. men, right! how your best friend bickers with her boyfriend, how she says i can't help it. i come back to him.
you learn: men are gonna cheat. men aren't going to listen when you're talking, because you're nagging. men think emotions are stupid. they think your life is vapid and your hobbies are embarrassing. men will slam things, but that's because men are allowed to be angry. if you get loud, you're hysterical. if a man gets loud - well, men are animals, men are dogs, men can't control their hands or their eyes or their bodies. they're going to make a snide comment about you in the locker room, about your body, about how you're so fucking annoying. you're going to give him kids, and he will give you the money for the kids, and you're going to be running the house 24/7 - but he gets to relax after a long day, because his job is stressful. the man is on stage, and is a comedian, and says "women!"
and you are supposed to love that. you are supposed to love men through how horrible they are to you - because that's what women do. that's what good women do. wife material. your father even told you once - it'll make sense when you're older. it was like staring down a very lonely tunnel.
it feels like something's caught in your throat, but it's all you know, so. it's okay that you see sex as a necessary tool, a sort of okay-enough ritual to keep him happy, even though he doesn't seem to care about happiness as-applied-to you. it is relationship upkeep. it is kissing him and smiling even though he didn't brush his teeth. it is getting on your knees and looking up and holding back a sigh because he barely holds you as you panic through the night. it's not like the sex is bad and you do like feeling wanted. and besides! he's a man! like... they're another species. you'll never be able to actually communicate, right. he isn't listening.
you just don't get it. you don't feel that sense of i'm gonna climb him like a tree. mostly it just feels fucking exhausting. you play the part perfectly. you smile and nod and are "effortlessly" charming. and it's fine! it's alright! you even love him, if you're looking. you could have good life, and a good family, and perfectly happy.
in the late night you google: am i broken. you google i'm not attracted to my husband. you google i get turned on by books but not by him. you google how to get better in bed.
the first time he yells at you, it almost feels like blankness. like - of course this is happening. this is always how it was going to end up. men get angry, and they yell, and you sit there in silence.
you mention it to your friend - just the once - while you're drunk. she shrugs and says it's like that with me too, i just try to forget and move on. men are always gonna hear what they want to. pick your battles and say sorry even though he's in the wrong. you play solitaire online for a month. you go to your therapist appointment and preach about how you're both so in love.
after all, you have a future to want. nobody lied about it - how many instagram posts say marriage is hard. say real love takes work. say we fight like cats and dogs but the best part is that we always make up. how many of your friends say happy anniversary to the best and worst thing to ever happen to me. if you really loved him - loved yourself too - you'd accept that men are just different from you.
the first time she kisses you, it's on a dare at a party. something large and terrifying whips through your body. you wake up sweating from dreams where her mouth is encrusted with pearls and you pick them off one by one with your teeth. fuck. you sit at the computer and your almost-finished game of sim city. you think about your potential perfect life and your potential future family. you google am i gay quiz with your little hands shaking.
you delete each letter slowly. you don't need to love him. you just need to keep going.
#warm up#writeblr#this is also about being ace btw#my identity has slowly shifted over time and maybe if everyone is REAL cool i'll talk bout it#bc it's complicated and nuanced. but this is like#trying to warn u that if you find it “relationship upkeep” to have sex with ur partner#and don't actually enjoy it or seek it for urself. u might just not be attracted to them.#which is fine ! ace ppl can be perfectly happy in any relationship they feel good in!#but also i wasn't as straight as i had expected!#> the first time i saw dick i was like. huh. oh okay that's fine i guess#> the first time i saw pussy i was like. WAIT ACTUALLY HANG ON I GET IT#i just assumed sex wasn't all it was cracked up to be ya know#but also like. btw? this IS NOT saying ''u might be gay not ace''#bc tbh i'm grey ace/demisexual#it's saying u might not be into ur partner. explore urself & ur feelings. turn inward.#TAKE THIS IN THE MANNER IT WAS MEANT> GENTLE AND KIND#AND NOT IN A WEIRD INTERNET WAY PLEASE#bc the truth is that there ARE ppl who are gay who assume that they just ''don't like'' sex#and ace ppl who might need a different partner w/different needs#and i would have REALLY needed to hear ''check in w/urself about if u actually like sex''#WAY EARILIER in my life. but nobody said anything bc they assume if ur having sex. u like it.#not just the actual act of sex. not once ur turned on. do you ACTUALLY like it. or is it a burden?#even if ur gay. check w/urself. maybe ur more ace than u realized. in which case. ADDITIONAL FLAG BB#i love collecting my flags. i'm at like 354 at this point#but also btw this is about how toxic relationships are SO normalized that u can be in one#and have everyone around u being like ''THATS JUST MEN LOL''
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hear me out, we already know Miguel is probably touch-starved, but imagine him being really touch-starved. Maybe the reader is a baker or smth so she's naturally sweet (wink wink nudge nudge) and maybe just a little chubby. Miguel is always shy about asking readers for small things, like kisses and hugs, but she's really nice about it.
One day, Miguel has had a bad day and goes over to the reader's house for cuddles and is very grumpy about it, which makes reader kinda surprised and flustered to see how demanding he is about it. But as he's cuddling with her, he is very touchy per se and won't stop kneading parts of reader's thighs and shmoobis, which makes her really flustered but she doesn't want to ruin Miguel's moment
this could be smutty but fluff and the end because Miguel deserves a little sweetness in his life
sweetest bite
pairing: miguel o’hara x chubby fem reader
contents: thigh fucking, nipple play, mating press, miguel being a munch (as per usual), oral (m), improper use of frosting, aftercare(ish)
author’s note: i’m so behind on requests i’m so sorry, i promise i’ll get to work on them 😭 i hope you still enjoy this though. trying sum new with the whole layout so lmk your thots 🥸
word count: 6.8k (yeah idk how to explain this one chief)
You were the sweetest thing miguel allowed himself to indulge in. Well, you and your pastries. He'd gotten so used to sacrificing his happiness for the better of the multiverse, of sacrificing everything that he had to give just to make sure that it stayed intact. But, he couldn't stay away from the little baker that set shop on 11th street in Nueva York.
"You should go and visit this little shop I found a couple days ago. The empanadas are to die for," Jess had told him after the last batch at the HQ hadn't been up to par with his standards. He wasn't expecting much out of his visit, the most he was hoping for was decent replacement for the botched empanadas and a cup of coffee. After all, Jess had never strayed him in the wrong direction in terms of food.
The scent of cinnamon and a pinch of vanilla filled up his nostrils as he walked into the shop, the aroma providing a homely feeling. It didn't compare to the other shops scattered around the city, the ones who smelt like stale bread and probably had rats scattering around in this back. Every single space from the shop looked clean, the white floors beneath his feet almost showing his reflection.
No, this was one was nice. From the peonies that you had on a vase at the front desk to the sheer decoration of the walls, a couple paintings scattered across the pink and white walls. Nothing looked out of place, everything seemed to coordinate perfectly. The lofi music playing in the background only added to the atmosphere, putting him in a more relaxed mood than he originally was. His jaw unclenched and his muscles were slack, a sense of calmness rushing through him.
The people inside also seemed to have a silent understanding that the atmosphere was supposed to be relaxing, conversations exchanged in light whispers. It was a nice change of pace from the usual bustling streets of Nueva York, almost like a place where time seemed to stop completely. A place that was an escape from the city, a safe haven of sorts. It provided him with a sense of normalcy he wasn't even aware that he wanted.
He normally didn't spend time appreciating the aesthetic of a place given how busy his schedule was, but he could see the appeal of this little shop. He almost regretted not finding this shop earlier, it provided with more relaxation than he'd ever find at the empty tables of the HQ cafeteria. There was nobody here that knew him, nobody there to avoid his presence or criticize his actions. Everyone just regarded him like he was one of their own, continuing on with their conversations.
What Jess had failed to mention to him before he came here is that the owner would be so enthralling. You weren't doing much apart from tapping something into the register yet you still managed to capture his attention. He wanted to look away to avoid coming off as a creep but his eyes seemed to defy his brain's instructions, keeping his attention solely for you. The chatter in the background died to a low hum as he watched you hand a paper bag to the man in front of you.
"How's your wife and kids?" He couldn't help but be taken aback when the question slipped from your lips, surprised at the gesture. Most of the people in Nueva York were so consumed in their own lives that they didn't bother to remember much about anybody else, much less ask any questions that didn't serve them an individual gain. Even with his enhanced hearing, all he could focus was on what you were saying like a siren luring him in.
He could tell from the little smile on your face that the man was engaging in the conversation, your hands struggling to keep up as you talked with him. He'd overheard you mention something about packing in a few extra cookies for the kids, his heart swelling at a gesture that wasn't even meant for him. You and the man kept talking for about another minute before he told you goodbye and you waved at him as he departed the shop. Miguel was next in line, but he felt his feet stuck to the ground like quicksand.
He was so enticed by the sight of you, the way your eyes illuminated under the white lights. Lighting that would normally make someone appear sickly only seemed to accentuate your features out to him even more. "Next, please," your voice came out like sheer honey to his ears, snapping him out of the trance he was in. He took two steps forward, coming up to the register. He'd spent so much of time simply just looking at you that he hadn't even bothered to look over the menu. You didn't annoyed at him for holding up the line, your finger tapping against the marble countertop as you waited for his decision.
"I'll get two of your conchas and three of your empanadas with a hot roast coffee," he finally spoke up after a while, looking over from the menu to you. "You want the empanadas made out of flour or corn?" You inquired after typing the order into the register. "I’ll get corn, please," he pulled out his wallet as he spoke, handing you much more than the amount showing up on the screen. You tried to give him back the change, but it only ended up in the pink tip jar you had set next to the register.
"Can I get a name for your order, please?" You asked him before he had the chance to walk away, his footsteps coming to a stop before he turned over to face you. "Miguel," he responded before he finally stepped away, leaving you feeling flustered and confused. The way his voice sounded to your ears was something out of pure sin, a part of you wanting to indulge in that as much as possible. But you refused to make a big deal out of the mildly handsome customer, refused to make a big deal out of the fleeting glances he shot your way and the way he also seemed to feel a spark between the two of you when your hands touched.
You could feel his stare as you kneaded the dough, but you didn't seem to mind it all that much. It seemed more like he was analyzing you, the way that you moved rather than something predatory. You had a small radio set up in the back to liven up the mood while you were baking, your hips swaying to the rhythm of the salsa song playing. You hummed along to the beat, setting the pan in the oven. You leaned against the counter as you waited, all the other goods pretty much set for another couple hours.
"Miguel!" You called out, watching as he got off the spot he was leaning on and walked over to you. He thanked you once you handed him the paper bag, his fingertips almost seeming to purposely want to touch yours this time around. Nope. Not gonna make a big deal out it. You forced yourself to look away from him as he stepped away from the counter, plastering a smile on your face as you greeted the next customer coming in. Greta. You'd taken the time to learn these people's names and learn what it is that they tended to get just to give them a sense of being seen.
The first bite of the concha had been delectable, a low moan escaping from his lips as he savored the taste of the warm cinnamon and vanilla blending together. He hadn't had a concha like this one since he took a business trip to Mexico. While Nueva York was quickly adjusting to fit the needs of the diversifying population, it didn't mean that every restaurant provided that taste of home he was longing for. Most of them just felt like a cheap replacement of the real thing, the taste usually bland and lacking seasoning.
But now he had an entirely different dilemma on his hands. a part of him wanted to eat the concha slowly, savor every bite of the treat while the other part of him wanted to scarf it down as quickly as he could. Eventually he lost the battle against his self control, eating the two conchas and one of the empanadas. Every part of this evening had surpassed his expectations, the empanadas being more than 'decent.' He would normally be more careful in the way that he ate, but now, crumbs were making their way down his black shirt and to his pants. Yet, he could seem to care less.
"How'd you like the treats? I haven't seen you around before so I'm assuming it's your first time," You asked him as he stepped up to the register, your head tilting back slightly to look at the man in the eyes. The afternoon sunlight coming from the door accentuated his eyes, almost making them look like a melting pot of rubies. While your shop was met with various different people everyday at almost every hour, you knew that you couldn't forget him even if you tried. His name still rang like a melody throughout your head.
"Liked them so much i'm planning on buying another concha," he told you, sliding one hand into the pocket of his pants to take his wallet out. "I'm glad you liked them so much. That'll be two dollars," you told him, taking the money from him and setting it in the cash register. You waved at him as he left, convincing yourself that the look back he gave after stepping out of the shop hadn't been for you. Even if you really wished that it would've been. All you could do was just hope that he would come back again soon.
Going back to work had proven to be more of a struggle than he originally thought, His mind replaying the small moments between the two of you. Your hand grazing against his as you handed him the cup of coffee. The smile that seemed to be just a little bit wider when directed towards him. He could still feel his hand tingling from the spot where you'd touched him, your touch electrifying him every way possible.
"For fuck's sake," he muttered to himself as he opened up one of the files on the monitors, the words blurring together despite his best efforts to maintain his focus. He felt like a fool, being in his 30s and obsessing over somebody in this manner like he was a school boy. Despite the fact that he felt like a fool, he couldn't help the smile that threatened to overcome his features at just the mere thought of seeing you again in that little pink apron. All he could do was munch on the extra concha that he'd bought, his mind constantly wandering back to you.
Miguel hadn't attempted to be in a relationship after finding his ex and his father sleeping together, the experience being enough to traumatize him for this lifetime and the next. He'd given up on being a romantic, of going through the motions of learning what a woman's favorite color was and gifting her flowers that ended up wilting by the hour. He'd engaged in a few hookups from time to time, though he only ended up feeling like an asshole afterwards. They expected his call back, only to have their text not even go through. But.. he wasn't interested in you for that.
Sure, he could admit it to himself that you were probably one of the most beautiful women he's laid eyes on. The way your hips moved in the shop was hypnotic, the small movement making all sorts of domestic thoughts run through his head. But he wanted to know what it was that made you tick, what made you laugh, what it is that made you cry. He didn't see you as a prize to gain, but rather as something that he wanted to treasure. Someone that he could see himself coming home to after a long day of work.
The week following his first visit, he'd been buried under mountains of work. Whether it be misplaced files, a sudden surge of anomalies popping up, or just the daily Spider-Man activities that he was tasked with. He'd been looking for a spare opportunity to go back into your shop, maybe ask for your number this time around, but that opportunity usually got shot down with the amount of work he had due. He'd only managed to get a couple glimpses of you when he happened to swing by your store a couple times, his memory saving the moment like an sd card.
He'd managed to get a few moments to himself on a Friday, leaving immediately to go to your bakery before he got stopped by one of the members. He'd barely had one interaction with you and he was already starting to feel depraved having to go a couple days without talking to you. The bell placed on top of the door announced his arrival as he came in, your attention shifting from the counter you were restocking over to the door. You looked as beautiful as every time he's had the pleasure of seeing you.
"Thought you might've found another bakery to go to, Miguel. After you complimented my conchas too," you spoke first, giving him a teasing smile as he approached the counter. "There's no other bakery that would be able to size up to this one. I just got busy with work is all," he knew that you were just teasing him, but he still wanted to explain himself to you. Though he wasn't sure if you'd even thought about him that much. but surely you had, since you noted his absence. He was struggling the same as you were not to let these little gestures go to his head.
"Do you want what you got last time?" You asked him, his heartbeat thundering against his own ears. It was like you were trying to kill him now. He could understand why so many people came to your bakery now, for that feeling of being seen by you. Of getting that sense of meaning something to someone, well at least enough for you to remember their order. "Make it three conchas instead of two this time, please," he responded, once again giving you way much more than the amount had totaled out to be before going to wait for his order.
All he knew was that he had to have more than the complimentary conversation with you, but he couldn't figure out how to approach it. "The shop isn't too busy, what would you say to having a cup of coffee with me?" He mustered up the courage to ask you, his gaze almost burning into your soul as he waited for an answer. He hoped that he wouldn't push you away with this sudden offer, hoping that it hadn't been too forward on his part. He'd meant for it as a friendly outing for you to relax a while, but he wouldn't be able to deny the fact that he was already thinking of how to ask you on a date.
You looked around the shop to find that it was indeed empty, only a couple people talking amongst themselves left. Even if someone walked in, you had another employee that would be able to assist them. "Sure, let me just go hang up my apron and I’ll go join you," you finally spoke up after taking a couple seconds to consider, turning around to mask the excitement threatening to overcome your body. You slid off your apron and set it to the side, getting yourself a cup of coffee before walking over to the booth Miguel was sitting at. It almost felt ridiculous to admit to yourself that you were able to now find him in every room that he stepped in with ease.
"How long have you been a baker for?" He asked you after taking a bite of his concha, wiping away the crumbs that lingered onto his white shirt. "I've been baking for some time now, since I was in like middle school? I used to practice with an easy bake oven when I was younger before evolving into actually edible things," you shared with him, your eyes practically lighting up at the prospect of getting to talk about something that meant a lot to you. Conversation flowed easily enough between the two of you, an exchange of questions being asked from both sides.
You looked up over to the door when you heard the bell ringing, the second wave of customers walking in. As much as you would've liked to continue talking with him, you knew that your one employee wouldn't be able to handle the rush by themselves. "It was lovely talking to you. but I have to get going back to work," you stood up from the table as you spoke, grabbing the empty cup of coffee. Before you got the chance to walk away though, Miguel wrapped his arm around your wrist. Not tight enough for it to hurt, but certainty enough for it to make you stop in your tracks.
"I want to go on a date with you. I'd really like to keep talking with you, if that's something you wanted," he told you, his grip around your wrist loosening before eventually letting go. You grabbed a napkin from the corner of the table and a pen from your pocket, hastily scribbling out your number on it. "Just text me and we can work something out. I want to keep talking to you too," you responded before you went back to work, though your mind wasn't too much on the baked goods as much as it was on Miguel for the rest of the evening.
Your first date with Miguel was something that you'd never forget, the way he looked over at you every time you had something to share about yourself or the way that he let some of his walls down to let you pass through. But the way that his lips felt against yours was the most memorable part of the evening, your apartment lights just illuminating enough for you to make out the shape of his face. Every date following that one was a moment of absolute bliss, time seeming to stop whenever you two were together.
You were at the dining table when he came back from work, your brows furrowed in concentration as you mixed the bowl in your hands. The sweet aroma of vanilla reminded him that he was home again. The light at the end of a tunnel. it almost got him out of the mood that he was in. Almost. The exhaustion and annoyance from the day managed to maintain their claws on him, his footsteps trudging up the stairs as he went to change. He deactivated his suit, pulling a pair of grey sweatpants and a black tee over himself before going back downstairs.
You'd heard the door open but you were surprised to find that Miguel didn't bother to greet you the same way he used to. 'Cariño, ya llegue,' he'd say after a long day at work, (honey i’m home) Usually taking a seat across from you at the dining table just to hear you talk about your day. You figured that he just needed some space, that he'd come to you if he wanted that sense of intimacy from you again. You busied yourself with mixing in the dry ingredients along with the wet ones, almost ready to put the batter in the oven.
"Missed you so bad, hermosura," you heard from behind you, large arms wrapping around your stomach while his head rested on your shoulder. You were about to tell him that the sentiment was mutual when you felt his hands making their way up to your breasts, kneading them in his hands. He let out a contented sigh as he felt your body mold underneath his hands, having you turn into putty at just the smallest touch. He'd never been this touchy with you before, well he'd never been the one to start off this type of contact.
As much as he liked the feeling of your lips molding against his, the feeling of having your body pressed against him with every hug that he gave you, he never asked for it. He was just.. too shy to even try to start it off. He figured that it would come off as something weird, that his inexperience towards having intimate moments would be shed into the light. He knew that you wouldn't make fun of him for that, but a part of him couldn't help but be wary. He usually just tended to wait until you came up to him, wrapping your arms around him as you sought out for the comfort that only he could provide.
You felt your body being ignited into flames from the way he was touching, your body a manual that he had read thousands of times before. He knew everything that would turn your little head off to anything other than him. You didn't want to stop him now that he was feeling comfortable enough to initiate contact with you, but you'd almost mixed in a spoonful of salt rather than sugar. You willed yourself to finish up with the batter, your hands shaking as you brought the electric mixer down to the bowl.
"Miguel, lemme focus on finishing up with this batch and we can do whatever you want after that," you tried to negotiate with him, the plea landing on deaf ears as his hands travelled down to the expanse of your ass. Your back was arching instinctively, reacting solely to his commands. Sometimes it felt like he had more control of your body than you ever did, every little thing that he did serving a purpose to arouse you even further. He squeezed gently, his hands coming up to rest on your hips as he nestled his head into the crook of your shoulder.
"Don't let me interrupt you. Sigue con tus pastelitos e ignora mis caricias," his voice dropped about an octave as he spoke, his lips dangerously close to your ear. (keep at it with your cupcakes and ignore my caresses) Surely he must've known that what he was telling you to do was pointless. He knew the effect that he had on your body, knows the effect that he's having on you at this moment. You let out a small sigh of relief once the batter had finished mixing in, pouring it in slowly into the pan. You stepped off to the side, putting the pan inside the oven before turning to face Miguel.
"Let me just have your thighs, I won't ask for more," he murmured, his hands coming down to your thighs while his thumbs rubbed small circles on them. At your approval, he went over and sat down at the dining table, his legs spreading to give you access to sit down. He looked like a king sitting down on his throne, his large thighs taking up most of the space on the chair. Almost like he demanded respect. His thighs flexed with every movement, your legs moving on their own accord to get closer to him.
"You have approximately," you started off, your eyes shifting over to the small clock on the kitchen counter, "ten minutes." He let out a small chuckle, lifting his hips up to slide his sweatpants just underneath his balls. He'd made it a habit of going commando underneath his suit, the habit following into his daily attire as well. His cock was already starting to leak precum onto his stomach despite the fact you two hadn't done anything too extreme yet. "That's okay. I only needed nine anyways."
You sat down in between his legs, squeezing your thighs together while the tip of his cock prodded at the underside of your legs. You felt the chair creaking underneath you as he thrusted his hips into your thighs. "Would've done this sooner if I would've known it felt this good. Love your thighs so much, mami," despite the fact that he tried to keep up with his dominant persona, he would do anything if it meant he got to have you like this again.
His hands travelled up his your shirt, rolling your nipples in between his fingers. Your back was flush against his chest as your mouth slightly opened, heavy breaths escaping from your lips. His slick coated the insides of your thighs, wetting them in his essence. Your hand went down to where the tip of his cock was poking through, your thumb rubbing small circles alongside the tip.
"Close your legs a little more for me mami."
"Yeah, just like that," he managed to get out through labored breaths, your thighs squeezing his cock in a similar way that your pussy would. You felt his mouth making its way down your throat, nibbling on the sensitive spots that would have you squirming. His touch was everywhere except for where you needed him the most, your desperation towards the situation growing even further. For someone who'd only agreed to thigh fucking, you seemed to be regretting it already.
You felt your slick leaking down from your folds down to the thin material of your panties, one of your hands reaching down to alleviate the tension building inside you. You hadn't even managed to make it to the waistband before Miguel was already pulling your fingers away, holding it with his other hand. "So greedy. Only I'm allowed to please that little pussy, remember," he warned you, though his voice carried no actual sense of danger to it given how needy he sounded. He made it a point to be the only one to please you, not your own fingers and certainly not anybody else's fingers.
He was rutting into your thighs at an erratic pace, no sense of stability as he felt his balls start to tighten up with every second that your warm thighs enveloped him. That was until he heard the loud 'RING' from the countertop. "No te pares. I'm almost there," he tried to speak over the sound of the timer's ring but you were already standing up by the time he'd finished speaking. (don’t stand up) You wiped away the sweat that accumulated on your forehead, taking a couple deep breaths to get your breathing back to normal. "What happened to only needing nine minutes?"
He let out a small huff as he pulled his sweatpants back on, staying seated at the dinner table. Miguel wanted nothing more than to take you right now, but he was willing to be patient for a couple more minutes. You bent over to take the cupcakes out of the oven, the scent of vanilla hitting your nose instantly. You almost jumped at the feeling of miguel's hands rubbing your ass through your panties if it hadn't been for the fact you had a hot pan in your hands. You placed the pan down, taking the cupcakes out of it and setting them on a plate to get them ready for the frosting portion.
"Ah fuck," you trembled out as you felt Miguel's breath fan against your wet cunt, your pussy clenching around nothing at the sensation. "Already so wet and I haven't even touched her yet," he murmured, spreading your folds with two of his fingers. He let a globe of spit trail from your ass down to your cunt, feeling his cock strain against his sweatpants. He could feel your clit pulsing underneath his fingertips, your body betraying you when you said you wanted to wait. You wanted this as much as he did. If not, maybe even more.
You pushed your hips back onto his face as he pushed his tongue into your wet cunt, feeling your slick coat every single one of his tastebuds at the contact. He knew how proud you were of the baked goods you made, but none of them would ever compare to the taste of your essence. The frosting on the cupcakes started to come out lopsided as you tried to squeeze it on, your hands shaking every time you tried to bring the pipe up to them. "Don't stop," you moaned out, eventually just giving up on the task of trying to keep frosting the cupcakes. The perfectionist in you couldn't stand seeing the sight of the uneven plaster of frosting.
Miguel ate out your cunt like he was a starving man, the task messy as he spat into it and pushed his tongue inside you. Your slick mixed with his spit, the taste of you almost making him delirious. You gripped the countertop tightly, your eyes fluttered shut as you basked in everything that Miguel was giving you. His tongue swirled around your clit in small circles, the sudden stimulation having your toes curling and your eyes seeing stars. You turned around to look at him, your slick coating majority of his chin while some of it dribbled down to his shirt. His eyes were tightly shut as he focused on the task at hand, almost seeming more into it than you were.
You brought your hand up to his hair, tugging at the roots as you pushed him closed to your pussy. He'd vocalized before about how much he liked the mixture of pain and pleasure, a moan vibrating into your cunt as a response. You felt yourself getting closer to that climax, Miguel’s tongue continuing its motions on your clit while his thick fingers opened you up to take his cock later on. You let out an exasperated sigh when you felt him pull away from you just as you were about to cum, though that was quickly shut down when he pressed his lips onto yours.
You got down on your knees, wet kisses marking his tan skin as you made your way down his stomach. You looked over at him, the sight in front of you truly something to behold. His head was lolled back, half-lidded eyes as he met your gaze. His chest heaved with every breath that he took, growing heavier as he felt your lips starting to make their way down his happy trail. He'd stopped bothering to shave it after noticing how much you liked it, the way you licked your lips every time his sweatpants clung a little too low on his hips.
Though his cock was twitching with need right in front of you, painfully erect, you decided to take your time. You kissed his inner thighs, occasionally marking him the same way he'd do to you. Your fingernails raked their way down his thighs, the muscles tensing underneath your touch. You wanted to tease him just as much as he'd teased you earlier, wanting some type of comeback after your ruined orgasm. You delivered a couple more kisses before making your way to his cock, pressing a kiss on the reddened tip.
“Hand me that bag of frosting, please," your voice came out uncharacteristically seductive to your own ears. You'd grown so used to being the sweet girl at the bakery that you hadn't expected yourself to even be a seductress. Miguel reached over to grab the pipe with vanilla frosting inside, handing it over to you. You squirted a little bit of the frosting onto his shaft, setting the pipe aside before leaning in. Your mouth wrapped around his cock, your tongue licking the stripe of frosting up before pulling away. "Think you're gonna kill me, little minx."
Miguel's hands went down to the sides of your head as you took him in your throat, soft moans escaping from his lips. Spit dribbled down the side of his shaft, your hand wrapping around it as you worked it up and down. Though your hand was smaller than his, he enjoyed the feeling of having you jerk him off. Your touch felt more delicate than his own, which tended to be a series of harsh thrusts just to get a quick orgasm. Your mouth came down to his cock again, taking him in much deeper than last time.
Your hand wrapped around the base of his cock to make up for what your mouth couldn't reach, both working in tandem. Your cheeks hollowed as you tried to take him in deeper, willing the muscles in your throat to relax while you did so. "That's it, taking me so well. Nadie me lo chupa mejor que tu," he praised you as you bobbed your head up and down his cock, spit dribbling from the corners of your mouth.
As much as he wanted to cum inside your mouth and see the way that you struggled to sometimes keep his heavy load inside, he wanted nothing more than to cum inside your pussy beforehand. He pulled you off as the height of his peak, watching your eyes flicker over to his in confusion. You were pretty sure you were doing everything that he wanted you to do from his reactions, the way his moans just so freely escaped from his mouth.
"You didn't do anything wrong. just want to cum inside you before anything else," he assured you after seeing the expression of your face, helping you up from the floor. He wiped away the precum mixed in with your spit from the corner of your mouth with his thumb, holding it against your lips. He watched as your tongue darted out before enveloping his finger into your mouth. The way your tongue wrapped around it was heavenly, your eyes shutting as you cleaned off his finger.
Miguel went over to the sink and ran a paper towel under cold water, cleaning any remnants of the frosting that might've been left behind. The last thing the both of you needed was for you to get a UTI as a result from this encounter. He came back over to you, kissing your cheek and muttering some apology about the cupcakes. Not that you cared about them anyways, all you could think about was Miguel having his way with you. He grabbed your hand and intertwined with his, leading you out of the kitchen and out into the living room.
Miguel led you over to the couch, raising your knees up to your chest. You placed your hands underneath your legs, watching as Miguel gave himself a couple languid strokes before slowly pushing his cock inside. "Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned out as he felt your walls fluttering against him, your cunt stretching to adjust to him. Your mouth was parted in a 'o' shape as he pushed his cock even further, your wetness coating his shaft with every delicious inch that he pushed inside.
He loved looking down at you in this position, at how your face contorted into one of pleasure as the sting from the stretch settled in. The way that your tits bounced in sync with every single one of his punishing thrusts. He loved every single part of you, even the parts that you found yourself complaining about at times. He wanted to drill into your head that you were desire embodied, that nobody would be able to compare to the way that you do. No one was even close to comparing to you in his eyes.
Your body was basically bent in half as you laid there to take every single inch that he had to offer, the tip of his cock bulging against your tummy. "Feel how deep I am in you, mami?" He murmured, pressing his hand down where he was at before retreating his cock in one swift motion. The loss was quickly replaced when he thrusted back inside you, relishing the feeling of your walls clenching around him like a vice.
His heavy balls smacked against your ass with every thrust that he made, the sound of skin slapping echoing through the otherwise empty apartment. The loud squelch of your essence coating his cock added onto the symphony of sounds, moans escaping from the two of you as he started to get deeper with his thrusts. You felt filled up to the brim, yet it almost felt like you weren't getting enough. The desire you felt for Miguel wasn't something that was easily satiated, if anything it only grew more with the attention that he was giving you.
The hand that wasn't holding your legs came over to his arm, gripping it tightly for some kind of thing to tether you down to the moment. Your pussy clamped around him a vice, prompting him closer to his orgasm. He prolonged it as long as he could, reciting useless science facts inside of his head. An octopus has three hearts. Though his stamina was high enough to get hard after his orgasm, he didn't want to ruin the moment between the two of you by cumming prematurely.
One of his hands went down to your clit, stimulating the bundle of nerves between his thumb and pointer finger. He rubbed small circles on it, his speed matching the rhythm of his thrusts. Your nails dug into his forearm the harder that his thrusts got, the pain only serving to accentuate his pleasure. "Fuck. Pussy's practically milking me," he uttered, his voice coming out in a groan at the way you were squeezing around him.
Your legs dropped down from your chest, wrapping around his legs as you held him close to you. If he'd even fathomed the idea of pulling out beforehand, the idea was quickly removed from the forefront of his brain the moment you did that. "Cum in me, please," your voice came out whiny as you felt yourself getting closer to that release, your toes curling from every rub being given to your clit. "Cum with me."
His hand enveloped yours as he slid in and out of you with ease, his pace having no rhythm now that he was approaching his orgasm. His thrusts were erratic as he worked the two of you towards that cliff, his fingers gripping yours tightly as if you were a lifeline. Warm ropes of cum shot up your cunt, your walls coated in white up to the brim. His orgasm had prompted your own, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you creamed over his shaft.
Your release mixed with his to form a creamy ring around the base of his cock, some of the liquid leaking out from your cunt. He stuffed it back in with the tip of his cock to the best of his ability, a moan escaping from your throat at the feeling of him sliding in once more. While you could usually match his stamina pretty well, it'd been days since you'd last had sex with him. You were starting to feel worn out from the physical strain he'd put your body through. You wouldn’t change this feeling of euphoria for anything else though.
Miguel slid his softening cock out of your cunt slowly, careful not to overstimulate you in the process. He leaned over and pressed a kiss on your forehead, wiping away the sweat from your forehead. "You did so good for me, lindura," he whispered in your ear, stroking your thighs in soft circles before standing up from the couch. "Stay there and I'll come back with some clothes."
You looked over at him and gave him a nod, your body falling limp on the couch as you felt an ache forming on your legs. You closed your eyes for a second, or what you'd assumed was a second, only to open them to see Miguel standing over you with a pair of pajama shirts and one of his t-shirts. "Try to sit up for me. You don't have to anything," he reassured you, getting to work on cleaning you up before dressing you after you'd sat up.
The two of you sat on the couch with a cheesy romance movie the two of you weren't watching, each holding a cupcake. His hand wrapped around your shoulders, holding you close to his body as his hand lazily drew circles on the side of your stomach. "I see why you liked that thing with the frosting. It's pretty sweet," he noted after taking a bite from his cupcake, leaning over to grab some that was sitting on your nose for a while. You let out a small contented laugh, poking the side of his cheek. There was no other place that you'd rather be other than his arms at this moment.
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tags : 18+!!! mdni! escorts , sex work , reader ! sex worker , vaginal sex , finger fucking , finger sucking , porn with feelings , brothels , oral sex , save a horse ride a whattt
p.s : this is also posted on my ao3!! ( divider by siren4u & gif by drewstarkrs )
billy was a virgin, surprisingly, he didn’t have time for a girlfriend, and the quick fucks from the escorts never enticed him much. many offered, when he would stop quick at towns for a simple beer or to take care of things— he would typically get stopped by the escorts dressed in their gorgeous silks, tight corsets, and sleeves that fall off their shoulders so easily it has your fingers itching with desire to fix it. it would make even the most sane man turn mad, and somehow billy never allowed himself to fall for it.
not until now, an escort stops him before he walks in a bar, “how old are you, dear?”
“19, ‘bout to turn 20,” his voice is smooth and sweet, southern drawl sweeping out with ease.
the girl hums out, tipping out of the way to allow his eyes to another girl standing far behind her, you, “you’re too young for me, dear, you should talk to her. she can show you a good time.”
typically billy would say no, offer a few coins for their efforts and simply walk into the bar like nobody had offered. but something was different when his eyes fell on you, you weren’t like the other escorts, quick to talk to the men and get some money for the events that take within the confines of the motel walls. you were rather looking off in the distance, your position more reserved rather than comfortable. it had him wanting to know more.
to be fair, billy was bored these days, all he did was travel and go from town to town, never leaving a mark on those behind. other than his wanted posters, which by the way, had an awful drawing on it. how the hell was he ever supposed to get a girlfriend with drawings like that made about him? each step is slow, calculated, as he moves over to you. he notices that mid way, your attention seems forced away from him.
are you afraid of him? he tips his head in your peripheral, easily looming over you, “darling.”
your eyes snap to him almost immediately, widening as if you didn’t think it would truly be him, yet you mumble out a, “honey.”
“lady over there told me to talk to you,” his head tips up, blue eyes piercing into you, even through the deepest of the night.
“i don’t want trouble,” you finally turn to him, the smell of musk and gunsmoke filling your nose as he bites through the toothpick in his mouth, “i hear you’re wanted.”
“wanted, but not trouble,” he corrects, smirk tugging at his right lip, “you don’t gotta tell anyone.”
“wasn’t plannin’ on it,” your voice is so sweet, it nearly has him doubling over. you’re teasing him, clearly, but billy has never backed down to a challenge once in his life, he can bet on that.
his eyebrow twitches upright slightly, “how much for thirty minutes, beautiful?”
“you can satisfy me in thirty minutes?” you tease, smile widening at your own joke.
his head cocks to the side, and he can’t help the way he licks his lips, cockiness coursing through his veins, “i probably could in ten.”
you can’t help the way your flesh feels like rubber over molten, cheeks flaring to a new maroon that you hadn’t expected. your eyes dare to match his, the lust unsheathed in the teal of his eyes, “thirty will be just a few coins.”
his hand moves to your jaw, tipping your head up further to look at him with ease, now you have no choice of looking away, “you don’t think i can in ten?”
“i doubt it,” your skin is hot underneath his touch, despite your bold demeanor.
“we’ll see.”
⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡
the motel carried the same smell as it always did, the mix of mustiness, smoke from cigars, and whiskey. billy’s gut churned as you led him to the room that you always rented, surely, he was cocky at first— then he began to worry if he would even be good enough. he was a virgin, after all, and he’s sure you’d been with mostly experienced men. he doesn’t say anything once the door opens, seemingly every worry dissipates as you look back at him with a different look, your lashes flutter over your eyes with ease, the look is more seductive, siren like.
if you were a siren, consider him the sailors in those tales, lost in the tides and addicted to the song that oozed out your vocals.
he allows you to guide him to the bed, sitting him down on the thin, firm mattress with your hands lingering on his shoulders, “what would you like me to do?”
“i’d like for you,” he trails off, eyes tracing down your body, “to get on your knees.”
your hands leave his shoulders as you ever so slowly kneel down, every movement is well thought out, calculated, your body flowing in the most seductive ways. despite your lowered body, your eyes still remained up at him, the sudden doe look in your eyes making his legs spread ever so slightly. his hand is gentle when it touches your cheek again, pinky lining underneath your jawline as his thumb threatens against your lips.
it’s dangerous, the way you look at him, like your gun is being drawn to him with your finger teasing the trigger.
“and?” you add, his thumb teasing your now open lips. he tried not to flinch when your mouth encased his thumb, the warmth wetness of your mouth enveloping the skin. he finds himself unable to speak, unable to wonder whatever he wants— he wants to be stuck in this moment forever, it was greater than any other treasure he had come across. you were so good at your job, it made him want to know the lengths of your skills.
“suck me off,” he finally speaks, gentle to remove his thumb from your mouth.
it was a statement that you were used to, the firm tone, the expectation to get to it immediately— yet you are somehow surprised when it comes from him, it’s less firm, not like a demand but rather an offer, and there wasn’t a feeling of being rushed. for a man who seemingly had no time for women, he surely had a way to talk to them, to be gentler with them, unlike the other men. it was always cowboys who had the better ways of treating women, respectful with every word, or touch. his eyes are heavy on you, the curtains of your eyelashes blinking up to him, your lips tinted a sweet rouge due to a patted on lipstick, and he finds himself pushing his thumb across your lips, smudging the burgundy ever so slightly.
your hands smooth over the fabric of his pants, fingertips teasing the leather of his belt which accompanied his gun holster as you palmed him through his slacks. the touch of the leather was rich, sturdy and every loop was clean cut, rather than loose and falling apart like many belts you had undone before. you hear him groan as your hand gently pushes against his clothed cock, his back stiffening ever so slightly as a chill runs up it.
he tilts his head to the side ever so slightly as you undo his belt, your fingertips threateningly close to his gun holster as you pull the leather from the metal to loosen it. a chuckle vibrates from his chest, voice lower than usual, “careful, princess.”
he lifts his hips as you tug down his pants, boxers following soon after to slip down to his ankles with ease. a hiss escapes him as soon as his hard dick is released to the cold air, with the opposing blow of your warm air on his tip. he was already so hard, as if he had been aching for a day like this. his hand moves to wrap around his base, hips scooting closer ever so slightly.
“open,” his voice is husky, yet velvety, like the thorn of a rose to the petals.
you’re quick to allow your jaw to fall slack, tongue smoothing out past the burgundy that coats your lips, as if you expected his next command. he taps his tip against your tongue, biting back the groan that thunders inside his every limb at the feeling of the warm, wet muscle. he allows you to take the lead, your tongue following the underside of his dick, memorizing each vein. when you reach his tip, you press a few sloppy kisses to it that has his breathing roughen, allowing you to open your mouth once more and take his length inside.
he sucks in a deep breath, a hoarse groan escaping past his lips when he exhales, allowing his teeth clench on the thin wooden toothpick that still remained in his mouth. his head tips back when you hollow your cheeks only mere seconds into sucking him off, his hat slipping off his head and falling onto the plush of the bedsheets.
his breath becomes ragged with the more you bob your head, allowing the tip to reach the back of your mouth, to the throat. his free hand moves to pass through your hairline, gripping at the beginning of your hair, even through your updo, loosening the tightening of the strands. the muscle in his arms flex underneath his short-sleeved button up, veins popping out every time you reach the base.
“good girl,” he breathes out, the whimper that vibrates around his cock making his release come quicker than expected, hand bunching up your hair as he has to move you back, off his dick to stop his orgasm. he heaves, noticing the way strips of saliva connect your mouth to his dick. he moves his hand from your hair down to your lips, watching the way your mouth instinctively opens then closes around his fingers, sucking them in with pure ease.
he allows you to wet them with your saliva until he pulls them out and mumbles a soft, “come.”
he helps you up onto his lap, the metal of his gun is a cooling sensation on his heated skin as he moves back, reaching under to toss his gun elsewhere. he had his guard down now, despite the large bounties on his head, he was too focused on you, and giving you the pleasure that you deserved. as you straddle him, his fingers dared to touch the bottom of your dress, threatening to raise, “may i?”
your eyes are tantalizing when they meet his, like the threatens of the deepest lust lie within them, and billy is willing to dive in, “you may.”
his hair is messy now, like he never took off that damn hat, and when he did— he didn’t bother to fix the hair underneath.
every movement is careful, meant to be more meaningful than a quick fuck, he raises your skirt until his eyes catch on to a white lace garter that’s propped around your upper thigh. so sweet, the purposeful placement of it all, it’s like a prize for whoever gets to raise your skirt. as you sit on his lap, your arms rest on his shoulders, a hand threatening the skin on the back of his neck as his hands move back around your waist, through the silk of the corset to the strings that hold it together on the back. his eyes are stuck onto you as his fingers begin to tug at the tie of the strings, they were in a harsh knot, but billy always knew his way around things.
kissing clients was typically a line many of the women wouldn’t dare to cross, sometimes not even you, but the way his eyes kept tipping down to your lips had you threateningly close to the now faded line. as the laces of your corset loosen, your head tips down to where your lips barely brush him, you can smell the mint already before even getting a chance. your lips move to close around the toothpick that he kept in his mouth, moving to spit it out and he was quick to chase your lips. as soon as you had spit out the toothpick, his lips finally pressed against yours, allowing your freshly manicured hands to curl through his brunette hair.
the fresh smell of your rose and jasmine was quick to his nose as he inhaled you up close, tongue teasing against your lower lip ever so carefully. there was a certain thirst that billy found himself feeling as he moves to spread your mouth open with his own, allowing your tongues to both clash, the mix of spit and remnants of mint and a cigarette becoming prominent to the taste. he wanted to drink every word from your lips, to suck in your siren song like his life depended on it.
when your hips bucked up against him, needy to feel a form of friction, it had encouraged him to finally free you from the confines of your corset. your lips part when he breaks the kiss, his lips trailing kisses down to your jaw, throughout until he meets your neck, the softness of his kisses making it feel as though doves were flying through the confines of your body. when his lips begin to move to suck on the delicate skin, you hiss, “dear, dear, you can’t leave marks.”
“your rules or brothel rules?” he murmurs against your skin, moving to toss away your corset onto the floor.
“brothel rules,” you hush out, and you feel his lips curl onto your neck.
“then ‘m gonna leave as many marks as i want,” he falls back into your skin, lips taking in the skin between his teeth as he moved to mark you as his own. the desire to have a prostitute as your own was a dangerous game, but billy had been a part of many dangerous games before, and now he was pulling all his money in with the unluckiest of cards— yet he still finds himself with the pride of feeling he will win. his lips pause at one of the pulse points on your neck, noticing how your heat beat quickens, and flutters, was this typical?
he wasn’t sure, but he finds himself praying it’s a good thing. he chuckles as your hands are desperate to unbutton his shirt, pushing each wooden button through the loops with ease, you had done this a million times before, this is the only time your heart is thumping in your chest when you do, though. he moves his hand down to take a hold of one of your wrists, “easy, girl, easy.”
“you said ten minutes,” you remind him, smile dripping on your lips.
“mm, i want longer than that,” he helps you unbutton the last few before taking off his shirt, noticing how your eyes trail down his figure.
“just sayin’ that because you can’t make me cum,” you break into a soft laugh against him, and he can’t help the way a small smile curves his lips as he takes off the dress that you were wearing. your body is alike to the statues you could only dream of seeing in those beautiful stories about gods and women who ruled. women who were worshipped, even as billy knew you for mere minutes, he found himself wanting to kneel at your altar, to worship the ground you walk on. to make you cum would mean more than he imagined at first, he wanted to be that man, to pleasure you in ways others haven’t.
his fingers slip underneath the hem of your panties, immediately exposed to the wetness underneath as it coats his fingers, “can’t make you cum yet you’re so wet for me, hm?”
you bite your lip, allowing your hips to sway against his fingers as pleasure envelopes your every thought almost immediately. though billy wasn’t quite sure about what exactly to do, he had heard the other cowboys speak of this, and he hoped it delivered as much pleasure as they said when he dips a finger inside of you. you’re loose around him, wet, yet sucking him in so easily. he’s quick to add another, finding his rhythm almost immediately and getting cocky with it. he dares to let his thumb tease the edges of your clit, as if he didn’t know it was there and he was merely looking for somewhere to place it.
he notices the way your nails dig in to his scalp, biting your tongue so hard that crimson may bleed from it with ease.
billy had kissed many women, been on the brink of sex, and yet none have reacted the ways in which you do. they were quick to show how they react, every emotion not blanketed behind a curtain of embarrassment but now, despite it being your job to over exaggerate the pleasure, you found yourself shy to make noise. he moves to allow another finger to push inside of you, the pink velvet of your insides encasing his fingers with ease. he hears you gasp when his fingers threaten to curl, and he allows himself another smile. his thumb moves to your clit again, and that’s when your grip becomes lethal, biting your lip no longer becoming a guard for your moans.
“please,” you mumble out, whimpering.
“please what, princess?” you’re putty in his hands, and he’s kneading you with ease.
“i.. i need you,” you moan out, to be saying this to a wanted man, one who has killed, and committed theft, as well as escaped from prison— it was something you swore to never do. yet you were having sex with him and his touch felt so gentle it was as if it never happened, how could a man so dangerous be so kind? you feel a vein pulse from his neck as he finally pulls his fingers out, his eyes following yours as he moves his hand up to his mouth, allowing his fingers to move in between his lips and the taste of you to savor his tastebuds.
your pupils dilate at the sight of him tasting you, skin warming before you can even realize that you’re moving to take his fingers out, replacing them with your tongue as your mouth presses against his again. his hand falls on your waist, other hand guiding his dick to your cunt as he deepens the kiss to feel you moan against his mouth. your tongues fight for dominance, each movement a hunger of it’s own but yours falls submissive as soon as his dick slides into you with ease. your velvet is tighter around him than he expected, and he feels the vibrations of your whines against his tongue, mumbling a small, “you’re so big—“ against his lips.
once you reach his base, you pull away from his lips, a mere string of saliva connecting you both like a lifeline.
now you have the lead to take, your lips connecting with his neck to leave marks on him, you wonder how the other cowboys will react as your hips start swaying on his dick, riding him with ease. will they laugh at him for all the prominent hickeys? there’s no way he could hide it, you’ve heard billy had girlfriends all around in many different towns and parts of the state, what if he went back to them and they saw all the marks? it would trace back to you, you’re sure of it, but something about that fills you with a sense of pride rather than fear. you’ve always adored the outlaws, even though you were raised to be a good christian woman, a good girl. the outlaws were always the sweet talkers, as you were told from the other girls at the brothel. you were told stories about how well they treated the women, their touch being better than most the regulars, their words so dirty you’d only dream of being told it until you had finally heard it.
now you found yourself in love with the idea of trouble, as you wrap yourself in the silks of his touch and the pleasure he gave you. his head tilts back to allow you more access to the free canvas of his neck, his hand raises, then immediately smacks onto the flesh of your ass. the slap tore a cry from your throat, into the skin that coats his neck, and a plain redness forms around the mark of his hand, branding you.
somehow, this was more intimate than your previous affairs, even despite the roughness of the sex. it felt like a wild play of ballet, an opera you would only dream of seeing, the gracefulness of each movement and the sweetness that drips like honey off each sound, even the sounds of skin slapping as you ride him. you taste the bitterness of his cologne as you reach the sides of his neck, sucking the pale skin with a need to create marks that last. he’s fascinated by your every movement, if this truly was a ballet, he would find himself in the crowd, watching the dancer move with such purity even during such a lewd act.
you felt yourself curl as your orgasm builds again, and it seems he is too in the way his hips begin to rock. every movement feels like being coated in molasses, trying to swim through it, the orgasms scorching through your inner thighs to your core until it wracks your body, hitting you harder than it had any other time. you don’t know what it was about him, but you were quick to flutter around him, and that had him pulling out, stroking himself for mere seconds until white stripes fall in messy streaks across your skin.
he pulls you closer when your lips move so your head tilts onto his shoulder, both of your guys’ chests heaving as if you had just been working out, as if you were running towards danger and felt the warmth of it’s embrace reel you in. it was billy’s arms, his eyes closing for a mere second before they open again, “thought i couldn’t make you cum.”
you hate the way you smile so easily at anything he says, the way you melt into his touch, the way even though you were merely a one night stand it felt like you wanted this to be an eternity, you wanted him to be a regular.
“mm, i faked it,” you say with a smile, so clearly a lie.
you move so he slips out of you, your cunt clamping around nothing as it missed the feeling of him inside of you. soon, you reassure yourself as you stand, convinced he will be returning. poor, poor girl, you were just another victim of the sweet talkers with pretty faces. it worsens as your legs become jelly, and he’s quick to stand, hands fastening to your waist and holding it to keep you balanced. his chuckle turns to a laugh, a deep, hearty laugh, “you sure, doll?”
you roll your eyes, pressing a kiss to his cheek, somehow your lipstick remained and it kept the mark staining his cheek as you left your kiss there. then you moved, taking your clothes and putting them on, “goodnight, billy.”
#billy the kid#tom blyth#coriolanus snow#coriolanus fanfiction#coriolanus x reader#billy the kid x reader#billy the kid x you#billy the kid smut#billy the kid fanfiction#tbosas#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#smut#coriolanus smut
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Run, Run Far Angel
Note || I am obligated as a fanfic author to write this, sue me. I got attached to DogDay, and he deserved better in Chapter 3.
WC || 2,070
<(You are here)><(sequel part)>
Sypnosis || An unlikely shortcoming of a friendly entity, or, You get a new friend in spite of this hellish factory.
The noise that had buzzed in the far reaches in the depths of your ears had annoyed you to no end, insistent to remain with you. So many times over had your guilt marred your sense of peace, your sense of futility. Whatever control you felt you had in your life was completely gone the moment you had come back to the accursed place known as Playtime Co. Toy Factory. So many unruly things had gone here, things done and said that left you chuckling–few that had left you with regrets.
Regrets that had stayed with you for well over ten years, since your co-workers had disappeared. You always had a sinking feeling you knew well what had happened to the last of them, your friends and those that you had come to consider family.
Then you fell into Playcare, a place once filled with laughter and joy, something of which was indescribable. To know the children here and being able to hear such joyful playing and sometimes the odd cry, it was fulfilling, now the whole Factory–every floor there was to know–was devoid of the very same life you’ve come to know and love all those years ago.
Now the only thing that had tormented your mind, as it always had been since you first arrived, was your fight or flight. Instinctive you were, but you hated every minute of having to run and hide away from the monster that had presided reign over their domain, on of which the very one you had to be stuck with was-
“Catnap?” You muttered, thumbing the scarred fur that was blotched with ashy spots, as if it were burned by fire.
The small recreational stuffed animal looked so adorable for the most part, yet it disturbed you greatly, guilt was predominant in mind and body. In all of your years you had remembered working at the Factory you don't ever recall the name of Catnap, the creepy elongated mouth had stood out to you the most.
He was hunting you, toying with you for sport. You couldn’t really understand why he hadn’t just gunned you for killing you at a moment's notice, though you felt a breath of relief that you could buy yourself time.
Supposedly some of this relief is partial to the fact that this Ollie kid was guiding you on where to go, with how dark this place was is absurd to you–so the guidance was appreciated. A voice had finally snapped you out of your ever consuming thoughts, it was terribly the truth.
“Hey are you alright? Just press that button and you’ll be through in no time! The small critters cant seem to get you from up there so you should be alright.” Ollie, yes Ollie that is the kids name. Who is this strange person anyway?
Unfortunately you weren’t in a position to worry about that right now, you simply pressed the button with the help of your grabpack. Trying to remember all the hands you had now with you was troublesome, but you manage.
‘I suppose.’ You wonder if there is anyone in this place that won’t actively be out for your head, truth be told.
Maybe that was a miracle in mind, as you walked through the desolate rubble the air seemed to desaturate, a mist once permeated with dread and the iron taste of blood seemed to float away as you came across a surprising display. Gruesome but something nobody should have to see or experience.
It seemed to be DogDay, you could've sworn coming across a cardboard cutout of the very same character earlier.
He seemed to be so.. Sad.
“You…you’re Poppy’s angel. Come to save us. Nothing left to save, not here…You’re in CatNap’s home, angel. Their home.” His voice was broken, forlorn, vocal cords riddled with experience he never wanted to relive again. You felt saddened on his behalf, no doubt the pain he is feeling right now is tremendous. For a moment, silence had filled the comfortable atmosphere rendering you with a small pit of anxiety balling within your gut.
Still you feel as if you had to speak, but you allow Dogday to have his part, that much you could try to do for him.
DogDay’s head lolled about as if he were a ragdoll, the effort to make movement was extraneous. “A million pairs of eyes are on you now. Watching, waiting, hungry. They want nothing more than to crawl beneath your skin and eat away at you bit by little bit - fill what feels empty inside themselves.” Those words sparked an ire of curiosity inside your trodden heart, you wanted to help him now.
You needed help, especially answers too. He was in pain, and you wanted to help him, so to ease your guilty conscience a little; hopefully in the process of gaining a friend at the same time. “Catnap.. Just, I don’t understand him.” DogDay raised his head, looking at you wistfully as if he had expected the aforementioned cat to be brought up.
DogDay winced as he moved, each little rattle sending painful vibrations throughout his body–the phantom legs hadn’t brought any peace to him whatsoever.
“That thing…CatNap. The Prototype is his God, and this is what he does to heretics.” His words carried an aura of ominous spiels, as if you were to heed this warning. “These little toys follow CatNap to avoid that very fate- and in return, they are fed.”
In their place, you would take measures to avoid such a fate too if you would. To a point, you could sympathize with the small toys, not being able to do anything and the teetering possibility of being killed always hanging over your head. Knowing that alone is unfathomably terrifying.
“Would explain why they were hunting me previously..” You murmur, now tucking that thought to the depths of your mind. Still you wanted to hear out DogDay, for he knew better of what had gone on here then you did. His head had shagged, fur ruffled and dangling about as he had squirmed slightly.
“We tried to fight it, the Prototype’s control. I’m…the last of the Smiling Critters.” His tune was mournful, his friends really had been killed right before his very eyes. Catnap’s gas, you remember it well enough.
You had to take a moment – articulate your words. You were completely filled to the brim with anxiety and alert, you remind yourself to not let down your guard in spite of being with someone who has no intention of wanting to kill you. “You had tried to escape, and he… knocked you out with his gas?”
DogDay’s brows creased, confirming your answer. You felt so terrible for him, causing you to be firmly set on a decision.
You were helping him get out of here, in no way shape or form did you feel he should be left behind in shambles like this. “This is probably going to sound, insane. But I’m gonna help you get outta here.” Dogday perked up at this, nodding his head no.
He certainly didn’t want you to die, especially not on his account.
“Angel that is not wise! I will slow you down.” He persists, “Listen to me, you need to get out of this place. You need to live. You and Poppy can fix this, end this madness, the torment–” You didn’t want him to change your mind, so as immediate as you were, You desperately grabbed at his arms.
Quickly and surely enough the small critter toys had began crawling toward DogDay, you certainly would not put up with that. You fired a flare gun at the small critters, as much as you could so you could buy time to get DogDay out of his chains.
It seemed Dogday had sensed your determination to want to help him in spite of his warings, even with how much he had tried to convince you to leave. “You are doing well Angel, keep them away from me.. I will do my best to free myself of these.” His voice felt strained, cut off with a cough as he wriggled free–even if every brittle bone in his body had begged him to just lay there and rest.
You thanked him silently, continuing to work away at the critters who were highly determined in their goal to possess DogDay and resume their chase to kill you. “I am free! Quickly now Angel, quickly.” He ushered you forward to run right away, you picked him up as soon as he had done so and heaved him over your shoulders with a heavy breath as a display of your efforts. To say he was surprised at your willful strength was an understatement, he silently applauded you for your strength to keep moving.
Though, it hadn’t removed any of his worry for you as you continued to run forward, your muscles straining to keep up with your mind. From what he can understand of humans anyway, you were exhausted, though he felt it wasn’t right to speak out on it anyway–safety first before talking.
“Almost there, Angel.. You just need to get to that elevator over there!” He jabbed his finger in the direction you needed to go, and you went on instinct with his direction. Your muscles ached and burned, but you could rest as soon as you reached the elevator, you couldn’t risk DogDay being left behind helpless with the small critters.
Speaking of which, they were still chasing you and your new companion. You wished they stopped, but you had considered an aforementioned thought, they only do this to ensure their fate wasn’t like his. Since then this has wildly changed.
You were close to the edge.
Then, you leaped, everything seemed to slow down. DogDay held on tightly, hands wrapped around your neck secured tight, to you it seemed comforting in the depths of your sudden despair.
You dropped right onto the metal plate, which luckily had railing. The door shut right behind you as DogDay had quickly made action to press the button to start up the elevator nor long after you had succeeded in jumping to the elevator. He slumped with a sigh, something you could very much agree with, sitting down with a thump following in your wake.
Truth be told, you weren’t sure of how much more you could take much more of this nightmare. You may just as well be in a very long dream, and you were just actually sleeping at home, but no way however as the exhaustion had finally settled into your bones.
Weary bones creaked about as DogDay made an effort to check over your slumped body, wanting to ensure you were not injured anywhere before he spoke, “Whatever questions you have..” He paused for a moment as if he were considering his words, something of which seemed to happen to a lot of people and toys alike in this Factory. “I will answer, rest for now first.”
DogDay was being his typical self, always so worried over someone else before considering his own health. His own legs being severed must be a great deal of pain, you wanted to ask him to rest too. Yet, you were too tired to respond, only nodding curtly as sleep had stolen you away from your awakened consciousness.
A genuine smile seems to relax DogDay’s expression, you sorely needed rest. He would help you get that rest, things to talk about and things to face would come later. “You have done impossible things, you have run far. Thank you.” He quietly spoke, curling up to cuddle you.
His head laid to rest on the crown of your head, hands and arms elongating ever so slightly to surround you in his warmth. DogDay was a leader, a friend, but he was also a good napping buddy. That much was certainly no lie to be told.
Silence seemed to fill his ears now, sleep was creeping up to DogDay as well. Ah, he cannot sleep right now. You were in his care and vulnerable, especially considering you had gone through the trouble of freeing him.
To those tormented, the madness had enraged man and toy, you were their saving graces. Someone they could get behind, without the utmost support where would you be now?
“Night has fallen, but for you I will do my absolute best to help you, Angel.”
#poppy playtime#dogday#dogday poppy playtime#x reader#purely platonic#I like how he calls the player angel#it’s cute :D
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