#Yeah damn not even cotton on made me feel so shit about myself | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

get-shiggy-with-it · 3 years

Text

#1 Victory Royale

✧ pairing: college student!spinner x student!afab!reader

✧ word count: 4.4k

✧ warnings: college au/no quirks, light angst, mostly soft/fluff, smut, could be hate fucking if you squint, afab reader but no pronouns, this is pretty tame, by like my standards, I wrote this at work, not really a warning, but it felt like you needed to know that

✧ summary: relationships suck and Spinner is starting to think maybe he does too

✧ ao3 mirror

✧ a/n: Hey y'all, welcome back to more college au bs from me. This is set in the same universe once again as all my other college pieces. A very sweet anon asked if we'd ever get to see more of Spinner, so here he is! Also with another cameo from shiggy's bitch (endearing) cause I can't help myself.

“Ughhhhhh….”

Spinner’s groaning echoed through the tiny apartment, the heavy sound of creaking couch cushions under his weight following.

“What?” his long-suffering roommate shouted out their bedroom door, rapidly shoving clothing and a toothbrush into an overnight bag.

“Uggghhhhhhh!”

He let out with another, louder dying animal wail. He’d been like this since they woke up—wallowing in some strange concoction of self pity and Red Bull on the kitchen floor when they walked in for water two hours ago.

“Motherfucker,” they mumbled, tossing their bag to the floor and marching, more than a little disgruntled, into the hall. “What do you want?”

Spinner was sitting upside down on the couch now, feet up against the wall tapestry and cotton candy hair splayed out on the floor. He stared blankly as his friend came into view—arms crossed, frowning at him from the end of the hall—and opened his mouth once more, letting out another garbled grunt that had one of the neighbors pounding twice on the wall to shut his dramatic ass up.

“Dude seriously, are you gonna tell me who pissed in your cereal or are you just gonna scream until the guys next door kick a hole through our wall?”

They almost felt bad as he looked away, sniffing and letting himself slump farther off the sofa until he was sprawled completely on the hardwood and staring, glassy eyed, up at the ceiling.

When he finally spoke a full sentence, his gaze was locked on the water stain above him from a year ago when the upstairs neighbors flooded their apartment trying to make jungle juice in the bathtub.

“I don’t know, I’m just in my feels as the kids say,” he sounded so dejected—strange for someone who was perpetually energized to a frustrating degree—that their shoulders immediately slumped from a hardass square to a softer, more sympathetic angle

They padded over to join him on the floor.

“Care to elaborate, oh roomie of mine?”

There was a pause and Spinner tapped his nails against the hardwood idly before responding.

“I guess I’m just feeling, like, fucking I don’t know,” he sighed, knocking his head against the dusty boards, “left out I guess? That’s not quite right, but it’s just Magne mentioned last time she came to The League meeting that Jin was seeing somebody and it just got me all introspective and weird…”

“Hm,” his roommate hummed thoughtfully and studied the way the textured white ceiling gave way to the rings of brown water damage, like a dead and dying flower, “I thought you and Jin weren’t ever that serious?”

“We weren’t,” Spinner groaned again and rubbed his eyes. “We went on like, one date a year ago and I haven’t thought about it really at all since then. I’m not sure why hearing he’s got someone else now made me so fucking...jealous I guess.”

“I mean, maybe you just never really gave yourself the time to process it?” they asked and received only an annoyed huff and accompanying groan. “Sorry, should have asked if you were looking for advice or just wanting to rant. My bad.”

“No, it’s fine. I think it’s just…”

Spinner trailed off and they shifted as the hard floor bit at their back and made it ache. The muscles were sore already as it was, and Tomura blowing their fucking back a few times a week wasn’t really helping. They’d created some kind of perpetually horny monster, but something told them cracking a joke about it wasn’t really going to help the situation much. Thankfully, Spinner found his way to filling the silence a minute later.

“I don’t think it has anything specifically to do with Jin. Yeah I liked him, we’re still really good friends and I don’t feel like I need him to be more than that. It’s just that—and this is gonna make me sound like a massive asshole—but with you and your new fucking boyfie and now even Jin finding someone to date I just keep seeing reminders everywhere of how motherfucking isolated I am.”

“Oh,” they felt their face burn a bit, guilt frothing as they were forced to acknowledge the fact that in all the time they’ve spent holed up with Tomura, Spinner had been discarded like an old Steam game, bought impulsively on sale and never played again. “I’m sorry I haven’t been prioritizing you—”

“No, no, no shut the fuck with that,” he waved his hand to cut them off and pushed himself up on his palms. “I know I’m not being fair about it, and I really am happy for you guys, but idk man….I just feel like I’m never gonna find that you know?”

Beside him, his roommate remained sprawled out on the floor like a homicide tape outline and was just as deadly quiet.

“I just,” he continued, running an angry hand through his hair, “I know I could be such a good partner. Like I’m funny and I’m not a fucking creep, which is actually a plus to most people.”

He shot a side glance down and they rolled their eyes, sitting up and knocking his shoulder roughly till he toppled back to the dirty floor and they stood above him.

“Fuck off,” they chuckled.

His roommate watched as the laughter seemed to infect him like a bad cold, creeping down the back of his throat and shaking in his chest.

“No I’m serious, I would be such a fucking great boyfriend. I give goddamn top quality cuddles and I actually know how to do laundry, what more does one need truly?”

“Damn bro, you’ve known how to fold your own clothes this whole time?”

The giggling spread into the quiet space, rocking through both their shoulders and leaving the air feeling light—fresh like the first nights of Spring. When it finally petered out into friendly silence, they were both far lighter.

“I just like the way you fold my t-shirts, the sleeves don’t get those weird creases when you do it,” he muttered and stood, doing his best to fix the wild pink locks that stood on end from his fidgeting.

“Yeah I’m sure,” his roommate rolled their eyes and turned back down the hall.

When they left for the night to stay over with their boyfriend, Spinner tried not to acknowledge the way he subconsciously glared at their back as they walked out the door, skipping yet another League meeting to swap spit with that guy from their English class.

He tried even harder not to think of how their bed would be warm and their legs would have legs to tangle with, their chest have a chest to lay against, while he heated up instant noodles in the microwave and fell asleep alone on their living room couch.

Not to mention that tonight was the big tournament with that new group on campus. He was really banking on his bff (best fucking friend as they were always sure to clarify) and him teaming up to crush those assholes from The Commission or whatever they called themselves.

Fucking lame as shit name in his opinion.

In any case, he’d have to settle for Magne again, and she was such a loose cannon they were sure to get their asses handed to them. She was a great fucking tank, he’d be the first to admit, but strategy was not a strong point of hers and they desperately needed that tonight.

He could feel the sinking weight of failure rolling in the pit of his stomach already even as he dragged himself into his room to tug on an old pair of jeans.

It bothered him way more than it should, the idea of losing some gaming tournament that, by all means held little to no actual significance.

Spinner knew the stock he’d started placing in games was growing to an unhealthy degree.

He knew that.

But self awareness rarely did anything to alleviate the irrational fear of failing at one of the only remaining consistencies in his life.

It stung worse when the tournament kicked off and by the third round, Spinner was the only remaining League member in the brackets.

“Fucking shit…” he muttered to himself, the small basement room alight with the blue glow of the monitor and the sound of frantically smashing controllers.

Behind him on the couch—stolen long ago from the theater building—Magne held him by the shoulders as he grit his teeth and leaned into the movement of his avatar on screen.

“You got this babe,” she shouted, cheek pressed up to his ear. “Make ‘em eat shit for me!”

“I would if you stopped distracting me,” Spinner hissed back.

Really it wasn’t Magne’s aggressive and somewhat bloodthirsty style of encouragement that shook his focus so badly.

It was his opponent.

The fucking president of The Commission sat, thighs spread and pressed to his, resting your weight on your elbows and snarling beside him in the couch.

Your face was split in this heart stopping grin as you quite deftly dodged all his attempts to get a hit in and managed to land a few of your own in the process.

And you looked really hot doing it.

Which was definitely just a side effect of the punch he (didn’t) drink and the body heat fueled temperature of the room—sweaty skin against sweaty skin making his mind wander against his will.

The shifting in his seat was absolutely just to illogically make him move faster and had nothing to do with how tight his pants now seemed.

So much for not being a fucking creep.

Your teammates were gathered in a circle behind you, enraptured and exuding the kind of smug confidence that said quite clearly The League was fucked from the second they walked in.

Not even two minutes later your hands were thrown up, punching the air and your team piling over the back of the couch to drown you in a sea of celebratory limbs.

Spinner felt himself deflating even as he was toppled off the couch by your screaming members and The League collectively cursed in the background.

Truthfully he’d known the chances of winning were slim.

Ever since his roommate started getting busy with classes and clubs that ‘looked good on their resume,’ The League had gone downhill rapidly. It was a problem since long before that Shigaraki guy swooped in and stole them away, but Spinner couldn’t stop himself from lowkey holding that against him.

The League had consumed so much of his life in college, functioning as a haven where he was finally respected and belonged to an extent he’d never experienced before.

The stink of failure and loss, not of the game but the only space he’d ever really occupied without complaint, burned his face and made the room feel more suffocating than usual.

Magne looked as though she wanted to give him one of her signature—and admittedly very comforting—hugs, but the deadly look of disappointment on Spinner’s face must have made her think twice.

The rest of his team seemed to read this sudden downward shift in the room as they began to filter out, climbing the steps onto street level and away from the suddenly stuffy, uncomfortable meeting spot. Normally everyone would stay and finish off the drinks snuck past the janitorial staff, eating Doritos until well past midnight. This time they couldn’t wait to be rid of him.

He couldn’t really blame them.

The multimedia building was a strange place after hours. Once Spinner might have called it something rare and liminal, now it felt more like a prison.

He stood, packing up the consoles a bit more roughly than necessary when someone cleared their throat behind him.

He turned to see you, standing alone with hands on your hips and scowling like you were the one who just got their gaming reputation ruined.

“Dude what the fuck was that?”

Spinner bristled at the knife sharp point of your tone.

“Really?” he asked incredulously. “You seriously waited around to rub your win in my face?”

You rolled your eyes and took a step closer around the couch. “I’m not talking about the fucking game dumbass. Why the hell are you pouting like I stole your fucking candy or some shit? You ruined the vibes man.”

“If anyone was ruining the vibes, it was you and your cocky ass team.”

Spinner felt himself stepping closer too, pulled in by the celestial weight that accompanied any kindling argument.

“Me?” you pointed to your chest and scoffed, “Wow, I was really hoping you’d actually possess a bit of emotional maturity, but if this is how you get after a loss I’m not shocked your fucking club is bleeding members.”

At some point the two of you had gravitated close enough that he felt the puff of your last breath on his cheeks. Two comets, ready and willing to collide.

“I’m not being the asshole in this situation, you know that right?” Spinner glared down his nose at you, heart pounding in his ears. “Maybe you shouldn’t make fucking unfounded assumptions about people you don’t know.”

“So then why are your panties in a twist over a fucking game?” you retorted.

He was peripherally aware that your eyes had taken on the same laser focused quality as they had during the last round. Determined and locked onto him without sparing a glance to anything else.

It was this same undivided attention that he’d envied in you as you played, and as Spinner felt it trained on him, his pants once again felt uncomfortably restrictive.

“It’s not about the fucking game okay!?” his voice came out hoarse and far more petulant than he’s been aiming for.

Though he quickly felt the embarrassment give rise to a secondary heat as you both breathed each other’s air and searched the face across from you.

“Then what is it about?”

That strange, unexplainable, inexplicable rush of potential filled the small gap that remained between your bodies—the kind of tension Spinner was beginning to think he’d never feel again.

He’d kissed plenty of people. Almost more than he’d like to admit, or that they’d like to admit more accurately.

But when his flickering eyes found your hard stare still and unwavering from his, it felt incredibly natural to lean in and press his lips against your fading frown.

It was slow going, the few centimeters that separated you seemed like miles as he moved slowly, never breaking eye contact until his mouth was finally slotted over yours and you weren’t pushing him away.

There was still a bit of lingering confusion, as this was decidedly not what either of you appeared to be expecting from the prior conversation. That coupled with the fact that Spinner wasn’t entirely sure he remembered your first name made the feeling of your tongue prodding at the seam of his lips all the more startling.

When he gasped, you slid your hands up his chest and licked into his mouth. Tongue tangling between breaths, Spinner felt himself getting lost in the familiar and coveted taste of another mouth, another body, another hand that grasped, that desired, that wanted him.

***

Your knees dug into the cushions on either side of Spinner’s thighs as you bounced in his lap. He fought to keep his eyes open against the pleasure of his cock sinking into you over and over again, so he could watch the way your head was thrown back and your chest heaved with the exertion.

He dug his hands into your hips and let his head hit the back of the couch, feet planted on the floor to help his hips thrust up into you, earning him some of the prettiest, stifled moans he’d ever heard.

Truthfully, he had not expected to fuck you. He figured you might be down to just make out for a bit until the cleaning staff came and booted you from the building, but both your pants had quite quickly and naturally found their way to the floor.

Neither of you spoke much, which he was thankful for. That would have been far too complicated of a conversation, especially considering you really didn’t know each other all that well.

Spinner usually liked to do a bit of ‘getting to know you’ type activities before he hooked up with people, which he did with surprising frequency for somebody so starved for a long term thing. Sex just fucking felt good and it was this eagerness that was his downfall. Most people he’d fucked around with seemed to read the urge to get into their pants as a diminished interest or emotional attraction and Spinner ended up with more friends with benefits than actual friends...or benefits.

Regardless, it was fine by him that the only form of communication passing between you for now were scattered groans of pleasure and the wet slap of your ass against his thighs.

He’d nearly forgotten how fucking amazing pussy felt.

For no particular reason, Spinner had always found himself fooling around with bodies more similar to his own. Not that he had any real preference, though the lack of experience often made him a bit nervous in the whole ‘pleasing your partner’ department, despite many helpful lessons from his roommate.

That was all to say that Spinner was incredibly thankful you reached down to guide his hand that had clumsily begun rubbing circles on your clit. That is until you simply knocked it away and went back to riding his dick like a fucking champ.

Then he did speak.

“Wanna make you cum,” he mumbled and really did sound like he was pouting this time.

You peered down at him, slowing your pace so you sat flush in his lap, grinding his cock deep against your walls. Spinner keened as you clenched around him, pussy so deliciously warm he felt himself near to drowning in the feel of you.

“Mm fuck,” you panted, leaning in to steal a few more messy kisses from him before lifting up and enveloping him in the slick heat all over again. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No,” he nipped at the column or your throat, careful not to leave any lasting marks just in case. “If I’m finishing, you’re fucking finishing.”

You pulled back and stared at him for a moment. He felt you purposefully tightening around him just so he would squirm under your curious gaze. After a moment you smirked and rolled your eyes again, taking his hand and guiding his fingers back to that little nub just above where his thick length was seated inside you.

Spinner was proud of his dick, it was hefty but not so long that it was a hassle to fit—just enough to reach all the important bits. He was sensitive as hell too most of the time, so just about any pressure felt amazing. But the best part of it was watching whoever he was fucking fall apart on his goddamn perfect cock.

So when you whispered, “Like this,” and showed him the rhythm and motion you liked, he pulled himself back from the brink to pay attention, speeding up until that look of cooled control slid right off your face.

“Ahh, yes fuck...” the words tumbled from you freely now. “Shit, yeah just like that—”

Spinner could get fucking drunk off the low groan that left you as he planted his feet more firmly and bucked his hips up. He must have hit something good by the way you choked and moaned boarding on too loud, though he had neither the heart nor self control to stop you.

“Feel good?” he grunted, picking up the pace and force he thrust into you, so that you had to loop your arms around his neck and hold tightly as he speared you on his cock.

“Fuck...yes..” you whimpered into his shoulder which did wonders for his ego.

Spinner kept up his rubbing frantic patterns on your clit and feeling the gradual constriction of your walls around him—the coil growing tight and ready to snap. He nudged your cheek with his until you pulled back a bit to face him.

“I want to see you,” he murmured, sucking your tongue into his mouth for a moment and tearing himself away so he could watch as you came undone around him.

You gave him a strange, soft look and pressed your forehead to his, eyes zoned in on only him.

The rest of the room, the whole fucking basement and campus melted away under that stare.

Your nipples peaked through your shirt, brushing against his as you were jostled into him by the movement of your hips. As you reached your peak, words devolved into increasingly breathy gasps. It took Spinner an incredible amount of concentration not to fucking paint your insides then and there.

Your pussy was so goddamn tight and warm and milking him just right, it was a fucking impressive feat to remain staunchly at the edge of his peak as your mouth fell open and your fingernails scratched at his back when you finally came—the telltale spasms around his cock and the near sobs coming from you more than enough indication.

He lost himself well and truly then.

Lost in the false sense of intimacy that came with being allowed to see you fall apart, this person he barely knew yet made him feel immensely important in that moment. Your breath and spit was in his mouth, the smell and feel of you soaking his length pushed him beyond the realm of conscious thought.

There was only a deep and burning need to be closer to you. So, so much closer.

His hands moved of their own accord, hooking under your thighs and flipping your bodies so your back hit the cushions and he hovered above you. The angle allowed him to slide deeper, pulling out and thrusting his hips in fast, hard strokes that hurtled him towards release.

Spinner couldn’t keep himself quite now either, panting and moaning and gasping unashamedly with his eyes screwed shut as you took his cock so unbelievably well.

It wasn’t until your hands, softer than he’d imagined, cupped his jaw and pulled him down to meet you that he was brought back down from whatever higher plane of existence his impending orgasm whisked him too.

Your lips weren’t nearly as frantic as the rocking of his thighs, the slap of his balls against your ass. The sweetness was an odd but welcome contrast.

“I’m gonna—fucking mm...” he tried so hard to get his tongue to form the words but he could feel himself slipping further as you started clamping around his length again.

“I know,” you breathed against his lips, faces pressed together and unmoving eyes steady on his own. “Ahh, inside if you want.”

He did want.

Oh fuck did he want nothing more in that moment to stay sunk in your warmth and pump you so full, but the last few remaining logical braincells reminded him that was not a great idea. Not without a more in-depth conversation neither of you was in a state to have.

“Shouldn’t...” he groaned and moved to pull out but your ankles locked around his ass and forced him back down.

“It’s okay,” you huffed and rocked into him, squeezing around the sensitive head of his dick just once, just right and that did him in.

It was something in the way you looked at him, so that he could feel nothing but secure—nothing but safe wrapped up in you. Something about the way you pressed him closer, in the movement of your thumb on his cheek.

It scratched some deep seated, lonely itch in Spinner.

Made it feel like this meant a hell of a lot more than it probably did.

In seconds he was blowing his fucking load right into you, milking himself in your heat until he was spent and overstimulated. You were kind enough to pull him to you, turning your bodies so you laid side by side on the coach, his softening cock slipping from you in a gush of release.

For a minute or so, neither of you spoke, just stared, long and comfortable at the stranger you’d just fucked on the gaming club couch.

Well.

Fucked wasn’t really the word he’d use at that point to describe what you’d just done, but anything more than that felt presumptuous.

You broke the silence as he nuzzled into your palm.

“You really needed that didn’t you?”

Spinner couldn’t help the familiar, infectious laugh that rattled in his chest. He liked the smile it earned him, far more genuine than any others you’d worn that night.

“Uh, yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

You hummed, nodding in response. “Mm, me too.”

And somehow, for no real logical reason, Spinner knew you understood. That you felt the same isolation, the same starvation for love, for holding weight in someone else’s world.

That the games were just a placeholder, a way to fill the space, to get lost in other lives, in other stories where he did matter. Where his actions had foreseeable and measurable worth. That’s why it hurt to lose. Not for the glory, but for the destruction of the only remaining diversion from how empty his reality felt.

Even if it wasn’t really.

Even if there were friends and benefits and friends who offered both. His roommate could let him rest his head in their lap on movie nights or sleep in his bed on occasion when the heat went out and he got cold too quickly. But none of that quite filled the hole like you now, holding his face and knowing the struggle without him having to explain it.

Nothing like you pulling him in and kissing him too familiarly for someone he’d only known a day.

Magne used to say something about shit like this. Something like how people bond in train cars when there’s a rat eating a slice of pizza and you all watch it happen. Some weird camaraderie forged in the shared experience of life being a little fucking freaky a lot of the time.

That was how it felt when you slipped your leg between his and brushed your lips together again. Content to lay, half naked in the media building basement, making out with some guy you beat at Smash and fucked right after.

Reveling in the brief but meaningful feeling of mattering in some small, strange way to someone else.

Of holding weight.

Of being held.

#spinner x reader #shuichi iguchi x reader #spinner x y/n #spinner x you #college au #mha angst #student!reader

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mayraki · 3 years

Text

✧ chapter five: a single promise - b. barnes x oc series ✧

-> captain-james’ gif

‘let’s play fire with fire’ masterlist

my masterlist

summary: trying to recover from the last fight, the team takes angela to sarah wilson’s place back in louisiana. meanwhile, sera and bucky struggle with their feelings towards each other.

“Ouch. That fucking burns.” Angela complained the second Sera touched her skin with a wet piece of cotton. “Do you know how that feels like?”

Sera let out a tiny laugh before slowly shaking her head. “Not really. I mean, I do. But it doesn’t hurt me.”

“Lucky you.”

After leaving that burning forest, Sam decided that it was best for the team to have a break at his sister’s house back in Louisiana. After all, Angela needed to recover and there wasn’t a place where she could and be safe. So without giving her sister a warning, he started to drive the car away ready to leave the fight behind and enter the best place for them right on that moment.

Sarah Wilson was indeed surprised to see her brother drive in with two complete strangers, one of them scratched in most of her body. But didn’t even hesitate on giving Angela a place to sit before quickly grabbing the things necessary to patch her up.

Even if Sera had a history with Sam, she never got the change to meet his family so seeing that part of his life was definitely new and weird for her. She of course knew that he had a family, everyone does, but she never actually stopped and thought about it. The moment she sat down on the couch next to her friend to take a breathe out, she heard some steps walking down the stairs. Looking up she found two strange boys looking at her confused and then at Angela. The little one waved at Sera with a little smile on his face while the older one just walked back to look for his mother or uncle, but soon joined the living room once again when Sarah walked in with more than three things on her hands.

Sera grabbed them and repeatedly said that she had to help her friend out and giving her a place to be and comfortable clothes to change into was more than enough from Sarah’s part, so taking the piece of cotton and the alcohol, she carefully started to clean her friend’s wounds as Angela was still trying to process what just happened and who her friend was.

“I feel like I’m in a movie.” Angela said while Sera kept touching with the cotton her skin. “I mean, being captured by a bad guy because they want to get closer to a person I know... I could write a book about it!”

Sera let out a tiny laugh before tossing the piece of cotton away to pick another one. “You’re certainly looking the positive thing to this.”

“Hell yeah! I mean it would’ve been better if I had a sexy super hero to save me so we can fall in love later and m have a happily after, but you know, you’re fine.” She said joking gaining an fake offended look from Sera. “What? Oh c’mon, like you wouldn’t mind to be saved by a super strong man who’s also a cutie and a gentleman.” Sera kept her mouth shut while shaking her head surprised at her friends positive but crazy mind. Angela, looked at the kitchen and let out a tiny smile once her eyes caught something out. “But I guess you’re more than capable of saving yourself.”

“Damn right.” Sera nodded tossing the last piece of cotton and locked eyes at Angela who seemed to have something to say. But before she could let anything out, Sera opened her mouth ready to say what her brain wanted to say since she found her. “Hey, look... I’m sorry. It was my fault that you went through this and I- I don’t think I will ever forgive myself for taking you down with me-”

“Hey, don’t be stupid.” Angela shook her head as her hand touched Sera’s. “The only one to blame is that asshole. I’m fine, don’t worry about me. Besides, I’ve dated a thousand of dickheads in my past, what’s one more than failed?” They both let out tiny laughs as their eyes were still locked to each other.

“I’m gonna kill that guy, the one who lied to you. Count on that.” Sera said with a joking tone even if her insides where burning with just the thought of it.

Angela smiled and slowly nodded. “I’m sure you will.”

“But seriously,” Sera took a deep breath as her brain was trying to look for the courage to say the next words. She knew she had to and it was the right thing to do, she had to let her know, even if it filled her chest with pain “if you want to leave after you’re alright, I’m good with that. If you feel like you want to stop being my friend, I’m gonna understand. You know? Being my friend before doesn’t mean that you have to... stick around.”

As Sera was waiting for Angela’s answer, she could feel her heart beating faster and her hands to get sweaty. She was afraid of her next words or even what she was thinking, she knew that there was a big possibility of her not wanting to be around her anymore, since being around Sera wasn’t the biggest party of them all and just like everyone else, she would leave in the end. But instead, Angela just shook her head and let out the loudest laugh ever. “Are you kidding me!? Having a best friend that has super powers is the coolest shit ever!”

As soon as Angela said those words Sera’s chest filled with relief and with a hot warmth, but not the kind she was used to feeling, something even better. “Best friends?” She asked softly and Angela quickly nodded excited.

“Fuck yeah. Wait- I thought we were best friends before. Are we gonna have the talk about what are we?”

Sera let out a tiny laugh. “Best friends.”

“Oh, thank god, otherwise that would’ve been awkward!” Their laughs surrounded the living room but then when Angela stopped and got closer to Sera’s face, she furrowed her eyebrows confused while waiting for her friend to talk. “Besides, I think you need to have the talk with someone else.”

“What do you mean?” Sera asked confused as Angela looked behind her and let out a tiny cheeky smile. Curious of what her friend was seeing, she was ready to turn around but then her friend spoke again.

“Because Bucky hasn’t been able to take his eyes off of you since we got inside the house.”

Sera’s heart dropped to her stomach the second those words hit her ears. She unintentionally bit the corner of her lower lip as she turned around to see the people moving around in the kitchen. And as soon as she did, she locked eyes with him.

Bucky was laying against the counter on the other side of the kitchen, making them a couple of meters away. Sam and his family were talking but he didn’t seem to catch a word they were saying since all his focus was on her, even if he didn’t want to. All those memories about what happened a couple of hours ago were flying around his head. Sera knew that and she knew that she would have to explain what it was and what happened at some point. While their eyes where still glued to each other, they suddenly felt like their muscle memories where bringing back their bodies becoming one. The electricity, their bloods mixing as well as the air coming out of their mouths. But Bucky was remembering something else: Sera managed to take the fire that had went inside his body like it was nothing. She managed to take full control of it and leave no marks of being there in the first place. It was so strange to him and he caught himself imagining it over and over again while his body was remembering every feeling and thought he had while on that moment.

All of that was cut short by Sam walking between them and pointing with his head to the front door, letting them know it was time for them to talk.

“So, what now?” Sam asked the second they were all standing outside with the wind hitting their skins and moving their hairs along with it.

“Now that I know that Jackson is involved I want to be a part of this more than ever.” Sera said softly while crossing her arms around her chest. “I need to end this.”

Remembering Jackson’s words, Sera let out a long sigh and looked to the ocean moving from a far. Those old memories coming to her head bringing back every bad feeling she ever had, those bad decisions, those regrets and everything that came after. Every second of pain she felt when she realised what she had done, but it was all said and done for her to fix it. The years that it took her to forget it, and yet here she was, coming back to it but ready to end it all for the last time.

“What is it that he wants with you anyway?” Bucky asked noticing the silence surrounding Sera. But not knowing if she should say the truth or not, she stayed quiet until her brain debated what her next words should be. But before she could decide the better choice, her body and mouth decided for her by shrugging her shoulders and just letting a single “I don’t know” softly.

She didn’t know why she did that. Maybe because deep down she feared that if they knew the truth they wouldn’t look at her the same way. It took her years to finally trust Sam, but even then, she still didn’t tell him her entire story and everything she did.

“Well,” Sam said “we’re not stuck. We have the address Jackson told us way back at the beginning. Street 719, remember?”

“Yes, but how we know he didn’t just told us a random street to get away from us?” Bucky asked but Sera quickly shook her head, making both Sam and Bucky to turn to her.

“No, he panicked that day. He didn’t know we were coming so he clearly didn’t know he was going to end up running away. It’s worth the shot.”

Sam and Bucky nodded agreeing. “Is better if we stay here until Angela is alright, or until she can take care of herself.”

“Yeah, I don’t want to leave her alone.” Sera said. “Besides, we need backup.”

“Wait-” Sam cut her off. “I said we needed backup back then... are you agreeing with me?” Sera realised what Sam just said and was about deny it, but the loud laugh coming out of Sam’s mouth made her stay silent. “That’s new! Oh Lord, may this day bless us and be our new holiday. I call it, the day Sera finally realised that Sam is right and didn’t even have a comeback.”

“Oh, I have a comeback-”

“Just let him have this, ok?” Bucky said seeing how happy and excited Sam was while still laughing until his breathing cut short. “I better tell Sarah about this, this is one of the best days of my life!” As he was walking away all they could hear was Sam’s laugh and his happy feet walking up the stairs. But then, when he went inside the house his laugh faded away and there was nothing but the sound of the ocean and the crickets surrounding Bucky and Sera, who stayed put watching Sam walk away.

“He’s not going to let it go.” Sera said and Bucky quickly shook his head.

“Oh, no, never.”

They both bursted out laughing realising how stupid and childish the whole situation was, but for some reason, they didn’t mind. Anything that would bring them peace in those crazy wild times, it was good enough for them.

Seconds later, they found themselves enjoying the silence of the night as the only thing illuminating them was the poor street light of the house. They ocean was barely moving so it let out relaxing and soft noises of the water.

Sera felt a chilly wind against her skin but soon erased it by unintentionally moving her fingers and soon feeling the burning flames inside her body. But even though she didn’t feel cold anymore, she still moved her hands against her skin trying to find more natural warmth rather than the one her body was making.

“Are you cold?” Bucky asked softly by her side making her lock eyes with him and let out a tiny smile.

“What? Are you gonna give me your jacket like the oldest trick on the book says?” Sera said jokingly which lead to Bucky shaking his head with an inevitable smile forming on his lips.

“Right, I forgot you’re part torch so you don’t get cold.”

“And you screwdriver? Do you get cold?”

Bucky shook his head. “Not really-”

“Oh, Bucky! Do you want me to give you my jacket? Or do you want me to get closer so I can put my arm around and fill you with warmth?”

Bucky turned to her and furrowed his eyebrows confused. “How many romantic movies have you watched in your life?”

“What? You’re the one who wanted to give a girl flowers and take her to a festival.” Sera shrugged her shoulders and unintentionally taking a step to the side, to be more closer to Bucky.

“I still don’t know what is wrong with that.”

“Nothing! Is cute. I just mean that the festivals now aren’t the same as they used to be... grandpa.” As soon as Sera let out that word Bucky turned to her with his eyebrows lifted and his mouth slightly opened as a smile was forming on his lips.

“I’m not that old.” He said offended but that just made Sera to let out a loud laugh and playfully punch Bucky’s arm. “Oh, c’mon!”

“I’m sorry but that was funny!”

While Sera was trying to calm herself down and stop with her laughter, even if it was taken her longer than intended, Bucky found himself staring at her with a smile on his lips. The way that her eyes would become smaller the bigger her smile would get, her wrinkles forming around her skin and her hair moving alongside the wind. But what caught his eyes the longest where her lips. Her dark pink lips and the way she would move them as her laughter continued, how she would press them together to calm herself down or how she would lick them once she took deep breath in once she was done. All of those things would unintentionally make Bucky’s stomach to go crazy. The memory of him wanting to kiss her at the club while she was staring at her drink came back to his mind like a fast train, making him feel those exact same things right on that moment. His ears stopped hearing her laugh so he came to her eyes noticing them staring at him.

Suddenly, like she wasn’t just laughing his heart out, Sera’s butterflies inside her stomach started to move as fast as they could as she felt Bucky’s eyes on her. They felt the tension grow as their desire to grab the other was becoming bigger and bigger. Taking a step closer to Sera, touching her shoulder in the process they both felt some electricity hitting their bodies the second their skins touched bringing them back to what happened hours ago in the forest.

Still confused about that, Bucky kept staring at her eyes like he was looking for an answer in them. But ending up with nothing, he moved closer to her with the intention to feel her warmth once again against his body. Sera felt like she was glued to the floor, frozen under Bucky’s eyes wanting with excitement his next movement.

Their lips wanted to taste each other, that was known for the two of them, but before Bucky could move his hand towards her cheek a loud noise coming from the house followed by Sarah calling out the kids, made them both realise what they were doing.

“I better go check on Angela.” Sera said softly shaking her wild thoughts in her mind as Bucky looked down and took in a long breath.

“Yeah, and I better go- check on... Sam. Make sure everything is going fine.”

They both nodded and before both of them could do anything else that they might regret, they walked inside the house to make their separate ways and forget what just happened, saving it inside a box and leaving it with the others.

>>>

“I’m telling you!” Sarah said with a smile while her, Sam and Sera were drying the wet dishes after dinner. “When Sam was younger he liked to be wearing nothing but his underwear and sing the greatest love of all by Whitney Houston all the time.”

“No he didn’t!” Sera said surprised after opening her mouth shook.

“Yes he did!”

“On my defence Whitney was huge when I was a kid and that song was amazing. You can’t blame me.” Sam said lifting his hands into the air.

“I’m never going to let that go.” Sera said. “When you least expect it I’m gonna bring it and tell everyone we meet.”

Sam shook his head while grabbing another plate. “I’m sure you will.”

As soon as Sera was done with the plate on her hands she left it on the side and got ready to grab another one, but the laughs of Sarah’s kids hit her ears she slowly turn around to see both of them play around with Bucky while Angela was happily watching the fake fight on the couch with laughs coming out of her mouth.

The oldest of them, AJ, was trying to bring Bucky’s metal arm down while the youngest, Cass was fake punching Bucky on his face. Bucky fell to the floor but then quickly got up by carefully grabbing AJ and pulling him to the ground and soon take his time with Cass.

“You’re going down Bucky Barnes!” Cass yelled as he was fake fighting, making Sarah and Sam turn towards them.

“AJ! Be careful!” Sarah said firmly once she saw how her oldest son wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck trying to pull him down.

“Don’t stop him.” Sam said while watching the fight with a cheeky smile “I wanna see where this goes.”

“C’mon Sam!” Bucky yelled from the living room. “Join the fight!”

“Yes, uncle Sam, join the fight!” Cass added as he was still fake punching and making fight noises with his mouth.

“I’m good just watching!”

“What? You don’t think you can beat us? C’mon!” Bucky said as he fell to the ground once again but soon got up to his feet and grabbed both of the kids and lifted them up into the air.

“Bucky Barnes vs The falcon!” Cass yelled which lead to Sam quickly shaking his head.

“Already been there, don’t wanna see it again. Thank you very much!”

“What?” Sera joined the conversation. “You can beat him.”

“Alright.” Sam said after letting out a tiny sigh. “But I’m winning, no matter what.” He left the towel and started walking towards the fake fight not before his sister warned him about not breaking anything.

Sera grabbed another plate without taking her eyes from the fake fight now with Sam too. As she was carefully drying the dish with the towel on her hand an unintentionally smile came out of her lips as she noticed Bucky pretending that his arm was hurting once AJ punched him.

Seeing him play with those two kids made the butterflies inside Sera’s stomach to go wild like they just seen the cutest thing ever. Her eyes and mind were so concentrated on the fight that she didn’t notice her teeth gently biting her lower lip as her eyes were slowly following Bucky, and carefully watching every move he was doing.

“Now, I’m pretty sure you’re not into my brother because I know you two have a complicated story and he loves you like a sister, so” Sarah said taking Sera out of her thoughts and gaining her eyes on her “I’m guessing the one that’s making you have those love eyes and biting your lip is Bucky, am I right?”

Sera stayed silent surprised at Sarah’s words making her tongue get twisted. She opened her mouth but no words were coming out of it, making Sera look more guilty than before. Sarah let out a tiny laugh and then added, after leaving the wet towel on the counter and turning around to rest her waist against the corner. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna tell anyone.”

“There’s nothing to tell, Sarah.” Sera shook her head as she was repeating Sarah’s movements to end up by her side while the both of them were facing the boys play around.

“Sera, I might not have super powers but I know when someone’s into a specific person.” Sera turned to her to notice that she was already looking at her. Making a quick look to Bucky, Sarah let out a tiny smile before going back to Sera who her confused emotions and feelings made her furrow her eyebrows confuse. “The eyes never lie, honey.”

No, they don’t. Sera thought looking back at Bucky. Seeing him playing with Sam and the kids made her stomach turned and to feel her chest fill with warmth. She wanted to smile again but tried her hardest to not let it out. Maybe Sarah was right, maybe she did felt something for Bucky. After all, the things that he made her feel by just playing around with some kids weren’t something that you feel by looking at a stranger.

“Well, if I do” Sera said after letting out a little sigh “I know it’s gonna be complicated.”

“Life is already complicated-”

“Tell me about it.” Sera added while a laugh escaped her lips.

“But you don’t have to let it control what you do, Sera.”

Those soft words hit Sera differently.

Her whole life she spent avoiding things because she knew that they were going to be complicated. Not wanting to break the walls she build for herself over the years, she would mostly run away from every other relationship she had built. She knew that life by its own was complicated, so to that adding someone like her... she didn’t want anyone to deal with her. The weight that she felt when she wanted to ask for help, the burden sensation that her chest would get filled with making her turn around and make her own path, writing her own rules and actions. That was her whole life. Complicated thing after complicated thing, but... what if Bucky wasn’t complimented at all?

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Cass yelling in excitement after winning the fake fight made Sera go back to reality and notice Bucky and Sam on the ground pretending to be hurt and not being able to get up.

“We won!” AJ gave Cass a high five before running towards Sarah to give her a tight hug. “Did you see that?”

“Yes, I loved seeing how you two kicked Sam’s ass.”

“Hey!”

“But now it’s time for bed, c’mon. Up to your room.” The kids were about to complain but soon shut their mouths as soon as Sarah gave them that ‘mom’ look. “C’mon, brush your teeth first!”

“Yeah, yeah.” AJ and Cass made their way upstairs but not before giving Bucky a high five. A very tired Sam walked closer to Sarah and gave his sister a little tight hug before turning to Sera and saying: “We need to sort out the beds.”

After deciding that Angela should take the bed since she was till recovering, there was nothing left for Bucky and Sera to take the floor. Of course, Sam tried multiple times to give Sera his bed but quicklt refusing it, she said that she wanted to be next to Angela in case she needed something.

As soon as everything was in order, Sarah said goodnight to everyone and left upstairs ready to head towards her bed. Sam helped Bucky and Sera to sort everything out but then, followed Sarah upstairs wanting to fall asleep as fast as possible since it had been a long day.

Even if it was for everyone, Sera felt that falling asleep wasn’t going to be as easy as she wanted it to be since the man that had her mind go wild everytime he was in the room was going to be there right by her side.

They both definitely knew that it was going to be a very long night.

>>>

Since the moment Sera’s body felt the coldness of the sheet on the floor hit her skin she couldn’t close her eyes not even for a second. All that surrounded her and her ears where Angela’s snores on the couch and the tiny breathing coming out of Bucky’s body. She tried her hardest to take him out of her head but the more she heard him and the fact that his body was laying by her side on the floor weren’t helping. He seemed to enjoy being on Sera’s mind since all she thought about was that smile on him while playing with AJ and Cass. He wasn’t the old grumpy man Sera was used to seeing and teasing, he was happy and enjoying himself. Something that Sera found herself wanting to see more.

As her eyes were wondering around the dark while her body was facing the other way, she was trying too hard to keep herself from wanting to turn around and face Bucky. She wanted to know is he was asleep or awake trying to take Sera out his mind. All she could hear about him was his slight breathing, no muscle moving against the floor. Just him and his relaxing breathing filling the air with hot air.

It was like Sera’s body was asking her to stop overthinking and give her mind a break, but her brain couldn’t listen. Bucky was going around over and over again on her thoughts like it was broken record and there was no way of escaping it.

Maybe if I see if Bucky is asleep I’m gonna be able to rest my mind and finally get some sleep. Sera thought as she was carefully biting her lower lip and before she could decide if it was a good idea or not, her body was already moving to the other side to face Bucky.

Like she suspected, his eyes were closed but he didn’t seem asleep. His eyelashes could be seen from her point of view making them look even longer. His lips were relaxed, so relaxed that it gave Sera the desire to feel them against hers. The imagine of her getting closer ready to taste his lips appeared on her mind making her close her eyes not wanting to have that. But that made it even worse. It made her mind go wild as her and Bucky were now closer to the other, his hand touching her thigh while slowly caressing it with his thumb. Her hand against his chest slowly tracing it with her index finger, feeling his fit torso against her skin.

She didn’t want to think of that, she couldn’t. After all, it was just... Bucky. What could she do about her strange feelings for him? Tell him? And if he feels the same thing, date him? Go on dates? Be normal?

Having anything romantic didn’t seem normal for her. It was so far off from her life that even her own feelings looked like a movie for her. But even if that was weird enough, her next thought made her even more weirded out... what if Bucky felt the same thing?

She opened her eyes after letting out silent sigh to find a Bucky now facing her way and looking directly into her eyes. He let out a tiny smile before giving Angela a quick look before going back to Sera. “Can’t sleep?” He asked softly which lead to Sera slowly shaking her head.

Their eyes were glued to the other as they felt the warmth or their bodies were giving now facing each other. Sera’s eyes noticed how his eyes slowly traced her face until they arrived her lips. He stayed there for a couple of seconds making the butterflies in her stomach to wake up until he went back to her eyes. Even if the desire to end the space between them was in both of them, their eyes stayed put staring at the other like they were looking for answers in them.

For the way they were staring into each other, they both felt like they, somehow, managed to know everything that there was to know about the other. Their eyes were so focused on the other that Bucky’s actions didn’t seem to face neither of them, he took his hand and gently pushed a hair that was over Sera’s face back and tugged it behind her ear. After that, instead of taking his hand away, he stayed there and gently caress her cheek with his thumb. But soon going towards her lips to trace them slowly as his eyes went to them. Without thinking about it, Sera got closer to his body as his hand grabbed her cheek with strength ready to end the space between them and unite his lips with hers, like his body was screaming at him to do. But before they could end it, a loud snore coming out of Angela’s mouth made them both jump and separate their bodies once again.

“I didn’t know someone so small could snore so loud.” Bucky said in a whisper by Sera’s side gaining a laugh coming out from her lips. Not wanting to wake up Angela on the couch Sera covered her mouth as the laughter seemed to want to become louder. “Wanna take off to the big chair on the other room?” Bucky asked and Sera quickly nodded before getting up from the floor to walk directly to the other side of the living room, far away from Angela and her loud snores.

Bucky sat down soon followed by Sera who placed her body next to his, almost with their shoulders touching since the chair wasn’t that big for the both of them. Once they both comfortably sat down, their knees automatically touched but neither of them moved it, they kept it as they were silently enjoying it.

“And you had to deal with that everyday?” Bucky asked referring to Angela and Sera just let out a tiny laugh while shaking her head.

“I could heard her from my room but I didn’t know they were that loud.”

As they both let out laughs Sera felt how the cold air that was coming trough the window hit her skin, making her cross her arms around her chest looking for natural warmth. Bucky noticing this grabbed the blanket by their side and quickly opened it to spread it around his and Sera’s legs.

“Before you say anything, I know you can turn into a torch but, c’mon, this is better.”

Not wanting to argue with Bucky, and secretly knowing that he was right, Sera let out a tiny smile and got closer to Bucky since the blanket wasn’t wide enough. As far as she could, she moved her body against his and immediately feeling the coldness fading away from her body.

For the first time in her life, Sera realised how different was the warmth of her body from the warmth of having a body by her side was. Bucky, without giving her a chance to do something else, he took his arm and placed it around her shoulder making her head to go towards his chest, wanting to feel that new yet surprisingly amazing and relaxing warm feeling she was experiencing.

Bucky started to gently caress her hair to make her feel even more relaxed than before. She wasn’t understanding why he was doing this, but of course she was enjoying. Feeling him close, feeling his body warm hers, his hands touching her, it made her feel things she had never felt before for someone. And it made her wonder even more... maybe Sarah was right.

“Thank you for saving my life today, Sera.” Bucky said softly making her to look up to lock eyes with him. He gently stared at her while his hand wasn’t stopping, but instead of being against her hair, his fingers slowly moved to her cheek. “I have no idea what you did, but thank you.”

“You saved my body from being hit by a hundred of bullets, Bucky, it was the least I could do. Right?” She asked jokingly gaining a little laugh from Bucky. “I guess you’re wondering what the hell was that.”

“Kinda.”

“Kinda? Then I’m not explaining shit to you, then.” Sera went back to facing downwards which lead to Bucky gently grabbing her chin to make her look back at him. He stared at her with a big smile when his eyes unintentionally went over her lips but then gaining his train of process about what happened back, he went back to her eyes.

“I’m dying to know.” He said softly and Sera let out a tiny smile, before taking her back against the back of the chair, to be face to face with Bucky more comfortably.

She let out a tiny sigh while thinking her every word carefully. “When someone get hits with fire, I can- in a way, enter their body and take full control of the fire inside of them. It allows me to make imaginable things. I can save them by taking the fire out, I can even turn the water inside into fire and control the person-”

“Control?”

“Yeah. I can make them do whatever- I would ask them to do. Full control... or, I could turn everything inside their bodies into flames and- and... just, end them.”

“Burning them?” Bucky asked but Sera slowly shook her head.

“It’s more than that, but- I think is a conversation to have another day.”

Sera always felt afraid of saying what she was actually capable of doing. Like she was embarrassed of it, specially after using it against poeple in the wrong way... making her feel terrified of it.

Seeing the strange look on Bucky’s face, Sera let out a tiny laugh and nodded. “I know it felt weird. Someone did it to me once.”

“I thought you couldn’t get burnt?”

“I can’t- but, that time was necessary.” Bucky’s eyes were asking for more, so realising this, Sera took a deep breath said: “When a was a little kid, controlling.... this, was harder than anything I’ve ever done. Learning how to fully manipulate as a three year old, something so powerful and dangerous as fire, it wasn’t something that I would call a party. So, one day- I felt like I couldn’t take it anymore. I was... tired. I remember my eyes turning black and a horrible burning growing inside of me. I’ve never felt something like that before because, like you said, fire can’t hurt me. But that time- it did and it made me feel terrified. I was sad and, broken. Growing up I wasn’t the- uhm, the happiest kid. I guess, I was just keeping it all inside of me and that day just, exploded and I started to create this strong fire that I couldn’t control. It was all too much for me. So, the- the person that was there with me did the exact same thing I did to... you.”

“They took the fire out of you?” Bucky asked after his brain was trying to process everything. Sera nodded looking down remembering every single moment of that memory. It still hurt to think about it, and Bucky noticed. He took the hand that was touching Sera’s should and gently pushed her to be more closer to him. Following his hand, Sera took her head and rested it on his chest once again. “How old were you?” He asked in a whisper that was almost covered by the wind entering the room.

“Ten.” Sera said in the same tone. The way that Bucky was slowly caressing her cheek with his thumb made her close her eyes enjoying the feeling against her skin.

Both Sera and Bucky went completely silent after that. They didn’t know why, but for some reason they felt extremely comfortable with the each other. Usually, they were the type of person to prefer to be alone and just deal with their lives lonely. But when the other was around, specially on that moment as their bodies were close, the didn’t want the other to leave.

“I know you’re still a little bit confused.” Sera said jokingly gaining a little laugh from Bucky’s mouth. “I was too. The way your body acts it’s just-”

“Weird?”

“I was gonna say differently, but yeah, weird works.” Their little laughs surrounded the room but then Sera took in a little breath and added: “It’s like; the person who takes control of the fire has to put their mind into a deep connection with the other person. Every feeling and every little energy that they felt has to be thought right into that second. They need to enter your body- in a way, so, it’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to learn. And what comes after-”

“Is there an after?”

“Well- yeah. After one has been inside your body every energy surrounding you and that person becomes... stronger. It’s deeper than it was before, it makes an invisible red string between those two people. When that person did it to me, everytime that we were together we would just... click and work better. It was like our bodies were one-” Realising her words Sera stopped and shut her mouth. She didn’t want to confuse Bucky even more by telling him how deep and dangerous it was. So instead of saying more about the subject, she slightly shrugged her shoulders and ended with: “But it’s different for every person that you do it with.”

Wishing that Bucky didn’t ask more, Sera let out a silent breath to feel the hot air coming out her mount and to relax his now beating faster heart. She heard the silence coming his way that at one point, she thought that maybe he had fallen asleep when Sera finished telling him that story. But proving her wrong, Bucky kept moving his thumb against her skin and with his deep and soft voice, asked: “And what does it mean for us, Sera?”

As soon as those words left his mouth, Sera felt how his heart dropped to her stomach as her fingers were tracing each other. She didn’t know what to respond to that because in reality... she didn’t know. Bucky was the second person that she did it to and it was completely different. She felt different. Their bodies connected way more deeper, even before that, Sera noticed how her connected towards Bucky didn’t took her a long time. Instead, as soon as her eyes locked with him, it all came easier. Like there was something stronger connecting them together.

“I don’t know, Bucky.” Sera finally said softly. She felt how his chest was being filled with a big portion of air before hearing the hot air coming out of his mouth. It was like he was preparing himself to do or say something. But before Sera could make her mind go into deep thought, Bucky took his metal arm and grabbed her chin to make her look up while his other hand was still placed on her cheek. Locking eyes with him, Sera felt the hotness growing inside her body as she felt his eyes staring at her soul. He slowly stared to stare at every detail that was on Sera’s face but then stop at her lips while his cold metal arm started to gently trace them once again.

So shook and surprised, Sera stayed still enjoying every single thing Bucky was doing on that moment. His hot air against her skin, her fingers on her, her eyes still glued to her lips like they were just screaming at her to end the space between them.

“Sera?” Bucky asked in a whisper which lead to her feeling her skin shiver under his voice. “What are you doing to me?”

His words hit her ears and soon felt how her body melted. His tone was deep and soft, making the question enter her body and make everything inside to shut down. He looked up at her eyes as her thumb was still caressing her cheek. With strength, he grabbed her waist and pulled her closer without taking his eyes away from her, but once closer, he took them down towards her lips. It was desire and lust was filled both of their eyes, wanting to taste each other’s lips right on that second was the only thing they had on their minds. His free hand grabbing her waist with strength while his cold metal arm was gently grabbing her cheek, like he was ready to make the next step.

But the moment he got closer, Sera touched his chest and stopped him from making another move. “Bucky, we can’t.” She said softly.

“Why not?” He asked against her lips.

“I can’t.” Her voice cracked when she let out those words. Noticing this, Bucky gently pushed her head towards his chest to let her rest against it. Hearing the sound of his heart beating Sera let out a tiny sigh and closed her eyes enjoying the feeling Bucky gave her. That sensation of warmth and happiness, like nothing could go wrong after that. Like the were just normal, two people enjoying each other’s presence... but just like always, reality brought Sera back, making her open her eyes once again to meet the poor light of the moonlight illuminating the room. “I’m scared Bucky.” She said in the lowest whisper. “That everyone around me will always get hurt because of me.”

“What about you getting hurt?” Bucky said in the same tone, while his thumb was still caressing her cheek.

She just let out a tiny laugh and added: “I’m used to that.”

Gently grabbing her chin, Bucky made her look up and lock eyes with his. He looked down at her lips but soon joined her eyes, as they were waiting to Bucky to say something. “I’ll keep you safe, Sera. I promise.” He said in a whisper making her feel the hot air against her skin.

Unintentionally, she grabbed his cheek with her right hand and let out a tiny yet sad smile. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Barnes.”

She said with the intention to turn her head and look down, to close her eyes and finally feel her body slowly falling asleep while wrapped around Bucky’s arms. Enjoy that feeling for one last time, before she knew she had to let it behind and move on like she always did.

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kookiesjoonies · 4 years

Text

risk it — jjk | four.

risk it | four: pretend.

a/n: i think it’s safe to say that yn, jk, and yoongi are all a mess, right? let me know your thoughts, loves! xo

↠ main pairing: tattoo artist!jungkook x salon owner!reader

↠ side ships: namjin, vmin (fwb), hoseok x makeup artist!oc

↠ word count: 2.7k

↠ warnings: some fluff if you squint LOL, angst so much angst, explicit language, jealousy, being drunk, light violence, spitting (but in a non sexual way lmao)

SERIES SUMMARY:

✧ a drunken text ends with you wrapped up in the arms of your ex-boyfriend. aka the man that you dumped two years prior, after he refused to marry you. suddenly, all of the feelings that you’d seemingly had buried come rushing back up to the surface, and you’re not sure how long you can ignore them.

Nearly ten minutes.

That’s how long you’d been arguing with Jungkook at the bottom of your stairs.

You were the world’s most stubborn person, and most (if not all) of your friends would agree with that statement. And you were even worse when you were drunk.

“For the thousandth time,” you slurred your words together as you spoke, leaning against your ex boyfriend’s side for support as you stood, “I can walk up the damn stairs by myself. You don’t have to carry me. I’m not a baby.”

He rolled his eyes at you— hard. If he had a dollar for every time you’d caused him to roll his eyes since you’d gotten into his car earlier, he was sure he’d be a millionaire by now.

“If you can stand up on your own without holding onto my arm, I’ll believe you.”

And now it was your turn to roll your eyes. Only, when you did, it made your vision fuzzier than it already was.

“Well if you’d stop spinning the room, maybe I fucking could.” You stuck your tongue out at him, and he dragged his free hand down his face.

“You know what—“ You were being whisked off of the ground before you could even register what was happening.

Jungkook had your body thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes as he treaded up the stairs, and of course you were pounding your fists against his back like a child.

“Put me down!” You insisted, to which he decided to happily oblige once he’d successfully carried you into your bedroom at the end of the hallway.

“Absolutely.” He gently tossed you onto your queen sized bed, and you let out an overly dramatic huff as your back hit the mattress.

“Not what I meant.” You mumbled.

You laid back and rested an arm over your eyes after you’d closed them, but you still felt like you were moving in circles. Nausea quickly set in and you groaned, clutching your stomach with your other hand.

“Fuck you, this is all your fault.” You snapped at the man that was standing at the foot of your bed, staring at you with a look of both annoyance and concern.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook’s voice was laced with sarcasm, “how is this my fault, exactly?”

“Because if you’d have just shown up tonight, I wouldn’t have tried to drink my feelings away,” you barked out a harsh laugh, a pitiful sound that made Jungkook’s heart drop to the pit of his stomach, “feelings that I shouldn’t even fucking have.”

He let out a low sigh. Of course he knew your feelings for him were still there, or maybe he at least secretly hoped that they would be. Because after all, his feelings for yours never seemed to go away. No matter how hard he tried to forget you and forget how much love he had for you, it never worked.

“Of course,” you scoffed, “just stand there all silent and brooding. It’s what you do best.”

The feeling of being giggly and buzzed was long gone, now you were just an insane amount of nauseous and wanted nothing more than to sleep this state of drunkenness off. You were sad, and you were fighting an internal battle.

The rational side of you kept screaming for you to tell Jungkook to leave, and you knew that he would without question. Which pissed you off to no end. As badly as you didn’t want to admit it, you wanted him to refuse to leave. You wanted him to fight to stay with you tonight. Hell, you just wanted him to fight for you.

So, instead of asking him to leave, you asked him a different question instead.

“Can you find me some clothes to sleep in? I can’t sleep in a mini dress, and if I stand up I’m going to fall, vomit, or both.”

“Yeah, shorts and a T-shirt okay?”

You nodded, finally feeling like you’d come back down to earth enough to remove your arm from your face and open up your eyes.

Jungkook made the short walk from your bed to your dresser, and you couldn’t help but to admire him as he did so.

He looked good— so good, and you fucking hated it. His hair was longer, just the way you’d always liked it. It was messy from sleep, which somehow made him even more attractive. He’d shown up at the club wearing a pair of grey sweatpants, a hoodie to match, and that damn leather jacket he’d had for years. And in typical Jungkook fashion, he’d worn combat boots to top it all off. He looked like a fucking dream. And maybe it was the alcohol— no, it was definitely the alcohol, you were sure of it, but you desperately wanted to jump his bones.

As he made his way back over to you, with your newfound sleep attire draped over his arm, a wave of boldness hit you. And you blurted out the question before you could stop yourself.

“So, you wanna fuck?”

You don’t know what you were expecting him to say, but you definitely weren’t expecting to hear the sad sounding sigh that made its way out of his mouth.

“You’re drunk.” He stated the obvious, and you crossed your arms over your chest as you sat up on your bed.

“So?”

“So,” he emphasized as he handed the clothes off to you, “I’m not fucking you while you’re drunk.”

You scoffed, “But I’m asking you to. It’s not like you’re taking advantage of me or anything.”

“You know me better than that. Now please, just get some sleep.”

Of course he wanted to. It’d been over two years since he’d last been inside of you, and if you were sober, his answer probably would have been much different. Sure, he’d had hookups, but none of them could compare to how you made him feel. Not even close.

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes, sitting up on your knees to tug off your dress.

As you did, Jungkook turned around and faced away from you to give you your privacy.

And of course, you thought he was being ridiculous.

“Jungkook, you’ve seen me in my underwear before.”

“I know, but it’s different now.”

Your eyes narrowed at the back of his head as you tossed the dress onto the floor and replaced it with the old T-shirt.

“Wouldn’t have to be different if you weren’t so stupid.” You quietly mumbled, pulling the pair of plaid cotton shorts up your legs.

“Huh?” he prompted, “Couldn’t hear what you said.”

“Nothing,” you sighed, “are you going to hold me, or what?”

Before Jungkook could respond, your bedroom door was being swung open by a very heated Min Yoongi.

“Get the fuck out.” He spoke through gritted teeth as he took two steps closer to Jungkook, pointing toward the door with his index finger.

You watched the scene in front of you unfold as Jungkook, too, took two steps forward— the two of them starting to get dangerously close to one another.

“If Y/n wants me to leave, I will. But if she doesn’t, I’m not fucking going anywhere.”

Yoongi clenched his fist at his side, staring daggers through the taller man in front of him. He took one swift stride forward, resulting in the two of them being toe to toe.

“I swear to God, Jungkook. I’ll throw your ass out of this apartment if you don’t leave in the next sixty seconds. You’ve hurt her enough. I’ll be damned if you’re going to do it again!”

Jungkook was seething, you could tell by the way he was clenching his jaw. This was about to get ugly, and if you didn’t put a stop to it you were sure to be wiping blood off of the floor and picking up their teeth.

When you said you’d wanted him to fight for you, you didn’t mean it literally.

“Like I said on the phone, I’d like to see you fucking try you piece of shit!”

It took a lot to make Jungkook this angry. But somehow— for a reason unknown to you, Yoongi always seemed to push all of the right (wrong?) buttons to piss him off. All Jungkook could see was red, and he was ten seconds or less away from putting your best friend through a wall. You could tell by the way his knuckles were turning white as he formed his tattooed hands into fists. Yeah, it was definitely time for you to step in.

As you were scrambling off of your bed, still unbalanced from your alcohol induced high, you heard Yoongi spew out a string of insults— followed by a harsh spitting sound. When you looked up, you saw Jungkook wiping saliva off of his cheek with the back of his hand. And you knew it was too late.

“Jungkook, don’t do it!” You shouted, trying to get to him before he could make a move.

But you weren’t quick enough. Jungkook had his hands on Yoongi’s shoulders in an instant, shoving him backwards and slamming him into the wall so hard that you were sure there’d be a Yoongi shaped hole in it.

Jungkook balled his right hand up into a tight fist, ready to swing and forcefully connect it to Yoongi’s jaw. Fortunately, you stood in between them before he could do so, causing him to halt his actions abruptly.

“Don’t,” you pleaded, the current situation resulting in you slowly sobering up, “please.”

Your hands found their way onto the sides of his face, your thumbs grazing along the tops of his cheeks. To your surprise, he leaned into your touch and allowed himself to focus only on the way you were rubbing his skin. He hadn’t touched you, or been touched by you, in so long that he was going to take all he could get.

Yoongi stood up straight behind you, watching the way you seemed to handle Jungkook with such care. It broke his heart to know that you’d never be like that with him. Especially since he was one hundred percent certain he could treat you better than Jungkook (or anyone, for that matter) ever could. You deserved the world, and he wouldn’t hesitate to give it to you. Jungkook didn’t deserve you. He was the dumbest human alive for refusing to marry you. Whereas Yoongi— well, he’d marry you any time, any place, any day of the week without hesitation.

Maybe if he wasn’t such a chicken, he would’ve confessed his feelings to you by now. Or maybe he would’ve if he wasn’t already certain that his feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated.

“Do you want him to stay?” Yoongi questioned, despite knowing the answer.

As much as he loved you, he also respected you. And he also knew that you were an adult and free to make your own decisions, even if he thought they were the wrong ones. He couldn’t stop you from getting hurt again. But he’d be there to hold you while you cried afterwards, and to pick up your broken pieces if you needed him to.

“Yeah,” you nodded, looking back at your friend as you rolled your shoulders into a shrug, “I do.”

“You know where I’ll be if you need me.”

He shot Jungkook a death glare before glancing at you, and you felt like you could crumble and fall to the ground from the amount of disappointment you saw in his eyes.

“Yoongs, I—“ The loud slam of the wooden door cut you off, and your lower lip began to quiver. This was all too much, too fast. Alcohol, sleep deprivation, and emotions didn’t seem to mix well.

At the sight of your trembling lip, Jungkook brought his hand upward to run his thumb along it in an attempt to soothe you and provide you with some form of comfort.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was soft as he spoke, and you shot him a questioning look.

“For?”

“For a lot of things.” He admitted, and you simply gave him a nod.

“I know. Doesn’t change anything, though.”

He sighed, “I know.”

You grabbed hold of his hand with your own, taking just a few seconds to admire the way that your hand seemed to mold perfectly into his— like it was made for him to grasp. He let you lead him to your bed, kicking off his boots and stripping himself of his jacket before lying down beside you.

“I miss you.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, and you didn’t dare face him.

He closed his eyes, and you could hear him intake a deep breath.

“I’m right here.”

You squeezed your eyes shut tighter, willing the tears that were begging to overflow to stay back.

“Would it kill you to say that you miss me too?” Despite your efforts to hide your true feelings, your voice cracked and gave you away, “Unless you don’t miss me, then I guess that would make sense.”

“Look at me.” He ordered, but you shook your head.

“No.”

Jungkook rolled over onto his side, scooting closer to close the gap in between your bodies. You could feel the warmth from him beside you, and you could smell his signature warm, inviting cologne that never failed to put you in a trance.

“You think I don’t miss you?” The question was clearly rhetorical, seeing as how he continued to ramble on, “I miss you so bad that it hurts, it physically hurts. Every bone in my body aches from how badly I miss you.”

That’s all it took for the tears to finally spill over and onto your cheeks, and you didn’t even try to hide the fact that you were crying.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his own eyes welling up with water, “I didn’t mean to make you cry, that’s the last thing I wanted to do. Maybe I should just leave—“

“Go ahead!” You shouted, your tears coming out quicker and stronger now, “leaving is what you do best!”

“I didn’t leave you. You broke up with me.” He didn’t yell. In fact, he spoke calmly. It was rare for him to raise his voice at you, and you could count how many times he’d done so on only one hand. It didn’t matter how badly you seemed to piss him off, or how loud you got with him, he couldn’t bring himself to scream at you.

“What other fucking choice did I have, Jungkook?” You finally looked at him, and when you did his heart shattered at the pain he saw in your eyes.

“You deserve better than me. You deserve someone who can give you—“

“Everything that you can’t,” you finished his sentence for him with a bite to your voice, “yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

It was silent for what felt like an eternity. When in reality, it was only about five minutes. And it was Jungkook who finally broke the obvious tension in the air.

“Let me hold you.”

You didn’t say anything, only turned your back to him to allow him to spoon you from behind. His strong arm wrapped around your waist as he pulled your body against his chest, using his free hand to card his fingers through your long hair.

You melted into his touch, humming as he began to dig his fingernails into your scalp to massage it.

“Can we just… pretend that everything’s okay between us?” you asked, “For tonight, and then tomorrow we can go back to how it was.”

He pressed his lips to the back of your head and allowed them to linger there as he nodded, giving your waist a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah, bug. We can.”

Your heart swelled at the nickname, short for lovebug, that he’d given you so many years ago, and you cracked the saddest smile you’d ever mustered up in your life.

“Kook?” You allowed your arm to rest over his, and he took the lead in intertwining your fingers.

“Hmm?”

“Did you… cover up my name? The tattoo of it on your chest, I mean.”

“No,” he didn’t hesitate, “and I have no desire to. Do you regret letting me tattoo you?”

You shook your head, running your thumb along the back of his hand, “No.”

“You need to go to sleep.”

“I know,” your eyelids were already beginning to droop, “sing to me?”

“Of course.”

⇠ masterlist ⇢

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ramp-it-up · 3 years

Text

Dammit, Rafa!

Pairing: Rafael Casal x Reader

Word Count: 4.6 K

Warnings: Minors DNI, Very light BDSM, a lil bit of Dom! Rafa and a lot of Sub! Rafa, Rocky Horror Picture Show live Shadow Cast, Oral sex (m, f receiving), slight breeding kink if you blink. drug use (just say no), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it).

A/N: This is a combination of an ask from @theatrenerd86 and a lovely anon as seen below. I JUST really read your ask and I think I changed it a little bit. I was so excited for the concept. I hope this is okay. 🥴

Rafael Santiago Casal was stressed out.

You had just the thing.

As soon as you were able to get him out of the bedroom and on the couch after his jetlag, you presented him with the opportunity to make good on the bet he lost at the last friends-who-are family get together.

He’d talked enough shit that night about how many shots he could do and how many you could tolerate. You decided to shut him up with a friendly wager.

Just before he passed out at the kitchen bar, he’d grunted, “Holy shit, she’s gonna fuck me good.”

Rafa was not necessarily talking about sex, he was talking about how you would make him pay up.

And he was right. He’d have to pay.

Now, three months later, the time had come.

Rafael had worked hard shooting a film out of town for 6 weeks, serving as both actor and director, and he was still coming down from the stress and responsibility.

It had been three days since he’d been home and he was still wound up, even after sleeping almost 18 hours straight and you letting him use you at his will for sex.

The sacrifices you made for your man.

Rafa’s current situation: you holding up gold lamé boxers in front of his face.

“FUCK No!” He wasn’t having it.

“Unless you are paying me my SAG rate or above, I’m not wearing that shit.”

He crossed his arms, stubborn as hell. And making you wet as you stared at the veins popping out. They did something to you, but you were determined.

“You lost the bet, Cash. You gotta keep up your end.”

Rafael had The Rocky Horror Picture Show memorized, as many times you’d made him watch it on video, but surprisingly he’d never been to a Shadow Cast.

“You know, growing up in Berkeley, I thought you’d have been to a show before.”

He rolled his eyes at you.

“I wasn’t THAT kind of Berkeley kid. I was too busy being slinging dope. I didn’t have time to play dress up and see a movie.”

“Hmmmm. Such the attitude.”

Rafa rolled his eyes again. You nodded and took note. Then continued on your mission.

You turned around and picked up a tweed blazer.

“Okay. If you don’t want to go as Rocky, you can go as Brad and wear a t-shirt, this jacket, and your glasses.”

Rafa considered it for a minute,

“That’s what I’m talking about! That’s shit I wear on the regular. You trying to have me ass out here in these streets….”

He grumbled as he took the jacket and you made a face. Your plan was working perfectly. Rafa as Brad would be hot as fuck. But this attitude....

Rafa leaned back, his arms spread out on the back of the couch. Those damn grey sweatpants. He was doing all of this on purpose.

“What’re you wearing to the show ?” His eyebrow was cocked at you.

You could clearly see his dick print, and the way he pushed his crotch up at you made you think he knew that very well.

The fact that all of your holes were well used and slightly sore from his homecoming did not make you any less wet at this moment.

“Well… I have options too.”

You looked at each other and grinned. It was time for a fashion show.

First, you came out in a yellow belted shirtwaist dress and white cardigan completed with some black Mary Jane heels and paraded in front of him on the couch.

“Janet! ”

You called back, “Brad!” as he watched you closely.

It seemed as if your nipples were pointing at him through the cotton material of the dress and he saw the jiggle of his dreams as you turned around.

“You wearing any underwear under that?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You looked coyly at him over your shoulder as you went back into the bedroom.

Next was a little french maid outfit. Magenta.

“Hot damn!”

Rafael’s eyes were round and his mouth was open.

“I-I like it. I like it a lot.”

He was palming his new erection through his pants.

Your outfit was skimpy and not at all functional if you were actually going to clean the house.

You approached him and started feather dusting his shoulders, then his head.

He ducked and tried to grab your hand to keep from messing up his hair and you twirled away, then came back and started dusting the boner in his lap.

He just sat there, looked up at you with those sea-blue eyes of his which then swept down your body. You brought the feather duster up to his neck and tickled him there.

Rafa grabbed the duster with his left hand and as you tugged back, he pulled harder, which landed you across his lap.

“Well, what do we have here?”

He rubbed your ass for a second before pulling back and giving you a stinging, and stimulating slap.

You weren’t about to get caught up, so you managed to wriggle away and stand in front of him.

Rafa was confident that he had you wet and dripping for him, which was true, and that he was in control, which was false.

He didn’t try to chase you, just put his hands on the back of the couch and pushed his crotch up at you again.

You had something for him.

You sat down beside him and reached into the pocket of the apron on your maid’s costume and held the items up for his inspection. He rolled his eyes.

“Look what I found when I was getting laundry out of your suitcase.”

Rafa shifted his confident posture on the couch. His eyes were wide, but he did not say a word as he glanced at what was in your hand and then away.

“What did you expect while I was 1200 hundred miles away?”

You put the intimate polaroids of you, and a couple of him inside you, on the coffee table.

“The agreement was that you (and I) would get off to each other, on facetime, or on the phone, or, a couple of times via text. Which we did, almost every night.”

You sat beside him and looked him in the eye.

“You weren’t supposed to do it without me.”

Rafa tried to lean over and kiss you, but you dodged his lips. Rafa sighed.

“But I didn’t do it without you, Love. Those are pictures of you, of us. I can’t get enough of you baby. I only used them a couple of times a week.”

You were getting heated. A plan formulated in your mind.

“12 times, Rafa? I can’t believe you.”

“Forgive me? You drive me crazy. I had to have you and those polaroids helped. A little.”

This time you allowed Rafa to kiss your neck, and you let him wrap his arm around you and draw you into his lap. You could feel his cock brush against you under his sweats.

He was sucking marks into the skin of your neck and cleavage, and when he hooked his fingers into the top of the costume and pulled it down, letting your breasts spill out, you allowed it.

He sucked your nipples into his mouth roughly and those eyes looked up at you as you squirmed on him, trying to get friction on his bulge.

Rafa’s hands were firmly around your waist, long fingers rubbing your mid section, seductively soothing you.

But he wasn’t getting away with it.

You watched him watch you as he sucked, tongued, and bit your nipples, until you decided to not fall for his antics.

You leaned over and kissed him, your tongue establishing dominance in his mouth while you pulled his hair, making his head lean back on the couch.

You leaned over and whispered in his ear before biting his lobe. He shivered.

“I’ve let you have your way since you’ve been back. But it’s time out for all that now. You’ve done it now.”

Rafa’s whimper as you scraped your teeth down his throat was everything.

“You’re not allowed to touch yourself, or fun, until the Shadow Cast. You’ve got to make up for this.”

The show was a week away.

Fuck that, Rafa thought.

Rafael dared to talk back.

“How would you know if I touched myself?”

You just raised your eyebrows and stared at him, watching his neck get red.

“You want to go another week after that without sex?”

You could tell that Rafa was debating which way to go. But you could sense what he wanted.

What he needed.

Most of the time, Rafael was in charge.

He’d taken careful steps to ensure that he would never have to go back to slinging dope on the corner. He liked having control.

Even when it came to business with Diggs, Rafa was always the more aggressive. It’s what got him this far to begin with. Not backing down. Being the director.

But nothing could compare to you, especially when you took control.

Rafa pulled you to him and you allowed it as he wrapped his arms around you.

He sighed into your neck as he kissed it.

“I won’t touch myself. I swear.”

“Good boy. In just seven days, I can make you a man.”

*****************************************************************************************************

For the next week, Rafa took quick, lukewarm showers, stopping himself from touching himself for relief.

At night in bed, he stopped himself from palming his hard on at night when laying next to you. The fact that you still insisted on cuddling with him drove him mad, but not too mad to disobey.

You gave yourself cold showers, because in the mornings, when you’d come together in sleep, you wanted to jump on his rock hardness so bad, but you convinced yourself it would be worth it.

It was a hard week. Then Friday came and anticipation was in the air.

During the entire day, Rafael was impatient, yet restrained. As he got ready for the show that night, he listened to you rattle off the rules of interactive Rocky Horror from inside the closet.

“Okay, Here are the Rules:

1. Whenever Brad comes on screen, you MUST yell, ‘Asshole!’”

Rafa interrupted you. “Wait, I’m dressed up like an asshole?”

“Well, yeah. You’ve seen Rocky before. Brad’s an asshole, Rafa. A cute asshole, but an asshole none the less.” You continued with the rules.

“2. This is before slut shaming was considered a no-no, so, whenever Janet comes on the screen, you gotta yell Slut!”

Rafa shook his head as he put on his glasses, making sure he was nerdy fly while you informed him of the rest of the call-outs.

“And Rule #69:

You MUST do the Time Warp.”

“I don’t dance. When sober.”

You came out of the closet, corset tight, heels high, Afro big, makeup frightening, dressed as Dr. Frank N Furter.

Rafa only stopped and stared. “Goddamn.”

You spun around to give him a look see before you put on your leather jacket.

You showed him a flask full of Jameson’s.

“I think you’ll dance tonight.”

“But what about the horizontal mambo?”

Rafa was all hands as he tried to get you to move your hips. You batted them away.

“Be a good boy. It will go better for you later.”

Rafa nodded and stepped back, his hands in his pockets. He wanted to touch you so badly.

As you moved to leave, you handed him a heavy bag full of all the necessary supplies.

“What the hell is all this shit?”

You looked up, trying to remember:

“Let’s see: Bubbles, because you can’t bring rice, water guns, newspaper, noise makers, rubber gloves…”

Rafa’s eyes got big at that one.

…”Toilet paper, cards…” you rifled through the bag.

“Shit!”

You ran in the kitchen and grabbed some bread, shoving pieces in the toaster. You winked at him as you waited for it to pop up.

“Can’t forget the toast,” you grinned into amused cerulean eyes.

“I have clearly missed out on life during my formative years instead of hanging out with the nerds and Rocky.”

“You have, indeed.”

Rafa almost turned back as you headed to the car and said, “And you’re a virgin tonight, so act accordingly.”

He soon found out what that meant, when crowded in the theater with various wonderful Rocky Horror freaks and geeks, they called virgins up to the stage to be sacrificed.

Since you were whooping and pointing at him Rafa couldn’t hide, so he went up to meet his doom.

You snacked on your popcorn as the emcee “humiliated” Rafa by making him sing “Sweet Transvestite” because he’d played it safe by dressing as Brad.

It turned out not to be so humiliating, because Rafa’s voice is dope and he knew the words; he really got into it.

You could tell that Rafa was having a ball when he came back to his seat.

*************************************************

You and he called out, hid under your newspapers in the rain, slut shamed Janet and most importantly, did the time warp on stage in front of the screen.

It was a real scene.

You drank the rest of your whiskey and Rafa lit a blunt on the way home.

You put your feet out of the window so that Rafa could have a good view of your legs.

He caressed his hand up and down them, the fishnet texture feeling good under his palms.

“What do you think about Frank and Brad.” The weed was making you philosophical.

Rafa side eyed you as he drove.

“What? You mean me and you?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

He chuckled, looking damn sexy driving with one arm.

“I think the whole film is avant-garde. Especially for 1975, it’s about queerness, conformity, and dictatorship. And of course free will.”

Rafa looked over and winked.

You took another toke and nodded.

“I love that Brad was a bottom in that shadow scene with Frank. So fucking hot.”

You traced your fingers across your cleavage. Rafa had to concentrate to keep his eyes on the road.

“Of course, I’m also thinking about how Rocky was bound up when we first see him.

A little BDSM, don’t you think?”

You watched Rafael’s profile as he drove.

“And Frank was the one who did it to him. He seemed to worship the darling doc. Until, you know.”

Rafa squirmed and cleared his throat.

“He sure did.”

You smirked as you French inhaled.

*************************************************

You get back home, tipsy and a little high, but still in command of what you wanted to do.

You went straight to the bedroom as Rafa got two bottles of water to bring with.

As soon as he entered the bedroom, you began.

“Strip,” you commanded.

“I beg your pardon?”

Rafa smirked at you as he put the bottles down on the dresser.

He was trying it.

“I’m in charge now,” you raised your chin. “Got it?”

His eyes changed and he nodded eagerly, smirk turning into a placating smile.

He was probably more eager than he wanted to show, which made you swell with pride.

“So.” You waved your hand at him. “Strip.”

You did the same, stepping out of the heels and rolling down your fishnet stockings.

Rafa took off his jacket, and reached up to take off the glasses.

“Leave those on.”

Smiling again, he left the glasses on as he carefully took off his shirt, then unbuttoned his pants as his hard on was getting bigger.

He stood before you in his boxer briefs as you unsnapped the corset and threw it across the room.

You just raised your eyebrows and crossed your arms, foot starting to tap, and he quickly moved to take his boxers off.

His cock was stiff against his stomach now, making your mouth water.

“Get on the bed, face up.”

Rafael did as he was told, and trembled as you ran your hand up his leg brushing his cock, up his abs, to his chest, face and hair.

He reached for you and you moved away.

“What we’re not gonna do, is any of that unauthorized touching. It’s no way to behave on your first day out. But since you are such an exceptional beauty, I’m prepared to forgive you.”

You went over to your bedside table and brought out the red nylon rope and watched as Rafa shuddered.

“Assume the position.”

He obediently put his hands up toward the headboard, and didn’t move as you swung your leg over his torso and secured him to a couple of the posts.

He kept his eyes down, staring at your crotch the entire time as you used the knots he taught you to make.

“Such a good boy for me. See, there’s no crime in giving yourself over to pleasure.”

“Yes Ma’am. No Ma’am.”

You became wet as Rafa smiled up at you. You rewarded him with a kiss and a small cuddle. Then you got down to business.

You scooted backwards down his body and stared at his erection.

“What should I do to you? Want me to suck your cock? Would you like that?”

"Yes ma’am please.” You loved to hear him beg.

“C-can you do it reverse cowgirl style? So that I can see your ass?”

Rafa looked desperate, but even though the thought of what he’d suggested made your pussy clench. You knew what he was trying to do.

“Are you trying to get me to sit on your face, Rafael?”

He nodded vigorously, hair flopping across his forehead.

“I want to give you pleasure ma’am. Want to breathe you, feel you drip on my lips and drink you. Want you to ride my face until you cum.”

He was using his soft voice, but it was oh so sexy. Fuck, he was using his words to make your clit swell and pulse.

And he knew it too. You saw the glint in his eyes.

“You’re trying to take control back, aren’t you, Rafael?”

He blinked, and his eyes blanked again. He gulped, and this time, he shook his head.

“No ma’am.” He insisted, “Only if you let me.”

You stared at him a while as you took his cock in your hands and started pumping, rubbing the palm of your hand across his fat mushroom tip.

You loved how he was struggling to keep his eyes open and the grunts that were coming from his throat.

“I guess you have been reasonably good so far. But you still have to follow orders.”

You shifted around and straddled his chest, reaching back to finally take his glasses off. All he could do was stare at you.

“I’m all yours, ma’am. Your ass is perfect. Served up for me like this.”

The yearning in his voice was unmistakable.

“Such a good, good boy”

Your thumb flicked over the tip of his dick.

“Promise I’ll always be a good boy.”

You used your hands on him again, your strokes fast and firm enough that he was nearly on the edge but not quite there. You felt powerful.

Slowly, you shuffled back, moving your ass toward his face. And your face towards his cock.

Kitten licks on his tip had him squirming on the bed, his hands now gripping the ropes which tied him fast to the headboard.

“Ma’am, please. Please….please.”

He begged and moaned against your cunt, moving his head and dramatically sweeping his tongue up your slit, making you drip and spasm.

“Rafael! Your mouth....So, so good...” You groaned.

Your praise only caused his cock to become harder. Seeing that, you pushed yourself down more firmly on his face.

Rafa moaned into your pussy causing you to almost tip over.

“So, so good Rafa.”

You raised yourself up, bracing on his thighs, yours tightening around his face. You were determined to finish the job.

“Tell me what you want and maybe I’ll give it to you.” Your voice was deceptively sweet.

He sucked at your clit for a little while longer before he pulled his face away long enough to respond. He watched your pussy quiver as he spoke.

”I want to cum. Please ma’am, I need to cum.”

“Hmmmmm. No.”

Your lips were a hairs’ breadth away from his tip. He groaned, and dove back into your pussy.

“And if you even think of cumming before I say so, you’ll be severely punished.”

You could feel him sucking your clit more intensely, trying to get you to a point where you’d slip up.

But instead, you deep throated him until you reached his base and rested there for a moment. All the practice of taking his entire length was paying off in this moment.

You slowly started to bob on his dick and his attention to your core faltered as his head fell back to the bed.

“Shit…That feels so good. So fuckin’ good… Ma’am.”

Although you loved to hear his voice broken in ecstasy, the hand that was caressing his balls as you sucked him off tugged gently to remind him of his job.

Immediately his lips wrapped around your clit again.

When you felt his balls tighten, you pulled your mouth off of him, moving to kneel next to him on the bed.

“Huh...oh! Ma’am, please!”

“I thought you were mine to do with as I please?”

Your hands danced down your body, briefly cupping your tits and rolling your nipples.

Your lover looked as if he would die from want of touching you.

‘I am. I am. I just…’

“I just want to know, where do you want to cum? Cum in my mouth or in my wet pussy?”

You sat back on your knees and parted your thighs, so he can get another look at you.

“Definitely your pussy.”

You leaned over and smiled at him.

“We’ll see.”

You swung your leg over him and positioned yourself above the head of his stiff cock.

You swiped him up and down the length of your slit, and then slowly sunk down, taking it millimeters at a time.

Rafael groaned, knowing that he wanted to push himself up into you, and you felt him bend his knees to plant his feet to do just that.

“Dont. Move.”

Your voice was firm as you raked your fingernails down his torso, making sure to scrape his nipples as you went.

Rafa opened his eyes to see, and his mouth to gasp, and you rewarded him by sinking all the way down on him.

“Fuck ma’am. You feel so good, so tight, so fuckin’ wet.” You scraped his nipples again.

You smiled at his agony, keeping your eyes on him as he watched your body move.

You went faster, rocking your hips which caused your breasts to jiggle as you slid up and down his pole.

He groaned again, but nodded, eyes squeezing closed to shut out some stimulation.

But that was a no go.

“Open your eyes, Cash. Be good.”

Rafael just simply couldn’t think.

“But you feel so amazing...Ma’am. And you look too… fucking goooooddd. Shit.”

He could barely get it out, which only served to make you wetter. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he dropped it to the bed as you rose up on his length and then drove yourself back down on him.

“Open your eyes!”

He did, his eyes a dark blue now, and trained on you as you repeatedly slammed down on him, fucking him mercilessly.

"So fucking perfect. I wish I could just touch you…” He said breathlessly between grunts.

“It’s not your wish. It’s my command.”

You tried to look menacing and Rafael’s face convinced you that it worked. His eyes widened and he closed his mouth as your hips moved relentlessly.

He knew what you needed as well. His words.

“Thank you Ma’am. For letting me inside your tight, wet… ohhhh… I love you so fucking much.”

He was so sweet when he was needy.

“Love you, love this pussy…”

“Ohhh, Rafa. I love you too. It’s yours anytime you want. If you’re a good boy…”

“I am. I will be. I promise.” He looked into your eyes and you knew it was true.

“Is this dick mine? No one else’s? “

Rafael’s moaned deeply, licking his lips to taste you again.

“All… yours….It’s your’s,” he breathed.

“Good boy Fuck, Rafa!…”

Your Bay Boy was a mess, moaning and bucking his hips up inside you. You let him, knowing how desperate and needy he was. He was so beautiful.

You rocked your hips back and forth, bringing yourself oh so close to the edge.

Rafa’s hips pistoned up into you ferociously hitting the spot that made you moan loudly.

“Fuck, your cock feels so good,” you leaned down to whisper. “You wanna come? You wanna come inside me?”

You felt him shudder, you mustered all the strength you had to stop moving.

He pulled at the restraints, wanting to grab you and hold you fast, but he couldn't.

“So close, Ma’am. More...please. I need to cum.”

You shushed him, putting your finger on his pink lips and smiling down at him.

“I know, baby.”

And you started moving again. With purpose.

“Eyes on me.”

Rafa didn’t know where to focus, your face, your breasts, where you two were connected, the look on your face, the sensations.

There was no coherent thought in his head except what you were doing to him.

You felt him pulse within you and decided it was time as your clit shuddered with your impending orgasm.

“Cum for me Baby, cum inside me. Paint my walls.”

Rafa’s head snapped up and he growled.

“What did you say???”

“I said, come inside me. Fill me full of your cum. I want it all.”

“Holy fuck!”

Rafa’s eyes screwed closed and he pumped everything into you like you asked.

The feel of him swelling and releasing inside you triggered your own orgasm, but you still had a job to do.

You untied him while he was still spasming within you. You held him close as he came back to earth, lightly rubbing and kissing his marked wrists.

You kissed him and murmured, “Are you ok? As he smiled at you and kissed you back.

You handed him a bottle of water as he readjusted.

Rafa took a drink, turned to you and murmured, “You’re amazing you know that? Just what I needed.” And he kissed you again, hand in your hair, massaging your scalp.

Happiness bloomed in your chest.

You lay in his arms and snuggled his neck while he moved his hands down your body. Then he pulled your hair to make you look at him.

“What do you need?”

Rafa’s eyes searched your face, because he always made sure he took care of you, no matter who had been dominant.

“Nothing. Just need you.”

“You got me, love.”

He smiled and kissed your forehead, and then moved to get out of bed.

“No. I have a better idea.” You smiled up at him mischievously.

“First one in the shower calls the shots.”

You got up from the bed, ready to sprint to the bathroom, only to be overtaken by Rafael, who picked you up and backed into the shower, so that he was the first one to enter.

You cast your eyes down as he turned on the water, waiting for his command.

***********

Tagging: @theatrenerd86 @sebastianabucknettastan @imatyoursurrvicesurr @riiyy @ivycomet @lonelydance @jbrizzywrites @sillyteecup @ohsoverykeri @theselilwonders @mysearchforgratification @curtainremote @biafbunny @summerofsnowflakes @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @delaber @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @einfachniemand @braidedchallah

#Rafael Casal #Rafa smut #rafael casal imagine #rafael casal x reader #rafael casal x black reader #rafael casal smut #rocky horror picture show #rocky horror #ask dj #sub!rafa

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fictionalmenmakemecry · 3 years

Text

Healing the Wounds

Characters: Deacon St John x Reader

Summary: Deacon is stopping by Lost Lake Camp to get his bike fixed up. You run into him noticing he need medical attention and let's just say the sexual tension between you two is thick. (Sarah does not exist)

Warnings: Swearing

I walked across Lost Lake camp, heading to the mechanic to see if my bike was close to getting fixed. It's been a week since I was out in the shit. I was coming back from burning some nests when I got knocked off my bike from a runner. I felt the panic hit me as I fell off my bike. I reached for my machete and made short work of the two runners, who were following me back. I looked over to my bike which was trashed, making me walk home the rest of the way.

I entered the mechanic looking around for my bike. When I heard a deep voice in front of me. I looked over to see a tall man with his back facing me. I noticed the mongrels' jacket he had on.

"How long til' I have her back again?" He asked

"End of the day?" The mechanic offered while rubbing his oiled covered hands with a rag.

He sighed turning around not realising I was behind him.

"Oh shit, sorry" He took a few steps back.

"Don't worry about it" I smiled noticing he wasn't bad looking

He looked down and smiled back at me. I noticed the tattoos peeping through and the numerous rings he was also wearing.

"I haven't seen you around, fresh meat?" I raised an eyebrow hoping that he was here to stay.

He chuckled bringing his hand up smoothing down his beard.

"I'm a drifter but I did stay here a long time ago" He explained.

"Deacon St. John" He introduced himself reaching out his hand

"Y/L/N" I shook his hand.

I looked down noticing a nasty burn on his lower arm just under his sleeve. I pulled away my hand bringing it up to his injury putting all my attention on that.

"Oh my god, this does not look good" I gasped automatically rolling up his sleeve to get a better look

" Oh yeah, some damn rippers got me a couple of days ago. I haven't have the chance to do anything with it " He explained.

I looked up to meet his eyes to see him with a slight surprised expression on his face.

"Sorry" I apologised letting go of his arm, feeling that I was too forward.

"No no, I don't mind. It's nice to see someone care" He gave a small friendly smile

"I'm a nurse and so it was just my first instinct, I guess" I glanced down at his arm not able to shake it from my mind.

"Would it be okay if I dressed it up for you?" I asked hoping he would agree.

"Yeah, totally, no problem. I don't want it to get infected" He pulled down his sleeve.

We both walked out of the mechanics and I lead him to my little hut. I opened the door and walked over to my medic station which was very simple but did the job.

"Hop up on the table and I'll get some supplies" I gestured over to the corner on the room

As I looked for my first aid kit, I could feel myself blush. I know that I was starting to develop a crush for him. I felt so stupid but it's been so long since I even looked at a guy the way I saw Deacon.

"So, this is you little place?" Deacon asked looking around my room.

"Yeah, it's small and plain but all I really need is a bed to sleep in and then my station so I can help people medically.

I walked over and starting unboxing the supplies I needed. He rolled up his sleeve. I looked down at the burn to see that the tattoo was enveloped in the burn. I got a cotton pad out and put some solution on it.

"This might hurt a little" I said quietly.

I heard him gasp and flinch a little under my touch as I gently dapped the burn with the cotton pad. We stay in silence for a couple of minutes as I concentrated on the task at hand.

"I can't even remember the last time I slept in my own bed" I glanced up to see him look at my bed.

"Where do you sleep?" I questioned reaching for a new cotton pad.

"Well on the ground if I'm on the road or just in a random bed when I visit a camp. I don't sleep much anyway" He looked down at me, watching.

"That's sad, nothing beats a good night sleep" I smiled realising I take my bed for granted.

"Tell me about it" He said quietly.

We both said nothing else for awhile, I was focused on his breathing. Since everything went down, you don't get much contact with people, close contact anyway.

"Well your welcome to sleep in my bed" I offered then realising what that sounded like. I heard him snort, confirming what I thought.

"That's not what I meant, I- I, Your welc-" I stuttered not wanting to look up, I could my face becoming more and more red.

"Don't worry, I know what you meant" He chuckled. "I appreciate the offer" I looked up seeing his warm smile

I started wrapping the bandage over his arm and feeling his eyes on me. I was too shy to give him eye contact. I looked over to his other hand to see no wedding ring. Not like that mattered now, most of people's partners are dead or missing.

I secured the bandage and finally looked up to see his eyes meeting mine. I released his arm from my hand and dropped it to my side, for him to catch my hand and hold it. My heart skipped a beat, it's been so long since someone has held my hand so gently.

"Thank you y/n" He whispered glancing down at my lips.

To be continued.....

Masterlist for Other Fics

#deacon st. john #days gone #gaming #fic #fanfic #days gone deacon #deacon #boozer #deacon x reader #fluff #smut

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 4 years

Text

“You make me call your name

Now I gotta have one more taste

One shot of your whiskey kisses all on my lips

I keep coming right back.”

- Whiskey Kisses, Mic Lowry

A/N: hello :D this one shot was intended to just be a blurb of bartender!harry teaching the mc how do body shots (thank you to the lovely anons that suggested the prompt) but then it spiraled and now here we are with a full-on piece! I hadn’t written true, start-to-finish smut in a while and figured it was time for some filth 😌 hope you enjoy!

masterlist : ask : bartender!harry tag

word count: 10.5k

content: friends with benefits, flirty pest!harry, teasing, fingering, and oral baybeeee

preview:

“So,” Harry clears his throat with a light cough, his other hand coming out from behind the hidden scenes with a large lime cradled at its center, “there’s two ways of doing body shots.”

He places down the lime, expertly halving it down the center and then quartering it in another swift cut, leaving the fruit in four even wedges. He wipes the knife off with a dish rag, twisting around to chuck it in the dirty dish tub behind him. He picks up one of the slices between his thumb and forefinger, holding it up proudly for emphasis. “There’s the disgusting college frat party version of body shots, and then there’s the proper adult version.”

Harry’s nose crinkles in distaste as an afterthought, his next sentence clarifying. “We’re doing the latter because personally, I think it’s gross to drink anything out of someone’s belly button.”

A small, feathery laugh escapes Y/N, her teeth then digging into her bottom lip to keep her jitters in check. “Whatever you say, you’re the professional.”

Harry gifts her a satisfied smirk at the minute stroke at his ego. “Good girl— that’s what I like to hear.”

The phrase was said with nonchalant humourous intentions, but it makes the pit of her stomach tighten nonetheless. She can’t keep it at bay, not when she’s heard those same two words come from him under very different contexts— not when he’s panted them into her mouth in such a desperate, needy way, eager tongue lulling across the inside of her top lip as his long fingers had marked bruises along her jaw, hips roughly meeting her sore inner thighs.

It’s ingrained in her head and she can never disconnect it and she has a feeling Harry recognizes that, which gives him all the more reason to bring up such matters as often as possible just to fuck with her.

And he truly is well aware of the effect it has. He damn well knows the way it disorients her when he offhandedly uses pet names and remarks that have made appearances during their sexual encounters; he knows the way it revs her and it amuses him more than anything to see her fidget and fumble to keep composure. He adores having that influence over her and he thrives on wielding it to his advantage.

Y/N swallows down her nerves, feeling them lodge in her throat and refuse to go down. The way he slowly bats his lashes at her suggestively doesn’t help at all.

Harry reaches across the bar, hovering the lime wedge over her face. He taps it gently against the center of her lips, the acidic juice rubbing off and making her skin tingle. “Open up for me, yeah?”

Y/N’s lips part on command and Harry can’t stop the pompous hum that runs along the back of his throat. “Always so willing, aren’t you?”

or Harry teaches Y/N how to do body shots but lime juice isn’t the only thing that ends up dripping down his chin.

///

“I can’t believe you’ve never done body shots before.”

“It’s just never come up!”

Harry snorts in mild, disbelieving amusement, the still atmosphere of the room staining with the sound of his multiple rings clacking softly against tempered glass.

He takes a firm grip around the neck of a Casamigos tequila bottle, dismounting it from its signature spot on the center shelf of the liquor wall, turning back around to face Y/N. He sets the alcohol container down on the waxed wooden surface of his work station, absentmindedly rummaging through one of the clean equipment tubs stored beneath it.

She can’t help the way her lips twitch fondly at the obvious cinch between his thick brows, his mouth slightly down-turned in a pensive pout as he fishes for something out of sight.

Harry comes up fruitful, a black metal pour spout glitzing dully under the muted lights of the closed bar. He unscrews the cap from the tequila jug, carefully fitting the accessory into the neck and turning it tight for good measure. He taps his fingers triumphantly against the crystal clear glass, rings once again filling the empty space with chimes.

Harry’s gaze locks with Y/N’s, brows shrugging in a playfully expectant manner, one corner of his soft lips flicking upwards with sly mischief. “Get up on the counter.”

She rests her chin in the palm of her hand, elbow propped casually on the tabletop to support the weight. She snorts dismissively, shaking her head a tad. “I don’t think so.”

He points at Y/N scoldingly with the tip of the spout, both brows jerking upwards in a deadpan expression. “You’re absolutely fucked in the head if you thought you were gonna confess to a bartender that you’ve never done body shots and leave without doing some. Now hop off it and get up on the counter.”

Y/N rolls her eyes grandly, slumping her shoulders with begrudged annoyance. “No.”

Harry stares at her for a second, reading her body language carefully— the pads of her fingers tapping jestingly against her cheekbone, the tiny crooked grin curling her delicate lips, the way her eyes are half-lidded in amusement, and the taunting rebellious sheen glinting across the glossy surface of her irises. She’s not refusing due to comfortability reasons; she’s refusing in order to purposefully get on his nerves.

He’s not surprised— pushing his buttons is one of her favorite hobbies, usually because the flirtatious teasing and joking defiance spurs into another one of her favorite pastimes: Harry thrusting between her legs.

It’s obvious now that she’s being a pest to get a rise out of him and he’s more than willing to give it to her. Too willing, if he knows what’s good for him, but he can’t ever seem to resist her— can’t resist how much he loves the way she tugs at his strings so effortlessly.

Harry releases his grasp around the long neck of the liquor bottle, setting his palms flat against the smooth red oak of the pub table. He teeters forward on his hands, ducking down until his line of vision is level with Y/N’s, so close to her face their noses unintentionally brush. The distance separating them is nearly nonexistent, so slim that she’s enveloped in a sphere of his intoxicatingly delicious scent as it wafts up from his flexing neck, tingling her nostrils with notes of ocean salt, cedar wood, and vague whiffs of the fresh linen candle that is continuously alight in his flat.

He shackles her into place with unwavering eye contact, the darkened emerald hue around his pupils gleaming challengingly as his fluffy, shiny curls frame his strong jaw so beautifully it’s likely considered sinful. The white tee he’s sporting strains against his broad chest, the blocky, baby blue Enjoy health! Eat Your Honey! text stretching across his pectoral muscles, the doodle of a smiling bumble bee tempting her with the message’s double-meaning. She hates that she can see his nipples printing through the sheer cotton fabric.

The warm breath of Harry’s words scorches her barely trembling lips, his lashes dusting the tops of his high cheekbones with a sultry, domineering air. His accented voice is thick and dark as the syrup he mixes into his cocktails, low in sound but heavy in impact.

“Get on your fucking back or I’ll stretch you out over the counter myself.”

Y/N decides it's in her best interest to oblige.

She currently lays flat across the sleek counter, her hands folded across her tummy, digits tapping nervously at her abdomen.

Harry is off to the side, retrieving a few other ingredients that seem to be necessary for what they’re about to engage in. She sees him shuffling about through her peripheral vision, glancing up at her sparsely and she can just make out the way his lips are cracked into a shit-eating grin at how easily he’d managed to set her in place.

She turns her head to face him fully, cheek pressing along the cold surface below her and causing her spine to involuntarily shiver. Her toes curl in her checkered sneakers as she anxiously waits for him to speak up, watching as he pulls out a black paring knife from below the edge of his bartending station.

“So,” Harry clears his throat with a light cough, his other hand coming out from behind the hidden scenes with a large lime cradled at its center, “there’s two ways of doing body shots.”

A small, feathery laugh escapes Y/N, her teeth then digging into her bottom lip to keep her jitters in check. “Whatever you say, you’re the professional.”

Harry gifts her a satisfied smirk at the minute stroke at his ego. “Good girl— that’s what I like to hear.”

Y/N swallows down her nerves, feeling them lodge in her throat and refuse to go down. The way he slowly bats his lashes at her suggestively doesn’t help at all.

Y/N’s lips part on command and Harry can’t stop the pompous hum that runs along the back of his throat. “Always so willing, aren’t you?”

She glowers at him from the side, her grumble strained and therefore lacking any real mass. “Shut up.”

He coos with exaggerated fondness, attempting to stifle an arrogant smirk. “I’m just happy to be your first time, s’all.”

“You’re so fucking annoying.”

“And yet you always end up in my bed. Funny how that works, innit?”

The tendon along Y/N’s jaw visibly tenses and Harry snickers to himself as he fits the fruit slice between her teeth, the peel facing inwards so that the part he actually needs is accessible. He then slides a bit further down the counter until he’s standing right beside her resting hips.

He goes to lift her olive green knitted sweater, pausing for a second right at the hem. His fingers twitch excitedly as he glances up at her for permission, craving the rush that comes with absorbing her body heat. “Can I?”

Y/N jerks her chin once in a nod, teeth biting down harder onto the lime wedge when she feels his cold digits brush along her sensitive belly.

Harry pushes her jumper upwards, bunching it up just under her bust. He can see how anxious she is from the way her lower stomach jolts.

His hand grabs something off to the edge of her scope and when it comes into focus, she sees its a metal salt shaker. He suspends it a few centimeters over her body, tapping out a line of salt that starts just above her navel and ends halfway up her stomach. She does her best not to move; the last thing she wants to do is make a mess over Harry’s freshly swept floorboards.

He sets down the container, snatching a tiny transparent red glass from one of the decorative drying racks, flipping it rightside up onto the table and laxly pouring out a tequila shot.

“This is the right way to do it. Pay attention ‘cause I’m only teaching you once.” His light-hearted tone eases some of the gnawing in her bones.

Harry bends down, the warm air that puffs from his mouth hitting the bare skin above her belly button and Y/N suddenly anticipates the feeling of his hot lips running across her tummy.

Her entire body begins to quake, overwhelmed by the flurry of sensations. The trembling is hard enough that Harry notices, eyes flicking up to meet her’s, brows furrowed in a teasing chastising fashion. “I can’t do this unless you stay still, Road Runner.”

Y/N has a difficult time talking over the citrus slice in her mouth, her words muffled but understandable enough. “Sorry— don’t know why I’m shaking but...but I can't stop.”

One of Harry’s hands squeezes her outer thigh reassuringly. “I’ve had my lips on you in way more intimate places than this. It shouldn’t be that hard.”

Y/N sputters into a round of nervous giggles. “Fuck off.”

Harry gives her a disciplinary look full of faux sternness, trying to defuse the tension with some comedic relief. “Stop shaking or I’ll have to hold you down.”

“Guess you’re gonna have to hold me down, then.” She quips back, kinking her eyebrows with attitude.

What Harry does next she really wasn’t expecting at all.

She’d figured he would pin her hips down against the counter to keep her still, but instead Harry coasts a palm up the center of her barely-clothed chest, fingers wrapping securely around her throat.

She nearly inhales the lime wedge.

The pads of his digits squeeze her jugular with just enough strength to jar her system into reboot, her whole body going deadly still in his dominant grasp. He presses the back of her neck down against the cold wood, coaxing her back to straighten out properly so she doesn’t start quivering again. The whole situation is utterly erotic and Harry knows it. The feeling of her pretty throat straining against his palm is all too familiar— they’d been in the same position not even three nights ago, though it had been on the floor of his bedroom and they'd both been wearing way less clothes.

Harry was confident this would get her in line easily. The shock factor of such a bold, brazen move all out of the blue was bound to distract her enough to rid anything else from her mind, including the anxiety. The image it sketched was just a plus: Y/N staring at him all doe-eyed over the tops of her dewy cheeks, lashes fluttering with that needy innocent aura that makes the underside of his balls ache. It’s the same look she gets when she’s spread out across his sheets, clawing at the sides of his torso and pulling him deeper inside, begging for him to go harder.

She had instinctively choked out a teeny whimper the second she felt his hand enclosing around her throat and he’s ashamed to admit his knees had buckled. It had been such a sweet, melodic sound and the fact that he had drawn it out of her so easily was threatening to pop a stiffy into his flared corduroy pants. Not to mention how good the contrast of his lilac polished nails looks against her supple skin, which seems to be glowing in the dim, bourbon-tinted lighting.

Harry licks over his mouth slowly, bottom teeth tugging at his upper lip. When he speaks, it’s soft and deep, stirring the gravel in his chest. “Better?”

Y/N boggles her head in a jerky nod, eyes flickering down to where her stomach is permanently clenched due to the heavy atmosphere of the room.

“Alright, then.”

He leans down once again, glimpsing at her one last time before he makes contact with the plush mound of her stomach.

Harry’s tongue feels warm and textured as it slides upwards over the salt trail, the wet sensation sending her nerves into a numbed frenzy, a certain prickling washing across her scalp and pinching at the shells of her ears.

Y/N drinks up the picture before her like a tall glass of fine wine, her mind absorbing every detail with crisp awareness.

Harry’s messy auburn ringlets fall across his face due to his angle, the silky locks kissing across his prominent jaw and structured cheekbones. His lashes drop over his eyes in a euphoric stupor, faint pulses of white hot energy traveling across Y/N’s flesh and fizzing every cell of his. The salt burns the damp skin of his mouth, grating against his tongue as he works his way up as slowly as possible, refusing to surrender the sweet taste of the delicate skin that undercuts the bitterness of the ingredient.

Y/N’s hand acts of its own accord, fingers prying away from clutching onto the edge of the counter and trading it for Harry’s roots. Her grip cards into the hair along the nape of his neck, following the curve of his skull right behind his small ear.

The area is one of many sensitive spots she’s become accustomed to toying with since they had developed their unlabeled relationship; the vaguely sensual manner of this entire exchange has her unintentionally falling back on muscle memory.

Harry’s actions pause for an elongated second, the broad expanse of his back visibly contracting under the fabric hugging his torso. His tongue leaves her body— much to her pining disapproval— as a small needy hiss escapes his swollen lips, accompanied by a breathy weak sigh through his nose. “Fuck…”

It’s a sound she’d had the pleasure of hearing before, usually when he was getting close and would try to hold off for the sake of dragging everything out. It’s desperate, it tremors, and it packs a punch like nothing else; it means he’s getting into his head about how she’s making him feel and there’s nothing hotter than watching him space out from how much bliss he’s drawing from her— from this. From something as simple as touching his mouth to her skin.

Her thighs tighten together, the area between them growing uncomfortably warm. She wills her hold to ease up and nearly blacks out when he cradles his head into her palm, silently pleading with her to not completely pull away.

Y/N croaks out an apology for her sudden harsh behavior, bottom lip wobbling as his eyes list upwards to meet her own and she notices his pupils are blown way out of proportion. “S-Sorry. Force of habit.”

His head gives a choppy shake within her frail grip, teeth worrying the inside of his cheek. His voice comes out as an airy, intense whisper, almost as if what he’s about to utter next is something so private not even their shadows should be allowed to hear it.

“Don’t be sorry, minx. Was praying you would. You know how much I love it when you’re rough with me.”

With that last comment leaving her embarrassingly breathless, Harry sticks his tongue back out and laps up at the last couple of granules of salt left on her stomach, planting a sloppy, delicate kiss along the crest of her belly button for good measure.

The way she gasps lightly strokes at his ego, a coy simper bracing against her tense tummy. Y/N holds in her next exhale to avoid giving him the satisfaction of gloating, trying her best to diffuse the bristling at the ends of her fingers and across her slightly damp cheeks.

Harry proceeds to sponge his warm, cushiony lips to the different pressure points he, too, has grown extremely familiar with, talking in between each stop on his trek.

He travels up the extent of her belly and across the center of her chest over her jumper, his words heavy and sticky. “Y’know I can tell when you’re holding out on me, right?”

He pools wet, tender pecks into the groove of her throat and onto the curve of her strained neck, finally reaching her face and gently bumping his nose against her chin, a stipple of his mouth chasing the gesture. He murmurs his thoughts in a low tone, brushing the pads of his fingers across her jaw and trailing underneath in such a sweet, admiring manner. He wanders upwards and halts right where her bottom lip curves the deepest, gluing one more light, lingering kiss to her cupid’s bow as the grip around her throat tightens just a hair. “And you know I’m more than capable of coaxing it out of you.”

The hand that is wound into his velvet curls falls limply down the side of his tanned neck, coasting across the strong build of his shoulder and down to rest flat against his slightly heaving chest, nestled between both of his pecs, the joints of her digits vibrating with his gradually swelling heartbeat.

Harry’s nose grazes over hers as he takes the lime slice from between her teeth, juice spurting and streaming out the edges of her mouth as a result. She instinctively licks across her itching skin, just barely skimming Harry’s lips as he pulls away with the fruit wedge in his mouth. She can feel the way his pulse jumps against his ribs just before her hand slips away due to the distance; it leaves her wondering if he had felt her own thundering against the palm he’d had around her jugular.

Harry grasps the halve between his index finger and thumb, fervently draining it as quickly as possible to get the tough part out of the way, tossing it into an unseen bin. His nose scrunches up at the sour, pungent taste, the buttoned tip twitching as one of his canopy green eyes squeezes shut, head ruffling in a sharp shake as if to regain his bearings. She can feel her stinging lips jerk with the beginnings of a fond smile at the way his loosely structured ringlets bounce to his motions.

Harry talks through a full mouth, hand fumbling for the sleekness of the shot glass. “Fucking hell, that’s the worst of it.”

He finds it when his knuckles accidentally knock across the rim, digits wrapping around the small cup securely and jetting it up towards his face while blindly aiming for the general vicinity of his mouth, hoping to get rid of the bitterness coating the underside of his tongue. He pounds it back without a hitch, Adam’s Apple bobbing grandly as the liquor sears its way down the back of his throat, accompanied by its accessory ingredients. Harry slams the stout glass down onto the counter, mouth pursing and both eyes screwing shut as the curdling aftertaste fades into a dull throb that froths the pit of his stomach with a recognizable warmth.

“You would think you’d be able to handle your alcohol better, being a bartender and all.”

Harry’s eyes fly open at the coy remark that tinges the chilled air of the bar, vision zeroing in on its source as she lays across the wooden table with her sweater smoothed back into place, her intertwined hands resting calmly along the dip of her navel, and her enticing lips curled into a mildly condescending smirk.

His brows jump up daringly at Y/N’s dig as he sets down the crystalline cup, quietly clearing his throat to make sure his voice doesn’t crack. He lewdly circles the tip of his forefinger around the hem of the glass once, twice, and then a third time before finally speaking up. “Someone’s being a fucking brat tonight, hm?”

Y/N’s eyebrows mimic Harry’s, her expression slathered in fake cluelessness, though the corners of her mouth betray her with smug glee. “Who, me? I would never, I’m an absolute dream!”

He pushes the glass as far away as possible— he wants to avoid it falling victim to what their conversation is insinuating. “A filthy wet one, at that.”

Y/N’s knuckles whiten as her grip intensifies, her lashes blinking sluggishly. “Is that so?”

Harry leans down, the hairs along his skin standing up as his forearms make contact with the cold surface of the table. He slinks his head to the side, continuing to dance around the subject they both know this talk is unmistakably leading towards. “Very much so.”

“So was that your plan all along, then? To get your mouth on me just to be a pest about it afterwards?”

He bites into the pad of his thumb to muffle a chuckle, irises twinkling like sea glass, framed by his perfectly sculpted, jokingly furrowed brows. His words are unapologetically blunt, biceps rippling against the flimsy sleeves of his tee as he shifts his weight, pastel yellow Vans squeaking against the polished oak ground. “It truly wasn’t my intention, love. But then you let out that pretty little moan and yanked at my hair so hard I saw stars and, well...quite frankly, I can’t let you get away with that, now can I?”

Y/N swallows heavily, drinking up a deep inhale to replace the oxygen Harry has robbed from her— the way he’s knowingly twisting the rusty golden H ring around his middle finger is doing her in.

Her voice lodges in her lungs, the result being a docile, needy tone and the aching between her legs is too much for her to even attempt to mask it. “What do you want from me, then?”

Harry stops turning his ring, instead walking his first two digits over her hip, picking at the button on her jeans mockingly and scoffing in dark amusement when she squirms. “Beg me for it.”

The word slips past her lips all wispy and eager with no remorse or shame whatsoever. “Please.”

Harry pops the metal clasp of her jeans open, smiling deviously around the thumb between his teeth. “Again.”

Y/N puts more emotion into it, trying to convey how much she wants him so he’ll quit this annoying charade. “Please, Harry.”

He folds the flaps of her pants outwards, slowly tugging down the zipper and purring in pleasant surprise when he sees she’s sporting the pair of maroon lace panties he adores so much. “Please what?”

“Please—” She chokes up as she watches him flirt ominously with the tiny bow on the waistband of her painties. “Please touch me.”

Harry hooks his finger into the dainty material of the undies and pulls it back from her abdomen; the potential of the band snapping down onto her skin has her eyes watering. The pastel purple lacquer on his nail glints teasingly while a demand drips from his lips, thick and leisurely as his sight flickers sideways for a barely existent moment, interested in what lays below her undergarment. “Touch you how?”

Y/N’s self-control is wearing critically thin and it’s taking every fiber of her being not to pounce on him this instant. Instead, both of her hands snap around his wrist, the beaded bracelet he’s sporting stamping into her palm. She clings to him like a vine, guiding his fingers below her panties, lungs stuttering as his icey, chunky rings catch on the hood of her clit. Her voice is dry and uneven as she arches her hips just a tad against his cupped fingers. “Like this— touch me like this.”

Harry stays completely still for a few suspenseful heartbeats, staring at her with the colors around his pupils kaleidoscoping with different hues of muted sage and bright rosemary, the amber specks shimmering with silent power. Then, his hand begins to move, the pads of his digits lulling lazily against her core, bolts of bliss shooting up her spine.

Y/N breaks their cemented gazes, watching in a starved haze at the way his knuckles and jewelry tent the flimsy lace of her underwear as his large hand bobs between her parted thighs. She can feel how wet she is— can feel how it coats his skin and makes his touch glide over her with ease. She can see the way his forearm flexes with effort, bent on infusing pleasure into every crevice of her body until she’s left breathless and quaking. Veins carve their way under his smooth, inked skin, shifting and bulging beneath the intricate rose tattoo and creasing the portrait of the nude mermaid she so strangely fancies.

Harry removes the thumb of his free hand from between his teeth, bite marks indented into the soft tissue from how hard he was working on keeping himself together. He caringly tucks a strand of hair behind Y/N’s ear, his chaste demeanor heavily contrasting the vulgar scene unfolding a foot away.

This juxtaposition of tenderness and eroticism is so typical of him when it comes to sex and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t live off it. The polarity between his gentle, soothing personality and the absolute filth of his sex habits constantly keeps her on her toes, excited to see what comes next and restless to take whatever he has to offer. There was never a boring moment with Harry and she never felt like her desires went unattended; he always gives her exactly what she craves— both the sweet and the sour.

It’s similar to the incredible drinks he’s so well-known for: an even ratio of top shelf ingredients kept at a perfect balance, mixed thoughtfully to provide a signature cocktail that keeps her coming back for more.

The tang was evident in the way Harry would bend her over the back of his couch, tainting dark bruises onto her hips as he would work himself inside her, gasping broken curses into the shell of her hot ear and grunting at her to continue pushing back against him. It’s in how he would decorate handprints across her ass whenever she’d slow down even the slightest, giving a relentless yank at her roots and scratching down the center of her spine until her back would arch obediently. The honey was in how he would then contradict his dominance by planting a gentle kiss to the back of her tense shoulder and to the nape of her sweaty neck, following the gesture with a tight, bashful mumble of, “God, please don’t fucking stop. You feel too fucking good for this to stop.”

The bite of the liquor was in how Harry was willing to drag her up the metal and glass staircase to his loft during the busy hours of a Saturday evening, shoving her flat across the expanse of his kitchen island and ripping his tee over his head. It’s in how he would stuff the shirt in her mouth to stifle the screams he was hell-bent on weaning out of her, all because he had a full pub just one floor below but he didn’t give a single fuck; he just had to feel her stretching, writhing, and pleading under him. The toothache of the syrup was present in how just before he’d stuff her to the brim, he’d dapple his lips to the tip of her heated nose in a quiet instance of reassurance, accompanied by a teeny boyish smile that would hold more warmth than all the rays of the sun.

The acidity of the lime was prominent in how Harry would tug her into his lap and slam her down against his thighs, hooded eyes electric with greedy satisfaction at watching her mewl and quiver with every deep stroke she’d take of his cock, the bottom of her tummy bulging from its girth and length. It’s in the manner in which he’d snake one arm taut around her love-bite tattooed waist, the hand of the other weighing its first two digits heavy on her tongue until she’d gag and whine. The agave nectar undercurrent in tequila was distinguishable in how after they had both dismounted their highs and she had collapsed into his chest, dripping down her thighs and onto the sheets, he would nurse her jaw with the palm of his hand, thumbing over her swollen bottom lip with dreamy affection clouding his dim green irises. He would kiss at the top of her matted hair, tracing her water-beaded hairline with the bridge of his nose and cooing out a compassionate, “Did so good for me, pet. You always do so good.”

Their relationship was sweet and it was sour and it was beyond anything she could’ve ever hoped for or expected. It was definitely beyond what Y/N had expected when she’d set foot in the bar all those weeks ago, tagging along with a friend simply to appease their insistent request, hiding herself in the booth farthest from the thick of the ruckus to make herself as invisible as possible. Bars weren’t necessarily her scene; she’d rather people-watch than throw herself into the middle of a throng of half-conscious, sweaty bodies. She hadn’t expected that the lanky, built, incredibly attractive bartender with an eclectic fashion sense would even notice her, let alone clamber up onto the bar and yell across the room, singling her out as the chosen candidate for the nightly round of complimentary shots.

She hadn’t expected they’d hit it off so well either, mostly because she had harbored a few traces of resentment towards him for forcing her out of the safety provided by her sequestered nook, and also because he had the most stupidly infuriating gorgeous smile she had ever seen— it was authentic, inviting, and it gave her an odd sense of soothing familiarity, which was unsettling considering he was a complete and total stranger. She hadn’t expected he would stir up jitters in her stomach, but after getting a spoonful of his personality, it seemed to be inevitable. He was sarcastic and giddy, full of inappropriate jokes and endless bundles of heart-fluttering giggles; when he engaged with her, he made her the epicenter of his world, which was so rare to find in people these days considering there was always somewhere to be or something else to do other than entertain some random person that was nothing more than a customer.

But no, he gave her his full and undivided attention, listening to every word that rambled out of her mouth as he propped himself onto the counter on his elbows, chin resting on his knuckles with a delicate, encouraging aura highlighting the edges of his rosy mouth. Harry kept up with the conversation without a catch and returned her energy and enthusiasm tenfold. He remembered small details of the stories she was sharing and actually laughed at all her jokes, despite the fact that half of them came out as a jumbled mess; the way his emerald eyes were sparkling under the starburst design lights hanging above-head was fucking with her ability to form coherent sentences.

Talking with him felt like stepping out into the sun on a canvas-worthy spring afternoon, the warmth of the heat waves running its fingertips along her bare arms and absorbing into her skin, making her bones ache in the best way imaginable. Making him smile felt like the shy caress of a faint draft, the wind smelling of honeysuckle as it wove its way between the ruffles of her clothing and skidded over the apples of her cheeks. Hearing his laughter was the equivalent of sitting in a field of grass, the ground warm under her touch, the blades silky between the creases of her fingers. It was buoyant, loud, and admiringly bold— it lacked the insecurity that tended to hold others back from fully enjoying themselves, scared of looking weird or making an unpleasant noise that might garner them disapproving looks. Harry laughed with his entire gut, a hand resting on his stomach as if to keep himself from bursting open, the ends of his eyes wrinkling and his two blocky front teeth showing. The tip of his nose would even twitch some, which was probably the most peculiar aspect of it all, yet it easily became her favorite mannerism of his.

She was taken by him from the get-go and it’s almost pathetic how fast he’d had her wrapped around his pinky.

Y/N hadn’t expected to feel like that around Harry and she had used the vodka shots as an excuse for her overdramatic thoughts, but there was a frayed wire in her mind that had continued to spark for the remainder of that night, wondering how it was possible to connect with someone so effortlessly and provoke such chemistry so soon.

However, what Y/N hadn’t expected in even the slightest was ending up perched on top of the sticky wooden counter after the bar had closed, her arms wrapped around Harry’s strong shoulders as his hips had rocked between her naked thighs. She’d caught his tiny gold hoop earring between her teeth while she poured cracked moans into the dip of his ear, his tongue stifling the burn of the bite marks he was scattering along the underside of her clenched jaw, the low rumble of his accented voice— dense from the liquor— urging the heels of her shoes harder into the backs of his thick thighs.

“Been wanting to taste your lips all fucking night.”

One night stands were few and rare for her before that blurry, alcohol-induced detour. They were risky, unpredictable, and a right plague to leave behind the following morning— an hour or so of fun just didn’t seem to be worth the probable cost. But with Harry, it was like she was sold on the idea before it had even been an offer. He’d had a mesmerizing pull about him that left her wanting to get to know him better in every context humanly available, whether it be physical or emotional. He had puppeted his pretty face and boyish charm without issue and she had been in over her head long before she’d even realized she was sinking.

What made it that much more appealing was that he wasn’t even trying— he was just being himself. The flirty yet non-overbearing, cheeky yet respectful persona he displayed wasn’t a display at all, it was just who he was and that innocent legitimacy is what propelled her to button their lips together the second he had made a move.

A hesitant bundle of pecks had turned into a deeper, hungrier round of kissing that had been speckled with half-suppressed whimpers. It had then morphed into Y/N clumsily crawling over the counter and toppling into his awaiting arms, her whole body buzzing as he had giggled into her mouth between heavy breaths and feverish whines.

The sloppy make out session had led to her fumbling with the leather belt around his slender hips as he had peeled her jeans down to her knees, his forehead falling against hers while he chewed his lower lip raw with impatience. It hadn’t been too long before he had moved her panties to the side with a tug of his index finger, her palm groping him shyly through his trousers and earning a soft, throaty, “Proper tease, aren’t you?” and then Harry was dipping inside her with a hiss streaming past the cracks of his gritted teeth. The drinks in their systems had acted as kerosine, setting every nerve alight as their bodies molded to one another’s quirks and customs, finding much-needed comfort in learning what made the other tick. She can’t recall how long it had lasted— she had been too lost in his company to care about the hands of the aged bar clock on the wall. When he had finally spilled inside her, it felt like forever and too soon all at once. Y/N had fallen apart right in his arms as the flat of his tongue tended to her racing pulse, blurbs of incoherent praise scraping across the roof of her mouth.

And now here they are, after what feels like decades later, on the very same tabletop that had christened their “no strings attached” relationship in the first place. And here Harry is, lovingly petting at her hair while his fingers work her towards utterly ruining her underwear, his intensely colored eyes reading every jolt of her features like the pages of an immersive novel. And here Y/N is, working her hips to match his rhythm, teeth cutting along the inside of her bottom lip as tight exhales falter past her nostrils.

She tilts her chin up, the back of her skull skidding against the counter, every dent and notch in the wood catching on her scalp and helping anchor her back down to reality. Her head halts when the blots of bronze in Harry’s irises come into view.

His defined features have softened into an expression of doting awe, sculpted brows relaxed with endeared curiosity as his usually prominent cheekbones take on a softer appearance, crimson lips slightly agape. He’s studying her closely, basking in how she responds to his actions and using her body language as a cue. He continues to nuzzle at the baby hairs along her damp forehead, eyes flitting across different points of her face, waiting for her to give him any sign as to what he should do next.

Y/N wills one of her hands to untie from around Harry’s lazily flicking wrist, trembling fingers climbing up to tether around the pearl necklace laying daintily within the dip of his collarbones. The beads are ice cold to the touch as she knots them around her knuckles, her sight sewn to his lips.

The infatuation she carries for them is sad, really. Y/N thinks he has the most beautiful pair she’s ever seen, the softest she’s ever tasted, and definitely the most skilled she’s ever felt. She could gawk at them forever if time allowed, following every ridge, curve, and peak, idolizing all the different shades of pink that are never quite the same.

But lips weren’t created for the purpose of just being seen— not when there’s so many better uses.

Y/N gives the necklace a signifying tug as a quiet, vulnerable mutter betrays her, her interest still plastered to his swollen mouth. “Kiss me.”

Harry swallows thickly, struggling to catch a breath under her hungry stare, ears flaring at how frantic her sentence had come out. The emotion seems to have worn off on his own voice.

“Say it again.”

The pearls pinch at the loose ringlets that tickle the back of his neck, straining against his skin as she beckons him forward more insistently. He poises himself a mere inch from her mouth, her shaky exhales fanning over his cupid’s bow and fuck, he loves the suspense of it all. Loves the dynamic they share of toying with each other until the tension is practically palpable.

The hollow of Y/N’s throat flexes as she grapples with her words. “Kiss me. Please.”

And when he does, coincidentally enough, sweet and sour is all her muddled brain registers.

Harry always tastes sweet. His lips have an inherently sugary quality to them, almost as if he’s dipped them in honey; it’s as addicting as any other part of him. His tongue is sour. It carries the remnants of the lime and tequila he’d just doused down, the flavor trickling through her taste buds and causing an aching throb along the back of her jaw.

Harry’s fingers shift down from her hairline, his thumb settling on her cheekbone as the other four splay across the side of her face. The kiss is gentle at first, yet teeming with need, and it gradually starts to swell into a more passionate tempo. He slots their mouths roughly, turning his head to delve deeper, noses bumping and eyelashes brushing.

Y/N’s so far gone that when Harry suddenly buries his middle finger inside her, she literally screams into his mouth.

“Fuck, Harry— oh my God!” Her hips thrash upwards into his palm as he sinks up to his amethyst lion head ring.

His wet, moany whisper streams directly into her chest. “Christ, you’re fucking soaked.”

Harry pumps the digit into her groggily, savoring the sensation of her squeezing around it as his thumb continues to stroke at the sensitive nub higher up. The soft sounds that drip from her bitten lips, the lusty fog over her glimmering eyes, and the way she’s guiding his hand nearly make him soil his pants.

In any other circumstance, he’d be too ashamed to admit it— to admit that some casual fingering has him squirming— but with Y/N, he won’t even attempt to defend himself. She has him whipped and it’s more than obvious; fighting it is useless. Whether that extends into emotional territory or not…That’s something he’s not prepared to untangle.

Instead, he just focuses on the moment— on what they have right now; on what she has him feeling presently, which is plenty. The confession airs itself without much effort.

“You look so good like that— gonna make me cum without even touching me.”

The remark makes a lightning rod zip down her spine. “Y-Yeah?”

Harry draws back from her mesmerizing mouth, worrying her bottom lip between his teeth and letting it snap back. “You have me making a fucking mess of myself, pet.”

Y/N yanks him closer than before, planting a peck to his chin and then suckling lightly at the crescent along his upper lip. Her voice struggles to keep steady. “Want another finger.”

“Another one?” He slowly pulls out from between her thighs, aligning his second middle finger accordingly, rings clacking together. His typical snark is ever-present in his scoff. “So demanding.”

He can feel Y/N grin smugly against him, her tone mimicking his from earlier. “Always so willing, aren’t you?”

Harry rams her request inside, cooing with faux sympathy when she cracks a yelp.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

He curls the two fingers upwards, hitting a familiar spongy spot that he knows will drive her mad.

“Thought this was what you wanted, yeah? For me to fuck you like this?”

His prediction materializes in the way she claws at the collar of his t-shirt, grabbing at anything she can get as her body starts rocking, riding his fingers. Harry grips her face in a flare of dominance, nudging at her lips with his own.

“Baby just wants me to make her feel good, right? Y’want me to make you cum so hard you can barely walk up the stairs to my flat?”

He’s plucking at a chord at the pit of her stomach, her thighs trembling in response and he furrows his brows into a cautionary expression that warns her not to clamp them shut. It takes every fiber of her being to keep her legs from clenching together.

Harry persists with his teasing, picking up the speed of his thrusts, his thumb relentlessly playing with her clit.

“That is where you’re gonna end up, isn’t it? Same as always— spread across my bed in one of my shirts with your panties hanging off my dresser and my fingerprints bruised across your hips.”

“Harry, I—” Y/N can’t even finish the thought, the words dissolving on her tongue as he bites at the flesh along the slope of her jaw, his own syllables charring her nerves.

“S’not like the underwear matters much, anyways. You won’t need it until around noon the next day, considering you usually spend the entire morning bouncing on my cock. I’m not complaining, though. It’s the highlight of my day, if I’m being honest. You just look so cute pulling at my boxers, half asleep with that needy little pout on your lips, not to mention how adorable it is to watch you crawl across the bed into my lap with your nipples peeking through the fabric of my tee.”

Her hand leaves his wrist and spreads over the back of his, fingers carding between the cracks. She shoves him further inside and his jaw goes slack in aroused shock. She’s so shameless about it all and it makes him twitch in his trousers.

“God, you’re so fucking tight. And, shit, I can’t stop thinking about the way my shirt just bunches around your thighs while you’re fucking yourself on me, thrusts deep and lazy as you beg me to play with your cunt while you use me to get yourself off. That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it, love? Using me to make yourself cum? Meanwhile I just sit back with my arms behind my head until you get close. Then you’re scratching across my shoulders and panting into my neck, telling me how bad you want me to fill you up because you like how warm I make you feel.”

Y/N’s balancing on the edge as Harry spins a miracle between her drenched thighs and she feels embarrassed for the puddle that’s likely spreading over the bar counter.

“Such a dirty fucking girl. Especially when you grab my hand and place it right here.” He ducks his head and kisses at the center of her throat for emphasis, a conceited hum thrumming deep in his chest when she whimpers. “That’s when you decide to get into the proper filth. Stuff like, ‘You’re so fucking big, H. Already have me sore.’ and ‘Want you dripping down my thighs.’ But there’s so much more than that, though. What’s that one word you fancy so much? Need you to jog my memory.”

He’s switched to using his whole palm to rub at her clit, pounding deeper until his icy, chunky rings continuously thunk wetly.

Y/N abides to Harry’s condescending question, gritting out the answer shyly. “Daddy.”

“Oh, that’s right. Daddy. How could I possibly forget when you always whine it into my mouth? ‘Harder, daddy, please.’ and ‘Want you to cum, daddy.’ and ‘I’m your good girl, daddy.’ And how about what you have me call you? Fuck, you just can’t seem to get enough of it. Your eyes always roll back when I tell you what a slut you can be. There’s that one phrase that you seemed to really enjoy the other day. When I said, ‘You’re such a darling little slut for me, aren’t you, baby?’ and you just melted.”

Y/N feels a familiar spark igniting at the pit of her abdomen, uncontrollably building. “Harry, I’m gonna—”

All his actions immediately stop, fingers going limp between her legs.

The sob she releases is anguished and irritated. “No, no, no— please don’t stop. M’close, H, please.”

Harry looks down at her over the crests of his brightly pigmented cheeks and she hadn’t noticed until now just how much this was impacting him, as well. She’d been so in her head she had failed so catch the way his whole body is trembling.

He speaks so low and delicately it’s hardly audible, but the meaning of it punctures right through her ribs and into her gut.

“Wanna feel you cum in my mouth.”

A few extended heartbeats tick by before his suggestion sinks into her brain and then she’s struggling to sit up onto her elbows, already in the process of swinging her legs off the edge of the pub table.

Harry’s drops to his knees with a hollow thump to the elegant wooden floor, large clumsy hands fiddling with the waist of her jeans, riding them down her clammy thighs. Y/N maneuvers herself into a somewhat upright position, sitting back on her palms, fingers wrapping around the edge of the bar counter for support. He finishes easing her out of the high-waisted denim bottoms, discarding them on the ground beside his calf.

Harry runs his warm touch up her goosebump-ridden legs, groping at her outer thighs and yanking her closer until she’s balancing on the cliff of the waxed surface. Y/N can’t stifle herself from swinging one arm out from behind her, blindly fisting at the curls along the crown of his head, shivering when he mewls weakly. He stipples his hot lips up her knee caps and along her inner thighs, spreading her open wider and wider as he trails upwards. His grip firms around her hips, holding her in place in preparation for the wriggling and twisting he knows she won’t be able to reign. Harry eyes her center with drunken desire, toying with the waistband of her racy lace undies, taking some time to just get a good look at how dark the fabric has become.

Y/N takes this opportunity to ogle at him herself, gnawing the inside of her left cheek raw at how incredible he looks on his knees. His lavender flared pants compliment the polish on his nails, the pastel yellow of his Vans peeking through as he lounges back against his heels. Amidst all the commotion, his white shirt has become half untucked from beneath his belt and the desperate messiness his image paints is nearly enough to finish her off. Especially as her sight wanders upwards, catching on the small silver hoop shining on his right ear and then leveling with his view, his eyes owlish and puppy-like as he leans forward all the way and presses a lingering kiss right over the wet patch of her panties.

His voice is spaced out and distant. “Been thinking about eating you out all day.”

Harry flutters pecks up to the elastic of her undergarment, taking it carefully between his teeth and tugging downwards. Y/N remains as still as possible as he coaxes the article off, one hand massaging at the back of her calf while the other stays secured to her hip.

Once the last bit of material is out of the way and she’s finally bare, Harry straightens himself into perfect posture, hoisting both of her legs over his solid shoulders in one swift motion. Her heels knock against his taut back muscles, digging in with anticipation as he bites bruises into the junction where her inner thigh meets her crotch.

Y/N tilts his head up a bit to get his attention, her tone bleeding. “Need your tongue. Please.”

He nods numbly in her grasp, wetting his lips slowly before answering in a hushed murmur. “Gonna give it to you, dove. Gonna make my girl feel so fucking good for me. Always do.”

And he truly does; Y/N never doubted that. From the first kitten lick he gives, she knows she isn’t going to last long.

His light strokes meld into deep, needy lapping, the flat of his tongue dragging against her clit in long trails, warm and silky. Every time he gets to the hood at the top, he gives a few quick flicks with the very tip, causing her to wring at his curls almost cruelly. He then proceeds to duck down until he’s at her entrance, flirting his tongue around the rim and dipping it inside as far as he can before the back of his throat begins to ache.

He keeps this rhythm going firmly, every now and then allowing himself to wander some, suckling at the outer lips of her heat and gifting the area sticky kisses that make her shudder.

Y/N’s head falls back between her shoulder blades, the weight straining the back of her neck but she’s too high off him to force her joints to comply. She can only muster enough energy to comb her fingers through his satin locks, scratching at his scalp in agreement as broken sounds of encouragement sting the back of her throat and drive his every move.

“You taste like heaven, baby. So fucking sweet, can never get enough of it. Could spend hours on my knees for you.”

Harry prods the bud of her clit with the tip of his button nose, puckering his lips around it and sucking feverishly, grinning into her cunt when her legs clasp harder around his neck. He talks over a full mouth, the vibrations pinballing up the knobs of her spine. “Liked that, didn’t you?”

She adamantly shakes her head yes.

He coats his palms along her outer thighs, squeezing teasingly and prying them open enough to get a better range. He then shakes his face, tongue expertly caressing every nook and cranny.

Y/N’s nails crunch against the wood that runs along the underside of the counter. “Yes, yes, yes— shit, thank you.”

Harry presses his lips together tightly, tugging at her folds for the heightened stimulation, preening at how the digits in his roots spasm. “More than happy to help, minx.”

She manages to crane her neck forward, chin pressing into her heaving upper chest as she stares down at him with so much lust her eyes water. He returns her starved gaze, the lower half of his face utterly drenched, cheeks glistening with her excitement as the corners of his darkened mouth prick his dimples into place. Every ragged breath and every watery moan is inflating his ego beyond reasonable.

“I’m so fucking close, Har.”

He pushes his tongue deeper, head bobbing with newfound purpose as his lashes flutter up at her temptingly. He looks borderline ethereal with the amber lights reflecting off his glossy, cocksure irises, arms flexing with the strength it takes to keep her tethered down, the inking on his tan skin jumping to life.

“Be a good girl and cum for me, hm? Want you dripping down my chin.”

This orgasm is definitely one of the best Harry has ever given her.

It boils over from the bottom of her tummy, a relieving glow surging through every vein and warming her from the inside out. It splinters her bones with unimaginable pleasure, her whole body caving forward as he eggs the climax to its full potential. He continues licking into her tirelessly, brows raised in amused glee as he watches her come undone at the seams, crying out his name as the waves of satisfaction roll out from the bottom of her feet to the very tips of her ears.

When Y/N finally regains her composure from the unrealistic surge, she nearly collapses right off the side of the bar table.

Harry intercepts what otherwise would have been a very unpleasant finish to the experience, mounting onto his feet and wrapping a strong arm around the dip of her back, keeping her upright and safe.

Her forehead plops against his, a dreamy giggle escaping past her marked-up lips as the last currents of gratification fade away. Harry’s own boyish chuckle tinges the electrified air around them, his free arm coming up to use his wrist as an impromptu cloth, wiping away the leftover wetness. It’s a simple gesture but it makes her belly throb.

He then cradles her face with both of his obscenely warm hands, spongeing his lips to the tip of her unfeeling nose in an endeared, affectionate manner, all the lust in his mood replaced by loving concern. “You alright? Wasn’t too much?”

She wobbles her head half-heartedly, mind still submerged in the aftershock. Her throat is so battered she can barely get out her words. “It was perfect— you’re always perfect.”

To her unexpecting entertainment, Harry’s cheeks and neck dye a dull shade of raspberry red. He follows the outline of her plump bottom lip with his thumbs, attitude bashful and sheepish. “You flatter me too much. My head’s not gonna fit through the front door.”

Y/N snorts playfully, kissing softly at the pad of his left thumb. “As if your head isn’t big enough already.”

“Heyyyyy!” He pouts childishly, bumping his brows to hers as a minute show of revenge. “S’not the way to treat the bloke that just tongue-fucked you into nearly passing out.”

His friend rolls her eyes at him grandly, pinching at his stomach jestingly. “Ever so humble.”

“Keep myself grounded, don’t I?” Harry pulls away from their embrace, ducking down to retrieve something from the floor. He comes up with her crumpled panties hanging off his index finger, pressing his lips together to keep from bursting into a round of immature giggles. “I believe these are yours.”

Y/N snags them, giving him a pointed, deadpan glare as she tentatively slips them up her naked legs, shimmying them over her hips.

A comical memory suddenly surfaces into the forefront of her thoughts.

“Y’know what’s funny? If I recall correctly, you said we weren’t gonna have sex on the bar anymore. Something about it being ‘unsanitary and unprofessional.’”

Harry freely splutters into the cheeky laugh he’d been trying to muffle, casually crossing his arms over his broad chest, tongue sweeping over the front of his top teeth coyly. One edge of his mouth flickers upwards into a shit-eating simper. “Well, this technically wasn’t sex.”

“Oh, really?” Y/N flattens her palms against the wooden counter, hopping off smoothly and sweeping her jeans up off the ground. She’s not sure what magic Harry used to get her pants off without removing her sneakers, but she knows she doesn’t possess it. She toes off her checkered trainers and begins easing her foot through one leg. “What was it, then? Meditating?”

Harry scowls humorously at her quip— it’s an inside joke that pertains to the code word he now uses for “masturbating.” It was courtesy of a drunken customer once asking him for advice on what to do when they couldn’t sleep and Harry had said meditating was a good way to unwind. Y/N had been visiting that night—as she did every weekend— and was sitting two seats down from the exchange when she had overheard the conversation, giving him a knowing smirk over the rim of her highball glass and shrugging her eyebrows slyly, her quiet mumble pouring a blush into his ears. “Yeah, sure. I’ve helped you meditate plenty through the phone.”

Harry leans his lower back against the edge of the pub counter, crossing his ankles and giving his wide shoulders a nonchalant shrug. “It was a little bit of touching and some innocent cunnilingus.”

Y/N scoffs sarcastically, shoving her other foot into the opposite pant leg and yanking it up over her bum, buttoning the article with finality and smoothing her sweater down. “‘Innocent cunnilingus.’ The irony of it all.”

Harry kicks Y/N’s Vans towards her with the flat side of his own. “What’s ironic is you mocking me as if you weren’t begging for it a few minutes ago.”

She wiggles her toes into the shoes wordlessly.

“S’what I thought.” Harry taunts.

Now that she’s fully dressed, Y/N slowly drifts closer to him, finding amusement in how his stance straightens in sudden interest. His forearms tighten a smidgen over his pecs, fingers tucking underneath his pits so she doesn’t see them tapping anxiously.

Y/N stops once her chest bumps against the shield he’s built before him, his neck visibly tensing. When she speaks, it’s suggestive and her undertone resembles velvet. “You know what’s the most ironic thing of all?”

Harry jumps when he feels Y/N’s hands wrinkling the fabric of his graphic t-shirt, a harsh tug untucking it fully from below his waistband. Her hands slip below the material, cold, pliant fingers tracing over the toned muscles of his stomach and massaging at the love handles along his torso. “That you went through all that trouble of showing me how to appropriately do body shots, but you don’t really know if I learned it.”

He starts picking up on her hints, his biceps contracting at the feathery sensation of her fingertips spelling out random letters across the wings of his butterfly tattoo. He cocks his head down to get a better look at her, chin pressing into the alcove between his defined collarbones. Her lips are so close he has to force himself to keep from chasing them.

Harry entertains the little game she’s dishing, voice low and heavy. “I guess that is pretty ironic.”

Y/N reaches over his hip for something behind him, her hand coming back with one of the leftover lime wedges nestled at its center. She glances up at him from beneath her thick lashes, luring him in with that hypnotic aura she always works to her advantage. The lime slice ends up between her inviting lips, the rine facing outwards in the same manner Harry had placed his.

Y/N then balances herself forward onto the tips of her toes, the pads of her digits digging into his chest ever so slightly for reinforcement. She stretches her neck until her face is level with his and goes in as if to kiss him, transferring the lime into his mouth, juice squirting out and fizzing over his itching skin.

“Get up on the counter.”

#harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry x reader #harry x y/n #harry x you #harry styles fic #harry smut #harry styles drabble #harry styles dirty one shot #harry styles dirty fanfic #harry styles dirty imagine #bartender!harry #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #smut #harry styles #1d fan fiction

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boop-le-snoot · 3 years

Text

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 34

💖 first time reader click here 💖

A little bit of plot, but mostly ironstrange x reader filthy porn. Bukkake stuff. Stephen finally opening up a lil bit, I mean... I've slept through a 1/3 of a hospital and lemme tell you, doctors are kinky bastards. On the same note, there's definitely going to be a chapter where all three men are involved after the plot shit is resolved.

There was something big brewing. I had a hunch... which was more like a strong sense of doom... hanging over me and the rest of the world. Peter also had noticed the sudden spike in anxiety, quoting the sudden disappearance of many low-tier mutants from the streets. Usually, Peter dealt with at least a few enhanced enemies during his patrols but the closer it got to Christmas, the less enhanced bothered with small-time crimes, the more intense the buzzing of his Spidey sense became.

Now that my immediate lack of income wasn't a problem anymore, I set business onto that damn mercenary. I was no spy, I was no SHIELD operative but... I could be very clever.

First things first, I had to make sure I would stay alive no matter what. A subdermal tracker was a good guarantee of security and I spent many hours making one - having to keep it a secret was incredibly hard, I hated lying to my loves and I hated avoiding Wanda even more - I was constantly on the edge around the telepath, hyperfocused on keeping up the pretense of normalcy.

I wouldn't be me if I couldn't successfully pull off a whole ass façade. Unfortunately, the continued failures of the people searching left and right for the mercenary only fueled my strength for the inevitable fuck-fest that I would have to create in order to make sure my people get the peace they fucking deserve. The web of lies grew in size every damn day.

Subdermal tracker, an implant that reports directly to Friday upon activation. It hurt like a bitch - I had cut myself open, an inch wide gash on the inside of my forearm - and put it in without any anesthesia in my own bathroom, not even thinking twice before making up a lie that I had been careless in the lab and hurt myself.

An antidote to common tranquilizers, creating it gave me a headache the size of Moscow but I'd been successful; Tony assembled the whole team when he found it out, offering me a ridiculous amount of money for the formula. It was weird. SHIELD was interested, too, and I had to witness Tony and Coulson argue. Apparently, the agency wanted to recruit me and Tony was adamantly against it, totally forgetting the promise Natasha had given me. In the end, the spy and Coulson shared a quiet conversation and the man left, respectfully complimenting my skills.

I sold the formula to Stark Industries, unable to get rid of the weirdness of the situation. I had to shake hands with my own boyfriend and his ex-girlfriend... In a business setting. What. Just what. Bucky and Stephen couldn't stop laughing at the face I made all throughout that day - and Clint even went as far as to bake me a gag cake, a cartooney handshake drawn in frosting on top of it. I hit him with a spatula, Loki smiled in his direction for the first time in, like, ever. It was a trip and Tony had way too much fun with the incident.

Perhaps, turning myself into a cyborg stew wasn't the best plan that was possible to think up in a few weeks' time but I've never claimed to be exceptionally intelligent; if anything, I've always considered myself to be a moderately educated idiot. It is common knowledge that there are two halves of a whole idiot: my second half was on his way from California, having had received my very detailed e-mail about the whole cursed box fiasco and the consequences that followed. I could barely contain my excitement at the prospect of seeing uncle Eddie and his symbiote again.

Tony wasn't even half as excited; if anything, he bordered on outright hostile, bickering, and sassing everybody left and right. It could have been the situation at hand finally getting on his last nerves. It could have been his jealousy, the same that appeared every time I paid extra attention to someone that wasn't him, Bruce or Stephen. Either way, Bruce was sighing all the time now and Stephen's remarks began to fill with poison once again.

Just like the good old times, I guess. I was forced to pull a Me over and over, interrupting their petty arguments with increasingly absurd remarks. I felt like everybody was laughing at me these days, which ended in only one way it could have...

"Brat," Stephen's patience was paper-thin and, being forcefully distracted from yelling at Tony, he directed his angst at the nearest person - me. "I oughta put you over my knee. I swear to Cosmos..."

"Blah, blah, blah. Don't you ever get tired of listening to yourself talk?" I raised my eyebrows, tone deceptively calm. "You're talking too much for someone who can't even..." I didn't get to finish my sentence, suddenly finding my mouth firmly glued shut. It was magic - the sensation was pulling, but not unpleasant. Reminded me of a ball gag Tony had used on me in the early days of our relationship.

"Now, Dumbledore, hold your horses..." Tony interjected looking none-too-happy. The engineer placed a warning arm on the sorcerer's bicep, their little spat seemingly forgotten.

"What, Tony? She's been nothing but a mouthy urchin the past few days, I can't stand it anymore," They shared a meaningful look; no matter how much Tony wanted to argue, he knew Stephen was right. What he didn't know was that there probably have been a magic versus science altercation... Or worse. Humiliation was a small price to pay for some (relative) peace.

I did what I do best. I annoyed them further, throwing up a juicy middle finger to the two men and turned around with a huff, mind set on finding Loki to undo the mute ban Stephen gave me. Needless to say, I didn't make it very far.

In mere seconds, I was sandwiched between the two men, Stephen's finger delicately holding my chin to force me to look into his eyes. Tony was holding onto my shoulders from behind me - I could feel the tension, my engineer was almost buzzing with it. I was pretty sure my eyes were laughing anyway because Stephen's frown slowly transformed into a coy smirk once his stormy blues focused on my face.

"Brat," He repeated once again. "She's doing this on purpose."

"I can't say I'm surprised," Tony's breath tickled the nape of my neck. "That does sound like our little Princess," Apparently, it took all of a 0.1 second for Tony to switch from annoyed to horny. Men, they were so easy to play. "Baby, if you wanted our attention you could have just said so," He chastised me, hands sliding down to my waist.

I hummed, and then aggressively hummed some more until Stephen removed the magical gag. "Not like you'd notice it, being occupied with tearing each other's hair out," I pouted.

The sorcerer briefly averted his eyes, leaning down to softly kiss my pout. It was very unlikely I'd get an actual apology but a kiss I won't be complaining about either. "So, your best tactic was to annoy us even more? How does that work out for you?"

I pulled on the tied fabric around his waist, bringing him closer to me. "Pretty good, if I'm being honest. You're exactly where I wanted you to be," Carelessly, I began untying the layers of silks and cotton I had become intimately familiar with over the course of the past few weeks. Most of the time Steph wore his wizard garbs and while figuring out how to undo them was a trip at first, I had gotten him desperate enough a few times, for him to show me a few tips and tricks for easier access.

Tony snorted somewhere behind me. "You just want us for our bodies," His hands wormed their way under my shirt, brushing the underside of my breasts. Bra? Hardly know her. "Our beautiful, sexy bodies." Yes Tony, very humble.

"When will you learn, people?" I asked rhetorically, simultaneously leaning into both Tony's and Stephen's touch. "Why fight each other when you could be fucking me into oblivion instead?"

Stephen snorted, still not completely used to the at times crude things that left my (and occasionally Tony's) mouth. I had a hunch the sorcerer was holding back somewhat - for whatever reason - and I was eagerly waiting for him to get comfortable enough to reveal that special part of himself. Whatever it was, I just knew it was delicious and sinful and-

"Do you really think I will be giving you what you want after your little... Stunt?" Steph went balls out; his voice dropped and the intensity of his stare left me breathless. The hand that was stroking my face wrapped around my throat as he had some sort of a silent conversation with Tony.

"Yeah," I emphasized the word with an inaudible 'duh' behind it but obediently trotted along as Stephen backed up towards the couch, leading me by the throat like a pet on a leash. I was steadily going into 'no thoughts, head empty' territory.

"I like it when you get all bossy," Tony remarked casually but he was close enough for me to hear the strain in his voice. Every time we fucked, Tony eagerly gave up the control to Stephen. I definitely saw the appeal. Stephen Strange demanded authority effortlessly, his stern but fair attitude simply demanded to kneel.

That's just what I did. As soon as Stephen made himself comfortable on the Italian leather couch, I dropped to my knees, looking up at the man with big round eyes. Just like Tony and Bruce, Stephen had his own weaknesses when it came to moi and I wasn't ashamed to exploit them. Steph's stroked my hair, carding careful fingers through it, slowly unbuttoning his pants with his other hand.

"If you insist on being mouthy, I have a better task for you," He husked, pulling me closer towards him. I called it his doctor voice. Honestly, I don't have a clue how his surgical team could be around him with their pants on back in the day... The man was a snack on a silver platter.

Steph's erection sprang free. I didn't hesitate to wrap my hand around it, stroking the underside of his glans just like he liked it, looking to the side where Tony landed on the couch next to Stephen, a curious look on his face. Yeah, Tony liked to watch. Me and Stephen or me and Bruce... Me and Stephen and Bruce? That's an idea for later.

"Don't mind little old me," Tony smirked his trademark Stark mischief, getting comfortable, ditching his oil-stained shirt and unbuttoning his pants to lazily palm himself through his boxers. "Carry on," The smirk only grew when Tony noticed both me and Steph eyeing him with amusement.

I hid my grin, nodding my head, before wrapping my lips around the tip of Stephen's cock, relaxing my throat to prepare for the intrusion. Sweet and salty, the slit on his cockhead was mercilessly teased by the tip of my tongue.

Stephen murmured encouragements under his breath as I began to bob up and down, him controlling the pace with a hand in my hair, just the right balance between cruel and gentle. The sorcerer was always too good to me, bringing me to the point of overstimulation and instantly soothing the ache afterward; "Fuck, darling, your mouth feels like heaven," He groaned as I snuck a look upwards to see his lips parted and a steady flush crawling up his neck.

"She knows how to work a man, doesn't she?" Tony's lust had him panting, hips moving into his own hand. He leaned closer to Stephen, brushing my hair behind my ear with a tender hand. "Merlin needs to share," Tony began pulling me in his direction. I reluctantly let go of Stephen's cock, keeping up the pace with my hand as I scooted closer to Tony to be able to mouth at his stiff erection.

Watching me suck cock always got Tony hard enough to pound nails with. I couldn't blame him, I knew what I could do and did well; by the time I made my way down his thick flesh, drool was dripping down my chin and the make-up around my eyes was surely smeared by tears. My engineer was much less gentle than Steph, pounding my face without reservations.

"I know you can take it, baby girl, fuck," My face was held in his strong grip, thumbs digging into my jaw. "Such a good girl," The two words went straight down to my pussy and I had to squirm and clench my thighs together, whining at the lack of friction.

The air was pierced by a low moan - Stephen was fisting his erection almost desperately now, almost as desperately as I was humping the air, whining like a bitch in heat at the taste of Tony's cock in my mouth. I knew neither of the men would last long, not with all that pent up tension running through their minds and bodies.

"Fuck, come here, baby girl," The engineer yanked me off his cock, gripping the base of it so forcefully his knuckles turned white. I was all but dragged into the space between them; still kneeling, barely seeing with snot and tears smeared all over my face, I couldn't hold in the broken moan as the realization set in.

"Keep your eyes open!" Steph instructed furiously, scooting to tower over me. Tony followed in his steps as I obediently lifted my eyes to their cocks and then their faces; nearly identical furrowed brow expressions stared back at me, lips moist and eyes wide. Both men stroked themselves with renewed vigor.

I hummed softly before sticking out my tongue; their reaction didn't let me wait long. Strings of pearly white cum landed in my hair, on my face; I felt the warmth on my skin and tasted their salt and musk on the tip of my tongue, reflexively swallowing each and every drop that landed in my mouth, savoring it just like I savored the sinful groans that left their mouths.

"Fuck, you're so good to us," Tony panted, gracelessly falling backward onto the couch.

Stephen, however, didn't hurry to catch his breath, giving me a thoughtful look. His fingers shook more than ever but he paid no mind to the discomfort, gathering the cum dripping down my face with two fingers and offering it to me, holding them up to my lips as I gently cleaned them off. And he did it again, and again, until Tony gave a weak moan of recognition, throwing an arm under his head.

"Be polite, Princess," Stephen's voice hadn't lost the lust in it just yet.

"Thank you, sir," I mumbled, utterly captivated by the way he was looking at me. Stormy blues radiated a strong sense of intensity, devotion perhaps, that I wasn't ready for.

Stephen smiled at me, almost coyly, before kneeling right next to me and bringing me over the edge with a few sharp, clever movements of his hand. I held onto his shoulders for dear life, barely noticing Tony's reaction - if there was one - my other lover seemed to be as surprised as I was, choosing to hang back and observe the unusual situation.

I had a feeling that whatever it was, it would make another appearance during our playtime. It wasn't just sex, it wasn't making love - it was... Something. I loved every second of it.

@another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95 @gladiosamicitias @toomanyrobins @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming

#bun writes #party favours #tony stark x reader x stephen strange #Tony Stark x reader #bruce banner x reader #stephen strange x reader #tony stark x you #bruce banner x you #stephen strange x you #tony stark x y/n #bruce banner x y/n #stephen strange x y/n #tony stark smut #stephen strange smut

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yelena-bellova · 4 years

Text

Don’t Be Afraid: Poe Dameron x Solo!Reader - Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Six: Little Damerons

Series Masterlist

Plot: Poe and Y/n take a trip for Poe’s birthday.

Warnings: extreme fluff, so much fluff, chocolate dipped cotton candy with sprinkles kind of fluff

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Life has been kicking my ass these past few weeks so writing has been on the back burner. It’s still insane but I found time to finish this one. It felt like the series deserved a nice piece of fluff consider it’s so intense 😂 Please forgive any typos, I’m lazy and tired and my brain is basically mush right now...

————

The first sound I heard upon waking up made me smile before I’d even opened my eyes. Bee’s beeps and squeals were moving around the room at a frantic pace.

“Thank you, Bee,” I groaned, “I got it from here.”  As it was every morning, Poe’s arms were locked tightly around my waist. It was of great difficulty turning myself around so I could face him. He hadn’t moved a muscle through Bee’s wake-up call and didn’t show any sign of changing that. I rolled over onto his torso and finally got a groggy moan out of him.

“Good morning, birthday boy,” I greeted him in a singsong tone, propping my chin up on his chest.

Poe rubbed a hand over his face and opened his bleary eyes, focusing them on me. “What if the birthday boy wanted to sleep?”

“As willing as I am to grant any and all wishes today, that one is a no-go,” I replied sweetly, tapping him on the nose lightly, “We’ve gotta haul ass if we’re going to make the most of a rare day off.”

I began to roll towards the edge of the bed but was apprehended. Poe pulled me back into his arms and maneuvered me to straddle him in one smooth motion. His hands found their way up his shirt I was wearing and rubbed circles into my back, sending a shiver through my body.  “I’ve actually got other plans for our asses at the moment,” he said, his gruff morning voice and suggestively raised brow making it nearly impossible to deny him, “Ten minutes tops.”

“You and I both know neither of us does ‘ten minutes tops’, Dameron,” I said, trying my best to ignore his hands wandering south and failing as a soft moan escaped me. “But I did say I was granting wishes today.”  Poe lazily smiled up at me as I slid my hands up his smooth chest and lowered my lips to his. He took me by surprise and flipped me over so I was trapped underneath him, the two us laughing into the kisses that followed…

————

A significant amount of time more than ten minutes later, Poe and I were far from Ajan Kloss in the cockpit of his new X-Wing. Ever since we’d planned where to spend his birthday, I’d been dreading the destination we were fast approaching. But there was no chance of me ruining the day with ghosts from the past.

“Coming out of hyperspace,” Poe reported as he performed the action, bringing us face to face with the planet. A shiver of panic ran through me as my blood ran cold. The blue waters only reminded me of blue blades clashing in a fit of desperation and rage. “You sure you’re okay with this?”  “Yeah,” I said firmly, trying to feel as confidant as I sounded, “I’ll be fine, there’s no way I’d miss this.”  Poe hummed in disbelief but kept us on course, steering us towards a greener portion of the menacing planet. I tried to center myself, I wanted to be fully in the moment for the day. It was too important to Poe and I’d been looking forward to it ever since we’d started dating. Anxiety ran through me again as we flew above the greenery, memories of wandering aimlessly above trees flooding my mind. As we got closer to our destination though, my stress began to lessen as the excitement set in.

Eventually, we were landing in a large clearing of land near a small house. I was the first to pop out of the cockpit and make it down the ladder with Poe following close behind. Our feet had barely touched the ground before a figure emerged out the front door of the house and made a gentle sprint towards us. Poe left my side to jog over to meet him, the two of them embracing upon collision and laughing joyfully. I watched from a distance, beaming as I watched the reunion between father and son.

Poe kept an arm on Kes as he gestured for me to come join them, “Dad, this is Y/n.”  Kes Dameron was, I had a feeling, the spitting image of Poe in thirty years. They could have passed for brothers with a significant age difference. As soon as I made it over, I was pulled into a warm hug. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to finally meet you, Y/n,” he said over my shoulder, “I’ve heard so much about you.”  “You as well,” I returned as we pulled back to get a look at each other, “Poe’s told me such wonderful things about you.”  “However many times he’s brought me up, I can promise you,” Kes said, his eyes flicking to his son briefly, “It’s nothing close to the number of times I’ve heard about the captivating Y/n Solo.”  I smirked and turned around to face a very pink cheeked Poe, “Captivating, huh?”  He stammered, “I mean, I may have used it once…”

Kes’ chest rumbled with laughter as he patted my back, “Come inside and I promise to embarrass him some more.”

He pulled me under one arm and his son under the other and we made our way into the Dameron homestead. It seemed that I stood to finally leave Yavin 4 with some pleasant memories…

————

We’d spent our day catching Kes up on our lives, it had been a while since Poe had last visited so there was a lot to fill him in on. The former comrade of my family gave me his sincerest condolences over the losses of Dad and Uncle Luke. It was so strange to think of my family and Poe’s having known each other, like there’d been a decades old string connecting the two of us together. Kes regaled us with stories from his days as a soldier and we told him a few of ours. I shared more than Poe, it was clear he didn’t want to worry his father too much with his particular brand of reckless. Kes eventually caught the lightsaber hooked to my belt and asked about my training.   “Before you leave, you have to go out to the backyard,” he said, “Your uncle gifted us with a Force after the war, someone like you needs to experience it.”  Once the skies darkened and we sat around the dinner table, Kes made good on his promise to embarrass my loving boyfriend.  “So Shara and I come running into the backyard and there he is,” Kes slapped his son’s shoulder, “Cockpit closed, lifting the damn ship into the air!”  I had my napkin covering my mouth as I laughed uncontrollably, the image of Poe as a child giving his parents a heart attack was completely believable. “Had he ever been up before?”  “Only with Shara and she never let him touch the controls,” Kes replied with a laugh, “He’d watched her enough times to know how to get it off the ground.”  Poe was a sport about each story from his early years, defending himself occasionally, though very few of them left him with an opportunity to do so. He’d been just as much trouble as a kid as he was now.

“I wish I could say I’m surprised,” I chuckled, “My dad never let me touch a thing on the Falcon until I was thirteen. And I didn’t fly her on my own for much longer.”  “Keep up, Solo,” Poe teased from across the table, “Some of us are doers.”  I smiled and shook my head at him, “I think you broke enough rules for the both of us in your younger days.”  “You calling me old?” Poe asked with a palm thrown over his heart in mock pain.  “Are you calling thirty three young?” I quipped back, swirling my wine in its glass, “I saw a couple gray hairs the other morning I didn’t tell you about.”

Poe’s cocky expression faltered briefly as his eyes widened before returning to normal, “You’re lying.”  Kes and I caught each other’s eye and shared a sly smile, both choosing to take a sip of our alcohol and leave Poe in suspicion. His confident exterior was broken by the tentative hand that ran through his jet black curls.

I’d convinced the two Dameron men to let me clean up after dinner so that they could spend some uninterrupted time together. They didn’t get to talk as much as either of them wished, that was a reality of war. Some went months without speaking to their loved ones. I felt unbelievably lucky that my mother was only a few minutes away at any given time of the day.

As I’d finished, Kes and Poe entered the kitchen. Seeing them side by side, it truly was astonishing how similar they looked.

“I think I’m going to head to bed and let you two have some time to yourself,” Kes announced, patting Poe on the back before making his way over to me, “I’ll be up early tomorrow so I can see you off.”

He wrapped me in a fatherly hug and I sunk into it, I couldn’t remember someone as quick to welcome me into their life as Kes Dameron. In a single day he had practically initiated me into the family as one of his own. Though nothing could ever replace the holes left by the fathers I’d lost, it was comforting to be around a dad again.

We bid our goodnights and with Bee charging in our room, it was just Poe and I left. He slung an arm around my neck and I laced my fingers with his as we walked back to the living room.

“So have you had a good birthday?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

Poe laughed under his breath, “Are you kidding? This whole day has been perfect. And Dad loves you…”  “I love him,” I replied as we made our way to the sofa, “But I feel bad for him.”  “What do you mean?”  “Judging from his stories, the poor man has spent every day worrying about you since you were in diapers,” I answered as Poe fell back on the couch, keeping our hands locked.

“Every parent worries,” Poe stated plainly, “Are you saying you never worried Leia and your dad as a kid?”  “I didn’t pull half the shit that you did,” I chuckled, “I hope that particular Dameron gene doesn’t carry over to our kids.”  As soon as the words had left me, I wished I could have retracted them. Poe’s eyes eyebrows lifted in surprise as he gripped my hand. “Our whats?”  “Our…nothings,” I scrambled for a sufficient denial, “I said nothing.”

“No, you said-“  “No I didn’t,” I faked a yawn and attempted to pull my hand away, “It’s late and we have to leave early so we should get to bed.”

Poe tugged me by the hand so that I had no choice but to land next to him on the couch, “Oh no, I want to hear about these kids we’re having.”   My cheeks felt red hot to the touch as I rubbed my free hand over them and groaned. While I’d thought of mine and Poe’s future in daydreams, we’d never actually talked about it. Why should we? We’d only been together for five months. Even if we’d practically been a couple before that, it felt like a conversation for further down the line.  “It’s nothing, really.”  Poe pulled me closer and wrapped an arm around me, I settled against his chest and prayed that he let the subject go. “Well, if it’s nothing then it shouldn’t be so hard to talk about.”  “I just think about what our lives might look like after the war sometimes,” I explained timidly, fiddling with a loose thread on the sweater I wore, “We could retire somewhere like here, build a house…”  “Sounds nice," Poe said, “We’re married in this scenario, right?”

I looked up at him and caught the mischievous gleam in his eye, “I don’t know, are we?”  Poe shut his eyes and nodded, “Oh, definitely.”

“Alright,” I smiled, trying to hide my glee at the thought, “We’re married, living in our house on a planet we’ll decide on later and the war is over.”

“Sounds perfect,” he replied, rubbing his thumb back and forth against my shoulder, “And our army of kids are wrecking all sorts of havoc in the backyard.”  My body shot up at his words and I stared down at him, “Who said anything about an army?”

“I think we should have at least ten,” Poe answered so straight faced that I couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not, “We could totally handle it.”

“Says the man who’s job in the child making process takes ten minutes. Who do you think’s giving birth to these ten children?” I shrieked, sending him clutching his chest and into a fit of laughter.

“Okay, fine,” he finally said after regaining his composure, “Ten’s not the magic number. But can we agree that it’s higher than two?”

I grabbed the two fingers he was holding up and settled back against his chest, “Agreed.”  “So we have an undetermined number of kids waving around lightsabers and trying to fly their old man’s X-Wing.”

“No,” I strongly objected, “No lightsabers or piloting till they’re old enough.”  “C’mon, we both know that at least one of them is going to be a Jedi considering your family. Might as well start them young.”

Of course there was no guarantee but it was safe to assume that yes, at least one of our kids would probably be Force sensitive. “Well, I hope at least one of them takes after you. I don’t think I could handle more than one little Padawan running around using the Force to throw things at their sibling’s heads.”  Poe snorted, “Knowing us, they’ll be a handful. But they’ll be great.”  “Damn right they will,” I agreed, rubbing a hand over Poe’s chest as I tried to conjure up an image of our children in my mind, “They’ll probably have your hair.”  “And your y/e/c eyes.”  “They’ll run their mouths like you.”  “But be the first to protect their family like you.”  “They’ll be reckless.”  “They’ll be stubborn,” Poe stated before inhaling deeply, “The galaxy better watch out, the Solo-Dameron-Organa-Kenobi kids will be unstoppable.”

“Okay, we’re definitely gonna have to drop a few names,” I made note of.

“I disagree, I think it conveys strength,” Poe objected, stroking a hand up and down my arm, “Hey, I’ve got a question.”  I hummed for him to continue, “How come you don’t add Kenobi to your name?”

We’d had so many conversations about my fateful visit to Ahch-To, but my family’s name was a sore spot that I hadn’t talked to him about yet. I had no way of finding out my father’s last name or if my grandmother had given my mother her last name of Kryze. Kenobi was the only name I could claim. “I thought about it but it’s not safe,” I answered quietly, “If it got out that I was the granddaughter of Obi-Wan, everyone in the galaxy would be after me even more than they already are. Believe me, I wish I could but it’s not realistic.”  

Poe squeezed me tighter on hearing my explanation, not saying a word because there was really nothing to say. Neither of us could change the fact that I was a wanted woman. Nevertheless, it killed a part of me to not be able to take pride in bearing both of my family’s names.

“So I’m guessing you’ve thought about our future too considering how many details you’ve been providing?” I asked in an attempt to lighten the mood of the conversation.

“Maybe once in a while…” he teased, “On long fights back to base or sometimes before falling asleep at night. It gives me something extra to fight for on the tough days.”  I traced the sharp outline of his jaw as I watched him speak. The thought of Poe flying his X-Wing with one of our kids on his lap or me teaching one of them how to levitate objects made my heart beat fast in excitement. But for every dream I had, there was an equal amount of doubt. I knew that the reality of our lives were that even after the war, we’d probably never have a peaceful existence. And if I shifted the focus to myself, I held my own fears about raising children.

“Sometimes I wonder if it’s even a good idea though…” I admitted, lowering my gaze, “I’ve never had any sense of normalcy in my life, I doubt I’d know how to provide it for our kids.”

“Normal is overrated, and are you kidding me? You’d be the best mom in the galaxy,” Poe said, pecking my hair softly before stroking his hand over it, “We’ll make all of it happen, might take a while but the Damerons will have their day.”  “The Damerons…” I repeated back to him, a smile spreading across my face, “I like that.”  We laid there in the quiet a while longer, soaking in the peaceful silence before our lives descended back into chaos. The one day leave for Poe’s birthday had been a gift to both of us, a 24 hour oasis in the midst of the raging storm we were caught in. We spent our days strategizing, fighting in the skies and undergoing intense training. But here we could just be…soft. We could be what we would’ve been had there been no war. I fell asleep that night on Poe’s chest, dreaming of a free galaxy and curly haired children chasing playing with BB-8 as Poe and I watched.

————

Kes hadn’t exaggerated, the Force tree my uncle had gifted him and Shara was extraordinary. I didn’t even have to try to feel connected to the Force, the second I’d stepped foot in the backyard it had overwhelmed me. There wasn’t enough time for me to properly meditate underneath it, but I still used the little time I had left to center myself. I could feel the Force flowing through every part of me, it was like nothing I’d ever experienced before.

“I’m glad you got to see it,” Kes’ voice called from behind me, “It’s something special.”  “Sure is,” I agreed, opening my eyes but still unable to turn away from it, “Is Poe done checking the ship?”

Kes came to stand next to me, admiring the tree too, “Almost, he sent me to come get you but you take all the time you want.”  “I wish I could,” I smiled sadly, finally turning to face the man, “But we can’t be late getting back to base. There’s so much going on, we’re lucky we got a full day off. Well, I don’t need to explain wartime to you…”

“Oh, I know exactly what you’re talking about. I saw my share of action during the Rebellion…” Kes paused, staring off into the distance as he relived a decades old memory. He snapped back after a few seconds, shaking his head and returning his gaze to me, “Well, I’m just glad I got to see the two of you for however long I could. I worry about both of you.”

“You worry about me?” I asked with a quirk of my lips.  Kes’ expression shifted further into its somberness, “Of course I do. I know how dangerous war is but I also know how dangerous it is to be in love during war. There wasn’t a day during the Rebellion where I wasn’t worried about losing Shara. I know both of you know that feeling well.”  I nodded, not trusting my voice at the moment. The thought of something happening to Poe was quick to make me emotional.

 “I’ve lost the love of my life, the last thing I want is for either of you to have to go through that. The two of you…You’ve got something very few people are lucky enough to find. Something that deserves to live on long after this war is over.”  There didn’t seem to be a right thing to say in response. Poe and I’s worry for one another never waned, it was like a constant white noise in both our minds. There was no guarantee of seeing the next day during war. It was a reality we lived with every day whether tucked away in base or on mission off world. How many couples were casualties of war? Too many to count, my parents having been one of them. But the belief that Poe and I wouldn’t lose each other was something I clung to each day. The future we both fought for was one where we didn’t have to worry about losing one another.

“It’s a constant fear, losing him,” I mused as I stared out at the clear sky, watching the rising sun, “But I don’t regret being with him, not for a second. He’s worth all of it.”  “I know he feels the same way,” Kes smiled softly and patted my arm, “From what Poe has told me, you’ve pulled your share of stunts.”  I swiveled back to face Kes and raised a finger, “If he’s talking about what happened above Batuu, I’d like to play up the fact that I took out eight TIE’s singlehandedly.”  The former rebel soldier cocked an eyebrow, “Impressive, but no…He told me about Crait.”  “Crait…” I sighed, finding the ground much more interesting to look at.

“Even before he told me I’d heard about it. You were the talk of the city and I imagine everywhere else.”  “Yeah, apparently news travels fast…”  Crait seemed like a lifetime ago. It was no longer the actual fight between Ren and I that bothered me, though I’d admit to still questioning why he hadn’t killed me occasionally. It was the legend status I’d achieved without trying to. The over exaggerated tale of my heroics had spread across the galaxy quicker than I knew what to do with. Not only was I one of, if not the, most wanted woman in the galaxy but even the Resistance had begun treating me differently. Seemingly everyone except my mother and friends treated me as if I was some deity. I was glad no one else knew about my being a Kenobi or the attention would become too much to handle.

“I hope you’ll see that more as a symbol of what I’m willing to do for the cause rather than my personality. What I’m willing to do to protect the people I love,” I said, staring at him with all the conviction in the world, “That includes Poe.”  “I know, and that dedication is what makes the Resistance, and Poe, lucky to have someone like you.”  I could hear Bee’s squeals, only making out my name and knowing that we needed to head out. Kes and I turned to each other regretfully before he put an arm around my shoulders and we began to make our way out of the backyard. I turned my head to get one more look at the Force tree and silently promised myself that the next time I came, I’d spend a proper amount of time underneath it.

Poe was beginning to load Bee into the X-Wing when Kes and I rounded the corner of the house. Even though we were headed back to base where as soon as we landed we’d be thrown back into our responsibilities, he still looked relaxed. He hadn’t put on his commander’s hat yet and was simply Poe Dameron at home with the people he loved. He reminded me of the day I’d gotten back from my last stay with Dad, when we’d flown back from the transport station. We’d both been so carefree and at ease and I’d wished then what I was wishing now…for the war to be over.

“Any more Poe stories you want to send me off with?” I jokingly asked Kes, we were still far enough away that Poe wouldn’t hear me.

“There was one I wanted you to hear, he’d never forgive me if I told him but…” Kes chuckled and waved his hand dismissively, bringing our walk to a halt. “It was the day he arrived at the Resistance base. We’d talked after Leia recruited him about how excited he was about having command of his own fighting wing, meeting the other pilots…Pretty much everything he spoke about had something to do with an X-Wing. That night he called me and you could’ve paid him any amount of credits to talk about anything flying related and he wouldn’t have cared. The first thing he said to me after ‘Yeah, everything’s fine’ was ‘I’m pretty sure I met my future wife today.’ And for the rest of the call, not one mention of any ship. Just about this girl who had shown him around base and ate dinner with him and who he tried to be extra funny around just to make her smile. I made sure to make note of what he was saying so once I finally got to meet this Y/n he spoke so highly of, I could tell her that there hasn’t been one day that boy’s known you where he hasn’t been in love with you.”

My grin was practically idiotic by the time he’d finished telling his story. Poe had only mentioned that he’d fallen for me the first day we’d met and he’d never mentioned anything about telling Kes about me. I gazed over at Poe, standing atop the ladder next to his ship and my heart swelled. Just as it did when he returned home from a mission and we’d embrace outside of his ship. Or when we’d climb into bed together at the end of a long day and his arms would instinctively wrap around me. Or when I’d work late nights in the command center and he’d send Bee in with a sweet note stuck to the droid’s body. I didn’t think it was possible to fall any more in love with him, but every day he showed me it was. He spotted us and waved me and his dad over. After a tearful goodbye with Kes, Poe and I were on our way back to base.

When we were in hyperspace, I tilted my head to press a kiss to the side of Poe’s mouth. He smiled at me, “What was that for?”

“I just love you,” I shrugged.  “Well, then I guess it’s a good thing I love you too,” he replied, taking my chin between two of his fingers and locking our lips together.

————

A/N: I’ve been getting notifications every few days that people have been liking chapters which causes me to skim over some of them. I really can’t believe I started this series back in May as a way of coping with quarantine boredom and here we are six months later and I can see the end in the distance. I’m so glad that you guys enjoy it and it can distract you from the nightmare that is this year for just a few minutes. Anyways, hope you enjoyed this one! Happy Thanksgiving to my American readers!! 🦃🦃🦃

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