#femme is losing his mind yet again
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CHRISTOPHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEER
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The Author
A meta caption story
The cool air of the evening creeps in through the open window, gently rustling the curtains and sending a shiver down Ophelia's spine. She sighs, leaning back against the pillows as she stares at the ceiling, lost in thought. It's been a long day; a day filled with routine, frustration, and a whole lot of nothing in between. The silence of the house is almost deafening, save for the occasional creak from the old floorboards and the soft murmur of her husband's voice...
But it's not the sound of his voice that catches her attention. It's the rhythmic slapping noise coming from his home office, just a few steps away. At first, she's not quite sure what it is, but then it hits her: he's masturbating. The realization sends a wave of conflicting emotions crashing through her. Part of her feels violated, like an intruder has violated their sacred space; another part of her feels a pang of jealousy, wondering why he can't find release with her. Yet another part of her feels a strange sense of arousal, her body responding to the sounds even as her mind protests.
She creeps up to the office a little, not wanting to make too much noise, her heart pounding in her chest. Through the crack under the door, she sees her husband's naked form hunched over his desk, his hand moving furiously. He can’t take his eyes off his laptop as if hypnotized he increases his speed. “Ungh fuck! I want her.” He groans as his face contorts. “Who does he want?” Ophelia thinks to herself. She feels a mixture of anger and arousal course through her veins.
Ludwig grunts again “Ungh, it feels… so good!” He shakes violently as he orgasms. Ophelia watches him wipe down his computer and the stain he shot upon his desk. Ludwig coughed as he slid out the back door to his private bathroom. Ophelia could hear the quiet hum of his shower head turning on. Ophelia quickly rushed into the room to look at what kind of porn her husband was enjoying.
Ophelia was shocked to only find a few windows of blogs open as well as an email from “The Mistress”. Ophelia took note of the names of the blogs and the email address of the “The Mistress”. Ophelia ran back to her bed and started looking up these items on her cell phone. Ludwig had stopped having sex with her very early in the marriage. At first Ophelia did not mind as she wasn’t a very sexual person. However, when it became more obvious that Ludwig had sought after other avenues to feed his desires, her jealousy was sparked.
“What kind of stories are on these blogs that could make Ludwig feel pleasure like that?” She thought to herself as she read a story from one blog. The story was short and was about a flat chested woman who got plastic surgery and became a porn star. She checked on another blog and it had a similar story of nerdy girl drinking a serum and becoming a femme fatale. The story had a graphic sex scene as the girl fucked her former crush. Ophelia felt herself become wet at the tale. She went to another blog.
Ophelia felt a cold sweat as the story had a plain, mousy wife. She was not confident and was terrible in bed. She became afraid she would lose her husband and found a succubus that bestowed her with supernatural power and beauty as well. The story sounded eerily familiar especially as the wife’s name was… Ophelia. She kept reading stories on this blog as they had a familiar and predictable formula. Yet, the ending was so graphic and passionate that every word became addictive. Ophelia felt herself become wetter after every tale. It was then Ludwig creeped into their bed. “You’re still up sweetie?” Ludwig asked. “Couldn’t sleep.” Ophelia said softly.
She turned off her smart phone and went to sleep. Yet the stories haunted her dreams. She dreamed of drinking a serum, taking a steroid or making a deal and transforming. Her nerdy demeanor would vanish as her breasts would blossom and she would find Ludwig. They would fuck like animals as passion would overwhelm them.
Ophelia jolted up from bed as the alarm clock rang. Ludwig was already downstairs as she heard his footsteps making coffee and breakfast. She lifted her covers and gasped. She was soaked. She realized that the stories… awoken something in her.
She quickly cleaned up and went downstairs to talk to her husband. “Hey baby! Looking good today!” She said as she gave him a tight hug. Ludwig lifted an eyebrow and looked at her puzzled. “Ok! what appliance do I need to buy this time?” He joked. She smiled and giggled as she sat down at the table.
“Can’t I flirt with my husband? I rarely do it and maybe you need more of it.” Ophelia grabbed at her husband’s thigh rubbing it. “Maybe we can do something fun before you go to work today.” She leaned in closer. Ludwig felt a chill run down his spine as he looked into her eyes. Her pupils were dilated. He could see the lust in them. It was a side of her he hadn't seen in years.
Ludwig stood up unaffected by his wife’s advances. “Sorry, sweetie but I have an important meeting so I have to be early today. Maybe next time.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek and left for work.
During the day Ophelia couldn’t focus at work as she thought about Ludwig masturbating to emails from “The Mistress”. Later that night Ophelia once again made some obvious advances to Ludwig as he made excuses of having more emails to get to. Ophelia felt a rage in her build as she was rejected once again.
It was exacerbated as Ophelia heard her husband moan from his office again. Ophelia rushed and watched through the crack again as Ludwig grunted as he stroked his cock. “Yes my Mistress… I’m … I’m… worthy!” Ludwig erupted violently as his body shook as if every one of his muscles contracted. Ophelia felt herself become wet as her jealousy and arousal reached new heights.
“Why would he rather fuck his hand over blogs and emails than with his horny wife?” She thought to herself. Ludwig performed the same ritual of cleaning his mess and taking a shower. Ophelia ran into the office to read the personal email. The latest one said. “Ludwig your stories are exquisite. I think you may be worthy after all. Come meet me and I’ll make your dreams come true.”
Ophelia ran back to bed as she learned two things. The blog with her favorite stories were authored by her husband. Ludwig was aroused by the praise from this mysterious “Mistress” that he planned on meeting to probably be intimate with.
Ophelia felt the tears fall down her face. Ludwig entered the bed as she pretended to be asleep. It was in that moment she resolved to fight for what was hers. The mistress may be some amazing vixen with beauty that far surpasses her own but Ophelia was going to go down swinging.
The next morning she stayed in bed as her husband left for work. She then jumped out of bed and went to Ludwig’s office. She found the address of the mistress and drove there. The retail store was large and had a nail salon attached to it. “Welcome to the emporium” a gorgeous employee said to Ophelia as she entered. “If you need anything do not hesitate to ask.” Ophelia slowly walked up to the employee. “Umm yes….I’m here to talk to the Mistress.” The woman’s smile vanished as she had a serious look. The woman then looked down at Ophelia’s long brown skirt and brown flats. She then smiled at Ophelia. “Of course you are! This way please!”
The woman lead Ophelia past the store into the nail salon. The technicians and clients were all gorgeous with makeup upon their faces. All were wearing tight dresses with bright colorful high heels. Ophelia tried not to stare but could hear what sounded like moans from the clients as nails were put on their fingers. “Mmmm I’m a bad bitch yes!” One of them said as Ophelia looked back the employee brought her back to focus. “This Way Miss?”
The woman pushed a door open to reveal a lavishly decorated hallway. “Mrs! Ophelia Bloom.” Ophelia told the employee. On the wall was an intercom as the employee pressed it she said. “Mistress. A Mrs Ophelia Bloom is here to see you.” There was a pause before a mechanical feminine voice answered.
"Very well. Send her in." The employee pushed another door at the end of the hall revealing a large opulent office. Inside sat a beautiful blonde-haired woman in her early thirties. She was wearing a tight black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. Her makeup was flawless, and her hair was styled perfectly. She had a commanding presence that filled the room. Ophelia felt a mixture of intimidation and attraction as she walked towards her.
“Ah Ophelia… I heard so much about you. Ludwig really does describe you well. So he sent you? For the package I prepared?” The Mistress smiled warmly as she motioned for Ophelia to take a seat on the plush couch. Ophelia sat down, feeling a mixture of nervousness and anger course through her veins.
Ophelia thought that Ludwig was planning to fuck this woman but it seemed she had something prepared for him. Something he wanted desperately. “Yes Mistress! He wanted me to get it for him. He didn’t want to wait and he is busy in meetings today.” Ophelia looked at the Mistress with a mixture of anger and determination. The Mistress smiled and stood up, walking over to a large desk and opening a drawer. She pulled out a small box and handed it to Ophelia.
“Now it can only be used once so make sure you’re both sure about this.” The mistress put her hands on her hips with a serious stare said. “ Absolutely no refunds and there are no reversals. Everything is permanent.” Ophelia opened the box and saw a vial with a cork stopper on top. “What is in this?” she asked.
The mistress raised an eyebrow and looked at Ophelia. “It is a potent mixture of “mauvaise femme” it has about a 5 minute delay though before taking hold. Ludwig asked for fast acting but this stronger batch…needs patience but it’s worth it. I’m sure you both will be happy with results. Now if you’ll excuse me Ophelia. I have quite a few scheduled appointments today. I just had to squeeze you in because I’m a big fan of your husband’s stories. I can’t wait to see them improve.” She smiled with a sly grin.
Ophelia rushed home. She left the box on the dining room table as she paced her home. She wondered why her husband wanted that gift from the Mistress. Ludwig’s stories played in her mind as she stayed deep in thought. “Is it real? Did Ludwig want her to transform into a bad bitch? To know how to dress sexy and be sexy?” Ophelia was still in disbelief but it all pointed to the same thing. Ludwig wanted her to transform. Ophelia felt that same excitement she felt reading her husband’s stories and she knew she could “make it a reality” for him.
It felt like an eternity but Ludwig finally came home. “Oh hey sweetie. I had a long day.” He said as he took off his suit jacket. Ophelia couldn't help but feel nervous. She was sitting at the dining table with the box in front of her. “We need to talk Ludwig…right now.” She said, her voice shaking slightly. Ludwig looked at her with a confused expression, not quite understanding what she meant. “Umm ok… what’s wrong?” He asked as he sat down.
“I met the Mistress today. I know all about your blog and your fantasies.” Ludwig’s face went completely white at his wife’s admission. “I mean it all makes sense now. You have a certain kink that you wanted to live out and now you can baby.” Ophelia put the box on the table. “I got it from the mistress today.” She paused, waiting for his reaction. Ludwig was frozen in disbelief. His heart raced as he tried to process what was happening.
Ludwig grabbed the box and opened it. “Where is it Ophelia! Where is the fucking serum???” He yelled, his eyes wild with desperation. Ophelia looked at him. “I drank it when you opened the door. I thought this is what you wanted.” Ludwig slammed his hand on the table. “You stupid bitch! The power! The beauty, it was mine! I earned it! It was my stories that got her attention. It was supposed to be mine. I was going to be free from this mundane life, living in luxury and you drank it? You have no passion… no imagination. Your frigid plain body must have killed the serum’s potency. It was supposed to be an instant transformation.”
“It has a 5 minute delay.” Ophelia whispered to Ludwig. Her heart was pounding in her chest as the serum pumped into her bloodstream. “Wait… what?Ludwig asked confused. “She said… it has a fff..five minute delay.” Ophelia felt strange as she placed both arms on the table. Ludwig looked in horror as Ophelia’s plain fingernails grew into red pointed nails. “No…” Ludwig nearly cried as he collapsed back into his chair.
“Mmm you’re right. I was a frigid plain girl.” The sounds of bones cracking and shifting filled the room as Ophelia’s body began to change. “Oooh but from now on I’m going to be a bad bitch.” The thin arms and legs of Ophelia gained muscle tone as she began to moan. Ludwig’s cock hardened in his pants as his stories were coming alive before his eyes.
“Ungh, I’m going to make you stroke to me daily as I fuck alpha males in front of you. I’m going to seduce company CEO’s and drain their bank accounts and their balls! How’s that for imagination!? I’m going to make you watch every fucking second as I have lunch dates with the Mistress. Ungh fuck !” The sounds of cracking stopped as Ophelia’s hair brightened turning from boring brown into golden blonde.
Ludwig hypnotized as the transformation progressed grabbed his cock. “You couldn’t help yourself huh? Mmm you see my hair change color? It’s just like one of your stories! I feel so fucking wet. My arms and legs. So strong and powerful!” Ophelia ripped her shirts sleeves off and tore open her long skirt.
Ludwig unzipped his pants as he panted like an animal. Ophelia’s breasts were next as they doubled in size. Ophelia’s skin become tan and flawless. “The fucking power, Ludwig! I feel it. I can get anything I want. Fuck anyone I want!” Her cheekbones raised up as her lips got fuller and covered in red lipstick. Ophelia stood up and turned around. “I can feel it my ass is growing!”
Her back muscles strengthened and filled out as her butt lifted up making a perfect peach. Her abdomen toned and became flat as her hips got wider and her waist slimmer.
Ludwig grunted as he came watching his plain, frigid wife become a truly powerful vixen.
“Hmmm you enjoyed that didn’t you? Didn’t you my pet?”
“Yes … I … never came so hard…ever.”
“Hmmm I guess you have a new story to write.”
#beautification#transformation#f2f transformation#breast expansion#origin stories#ass expansion#beauty is power#slutification#bimboification
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Femininity Concepts in FFXVI
***Spoilers for Final Fantasy XVI***
Well, here I am again, now focusing on the female characters.
Like I did in the previous post, I will focus on the female Dominants first then highlight some secondary characters that really stood out.
*Jill - Come on, we gotta start with our beloved gal. She demonstrates this silent but strong (and even fearsome) spirit. She's very supportive of Clive but is not afraid to voice her opinions. She possesses a natural elegance and grace but demonstrates her fierce capabilities on the battlefield. She has a knack for negotiation and relating to others. We really see her unveil her dark side when she confronts her past head on in the Iron Kingdom. What's fantastic is that she asked for Clive's support and understanding but made it clear that she would be the one to face off against the Crystalline Orthodoxy's head priest (his name escapes me). Jill may not always make background commentary but her words are carefully selected and measured.
*Benedikta - She is your classic femme fatale that plays with men to further advance her position. Yet the one who she is in a love/hate relationship with is the one she can't have. She is ferocious yet what makes her different is that she contains this hidden sorrow and just wants to be genuinely loved. The way she frantically panicked when she lost her Eikon honestly brought tears to my eyes. She ended up with the wrong crowd and played this game of political chess in a room full of powerful men yet she instantly realized how useless she was to them in that moment of losing her most valuable piece.
*Side note: Let's hope that Leviathan the Lost is another female Eikon when the DLC hits in the next few months!! <3
*Jote - Okay, this awesome woman is HIGHLY underrated! She is incredibly enigmatic and we learn so much about her from the thoughts of other characters but never from her own lips! Initially players may brush her off as some unimportant maid servant but we see that she is so much more - a shield, a formidable fighter (though never witnessed!), a healer, a scout, etc. She's basically doing the jobs of Tarja, Clive, and Gav wrapped up in one! Yet her eyes give away her feelings towards Joshua and especially when she frets over his health. Yes, she longs for him but what makes it unique is that she loves him for who he is, not for what benefits his Eikon brings to the Undying that worships him.
*Mid - A freakin' prodigy. I mean, she is the head of the hideaway engineers! An occupation that is stereotypically masculine. She is 100% focused on her tasks and is not your typical 16 year old gal for sure. Her genius inventions, zest for life, and fast-talking mannerisms has all of the hideaway family wrapped around her finger (true, also because she is Cid's daughter). That whole scene with Joshua kneeling to kiss her hand upon meeting her cracked me up - she's the last woman who requires a chivalrous display but what I love is how she laughed and pulled him up and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
*Charon - What can I say, this woman does not take s--- from ANYONE. She's even intimidating to some of the men at the hideaway which is absolutely hilarious. She is a hardened woman that commands respect but has her softer side which takes time to reveal. Money is on her mind but eventually she learns that there should be more to life - using her abilities as a cunning merchant to help a cause greater than herself.
*Tarja - Like Charon, she also does not accept any B.S. and takes her job as the non-magical physicker very seriously. What's great is that she isn't a nurse but the actual (and only) doctor of the hideaway. Her extensive knowledge is incredibly valuable and the hideaway would definitely not have survived without her.
*Vivian - A woman held in high-esteem who is so focused on the garnering of knowledge that she even gets targeted by assassins. Her intelligence certainly tips the scales in favor of the Cursebreakers to gain the upper hand.
*Anabella - I have a huge post written about her but I figure it's worth mentioning a particular aspect. She possesses quite the evil ambitions and is able to persuade not just the theocratic Sanbrequois emperor but powerful men from other nations - NOT just through her looks but through her conniving strategies. She longs for a powerful legacy forged by the greatest possible noble blood and even views herself as the prized breeding cow.
Some other examples of different aspects of female characters include: Eloise who is an astute businesswoman who conducted deals and contracts while her brother Theodore (sob) became her trusted porter; Martha who is the tough protector of Martha's Rest - the Rosarians put their trust and faith in her; the same with the Northreach residents when it came to Isabelle. What's great about her is that she is a courtesan but we see her blossom into a strong and trustworthy leader that many held in high esteem.
Even the stoic Dorys is the commander of a Cursebreakers squad.
I love how the story had female characters each with their own drives and ambitions whether they were motivated by a just cause or for evil reasons.
#ff16#ffxvi#final fantasy 16#final fantasy xvi#ff16 spoilers#ffxvi spoilers#jill warrick#ffxvi jote#ff16 jote#ff16 tarja#anabella rosfield#benedikta harman#midadol telamon#ff16 mid
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After the Night: Chapter 3 (Flashback)
1.5K Words. Alucard X OC!Reader. Reader is non binary with a femme body. AU but contains lore from Castlevania & Castlevania: Nocturne. Takes place during the last episode and goes from there…
Angst, Estranged Lovers AU, Soulmate AU, Alucard is a reclusive, flirtatious snarky brat. Not 18+ yet but following chapters may and will be properly tagged as such. Soundtrack: Glass Animals - Hooves (just for the vibes tbh.)
“Alucard?” You burst outside into the garden, head thrown side to side looking for him. “Alucard!!” You ran about without any sight of him. Did he go to Town? Or did he just take one of those silent man strolls he was prone to doing randomly? You were stunned, confused, you needed to know if this was true.
“You’re about to make me lose my fucking mind…” you growled, your shoulders bunching in animalistic agitation. A letter arrived, a very disheveled letter of warm love and missing of Alucard. How whoever this was missed his kind countenance and thought of their old days traveling. How soon they would be in the area and hoped to see him again, acknowledging he had every right to deny them if he so chose to…since they seemingly left without regard for him. You whip your head to see him breaking through bushes of the forest nearing you.
“Ah,” he said. “Apologies, I was around back and had walked to the river to read. I heard you calling…” in his hand was a massive, beautiful ornate collection of the Divine Comedy, ever the lover of drama to the highest degree. “You sound bothered…” he was worried. He heard from when you began stomping inside to the hard push and whack of the doors opening.
“Yeah, as hell I am!” You were angry. Your eyes staring into him. He didn’t know whether to inquire more…or disappear. Already accustomed but weary of your casual ferocity. “Who the FUCK are Sypha…” which you said mockingly, “and Tretor?! Trevor?” He was absolutely dumbfounded. How did you know about them? Did they show up? Were they here? His heart beat sped up, thumping loudly. Your keen ears caught it, lowering your possessive gaze to leer at him. While you two have not consummated anything, you ended up staying a day, a few more days, then weeks.
Now you could say it was about a month and a half since he decided you weren’t a bother enough to send into the night. This was uncharacteristic of you, somewhat scary to him. He could only muddle his own mind over his yearning for them, how you even knew of them, and why you are so damn upset about it? He wanted to set his hand against your chest to calm you. He would not let them hurt you. He would not suddenly quick you out. He thought you afraid of being abandoned, a soft sweet truly considerate thought.
“Why the Fuck,” you pull out a bunched up and admittedly clawed couple page letter. His heart sank. Was that from them? Why was it in your hands? When did it arrive? What does it say??? Really Trevor and Sypha? His heart yearned soon becoming angered. “You read my correspondence without permission?” There was some heat in his tone. That which you did not appreciate. “I sure fucking did!” Why were you so angry? You had no right. You were nothing more than someone overstaying their welcome. You be well aware you not comparable enough to question him or insult them. He was tired of you for the day.
“Give me that,” he went to snatch the letter from you but you retreated, angrily jumping away from him. “They miss you. They care about you…,” now you were being mean. “Oh how they love you…but alone you are and alone you’ve been…” it was not your place, you wanted to shut up. But how could he care? How could he get mad at you when you could see through this bullshit a mile away. “You call me a swindler?? What in the hell would you consider this!!!” You were absolutely screaming at him now. Thumbing through the pages remembering an especially enraging part. Your voice again mocking the sincerity of the authors. “Oh how we were ignorant to leave you so alone. It is with deep regret we were so selfish and did not consider you.” He wanted to snatch the pages from you as rough as needed. Only he understands…that they mean it. They have to mean it. They are the truest, most loving people he’s ever met. Not their fault he just…didn’t fit into their plans. No, at all costs you would not besmirch them.
He walked down on you easily. You soon reclining back guarding the papers to your chest. You looked to a scowl that while abhorrent was nothing…you knew he didn’t have it in him to really manhandle you. But to your surprise you were grabbed roughly and brought close to his displeased grimace by the ruff of your blouse. You wanted to bite him, bite at him. This was unlike any other spat the two of you had. Both seething mere inches from each other’s face. How upset you were he was upset you were upset simply trying to protect him! How you overheard him talking to handmade dolls or to no one at all, full blown conversations where he’d reply on the others behalf! Your eyes began to water, you closed them snatching away from his grasp and rubbing them quickly. “Are they…the dolls you talk to?”
Alucard…was flabbergasted. He ashamed and caught…exposed and disgusted. He didn’t know how lonely he opens was. He thought he hid it well. He thought… “No, they are not.” He knew you didn’t believe him. He knew you knew better. When he hastily would put them away as you’d enter the library, long after you caught him talking for hours. How you began to interrupt him—join him with the express purpose of being a real person to he could communicate with. So he understands…he could talk to you…even if he didn’t and just sat in silence. Your presence was felt…and he was grateful. But it took time. Every time you interrupt him he felt caught and confused. If you only had needed food, a place to rest, clothes…why did you follow him around? You didn’t follow him…but you did keep up with his whereabouts as often as possible.
You curious of him. Admittedly saddened on his behalf by his decayed social state. How his unnecessarily upset introduction and continued short temper made all the more sense. How you could lay off of him, just a bit, cause some days his head was heavier than others. Some days he wouldn’t look up from the ground. And others you couldn’t get him to look away from the sky. Always somewhere else…when you were right there next to him, open and willing if he just looked at you instead of everywhere, everything else. “Is it true? Are they the dolls, Alucard.”
“You have no right to ask.”
“I do not. But that’s why I push the matter. You characterize me as sneaky and always lurking about! I do nothing of the sort…and how!!! How of this? Had they not done the same? Have they not known the same warmth of your kindness? Did I leave the minute I got what I wanted? Did I?!” You lamented with the tears finally falling. What you didn’t know is they hadn’t left as soon as they got what they wanted. He sincerely understood you even if he didn’t agree with how intense you were about it. You just didn’t know them…but…he evidently had hurt your feelings by treating you with a close contempt. How he hadn’t considered his own hypocrisy allowing you to stay here, attempting to make nice, while he acted as if you were a bother. Knowing he wasn’t bothered by you at all…just…thrown off.
You didn’t know what they all had gone through. You didn’t know they saved your life and plenty others. World Savers. You didn’t know how ungrateful and insulting you sounded. You just sounded extremely overly protective, possessive, offended, excluded. “How could anyone…abandon someone like you .” You cried into your arm, shielding yourself from his now guilty eyes.
“Please…” he reached for you, much gentler, much closer to who he really was. But you turned away. “Here,” you threw the papers in the air. “You want to eat up that crap? Go right ahead.” Turning on your heels heading towards the castle entrance. He leapt for them, somewhat embarrassed at his eagerness. You scoffed unamused, “and by the date it was signed…they’ll be here tonight or late morning. I’ll be gone. I do not plan to speak, play nice, or even thank whoever they are. I hate them.” How childish of you. He knew you didn’t mean that. There was no real way to hate anyone you didn’t know. But your hurt feelings, and the failure of just demanding he acknowledged you…burning a hole into your chest. You stormed inside without another word, muffling your crying. He heard you until you must’ve ascended the stairs deep into the foyer towards the bedroom you chose. Then, with the clawed, crumpled papers in his clutched hands, he read and read and read. His heart racing. He didn’t think you actually were planning to leave. Or that he couldn’t make up to you somehow. Yet, you faded into the back of his mind, the exact thing you didn’t want as he hurried to ready himself and the manor for his long waited guests.
Next couple chapters may will be continued flashback. Smut + Action. We cooking with grease, now.
(Only tagging who have liked both published chapters, thank y’all! Otherwise please comment cause I will not add all them people over and over again…💕) taglist: @grimmbunniee @clevereclipsecloudcop @lifefullof-depression @nicolls187 @kindadolly @kkeidawrites @catarsis96
#castlevania x reader#castlevania nocturne#castlevania#alucard castlevania#alucard x reader#x black fem reader#black fem reader#black fanfic writer#adrian tepes x reader#adrian tepes#alucard#he about to sex the next chapter 🤷🏾♀️🤫
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Everything For You: Part 2
The deep emerald green satin dress had a swooping neckline that accentuates and simultaneously hides the fullness of your breasts. The fabric is complimentary, it embraces your curves in a way that transforms you into a subtle femme fatale, yet it doesn’t cling uncomfortably to you.
The train delicately caressed the floor and off-the-shoulder sleeves were ruched to add detail while the slit on the left side of the dress added sex appeal to the gorgeous gown.
It was a gift from Steph after you denied her the chance to take you shopping she had given you the dress anyway. You needed something for Saturday, and Steph had sent it your way when you confirmed that you would rather show up than be dragged to the party.
You run your hands along the bodice of the dress as you hide away, stealing yourself into one of the many corners you’d traced out in your mind before you had to make your presence known. You’re buying time, that’s all your doing. You know that Jake is already here, you can feel his presence, and you’ve heard the whispers and the expectations that had risen since he left the military to take his rightful place.
You know he’s here, just as you know that there are women and omegas here that are willing to try and steal him. They doubt your bond, they question Jake’s ability to love someone like you, someone of your size and your upbringing in a home with a single mother that divorced your father.
An omega who was plus-sized and broke, an omega who lived in a dank part of town in a rickety building. An omega who spent their time after Jake left, trying to mend your weary heart and soul with random hookups and toxic exes that only made you hate yourself more.
You and Jake were promised to each other when he was ready to take over, but you were not in a relationship. Truly, you didn’t owe loyalty to each other however you chose the worst alphas to be around.
Was it your guilt? Was it all rooted in your anxiousness and desperation since you gave your heart and soul to him?
Was Jake’s missing presence enough to make you lose yourself in their twisted and disgusting comments? Had you reduced yourself to a receptacle for their hollow seed because you felt so empty and lost without him?
You trailed your hands up your chest and neck, your fingernails trapped between your teeth as a coping mechanism. You nibbled on your nails, your eyes unfocused when you listened to the sound of music pouring from the ballroom and footsteps that echoed on the marble floor beyond your hiding place.
Every sound felt like a drum in your head, the crazed sounds coming across with war-like power that rattled your mind. You drew in a sharp breath when you first caught the notes of his scent and immediately felt confused when it was gone again.
“That’s a dirty habit,” he crooned in the dark, his presence behind you startling you as you stumbled back against the wall, trapped behind the luxe curtain that obscured the guests from you.
“Jake,” you shakily exhaled his name, your eyes growing wider the longer he lingered in this small space with you, “you scared me.”
It’s all you could say, all you could muster.
He was there with you, standing to your left in a beautifully designed suit that was fitted across his chest and shoulders. The soft black blend had transformed Jake from the kind of gangly alpha you remembered, even before he left, into a massive beast of a man who towered above you.
His eyes were iridescent blue that sparkled and shone like beacons in the darkened space, just the brief glimmers of his teeth noticeable beneath the curl of his lips.
“You still choose the same hiding places, Princess.” He turned toward you, cornering you against the wall and his body, his hand outstretched to touch the satin of your dress. “Look at you, dressed up-“
“Jake…” your voice trailed off, you were struck silent by the flash of his eyes, the headiness of his gaze and he looked you up and down.
“Aren’t you going to welcome me home, Princess?” He hummed, raising his hand to swipe his thumb across his bottom lip. “I’m home, omega. Your alpha’s back, and that means that you and I have a lot of planning to do.”
You saw it, the gentle nature of himself hovering beneath the shell of the toughened act. He was planning your future, like all the times he had before, only now those plans for the future would be solidified.
“Any chance you would change your mind? Find someone else—?” You barely get the words out before Jake steps forward and presses you against the wall, one hand resting directly above your head trapping you, and the other resting on your lower back.
“I’ve dreamed of this moment for too long, I’ve waited and wanted you for too damn long to let this pass.” Jake nudged your head to the side to gain access to your scent glands, his tongue and teeth lapping and nipping.
“Whine for me, Princess.” He groaned against your flesh, wantonly and desperate. “I still remember the clench of your walls, the heat of you squeezing me. Fuck, I want to hear you again.”
Jake paused and within a moment he had relaxed, breathing softly against your skin. He placed both hands on your hips, holding you steady as he breathed your scent in.
“I missed you,” Jake admitted the weighty confession against the crook of your neck, breathing in and out against you, his hands stroking your satin-covered hips just to get you and his scent on his body, “I missed you, Princess.”
You leaned into him and turned your head, resting your cheek against his shoulder. All the skewed and marred words that had been fired against each other felt as if it was nothing compared to feeling him against you. Everything in the past, every bad decision and crooked, harrowed word had become something of the past.
It was Jake and you, it was the alpha you used to play hide and seek with, the alpha that you used to cause trouble with.
He was no longer a boy, he was a man and an alpha who was about to have the world at his fingertips. He was about to take the reins and take control of three states, an entire empire under his feet.
He was about to take on a role that he was well suited for, a role that he was meant to take on but that had also tied into you. You had known since you were younger that you and Jake were meant for one another, no matter how you had wandered or what you had done, Jake was always the endgame. It would always be you and it would always be him.
The few alphas between his departure for the army and the stint where he had come back and even to his permanent return home, none of it mattered in the end. Jake would have you, perfect or imperfect, broken and cracked or completely whole.
You knew Jake had been with other women too, you didn’t need any confirmation from him verbal or otherwise, you had just known. He didn’t talk about it, he had kept it completely to himself without a single mention of any omegas he had met over there.
It wasn’t just him sparing your feelings, it was because none of them had truly mattered in the end, just as the alpha you were with hadn’t mattered. It might as well have dust on the wind, a scattered memory that had nothing to hook onto.
“I missed you, too.” You muttered, your cheek resting on his shoulder while he kept you pressed to his body, holding you tightly against him as if he would lose you again. “Jake, I…”
You swallowed your words and he pulled away, his eye searching your own. It was a back-and-forth between this darker and more possessive part of him and the dorky sunshine alpha you knew so well from childhood.
He had the penchant ability to be both, to do both, and you had already seen one. The way that he had spoken of you and your body, of your heat that gripped him, it was rooted in this insatiable hunger that affected you just as it had him. It was the darker part of him that made him threaten to hunt you down if it was necessary, just as that darker part had taken hold of him when he found you with that alpha.
“I wouldn’t have cared how many other alphas you slept with, I wouldn’t have cared if it was the same one over and over, but why…” Jake grit his teeth, his eyes flashing in the darkened space and the glint of the chain tucked under his dress shirt had drawn your eye.
“Why did you settle for them? For those alphas who thought…Princess, why the fuck would you let them talk to you that way?”
“Jake please-“
“Don’t,” he growled, that slip of darkness taking hold of him again, “make excuses for them. You’re mine, you’ve always been mine and they didn’t respect you. Fuck, I would drop to my knees right now and show you how much you mean to me, how fucking gorgeous you are and yet you let them walk all over you.”
“I didn’t want someone that treated me like—“ You clamped down on your tongue and averted your eyes, the sharp sting of your nails digging into your palms was a placeholder for your screaming frustrations.
“You didn’t want someone to treat you like I treated you?” Jake had straightened himself out, hands busying themselves by fixing the tie looped around his neck.
You listened to him inhale and exhale slowly, as a means to calm himself or maybe to gulp down your scent, in the end, it didn’t matter.
“Well, now I’m back.” Jake fixated his eyes upon you in such a way that you were left frozen, unable to breathe or speak while your heart hammering in your chest. “And I’m taking what’s mine.”
He leaned in with that vibrant possession and protectiveness that warmed your belly and made you entirely too aware of how he affected you. He swept his eyes over you and smirked, taking you and your appearance in inch by inch, then he reached out and stroked your cheek with the back of his hand.
“I have something for you.” He kept one hand on your cheek and the other had slipped into his pocket for only a few seconds before he pulled out a sleek white gold chain with a pendant hanging off the end, and two solid initials, both of which bared his scent.
“Turn around, Princess.” Jake let the command slip, and it settled beneath your skin instantly. You had turned your back to him, inhaling sharply when the metal was placed against your neck and his lips brushed the shell of your ear. “My initials resting against your pretty neck.”
He delicately kissed your cheek, his lips lingering as he settled his hands upon your hips once more, and you were met by his strong chest flush against your back.
“We should go greet our guests,” Jake was everything you had remembered, and everything you wanted, “welcome them to the party celebrating the start of our engagement.”
“Engagement?” You looked at him over your shoulder, seeing the balance of your loveable and dorky alpha, and the dangerous future head of the mafia.
“We’re promised to each other, Princess. This is as much of a welcome home as it is a celebration of our future marriage.” Jake mumbled softly in your ear, humming pleasantly. “Do you want a ring? You can wear mine until I can get one for you.”
Your breath was bated, your heart was thrashing in its cage and you were warmed by Jake’s chest against your back.
“I missed you,” he repeated himself, nuzzling his cheek against you, “my beautiful omega.”
*This is what Jake looks like*
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#mob!jake jensen x reader angst#mob!jake jensen x reader#mob!jake jensen#alpha!jake jensen x reader#alpha!jake Jensen#soft!dark!Jake Jensen x reader#jake jensen imagine#jake jensen x female reader#jake jensen x reader#Jake Jensen x reader angst#Jake Jensen x reader smut#everything for you#everything for you series#everything for you masterlist#everything for you part 2
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Mr Snake x FemmeFatale!Reader || Drabble
I just got the DVD, so… yeah. I’m back XD Just a little something that came to mind while re-watching.
NOT MY GIF. Found it on Google.
Plot: Another one with Femme Fatale!Reader, and this can be considered a direct follow up from the last one. The gang are getting suited for prison (The first time), and tensions are high, and a gross Police Officer decides to get handsy with you.
Snake loses his shit.
Warnings: Sexual harassment and violence. A little bit of swearing, and some nudity- but it’s, like, fine. Just like getting changed in the locker room.
🔆🔆🔆
“Eugh… “You groan, making a face as you pick up the ugly orange outfit you’ll likely be sporting for the rest of your life. So… is there a… private area, that I can get changed? Or is this it?? Looking around, you see Wolf already pulling the new pants on and Piranha slipping the button-up shirt on over his mohawked head (He never really did like buttons) and you give an exhausted, annoyed huff- Fine.
Most of it goes well, and you’re just slipping the orange material over your feet and up your legs - trying to ignore the fight going on between the others all together, as the whole thing is a bit too hard on your heart for right now and think maybe if you were to look at it… take it in… you would break, -, you suddenly feel a firm, and loud,
Slap!
to your behind, making your eyes immediately blow open wide to the approximate size of dinner plates and a gasp tear from your lungs. “What- “Your head whips around- and so does Snake’s, though you don’t notice that yet. That, nor the plain terrifying way his eyes narrowed, and his mouth turned down into a furious scowl. Eyes landing on an Officer there behind you, your own eyes narrow; Teeth gritting. Look, usually you would handle this with some level of grace, rather then the pure animosity currently spread across your features, but today has been long, alright? You’ve been ‘noticed’ by all the wrong people, and ignored by the ones you meant to attract- and you are so over it, now. “Watch it.” You hiss darkly, almost growling at the guard as you fasten the pants up around your waist.
… He chuckles.
“What, baby? You suddenly shy? Come on- We all know your place in this thing… Whore… “He’s just continuing to smooth his hand over your butt and you’re about to turn right around and ram your elbow directly into his face, when the dam breaks.
Snake sees red- and before you even have a chance to do anything, he’s leaped past you and abruptly started choking the bastard- tight. “YOU TAKE THAT BACK. TELL HER YOU’RE SORRY, YOU STINKING PILE OF CRA- “
Your eyes immediately go round again as you step back from the violent scene, speechless as the others, lead by Shark - who bumps into you on the way and causes your clumsy little bump to the ground, - , and some other prison guards rush forward to drag him off. “Snake!”
“Let him go!!”
“Come on, man!- “
“Control yourself!”
But he struggles against them, jostling the man’s neck in his vice-like grasp dangerously hard, and growling- “Let go of me!” You’ve never seen your husband so mad. He’s not a peaceful person to begin with, sure, but nothing has ever happened to make him explode like this, not even when men would look at you- flirt with you- or touch you, before. He trusted you, you knew that. But the fact that you were uncomfortable this time… combined with how mad he already was by the days events… must have made this the last straw. “BACK OFF- I’m gonna kill him.”
You and the others know he would never do such a thing, but the guards don’t. And one of them takes out something from a holster on his belt, and when you realise what it is your jaw drops- scrambling to your feet and rushing forward without a second thought; Reaching out. “No!”
Before the taser can make contact with skin, you shove the man’s arm upwards, causing sparks of dangerous electricity to dance in the air. Snake pauses for a split second, eyes wide at what just nearly happened, slit pupils flickering from you to the man with taser, but quickly regains his anger when he realises you saved him. He’s fine, because of you.
Even more reason to break this guy.
“OKAY. BOTH OF YOU,” A female officer this time, suddenly shoots out a couple of bullets into a nearby grey, concrete wall, causing a loud burst of noise that shocks you all into stillness. Piranha and Webb’s cover their ears, wincing hard at the horrible, eardrum shattering noise. “ENOUGH! STAND DOWN.”
Meanwhile the surprise manages to finally stop Snake just long enough, this time, for them to separate him from the gross Officer that assaulted you while making you calm down just enough for you to allow an officer to grab you by the arms. You’re both ‘guided’ and shoved off to the side, where the others watch you worriedly as the badly beaten guy limps pathetically out of the room- and not without serious help, either. You carefully recover your usual composure further there, straightening your shoulders against the strong grip the guard holding you has; Though without a deep breath, the angry flames hidden in your pretty eyes stay fully intact.
Snake, having lost quite a bit of his bite after being dragged away from the guy that touched you, stands seething still- but looks to you with a substantially less angry look in his eyes. Glancing his way to make sure he’s alright, you double take to see him already looking with concern, and finally take that deep breath you need.
… Okay.
-He’s okay.
-She’s okay.
#Mr Snake x Reader Drabble#Me Snake x Reader#Mr Snake#Drabble#The Bad Guys 2022#The Bad Guys#Dreamworks#Dreamworks x Reader#The Bad Guys x Reader#The Bad Guys 2022 x Reader
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If you don't mind, could you elaborate on how Ada is inconsistent?
It's less about how she's inconsistent, and more about how various writers treat her role in the overall narrative of the series. For a non existent attempt at brevity, I will not be talking about how she's handled in the remakes or any of the alternate raccoon city focused games. 1998 RE2 only!
So in the original RE2, Ada is a woman who's looking for her boyfriend who is a researcher at Umbrella. She was actually dating the man to get information on/a sample of the G-Virus, and whether or not her concern was sincere for this man is debatable as she plays it up. It's a useful truth that functions as a genuine cover story. After finding out the dude's dead, she seduces Leon so he'll follow her around like a lost puppy. (He's super whiny puppy but that was entertaining to watch). Plus when she doesn't shoot to kill to get the G-Virus sample from Leon, it turns out her affection for him is real. Whether this is her working from the rebound after figuring out her current boyfriend is dead is also debatable. I can only speculate that she might have been. Ada isn't heartless. Fake dating someone for months meant there had to be some chemistry as she could've picked literally any umbrella scientist to date to get to the same result. When we look at the epilogue scene from RE3, we see she is changed by her experience.
She's not the same woman anymore. Or at least she doesn't think she is. She wasn't so much a femme fatale in the first RE2 as much as she was a mercenary/spy playing her cards right until the smoke cleared.
And then we get Resident Evil 4.
In RE4, they hammer that femme fatale persona in HARD. She's sexy. She's teasing. She's always in the right place at the right time. She doesn't get hurt and comes out on top. Ashley's existence delays the damsel role she would be tossed in so Leon can save her, but doesn't prevent it. The time she spent between 1998 and 2004 was her building this persona to put emotional walls and distance up so she can better do her job. Hell, due to the great reception the game got, this version of Ada is who gets left in the hands of every future writer who has/wants to handle her. Yet, Leon being there in RE4 puts a few splinters in this persona. Wesker's kill order for Leon absolutely cracks it. Leon may be experiencing his own personal hell, but so! is! Ada! Wong! She doesn't have to do shit. She doesn't have to save Leon. She doesn't have to kill him. She can honestly just do her job and get out, but she hasn't changed. She's just gotten really fucking good at lying to herself. So we once again see her putting everything on the line for Leon, and risking her own neck so he can get out. And this is great! And you want to see more.
And then we get RE:Damnation.
Why was she there? Look. Look at me. I love Ada. She's my wife. Why was she in the Eastern Slav Republic pretending to work for the BSAA? Oh, to collect a sample of las plagas! Wait. Wasn't she in the village where there was a fuck ton of them before this event? Why wouldn't Wesker have that already? Oh no, she needs the special plagas that let's people control lickers for a limited period of time before the parasite develops and the host become one of those twisty head zombies. Ah. A failed plagas then? She wants a failed plagas? Well, she would've had a much easier time just stealing that from the rebellion. It then would've made her running into Leon a more natural outcome. They started that movie putting Ashley in the proverbial trunk to eliminate that romantic venue and brought in Ada to go "hey! remember! leon likes her! nobody else! we promise!". They're not risking anything for each other. Ada isn't doing what she has been doing the last two stories, and it's off. The femme fatale stuff is happening, but you can cut her out and lose nothing from the movie other than a cat fight. You can't do the same thing in RE4. You can't do the same thing in RE2!
And then we get Resident Evil 6.
I enjoyed watching the Ada storyline in the game despite all the strange mechanic choices they made with the game's play style. Up until this point in the games, her and Leon keep risking their lives and/or job credibility for each other. That's what they do regardless if people view their relationship as platonic or romantic.
This game with Ada's story was a great opportunity to show how she's also wearing a mask she's built up over the years. The one that gets cracked in RE4 with Leon's mere appearance and a genuine concern for his safety. The thing is in RE6, she's kind of all over the place. We first see her doppleganger not knowing it's a different woman, and every fan is up in arms about how reasonably OOC the act is. And they're right. Next we see the real Ada, and she seems just as natural as she was in RE4. We just assume it's an outfit change until she starts investigating. Then she goes from mercenary/spy to playing superhero.
The one thing I like about the resident evil games, is that when 2 characters are supposed to be on equal ground, they'll often save each other the same amount of times. They meet in the middle, and there's something sweet about it. In RE6, Ada is constantly covering Leon's ass the closer we get to the end. Leon gets to save her with that final Simmon's confrontation. We are not counting Leon protecting fake Ada from Chris because it wasn't her. RE6 was trying so hard to make the real Ada likable by having her go out of her way to do good for everyone as a sharp contrast to doppleganger Ada's actions. However, they lost some of what makes Ada so complex with these narrative decisions.
It's nice we get to see her hurt and anger by taking out doppleganger Ada's final experiment before it hatches, but that's the end of the game! We don't get a little epilogue scene of what she's doing or how she feels like everyone else gets! They say "oh yeah, she's fine, she has more work now. Nothing's changed." When we get to see the result of hurt like we did in RE2, or the knowledge she'll gladly disobey orders for her own peace of mind in RE4.
This was a lot of words to say RE2 and RE4 remember Ada's more than just a femme fatale, whilst later appearances in the series forget this.
The remakes for now don't do that. In the remakes, we know from the get go she's looking out for herself first, and other people come second. Leon ranks a little higher on this list than everyone else, and I'm very eager to see the depiction expanded on if we get a remake Separate Ways DLC.
EDIT: Oop, just realized she was constantly covering Leon's ass in RE4 too based on the OG separate ways. Ignore that one segment, but the rest still stands!
#resident evil#re#ada wong#aris asks#ask me to talk about my faves and you will get an essay#heh nothing personal kid#re analysis
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top 5 villains in fiction? Or alternatively, top 5 antagonists, totally up to you.
thank youuuuu :)
lol so i'm very obnoxious about what kind of character does or does not constitute a villain/an antagonist so these are like top 5 that passed that rigorous selection process
graham reid malett aka gabriel (the lymond chronicles). so my problem with villanous characters is that i'm a contrary bitch and when authors want me to really hate someone i usually end up either not caring either way or actively rooting for them lmao. but with gabriel dunnett managed to create someone truly terrifying and compelling at the same time. he's sort of a variation on lymond himself in the sense that he's what other characters think lymond should be - he's a version of lymond that conforms. or seems to conform, to put it more accurately, but that's the horror of it all - being a good man vs. seeming like one, and who's to say what's more important in the grand scheme of things? so the depiction of how any reasonably talented sociopath can charm his way to power and none will be the wiser is very realistic and scary but also - his villain monologues? outstanding. his gaslighting game? virtuoso. the homoerotic tension with the hero? off the charts. yet to be dethroned as my favorite villain of all time.
azula (avatar: the last airbender). i just like how cool and competent and dramatic she is and tbh the gaang were able to beat her only bc she conveniently got a bad case of mommy issues at the end. the last agni kai lives in my mind rent free - truly one of the greatest moments of cinema history.
milady de winter (the three musketeers, especially the 1978 adaptation). i knoooow she's the problematic femme fatale trope or whatever but i don't care. she's the blueprint. she has that sad backstory of being used and abused by men but i don't even particularly care about that either. she's an evil spy ladyboss i connected with on a neurological level when i was 11 and i have loved seeing her winning battles and losing wars again and again ever since.
lord voldemort (harry potter). tbh just a classic nostalgic "i want dominion over everything" kind of villain who at the same time represents evil and insidious real world ideologies that we like to think we defeated once and for all until they rise again - and in a very ironic fashion too, given by whomst this particular villain has been authored. i like voldemort's iconography and origin story but i also like how at the end of the day he remains a "flat" sort of villain with none of that boohoo nonsense. like, seriously, sometimes one needs less snivelling and more "there is no good and evil, there is only power and those too weak to seek it". i like the trope of having to collect a number of macguffins and do things in a very specific way in order to defeat him - and it does feel satisfying to see the characters finally accomplish it.
shen jiu (the scum villain's self-saving system). lol unlike in the case of milady i do care about shen jiu's backstory insofar as it means he has done nothing wrong ever in his life but he's on this list bc he's the titular scum villain and the book itself is about interrogating the roles people play in each other's lives and how those can be reframed if we change the perspective of the narrative. shen jiu is the villain bc luo binghe is the protag - the book tells us so on the meta level. but then as shen yuan learns more about shen jiu - and especially when we read the extra stories from shen jiu's pov - "villain" does not apply anymore as per my very specific criteria lol. in this regard shen jiu is also notable for asking one of the realest questions: while trying to get him to reconcile with liu qingge yue qingyuan says something like "do him a kindness and he'll return it tenfold" - to which shen jiu replies "ah but that's the thing - why should i be the one to be kind first?". bc if you think about it "why should i be the one to break the cycle of violence?" is one of the fundamental villain questions.
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What are Jas and Hunter's hobbies :000?
(Again, welcome back, dear!)
Both Jas and Hunter have a few hobbies.
Jas the Wildcard
Dancing. Jazz, hip hop, ballet, salsa, femme vogue, etc. She has been fascinated by dance ever since she watched a movie where characters burst out in music and moves. Her actual name is Jasmine (named by the lovely Bailey, she'll never escape comparisons from the Dixney princess), but she started calling herself Jas to sound like jazz. She used her first paychecks to get her into dance classes and can be found humming to herself and moving to imaginary beats while doing mundane tasks.
Reading. She didn't plan to pick up reading, but between going to the library all the time to keep up her grades, and having Sydney excitedly talk about books then cut herself off cause she doesn't want to spoil anything, Jas started reading books per Sydney's and sometimes Robin's recommendations... She loves it far more than she thought she would. She wants to one day own a bookshelf full of her and Sydney's favorite books, but while in the orphanage, she's too scared someone will steal any book she buys.
Gambling. Specifically for luck based games. This is probably a HORRIBLE hobby to pick up, and she fully blames Wren for this. Ever since Wren invited her to join his blackjack games, she never found anything that gave her as much of a high. The fact she can win and dominate based on Lady Luck, and no one has cheated her in these games yet makes her feel powerful when she wins and still in control of her life when she loses.
Hunter the Allrounder
Horseback riding. Hunter likes things that are exciting and active. Riding a creature that moves way faster than you and could break your bones is exactly that. If he could get his hands on a motorcycle, he knows he would be just as addicted to the experience. Horseback is special in its own way, though, since he has to gain the horse(centaur)'s respect and be skilled enough to ride something with a mind of its own. He values the bonds he builds with his animals and God, he enjoys riding to town even more when Remy's goons try to harass him on a horse. You gotta get your kicks somehow!
M*sterbating. Ah yes, the activity that helped him turn from fallen angel to demon in the first place. The town is a stressful place, and some him time is great for de-stressing! However, now it has become a bit of a necessity. If he doesn't do a certain amount of sexual acts within a day, the blood in his veins burns hot white, paralyzing him while he's stuck silent screaming on his bed till the pain eases. A quicky is great when he's too busy to meet anyone for a good time. Anything to escape that traumatizing agony.
Dogs. To clarify, he loves almost all activities involving dogs, even the feral ones that are technically wolves. He loves training dogs, walking them, grooming them, and gaining their trust. He loved his job at the pound till the people put him into a muzzle/leash to make him the dog. He tries to go to the forest every once in a while to hunt with his pack, and he loves training the dogs on the farm. He is a dog kind of person in more ways than one.
#degrees of lewdity#dol#dol pc#t1thi#jas the wildcard#hunter the allrounder#Thanks for the ask love!#Explaining their hobbies took a little more thought than I expected#I feel like I know my PCs better now 🤣
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Headcanon Time ...
Raian with a virgin S/O ( SFW ) ...
He had never guessed that she is a virgin. His S/O is quite dirty minded and she has a strong sensual presence.
Raian might be an experienced assassin and fairly experienced man with people and women to the best of his knowledge not that he cared to understand people or women but she is different of course and yet he isn't making any effort. It Just come what may, for him.
He is lousy with understanding hints and gestures.
His S/O wants him to be her first but she can't be direct and sound desperate but she kinda is .
He is dense when it comes to women love and sex language. Unless his S/O is blunt and direct he won't waste time understanding his S/O and might actually get annoyed with her .
Raian is not the traditional lover boy type. If he likes a woman he will sleep with her on the first date. Raian actually will never go out on first dates with anyone he doesn't like.
If she was good he will see her again until he decides enough and move on.
However, when he kinda forced a kiss on his S/O she didn't mind it at all but was very sensitive to his touch and hesitant to what she should do. He felt her confusion and lack of experience with just kissing.
HE WAS BAFFLED , he thought she was playing hard to get or didn't enjoy his rough kisses.
He hated that and left annoyed.
S/O had to make sure he didn't get the wrong impression and idea about how she feels for him and how she felt about his kisses.
Raian ignored her for few weeks.
Her attempts to get hold of him were doubled everytime he drifts farther away. She wants him and she will get him , FEMME FATAL periotttt. ( still the kinda innocent type but with the dirty mind ) 🤪
S/O and Fusui plotted against Raian one day.
Fusui told S/O that Raian left for training and will be back in 3 hours and she will leave the house door open for her to surprise him.
RAIAN came back from training at night and she was there in one of his jercies in his room.
He came out of the steamy shower , wet and almost naked walking into his room and she was there.
He looked at her and asked in a questionable Sharpe cold tone : what the fuck are you doing her and why the fuck are you in my Jersey..
His attitude threw her off a bit but she didn't back down.
S/O was hesitating, shy and blushing, she walked towards him like a shy school girl .
His eyes dug fire holes in her like a Trex about to step on his prey and snatch it away.
Her innocent eyes looked at him and her breathing was getting faster .
Raian noticed all that, he smirked and still didn't say a word, his eyes were still digging holes in her. He purposely took his towel away and stood there naked right infront of her shamless and glorified, looking at her smiling mischievously.
The poor S/O gasped and looked away and she was this close to actually run when a strong grip took her by surprise and firmly pushed her to the edge of the bed.
Her jersy was lifting up by his hands. His S/O was losing her breath by now.
She wasn't sure to tell him or not and she wasn't sure if he will appreciate it or not or even will be gentle if he knew he is her first !!!
Raian finally had her almost naked underneath him.
She knew that her boyfriend was a bulky guy but she never knew how amazingly sculpted his body is underneath his cloth. And how hot to the touch and firm his body is.
He smelled fresh and clean and that got something strange happening to her body .
When he looked at her undies she shyly covered her sensitive area with her hands like by default and he looked at her with a frown on his face.
He pushed her hand away roughly she said a breathy ouch came out as a desperate moan.
Raian had a hungry look.
S/O before losing all senses she asked him with fainted voice why he avoided her all this time.
Raian was positioned between her legs while he was licking and biting her inner thighs and he looked at her with eyes full of lust and longing.
He propped himself and was slowly taking her undies when she started shaking and he told her to RELAX am not going to eat you ..YET that's the look on his face terrified her. And still he had not answered her question.
She tried to ask again when she felt a chunky finger pressing again her heat entrance.
She was really scared and Raian felt her fear she was almost in tears .
He was slightly confused.
When he looked at her face he wanted to comfort her but his best way to do so HE THOUGHT .. was ...
To lick her and so when he did even his toung felt the tightness and he liked the fact that his girlfriend is that tight but little did he know he had a virgin in his bed .. His maiden .
S/O whole body was shaking, sweating . Raian didn’t get it why she is this sensitive and very bothered he was not even in her yet.
She felt his finger now slightly pushed inside and she asked him to be gentle and don't push further. She was trying to pull his finger away while she is half aware of what he is doing to her.
He left her heat with a loud wet suck noise and looked at her with a grin on his face but with lower gentler voice this time he asked : Why u r a virgin ?
He was on his knees facing her sitting between her legs. Raian pushed her legs wide open and was enjoying the look of his fingers rubbing his S/O clit and how wet she is.
He asked a question and didn't get an answer.
So he asked again but when he did he noticed something.
Raian slept with women before and they all were receptive but his S/O acted different. Is he scared of him ? Hasn't she had sex before ?
He never asked his S/O about her past relationships because he never gave a fuck.
Why is she scared ?
while his finger tried to push little further inside her and he heard her pleading voice : RAIAN PLZ NO ... he felt resistance !!!!!
HUH .. ... ? COULD IT BE ????
He looked at her with a serious look and this time asked the question firmly with a realisation in his mind he hoped it won't be true ....
When her head nodded in a hesitant YES ...
He just stared at her for few seconds.
Then crawled up on her , looking into her teary eyes and just kissed her as gentle as he mastered, ( which was not that gentle but he did his best and that's what she needs to deal with for ever )
He broke the kiss and answered her first question : (you acted differently after the kiss and I wasn't into shitty games by stupid women ... )
But then Raian realised it was all due to her being a virgin and apparently never was touched before and that he is her first by how sensitive her body was to his touch
DA FUCK IS HE GOING TO DO NOW...
@aneenasevla hope you liked it ..
If you wish for part two ( 🔞 NSFW 🔞) let me know....
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I would like a minimus x reader tea party part two. No rush much appreciated.
.
"I hope you don't mind that it's just you and me here today enjoying afternoon tea?" You asked your crush as you poured his teacup full of energon tea.
The green and white minibot shook his helm as he took a sip of his fresh tea.
"I do not mind it, but I am confused. What did Ten and Nautica say again was their reason for not joining us?"
"Oh, they were busy, that is all."
You didn't dare to tell him that the yellow giant and purple femme had given you the chance you needed to confess your feelings to Minimus.
They meant good and had their Spark in the right place, but they really put you in a hard situation because of how sheepish you could be when you were around your crush.
If it would have been up to you then you would have continued to admire Minimus afar as his friend, but the two friends of yours thought it was your time to confess.
Well, there goes nothing.
"Minimus?" You asked and the small bot looked at you, "Yes?"
"There is something I have to tell you." You swallowed nervously as you lowered your teacup to the table, but you weren't able to lift your gaze from the cup just yet.
"I haven't been completely honest with you." You said as you stared at the energon tea in your cup.
"What do you mean?" Minimus asked and you took a deep breath as you lifted your gaze and looked at your crush with determination you didn't know you had a second ago.
"I kinda… Like you?" You swallowed nervously, "Like, like like you, as in, in a romantic way?"
As soon as the words left your mouth, you averted your gaze from him, unable to look at him because your face felt like it was burning with furious blush.
You did it! You confessed! It wasn't perfect and you felt like your helm might explode with nervousness but you confessed!
"I see." Minimus nodded and you grew even more nervous than you were a second ago.
"I must say that I am flattered. You're a fine bot and I can see the appeal in a possible relationship with you."
What did he mean, was he letting you down or not?
"What… What does it mean?" You glanced at him and your confusion must have been clear on your face because he put the teacup down and looked at you properly.
"What I'm trying to say is that your feelings aren't onesided."
You looked at Minimus with your optics wide in shock and he cleared his intake and looked aside, feeling a little flustered himself.
"I'm saying, that I return your feelings."
He… He liked you back? Oh, Primus!
"I'm… I'm so happy," You felt your mouth wobble as you tried to fight against the smile that was trying to break out, but you were losing that fight. You were so overjoyed, Minimus liked you back!
"Then…" You finally let that smile take over, "Would you like to go out with me someday in the near future?"
"What do you have in mind?" He asked and you started to think about all the different places where you could go to spend some quality time.
An alien planet? Swerve's bar? Or just, the two of you enjoying each others' company over a cup of energon tea and sweets like you were doing now?
"Maybe… we could have one right now?" You offered and the mech before you nodded as the smallest smile graced his lips.
"I would like that."
#cybertronianbunny#transformers#transformers mtmte#mtmte#reader#ultra magnus#minimus ambus#FLUFF#sweet#CUte#ENJOY!#ten#nautica
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Worried About Her and Each Other
Author: Autobot2001
Genre: Fanfiction
Fandom: Transformers
Rating: T
Warning: Talking about poor mental health
PAring: Drift X Jamie (OC)
Description: Jamie's friends know something is bothering her. What she tells Crosshairs and Drift troubles them. This turns into the two worried about each other. Continuing from day 15.
@marchofpain day 16; burdon
It has been a week since soldiers attacked Crosshairs. Jamie and Sunstreaker finished the painting of Crosshairs three days ago. Today Crosshairs and Jamie are in the lounge room with Drift, Lightning, and Sideswipe. Sunstreaker is with his femme, Lily. Jamie’s friends perceive her distress, yet remain uncertain of her thoughts. They worry about what she could be thinking as she lies on Drift. Sideswipe tried to get Jamie to play video games but was unsuccessful. The friends are watching a movie instead. Jamie watched the movie but her mind wasn’t quiet.
Jamie is quiet at dinner. Despite the normalcy, her friends worry about her thoughts. Many Autobots and soldiers who know the behavior is normal are also concerned. Crosshairs and Drift try to figure out what’s going on in Jamie’s mind, now getting her to talk is nearly impossible.
Sideswipe takes Jamie to play video games after dinner. Crosshairs and Drift didn’t think Sunstreaker would rush out of the hangar.
“What happened?” Sunstreaker asks.
“Did you rush back?” Drift asks, “Jamie’s having another rough day.”
“No, I planned on being back. Sideswipe told me this is more concerning than usual.”
Drift sighs, “I hope not, but Jamie’s behavior is different. I know we should get her to talk to us, but I hate upsetting her further.”
“I think we need to get her to talk,” Crosshairs says. Sunstreaker nods in agreement.
Crosshairs and wait until eight to try to talk to Jamie. The two’s expectations were met, as Jamie told them something. They know it’s not everything on her mind, but hearing she feels like she’s a burden to everyone hurts. They lie on the bed with Jamie to calm her. The two knew she’d fall asleep.
“I-I can’t believe this,” Drift says, “even with how much she struggles mentally. Do you feel like a burden?” Drift asks.
“No, sure it’s the first time I’ve been injured in my holoform, but you’ve had to help me when my bipedal form was damaged after several battles.”
Crosshairs hugs Drift. Both hate how Jamie’s mental health is. Now they think when will she try to end her life again? Crosshairs worries about Drift’s mental health. Knowing he’s already struggling, fearing he’ll lose the femme he loves. They remain still for a few minutes.
“You need to lie down,” Drift says as if he can tell Crosshairs is in pain, “I’ll get the ice packs.”
The pain is slight, but Crosshairs knows he better lie down. He notices the time, realizing he should have taken more pain relief thirty minutes ago. He gets the bottle and takes more before the pain worsens. Relieved it’s only a slight pain. Drift places the ice packs on Crosshairs’ chest, not expecting Crosshairs to pull him down to sit on the bed.
“Are you ok?” Crosshairs asks.
Drift knows Crosshairs is worried about nightmares which seldom happen.
“What about you? I know you hate what Jamie said. I don’t even want to tell Optimus, Ratchet, or Rung.”
“I’m worried you’re avoiding the question, but who can be ok after what Jamie said or did,” Crosshairs sighs, “I’m worried this will cause nightmares for you. As rare as they are.”
“I know you’ve gotten them. It’s amazing the nightmares are still rare. I hope it stays that way, but with how Jamie’s mental health has been. It’s been a struggle for years. I hate not knowing how to help her.”
“What a shit year it’s been, and it’s only March.”
#transformers#transformers fanfiction#transformers autobots#transformers crosshairs#bayverse crosshairs#transformers drift#bayverse drift#Jamie (OC)#march of pain#marchofpain2024#day 16#burden#poor mental health#feeling like a burden#concen#sadness#worried about each other
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Do you think you could do E,m,n,r, y for Eddie pls? <33
Dirty A-Z headcanon game
18+ under the cut! Tw: slight non-con elements
E - Extra info (any other fetishes? feet? leather? role playing? blood? fantasies that they might want to experience not on this list?)
Ed is super submissive, it's when Riddler comes into the picture that the dynamic shifts.
Ed loves to be humiliated and praised, especially when they happen together. Particularly in the form of backhanded compliments. Tell him how disgusting he is for so eagerly fucking himself on your fingers. Or call him pathetic for finishing in his pants while you lave his face in gentle kisses.
When he's in the Riddler headspace, he's mean. He loses a bit of himself and his rationality when he's in that space. Duct tape bondage, using riddles in bed, leaving you covered in bruises from how he's manhandled you. Lots of 'you're going to be a good boy/girl and take what I give you, right?' Would feel bad if you were upset by this after but not bad enough for him to not do it again lmao.
M - Masochism (do they like pain? scratching? biting? being bossed around? spoken down to? choked?)
He's a huge masochist. Loves pain and loves verbal degradation. Speak down to him, boss him around, choke him. The works. He's into it. That being said, he has a hardline about doing anything like that in public. Seriously, don't emasculate him or humiliate him in front of someone else. It would actually ruin your relationship with Ed if you did this because now, now you're just like everyone else in his eyes.
N - Not yet (orgasm delay? orgasm denial? do they tell their partner not to touch themselves for a certain amount of time or under certain circumstances? do they delay or deny other things like bathroom usage or food? do they need to beg first? do they like being denied / delayed?)
Enjoys both orgasm delay and denial. Both giving and receiving. The surge of power Ed gets over controlling your orgasm makes his mind swim. And likewise when you inflict it upon him. Would never ask for it but would eagerly agree to you locking his cock up in a cage. Loves to beg you to cum and loves to hear you beg him to finish.
He's ruthless when he's being the Riddler. Won't let you finish till you solve his riddles, and if you don't? Tough shit. Maybe if you weren't so stupid, you'd be able to cum.
R - Routine (do they have a routine when it comes to picking up one night stands? do they have scheduled sex with their partner? are things spontaneous or planned ahead of time?)
Ed doesn't do one-night stands. Maybe he's had one or two in college but that was pure luck. And he'd be convinced it was out of pity.
With his partner, I think it's more spontaneous. Ed's kinda always ready to go, he's easy to rile up. Send him a dirty text and his thoughts will be derailed for the day. However, whenever he comes out from a night doing what he does, sex always happens.
Y - Yes, Master (what kinds of names are used during sex? do they like being called master / mistress, daddy, etc…? what names do they call their partner?)
Likes being called baby, Ed/Eddie. Loses his mind when you call him Riddler in bed though, like goes absolutely feral.
As for what he calls you, whatever you want. I think he'd have a mommy kink tbfh, so if you're femme he might drop hints that he'd want that. Likely wouldn't outright say it though.
#My writing#the ridder x reader#edward nashton x reader#the riddler#paul dano riddler#dano!riddler#dano riddler
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violence and intimacy are the only universal languages | BUCKY BARNES x READER | 18+ oneshot
synopsis: In which Bucky Barnes fucks John Walker’s girlfriend, who turns out not to be John Walker’s girlfriend at all.
[Alternative synopsis: Bucky happens to meet you, John Walker's girlfriend, and you're nothing like he expects you to be. He's anticipating a woman that's arrogant, mindless and fake, following after Walker like a lost puppy, a woman who puts on a front to the whole world, a terrible person hiding behind the girl-next-door facade. You're nothing like that - you're soft, intriguing and absolutely lovely, everything that's good in the world. And he's very much attracted to you, desperate to show John who you really belong to.]
Content warnings: 18+ This is SMUT. Contains sex/explicit language/,masturbation.
THIS IS SET DURING EPISODE 2 AND WILL CONTAIN SOME SPOILERS AS IT USES SOME DIALOGUE FROM THE SHOW :) IT’S ALSO TOLD FROM BUCKY’S POV :)
Word count: 17K
John Walker is absolutely insufferable.
He is a man high off his own arrogance, regarding himself as the ultimate authority, and relegating every other member of this planet to being below him. He is a bastardisation of everything that vibranium shield stood for. John doesn't have bravery, but he has pride in spades, which is more than good enough for everybody around him.
Captain America had been so deeply beloved that his loss left a crippling gape in the very heart of the American dream. It was a space that required filling - and so, in the absence of Steve Rogers, the apparent next best thing was located.
But Walker wasn't the next best after a man like Steve Rogers. They may vaguely resemble one another, in their facial features, icy blue eyes and broad, towering stature, but John fails to measure up in each and every way that matters. He fundamentally lacks the most important qualities that Steve had in abundance.
Steve Rogers had been a heart-wrenchingly good man, burdened with a righteous sense of justice, a strong moral compass and compassion. His life had been far from easy, wrought with losses that left him fractured into pieces of himself. He was loyal to a fault - willing to wage a war against the United States' government to try to clear the name of a comrade so close he would have died for him a thousand times over. John would dance to whatever tune the government gave him, so long as it resulted in his name being glorified.
John Walker knows nothing of that sacrifice. Every alleged 'brave' act comes from his warped sense of reality, one that has given him the impression he simply cannot die, that he can't be wrong in any way.
Each time he jumped on top of a grenade, or put himself in the line of fire, he came out unscathed, and so he did it again and again and again, revelling in the praise he recieved afterwards, and the eventual mantle that was bestowed upon him.
Steve had never once come out of a single fight uninjured.
That was part of the mysticism, of his heroism. He would be hurt time and time again. And yet, he would never fold. He didn't bend or break under the pressure, under the pain. He didn't so much as waver in the face of all of it. his devotion to doing what was good and what was right always prevailed, irrespective of how many bones he may break or how much blood he may lose.
Despite the fact that John Walker, the second Captain America, lacked any of the characteristics of his predecessor, he became America's sweetheart. People were desperate to have somebody fill the space that Steve Rogers had left, and to the public, it seemed like John Walker was perfect.
He gave flawless interviews, where he came across not as an arrogant, self-serving puppet of the state, but as a humble, bashful, honest man that represented the very soul of America. Watching him talk was reminiscent of his predecessor, and of course, each public appearance had been carefully orchestrated so that would be the case. Every word that spilled from his mouth was premeditated, designed specifically with the intent to appeal to the populus.
John Walker got to parade around wearing stars and stripes, cradling a shield that he was very much undeserving of wielding. And, he got to do all of this accompanied by two people.
The first was Lemar Hoskins, the Battlestar. Like Walker, he too had served in the armed forces, and was to be considered a decently skilled fighter, though he failed to measure up to the likes of either Bucky or Sam.
...and then there was you.
Bucky found John Walker to be absolutely insufferable, a blight on Steve's legacy, and some tiny, bitter sliver of that hatred was reserved for you, too.
The new Captain America served the country with his best friend Battlestar and his lover, you.
You weren't like them. You weren't some jacked-up soldier fresh out of the army who had kissed enough ass and earnt enough medals to be made into a hero. Instead, you were practically just the eye candy. America's darling, hanging off the arm of their beloved hero. There was something magnetising about you that made people just love you instantaneously. It was a raw appeal that nobody was safe from.
Initially, Bucky had regarded you as an odd choice. You weren't even a superhero. You didn't take up a stupid, convoluted mantle like 'Battlestar' had. Rather simply, you were just there, tagging along, looking pretty and people adored you for it.
There was something very intriguing to the people of America about their new Captain America and his sweetheart - you, a stunning supermodel-type with a dazzling mind and a blinding smile. It was easy for them to project onto you two, the perfect superhero couple who had a fairytale romance.
Bucky utterly detested John Walker and his lost-puppy sidekick, Battlestar.
Some tiny sliver of that malice had initially been generalised to you, too. It was hard not to feel slightly bitter as he saw the two of you on TV, giving interview after interview, cuddled up to each other. It was all so terribly fake, utter bullshit that people eagerly lapped up because it was the version of reality that they desperately wanted to believe in.
It had to be fake - nobody is simply that charismatic, especially not when they're holding hands with John Walker. There was something about the way they, they being your PR team, had styled you in a few of the earlier interviews that gave him the distinct impression that they wanted people to be reminded of Natasha Romanoff, minus the bloody past.
For a while, for your first few public appearances, you had been relegated to wearing dark clothes and leathers that made you seem every bit a femme fatale, though any semblance of danger was nullified by your friendly smile.
It also seemed like that route had been abandoned, and now you tended to appear wearing lighter clothes, whites and creams that were more innocent, like your PR team had doubled back on itself and decided to switch from the 'whore' to the 'virgin'. You seemed more genuine like that, in florals and paler colours.
Bucky would be lying if he said he had never watched any of your interviews. It had merely been a simple fascination, a way to satisfy the nagging feeling of curiosity that threatened to consume him. They were interesting, and he consumed them with an almost ravenous hunger. Simple curiosity, that was all. That was all that he would let it be.
That interview that John had given at his old high school had just been the beginning, his very debut to the American people. Since then, there had been a few more, some featuring Battlestar, who would sit obediently at his side, and others featuring you.
You would curl up next to him, eagerly pressing yourself into John's side, smiling widely as you began the interview. There was a slightly angelic quality about you, a veil of innocence around you, your lilting voice like a siren's call, and your bright, doe eyes. With a well practiced ease, you would entwine your fingers with John's and sweetly tell him, looking at your lover intensely, that he was the best thing that ever happened to you.
It was fascinating to watch, to see just what kind of image your PR team could put across. You seemed every bit like the all-american girl, like the unattainable girl-next-door who would go to church every sunday and would be an inspiration to girls across the country.
Despite the innocent-seeming way in which you were deliberately styled, you never once came across as naive. Instead, there was never any vapid or vain qualities to you. It was like you just didn't know how pretty you were, or the effect you could have on people.
As nice as you may have come across in all of those interviews, every bit the picture-perfect media darling, Bucky knew it was all a farce. John had managed to seem like a decent, determined man who was down to earth and wanted nothing more than to provide inspiration to Americans, no, to the whole world. But all of those things about John simply were untrue.
Every interaction he had with the public had been carefully created to construct an image of him that incited adoration from the public. There was no reason whatsoever why you wouldn't be the same.
In fact, Bucky found it more likely than not that you were a complete inversion of that sweet, charming woman you appeared to be on TV. It left him with a sour taste in his mouth and biting back at bile rising in his throat. It was nauseatingly fake, all masquerading around as good and just using Steve's emblem.
It wasn't until he met you that the malice rescinded.
His escapade with Sam to see Isaiah had ultimately concluded with handcuffs being wrapped around his wrists and a visit to the local police station. Bucky had been taken into some tiny, isolated cell with boring blank walls that are comprised of chipped bricks covered poorly by cracking blue and white paint, constantly escorted and monitored by police officers, who were buzzing dually with excitement and tension at having both the recently-pardoned Winter Soldier in detention, and avenger the Falcon stood outside in the hall, demanding answers.
Doctor Christina Raynor had strolled into the precinct with both weariness and disappointment in her eyes. She walked almost like a woman defeated, one hand clasping the strap of her handbag and the other falling aimlessly at her side.
Immediately, she gravitated towards Sam, who was seated rigidly in some tiny, uncomfortable plastic chair amongst a myriad of members of the public, people who were also waiting for news about their friends or family who had been arrested.
Clamoring to put on the most polite smile she could, Doctor Raynor introduced herself to Sam, barely managing to get in a complete sentence before she's interrupted.
Swiftly following the arrival of the Doctor is the entrance of John Walker. John strides into the precinct dressed in the Captain America garb, shield positioned on his back. There's something terribly strategic about the decision to be constantly wearing the suit. Perhaps it's to offer a sense of security, or maybe it's because without it John has no authority to operate on. Either way, his mere appearance results in a horde of frenzied police officers trailing after him, desperate for a selfie or an autograph, something that John mindlessly indulges them in, smiling the whole time. Sam's face instantly sours as John enters, his eyebrows tugging down into a frown.
John Walker simply saunters in, a falsely cherubic smile on his face as he stares down at Christina. "Bucky's not going to be following a strict schedule any longer."
Doctor Raynor's previously jovial attitude towards John's presence dissipates, quickly replaced by confusion. "We haven't finished our work." She protests, setting her jaw. "Who authorised this?"
There's a note of challenge in her voice as she presses John for an answer. She's the professional - she's very much the one capable of understanding Bucky's mind, and yet John doesn't take her concern into account. He doesn't even look phased by it. He's completely unbothered by any opposition thrown his way - it had never mattered to him before, and it had no reason to bother him now.
"I did," John says, pointing to himself.
Sam and Christina both stare him down, equally perturbed. They exchange a brief glance. Doctor Raynor's concerned in a professional capacity - not only is Barnes her patient, and it is her prerogative to help him take control of his mind and heal, but she is also commanded by the state to oversee his psychiatric care.
Responsibility for him falls onto her - she's the professional. Christina is the doctor, the one who understands the human mind, and John very much is not. Sam, on the other hand, is personally concerned. As much as he pretends he despises Bucky, he does care, albeit begrudgingly. He wouldn't be here if he didn't.
A tiny beep goes off, signifying that a door is being opened. Bucky is walked in by two police officers, looking mildly agitated for one second, and completely numb the next, all emotion dropping from his face to put a cool, unfeeling visage into place. It's a mask that gives him obscurity, that allows him to distance himself from the mere possibility of being vulnerable.
Christina forces the two of them into some botched attempt at therapy, forcing them to look into each others eyes and get far closer than either of them are comfortable with whilst she presides over them, poking, prodding, inquiring.
It's a demand of some emotional vulnerability that Bucky simply does not want to produce. It's not exactly heart-wrenching but it does make him feel robbed, like something had been taken from him against his will. It didn't feel like healing, like what therapy was meant to be. It felt difficult. It felt like a quiet rage building in his gut that he desperately wants to keep under wraps, lest he lash out at somebody.
It leaves Bucky feeling stripped raw when they finally leave the police station.
By the time Bucky and Sam step out onto the streets the sun has already set. The sky is dark, a deep navy blue that's mostly covered by thick dark clouds that besiege the atmosphere. The whole street is lit by lights that have been left on in people's windows, or blinkering blue lamps that run along the outer wall of the police station.
A blaring, almost comically loud beeping noise disrupts the fragile silence of the night. Lined up outside of the station are a series of police cars, all emblazoned with white lettering reading 'BALTIMORE POLICE DEPARTMENT'.
The sirens of one of the police cars is going off wildly, the noise being one disruption and the blue and red flashing lights emitting from the roof of the car being another. It's an annoyance, and creates a false sense of urgency. Those sirens are normally used when somebody's life is at risk and members of the police force are going to respond. In this situation, there's no rush, no hurry, there's no crime.
Leaned up against the car, grinning wildly, is John Walker, still dressed as Captain America, all dolled up in navy blue and red, a silver 'A' on his breast.
When he sees that he's successfully captured Sam and Bucky's attention, which he garners from the fact that both of their heads whip towards him, attracted by both the loud noise and the bright lights, he turns off the siren, restoring the tentative peace to the darkened streets.
This time, though, Walker's not alone.
Next to him, propped up against the hood of the car is Battlestar, also dressed head-to-toe in his tactical gear, arms folded over his chest and a stoic expression on his face. There's something about him that just lacks any individuality. John masqueraded as somebody else, somebody whose mantle he had no right to use, and he's always constantly accompanied by a pale imitation of a comrade.
As likely as it is that Walker and Battlestar have engaged in combat together, they're not comrades, not in the way Bucky and Steve were. He and Steve had been willing to do anything for each other - endure any pain, run from the forces of the state if they had to, even die for one another.
Walker didn't seem like the type to lay down his life for somebody else out of a genuine heart-felt devotion to them.
And then, stood a few feet away from both Walker and his loyal sidekick is you - the lover. There's a decent amount of distance between you and them, separated from one another by enough space that it quite literally looks like you're desperate to avoid Walker's presence. You huddle over by the wall of the precinct, jaw set like you were irritated by the ear-splitting sound of the siren, though you don't voice a complaint. Unlike the two men, you're not dressed like you're headed out to battle, like you're some kind of protector. No, you're dressed in some pale, flouncy sundress that grazes your thighs, and you're shivering in the night air. Of course you are - it's freezing.
Bucky has to bite back a sneer just at the sight of the three of you, a vile, acrid remark just on the tip of his tongue. He has just spent the best part of his day in some cramped cell that reminds him all too much of a HYDRA facility, and then being interrogated by his own therapist, who is desperate to push him into emotional vulnerability all in the name of progress. He isn't in the mood to play happy families, and especially not with the man now wielding Steve's shield.
"Gentlemen!" John calls out, waving his hands in the air as if Bucky and Sam hadn't already started their stride towards him, matching expressions of disdain on their faces. "Good to see you again. Have I introduced you to my girl yet? No?"
It, of course, was a rhetorical question. The two of them had only ever seen you in snapshots of public appearances that you had made at John's side. You weren't actively accompanying Captain America or Battlestar on any of their missions, and as far as Bucky is aware, there are no plans for you to do so. You're not a soldier. You're not built for battle - you're softer. More gentle. You're not the state's attempt at creating a superhero. Allegedly, you're just a regular girl - pretty and smart and charismatic, but otherwise perfectly regular - who just so happens to be dating John Walker, the new Captain America.
John doesn't wait for a response from Bucky or Sam, but he does gesture to you, beckoning you over to him by crooking two of his fingers.
You approach him, your dress ruffled by the wind. In that instant Bucky thinks that the two of you actually do seem nothing like how you do on those televised interviews - his prediction had been correct. The persona was lovely, enchanting even, but it was just that. A persona, an act for your public image. There's something almost mechanical about the way you approach John, your hands folded across your chest in an unsuccessful attempt to shield yourself from the cold. It's all too robotic. It's not effortless or affectionate. You don't look remotely comfortable, but you slide up next to Walker and Hoskins regardless. Clearly, Battlestar isn't the only one who follows Walker's commands like an obedient dog.
You slot yourself in between Battlestar and John, a grimace passing over your face as you press yourself into his side. It's odd, exceptionally so, for Bucky to see this - god, you look reluctant to accept some modicum of warmth from your own boyfriend, who you'd proclaimed publically that you loved more than anything. It's almost like you resent his touch.
And oh, that's nice. It's almost cathartic seeing somebody meant to love and adore John avoid his touch like he's got some contagious flesh-eating disease.
There's a great deal of recognition in your eyes as you look at Bucky and Sam. It's likely you'd already been made familiar with them as a result of Walker's fevered desperation to unite their forces.
Bucky's looking at you intently, just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for you to open your mouth and prove him right - for you to prove that you were just as fake as Walker and Hoskins. It almost seemed inevitable, really. It's all too easy to seem good, sweet and polite on those well-orchestrated interviews. But real life is a completely different matter all together.
Bucky's well versed in being able to tell when people are lying, easily spotting their little tells, locating them in the flutter of a limb, the arch of an eyebrow or the twitch of an eye. It'll be a matter of moments until he spots yours. Any act was doomed to fail around him. Everybody gives themselves away somehow.
You introduce yourself, stating your name and giving them a shy wave. "It's nice to meet the two of you." You say sweetly, a smile lighting up your face.
Bucky's eyes widen involuntarily. Oh. It was one thing seeing that enchantment on TV, and another seeing it just feet away from him. There was something absolutely enrapturing about the silky quality of your voice, and the way your eyes sparkled even in the dim light.
He hadn't expected you to actually be...pleasant. It was all supposed to be this fake persona, and yet, he can practically sense the genuity on you. You don't twitch like some little rabbit, or stumble over your words. There's no sweat beading on your brow, and you're not avoiding eye-contact. If anything, you're welcoming it.
There was no fucking way. No fucking way at all that you could actually be as nice as you were in those interviews and be with John Walker of all people. You should be horrible simply by being associated with the man.
"Well, now that we're all acquainted we can move onto our first order of business." John says, not even glancing at you. His gaze is focused solely on Sam and Bucky, steely and deceptive, completely dismissive of how utterly lovely you look.
Bucky's having a hard time even looking at John, not when you're right there, not too far away, looking absolutely angelic. There was no way it was some act, right? That facade had fallen through for both John and his stoic sidekick the minute they opened their mouths, but when it came to you... the complete opposite was true. Sam had definitely remarked on his staring problem more than once, and Bucky was very much hoping that in the dark you wouldn't be able to tell that he was looking at you in something akin to awe and unrepentant curiosity. He was looking at you in both fascination and scrutiny, staring intently like he was about to authenticate a work of art.
His deep rooted dislike of both John Walker and Battlestar was still very much present, but he was currently experiencing some emotional turbulence over his deep lack of hatred for you. It simply seemed to have evaporated the second you smiled at him. Which was...concerning to say the least. Shouldn't he hate you? Shouldn't your very presence have stoked that spark of malice?
"Look, if we divide ourselves we don't stand a chance. You guys know that." John says. He's all charismatic and confident, self-assured in a way that comes across as mildly condescending. It's a pale, cheap imitation of Steve's ability to rouse even the most slovenly of men and turn them into righteous soldiers.
"So what do you got?" Sam asks tiredly.
John immediately begins his speech, eagerly describing the plight of Karli Morgenthau, and how her journey around the globe is being aided and abetted by sympathisers who want to see the world return to the way it had been during the years of the blip. These sympathisers had much preferred it when half the world had been reduced to ash and something akin to anarchy had been allowed to prevail.
Whole governments had collapsed in on themselves, and often, borders ceased to exist. It was complete free movement - there was a distinct lack of separation between different human factions, like all of humanity had been united by that grave event that took half of the planet.
Bucky had no idea what that world had been like. He'd only seen the shell of it, the hellscape that was left once the other fifty percent of earth's inhabitants returned to life.
Battlestar makes a few brief interjections, explaining a few minor aspects of the tale - the geotagging, that this threat is most likely operating out of eastern europe, and that Karli has stolen the medicine to take it to one of the camps.
They don't tend to be sanitary places. Disease runs rampant there, and nobody tends to really care about those who fall sick and succumb to their illness. Of course they need medicine - there's probably hundreds of people who are in the throes of sickness, vomiting their own guts out, their wounds crusted over with coagulated blood, infected and festering.
"Well, there are hundreds of those all over the planet since the blip. So, I guess you'll have to look real hard," Bucky says, shrugging with a sort of apathy. It's rather vindicating to watch the way John's lip curls up in disdain.
"Well I guess it's good we have-" John begins, his jaw set and his tone confrontational, dripping with very thinly veiled rage.
You sigh, a tiny little breathless sound that makes Bucky freeze up slightly. It sounded, for a lack of a better word, rather nice. Melodic, even. "John, calm down." You tell him, not entirely unkindly, but not sweetly, either.
There's some kind of quality to your voice when you speak to John like you're negotiating for hostages, not like you're having a conversation with your lover. It's curious, but Bucky tries not to attach too much meaning to it.
Bucky gives you a stiff sort of nod, and you reward him with a smile, your lips curving upwards. "Where is she now? Do you know?" He says, softer than he probably would have if you hadn't been there.
"No. We don't know, Bucky." John's voice is a near yell. He shifts agitatedly, gesticulating wildly, tossing his arms about and shoving you slightly, letting you nearly collide with Battlestar, who is forced to grasp your arm to keep you upright. Battlestar's hand curves around your upper arm, pulling you back until you're steady on your feet. "But it's only a matter of time before we find out."
Relatively quickly, Battlestar's hand drops from your arm, and you give him a whisper of thanks before turning to give John a glare. He hadn't even so much as muttered an apology. He was completely focused on Bucky, the two locking stares in some kind of silent battle, one of wills.
"Things are really intense for you, aren't they, Walker?" Bucky can't fucking resist agitating him, letting the taunt roll off his tongue easily, not even bothering to resist grinning when your lips quirk upwards. Oh yes, you think he's funny - he can see it in the way you press a hand to your lips in a successful attempt to quell a rising peal of laughter.
"Walker's right." Sam is the one to turn to Bucky and snap at him. He tries to diffuse the situation, glancing between you, Bucky and John like he was watching something that had the potential to go very wrong. "It is imperative that we find and stop them. But you guys have rules of engagement and authorisations you have to get. We're free agents. More flexible. It wouldn't make sense for us to work together."
Tentatively, you set a hand on John's shoulder, feeling the coarse, kevlar-esque material of the suit beneath the tips of your fingers as he turns rigid, looking at Bucky and Sam coldly, all pretences of being nice completely gone, having simply evaporated into the cold night air. "Mr. Wilson isn't wrong."
Like Sam, you seem to have moved on to an attempt to prevent the escalating tensions from reaching their head. You try your best to soothe John, and his shoulders do sag fractionally, like he's just been reminded of your presence. There's something about the way that Walker looks at you that's utterly unappreciative. Perhaps John doesn't want to be grounded - if his will is being resisted then he'd rather be aggressive than diplomatic.
Sam scoffs at the name, "You don't have to call me that. In fact, please don't call me that."
"It's polite isn't it?" You say, smiling, even as John ruthlessly shucks your hand from his shoulder, dismissive of your touch. He gives you an irritated kind of look, a silent admonishment of you challenging his authority. It's not the kind of look that equal partners give each other, and your ensuing glare isn't, either.
"Suppose so," Sam shrugs, his lips quirking up in amusement.
"Mr. Wilson and Mr. Barnes aren't obligated to help," You tell John softly, seemingly speaking through gritted teeth. "Clearly, we all want the same things - to get that medicine back and bring Karli to justice. But, if you're not all going to be able to work cohesively on a team and get the job done, it may be best to work separately. It gives you all the opportunity to handle things the way you want to. This should be about doing the right thing and accomplishing the mission, not about who's calling the shots."
John nods stiffly, turning to you for a brief moment. There's some kind of red light coming from within one of the nearby buildings, and it's lighting up the dark street in shades of red, crimson light spilling over his cheekbones and dancing across one side of his face. He's the very image of begrudging agreement. "Alright then. Just one piece of advice for you boys. Stay the hell out of my way."
"Gladly." Bucky mutters under his breath, not missing the fact that you catch it and your smile widens.
As Bucky and Sam begin their exit, he can't help but to spare you one last glance over his shoulder. Bucky's eyes quickly roam over your form, as if he's mapping you out, or trying to emblazon the image of you within his mind - bathed in dying red light, still smiling serenely at him even as he's leaving. He really cannot figure you out.
The line of what's real and what's fake seems awfully blurred when it comes to you. Normally he's excellent at detecting a performance, but when it comes to you, Bucky has no idea whatsoever what is going on. And it's very much intriguing.
John Walker he would have no problem whatsoever in leaving alone.
...but you on the other hand, were a whole different story.
There was some grand, captivating quality that you had in spades that was even more potent in real life than it had been on camera. It was in the way your hair was jostled by the wind, the pale sundress that skirted your soft-looking thighs, the curve of your hips, the way you smiled and that hypnotic twinkle in your eye.
Walker and Hoskin's lovely personalities had been something of a farce, but yours wasn't. It did, however, make him wonder what somebody like you was doing with them - how you could aid and abet their actions even though it was glaringly obvious you weren't always in concordance with them.
"Man, I do not know what the hell was going on there, but I very much did not like how you were looking at Walker's girl like she was a piece of steak, or something." Sam shudders, muttering quietly once they're out of earshot of Walker and his companions.
"I don't know what you mean." Bucky feigns ignorance, setting his jaw and very much trying to push the phrase 'Walker's girl' from his mind. It just...didn't seem right.
In all of those TV interviews, the two of you had seemed like a perfect couple - you only appeared that way because Walker was plastering on a faux persona. In reality, the two of you seemed fragmented, distant from one another though Walker did have some tiny modicum of respect for you.
There was nothing about the real, raw interactions between the two of you that indicated any intimacy. It was the complete antithesis of the united front the two of you presented, of the perpetually happy lovers that America adored.
There was just no way it could be true. In fact, it sets off something that's terribly close to jealousy in his gut. Walker's an arrogant prick who carries a shield he has no right to even look at. He especially doesn't deserve you - you with the pretty eyes and an aura about you that screamed 'holy', 'saintly', even.
Yes. That was probably why he disliked it. Because it was probably inaccurate. It had absolutely nothing to do with the way you enchanted him, nothing to do with the sight of your bare legs and absolutely nothing to do with the lovely way you said 'Mr.Barnes.' It had absolutely nothing to do with that whatsoever.
"No, no." Sam protests. "I've seen you, you know, stare at people before - but god, never like that. Fuck, man."
And it's true. It was obvious to anybody that spent more than thirty seconds with Bucky that he had yet to acclimate and adjust to social scenarios, and that once he was focused on one thing had an abject refusal to move his gaze away from it. Bucky had heard Sam call it both 'creepy' and 'unnerving', and hoped, for some inexplicable reason, that you thought differently.
After all, your eyes had barely left his. It wasn't staring if both of you were doing it - then it was mutual, some kind of joint focus on one another.
"Like what, Sam?"
Sam just shakes his head, looking disdainful, his nose turned up like he'd just smelled something foul. "Mmhm, like you wanted to do some things to her that, for the sake of my own mental health, I would rather not think about."
Well, technically, he hadn't thought about anything that bad - just your voice, your smile, and the way you might say his name. But, in that instant, Sam's words derail all of those thoughts. Because, really, you had looked so lovely that it would be forgivable to think about you like that.
There was that cute little sundress you were wearing, grazing your thighs whenever you moved or whenever the wind picked up. It's all too easy for him to imagine skirting his fingers up your smooth, soft thighs and let his hands explore you, roaming over your ass and your inner thighs, enjoying the feeling of your skin and the little noises he could provoke from you.
"...stop thinking about it. I can literally hear your thoughts right now." Sam says, grimacing at Bucky's spaced out kind of look - his glazed over eyes and the fingers twitching at his sides. It's all too easy for him to see the gears shifting in Bucky's head, openly reliving the few moments he had seen you.
"I'm not thinking about it," Bucky outright lies as the two of them continue walking down the street.
"No, you absolutely are thinking about it." Sam objects. "I can sense the impropriety."
"Oh yeah? You can sense it?" Bucky glares at Sam, unable to resist antagonising him. It's safe, reliable even, between the two of them. They'll perpetually annoy one another, being challenging, rude, and utterly impolite, knowing that when it comes down to it, they'll fight side-by-side without objection, trusting each other implicitly. But in these moments when there's no imminent danger, that opposition is welcome. It's routine, even.
"Hell yes, I can sense it."
Bucky just scoffs at him, barely refraining from rolling his eyes. It wasn't really as if Sam was wrong. There was something especially fascinating about Walker's girl - if that's even what you are. He'd known you for a matter of fleeting moments that passed by like dandelion seeds in a breeze. And yet, something about it felt terribly significant.
He hadn't actually expected that appeal to be real. He anticipated that just like Walker's carefully groomed public image, it would have been falsified.
The only thing that really seemed fake about those interviews was your affection with John. It was non-existent in real life, and for a while, you had avoided touching him, until you had to diffuse the situation. That was very, very curious. Just where had Walker found you? He had to doubt that the relationship was genuine.
Somebody as nice, as innocent-seeming as you would never go for Walker. Not when Walker's the kind of guy that Steve would have tried to fight as a scrappy teenager, before he even got the serum. The kind of guy who Bucky would inevitably have to knock the lights out of in order to protect Steve. That kind of guy objectively did not belong with someone like you.
Bucky has to shake his head ever so slightly. It's a dangerous line of thinking. God, he doesn't even know you. He's met you once, and you'd exchanged only a few words. Irrespective of how nice you seem, how entrancing you are, he doesn't know you. It hardly matters whether or not your relationship with Walker is genuine. It shouldn't matter to him. It really shouldn't bother him.
But it does, and that fact alone is almost as bad as the fact that John Walker is the new Captain America. It causes the same bitter feeling to swell in his chest.
Sam and Bucky fall into line next to each other, walking side-by-side, the dull noises of their footsteps hitting the pavement reverberating throughout the streets. There's a comfortable silence between the two of them. Words aren't needed now. They often aren't. For all of their antagonisation, they can understand each other perfectly fine with a single glance. That's what comradery is.
There are neon lights that illuminate the streets in shocking tones of red and turquoise, reflected in stray puddles that pool in the potholes of the roads. The lights seem dulled, boring despite their vividity. He'd seen brightness before. It didn't look like a street sign. It looked like the curve of your smile and the silent rage you directed at John Walker.
---
Bucky's flat is near-barren.
As much as he hates empty rooms - they remind him of cold cells in underground bases that he wishes more than anything that he could forget - he's also come to the realization that he very much hates rooms that have too much furniture.
They all feel uncomfortable, unfamiliar, a bastardisation of a normal life that he feels he has no right to live. He's so unused to the feeling of a mattress beneath him that the floor next to his bed is easier for him to sleep on. And he hates that, too.
The simple inability to slip back into a normal life makes him feel woefully inadequate, like there's still something deeply wrong with him despite the fact that the command words had long since been removed from his mind.
Sam had returned to his own home a while ago, leaving Bucky utterly alone in the flat.
It's not necessarily loneliness that he feels, but it is a kind of numbness that is close to it - the dulled pain of loss. Perhaps, if everything had gone the way he meant for it to, he would be sharing this place with Steve - Steve who would take a bullet for him, fight any force in this universe or the next for him. Steve who would probably encourage him to sleep in the bed and not on the floor next to it.
That realisation prompts him to shuck off his leather jacket, toss it into the recesses of his room and try to distract himself.
He runs a hand over his face, closing his eyes and just revelling in the darkness. Mindlessly, he sits down on the very edge of his bed, already knowing that he won't be sleeping there. It seems somewhat pointless to even try.
Despite the Soldier being gone, there are some effects of his presence that linger. Slowly, he's been getting better, but there are a few traits he doesn't know whether or not he'll ever have the courage to discard. Sleeping on the floor is one of them. That constant need to be vigilant is another. Often it manifests itself as paranoia, and at other times as staring.
Oh god, the staring.
Bucky knew it could be bad sometimes - Sam made remarks about it often enough - but today, he really felt like he couldn't help himself.
Maybe he shouldn't have stared at you so much. It probably wasn't welcome. In fact, it had been described as 'unnerving' and 'creepy' more than once. But there was just something about you that made him not want to look away.
His eyes flutter open and he lets out a ragged groan of frustration, a low noise that originates at the back of his throat.
Somehow, every little nagging thought always leads back to you, which is inconvenient to say the least. He does have to keep telling himself that he doesn't know you, mentally repeating those words like a mantra, instructing himself to just leave that train of thought alone completely, and to discard any and every thought that pertains to you. You're with Walker. He doesn't know you - but he could.
Bucky takes in a deep breath, hand digging through the pocket of his trousers, emerging with his phone. The internet was a pretty vast thing that had initially taken quite some getting used to, especially when he was still living in Romania. It had been difficult to become comfortable with the amount that society had progressed whilst he was with HYDRA.
He still couldn't get used to the music or some of the fashion trends. By the time he got to living in Wakanda, he was more than used to the intricacies of modern day technology, despite the fact that once he came out of cryogenic freezing he lived a fairly simple lifestyle.
He can't really resist searching your name.
Immediately, article after article pops up, all with headlines about you and Walker. Bucky lets out a minor, quiet noise of discontentment, opting to avoid the articles and instead look at the videos, the interviews that you had given. In most of them, you're accompanied by Walker, and occasionally by Battlestar, too. Bucky absolutely does not want to watch those ones. It feels like John simply sitting next to you is somehow corruptive.
There are a select few interviews where, mercifully, you're by yourself. Some of them are from your earlier days, where you're dressed in black leather, which was absolutely a confusing wardrobe choice.
Privately, he much prefers you in the sundress and the pale colours. In the one that he chooses to watch, you're dressed in another sundress - this one's a pale sort of pink with tiny, blooming white flowers dotted over it. For some inexplicable reason, Bucky thinks he prefers you like this - innocent, summery, and not a pale imitation of somebody who was meant to be scary - not that you had the potential to make him afraid in the slightest.
You're in some room, sitting in front of a grand, white window, seated on a wicker chair opposite the interviewer. There's a few potted plants dotted around the floor, aloe vera, lavender, a cheese plant and some other flowers that are in full bloom, their soft petals unfurled. You're beaming happily as the interviewer begins, soft sunlight spilling over your profile, warming your skin.
"It's a pleasure to finally have the opportunity to interview you - and you're so kind to let us into your house like this." The interviewer says, looking between your angelic visage and their copious sheets of notes, each one full of questions and follow-up questions that they were desperate to ask you.
Ah. That makes sense - all the plants. You seemed like the type to like them.
"The pleasure's all mine." You say, and yes, there it is. That transfixing look about you that he's slightly hooked on now that he's seen it in real life. It's a bit addictive to watch you, and god, even just thinking that does very much make him feel wrong.
"How about we get started, then?" The interviewer says conversationally. "You know, every single person in America is curious about you. I'm just here to ask the questions on everybody's minds! Just who are you? Come on, tell us about yourself."
You don't flounder. Not even for a second. You're utterly effortless in the interviews just as you had been mere feet away from him. "Well, I'm just your average girl, really. I'm nothing special, I promise you. Honestly, I'm so grateful that everybody loves me so much. I really wasn't expecting it."
Sitting there, a serene expression on your face, you sound utterly bashful, humbled and sweet in a way that wasn't quite the same as it had been in real life.
God, seeing you in real life was different to the interview. You had been, for a lack of a better word, better than how he expected. He'd anticipated meeting female John Walker, arrogant, self-assured and willing to try to strong-arm him into fighting for their team, more like Walker's puppy than your own individual person.
And you were nothing like that - you'd challenged Walker, hell, you even seemed reluctant to touch the guy at first, and then, you'd laughed and smiled devastatingly sweetly whenever Bucky would agitate him.
" - oh yes, my favourite flowers are - " You're still talking sweetly but he's only capturing fragments of what you're saying.
It's hard to focus on your exact words when you've shifted slightly, and that sundress has slid up your thighs ever so slightly, exposing more of your legs to Bucky's heated gaze.
Fuck - you don't even realise what you're doing and how it's making him feel. You're just innocently trying to get through an interview, talking about something mundane, like your houseplants, and it has Bucky's imagination running wild.
If Sam were here, he would definitely be sensing impropriety right about now.
Bucky swallows thickly, biting his lower lip in an effort to stifle the ragged breath he's struggling to take. It feels almost like there's no air left in his lungs. It's all too easy for him to picture you, right there in front of him, giving him that lovely saccharine smile, your lips pulled upwards. You'd saunter into his room, sundress skirting against your thighs, and he would be utterly enraptured.
He clears his throat, squeezing his eyes shut for just a fraction of a second. He could practically feel the blood rushing south, pooling downwards until his cock was pitching a tent, straining uncomfortably against his dark jeans.
Bucky can't even bring himself to feel any shame - he's just chasing a sensation, chasing a fantasy of you as he tugs his jeans down, shucking them off and discarding them, letting them land somewhere near his leather jacket.
With an unsteady breath, he shuffles back awkwardly onto the bed. Without so much as a second thought, he's pulling his boxers down his thighs and resting his flesh hand against his cock. He's beyond hard, steely even, and Bucky has to bite back a groan. Even the touch of his own hand doesn't offer him much relief.
He discards his phone, letting the interview keep playing, just listening to your cadence and the entrancing way you spoke, not really picking up on the words themselves.
It's all too easy to imagine you being here, in that tiny little sundress, stalking towards him. He'd want you to straddle him, your thighs framing his, sundress riding up, exposing more of your legs. He'd push the fabric up, and instruct you to hold it there.
You'd probably give him something like a shy little nod and that dazzling smile of yours, your hands fisting the fabric and holding it up.
Fuck - it was all just too good to think about.
Bucky's grip on his cock tightens as he slowly strokes himself. He could easily tug the top part of the sundress down, too, to expose your tits. Maybe he'd even play with them for a bit, licking, nipping and sucking until there's a constellation of bruises and bites decorating your decolletage.
You'd probably beg, all whiney and breathy and absolutely desperate for him, struggling to maintain your hold on your dress, your fingers twitching as you pushed your chest towards him. It would be fucking lovely. He would finally pull away, admiring his work before bothering to address your needs. He'd trail his hands up your thighs.
He had to wonder exactly what you were wearing underneath it. White? Black? Lacey? A tiny little thong that rises high on your hips, the kind he can easily rip off with his bare hands or push aside?
Or fuck, even more addicting, what if you weren't wearing any at all? His fingers would smooth up your thighs as you trembled, meeting your bare cunt.
Bucky doesn't even bother to try to quell the groan that rises up within him at that thought. God, that would be nice. You'd be wet - so wet, dripping, coating his fingers and trickling down your thighs. He'd rest his dark, metal hand on your waist whilst the fingers on his other hand ran eagerly through your folds, teasing your clit as he memorised all of the little sounds he could pull from you before he'd plunge two fingers into you.
You'd cry out, and he'd swallow the sound with his mouth, crushing his lips to yours and letting you gasp into his mouth. When he finally pulls away from you, fingers knuckle deep inside of you, your face would be painted a bright red, and your lips would be swollen as you begged him, fucking begged him to fuck you.
He'd deny you at first, watching you tremble and twitch on his fingers, practically fucking yourself on them.
Bucky would stroke at your clit, tracing tiny circles over it and watching your face contort in pure, unadulterated pleasure. He'd let you get off on his hand first. Would your eyes roll back into your head? Would you scream for him, yelling out his name? Would you get even wetter, impossibly making his fingers even slicker, fucking soaking him? You'd probably seize up, your spine going rigid, your mouth tumbling open and your walls flutter around his finger, convulsing uncontrollably.
And then, only then, would he fuck you.
God, you'd take his cock so well.
Maybe the stretch of it would be a bit much at first and you'd squirm in his hold, his metal arm wrapped around your waist, keeping you impaled on him. The noises you would make would be utterly lovely - whines and fragments of pleads that never quite get finishes because you keep interrupting yourself with your own moans.
Eventually, he'd have you in his lap, your legs folded over his, one of your hands holding up your sundress so he can see his cock entering you, pushing you open, the other resting on his face. You'd bounce on his cock, whimpering like a kitten, biting at your bottom lip whilst he stared at you in awe.
You would be good - so, so good, tight and hot around him, absolute perfection.
He'd mark your neck up too, so that it'd match your tits, leaving tiny, bloodied indentations of his teeth up the column of your throat, soothing the sting by laving his tongue over them, the taste of your blood blooming on his tongue.
'Walker's girl' his ass.
It wouldn't be John fucking Walker whose name you were crying out. It would be his. It'd be his love bites littering your neck, and it would be his come leaking out from your cunt, trickling down your thighs.
He's relentlessly fucking his fist at this point, grunting and groaning at the mental image of you riding him to completion, snug around his cock, begging for him. There's some deep, nigh unholy pleasure building within him, ripping through him like a hurricane.
"God, fuck -" Bucky comes almost violently with a cry of your name, jerking quickly, hot come spilling over his knuckles. The pearly white beads trail down his hand, oozing onto the bed sheets.
He can still hear that interview playing, your melodic voice grounding him as he comes down from his high.
You're talking about some sport you had played in high school, and the interviewer is lapping it up, eager for your attention and the exclusive interview. Bucky's chest is heaving, rising and falling heavily as he struggles to catch his breath.
Was it probably wrong to get off whilst thinking about another man's girlfriend? Yes. But, Bucky didn't particularly care, not when he'd just had quite possibly the most mind-blowing orgasm of his life, and especially not when it was 'Walker's girl' he was getting off to.
Walker probably couldn't make you come if his life depended on it. But Bucky would.
It's definitely strange that he wants you so badly. Maybe he just wants to take something from Walker the way that Walker had taken the mantle of Captain America.
He didn't really know how he'd react if he ever had to see you again. There's no way he can look at you in any non-sexual capacity, and he can just sense that this won't be the last time he comes whilst thinking about you.
It's probably for the best then, that he'll be staying out of Walker's way. There will be much less temptation on his part to interfere with your relationship. Yes, it's definitely for the best. He's probably just stressed and overworked, and that was the reason he felt the need to fuck his hand whilst thinking. about you. Just stress. And it's not exactly wrong to want to relieve that stress, is it? No. Not at all.
This is perfectly fine, and even if it wasn't, he wouldn't be seeing you again.
---
Just as Bucky had been getting ready to go out for the morning, dressed in jeans and some dark jacket that did a reasonable enough job of hiding the distinctive metal arm, a loud rapping reverberated through his apartment.
Immediately, he's frowning, and some of that old, ever-present paranoia is reawakening, like it's coming out of a coma, its dormancy ending abruptly. He pauses, slowing his gait and balling his hands into fists, bracing himself.
The knock doesn't sound like anybody he knows. It's not Sam - Sam either barges in, makes one single loud bang, or will just yell obscenities until Bucky stumbles out of his flat to meet him. This knock, a gentle rapping, is softer, more polite, and unfamiliar. If he's lucky, it'll have been just somebody who had got the wrong apartment number, or who wasn't yet aware that the previous tenant had moved out. It happened sometimes.
This knock could have a perfectly reasonable explanation behind it - it could be an honest mistake, or some unfortunate door to door salesperson whom he was about to scare off. Still, despite the fact it could be innocuous, it does have him on edge.
Cautiously, Bucky approaches the door, taking in a deep breath as he undoes the latches one by one. Slowly, he opens the door. It feels like ripping off a bandaid. To his surprise, it's neither somebody who's out to hurt him, nor somebody who's got the wrong apartment number.
It's you, standing outside of his door, wearing another one of your pale sundresses and a knitted cardigan, looking like something out of one of his dreams.
So much for not seeing you again.
Maybe he just had exceptionally bad luck, or the universe hated him. That absolutely had to be what it was - some grand, sadistic cosmic being had it out for him and was desperate to make his life hard.
Why the hell were you here? Was Walker sending you to harass him? That would be objectively cruel, and an unfitting punishment just for rejecting the opportunity to work with him. And - how the hell had you found his flat? That absolutely wasn't meant to be information available to anyone.
"Walker's girl?" He says, staring down at you, frowning.
Bucky doesn't dare call you by your name, not when the last time he said it was when he was coming all over his own hand. He hates the fact that he calls you that, and even more than that, he hates the wince you make. It's perfectly understandable that you don't like being called that, irrespective of whether it's accurate or not. Which he hopes it isn't. And then he resents himself for even being bothered by whether it's true or not.
He doesn't fucking know you. He shouldn't care.
You remind him of your name - as if he could ever fucking forget it. You brush it off pretty quickly though, smiling up at him. "Mr. Barnes, do you mind if we talk?"
Bucky is very much not enjoying the emotional turmoil you're putting him through. "Sure. Come in. And it's just Bucky."
He most definitely should not be letting you in. That would be a bad decision and he especially didn't want to get ideas about you whilst you were in his flat. And yet, he found himself readily opening the door and welcoming you in, before closing the door after you.
You make your way into his flat, looking at him gratefully.
"What's the deal with you and Walker?" The words tumble from Bucky's mouth, gruff and awkward, before he can even think to stop them.
A look of mild confusion passes over your face as you blink up at him. "Oh, John? I mean, we're not really a couple."
"I thought not." Bucky says, feigning impassiveness, even though there's absolutely nothing neutral or disinterested about the hopeful feeling that blooms in his stomach.
"Yeah. It was meant to be good for his public image, you know. The all-American guy with the perfect relationship. And I have debt I need to pay off - tuition and all that - and they compensate me for my time." You explain, laughing lightly. It sounds like bells chiming in the wind, and awakens in him some long forgotten memory of watching the sunset. It's reminiscent of something, someplace happier where his head was a whole lot lighter.
Bucky actually feels a genuine bolt of relief skirt down his spine. Of course he had been right. There was no way that Walker could get with somebody as good as you, somebody who seemed very much like an angel put on earth.
Your eyebrows tug slightly downward, "Was it obvious?"
"You looked like you'd rather have been anywhere else."
That prompts a peal of laughter from you, and all traces of concern simply evaporate from your visage, quickly forgotten. "Yeah, I suppose so. John can be...difficult at times. He's very strong-willed and we don't always get along."
"You two seem to get along well enough on camera," Bucky remarks, voice lower than he intended for it to be. Really, he doesn't want this to descend into some kind of interrogation, and he doesn't want to scare you off.
"I'm a decent actress," You say with a shrug. "And we normally do our TV appearances when we're getting along. John's not always easy to get along with, but occasionally we manage to put it all behind us. It may seem scummy, I guess. We are practically lying to everyone, but I do need the money and it's easy work."
It further reassures him - of what, Bucky doesn't quite know, but he doesn't feel half as on edge as he had been earlier.
You're not Walker's. He fucking knew it.
He couldn't possibly even conceive of a universe in which you would ever even consider Walker's advances. That bastard was lucky you even looked in his direction.
"I get that." Bucky says understandingly, a tentative smile playing across his face, his lips quirking upwards.
"I do actually have a reason for being here, Bucky." You say, sighing softly.
Oh. Yes. Of course you did. He'd almost forgotten that you needed a reason to visit - this wasn't a social call, of course it wasn't. The two of you had only ever met once, no matter how well he thought he knew you after having seen what is probably hours worth of footage of you. It's probably not a good thing that he's feeling so familiar with you - no, it's definitely not a good thing that he's feeling so familiar with you. In fact, it's probably very bad, especially with his proclivity for avoiding any form of emotional vulnerability or attachment.
"I...have the clearance to access some information that may benefit you." You say. Right now, you're being the most serious he'd ever seen you. There was a sort of solemn expression about you - your mouth set in a firm line rather than a happy smile - it's bordering on grave, and he's immediately compelled to listen, a frown forming on his face.
"Yes?"
"You and John both want the same thing, but you're not going to work together. I know for a fact you won't, and I really don't blame you. He's planning on going to see Zemo for information about the serum."
Bucky doesn't even tense up at the name. Helmut Zemo is an absolute bastard who had almost ruined his life, in addition to temporarily forcing him into a dangerous headspace, into a part of himself that, at that point, was very much present and very much not under control.
But now, the codewords are gone. They won't activate shit. Zemo's practically been neutered in that regard. He may not be able to invoke the Winter Soldier, but the mere mention of his name absolutely does invoke some kind of visceral, biblical rage that howls for revenge.
It's the kind of anger of the Old Testament, though Bucky isn't much for religion these days - the kind of anger that is desperate for 'an eye for an eye', to make Zemo hurt just as much as Zemo had hurt him. For retribution.
"We were planning on seeing him, too." Bucky says, a little stiffly, though he retains his composure.
"You'll want to get there before John does. He's planning on telling the guards not to let you in - Zemo will have his visitation rights revoked and you won't even be let on the premises."
Bucky lets out a tiny noise of irritation, a bitter little sound that originates in the very back of his throat. Of course, of fucking course Walker wouldn't be content with just working separately from himself and Sam.
Rather than just let it be, he'd try to actively obstruct their ability to work on the case - to help people. There was something about Walker's willingness to possibly prevent a breakthrough for the sake of his own ego that left a very bitter taste in Bucky's mouth. It was a complete stain on Steve's legacy.
"You have two days until John and Lemar visit Zemo. They'll probably be alerted when you show up, though, so I suspect you won't have long." You continue.
There's a possibility that you are working with Walker and this is all part of some elaborate scheme to impede his involvement in this. You could be lying through your teeth.
You had already told him you were a decent actress, and he definitely believed that to be true. Anybody that could be lovesick around John fucking Walker was either delusional or worthy of an oscar. Bucky was inclined to believe you were the latter.
That story about needing money for tuition made sense, and it also seemed reasonable that Walker's PR team would want to give him a girlfriend. A similar kind of thing had happened with Steve back in the forties. He'd been made to do all sorts of stupid campaigns, and a lot of them had involved pretty women like yourself who were willing to act, hell, even sing and dance, for the money.
Bucky wants to believe you're genuine. Surely he'd be able to tell if you're lying - he's good at that, at identifying people's tells and the falsehoods they're spewing.
"Thanks for the heads up." He says somewhat gruffly as he looks down at you.
"Lemar had a lead on the medicine and vaccines, too. But I don't know exactly what he's found." There's something about the way that you sigh that indicates frustration. "It's difficult to get information out of him. He's nice and all, but we're not close enough that he's willing to divulge a lot."
Bucky's slight frown deepens and he steps just a little closer to you, revelling in the fact that you don't stumble back or glance at the door. You're not afraid of him in any capacity.
"You're fishing for information for us? Why?"
That's the one thing he can't work out. Why show up here? Why bother to give him the warning? What could you possibly have to gain from it?
"It's the right thing to do." You say simply, that solemness receding from your pretty face to allow that sweet smile to return. "Whether it be you or John, somebody has to bring these guys down. It's only fair that you both have the same information, and I can get it to you."
How lovely. God, how had you managed to embody the spirit of Captain America more than the man who carried the shield?
"Right, right." Bucky doesn't even have a hard time accepting the answer. He should - he should poke and prod at your motives, but he doesn't want to. He finds that the desire to do good for the world is sufficient enough, especially when it comes to you. Because of course you want to help people, of course you want to help him - as if you hadn't been perfect enough already.
"I'm looking into the camps, too. It's hard to narrow the parameters, though. There's just so many of them." You say, somewhat aghast, like you're disappointed that they even exist in the first place.
There's a haunted kind of expression in your eyes, like you'd seen too much. And you probably had. Looking into all of those camps, rampant with disease, crime and horrifically painful deaths, couldn't have been easy, especially if you weren't acclimated to something so macabre or devastating.
"Hey," Bucky places a hand on your shoulder - the human hand - and he can feel the soft texture of your knitted cardigan beneath his fingers, as well as the heat radiating from your body. "Thank you. I appreciate it. You're doing the right thing. You're good."
Words of encouragement are somewhat difficult for him to come up with. He has no idea what will reassure you, so he just tells you what he knows to be true and it's enough. It's more than enough judging by the way your eyes light up and you smile at him. There's something almost devastating about that smile, and knowing that he had been the one to cause it.
"Thanks," You say, your voice barely above a whisper, voice a little hoarse. Oh. Oh. Your pupils were blown wide, and you were staring at him intently.
He falters for a fraction of a second, wondering if he'd done something wrong. And then it dawns on him - you'd liked the praise.
You had fucking liked it when he praised you. Well, shit. The rush he got from that realisation alone made him feel nearly high, like his head was in the clouds and he'd just done copious amounts of illegal substances. It was addicting, in short.
It's then and only then that he actually notices just how close the two of you are, and suddenly he's revisiting the thought that maybe letting you into his flat wasn't such a good idea.
Bucky can very nearly feel your skin beneath his hand. Having you here is such a unique brand of torture - you're exquisitely close, and you're looking at him like whatever it is that's between you, this mad, mutating attraction is reciprocated. It all feels a little too good to be true.
You probably shouldn't be looking at him like that. There was no way that the attraction he felt could be reciprocated. No way whatsoever.
"I should probably give you my number," You say, your voice still a little low - if anything, it's become silkier. Sultry, even, and it has Bucky's head spinning. "I'll send you everything I have."
"Yeah," He says, somewhat breathlessly. It's with a deep reluctance that he drops his hand from your shoulder, already missing the warmth and the closeness.
He probably shouldn't have touched you in the first place. You were so small next to him, dressed in your pale little sundress, cardigan slipping down one of your arms, pooling at your elbow to reveal a single, unblemished shoulder. There's something almost painfully innocent about you, the complete antithesis to him.
He had been a killer a thousand times over. Bucky had taken more lives than he could even begin to count, and despite his best efforts to reconcile and to make amends for it, his hands were still stained red with blood. They didn't deserve to touch you, no matter how badly he wants to.
Suddenly, you're turning away from him, snatching a piece of paper that had been lying around his flat and scrawling a series of numbers onto the back of it - your phone number. Without so much as a second thought, he's peering over your shoulder as you write them, eyes carefully following every digit that you inscribe.
You whirl around, paper clutched tightly in one hand and settling the other on his chest, fingers ghosting over his shirt. You're so, so close - a mere matter of inches away from him, and your hand is directly over his heart. Hopefully you can't feel the way it beats slightly faster as a result of the contact.
There was a high chance that if it had been anybody else, Bucky would have avoided their touch and shirked the vulnerability. He liked being in control of himself, which often translated in remaining isolated. But he doesn't really want you to take your hand off his chest. He doesn't want that at all. In fact, he'd much prefer it if you touched more of him.
The tension is literally palpable, hanging about the air like a thick fog. No, more like smoke really, with the way your presence threatened to asphyxiate him.
"Bucky," You say, so softly, your voice dripping with reverence. There's just something about the way you whisper his name that's so much better than any fantasy he could ever concoct. He's half-certain that you're going to drop your hand from his chest or shove him away, admonish him for getting too close. But you don't. Your hand remains pressed against him, fingers splayed over his torso.
He can't help but say your name in turn, his voice raspy as he looks down at you. Carefully, he takes the paper with your number on it from your hands and sets it down on one of the countertops. And still, you don't remove your hand from him. You're looking up at him and your eyes are so dark, tumultuous pits of lust that bore right through him.
Bucky leans ever so slightly closer to you, his flesh hand cupping your jaw. His index finger is curled under your chin, and the pad of his thumb is resting on your plump lower lip. In response to his touch, your lips part ever-so-slightly, and he can feel your breath ghosting over his flesh in light, shallow puffs of air.
"Do you want this?" He asks, his voice a low rasp, rough and bordering on ragged. It feels very much like he's entered dangerous territory. This is like playing with fire whilst being desperate to get burnt. He just needs to be sure. He's desperate for that reassurance, for you to explicitly say that he's not crazy or creepy, that this is mutual.
"Yes," You say, lip moving against his thumb as you speak.
In an instant, he's moving his thumb to caress your cheek and then crushing his mouth to yours. There's something utterly greedy about the way he consumes you, teeth smacking together, tongues roving throughout each others mouths, completely plunderous in nature. Because that is what he's doing - consuming you, entirely ravenous in the way his lips press repeatedly against yours.
Your hands become fisted in his shirt and jacket, and his metal arm wraps around your waist, crushing your chest to his, anchoring the two of you together. It seems as if you've gone weak in the knees. You practically crumble against him, pressing yourself into his torso until his metal arm is the only thing that's holding you up.
Oh. This was definitely reciprocated.
There was absolutely no need for him to wallow in guilt or shame or wish not to see you - because you wanted him to. It didn't fucking matter whether or not his hands were stained red, not when all you wanted was for them to touch you.
All too soon, your mouths part slightly and you're panting against one another. Your lips are red, beautifully swollen, and wet with saliva. With a mixture of his and your saliva.
"Tell me to stop," Bucky mumbles heatedly against your lips. "Tell me to stop and I will. I'll never touch you again. I promise."
It's a promise he won't want to keep. Not when he feels like a single kiss has completely fucking ruined him for anybody else.
"What if I don't want you to stop?" You whisper, gazing at him with this blazing fire in your eyes, challenging him.
"Do you want me to keep going?" He asks, and he's afraid of the answer. He has no idea what he wants - he's partially inclined to want to avoid the emotional implications of getting involved with you like this, of succumbing to your allure, but he also very much wants you to say yes, to beg him to touch you like you need nothing else more than you need him.
You tremble against his chest, a soft, keening whine tumbling from your mouth that has Bucky feeling dizzy, like the world had just tilted on its axis without any warning. It's a delightful little noise, melodious and sinful. It was so, so much better than he had imagined. He can barely refrain from rutting against you, high off the sound of your moans.
"Yes." You sound absolutely fucking devastated, pushed into abject neediness. He's reduced you to some kind of desperate mess, clinging to his chest like he's a lifeline, like you're remiss to let go of him.
And fuck, that one simple word is all the confirmation he needs.
Every single disparaging thought shatters to pieces, demolished by your eager moans. The way your chest wracks with sudden shudders, the way you breathe unevenly, perpetually unable to get enough air in your lungs as he keeps stealing it from you, your dilated pupils and your desire for his touch is all for him.
It's intoxicating.
Eagerly, he presses his mouth back against yours, revelling in the way you groan into his mouth, your eyes fluttering closed so your lashes can rest against your cheeks. Fisted into his shirt are your hands, bunched up in the fabric, constantly tugging him towards you in eternal desperation for more contact.
In the next moment, he's using the metal arm curved around your waist to hoist you into the air, letting your feet hover above the ground. It's all too easy for him to lift you.
Your legs had long since turned to jelly, your knees weakened and buckling. Your weight isn't a burden. He could toss a car around if he felt the urge to, which he doesn't. That is absolutely not even close to the urges he's having right now - the urges to make his fantasies a reality, to experience every lewd thought about you that had flitted through his head.
You release a small noise of surprise that Bucky eagerly swallows, biting at your bottom lip and memorising the delightful noises that the action pulled from you.
With his arm anchoring you to his chest, and you quite literally swept off your feet, it's easy for him to maneuver you through his flat, keeping his lips connected to yours as he walks you through to his bedroom.
The only time Bucky's mouth leaves yours is when he relinquishes his steely hold on you, laying you down gently on his bed, letting you rest atop his plain sheets, your sundress riding upwards.
And even then, he doesn't allow that separation to last long, clambering on top of you and surging forwards, capturing your lips again.
He's practically caging you in with his arms, allowing you no opportunity for escape.
Your fingers slowly unfurl from their previous position where they're been fisted, harshly gripping the fabric of his shirt, twisting it in what had been a successful effort to bring him closer to you. Now, your hands are wandering, beginning to explore. They roam freely, smoothing over his chest, tracing indecipherable shapes and fragments of words across his torso.
They easily pause at the lapels of his jacket, tugging it off with precision. Bucky has to move his arms slightly to help you divest him of the item of clothing, and he flings it somewhere across the room, not even bothering to check where it's landed. A single item of clothing seems totally irrelevant when you're beneath him, writhing at his touch.
"Please," You say between intense kisses, eyes blown wide with lust. Your pupils have expanded immeasurably, leaving a tiny ring of colour around them. "Off," You demand, tugging at his shirt.
Bucky chuckles, the low noise reverberating throughout his chest, making his torso rumble under your hands. Grinning, he pulls the shirt up and discards that too, leaving himself in just his jeans and you in your pale sundress and knitted cardigan. It's then that he falters, realising you can see the arm - of fucking course you would see the arm. There was no way that you wouldn't. It was just another horror of his existence that couldn't be avoided.
Strangely, though, you don't look at it in abject horror, reminded of his crimes, of the despicable acts of violence he had committed in the name of HYDRA.
Instead, you look at it reverently, one of your hands coming up to trace the grooves in the arm.
It was darker than any of his previous ones, a midnight matte black with stunning strips of gold running through the divots between panels. You trace the labyrinth of steady golden lines gently, fingertips tracing over the plates that comprised it. You were just as gentle with it as you were with the rest of him. His breath hitches in a way that is utterly obvious, though you don't outwardly react to it.
Your hand skirts down his metal arm, your fingertips coming to rest against the palm of his hand. The two of you aren't quite holding hands, but you very nearly are. Softly, so devastatingly softly, you tug the dark metal hand towards your face.
And you turn his metal hand over, planting a soft kiss to the centre of his palm before releasing it.
It was rather lovely, really. It made his chest swell up with some emotion that evaded description. Immediately, he's going back to kissing you, licking up into the cavern of your mouth, wordlessly showing you just how much he appreciated the small gesture.
Then, Bucky's mouth begins to traverse away from yours. He plants kisses down the column of your throat, only pausing in his quest to stick his nose into your neck, inhaling strongly. Your skin had a scent - a beautiful, honeyed kind of scent that he could very easily gain an addiction to. Fuck, everything about you was easy to gain an addiction to.
Before long, he's going back to suckling at the skin of your neck, interspersing his licking and sucking with bites that make your spine arch and prompt you to groan loudly. This great expanse of smooth, soft skin is available to him and he intends to take full advantage of it, making your skin bloom like some otherworldly piece of artwork, covered in red and purpled bruises. Interspersed between them were perfect iterations of his teeth, little crimson indentations from his incisors.
There was something absolutely animalistic about marking you up, covering you in aching bruises with his mouth alone. There was something about it that made him feel like he was laying claim to your skin, warding off anybody else who so much as dared to want you, somebody like John fucking Walker.
He probably shouldn't feel thrilled at the prospect of other people seeing you like this, your neck collared with a constellation of bruises and bitemarks that he had put there. Especially if it's one of your PR team, or even Walker himself.
Bucky pulls away from you, admiring the absolute mess he had made of you. Your hair is haloed around you on his bed, your throat is blotched in various shades of red and purple, your lips are swollen, your eyes are blown wide, and your nipples have pebbled against the fabric of your sundress. You look so fucking beautiful.
With some great urgency, Bucky divests you of your knitted cardigan, flinging it away and discarding it with some of his clothes. With his flesh hand, he eagerly tugs down the top-half of your dress, sliding the thin, flimsy little straps down your arms and pulling the fabric over your chest away to expose your breasts to his hungry eyes.
"Fuck," He breathes, shuffling forwards, one shin planted either side of your torso as you lay down, looking up at him in awe.
Bucky lets out a low noise of approval, sliding his hands up to your tits and squeezing them, earning him a strangled sort of noise that rips itself from the back of your throat. He pulls, tugs and pinches, listening intently to the different kinds of moans you reward him with - if he tweaks your nipple just right, you'll give him a breathy cry of his name.
"You like that, hm? You like my hands on your tits?"
"Yes, yes I do," You whimper. The metal hand and the human hand offer very different sensations. The flesh hand is warm, calloused, trembling slightly against your skin. The dark, metal hand with streaks of gold through it is no less dexterous than the organic one. It is, however, slightly colder to the touch, and smoother, comprised of plates of metal that don't have much of a texture. Both make you arch into their touch, perpetually desperate for more.
Bucky really can't help himself. He lowers his head, licking a broad stripe up one of your tits, eagerly mouthing at it whilst he tugs on the nipple of the other one, constantly keeping his mouth occupied. You're wrapping your hands around the back of his head, splaying your fingers over his skull, making desperate little noises as you drag your hands through his short hair.
He has you a squirming, pleading mess beneath him as his tongue roams over your chest, as he alternated between sucking, biting and pinching, watching reddish marks bloom over your torso. He's very much set on making your chest match your neck, painting it with bruises. There's something about this - the marking - that makes him feel absolutely feral, like some kind of rabid animal giving in to its most base urges.
"Please," You're begging for him - fucking begging. When he glances up, he can see your lips trembling, the perspiration beaded at your hairline and your glossy eyes. You look absolutely wrecked, and you sound it, too. Bucky's half tempted to ignore your pleas, but he doesn't want to be cruel. Not with you.
"Please what, doll?" The affectionate word slips from his lips and he hadn't even thought to stop it. "Do you want me to touch you here instead?"
His flesh hand slides down from where it had been cupping your tit, ghosting along your clothed ribs, down the plane of your belly. His touch prompts you to moan, despite the fact his hand isn't making contact with your bare skin. Not yet, at least. It's fascinating how receptive you are - so good for him.
Bucky keeps going, smoothing his hand down the curve of your hip, tugging your sundress up to expose more of your legs to him. His hand splays over the top of your thigh, thumb resting at the junction of your thighs, concealed by the very edge of your sundress.
You do something that surprises him. With a desperate groan, you reach down and grab his hand, tugging it towards your cunt. "No. I want you to touch me here, instead."
Well, fuck.
The very tips of his fingers meet your panty-clad sex, and immediately Bucky is using his metal arm to yank the bottom part of your sundress upwards, folding it up onto your stomach. Really, it's been reduced to a scrap of white fabric bunched around your waist, having been previously tugged down over your tits.
The panties were lacey. White. With thin, flimsy pieces of lace running up your hips. Bucky takes in a deep breath, staring intently at the slightly translucent patch over your pussy, the delicate fabric saturated, made wet by your liquid arousal. His fingers drift up over it almost in awe. Fuck, you're soaked. Absolutely soaked for him - all for him.
Bucky's fingers retreat from their position, but only temporarily. He slides your panties over, pushing them to the side so that he can appreciate your cunt. You gasp, your hand flying off his, where you'd previously been guiding his fingers, slapping over your mouth, barely muffling a groan.
With a renewed sense of confidence, Bucky dips his fingers into your folds. They're slippery - slick is seeping out from your neglected cunt, wetting the inside of your thighs, making them fucking gleam. You're soaked, absolutely dripping onto his fingers as he explores the most intimate part of you, slowly dragging his fingers over your clit and then circling them around your hole. You twitch and moan prettily in response to every tiny movement he makes, hypersensitive and desperate.
"Fuck." Bucky chokes out, dipping a single finger inside of you and admiring the way you convulse around him. Tight, hot and wet. His avid imagination and fucking his fist is one thing, but the sensation of you wrapped around his digit is another thing all together. Some stupid fucking fantasy could never compare - why had he even bothered to imagine that it could?
"God, Bucky, please." You whine helplessly, one hand still clamped over your mouth, muffling your words slightly.
Spurred on by your plea, he crooks his finger, pumping it in and out of you a few times before he adds a second one, using it to push against your walls, spreading them slightly in an effort to scissor you open.
"So fucking wet, aren't you?" Bucky's voice is verging on a growl, utterly animalistic as you gush over his fingers. You shuffle slightly, your hips rising and falling in a stunted rhythm. You're trying to fuck yourself on his fingers, desperately chasing an orgasm, your face contorted in pleasure. The fingers splayed over your jaw are twitching. Every single part of you is affected by him, writhing and trembling, perpetually desperate for more.
"Yes - yes," You chant, your voice a dying whisper, almost lost between your moans and whimpers.
"You're dripping," Bucky remarks, watching in fascination as your slick tumbles in steady streams down his fingers, "Fuck. All for me?"
You not emphatically, moving your head up and down, struggling to look him in the eyes, desperate to let your head fall back against the bedsheets. "Yes."
Bucky's thumb rubs harsh, unforgiving circles over your clit, his forefinger and middle fingers rocking into you, stuffed deep inside your cunt, covered in the slick arousal that's practically pouring out of you. You buck wildly against him, crying out in pleasure.
"Please - I'm gonna," You manage to stutter out, working your hips downwards, grinding onto his fingers, chasing your pleasure.
"Come for me, then." Bucky says.
He's incredibly fixated on every single thing about you as you come undone - the way your walls clamp down on his fingers, clenching tightly around the digits, the way your pretty, lust-blown eyes roll back into your skull, and the absolutely angelic noise that the pleasure he and he alone has brought you tears from your throat. Watching you come undone is wonderful. It's some kind of magical sight, made a thousand times better when you moan his name as you reach the apex of your pleasure. It's so fucking gorgeous that it threatens to make him come in his own pants like some rabidly horny teenage boy.
If Bucky hadn't already been uncomfortable, cock straining his jeans, rutting against the denim almost painfully, he would be by now. Especially when you give him that hazy post-orgasm look, a contented sigh leaving you as you finally remove your hand from where it had been clamped over your mouth.
Slowly, he drags his fingers out from inside of you. They're gleaming, coated in your arousal. Without an ounce of hesitation, he brings them to his mouth, eagerly sucking them clean, his tongue darting over every callous, every wrinkle, every crease on those two fingers, chasing your taste, completely ravenous as the flavour of your cunt explodes over his tongue.
He'd fucking ruined himself. There was nobody else after this. They wouldn't be able to compare to you in any way.
You bat your eyelashes at him, biting your already bruised lower lip seductively. Bucky's looming over you, pulling his saliva-soaked fingers from his mouth, the two of you breathing raggedly, panting like dogs.
Wordlessly, you reach forwards and palm his hard cock through his jeans, squeezing him in a way that leaves Bucky groaning, desperate for more.
"You're gonna let me fuck you, doll?"
"God, please." You breathe, eyes darkening almost imperceptibly. If he hadn't been so close to you then he probably wouldn't have caught it.
Eagerly, he undoes his belt, pulling it free from the confining loops of his jeans, and discarding it. Even as he's divesting himself of his remaining clothes, Bucky's eyes are always on you, watching you intently.
Oh yes, you definitely sparked his staring problem, especially when you're looking at him with hooded eyes, the expression on your face one of pure lust, pure need for him. Quickly, he pulls his jeans down, readily discarding them, along with his boxers.
Bucky's hard, leaking cock slaps up against his stomach. Taking in a weak, ragged breath, you beckon him closer until he's looming over you again, his chest pressed to yours and his cock jutting into your leg.
"Please, Bucky. Don't tease. Just fuck me."
"Oh, gladly," He quips, lips tugging upwards into an infuriating half-smirk.
Your panties are still pushed to the side, allowing him to run his cock through your folds until it's coated in your warm, slippery arousal. He lines the very tip up, teasing you with it for just a moment, revelling in your breathy whimpers and ensuing pleas. The very head of him catches on your entrance, and he uses it as an opportunity to begin to enter you.
His flesh hand is resting on your hip, fingers curling into your side possessively, the black and gold metal arm being utilised in an effort to keep holding himself up. Your hands, gentle and soft, scrabble to find purchase on the plane of his back, nails raking over his skin, leaving tiny red lines in their wake. Fuck. You were marking him up, too.
He wasn't even bothered by it. If anything, Bucky was pleased - he'd proudly wear whatever marks you gave him. They were little pieces of you, a litany of evidence that you'd touched him - that you had wanted to touch him.
The very head of his cock breaches you, splitting you open. He's thicker than you had anticipated, but the stretch is welcome. He practically burns you as he enters you the first time, stilling half of the way in to allow you a moment to breathe.
Happily, you writhe against his chest. It burns - but oh god it burns so nicely. The wonderful, near-painful intrusion of him is heavenly.
You're panting into the crook of his neck, frenzied breath ghosting against his throat. "More - please, more."
There isn't a single ounce of reluctance within him as he pushes the rest of his cock into you until he's fully seated.
"So fucking tight," Bucky babbles. His chest is trembling slightly, crushed against yours. There's just so much to feel - so many sensations to comprehend and decipher. You're so tight, gripping his cock like a vice, all wet and warm. It feels like fucking paradise - like some slice of heaven that he'd been gifted. Perhaps some cosmic being didn't have it out for him after all. If they did, there was no way they would allow him this.
Your legs shift, wrapping themselves around his waist, coaxing him deeper inside of you. You're moaning directly into Bucky's ear, your breaths fanning across his neck, fingers digging into his back as you cling desperately to him, saying his name like a prayer.
"Please - move." You're begging, on the verge of sobbing, lips pressed up against the column of his neck, mumbling little indecipherable words that all lead back to him fucking you hard.
And he does. Bucky unrelentingly pistons in and out of you, fucking you into the mattress. It's almost aggressive between the two of you. His hips are snapping up against yours, colliding almost violently, whilst your nails are shredding his back, though he barely feels the pain that he should.
You're a fucking mess. If he's destroyed by this, then you absolutely are, too.
Pathetic, mewling whimpers leave your throat, muffled only by the fact that your mouth is pressed into his neck, though your lips will occasionally move against his skin, your mouth falling open in a near-silent gasp as you try to pull air into your lungs. Your tits, marred by bruises and bitemarks that he had put there, are crushed against his chest. Your legs tremble from where they're almost, but not quite, interlocked around his waist, keeping him as close as possible.
He rocks into you, spearing you on his cock, enraptured by the cacophony of reactions he pulls from you.
"Can John do this? Can John fucking Walker make you feel this good?" Bucky's talking incessantly, those words dripping from his mouth before his mind can even register that the thought had ever even flitted through his brain.
He probably shouldn't be thinking about John fucking Walker whilst he's inside you, whilst his cock is nestled deep in your cunt and you're close to coming for a second time.
But he is. He looks at the vibrant red and purple bruises that litter your neck and torso, the bite marks across your body, the evidence that he's been here with you, the evidence that you had let him touch you, and he can't help but wonder if Walker had ever done this to you.
He can't help but to wonder if Walker had ever taken you like this, like a fucking animal, leaving his own god-awful marks across your throat, fucking into you with one of those sundresses that you wore whilst masquerading around as his girlfriend bunched around your waist.
Bucky really fucking hoped not.
He couldn't conceive of anything that Walker deserved less than you. Walker may not have really been dating you, but he still got to touch you, to put his hands all over you in those stupid interviews, utterly undeserving of that privilege. Walker didn't have any fucking right, any fucking right at all.
You weren't 'Walker's girl'. You didn't belong to John. And for good reason, too. You were so much better than him - the kind of person who was able to look at the mission objectively, put your differences aside, and feed the other team information. All because you wanted to do the right thing.
You gasp against his shoulder, head falling back onto the bed so that you and Bucky can lock eyes as he ruthlessly pounds into you, the obscene sound of flesh hitting flesh filling the room.
"I - fuck - I never fucked John," You say, struggling to even form words.
And god, doesn't that make him glad.
"Yeah?" Bucky challenges you slightly, still grinning as his eyebrows raise a fraction. "And you're not fuckin' gonna."
Walker didn't get to put his filthy paws on you. Bucky wouldn't allow it.
You seize up around his cock, hands grappling at his back, and then sliding over to hold onto his shoulders, the fingers on one of your hands splayed over the seam that ran over his black and golden metal arm. Your fingers gently caress the border between machine and man, gentle, in complete contrast to the way you'd clawed at his back. His blood was probably under your fingernails considering how hard you'd scratched.
"'M so close," You whimper, desperately rolling your hips.
There's something utterly debauched about you. All of that angelisism had easily given way to depravity under his touch. You were practically mewling for him, making these little breathy noises that cause his cock to swell, getting increasingly desperate to climax a second time. That debauchery is located in every single moan that leaves your mouth, in the marks you've scratched into his back and in the way your sundress is bunched around your hips as Bucky fucks you.
"Yeah? Gonna come again?" Bucky asks, breathing raggedly.
He already knows the answer. Of course you're going to come again. He can feel your walls tightening around his cock, constantly fluttering, on the very precipice of your climax. You're close, probably painfully so, and so is he - but he's not gonna come first.
"Mhm," You groan excitedly as Bucky rubs at your clit, sending sparks of pure pleasure racing through your gut.
"Walker couldn't make you come like this," Bucky says more to himself than you, though you seem to really enjoy when he talks, convolusing on his throbbing cock as you desperately chase your high, all whilst he's snapping his hips up into yours, fucking you so hard that at times your eyes will begin to roll back into your skull, and your legs will shake against him. "C'mon, doll. Who are you gonna come for?"
"You. You. You."
"Good girl," He remarks, grinning as you tighten around him. "Fuck, doll. You have the best pussy I've ever fucked - 's mine. Not fucking Walker's. He doesn't get to have you like this. And I do - fuck."
It's then that he spears hard up against something pleasantly devastating inside of you. That sensation, delivered in tandem with Bucky's fingers circling your clit has you coming instantaneously. The barrage of pleasure washes over you like a tsunami, wrenching a cry from within you. You shatter beneath him, falling apart to a thousand pieces, utterly wrecked.
"Bucky," You sob enthusiastically as your orgasm crests, speaking his name over and over again like a prayer, like it's the only word you know.
It was one thing watching you climax on his fingers, and another when it's his cock. It feels otherworldly, watching you come undone as he fucks himself into you. It's probably the best, most arousing thing he's ever seen, you, beneath him, writhing, squirming, calling his name out over and over again.
He doesn't even bother to stave off his own orgasm any longer. It would be impossible of him to even try. If the image of you under him, legs hooked around his waist, trembling from the sheer force of the pleasure he's given you wasn't enough, the fucking heavenly feeling of your cunt wrapped tightly around his cock is. You clamp down around him, as tight as a fucking vice.
Bucky's own orgasm barrels into him like a truck. It's a burst of pure, blinding, hot pleasure that rips forth from somewhere in his gut.
It strikes every single nerve ending in his body, and suddenly he's coming, emptying himself inside of you, ropes of his come painting your insides, filling you up.
You both lay there for some time - it could be seconds, or it could be minutes. It's impossible to tell. Time seems hazy when he's with you. He's still laying over you, panting and grinning at the same time. The two of you just smile lazily at each other, completely spent and sated. He shifts most of his weight to be on the metal arm, lest he crush you with his weight.
Eventually, you surrender his hips from your legs, letting him pull out of you and roll onto his back so he can lay next to you whilst you both catch your breath.
Tentatively, you pull the straps of your sundress back up your arms and fix your underwear. Bucky panics internally, quickly turning his head to face you.
"Going somewhere?" He asks, as casually as he could.
"I do have to get back to work," You laugh. It sounds like bells in the wind. "I have an interview tomorrow that I have to prepare for."
Bucky just nods stiffly, trying to quell the internal disappointment rising within him. What the fuck had he been thinking? He shouldn't have touched you in the first place, and now you were probably regretting the fact that you let him fuck you.
"I'll swing by tomorrow with whatever I can find on the medicine," You say, so sweetly. "If that's okay with you?"
"It is, yeah." He says gruffly.
They need the information. The near-devastating disappointment he's feeling right now is irrelevant. Walker and Hoskins have the state's resources at their disposal.
He and Sam have whatever leads they can scrounge up, and whatever you're willing to give them. Because you're good - so good, and he knows that, but he also feels like he's dying a little bit on the inside because of you.
"Maybe I'll let you take me out to dinner next time."
And Bucky falters, looking at you with wide eyes. "Next time?"
"If you want a next time." You say, avoiding his gaze.
Bucky sits up slightly, cupping your jaw with his hand and gently tilting your face, forcing you to look him in the eyes. Now, you look enraptured by the sight of him. "I do want a next time."
"Good," Your voice is quiet, a mere whisper, talking to him in soft, hushed tones. "Because I want a next time."
He leans in closer to you, giving you every opportunity to stop him as he lowers his lips to yours. You don't. You don't want to stop him, not when you're completely enchanted.
Bucky hadn't been the only one that felt rather awestruck that day you'd met outside of the police precinct.
Really, you didn't much like your job. It paid the bills, and kept you ahead on your debt payments, but you didn't like it. The men you worked with lacked the heart that Captain America had.
And sometimes, the weight of pretending got a bit much for you. It had culminated in your guilt, and ultimately you lying in Bucky Barnes' bed, kissing him tenderly.
"So, I'm sending you back to Walker, huh?" Bucky chuckles as the two of you pull away from each other, proudly eyeing the bruises that descend down your neck and below your, now rumpled and creased, sundress.
He'd be sending you back to John Walker with small brands of possession bitten all over your torso, not to mention the fact that beads of his come were streaking your inner thighs.
Well, that'd probably show Walker that even though he got to publically call you 'his girl', you'd never belong to him in the most intimate of ways.
Bucky very much wanted Walker to see it - to see what he'd done to you. God, he'd pay so much fucking money to see the look on that bastard's face when he realised the woman he flippantly called 'his girl' was fucking somebody else.
Not just anybody else, no. She was gladly fucking one of the people that Walker hated the most. Bucky can almost envisage the way Walker's jaw would drop and the rage that would blaze in his eyes.
"I'll be back." You laugh. "As if I'd want to stay away."
Even more beautiful than imagining Walker's reaction, though, was the prospect of you coming back again.
#the falcon and the winter solider spoilers#episode 2 of the falcon and the winter soldier#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky x y/n#bucky x you#female reader#smut#bucky barnes smut#john walker#sam wilson#fake dating
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I’m Sorry
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: idol!Jaehyun (NCT) x femme reader
𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: angst, smut, fluff, loves to exes au, idol au
𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: R(18+)
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: heavy emotions, small drinking, kissing, fingering, oral (f.receiving), missionary, Jaehyun hits it from the back, choking, nipple play, slight nail digging into skin.
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 2.5k
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It’s been months since you and Jaehyun have broken up and you thought you would be okay, until he asked you to come over.
You know you shouldn’t be here, standing outside his door. You two are no good to each other, you fight more than you make up, and you’ve both been hurt so many times; yet, when he called, you came running.
You’ve been broken up with Jaehyun for months, your last fight so brutal that you vowed to never see each other again. It worked for a while, distracting yourself with work and blocking him from all social media. You felt strong and confident that you could get through this and that you can move on from him. But then you saw him on your friend’s Facebook page at dinner, his handsome dimpled face catching you off guard as you watched your mutual friend celebrate their birthday. It angered you, seeing him happy and without a carefree in the world while you had to pull yourself together and go through life without him.
Yet, as mad as you were, the happy memories you two shared flooded your mind, and your heart sank from the loneliness you had to bear and the feelings you have from missing him. When you think of Jaehyun, you get emotional, almost sick even; the love you have for him is greater than anything you experienced. He wasn’t your first love, your first kiss or your first sexual experience, but meeting him on that sunny afternoon on the beach changed your life. He understood your fears and your innermost thoughts and had a way of speaking that calmed your restless soul. Jaehyun has a wicked sense of humor and a kindness that melted your heart beyond words. He took you on spontaneous dates and would buy you flowers because he knew you loved them. His impeccable features and his sex drive were only pluses in the relationship that made you feel like he was the one; that you could be with him forever.
But his duties as an idol started to keep him away, and you knew that being with him came with that risk. You thought you could handle it, not being able to see him for weeks at a time and sometimes months if he was out of the country. The facetime and skype calls lasted for a while until those slowly started to fade, and you were staring at your phone at night, wondering when he would call. It didn’t help see him on tv, flirting with other women and showing off his charms that made you fall in love with him. You saw red when you saw him escort that famous actress to their premiere with his hand on her back. You have never been the jealous type, but seeing the man you love and have not seen in weeks with someone else set you ablaze. You pleaded with Jaehyun to carve out some time for you, even if it was just for an hour, but he always claimed he was too tired or busy. So you got fed up, marched over to his dorm unannounced and gave him a piece of your mind. He called you selfish and insecure, and that hurt you to the core. You screamed at him, throwing the promise ring he bought for you at his chest and broke up with him. You stormed out of the dorm, the members pretending that they didn’t hear anything, but you knew deep in your heart that they heard it all, and it just added more to your embarrassment.
As the months went by, you thought about that night often, what you could have done differently and if you would still take him back. So many nights, you held your phone in your hand, wanting to dial his number and make it alright. You hate him for letting you leave, but you love him just as much, so when he asked you to come over, it was a no brainer. So with a bit of liquid courage, you made your way to him, holding your breath all the way.
𝐉𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧’𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕
Seeing Y/N again after all these months was like a breath of fresh air. She walked into Jaehyun’s room, beautiful as ever, her hair down in all its shiny glory, her skin glowing like the yellow orb in the sky. She is wearing that oversized sweater he bought her when he came back from tour, with shorts that show off those legs he loved to be in between. She smiled at him as she came in, but behind those beautiful eyes held a sadness he knew because of him, and he would do anything to take it away. Jaehyun is hopelessly in love with her, and there is no him without her. Y/N keeps him sane and anchored when he feels like he is going out of control. She understands him better than anyone and takes care of him, nurturing him with her sweet words and kind actions. Jaehyun’s never been able to convey how much she truly means to him, and he regrets letting her go. Seeing her in front of him brings colors into his gray world, and he needs her.
“So,” she stands there, twiddling her fingers as she sits down on the bed. “How have you been?”
He rakes his fingers through his hair, unsure how he should answer. Jaehyun wants to be honest with Y/N and kiss her beautiful face, but his pride will not let him. Instead, he leans back against his desk and folds his arms, trying to keep his cool demeanor.
“I’ve been okay, I suppose,” he clears his throat.
There is awkward dead silence, and he would be a liar if he said his heart wasn’t jumping out of his chest. He’s never been good with expressing his feelings, and it took a lot of courage and convincing from his members to give Y/N a call.
“You know you miss her, man,” his member Johnny voice rings through his head. “Just call her. The worst thing she can say is to fuck off or not respond at all.”
“So what have you been up to?” Jaehyun questioned, attempting to break the ice.
“Nothing really,” she sighs. “Just work work work.”
The deafening silence comes back, and Jaehyun is panicking, unsure what to say next. He doesn’t want to push things too fast and scare her away but damn it, he wants to be with her.
“What am I doing here, Jaehyun?” Y/N interrogates him, catching him off guard. “If you called me here for small talk, we could have done this over the phone.”
“I didn’t invite you here for small talk,” Jaehyun swore, his eyes pleading with her.
“So why am I here-”
“I miss you,” he blurts out, his voice echoing in the walls. “I fucking miss you, and I want you back.”
Her eyes widen, shocked at Jaehyun’s revelation, and he continues to confess how he feels.
“I was a fucking idiot for letting you walk out that door,” he laments, taking a seat in his chair. “At the time, when we were fighting, I felt like I was suffocating. I had comeback schedules and movie premieres to go to, and I didn’t want to let you down, but I felt like I was being pulled in different directions from everyone. So when you yelled at me, I got frustrated and lashed out at you instead of listening. I’m sorry about that.”
Watching Y/N’s eyes well up with tears broke his heart, and he wanted to kiss her pain away and make her whole again. Jaehyun yearned for her, and he was not letting her go again.
“You called me selfish and insecure,” Y/N sniffled, wiping her tears with her sweater. “That really hurt me.”
“I’m sorry,” Jaehyun gets up and softly grabs her hand, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I shouldn’t have said that. I was feeling like you were not hearing me and you yelling at me made me feel like I was backed into a corner.”
“So you couldn’t handle me expressing how I feel?” Y/N criticized him, taking her hand away from him. “You were barely talking to me, and to see you on tv and flirting with these women, it made me snap.”
“So that made it okay for you to barge into the dorm at 1am and scream at me?!” Jaehyun rebutted, staring deep into her eyes. “You embarrassed me and wouldn’t let me get a word in. You called me a coward and accused me of cheating on you. God Y/N, I would never do that to you. I love you and respect you too much to lose your trust like that.”
Y/N looks down, twiddling her fingers once more, tears falling down her cheeks. He moves closer to her, wiping more tears from her eyes and lifting up her chin.
“Do you still love me?”
Y/N looks at him, her eyes already telling it all before she could answer.
“Yes, Jae, I love you,” she confesses. “I couldn’t stop loving you if I tried.”
Jaehyun’s heart flutters at her soft words, and a wave of relief washes over him. It felt good to hear that she still loved him after all these months have passed, and caught up in the moment, he kisses her deeply.
“I’m sorry, he apologizes, giving her space. “I should have asked if that was okay.”
“It’s okay,” she says softly, gazing at him lovingly. “Kiss me again.”
(𝐘/𝐍’𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕)
Jaehyun kisses you, and it feels like home, like you finally found the missing piece to your puzzle of your soul. You give into him completely, sliding your hands underneath his shirt, feeling his toned abs before taking off his shirt. You pause to gauge his response, and he smiles, whispering that he loves you and that he’s sorry. You nod and kiss him again, allowing his hands to roam around your ass before giving it a tight squeeze.
“I missed you,” he breathes in between kisses.
“Did you?” you tease him, fumbling with the button on your shorts.
He undoes the button for you and slides your jean shorts off for you, laying you down on the bed as he climbs on top of you. He holds back for a moment, admiring your beauty before continuing his onslaught of kisses, trailing down to your neck. His cool hands slide up your sweater, unhooking the front of your bra and softly rubbing your mounds. You bite your lip in an attempt to hold back your moans, the electricity sparking from each touch.
“I’m never going to hurt you again,” he promises, lifting up your sweater and revealing your breasts.
He cups them and puts them in his mouth, sucking on each nipple tentatively and with such care. Your center is dripping, and you slide your hands down to your panties, softly rubbing yourself. He takes notice of your action and trails his kisses down your stomach, nipping you lightly until his face is in between your legs. He pulls your panties to the side, taking a long swipe of your sweet nectar before diving in.
“ Oh my god,” you moan, taking a fistful of his hair.
He ravages you, lavishing his tongue at your entrance and sucking on your clit, his nail dug dip into your hip. Your moans get increasingly louder, and he slides two fingers in you, your walls already convulsing around him.
“You gotta be quiet for me, baby, okay?” Jaehyun whispers, slowly thrusting in and out of you. “I don’t want everyone to hear us.”
You nod feverishly, covering your mouth as you fall into a euphoric state, being finger fucked by the love of your life. He returns his mouth to your clit, your legs buckling on impact, your hand pulling his hair tighter. You create a rhythm on his tongue, slow fucking his face until you feel yourself reaching your breaking point.
“Baby…” you moan, your stomach coiling. “I’m almost here.”
He suddenly removes his fingers out of you, shoving down his grey sweats and revealing his hard dick, eager to be inside of you. He lifts your leg up and slams into you, making you yelp from impact.
“It’s been way too long,” he groans, slow stroking your tight cunt.
Jaehyun allows you to get used to his size before increasing his pace, the lust in his eyes evident. Your hunger for him in insatiable, begging him to fuck you harder, not caring about the bed hitting the wall loud enough to wake everyone up. You lifted up your shirt and pinched your nipples, slapping them because you knew he liked that, and you like the slight pain from it.
“You are so sexy,” his breathless praise of you makes you hotter and want more of him.
He slides his hand on your throat, holding a firm grip as he continues to plunge deep inside of you. You try your best to cover your moans with your hand, but then your stomach coils, signaling your release. You tap his shoulder feverishly, and he pulls out and flips you over, taking you from behind.
“I’m not done with you yet,” he growls, slamming into you with such force you almost fall off the bed.
Jaehyun grips your hair tightly, skin slapping filling the walls in the room, and he fucks you into the mattress, releasing his feelings from missing you all into this moment. He tells you he loves you over and over, and you believe him, not wanting this moment to end. You grip the sheets tightly, warning him of the upcoming rapture that was ripping through you.
“Go ahead, baby,” he encourages you. “Cum for me.”
You scream his name in the sheets, your orgasm rushing through and all over him, your insides convulsing on his dick. He shudders and pulls out shortly after, emptying himself on your ass and giving it a small smack. You collapse on the bed, your legs sore and shaking, unable to move.
“That was…” you start to say.
“Amazing,” Jaehyun finishes your sentence, leaning over and kissing your sweaty forehead.
You both laugh in unison, and you slowly sit up, admiring the physique of the man you love.
“Hey Jae,” you call him softly, holding your hand out for him to take. “I don’t want to fight like that and be away from you that long ever again.”
He nods and smiles, giving you a deep kiss before pulling you into a hug.
“Me neither, baby,” he agrees. “These months without you have been hard. I felt like a piece of me was missing.”
You gaze up at him lovingly, placing a small kiss on his lips.
“It’s about time you two made up,” Johnny’s voice comes through the door. “He’s been miserable without you.”
Jaehyun sucks his teeth and throws a pillow at the door, his face red with embarrassment.
“It’s okay,” you giggle. “I’m not going anywhere.”
#nct-writers#neowritingsnet#neothestars#nctcreations#kpopficsnetwork#ksmutclub#kafenetwork#kpopscape#kdiner#wkcnet#nct#nct 127#nct fanfics#jeong jaehyun#jaehyun#jaehyun fanfic#nct smut#nct angst#nct fluff#kwritersworldnet
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bullying megumi
This is for ms @shojotsude , she requested bullying + degrading megumi into an orgasm. Femme reader, everyone aged up third year & 18+, 1.4k words
Content warnings: degradation, bully reader
“You’re fucking pitiful.” Was this the first time you’d caught Megumi jerking off with your panties? No, sadly it wasn’t. Was this the first time you caught him doing it in your room? Yes.
“(Y/N), I- I- can explain-”
“Save it, pervert.” Slamming your door closed, your lip curled further in disgust at coming face to face with what was before you. Sat the edge of your bed with your panties wrapped tightly around his fist and cock and pants down around his ankles was Megumi Fushiguro. Someone you were supposed to look up to, come to for guidance.
Licking his lips nervously, Megumi kept fierce track of every movement you made. The slight drag of your feet as you got closer, the way your breathing was shallow, and especially the look of almost anguish on your face.
“Jeez, you act so high and mighty sometimes but look at the size of your cock. Absolutely tragic.” Your eyes had dropped down to between his legs and Megumi rushed to cover himself.
“I- I-”
“What’re you even trying to cover? Tell me, are you a fucking eunich or something?” Crossing your arms over your chest, you peered down your nose at him. Megumi’s face was flushed red and so was the rest of his body, even his cock looked like it was blushing.
Giving him a scathing once over, you shifted your weight on one foot and lifted the other, pressing it against the hands covering his crotch. Megumi hesitated for a moment, unsure of your intentions, but he let you press your shoe clad foot on his cock and he’s ashamed to admit he liked the way it made him shiver.
“Your cock’s so tiny it’s pathetic, my shoe covers it entirely.” Could the look on your face be anymore disdainful? You looked as if you might vomit any moment, yet Megumi ate it up willingly, spreading his legs a bit more and letting you rest more of your weight on him to help balance.
The tip of your shoe pressed against the tip of his cock and it had Megumi lurching forward, a shocked and pleased ripple going up his spine and making him scramble for purchase on your leg.
“Gross, don’t fucking touch me.” Shaking him off just as quickly as he’d touched you, you set your focus back on grinding your shoe on him. “I don’t even know why I’m doing this, it’s not like you deserve it.”
“Wait!” Your foot had started to slip, the pressure you put on him letting up, and Megumi couldn’t have that. Grabbing onto your ankle, he licked his lips again. “(Y/N) please- wait just- just give me this, please.” It was a rare sight to see the usually so composed Megumi speaking like this, pleading with you in a way that would make anyone chuckle a bit behind their hand at how desperate he sounded.
“What do I get out of this? Hm? Tell me, quickly.” You were stuck in limbo, weight shifting from leaning on Megumi to fully standing on your own.
“You get- uhm-” He was scrambling. Megumi was going to lose possibly the one and only opportunity he had to get you to touch him in any type of sexual way. He didn’t have anything to give you, he knew if he offered money you would scoff, and nothing else would suffice.
“Well? I’m waiting.” Yanking your foot from his hold, you peered down at Megumi.
“I’ll do whatever you want, whatever you ask whenever you ask it. Without question. I’ll- I’ll become your slave if that’s what you want. Just please-” Megumi grabbed your foot, forcing it against his aching cock, “please keep touching me.”
You took far too long to answer, in Megumi’s opinion. What at most was thirty seconds felt like an eternity of waiting, of holding his breath and watching as you thought his proposal over. The muscles in your leg relaxed slowly, willingly putting your weight on him this time.
“You better keep your fucking promise.” Grabbing your phone, you took a quick picture of Megumi before he could even process it. “Or I’m telling everyone. Spreading these pictures online and-”
“I swear! I swear I’ll keep it!” Megumi’s eyes became glossy as he pleaded with you. He didn’t care about that picture or the couple others you took right after. He didn’t care about what happened after this moment, all he wanted was right here and right now.
Huffing, you started to grind your foot against his cock again. Megumi let out a stilted moan, half of it catching in his throat. He knew he looked like a fucking idiot with his mouth hung open and head tilted back as you did this to him but he couldn’t be damned to change it.
He was already halfway to an orgasm before you came in, so the stimulation directly on his cockhead had Megumi’s mind going fuzzy. He was swimming, unable to focus properly on anything except for the way you felt touching him.
“Admit you’re fucking disgusting.” Your voice barely cut through the fuzz in his mind and Megumi fought to focus his eyes on you again. He must have let out an unintelligible noise because you rolled your eyes. “Admit you’re a disgusting little pervert.”
“I’m-” Bucking his hips up unexpectedly, Megumi swallowed thickly, “I’m fuck- fucking disgusting. A little pervert.”
“You also have a poor excuse for a dick.”
“I do, I do.” Megumi nodded with no hesitation. “It’s pathetic.”
“At least you know that.” Slipping your shoe down to his balls, you pressed lightly on them. “Jerk yourself off.”
Megumi didn’t need to be told twice. Wrapping his hand tightly around his cock, Megumi fucked up into his hand. Your panties were wrapped perfectly around his shaft and fingers like he’d left them, adding the perfect amount of friction alongside the pleasurable squeeze of his balls beneath your foot.
“Shit-” He panted, bucking up and grinding against you. Every muscle in his body was beginning to tighten up, threatening to cramp. He was close, so painfully close and if you could just-
“Gross, are you going to cum? I bet nothing will even come out.” The sound of your mocking voice was doing it, spurring him on to the edge. “How long have you even been doing this? Two minutes and you’re already going to cum?”
“(Y/N)-”
“Shut up, don’t say my name. You’re so miserable, jerking off to a girl's panties in her room.” Megumi could hear your voice, he could hear the things you were saying but he could only respond with short, choking gasps. “You’ll never get a girlfriend, you’re too much of a wimp.”
You were saying other things, something about how he’ll have to be a worthless panty stealer forever, but Megumi couldn’t hear anymore over the rush in his ears as he came. All he could even fathom in this moment was the hot ropes of cum shooting out of his cock and coating his hand.
Your foot retracted the moment you saw the first bead of white and Megumi was left to stroke his cock to completion. His upper body rocked back and forth, unable to decide on whether to crumple forwards in on himself or fall backwards onto your bed.
You stayed silent as he came and continued to stroke himself well after the fact. Turning your foot over side to side, you were happy not to get any of Megumi’s cum on you. As soon as his hand stopped moving, you grabbed a fistful of his hair, not letting him bask in the afterglow at all.
“Get the fuck out.” Dragging him off the bed, you didn’t care about hurting him. Dragging him to the door, you threw it open. “Get out, out, out.”
“Okay!” Hastily pulling his pants up and fixing his shirt, Megumi grimaced at his clothes sticking to his cum covered skin.
“If I see you in my room again I’m beating the shit out of you.” Those were the last words out of your mouth before you slammed the door closed, and Megumi had to admit that hearing you threaten him like that had his cock already twitching back to life.
#jujutsu kaisen#fushiguro megumi#fushiguro x reader#megumi x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jujutsu kaisen scenarios
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